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renecdote · 1 year

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ren please my love will u write me "wiping their tears when they cry" for buddie mwah

Also for @abcdefuk-off who requested the same prompt. This got so much longer than planned lol but enjoy the Buck angst <3

[Read on AO3]

Those first few days after waking up, and after leaving the hospital, everything hurts. Buck gets used to a baseline of pain: headaches, muscle aches, healing burns on his hands, fractured ribs, bruised lungs, something vague and unrelenting that coils tight in his stomach. It all ebbs and flows, a tide teetering between low and high, easy enough to ignore sometimes, but never fully gone.

It gets better, as days blur into weeks. One and then two and then three, and after four he’s sitting in Dr Salazar’s office and she’s saying, “You can go back to work as early as next week.”

Buck doesn’t know how to explain the flash of panic that seizes him. The way he wishes she could just tell him that something is wrong, that there is some physical explanation for the way he feels. But all his other doctors say the same thing: there’s nothing wrong with him. His lungs have healed enough for him to go back to work. His hands aren’t even going to scar. There are no blood clots in his leg, no reason it should be hurting at all, except for how it will probably always hurt sometimes.

“But it’s worse,” Buck tries. “It hurts more, and more often, doesn’t that—shouldn’t it mean something is wrong?”

“You’ve been through a trauma,” is all the doctor will say, shrugging behind ultrasound and CT results that all say the same thing: he’s fine.

So why doesn’t Buck feel fine?

Why can’t he just feel fine?

****

He gets through the first shift fine. He’s exhausted at the end of it, a headache knocking behind his temples, but it’s fine. He’s fine. He lets Eddie talk him into going home with him, manages to smile through breakfast with Christopher before crashing hard on the couch, and when he wakes up a few hours later, he’s fine.

The second shift, he doesn’t go home with Eddie. Doesn’t leave the station with a headache, either, which is nice, but he’s left with something restless and itching beneath his skin that makes him want to run until he has forgotten how to breathe.

He goes home instead. Deep cleans his apartment. Heats up frozen lasagne for lunch and eats sitting on the balcony, squinting at the grey edge of the sky and wondering if it’s going to rain.

Come over for dinner? 🥺 Chimney texts around four p.m., and Buck spends several minutes frowning at the message before he sends back a question mark. Chimney sends back a block of the same emoji in response and refuses to elaborate.

Fine, Buck replies. But just for the record I’m sick of eating pot roast.

He’s half expecting it anyway; Maddie isn’t a bad cook, but her repertoire is a bit limited, and Chimney’s even more so. When he arrives at six-thirty on the dot, he’s pleasantly surprised, and then a little suspicious, to find them setting out containers of Thai from one of Buck’s favourite takeout places.

“This isn’t another intervention, is it?” he asks, and he tries to make it sound like a joke, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t succeed.

“Should it be?” Maddie asks, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Buck answers, matching her raised eyebrows with his own narrowed eyes. “I thought we agreed you couldn’t fix me.”

Chimney fumbles a grease-stained paper bag and two spring rolls make a bid for freedom, rolling across the counter. He snatches them quickly, muttering hot hot hot under his breath as he drops them onto a plate. He doesn’t say, “ah, so there is something that needs fixing,” but he may as well have. Buck steals a spring roll and bites down on it hard, chewing and swallowing even as his eyes water at the burn of too-hot pastry and filling.

Maddie rolls her eyes. “Sometimes dinner is just dinner, Evan. Why don’t you help Chimney set the table? I’m going to get Jee washed up to eat.”

Just dinner would be sitting in his apartment alone with whatever leftovers he dug out of the freezer, but Buck doesn’t argue. He takes the handful of cutlery Chimney offers him and sets it out on the table, Maddie and Chimney side-by-side, Buck opposite them both, plastic cutlery arranged carefully on Jee’s high chair at the head of the table. It’s hard to feel anything but warm inside when handling toddler cutlery, which was probably Maddie’s goal all along.

It spreads through him while they eat: warmth soaking into aching muscles, loosening the tension in his spine, helping him breathe a little bit easier. They don’t ask him if he’s okay and at some point he stops expecting them to. It’s like the moment after a jump scare in a movie, when all the tension that has been building snaps, the door pushed open to reveal a cat or a squawking bird where you expected to find a killer, adrenaline draining away to leave you loose and giggly. Buck stretches out his legs under the table and he can almost trick himself into believing that the twinge of pain is just in his head.

After dinner is over—plates and cutlery packed into the dishwasher, leftover Thai in the fridge—he helps Maddie give Jee a bath and put her to bed. It’s good. Normal. From the moment the tap turns on until Jee’s bedroom light is turned off, he feels like he can breathe. Like he might be okay.

Which. That was probably Maddie’s goal all along.

“You can stay,” Chimney offers when they’re back out in the kitchen. “The guest room has a proper bed and everything now.”

Buck smiles, appreciating the offer. “Nah, I should get home. Thanks though. For dinner and…”

A gesture, vague and all-encompassing. Chimney shrugs it away.

“Anytime,” he says, and Buck knows he means it. He could show up here at three in the morning and he wouldn’t be turned away. “See you at work tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “See you at work.”

Maddie follows him to the door and hugs him tightly before he steps outside.

“Drive safe,” she says against his shoulder, words cast like a spell. “Text me when you get home.”

It’s the kind of thing she has said to Buck all his life. He used to roll his eyes good naturedly, grumble through a yeah, okay , and he’d still speed through yellow lights but he’d always feel a little more guilty about it with Maddie’s words in the back of his mind.

Tonight he just squeezes her again and promises, “I will.”

He slows down for every yellow light on the way home.

****

It’s not so bad at first: a dull ache, deep enough in his leg that he can almost ignore it. He’s getting pretty good at that, with the way it feels like the pain is always there these days, lurking, waiting to pounce. Buck avoids looking at it head-on for as long as he can, like it’s a monster in the dark that he can keep away by pulling a blanket over his head.

So it doesn’t sneak up on him, really, but it still takes his breath away when the pain corkscrews through his leg, suddenly sharp and biting. Buck stumbles, catching himself on the engine, choking back a curse that becomes a strangled wheeze. His first thought— fuck, ow ow ow —is followed quickly by a second: thank god everyone else is already in the engine .

“Buck?” Bobby calls, head sticking out through the front window. “You coming?”

Buck gives him a thumbs up, words trapped behind tightly clenched teeth. Climbing into the engine is hell, his leg pulsing with every step up, and he curls his hands into fists to hide the way they’re shaking after this seatbelt has been clipped into place. It was a long call, the kind that leaves everyone tired and not in the mood to talk, and Buck is absurdly grateful for it because it means nobody is paying too much attention to him. Nobody sees the wince he can’t hide when the truck jolts over a pothole, or the way he has to brace himself before jumping out when they’re back at the station.

There’s a bottle of Tylenol that lives in his work bag and he goes straight for it after he gets his turnout gear off. Everyone else has already drifted towards the bunks, but Buck tries not to limp as he walks up the stairs anyway. It feels too much like giving in. Like letting his leg and that bomber kid and the whole fucking universe win.

He tries to pace, tries to shake the cramp out by moving, but every step is like a knife through his ankle, his knee, shooting up through his hip to grip his chest in a vice as well. Buck makes it three limping circuits around the loft before he gives up and collapses on the couch. He folds over, head against his right knee, left leg stretched out while he digs his fingers into the long-healed muscles and wishes the pain would go away.

A stress headache is setting in now too, the kind that feels like his head is in a vice, the pain squeezing and squeezing and squeezing. Buck takes a shaky breath, then another, then another, trying to figure out whether he feels sick, or if it’s just the same coiling tension in his stomach that he’s been dealing with for weeks.

“Hey.”

He flinches, startled, and Eddie moves closer with a frown.

“Buck? You okay?” he asks, sounding like he’s already halfway convinced that he answer is no . Which it is, but.

Buck swallows. “Yeah, just—my leg. ‘M okay.”

Eddie hums, an I’ll be the judge of that kind of sound, and he perches on the edge of the coffee table, so close that their legs have no choice but to touch. “Can I…?”

There’s a half-hysterical thought in the back of Buck’s head that his leg will fall apart if he lets it go. The pain will tear through flesh and bones and leave nothing but broken, jagged pieces behind. Blood and sinew and useless muscle hanging off splintered pieces of bone. The thought of it makes him sick and he has to swallow hard against the nausea before he can make his fingers loosen their hold. It gets him a smile, quick and gentle, like Eddie knows the mental battle it took.

“Okay,” he says, easy and soft. “Do you want to lie down?”

Buck shakes his head. Even if he’s lying on his back, even if it’s the couch in the station instead of the rough asphalt of the street, his edges are too frayed right now for it to feel like anything other than being back there under the truck. He stretches his leg out in front of him instead, hands curled into tight fists while Eddie does his exam, quick but thorough.

“I don’t see anything concerning,” he judges, and Buck shouldn’t mourn the touch of his hands but he does. “No redness or swelling… is it just the pain?”

“Yeah,” Buck manages, too shaky. He doesn’t need to explain because Eddie knows more than most what it’s like when an injury heals but doesn’t ever fully let you go.

“Alright.” Hand on his knee for a second, two seconds, warmth lingering even after it’s gone. “Heat or ice?”

Buck shakes his head because—he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if anything will help.

“Okay,” Eddie takes his non-answer in stride, “we’ll try heat first, then switch if it isn’t working.”

It doesn’t take long to grab a couple of heating pads from the first aid cupboard, nor to pull the coffee table a bit closer so Buck can put his feet up on it without having to stretch. Hen would smack him if she saw him doing it, but he’s pretty sure Eddie would defend him. His only other option is stretching out on the couch and—no. Not tonight.

“Here, drink this,” holding out a glass until Buck takes it. “It’ll help.”

It’s only half full, which is good because Buck’s hands shake when he holds it. He still feels vaguely sick, but he chokes down a few sips anyway, clinging to the way Eddie smiles at him when he does.

“Better?” he checks, adjusting one of the heating pads that had started to slip off Buck’s knee.

Buck wants to say yes. He wants to say yeah, all good now, thanks for your help but you don’t need to stay . He wants to rewind time and never get in the front seat of the truck. He wants to rewind time and wait just a few minutes before climbing up that ladder so the lightning doesn’t hit him. He wants and wants and wants. He’s spent his whole life wanting—his parents to love him, somewhere to belong, to be useful and good and happy —and even now that he has so much, he still fucking wants.

Buck bites his lip through the sting of frustrated tears, determined not to cry.

“It’s been, um, worse. Lately. Since the lightning strike.”

Eddie frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Buck shrugs, as if he doesn’t know the answer. As if the words aren’t right there on the tip of his tongue: I didn’t want anyone to worry .

“No,” Eddie says, gentle and a little bit—sad, almost, but trying not to be. It’s like he can read the words spinning through Buck’s mind. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Because Eddie isn’t anyone . He hasn’t been for a long time. Buck rubs a hand over his face, then picks at a loose thread on his knee, avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

“Are you going to tell Bobby?” he asks.

“You don’t want me to,” Eddie says, not a question. Buck shakes his head anyway. “Because you don’t want him to worry? Or because you don’t want to be benched for the rest of shift?”

The simple answer is both . That’s the answer Buck is supposed to give. It’s what Eddie is expecting to hear. But the truth is that Buck died, and nobody will let him forget it, and he still doesn’t know how he really feels about it.

That coil in his stomach tightens, dread clogging his veins. A traitorous, frustrated tear slips out and Buck squeezes his eyes shut. He makes a belated movement to wipe it away, but Eddie’s hand is already there, the curl of his fingers warm under Buck’s chin and his thumb warmer still as it swipes gently across his cheek. It’s that, Buck thinks, more than the pain and the frustration, that makes the next two tears slip out.

“I won’t tell Bobby,” Eddie promises him, the absence of his touch burning like frostbite when he pulls his hands away. “But I’m going on record saying that I think you should.”

“I can still do my job,” Buck mutters, sinking into his corner of the couch. It’s the easiest excuse to hide behind. It’s even mostly true: he can do his job, even if adrenaline and determination are the only things that get him through.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Buck wilts. He does know. And he doesn’t want to argue with Eddie. It’s always so much easier to be angry, to burn hot and fast and deal with the fallout later, but whenever he reaches for the flames these days, whenever he thinks it’s not fucking fair , all he feels is tired. Bone deep, achingly tired.

You’ve been through a trauma , people keep telling him, but Buck has been through traumas before and they’ve never left him feeling quite like this.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Bobby if it becomes a problem.”

If it comes down to other people’s lives, he would have done it anyway. He’s not stupid; he’s not going to risk anyone else.

Eddie nods, satisfied. He takes the glass of water from Buck’s hands and sets it on the coffee table, out of the way, then settles into the couch at his side. There’s enough space that they don’t need to be touching, but they end up pressed together from thigh to shoulder anyway.

“Do you think you can sleep?” Eddie asks.

Buck shrugs, but he’s pretty sure the answer is no. He’s pretty sure that Eddie knows it too.

“Alright,” he says, reaching for the remote. “But it’s my turn to pick what we watch.”

It’s not, but Buck doesn’t fight him on it. He doesn’t care what they watch, doesn’t think he could focus on it right now anyway. He closes his eyes, letting the sound of some late-night soap rerun fade into background noise, and waits for the pain to fade with it.

****

Buck doesn’t sleep, but he drifts, sinking down to something close enough to sleep that it can almost be called rest. His leg doesn’t hurt as much anymore, the weight of the heating pads over his knee and ankle as much of a relief as the heat itself. He’s not sure what time it is when footsteps on the stairs make him tense, threatening to undo all the hard work that Eddie and the heating pad have done to relax his muscles. The only thing that keeps him still is the hand Eddie puts on his thigh, warm and grounding. He squeezes gently— relax, you’re okay, I’ve got you —then stands up, meeting Bobby in the kitchen with an easy, “Hey, Cap, you want some coffee?”

Buck relaxes, listening to the familiar sound of people moving around the station kitchen: mugs clinking, the coffee machine gurgling, the slightest squeak of boots on the floor as Bobby and Eddie move around each other. It’s so familiar and soothing that he’s almost back in that state of not-quite-resting, drifting through the currents at the edge of the room, when he hears Bobby ask, “He okay?”

It’s right there in his voice: worry worry worry . Buck bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tastes blood, sudden and metallic. It stops his heart in his chest for a beat, two beats, and he has to breathe carefully through the swell of memory and nausea until the taste of blood and bile have both been swallowed down.

“Yeah,” Eddie is answering behind him, and that helps too, “just a leg cramp, he’s okay.”

Buck doesn’t get to find out what Bobby’s response to that is—the alarm rings and he’s on his feet before it’s a conscious thought. Before he stops, one hand on the bannister going down the stairs, and wonders whether he should actually stay behind. Whether Bobby will make him stay behind.

He hesitates too long. Long enough that everyone else is already climbing into the truck and Bobby is looking back at him from the app bay, eyebrows raised.

“You coming, kid?”

Buck shakes himself and follows. He can still do his job.

****

The fire burns hot and fast, two townhouses already alight when they join the 122 on scene, a third just starting to go up as well.

“Shit,” Chimney mutters, and Buck feels it in his bones: people are going to die tonight. People are probably already dead, just waiting for someone to pull their bodies out.

“Buck—” Eddie starts, low and close, fingers twisted in his sleeve, and Buck doesn’t know what he’s going to say but—

“Not now,” he says, shaking Eddie off.

Eddie lets him go.

Buck tells himself that he’s grateful for it, even as his leg throbs in protest. He’s fine, he reminds himself. He’s fine, he can still do his job.

And he does. He lets the smoke and the flames numb him, sinking into the routine: check room after room after room, pull out body after body after body. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think.

He’s limping by the time they clear the buildings. The pain isn’t as bad as it was before, but it’s deep and persistent, the kind of always there pain he got used to feeling in the weeks after the ladder truck crushed him. Buck sees a life stretching out before him where it never goes away: he’ll wake up hurting every morning, go to sleep hurting every night, probably have to quit his job because he’s always, always hurting.

He feels sick. Thinks he might actually be sick, stuck on a roller coaster he doesn’t know how to get off, and he leans shakily against the engine, pressing his forehead against the cool metal while he tries to breathe the feeling away.

Bobby finds him there.

Of course Bobby finds him there.

“Here,” he says, and his hand is a steady pressure between Buck’s shoulder blades until he turns his head, blinking past the red of the engine to find a water bottle being held out. Bobby shakes it a little when Buck doesn’t immediately reach to take it. “Come on, Buck, you know the drill.”

Buck wonders which drill that is. The stay hydrated when fighting fires one, or the don’t disobey orders one, or maybe the let people take care of you one. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes, the answer is all the same. He grabs the water bottle from Bobby’s hand. Fumbles it open and takes a few sips.

“Sit,” Bobby suggests, hand still on Buck’s back, gently guiding him the few limping steps until he can sit on the front of the engine. The scene is still bustling around them, firefighters moving like moths around the flames, but Bobby seems content just to stand beside Buck, watching silently.

Buck lasts five minutes before he breaks.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asks, exhausted down his marrow.

“About your leg?” Bobby doesn’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about and Buck is grateful for it. “I figured you’d come to me if something needed saying.”

Buck swallows.

Swallows again.

He’s pretty sure they’ve reached the point where something needs saying, but he has no idea where to start. I’m sorry , maybe. I swear the doctor cleared me , probably. The words all feel frothy on his tongue, taking up more room than they should, and he opens his mouth without really knowing which ones he’s going to say and—

“I’m scared.”

It’s a whisper. A confession meant for the dark safety of night, spilled out here in the burning daylight of a new day like oil on the road. The sun glints off it like a beacon: here! look, beware, there is danger here! Buck wants to scoop the words back up, shove them deep inside his chest, lock them up where he’s the only one who might choke on them. He wants to find a smile, or a joke, anything that he can tape over the moment to wipe the look of quiet concern off Bobby’s face. He wants to pretend that he’s fine because maybe if he pretends hard enough it will become true.

“I don’t even know why I’m scared,” he finds himself confessing anyway. “I don’t know why my leg hurts, or how to make it stop, or—”

or if I’ll ever feel normal again

There’s a flash of memory—Eddie crying at the dining table, Eddie’s room destroyed, Eddie’s door locked, Eddie dying in the street—so sudden and visceral that Buck flinches away from it. His breath stutters, and his leg throbs sharply, and it’s all so much that he almost flinches when Bobby puts a hand on his shoulder as well.

“I’m not going to pretend that I have all the answers,” Bobby says, as warm and steady as his hand. His lips twist into something wry for a second as he adds, “Or any of them.” Buck doesn’t smile, even though he thinks he’s supposed to. “But I’m always here if you want to talk, or even if you don’t.”

Bobby breakfasts . It’s not a secret at the firehouse, but it’s always talked about in low tones, the same way you’d whisper about something sacred. They’ve all had one at some point: a quiet invitation at the end of a hard shift, “we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” then the comforting bustle of a café with good coffee and eggs cooked any way you want them. Buck remembers sitting in that café three days after Eddie got shot, the taste of blood still in his mouth and his stomach too messed up to even think about eating, sipping camomile tea while Bobby ate a bagel and did the crossword in an honest to god newspaper beside him.

He remembers wondering where the newspaper even came from. Remembers the flash of fear at the realisation that he’d lost time somewhere between the firehouse and the café. Remembers his hands shaking around his teacup, china rattling as he set it back in the saucer, and Bobby’s knees bumping against his even though the table was big enough that they shouldn’t have.

He remembers that it helped, even if he didn’t really know it at the time.

“Captain Nash!” someone calls, and it’s like a bucket of ice water over Buck’s head.

Bobby glances behind him, towards the IC who called his name, then back at Buck, his reluctance clear on his face.

“Go,” Buck tells him, hugging himself. “I’m okay.”

Bobby still hesitates, long enough that the IC calls his name again, and Buck tries for a smile that is probably more like a grimace by the time it reaches his lips. It gets Bobby moving though. Gets him to nod, once, and squeeze Buck’s shoulder again before he turns with a parting, “I’ll send Eddie over.”

Buck opens his mouth, halfway to a protest, but Bobby is already striding away. He should be annoyed, he thinks; he doesn’t need a babysitter. But instead he’s just kind of grateful as he sinks back against the engine, knowing he won’t be alone for long.

****

The shift is over by the time they get back to the station, but Buck still finds Bobby in his office. The door is open, but he knocks anyway, leaning heavily against the doorframe because he thinks his leg might collapse under him if he has to take one more step.

“I can’t,” he says, when Bobby looks up at him. “Talk about it. Not yet.”

Not with Bobby, at least. Not until he can find a way to say I’m not okay without also saying you died, you know? in my coma dream, you died because I wasn’t there to help save you, and I don’t know what to do with that because sometimes I feel like I can save everyone except myself .

“Okay,” Bobby says easily. “Would you like to have breakfast anyway? We don’t have to talk.”

Buck smiles, tired but real. “I appreciate the offer, Cap, but—maybe a rain check?”

Bobby’s face is a silent ah . “You’re going home with Eddie.”

It’s not a question. Buck nods anyway. If he turned his head just slightly, he’d be able to see Eddie hovering by the engine, both their bags slung over his shoulder, waiting for Buck to be ready to go. Waiting to jump in if he’s needed too, knowing Eddie.

“Good,” Bobby smiles, and Buck knows it means he’ll take care of you . “If you need anything, let me know.”

“I will.”

Bobby nods, satisfied, then looks back down at his paperwork. “I’ll see you next shift, Buck.”

Buck bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t do something embarrassing like burst into tears. He has to breathe through the sudden lump in his throat a couple of times before he can say, “Thanks, Cap. See you next shift.”

He turns carefully, weight balanced on his good leg, and limps out towards the parking lot. It only takes a few seconds for Eddie to fall into step beside him, their shoulders bumping gently.

“Okay?” he checks, brown eyes warm and serious on Buck’s face.

Buck smiles; still tired, still pained, but still real.

“Yeah,” he answers. “All good.”

And it’s not really. Not fully. But—

“It will be,” Eddie agrees, smiling back.

It will be .

Yeah.

Yeah, Buck thinks, he’s gonna be okay. His family will make sure of it.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Maddie Buckley #Chimney Han #Bobby Nash #911 Fox #fic #post lightning buck is something that can be so personal

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avasharpe · 7 months

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Only For Her

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 777

Summary: Ava and Sara text each other using emojis.

Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow

Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe.

Characters: Ava Sharpe, Sara Lance, and Mick Rory.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences.

Additional Tags: Emojis, implied sexual content, Beer, Friendship.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Look at me posting for Avalance again. I decided to clear out my WIP folder so while these are short and simple. I'll be posting a few more things in the future.

………………………………………………………………

Sara smiled down at her phone as those three little dots disappeared to reveal Ava’s new text.

“I know how much you love desert, 🍩🍰🧁.”

“Not as much as you do 😜,” Sara typed back with a smile.

“I don’t know. You seems to enjoy that whipped cream and chocolate last week🍫.”

“You know I can have Gideon fabricate anything I want 😉.”

“Is that a challenge, my love? 🤨”

The more Sara thought about it, the more her mouth watered as she longed for her lips to touch Ava. Something stirred deep inside her, a gentle ach that she knew and loved. It had been a week since they had been able to see each other in person as Ava was busy with the Time Bureau being audited by the government and the nonstop time aberrations appearances. Sara was so worked up that even the idea of licking her girlfriend’s fingers was enough to work her up.

“Your kitchen. Tonight. The one who looks the most delicious wins. 🥵🌶️”.

Just as she hit send someone knocked on her door.

“Sara,” Ray wined, as he knocked again. “John refuses to do any of his chores or clean up after himself. It’s becoming a real problem. The dust build up in the Gym is reaching allergen levels.”

“I’ll be there in a minute Ray,” Sara yelled, flopping onto her bed.

Her phone dinged and she quickly checked her text.

“You're on! 😠🍑”

Sara smiled and placed her phone on her nightstand before going to moderate Ray and John’s . argument. Some day she wished her team was more independent and willing to deal with their own shit without running to her at the first sign of conflict. She often felt like a school teacher with a bunch of ill-equipped children.

………………………………………………………………

“Mick!” Sara shouted, as she entered the parlor, she walked up to him and held out her hand making a grabbing motion.

“Something, I can help you with Captain?” Mick asked with a smirk.

“Just hand it over Mick.”

However, he only shrugged and as he casually sipped on his beer.

“Now!” Sara said using the harsh voice she only used for desperate times.

“Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist or did you decide on a thong for the Mrs. tonight,” Mick said as he teased her while fishing her phone out from the lining of the recliner.

“What have I told you about going through my phone,” she said, when he handed the phone to her she waved it at him like a scolding teacher.

“How the hell am I supposed to resist when you just keep it lying around like that?”.

“It was in my room behind a locked door!”

“Yeah well, isn’t that secure of a door, I thought you of all people would know better. You should at least hide it in a safe or smoothing. I mean I expect this kinda thing from Haircut or Pretty…”

“My room is supposed to be secure!” Sara said, stomping her foot. It was in that moment as she realized how childish she was being, but he had already made his bed she might as well make him lay in it.

“I can’t allow you to continue to go through everyone’s phone. It’s a gross invasion of privacy. If you continue to do this I’ll have no choice but to prohibit you from lighting any fires.”

He shrugged, clearly not taking her threat seriously.

“I mean it Mick. No trash fires, no lighters, no nothing, and if it means John has to stop smoking, then so be it. It’d be good for him,” Sara said, crossing her arms as Mick eyed her, but they both knew she would make good on her threats.

“Fine,” Mick growled, as glared at her.

“Thank you,” Sara said, her voice returning to its sweet sound. “Now, hand over Ray’s too. And Nate’s.”

Mick reluctantly handed over the phone and mumbled under his breath in worlds she chose not to hear.

“Thank you,” she said. When she finally had everyone’s phone, she turned to walk out of the parlor.

“How come, Ava only texts you, Emojis,” Mick asked, catching her attention as she turned back to him. “She doesn't text them to anyone else.”

“I guess I’m just special,” Sara said, with a smile she felt a pink tint to her cheeks that she didn’t bother hiding from him.

“You got a good one, their boss,” Mick said, giving her a nod of approval, something Sara knew meant he thought very highly of their relationship.

Sara smiled, as she thought of how true his words were. “I know.”

#sara lance #avalance #ava sharpe #dc's legends of tomorrow #mick rory #dc #otp: i love you ya goober

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hcsiqs · 2 months

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| ALL THE TIME

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“Let’s just get this over with,” Lia rolled her eyes, snapping a picture of her’s and KK’s drinks beside each other with two little white heart emojis. The plan was to take a soft launch-ish photo and post it to her story then they would go live on KK’s TikTok once they got back to the athlete’s dorms.

All of the other girls on the team had been made aware of the plan and what was set up between the two, so when Lia randomly showed up to their dorms they weren’t shocked.

“We’re gonna go live,” KK said to the girls who were sitting in the living room, her tone was much different compared to how Lia had seen her through clips of her on live and videos of her joking around with Paige or Ice. Her voice was dull, showing her complete disinterest in having to put on this show for people. KK then set her phone up, Aurelia being out of shot at first as she talked to Ice about something random, and once people started coming through the comment section of the live, her personality did a complete 180, “What’s up girly pops!” she beamed at the phone screen. “So, I gotta special guest for y’all,” a laugh left her lips as her arm reached over to Lia, who wasn’t really paying attention. She snaked her arm around Lia’s waist as she brought her into view, her hand laying against the other girl’s waist a little too long on purpose.

“I know right–,” she stopped mid sentence with Ice as she noticed the camera, “Oh hi guys!” She smiled waving at the phone as comments went crazy about Lia being there with the UConn girls, several catching on to the way KK’s hand was still firmly placed on Aurelia’s hip.

Throughout the live stream both KK and Lia kept contact with one another, even when it wasn’t needed, which was most of the time, just so that the fans would start to speculate something between the two and then KK said something that made the comments go crazy.

“Can you hand me my coffee?” she asked Aurelia, who was off camera. Lia nodded her head and handed over the coffee before coming to frame with her own coffee in hand. All the comments started talking about what Lia had posted on her story only an hour earlier, most people putting the dots together, while others yelled at those saying that stuff and claiming the two were just friends.

They stayed on live for a couple more minutes before Lia looks at the time and realizes she should probably head home, “Hey I gotta go,” she tells everyone and KK immediately looks up at her before going back to her phone and waving bye to everyone watching before ending the live. “KK,” Lia nudged her head to the door, signaling for her to walk with her. KK just nodded her head before following Lia to the door. “I think we should come up with like rules for this or whatever.”

“Girl, rules?” she crossed her arms over her body, leaning against the wall, “You really know how to take the fun outta stuff.”

“Yes, rules. This can’t get messy or it’ll ruin everything,” Lia stated, her voice filled with annoyance as she looked at the girl in front of her.

“Fine, what rules do you want?” the basketball player asked, shoving herself off the wall so that she stood directly in front of Lia.

“I mean, I don’t know yet,” she replied before taking a sip of her coffee, “Why don’t you just come over to mine for dinner and we both come with rules we think would be good, then we can discuss them and see if we agree?”

“Well I’m not gonna have any rules,” she shrugged.

“Come up with some then. It’ll be a good way to set boundaries,” Lia nodded her head, almost like she was confirming it with herself. KK stayed silent as she just stared at Lia annoyed, “Ok! I’ll send you my address and you can come over at 6? Pizza ok?” the blonde asked, playing with the ends of her hair.

“Mhm,” KK hummed, “See you.”

“Bye,” Lia replied with a slight roll of her eyes before she left the dorms.

She didn’t understand why KK had to be so pissed about this whole thing. Obviously she didn’t want to be doing this either, but they both might as well try to make the best out of the situation.

Six o’clock rolled around a lot sooner than Aurelia had anticipated. And she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to see the other girl for a second time today, when the first time hadn’t gone so smoothly. But nonetheless, she was going to try to be positive the entire time.

But as the minutes passed and the time rolled around to 6:30 and KK still wasn’t there she found herself growing annoyed. She knew KK had agreed to meet at six, and had even texted her multiple times to remind her that was the time they’d be meeting.

kk it’s 6:30 where r u??

Sorry i’m omw

And when Kamorea finally arrived at 7, an hour past the set time, Lia was pissed. How could she fake date someone if they don’t even care to be on time for shit?

“You’re an hour late,” Lia crossed her arms as she looked at KK who was on the other side of the door.

“I said I was sorry,” she said, pushing through the door and entering the apartment. “Nice place,” she commented before plopping down into a chair at the dining table and pulling a piece of pizza out.

Lia let out a breath as she tried to calm herself, so she wouldn’t start yelling at the brunette for her being blatantly rude to her. She then went and sat down across from KK as she pulled out her phone and opened the notes app.

“You made a list?” KK eyed the girl's phone as she sat the piece of pizza back down.

“I told you I was going to. Did you make one or is that just another thing you decided to not listen to?” Lia asked, a cold smile on her lips as she cocked her head to the side.

“I didn’t think you’d be so serious about this shit,” she shook her head.

“Well, I am,” the blonde replied before opening the note that was labeled “RULES” at the top. “Ok, the first thing I came up with was if we want to see other people during this then we need to tell the other person, so if someone sees us we will be able to have an excuse. And that brings me to my next point, if we do see other people try to do it somewhere not public, so we won’t have to run into ‘cheating’ issues or whatever,” Lia finished saying her first two before looking up at KK to give her the go ahead to start.

“Right, yeah, and when I see other people you can’t get jealous,” KK said, clearly just having made it up on the spot.

“And the same goes for you. You can’t get jealous if I see other people,” the blonde shrugged before typing down a new rule.

“I’d never get jealous of you with someone else,” she scoffed.

“And I would be jealous of you with someone,” Lia smiled, but it wasn’t in a sweet or kind way, more in a ‘I can’t wait to have this be done with’ way. “No kissing.”

“How are people gonna believe we’re together if I can’t kiss you?” she asked, her brows knitted together in confusion.

“You can hold my hand or put your arm around me,” Lia shrugged, “I just think no kissing would be for the best, so no one’s feelings get confused.”

“I could never like you like that.”

“Trust, the feelings mutual,” Lia replied before listing off some more of the rules before getting down to the last one, “And finally no catching real feelings.”

“That’ll be easy,” KK responded, finishing another piece of pizza.

“Yeah, I’d have to agree,” Lia nodded, “Ok that’s everything. I’ll share the note with you so you can have access to it.”

“Ok,” KK replied, “I’ll text you when we go out or something so you can join.”

“Sounds good.”

#wnba #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn vs iowa #uconn wcbb #uconn lives #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #uconn anon #kk arnold x fem!reader #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold

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seospicybin · 3 years

Text

WHITE HEAT.

PART II

Hyunjin x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Part I / Part III

Synopsis: Dating Hyunjin is not easy and it isn’t easy for him too because he had to be away from you, that’s why he took some pictures of you to keep you close with him. (6,8k word)

When Hyunjin said he would be taking your underwear with him, you didn’t think that he would really do it. When he dressed up in the morning after that night he spent with you, he picked up your worn underwear from the floor, crumpled it in his hand, and said, “I’m taking this with me,” with a sly smile.

“Yeah, sure!” You half-heartedly replied and laughed.

Then he put your underwear in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Hyunjin, you’re not serious, right?” You asked him, your mouth hung open as he kept on gathering his things around your room.

He turned around to look at you, and once he was done putting on his jacket, he gave you a shrug.

Your eyes widened at him in disbelief, he crawled over to you on the bed and gave you a kiss on the mouth.

You pulled him close, sending him tumbling down onto your lap.

He pulled away slowly, leaving only an inch away between your lips and his, “I miss you already,” he muttered.

“I miss you already too,” You said to him, cupping his soft cheeks with your hands.

He gave you a lingering kiss before finally leaving you, refused to be sent off by you, and insisted you get more sleep instead. And he was right, the moment he shut the door close behind him, you miss him already.

DAY 8.

100 days, he would only leave for 100 days, not more than 100 days but also not less than that, and it had only been a week since he left for tour, your heart sank for every time you glanced at your phone, and he hadn’t replied to any of your messages yet. You pouted, looking at his face on your phone wallpaper, you decided to send a goodnight message to him with lots of heart emojis, it was the least you could do to show how much you missed him, then went to sleep.

DAY 19.

You were in your morning class when a text message came in during the lecture, you clicked on it just to peep on who the sender was, almost gasped when you saw Hyunjin’s name on it. You took your phone down under the desk and opened it.

I know it’s morning there, good morning, love. I miss you.

You saw the three dots still visible on his text, you quickly typed a reply.

Good morning! I’m in my morning class right now, and I miss you so much.

You texted back.

A few seconds later, your phone vibrated with a new message.

Oh really?

Be a good student and study hard, okay? I’m going for stage rehearsal now. I’ll text you again later.

He replied with a mix of hearts and smiling emojis.

You pouted because you were hoping you could talk to him more. You began to type a reply, but Hyunjin had sent you another message.

Here’s a gift for you.

He attached a picture with it, you gasped the second you opened it. You quickly looked around just in case someone else noticed you were texting under the desk or worst, saw

you getting a nude in the middle of a class.

When you felt that it was safe, you looked down at your phone screen. You bite your lower lip

to contain your thrill of seeing a mirror selca he sent.

He was naked, but unfortunately, the mirror only fit his upper half down to his pelvic bone, but still, the whole picture was enough to send a tingle down your spine.

His toned, lean body and muscular arms never cease to amaze you, eyes widened at the way his pelvic bone dipped lower and lower, you immediately snapped your

head up and retreat yourself back to reality.

You locked your phone, fanning yourself, and thanks to him, you couldn’t focus on your study for the rest of the class.

DAY 26.

You always think that pink was never your power color; it was either black or white. You scrolled through your cart and thought so hard whether to take the black or the pink one, you couldn’t settle on a decision yet, because both dresses were just as cute.

Out of boredom, you sent pictures of both dresses to Hyunjin, along with a caption:

Please, decide for me.

You weren’t expecting him to reply right away that you got startled when your phone vibrated on your lap.

I vote for the pink one

Why?

You asked him in the text.

It has the same color as your nipples

You got to give it to him for being able to make your heart flip in a few seconds.

Your phone vibrated with a new message.

And the way you blushed down there

He added, causing you to rub your thighs together under the blanket.

DAY 34.

Hyunjin was drying his hair with a towel then squatted down on the floor to pick a clean t-shirt to wear to sleep in when his hand accidentally found your underwear. He was lucky that his roommate Han was playing a video game with Felix in the next room.

He brought your underwear with him, and didn’t even bother to put on a t-shirt first, then sat on the bed with his back resting against the headboard.

He unplugged his phone from its charger and opened his phone gallery, he had to scroll all the way down to find the folder filled with your pictures.

He scrolled it down a bit more to look for the pictures he was looking for, you in that white lingerie he told you to put on.

He lusted on every picture of you as he replayed the moments in the back of his head, and sniffed on your underwear once in a while, caught a whiff that reminds him of that delicious scent of your core.

He played the video of him touching you with your breathy moans playing in the background. He got so hard from it that his breathing quickened. He then slipped his hand inside his sweatpants and started pumping his length. He closed his eyes and imagined that it was your small and delicate hand that wrapped around his cock and not his. He didn’t care if Han caught him masturbating, he needed it as bad as he needed you that he ached and came close to his high to the thoughts of you.

He shortly played the video again to listen to the low, sultry noises you made as he touched you.

A few more pumps and he eventually came undone, shooting pearly white liquid on his hand and sweatpants.

“Fuck, I cum a lot,” he muttered as he looked down at the mess he made.

He immediately made a run to the bathroom to clean up, and a while later, Han caught him getting out of the bathroom, “didn’t you already showered?” He asked, lying down on his bed.

He held up his hands at him, “Don’t ask! You don’t want to know!”

DAY 35.

You were having your lunch when your friend nudged your elbow, “your phone,” your friend told you, gesturing to your phone on the table.

You picked it up and checked. A smile bloomed on your face the second you saw Hyunjin’s name on it. You immediately opened a series of text messages he sent at once.

You smell really nice!

The first text said.

Then there was a picture below the text, of him holding your underwear so close to his nose.

You dropped your spoon, sending it clattering against the plate.

“Sorry,” you mouthed to your friends sitting at the same table with you.

You reclined on your seat and held your phone close, away from your friends’ sight.

You proceeded to read the next text message,

I make good use of it.

Below it was another picture of what appeared to be his hand holding his own cock on the bed.

You sucked in your lips to contain your squeals.

I make a good mess too!

He continued along with a picture.

It was his hand-coated with his cum. You bit on your lower lip harder than it turned white.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your friend asked you as they gathered up their bags and things from the table.

“Huh?” You looked up at them, completely out of it.

“Our class is in 10 minutes,” they reminded you.

You stifled a nod, “Yeah, sure, I’m coming!” You told them, reluctantly collecting your stuff and putting them inside your bag.

You rushed to read the last text he sent as you half-jogged to your class,

Send me some new pictures, babe

And make it good

That I can’t wait to fuck you again

You gasped and almost tripped over the stairs when you read this.

DAY 52.

Hyunjin never talked about the pictures or even mentioned them in his texts ever, but here you were overthinking about it right before you go to bed.

What kind of pictures he would like to get from you? What outfit should you be in? What if he doesn’t like what you send? What if he was just joking when he asked for it? All these questions taking turns haunting your head for days now.

You couldn’t take it anymore, better be just get done with it, you thought.

You picked the most decent lingerie you have in your drawer, something not too flashy and not too casual either. You decided on a matching bra and underwear in navy blue color, simple and rimmed with white lace, and hugged your chest nicely.

You stood there in front of the mirror not sure of what kind of pose you should do, you let your hair down and started taking a full body picture of your reflection in the mirror.

It took a few more tries to finally find your best angles and a lot of tricks to take pictures of you with your phone.

You sat on the bed and looked at the results; you couldn’t believe you actually looked good in some of it, provocative even. You picked the best ones to send to Hyunjin and hoped he would like it.

Hyunjin was doing one of the pre-concert rituals the group always does before going on stage. He noticed his phone going off with so many new notifications, reminded himself to check once he had done with the warming up.

When he finished, he walked up to the dressing table to get his phone and opened your texts,

I hope you like it.

You texted.

He hastily scrolled down your texts, eyes widening at the number of pictures you sent at him, he swore his cock got hard just from seeing the first one.

“Hey, Felix!” He called out to Felix, who was drinking his water bottle, “how much time do we have before we go on stage?”

He scrunched his nose, “25 minutes, I guess,” he replied.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he announced and left to exit the room.

In the bathroom, he sat on the toilet and unlocked his phone. He opened the picture one by one, zoomed on it, and ran his thumb over his phone screen, hoping that he would get to feel the softness of your skin instead of the smooth surface of his phone screen.

He repeatedly cursed under his breath, heart beating faster and continuously raking his hair to the back as he got through the rest of the pictures that his cock throbbed inside his pants.

DAY 53.

You had been avoiding checking on your phone the whole morning. You had been restless, endlessly second-guessing what Hyunjin would think when he got your texts.

There was a part of you that dying to know, and you couldn’t keep it away,

“Fuck it!” You muttered as you sat on the stool with an uneaten bowl of cereal in front of you.

You unlocked your phone and found 5 new messages from Hyunjin.

You swallowed, your heart skipped a beat when you finally clicked open.

Guess what?

I made a mess again.

There were two pictures attached below it, the first one was him with his hand inside his pants taken through the bathroom mirror, and the other was another picture of his crotch with his hard-on protruding inside his boxer.

You scrolled to read the last text,

When I come back, I’ll make you responsible for all these messes!

and he ended it with a winking emoji.

DAY 69.

I have a few minutes

Can we video call?

You immediately shut your book closed, and left them on the table to find somewhere safe to video call with him.

You weren’t worried about the quiet though, since you were at the library studying for your midterm exam, but to find somewhere that nobody would disturb your rare, special time with him was tough.

You always heard about this one section of the library that students rarely go to and head there, quickly typed your reply as you jogged before Hyunjin changed his mind.

Your phone vibrated in your hand, and you frantically accepted the call.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you, his face filling the screen looking like a dream.

“Hey!” You greeted back, half panting. You placed your phone on the shelf.

“Did you just run?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No, I just walked really fast to find somewhere quiet,” you answered.

“Where are you now?”

“Library,” you answered, “I’m studying for my upcoming exam,”

“Oh, did I disturb you?” He asked, his fingers playing with the pendant of his necklace.

“No,” you quickly denied without a beat, “I need a break anyway.” You saw that he was lying on his bed, “are you at the hotel right now, baby?”

He nodded, “yes, the others are out having burgers,”

“Why are you not going with them?” You asked him.

He smiled, “Cause I want to call you, I miss you,”

You caught yourself smiling on the camera, blushing like a fool at his words, “I miss you too,” you said to him.

“I know,” he coyly said, “but what I need to know is what do you miss about me?” He smirked, tugging the pendant of his necklace between his teeth now.

You bit your lower lip, thinking of what best answers you could give him.

“You, as a whole person,” you decided on a wise, safe answer.

“That’s obvious!” He chuckled, “come on, babe! Tell me what you really miss about me?”

You glanced at your own face getting red, “hmm… your lips?” you hesitantly admitted.

“Yeah?” He touched his lips when he spoke as if he knew that it would only make me crave it more.

You nodded.

“What else?”

“Your hands,” you clasped your hands together and put them behind your back to stop you from fidgeting, “I miss them on my body,” you were past being shameless now so what gives?

Hyunjin sighed at your honest answer, “Anything else?”

“I miss your hugs,” you blurted out, you simply missed having him wrapped and enveloped you in his embrace and the back rubs he gave when he hugged you. Now that you got to say it out loud, you winced at how pathetic you sounded to him.

You shortly asked him the same question, “And you, what do you miss about me?”

He shifted on the bed, laying on his side as he rested his chin on the pillow, “your smiles,” he answered without a beat as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, “I feel like, for every time I see you smile, I feel like I can do anything,” he explained.

You didn’t have to touch your cheeks to know they were heating up.

“I miss having your hands around my neck,” he added, “the way you bury your head on my neck when I hug you,” he let out a long sigh when he finished speaking.

He licked his lower lip, “I miss that,”

You nodded along, you could almost imagine the comfort of being buried in his neck and drinking in his scent that always gives you a sense of comfort.

“And this is a little unexpected, but I miss those,” he pointed to you.

You looked at him perplexed, “Huh?”

“Isn’t that top too revealing for a college student?” He asked, pointing at your white peasant blouse.

You looked down at your blouse and thought that it wasn’t that revealing, but it did display just the tiniest bit of cleavage.

“I’m so jealous the guys at the campus get to see you every day and not me,” he pouted.

If you weren’t aware that you were in the library, you would have squealed at how adorable he looked when he sulked, “but they’re not you,” you consoled him.

“Yeah, but they get to see you in that blouse,” he pouted again.

You chuckled, “I don’t think it’s that revealing, baby,” and you pulled down your blouse to fix it but ended up showing more of your cleavage at him.

“Are you trying to tease me?” He said eyes squinted through the camera.

You chuckled, “No, I was trying to fix it,”

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Let me see them,” he said, his face leaned in so close to the camera.

“What?”

He raised both of his eyebrows, “those beautiful, wonderful breasts of yours,”

You almost choked on your own saliva, “What?” You snapped, rather too loud that you quickly looked around, you leaned in close to your phone, “You want me to flash you, that’s what you’re asking?” You lowered your voice just in case someone was around.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” you kindly rejected his wish.

“Baby, for me,” he pleaded rather adorably, “please?” He tried again with the magic word.

You hesitated, your feet softly tapping the carpeted floor anxiously, “okay, wait,” you told him, running to the end of the shelf to check the current situation, you checked the next hall and another one, made sure that no one was around.

When you came back, Hyunjin was touching his lips again.

“Okay, I’ll do it quick. So, you better be ready,” you warned him.

He dropped his elbows against the mattress, “okay,” he bobbed his head in agreement.

Your hands tugged the hem of your blouse, and with one swift move, pulled it upward to show him your bare chest.

“Babe, that was too quick,” he whined.

You groaned, “I’ll do it again,” you said with a glare.

He nodded repeatedly.

You lifted up your blouse again and gave him a few seconds to stare, then pulled it down again, “I can’t believe you make me do that,” you told him as you fixed your top.

“Then you’d better stop teasing me, baby,” he said to you with a flirtatious wink.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. You caught someone from your peripheral, you quickly took your phone with you and moved to the next hall as someone came up your way.

“Baby, I have to go,” you told him, “I’ll text you later?”

“Of course, study well, baby!” He said to you, his face pushed closer to the camera to send you a flying kiss.

You softly laughed at how cute he looked, “I miss you already,” you whined and returned the flying kiss to him.

“I miss you already,” he replied, waving at you before finally hanging up the call.

DAY 78.

Hyunjin was in the car heading back to the hotel after another concert had done for the day, he was too tired to check on his phone but noticed your contact name appeared on his screen, he took a quick look and found a missed call from you.

He wanted to call you back right then, but he waited until he got to his hotel room to have at least some privacy.

When he finally arrived, he sat on the bed and started opening a heap of new notifications.

He found a voice message from you, the first time and the only time you ever sent him. His heart beats so fast out of anxiety, he immediately played it.

Hey, hmm… I tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up [chuckles] Of course you couldn’t pick up, you must be busy silly me! [sigh] well, I’m calling because I miss you [silence] I just came back from hanging out with my friends, we celebrated the end of exam week [exhales] the exams went well, by the way. I might have messed up my communication class but nothing… it was alright, I guess.

There were 5 of us then my friend invited her friends and her friends invited their other friends and it ended up becoming a party. [Laughs] Funny that… there were a lot of people but I felt so… lonely [sniffles] I miss you so bad… can you… can you go home right now? [Choked sobs] Come back to me! Please? I miss you… [Hiccups] I need you, come back to me [a broken sob] [silence].

The voice message ended abruptly just like that.

And it hit him like a ton of bricks that made him realize how much he missed you too, and it started to eat him up alive from the inside. He missed you, and on top of that, he needed you as much. Hyunjin felt sad that someone could have that much power over him but grateful that he found that someone, and that someone is you.

He opened Instagram and typed your username in the search box, found pictures of you at the party you mentioned earlier in your message. Those were like typical party pictures, where everyone looked like they were having the time of their lives, yet when he truly saw you, he could see the way you masked your sadness.

His heart sank that he missed out on a lot. It wasn’t the first time he wished for a normal couple relationship, where he would go on dates every week and maybe, share belongings or even a place with you.

He felt bad knowing that you had to suffer so much to date him that his eyes pooled with tears.

DAY 79.

You had been busy all morning, packing clothes and stuff cause you were heading to your parent’s house to spend the midterm holiday. Mainly because your mom insisted you come and help her do some gardening in her new glasshouse that your father built for her.

It was when you finally made it on the train that you finally got to relax, sighed in relief that you didn’t miss the train or else you had to wait for another hour.

You were about to doze off due to the rush you had earlier and the lack of sleep mixed with the hangover from last night when you realized you hadn’t checked your phone.

There were a few messages from your mom and a friend from college and a few texts from Hyunjin.

I wanted you to know that, I am so grateful to have you. You are the reason that I smile, when I think of you, all of my worries slipping away.

When I make you smile, I feel like I can do everything and more. I feel like a failure when I know how much I made you sad.

I know that you went through a lot to be with someone like me, but please, can you please stay with me? I can’t always make you happy, but I promise you, I’ll do better, I’ll love you better.

I love you so much, please, stay with me. I don’t know what my life would be without you, and I don’t intend to find out. I love you, stay with me.

You rubbed your eyes, thinking you must’ve dreamed of reading all these messages. Why was he suddenly sent you all these messages?

You scrolled up to track every message you sent to him, found something that triggered him to send you messages like that.

You found a voice message that you sent to him.

“Oh, fuck!” You cursed out loud and apparently loud enough that the lady sitting on the next seat glared at you.

You must have drunk dialed him and sent that voice message, you didn’t even want to listen to what you said to him, you cringed just from thinking about it.

You reluctantly listened to it at the end and winced at how dramatic you sounded and the crying effect, ugh, you groaned. What were you thinking? Why can’t the drunk you send him something cheerful instead of a sob confession like that?

You started typing a reply, thinking of something to explain yourself about what really happened last night.

Baby, I might have accidentally drunk dialed you last night, nothing to worry about, I-

Now that you thought about it over and over, the voice message you sent him wasn’t entirely a lie, that was how much you missed him.

You deleted the words you had typed and started anew.

Hyunjin, my love, I need you just as much. You mean a lot to me apart from what your profession is. You are beautiful, inside and out, you are overflowed with such warmth that I am undeniably in love with you.

When I’m with you, I feel safe and loved and taken care of, and I don’t feel less than that even though you’re away living your dreams.

Please don’t let me get in the way of you from living and achieving your dreams.

I’ll always be supportive of you, baby. I love you, stay with me always.

You pressed send without thinking twice with your heart content with so much love and appreciation for him.

DAY 85.

Since the day you arrived at your parent’s house, you rarely had time for yourself except when it was bedtime. They always had you helping them around the house, either gardening or prepping meals, and when you were not doing something, they would ask you about college and your life, it was always the same questions, but you understood their worries for you yet you kept your guard up when they began poking around your love life, you would always ready to lead the conversation on to another topic.

Just like tonight, you would say, “I’m seeing someone,” then stop there because then they would ask more questions, and then it would be one endless talk, so what you did next was excused yourself to shower before heading for bed.

You poked your head out of the door frame of your bedroom, “Goodnight, mom, and dad!” You told them before closing your bedroom door.

You were drying your hair with a towel when your phone vibrated on your dresser, and you could see that it was Hyunjin who was calling you.

You picked it up immediately, “Hi, hello, I miss you,” you said as soon as you picked it up.

He chuckled, “I miss you too!” He replied, “What are you doing?”

“I just showered,” you replied, “I helped my mom plant roses and sunflowers today. My back hurts,” you whined.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he cooed.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, plopping down on the bed.

“I’m walking to my hotel room right now. We’re done with today’s schedule earlier than we expected,” he explained, you heard the rustles from his end of the line.

“Baby, I have to hang up for a bit, I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” he said, then hung up.

You tossed your damp towel into the laundry basket and laid down on the bed waiting for Hyunjin’s call.

A few minutes later, your phone rang, and you frantically looked for it. You accidentally dozed off while waiting for his call, you got panic that instead of a phone call, it was a video call. You sat up on the bed, fixing your hair real quick, then rested your back against the headboard, holding your phone high up in the air, then pressed accept, “Hey, baby,” you greeted.

“Were you sleeping?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No, I was drying my hair,” you lied.

He smiled, “you must be tired from helping your mom all day, hmm?”

You stifled a laugh, “A little bit,” you lied again, barely keeping your eyes open.

“Are you in your room now?” You quickly asked him to avert his attention somewhere else.

He nodded, aimed the camera around his room, “Yes, you want to see the view?” You could see him walking to the window to show you the view from his hotel room.

The view was truly something, it was beautiful, and the sun was shining so bright over the city.

“It’s a nice view,” you exclaimed.

Hyunjin switched the camera back to him, “Uhm… no, the nicest view is you,” he said to you, plopping down on the bed again, hugging a pillow.

You grimaced, “cheesy!”

“But I really got the nicest view of that,” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at you.

You immediately looked down at your chest, realized you were wearing nothing underneath your nightdress, “Enjoy the view, huh?” You teased.

“Very,” he replied with a chuckle, “would you do me a favor and just take it off?” He shamelessly asked.

You snorted, “Yeah, nice try,”

“Come on, I need you,” he pleaded.

You bit your lower lip, “are you alone?” You asked.

“I kicked Hannie out of the room earlier and locked the door,” he answered with a laugh.

“You did not!” You gasped, laughing along with him.

“I want some alone time just with you, baby,” he said.

You stayed quiet, unsure of what to say next to him or do what he asked you to do, “Can you wait?” You asked him.

You set the phone on your bedside table then walked to the door to lock it, you’re a grown adult, and your parents respect your privacy but you didn’t want to risk having them barged into your room.

When you came back, Hyunjin was fiddling with the pendant of his necklace.

You sat on the bed and put the phone up on the bedside table, aimed at you.

You’ve never done this before, you caught yourself blushing on the camera, you tugged the hem of your nightdress but didn’t stir, “please, don’t laugh,” you told him.

“Why would I be laughing at you?” He said, he too put the phone steadily on a table and aimed it at him.

Slowly you pulled up your nightdress and got it over your head, put it aside on the bed.

Hyunjin watched you with his jaws slacked open, even though he was watching through a camera, but you could feel his eyes on you.

Your hands automatically covered your chest even though it was useless to do so.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said with a soft smile, “I want to touch you so much,” he heavily sighed as he spoke.

You were too flustered to react to his praise.

“I’ll take off my shirt too so, it’s all fair for us,” he said, his hand reached for the button of his shirt and started popping them open one by one and slid it off of his shoulders, “do you miss it, babe?” He asked, his eyes gazing at you through his dark lashes.

You instantly nodded.

He leaned in closer to the camera, “I miss having your hands touching me,” he added.

“Me too,” you blurted out.

“Can you do one thing for me?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly replied.

“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, “please?”

You hesitated for a second, slowly brought your hands down to uncover your chest. You started touching your neck, and down to your sternum, swiped your hand to the side to cup your breast, gently fondling it.

You saw Hyunjin watching you intently through the screen, his hand impatiently unbuckled the belt of his jeans, “fuck, I’m so hard,” he cursed with his hand still struggling to open the button of his jeans.

You were watching him get so worked up gave you the confidence to do further, you used both hands to palm your breasts, your fingers softly rubbing over your nipples.

Hyunjin eventually pulled down his jeans, low enough to pull his hard-on out of his boxer.

You hummed, biting your lip looking at how hard he gripped his cock in his hand, “so hard,” you blurted out.

“You want it, baby?” He asked, his hand slowly pumping his length

You weakly nodded.

“Tell me where do you want it!” he said between his pants, “in your hand? In your mouth?” He sighed, “I think your mouth would look good wrapped around my cock,”

His filthy words did nothing but make you feel more aroused than before, your nipples were hard as you kept circling on it, “I want it inside me,” you told him.

He groaned, “Trust me, I’ve been thinking of fucking you all the time,” he said with a smirk.

“I want you,” your voice was low and sultry, almost like a whisper.

“Show me how much you want me,” he told you, “take your underwear off, let me see how wet you are for me, baby,”

You shifted on the bed, sat with your back against the headboard as your hand went lower, and slipped under your cottony white underwear.

You faintly heard Hyunjin whimper at the other end of the call, “yes, take it off for me,” he whispered.

You glanced at your phone screen, his hand was steadily pumping his red and swollen length.

You took a deep breath before tugging your fingers in the waistband of your underwear, and with one swift move, pulled it down your legs.

Hyunjin groaned louder, “turn your body to me, I want to see,”

You obeyed, turning your body slightly to the side facing the camera, and saw your own body displayed on the screen.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, “touch yourself for me, baby,” he pleaded almost pathetically.

You complied, as if your mind had been under his spell all along, cupping your own sex with your hand, you gasped at how wet it was.

Hyunjin hummed, “touch yourself just how you would like me to touch you, baby,”

Your hand easily found your clit and started circling on it, like how he would touch you, closed your eyes, and imagined it was his hand that was touching you right now.

“Keep going, baby,” Hyunjin repeatedly said between his pants.

You didn’t wait for his order to start fingering yourself, so lost in your own touch and drowned in Hyunjin’s moans through the phone.

You slumped on your pillow, grinding your own fingers to finally come undone a moment later. Your eyes screwed shut, when you regained your composure, you glanced at your phone screen to see Hyunjin was so close to his own high, he roughly pumped himself a few more times to finally get his sweet release.

His cock shot strings of milky white liquid on his abdomen and dripped down his own hand, raw groans escaped his mouth like melodic chants.

“Baby, I made a mess,” he whined to you, showing you his hand coated with his own cum.

You chuckled, pulling your blanket to cover your lower half, suddenly aware of yourself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he recklessly wiped down his mess with his shirt, “I can’t wait to make you moan like that again,” he said.

You blushed, “I can’t wait for you to make a mess again,” you teased.

“I’m a mess whenever I think of you,” he admitted.

You blushed hard at his words that your hands fisted the blanket on your lap.

DAY 98.

Your heart skipped a beat whenever you got reminded that the day of his arrival came closer and closer. Your wait is almost over, and you were having mixed feelings about it. There was nerve, excitement, anticipation, and longing, everything at once. You missed him that it hurts, and sometimes you felt it almost physically like there was a hole in your chest making you unable to breathe properly.

You couldn’t even concentrate on your study because you were always glancing at your phone, afraid that you might miss his messages or calls, but there was none until tonight.

You knew he was enjoying his last days of tour enjoying the city he was in right now, yet he made the time to call you.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted the second you picked up the phone and pressed it close to your ear.

“Hey, you, my beautiful boyfriend,” you greeted back, too giddy to think of something witty.

He chuckled, “I know you must be done with your class right now,”

“Yes, I’m on my way home right now,” you answered, “Aren’t you going out to explore the city?” You asked, walking on the inner side of the pavements to let the other pedestrians walk past you.

“We’ve just done having breakfast. I’m waiting for Jeongin to get ready,” he answered.

“What are you guys going to do today?”

“I don’t know yet, we’ll probably go shopping for some souvenirs or something and eat burgers,” he clicked his tongue, “now, tell me what do you want? I’ll buy it for you,”

You snorted, “no, thanks,”

“Why? You don’t want anything?” He asked, perplexed.

“Well, you can’t buy yourself so…” you said with a giggle.

He laughed, “oh, is that how much you want me?” You could hear his smirk through the phone.

“Yes,” you hastily replied, “I don’t want anything else. I just want you back,”

He cooed, “I’m so lucky,” he boasted, “talking about that…”

“Yes?” You sensed something ominous coming in next.

“I don’t think I can see you right after I come back. It will be my father’s birthday two days after that so, I will have to go home for a few days then we have a few interviews after that…” his words trailed off followed by a sigh, “I probably would see you a week after I come back,” he informed.

There was a lump growing in your throat as he talked but the more you swallowed the more it burns like a lump of hot coal stuck in your esophagus.

“Is it okay, baby?” He asked, there was an edge to his voice. He too getting nervous the longer you kept quiet, “you know what, I’ll try to find some time to see you before I go to my parents’ house,”

“No,” you quickly denied, “it’s okay, just take your time!” You said to him, tried as best as you can to not sound disappointed.

“I’ll make sure to see you before then,”

“Hyunjin,” you cut him off, “I’ll be happy if you use your free time to get your much-needed rest. We can see each other when you’re free,” you paused to take a deep breath to calm yourself down, “but be warned, because when that happens, I’ll have you just for myself,” you told him with a soft laugh.

He laughed as well, at least, he knew you were trying to soften the mood, “I really am the luckiest,” he whined adorably.

“Then you’d better never let me go,” you sneered.

“Why would I do that?” He exclaimed, “I’ll tie you to my bed if I could,”

You got taken aback by his words, “Oh, should I be afraid?”

“You should be excited,” he cheekily replied.

3 DAYS AFTER HIS ARRIVAL.

I got you something

It should be delivered to you by now

You just arrived at your place when you got texts from Hyunjin followed by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You saw through the visitor cam and found it was the delivery guy.

You opened the door, signed the delivery note and he handed you a neatly wrapped big box.

You placed the package on the kitchen counter and composed a new text to Hyunjin,

I assume this is the one?

You texted, with a picture of the package attached with it.

Then he replied,

Yes

I want you to wear it.

When we meet later.

See you real soon, baby!

He ended the text with a heart emoji.

You reread the texts a few more times and he really said that you’ll meet him soon? You felt confused for a second and quickly unwrap the package.

You were stunned to find a nice silk dress in the color red, you felt the smooth fabric with your fingers, it was beautiful, you lifted it and there was a little envelope inside.

You opened it, pulled out the note inside,

Saturday, 8 pm, Seaside hotel

I can’t wait to see you!

There was another thing inside the envelope, a Polaroid photo of him holding a bucket of flowers. You smiled at how beautiful he is compared to the flowers.

And also, you couldn’t wait for Saturday.

445 notes · View notes

dkfile · 3 years

Text

banana split. 03

❛ the thought hits him like a truck. he doesn’t want you to leave. ❜

word count | 13.0k (13,077) genre | fluff, angst, rivals to lovers, high school au, fake dating ━ cheerleader!reader

jaemin’s first relationship comes in the form of an arrangement with someone he used to despise, and he finds himself not hating it. he knows he doesn’t hate it. too bad he’s not very good at admitting it out loud.

★ warnings | like one mention of underaged drinking, jaemin tries to ignore his feelings, jaemin also can’t express his feelings, renjun and jeno won’t shut up about how lovey dovey you make him feel ★ note | omg i’m so sorry this took so long i like almost gave up halfway and began writing a new fic, but i persevered and now banana split is done!! i think this is probably the most exciting part because it has both the events of the wedding AND homecoming so..... !!! this was really fun to write jaemin is my sweet baby angel i love him so much 3 anyways i hope u enjoy

PART 01 | 02 | 03 [FINAL]

i. LUNGE

At seven in the morning, you’re woken up by Donghyuck’s flood of messages. There’s a cluster of Animojis, Memojis, regular emojis, and pictures of him pretending to be panicked—and you wonder, for a brief moment, how long it took for him to nail his expression before someone on the council shouted at him for not helping out with the homecoming dance decorations. Then, in all caps, he sends you a text saying that everything has gone up in flames, and Chaewon’s shouting at everyone because the stress has finally gotten to her head.

“She’s broken!” Donghyuck exclaims over the phone, alarmed, which answers your unspoken question—you guess he wasn’t pretending to be filled with dreadful anxiety after all. “And I can’t fix her! You have to come here and help—I know you were supposed to come at nine, but we need you now.” And then he says something you never thought he would say. “And bring Jaemin.”

You have never met a morning person in your entire life, so much that you thought they were a myth, but when you meet Jaemin at the front of the school, you realize you’re completely wrong. He’s grinning—like, actually grinning. At seven in the morning, when the sun has barely come up, and the crisp air bleeds through the thin material of his jacket.

“You’re chipper,” you grunt when he finally turns to look at you. His eyes widen a fraction, probably because you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed—which you have—and on the wrong side. You always thought you could look good in anything, but the dishevelled look is something nobody can pull off. “It’s frightening.”

“You look like you just came back from a fight with a raccoon and lost,” Jaemin quips before sizing you up and down. “I’m no fashion critic, but I don’t think blue polka dot pajama pants are gonna get you an invite to New York Fashion Week.”

Dawn has always taken its time seeping into your bones since, apparently, your body seems to enjoy being in an exhausted rampage every morning. Jaemin’s comment should’ve annoyed you like Cal did this morning when he finished the last of your favourite cereal, but for some reason, it doesn’t. Ticks you off a little, sure, but there’s something about his smile that wakes your body up.

You still scowl at him, though, because he made fun of your pajamas. “Is this your long winded way of saying I look ugly?”

“No, of course not! You look good,” he shrugs and spins to turn towards the front entrance, leaving you to gape at his back. “Worse than you usually do, but still—”

“Did you just compliment me?”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

The gymnasium is already consumed in havoc by the time both of you enter. Chaewon is being pried off a table by Donghyuck before she has the chance to shout at a poor unlucky freshman, and she huffs before looking down to examine her clipboard and begins to lecture him on what he could be doing instead of standing around.

“She seems stressed,” Jaemin states casually as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. He looks around the gym with an amused smile as everyone scurries to finish organizing banners and decorations for the homecoming dance. “And this looks like a disaster.”

You nudge his elbow, sending him a look to shut up before sliding gracefully on the floor to reach Donghyuck and Chaewon. Upon seeing you and Jaemin, her shoulders relax while Donghyuck’s face hardens.

“You guys arrived together?” Donghyuck asks suspiciously, halting Chaewon’s intentions to give Jaemin and you instructions.

“No,” you say, narrowing your eyes at Donghyuck. He’s acting strange for someone who had the idea in the first place to invite Jaemin for help. “We met out front.”

Donghyuck bites his tongue. “Right. Nice to see you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin frowns. “Yeah, you too, Donghyuck.”

Both boys straighten, squaring their shoulders to appear taller. Chaewon gapes at the interaction before grumbling about testosterone and the awful superiority complex men have before she levels your gaze with hers. “So, I need you to help Yeji with the banner for the dance—Ryujin will be here soon, she left to go get glitter—and Jaemin, I need you to help Donghyuck with—”

“Me and Jisu are fine,” your friend interrupts abruptly, causing all heads to turn to him. Chaewon’s eye twitches with annoyance—of course Donghyuck would pick today of all days to be irritatingly more difficult and unhelpful than he usually is. “We don’t need Jaemin for food, he can go help Mabel with hanging the streamers.”

“Mabel is ass at hanging the streamers! Look around,” Chaewon exclaims loudly, stretching her arms to gesture to the walls of the gymnasium. In the corner of your eye, you see the aforementioned freshman cower in the corner, and you heave a sigh. To you, the streamers are fine, but the look on Jaemin’s face says otherwise. You shove his elbow again and he sends you a brief glare. “Jisu’s good at decorating. And Jaemin’s in the food business, he’ll know how the world works. He’s helping you.”

“He works at an ice cream parlour.”

“I don’t care. Food is food, dumbass,” Chaewon says sarcastically before grabbing the sleeve of Jaemin’s denim jacket and pulling him towards Donghyuck. “Both of you—suck it up, you’re in charge of food. Y/N, banner.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N.”

“It seemed appropriate.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes before pushing in between the two boys to walk towards two underclassmen. Donghyuck’s eyes never leave Jaemin’s, and you’re left standing in the middle, watching the staring contest with blatant displeasure. If Donghyuck had second thoughts of letting you bring Jaemin along, he should’ve said so, because you really don’t have the energy to prevent an inevitable quarrel between your best friend and fake boyfriend. Frankly, you think nobody in the vicinity would want to break apart a catfight, either.

Your hands slip into Jaemin’s and he almost jolts in surprise. “We’ll handle food,” you say, squeezing his hand in hopes he won’t protest. He makes no move to, probably because he’d rather be with you than with Hyuck. You’re too tired to let that thought inflate your ego. “You can help Yeji.”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “But Chaewon—”

“This will be better for all of us,” you cut him off. “You’re good at art, right? And I’m good at, um… talking about food.”

Jaemin snorts. “No, you’re not.”

Donghyuck brushes the boy off. “How about we handle food and Jaemin helps with the banner?”

You send your friend an irked look. It really is too early to argue with somebody. “You were texting me last night that you wanted to help with arts and crafts,” you grunt. “You literally spent an hour complaining about your creativity going to waste. So, you help Yeji, and Jaemin and I will be over there.”

“You know Chaewon only separated you two so you wouldn’t get distracted.”

It’s a miracle Donghyuck keeps his eyes on you because Jaemin practically recoils in disgust. “We’re going to be negotiating with catering companies in hopes they’ll give us good food for cheap,” you deadpan, unamused. “I think Jaemin and I will be fine.”

He sighs. “Y/N, don’t be an idiot.”

“Hey!” Chaewon yells from the other side of the gym. “Why are you guys just standing around?”

Squeezing Jaemin’s hand again, you drag him to where you see Jisu sitting at a table, examining various pamphlets and business cards with a frown on her face. Behind you, you hear Donghyuck grumbling under his breath, but you ignore his childishness and instead send Jisu a smile before telling her that Chaewon wants her to help with decorations.

“Thank God,” she says, engulfed in relief. Her eyes linger on your and Jaemin’s linked hands before her lips pull up into a smirk. “Congratulations, by the way. I never thought Jaemin would fall in love with you, given the fact that he used to never go a day without dragging your name through the mud—”

Jaemin clears his throat loudly. “I am not in love.”

Jisu shrugs her jacket off and throws it onto the table. Walking backwards towards Mabel, she flashes the both of you a grin. “Well, only a matter of time, then.”

Jaemin scowls once Jisu’s back is turned. “I hate her,” he gripes, finally letting go of your hand and absentmindedly wiping his skin on his jeans. You frown at the action before taking the seat Jisu sat in previously. Jaemin examines the table with amusement. “Are these takeout menus?”

You grab one of the brochures and beam. “Hey, Cal used to work here!” you scan the paper, unaware of your grin and Jaemin’s gaze. “He used to bring us food after each shift—my Dad was always the one who finished the desserts. That was probably the first red flag—my first clue that he was going to turn out to be a pretty shitty father.”

Jaemin’s face falls. “Y/N—”

“I’m kidding,” you laugh before dropping the material to the side. “But we’re not getting food from here. The manager sucks and I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“Alright…” he trails off, seating himself in a chair across from you. He sifts through the pile of menus before tilting his head. “Is the food at dances usually takeout? I thought you guys said something about catering.”

You shrug. “Chaewon told us that if we say the food has been catered, it makes the school look good, which is kinda stupid, but... yeah. Pretty sure every year the food at the dance is takeout.”

“Most of these aren’t even healthy,” Jaemin’s nose wrinkles, showing his disgust as he rifles through the variety of food options laid out in front of him. “Aren’t schools supposed to serve nutritious food? Isn’t that a thing?”

“Healthy food is expensive,” you say, testing the know-it-all tone Chaewon typically uses on your tongue. Jaemin looks up, and you decide then that you don’t like how it fits your voice. “And these are the only options we have. Let’s start with eliminating some options—the vegan place is definitely out, I’m pretty sure they got health hazards last summer—”

“Why don’t we bake?” Jaemin thinks aloud, interrupting your explanation and silencing you. “Well, not you. I bake, because you’re a disaster—” you huff. He almost smiles, “—but you can help with, like, the mixing and plating and… putting things in the oven.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I can help with the actual baking, I’m not a complete lost cause—”

“Yeah, okay,” he waves you off. “But the homecoming dance is after the wedding, isn’t it, so…”

Biting the inside of your cheek and slowly unfolding your arms, you lean forward, your middle pressing against the table. “You’re suggesting we bake for the wedding and the dance.”

He nods. “The school doesn’t waste money so it takes things off your friend’s plate, and you’re fulfilling your promise with helping me with Aunt Eunbin’s wedding. Two birds, one stone.”

“Isn’t that more work for us, though?”

“Probably, but…” his lips part, eyes looking faraway before they meet yours again, bright with opportunity, like of a sanguine boy who is full of nothing but optimistic ideas. Reading other people is only ever a challenge if a person is unconsciously hiding what they truly feel, as if doing so is second nature, and you’ve come to realize that Jaemin can keep his emotions underneath the surface if that’s what he desires. “We’ll be fine, right? I mean, yesterday wasn’t so bad.”

“Yesterday we had a heart-to-heart about my asshole dad and my mom’s failed marriage.”

Jaemins actually tsks. “So? It’s nice learning these things about you—well, okay, you know what I mean,” he nonchalantly picks up the first brochure you discarded and traces the label on the front. “And, who knows, maybe, I’ll tell you the reason why I actually hate you.”

Eyebrows raised, you ask, “Hate, present tense?”

He doesn’t even bother to ponder your question. “Right, sorry. Hated, past tense.”

For some odd reason, you think your chest warms.

ii. DOUBLE 9

Nine minutes after Jaemin confesses to not completely hating your guts, Donghyuck drags you out of the gymnasium. He says it’s because he’s going to the vending machines to get everybody snacks, but you know it’s a ploy to talk to you without Chaewon grumbling about the productivity her two best friends lack.

Ever since your dad moved away, Cal’s worries had shifted, going from making sure you didn’t enter his room without permission to being certain there was still a roof above your heads and food on your plate, all while staying up late to finish his assignments so he can hand them in on time. So, Donghyuck has taken responsibility for all brotherly things, which Cal is thankful for. However, you aren’t, since Cal has never been an overprotective brother and could care less about the people you date. Donghyuck is a different story. Obviously. He doesn’t make that fact unknown.

The two of you arrive at the vending machines. His head is down as he reads the list of snacks he wrote in his notes app; a granola bar for Mabel, bag of carrots for Jisu, Doritos for Yeji… You walk to the other vending machine, which is for beverages, and grab the grape Powerade Chaewon asked you to retrieve. You refrain from gagging in disgust at the flavour she chose and instead wait for Donghyuck to finish at the machine he currently stands in front of so you can get the bag of pretzels Jaemin asked for.

The sound of thumbs pressing against buttons is interrupted when Donghyuck says, “Jaemin seems nice.”

You stare at Hyuck, watching as he bends down to get the snacks before he turns to look at you. His face shows everything but sincerity, and you almost roll your eyes. “Thanks, I can tell that you really mean that,” you state monotonously. Donghyuck purses his lips before turning away again to put more quarters through the slit of the machine. “I don’t understand what your problem is. If you didn’t want him here, why did you tell me to bring him?”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Donghyuck groans, his head hanging back briefly as he recalls the events of the moments before you and Jaemin arrived to help the student council. “Chaewon was complaining about how our options for food suck and Jisu mentioned that Jaemin is good with culinary stuff, and since you planted the idea in her head that Jaemin offered to help with organizing homecoming…”

The machine beeps after each button Hyuck presses. You’re silent for a moment, watching his movements before commenting, with the confidence of the world on your chest, “He’s a good guy.”

“He hates you.”

“Hated,” you correct, and you feel lighter, knowing that this isn’t something you have to lie about. “If you would just give him a chance—”

“I was talking to Chanhee last night,” Donghyuck interjects. “He can’t believe you’re dating Jaemin. He said it feels… weird, because, you know, he used to hate you. Even your friends think this is strange, Y/N.”

You murmur something in a low, gruff tone before moving towards the vending machine after Donghyuck’s finished with getting all the snacks. You slip in the remainder of your change—Jaemin promised to pay you back, although you’re sure that isn’t true, considering you basically made him pay for your meal days ago when the two of you were at Denny’s. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t trust him,” Donghyuck persists, pressing his lips together firmly. “I want to, but—”

“Then let’s hangout,” you suggest, tossing the pretzels in the air before catching it. Your vision focuses on Hyuck’s lips parted in surprise. “Later, before we go home, you can get to know him. Invite Chanhee if you want, too, since the both of you agree that me and Jaemin’s relationship is a hoax.”

Which it is. But you are not admitting that to Donghyuck.

“We don’t think that,” he scoffs as the two of you begin your trek back to the gymnasium. “It’s just weird, I think, to start dating your sworn enemy.”

“You are so fucking dramatic.”

He sends you a curt glare. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” you stop and so does he, the two of you staring at each other in the quiet hallway, surrounded by lockers and the faint noise of your peers just around the corner. “We’ll go to Denny’s. Tell Chanhee to meet us there.”

He searches your face. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Donghyuck is quiet for a beat before he exhales. “Fine. Denny’s after this.”

He starts walking first and you follow after him, wincing at the reaction Jaemin will have once you tell him what you have just gotten yourselves into. You reason with yourself that this is fair—you were introduced to Jaemin’s world a few days ago, and today he’s being introduced to yours. Now, you’re even.

“Where were you guys?” Jaemin whines once you reach the table after handing a disgruntled Chaewon her Powerade. “I’ve been waiting for you for ten minutes! We need to figure out the—”

You glance at the time on your phone. “It’s only been nine minutes.”

“Okay, close enough,” he huffs before making grabbing gestures with his hands in an attempt to take the pretzels from your hands. “Now give me my food please.”

You toss the bag to him before sending him a hesitant smile. “Jaemin. I have a question.”

The boy places two miniature pretzels on his tongue and hums in response. When you don’t reply to his acknowledgement, he looks up at you, worry spilling from his mouth when he asks, “What? Are you okay?”

You bite your tongue before deciding to rip off the bandaid. “How do you feel about a double date?”

Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow, searching your face for any tell that shows you’re lying, only to come up short. He sighs, dropping his hands onto his lap before begrudgingly asking, “With who?”

“Chanhee—” Jaemin exhales with relief, and if you said the next name a second earlier, he would’ve missed it entirely. “—and Donghyuck.”

Jaemin’s gaze snaps up to yours and respite is swept away from him too quickly. He looks at you with disbelief.

You grimace. It was nice to know that he stopped hating you—although, after this, his tolerance might be short lived.

iii. DOUBLE HOOK DATE

Whoever thought double dates aren’t ploys where an individual tries to make somebody jealous, interventions dressed as chocolate milkshakes and blueberry pancakes, or both, are delusional. Jaemin thinks these things only ever really end in disaster—which is an indirect way of him saying he’s watched too many trashy Hallmark romcoms—and told you multiple times that this will only backfire.

But if you backed out now, Donghyuck and Chanhee would raise eyebrows, so you slammed your foot on the gas pedal instead.

The Spotify Teen Beats playlist you put on shuffle—due to you and Jaemin arguing over music for five minutes in the school’s parking lot—is immediately drowned out by him listing talking points to go over during the date slash interrogation. One that you wouldn’t be in if it weren’t for you wanting to prove Donghyuck wrong. There’s a large chance Jaemin will hold this over your head, but you can’t bring yourself to worry about it when all your fake boyfriend is doing is quizzing you on how your supposed first date went.

“We went to the arcade,” you say, causing Jaemin to groan.

“I don’t like the arcade and Chanhee knows this—”

“What kind of person doesn’t like the arcade?” you huff, baffled by Jaemin’s confession. You try to stop yourself from calling him boring and landing both of you in a debate about the pros and cons of claw machines, and instead state, “Never mind. We’ll just say I wanted to go to the arcade and you said yes because you liked me so much.”

“There’s no way Chanhee’s going to believe that.”

“What, that you’re in love with me? Come on, it can’t be that hard to act that out.”

Jaemin gives you a look. “It can.”

Before you have a chance to retort, your phone beeps with a text from Chanhee, saying he’s sitting in his favourite booth in the corner, and sends another message with a smiley face. The emoji stares up into your face, taunting you, and you unbuckle your seatbelt before reaching to unlock the doors.

“Whoa, hold on,” Jaemin protests immediately as you move to step out of the car. “We haven’t finished discussing the details—”

“Think of this as a…” you trail off waving your hand in the air, staring at the cloudy sky. You can’t bear to sit in the car while your friends are waiting inside the restaurant, determined to pick apart this relationship. You’d rather get this over with than to prepare for it. “An improv exercise. You need more practice with that, anyway.”

Jaemin gapes at you from the passenger’s seat. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Let’s go!” you sing, slamming the door shut and walking towards the entrance. Jaemin is quick to catch up to you and you reach into your pocket to lock the car. After hearing the satisfying beep, you walk into Denny’s, welcoming the cool air-conditioning and the sound of sizzling eggs and brunch chatter.

Jaemin glances around then sends a reluctant wave to Chanhee, the action catching your eye. You and Jaemin send each other a brief encouraging look before walking towards the booth, where Chanhee and Donghyuck sit side-by-side, the former eyeing the two of you with suspicion while the latter examines the menu.

“Hey,” Chanhee breathes out a greeting. You haven’t seen him since cheerleading practice a few days ago—Coach has decided to dwindle the amount of practices, thank God—and you haven’t sat with the cheerleaders at lunch in a while either, so you’ve only seen him in the hallways since the both of you don’t share any classes. “Haven’t seen the both of you in forever. Clearly we have some catching up to do.”

“I saw you on Wednesday,” says Jaemin, urging you to go into the booth first. A tactic, so it’s easy for him to escape to the bathroom if the conversation becomes too much for him. Before you have the chance to argue, he kicks your foot, and you’re forced to slide into the booth before Donghyuck or Chanhee can ask questions.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know the two of you were dating then,” he shrugs, fidgeting with the top of the salt shaker. “You guys are cute, by the way.”

Donghyuck purses his lips while you beam. “Thanks!”

Sliding the menu over to Jaemin, Donghyuck says, “So, Jaemin, how was everything earlier? You find it okay?” There’s a beat, an awkward pause in the middle of Donghyuck’s statement where he wants to add something else but can’t string the right words together. Eventually, he settles for: “Y/N wasn’t a pain in the ass or anything? You know, they get cranky early in the morning.”

You kick Donghyuck’s shin and he thinly veils a wince. “Everyone is cranky in the morning—you’re moodier than me!”

Donghyuck does nothing to acknowledge your statement and keeps his eyes on Jaemin instead, patiently waiting for an answer that satisfies him. Donghyuck’s ego inflates drastically when he’s proven right, and you’ll never hear the end of this if Jaemin ends up stumbling over himself.

Jaemin casts a sideways glance towards you and you catch the helplessness swirling in his irises before he flashes Donghyuck a smile. “It was good! We figured out what to do about the food situation. Chaewon approved it.”

The end of Jaemin’s reply catches Donghyuck off guard. Chaewon is notorious for never being happy with the end result of things—especially if she’s flooded with stress and the desire to make sure everything is up to par. You had been surprised, too, when all Chaewon did upon hearing your idea was send you a relieved smile before moving to talk to Ryujin about tickets. Donghyuck’s shock, however, is enough to make you a little smug, and when he sees the look on your face, he almost rolls his eyes.

Chanhee clears his throat. “Oh, what food is gonna be at the dance, then? Please tell me it’s not that vegan place again, last summer I heard—”

“Oh,” Jaemin shakes his head. “We’re baking.”

Chanhee’s jaw goes slack. “Y/N’s baking?”

“No,” Jaemin declines quickly, and you scowl at how Chanhee’s shoulders deflate. It’s insulting that they have no faith in you. “No, oh my God, that would be awful. I’m baking, Y/N’s decorating. Making everything look pretty, it’s the only way things won’t turn out to be a disaster.”

You shove his shoulder gently to make it seem lighthearted. “Okay, what the hell, I can be a good baker if I wanted to.” Donghyuck’s mask of indifference melts hastily, and he almost laughs at your protest. “I think if I practiced more I could become, like, the Leonardo DiCaprio of baking.”

Jaemin hums. “I don’t like Leonardo DiCaprio.”

You huff. “Of course you don’t.”

“Seriously,” he sighs airily, thumbing the edges of the Denny’s menu while he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You could’ve picked anyone in Hollywood and you picked Leonardo DiCaprio? Why not, like, I don’t know… someone more influential.”

“Who’s more influential than Leonardo?”

“Ellen.”

“What the fuck?”

Jaemin grins, face sparkling with mirth at your reaction. He leans back, pressing his spine against the plush booth and shrugs, “I’m kidding, obviously. That isn’t the point, though. The point is, you can’t bake at all.”

“The fact that you have no faith in me at all is hurtful,” you complain. “I think I could bake and be successful if I put my mind to it. If you ever tried to do a cheer stunt, you’d fail.”

“Who says I can’t! I’m flexible!”

“Chanhee,” you pointedly look at your teammate who was previously watching the conversation with delighted amusement. He’s surprised to hear his name, and something dawns on him when he realizes that he’s going to be dragged into this lover’s quarrel. “Do you think Jaemin would be a good cheerleader?”

Chanhee ponders for a moment, scrutinizing Jaemin before shaking his head. “No. You’re not flexible, Jaemin—I’ve seen you—”

Jaemin gapes. “I can’t believe this.”

“Sorry, man, I’m just saying.”

The conversation shifts from your baking skills and Jaemin’s chances of making it on the cheerleading team (which Chanhee argues are low, considering he’d have to be peppy all the time, and Jaemin absolutely does not have the energy to pretend to be cheerful for a long period of time), to the latest gossip Chanhee heard in the boys’ locker room during gym class. You join in the conversation, too, because you forgot how good gossip from Chanhee was until it became about you, but across from you, Donghyuck has become uncharacteristically silent.

The last time Donghyuck was this quiet might’ve been when you were crying on Chaewon’s couch because your Dad had decided he was going to move. Hyuck was mute while Chaewon laid your head in her lap, and they both thought, for a moment, you were upset that your dad was leaving, until you managed to choke out that you’d have to: “Fucking unpack all those stupid boxes.” Your tears were angry ones, not sad, and once Donghyuck realized, he started cracking jokes to make you feel better.

Comforting you while you’re dejected was never quite his forte, but he knew what quips could make you happy if you’re mad.

The last time Donghyuck was this quiet was last year, and that idea alone makes you uneasy.

When Chanhee and Jaemin leave to go talk to the waitress (something was wrong with Chanhee’s order and he was scared to confront the employee alone), you’re left frowning at Donghyuck. All the thoughts in his head are jumbled, and in order for them to make sense, he has to piece them together like a puzzle. It takes him moments to realize you’re staring at him, and when he finally comes to, he sighs.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, concern flickering on your face when Donghyuck licks his lips and throws his head back in defeat. “Is it the food?”

“No, I was just…” he stares at the ceiling, lips closing and parting before he continues, “he doesn’t hate you.”

You roll your eyes. “Christ—”

“No, listen,” Donghyuck interrupts, shaking his head slowly. “He actually likes you.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” you frown. “Like you’re not convinced he does.”

“It’s just surprising is all,” he shrugs. “And… yeah, it’s weird that he doesn’t hate you anymore, but… this is good, Y/N. It’s nice to see you happy.”

Donghyuck’s tone and expression doesn’t match his words. His typical smile is nowhere to be seen, and he’s holding back, not saying the one thing on his mind that’s bothering him the most. You click your tongue, “But…?”

He frowns. “But what?”

“There’s something you aren’t saying.”

Donghyuck sucks in a breath like he’s preparing himself for an unpleasant reaction he knows is inevitable. Clasping his hands together and placing them on the rink, he murmurs slowly, “I think I would’ve preferred if he actually did hate you, otherwise this whole thing would be easier.”

It takes you a moment to register what he’s saying, and you have to bite your tongue to prevent yourself from grumbling at him. You’ve always known Donghyuck to be a frustrating person, but this feels different.

“I don’t understand,” you scoff. “Before, you didn’t trust him because he hated me and now you don’t trust him because he doesn’t?”

Hyuck sighs, rubbing his eyelids until they sting. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He rolls his tongue in his mouth, taking in every detail of your face that’s twitching with annoyance before he says softly, “Things hurt the most when they come from people you care about.” Concern is etched into every word, and you almost jolt at his implication. “I’m not… saying he’s going to hurt you, Y/N, but, just— be careful, okay? He’s more capable of hurting you than he was before.”

Before you get the chance to respond, Jaemin and Chanhee arrive back at the table, loud and rowdy as Chanhee starts complaining about how rude the waitress was. The pink-haired boy is unaware of how tense you’ve gotten since they left, and when he isn’t looking, Jaemin nudges your elbow as he reaches to grab his drink.

“Are you okay?”

Donghyuck glances over and sends you a look.

You shake his words from your head. “Yeah,” you say, giving Jaemin the smallest of smiles. “I’m great.”

iv. COTTON CANDY

With each passing day the wedding inches closer, and Jaemin has more stress clogging his lungs than he did on finals week. He suspects this is just one of the side effects of playing an important part on the big day, but nevertheless, Jaemin decides he’s no longer going to organize any more weddings unless it’s his.

He’s exhausted. Every waking moment is spent on his feet. There’s still some small details for the reception dessert menu he has to tweak, and when he’s not worrying about whether or not anyone invited is allergic to peanuts, he’s helping the student council with the homecoming dance. Despite already finishing details for food, there’s still the process of convincing the principal having two teenagers bake is a good idea—and to put the stress of that on top of Chaewon’s pushiness and Donghyuck’s barely concealed skepticism is enough for the energy to be drained out of Jaemin completely.

There’s also the fact that his friends are bugging him about his relationship. Renjun has sent him dozens of cute date ideas!!! Pinterest boards and Jeno is absolutely over the moon, despite him being confused when he first heard of the news.

His co-workers won’t leave him alone either. Yesterday, Chaeryeong had told him when the best times to talk to you were before the homecoming game, and then claimed that his encouragement would make you so chipper that even their coach would be surprised. Doyoung overheard about Jaemin’s new relationship and has been grilling him about it whenever they share the same shift.

Almost surprisingly, the only person who hasn’t caused his brain to go completely haywire is you. He assumes it’s because you’re going through the same things he is—the other day he overheard Hyunjin complaining that there was a lack of Jaemin on your Instagram page and just this morning you told him that your brother has been interrogating you about him since you woke up.

There’s a level of understanding between you two that Jaemin has grown to like. And he thinks he wouldn’t mind admitting it out loud. Maybe he’d do so when it’s quiet, or when there’s nobody around to hear it except you… but that counts, doesn’t it?

Yangyang was right that night in ninth grade about you not being as bad as Jaemin made you out to be. The weight of his melodramatic junior high grudge has been lifted off his chest, and he feels lighter. When he’s around you, his chest fills with an emotion he’s not used to. It’s unfamiliar and surprising, like cold fingers pressed against warm skin, but it’s not entirely unwelcome.

Jaemin isn’t quite sure what to call it. Tolerance makes it sound trivial. Like doesn’t feel right on his tongue.

“How do you not know how to tie a tie?” Renjun calls dramatically, annoying a disgruntled Jeno who stands in front of Jaemin’s full-length mirror. Jeno’s fingers dance and twirl around the striped accessory, trying to figure out the mechanics of it but failing miserably.

“This is harder than you think it is.”

Jaemin knows full well that Renjun doesn’t know how to tie a tie either, no matter how many YouTube tutorials he’s watched, but Jaemin’s enjoying watching two of his friends bicker over something so minor. When Jeno’s hands drop to his side and he groans loudly, Jaemin moves to go help him but slouches back against his headboard when he remembers someone’s leaning against him.

You’ve been asleep on his shoulder for half an hour and his arm has gone numb, but he doesn’t have it in him to slip out of your grasp. You’re clinging on to him, something Jeno and Renjun didn’t even bother to let slide, considering they made fun of Jaemin and his reddening cheeks for almost fifteen minutes before Jeno accidentally let it slip he doesn’t know how to tie a tie around his neck.

You had come over with the intention to hang out with him and his friends but ended up falling asleep partway through their debate on the Best Picture Oscar nominees. Fatigue’s hit you like a truck, and you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a while, a fact Jaemin is sure of considering you send him funny tweets at three a.m.

“Yangyang wants to go to the arcade at three,” Renjun announces as he stares at his phone. His gaze flicks up to Jeno who shrugs, and then his eyebrows rise when they land on you and Jaemin. “You haven’t complained about Y/N in the past thirty minutes.”

Jaemin frowns. “Um… okay?”

“I’m just observing,” Renjun muses with a teasing glint in his eyes. Then he slouches further on Jaemin’s favourite beanbag chair and waves his phone in the air. “So? Arcade?”

Jaemin’s unsure of why he even ponders the question when he already knows what his answer will be. “No, it’s okay,” he murmurs, afraid that if he speaks any louder he’ll startle you. Jeno and Renjun share a knowing look. “I think we’ll just stay here. Y/N’s exhausted.”

Renjun nods, sending him a small smile. “Alright. Next time, then.”

To get some feeling in his fingers, Jaemin drums his against your knuckles. Your cheek rests against his shoulder and he feels the warmth of your breath through his shirt. This is the calmest he’s seen you all week, and he has no doubt that he’ll feel horrible if he wakes you up from your nap.

“Yeah,” he says. “Next time.”

Jeno meets his eyes through the mirror. His eyes crinkle and his lips curl upwards and he only shrugs when Jaemin frowns at him questioningly. Then, the smile is quickly wiped from his face when he ties a funny looking knot in his tie.

“Renjun, can you get up and help me?”

v. COCONUT BLISS

The skies are cloudless, a blank blue canvas blanketing the people underneath it. Sunlight beams, tickling his back, and the feeling of its presence only goes away temporarily when zephyr blows by, reminding Jaemin it’s there and he doesn’t have to worry about sweating through his button-up ivory shirt.

The only flaw this day has is that it’s incredibly loud—the best days are always peaceful, he thinks, and today is anything but. His little cousins zip through the rows of white chairs, sweat sticking to their foreheads and joviality clinging to their souls. The relatives who always huddle together and gossip have found their little corner near the back, and the teenagers who are trying to avoid Grandma’s kisses are standing as far away as their parents will let them.

Wind gently tousles his hair, and after its hasty disappearance, Jisung runs through the row in front of him, chasing after his little brother with a laugh tumbling from his throat.

Jeno is seated next to him (he doesn’t let anybody so much as touch his tie, with the irrational fear it will come undone, which he can’t afford since he spent too long on WikiHow trying to perfect it), chatting with Renjun who’s going on and on about how excited he is. Jaemin’s pretty sure the last time he saw Renjun grinning this widely was last year when the musical finally ended and he was no longer burdened with the stress it came with.

Jaemin’s aware that he’s the only person who doesn’t enjoy weddings (if you exclude those bitter cynical adults in post-university movies who are always going to every wedding they’re invited to except their own). It’s not like he hates it—he’s happy for Aunt Eunbin, really, but he isn’t quite sure why people need expensive celebrations to show someone they love each them.

And from the amount of dramas he’s watched, love only ends up failing in the end, anyway. Jaemin is perfectly fine with the friends he has by his side and—

“Hey, I think this is the first wedding I’ve been to where the bride and groom aren’t getting cold feet.”

And you. Jaemin wonders if you fit in his friend category.

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” Renjun asks while you settle in the seat in front of Jeno and turn your body so you’re facing all three boys.

“Of course it isn’t!” you exclaim in protest, but Jaemin senses the glint of hesitation in your eyes. “It shows that they’re not afraid… I think.” You pause, grimacing while Jaemin smiles in amusement, and then you add, “God, what the hell, Renjun, you got in my head!”

Jeno snorts. “Eunbin and Rodrigo love each other, there’s no need to be worried,” he reassures softly, and this causes your brief panic to fade away. “Next time, don’t listen to Renjun, he normally has nothing good to say, anyway.”

Renjun pinches Jeno’s arm. “That is not true!”

The two boys start to bicker and neither notice you shuffling to sit into the seat in front of Jaemin. He meets your eyes, matches the smile on your face, and feels something other than the welcoming breeze hit him. This is an emotion, the kind that roars in the pit of his stomach like a monstrous flame and is impossible to put out.

It burns his insides.

“Are you excited?” you say giddily, curling your fingers on the back of the chair and leaning forward. “And don’t say you aren’t, because you’re literally beaming, and that’s not a face people make when they’re anything but excited.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Why did you ask when you already knew what I was gonna say?”

You shrug with no response to answer his question, but the grin never fades from your face. The excitement you have is something Jaemin noticed doesn’t go away; it twinkles under the sunlight and seeps into the colour of your eyes, and it’s devastatingly easy to get lost in. It’s the type of excitement that’s jittery, nervous, where the only thing that can keep you still is daydreaming of the endless happily ever afters.

You push the chair forward, swinging towards him before gravity pushes you back to the ground. “I can’t believe you invited me,” you murmur, breathless and joyful. “It’s so nice here! And it’s so exciting—did you see those flowers?”

“They’re tulips,” Jaemin says before he even shifts his gaze to where you’re pointing. He was in the kitchen doing his homework when Eunbin and Rodrigo were discussing flower arrangements for almost two hours. Thanks to that, he knows too much about flowers, facts he can never imagine himself using, other than situations where you point to the ones you find pretty and wonder what kind they are. “They’re pretty.”

Satisfied with his answer, you turn back to him. “Speaking of pretty, you look nice.”

It’s unexplainable, the fact that he didn’t choke at your sudden declaration. “Thanks. You too.”

Despite the lack of enthusiasm in his reply, you say, “I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“What?” he frowns. “No, I’ve said nicer things before. Didn’t I say I liked your pajamas?”

“The blue ones? You said those were ugly!”

“I definitely didn’t say that.”

“You implied it,” you scoff goodnaturedly. “And before that, you said I looked uglier than I usually did—”

“You have to stop saying I called you ugly when we both know you aren’t—”

“Okay, that was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Here’s the truth: you aren’t an eyesore, and it’s a shame that his compliments only turn up backhanded because he truly does mean them—he just gets a little tongue-twisted when it comes to things like this.

You don’t wait for his reply, only continuing to list things off while you push yourself on the chair. Your voice rings in his ears, and he doesn’t seem to notice that your rambling is the cause of the growing amusement on his face. Beside him, Jeno and Renjun have glanced over to the two of you, whispering amongst themselves before Jeno sticks his foot out the moment you tip your chair towards Jaemin, and instead of falling back, you continue to fall forward. Panic rises, and Jaemin reaches forward to steady you before you have the chance to splat against his chest.

Quickly, Jeno tucks his foot underneath his chair with the face of a scheming best friend. Jaemin doesn’t even get a chance to glare at him because you’re untangling yourself from his arms, then fixing the chair so it’s upright. Thankfully, nobody has seemed to notice the fuss, and you groan about how your outfit is probably a mess before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Renjun pipes up as soon as you’re out of earshot. “That was very heroic.”

“What the hell was that?” Jaemin hisses.

“You saved them!” Jeno says, grinning with mischief. “From falling and embarrassment. That was very cute.”

Jaemin huffs. “You tipped their chair over.” He’s a little annoyed that his conversation with you was cut short because of Jeno and Renjun butting in—although he would never say that out loud, he’s pretty sure his friends are already aware of the fact. “Why would you do that?”

Renjun leans over Jeno’s lap and narrows his eyes. “Dude, are you blushing?”

“Oh, Christ.”

“I never knew someone could have that effect on you,” Renjun muses while Jeno nods in agreement. Jaemin slouches in his chair and turns towards the front, not enjoying being analyzed by his own friends. “Let alone Y/N. You’re, like... giddy.”

It only takes that last part for Jaemin to turn back, eyebrows furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re happier,” Renjun clicks his tongue. “It’s weird. Not bad, just weird. It’s good, though.”

“I’m not—” Jaemin sputters. He feels the heat climbing up from his fingertips to his collarbone to his neck. “I’m not acting weird!”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Jeno smiles, clearly having a kick at Jaemin’s bashfulness. “They make you happy. We’re happy for you.”

Jaemin feels his chest twinge. Something stabs his heart, blunt and dull, but not enough for a wound to form and spill emotions he’s gotten very good at disguising.

When you come back from the bathroom, looking no different than the last he saw you except for the obvious satisfaction on your lips (he supposes you were successful in fixing your appearance after all), you sit beside him, falling perfectly into the conversation Renjun has started. Your hands slip into Jaemin’s too easily, too quickly, and it feels too familiar.

His chest twinges again, and he manages to convince himself he doesn’t like it.

vi. SHOW N’ GO

You don’t think you’ve ever felt lonely before. Not really.

The closest you’ve ever been to loneliness is when your dad decided to leave, but you think that doesn’t count, since everyone in your household knew exactly what you were going through. You have never been lonely before, which is perhaps why you can’t differentiate loneliness from being alone.

And although it may not be as sad as the former, being alone is embarrassing. At least, that’s what you think. You don’t like the feeling you get when you sit in English class without Chaewon next to you, or eating at the lunch table without Donghyuck to snatch food off your tray. Your heart is filled to the brim with dread when you’re the last one in the locker room—but maybe that’s because you’ve been watching too many scary videos at night instead of doing your homework—and you still freak out a little when you lose Cal in the aisles of the grocery store.

Nobody seems to be looking at you during the reception, but you still feel out of place, sitting stiffly at the table without anyone to talk to. Renjun has left to go to the bathroom, and Jaemin and Jeno are currently being smothered by who you assume to be Jaemin’s parents—whom you haven’t met yet, and you hope that you won’t have to, because meeting other peoples’ parents stresses you out. It took you months to not grimace in front of Chaewon’s mom.

You drum your fingers against the silverware, staring at the place card they’ve put on your spot at the table. You recognize the handwriting to be Jaemin’s, with the way it flows gently on the paper, and you’ve seen him doodle those pink flowers into the side of your notebook while Chaeryeong was talking to you about the cheer routine during lunch a few days ago. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you trace the gold writing and the flowers in the corner.

“Hey,” Jaemin slides into the chair beside you, exhaling like he’s just managed to escape something he thought he wouldn’t be able to slip out of. “You okay?”

He’s developed the habit of asking you this particular question whenever he sees you. You two could be separated for only a few minutes before he taps your shoulder and asks: "Are you alright?” It’s endearing. It doesn’t annoy you as much as you thought it would. Maybe he is trying to piss you off but it’s backfiring in his face. Or maybe he actually cares.

You shudder.

“Mhm,” you nod, placing the object back on the table. “Your hair is dishevelled.”

Jaemin grumbles but a smile appears on his lips. “My mom was trying to fix my hair but she only made it worse.” He’s silent for a beat before his expression quickly turns mischievous. “Oh, you haven’t met her yet, have you? We can go do that right now!”

Your eyes widen. “Um, I haven’t eaten dessert yet—”

“Dessert can wait.” He’s quick to dismiss you and his eagerness turns your stomach. “Come on! She’s so nice! A little overbearingly happy sometimes, but nothing you can’t handle, since you’re literally a cheerleader.”

You don’t even bother to reply to his insult. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, and your stomach turns again, but this time for entirely different reasons.

He’s fast with the way he slips by other tables, careful not to trip over unpushed chairs and people heading to talk to their friend across the room. He greets the cousins who shout his name and waves politely at relatives he’s aware of but doesn’t know all that well, until he stops in front of a table near the front he was hanging around before.

Jaemin lets go and sits in the chair next to his mom, urging you to take the seat beside him. You do so, and ignore your hand’s sudden lack of warmth.

“Mom,” he says. “This is the person Aunt Eunbin was talking about.”

The attention is quickly taken off of Jeno, to which the boy is thankful for, and he slumps against his chair. The look on his face is exhausted and embarrassed, an odd combination you would’ve laughed at if you weren’t so tense. Your eyes move past Jeno and land on the woman Jaemin has just addressed—his mother is the spitting image of him, pretty with bright eyes, and you’re astonished at the similarity between them.

“Oh,” the woman says eagerly. “Jaemin talks about you a lot—” There’s a loud protest beside you, “—I’m his mom.”

She leans over her son to shake your hand. Her smile is contagious. “Uh, I’m Y/N.”

“You’re just as beautiful as Eunbin said,” she muses casually, examining the details of your face with sincerity and softness. You start to feel your limbs growing hot at the sudden compliment. Jaemin’s mother turns to him, stern and scolding. “Jaemin, you never told me they were pretty.”

“Mom!”

She ignores him. “I really wish we could’ve met sooner, but all Jaemin has been doing is making sure we never cross paths.”

Jaemin reaches over to squeeze your knee and you immediately start to feel yourself relax. “That’s not true, we’ve just been busy! You know Y/N decorated the desserts?”

“Ah, that was you?” she asks curiously. “Those designs were very nice—where did you learn to draw like that?”

“Oh, it’s a natural talent, I guess,” you explain softly. Jaemin does a double take beside you, having never heard you speak so quietly before. “My mom’s good at drawing, I think I probably get it from her. But I’m more of a sports person than an artist, so I don’t draw much… which was probably why Jaemin was so surprised when my cupcakes turned out better than his.”

Jaemin scoffs but he feels your body begin to lose tension after his mother laughs, and he slightly falters. “Well, promise me you’ll help Jaemin more with baking. You two make a good team,” she clasps her hands together. “The macaroons you two made were delicious, by the way!”

“Ah, I haven’t tried them yet.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Jaemin brought me here to—”

“Jaemin,” his mother scolds, tutting and shaking her head. “Let your date eat.”

Jaemin’s mouth forms into a petulant pout. “But you were saying you wanted to meet them so I brought them here!”

“At least let them eat first,” Mrs Na sighs, closing her eyes for a brief second before she gestures for you and Jeno to stand up. “You two go and get some desserts while I tell Jaemin how important it is to treat your date well— have you even asked them to homecoming yet?”

“Mom—!”

Jeno halts as he’s pushing his chair in. His eyes flicker from you to Jaemin in confusion. “You’re going to homecoming?”

“Of course he is!” Mrs Na exclaims. “He’s been helping Y/N and their friends organize it for a while—it would be a shame if he didn’t go at all.”

Jeno opens his mouth to speak—perhaps to comment on the oddity of Jaemin attending a school event he’s spoken up against too many times to count—but then closes it. He murmurs a confused but accepting ah, before nodding his head towards you, and you suddenly remember he’s waiting to accompany you to the food table.

Jeno is fast to bring up homecoming by the time his friend’s voice is drowned out by the DJ. “You, Jaemin, and homecoming…?”

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” you stammer while playing with your fingers. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

Jeno doesn’t speak for a moment, silently pulling his thoughts together before he lets out an amazed laugh. “Wow, he really must— wow.” His laughter is breathless, like he’s bewildered but not opposed. Your eyebrows furrow. “Sorry, I just never pictured Jaemin going to a school dance, let alone with you—no offence, he just… God, he just hated you for a while, you know?”

You snort. “Was it really that bad?”

“Yes. Oh my God,” Jeno chuckles, tucking his hands in his pockets while he leads you to the table of food. “He would never shut up about it—which was probably because he was so frustrated that he liked you so much, now that I think about it. If that even makes any sense.”

“Do you know why he hated me?” you ask. You wonder if Jeno has the answer to the question you’ve been wondering about—something Jaemin has that he won’t give. “I’ve asked but he’s never told me…”

“He’s told me before,” Jeno shrugs. “But I never fully understood it. He, just… he wasn’t holding a grudge because of you, he was mad because he lost.”

“So he was mad at me because he was a loser?”

“There’s more to it,” Jeno sucks in a breath. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him about it. Maybe you’ll understand more than I do.” Then, upon arriving at the table, Jeno picks up a baked treat and meticulously places it in his hand, and adds with fond genuinity, “he’s happier because of you, you know—sorry, that’s cheesy. I never thought I’d say that either, but… you’re good for him, I think. You’re bringing him to homecoming. That’s something.”

“Oh.” His words are a lot to take in, and Jeno doesn’t seem to notice that you’re taken aback because he starts to fix the dessert place cards that have been haphazardly thrown out of place. “That’s… thanks.”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see him like this.” The boy turns to you then, sudden and with an amused glint in his eye. “Don’t let that feed your ego. And don’t break his heart.”

You force a smile. “I won’t.”

vii. FOOL’S GOLD

Jaemin thinks everything is more beautiful when it’s peaceful.

He’s pretty sure there’s no evidence to back that up—he just thinks that, when it’s quiet, he’s able to enjoy the beauty of everything more. The way his cufflinks glimmer underneath the light of the chandelier, the baby pink ribbon tying Eunbin’s bouquet together, the catchy tune of the unfamiliar song playing through the speakers. Things are worse when it’s loud, blaring in his ears until there is nothing he can hear but incoherent noise.

Unlike everything else, however, his thoughts are deafening when all is silent.

It eats him up from the inside out, evades his mind and taints his blood with worry until he’s bleeding dread. Hiding his feelings is hard enough as it is when his walls are constantly growing weaker, but it’s even harder now, when tingles travel up and down his spine and he feels as if he’s just been shocked whenever his fingers touch something.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

Jaemin used to think everything was more beautiful when it was peaceful.

And maybe it’s true—your smile is delicate and warm and so infectious a tender feeling bursts in his stomach and stutters his heart. Your skin is soft to the touch and it bothers him so much he refrains from making contact, and places his hands on your waist. Although it does nothing to stop the fact that he feels like he might explode right then and there.

He doesn’t think things were better when he hated you. But sometimes he misses it, because hatred is easier to deal with whatever he’s feeling right now.

Tolerance is not the right word, he realized this a long time ago. Love is too strong.

He flinches at the thought of it. He doesn’t love you, not at all, because he’s sure it’s not possible to even fall that badly in a little over a week. Jaemin refuses to be another student at school, infatuated with you and your charms and something that doesn’t exist, because you are not the perfect person everyone thinks you are. You’re rough around the edges, eat your cereal dry with drink milk on the side and your real smile is a little crooked. You laugh too much and think everything is funny and you lied to him last week when you said you’re terrible at dancing because you’re practically showing him up.

He doesn’t mind it.

“Yeah,” he whispers as his feet and yours lazily move across the dance floor. “It’s nice.”

Jaemin doesn’t love you, he doesn’t even know how it feels. But he thinks this comes close.

viii. ROCKY ROAD

It’s an art, avoiding you like his life depends on it.

Straying from his problems is harder than Jaemin thought, seeing as you’re literally everywhere. The seat beside him in English is now permanently yours since Mr Winston thinks the switching of seats has something to do with your grade going up—whatever that means. Jaemin literally helped you with an essay once—and sometimes during lunch period, your friend group and his find themselves out on the field. Renjun and Jeno have agreed to help Chaewon with the final details of the banner for the homecoming game, and Yangyang and Donghyuck have more inside jokes than Jaemin has with all of his friends combined.

This would be ideal, if he wasn’t having an existential crisis.

He’s become more aware of the racket his heart makes against his ribcage whenever you turn to glance at him—something he was sure never happened before the wedding, but maybe his senses have heightened, because he’s beginning to notice things. Terrifying little things that he used to turn a blind eye to but now can’t seem to shake.

A hand lands on his forearm. His heartbeat pitter patters with the raindrops on the window.

“Hey, dude,” Yangyang says, clutching onto Jaemin’s shoulder while he tries to catch his breath. “Y/N’s looking all over for you.”

“Right,” Jaemin murmurs awkwardly. “I’m busy right now.”

Yangyang glances up, confused, before it quickly fades into judgement. “Are you avoiding them?”

“Uh,” Jaemin stammers, which does nothing to get Yangyang off his back. He doesn’t remember being so bad at improvising, but he supposes he’s only a good actor when there’s lines to memorize. “Yes. Kind of.”

Yangyang blinks. “Why?”

Jaemin clears his throat, glancing over Yangyang’s shoulder in hopes to find something that’ll take him out of this situation, only to see the HOMECOMING TICKETS ON SALE posters that occupy almost every free space on the wall.

“I’m—” Jaemin pauses, a fleeting second that Yangyang would’ve noticed if he wasn’t moving to lean against the wall. “I’m trying to find a way to ask them to homecoming.”

Yangyang frowns, and for a moment, Jaemin thinks it’s because he sees through the lie. He panics, tries to search for excuses and ways to describe the unexplainable emotions he’s been feeling lately, when Yangyang just asks, “You still haven’t asked them? Homecoming’s in three days.”

Relief floods Jaemin but he’s careful not to let it show. “Better late than never.”

“You’re stupid,” Yangyang says, not unkindly. “It better be big. They seem like the type of person to like that kind of stuff.”

Jaemin nods, agreeing, before it suddenly hits him that now he has to come up with a cheesy homecoming dance proposal otherwise Yangyang will realize his friend’s just lied to him.

Fucking fantastic.

ix. SWEDISH FALLS

Yangyang is terrible at keeping secrets.

One of my only flaws, he tells you, right before he flashes you the happiest grin you’ve ever seen in your entire life and says that Jaemin’s going to give you the best homecoming ask in the history of homecoming asks. A very big feat, considering Rue’s flash mob proposal last week seems unbeatable—in fact, it is. She even got Donghyuck to join in despite their differences. He insists he’s just a sucker for true love and that he doesn’t care if Rue and her date end up having a catastrophic night, but you’re pretty sure you saw him shed a few tears when Rue’s date said yes.

Everyone your age treats these things as if they’re actual proposals. Which is why you’re so excited you can barely conceal it.

It’s almost pathetic how high your hopes are. You’re fidgety with excitement and you overhear Donghyuck mention to Chaewon that this is the most he’s seen you smile since you won a cheerleading competition last summer. He doesn’t know how the idea of being asked to homecoming has you on the balls of your feet.

Frankly, you don’t know either.

Maybe the idea of being asked isn’t what sprouts the excitement, but the person who’s asking. The last few dances you’ve gone with friends, most of the time Donghyuck, since he’s not a big fan of the attention that comes with public asks—which is odd, considering his love for theatrics, but you’ve come to the conclusion it’s just because he doesn’t want to put too much time into something he thinks is so trivial—and this is your first time being asked. Properly asked is how your teammates would put it.

You feel like the cheesy cheerleader in teen movies when you’re thrilled about these types of things; actions only high schoolers would trip over themselves to experience, before they’re forced into the world outside of hall passes and football game after-parties that only consist of fruit punch because people were afraid to take something from their parents’ liquor cabinet. The anticipation for an ask is something you’re sure Jaemin would make fun of you of, so it warms your heart a little that he’s doing this—

For you. You cut yourself off before you get too ahead of yourself.

This relationship is fake. Sometimes you forget.

You wait for Jaemin’s big ask.

You wait.

Until the dance is tomorrow and the most you’ve heard from him is a text, telling you he’ll be late to the game.

“Nervous?” Jeno pulls you out of your thoughts, clad in his football gear and trying to keep the smile on his face stable.

You send him a smile, reassuring. “I think I should be asking you that.”

“I feel like my heart might beat out of my chest.”

“I know,” your laugh is tarnished, sounding nothing like it usually does because of your nerves being sent into overdrive. Big games like these are always stressful, and sometimes you’re more nervous than the people playing despite that your only role in the game is cheering on the sidelines. “Just stretch it out. It works for me.”

Jeno’s smile grows teasing. “Doesn’t look like it does.”

“Shut up,” you say with no venom. “I don’t know where Jaemin is. He said he was going to be late, but I haven’t seen him in three days—”

“Yangyang told me about the ask,” Jeno interrupts smoothly. The mention of it has you hugging your torso. “Knowing Jaemin, he’s probably been planning all of it out. He’ll come and surprise you at the end of the game, I’m sure of it.” Then after a beat, he adds, “Don’t worry.”

His statement barely soothes you. “If he asks me through the megaphone I’m gonna kill him.”

“I thought you wanted something big and dramatic?”

“Well, yeah,” you huff. “But I wanna see his face when I say yes.”

Jeno is silent for a moment before he shakes his head in disbelief. “Donghyuck was right,” he mutters to himself. “You’re too far gone.”

“What?”

“You’re literally in love with Jaemin.”

You scowl, hugging yourself tighter and trying your best not to react to the word. All Jeno’s doing is trying to get a rise out of you, and if you stay here, he’ll succeed.

“Good luck, Jeno.”

He grins as you turn to walk to the field. “You didn’t deny it!”

When you reach the bench in front of the stands, Chaeryeong reaches over to squeeze your arm, smiling so big that you think her cheeks might start hurting. The rest of your team has scattered on the field stretching, with the exception of a few running towards the bleachers to talk to their friends before Coach blows her whistle and orders everyone to start warming up. You tug on your sweater, scanning the bleachers for a familiar face while Chaeryeong starts talking—unaware that she lacks your attention—before you sigh.

Jaemin isn’t here yet.

Your phone sits in the locker room, zipped away into the smallest pocket of your duffel bag. You think you’re quick enough to run up the steps and ask Renjun to call Jaemin and make it back down in time before Coach calls for everyone to come in. But just as you’re about to tell Chaeryeong you’ll be back in a moment, the familiar sound of a deafening whistle rings in your ears and you’re forced to walk towards the sound.

You huff, disappointed, but plant the biggest smile you can muster before Coach murmurs about the furrow in between your eyebrows. Everyone clings to each other with elation, the adrenaline already beginning to pump in their veins. The crowds roar, and you start to hear the opponent’s school starting to cheer.

After Coach finishes her short speech, she turns to you, wanting to hear a few words from the head cheerleader before everyone starts warming up. You exhale, deciding to shake off the disappointment that came with Jaemin’s absence, and try your best not to look upset, just in case you unintentionally bring the mood down. Right now, all that matters is the homecoming game. And then after this, you can worry about the ask.

You almost forget about him when the players come rushing onto the field. When the game starts, you automatically find yourself so absorbed in the ball hurtling through the air and the players racing across the field, you forget the reason why you woke up nervous today. The game is close—there’s frustration, and so much shouting it becomes indecipherable no matter how loud it gets, and everyone only gets louder when Jeno scores the winning touchdown.

Your throat is raw, sore from screaming. You never realized you were so loud until Chaewon comes rushing down the steps and envelopes you in a hug, knocking the air out of your lungs.

The impact must be what knocks your previous worries back into your head because you swivel around to face the stands while Chaewon’s squeezing the life out of you, her familiar laugh in your ear. You catch a glimpse of Donghyuck walking down with Renjun and Yangyang, and you search the spot you saw them sitting in before, hoping to place Jaemin and a cheesy HOMECOMING? poster in his hands.

But the crowd’s attention has not been diverted from your school’s victory, and you let Chaewon turn you so she can drag you to the rest of the celebrating cheerleaders. You look up, hoping the speakers will soon blast Jaemin’s voice for everyone to hear, but nothing comes. You convince yourself that he probably left to go get some food and missed the end of the game and is hurrying to get to the field, but after ten minutes of jumping around until your feet are sore, you realize you’re wrong.

He didn’t come.

“After-party!” Donghyuck shouts, voice booming and enthusiastic, eliciting an eager response from everyone around him. Then he turns to you, grinning. “Jaehyun’s hosting it at his house. Are you riding with us or is Jaemin going to drop you off?”

At the sound of his name, you glance over your shoulder, hope fills your chest only for it to be squashed once again. The bleachers are almost empty. Noticing the lost look in your eyes, Donghyuck falters, hoping to God that Jaemin hasn’t completely ditched you on one of your favourite nights of the year.

Donghyuck sighs, but it’s unheard. “Renjun told me he had a shift.”

You turn, eyes wide, almost forgetting Donghyuck’s standing right next to you. “Right, I was supposed to meet him there after the game. I forgot.”

He doesn’t believe you. You know he doesn’t believe you. Because Donghyuck doesn’t retort something to poke fun at your forgetfulness, nor does he roll his eyes. Instead there’s pity. It’s a look you don’t like; your heart sinks at the sight of it and makes you feel like you’ve been pulled down to rock bottom.

In a sea of euphoria, two people stand out. You, because your dismay is too hard to hide, and Donghyuck, because he knows that, whether you go to the party or to the ice cream parlour, your night won’t end with triumph on your mind.

I told you so is on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, “Go. I’ll tell Chaewon you were tired.”

You smile at him, and then you turn to run.

x. BLUE MOON

He knows he fucked up.

Truthfully, he did have a homecoming proposal halfway planned out—knowing you, you still would’ve loved it—but he gave up, because the idea of going to the homecoming dance with you felt weird. You’re unfamiliar. Ever since your arrangement, Jaemin’s realized you point things out he’s never noticed before. You break his routine. You break him.

He was going to go to the game. He had a shift he couldn’t get out of and he told both you and Renjun that he was going to be late.

Admittedly, it looks bad, given the fact that he’s been avoiding you for a while in an attempt to sort out his feelings (to no avail), and it makes him feel even worse when you walk into the parlour, three minutes until closing, in a zip-up hoodie and the key ring holding your car keys dangling from your finger.

He carefully puts the ice cream scooper on the counter.

“You didn’t come.”

He has no excuse. “I’m sorry.”

It’s clear you’re waiting for him to continue, with the way you cross your arms over your chest and patiently tap your foot. When the sound of the clock ticking becomes too unbearable, a flicker of annoyance appears on your face. “What, that’s it?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You click your tongue. “There’s an after-party.”

The invitation is silent but it’s there. “I have to close,” he says, trying his best to feign his disdain for it, but you only stare at him blankly. “You go ahead. We close in, like, a minute, and you don’t want to stay—”

You cut him off. “Is Yangyang a liar?”

This throws him off guard. “Sorry?”

“He said you were asking me to homecoming,” you drawl, glancing around the empty parlour before you meet his eyes again. “He said it was going to be this big thing. So did he lie or what?”

Jaemin’s voice makes him feel small. “He didn’t.”

“Homecoming’s tomorrow, Jaemin.”

“I know.”

“So are we going together or not?”

The snappiness of your tone sends Jaemin into defensive mode, and he reaches over to untie his apron and turns to put the scoop in its rightful place. While his eyes are off yours, he says, “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this.”

This causes you to halt. He’s right—you and Jaemin aren’t real, so why should he ask you to homecoming?

In fact—why are you two still pretending to date in the first place? You’ve held up your end of the bargain and so has he. The only thing left is for him to tell you why he hated you so much in the first place.

“I don’t think you understand what it feels like to lose.”

You falter, eyes shining with confusion. “Sorry?”

Jaemin pinches his nose. “When you won class president,” he exhales, throwing his apron onto the counter, “I was mad because I deserved it. I deserved something and you took it. And I was so close to winning and you just—”

“That’s not my fault.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I was just mad at you for so long that I didn’t know what it would feel like if I didn’t.”

You’re silent for God knows how long. Jaemin slowly starts to feel his heartbeat quicken after each second the clock ticks.

“Okay,” you say eventually. “That doesn’t answer the question. Are we going to homecoming together or not?”

Jaemin wonders sometimes, late at night, about what he’s feeling. He knows for sure that his palms shouldn’t be sweaty at the sight of you, and he shouldn’t be worrying if you can hear his heartbeat battering against his ribcage. He isn’t supposed to feel this for someone he’s fake dating.

Feeling like this for someone he’s in his first relationship with is a completely different story.

“It does answer the question,” he says, schooling his expression so his face is blank. “We’re not.”

Clearly that’s not the answer you’re expecting because you straighten, your arms falling to your side. “What?”

“I don’t want to go to the dance.”

You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth. “You don’t want to go…” your eyes search his, and he’s not entirely sure what you’re looking for. “With me?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says quickly, shaking his head vigorously. “No, homecoming’s just not my thing.”

You purse your lips. “Jaemin.”

Despite the impatience etched into the lines of your face, Jaemin knows that you’ll spend all night here waiting for his answer if you have to. And maybe you’ll go if Jaemin begs you to, if he says something that clenches your gut and pierces your soul, but he can’t bring himself to. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to leave.

The thought hits him like a truck. He doesn’t want you to leave.

“You’re missing the after-party.”

“I’d rather be with you anyway.”

God, fuck you.

He misses the smirk slowly forming on your face when you see the crimson climbing up his neck, the way he starts to fidget with the collar of his shirt, and you almost forget he missed the homecoming game in the first place.

You didn’t lie, though, about wanting to be with him instead. There’s a reason you were looking for his face in the crowd.

When he starts to feel like he’s suffocating, Jaemin’s hands squeeze the counter before he exhales, embarrassed, “I’m scared.”

You frown and he thinks you’re moving closer but he’s too dizzy from his own thoughts to notice. “Of what?”

“This is all fake,” he tries to exclaim, except it comes out softer than he intended and a little less dramatic. “And I don’t—I’ve never dated anybody before, okay? Technically this is my first relationship, and— did you know Jeno and Yangyang have been asking if we’ve kissed yet? I don’t want my first kiss to be fake, I don’t want to attend my first homecoming dance because I didn’t want to let the person I’m fake-dating down—” he stops himself before he can ramble more and make a bigger fool of himself. “I don’t want it to be fake.”

Your response is quick, without hesitation, and when he looks up in surprise, there’s no sign of regret on your face no matter how long Jaemin tries to find it. “Then it won’t be fake.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can be your actual date to homecoming,” you offer, smiling sheepishly, and the butterflies in his stomach go wild. “And I guess we could kiss too and that wouldn’t have to be fake, either.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You wore one to the wedding.”

“I know, I just wanted to say something so you wouldn’t think I’m ignoring your offer, I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this,” he makes a small twirling gesture with his finger before his hands drop from the counter. “We’ll go to homecoming?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“And you’ll kiss me?”

“Sure,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, even though you’re avoiding all possible eye contact and wringing your fingers together. “Just not now, I’m still mad at you for missing the game and having a shitty homecoming proposal. Fuck you, by the way. I was all excited about it for nothing.”

Jaemin feels a smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Good,” you huff, before meeting his gaze. Almost immediately, you break into a smile. “So do you really have to close or was that a lie?”

He groans, remembering he promised Doyoung he’ll do it tonight in hopes of ignoring you until tomorrow. “I didn’t lie,” he grumbles. “I promised my manager—it won’t take long, I promise.”

You shrug and drop into the nearest booth. “No problem, I’ll keep you company.”

Jaemin pouts childishly. “This is terrible.”

“You poor thing.”

“Kiss me to make me feel better?”

You snort. Jaemin wonders if your cheeks will start hurting considering how big your smile is. “Nice try.”

xi. HONEY LAVENDER

“Stop laughing.”

“N—shit, okay.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m trying! Look, I’m not even—fuck, you look so stupid—!”

“Y/N!” Jaemin whines, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I look stupid because of you—stop giggling, my parents are going to kill me—this suit is ruined.”

He’s supposed to be mad at you, but it’s hard when you’re dabbing a tissue helplessly on his shirt, the sound of your laughter echoing down the empty hallway and drowning out the sound of the booming music from the gym. “It’s not my fault you spilled punch on yourself.”

He huffs. “It is, actually, unless you forgot that you scared the shit out of me.”

You laugh loudly again, arms growing weak and it falls against his chest. “I’ve never heard you scream so loud before.”

“Please shut up.”

This goes on for two more minutes before you eventually give up and stand, telling him that nobody will even notice the big red stain on the front of his shirt because of the lights. He scowls lightheartedly before he falls into step with you as you both make your way back to the gymnasium.

“God,” you huff, and Jaemin isn’t sure if you’re talking to him or yourself. “My arms are all wet from trying to remove that stain.”

Jaemin is about to retort, saying it’s not his fault you rested your limbs against him because you were dying from laughter, before he stops in his tracks. You don’t notice, too absorbed in rubbing the tattered tissue on your skin in hopes the liquid will go away before your arms become sticky.

“Y/N,” he calls for you, smiling mischievously. You spin around to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You owe me for ruining this suit.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “What do you want? A pack of gum? We can stop by 7-11 on our way home.”

“Give me a hug.”

Your eyes narrow, startled by his statement, but you walk two steps towards him before you realize what he’s doing. He grabs your arms before you can turn away.

“Jaemin—mmph!” you exclaim, wriggling as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you against his chest. “You prick, you’re going to stain my clothes, too! Oh, you’re so fucked, I swear to God—”

You grow quiet when he starts to laugh in your ear—albeit a little evilly, but it’s melodic nonetheless—and you relax, moving so you can wrap your arms around his middle. You aren’t sure if he’s surprised. You swear, for a moment, he stiffens, before the tension leaves his shoulders.

He pulls away, examining your outfit before saying, “You still look great.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Hm,” he muses, throwing his arms over your shoulder. “Technically, that was me getting back at you for ruining my suit, so we’re even.”

The both of you near the doors to the gymnasium when he glances at you. He thinks all the air in his lungs disappears because you’re pretty when the faint red lights hit your face and your lips part as you peer through the small window in the door. His face softens and a smile he isn’t conscious of appears on his face—gentle and lovesick.

The door swings open, almost hitting you and Jaemin.

“Gross,” Yangyang says the moment he steps one foot out the door. Behind him, Renjun is sending the both of you an apologetic look. “God, I owe Donghyuck ten bucks now.”

You stiffen at the mention of your friend. “What did you bet on?”

“You guys disappeared,” Yangyang sighs frustratedly. “I said you two were probably making out somewhere. He said you guys were staring into each other’s eyes because Y/N is too chicken to make the first move.”

Jaemin swears your eyes might pop out of your sockets. “That bitch—”

Yangyang throws his arms up in the air as he moves to walk back inside. “I don’t even have ten dollars on me!”

Renjun pinches his nose. “I’m sorry.”

Amusement bubbles in Jaemin’s stomach when you slip from his grasp and stomp into the gymnasium. He follows after you as you make your way to the food table. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pour punch on him, too.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, grinning. “Aw, you know me so well.”

He scoffs breathlessly and lets you tug at his fingertips, trying to convince him to help you get revenge on Donghyuck. You add something about Yangyang, too, in hopes that will get Jaemin on your side, but he’s too busy admiring how your hand fits in his and how pretty the left side of your face looks—

“Stop staring at me.”

Jaemin sputters. “Sorry?”

“Stop being obsessed with me,” you murmur, eyes zeroed in on the table ahead. “And help me with my revenge plan.”

“I’m not obsessed with you!”

“Okay. In love with me, then.”

“You are so up your own ass.”

The smile you give him is blinding.

★ author’s note: tbh i wanted to add more angst (originally i was gonna have jaemin be like yeah... i lied i always hated you) but i wanted jaemin and reader to break each other’s hearts because.... cmon.. they’re so cute,, i hope u guys liked this tho this was rlly fun to write

★ tags: @lanadreamie @sunflowerhae @juyeo-on @t-toodumbtocare @hyuckiesoftie @choerriesmotion @aliceinwhateverland

couldn’t tag: @sungchannel @zhong-lele

#na jaemin #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenarios #nct scenarios #jaemin fluff #nct fluff #jaemin angst #nct angst #jaemin imagines #nct imagines #jaemin #series: banana split

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mashep23 · 4 years

Text

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

-----------------------

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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thelastspeecher · 2 years

Note

sorry abt taking forever to request this (life has got me by the scruff of my neck like a kitten) but could I request super tailor au stute fluff? that or the night where Lute discovers that stan is a villain?

As a frame of reference for folks - on the Discord a bit ago we developed a new super AU that we dubbed the Super Tailor AU because it prominently featured Lute McGucket as a tailor with the superpower to control fabric and clothing, and he winds up working as a tailor, particularly for superheroes. Stan eventually becomes an employee of Lute's and they start a romantic relationship, but there's a slight problem: Stan's been a villain this whole time.

Hope you like it, nour!

———————————————————————————————————–

Lute was awoken by a loud clutter from the kitchen. He opened his eyes, but opted to remain in bed until he heard something else. After all, it could just be the cat knocking things over again.

“Fucking…shit…” Stan’s voice sounded faintly. Lute groaned and sat up. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

Lord above, I love the man, but he’s awful fond of testin’ that love, ain’t he? Wanderin’ home drunk at the witchin’ hour… Lute’s phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed. He picked it up. It was a text from Angie.

I know you’re probably asleep, but wait’ll you see what Dan managed to do tonight! He just got home and couldn’t stop bragging about how he gave Fleshmender what for. The morning news is going to have a field day. Lute sent back a thumbs up emoji, then got up and exited the bedroom. His vision wasn’t great in the dark, but he knew his house well. Even if he didn’t, he just needed to follow the sounds of Stan bumping into things and swearing. At the kitchen, he turned on the light. His jaw dropped. Stan was partially dressed, but that wasn’t what shocked him. No, what shocked him were the wounds on Stan’s body, the bruises on his face, and the costume he was in the process of taking off.

“Uh…” Stan let go of his costume to hold his hands up plaintively. “I can explain.”

“Yer…yer a mask?” Lute croaked.

“…Surprise?”

“I’d- I’m tempted to bring up how ya told me you’ve never considered bein’ a hero, but I know that costume. That ain’t a hero’s costume.” Lute pinched the bridge of his nose. “Finish takin’ it off and sit at the table.”

“Wh- where are you going?” Stan asked. His words slurred slightly. Lute winced.

Sure hope he don’t have a concussion.

“I’m grabbin’ the first aid kit.”

“Oh. Good- good idea,” Stan mumbled. Lute exited the kitchen and made a beeline for the bathroom, his mind racing.

Why didn’t I catch on to it sooner? Without actually seein’ him standin’ in his costume in the kitchen? Of course he’s Fleshmender! Lute entered the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit underneath the sink. Healin’ ain’t a common power. How did I not connect the dots when I saw a villain with Stan’s power and body type throwin’ down with my sister and her team?

When Lute came back to the kitchen, Stan was sitting at the table in only his boxers. He watched Stan place a hand over a particularly large cut on his arm and close his eyes. Lute waited for the shimmering light that accompanied Stan’s healing ability, but nothing happened.

“Dammit,” Stan muttered. Lute walked over to the table and sat next to his boyfriend.

“I’ve never seen ya fail to heal yourself,” Lute remarked, opening up the first aid kit.

“Happens when I use it too much,” Stan said with a shrug. To Lute’s relief, he wasn’t slurring anymore. “Gotta recharge or whatever, y’know?”

No, I don’t. Ya don’t talk ‘bout the mechanics behind yer power much. We’ve been datin’ fer ages and ya still keep so much from me.

“Well, I can at least patch ya up so’s ya stop bleedin’ all over the kitchen until yer charged enough to heal,” Lute said briskly, deciding to be as businesslike as possible to keep his mind from racing. “Hold out yer arm.” Stan did as he was told. Lute got to work dabbing the cuts with disinfectant. Stan let out a hiss. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Is that supposed to hurt? What even is that?” Stan asked. Lute stared at him.

“It’s- it’s hydrogen peroxide. And yeah, it’s s’pposed to hurt.”

“Why?”

“Well, puttin’ things on open wounds usually hurts.” Lute set down the cotton ball to frown at his boyfriend. “Ya don’t know this?”

“I haven’t run out of enough juice to heal myself since I was a teenager,” Stan replied. “And since my power showed up, I’ve made sure I take care of cuts first. Bruises can wait, bleeding can’t.”

“When did yer power manifest?”

“Ten.”

“Yer almost thirty.”

“And?”

“You haven’t had a cut what didn’t heal right away in two decades?”

“Yeah.”

“Lord above,” Lute mumbled. He began to bandage the largest of Stan’s cuts. “I’d ask what exactly happened to put ya in a state where ya ‘ran out of juice’ just to heal yourself up this much, but I already know.”

“You do?”

“Got a text from Angie sayin’ her husband beat the tar out of Fleshmender.” Lute glanced over at the costume laying on the floor. “I might not be a mask like m’ sister, but I can recognize the outfit of one of her enemies.”

“…Great,” Stan mumbled. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Lute-”

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” Lute interrupted.

“Why do you think, Gucket? You literally make costumes for heroes! Your twin sister and her husband are heroes! You’re so wrapped up in the hero world, I-” Stan looked away. “I knew you’d break up with me the second you found out I fight for the baddies.”

“Now, ya can’t know somethin’ like that fer sure,” Lute scolded. Stan looked back at him. “Ya never know fer a fact how someone will respond to somethin’, no matter how well ya know ‘em.” Lute gently patted Stan’s arm. “Yer other one now.” Stan silently held out his other arm for Lute to treat.

“Are you gonna turn me in?” Stan asked softly. Lute shook his head. “Really?”

“Stanley, we’ll need to have a lot of conversations ‘bout this to figure out where we go from here,” Lute said tiredly. “In the mornin’, of course.”

“Yeah.” Stan warily watched Lute. “You’re waiting until after we talk to call the cops, then?”

“No. I ain’t a snitch. Worst thing I can see resultin’ from our chats is us breakin’ up.” Lute’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. He heard Stan’s breath hitch in his throat and knew they both didn’t want that to happen. “Best thing is that ya quit bein’ a mask or even join Angie’s hero team.”

“Not in a million years,” Stan said under his breath.

“I figure what’ll happen is somethin’ in the middle. I don’t know fer sure, but that’s my prediction.”

“Why are you being so damn calm?” Stan suddenly burst out. Lute paused. “You just found out I’m the same criminal that broke your twin sister’s nose last month!”

“And when she came over fer me to repair her costume, ya healed it up fer her without her even askin’.”

“All the girlfriends and boyfriends I’ve had before, their families hated me. Yours actually likes me. Sue me for wanting to keep it going.”

“Sure, that’s the only reason ya did it,” Lute said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Couldn’t have anything to do with ya actually likin’ her.” He resumed tending to Stan’s wounds. “To be honest, I’m not freakin’ out ‘cause it’s two in the mornin’. Nothin’ good happens after two in the mornin’, so my goal is to get back to bed as soon as possible ‘fore I do somethin’ I regret. And…” Lute sighed. “Stanley, I love ya. I ain’t goin’ to lose my shit on ya when yer injured like this. Ain’t right to kick someone while they’re down.”

“I guess…”

“Until we have our conversations and come to a decision together, though, I’ll request that ya stay away from my sister, her husband, and their daughter,” Lute said tartly. “And ya can’t work on hero costumes in the shop.”

“That’s fair.”

“And yer sleepin’ on the couch. Sorry.”

“Honestly, when you showed up I thought I would be spending the night on the street. I’ve got no problem taking the couch.”

“Good.” Lute gathered the debris from the various items in the first aid kit and tossed it into the trash. He picked the kit up. “Ya can go sleep now. I’ll speak with ya in the mornin’.” A pained look that had nothing to do with his injuries flashed across Stan’s face. Lute knew just why. They always kissed before bed.

But I can’t kiss him. Not now. Lute left the kitchen, Stan still staring after him. He dropped off the first aid kit in the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. As he sat on the bed, his phone buzzed again. He picked it up. It was another text from Angie.

You and Stan can still babysit Wendy today, right? Lute’s chest ached. He adored spending time with his niece, as did Stan. The feeling was mutual; Wendy said constantly that Stan and Lute were her favorite uncles. He replied with a heavy heart.

No, sorry, something came up. The response came back quickly.

Oh. OK. I can ask someone else, then. Another text made Lute’s phone squirm in his hands. What are you doing up so late? Go to bed! Lute managed a weak smile.

Only if you go to bed, too.

Ugh. Fine. Night.

Night.

Lute set his phone back on the bedside table and laid down, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. Falling asleep without the white noise from Stan’s snoring was hard enough. Falling asleep, knowing Stan was snoring in a whole other room, was somehow worse.

Lute closed his eyes, but as he’d worried, sleep came slowly.

#Stute AUs are always fun but then it leaves me the task of deciding what to do with Angie lmao #(I think I was able to showcase what Angie's up to in this AU tho)#and yes! everyone has different powers than usual for my super AUs!#Superhero AU #Stute #Lute McGucket #Stanley Pines #my writing #ask #nour386

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

2prettybestfrens | jjk

muses. jeon jeongguk x reader x park jimin ft. kim taehyung

genre. strangers to lovers!au. university!au.

words. 18.2k

drabbles. pjm

feedback.

warnings. mentions of physical insecurities, alcohol use, juul use, mention of adoption, mentions of dysfunctional families, handcuffs - lots of handcuffs, jeongguk crossdressing, too many one-sided pinings lmao

synopsis. you’re in love with kim taehyung who’s in love with jennie kim who’s in love with professor kim namjoon. so park jimin doesn’t exactly fit in all of this, yet he’s always been there in your weakest moments which may or may not be caused by your heartbreak boy - or so jeongguk likes to call him.

oh and jeongguk? you don’t even know jeongguk until that party-gone-awry night where you end up handcuffed together to ponder on what you did.

when you uploaded a snapchat of your darkened room and a single teary-eyed emoji because kim taehyung uploaded one where a beautiful girl was covering her mouth while she giggled, jimin snapped back a ‘why r u awake 😬’ to which you snapped the same darkened room with a slightly different angle and a ‘just cause’. his last snap to you contained a ‘cool wanna call?’ before you dialed him up and ended up talking until 5 in the morning before bidding each other-

“well, good night then,” you’d muttered.

“g’morning,” he’d wished you back in a soft mumble and a hint of sleepiness taking over.

that happened on a friday night. on monday and for the rest of the week, you merely greeted each other in the hallway and went on your days without the inclusion of the other.

when you sat by yourself on the bench on the sidewalk of campus, under the shade of a great old tree a few feet away from your department after being left high and dry when kim taehyung’s friends asked him if he’s joining them to get mcdonald’s which he’d in turn asked if you wanted to tag along and you said you were good only because you never did well in groupies - park jimin sat down next to you, head thrown back as he squinted at the gaps of the leaves where the tiniest of sun rays managed to pass through and dot his face. blonde tresses swaying ever so softly when the wind blew past you.

“so how was finance?” he looked like he was asking the waving branches.

“eh, it was fine, professor kim’s a good teacher,” you shrugged, the sight of jennie suavely smiling and said professor shooting glances at her made you mentally vomit.

“man,” he blew a gust of air from his mouth as he ran a hand through his semi-long tresses, “were we in the same class? because all i remember was dozing off five minutes into class.”

“that’s why you should sit at the front,” you’d suggested.

it was then, did he push himself off the ground and stood up, black and white jacket pushed back as he slipped his hands into the pocket of his jeans. eyes narrowing while his tongue protruded against the inside of his cheek before he went, “you hungry?”

“starving,” you rolled your eyes before collecting your mac and holding it to your chest, bag slung over your shoulders.

the both of you didn’t go to mcdonald’s but the food tasted just as good that day at the cafe in your faculty.

when kim taehyung asked jennie if she was free friday night and the girl turned to you with an endearingly oblivious, “do we have any plans on friday?” and taehyung awkwardly but not so hesitantly corrected, “um, i mean, just you jennie,” the air, without a doubt turned tangibly tense and awkward.

“oh,” jennie’s brows knitted together as she stared at him, as though trying to spot the caption on his forehead as to why he invited only her when everyone knew you and jennie never go anywhere without the other if you didn’t have any prior engagements, “well, ___ and me are going to hang out together so yeah, i’m not free.”

you weren’t sure if she was dumb or playing dumb but you’d found out later that night, that she’d been irritated with kim taehyung’s non-considerate advancements which she’d recently noticed seemed to exclude you ‘i hate people who make plans in front of someone and not invite them’ was her exact word before she followed up with a ‘blockedt’.

but backtrack to when the tension seemed to rise higher than the sky, you were saved by jimin when he came mini-jogging towards you with that adorable boyish smile and crescent eyes, “hey, i was looking for you - you wanna walk to accounting together?”

you’d waved jennie and taehyung goodbye and gladly walked with jimin to class.

and so it goes, with kim taehyung’s eyes lighting like fireworks in the midnight sky when he sees jennie and the girl itching to make a beeline to the opposite side of where he comes from and you shooting her ‘be nice’ looks whilst park jimin pops up now and then in the most convenient time until ‘us’ no longer comprise of you and jennie but also taehyung and jimin.

so much so, some of your casual friends come to you asking for either of the boys when they seem to have something to inform them which you’re not sure why isn’t informable through text. but either way, you’ve become two best friends with additional friends.

maybe said additional friends happen to fall in the top list of cuties in the girls and gays’ books but besides kim taehyung, if you looked, like really really looked at park jimin, you concurred, perhaps he does have the right to be in said list with his unblemished, smooth skin, perfect pink lips and pretty sparkly eyes.

“what?” his lips do the thing where they curl, revealing a pair of perfectly lined white pearls.

“nothing,” you say as you find yourself third-wheeling in taehyung’s bmw with jimin at the back and the first commenting something about his older sister liking to shop at zara as well when jennie asked you if you were free tomorrow to go to the mall near campus.

“i mean i can go with you girls, i have a two-hour gap between classes,” the boy offers.

“oh,” the first laugh trickles out of your mouth without a stop switch, “you’re so cute.”

you can hear jennie snickering in the passenger seat as you turn away from the angle where taehyung could see you in the rear-view mirror, only to come face to face with jimin who seems to get your humor.

“it’s not a big deal,” taehyung shrugs, a tinge of pride in his voice.

“my man,” jimin pats said man on his shoulder, “you don’t know jack shit about women.”

“what?” the older boy asks, perplexed and quite honestly irritated for some reason - but then again, he never seems to like jimin’s quick-to-catch-on nature when it comes to any girls-related topics.

“two hours is not enough to shop, taehyung,” jennie finally decodes the long standing cipher, “we can barely explore one shop.”

by the end of her words, you’re is full out snickering like an unattractive hyena, “i thought you have a sister?”

“i do,” there’s a tinge of confusion in his tone, “she usually goes shopping with her boyfriend.”

“well, how long did it take them to go shopping?” she quizzes, sharing an amused look with jimin.

“uh,” it’s then, do you hear the sound of the screws in taehyung’s brain twisting, “she usually stays over whenever they do.”

“well, whatever you think they did after they went shopping - it’s probably not it,” jimin snickers, shoulderline jolting as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“so cute,” jennie echoes your earlier words, neck craning to look at the two other passengers in the back seat as she gives you a one-eyebrow-lifted look as if to say ‘this is the guy you’re crushing on?’

at that, you shrug, unapologetically mouthing ‘he’s cute’ - in a much different and adoring sense than the first time which jennie must’ve gotten when she shakes her head, a hopeless smile on her lips as she turns to the road again.

you were on your way to the movies then.

“oh my god,” jennie squeals, eyes skimming your specifically-handpicked-by-jennie-kim attire, “you look so cute!”

“only because i agreed to be your live mannequin,” you say rolling your eyes but the curl of a smile on your lips is unstoppable.

“no - because i know what kind of style suits you,” she narrows her eyes in a ‘you know i’m right’ kind of manner, “no offense, your usual style is cute too but it’s more like an... ‘i have a crush, don’t talk to me’ kind of look, you know?”

“am i wrong though?” your eyebrows rise, mimicking her ‘you know i’m right’ look.

she raises a hand, her free one scrolling through her phone as she announces, “i don’t recommend crushing on airheaded guys but you do you sis,” then she looks up, staring at you straight in the eye with the most deadpanned expression, “but if he breaks your heart, i’ll break his leg,” it’s a full, solid moment later, just as you were about to burst out laughing, does she say, “literally.”

and it’s times like these that you fear for another person’s life that isn’t yours - well, taehyung’s life isn’t just anyone’s but - as she turns back to her phone ever so casually.

but before you can fret any further, your phone vibrates, the words ‘chim’ flashing across your screen with a ‘get yo asses down’ and contrasting ‘ur chauffer awaits’ popping a second later.

“get your ass up. they’re here,” you end up saying, pushing your phone into the back pocket of your leather pants that jennie manages to convince you to put on for some unknown reason - that reason going along the lines of ‘kim taehyung’ and ‘jealousy’, but you’re not one to dwell on why one do things they do as you accept jennie’s grabby-motioned hands in request for assistance to be pulled up.

it turns out the shopping plan gets pushed to saturday where taehyung is basically spouting out how he’s a good judge for fashion and that he hasn’t gone to the mall since the semester started which to be fair, was only a month ago.

you’re not sure how jimin ended up tagging along - the two aren’t even the bestest buddies - but someway, somehow, he always manages to get taehyung to pick him up and drop him off whenever the taller man makes plans to go out with you and jennie.

“wow,” jimin is the first to notice, mouth taking on an ‘o’ shape he basically ogles in plain daylight.

“what do you think?” jennie comes up behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as she wraps her arms around your waist then she turns to taehyung who was the last to get out of the car, “doesn’t ___ look pretty, taehyung?”

at the sound of his name rolling off the tongue of the girl he’s been pining for since he laid eyes on her, his gaze lights up - but only to meet jennie’s. one look at you and he turns back to her with the most beautiful smile, “yeah, she looks great - did you help choose the top?”

“actually,” the girl begins with a cheery tone - they’re walking a few steps behind you whilst you and jimin walk together. it’s been like that for as long as you remember, “i picked out the whole fit. it wasn’t easy though because...”

kim jennie walking side-by-side with kim taehyung whilst you with jimin whenever the two boys join you, be it whether to get to a class you all share, to go to the library to study or to get some lunch - has become a familiar view to your mutual friends. so much so, you’ve heard of a rumor going around that you’re a couple of best friends.

like literal couples. you with jimin and jennie with taehyung. thanks to that, no one would have suspected jennie’s relationship with professor kim nor would anyone see through the veil of friendly smiles and amicable conversations to be you pining over your best friend’s alleged boyfriend.

you’ve gotten used to hearing jennie and taehyung’s conversation fade into the background yet never really able to disregard the way taehyung laughs at something your best friend says or the sight of the two walking a few feet ahead with taehyung’s head almost always turned to jennie’s and the girl, oblivious, occasionally cranes her neck to look at him at the beginning of her sentence before directing her gaze to the front where she’s walking.

jennie dislikes taehyung less now, if only because he steers the conversation towards the areas of interest - which he seems to know a lot of. kudos to you for answering his ass-crack o’clock texts of ‘heyyy what kind of movie does jennie like?’s and ‘heyy you girls got any plans tomorrow?’s.

“you look great in those leather pants, by the way,” jimin’s voice makes you turn to the other boy, a boyish smile on his lips, “so let me guess,” his head tilts to the side as the dip between his thumb and index finger hooks itself underneath his chin, eyebrows knitted together in heavy contemplation, “are you going for a good girl gone bad kind of look,” a playful smile tugs on the corners of his lips, “or are you in a secret biker gang and have a biker meeting at 7?”

you lean closer to the man, hand covering your mouth as you whisper, “you didn’t hear this from me but we’re convoying to disney land. i heard it’s more magical during christmas.”

or so you thought your whispering skills were close to perfect but a cat with brown hair pops up from next to you, eyes glinting with excitement, “did someone say christmas?!”

so you end up early-christmas shopping just because of that one word that triggers the warm-hearted-who-ness in her. and that’s how you, taehyung and jimin gets dragged from one store to another. but where your attention gets robbed with material things like-

“oh look, a snow globe with a puppy and a snowman in it!” you shake the see through globe, watching as pseudo snowflakes rain over the unmoving pupper and olaf lookalike before you sigh, “technically the snowman isn’t alive and the doggo is alone by itself in a world where nobody else can enter - and on christmas at that . oh my god, i think i’m gonna cry.”

- but jennie’s interest lies within the holiday-themed clothes. sweaters. costumers. lingerie. you name it and jennie kim tries it on.

“___ - pssst, hey,” there she goes, hiss-whispering your name as if you’re not right in front of the curtain she’s poking her head through, eyes darting around for the two boys who, last you saw, were doing the best to look interested in reindeers and candy printed sweaters.

“what, girl, what?” you whisper back, trying to peek through the gap of the curtain over her head as if you’ve never entered a changing room together.

and as if reading your mind, her bare arm that’s supposed to be wrapped with the floral cotton material of her sleeve - shoots out, hand wrapping around your wrist.

a “wha- ah-!” probably echoed off the walls and turned some heads but you’re no longer in the position to check as you find your back pressed against the wall of the cubicle and red and white lace-wearing jennie posing for you.

“so?” she beams.

“those are so cute, oh my god,” you end up his-whispering whilst trying to keep your voice low, “where did you get them? i only ever saw you checking out - and you have got to admit this - ugly sweaters!”

“girl, the lingerie section is just next to the sweaters,” her eyes seem to disappear behind her crescents as she crinkles her nose, “no but for real, you think i was gonna buy them? i just needed the boys to go away. and. they. finally. did,” she rolls her eyes, “it took awhile but kim taehyung is so persistent.”

“that’s why he’s so... cute,” you hum, eyes shutting close as the picture of the aforementioned man flashes behind your eyes. he’s looking at you with those dark eyes and he’s smiling at you with that magnetic-

“gross! get your ass out of the gutter,” a squeal hits the air as your eyes flutter open to the sight of your best friend’s contorted faces as if-

“um, girl,” you tilt your head just the slightest bit, hand on your hip while your other hand raises in a ‘hold up’ manner, “out of the two of us, you’re the one that’s gotta stop being silly and start wrapping professor kim’s willy.”

a stick of tongue out is all you’ve got as a response before she turns to her phone that’s vibrating at an alarming rate.

that’s when you feign almost-vomit, “did you - ulgh - sent him a - ulgh - nude?”

in any ordinary circumstance, she would have made faces to mimic a much ridiculous series of vomiting in response to your fake almost-vomits but when her smile tugs downwards in a disheartened pout, you practically drop all the ugly sweaters you picked out just for the sake of getting into the christmas spirit and rush over to the girl - which is only one and a half feet away.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you coo as she starts blinking back tears.

“i knew it,” she huffs out a puff of air, hand fanning at her waterline, “i fucking knew it.”

in between the ‘you’re okay’s and ‘everything’s going to be okay’s on your part and jennie’s increasingly growing sobs, you manage to make out the words she blurts out. something along the lines of ‘not spending as much time as we used to’ and ‘because i’m ugly as fuck’. so you hold her tighter, fingers brushing out the potentially forming knots in her hair each time it gets into her tear stained face and gets aggressively pushed out of said face with the back of the hand.

it’s been going on since the start of the third year - the ‘i can’t make it tonight’s and ‘sorry, i’m going to have to rain check’s.

you’ve been a silent spectator of how your best friend’s face lights up whenever she talks about her secret affair with the youngest professor in the business faculty, how he lives up to her private swooning with the smallest ‘miss kim, how was your day’s when he met her in the hallway, ever so casually greeting one of his supposed students like any professor would and treats her to fine-dinings and became the reason why forehead kisses are her favorite kind of kiss now.

he never really tried to hide his fondness for her even at the faculty and though you knew your best friend could get anyone she wanted, you were dubious of whether that anyone actually deserved such a loving, beautiful person. nonetheless, kim namjoon seems to be the exact person who does.

“hey, look at me,” you implore, sitting cross-legged on the floor whilst your knees touch and your fingers twine together in a fingers hug, or so jennie coined the term in your first year, “you’re so beautiful.”

“you don’t mean that,” she mumbles out.

“girl, if i were to be born again and were allowed to choose how i’m going to look - i want your eyes, they like, pull people in - not gonna lie, i started talking to you because you were intimidating but also really alluring. does that make sense?” you hold up a hand when she begins to giggle lightly, head shaking in show of her disagreement.

“but when i did get to know you, you’re the sweetest, squishiest,” a protest falls from her lips as she clasps a palm over the spot on her arm that you just pinched, “person alive. and oh!” you pinch her cheeks next, chuckling at how she crinkles her nose and like the feline she’s always been associated with, “and i want your cute chubs cheeks! and your adorable nose, and your lips,” you pause for the longest moment before retracting, “okay maybe i’d want my lips but your lips are juicy too!”

she makes a sound at the back of her throat, eyes of dried tears rolling, “please, i barely have any lips.”

“i mean, they’re still kissable,” you shoot her a suggestive look, “and i know out of the two of us, one would kiss you if she’s a little bit more fruity.”

“okay, maybe you think i’m kinda pretty,” she gives in.

but that’s not enough for you,“bih, you’re a literal goddess,”

“i’m not but anyway beauty is subjective so maybe namjoon’s perspective’s changed.”

“nope - nu-uh, we can cry and just... let ourselves feel the emotion that’s been bottling up and burst at one single message but what we’re not gonna do is mope around, being sad all day because of our presumptions that someone else thinks we’re not good enough or pretty enough. because you are and i would die for you.”

she hiccups, “i don’t know if i would die for you but i’d sacrifice my first born for you.”

“ew,” you feel your nose crinkling, “no, you’re not gonna trap me with a kid - that’s a trap right there and i’m not falling for it.”

jennie ends up laughing too loudly that one of the store attendants end up kicking you out. jimin and taehyung followed suit a second later, acting like they didn’t know you two but walking towards you anyway. you’re not sure if they noticed jennie’s swollen eyes but neither mentioned anything about it. instead, taehyung suggests- “since we’re already out, you guys wanna go to chanyeol’s party?”

so you end up going to the party. the apartment’s too cramped for your liking but jennie’s found some mutual friends of yours that she’s dancing and laughing with. and maybe that’s why you haven’t bolted right out of the door the moment you stepped in.

jimin found some of his own friends. they’re probably not from the faculty since you don’t remember seeing them around and taehyung-

you’re not quite sure why taehyung is following you around like a lost puppy and trying to make small talks with you. internally, your heart’s doing flips but your head’s been giving out one of those obnoxiously loud sirens with lights as red as the cup you’re holding.

“...and you know, it’s pretty cool how they managed to attract foreign investors within six months of starting up their business,” taehyung is saying, the awkward shrug and eyes glued to the ground telling you that he’s not so into whatever he’s saying either.

“yeah, like, they definitely got lucky or something,” you nod in agreement.

funny how the blare of the music is barely allowing you to have a proper conversation but all you hear is deafening silence as you stand five feet apart - the kind of distance that screams acquaintances but less than friends and most definitely not lovers.

but then he stands on his two feet instead of leaning his weight on just one - and he looks at you right in the eye for the first time that night. and your stupid heart goes fluttering like the petals in a field.

“hey, i don’t wanna be a nosy or anything but,” he pauses for the briefest second, eyes slanting to somewhere on the dance floor where you think you last saw jennie and then he refocuses back to you. but you already know where his mind and soul remains, “what happened today? like, jennie’s acting off, like something’s bothering her and she’s kinda drinking more than she should and it kinda feels like she doesn’t want me around.”

it takes a moment to ponder on how much you should say before your words become affirmation and affirmation will probably lead to more assumptions and - “well, you should ask her.”

“uh, i- she doesn’t- i don’t know how - i don’t wanna annoy her, you know what i mean? and since you’re best friends, i thought maybe you’d-” he’s scratching the back of his head when you cut him off.

“there’s your answer,” you raise the half-empty cup that’s been lying undrunken in your hands, “if you’re not gonna square up and tell her how you feel, then you, my friend,” your stomach drops at the word but you manage to land a solid pat on his arm, “are going to live the rest of your live like this - wondering what the hell is going on because you’re really not sure where you stand. and i get it, confessing to someone is terrifying and depending on jennie’s answer, you might or might not be able to talk to her ever again but it’s better to get it out there. feelings are like farts, you know?” the way his brows come together in a confused what-the-hell moment, is adorable, “hold it in and you’ll feel like something’s not right and it is never going to be until you get all of it out of your system.” and with a nod and a tight-lipped smile, you leave him with a “good luck,” before wandering over to the dance floor, not sure where you’re going because jennie, lisa chaeyoung and jisoo’s not where you thought they were and the only less crowded but still suffocating part of the apartment is the kitchen where you don’t want to risk going back and seeing taehyung there, unmoving in the spot where you left him.

amid all of it, you almost get your shoulder dislocated before a hand shoots out and pulls you back on your two feet whilst you raise your cup higher in hopes to save its contents from spilling.

the man that caught you looks between you and your raised cup for two solid seconds before a grin tugs on his face and he clicks his own cup to yours, “cheers.”

“aha, yeah,” you laugh as you feel his grip on your arm loosening and you pull it back to your side like a robot, taking a sip of your nicely saved drink.

“thanks for not letting me fall,” you say a moment later, after thanking whatever deity is out there that allows you to get your first drink into the right pipe without feeling the need to cough out loud.

“no problem,” even in the poor lighting, you can easily catch the sight of pearly whites lined up perfectly amid an alluring smile, that is, before a pair of brows knit together in what seem like an unresolvable conundrum, “hey, you don’t happen to...” he pauses for the longest moment, eyes slanting to scan the crowd and making you do the same until he commands your attention back with his next words, lips curling back into the breathtakingly attractive smile as words tumble past them, “...see two pretty best friends in here, do you?”

and that’s when your interest, wherever it is, plunges straight down to the ground and into the ether, “oh,” your vision shakes as you nod repeatedly before forcing out a dry “ha ha” which isn’t meant to disguise your displeasure at all - if anything, a wave of satisfaction crashes over you when his smile falters, “yeah, that - that’s really funny,” you say plainly, smile still plastered on your face.

“o-kay,” he drags out the word for half a second, teeth clenched together in growing panic as all traces of humor fade away, “...joke too old?”

“well, let’s see,” you feel your index finger tapping your chin as you throw your gaze up to the ceiling, “i get it, tell the ugly best friend she’s ugly but in a joking way,” you shrug, “you don’t need to rub it in my face cause i know and yes it’s getting old.”

it takes a whole solid moment of blaring music and non-caring half-way-drunken college students continuing to grind against one another and this insanely attractive stranger staring at you with jaws on the ground, for you to wave a dismissive hand.

“you know what? don’t worry, jennie’s not here, thankfully or she would’ve blo-” air fills your throat and cuts you off when he frowns, “who?”, to which you raise your eyebrows, “je-” you almost choked, “jennie?”

he shakes his head the second time, bottom lip jutting out in an additional- “nope” gesture as he continues with “never heard of her,” after your “jennie... kim?”

so you go one, “kinda cute height, long hair, brunette-” he shrugs, “nope- doesn’t ring a bell,” in the middle of your, “-fierce cat-like eyes but adorable as heck personality?”

in the end he wins with a final word of, “no - nope,” after a whole solid moment of your silenced disbelieve and him drawing his pondering session to a close.

“oh,” escapes your lips before you can even register, “so - it was- like-”

“yeap,” he nods, “it was-”

“a joke?”

“a joke.”

you both announce at the same time. the tones may differ but the essence is there, leaving one to stare at the ground in shame for having snapped at a complete stranger and the other staring with unapologetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” you finally manage to utter, shoulderline falling with your walls of pride, “i thought it was one of those micro aggressive jokes people throw around just because they can’t straight out tell someone they’re ugly-”

but the words seem to enter through one ear and go out the other when his brows begin to knit together for the nth time of the night - and in a matter of less than thirty minutes at that - when he declares before you get to properly end your sentence, “you’re pretty as hell. why did you think i’d randomly try to crack a joke to a stranger and risk pissing pants off on the off chance she took it badly... which you did. i’m sorry for pushing the wrong button.”

“oh,” but just like him, your brain short-circuits and you seem to only truly hear the first part of what he’s saying as just like any girl - you curse yourself as you - shy away from his gaze, hand going up to tuck your hair behind your ear before you slowly peek up through your lashes, “thanks,” you blink once, shrugging, “and it’s fine i get that joke a lot - i don’t usually care, i don’t know what got into me tonight.”

but before he manages to say anything, the loudspeaker starts reverberating with the sound of someone clearing their throat and a “how’s everyone doing?” and a dismissive “alright, alright you might be wondering ‘who the eff is this guy’ right? yea, yea, i know, but-” he stops, eyes scanning the crowd for a suspenseful effect, “-but you’re gonna wanna hear this,” to which a groan erupts from the crowd, so he quickly gets to the point “don’t panic,” most of the time, that’s exactly when you should panic, “so, the police are coming.”

his name is jeon jeongguk and he goes to your university’s rival university. his hair is actually a shade of rich deep brown that forms wavy ends and contrasts glaringly against his sharp jawline under the fluorescent lighting which also highlights his pearly whites that remind you of bunnies when his lips curl over them when he smiles.

to think that he’s doing that now while the police officer, a man in his 40′s and on the shorter side of the spectrum is ten steps from marching up to you with a disapproving gaze on his face.

his hair falls over his face in half ringlets, an excited glint in his eyes, “he’s mad cause we’re clean.”

a guy somewhere a few people away from you is sobbing increasingly loudly with every step the officer takes before he comes to a stop in front of you, eyes skimming each faces one by one until he stops on you.

“you,” he announces before sighing deeply, “you look like a kid who wouldn’t cause trouble, why are you here?”

“uh,” the chain around your wrist feels cold but jeongguk’s pinky that’s touching yours as your thighs brush together - is warm, “i...” you pause, in search for words before settling with a disappointing confession “i don’t know,”

the officer echoes your statement with a critical emphasize on the ‘don’t’.

and because of that, you blink once, “in fact, does anyone know what they’re doing at all? if you think about it we’re just astronomical particles in this vast universe which is called the milky way,” you pause, if only squint at his sparse mustache, “why is it even called milky way? like, there’s absolutely no scientific evidence that milk exists in outer space or do you reckon the guys that named it just feels like drinking some milk while they were-”

by the end of it, a few snickers have escaped from the people you and jeongguk were caught with, the aforementioned man, having turned his head the other way as his shoulders jolt silently and it’s only then does the officer’s increasing confused expression contorts into that of a maddened bore, “keep hanging out with him and you’re gonna find yourself behind bars.”

“that hurts my feelings, detective yoo,” jeongguk confesses, forehead creasing as his uncuffed hand holds the spot on his chest where his heart should be.

the man finally shakes his head, motioning to a younger officer who looks just about your age to start unlocking everyone’s cuffs - there were a few other people you’ve never seen before dragged out of the vicinity and to the station. he speaks a moment later, “you kids are lucky because none of you are associated with the ones down the hallway - we were initially going for them. busted their asses and found over a hundred kilograms of cocaine.”

once your cuffs are off and you get your phone back, you’re fast-scrolling through the messages on the notification window before swiping up and searching for jennie’s contact. it turns out she, taehyung and jimin guessed you were one of the few who didn’t make it and waited for you near the building where the party was busted.

“oh my god,” jennie is the first to dash into your arms as if she hadn’t seen you since forever, “i’m so sorry i left you!”

“well to be fair, i left you,” you mumble, your arms banded around her waist while hers around your neck.

and just when you thought the melodrama would end when she pulls away, you find yourself staring at sparkly-eyed jennie and the most heartbreaking downturned lips, “i will never,” she pauses, “ever let you out of my sight.”

you’re exactly against that idea - after all, you’ve made plans to buy a beach house and move in together in your olden days once you’ve poiso- burried your husbands who died of a totally natural cause.

it’s only after breaking apart from a second hug, do you realize the man standing not-so-awkwardly five feet away.

“don’t mind me,” jeongguk holds up his hands, “i don’t watch much drama but i might after all this.”

“jeongguk,” you can’t help the smile that creeps up your face at his joke, “this is jennie,” then you turn to the girl who still has her arm around your waist, and you her, “jennie, jeongguk.”

“have i seen you before?” her cat-like eyes narrows just the slightest bit, as though if she tried hard enough, she’d see the pieces of moving memories that’ll somehow point out where she claims to have met him - but you don’t doubt it if they have, jennie gets invited to a lot of parties and hookups.

you should’ve known when jeongguk’s eyes sweep over you with a playful glint in them as he begins, “that’s funny because ____ here-” that from this point forward, that you shouldn’t have put your foot forward and prance at him like a predator with a secret, hand clasped against a surprisingly hard chest before your brain can register what you’re doing.

and when it does, you’re left to awkwardly pat his chest in what you hope to be friendly gesture whilst you force out a laugh, “that- that was really funny jeongguk,” you turn to jennie who, having known you all your life easily catches onto your out-of-character laugh but says nothing, so you point at the guy you’re basically and is still groping - to which you’ve finally tear your hand off his body, “he’s a funny guy.”

“and who exactly is this funny guy?” taehyung comes up on your left - you think you catch sight of his sleek bmw parked on the other side of the street where he must’ve strutted up from in his beige jacket with his hands buried in its pockets.

“just...” you trail off before your brain completely fries and you blurt out, “some guy.”

and that’s when jeongguk decides to call you out, “some guy? i helped you through a life lesson.”

you attribute the alcohol in your system that’s slowing down the neurons and disables you from thinking before you act when you roll your eyes, “in case you didn’t realize, you were in there laughing your ass off when i had to have my own back while that officer looked like he was a word away from dragging me to the police station for talking back to a law enforcement.”

“you talked back to an officer?” jennie chirps, her jaw falling to the ground as her cat eyes widen in excitement and astonishment.

“she did,” jeongguk nods at the girl, a displaced proud smile on his lips before he looks back to you, “brought out the boomer in him too.”

“you pissed off an officer?” this time, it’s jimin who pops up from behind taehyung, before casually nodding to jeongguk with a “hey man.”

“i mean, it was probably ___’s sheer guts and rebellious streak alone that helped free us,” jeongguk goes on, eyes glinting with amusement in the briefest moment they slant to meet yours but they’re gone too soon as he redirects your attention to jimin and jennie’s overpouring questions.

and because jennie wanted to hear more about how jeongguk embellished what went down, taehyung ends up agreeing to give the stranger a ride as you get squished between two men with jennie constantly pulling on the strap of the seatbelt to look over to the backseat, her mouth constantly dropping with every word jeongguk utters like he’s some well-known storyteller.

by the time the car rolls to a stop in front of his apartment building, jennie’s shooting you approving, borderline provocative looks your way - you don’t doubt that if she had any power in her hand to put both you and jeongguk in the same room, lock the door and swallow the key, she would in a heartbeat.

“hey,” jeongguk leans over the doorframe, “can i talk to you for a sec?” it’s the way he tilts his head to the side on a 35 degree angle, paired with that dangerous smile he’s been shooting you in the briefest span of moments jennie’s head is turned to the road and jimin’s gave is thrown outside of the window and taehyung isn’t stealing glances from the rear-view mirror - that makes you want to shake your head in rejection to his request and prance out of the car like a predator in heat at the same time.

but instead, you calmly slide over to the side now vacant side and slip out of the car, closing the door behind you so no ears can eavesdrop.

the scent of his cologne wafts stronger into your senses now that you have no police officers to be cautious of nor any embellished stories to correct.

that, or maybe it’s the way he’s got you trapped against the car door and his body, right arm placed perfectly on the roof of the car, next to your head.

“bout time you give me your @, no?” the corner of his lips tilts higher into a cocky smirk.

“um, yea,” you begin, “i think it’s better if we leave into the night like strangers with stories, you know? and if we’re meant to find each other, we will,” you swear on your grandmother’s grave that you will never go to any parties anymore, “makes a good plot for a drama,” eyes going wide and mouth taking on an ‘o’ shape, you continue, “didn’t you say you were gonna start watching those?”

his shoulderline shakes as he chuckles, head dropped it tilts up, eyes capturing yours, “i’m not falling for that,” his announcement is plain and simple and yet you’re forced to put twice the effort in your smile as to not let it falter, “after getting my chest groped and caressed, i deserve at least-”

“it was a friendly pat, mind you,” you correct, smile still glued to your face before rolling your eyes, “but snapchat is as far as i’m willing to go.”

“works for me,” the screen of his phone flashes with a dark mode keypad splayed over it - you’re not sure how he unlocked it without taking those glinted eyes off you but he did. so you swipe the phone off his hand and send yourself a request through his account.

“i’m gonna open your snap and leave you on read!” you announce, and he laughs, “alright, bet!”

and with that, he waves at you using the same phone he told you to put your number in, taking a few steps backward, allowing you room to breathe properly again before he whirls on his heels and walks through the glass double doors.

you don’t wait any longer than you have to, shivering from the cold night air when you slip into the car.

“did you give him your number?!” jennie practically screams.

“no but i gave my snapchat only because he looked like he wouldn’t sleep a wink at night if i didn’t,” you shrug.

and that’s how kim jennie gets it into her head that you’re going to get your first-boyfriend-cherry popped. or so she likes to believe.

but that’s the least of your concern for the greater one comes in a devil with black jeans and matching plain t-shirt and timberlands and a lit up screen at exactly three something in the am, right after you’re done with a hot shower and in a middle of towel drying your hair and putting on your night routine skincare.

you open the text revealing a night view of a cityscape from a window which room is surrounded by darkness and a transparent horizontal strip with a ‘❄️ ’ in the middle from a goldenjks.

so you snap a picture of your skincare products next to a mirror with you and a towel on your head, face blocked by your hand that’s holding your phone, choosing to send ‘🍜’.

and so it goes, the snap war that erupts between you and user goldenjks throughout the night which, after you’d gotten into bed with the lights off, basically includes snaps of your darkened room and his more superior window view.

before long, you started texting on snapchat about how the police officer seems to know him and how-

goldenjks

u were p chill for someone who got arrested for the 1st time

you’re giggling in the darkness at 5:23 am.

you

cs ik i didn’t do anything wrong

duh

and he mentions something about a sobbing kid that was made to wait with you and nobody really did anything to comfort him.

goldenjks

that coulda been u if i wasn’t there probably

you roll your eyes but you can feel your muscles becoming sore from the way your lips are stretching from ear to ear.

then it starts with how taehyung didn’t saying anything throughout the ride up until the car rolled to a stop in front of jeongguk’s place.

goldenjks

r u guys using him for his car???

cs same

i would 2

you

wtf

we’re not 😭😭

and without much thought, you end up spilling a not-so-secret but not-so-well-known truth.

you

welp

he’s using me to get close to jennie so

ig i should use him for his car

oof

goldenjks

ooof

so let me guess

u can’t say no to him cs u have the biggest crush on him

“what the hell?” you mumble to yourself, smile pulled down into a frown, but before you can type out a reply, two more pop up on his side.

goldenjks

and jimin head over heels for u

you

🧢 🧢 🧢

u funny 😂😂😂

goldenjks

fr fr tho 😔😔😔

i would b too

all of a sudden, a boy with the softest blonde hair and crescent eye smiles floods your throughts. you and jimin might have been casual friends for the longest time and only until recently started hanging out together - and he may or may not hold confidential information about the littlest details of the lack of smile on your face and the blank snaps in your stories whenever you’re down.

but to say he’s reacting such way because he’s into you would be a total scam.

so you shake your head, laughing out loud, “nah can’t be.”

you

alright imma 😴😴😴

to which jeongguk tests back a gnight and after one whole solid minute, a text u tmr?

you leave him on read.

“like, who does he think he is?” you huff, burying the plastic spoon into the ice cream before scooping up a chunk of neapolitan flavored goodness and directing it into your mouth, “he literally met us just last night and he’s spouting shit like he knows us for years?”

“i don’t know,” jennie humps, tongue darting out to lick the remnants of strawberry ice cream on her upper lips before she goes on with a smile that screams ‘just get together already’, “it’s kinda hot to me when guys know shits, you know what i mean?”

you’ve managed to avoid jimin and taehyung at all costs and sneak to the ice cream parlor that’s five minutes away from campus where you spilled your guts out about how you got unreasonably irritated by the long running joke, about how jeongguk’s hand wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you out of the way of the chaotic college students who were rushing to get out of the small, cramped apartment and how you stopped him from relaying your disbelief of his lack of knowledge about her.

“like, i flipped out at him because of some stupid joke,” you shrugged, hands fiddling with each other while a coat of smoke wafted over the newly scooped and paid-for ice cream.

your name rolled off her lips before she stared at you with her hands on hear heart, “i- i didn’t know you would go so far as fight a guy for me for calling me ugly,” then she laughed, “but you don’t have to. girl, we been knew i’m ugly as fuck.”

your jaw hit the ground at the word she used to describe herself before you blinked and came back to your senses and aggressive defenses, “oh my god, i’m the ugly one and you’re the literal goddess - like, i shouldn’t even be looking at you. i should be looking at your sole. you should be stepping on me - step on me! now!”

a yelp resonated into the air as you groped around for jenni’s left leg in an attempt to lift her foot to make her step on you to which you both ended up laughing hysterically after realizing that she was wearing a skirt and the way you were sitting may or may have not resulted in an array of possible outcomes.

“oh my god, do you think she saw my panties?” she meant the woman in her late 40′s who were shooting disapproving eyes at the both of you as she scrolled through her phone, seeming to be waiting for someone before placing an order.

“you just flashed a poor old woman who came to have some ice cream,” you were hunched over, hand covering your face as you stole glances her way which didn’t hold long because you ended up giggling with the girl when you caught each other’s eyes.

“you think she likes what she sees?” jennie’s brows rose suggestively and you knew what she was going to say next before the words even leave her mouth, “you think maybe i should tell her about my onlyfans?”

it was a few bursts of giggles later, that you’d finally managed to talk properly. or probably because jennie’s question brought out an unwelcomed emotion that you pushed to the back of your conscience last night and for the most part, managed to forget, “so,” her brows were wiggling like earthworms on her forehead, “did he text you?”

that was what spurred the whole confession and up to the moment where you spilled the contents of the unfairly attractive stranger’s text.

“i don’t know, he kinda went overboard,” you shrug and jennie’s hand reaches over yours, patting it once with what you assume is an understanding manner.

“sweetie, i get it,” she announces, “you feel exposed because he said the absolute truth and only the truth and now you’re projecting your embarrassment on him through disdain.”

silence follows her statement.

and staring.

on your part, that is.

“girl,” you blink once, eyebrows arched, “whatever you’re having - i want some.”

that warrants a bout of giggles from said girl before she scoops her last bite of ice cream and hook arms with you as you walk towards the trashcan to dump your empty paper bowls, “no but for real, i like jeongguk-”

“then you date him,” you announce, nodding in approval.

“i like how he brings this... this... fire out of you, you know?” she quizzes to which you shake your head in a ‘no, i don’t know’ kind of manner as she goes on, “and i already have namjoon so,” she sing songs as she starts to skip in the middle of the mall and since your arms are linked together, you end up taking larger steps to accommodate to hers before deciding that you can’t root your feet down to slow her down into a normal pace. so you join her, skipping to the exit where you wait for your uber.

“you guys made up?” the question comes out in a calm, poised manner once you’ve both slipped into the backseat of the uber - you’d like to believe you’re doing a pretty good job on trying to conceal your spiking disbelief and the need to whoop someone’s ass. that someone being a girl who just pledged an oath to choose herself first instead of some man who-

“i texted him and told him how i felt with him cancelling on our plans and when i didn’t get any reply, i turned off my phone and got into bed because i’m not gonna mope over someone who won’t appreciate me,” at that, you give her an approving nod, “but then he came knocking on my door at like 5 in the morning in yesterday’s suit because apparently he has a deadline to meet and he’s been bending over backward trying to finish it on time and he brought his laptop with him too and managed to submit on time after explaining everything. he said he tried calling multiple times but obviously it went to voice mail so... yeah we made up.”

“that’s...” you trail off, only to stare at your friend’s beaming face like she’s just had one of the best facials on earth, “wow, i... i don’t know what to say now that we know he’s not trash.”

“i know,” you feel her pat the back of your hand sympathetically, “and that’s what a man is,” and when she looks at you with eyes that have one goal in her mind, you know not to start listening because the facts are going to bruise your pride and hit the nail on the head more times than you’d-

“liking a boy has more downs than ups but i’m not too worried because you’re a self-loving bitch and i love that for you but kim taehyung is not it,” she says all that with a straight face.

“yeah,” you mumble, thumbs fiddling together as you turn your attention to them as if it’s the most magnifying thing in the world to find out that identical parts of your body could move on their own with just a thought.

“okay, but i swear, he’s so oblivious all the time-” the girl stops short of her lament, you can see her head tilting to peer at you at a slightly different angle as if to see traces of an impostor on you, “wait, what?”

“we got into a fight last night- i don’t know if it’s even a fight but you know how i go off in a tangent when i get like annoyed, right?” you steal a glance at her for half a second before going back to your thumbs, “so i kind of did that to him before the dude announced the cops were coming and we haven’t really talked to each other since then.”

before any of you could say anything else, the sound of a cough echoes in the air, warranting your attention to turn to the driver, a woman in her mid-thirties. you return her smile through the rear-view mirror, “if you don’t mind me saying this - i know you girls are smart as fuck, but you sound just as dumb as that guy - whoever he is because it’s completely normal to get mad at someone you’re crushing on and still have a crush on them but sounds to me like you’re thinking one fight is the end of the world for you.”

“sis, please, don’t encourage her,” jennie talk-whispers as she leans forward just the slightest bit and covers the side of her mouth with her hand.

“well, we’re not really friends,” you begin and jennie groans - you two went over this and agreed to disagree with each other’s wildly contrasting views about crushing on crushes that could crush you but the lady hasn’t heard it so you’re not going to stop lamenting over it, “and whatever i do, it’s like i’m teetering on a tight rope because one wrong move and he probably won’t talk to me ever again and i’m not like miserably crushing on him - like, whatever we are right now - it lets me see him every day and he has the cutest smile and the prettiest fingers- i just - it’s better than not talking to each other forever, you feel?”

“um, don’t i?” she rolls her eyes, as if coming from a place filled with oblivious boys and hopeless crushes.

her name is solar and she does uber as a part time while working 9 to 5 at a firm that she claims to pay better but still not enough for her to save up for her wedding on the side and she and her fiance knew each other since high school but she’s seen him date two girls and get his heartbroken by both before he actually noticed her, the friend that’s always been there for him through his heartbreaks.

coming from someone who isn’t jennie and her alarming obsession with breaking parts of bodies of people who hurt her loved ones, solar’s view is somewhat a mixture of you and your best friend’s which still bases on one simple fact: whatever you say to and about taehyung comes bouncing back at you like a ping pong ball because-

“you have a crush on him and he has a crush on jennie,” she surmises before looking over at the aforementioned girl, “and people with crushes act like idiots- by the way how do you feel- like how do you handle the guy’s advancements and still aren’t awkward with each other because i have never seen...”

when the car rolls to a stop in the parking lot of your faculty, she finally turns to the two of you, her bleached blonde hair framing her face in waves as the silence - on you and jennie’s part as you both share glances at the indicative joke opening - hangs in the air with a sort of tension you can feel.

might even bite back like you did with jeongguk but you’re more in control now.

“...two pretty best friends who are still best friends when there’s a guy that comes between them.”

“oh thank god,” jennie sighs, laughing and you’re nodding in agreement, “thanks for not-” and your best friend echoes, “yeah,” before you can even finish your sentence, “-saying that cliche joke or like for giving your own twist to it,” waving a dismissive hand, you address her initial worries, “and taehyung doesn’t-”

“he doesn’t-” jennie chimes in.

“-come between us.”

you both say at the same time.

“oh my god, that’s great, you know my best friend tried sleeping with my fiance behind my back once,” solar crinkles her nose, “wasn’t a good experience but anywho, i’m so glad to see two girls having each other’s back like you guys. makes me want to...”

it’s a few moments later that you finally hand her the money and murmur out appreciations for being such a great uber driver along with some ‘give me five stars! thanks!’ and ‘we will! have a nice one!’

you both part ways in the hallway when you’re supposed to go for marketing and she has to go for personnel management. jimin’s already reserved a seat for you, waving at you to catch your attention which he succeeds splendidly. by the start of the second year, you’ve opted to sit together in classes you have in common, though not as close as the front as you’d like, it’s better than sitting at the back where you can hear the buzz of flies - you mean people, talking.

“are you doing anything this friday night?” jimin asks amidst people zooming out of the class as if they don’t want to be there for longer than a minute after being dismissed.

that, or they have another class to get to on the other side of the campus.

“uh, just me or me and jennie ‘you’?” you dumbly question.

that warrants a chuckle from the boy, “you and jennie... unless you wanna come alone?”

a hum vibrates in your chest as you narrow your eyes at him, as though if you looked close enough, you can see through his skull and right into his thoughts.

but you can’t so that’s why you’re spouting out another question, “where exactly are you inviting us again?”

“so, like, you know i dance right?” he drops his gaze for the briefest moment before coming back up to lock it with yours, “it’s very lowkey - just something i do for fun, but we kind of have a dance off with other teams every month and this month’s round is this friday night so i was wondering if you wanna come?” then he quickly adds, “with jennie, of course.”

to be frank your weekends are as boring and dull as it gets - the party-busted incident was a rare exception - but you and jennie are quite content with it. you start having more to do and places to venture out to when taehyung and subsequently jimin join your group of two and made it a group of four but for the most part, if you’re not going anywhere, your weekend is usually spent with watching movies and burying yourself in work for the rest of it.

“bet,” your reply might have come a tad bit delayed judging from how his brows rise to the ceiling and his eyes go round as he chirps, “really?”

“yeah, just text me or jennie the location the day before,” you request as you both walk down the hallway.

“great- yeah, i’ll... i’ll text you the place,” jimin beams even as he bumps into someone behind him, turning around to lower his head and mumble out an oh sorry before turning back to you, “i got another class but i’ll text you- on thursday - not today, of course.”

and you wave back, shouting out an ‘okay bye!’

then he’s gone like the wind.

the days pass by like a breeze.

kim taehyung caught you in the middle of waiting for jennie’s class to end whilst also finishing up some work in the library. he knew your favorite spot and he knew where you’d usually be - but you had an inkling that you weren’t exactly the reason why he memorized these little things. he waved at you in greeting and you waved back. you would’ve pretended he didn’t exist after that and go back to your laptop if he didn’t hold up his phone screen with blank white space and blue and grey bubbles on the side.

so of course you picked up your phone, noticing that there were already three wiggling dots when you tapped on his name.

kth: hey

you met his gaze once, as if to affirm that he meant to send it. when he shota half, almost pleading smile, you typed out a reply.

you: hey what’s good

kth: nothing

kth: just waiting for a friend

seeing as there was not really a conversation going on where jennie wasn’t involved and how the boy’s blatant dismissal in addressing the big, giant elephant in the room, taehyung must’ve had seen the way your lips pursed into an irritated pout before his phone vibrated.

you: cool

and then you were back to your laptop, typing sentences out and backspacing because of its incoherent nature, or lack of quality or whatever reason that stopped you from doing your job before kim taehyung’s arrival.

then he started whispering “hey, uh, ____,” from across the table. upper body leaned to the front as if it’d help enunciate his words.

you took your sweet time taking out your airpods from each individual ear and placing them down next to your mac before finally arching a brow at the boy, “what?”

“hey,” he repeated, this time with a frozen mid-wave, “hi, how you doing?”

“great thanks,” there was a minimal effort on your part to disguise your ‘what even?’ expression on your face as you picked up your right airpod first - only to be stopped by the boy’s-

“i’m sorry.”

it’s clean and short but his face made up for conveying his genuinity.

“why are you saying sorry?” it didn’t mean you were going to let him off the hook easy.

“well, because...” he trailed off for the briefest moment but the unconcealable bop of his adam’s apple isn’t really helping him appear any more convincing, “i was being pushy...” he looked to you for an indication of him being on the right track to which you were not sure if he did get any but he still went on with his wits and his will - it took you everything not to gush over how cute he looks with his panic-blinking and pretty lips moving as if to say something but no words coming out, “...and i was generally being an annoying little shit.”

“and?” you pressed on, blinking once as if to paint a look of unbotheredness.

“...and...” he echoes, eyes darting from your phone to somewhere behind you and then something next to it but only silence fills the space between you and him.

“alright, i’m gonna be real with you,” leaning back, you cross your arms over your chest, “i know you talk to me when you need something and i don’t really care - well i do, but i just bottle it up until it one day burst out, you know what i’m saying? so yea, if you’re wondering if that night was me blowing up on you, it kinda was and it wasn’t because you were making small talks with me just to poke into my best friend’s business - well, it kinda is but like not in that way, you follow? what i mean is.. don’t let me catch you sneaking behind jennie’s back asking personal shits about her that you don’t think she’s going to disclose even if you straight up ask her - that’s sus, taehyung.”

by the end of it, he was staring at you like you had two horns and a tail swaying around behind you. but you concur, that may or may have not been your inner self coming to light - just a hypocrite criticizing someone for doing the things she would have done, if she wasn’t already doing it, if she was in his shoes.

and to be quite frank, taehyung’s shoe size is probably a few inches bigger than yours but if they had laces, you would’ve been able to put them on and tied them up to accommodate your ego.

so taehyung didn’t - couldn’t say anything in response to your second time going off into a tangent and because of what he did, at that. he stopped texting you altogether and only talked to jennie whenever you weren’t around and left before you got to them if he saw you coming his way - jennie’s actually.

either way, jennie wasn’t as elated as you thought she’d be once you told her that you called taehyung out on his bullshit.

“um, i’ve always wanted to tell him about me and namjoon so he’d give up - you were the one who didn’t let me,” she might or might not have said something along the lines of you making her “lead him on all because you wanted to an eye candy to look at every day.”

“what do you mean?” your forehead was creasing a thousand folds.

“not that i’m pointing fingers,” she went on, eyes glued to the pairs of indoor shoes in the corner of the room and anywhere but your eyes, “but i’m like, cool with or without him around but you sort of said ‘okay, then it’s cool if he comes with us right?’ and you were making puppy eyes and i couldn’t no to that-”

and so you were laughing dryly, “aha- wha- what so it’s my fault that he’s being a total wuss and won’t square up?”

“i didn’t say that,” jennie’s reply came a heartbeat later which meant yes, it was.

so now you’re not talking to your best friend and neither are you talking to the boy who’s crushing on her. which leaves you a lot of free time to finish up your work in time to hop into a bullet train and then an uber and get to the building where jimin’s dance off is held.

you’re in the middle of texting the boy a ‘sorry, might b late. i didn’t know there’d be a line 😭’ when a figure comes up to you from the corner of your eye.

fitted in black jeans and matching tucked in t that shows off his slender waist and beanie, the only thing that isn’t black is probably his white-yellow timberlands, “so you weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna leave me on read.”

“you know, it’s so cute that you think you’re worth the reply at all,” you blink, eyes going wide and jaw hanging loose from shock, “this... this... confidence - where do you get it? seriously, tell me because i have never seen someone with such immaculate self-absorbance.”

jeongguk’s head moves as he nods in admittance, hands buried in his pocket before he looks up at you. that familiar glint in his eyes is telling you that whatever he has up his sleeve, you’re not going to be able to refuse.

“you know, eugene over there and i are homies,” he nods towards the burly tall man at the front who’s mainly the reason there’s a line in the first place - one that no one seems to dare cut, “i could get you in faster.”

“oh my god, look what that self-absorbance’s got you believing,” you put one, sympathetic hand on his shoulder as your free hand goes to cover the spot on your chest where your heart is, “i’m so happy for you,” you glance over to the not-declining-anytime-soon line behind you, “but sometimes, even confidence can’t get you into invites-only events.”

to any other person, it must’ve looked like you and jeongguk are friends - friendly acquaintances hitting best buddies at the very least. but something in the way his grin curling sweetly on his lips and the curve of the half ringlet of his hair touching the corners of his onyx eyes, makes your toes curl inwardly and your stomach churn with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

and because of that, you know there won’t be any sort of friendship forming between you and jeongguk.

he leaves you with an amused smirk and a “see you inside,” and marches up to eugene, the two sharing an uncomplicated handshake before the man steps to the side and lets him in.

well.

it takes you another ten minutes of standing in line and assuring jimin that he doesn’t need to rush out and risk having his team go without him when their turn comes. which according to jimin, ‘isn’t anytime soon - they let the bigger teams go first’.

but then jimin knowing jimin, that probably meant soon enough.

when you’re finally on the front of the line, crumpled up ticket in hand, eugene gives you a once over and nods at his not-as-burly-but-just-as-scary-looking friend.

“follow me,” and with that, she struts in through the door but instead of going down the hallway like the ones before you did before they disappear from eyesight in the corner, she takes a sharp turn to the right until she stops in front of an elevator.

her deep violet hair brushes against her cheekbones as she nods at the empty box with mirrors all around.

yeesh, guess everyone expresses themselves with their bodies here.

the numbers constantly change from ground level to 1 to 2 and finally stops at the 3rd floor where the blare of the music seems to come from. and that’s when you see the black haired boy who has his forearms leaned against the railing as he grins at something on the bottom floor where the shouts and cheers seem to erupt from. but before you can make a sharp 180 to go back down where jimin said you’d only need to follow the hallway and take the turn around the corner like the people before you did, jeongguk looks up as if sensing the heat of your gaze drilling holes inside his head. with one hand raised, he beckons you over.

“your majesty,” you drop into a bow once you reach him, “this humble servant thanks you for bringing her here but,” pointing your thumb over your shoulder at the hallway you just came from you continue, “i think i’m on the wrong floor because all i can see here is flocks of hair - an oh, shiny scalp from that guy - arms flailing around. takes away the magic of dance, you feel?”

“so you’re here for jimin.” it doesn’t sound like a question - so it must not be. a ponderous hum vibrate from his chest as you shoot him an arched brow whilst your insides burst like fireworks at the way his darkened eyes traces down your body and back up after he’s done with what seems to be a scout’s assessment.

“no leather pants and no best friend or heartbreak boy hovering around like a lost puppy - let me guess, he did something that made you mad, the best friend backed him up and now you’re mad at both of them?” he raises his own brow, lips curling into an assured smirk, “oh and jimin here’s probably taking a neutral stance because it ‘doesn’t concern’ him.”

you don’t know if you want to run away or grab the neck of his shirt and smack your lips on his.

so you settle with handguns pointed in his face, “alright, catch you never.”

but before you can even take a step to where you came from, jeongguk’s laying out his card on the table, “you sure bout that? it’s bulleproof boys’ turn - it’s jimin’s teams name, in case you’re wondering and judging by who they’re going against, it might be their first and last performance for the night.”

“i knew that,” respectfully, you had no idea that the teams have specific names besides the alphabetical letters given to them upon registration.

jimin’s only mentioned dance match once and that he’s in team c that’ll go against team d.

so you stick around, watching from all the way on the third floor where the lest people are gathered, cheering out names of teams that are alien to your ears which seem to be the team jimin is going against. but the fact that jimin could dance with such precision and grace is magnifying enough. he’s mostly posed on either sides of the formation, switching from the front left to the furthest back line on the right side as the beat drops.

jimin’s name pours out of your mouth in cheers but it’s swallowed by the other cheers before it can even reach him. in the end, jimin’s team loses. they still go up to their opponent and share handshakes and sidehugs before moving away from the dance floor.

he’s not smiling nor is he frowning as he stands in the crowd after the prelims but his lips curl and eyes disappear into crescents when he sees you.

“hey!” his arms open up into a hug, only to stop halfway in hesitation but by then you’re already wrapping yours around his neck with a “you were so cool!”

and just like that, the awkwardness in the air dissipates.

“i didn’t see you in the crowd.”

“so what? you thought i left?” a light smack lands on his arm, “by the way, you didn’t tell me it was this intense - i can feel the tension from all the way...” you pause for the briefest moment, “...in the audience.”

“everyone here just likes to dance so it gets competitive at some point but at the end of the day, it’s important to have fun,” he shrugs, a shy smile plastered to his face.

“either way you did great,” you bump his elbow with yours, and he shifts his weight to his left foot.

“we lost but it was a fair match the bts people were too good,” a mixture of regret and contentedness crosses his face as he nods to himself, as if admitting the difference in skills.

“let’s get a drink later, i’m buying,” you propose and jimin looks like a kid who just received his favorite candy.

well, that was the plan for the rest of the night up until the winner was announced. then a boy no older than you and jimin came up to the latter, arms slung over his shoulders, “dude, beyond the scene just asked if we wanna join them at the afterparty. can you believe it?”

“dude, you capping - don’t fucking joke with men man, i was about to shit my pants-” jimin attempts to shove the guy away half-heartedly which does nothing as his friend - teammate, cuts him off.

“i’m not fucking joking, man, behind the scenes literally asked if we wanna chill with them!”

the two boys are basically shoving each other back and forth before they start slapping each other on the face once to wake the other up. whoever this behind the scenes guys, they seem like a pretty big deal if two grown adults are fanboying this hard about them.

only after they’re sporting the faintest shade of pink on their right cheeks, do they finally realize that they weren’t squeal-whispering by themselves. he introduces himself as kai - “jimin’s best friend and mentor.”

“he likes to say that because i got into dance because of him,” jimin adds, debunking the mentor myth.

you’re about to wave the two goodbye and call it a night since it’s pretty clear that the behind the scenes guys only invited them and not their friends.

“come with us,” kai announces as the three of you walk down the back entrance where it’s less crowded and meant for the participants to use, “baekhyun can’t make it so we’ll still be five people.”

“i really should go- it’s getting late and my place is in seoul-”

and so begin your war of apologies and ‘no, you’s.

“oh shit, i forgot.” jimin’s usually almond-shaped eyes turn round and wide, “you used the subway-”

“yeah, but i can still catch the last train home-” you try to assure.

“i’ll accompany you back-”

“no, no - you should go with them-”

“no, i made you come to watch-”

and it would have gone on until morning if you and jimin were left to argue on who should do what if kai didn’t clap his hands together and put an end to the long debate, “okay, okay, break it up.”

he looks between the blonde haired best friend and then to you, “jimin came with me so i’m gonna drive him back anyway and i could drop you off too after chilling with bts - it’s nothing you’re not used to, beers and games and shits, you know? plus it’ll be like, less than 20 people there - bts never invites other groups into their circle - who knows, maybe you’ll find your true way like jimin did,” he pats the aforementioned man on his shoulder whilst jimin rolls his eyes at the way best friends who’ve heard their best friend boast about an-untruth for the umpteenth time.

and because you basically made another friend and that means you’ll have at least 2 people to hang out with if the rest turns out not to be your kind of people - so you cave in, “okay, sure, why not?”

'why not’s are subjective - or so you’d like to think.

like when you’re not particularly into americano and prefer latte but wouldn’t say no to having the first if jennie mixed up your order and bought you your not-so-favored but also not-so-hated drink.

but jennie’s known you since she shoved you off the swings at five after you outran her only to get to the swings faster because only one was vacant and the other kid was already in the other one.

so she’d know your preferred drinks.

but in the event she suddenly has amnesia or anything and got you and americano, that’s when you’ll go, “why not?”

but that and finding out that jeongguk used to be part of bts until he hurt his during practice, having to have 2 major surgeries because of it, rendering him no longer able to dance so he’s only going to the dance offs to cheer for his friends which was how he met you at the entrance and now you’re handcuffed together (and yes, again) in the middle of the forest - are two disparate things altogether.

hoseok, the most outgoing and friendliest of the bunch, suggested for the ice breaking to be in a form of 2 beer bottles and a sort of rope or chain tying people from bts and the bulletproof people together to talk for five minutes. they only have 2 pairs of cuffs so the others that lack them have to make do with bandanas and you think a seokjin got harassed into taking off his shirt and using it as him and his designated partner’s pseudo handcuff.

yours and jeongguk’s are - you’re not sure if it’s a fortunate or unfortunate thing - real ones (you’re not sure if you want to know why and how seulgi easily pulls out a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs and a normal-looking one - out of the blue).

but you’re almost sure that you’re leaning on the side of the internal argument of this - this, right here - is why not.

“why didn’t you text me back?” jeongguk is in the middle of asking as you take a big chug of the alcoholic beverage.

"oh my god,” you let a pleased smile tug at your lips as you feel the buzz of the alcohol coursing through your system, “i was just gonna talk to you about that - jennie said i was being a ghosting b because you only said facts and i got like, offended without a reason but i agree that people can be wrong sometimes and that was her time... i just...” you shrug, “i just didn’t want to text you back so i didn’t,” you look at him with a new found familiarity, “anyways, how was your week?”

by the end of it, jeongguk’s nodding and poorly suppressing his smirk.

“well, let me start first,” you begin before he can even say anything, listing down the happenings in a chronological order which may or may have not confirmed his initial assumption on why you’re here alone “...i mean, was it my fault though? between you and me, i think jennie and i need to sit down and actually talk about accountabilities first, you know? but anyway, that’s how my week went! how about you, how was your week?”

to say that your turmoil of a week is anything close to a laugh-worthy joke, would be a lie but for some reason, trickles of laughter are escaping jeongguk’s lips and into the night air as he leans back, holding his stomach. he would’ve hit the ground if you’d poke him.

“wow,” you slowly nod, “that’s... that’s very... flattering that you think my somewhat a quarter life crisis is amusing,” a grin stretches across your face but your eyes drill holes into the boy’s skull, “maybe i should just quit uni altogether. that’d be... exciting, right? just... quit uni and live a life as a comedian because look at how much i’m cracking you up right now!”

and it goes on for another minute of jeongguk’s laughter filling the air as you threaten him to stop in the guise of encouragement besides the cracking of the branches as it gets swallowed up by the fire in the barrel not too far away from where everyone’s scattered.

“god,” when he’s finally reduced to chuckles and wiping invisible tears off the corner of his eyes, you’re about halfway done with your bottle.

“and he’s back,” you announce, “welcome back. can’t say i missed you though but glad that you’re back with us.”

but before jeongguk can get a word out about his own week which you’d asked, if only to be polite, hoseok is already summoning everyone to gather around the barrel as he raises a bottle in the air to - “new groupship and friends!”

or so you think he said.

you’re not too sure because you’re too busy demanding jeongguk to - “uncuff me right now, jeon - was that too pushy? let me try again,” you pause, clearing your throat, “can you please, please, please, uncuff me so i can go back to my friends and not have to stay here a minute longer?”

“don’t act like you don’t enjoy my company,” he offers you one of his self-assured smirks before addressing your concern, “i’m trying,” he says simply, free hand patting around the pocket on the side of his jeans before groping his own ass.

“um, maybe try harder?” you suggest, smiling sweetly but it downturns into a frown not even a minute later when he declares, “i can’t find it.”

“you... can’t find it?” you echo his words.

“it’s not on me,” he states.

“well, did seulgi give it to you at all or...” you trail off only to be met by a devious smirk which doesn’t exactly help his case.

“guess you’re stuck with me,” he shrugs ever so easily.

“oh, hell nah,” and that’s when you latch onto to smirking boy’s body - on your hands at least, and since his left hand and your right hand are cuffed together, it doesn’t allow much room for your physical inspection which is how using your only free hand to get to the side of his pocket that’s farthest from you - may appear suspicious to others.

you only notice that you’re fully facing jeongguk and having your back turned to everyone else when hoseok’s voice cuts through the air, “yo hold up, hold up, hold up - this is bonfire and chill, not netflix and chill.”

your jaws hurt from hanging a bit too low as you meet each and everyone’s eyes, their giggling and laughing already telling enough of what the majority thinks - everyone except jimin, that is.

but you’re a bit too preoccupied with trying to clear the supposed air of you and jeongguk getting it on in the middle of the forest with both your friends and his around, “aha,” you force out, “i know this,” free hand waving between the chain linking your wrists and the open air which isn’t helping your case because jeongguk’s poor attempt at subduing his smirk is well, poor, “might look sus to you but it isn’t - jeongguk lost the key and if someone could help us find it, it’d-”

“oh, don’t worry, i have a spare at home,” seulgi chirps up, hand waving her illuminated phone, “i’ll text my girlfriend to bring it here.”

well, that explains the fluffy cuffs.

“sick,” jeongguk nods over to the girl to which she holds up an ‘okay’ sign and a meaningful smile to him which shouldn’t be ominous but is.

so you fix him a stare when hoseok goes to say something along the line of ‘great’ and ‘lifesaver’ to seulgi.

which the boy only asks back with a “what?”

“i have something to say but i’m not gonna so i’m just gonna keep quiet but just know that i’m watching you,” but the warning doesn’t exactly bring out the intimidating aspect that you hoped for.

“watch all you want, i’m yours for tonight,” the velvety sound of his chuckles is awfully distracting because you don’t even notice the chain clinking until his fingers interlock yours before he brings them up in the air - as if to emphasize on the technicality of his titillating claim.

the night goes on with bottles of beers scattering over the ground, faint smoke dissipating into the air as the scent of something sweet and fruity wafts around whilst the juul gets passed around.

once in a while someone’s laugh echoes between the gaps of the trees and into the night, amidst the sound of woodland creatures. you’ve downed one and a half bottle of henny whilst jeongguk doesn’t seem to have gone past even half of his first bottle. but he’s chuckling and laughing at something someone said which, for the most part, is funny or warrant a jaw-dropping, pin-drop-silence kind of reaction just like now as seulgi confesses to-

“never have i ever slept with my mom’s boyfriend at 19.”

“and that’s on mommy issues,” you hold up a beer in a ‘cheers’ manner at her whilst she mimics your action before you both tilt your head up and take a chug out of your individual beers at the same time.

“what about you?” jeongguk asks and for a moment, you forget that there are people around because jeongguk’s eyes look like someone reached up the sky and handpicked two stars each for his irises and trap them in there like a class case.

but you’d like to believe it’s the alcohol doing its rightful work in your system because you’re back on the ground with an unrelenting itch on your ankle where it’s brushing against the blades of grass.

“yea, what’s your never-have-i-ever mommy issues edition?” kai speaks up.

“nah, it’s wack,” you wave a dismissive hand but end up agreeing to spill the beans when a bout of protest spreads across your ever so faithful audience.

“okay, okay, never have i ever fucked my biological mom’s husband who isn’t my dad,” you say which earns a bout of cheers and ‘that’s messed up’s before seokjin claps his hands together.

“never have i ever...” he pauses, grinning as an added suspense before he goes on, “fucked my brother’s boyfriend.”

the game doesn’t last for long when everyone collectively agree to take the atmosphere up a notch and play strip truth or dare. but before your turn came, seulgi announces her girlfriend’s arrival concurrently with her having to leave for the night because she’s her ride home. and because you and jeongguk are both of the same mind that you’re the ones that should be following after her to get yourselves uncuffed, you do just that.

yeri is a sweetheart and matches seulgi’s playful yet reserved nature. they take the cuffs with them and seulgi waves you two goodbye with the same, meaningful smile directed to jeongguk - but if that’s not enough, the ‘good luck’ thumbs up is a screaming red button for you.

but before you can even call him out for his possible hand in convincing his dance friends to invite jimin’s and consequently you to the forest after the match - he beats you to it.

“you okay?” this time, his features are lacking the smirk.

“yea, why wouldn’t i be?” you say, hopping on the rail of the train track that’ll lead to the spot where the others are - so far, you’re doing a good job not falling to your demise.

“i don’t know,” the scraping sound of his soul kicking against the pebbly ground fills the air as he walks next to you, hands in his pocket, “you’ve been pretty quiet after that thing about your mom.”

“you think what i did was messed up?” you inquire, resisting the urge to steal a glance at him to see what kind of emotion he’s making - whether it’s contorted with disgust or whether his nose is crinkling at an attempt to appear unbothered or whether there really isn’t any judgments being passed and he’s just downcasting his eyes because he’s looking out for possible sharp objects protruding from the ground.

“everyone’s a little messed up,” his shoulderline shakes as he shrugs, “it’s the why behind it that counts.”

“nah,” your hair tickles your face as you shake your head in blatant refutation, “i didn’t have a reason.”

and just when you expect a disgusted scoff to erupt from jeongguk’s pink lips... it doesn’t.

“that works too.”

silence follows his words for the longest moment with you trying placing one foot in front of the other, pretending like teetering on that tightrope you’re stuck on with kim taehyung at the end of it, not even waiting for you but just happen to be there.

so you break the silence, “i finally found her last year - flew all the way to jeju because my biological aunt saw my the post i put up on facebook in a last ditch attempt before i hire a private investigator like my dads suggested. she set us up to meet,” the picture of a woman who’s so similar yet dissimilar to you flashes at the back of your head, a biscoff cheesecake slice lying untouched on the table and someone screaming at the top of their lungs right in front of your ears, “my biological mom didn’t know anything about it, flipped out and told me to never bother her again so i looked up where her husband worked and slept with him and sent the video to her.”

jeongguk doesn’t say anything, only nodding in your periphery before a soothing kind of silence lapses between you.

“what’s your story?” you ask a moment later.

“hm?” he glances at you, the moonlight shining over that smirk that you’ve come to miss in the course of the five minutes it went missing, skin painted a creamy white.

“if you don’t wanna tell, that’s fine too but like, you basically tore down my walls and i’m naked as hell - figuratively -” you add as soon as his eyes light up, “right now.”

but then he tries to bargain, “promise you’ll text me back and i’ll tell.”

and you try to teeter in the grey area between words and its meanings, “alright, promise... i won’t leave you on read.”

“nah, you gotta promise to text back,” his half curls sway as he shakes his head - your end of the bargain not sufficiently satisfying.

it’s a few moments after your surrendering, “you know what? keep your skeletons in your closet - i’m good,” that he finally says something.

“i used to do tracks, lucked out with a sports scholarship but by freshman year in college, realized i didn’t even like tracks and dropped out...”

jeongguk’s parents weren’t happy about it - didn’t exactly welcome him when he came back with a suitcase and a letter from his unversity claiming the outstanding balance of his first two semesters. but he wasn’t happy at home either.

so he packed his bags one more time and took the first train to seoul where he worked part time at a restaurant and occasionally at the dance off’s, before he found the beyond the scene people and subsequently found dance. that was amidst of a developer of the game he was playing approaching him through the game’s chat server and offering him a job to test out their games with the condition that he gets a degree in computer science which they paid for on the company’s scholarship fund.

and so it was obvious that jeon jeongguk, wherever he chooses to go and stop at, blooms like a wildflower that strives in any condition thrown in his face whether it be a storm, a hurricane or a sunny weather that barely allows any rain to cover the soil he’s rooted in.

and because he’s true to himself, it isn’t as unbelievable, when almost everyone - from every layer of backgrounds, flock around him like honeybees in spring - allured, magnified and bewitched by jeon jeongguk that makes him... well, him.

to say you understand him a little bit better may be an overstatement but maybe you’re less suspicious of his keen intuition and uncanny prognosis of what happened in your relationships, both with your friend and your not-so-friendly crush.

jeongguk jests that his leg “doesn’t work like it used to but-” - he’s been to places. seen people.

“so why are you obsessed with me?” you question into the night in a light hearted joke, “i mean, i can possibly see why because well, i’m... me and i’m amazing but you know, it’s not healthy to be this obsessed with people.”

his chuckles sounds like wind chimes on a spring day, "besides the fact that i was too busy being a tracks nerd for most of my life so i have zero flirting skills and decided to make all the calls that seem to irritate the one person i want to get to know? it’s because you looked like you were head over heels with the guy you were putting in place but still managed to not make it personal.”

it takes a moment for you to digest what he just said, and even then, you’re nodding in complete disagreement as you blurt out, “pretty sure some parts were personal,” and you turn to him with a smile stretched over your face, “but glad that you don’t think i’m the impostor.”

so you stop twenty steps away from where you can see the fire in the barrel and hoshi, one of the guys from bulletproof boys, standing in boxers and shouting an oath before gulping down a bottle of henny at an alarming rate.

“everyone’s a little sus now and then,” he refutes, nose crinkling as a grin spread across his moon-kissed features as he offers you his hand and you take it, hopping off your tightrope journey and onto grounding earth.

when morning comes, you wake up to the familiar but not-very-welcomed sound of cars honking from outside your window and the light piercing through your eyelids, so much so, you surrender to the start of the day. arms stretched over your head and a guttural sound vibrating within your chest as a sign of protest before your vision finally gets used to the bright sunny rays.

and that’s when you freeze. arms stretched and all.

“after all this, you can’t say no to a date with me,” jeon jeongguk is lying right next to you, in your one-person bed which you could never imagine would fit more than your need-for-maximum-space self when you sleep but there he is, in yesterday’s clothes, hugging your light pink alpaca plushie on his stomach whilst his elbow which you don’t notice before is poking into your rib.

the events of last night untangle in a web of hazed memory coming to high definition as each passing second pass by.

you and jimin live on the opposite ends of the city which made you reluctant in having kai drive you back at all, so jeongguk offered to split the uber bills with you because apparently, “oh, hey, we live in the same area!”

which later turned out you didn’t and it would’ve made more sense for him to hitch a ride with kai and jimin. but you didn’t even need to ask why he did what he did.

because by the time you and jeongguk returned, it’d been a set-in-stones assumption that you were off making out somewhere under a tree and everyone cheered you and him for it upon your return.

well, except jimin.

so you pulled jeongguk to the side once the attention was directed to hoseok whose dare was to lick the grass he was stepping on.

“is that thing about jimin liking me true because he’s been like, avoiding my eyes the whole night and now he’s acting like i don’t exist and i’m pretty concerned because his friend is my ride home,” you whispered underneath your beath.

jeongguk threw one, confirming glance at the aforementioned man before nodding casually, “he’s jealous as fuck because he thinks we did the do - cross my heart and hope to die.”

so you ended up offering jeongguk to sleep in your bed because it was already late and it felt like a waste to spend another thirty bucks to go back to a place where nobody was waiting for him anyway.

you were so beat, you’d fallen asleep as soon as jeongguk pulled your protesting self off the futon-splayed floor and held you captive in your own bed.

“you know what? i might as well,” you say, legs thrown off the bed and stretching some more before looking down at the smiling, plushie-holding, grown ass person in your bed, “now we need to figure out how to sneak you out because this is a girls-only dorm and if they found out i have a guy over, i might get expelled.”

but before you can even start brainstorming the best possible route for jeongguk to sneak out without being detected, an obnoxious rapping reverberates against your door. the look of pure horror settling in as jeongguk’s smile melts into a wide-eyed, panicked face would have been adorable if you’re not in the middle of shoving him into your “quick, in the closest!” which he needs to hunch his shoulders to become as small as possible before you can close it whilst you yelp out a “just a minute!”

by the time you manage to school a smile on your face, jennie’s is already sprinkled with a dust of red as her brows come together, judging your choice of outfit and the events that went down last night.

“hey, girl,” you drag out the first word in idle panic, body leaning against the doorframe a little too defensively, “what’s...” you can’t even find the right words as you tap your fingers against the doorframe before finally saying, “what’s good?”

but one questioning look from her and you’re stepping out of the way, left to stand at attention like a cadet in the presence of the general whilst said general struts into your room and scans it once before turning to you.

“’what’s good?’” jennie echoes and you know from the way her head does the slightest of movements according to her enunciation, “imagine seeing your best friend on some mutual friend’s snapchat story which mind you, said mutual friend isn’t anywhere close to either of you and the time in the snap says a big whooping 4:03 am while you’re here feeling bad for hurting her feelings with your words words. but does she feel bad? well, it doesn’t flipping look like she even gave any thoughts about you, did it?”

and that’s when the closet decides that it’s had enough of storing a full grown human in its belly and slowly, but surely swings the door open with thunderous creak in the midst of the calm before the storm. and lo and behold, a jeon jeongguk, still hugging your alpaca tightly, keeping his eyes closed as if it’ll make him invisible before he gradually screws one eye open to the sight of a raging but confused jennie kim and a mortified you turning to said girl.

so much for keeping skeletons in closets.

“i-i can explain.”

it turns out all it takes for jennie’s anger to subside is for her to find a boy in your room. namely the boy she’s been blatantly shipping you with even though you barely knew each other then.

“i have a wig in my room,” she suggests after you’ve exhausted all options - jeongguk can’t climb through the window and jump down from the second floor.

“well, he can but there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to leave without one of his limbs intact,” you’d added, shrugging.

he’s sitting crossed leg on your bed, alpaca in his lap and looking cute as hell as his eyes go round at the mention of a wig and five minutes prior, crossdressing. the plan is for you and jennie will walk him out once he’s all dresed up like you’re just three - well, one is kind of buffed up but still pretty - best friends who had a girls’ night and crashed in your room.

he whistles lowly, head lulling to the side as he stares at the door before turning to you with a playful smile, “i’ve always wanted to wear a skirt.”

and so it goes, jennie kim’s squealing and making a short trip to her room and returning with a bag full of wig, stretchable sweaters and lycra skirts whilst she scours through your closet for clothes that you have but don’t even remember. the oversized sweater that’s a few more inches too big for you wraps around his body tightly and the skirt is a tad bit too short for him, going down to a few inches above the knee. but the head turner is the way the curly brown wig gracefully frames his face and softens his jawline, giving an illusion of how his half-ringlet would have looked if he grew them out.

you apply the soft pink lipgloss on his already rosy lips as a joke in a guise of a final touch, heart skipping as his lips curl whilst he gazes at you the whole time you’re putting on the glimmering liquid.

“okay, i feel bad,” you confess, shoulder line falling, “i thought you’d hate the lipgloss and i was going say it’s important to make the look work if you said no but you’re not saying no and you’re looking at me like you’d trust me with your life...” a sigh rolls off your lips at the end of it.

“you feel bad?” he echoes, glossed lips looking kissable as hell - it doesn’t even matter that he’s smirking like it was part of his plan all along to manipulate your conscience into confessing your ulterior motive.

so you nod.

“good,” he states simply.

“you saying good like you’re satisfied that you managed to pick on my guilty conscience is making me feel less guilty,” you narrow your eyes, not even bothering to hide the smile creeping on your lips.

“oh my god, my ship is sailing!” jennie’s whispered squeal cuts through the air before she reverts to her deadpanned self, “okay but seriously, if you’re done sprinkling sugar cubes all over the place, i think we should get jeongguk out before miss snitchery sonyeon next door sniffs the man in jeongguk and snitch on us.”

sonyeon has been known for reporting 2 boy-sneaking activities that went on last year which would have been justified if the girls that brought the boys into their room was doing questionable things and loudly at that but the first incident was with a late enrolled newbie that just moved in and didn’t know that boys weren’t allowed inside and though the other girl did sneak her boyfriend in, it was only because he was bleeding profusely and needed first aid treatment which she stored in her room.

you’re just about a few feet away from the double doors when a familiar but disembodied voice drums in your ears.

“you three, stop right there.”

you think your heart stops working for the briefest moment as time freezes and you’re craning your head to look at jennie whose fear-stricken face mimics yours and then jeongguk whom you don’t expect to wear such ceases in his forehead.

so you do the one thing that you think of-

“run.” you whisper.

all of a sudden, the wind is in your face and a few heads turn your way - but you doubt that it has more to do with how unfairly gorgeous jeongguk looks than the fact that the ra is on your tail, her pitched demands for ‘someone stop them!’ whilst. you’re not sure if someone did try to chase after you or if the adrenaline pumping in your system is what helps you sprint faster than a cheetah but when you finally slow down, almost skidding to a stop on the grass somewhere on campus grounds instead of the dormitory area - it’s because jennie is dramatically breathing through her mouth and found herself a bench to put on an act of dying whale.

“you guys... go on... leave me be...” she croaks out in between breaths, hand reaching out to the air.

“dude, tell me if you’re gonna stop so we can stop and get caught together,” you guff, plopping down, your state no better than jennie’s while jeongguk shakes his head at the two of you.

not even a beat of sweat or heaved breathing coming from him - not to mention that-

“how are you the fastest-” you suck in a much needed breath, “-when your leg doesn’t work as good anymore?”

“yea, didn’t say i can’t run,” he grins.

“jen, let’s go,” you say, tapping the dying whale on her shoulder as she starts wailing words of saddened goodbyes.

“forsake me! save yourselves!” she wheezes, staring into nothingness before waving a dismissive hand, “no for real, i don’t think they’re gonna chase us all the way here. you guys go, i have a date anyway, i’ll text kim,” it’s the name you coined for namjoon whenever you talk about him in public, “to pick me up here.”

a year ago, you would have called her a brave fool for having her boyfriend slash professor that’s teaching at the same university - pick her up in plain sight. but once you saw the unfamiliar ferrari roll to a stop in front of the dorms with tinted black windows, you understand why they can be as free and uncaring as they are.

“you sure? what if they saw you here?” you question, needles of doubt still deeply pierced into your racing heart.

but when she looks at you with arched brows and a familiar couldn’t-care-less attitude, you know nothing you say can change her mind which helps ease the knots in your stomach by a lot.

so you cave in, waving her goodbye - but not before the scarring ‘we still need to talk though’ reminder - and going back to the tall, brown haired person who’s holding his left hand midair and wiggling his fingers about in what you think is a parodic depiction of how girls wave at each other while mouthing a nasally, higher-pitched “thank you so much for helping us.”

one minute into the walk, you stop in front of the cafe you’re used to having lunch at with your group of 4 - if there’s even any group left after this, “so this kim guy - he’s way older isn’t he?”

“if you’re all knowing, you wouldn’t end that sentence with a question,” you assert, “so i’m not gonna say anything.”

“that’s a yes then,” he nods.

“i think we lost them,” you say, a tad too late but pretend to look around anyway like you’re not 200% sure of that fact.

to any outsiders, you’ll probably look like two girls standing three feet apart from each other, looking out in a distance.

“nice,” jeongguk nods, joining in your scouting party before he squints his eyes at something in the most casual manner before suggesting, “so... you wanna go on a date?”

“you think we lost them?” you whisper under your breath, worry filling your chest as you throw your gaze over somewhere at the end of the alleyway where flashes of red and blue lights passed by.

but before the black cladded boy can say anything, his lips smack together as he and you both press yourselves flat to the wall as the sound of radio static bounces into the narrow space you’ve found yourselves in. six months after your first date, which involves a crossdressing jeongguk and a day at a park that had you returning to the dorm with a giant teddy bear and a strip of photo you took from the booth comprising the multiple personalities embodied in one person from sassy to stare-into-the camera-intimidating face to him looking down and shyly peeking through his pushed back curls - you’ve gone on multiple other dates.

none of which can be considered normal because you’ll always end up in a sticky situation like you are now.

on your second month, you found out that jeon jeongguk not only has a stable income for literally playing games while trying to balance out his education but he also paints and draws.

on your third month, you go on your first mural-painting-in-the-middle-of-the-night-dressed-as-robbers date to which ended pretty well with the two of you getting hungry and having ramen at a 24 hour convenience store. so the mural painting becomes a monthly routine.

jimin finds out about it somewhere down the line and broke out into the most heartwarming smile while teasing you about how “the singles lost another one,” as he shook his head in dismay. but things went back to normal for the most parts. taehyung talks to you more now. he apologized for having only treated you like someone useful to him when he needed something and found that you have more in common than you think.

like how you’re decently informed about the greatest artists of all time - all because jeongguk was telling you about them whilst you chill at his place on days you don’t feel like going out but still want to spend time together. jeongguk, later found out that his supply of artistic information was what led to you and taehyung’s improving friendship and offers to become your spokesperson by having you invite taehyung to a cafe so he can pour his abundance of knowledge in the fine arts of painting - “since he’s so interested in van gogh, you know what i mean?”

he even finished it with a tilt of his head and an sassy ‘ugh.”

“i think we gotta run,” jeongguk’s declarations doesn’t have you arching your eyebrows and looking at him in an ‘are you for real?’ kind of manner.

it could be because you’re so used to running from law enforcement now.

or maybe because jeongguk showed you the world through his eyes. doesn’t mean it’s any less terrifying - the thought of being caught and shoved behind the bars whilst they included it in your records. but hey, at least, you’re no strangers to handcuffs.

“on one,” you say and he nods, hand squeezing yours as if saying i’ll never let them get you.

“three,” you begin, eyes fixed on the stars in jeongguk’s gaze, “two,” jeongguk breathes in deeply, “one.”

run.

note. i hope you guys enjoyed reading!! and if you want anything similar to this kind of style, i have one more college au. the second part of that one is my pinned post which also has a link to the first part. if you’re curious why i’m not gonna link or name it is because i’m convinced that tumblr literally makes anything that’s linked or mentioned it blocked for some reason idk.

but anyways, thank you for reading!!

940 notes · View notes

gay-otlc · 2 years

Text

Straight A Supervillain- 14

Shit starts going down.

Content warnings: Politics (fake but based on reality), bigotry (fake because it's anti-superpowers, but based on reality), description of a panic attack and trichotillomania.

Enjoy!

When Cameron first interrupted eir pitiful attempt at writing an essay on henchperson qualifications, Naomi was grateful. This gratitude quickly went away when ey looked up and noticed the look on her face. “Cameron? You look okay? You look like someone just called you cishet,” ey said.

Cameron didn’t even crack a smile at what Naomi thought was a very funny comparison, if ey said so emself. Silently, he handed her computer over, setting it between em and Lani (who were holding hands as they worked, not that it was anyone’s business). “Ugh, is this tumblr? I had to delete my account last year because some discourse bullshit made me set my computer on fire,” ey explained, shuddering at the memory.

Noel gave em a concerned look. “Please don’t set this computer on fire,” he said as he leaned over Lani’s shoulder to look. “Your username is ‘frog earrings my beloved?’”

“I like frog earrings, okay? Just read the post. Naomi, no arson.”

“Dammit, Cameron.”

Before ey could further argue the arson case, Lani scrolled down and began reading off the screen. “IMPORTANT: PLEASE READ! Senate majority leader Laura Smith introduced a new bill on November 5th, parenthesis, and tumblr paid more attention to Destiel smh, end parenthesis, called the Superpower Restriction Bill. Creative name, Smith. This is really bad news for anyone in the country with superpowers, especially for villains which I’d imagine are more popular on this hellsite. This bill orders the draining of power from every supervillain and supervillain in training, people with powers who don’t plan to become supers, and even heroes with destructive powers like fire or super strength. For a complete list of powers that even superheroes can’t have, look at senatorlaurasmith.gov. I know yall get all your news from tumblr dot hellsite even though you shouldn’t, but here’s an Eyver Times article with all this information and I’d encourage you to read that. Stay safe yall, blue heart emoji.”

She left the rest of the group in stunned silence.

“What the everloving fuck,” Noel said, finally.

Cameron nodded. “So, we’re fucked.”

“I mean, the law hasn’t passed yet,” Lani offered. “Smith could be alone in thinking this is a good idea, and people can petition or protest or whatever.”

“Or we could assassinate her.”

“Naomi?”

Ey rolled eir eyes. “I’m kidding, Noel. On the bright side, if this law does get passed, my dad will lose his powers and probably my mom too, they’ll be so pissed and it’ll be hilarious.” It felt strange to mention eir parents so casually when ey spent so long trying to keep that hidden, but definitely good, to bitch about Blaze and Thunderclap out loud. Bitching was always better when people could listen.

Cameron shrugged. “That sounds satisfying, but I would prefer for no one to lose their powers, actually.”

“No, I agree, but that would be a silver lining.”

“This sucks,” Noel mumbled, slumping his head onto his hands.

“It sure does,” Lani agreed. “Should we take a look at the article? Make sure…” she glanced at the poster’s username. “Liveslugsboyfriend-official was telling the truth and we’re not freaking out over nothing?”

Noel nodded. “Seems reasonable.” They all stared at the computer. Naomi definitely didn’t want to be the one to click for confirmation, and by the look of it, the rest of the gang didn’t want to either. Noel was the first to cave, with a muttered “Fuck it.”

The link led to eyvercitytimes.gov, so it was probably real. Shit. The headline read “Superpower Restriction Bill.” Once again, shit.

Lani cleared her throat and read. “Majority leader Laura Smith introduced the Superpower Restriction Bill to the rest of the senate late the night of November fifth. This bill, intended to minimize the damage done by superheroes and villains alike, outlined an ambitious plan to entirely remove superpowers from all who possess them, save for some heroes with less destructive powers. Smith states that she has been apprehensive at the potential for destruction these individuals hold for years, and has wanted to do something about it for a long time. What pushed her to assemble a team of scientists to investigate the cause of superpowers- and how to use that to take them away- was when the daughter of Ben and Alana Rothstein, more commonly known as the heroes Blaze and Thunderclap, endangered her- eir- school when first developing fire powers. ‘This is far too much power for anyone to have, let alone a child,’ Smith said after the incident occured, and she has been hard at work ever sin- Naomi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Naomi mumbled, intstinctively. Ey could barely hear Lani. Barely hear anything. All the shit that was going on- this stupid senator trying to take away the powers that meant so much to em and all of eir friends and Lani and everyone at this school- it was because of em, because of when ey lost control three years ago and been haunted by it ever since. That day hadn’t just pushed em away from eir parents and solidified their disappointment in em. It hurt every other villain, everyone else with superpowers. My fault, my fault, my fault. If eir friends hadn’t hated em for being related to heroes, and that was a miracle in itself, they would definitely hate em now. Who wouldn’t? Ey hated emself.

“Naomi. Breathe.” The command- eir head was swimming too much to gather where it had come from- brought eir attention to the fact that ey wasn’t, in fact, breathing. Ey made no attempt to fix this. It was too much effort to breathe right now, and that wasn’t a luxury ey deserved, was it, not after hurting so many people.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” ey gasped. The room closed in around em. Was there something on eir chest? It was so heavy, ey was trapped, ey couldn’t fucking breathe-

“Shh. Naomi. Deep breaths.” Something cold touched eir hand. “Please don’t pull any hair out.”

Whoever was holding eir hand didn’t get it. Ey needed to pull hair out, that was the only thing that could possibly bring relief from the anxiety storming all around. I’m having a panic attack, ey noticed distantly. The thought did nothing. Ey still wanted to pull. Ey still couldn’t breathe.

“It is not your fault,” another voice said. Soft, almost lyrical. Ey wanted to wrap the voice around em like a blanket. Lani? Only Lani could make em think such a stupidly sappy thought, so it must have been her. Her voice was nice. Naomi tried to focus on it, tried to take eir spiralling thoughts and draw them all to this one point, concentrate on listening ot her speak. “It’s not your fault Laura’s a bitch and afraid of what she doesn’t understand, or that her only response to something that can be harmful is to eradicate it completely. She’s an adult and you were eleven. Your actions then are not responsible for her terrible reaction, okay?”

It made sense. Lani had a good point. Of course Lani had a good point. But regardless of most of the blame lying with Laura, VHS would be a hell of a lot safer if Naomi hadn’t been there to ruin everything.

“Keep breathing,” said a different voice. “Breathing is important.”

Breathing is important, ey tried to respond in a high, mocking tone. Eir mouth wouldn’t cooperate, but it was nice to see eir internal monologue had resumed being a bitch. Good sign. Ey took a slow breath in eir nose, and out eir mouth. Then repeated the action. And again, and again, until the spiral slowed and eir thoughts sorted themselves into something coherent.

“Fuck,” ey said simply.

“Fuck,” Noel agreed. He was the one keeping eir hand away from eir hair.

Cameron took his computer and shut it gently. “I think we’ve had enough of politics,” she mumbled. “Let’s go… I don’t know. School library? Get some books for you nerds?”

“You’re also a nerd,” ey said. Four whole words. Progress.

“Can’t argue with that. Come on.” He helped em up, and Lani put an arm around eir shoulders as they walked out the room and to the library. Naomi had hoped looking for some nice gay books would serve as a distraction, but unfortunately, everyone around them was hell bent on talking about the new bill. Panic bounced around the hallways and between students. What would they think if they knew I was the kid who inspired the bill? No way in hell would I be lucky enough for them to be as forgiving as the arson gang.

“Naomi. Keep doing the breathing thing. It would be bad if you stopped,” Lani reminded em.

Ey stuck eir tongue out, but obeyed. All ey could really do was breathe and fight a panic attack off with a stick as ey stumbled through the day, badly finishing homework and trying to enjoy the gay books. When it was time to eat eir stupid vegetarian alternative because stupid VHS decided to serve stupid nonkosher lobster, ey barely picked at it. Naomi supposed it was a good thing the food was terrible, because eir stomach was swirling way too badly to eat much of anything, and ey wouldn’t want to miss out on something good.

Dr. Plague got to the stage and cleared his throat into the microphone. It took him several tries to speak through the frantic, anxious chatter echoing around the room. “Ladies, gentlemen, and villains,” he said finally, and the opening usually made em crack a smile and Cameron declare themself all three, but no one in the arson gang said anything. “Given the rumors I’ve heard circulating the school, it seems as though a majority of you have heard of the Superpower Reduction Bill. I’d like to, pardon my expression, set everyone straight on this; the state senate leader introduced this bill that would take away the powers of everyone in this room, and everyone else except for a few of her favorite heroes. This has not passed, and villains around the state are prepared to protest using every tool at our disposal, legal or otherwise. Villains will triumph over policticians.”

Two weeks passed in a flurry of stress, homework, fighting panic attacks off with a stick, and sending letters to state senators encouraging them to vote against the bill. It seemed rather useless, but ey wasn’t sure what else to do. Some students had organized a protest, but Naomi was worried ey would be recognized by Laura Smith as the pyromaniac who started this. Or worse, that eir parents would be there and recognize em. Ey resigned emself to writing letters and letting Lani help em edit out the profanity.

Naomi had almost forgotten about it, but towards the end of November, another reason to be stressed- as if ey didn’t have enough- came along. Time for the next elimination.

It was a little funny how anxious ey had been the last time. It was still a struggle to not go mad with worry, of course, but the focus on grades seemed mildly trivial compared to the very real threat of losing eir superpowers for good. And this time, Naomi felt fairly confident in eir grades. Throwing oneself into work to avoid panicking had its benefits.

Eir last assignment for Villain Monologues before the elimination was one of the few to give em real trouble. “In light of the recent threat to your powers, what does being a supervillain mean to you?” The question kept Naomi at eir desk, tapping eir pencil and groaning, for far longer than Lani would have encouraged em to be awake.

Being a supervillain means a last ditch attempt to help my community to make amends for hurting them beyond repair three years ago.

Being a supervillain means showing everyone that they were right to believe me dangerous, and make them regret being right.

Being a supervillain means continuing to fight the system that tries to hurt me, because it would be cowardly to work as a hero and serve the people who want me gone.

Finally at least half satisfied, ey threw eir pencil down and slept badly.

The next morning, the arson gang silently got ready and sat at breakfast, ready for the announcement that could ruin their cobbled together lives.

Cameron Delos.

Noel Garner.

Lani Hale.

Ey squeezed eir maybe-girlfriend’s hand, holding eir breath as ey hoped to complete their group moving on.

Naomi Lebowski.

“We made it,” ey sighed, leaning eir head on Lani’s shoulder. “Not that I was worried. I wasn’t worried.”

Whatever was coming next, with the Superpower Reduction Bill, at least they would be facing it together.

#straight a supervillain #do you like my descriptions of tumblr in this universe #do you like how i named the antagonist laura #s's writing

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radiorenjun · 3 years

Text

drama love || qian kun

¤ pairing: qian kun x reader

¤ genre: comedy, slight angst, drama, college!au, drama club!au, president of the drama club!kun x star of the drama club! reader, enemies to lovers-ish, frenemies to lovers, friends to lovers, fashion major! reader, business major!kun, tsundere!kun.

¤ synopsis: You and Kun always have this weird relationship where you’re not necessarily enemies but not exactly friends. Most of the time, you would be seen scolding by Kun for skipping club meetings to hang out with the other seniors despite the fact that you were one of the main lead actresses of the club. And as time goes on, watch as you and your senior’s relationship blossom into something more than a simple friendship between two college students.

¤ warnings: tsundere kun! swearing, probably some innuendos but nothing too bad, kun is a year older than the reader, height discrimination against Ten and Kun (I’m sorry), kun a bit more chaotic here than in real life. Lots and lots of teasing and insults, slight mentions of burdening someone, arguments, genz humor, probably a plot hole or two, bullying kun supremacy

¤ wordcount : 23.5 k words

¤ playlist: double take by dhruv, free love by g, if i could write a bike by chevy, lovely night by ryan gosling and emma stone, kataomoi by aimer

¤ a/n: featuring a few of my moots!

“Oh,Y/n, good to see you here,” your underclassmen greeted with a polite bowl as you shot them a smile.

“Hey Chenle, Furou,” you waved, adjusting the beret on your head as you tugged on the saddle of your back to adjust it on your shoulder. “Y/n, meet Sungchan. He just transferred from the Business Department,” Chenle introduced, putting a hand on the taller boy beside him as Furou let out a soft chuckle. You smiled at the tall boy, looking up at what you assume to be a 180 cm giant standing in front of you. “Wow, you’re pretty tall. You know you could be one of the main leads of the drama club,” you raised your brow with a light laugh, shaking the younger boy’s hand.

“Jisung is almost taller than me,” Sungchan chuckled bashfully, looking down at his feet as he retracted his arm. “Oh hush, you’re still taller than our male lead. He’s literally 170 centimeters, I don’t even know how he’s able to get the part. Curse his pretty privileges,” you grumbled under your breath, remembering how your co-partner on the stage was constantly flirting with his girlfriend during practice instead of actually helping with painting the props like the rest of the club members.

“You also have pretty privileges too, though,” Furou raised her brow, a smile tugging at her lips as you huffed. “Flattery will get you nowhere, honey,” you joked, a sinister smile playing at your lips as you watched a deadpan expression flash over your underclassman’s features. “What are you three up to?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips. “We’re just going to go to a nearby cafe, they say they’re having a huge discount on their infamous cheesecake,” Chenle explained, pointing his thumb behind him as Furou nodded in agreement.

“I don’t want to be the third wheel, so I’m off studying and catching up with my major,” Sungchan informed with a nervous chuckle, a distressed expression making its way onto his face afterwards as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. Well, I hope you all have fun,” you chuckled, pulling the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening slightly at the time. “Oh dear God, would you look at the time,” you blurted out loud, a panicked smile forming at your lips.

Furou laughed at the sight of your terrified expression. “I suggest you should really get going, too,” Furou added, stretching her head to look behind you to spot a certain someone. “Yeah, if you don’t hurry, your escort will get here,” Chenle snickered, nudging his girlfriend’s sides as they both shared knowing looks. “Escort?” Sungchan furrowed his brows in confusion, watching you gulp heavily as the two continued to tease and snicker at you mischievously. “Y/n’s pretty notorious for skipping her drama club,” Chenle explained, his sinister grin never leaving his face.

“Therefore, everyday, the club president comes down to pick her up. The drama club escort is pretty scary,” Furou added with a small snort, making you let out a scoff as you crossed your arms against your chest with a roll of your eyes. “I skip club meetings because I love interacting with all my seniors and underclassmen, duh,” you said, lifting your brow as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “Sure, whatever you say then, Y/n,” Furou and Chenle nodded with a roll of their eyes.

Now, you would probably imagine said club president would arrive in some sort of carriage. Probably the same pumpkin carriage Cinderella used back in her fairytale story. You would probably expect said escort would at least show up in a white or black suit, a button up shirt and beautiful slicked back hair. You would expect an escort to say ‘my lady’ and gently hold your hand as you step into the carriage and take you away as two horses pull the carriage away to your desired destination.

At least that’s what Sungchan thought.

Of course, it’s not a usual sight to see some random guy sprint down the halls shamelessly yelling your name at the top of his lungs with anger flaring his pupils, his fluffy blond hair thrown back against the wind as he ran as fast as his legs could take him as if he was running for the Olympics. He looked exactly like that running emoji except this guy had blonde hair and was wearing a baggy hoodie over his form, some black jeans and a pair of Nike shoes to accent his whole look.

“Y/N! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT BEING LATE TO THE CLUB MEETINGS?!”

“That’s my signal to leave, I’ll see you guys arou-” before you could sprint the other way or finish your sentence, you felt someone grab the back of your sweater tightly to keep you from going anywhere. “I have been looking for you for the past thirty five minutes! And now you’re going to fucking run away?” Kun gave you a bittersweet smile, his eyes screaming bloody murder as you paused in fear. You gulped, looking back with a nervous toothy smile, giving your senior a small thumbs up.

“Good afternoon, Kun, how may I help you?” you asked in the sweetest voice you could muster, sweat dripping down your forehead as you watched Kun’s stare grow even more murderous with your words. “I’m sorry for the interruption,” Kun said in a genuinely nice tone, turning to your underclassmen with an angelic smile before glaring daggers at you before tugging you back to the direction of the school theater room with all his might. You stumbled over your own feet, gripping the saddle of your bag as Kun continued to practically drag you against the floor to the theater room.

“W-Wait, Kun! I can walk myself,” you grunted, an awkwardly nervous laugh elicited from your lips as you used one hand to grip on your bag and used the other to keep your beret to your head as Kun continued to pull you by the back of your sweater. Kun sighed heavily, grabbing your arms and pulling you up to your feet before turning you around and wrapping his fingers against your shoulder blades and began to push you to the direction he came from. “I swear, one of these days I will fling you to the theater room,” Kun grumbled under his breath as you both walked through the crowded halls filled with eyes boring into the back of your skulls.

“Kinky,” you snickered, waving at the people you recognized as you and Kun speed walked to the theater room together. You felt him squeeze your shoulder as a type of indicator that you should keep your mouth shut before he actually flings you to the sun like a frisbee. “Shut up, you horny creature. I am not going to be provoked by your unholy perverted thoughts. This should be counted as harassment,” he hissed as you finally stopped once you opened the door to the theater room.

“Why do you even skip practice, you’re the main lead for pete's sake,” Kun groaned, releasing his grip from your shoulders to wrap his fingers against your wrist and head to the stage where the rest of the actors had gathered around.

“It’s about time you showed up,” Brooke snickered as Kun let you take a seat right beside her, huffing as you cupped your cheeks in your palms and propped your elbows up on your legs. “Yeah, yeah. Do kiss my ass more, would you, Brooke?” you giggled, shaking your head as Kun started talking about repainting the old props as the paints were chipping off because Angie and Renjun forgot to buy more primer for the last play you had over two weeks ago. “Y/n, please do try to not fuck anything up while we paint,” Kai joked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“It’s in my blood to fuck things up, Kai,” you shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous grin taking place on your lips. “Where were you off to, though? It took Kun half an hour to find you this time,” Haechan, Kai’s boyfriend, whispered from beside her in curiosity. “That’s like a new record, you had a great hiding place this time,” he gave you a supportive thumbs up, earning a smack from Kai afterwards for tolerating your irresponsible behavior. “The other side of the building,” you grinned, giving the boy an innocent peace sign.

“That’s our lead actress right there,” Brooke shook her head profusely, chuckling softly at you.

------------------------

“Wait, Kun, since you’re in charge of the sets and props. Does that mean you aren’t in the plays?” Shotaro asked, dipping his brush in the can of pain before splattering dots on the surface of the wooden board by brushing his fingers against it to resemble stars. Shotaro was the newest member of the drama club, therefore Kun, being the president of the club, had the responsibility of guiding him a lot on what to do and what not to do. Which was a fairly simple job considering all he had to say was ‘never follow in Y/n or Ten or Kai or Angie’s footsteps and you’ll be just fine.’

Kun hummed, running a hand through his hair as he sat down in front of the younger boy with crossed legs. “I used to be in the plays but I think I like this a bit more,” Kun said with a charming smile, waving the large brush around as he helped Shotaro paint the skies. “I see,” Shotaro nodded in response, flinching when he felt your hand on his shoulder as you came barging in their conversation. “No, no, Shotaro, you got it all wrong,” you shook your head at him, earning a pout from Kun.

“Kun wanted to win the male lead and grow taller to fit the role of the prince of the stage, but alas,” you leaned over to sling your arm over your senior’s shoulders, earning a death glare from said man as he furrowed his brows and frowned at you. “Our Kun here suffered from malnutrition, therefore he stopped growing completely and now he isn’t tall enough to make it to the male lead,” you grinned, over-exaggerating your words just a tad bit as Kun raised the can of paint by the metallic handle. “I am this close to throwing this can of paint at you,” Kun deadpanned.

Shotaro hummed, raising his brow at the two of you. “Isn’t Ten shorter than Kun, though?” Shotaro asked, his eyes wandering to the boy in question who was currently chatting up his girlfriend as they painted over their own set of props. “Yes, thank you! Finally, someone who looks at things through my eyes!” Kun groaned, grabbing Shotaro’s hand and shaking it rather vigorously in his grip. “Shotaro, you are an angel,” he complimented, causing you to frown at this.

“Ah yes, all it takes to get on Kun’s side is to tell him that he’s taller than Mister Chittaphon. Of course,” you huffed, sitting back in between them as you placed your cheek against your fist, looking back down at the prop. “Again, this close to throwing you this can of paint,” Kun repeated with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll sue you, Kun,” you sent him a cheeky grin, patting your senior’s shoulder in mock pity as he rubbed his temples in frustration, causing you and Shotaro to giggle.

You weren’t quite sure if it was obvious, but you’ve always admired Kun. You didn’t know if your feelings were in the romance department or the mentor department, but you couldn’t help but admire your lovely senior. He was at the top of his major, studying hard everyday and managing his own things while keeping the club in good shape despite the fact that he has three hooligans (consisting of you, Ten, Kai and Angie but mostly you) to handle on a daily basis.

You knew he was an explendid cook, too. Considering he brought a whole buffet for the whole club that he cooked all by himself to celebrate the new anniversary of this club. Kun was talented and good looking, you couldn’t deny it even if you tried.(and thankfully, you don’t need to because no one ever asked about your thoughts on your handsome senior) He was caring, despite the fact that he was always yelling at your ear everyday, but nonetheless you knew he actually cared about you deep down.

Kun was the reason why you had joined the drama club in the first place. You weren’t much of a theater kid, but you were pretty good at acting back in highschool. Just as when you promised yourself not to get involved with the art of theater, you saw Kun acting as a prince in a play at a fair your college hosted back when you were in your first year of college and you couldn’t help but sign up immediately so you could get a closer look at his acting. And as time went on, your playful nature was the reason why he was always by your side.

You refused to think deeper about your feelings on the boy, but you knew they were crossing the line of friendship. Considering the true reason you always skipped classes was (partially to socialise and chat up your seniors and underclassmen to catch up with them) the fact that Kun would always be there to bring some entertainment into your day whenever you even attempt to skip the club meetings. Pushing aside the fact that you almost lost your life over it countless times, you didn’t mind facing the wrath of Kun everyday just to get a few laughs out.

Infuriating and teasing him was always a fun activity.

Quite ridiculous, you gotta agree.

Though, you gotta admit that sometimes his words hurt. You knew he was probably joking most of the time but you couldn’t help but feel saddened sometimes whenever he would grumble on and on about how you shouldn’t have joined the club if all you’re going to do is annoy him all the time. But you didn’t let his words linger in your mind for too long and chose to focus on annoying him either way.

“Damn, Kun. You should stop getting angry so much before your veins pop out, I don’t think any of us are mentally stable enough to call the ambulance for you,” Kai joked as she stood next to said man who was currently trying his best not to beat the living crap out of you right next to you. “Agreed. You’re old enough, Kun, you don’t need any more wrinkles than you already have, you know?” you teased, poking Kun with the wooden hand of his paint brush with a smug expression on your face.

“This is age discrimination,” Kun mumbled under his breath after a big sigh of exhaustion, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “Okay, I discussed this with Ten early and I figured I should have informed you too so I’m telling you now about the new story we’re going with for the next play,” Kun ran a hair through his hair, adjusting the glasses on his face as you cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Wait, what’s wrong with the story I suggested?” you furrowed your brows, offended at his sudden decision to change the story.

Kun narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing at you as if he was trying to decipher if you were joking or not. “Are you mental?” Kun asked, crossing his arms against his chest as his eyes went wide, a smile of disbelief on his lips. “How the hell did you think a made up story between the dragon and the donkey from Shrek was ever going to be a good plot for a theatrical play?” he exclaimed in disbelief, causing you to scoff as he waved his arms around in confusion. “You just don’t know what a real beautiful story is, Qian Kun,” you scoffed, crossing your arms against your chest.

Kun groaned, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose to keep himself from exploding right in front of you. “I get how you want to make people around you laugh, but I don’t want this club to be the laughing stock of campus, Y/n,” he groaned, hunching his back as he massaged the space in between his eyes to try to reason with you. However, seeing the older boy in distress was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you couldn’t help but get on his nerves and push on his buttons even more than you should.

“People need some laughter, Kun. What are you planning, anyways? Some boring Romeo and Juliet type of shit? Twist it up a bit, if you don’t like the donkey and dragon trope I can give you a new one on the spot,” you waved him off before gasping loudly as an idea popped into your head like a lightbulb turning on. “What about Romeo but make it a furry Rapunzel? Romeo, Romeo! Let down your hair! Or tail, whichever works. Be original, Kun!” you nudge your friend with an encouraging wide smile.

Kun opened his mouth to speak as his brows furrowed in confusion before closing it after a small pause. “Dear god, you’re even worse than Yangyang when he asked if he could put crocs on Louis,” he hissed, sighing heavily when he made a note to himself to never come to you for plot ideas for the play. “You should be in the Writing major instead of the fashion major, it suits you,” he commented with a sarcastic thumbs up. “Nice try, Kun. Flattery is no way to get me to change,” you winked, earning a small chuckle from Kun himself.

“Anyways, I was talking over story inspirations with Brooke and Angie. They had some really good suggestions and we ended up choosing this movie called La La Land-” he frowned when he saw you slowly lay down against the wooden floor boards with a loud annoyed groan. “Dear God, Kun. Couldn’t you at least go with something original? My Furry Romeo concept was way better than this,” you swung an arm over your eyes as Shotaro let out a loud alarming yelp when he saw your arm almost knock over a can of blue paint over the props.

Kun rolled his eyes once again, taking a loud exhale as he met your eyes that practically screamed ‘please don’t yell at me, it was an accident. I cry easily’.

“As I was saying, it’s about a pianist and an actress falling in love while attempting to reconcile their aspirations for the future. It’s an enemies to lovers-ish type of story,” he ignored how you kept groaning and complaining in the middle of his words. “And I’m supposed to be playing this actress?” you asked, removing your arm from your eyes to lay it on your stomach as you turn your head to look at Kun with a raised brow. “No shit, you’re our lead actress,” Kun leaned over to smack his hand on your knee with a small chuckle.

“You know if you still want the lead role so badly, Kun. You can take my place in this play, just this once,” you grinned, raising your index finger at him and twirling it in front of his face in circular motions as you sat up. Kun frowned, rolling his eyes as he gently pushed your finger away from his face. “No thanks, princess,” he teased, standing up after ruffling your hair with his hand to go check on the other members on their painting progress so far. “Hey, watch the beret! It’s new, you know!” you hissed before pausing when words that slipped out of Kun’s mouth had finally sunk into your brain, feeling your heart skip a beat at his soft tone.

Kun has never used nicknames or pet names on you. It was always the regular ‘dumbass’, ‘y/n’, ‘l/n, ‘the bane of my existence’ or the occasional ‘the reason why I wished murder was legal’. But it was never ‘princess’. It felt weird being called that, a good kind of weird. You didn’t know if you liked it. The sound of the pet name rolling off of his tongue did something to you and you didn’t know whether to find it ominous or exhilarating.

“Did he just call you ‘princess’?” Brooke gaped, her jaw dropping to the floor as she ran over to your shocked state. Your eyes widened slightly at her sudden appearance, playing it off casually afterwards as you shrugged nonchalantly at her. “I think so? Why?” you asked, leaning back a bit to relax your posture as Brooke gave you a knowing smirk. “That literally has never happened before,” she grinned, sitting down beside you with a half beta-read script. “Really? Then you must’ve never watched his acting performances before,” you snickered, your mind having flashbacks to Kun’s face always flushing beet-red back when he was the male lead of the play.

You always teased him for not being able to say ‘my love’ without being a tomato on stage during practice before he stopped auditioning for roles half way through your first year of college. “God, I missed his acting days. Back then, I would be the one making fun of him off stage,” you sighed, chuckling sinisterly when you remembered how Kun had to hop off the stage unceremoniously in his prince costumes to chase you down the school halls whenever you made fun of a certain gesture he made when rehearsing his lines with the previous lead actress. (who had graduated early to pursue a career in music, if you recalled properly)

“Ah yes, Lunatic Prince Kun chasing down one of the well known clowns this school had ever seen. I still remembered laughing my ass off when Kun dropped his crown midway and had to hold it to his head as he ran down the halls to catch you,” Brooke snickered, shaking her head at the vivid memory, remembering how Kun had cursed out loud when he dropped the (quite expensive) fake crown onto the tiled floor of the halls. “Damn, someone should’ve taken a picture. I didn’t look bad that day considering I was wearing my latest designer shoes back then,” you pouted, putting your chin under your palm as you let out a huff of breath.

“You know,” Ten, Brooke’s boyfriend, spoke up behind the two of you as he came up to sling an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders with a smug expression. “You and Kun have been getting a lot closer than usual. He’s picking you up for practice everyday, right?” he asked, a smirk adorning his lips as he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively. You snorted, waving your hand off. “The man almost ripped my sweater off because he was practically dragging me against the floor. We’re close, alright,” you nodded in agreement, patting the beret on your head afterwards.

“Sounds like Kun has some kind of crush on you to me, though,” Ten added, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips, attracting attention from another one of the club members, Angie. “Kun? We’re talking about Qian Kun, right?” she jumped into the conversation shamelessly, wrapping her arms around your neck to engulf you in a small back hug. You were taken aback by this sudden statement, gently pulling her arms away from you as you shook your head aggressively. “Where the fuck did that come from, Ten Lee?” you spluttered, a flustered expression making its way onto your face.

Angie laughed. “Are you shitting me, right now? Kun? The Qian Kun? Having a crush? On the Y/n L/n? I knew you were on crack but I didn’t know you were that high, Lee,” she snorted, doubling over laughing at the thought of Kun having a crush on you with Brooke joining in on the ridiculous conclusion her boyfriend has come to. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening,” she shook her head at you, wiping an invisible tear from her face as Angie leaned her arm on your shoulder.

You furrowed your brows as you leaned back with an offended expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you exclaimed, looking at your two friends who were bawling their eyes out laughing with a confused expression. “No offense, Y/n. But with the reputation you and Kun have the past two years and people occasionally shipping the two of you for your chaotic interactions, once they truly walk into this theater, thoughts on you being a couple would be thrown out of the window without any hesitation,” Brooke shook her head, giggling behind the back of her hand.

“Don’t get us wrong. I personally think you two would be cute together once you stop getting at each other’s throats. But right now? I think Kun is more interested in his own toenails than you,” Angie jokes, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “The other day, the man was about to throw a bag out of the window at you when he spotted you running away from the third floor,” she added, wheezing out afterwards as she and Brooke continued to giggle. “She isn’t wrong, perse,” Brooke shrugged.

You couldn’t help but shrug in defeat, a small laugh eliciting from your lips afterwards. “I guess you’re kind of right.”

----------------------------------

You didn’t know what’s wrong with you lately but you couldn’t get Brooke and Angie’s words out of your head since last week’s practice for some odd reason. You would find yourself thinking them over as you were embroidering on one of your clothes for a school project that was due in a couple of days, your brows furrowing as you got lost in your own thoughts as you sat next to your classmate in the fashion department room.

What the hell did they even mean by ‘Kun was more interested in his own toenails than you’? Clearly he’s more interested in you than you would think considering he always picked you up everyday after your morning classes are over for the afternoon club meetings. They clearly don’t know what they’re talking about. Just because you’re always facing the wrath of Qian Kun doesn’t mean he despised you, right? He knows you just like to joke around and push on his buttons, you overheard him laughing it off and calling your silly antics ‘amusing’ once when you were passing by his side of the building.

You cursed incoherently when the needle you were using suddenly broke in half from how hard you were gripping it, grumbling as you realised you have to continue with a new one. You tied the string into a knot against the fabric, cutting the string off as you stood up to walk over to the trash can near the entrance door to throw away the broken needle. A sharp click of the door caught your attention, figuring that it was probably your professor, you turned around only to face none other than Qian Kun, the man of the hour.

“Kun?”

Kun looked up from his papers, his doe eyes gazing up at you before widening slightly. “Oh, Y/n, hey,” he gave you a kind smile, removing one of his hands from his papers to give you a small wave. “What are you doing here? Have you finally decided to accept my offer of throwing away all of your clothes in exchange for my masterpieces?” you couldn’t help but tease, raising your brow at him as you placed the back of your hand on your hips, inevitably causing the older boy to frown.

“One day I’m going to really fling you to the sun,” he deadpanned, eliciting a small giggle from you. “Sure thing, old man. For real, though, what are you doing here? Came to see your favorite underclassman?” you wiggled your brows, laying your fingers on your chest jokingly as Kun rolled his eyes with a small chuckle. “As a matter of fact, I did come here to see my favorite underclassman,” he nodded, a genuine smile settling upon his facial features as he waved the back of his papers in front of your face.

Taken aback, you waved him off with a hand, laughing lightly as you felt your heart increasing it’s pace. “Stop, I feel honored to be the infamous Qian Kun’s favorite underclassman. I always knew deep down you liked me-,” you avoided his eyes, chuckling nervously at his word before you were suddenly cut off by one of your classmates who called out Kun’s name behind you from the other side of the room. “There he is! My favorite underclassman,” Kun raised a hand to wave at the boy who called out his name with a smile.

You furrowed your brows, turning around to see the charming Jung Jaehyun jogging up to the two of you with a smile on his face. “Hey hyung,” Jaehyun greeted giving Kun the typical weird bro-hug the male college students in your school often did. “Hey, y/n,” Jaehyun greeted, giving you a polite smile and a small bow despite the fact that you were bugging him a couple minutes ago while he was finishing a new sketch while calling with his friend, Doyoung, who was in the culinary department.

“Hey Jaehyun,” you eyed the boy suspiciously. “Jaehyun’s your favorite underclassman? And all this time I thought you and I had something, ‘hyung’,” you mocked the same tone Jaehyun used, crossing your arms against your chest as you huffed, eliciting a few laughs from the two boys. “I’m sorry that you’re too delusional,” Kun grinned mischievously with a wave of his papers, patting your head with the small stack of papers in his hand before walking off with Jaehyun to the desk he was using.

You gave him the stink eye, earning the finger from Kun, himself. Scoffing as you walked back to your desk where your friend,Abhie, was making no effort to hide the fact that she was laughing at your little misunderstanding. “Stop laughing, it’s embarrassing enough as it is,” you huffed, sitting down on your chair with a sour expression as you reached over the desk to grab a new needle to use to finish the design on your old shirt. “Let me take in on how embarrassing that was first,” she laughed, watching as you try your best to cover your flustered expression.

“Kun and Jaehyun have been spending time with each other a lot more than usual, don’t you think?” you asked as you grabbed a new embroidery thread from the bundle in front of you, measuring the thread as you unwind the bundle. “They’re in different majors but they look quite busy, I don’t think Jaehyun’s even in the drama club. I’m pretty sure he has to deal with his own writing club so I’m sure he isn’t joining the drama club,” you analysed under your breath, your brows furrowing in concentration.

“Guess someone got sad that her senior didn’t see her as their number one underclassman,” Abhie raised her brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she placed her finished embroidery on the table you were both sharing. “What are you talking about? I may not be his favorite underclassmen, but I know I’m definitely his number one,” you lied, huffing dramatically to make your friend laugh even more. You knew very well that you’re definitely not Kun’s number one, but seeing your friend laugh was amusing. And you felt the urge to push on Kun’s buttons as payback for deceiving you. (sort of)

Abhie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Believe what you want,” she laughed, an amused smile taking over both of your faces as you stood back up and placed your needle back on the table beside your embroidery hoop. “Observe,” you snickered, turning around to walk towards said senior with a loud call of his name, ignoring how most of your classmates instantly gave you death glares from every corner of the room for disrupting the quiet atmosphere you all had developed over the past couple of hours.

“Kun! Qian Kun!” you exclaimed, jogging up to him as he continued his talk with Jaehyun.

“I sense an incoming dissatisfaction,” Kun deadpan, sighing heavily as he felt your presence grew closer with every step, causing Jaehyun to snicker at the older’s half annoyed and half embarrassed expression. “Who’s cuter? Me or Jaehyun?” you asked, putting an arm over his shoulder and tugging him towards you. “Jaehyun,” he stated almost immediately with a monotone, his gaze never tearing away from the papers in his hands.

You frowned, causing Jaehyun to laugh even more than he already has. “You didn’t even hesitate to think,” you frowned, retracting your hand to put your hands on your hips as you narrowed your eyes at your senior. “Didn’t need to,” Kun grinned sinisterly, shooting you a small glance before looking back down at his papers with a poker face. “Ouch, my heart hurts now,” you winced dramatically, laying a hand on your heart as you took a step back and swung the back of your free hand against your forehead.

“My heart’s been broken so many times-”

“Don’t you have your embroidery assignment to finish?” Jaehyun asked, an amused smile on his face as Kun gave you a perplexed expression, his brows furrowed and his mouth gaped open as he tried to find the words to speak. “Oh shit, right, nevermind,” you lowered your hand with wide eyes, closing your mouth shut at the reminder. “I’ll see the two of you later,” you waved, waddling back to your desk when you remembered that you had two days left to finish said assignment and you were barely halfway done.

“As you should!” Kun exclaimed.

“So?” Abhie raised her brow at you with a small hum. “I’m definitely his number one,” you popped up, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up and a wide smile. “I am not believing that,” she giggled, shaking her head as you scoffed and went back to finishing your design on your shirt. “Why do you and Kun fight 24/7, though? I swear, you two are infamous for arguing on a daily basis. You’re not even in the same year or major, it’s hilarious,” Abhie laughed in disbelief, running a hand through her long hair.

“Tough love,” you exclaimed with another enthusiastic thumbs up. “Unrequited tough love,” she added with a soft snort, causing you to laugh as well. “He’ll learn to love me soon enough, just you wait,” you waved her off, sticking your tongue out as you tried to slip the thread into the tiny hole in your needle.

“What if we do a musical for the next play?”

“Kun, stop flexing. We know you just want to sing.”

Kun frowned upon the sound of your voice, turning his head to glare at you as you laid down on the wooden floorboards of the stage. “I swear, if violence weren't against my morals, I would’ve kicked her to the moon. God give me strength, I don’t have enough cash for bail money,” Kun groaned, rubbing his hands against his face in distress as you and a few other club members laugh at his reaction. “I admire the amount of patience God has given you, Kun,” Gwen patted his back sympathetically.

“Gender equality at it’s finest,” you cheered, raising your hands up enthusiastically before they flopped down almost painfully against the floor of the stage. Kun rolled his eyes, walking over to the other side of the room to discuss the play with the other members of the club. “You really like Kun, huh?” Brooke raised her brow at you, wiggling them afterwards when you met her eyes with an enthusiastic nod. “Of course, I do! He’s my senior after all,” you sat up, stretching your arms over your head with a yawn.

“The smile on your face makes your words seem so passive aggressive,” Kai chuckled, shaking her head profusely. “Oh hush, it may seem like I’m pushing his buttons on purpose but I actually really admire Kun. He’s the reason why I got into this club in the first place,” you exclaimed with a genuine smile, turning your head to watch the older boy flip through the script with Ten and Renjun from the other side of the theater room. “Wait, what?” Kai’s eyes widened at your sudden statement.

“Yeah, I actually got into this club because of Kun! I remember it like it was yesterday, I was just walking around campus and I passed by the theater. He was practicing for a play and I was like ‘damn, mans got skills.’ And at one point he gave me a flyer to join this club and encouraged me to join, which is why I’m here now,” you explained, shrugging casually as you leaned back against your hands behind you with a soft smile. “And if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have met you guys,” you added on.

“Cool, but I was asking about the part when you said you weren’t pushing his buttons on purpose,” Kai chuckled, earning a soft smack to the arm from you as Brooke let out a loud laugh in response. “Same, same. I can’t believe you’re not annoying him on purpose, I mean, I’m not complaining. It creates more romantic tension that I could use for my literature essays,” she shrugged, slinging her arm over your shoulder with an enthusiastic grin. “Of course I’m annoying him on purpose,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m not that big of an airhead, you know,” you scoffed as you pushed Brooke’s arm off of your shoulders.

“You know, there’s a chance that Kun would replace Ten in the play this time?” Haechan asked, plopping himself down beside his girlfriend while chewing a mouthful of bread. “Excuse me?” your eyes widened, straightening your back up as you and the girls lean over to hear Haechan more clearly. “Ten got an opportunity to go to an Art Gallery in Busan, he’s not sure if he’s going though but if he does, he can’t be back in time for next month’s play,” Haechan informed, pulling out a cupcake from his bag and handing it to Kai.

Brooke’s eyes lit up at this. “Oh yeah, he told me about that! It’s a great opportunity for Ten, I doubt he’s going to deny the offer for some play,” Brooke chuckled, shaking her head at her own boyfriend. “So, you’re telling me that there’s a chance I’ll be doing the play with Kun?” you asked, eyes wide as a wide smile spread across your face. “Oh god, I’ve never actually acted in a play with Kun before. He stopped acting by the time I joined the club,” you exclaimed excitedly, your hands balled up into balls at the thought of acting side by side with your senior on stage.

“More opportunities for you to bully our Kun,” Kai giggled, nudging your sides with her elbow as you nodded eagerly. “That too!” you agreed with an enthusiastic nod, raising your hands up in the air at the thought of finally seeing Kun act on stage once again. “Honestly, I thought I’d see myself on Mars sooner than seeing myself and Kun on the stage together performing,” you scratched the back of your neck with a nervous chuckle as Kun began walking over with stacks of paper in his hands.

“Here’s your script for the next play, rehearsals are going to start tomorrow so y/n,” Kun gave you a knowing look, eyes boring holes into your head as you gave him an innocent smile and a peace sign as you take the paper away from his hand, your fingertips grazing his own. “Don’t be late,” he sighed heavily, smacking the stack of papers on the top of your head softly before distributing the actors their own scripts.

You purse your lips, rolling your eyes. “‘Don’t be late’,” you mocked his tone, shaking your head at the elder. “As if you don’t pick me up every morning class before I even have the chance to be late,” you mumbled under your breath, earning a smack upside the back of your head from your friends, letting out a yelp in response. “What was that for?” you rubbed the spot where your friend hit, turning your head around to see Furou with a cocky grin. “Come on, we actually have a pretty strict deadline this time,” Furou sat beside you, patting your back.

“They say the school is holding some sort of event next month and Kun’s taking this pretty seriously considering the money we earn from this play will be donated to charity,” Furou explained, kicking her feet as she looked around the theater. “So you’re going to be dragged around Kun a lot during rehearsals,” Furou chuckled, giving you a look of mock sympathy, causing you to groan loudly and lay back down on the wooden floor of the stage.

“Oh well, at least I get to see our lord and savior, Qian Kun, act on stage again,” you gave her a sarcastic thumbs up, smiling at her as you turned your head around to look at the boy in question who was furrowing his brows as he read over Kai’s script with an intense expression, a hand pushing back a part of his dyed hair that was covering part of his eyes, his parted lips mouthing the words printed on the paper.

Your friend chuckled at how intently you were staring at the older boy, shaking her head profusely. “Does this mean you’re going to stop being annoying momentarily?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“As you may have heard from our precious club members, I will be replacing Ten as your supposed love interest on stage,” Kun said, popping out of nowhere as he pulled the chair in front of you to sit right across the table. You furrowed your brows, “are you stalking me?” you frowned, looking up from your phone as you carefully sipped your beverage. You swore that this man was psychic, he can sense where you are whenever and wherever and it was almost not funny.

Kun rolled his eyes at you, crossing his arms against his chest as he let out a heavy sigh. “We have practice in two hours, I just happened to be in the library the same time as you do. Except I don’t come here for free coffee and free wifi,” he smacked his bag filled with a stack of books on accounting right on the table with a click of his tongue, taking you by surprise at the sudden sound. “I figured we could chat for a bit and walk to the theater room together since you’re oh-so-busy,” he grinned cheekily, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Excuse you, you’re not my babysitter. I can go to the theater room myself, thank you very much,” you huffed, frowning deeply at the unusual sight of his cheeky grin. You couldn’t help but admire how his eyes crinkled slightly as his lips stretched across his face, thus revealing his cute dimples that made you suppress the urge to poke them. Kun’s smile always had that weird effect on you and you didn’t know why. And you didn’t know if you liked it either.

Which was probably the main reasons why you liked pissing him off all the damn time.

“Sure, as if I don’t have to run like Sonic the Hedgehog all around campus to ensure that you’re not skipping,” Kun chuckled, shaking his head at you in amusement. “I’m just helping you, Kun. You always go on and on about losing weight even though you’re literally one of the fittest guys I’ve seen on campus. I’m helping you by making you exercise by disappearing every five seconds,” you went on dramatically, waving your hand around in circular motions as you spoke, sipping your drink with your free hand.

“You never fail to blow me away with your weird respon- did you just call me hot?” he raised his brows when he took a small pause at your words, causing you to stop sipping your cup. You paused, your eyes grew wide as they scattered to look everywhere but him, replaying your words in your head to figure out where he got that idea from. “I just called you fit, there’s a difference,” you slowly pulled your drink away from your mouth, trying to appear as casual as you could.

‘Keep calm, Y/n. Qian Kun can sense your fear.’ as you would often say.

“So you’re basically saying I look good?” Kun cocks his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips as he raised his brow at you, taking you aback at his sudden cockyness. You paused, gulping as you stared into his eyes for a brief moment, sipping your drink loudly as you desperately tried to think of a good comeback. “What did you say our next play was about?” you spluttered, coughing when your voice cracked, putting a hand on your throat out of habit as you looked down at your feet.

Kun chuckled, looking down at his own hands when you changed the topic. “Since we did La La Land for the last play, I figured we’d do something old timey. A classic. Brooke and Xingyi managed to come up with a few plots and we came up with this story of a princess having a secret affair with her musketeer bodyguard,” Kun explained, choosing to let your words slide momentarily as you revert back to your casual self. “Oh god, Brooke and Xingyi came up with the plot?” you groaned, putting a hand on your face as you rubbed your forehead.

“Don’t tell me. It’s going to end in despair, isn’t it? Dammit, they know full well I despise getting all emotional on stage, I swear, they’re doing this on purpose,” you grumbled under your breath, plopping your now empty cup on the table with a scowl on your lips as Kun let out an amused laugh. “Oh shut up, they’re taking this chance to see me cry too, you know,” he raised his brow at you, leaning back and relaxing against his chair. You paused, taking his words in before clicking your tongue.

“You’re going to cry on stage?” you blurted out, your eyes going wide at the thought of seeing your senior cry in front of hundreds of people. “Can I rent a camera crew to take HD pictures of you in tears in front of me? I think that would be one hell of a sexy cinematic piece to go with my photography portfolio,” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows at the older boy with a teasing smile on your face.

Kun chuckled, tutting as he waved his finger at you rather sassily. “Look who’s being a stalker now?”

You leaned back, a frown settling upon your lips at his words as you huffed at him. “I’m doing this for humor purposes, it’s for the good of the world. And my own amusement, of course. Don’t you think a lovely picture of our dear president bawling his eyes out on stage would be a perfect decoration for our stage?” you asked, putting your hand up in the air as if you were caressing an invisible wall. Kun pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh, a hand on his chin and his fingers covering his lips.

“I think I’ll have to reconsider changing the plot to whatever donkey dragon furry type of fanfiction you came up with in your head back when we were doing La La Land.”

“You know, I thought you were gay,” you mumbled, drawing circles on the smooth surface of the piano as you continued to listen to Kun practice on the piano the music department had been using to practice for their own music show for the event. Kun let out a soft chuckle, “is this about the Jaehyun question you asked a couple of weeks ago?” he asked with a staggering breath, flipping through his music sheets as you continued to hum in confirmation.

Nothing had changed after Ten left for his trip to Busan. Other than the fact that Kun has been rehearsing his lines with you 24/7 considering you were his partner on stage after all. Though, he wouldn’t be as aggressive and you don’t have to sacrifice your perfectly good sweaters getting ruined as these days his ‘aggressive dragging by the back of whatever top you were wearing on that day’ technique had morphed into ‘pulling you by the wrist like a rag doll’ with a script in his hand.

You could see from a mile away that Kun was more than excited to finally be on stage again. And you couldn’t help but let a smile stretch across your lips whenever you sat beside him when you were reciting your lines together, watching the passion glimmer in his eyes as his face contorted with emotions as words spewed out of his mouth like a song bird chirping on a tree branch on a bright morning.

Kun had called you over after your class to try on the costumes that just arrived and to check on any imperfections and minor details. You were always his go-to fashion kid whenever he needs help with anything that involves fabric and accessories. The moment you opened the door, you were immediately greeted with melodious piano music and a rather handsome senior behind said piano with his brows furrowed in concentration. It was a rare sight to see for you.

“You said I needed to try on some outfits and inspect the costumes?” you put a hand on your hip, walking around the stage as Kun closed the piano lid while he got up on his feet. “As always,” Kun rolled his eyes, grabbing the saddle of his bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he walked over to you. “I told the others to place the costumes near the changing room, come on,” Kun placed a hand on your shoulder as you walked side by side to the changing room, his sudden touch sending shivers down your spine.

“You okay?” Kun asked all of a sudden, pausing in your steps.

You hummed, looking up at him in surprise, your eyes going wide. “You just shivered, is the ac too cold or something?” Kun asked, retracting his hand to slip it in his pocket as he looked around the theater room, extending his other hand to feel the cold atmosphere. “Yeah, I’m kind of chilly, I guess,” you mumbled with a slight nod, rubbing your arms to cover up your lie. You weren’t going to lie, you kind of liked the comforting way his hand felt on your skin.

“I’ll be fine, Kun. Let’s just go back to what we’re doing,” you scurried off to the changing rooms, spotting the opened box filled with plastic wrapped costumes and their props. Trying to shake the thought of holding Kun’s hand in yours out of your mind as you sat down on the wooden floor and began opening a few of the costumes to examine the details to look for odd spots or ripped fabric, hearing Kun’s footsteps catching up to you a few seconds later.

After a while of sitting side by side, focused on spotting any minor mistakes with the stitching and the quality of the costumes, it was finally time for you to test your own individual costumes. “So, which one do you think I should try first? The pretty princess gown or the Belle from Beauty and The Beast before she developed Stockholm syndrome?” you asked, nodding your head at the two dresses hanging by their clothing hangers in each of your hands. Kun laughed lightly at your small joke as you turned to the mirror, humming as you furrowed your brows.

“Try the peasant one first, the fabric looks pretty low quality compared to the dress,” Kun hummed, pointing at the brown dress in your left hand. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you placed the princess dress on the empty space on the chair beside Kun. “No shit, it is a peasant dress after all. Look at those improper cross stitches, they could’ve done a better ladder stitch on the waist,” you mumbled to yourself as you walked into the changing room and began to change into your new costume.

“This dress is kind of tight, though,” you commented as you tugged on the ribbon around your waist with one hand and unlocked the door with the other, seeing an unbothered Kun looking through his phone with his brows furrowed. “What do you think? See anything wrong with it?” you did a slow 360 twirl in front of him, tugging the edge of the dress down when you spotted a few wrinkles. “Could use some ironing,” Kun joked, putting a hand on his chin as he looked up at you admiring yourself at the mirror nearby.

“It’s a peasant dress, Kun. They purposely didn’t iron this to fit the aesthetic,” you turned around to your senior with your hands on your hips before outstretching your hand for Kun to give you your princess dress. “Princess dress, please! This is the one I’ve been looking forward to the most,” you grinned, causing Kun to chuckle as he grabbed the clothing hanger with the dress clinging onto it beside him and handing it to you. “Thank you, old man,” you snickered as you hopped in the dressing room again, dismissing the loud offended ‘hey!’ Kun had let out behind you.

Once you walked out of the dressing room, you were tugging on the gloves you were supposed to wear, adjusting the fake plastic tiara on your head. “Okay, Kun, round two. How do I look?” you asked, patting your sparkly dress to remove any dust sticking to the fabric. Kun looked up from the costume he was examining himself with unbothered eyes, which grew wide slightly at the sight before him.

To say you were astonishing to his eyes was nothing but an understatement. The way the dress defined the shape of your body, the way the crown had accented your face, the way the gloves covering your hands made you look so elegant and delicate. His heart raced as he watched you scratch your hair while examining yourself in the mirror to look for any rips in between the fabric and the designs. He had to keep himself from letting his jaw drop to the floor as his eyes scanned you from the cute little hello kitty socks you were wearing to the beautiful red crown placed on your head.

“Are you smiling at me, Qian Kun?”

He blinked, his eyes lowering down from your crown to your eyes, gulping silently as he realised you had caught him checking you out. He kissed his teeth nervously, leaning back against the chair as he looked down at his hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head abruptly as he felt you take a few steps closer towards him with a smug expression on your face.

“You think I look good, don’t you?” you pointed an accusatory finger at the boy, who shook his head vigorously at you. “I was looking at the realistic tiara,” Kun coughed, clearing his throat as he stood up suddenly, taking you aback by how close the proximity between the two of you have become once he got to his feet. He resisted the urge to boop your nose as his hands went up to gently lift the tiara from your head, careful to not get any of your hair as he examined it in front of you with a sheepish smile.

‘God, what am I even doing?’ Kun thought to himself as he used his superb acting skills and squinted his eyes at the tiara in between his fingertips. Though, his attempt to cover up the fact that he was internally flustered was futile for your next words had thrown him into a state of shock for a few seconds. “You know you have a pretty smile,” you commented, your eyes boring into his casually as you watched Kun examine the tiara with a small smile.

His eyes grew wide at you, his body froze as his smile became crooked at the sound of your words escaping your lips. “Excuse me?” he said after a pregnant pause, your words echoing in the back of his skull over and over again like a broken record player, sending jolts of electricity into his own heart. “You have a very pretty prince smile,” you couldn’t help but reach up and poke the dimples protruding from his cheeks with your gloved finger, grinning mischievously when you saw how Kun’s nervous expression melted into one filled with embarrassment.

“Thanks,” he muttered, gulping as he plucked up the courage to carefully place your tiara on top of your head again, his fingers caressing your hair slightly. You felt your heart raced as he gently placed the tiara back where it was as if he was crowning you princess himself. “You should smile more,” you mumbled, feeling yourself grow sheepish as Kun’s hands carefully pulled away from you. “Yeah?” he hummed back, almost inaudibly as he looked down at your feet with a soft smile on his face.

“Can you smile more so you don’t exactly look like a body that just got pulled out of the river?”

Kun’s head shot up in alarm at your words, all of the bashful and giddy feeling bubbling up in his stomach evaporated instantly as he could feel his vein pop under his skin. Watching as your own flustered expression morphed into a smug one, adjusting your tiara with your gloved hand as you broke the intimate aura that had crawled its way between you two merely seconds ago.

“Just when I thought you were going to say something normal for once.”

“Oh, five minutes late! That’s the earliest you’ve ever been,” Lin exclaimed, putting the back of her hands on her hips as she watched Kun drag you across the floor into the theater room by the wrist as if he was dragging a body from the fiery pits of the underworld. “I wasn’t fast enough,” you groaned, standing up straight as your back was starting to hurt from your terrible posture. “You are not the Lightning McQueen you think you are, y/n,” Lin chuckled, shaking her head at you as Kun shut the door behind you and released his hold on your wrist.

“Exactly my thoughts,” Kun nodded in agreement, giving you an amused smile. “I like to believe I’m Sonic the Hedgehog or the Flash, but you do you,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest as you walked over to the other members of the club, who were all currently helping the others with their costume as you were all finally starting rehearsals considering the play was in less than two months.

“She’s coming in earlier than usual. Usually it would take you about fifteen minutes to half an hour to find her and another ten minutes to drag her here,” Lin commented, taking a step closer to Kun as she examined your figure socializing with the other club members, who were looking at you as if you had grown two heads. (no one could blame them for being shocked to see you on time, usually you would take centuries to get to the theater)

The boy beside her hummed as he shrugged. His hands dug through his bag for his phone and his script, oblivious to the smug expression Lin was giving beside him. “Mostly because we meet up before rehearsals start in the library to go over our lines,” Kun shrugged, pulling out the crumpled stapled papers from his bag pockets. “We might as well normalize seeing her arrive on time now,” he chuckled, flipping through the pages as he read through the sentences he highlighted a couple of weeks ago.

Lin raised her brow suspiciously, crossing her arms as Doyoung walked up to Kun with a confused expression. “Did something finally happen between you and y/n?” he asked, putting a hand on his chin as he stood in between Lin and Kun, squinting his eyes at you as he and the girl watched you revise your lines with your brows furrowed with the other members of the club. A tiara was placed on your head as you helped your fellow actors with their lines, your free hand making grand motions as you read your lines aloud.

Kun furrowed his brows at Doyoung’s statement. “What do you mean ‘finally’?” he asked with an incredulous expression, his head shooting up from his papers as he furrowed his brows at his friend. “I don’t know, there’s something suspicious with you and her arriving together. There’s something even more suspicious with the fact that you’re both arriving on time!” Doyoung exclaimed, crossing his arms against his chest, narrowing his eyes at his friend who gave him a confused expression.

“Apparently they’ve been having library dates everyday before rehearsals so they’re only a teensy bit late now,” Lin informed, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, causing Kun’s frown to deepen even more. “They’re not library dates, we’re just discussing and reading over our lines together,” Kun retorted, feeling his heart race in his chest at the thought of being on a date with you. He felt flustered at the mere thought of hanging out together as more than friends, but yet again, your little meetups felt more than just a casual hang out.

Though he was probably overthinking it again.

“Oh, so it’s definitely a date,” Doyoung confirmed.

“Agreed,” Lin nodded with a hum.

“It’s not, I’m just there to keep her from escaping campus before rehearsals start. I mean, we are having our big assignments coming up so I guess she doesn’t have that many people to talk to as a reason to ditch practice. “They’re just friendly meet-ups. How can it be a date if all she does is infuriate me and make my college life a living hell even more than Yangyang has. And that’s saying something considering I live in the same dorm,” Kun rambled on, his hands moving around and making dramatic gestures as words of complaint continued to spill out of his mouth like a leaking tap.

“Yet that doesn’t stop you from having a crush on her for the past two years, does it?” Doyoung smirked, raising his brow at his friend who had stopped talking upon hearing his question. Lin giggled, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth as Kun’s expression became flustered. You could practically hear ‘kun.exe.hasstoppedworking’ from the boy’s thick skull as Kun froze in place, trying to come up with some random reason to deny his friend’s words.

Alas, Kun was not much of a liar.

“Yeah,” Kun chuckled, looking down as he flushed, a giggly smile spreading across his features as his gaze shot up from his shoes to you. Okay, maybe he wasn’t much of a big liar but he was too whipped to deny it.

The soft, innocent smile on your face as you made a few of the club members laugh with your witty jokes and silly antics, watching them cackle and hold their stomachs to contain their laughter. That was Kun’s favorite smile. “It doesn’t,” Kun sighed rather dreamily, relaxing his figure as he leaned his head to the side to get a better look of your smile.

Truth be told, it really was no secret. Literally everyone in the club knew about Kun’s obvious crush on you ever since he ‘retired’ from being the male lead. Ever since the day he met you when you were just in your first year, looking for new friends and new hobbies to do. Ever since the first day he saw you audition for the main role back when the drama club was doing ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for the annual event your campus always hosts.

Watching you act on stage as part of the audience made Kun feel as if he was looking up at a sky scattered with stars. The way your personality completely morphs into the character you were portraying and the way you conveyed whatever message your character was trying to send out to the audience had made you find your way into his heart throughout all these years. The way your beauty sparkled under the lights, the way your expressions captured his heart on stage. The way your voice sends butterflies into his stomach as if you were ordering them to fetch his heart like an ominous siren.

He didn’t mind being teased by you every single day if it meant that he was getting your attention, he didn’t mind dragging you to the theater room everyday if it meant he got to get close to you. He didn’t mind being the target of your jokes if it meant that you two could get a tiny bit of interaction during practice, despite the fact that you two get nothing done together if so. After all, those were the original reasons why his liking for you grew ever so stronger. It was almost laughable.

Hell, it was making him crazy.

“KUN! Y/N IS RUNNING AWAY AGAIN!”

“DAMMIT, Y/N.”

Quite literally.

“Oh, how I longed to be in your arms after all these years, Abdul!” you cried out, clutching the dress with both of your hands as Kun wiped the invisible sweat off of his brow, dropping the sword he was clutching to the wooden floor of the stage as a look of despair stretched across your face.

You only had less than three weeks left of rehearsal, therefore, everyone had to be focused. You had been practicing for the past two hours now without breaks, your throat was sore from delivering lines and dehydration. One of the air conditioners wasn’t working very well this morning and maintenance was coming the next morning, leaving you and the rest of the club members under scorching heat. It was the middle of June, after all. And the god forsaken dress you were wearing was no help whatsoever.

“Princess Putri, my love, my little songbird! Oh how all of these years of holding myself back, all these years of fighting and hoping to reunite with thou,” Kun recited, his face scrunched up as if he had really been fighting a dozen of thieves to protect the princess. The expression on your face did nothing to show how awed you are at the sight of Kun’s acting. It’s been so long since you’ve seen Kun shine on stage again and quite frankly, you missed it.

You were seeing Kun’s superb acting performance right in front of you. He wasn’t even taking this as seriously as he should in the actual performance. You couldn’t imagine how magnificent his aura would be once the lights shine down upon him on stage once the day arrives. And you couldn’t help but admit that you couldn’t wait.

Though as much as you would stand on the stage to admire your senior’s acting performance, you were on the brink of being one with the sun itself. You watched with a sorrowful expression as Kun walked over to you, his boots making soft noises with every step he took, his hand on his chest as he came closer to you. You smiled slowly, focusing on staying in character as Kun recited the words written on your scripts.

Reciting the words as he perfectly brought the message his character, Abdul, was conveying to your character, Princess Putri, to life. It was like music to your ears.

You and Kun were standing in front of each other now, proximities close as the room grew dim save for the two stage lights shining down upon the two of you. The theater was almost as silent as a mouse except for the soft piano music Chenle was playing below the stage. The atmosphere felt seren, it made you feel as if it was just the two of you on stage, stuck in your own little world.

Eyes gazing into each other, your hands placed gently against his chest. Your fingers fiddling with the tassels on his shoulders, his hands coming around you only to land on your hips as he pulled your body towards his own, his face oh-so-close to your own. “May I indulge in the feeling of finally having your lips pressed on mine, my love?” Kun whispered, his soft voice booming across the speaker, half lidded eyes gazing down your lips before glancing back up to your eyes.

With glossy eyes, you looked up at him, sniffling into the mic softly before slowly nodding. A sad smile stretched across both of your lips as Kun leaned his head towards your face and leaned it to the side, thus covering both of your faces with his hat, giving the audience the illusion of the characters actually kissing. Upon hearing the club members clap for you, a few whistles from all around the theater room as the lights finally turned back on, you pulled away, making sure to add distance in between the two of you as you coughed awkwardly.

You couldn’t even stop your heart from beating so loudly in your ears as you clasped your hands behind your back, squeezing your hand into tight fists to calm yourself down. You’d like to think that it was the heat affecting you but you knew very well that there was no point in lying to yourself considering Kun was also avoiding your eyes for a brief moment. For a short moment, you couldn’t get the thought of Kun’s face being so close to yours out of your head. You couldn’t get the feeling of your heart which was on the brink of bursting out of your chest.

This never happened whenever you were acting with Ten on stage before, or any of your partners. It was odd to say the least. But your thoughts were cut short when your co-director spoke up to break the tension in the whole theater room.

“As expected of the president and our star,” Doyoung clapped unceremoniously, looking down at the clipboard he was holding in his arms as he flipped through the pages. “Okay, so, the play is in less than three weeks. We just need to adjust a few things then we’re good to go,” he announced with a loud clap, putting the clipboard in between his arms. “You all did good, we’re going to cut rehearsals short today, you all deserve it!” he added with a wide smile, earning enthusiastic cheers from the people around you.

You let out an exasperated groan, rubbing your face with your hands as you internally thank the gods that you decided to use your waterproof make up set today. “Dear god, I am literally being roasted alive,” you groaned, wiping the sweat off of your brows as you pulled the tiara off of your head and placed it on the props where the rest of the other crowns were being placed. Kun walked to your side, pulling his hat off of his head, being careful as to not get the feather on it. “I could tell how much you were practically dying out there,” he chuckled as you both made your way backstage.

“Why are our costumes so damn hot, too? The fabric is literally acting as an aluminum foil for baking us alive, the maintenance better be here before we arrive tomorrow or else I’m going to fling myself to the sun,” you tugged the bow off of your collar, fanning yourself with your hand as Kun pulled his gloves off of his hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here to help you fling yourself to the sun,” Kun joked, running his hand through his hair to mess it up a bit.

“That’s so romantic of you, Kun.” You placed your hands on your hips, grinning mischievously at him. “Nice try, you’re never going to get rid of me until you graduate,” you stuck your tongue out teasingly at him, walking over to your bag filled with your clothes and heading off to the changing room.

As soon as you left your stall, you were immediately pulled by your friends into a group huddle. “Dude, you were amazing out there. God I can’t wait until the big day comes,” Kai exclaimed, slinging her arm around yours as you watched Angie grab your costume out of your arms and placed it in your opened locker. “Agreed, the chemistry between you and Kun are just-,” Gwen gave a chef’s kiss with her fingers at the end of her sentence as she walked beside her.

You smiled, laughing lightly. “Thanks! Damn, I wish I was one of the audience. It’s been a while since I actually watched a play and not act in it,” you hummed, slinging your free arm around Ren’s shoulders. “Oh my god, I remembered seeing you in the audience two years ago. Look at you now, acting on stage with Qian Kun!” your friend exclaimed, putting her free arm in the air to emphasize her words.

“More like ‘being the reason why Kun is taking anger management classes’,” Angie snickered, earning a pout from you as you huffed at her. “As he should,” you joked, shaking your head profusely before they began to speak up again. “Are you sure you aren’t into Kun? That scene looked pretty intense and I’m 100% sure the theater hasn’t been this intense since that day you tripped over a can of paint and fell off the stage,” she added with a raise of her brow, her lips quirking up into a small grin.

You grimaced at the embarrassing memory of tripping over a few cans of pain, thus falling off of the stage and twisting your ankle. You remembered how Kun had to carry you with a disappointing shake of his head to the nurse’s office. However, thanks to your shamelessly bubbly personality, the tension in the atmosphere was cut like a knife when you patted Kun’s back with one arm and raised your uninjured leg up the air, pointing your free hand to the entrance as you yelled “onwards, donkey!”

“I remembered that! Did you really have to call Kun ‘slower than a snail who didn’t study their Math test because they overslept’? We could’ve lost another club member, you know? And what if Kun goes to jail for attempted murder? We’re all too broke to bail him out. Who am I going to ask Yangyang to sneak into their room for pictures of their elegant notes to?” Kai smacked your arm with her own, a joking frown on her lips as you let out an amused laugh. “Chill out, you’re never going to get rid of me,” you waved your hand off, rolling your eyes at your friends.

“Also, I don’t like Kun like that,” you deadpanned, sending a glare to your friend, who grinned even more. “Are you sure? The chemistry was hella spicy back on stage, and that kissing scene? Oh god, I was so close to pushing both of your heads together so you can actually kiss!” Gwen gushed, groaning as the other girls agreed with affirming nods and light laughter. “She’s not wrong,” Brooke added with a simple shrug, crossing her arms over her chest when she saw you looking at her to back you up.

You rolled your eyes. “That just means that Kun and I have superb acting skills, thank you very much!” you exclaimed with a bright smile, earning more smirks and grins from your friends as you all walked down the campus hall to head to the nearby cafe across the street. “Come on, you two looked like lovers who have actually been longing to be with each other for years!” Kai exclaimed, her tone becoming slightly whiny.

“Again, superb acting skills,” you stated with a silly grin.

“I swear, you’re so oblivious to your own feelings. Dude, no one looks at their co-star like that!” Gwen groaned, smacking you upside the head gently, causing you to let out a surprised yelp in response. “You’re making a big deal out of this, I swear to god,” you rolled your eyes at your friends, rubbing the back of your head. “As much as I hate to say it, they’re not wrong. You two were all googly-eyeing each other up there,” Ren chuckled, shaking her head at you.

You groaned once again, scratching the back of your head.

“For fucks sakes, I don’t like Kun!”

“Is that literature?”

You glanced up from your paper, not surprised to see your senior, Kun, sitting down on the empty chair across the table from yours. “Yeah, I was absent last week so I had to catch up on some assignments,” you nodded, tapping the highlighter against your lips as you gazed into your laptop screen filled with nothing but long paragraphs of letters and random words. “Though the professor refused to fill me in on anything and my friends who are in that same class are too busy right now to help,” you groaned, leaning your head on the highlighted literature book on your desk.

Kun chuckled, sipping his coffee before placing it on the table. “Mind if I take a look? I’ll see if I can be any help,” he asked, putting his forearms on the table as he gave you an amused smile. “Go ahead,” you waved your hand off, your voice muffled by the thick pages of your book as you let out an exasperated sigh. Kun smiled sweetly, leaning over to pull your laptop and turn it so that he could see the screen better.

“Oh, I did this one a couple weeks ago,” he hummed, scrolling down through the questions your professor had given, furrowing his brows as he read over your answers. “As a drama kid, you’re not much of a literature fan, huh?” Kun chuckled, raising his eyebrows at you as you leaned your head up, placing your chin on your book as you shrugged casually. “It’s just not my cup of tea,” you confessed truthfully, knowing full well that you have no idea what you’ve been writing for the past thirty minutes.

“When is this due, exactly?” he asked once again, scrolling down your google docs. “Saturday?” you sat up straight, groaning as you looked down at your book with a hopeless expression. Kun let out a small ‘ah’, looking down at your barely finished assignment, thinking so hard you could probably hear the gears in his head turn. “Tell you what, I think I still have my old notes. You can revise and find the answers there instead of working your ass off all night for this,” Kun suggested, giving you a tightlipped smile, sliding the laptop over to you.

Your eyes widened at his sudden statement. “Wait what? Kun, no, you’re going to need it too once the exams starts,” you frowned, shaking your head at him as you gripped the sides of your laptop to slide it over right in front of you. “It’s fine, Hendery borrowed it the other day, too. I don’t mind if you borrow it for a day or too as well,” he shook his head at you, his charming smile never leaving his face.

“Kun, no. Dude, it’s fine, really. It’s just forty numbers, I’m sure I’ll get it finished before the deadline,” you shook your head vigorously, a firm frown placed on your lips as you gazed up at your senior. “You know you want to,” Kun taunted, his teasing tone sending sparks into your chest as he leaned his cheek against his knuckles, a loopy smile spread across his face. Oh how the turns have tabled. You always found it immensely attractive whenever Kun became cocky.

His usual cranky, mature, responsible self was an admirable feature of his, you weren’t going to lie. But there was something attractive and endearing when Kun’s cocky side popped out, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself that his loopy smile was the definition of ‘hot’. Of course, you weren’t going to admit it to his face. Not today, at least.

You stared into his eyes, watching as one of his eyebrows turned upwards as he waited for you to accept his offer, his loopy smile gradually turning into a smirk as the seconds went by. At this point, you were just having a pointless staring contest. “No,” you deadpanned, huffing as you shut your laptop and carefully placing it in your bag. “I refuse to accept your help, good sir,” you gave him a cheeky grin of your own.

“Are you sure?” Kun asked, his smirk never leaving his face as he leaned back in his chair to run a hand through his slightly disheveled blonde hair, pulling his glasses off of his face. “Why are you so persistent in helping me over something so small? It’s just an assignment, Kun,” you placed your hands on your hips as you squinted your eyes at him suspiciously, pondering if he wanted something from you to get him so persistent on letting him help you.

This was not the usual Kun you knew. Usually, Kun would smack you with whatever papers he had on hand whenever you even joke about asking him for help with your assignments. And now, he was suddenly offering to let him help you? It was enough to convince you that Kun was possibly replaced by an alien. Or even worse, brainwashed by those aliens Renjun had always ranted about. Oh god, you regretted ever doubting and snoozing off during his annoying explanations.

“Who are you and what have you done with Kun?” you asked, shakily holding up your pen at him as if you were ready to strike at him at any given moment. Kun furrowed his brows, smiling softly at you as he pulled his face away from his knuckles. “Why are you acting as if I’ve been possessed by a ghost or replaced by some sort of imposter, this isn’t among us,” Kun exclaimed incredulously, biting his lips to keep himself from laughing.

You pulled your bag closer towards you, tightening your grip on the pretty yellow gel pen in your hand. “How do I know if you’re actually Kun and not some kind of alien? Last time I checked, you nearly banished Yangyang from your dorm when he asked you for help on his homework,” you furrowed your brows at him, waving your pen in circular motions as Kun balled one of his hands up into a fist, pressing it into his mouth.

“Yangyang and Hendery had to perform a whole ass satanic ritual to get you to help them with their studies, it only makes sense for me to be suspicious if you’ve been abducted and brainwashed by those aliens Renjun always talks about,” you slowly got up from your seat, pursing your lips as you began to add on to whatever evidence you have in mind to prove that Kun was probably not himself at the moment. “I’ve watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and The Maze Runner: Scorch Trials before, I know how this alien shit works,” you hissed.

Kun’s body began to shake as he tried his best to conceal his laughter as his eyes scrunched up into cute little moon shapes, his dimples protruding from his cheeks, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to keep himself from doubling over laughing and disrupting the other students or teachers in the library. “And then? Go on, I’m listening,” Kun managed to gasp out as he took his glasses off to rub the space in between his eyes as he laughed silently.

You couldn’t help but grin, watching as Kun patiently waited for you to go on despite the fact that he was probably on the brink of laughing himself to death. You then pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned your head away from the older boy, tapping your feet against the carpeted floor. “You’re really being suspicious, you know,” you grumbled under your breath as Kun let out another wheeze of laughter.

“Alright fine, how about this? You do something for me in return if I give you my notes,” Kun asked, a wide smile stretched across his face as he leaned over against the table, raising a brow at you as he placed his glasses back on. You lit up at this, turning your head at him in curiosity. “Yeah sure, name your price. As long as it’s not anything weird,” you nodded, earning another laugh from Kun at your sudden change of reaction.

“Alright in exchange for my literature notes, you let me treat you out a day before the big day of our spectacular performance. I heard there was a carnival near the park, we could just meet up there,” Kun raised his brow, letting out a small hum as he looked at you with a glint of hope in his eyes. Your eyes widened at his sudden proposal, uncrossing your arms from your chest you leaned your head to the side in confusion. “Like, just the two of us?” you asked rather hesitantly, feeling your heartbeat increase slightly.

Kun chuckled once again, nervously scratching the back of his head in an attempt to hide how flustered he felt at that moment as he stood up, grabbing his cup of coffee with him with one hand and snucking the other inside his pocket. “Why not?” he shrugged casually, a shy smile stretched across his face as he spoke, looking up at you with a soft expression on his face. Oh how fast your heart was racing at that exact moment.

You bit your lip, looking down at your shoes for a brief moment before gulping slightly. “Is Qian Kun asking me out on a date?” you teased, a cheeky grin forming on your lips despite the fact that your heart was practically ramming against your ribcage. Kun let out another chuckle, his soft smile sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering around and about in your tummy.

“You can think of it whatever you like.”

You smiled at his words, giggling lightly.

“Well, better be prepared to be penniless after the charity event ends then, Kun.”

Yeah, you definitely take back what you said about not liking Kun.

“Y/n! Truth or dare!”

“Excuse me?” you cocked your head to the side, dropping your bag at the side of the stage as you walked up to your group of club members who were all huddled up into a huge circle. “We’re playing truth or dare, join us, won’t you?” Ren asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you to sit on the empty spot next to her and Shotaro. “Truth or dare? What are we? Elementary schoolers? I’m definitely in,” you chuckled, scooting over as you rubbed your hands together sinisterly.

Brooke laughed, shaking her head at you. “I love how we’re just here playing truth or dare while the fossils are over there doing business,” she snickered loudly, looking over the only three responsible members of the club. More infamously known as ‘The Fossils’ which consists of one of the oldest members of the club, aka, Gwen, Doyoung and Kun. Pushing aside the fact that Gwen is only in her second year of college.

“We can hear you!” Gwen exclaimed from a mile away, furrowing her brows as she flipped through the schedules of the events with the other two seniors. “We know!” Brooke yelled back, a cheeky grin spread across her face as you let out a light giggle. “Okay, so, who’s next?” Haechan asked, spinning the empty wine bottle in the middle of the group circle. “Wait where did you guys even find an empty wine bottle? Isn’t heavy alcohol not allowed on campu-”

“Shotaro, hush! It’s stopping!” you gently pushed the younger boy’s face away with a palm to the side of his face to hush him as you all watched in anticipation as the bottle slowly came to a stop, the empty tip pointing at Renjun, who groaned in annoyance as the others cheered for joy. “Oh fuck,” Renjun cursed, a frustrated smile stretched across his face as you rubbed your two hands together.

“Dare,” Renjun chuckled.

“I got a good one!” you exclaimed raising your hand, receiving mischievous grins from your friends as Renjun’s smile turned into an abrupt frown. “I dare you,” you looked around, spotting a small empty plastic doritos bag and placing it in the boy’s hands with a cheeky grin. “To throw this out of the window to aim it at the security guard,” you grinned, your eyes glimmering with mischief as you laughed sinisterly.

“What did the security ever do to you to make you dare someone else to litter from the third floor?” Haechan asked, laughing along as you all watched the colour fade away from Renjun’s face. “He scolded me for accidentally dropping my juice box to the ground,” you rolled your eyes, patting Renjun’s back and pushing him to get up on his feet. “I swear my juice box didn’t even touch the ground and the old man had to go ham on me,” you grumbled under your breath as Renjun got up to his feet with the plastic bag in his hand.

Renjun looked back at you, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re making me a victim of your revenge here,” he deadpan, furrowing his brows as you handed him the finger. “It’s a dare, Huang,” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. “Either that or you put that maid dress costume we bought earlier on with cat ears for the next hour,” you placed your hands on your hips. “Renjun, put the maid dress on,” his girlfriend barked, pulling out her phone and opening the camera app, eliciting laughs around you as you all watched her serious expression in contrast to Renjun’s terrified one.

“I rather not embarrass myself publicly like this, thank you very much,” Renjun shook his head, glaring at everyone who was hoping for him to choose the maid dress instead of knocking on death’s door. “Well? Off to it, we don’t have all day,” you grinned, waving your hand at the boy as if to shoo him away from you. “I swear, I’m going to pull an uno reverse on you someday,” Renjun grumbled as he opened one of the windows of the theater room, peeking down to spot the unsuspecting security guard along with the other innocent bystanders.

You all cheered unceremoniously as you watched Renjun ball up the plastic bag and throw it down to the security guard before quickly shutting the window close so as to not get caught by said grumpy security guard. “Great, who’s next?” you exclaimed with an enthusiastic clap of your hand, ignoring the death glare Renjun was sending you from across the room as he walked back to the circle. “Oh god, I hope we get someone good,” Kai mumbled under her breath as she spun the bottle.

You all waited in anticipation, sucking on your bottom lip as the bottle slowly comes to a stop, the tip pointing right at you. ”Shit,” you exclaimed with a sarcastic smile, looking around your friend group who gave you all evil glares as if to say they were finally going to have revenge for all the stupid dares you made them do the past two years you’ve been here considering the bottle rarely goes to you.

“Truth or dare?” Brooke asked with a sinister smile, rubbing her hands together as they all scooted closer to look at you in anticipation. Watching as you gave your friends a tight lipped smile, gulping inaudibly as you nervously blurted out a small “truth?” almost questioningly.

“Do you have a crush?”

“Hah?”

You furrowed your brows, confused. “What are we? Middle schoolers?” you raised your brow, scratching the back of your head. “Just answer the stupid question, y/n,” Kai deadpanned, her sinister smile never leaving her face as you continued to stare at your friends with a confused expression. ‘Well this isn’t as bad as I thought,’ you thought to yourself with a small shrug. “Yes, I do,” you admitted shamelessly as if it was an everyday question, giving them an innocent smile.

“Who?” Shotaro asked, squinting his eyes at you. You raised your brow, crossing your arms firmly as you giggled. “One question per truth, suck it,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at your friends. Someone else spun the bottle quickly, causing it to stop right in front of you, causing your jaw to drop, eliciting a round of applause and laughter from your friends. “Okay, now spill, who?” Brooke repeated Shotaro’s question, tapping her nail against the wooden floor in anticipation.

“But I haven’t chosen whether I wanted truth or dare, yet,” you shot back, raising your brow as your friends shared knowing looks. “Still,” they replied shortly, tight-lipped smiles stretching across their faces as you frowned abruptly. “This isn’t fair, I can’t get asked twice!” you retorted, feeling your anxiety creep up as you saw Kun’s figure discussing the events with Gwen and Doyoung at the corner of your eye, hoping to god that he wasn’t listening to any of this.

Haechan shook his head, tutting at you softly. “The bottle landed on you fair and square, therefore you have to answer the damn question,” he grinned, laughing sinisterly as you purse your lips at how you’re literally cornered by your friends right now. “Fine, I’ll say who it is,” you grumbled, adjusting your sitting position on the floor. “He’s someone who hates me,” you stated, half jokingly, giggling as their reactions dimmed down only to realise that you have pulled an uno reverse card.

“What? That’s not fair, you have to say their name!” Angie exclaimed, pointing an exclamatory finger at you as you stuck your tongue out at your friends with a cheshire grin. “Suck it, you didn’t say I have to specifically say his name!” you giggled, giving them enthusiastic jazz hands. “Anyways, I’m not playing anymore to save whatever's left of my dignity,” you scooted backwards, giving them two peace signs, your wide grin never leaving your face.

“Wait, she said ‘he’. And she said that he hates her, which only leads to one suspect,” Kai explained, looking at the rest of your friends with brows furrowed with concentration. They all gasped in unison, looking at you with wide eyes before looking back at your precious club president (aka the poor unsuspecting victim slash bystander) with an equally shocked expression.

“KUN! DO YOU HATE Y/N?” Angie shouted at the top of her lungs, cupping her mouth to attract the three Fossil’s attention.

“What?” Kun shouted back, turning around with his brows furrowed, papers in his hands as he used the heel of his palm to push his glasses up to his head. Oh how you felt your heart dropping to your stomach. The fact that you had found out you had developed a small crush on your lovely senior merely less than three days ago wasn’t helping the fact that he looked immensely attractive in his attire.

With his glasses pushed up to the top of his head, causing the bangs in front of his forehead to mess around a bit. His platinum blonde hair was a little bit messy and disheveled, probably the result of his hands running through them too much in distress. Considering Kun had a morning class today he was wearing a baggy white t-shirt over his tall, built figure. The sleeves were short and wide enough to reveal his muscular forearms. His black ripped jeans giving him that edgy, sort of ulzzang boyfriend look that you would see on pinterest.

“DO. YOU. HATE. Y/N?” Angie repeated.

“Stop yelling, you’re going to make us all deaf!” Gwen shouted back.

“Do I hate Y/n?” Kun repeated, pointing a finger at himself before looking at you, his adorably confused expression sending butterflies in your stomach. When the hell did he have that big of an effect on you? You swallowed down your nerves and used your superb acting skills to shoot him a loopy wide smile, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up, earning a soft smile from your lovely senior.

He chuckled briefly, putting the back of his hands on his hips. “Yeah, I do!” He teased, his cute dimples appearing on his cheeks as he grinned cockily at you, causing you to frown abruptly. “It’s scientifically proven by Qian Kun, our lord and saviour himself!” Kai exclaimed, raising her arms up in the air as if she had just received an invitation to the Grammy awards. “Y/n, you like Kun?!” Angie gasped dramatically, shaking Lin’s shoulders aggressively as if she had just found a priceless artifact.

You laughed, trying to conceal how flustered you felt knowing full well that Kun was joking considering what happened approximately three days ago at the library. You know damn well that he was definitely lying. “You all have a huge misunderstanding,” you exclaimed, standing up to your feet as you jogged on over to stand beside Kun, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling his head towards you as if you were putting him in a headlock.

“You can’t see it but he is in love with me!” you joked, giggling lightly as Kun began to start smacking the papers he was holding against your back gently as a sign to let him go. “Get your filthy hands off me,” he joked, his body shaking as he laughed. “You aren’t the draco malfoy you think you are, Kun,” you grinned, looking down at the guy whose neck was stuck in between your right elbow.

“This is harassment, I should sue,” Kun laughed as you released him from your grasp, smacking his papers gently on your head.

“See, guys? Kun is infatuated and lovesick.”

Oh how you didn’t know how true your words are.

Today wasn’t one of Kun’s greatest days.

He didn’t know why he was so upset that day but it was one of the rare times when he would wake up on the wrong side of the bed. The fact that the moment he got out of his room only to see Yangyang’s stuff all over the couch angered him even more, despite the fact that the younger was probably already off to class. Kun had an afternoon class that day as his professor had postponed the classes due to personal reasons, which left him to go to the theater room early to practice his lines before the other club members arrived.

He wasn’t in the mood to take anyone’s bull crap today and the fact that the event is coming up in a week wasn’t helping his terrible mood. All he wanted was to crawl back to bed and sleep until his emotions weren't bubbling up inside of him, waiting to burst. Though, thankfully for him and everyone else, the club members were able to tell that Kun wasn’t in a very happy mood at that moment.

So they were pretty cool with Kun using whatever patience he has left and replying with short one worded answers unless needed. Funnily enough, today is the last day of rehearsals so Doyoung decided that you should all just retouch the props and backgrounds with paint and mod podge to be sure that the paints don’t chip off if something happens during the big day. Though, unfortunately for you, you were too high on serotonin (in other words: caffeine) to acknowledge the scary aura Kun was radiating.

“Qian Kun!” you exclaimed, jumping on him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Lovely morning we’re having, don’t you think?” you grinned, cocking your head to the side to have a better look at Kun’s face, your mood wavering in the slightest bit when your eyes came in contact with his cold, exhausted ones. “Yeah, sure. Have you done your part of the props, yet? We have to make sure everything’s good by the end of the day,” Kun asked, gently pulling your arm away from his shoulder as he tried his best to keep his temper.

You frowned slightly, putting your hands on your hips. “Of course not, I just got here,” you informed, shaking your head at him firmly. “Well then, get to it. We don’t have much time today and I really want to go home,” Kun waved you off, his tone strict as he looked down at the clipboard in his right hand, using the left to rub his eyes.

His strict tone caught you off guard. He wasn’t usually this strict to you, he sounded like your 80 year old science professor after the man lost his glasses and refused to find them because there was 20 minutes of class left. Those aren’t really good memories to reminisce at that moment. But nonetheless, Kun wasn’t in a good mood and you didn’t know if you should keep cracking jokes or shut up.

“Kun’s being unusually not himself today,” you commented under your breath as you walked over to Renjun and Angie, who were repainting the tree barks for the play while you were carrying a can of paint for them. “He’s been like that since he came here, man’s probably having a shitty day, don’t bother him,” Renjun shrugged casually, dipping his paintbrush into the paint can you had set on the floor beside you along with the other cans of paints, earning an hum of agreement from his girlfriend.

“I agree. Kun rarely gets this pissed off and from what I’ve heard from past club members, an angry Kun isn’t a good thing,” Angie added with a nod, pointing her wet paintbrush at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes. “So try not to anger him, most of us are trying our best to just get shit done and go home, too,” she told you, her tone slow as if she was gently telling off a small, stubborn, bratty five year old who’s prone to mess things up with every step they take.

In this case, you were that five year old.

“What if he just needs some cheering up, though?” you asked, sitting down on one of the crates filled with props, careful as to not accidentally knock over the paint cans around you. “He might be in a terrible mood but maybe he needs some cheering up or something,” you mumbled, drawing patterns on the wooden crate with your finger as your eyes glanced from the wood to Kun’s distressed figure. Leaning your chin on your palm as you watched Kun walk around with an emotionless expression on his face.

Renjun clicked his tongue, bending down to open another can of paint to add more details to the leaves. “Y/n, no. Please don’t, just help us with the props. Angie’s almost done with colouring each individual wooden bush, you should help and actually do something,” Renjun shook his head firmly, narrowing his eyes at you as you gave him a frown, looking down idly at the can of paints surrounding you as Angie carefully dipped her paintbrush in one of the paints, her tongue stuck out at the corner of her lips as her shaky hand carefully added more details to the wooden board.

Before you could open your mouth, you heard the senior in question call out your name with a heavy sigh following after it. “Y/n, get down from there before you break something. Help the others with the prop won’t you?” Kun sighed heavily, furrowing his brows as he placed the hand that was holding his clipboard to his hip and raised the other to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt his blood boil in annoyance. “Relax Kun, I’m simply observing,” you grinned, giving him an enthusiastic wave which only happens to make his frown deepen.

“Observing isn’t going to get anything done around here, why can’t you help out for once other than laze around?” Kun glared daggers into your skull, but alas, you didn’t appear to be as fazed as you were on the inside. “Who took a shit in your cornflakes today, Qian Kun?” you asked, crossing your arms across your shoulders as you grinned gingerly at him, earning a soft groan of annoyance from the older boy.

He took a deep breath as if to keep his composure and hold himself back from doing anything he’s going to regret. But alas, was murdering you on the spot really that big of a crime if all you’ve been doing the past hour was chat around and push his buttons by simply breathing?

“Y/n, I don’t have the patience to deal with your shenanigans today. Just get off the damn crate box and help out for once,” Kun was beginning to grow restless. He didn’t know why he was getting so worked up over your daily nonsensical antics, he didn’t know why seeing your pretty smile was making his patience run out like sand in a tiny hourglass. The way you responded with a quick “nope!” with an eager shake your head wasn’t helping him tame the flaming fury inside of him.

“Y/n, I swear to God. You’re so ludicrous and infuriating, I don’t even know why we haven’t kicked you out yet,” he hissed, his eyes darkening as he felt his mind grow numb, oblivious as to how your bright smile had faltered at the anger lacing in his voice. “Hey, you don’t need to be so mean!” you exclaimed, furrowing your brows as Kun’s eyes shot up to look at you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kun said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

“I think I have the right to express my frustrations if all you’re going to do is mope around. It’s literally the last day of rehearsals, you should be taking things seriously,” he laughed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

You opened your mouth to say something before closing it when you realised you had run out of comebacks considering Kun was ‘kind of’ right in a way. But you believed that you should all have a good break before the actual performance considering you’ve been practicing so hard for the past few weeks. You all deserve a good rest and you were sure you were going to get it if it weren’t for the fact that Kun was currently in a shitty mood and none of you were brave enough to ask for one.

“Just get down from there and help Angie paint before my brain explodes into smithereens,” Kun sighed once again, furrowing his brows as he waved his hand off. You huffed, mumbling small curses under your breath as you blindly hopped off of the crate you were sitting on before your feet accidentally knocked over a few cans filled to the brim with paint, causing them to spill to the wooden floor. “Shit,” your eyes widened as you quickly bent down to pick the cans up, earning a few frustrated calls of your name from your club members.

“Shit, I’m so so sorry I wasn’t looking!” you stammered as you saw Renjun hopping off his stool to look at the mess you had accidentally made. “I’ll get the mop, we can still wipe it off before the paint fully dries,” Renjun exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in distress. “I’ll come with you,” his girlfriend patted his shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Y/n, what the hell?” Kun exclaimed, walking up to you as his eyes grew wide, fury glossing over his pupils as you fumbled with your bag to find the wet tissues as your friends ran off to the nearby janitor’s closet.

You pulled out a box of wet wipes as you knelt down, trying to wipe off as much as you could as you looked up at Kun in a panic. “I didn’t mean to knock it over, I swear! It was an accident, I didn’t-” you were cut off with a frustrated groan from Kun, watching as he rubbed his face with his palms as if he finally had enough of your nonsense. “Shut up, just shut up, y/n. Oh my god, see this wouldn’t have happened if you just fucking listened to me!” Kun scolded, the anger in his tone holding no mercy as everyone stood still in the room in awkward silence.

Your jaw dropped in surprise, needles slowly piercing your heart as you watched Kun’s face get even angrier as the seconds went by and at this point you ran out of tissues to wipe the paint off. “Kun, I said I was sorry. It’s not like I purposely kicked the paints, I was just getting off the crate like you told me to,” you shot back defensively, careful as to not grip the tissues in your hand as they were dripping everywhere on the floor.

Kun rolled his eyes, a deep frown on his face as his expression darkened at your words. “I told you to get off of the crates, not walk around like a drunk blind bat. Did you get hit in the head or something? I swear I still don’t understand why we haven’t kicked you out of the club. You’re lazy, reckless, clumsy, you never help around. All you do is cause trouble for everyone, you’re late all the time that you need me to babysit you 24/7,” Kun began ranting, oblivious to how every word was like a dagger shooting through your heart.

“It’s so annoying and sometimes I just wished I never asked you to join this damn club if all you’re going to do is pile up more work onto not just me but the other members of the club. We were suppose to finish early if it weren’t for your clumsy ass fucking up once again!”

It was pretty rare to see Kun curse. And when he did, it’s usually a sign that you have gone too far or you’ve pushed his limits. You’ve never seen Kun this angry at you before in your two years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him this livid even if you pushed his buttons way more than you should. But the way he looked at you was the one that hurt the most. The way he laughed sarcastically in disbelief as he continued to rant on and on how he’s so close to kicking you out of the club.

The way his expression was telling you to leave his sight for good. The way his dark eyes held nothing but hatred and anger.

It hurt you.

His cold angered stare did nothing but pierce your heart as you blinked back the tears that started to gather in your eyes. A lump began to gather in your throat, begging for you to let it out as your eyes burned. You looked down sadly to avoid Kun’s angered eyes, gripping the half dried tissues as the paint stained your hand and dripped down in between your fingers and back to the floor.

“Look, Kun, I’m sorry okay. Just let me clean it up I swear I-”

“Why did you even join this club if all you’re going to do is burden me and the other members?” Kun snapped.

“Kun, that’s enough,” Doyoung spoke up upon entering the theater room with a bucket filled with water in hand, putting the bucket down in front of you before placing a hand on Kun’s shoulder to stop him from saying anything else. “Y/n, calm down. It’s not a big deal, you didn’t even spill that much, you can just go home for today,” Doyoung gave you a comforting smile, reaching over to pat your head as you took in a deep exhale to keep your tears in as you felt eyes boring into the back of your skull.

“What? No, she needs to clean this up and face the consequences of her clumsiness,” Kun’s eyes went wide at his older friend, shaking his head as you bit your lip to keep yourself together. “It’s no big deal, Doyoung. Really, I’ll just clean it up myself,” you shook your head, leaning down to lift the bucket up towards you. “No, you two can go home early. Kun, you’re clearly in a terrible mood so I suggest you just go home and take some rest. Y/n, it’s okay, I’ll clean up. I haven’t been doing much these days anyway,” Doyoung shook his head profusely, grabbing the bucket from your hands.

“Doyoung, you can’t just-”

“Doyoung, it’s fine I can-”

“Just go home before I dump paint on the both of you,” Doyoung hissed, shaking his head at both of your stubbornness. ‘They really are perfect for each other,’ he thought to himself as Kun clicked his tongue in frustration, walking back stage to grab his stuff to cool off. You stood there in silence, you didn’t know what to say and honestly you were scared that if you were to take one more step, you would fuck something up again and make Kun get even more angrier at you.

Doyoung chuckled, shaking his head at you as he walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he spoke up, attracting your attention. “Go home already. Don’t take Kun’s words to heart, you know very well he didn’t mean them. He’s just having a bad day, he’ll be back to his nice self tomorrow,” Doyoung gave you an encouraging smile, causing you to muster up whatever strength you had left in you to smile back at him. You gave him a small nod, despite the fact that you weren’t so convinced.

“Thanks, Doyoung.”

You were an idiot. It was no surprise to anyone.

After three days of no interaction with Kun whatsoever, you still decided to go to your little hangout? Date? Friend date? (You don’t even know anymore.) That you both had arranged two weeks ago at the library. You remembered the excitement you had suppressed all week at the thought of finally going out on a date with Kun but that was before the fight that happened at the theater club three days ago. Could you even call it a fight if you were the one who was apologizing and Kun was the one uncharacteristically yelling at you?

You didn’t know anymore.

You were also hoping to patch things up with Kun when this date finally came up considering you couldn’t find him anywhere on campus. Hell, you even had to ask Yangyang for Kun’s whereabouts which wasn’t much help considering all he told you was ‘he comes and goes like the wind’ but you were desperate to talk it out and apologize to your senior.

Was this the effect your crush on him had? Usually you would just wait it out until things get better between the two of you but you knew that this wasn’t a minor fight. You actually pissed Kun off to his limits and you knew you had to apologize if you wanted him to continue to like you. That is if he actually does like you and wasn’t flirting and messing with you in the library for laughs and payback for all the mischief you had caused during your two years of knowing each other.

However, to your dismay, you had been waiting at the park right across the carnival for three hours. And you were getting quite chilly (curse your past self for wanting to look good and had decided to wear you newest short sleeved shirt) and the wound in your heart was slowly opening up again the longer you waited. You’ve sent around five to seven texts by now and you were starting to wonder if he was just busy or if he was purposely ignoring you.

Y/n: Yuh Kunners 16:49

Y/n: are you coming anytime soon?? Remember we were gonna hang out today right????? 16:50

One missed call from y/n

Y/n: I’m waiting in the park like we planned. Are you on the way lol 17:10

Y/n: kun im getting cold lmfao get over here before i turn into a living ice cube 17:37

Two missed calls from y/n

Y/n: dude i spent an hour choosing my clothes pls come ive been waiting for hours 18:49

Y/n: kun???? Cmon i know u were mad but u cant just stand me up here lmfao :,} 19:00

Two missed calls from y/n

Y/n: i guess ur not coming, huh 19:45

You sighed heavily, feeling your eyes burn as you watch people coming in and out of the carnival, gripping tightly onto the saddle of your bag as you begin to walk to the exit of the park. You pressed the back of your hand to one of your eyes when you realised you couldn’t hold back a tear, blinking rapidly when you started to feel them begging to leak out of your eyes like a broken tap. But you knew you couldn’t just cry like a loser in public just because someone stood you up.

Your thoughts begin to wander as you make your way down the sidewalk and towards the bus station, feeling your heavy heart slowly sink down to the bottom of your stomach with every step you take. You could admit that you did go a little too far back at the theater room considering so many people had warned you to lay off the joking around for just one day so as to not make Kun’s temper go off the charts. You should’ve listened to them, you could admit that.

But you also knew that you didn’t deserve to be stood up like this.

And it sucked.

How could he just yell at you, storm off, proceeded to ignore you like the plague at school, then ghost your text and stand you up just like that without an apology or an explanation? Hell, he didn’t even read your texts.

“Y/n?”

You looked up from the ground with wide eyes, recognizing that melodious voice you’ve been longing to hear for the past three days. “Kun,” you mumbled almost inaudibly, your eyes widened slightly to see Qian Kun in his casual attire that could easily send your heart into a heart attack. “What are you doing here?” he asked, coughing awkwardly as he took in your whole look, feeling his breath being taken away by the mere sight of you being more dressed up than you usually are.

“Waiting for you,” you deadpanned as if it wasn’t obvious enough, feeling your tears dissipate when you finally made eye contact with the boy in front of you, whose eyes grew wide at your words. “Me?” Kun’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, confusion glossing over his facial expression as he pointed a finger to himself. “Remember we planned a carnival date two weeks ago? Or are you just still mad at me for what happened in the theater room?” you asked, giving him a sad smile.

Kun’s face turned pale at the reminder, your words hitting him like a brick when he realised he had stood you up for who knows how long considering the bus stop you two were standing on was quite the long walk from the carnival. “Oh fuck,” he blurted out when your words finally sink into him, an apologetic expression washing over him as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Are you that mad that you just had to stand me up?” you furrowed your brows, taking a step towards him.

“Y/n, I’m so so sorry,” he started but you cut him off to give him a piece of your mind. “Look I admit, what happened at the theater was my fault and I should’ve listened to you instead of pushing your buttons and causing trouble. But was it really that bad that you had to keep me waiting here for not two- but three hours? I know I was- I am immensely annoying and I’m truly sorry for that,” you took a deep breath to keep yourself from getting too emotional in front of him as Kun stared guiltily at you.

“That was completely on me but that doesn’t give you a valid excuse or reason to stand me up for three hours, Kun,” your gaze hardened as you stared teary eyed inot Kun’s sad ones. He gazed up at down at your hopeless figure, swallowing at what he’s about to do as he leaned towards you to grab your hands in his, giving them a tight squeeze as he lifted them up to his chest. Your eyes widened at the sudden contact, despite the fact that you’ve literally hugged him on stage before. But there was something in his actions that made it seem more intimate in a way.

“I don’t know what to do or say to make you feel better but all I can say is that I’m sorry, I'm so so sorry,” he started, running his thumbs over your knuckles.

“I swear, I know it isn’t an excuse but I’ve been so stressed the past couple of days with the play, the big assignments at the end of every semester and I recently got this internship deal and I just started today. I completely forgot about today, I’m so so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you, and about the theater-” he swallowed down the guilt bubbling up inside of him as the memory of your hurt expression resurfaced in his mind once again. (which sort of brought him to the point of avoiding you all around campus)

“I had my phone on mute during the internship and I must’ve missed your texts. I’m assuming you sent me some because I know for a fact your impatient ass would probably bombard my phone with calls and texts,” he joked, laughing lightly when he realised now isn’t the most appropriate time to joke around considering you two were in a very tight situation. He gave you a small smile, his eyes filled with a small glint of hope as he took a step and tugged your hands so that he could enclose whatever proximity you two had left in between you.

“I’m so sorry. I know you might not forgive me but I hope you can give me a chance to make it up to you. Right here, right now. The carnival isn’t closing until midnight after all,” he suggested with a small shrug, looking down at his wrist watch before gazing back up to your eyes with a soft expression. You bit your lip, gazing down at your hands being held delicately in his, his thumb caressing your knuckles softly as you gave it a small thought.

You gave him a genuine smile, your heart lightening as you came to find that you couldn’t refuse anything when Kun was giving you a look as if you were the only thing valuable to him in the world at that moment.

“Sure, Kunt.”

“Can we just have one day without you pushing my buttons?”

“I have the right to call you day considering you’ve been an absolute Kunt this week, get over it.”

“Okay, ladies. I have a confession to make,” you took a deep exhale as you walked over to the food table where your friends were sitting in before the actual performance. “You like Kun?” Brooke raised her brow, opening her mouth as Ten leaned over the table to give her a spoonful of the sweet dessert he was having. Your jaw dropped when you realised she beat you to your own confession but however you weren’t backing down from an opportunity to mess around with your friends.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nope.”

“Yep.”

“I really really like Kun,” you confessed all of a sudden, causing Kai to choke on her ice cream at the sudden news. “That’s so sudden,” she exclaimed with a hoarse cough, leaning over to steal Hyuck’s cup of coffee as she chugged it down while patting her chest. “Cat’s out of the bag, I like Qian Kun. But are you all really surprised?” you sighed, sitting down beside Lin as you sipped on your own drink with a nonchalant shrug.

“Excuse me?” a sudden voice spoke up.

You stopped sipping loudly at the familiar voice, turning your head around slowly to come in eye contact with none other than Qian Kun himself who was in the middle of eating his fruit salad. His brows furrowed in confusion as your eyes grew wide, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as your jaw dropped open, your thoughts messy as you try to find the words to speak. “You didn’t tell me Kun was here,” you hissed at your friends, choosing the option to act as if Kun wasn’t sitting right beside you this whole time.

“Dude you’re literally blind, he was here the whole time,” Kai deadpanned, giving you a look that completely expressed how she was fed up with your idiocy for the day. “Can I speak now?” Kun pipped up, a smirk stretched on his lips as he watched your flustered figure retaliate against your friend’s words for calling you blind despite the fact that you kind of are in a way. “Nope, nevermind!” you shook your head abruptly, standing up as you gripped your handbag and slung it over your shoulder.

“You didn’t hear me say shit! Obliviate!” you used the straw the cashier gave you as a wand, waving it in front of Kun before you ran for dear life to the one place where he can’t get in: also known as the women’s dressing room. “Oh no you’re not! You can’t just Harry Potter reference you’re way out of this confession,” you could hear the chair grinding against the tile floor, signalling that Kun had got up to follow after you as you both laughed loudly.

“Go away, Kun!”

You knew that confessing that you like Kun wasn’t that big of a deal considering you did almost cry in front of him when he stood you up a couple of days ago on your carnival date. And you were definitely more than sure that he had reciprocated your feelings considering how he was smiling nonstop (Plus the fact that the apples of his cheeks and ears were tinted pink) after you pressed a small peck on his cheek at the end of the date right as he dropped you off at the bus stop.

But it wouldn’t be fun if you continued to act as bashful as you did back at the carnival date, would it?

You and Kun let out small lighthearted giggles as you shut the door of your dressing room to his face, provoking him even more as you jokingly told him to ‘fuck off’ considering you two have about thirty minutes left until you have to get on stage. Yes, you were using this as a delightful excuse to do your make up and dress up fifteen minutes earlier than the rest of the cast considering it was quite a long play and you wanted to reread your script and calm your nerves before show time.

“Princess Putri, my love, my little songbird! Oh how all of these years of holding myself back, all these years of fighting and hoping to reunite with you once again and hold you in my arms,” Kun recited as you ran towards him, into his arms which were stretched open wide, waiting to wrap around you in a tight and loving embrace. With a single, meaty tear, you jumped into his arms. Letting him spin you around like the princess you were portraying as the piano music became loud and almost deafening, almost letting you believe that you were in your own world.

Going against the script, you wrapped your arms around Kun’s neck, leaning your head towards his to nuzzle his nose against yours lovingly, eliciting a laugh from said boy as he placed you back on your two feet. “Oh how I’ve been longing to feel your lips against mine,” he leaned his forehead against yours, his words going against the script as he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. Placing his free gloved hand on your chin, his thumb caressing your lips as the camera zoomed in on your expressions.

Your raw emotions being captured on the camera as you gaze back at Kun lovingly, a loopy smile stretched across your face as you scanned his features. His blonde hair poking out of the hat he was wearing, his front bangs messy and slightly wet with sweat with the sword fighting scene he had with Haechan earlier on stage moments prior. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, your breathing hitched as Kun slowly leaned his head towards yours, closer than he should be as the piano music in the background began to slow down.

His eyes gazed up and down from your eyes to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own as his dark pupils sparkled under the theater light, the audience as silent as mice as they waited in anticipation for the long awaited kiss scene. “May I?” he whispered almost breathily, his melodious soft voice sending shivers down your spine, the microphone attached to his cheek picking up on his almost inaudible words. His eyes gazed up at yours for your consent as your lips parted into a wide grin.

You leaned forward, nodding softly with a wide smile on your face. He let out a soft chuckle, lips inching closer to yours as your free hand tugged on the tips of his hat to tease the audience by blocking the kiss scene completely from them as his lips pressed against yours. His hand that was on your chin moved up to your cheek as he leaned his head to the side slightly for a better angle, hearing the audience break out into a loud applause as you gripped onto his hat tighter to cover up the fact that the two of you were practically making out in front of a hundred people.

Your eyes shut tight as you basked into the feeling of Kun’s soft, slightly chapped lips against yours, the cherry lipstick probably making a mark on his lips as you moved yours against his in sync as Kun’s hand that was on your cheek moved to turn off your mic and his own as he refused to pull away from you. He leaned his face so that he could deepen the kiss, not caring about the lipstick you were wearing that was currently smearing and staining his lips a rosey pink.

“Holy shit, are they actually making out?” Haechan whispered aloud backstage, leaning his head forward slightly so as to not accidentally get caught by the applauding audience as Lin and Doyoung pulled on the rope to close the curtains. “Did anyone get that on camera?” Kai hissed, looking at the other club members in hopes of finding someone with their camera phone up, smiling widely when she saw Ten and Brooke holding up their phones up with big grins on their faces.

“YOU MORONS, STOP RECORDING AND CLOSE THE CURTAINS!” Doyoung exclaimed from the other side of the stage.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that you two just made out in front of a couple hundred people?” Ten chuckled, replaying the video of you and Kun kissing in front of the whole campus and probably their parents, siblings and grandparents. “Plus the owner of the school and the theater majors,” Brooke added with a soft snicker as Ten pulled her close to him in a tight embrace as they and a few other club members gathered around to watch the video. “Priceless, who knew our favorite dynamic duo would end up making out in front of the whole campus?” Kai teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, leaning your head down on the table to avoid the knowing smirks of your club members. “I didn’t know you were all suppose to bully me today, I would’ve brought a pan to smack you all into tomorrow if I knew this was going to happen,” you added, mumbling small curses incoherently as your friends considered to snicker at your uncharacteristically flustered and bashful state.

You remembered immediately running off from the stage once your club members started applauding and whistling at you as soon as you pulled away from the deep kiss. You and Kun both had flustered expressions stretched across your faces when you saw the smudged lipstick stains on both of your lips, panting for air as you stared wide eyed at each other. You were also sure Kun had run off to his own dressing room to save himself from any more teasing. (especially from Ten)

As soon as you locked the door to your dressing room, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating rapidly against your chest. The butterflies in your stomach swarming as if there was an earthquake, a giddy feeling bubbling up in your chest. You swore it took everything inside of you to not scream your emotions out into the bag you brought today, but you survived after drinking lots of water to calm yourself down (despite the fact that you could feel a giddy smile stretch across your lips whenever your mind wanders back to the soft makeout session you and Kun had merely moments ago.

“Hey, can we talk?” Kun’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, causing your head to shoot up from your leaning position on the table. Eyes wide as you both stared in awe at each other, feeling your hearts race when Kun coughed awkwardly to break the awkward tension settling in between the two of you. “I-” you were soon cut off by Kai, who popped out of nowhere to push you up to your feet with a mischievous grin stretched across her face.

“Of course, go ahead. Take your time, after all you are done here, right?” Kai gripped your shoulders tightly when you opened your mouth to speak, realising that for once in your life you didn’t know what to say in situations like this. “Right! Now, off you go!” She exclaimed with a soft giggle, shoving your bag in your hands before pushing you towards Kun, ignoring the death glare you were sending her as you followed Kun out of the theater room.

Kun shoved his hand in his pockets, racking through his brain to think of something to say to break the awkward tension. “So,” he started, wincing at how awkward he sounded before proceeding with his words. “Are we going to talk about what happened back there or?” Kun raised his brow at you, finally turning his head to make eye contact. You bit your lip nervously, looking down at your feet before gulping and looking back up at him.

“Not until you- you uh-,” you coughed, pointing a finger at the corner of his mouth. “You got a little- a little lipstick there, bro,” you quietly pointed out, internally cringing at how awkward you two were despite the fact that you were fine with shamelessly running away from him after confessing your crush on him with laughs and giggles in between. Kun’s eyes widened at your statement, wiping the corner of his lips with the back of his hand as he mumbled small apologies under his breath.

Kun paused when you finally told him that the lipstick was finally wiped off. “Did you just call me ‘bro’?” he deadpanned, furrowing his brows in confusion. The atmosphere slowly returning to normal upon his obvious question as your eyes widened in a panic. “I don’t know! I panicked! We’ve never had a post make out conversation before. Or a conversation that doesn’t involve you glaring daggers into my head, I swear if looks could kill,” you shot back, waving your hands around as Kun let out a light chuckle.

“So, do you like Messi?” you asked after a pregnant pause, clasping your hands behind your back with a small smile. Kun raised his brow at you, chuckling softly at your words. “Is that supposed to be a Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo reference?” he asked, letting out a soft giggle when you nodded shamelessly in response, wide smiles stretching on both of your lips as you looked down at your slightly dirty shoes.

“Can we talk now?” he asked, leaning his body against the wall as you both stared at each other in silence. Except, this time the silence was no longer awkward. Hell, it was almost comforting.

“Of course, yeah. Sure,” you nodded, trying to keep your cool as Kun took a step towards you. “Well, for starters, I really enjoyed- I mean- fuck,” Kun started, scrunching his face when he realised he was stumbling over his words, rubbing his face in frustration. “What I meant to say was I really liked kissing you,” he looked down nervously, eliciting a small smile from you as you had never seen the calm and collected Qian Kun this flustered in front of you. And you couldn’t even believe the fact that you were the one who was the main reason why he was like this.

“I don’t know if you meant what you said when you said you liked me before the performance, but fuck it. I really really like you and I really do want to be more than friends or club members,” Kun chuckled, swallowing his nerves down as he fiddled with his fingers in front of you, his dimples protruding on his cheeks as he gave you a cute, toothy smile. You couldn’t help but push your own nerves back to tease him, raising your brow as you gave him a cheeky grin.

“Is Qian Kun simping for me, right now?” you teased.

Kun let out a light laugh, shaking his head at you profusely at the sight of your own light expression. “I guess I am,” he shrugged with a staggering laugh, joining you in your small fit of giggles. “Well in that case, I’m just here waiting for you to pop the question,” you placed the back of your hands on your hips, giving him an encouraging smile despite the fact that your heart was beating oh-so-loudly in your ears.

At this point his eyes had turned into small moon shapes from how wide he was smiling and his cheeks were starting to hurt. “Pop the question? What is this? A marriage proposal?” he teased, raising his brow at you suggestively. Now it was his turn to tease you.

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” you smacked his arm jokingly, giggling along with him bashfully.

He took another step towards you, leaning towards you to grab your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours tightly. Giving your hand a loving squeeze, he took a deep breath as he looked down at your intertwined hands. “May I be your boyfriend, then?” he asked, a soft, boyish smile on his face. The happy glint in his eyes never leaving him as he stared lovingly into yours, taking in your features slowly as you giggled lightly.

“Whipped Kun hitting different,” you commented, eliciting a laugh from your senior as he squeezed your hand in his gingerly once again.

“Just say yes so I can kiss you again,” he rolled his eyes at you, his soft smile never leaving his face.

You puckered your lips gingerly, answering him with your actions as you waited for him to press his lips against yours. “I’m waiting, Kun,” you said with puckered lips, giggling softly. Kun let out a light hearted laugh (which was sure to add ten years to your life span the more you listen to it) as he commented on how uncharacteristically adorable you were being at that exact moment, earning a loud complaint from you as you frowned at him. “I guess you don’t want me to say yes,” you sighed heavily, sniffing for dramatics as you raised your free hand to your eyes to let out a fake cry.

“You’re so dramatic, I’m so close to taking it back,” Kun muttered under his breath before reaching over to cup your cheek with his free hand to turn your face back to face his. Pressing his lips against yours in a soft, passionate kiss, he smiled when he heard you giggle against his lips while squeezing his hand that was intertwined against yours at your sides.

¤ tagging: @kunrengui @chiffonymark @lebrookestore @leetaeyonglover @oifelixcmerebrou @fruityutas @vera-liscious @c-sanshine @thats-a-jen-no-no @coco-riki @stayzenniesstuff @stayctday @yunntext @qianinterprises @dreamyyang @channoticedmeuwu @caratinylyfe

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