#kim never forgets his pen again

[57sfinest]

i think in an attempt to stay organized harry becomes a glitter gel pen girlie like different colors of ink for different types of cases etc the same way tiktok nursing students will be taking their notes like 💕✨️🌟🧚‍♀️cancer✨️🧚‍♀️🌟💕 like kim comes over to see why harry is taking so long to write up some interview notes and the page is just covered in little red glitter gel ink doodles and the only shit written is like

murder (hdb41-52.0613)

-victim is dead

and kim is like detective you've been writing the case notes for 2 hours. how is this all you have. and harry is painstakingly dotting all the i's with hearts like kim you don't understand. i have a system.

#kim: is this 'system' a way to waste as much time as possible without getting anything done? #harry (actively sulking over kim's lack of appreciation for his art): at least my writing is legible :/ #glitter ink doesn't dry well so all his paperwork and notes are constantly smudged #his hands are covered in glitter #kim needs to borrow a glitter pen one time and harry is like KIM you're using BLUE for a B&E?? #those are PURPLE!! #kim never forgets his pen again #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #kiwipost

[pandenewie]

14 - Real Men Clean Bathrooms

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AN: I’m back !! I will be back to my regular posting schedule from now on :))

WARNING: She's a little suggestive...

Jungwon has been called Wonnie most of his life… by his older sister, his parents, and his older friends when they’re trying to tease him… even the lady next door whenever he walks her dog or takes out her trash. Despite hearing the nickname from so many people, nothing will come close to the gentle flutter his heart feels whenever it slips past Y/n’s lips.

“Wonnie!” Y/n calls for what seems like the tenth time, poking his dimple to get his attention. A small habit they’ve started recently. Jungwon finally snaps out of his thoughts, remembering that Y/n is, in fact, standing right in front of him. “Oh, sorry uh… what were you saying again?” Jungwon asks sheepishly. He really didn’t mean to space out, it’s just that spending more than a minute in Y/n’s presence causes him to lose his train of thought.

“Mr Kim told me to talk to you. I’ve got detention again and he said I need to use that time to help out around the school or something.” Y/n shrugs. Jungwon can’t help the downturn of his mouth at the mention of yet another detention. They’ve been getting those a lot lately. “Um… I’ll have to check what the council is currently working on. It’s probably just cleaning desks and picking up litter though.” Jungwon says, grabbing his laptop out of his bag to check the minutes from the last council meeting.

Y/n leans over curiously, watching as he taps away on the laptop. “Is there anything you wanna do in particular?” He asks, scrolling through the list of volunteer work for the council. Y/n pretends to think for a moment, tapping a finger against their chin for added effect. “I’ll do whatever you’re doing.” 

If Jungwon wasn't already blushing, he certainly is now. "Um… I'm just cleaning out the out-of-order bathrooms… making sure they're ready to be renovated. It's pretty boring." Jungwon mumbles. It does sound boring… but Y/n's eyes light up nonetheless.

"You mean our spot?" They ask excitedly, causing Jungwon's eyebrows to furrow. "Our spot?" He asks. Since when did they have a spot? That feels like something he would definitely remember. "It’s where we skipped class together, don't tell me you forgot already?" Y/n pouts. Of course, he didn't forget! He could probably remember every interaction he's ever had with Y/n. He just assumed that Y/n didn't… or at the least, never thought about it.

"I mean… you can clean with me if you want. It's a pretty big job though. Hence why the other council members are doing easier stuff."

That made Y/n angrier than expected. Of course, Jungwon would get stuck doing the most difficult task by himself, while the rest of the council runs around picking up rubbish. God, if Y/n could name another member, they would definitely be going in their death note.

"I'll stick with you." Y/n says, surprising even themself with how genuine the words sound. Jungwon seems surprised too, his eyes widening slightly as the tip of his ears turn a pinkish red. He mumbles a quiet thanks before quickly typing Y/n's name next to his on the task sheet.

"Was this place always such a dump?" Y/n asks, looking around the small room in disgust. There's graffiti all over the walls and mirrors and the floors are covered in rubbish and drywall. Even one of the toilet stalls has had the door ripped off its hinges.

"Believe it or not, this is the better of the two." Jungwon sighs. "I'm pretty sure the girl’s bathroom has rats." He adds, causing Y/n's face to screw up at the thought.

The bathrooms certainly didn't look like this when the two were last in here. That was only a few weeks ago.

"How did it even get this bad?" Y/n asks, pulling a pen out of their pocket and walking towards the discarded stall door. Jungwon watches curiously as they crouch down, scribbling something on the piece of metal.

"Because people do things like that." Jungwon sighs, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling developing in his stomach at the "Jungwon and Y/n were here" outlined in a heart.

Jungwon actually starts to get to work as Y/n continues to look around. After a few minutes, they let out a small gasp - gaining Jungwon's attention once more. 

"Omg, I forgot about this!" Y/n exclaims, pulling Jungwon towards the scribbles on the wall. He looks at Y/n confused so they elaborate. "It's a list of everyone who hooked up here." This doesn't help. "In the bathroom?" Jungwon asks, his nose scrunching in disgust. "You'd be surprised. It's a pretty common make out spot." Y/n smirks, making sure to send Jungwon a playful wink in the process.

"Have you made out with someone here?" Jungwon asks, the question coming out a little louder and more urgent than he expected. Y/n can't help the smirk that spreads across their face. They place their hand under their chin, tapping repeatedly as they pretend to think. "Once or twice? I don't know… check the list." Y/n teases.

Jungwon doesn't want to look at the list - scared of what names he'll see engraved next to Y/n's. Scared of what feelings will come over him once he puts a face to the people who have been with Y/n. People he can only dream of being. But his restraint is limited and before he knows it, he finds his eyes quickly scanning the scratchy list of names.

It's not that bad. At least that's what Jungwon tries to tell himself. There's a handful of names written alongside Y/n's - mainly those who have already graduated, with a few from their current year level. It's not that bad. But Jungwon can't stop the bubbling feeling of jealousy that begins to form in the pit of his stomach.

"Find your answer?" Y/n asks in a teasing manner, despite their attention now being placed on picking up rubbish. Jungwon hums quietly, his eyes scanning the list once more before he gets back to work. "You're on there a lot." He mumbles, earning a scoff from Y/n. "You're slut-shaming me?" Jungwon stiffens for a moment but relaxes once more when he sees that Y/n is joking. "More like judging your hook up spot."

This comment causes Y/n to gasp in feigned offence. "Excuse me? How dare you judge the fine art of bathroom make outs?" Jungwon laughs slightly at this. "I'd hardly call kissing in the corner of a trash-filled bathroom a fine art." He gestures around the room to prove his point. 

"That is exactly how I know you've never kissed in here." Y/n jokes, causing Jungwon to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. "Why do you say that?" He asks, laughing awkwardly. "Well, first of all, your name’s not on the list." Y/n points out. Jungwon goes to mumble something about it being the destruction of property but is quickly interrupted. “Secondly, you've been blushing this entire conversation.” Y/n continues, taking the chance to quickly poke Jungwon's dimple. "And thirdly, you don't just kiss in the corner. That's where the spiders are. The basin is much more comfortable."

Jungwon struggles to hide his shock as he chokes on his saliva. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the basin. “Need a demonstration?” Y/n asks, smirking. Before Jungwon can even comprehend a response (at least one that wouldn’t result in him embarrassing himself) Y/n is already pushing the remaining trash and drywall off the basin and onto the floor. Jungwon watches in half shock, half amusement as Y/n lifts themself up onto the now clear basin.

“So whoever you’re making out with would sit here. You’ve just gotta be careful of the tap because let me tell you, hitting your tailbone on that hurts like a bitch.” Jungwon’s not sure when this turned into a walk-through but he watches carefully anyway as Y/n playfully smiles at him.

Jungwon loves their smile - even though most times he’s seen it has been when they’re teasing him. He still loves the way it sits proudly on their face, the way their eyes shimmer and crinkle the wider the grin spreads. He also loves the smile that they show when they don’t think he’s looking. The genuine one, given only to those close enough to deserve it. Jungwon hopes to one day be one of those people.

Amidst his trance, Y/n decides to begin the next part of their tutorial. They quickly reach out to grab Jungwon by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so that he’s standing between their legs. Being caught off guard, Jungwon presses his hands tightly against the basin on either side of Y/n, catching himself in order to not fall completely on top of them.

“This is where you would stand.” Y/n says innocently as if the position they are now in isn’t entirely suggestive. Jungwon is stunned. Being this close to Y/n brings back all the memories from the library - the way their warm skin felt beneath his cautious touch. Jungwon needs to stop this, for his own sanity.

“We should keep cleaning.” Jungwon mumbles, avoiding eye contact in fear that Y/n’s eyes could convince him to stay. Convince him to do things he most definitely shouldn’t be doing. “I’m just helping, Wonnie. It’s educational.” Y/n pouts, bringing their hands to rest gently on top of Jungwon's. The sudden touch causes his eyes to shoot up to meet Y/n’s.

His first mistake.

Now that they know Jungwon’s attention is fully on them, Y/n continues with their “lesson”. “There’s a lot of different places you could put your hands, depending on what you’re feeling. Most common would be my hips.” Y/n states, bringing Jungwon’s hands to follow their words. “You could also press a hand against the mirror behind me if you need the support.” The add. Jungwon stays silent, the only sound being that of his breathing - which is growing heavier by the minute.

“Any questions so far?” Y/n asks, holding Jungwon’s hands firmly against their hips. Jungwon doesn’t know what to say - doesn’t want to speak in fear of ruining the mood. But in classic Jungwon fashion, he can feel himself responding to Y/n’s question before he can even think. “What if you fall in the sink?”

His second mistake.

Y/n stifles a laugh, which causes Jungwon to blush slightly with embarrassment. “I’d hope you would catch me.” Y/n whispers, bringing one of their hands up to gently push at Jungwon’s chest. “But I would also hold onto you, that way if I do slip, you’ll be able to hold me up…” Y/n trails off, wrapping their arms securely around Jungwon’s neck. They make sure to gently play with some of the hair there, earning a slight but definitely noticeable shudder from Jungwon. “And all that would be left to do is kiss.” Y/n mumbles, blatantly staring at Jungwon’s lips. 

The two are silent for a second as the reality of the situation begins to set in. Y/n glances back up at Jungwon’s eyes, smiling cheekily at him. Jungwon’s eyes ever so slightly flicker down to Y/n’s lips. A move so quick, that if Y/n weren’t looking directly into his eyes, they most likely would have missed it. But with the close proximity of their faces and Y/n’s apparent love for eye contact, the tiny glimpse does not go unnoticed.

His third mistake. 

Jungwon continues to make a few more decisions that could be considered mistakes. Such as the mistake of leaning in as Y/n brings their lips closer to his. The mistake of tightening his grip on Y/n’s hips as they pull him closer to their body, adjusting the angle so their lips lock together just right. The mistake of opening his mouth when Y/n’s tongue gently brushes against his bottom lip. And many, many more.

Kissing Y/n is something Jungwon thought he could only ever dream of doing. But as Y/n’s hand tugs gently on his hair - bringing him even closer into their hold and pulling him into yet another kiss, it finally starts to sink in exactly what he’s doing.

Jungwon should be overjoyed. But an over-looming feeling of confusion starts to wash over him, the longer his lips stay intertwined with Y/n’s. In his experiences, people kiss him because they see him as more than a friend. With Y/n, he can’t even tell if they see him as a friend. In a few weeks, they’d gone from absolutely hating his guts, to kissing him in an abandoned bathroom. The sudden switch up makes Jungwon feel like he’s got whiplash.

A sudden commotion of people in the halls causes Jungwon to quickly pull away from Y/n’s lips. The teachers are talking about him - likely wandering the halls in an attempt to track him down and ask for some help. He mentally battles with himself on what to do. Getting caught making out in the bathrooms by teachers is embarrassing for any student, let alone Jungwon. It’d do wonders to his reputation - not in a good way. But on the other hand, he will likely never get the chance to be this close to Y/n again.

Y/n can practically see the dilemma on his face and reaches forward to gently peck his lips. “Go do your job, Prez.” They whisper, reaching up to poke his cheek once more. Jungwon gulps, mumbling a quick apology before stepping away from Y/n completely.

That’s how Y/n finds themself sitting alone in the abandoned bathrooms - the feeling of Jungwon still fresh on their lips despite him being gone for almost 10 minutes now. Jungwon’s not the only one feeling confused, as they sit there wondering what the hell just happened. Kissing him was certainly not part of the original plan. But they suppose if it’ll help with convincing Jungwon to change the dress code… there’s nothing wrong with getting something extra along the way.

TAG LIST (closed): @kang-yeosangs-initials @kpopstanmeg @b1ndignity @soobiverse @dudufodd @mikadorbs @pagesofmiracles @tya0 @ilovewonyo @bringer-ofchaos @huening-ly @ifearjwn @callmeblondie @run2min @straykids-riley (can't tag) @rikimylove @chaechae-23 @lacimolela @n1ght-maring (can't tag) @luvvsjungwonn @yenqa @tzuyusluv @viyqe @vocaloshin @deadgirlwalking3 @flamiricky @hanniesss @grayscorner @wonqr @neozon3nha @beomgyusonlywife @ahnneyong

#dress coded #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen jungwon #jungwon fanfic #jungwon smau #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smau #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #fanfic #smau #x reader #fluff

[wonsohl]

hii do you think you cld write abt gunwook ? maybe smth like popular!gunwook and shy!reader in a school setting

also, i rlly enjoyed ur yujin imagines! they're so adorable

omg! ofcc , recently gunwook has been biasing me lately after kcon 😭😭! thank you for the compliment abt my yujin imaginess <3 ! tbh i didn't know how succesful it would bee

young love 🫂 - p.gw

PAIRINGS: popular!gw + shy!freader

it was winter. your favourite time of the year - not just because it was the season of your birthday but because you loved christmas and the traditions of the mistletoe at school.

your school recently (by recently you mean 4 years ago) started this thing were they would leave mistletoes around school.

at first it was very controversial but they made it rule that you don't have to partake in the tradition if you didn't want to.

most people didn't because half of the boys in your school were ugly and smelt like canned fish.

however if they did wanna kiss someone, it would've been the f9.

f9? basically the most handsome, jaw-dropping, extravagant, elegant, heart-beating boys ever to be seen.

you had the 3seniorz - aka : sung hanbin & zhanghao from class one with kim jiwoong in class two

then you had the musicianz - aka : seok matthew & kim taerae from class one

and then finally the coocooz - aka : shen ricky, kim gyuvin , han yujin and your beloved park gunwook.

pretty much every sane girl in your school had a crush on them because who wouldnt?

the f9s pretty much run the school, if they ask someone to do something they would.

one time ricky asked a girl a year above him to buy him something from the school store, she bought the whole store for him.

another time taerae asked a girl to get his guitar from the music room, she got his guitar with the rest of the music room on her back.

so you could tell that these boys had every girl wrapped around their fingers ,

including you.

but no one knew of course.

you barely talked in lesson and never raised your hand and on top of that you sat the middle row in lessons and would always leave a sticky note on the teacher's desk ever day to remind her that you were in so she didn't need to call out your name.

and thats how you lived for pretty much all 3 years of highschool until today.

you made your way to your homeroom with your headphones in and got a sticky note from your bag to put it on the teacher's desk and plotted your bag on your chair.

whilst returning to your chair, you realised that someone must of forgotten their cleaning duty yesterday and forgot to clean your desk.

their was pen marks everywhere and gum under the table.

you sighed heavily, but too heavily so no one else knew your dissapointment. you were about to go to the toilet to get some tissue when your phone started ringing.

it was inhee your bestfriend

'Y/N!!' said inhee through her phone speaker ruining your eardrums forgetting that you were on speaker everyone in your class looks at you.

you smile back awkwardly and dash out the class room.

'omg inhee! you dont need to shout my name at 8:03 am in the morningg" you said complaing about your friends behaviour

'oh im sorry miss l/n but apprently seola from our class got a mistletoe with ricky! '

' WHAT?? damm she's so lucky! '

' I KNOW RIGHTT THAT'S WHAT I WAS SAYINGG ' says inhee and then for the next five minutes of your call inhee was complaining about how it should've been her instead of seola.

'ME AND RICKY HAVE FIRE AND WATER SIGNS WE ARE LITCH SOULMATES'

'okok i get your pointt~. it's not that deep its only a kiss he probably doesn't feel anything for her anyway.

'after all he is a player but that doesn't mean anything! i have been waiting for my first kiss to be ricky just to be knocked off by son seola who is a complete copy of me :>'

'inhee its just a one time thing, you can make a move to him on the last day of school or something'

'ONE TIME THING?'

she said again, at this point you thought she was intentionally trying to publicly embarrass you infront of everyone as well as make you deaf.

'inhee enough with this yelling over a boy! its not even past 9 am yett'

'well this boy is my lifeline, soulmate, couple, future hubby, fiance he is like my everything! he means the whole world to me just like gunwook means to you silly!'

gunwook. gun wook . park gunwook.

you loved his name.

you loved they way he talked .

you love his visuals.

most of all you loved his smile.

'yeah but gunwook is different - first of all he is not rich and spoilt , second of all he is classprezz and is not a player'

' okay but imagine if you got a mistletoe with him! like that would be so cute!'

'with who? gunwook' you scoff at her words.

'gunwook is way out of my league, i would never get mistletoe with him and that's how i like it and i wanna keep it that way for th-'

your phone fell out of your hand skidding across the marble floor of your school hallway.

you pick your self up and run to get it but another hand it there before you.

you look up to see gunwook.

'oh my god' you thought.

eugh this was so cliche for this to happen.

but even through those thoughts, you and him still kept eye contact

'ay gunwook did you get the homework for-

OMG YOU GOT A MISTLETOEE'

you look behind gunwook's broad shoulders to see his friend gyuvin running towards him whilst pointing up towards the ceiling.

and follow his fingers to see the mistletoe right above your head with you and gunwook

'BRO YOU GOTTA GIVE HER A KISS - A RICKY COME HERE GUNWOOK GOT A MISTLETOE'

'GUNWOOK HAS TO GIVE HER A KISSY WISSY OOOO~'

you look back to gunwook eyes as he meets you with an awkward smile after he elbowed gyuvin in his ribcage.

'you don't have to kiss me! it's j-just a tradition' you say excusing yourself slowly.

then all of a sudden gunwook holds you by your shoulder and mouths sorry before pulling you in for a kiss.

your lips clash onto eachother as you close your eyes not knowing how to react and slowly losen up to his touch.

those seconds then feel like minutes which feel like hours the kiss breaks up and you suddenly realise where you are.

you look around to see a whole entire crowd has formed around you two with phones everywhere.

you obviously freak out and gunwook being the man he is he drags you through the crowd and brings you too your class.

'thank you' you say smiling back with a bow

he laughs abit which make you feel embarrassed but he reassures you.

'it's ok, you looked so cute when you tried leave because i knew you liked me' he says giggling with his dimples showing.

your cheeks instantly flush and laugh back.

the bell rings meaning you have to go back to your seat and gunwook looks at his watch.

'ill get going now but if you want i can take you out for some ice cream later'

you nod back with a smile going back to your seat whilst inhee runs through your homeroom door slamming it against the wall.

'y/n. tell. me. everything.'

#zerobaseone #boys planet 999 #park gunwook #gunwook imagines #zerobaseonefics #zb1 scenarios #zb1 imagines

[wkdll]

It's raining in Seoul

Summary: New City. New university. New life. A Story in which your new classmate Kim Mingyu makes your tummy warm everytime you see him. But little did you know that the person who makes you the happiest could also be the person who can make you the saddest.

A cute little slice of life Lovestory with a lot of fluff. But be prepared because life is not always a happy place.

Chapter 3

Your alarm woke you up in the morning. Groaning you turned around again, putting a pillow above your head. You don't want to get up. Somehow you feel super shy to meet Mingyu again in class today. You kissed his cheek yesterday... and today you don't feel as confident as yesterday. In case he asks and it gets weird, you can still blame it on the alcohol. You turned around and turned off your alarm and checked for messages. No message from Mingyu, but a message from Myeong.

Myeong: Hi, do you want to meet for coffee after our classes?

You: sure ! Let's meet outside the building after class.

Myeong: Okay ! See you later !

You went to the bathroom to get ready for classes.

You didn't text Mingyu on your way to class. You just hoped he will be there.

When you entered the classroom, you scanned the room for Mingyu. He was already there, waiting for you. When your eyes met, he started waving and pointing to the free space next to him. You smiled and walked up to him. "Hey," you said while sitting down next to him. "Hey," he said back and puts a to-go cup infront of you. "I bought you some coffee..." He said while nibbling on his lip. "Oh wow, Mingyu. Thank you so much !" You said with a bright smile and took the cup to sip on it. "Oh no be careful ! It's still hot!" He started to panic. "I just bought it, so its still super hot ! Please be careful!" You put the cup down "thank you for telling me. I will wait a bit." He exhaled really hard. You didn't know he was holding his breath. "It would be a shame if you hurt your lips. They are really soft.." He said rather quiet. You couldn't hear him above all the noise in the room. "Sorry, can you repeat that ? I didn't understand anything. It's too loud." You said turning your head to him and leaned in a little, in hope to understand him better. "Oh nothing. Class is starting." He said while getting his pen out.

At class, the professor asked you all to do a project. You should be 2 or 3 people for the project, so Mingyu asked immediately if you two can work together. You laughed and said:" of course we do ! Who else could be my favorite study buddy?" He smiled. "How about we start after class?" He asked while making some notes. "Ah, I don't have time after class. I am sorry. How about tomorrow?" Mingyu put his pen down. "Tomorrow sounds good. Is something important today? Do you need any help ?" You started to put your things in your bag. "No, I am meeting a girl from our class. Maybe I can make some new friends." Mingyu pat your shoulder. "Never forget about your first friend, okay?" He started joking. "I WILL NEVER!" You said while grabbing his hands and looking at him cutely. You just tried to make a joke, but Mingyu suddenly looks like a confused puppy, cheeks red. You pinched his cheek "how can you be tall and buff but also small and cute as the same time?" You asked him. Mingyus face is not fully red, so he turned away from you. "Let's go out together." He said while grabbing his bag, ready to leave. You followed behind him.

Mingyu wanted to wait with you, to see your new friend. He was worried, but you assure him that everything is okay. So he just asks you to text him when you get home so he knows that you didn't get kidnapped. Assuring him that you will Text him and that nobody would be interessted in kidnapping you because you talk to much, he left after giving you a warm hug. You could smell his parfum. He smells really good. After he let go he went to the subway Station. You felt the eyes of some girls on you. They just saw the most handsome guy from class hugging YOU and you don't even know what you are to him. And now every girl will think he belongs to you.

"Y/N !" You heard a voice behind you. You turned around and saw Myeong leaving the building. "Hi Myeong ! How are you doing?" You said while waving at her. "I'm doing good ! Let's go grab a coffee ! I need some caffaine after class," she said while grabbing your arm. You laughed at her "okay, let's go !"

In the Café you talked a lot and you had a lot of fun. "Ah it's getting late. We should go home soon." Myeong said while taking the last sip from her second coffee. "Oh yes. It's really late suddenly. But we should do it again sometimes!" You said and started to sip the last drop from your coffee. "By the way, do you need a Partner for the project? I don't have one yet." Myeong asked. "Sorry, I am doing it with my friend." You said while scratching your head." Myeong looked at you with big eyes and asked:" the tall, handsome guy?" You raised your eyebrows. "Yea, with him." Myeong started to squeek like a Teenager. "Oh my god, he is so handsome. So he is your friend ?" You laughed. "Yes, he is my friend." Every girl seems to be noticing him. "So uhm, can I join you both ?" Myeong asked. You shrugged your shoulders. "I think it would be okay. I just have to ask Mingyu if it's okay for him." Myeong nodded and said: "you can Text me when he answered." You nodded at her and you both left the Café. On the way to the train Station Myeong asked a lot of questions. "How long do you know him? What does he do in his freetime ?" And those kind of questions. You suddenly felt a little sad, because you couldn't answer most of these questions. Myeong laughed and said: "what kind of friendship is this ? You are still strangers." The statement hurts you, but she is right. You have butterflies in your stomach everytime you see him, but he is still a stranger. Maybe you have to get to know him better before you get too interested in him.

You barely heard her voice telling you goodbye when she went in the direction for her subway. You waved at her.

When you arrived at your hotel, you put out your phone to text Mingyu. You opened his chat, just to see that he texted you at the exact same time.

Mingyu: are you still alive ? I am worried.

You: I just arrived ! Sorry. I don't want you to get worried.

Mingyu: No, you are important to me. That's why I am worried.

You thought about asking him why. Why are you important for him when you don't know much about him ? But you thought about just ignoring it. 'Take is slow' you thought to yourself.

You: my friend from class asked me if she could join us tomorrow.

Mingyu: but I wanted you all to myself. :(

Stop flirting, Mingyu.

Mingyu: she can join. But next time I want to meet alone again. :(

You: why do you want to meet alone? You are scared my new friend could be a creep but now you are saying weird things.

Mingyu: I just want to get to know you better. Sorry. :(

You: okay, I let it slide. But just this one time, gyu !

Mingyu:....gyu ?

Oh shit. First the kiss on his cheek and now you gave him a nickname. You felt your cheeks heat up and you can imagine how you look like right now. Like a tomato. How to get out of this Situation?

You: let's meet around 3pm infront of the library. See you tomorrow.

'Smooth. Really smooth Y/N...' you thought to yourself and groaned. You throw your head against the pillows in your bed, again and again. Then you heard that you got another message. And another.

Mingyu: okay, see you tomorrow.

Mingyu: btw, I like it when you call me gyu <3

#kim mingyu #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #seventeen #seventeen mingyu #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader

[thekimspoblog]

"Sheepdog" (AKA the Kim Wexler Pregnancy fic) Chapter 1

This story takes place at some ambiguous point after the events of Season 5. At the time of publishing, Season 6 hasn't aired. So if you're not caught up, spoilers abound.

Also, Rhea Seehorn, on the rare chance you're reading this... don't. This was written by a lonely crazy person, and posted to a website notorious for being full of perverts. Some celebs get a kick out of reading the bizarre situations their fans would put them through. But if not... turn back now you've been warned.

Close up on the passenger's side of a black BMW. The tinted window rolls down. Kim leans out and holds a pair of binoculars up to her eyes. She surveys the parking lot of the gas station, then pans over to focus on the endless desert that stretches out behind the convenience store.

Jimmy leans over, squinting a bit to try to follow her line of sight. He asks, “Do you think we’re being watched?”

Still preoccupied with looking around, she hesitates to answer, “No… But remind me again what we’re doing out here?”

Jimmy turns around to fish something out of the slightly disheveled stack of papers he has crammed between the driver’s seat and the car door. “This!” he hands a neatly creased Hallmark greeting card to her, “I got this in the mail two days ago”.

Kim sets the binoculars in her lap and opens the card. Inside, the card is printed with an illegibly loopy bible verse scrawled at the top. And underneath there is an illustration done in a somewhat tastefully abstract style: on the left-hand side, there is a meadow full of flowers with a single lamb grazing amongst them. On the right-hand side, there is a mountain towering over the field, and at the peak, a wolf is howling. But that’s not all. In black pen, someone has scribbled a very crude cartoon of what looks like a dog standing guard in between the lamb and the wolf. And underneath in the same black pen, the anonymous sender had neatly written an address. The address of the gas station they were currently staking out.

Jimmy taps on the cartoon dog with urgency. “You see that?! When I was a kid, scammers were constantly coming into my dad’s store and taking advantage of him. One of them, I’ll never forget, looked me in the eye and told me there were only wolves and sheep in this world. Now thirty years later, I get an anonymous letter, in a whole other state mind you, telling me there are also dogs that guard the sheep. That’s not a coincidence”

Kim furrows her brow “I think you’re reaching. Jimmy, this barely even looks like a dog”

“Kim! I never told anyone else about that conversation. You’re the first”

“So what? You think this one con-artist, decades later, sent you a cryptic letter telling you to meet him at the edge of Albuquerque. To what? Say he’s learned the error of his ways?”

“Well I don’t know! If you’re so smart, tell me what you think it means?”

“Assuming you didn’t just get someone else’s mail by accident? … It sounds like a trap”

“It’s not a trap”

“Seriously?! Whoever sent this, they got us to wait at a remote location, in a car hiding three-hundred-thousand-dollars in unlaundered cash, a bloody shovel, and a gun with BOTH our prints on it. And you don’t think this could be a trap?” She shook her head and peered out the window again. “If the Salamancas are behind this, there are any number of ways this could go pear-shaped”

“Nah. This isn’t the Salamanca’s MO. If it was them, they would have already swarmed us. Besides, even if no one meets us here, I’ve got a plan”

Kim unbuckled her seatbelt “Tell me after I come back with a slushie. We don’t know how long this will take, and it’s hot today. Do you want anything?”

“Wait! Don’t go in there! I haven’t told you the plan yet!”

She slumped back in her seat “Which is?”

“My thinking is, this card was warning us about some heist or large-scale hustle that’s about to go down here. Now we’re like the sheepdogs. We assess the situation, identify any shady characters, figure out what they’re pulling, we turn it around on them, and save some poor honest cashier from having his hard-earned money stolen. Save the day, and we walk away with whatever we’re able to con the con-artists out of, burning a hole in our pockets”

Kim scoffed, “That’s it? Hope a grifter shows up and just intercept him? Yeah I’m going to buy some snacks. If that happens, I think I can handle it on my own. You wait out here and keep watch”

“Well yeah but…” Jimmy whined.

“But what?”

“But… I kind of wanted to do it. Seeing as how it’s MY tragic backstory and all?”

She shook her head and chuckled, “It will be fine. Be right back”

“You know there are no blue fruits!” Jimmy called after her as Kim got out of the BMW, “Not even blueberries. That blue raspberry in there? It’s probably dyed with aluminum”

Kim smiled at him, “Mmm. And it tastes SO GOOD”

After waiting a beat, Jimmy picked up the binoculars and watched his wife walk towards the automatic doors. He focused on admiring how well those black slacks fit her. Two-thirds of the way across the parking lot, she suddenly whipped around and glared at him, her hands on her hips. Her arched eyebrow shot him a look that said, “I can see what you’re doing. Are you serious?”

The edge of his mouth curled into a smirk. He couldn’t help it. He was just one man after all.

Once his partner in crime had disappeared into the store, something shiny glinted in the peripheral of the binoculars. Something was beckoning to him near the dumpsters which looked out over the dunes. Was it a chip bag? A lost hubcap? A sparkling new dime? Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t worth the effort to investigate. But a combination of boredom and curiosity soon found him ambling towards the dilapidated concrete patio at the edge of this rest stop.

At first, the source of the flash was nowhere to be seen. But after a couple of seconds of looking around, Jimmy’s eyes landed on something peeking out from the shadow of the receptacles. He picked it up and started to dust it off on the side of his pants. It was a flat piece of silver colored metal. The shape had been cut into the outline of a wolf, with its head low and its front leg raised, as if it was intently pointing towards something. Maybe it fell off a wind vane? Consumed with studying the piece of debris, he absentmindedly continued to shuffle back out of the shadow of the building again. When the first rays of the sun landed on the metal fragment, it illuminated an insignia stamped onto the heart of the wolf; a small circle with a wasp in the center. Like a vampire handling a cross, his eyes grew wide at how instantaneously the steel went from cool to burning his fingers, and he dropped it, only for it to make a horrible clatter as it bounced again and again against the pavement. He smoothed his hands on his shirt while cursing under his breath.

He anxiously surveyed the parking lot. There was no clear view of the store’s entrance from this side of the building. But at least he was able to see if any other cars were pulling in or out from the highway. So far, it was still just his BMW and three cars at the far end of the lot, which it was safe to assume belonged to the employees. He reached into his jacket pocket and began to light a cigarette. He looked at his watch out of habit, but then remembered he had never bothered to wind it. He turned around again to look out over the desert, but then he froze.

A coyote was close. Very close. He stayed perfectly still, still wondering how the animal could have come out of seemingly nowhere. Fear relaxed a little back into curiosity when it became clear the dog wasn’t interested in hurting him. In fact it almost appeared injured; the way it dragged its body low against the ground seemed mewling and unnatural. But just as he was about to feel pity for the creature, it pounced, catching a tiny green/brown lizard in its teeth. It snapped and slurped savagely until the limbs of its prey stopped twitching in protest. And then seconds later, it was gone without a trace.

The enigmatic beast continued to pay him no mind as it stalked over to the dumpster and wrestled a half-empty plastic bottle of water out of the trash. The plastic crinkled first, but eventually yielded to the dog’s sharp fangs, and the contents spilled out into a puddle with a loud “POP!”

“It probably would have been a nice thing to do, if I had bought a bottle of water and poured it out into a bowl for the old girl” he thought as he watched the stray feverishly lap up the spill.

He hadn’t made a single sound to provoke it, but suddenly the coyote’s head snapped up and her eyes locked with Jimmy’s. They weren’t threatening. They weren’t begging. The wild animal just stared at him with almost human intelligence. It was as if at any moment, the teeth could separate and a full soliloquy would come out. Every fiber of its being was determined to impart something onto him. But what?

Then a single thought materialized in Saul’s mind; “Something’s gone wrong inside the convenience store”

__________________________________

Compared to the heat outside, the inside of the gas station felt like a freezer. It was a welcome change at first, but now Kim couldn’t help but keep wandering back to the countertop, where the heat lamps glowed on rotating racks of hot dogs and soft pretzels. Both of which smelled a little too greasy and sour for comfort. “The Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde” by George Fame and the Blues Flames was playing over the tinny-sounding retail speakers. Seemingly the only other person in this desolate storefront was the cashier, who kept looking up from his magazine irritably to check if she was actually planning to buy anything. Then she saw it. A person, either a woman or a short man, was obscured head to toe in a dark red cloak, and was slowly gliding from one aisle to the next. It was far too late for this to be a Halloween costume. Too early for Mardi Gras. She wracked her brain trying to remember if she had heard mention of any other festival taking place locally.

Kim kept her distance. She’d casually shuffle to one corner of the bodega, then the other, always opposite the caped figure, and always trying to steal a glimpse of any facial features peeking out from underneath the hood. She’d already picked out a bottle of iced tea, a bag of chips, and a small pack of sanitizing wipes; really she should just pay and leave already. But Jimmy could be heading in to meet her at any moment, and besides, the mystery shopper was continuing to block the exit. There was a display rack of greeting cards next to the refrigerator case of salads and sandwiches. For a brief moment, she thought she saw the same card her husband had received earlier. She stood on her tiptoes to pull it free from the precarious wire cage, but when she finally was able to look inside, the card bore a different poem, and a different illustration of a wolf howling atop a snow flecked mountain. She sighed and placed it back in an incorrect but easier to reach space on the display.

The path to the door was clear for the moment, so she started to pick up the pace as she drew closer to the checkout. But just as she reached the end of the refrigerator case, something blindsided her, catching her in the shoulder and sending her items flying. Kim didn’t lose her balance, but she watched the contents of a fruit cup hit the floor. Purple and green grapes bounced, dribbled, and rolled away in every direction, like a cascade of superballs. Disoriented, an instinct for civil politeness took over.

“Sorry!” our heroine blurted out.

She hastily scooped up the plastic bowl and what few pieces of fruit hadn’t made contact with the shoemarked linoleum. The chip bag and the packet of wipes were in reach, but the iced tea was gone. A masculine-looking hand offered the bottle back to her.

“Thanks!” she exhaled while trading the dropped objects. “Wait…”

It felt like she couldn’t raise her head fast enough. But there it was! A white grinning mask, brown eyes shining from behind the holes, and the figure was covered in a red cloak. The assassin grabbed her by the wrist and stabbed a needle into her forearm.

“Get off of me!” she yelled, whipping around to see if the disinterested cashier had even seen what was happening.

Finally she heard the man shout “Hey, what’s going on back there?!”

The mask whispered in her ear, “You’re pregnant now. Thirty-six hours”

Before she could even reply “No!” the hand let go and the creep was running away, hiking his robes up to reveal baggy black pants and sneakers.

“Lady, what happened?” the idiotic cashier said obscuring her view.

“Chase him!” Kim snapped, pushing the guy out of the way. The red assailant had managed to put yards between him and her, and the distance was growing. Heels were a bad choice for a stakeout. The monster passed through the glass doors and once it was out in the glare of the sun, it made a hard left and was out of view. She kicked her shoes off, but the stitch in her back and her side only continued to get worse. She had to stop to catch her breath.

This alone was worrying; she’d been jogging two miles at least once a week, even barefoot, she knew she could cross the length of the store without breaking a sweat. She leaned up against the wall next to the exit. Any minute, she would go back to chasing this figure. She’d tell Jimmy what happened, and they’d follow him in their car if she had to. Although if she’d been poisoned, she needed to go to the hospital… She could smell the rank grease of the hotdogs all the way over on the other side of the store. It had been bothering her this whole time but now it was hard to ignore. The cracking the links made as they rotated on the metal rods felt like it was getting louder. They were an artificial shade of pink with oily brown charcoal streaks painted on them. Where did they even get this crap?! The whole thing made her want to… Her stomach flipped, and her hand flew to cover her lips. She was going to gag. Turns out she was still able to run quickly enough to make it to the women’s bathroom.

She stood gripping the edges of the sink for a few minutes. Every time she was starting to hope it had passed, another fit of dry-heaving forced her to lean over the basin again. She rinsed her mouth out under the tap, splashed water on her face, and then stared into the mirror. The fluorescent lighting in the truckstop restroom called attention to the dark circles under her eyes. They hadn’t been there when she walked into the store. Kim looked at her cell phone. Even if there was any reception out here, something in her didn’t want to get Jimmy involved right away. She needed a moment to plan her next move alone. The cell phone increased to one flickering bar as she slowly walked out of the recessed hallway back to the aisles. She snatched a large bottle of water from the nearest fridge and took a few apprehensive, guarded sips. The shop looked empty, with not even the cashier at his post, but she was feeling paranoid now, and she had every right to be. It was hard not to notice, that the “Reproductive Health” aisle was only a few feet away, so still barefoot, she fleetly slunk past the racks of condoms and tampons, and pulled a box of “First Response” from the lower shelf, fumbling to grasp it for a split second. Equally as swiftly, she retreated to the wall next to the bathroom door. Kim exhaled nervously while reading the instructions on the back of the box; one more suspicious glance at the empty interior of the building, and then she tilted the hefty water bottle up and took a deep swig.

Her foot wouldn’t stop tapping while she sat cloistered in the toilet stall. Her whole leg was bouncing up and down. In her left hand, her phone was poised to dial Jimmy’s number, though the call wouldn’t get through. She withdrew her right hand from between her legs and stared fixated at the test stick. Two pink lines. Two. She nearly burst out laughing. She flipped her phone closed and held it to her forehead. There were better places to process all this than a dank public lavatory, so she finished up and went to wash her hands.

The minute she crossed the threshold out of the ladies room, Jimmy was all over her.

“My god! Kim! Are you okay?”

“I think I am…” she answered as she looked into his concern-ridden eyes. She still sounded shocked and uncertain herself.

“The cashier said there was some sort of attack. A man in a cape? Kim, I’m so sorry. This whole thing was such a bad idea”

“It was my idea to go in here alone. I should have realized- what are you doing?!”

Jimmy had his own phone out, and it was already dialing “I’m calling 911” he said breathlessly.

“Put that away! Are you crazy?! If you call emergency services, they’ll send police cruisers. And we CANNOT have police see us driving THAT CAR!”

“Are you SURE you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine. The safest thing for us is to go home as soon as possible. We need to… recalibrate”

“You’re sure?”

“I promise!”

“911. What’s your emergency?” the man’s voice came across the speakers, cutting in and out severely.

Jimmy’s mouth was dry, but he put the phone to his ear and bleated “False alarm. Sorry” before hanging up.

She handed him the big bottle of water and they looked at eachother, afraid.

He kept his arm over her shoulder the entire time as they made their way to the sliding glass doors, and though this didn’t do much for Kim’s sense of security, she held onto him, because in truth she was starting to feel dizzy.

“Wait!” she said just before they exited the store. She broke free of his embrace and scooped up the shoes she had earlier taken off.

“We can go to the hospital. It’s really not a big deal” he was still saying to her as they stepped out into the glare of the New Mexico sun.

“I’m not against it. But we still need to stop at the house first, and switch to a vehicle that’s more not-full-of-staged-evidence”

“That part was my fault. I don’t know what I was thinking taking the BMW on an unrelated stakeout”

“Well you never know when we were going to run into Tuco. I figured it was better to have the trap set up at a moment’s notice”

“We’re going to be juggling multiple schemes at once, we really need to stay organized”

“Do we need to hire a second assistant for the under-the-table business, or do you think Franchesca could be converted to the dark side?”

“Look!” Jimmy interjected, frantically pointing out into the desert.

Kim straightened up and squinted out towards the dunes. A sandstorm was picking up, but a flashing light was cutting through the billows of dust. At the peak of an especially high hill of yellow-white sand, a masked figure draped in flowing red robes was looking down on them, its arms spread victoriously wide. He was holding a mirror, and reflecting rays of the sun into beams, which shot down onto the gas station’s parking lot. One of the unsteady beams grazed the shadowed side of the dumpster, and then it landed on the insignia of the steel wolf, which was still littering the concrete patio. The mystery person did what looked like laughing, although the sound didn’t carry, and then turned and disappeared behind the drift.

Jimmy could feel the way Kim’s shoulders tensed up, like she was poised to chase the assailant all over again. But he assured her “We need to get home”

#mcwexler #better call saul #rhea seehorn #slippin kimmy #kim wexler #jimmy x kim #mcwexlerjr #jimmy mcgill #saul goodman #better call saul fanfic #fluff #character study #bcs spoilers

[powerbottomeminem]

Flip the Coin, Bitch! S1E08

But Everywhere I Go They Keep Playin' My Song

"But please don't cry, dry your eyes, never let up. Forgive but don't forget, girl, keep ya head up", Marshall mouthed along to the song, his head swayed to the rhythm but his headphones stayed put. He knew every word by heart and loved to listen to 2Pac's voice praying courage into his ears. One of his favorite songs.

His pen put the finishing touches on the drawing, putting shadows on Spider-Woman's body and sculpted her muscles and curves and feminine physique into present. With lose flicks of his wrist he drew strands of her hair that followed the dynamic of her pose. She exuded power.

He was already bored of the upcoming class, not only because he didn't do his homework and didn't care for the Spanish language but also because he had to endure it by himself. No Denaun who was better in Spanish, and no Curtis who barely showed up to school at all, and no Nicolas either who still masterfully ignored Marshall, and no Ryan of course who was a grade above. Nobody here for him to share the fun and frustrations of class with.

Nobody except Kim. Not a person Marshall wanted to share anything with but for some reason they shared the same class. Every time he had to speak up during a lesson her gray eyes stabbed him with murderous intent. He expected her to throw knives at him one of these days.

A shadow was cast on his desk. Immediately, instinctively his shoulders hunched up and his nose twitched. He expected her to slap his headphones down again or rip up his drawing but this didn't quite smell like her, the note of lavender was missing.

Cigarette smoke and heavy, wet moss. The dark, confident scent of an alpha was too …

- continue on Ao3 -

#writeblr #am writing #fanfic #omegaverse #lgbtq #trans #trans character #gay romance #asking out #best friends #anthro #flip the coin bitch #ao3 link #ingenius update #eminem #proof #gangsta #worick arcangelo

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

#kim doie perfect man bye #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct college au #moonwrites #okaaay idk what this is either #if you get annoyed midway thru the fic you are perfectly valid <3 #i will literally never write smth like this ever again 🤡🤡🤡 #if you notice inconsistency in character no u dont #(i had to fix up some earlier inconsistencies but it gave more inconsistencies maybe i should give up writing for good)

[sparklysung]

✨ADRENALINE RUSH – n.j.m.✨

© sparklysung – 2021. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – na jaemin x female!reader

genre – smut, slight angst | non-idol!au, school!au

warnings – good boy!virgin!jaemin, bad girl!experienced!reader, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), breeding kink, slight exhibitionism (library), creampie, marking, overstimulation

word count – 3.416 words

note – i got too much into it lol. it turned out so long, i’m sorry for that. i do hope you like it, i’ve been working on it for a few days now and it’s been rough. i’m hoping there aren’t too many errors, and if there are i apologize in advance, i know they are annoying. either way enjoy!

summary – as the local bad girl, your reputation was rather infamous. jaemin knew this and so he tried his best to stay away from you. but after getting paired up for a genetics project, he didn’t stand a chance against your desire to ruin his innocence.

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon​, @carelessshootanonymous

part i ; part ii

you were mindlessly playing with your pen, doodling on the margins of your notebook, ignoring completely what your genetics professor was explaining on the board in the front of the classroom. 

that’s how class usually was for you; not paying attention to anything, just messing around with your highlighters, drawing more doodles to add to your collection or observing your classmates –not in a creepy way, though–. your professor wasn’t that clueless for you to nap until the end of the class, so you took advantage of whatever could keep you awake. 

when your hand started to cramp due to the constant movement, you started looking around the room with a bored expression, letting your thoughts go to anything and everything that seemed the tiniest bit interesting. that was until he caught your eye.

na jaemin. perfect na jaemin. excellent grades, the teacher’s pet, always so polite to everyone. the type of guy every parent would want their daughter to date and the perfect role model.

and you were the opposite. you never really cared about school; getting high scores was useless from your point of view, so you never took it seriously. you were used to sneaking out of your house to attend parties and going home drunk with a different guy each weekend –cause life is short and why not–. your lifestyle earned you a ‘bad girl’ reputation, as well as the protagonism of multiple not-so-nice rumours.

you two were so different from one another, belonged to completely different worlds.

that’s why you were so intrigued by him.

it’s not like this was the first time you notice him, you can’t just not notice him. he was gorgeous, to say the least; perfect face, flawless skin, sparkly round eyes adorned with long eyelashes, pink plush lips, fluffy hair with soft dark locks that fell beautifully on his forehead, framing the soft expression on his face. oh yeah, how could you forget that long neck of his, with a prominent adam’s apple that made your mouth water with the thought of marking it with purplish bites. you’ve wanted to ruin him since the first day you laid eyes on him, make him break under your touch and need you as much as he needs oxygen to breathe.

“so, before the class comes to an end, i’m going to assign you in pairs for the project i was talking to you about a few minutes ago.” groans of annoyance were heard from all around the room, finally making you pay attention.

as the professor began mentioning the pairs, your attention drifted once again towards jaemin. he looked genuinely interested in what was being said; eyebrows furrowed in concentration while waiting for his name to be called.

“kim sohee and lee donghyuck,” your eyes wandered down toward his broad shoulders, strong arms and slender fingers. your teeth nibbled with your bottom lip, nails sinking against the palm of your hand as you felt your panties grow damp by the sole idea of him fingering you. 

“na jaemin and y/l y/n,” your head snapped first in the direction of your professor, and then to his, who looked rather nervous sitting down a few desks in front of you, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. indeed, jaemin was nervous, so nervous that he felt like he was about to pass out. he could feel the looks full of pity his friends were throwing at him and it was making him feel even worse. he wasn’t too pleased either with the shot of excitement and anticipation he felt spreading across his body. you looked down at your hands, hair slightly covering your face as you tried to hide your devilish smirk.

you didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the pairs, being already too immersed in thoughts about every possible scenario that could take place while you two worked together on the project.

~.~.~.~

as soon as class ended, you threw your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards jaemin’s table and earning a couple of looks of disapproval from his friends. not letting that affect you, you approached him with a sweet smile plastered on your face. “hey,” his face shot up to look at you, hands still working on getting all his belongings inside his bag. straightening his back, he tried to look unaffected by your presence. he nodded his head shortly as a greeting and decided to get this over with as fast as he could.

“let’s work on the project at the library, right after class,” jaemin said, trying to sound confident, but you could see right through him; he was nervous. he figured that a place full of people was less risky rather than either of your houses, where you’d be alone and the possibility of something happening was a lot higher. you shrugged your shoulders, not really minding the location, “see you later, pretty boy.” you winked at him before making your way out of the room, leaving a flustered jaemin behind.

you were bad news, your name only coming up in conversations about breaking the rules, hookups during parties with lots of alcohol involved and other rumours. he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, all about you screamed ‘danger, beware’. and his friends had warned him, always making sure to constantly remind him not to get closer than needed or he would be doomed. but he couldn’t stop the fast beating of his heart nor the butterflies that erupted in his stomach. 

jaemin was certain this wasn’t going to end well, at least not for him.

and he was right.

~.~.~.~

a few hours later, jaemin and you were sat side by side on a slightly secluded table. he decided against sitting close to the entrance, as the internet connexion wasn’t so good and you were required to do internet research. he felt on edge every time your thigh brushed lightly against his, though he wasn’t sure if you knew what you were doing or if you were completely oblivious to the small touches.

but you sure weren’t oblivious of the way his body reacted with each of them, fingers gripping tightly the edges of the book he had opened in front of him. you on the other hand pretended to not notice, intently reading the thesis you had found in google scholars about multifactorial and complex diseases.

at some point, you figured it was time to make your move and shoot your shot. it seemed like he liked your proximity and lingering touches, as he had never –in all the time you’ve spent in the library– made an attempt to pull away or make you stop. also, by the look of the prominent tent forming inside his school pants, he appeared to actually be really fond of it. smiling to yourself, you continued as if nothing happened.

jaemin was internally panicking, he was aware that eventually you were going to notice his little –not so little– problem. he wanted to either bury himself underground or lock himself inside his room and wait until he passed away from inanition, starvation or dehydration, whatever happened first. he tried thinking about disgusting things to make it go away, like strawberries or the time when he was dared to lick his friend donghyuck’s sweaty foot, but nothing seemed to work.

you could make out the outline of his hard dick from the inside of his pants, biting your lips to contain the smirk making its way to your face. your hand snaked up his thigh until it was close to where he most needed you, making him shudder and squirm nervously under your touch. “w-what are you doing?”, he managed to ask, swallowing the lump in his throat. this was the first time a hand that wasn’t his own was touching him. because, of course, he wasn’t that innocent. he had needs like every guy his age, hormones all over the place and making him painfully aware of the pretty girl sitting so close to him. your scent intoxicating and addictive, almost making him lean closer.

you didn’t even care to respond, too fascinated by the feeling of his clothed member against your hand, hot and heavy. “s-stop, this isn’t right, w-we can’t do this here.” the panic present on his voice made a chuckle fall from your lips, making jaemin shrink in his seat. 

“someone’s gonna hear us, w-we’ll get caught.” he didn’t know what else to tell you to make you stop, how could he convince you to stop when he didn’t want you to? you ignored his words and kept going, the idea of getting caught causing wetness to gather inside your panties. “then you’ll have to keep quiet,” the moan that slipped from his lips made you rub your thighs together to ease some of the tension.

you freed his member from the confines of his pants and briefs, pulling them down just enough for you to have easy access to it, but not so much to make it too obvious. he was big; thick enough to stretch you out nicely. you hummed in approval, spitting in the palm of your hand, going to grab ahold of his cock and slowly start to pump him. jaemin threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed shut and mouth agape in a silent moan. “does it feel good baby?” he hummed quietly, not trusting his voice. he leaned his body closer to yours, chest against your side while his head rested on your shoulder. “so needy”, you mumbled mockingly, to which his hips bucked slightly.

jaemin felt in cloud 9 having your soft hand wrapped tightly around his sensitive dick. he knew all of this was wrong, but it felt so good. he opened his eyes enough to be able to see you work on his shaft. your thumb flicked against his slit as it spread the leaking precum from the tip to the base. he was trying his best to avoid letting out any sound, afraid of drawing unwanted attention.

you could feel he was getting close by the stuttering of his hips, desperately thrusting back against your fist. and, as much as you wanted to see his face while cumming, you weren’t going to let him just yet. you needed him and you needed him now, your slick arousal starting to run down your inner thighs. you’ve had enough.

your hand stopped its ministrations, making him whine softly at the loss of friction. moving to straddle his thighs, you threw your leg over his until you were comfortably sitting on his lap, skirt riding up from your new position. your thin arms snaked around his neck, one going to tangle in his hair and the other to caress his jaw. his hands positioned themselves instantly in your hips, holding onto you for dear life. his eyes nervously wandered over your shoulder, making sure nobody was paying attention to what you both were doing.

you pulled his chin to get him to look at you, eyes hooded and filled with lust. you looked so hot, face flushed a pretty tone of red, eyes sparkling with mischief. he knew he would be jacking off to the thought of you for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of his life.

his thoughts were interrupted, heavy lids almost closing once again and mind going blank, as he felt you roll your hips against his hard cock, which was standing tall in between your bodies. biting your lip, you leaned in to kiss his, feeling for the first time his plump, soft pink lips against yours. a moan escaped your mouth at the sweet taste of his tongue, fighting against your desperately as if he would never be able to savour you again.

rising from his lap slightly, you used one of your hands to position the tip of his cock against your entrance and the other to push your panties aside. a soft groan left jaemin’s lips as he felt the wetness of your core. as you were about to lower yourself on him, he stopped you, fingers digging against your sides. “i-i have never done anything like this with anyone.” if you were being honest, you found his nervous stutter quite endearing. “then let me ruin you.” that was all it took for him to give in to you.

you pumped him a few more times, making sure to completely coat his shaft with both of your arousals. as you lowered yourself on him, you pulled him in for a heated kiss, swallowing his sounds of pleasure. when you had finally engulfed the entirety of his cock, you began moving your hips in circular motions, waiting for the both of you to get used to the feeling. the friction made him pull you closer, face buried in the crook of your neck while small whimpers left his lips, going straight to your core. your walls clenched around him tightly, drawing a loud groan from his chest, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you kept kissing him, swallowing his groans and moans. he felt so good filling you up with his hard cock, he fit perfectly inside of you, as if he was made just for you; like a puzzle piece. “you feel so good, baby, stretching me out, so so good,” you praised him sweetly, hand running through his soft locks.

jaemin seemed to be unable to get enough of you. he didn’t want this to end, he wanted to stay with you –preferably inside of you–, be able to feel you so close and know he is the one who is making you feel so good.

“wait, fuck,” he gasped trying to catch his breath, “wait, i’m g-gonna cum if you keep going.” it hadn’t been long, but he was already worked up since you started touching him earlier. “is that so? remember we’re not using a condom, baby. if you cum inside me i could get pregnant.” you hummed, trying to get a reaction to your words out of him. and you got it as a higher pitched moan fell from his lips, feeling his grip on your waist tighten.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, huh?” you quirked an eyebrow, smirking to yourself when you felt him twitch inside of you. “yes”, he whimpered, vision blurred, the pleasure overpowering the fear of being caught. he found himself enjoying the thrill more than he should, almost embarrassed with how easily you could make him lose all his self-control. he knew you were playing with his mind, pushing him just enough to make him risk everything; his reputation, his image. exactly how you managed to get him to lose his innocence.

“what a filthy little boy, who would have guessed perfect student na jaemin was so much of a slut”, you whispered in his ear while raking your nails down his chest. jaemin could only buck his hips to meet yours, desperate to feel more, thighs burning from the effort. he was getting restless, unable to keep quiet as moans rolled off of his tongue with every roll of your hips. your mouth attached itself to his neck, biting harshly to leave pretty red marks that were soon to become purple. the sound of pages turning and typing on the library’s computers reminding you of where you were.

“please, i’m so close,” he didn’t even know what he was pleading for anymore, the only thing he knew was that he needed you, all of you, in every way possible; in every way you were willing to let him have you. “wanna cum inside my tight little pussy, baby? wanna fill me up with your hot cum and put your baby inside of me?” with glassy eyes and hot tears threatening to fall down his crimson cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure which was almost making him dizzy, he let out a string of ‘yes, yes, yes’. his hands clutched your hips to bring you closer, digging his nails on the flesh and leaving crescent moon shaped marks. a moan slipped from your lips, only increasing his desperation.

you picked up your pace, your naked thighs slapping lightly against his clothed ones. the both of you could hear the wet mewls your cunt made every time you lowered yourself on him until he was balls deep inside of you. his hips raised to meet yours, hitting your most sensitive spot with the tip of his cock, as he tried to match your fast rhythm.

jaemin didn’t know what to do with himself. he knew he had to be quiet or else someone was going to realize what was going on, but he physically couldn’t hold the sounds in. in fact, he could almost taste the faint taste of copper from biting too harshly on the flesh of his lips. on the other hand, you didn’t seem to have as much trouble to keep your cool, as only a couple of sighs of pleasure left your lips from time to time. little did jaemin know you were struggling to keep your mouth shut. every thrust of his hips causing him to hit deeper, the fucked out look in his face motivating you to go faster.

though you weren’t as close to cumming as he was, you knew this was his first time and it seemed like he was about to combust. it wouldn’t be so nice of you to make him wait longer, would it? “cum for me baby boy,” and that’s all it took for jaemin to reach his high, hips stuttering and hands trembling. feeling his seed paint your velvet walls, your hand went down your body to find your clit, starting to rub circles against your sensitive bud. a wave of pleasure shot through your body and made your hips jerk roughly against him. the sob jaemin let out went straight to your core making your climax approach faster than you would have thought.

taking advantage of the slippery mess he had made of the both of you, you slid up and down on him faster and with more strength. jaemin, seeing as you weren’t going to stop anytime soon, started growing impatient. “t-to much, p–ah, please, it’s too much”, but you didn’t stop, gripping his strong arms and grinding harder against him. “no, no, please, it hurts” he cried out desperately, begging you to stop bouncing on his oversensitive cock. you shook your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. you smacked your mouths together, diving in for another sloppy kiss that had jaemin weak on the knees and a moaning mess.

when you tore away from him, jaemin brought his fist to his face and bit it hard, trying equally as hard to control himself. his second orgasm of the day was coming closer and oh was it going to be strong. when it finally happened, his eyes rolled to the back, head dropping back. that was the last straw as you felt yourself coming, walls tightening and clenching around him to milk him dry, the movements of your hand becoming sloppy. he felt light-headed, slightly blacking out for a few seconds until he managed to recover his consciousness.

using his shoulders to help yourself off of him, you let him slip out of you. jaemin winced from the oversensitivity, hands quickly tucking himself inside his pants. as you fixed your ruined panties and messy hair, properly tidying up your clothes, you once again threw your bag over your shoulder. he eyed you with a disoriented look in his face, confused as to what you were doing.

he saw you turn around on your heels before walking out of the library, only your panties preventing his cum from running down your thighs. you left him there, without a single word, not even spared him a glance. you walked away from him as if you didn’t just fuck the life out of him, as if he hadn’t just gifted you his virginity, or more like as if you hadn’t just stolen it. as if all the kisses you shared and loving pet names you used on him meant nothing.

and the worst part of it all was the pang of hurt jaemin felt in his heart when realization fell down on him like a bucket of cold water.

to you, that moment meant nothing. because to you, he didn’t mean anything.

–lia:)

#jaemin #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream #nct u #nct imagines #nct au #na jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop boys #smut #nct #nct x reader #nct 00 line #00 line #jaemin writing #jaemin fanfic

[halstudandruz]

Research Purposes ~ Part 2

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: What happens when the only person in the world you didn’t want finding out does?

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Part one found here (NSFW, 18+)

A/N 2: Also thank you to @enchantedblackrose for the idea 😊

If you are not 18+ and are unable to read part 1 and want to back story just hit me up (:

“We’re so freaking late. There’s no way we’ll have time to stop for my car.” You rushed around Jay’s apartment, pouring coffee for both of you.

“And whose fault is that.” Jay looked at you accusingly.

“I was just trying to help the environment.” You shrugged, handing him his cup after checking the lid.

“You and I both know we wasted more water in there together than we would’ve showering on our own.” He retorted grabbing his badge and gun off the coffee table to secure them to his belt.

“Yeah okay so I wanted shower sex sue me.” You rolled your eyes shrugging your jacket on.

“I wasn’t the one complaining.” He smiled, taking a drink.

“We would’ve had more than enough time if you didn’t insist on cuddling this morning.” You pointed out, remembering how he pulled you back into his chest every time you tried to move out of bed a couple hours prior.

“You like shower sex. I like cuddling.” He teased handing you your purse.

“Maybe we can draft up an alternate schedule.” You joked.

“I do hear compromise is the key to a healthy relationship.” He replied.

“We gotta go if you don’t want to get pulled over for speeding.” You changed the subject reaching for the door knob, before being tugged back by your arm, turning in time for Jay’s lips to meet yours in a sweet, passionate kiss.

“To get us both through the day.” Jay winked reaching around you to open the door and usher you out.

This was the second time that week you and Jay would be showing up to work together. Nobody noticed it the first time, but your anxiety climbed at the thought of someone recognizing and approaching you about it. What would you say? You and Jay were only in it purely for the sex. Right? Regardless of that fact that you had stayed at his house almost every night the past couple weeks even without the promise of sex, or how your stuff was starting to accumulate at his house from the past few months. A few t-shirts mixed in with his, hair straightener resting on his bathroom organizer, makeup scattered about on the dresser. Friends with benefits, that’s all it was. Nothing more and you certainly were not gaining feelings for him. Absolutely not that was against the rules and you were not about to be some stereotypical fuck buddy turned feelings trope, but you were getting sloppy apparently. You agreed to enter through the front while Jay entered through the back. Skipping up the steps you threw a smile at Trudy offering her a good morning, but in return she stared you down, eyebrow raised as she rested against the desk.

“What?” You stopped in your tracks in front of her. But she stayed silent giving you a look, and you just knew she knew. She was Trudy Platt. She knew everything.

“You should tell him.” She whispered to you, and it’s not the first time she had said something of the sort recently.

“Tell who, what?” You continued to fake innocence as you had the times before.

“It’s going to end badly.” She pushed again.

“It already did end badly.” You reminded her before trudging upstairs feeling the heat of her stare still on your back. Everyone except Kim was already there, including Jay who had his feet kicked up on his desk looking through a file. You greeted everyone draping your coat over the back of your chair and falling into it.

The first hour ticked by slowly, and you found your eyes moving across the room to focus on Jay. Opened documents lay across your desk. He looked so relaxed, shoulders loose, breaths slow and even, head resting against his palm as he fought not to fall asleep. You knew he would rather be out chasing suspects, but deep down you were starting to register you were okay with paperwork days. It meant he was safe, and that thought scared you a little. The last time you had those same thoughts you were staring at a different man in the room. A man who sat not too far behind Jay, clicking his pen absentmindedly as he often did when he was bored.

“Ruz, I’ll break the damn pen.” Kevin grumbled, as he had many times before in response to the habit.

“Sorry.” Adam mumbled, setting the utensil onto his desk away from his fidgety hands.

You chuckled at the small exchange, experiencing the exact same one many times in the years you had been detailed in intelligence with the best people you could’ve ever asked to work with. That certainly didn’t mean it wasn’t complicated though, and you were the very obvious example of that. You watched Jay’s head bob catching himself before adjusting in order to keep himself awake. His eyes accidentally met yours, heart rate immediately increasing. He sent you a small smile as his eyes started to roam over your body. Looking for a distraction from the tedious work. You couldn’t scold him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been doing the same thing the past 10 minutes. Looking at his arms that were tight against his sleeves you wondered if the scratch marks you left on his biceps this morning would still be prevalent, or if the fading hickey from nights prior was still noticeable on his hip bone.

“I need coffee. Anyone else?” You asked trying to divert the obvious eye fucking your were giving each other. Everyone in the room raising their hands. You laughed taking notice of all the tired eyes who so obviously wanted to bash their heads off the desk already bored out of their minds, just waiting for a case to jump off.

“I’ll help.” Jay offered, voice gruff from barely speaking all morning. Together you poured and distributed everyone cups. Sitting back down into your chair when Jay was handing Kev his.

“You gonna shave that thing anytime soon? You usually can’t stand it past a week.” Kevin asked Jay, referring to his beard. They had always teased him whenever he claimed it grew in patchy compared to Adam and Kevin’s and it usually resulted in him having a clean shaven face the next shift. But it had grown in quite nicely this time, and he made sure to keep it presentable by trimming it as needed.

“No, it’s starting to grow on me. I’m keeping it for research anyway. Seems it can enhance far more than just my facial features.” Jay shrugged casually sitting back down atin his chair, and at his words you choked on your coffee spitting it all over your desk. Uncontrollable coughs tickling your throat.

“You good [Y/L/N]?” Hailey asked standing up to help you.

“Yeah..sorry. Just.. went down the wrong pipe. Didn’t expect it to be so.. hot.” You explained between coughs looking across the room to glare at Jay who wore a cocky smirk on his face, flipping through papers not daring to look up at you.

“You forget your ice?” Adam asked, knowing you had put a couple cubes of ice in your coffee every morning cooling it down so you could drink it faster.

“I must’ve. Kinda out of it today.” You shook your head taking napkins out of your drawer to try to clean up the mess you had made on your desk as well as your white shirt.

“I’ll get you some.” He started to walk towards the break room.

“It’s really okay I spit most of it out anyway.” You laughed.

“I’ll just get you a new cup.” He reasoned and you just thanked him not feeling like bickering with him about it. He had been going out of his way to do nice things for you recently. You assumed either so you wouldn’t spill the beans about him and Upton or because he felt bad.

“There’s no way this is coming out..” You grumbled dabbing at the tan stain forming on your shirt, “Do you happen to have a spare?” You asked, turning towards Hailey.

“I’m sorry I don’t. I used my spare the other day after that shooting and haven’t brought another extra.” Hailey apologized. You waved her off thanking her anyway.

“There’s one in my locker.” Jay offered, “You’ll probably just have to tuck it in.” You thought for a moment, it probably wouldn’t look like a big deal. Just a friend helping out a friend.

“Okay. Thanks.” You nodded getting up to head to the locker room where Jay followed. “I know where your locker is.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, but you don’t know my combination nor are you very good at opening dial locks. Hence why you have a keypad one on yours.” Jay pointed out, spinning his combination. He was right. You could never open dial locks.

“Do you analyze everything I do?” You crossed your arms annoyed at how well he always seemed to know you.

“You’re an interesting person babe.” He smiled handing you the shirt as he kissed your forehead.

“Watch yourself. You don’t know who’s hiding in here.” You lectured, “this is your fault by the way.”

“I know. Total win-win situation.” Jay laughed, smiling brightly.

“You’re gonna be the death of me Jay Halstead.” You groaned, a small smile on your lips.

“What a way to go though, huh?” He quipped, giving you a quick kiss.

“Get out.” You pushed his chest.

“What? No free peep show? I offered you my shirt and everything.” He acted offended.

“They’re gonna start getting suspicious if we are in here any longer go.” He huffed at your reply giving in and leaving as you turned around to switch shirts. Jay’s scent immediately overwhelmed you as you slipped his shirt on. Causing your body to relax in turn at the familiar fragrance. Jay was right, you had to tuck the shirt into your jeans, otherwise it could’ve been a dress thanks to your large height difference. Turning to walk out of the locker room, you were met with Adam holding a new cup of coffee out to you making you jump at the unexpected body in your path. “Thank you.” You giggled taking it from his hand to take a drink.

“Did you change?” He asked, eyeing the shirt you now wore.

“Oh yeah. I had white on and it was gonna stain so Jay offered me his shirt.” You explained, shifting on your feet at the uncomfortable conversation.

“Well I have one. It might fit you better.” He offered moving to walk towards his locker, but you put a hand to his chest stopping him.

“I’m good this one is perfectly fine.” You reassured him, Adam stared at you, breaking the tense silence with a long sigh, leaning against the side of the lockers.

“Listen we never got to talk about that night you came to my apartment. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry you-“ He began to apologize when Kevin peeked his head in the door.

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt..” he looked between the two of you awkwardly, “but we just got a case.” Adam cleared his throat as you nodded,

“We can..finish this later.” You chewed on your lip pushing past him to grab your coat out of Kevin’s hand.

It was nearing 8 o’clock by the time Voight had given you guys permission to go home and get some sleep. Knowing you’d be returning bright and early in the morning to continue to case.

“What do you think about pizza tonight? I’ve been craving some Bartolis.” Jay asked walking down the stairs behind you.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You stopped turning to face him when you rounded the corner out of sight.

“Well I can just get pizza and I’ll stop for whatever else you want too.” He offered.

“I’m not talking about food, Jay.” You laughed, looking at the ground. Your mind had been racing since showing up with Jay this morning.

“Then..what are you talking about?” He asked, stepping closer towards you.

“I mean I don’t know I’ve been at your place almost every night the last couple weeks.” You whispered, hoping your voice wouldn’t carry to anyone nearby.

“Well we can go to your place. That’s fine.” He reasoned.

“No that’s not..” You sighed not able to find the words.

“Hey, just talk to me. What’s up.” He encouraged hands falling to your hips holding you gently.

“I’m just worried we’re starting to get careless. Showing up to work twice in one week together. One of these days we’re bound to get caught either coming in together or showing up on scene together. We don’t even know what this is. I don’t want to have to talk to Voight about it in the meantime.” You explained.

“We can be more careful. I promise. I just don’t want you to freak out about this.” He assured you tucking your hair behind your ear. “Can we just address how good you look in my shirt. I’m so glad you’re such a klutz..” Jay’s eyes roamed up and down your body.

“I am not a klutz! How did you expect me to react?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him as you did a few hours prior.

“Well is it not the truth? This thing is still on my face purely for your satisfaction.” He reminded you by trailing his lips down your neck, immediately summoning goosebumps from the raggedness tickling in the wake of his lips. He winked knowing his point was proven, moving up to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Sooo pizza?” He asked, pulling back, hopeful look on his face.

“Fine, but I’m not going in to get it.” You rolled your eyes, a bright smile on your face when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you towards his truck but when you rounded the corner your eyes connected with Adam’s who stood near the door, eyes wide between you two as Jay let his arm fall to his side, your feet rooted to the floor.

“I forgot my wallet in my locker.” Adam explained stammering over his words.

“Well don’t let us keep you. See you tomorrow brother.” Jay remained calm grabbing your arm to pull you out. Patting Adam on the shoulder when you passed.

“Shit!” You cursed when you reached Jay’s truck.

“What?” He questioned and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” You scoffed.

“He’s not gonna tell Voight. For starters it’s Adam. Plus we know about him and Hailey. He can’t.” He shrugged.

“That’s not what I’m worried about!” You yelled.

“You just said that’s what you were worried about.” Jay reminded you, trying to catch up. “Babe.” He urged when you didn’t answer him.

“You don’t get it Jay!” You shook your head, lump forming in your throat at the anxiety the situation presented.

“No, you’re right I don’t. I’m sorry. Help me understand.” He grabbed a hold of your hand trying to get you to face him.

“Not right now.” You chewed your lip feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks, quickly swiping them away before they were seen, but you knew Jay would know regardless. You were tired, hungry, and now slightly panicking at the thought of having to address the entire situation. His hand squeezed yours tighter before starting his truck putting it in drive.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3

Jay Taglist:

@jayxhalsteadx @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @queen-of-arda

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #Chicago pd #one chicago imagine #one chicago

[skzsauce01]

The Student Council President Reads Shoujo Manga?!

Synopsis: You discover that the student council president, who claims to hate romance, reads shoujo manga. Slight influence from Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War.

Warning: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: fem student council vice president!reader x student council president!Hyunjin

After forgetting your textbook in the classroom, you expect to be the last person to arrive to the student council room, but it appears that you’re actually the second.

“Vice President, you left your manga here last night,” Secretary Kim greets. He glances at you momentarily before returning to his paperwork.

You shut the door behind you. “My manga? I don’t remember— Oh.”

Sitting on the mahogany desk is a tote bag that you recognize is the president’s. You loaned President Hwang the first five volumes of The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider two weeks ago. When you peer inside the bag, you find that he forgot to take off his manga protectors. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to take such a precaution since you trust him, but he always does so anyway. Even your old battered copies are wrapped in plastic.

You take the topmost one and hold it to the light streaming through the window. Not even the outline of the title can be seen. You voiced your confusion at his choice of using opaque protectors before; how would he be able to differentiate between different volumes or different mangas? His answer made you laugh: it was how he got away with reading during class. The image of the student council president doing such an illicit thing seemed ridiculous, and he pushed his hair back in embarrassment as he recounted the time the teacher almost caught him. Then you stopped laughing and wondered what the symptoms of a heart attack were. Your rib cage felt like it was going to smash open.

Now as you peel off the protector, the same feeling returns. The corner of Dragon Rider is blue and purple, not dark red. Did he spill something? No, none of the pages are wrinkled with water damage, and he would never be so careless so what exactly—

“Oh my goodness!”

Secretary Kim, pen twirling in his hand, looks at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” you squeak out, hiding out the manga behind your back. “I just… I just… it’s nothing! Everything is okay!”

“Alright then.”

While he goes back to his papers, you hurriedly turn around and check the book. It’s the same as it was a few seconds ago. Instead of a fearsome dragon and its hardworking rider on the cover, there is a teenage girl flanked by two boys with wolf ears. The title reads Tsukiko of the Wolves. You flip through, discovering with both amusement and disbelief that it’s a shoujo manga. There is nothing wrong with reading shoujo — you’ve read a fair share yourself when you were younger — but President Hwang is the least likely person you would expect to have a secret love for them. You regularly loan him your shounens to read, and he eagerly discusses each volume with you. He frequently complains about the romance, saying he’s reading it for the adventure, not for the love triangles.

This has to be a mistake. He has a younger sister who you’ve seen at the bookstore occasionally. It’s possible that they share a bookshelf and that he accidentally grabbed hers on accident. You put the protector back on, set it aside, and reach for the next book on the stack.

You have no real idea if it’s another shoujo or not, but NecRomancer sounds like one. The summary on the back describes a girl panicking about her newfound powers of resurrection and the attractive man she just brought back to life. You open to the middle of the manga and let out a squeak when you see the naked corpse on the page. It’s just another accident, it has to be. President Hwang is close with his sister, so it’s only natural that his manga would be close to hers. You try the next book in the stack, hoping that it’s one of yours.

The corner reveals a dark red cover, and you hold your breath, keeping an eye on Secretary Kim. He is still preoccupied with his work, muttering sentences and scribbling things down. You fully peel back the protector, and Why Do I Not Remember You? is written across the cover in glitter. Could this be his sister’s bag? No, she doesn’t use protectors.

You mindlessly thumb through the pages, seeing but not really seeing the crying woman being comforted by a stranger. Then at the flashbacks of broken beer bottles and a ring. The chances of this being a mistake are lessening. Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Does this mean that…

The student council president reads shoujo manga?

You quickly replace the protector. Your heart pounds, and possibilities swim in front of you. At the very best, he will be mortified if he knows that you found out. At the very worst, the entire school will find out. President Hwang’s reputation will be tainted, and with the upcoming reelections, his reputation is of the utmost importance. If he’s not president, you might still be vice president, but what’s the point then? It’ll be no fun without him.

No one can find out about this.

Suddenly the double doors to the student council room burst open, and you drop Why Do I Not Remember You? onto the desk. President Hwang slouches in the doorframe, resting his hands on the handles, completely out of breath. A Blueprint Books bag hangs in his grasp. That must be the one containing your manga.

He looks up from the floor, and you realize you are directly in his line of sight. Your hands fly to the ribbon around your neck, and you begin to untie and retie it.

“President, are you alright?” you distantly hear Secretary Kim ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m alright.” President Hwang’s voice comes out strained as he notices you standing behind his desk, three books out in the open. “Vice President, I see you discovered the manga as expected.”

“I was just counting to make sure I got all five back,” you reply with a fake smile. He can’t know that you know because he will never speak to you again out of embarrassment. “You left the protectors on, by the way.”

He walks toward you. You are the perfect picture of innocence. He will not know. “Did you… check them?”

“No, I was in the middle of counting them. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but you can hear the relief. “I left the wrong bag for you last night. Working late must be getting to me, haha. Here you go. The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider.”

You peek inside, and sure enough, the volumes are there with no opaque protector to obscure the title on the spine. You clutch the bag in front of you like you can use it to hide the truth you have just uncovered. President Hwang stacks his shoujo manga back into his bag and tucks it underneath the desk. His face has gone pink, and he fans himself with the latest edition of the school newspaper.

“What did you think of it?” you ask to distract him. “Isn’t the artwork amazing?”

Mission successful. President Hwang’s eyes go glassy as he recalls the story in his head, and he stops his fanning. “It is. And the worldbuilding too! The academy is so different from the usual school settings, and the dragon breeds are so cool. Also, Hirajima is such a tsundere. He’s going to end up falling in love with Kimi, isn’t he? Ugh.”

“I won’t spoil it for you,” you cryptically reply. The president is holding tightly onto his facade, which you need him to do. “I’ll lend you the next five volumes tomorrow. Just wait until you get to the tournament arc. You’re going to love it.”

He groans and leans back into his chair. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No! Tournament arc is always the best arc! That’s why Feast of the Gods is so popular. Every arc is pretty much a tournament arc.”

President Hwang lights up even more at the mention of the fantasy cooking-themed manga. He borrowed it from you last month and loved it so much that he bought matching keychains for the entire council. “Secretary Kim is the bird's milk, Treasurer Lee is the silkworm flour, you’re the delphinium rose syrup, and I’m the volcanic pepper,” he explained.

“Why are you the pepper?” Treasurer Lee complained. “You can’t even handle spice.”

“Because I’m hot.”

While both the secretary and treasurer cackled and while the president grew increasingly embarrassed by his own claims, you did your best to focus on your new keychain and not him. He looked too attractive loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. He looked like a manga character come to life.

President Hwang’s comment snaps you out of your daydream. “The ending is good! I can’t believe that Ryuzaki actually—”

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” interrupts Secretary Kim’s flat voice. He peers at the two of you over his glasses and flicks his eyes towards the suggestion box he must have brought in earlier. “Especially with reelections coming up soon.”

“We’ll talk later,” President Hwang whispers to you. “I want to discuss my theory about Kimi and Bando with you.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go through the suggestions now before Secretary Kim gets mad.”

You walk over to the door and grab the suggestion box. It’s heavier than expected, and you hold it flush against your chest to keep it from slipping out of your grasp. President Hwang notices your struggling and meets you halfway. He nearly makes you drop it as his fingers brush yours while he takes it from you.

“Thanks,” you stammer out. Your hands are empty, so you toy with your ribbon again as you follow him back to the desk.

“No problem,” he says. He lifts open the lid and takes out the first paper on top. “Shin Ryujin is asking for more funding for the Tennis Club again. Speaking of tennis, have you seen the animations for Bleeding Heart? It’s so good.”

Though Bleeding Heart starts off like a shoujo, it devolves into a mystery. If it weren’t for the knowledge you have now, you would have teased President Hwang for watching it. Instead, you enthusiastically nod. “They play croquet, not tennis, but yes! They’re so smooth!”

“President, Vice President.”

You and President Hwang exchange sheepish smiles. He softly sighs and scans through the paper, playing with a lock of hair. You imagine him doing the same as he reads. Why is the image of him secretly reading shoujo manga so charming? You shouldn’t find it so when he has this much at stake. He needs to be reelected.

“What do you think?” he asks, pointing at a proposal that you should have been reading with him, interrupting your thoughts. He edges closer to you, and breathing is suddenly difficult. He smells like laundry detergent. “Are new uniforms justifiable?”

“Yes, I think so,” you choke out. “Excuse me for a minute.”

You practically run out of the student council room, stopping only when you reach a small alcove in the hall. It’s dim and quiet, and you can hear your heart trying to break out. You press your hand over it, trying to push it back inside. Heart attacks don’t feel like this, or so says the medical website you consulted. Your heart thunders against your wrist, and its beat perfectly matches your pulse.

Steady.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It eventually slows, and you return back to the room with more composure than you had earlier. Treasurer Lee has finally shown up, and you decide to help him with calculations instead of reviewing proposals with President Hwang. It’s better this way.

During the weekend, you head to Blueprint Books and wander down the aisles, trying to find the manga President Hwang reads. You know what he likes for shounens, so what is it for shoujos? You mindlessly swing your tote bag back and forth as you scan the shelves. He Doesn’t Know My Secret, Steampunked!, Squirrel Princess. It’s been some time since you visited this section of the store. As you look to the next shelf, you notice a familiar keychain hanging from someone’s pocket. When you do a double-take, to your surprise and horror, President Hwang is standing at the end of the aisle. He looks different when out of uniform. Good different.

Maybe you made a noise of some sort because before you can turn around and leave, he glances up from the book he holds. His eyes meet yours.

Disbelief. Confusion. Panic.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he shakily asks as he slides the manga back into place. He’s mostly calm, that’s good. If he can lie to you about it, surely the entire school will be a simple feat. “Is there a new release?”

You shake your head. “Just browsing. Are you buying something for your sister? I know you don’t like romance that much.”

The relief in his voice is palpable when he says, “Yeah. Do you have any recommendations?”

“What does she like?”

“What do you like? You read a lot of manga.”

The question makes you pause, and you recount all the conversations you’ve overheard during lunch. Shounens are more of your thing now, but you're not above shoujos. “I’ve heard good things about Best Friend Boyfriend and I Wouldn’t Change A Thing.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not yet, but I always hear people talking about them.” You shift from foot to foot. A change of subject is much needed. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s going well, I think. Yeji and her friends are asking everyone in their year to vote for me, so that’s cool. The Japanese Culture Club is apparently doing the same,” he answers. He thumbs his pepper keychain, and you instinctively reach for your complementing one. The tiny syrup bottle is cool on your skin. “What about you? You’re still going to be my vice president, right?”

‘My’ makes you warm. “Of course! Just worry about yourself. Han Jisung really wants your spot.”

“I’m not letting that happen. Trust me, on Friday, the principal’s going to announce me as president again. And you’re going to be vice president. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee are going to be there as well. We’re going to be the student council until graduation.”

He says it with so much determination, you can’t help but laugh. “I really hope so. Hey, I’ll bring you the next five volumes of Dragon Rider on Monday. Just give me six through ten whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks. Do you want to borrow one of—”

“There you are!” President Hwang’s younger sister bounds into the aisle with a shopping basket filled with stationery. She furrows her eyebrows when she notices exactly which aisle her brother is in. “Don’t you have enough al—”

“I’m going to be late for dinner!” you interject. You step backwards, nearly bumping into the cardboard cutout of a manga character. “See you in class, President. Have a nice day. Bye.”

As you speed walk in the opposite direction, you hear his sister quietly ask him, “Wait, was that the vice president?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

You don’t hear if President Hwang replies anything because once you’ve turned the corner, you sprint out of the bookstore. It’s not until you’re home that you realize that you never found out what kind of shoujos he enjoys.

The days leading up to Friday are fraught with worry. Han Jisung is campaigning hard for the position this year. His small band of dedicated followers pass out flyers at the school gate every morning and trade lollipops for votes. Despite that, the president is unbothered.

“Did you watch the new episode of 00 Daniel?” he asks you on Wednesday.

You place your shoes inside your locker and shut the door. “Today’s the last day of voting, and you’re concerned about that?”

“I think the mission’s going to go badly this time. It’s been like five missions since his last screw up,” he continues like you said nothing. “There’s no way the season is ending without setting up for the next one.”

“President.”

“He’s not going to win, I promise. Treasurer Lee took a survey a few days ago, and I’m in the lead. The Mathematics Club’s survey confirmed the same thing.”

You start heading to your class with a resigned sigh, and President Hwang follows you even though he’s in a different room. He tugs on the sleeve of your blazer.

“You have nothing to worry about, Vice President,” he reassures. He lowers his head down to meet you at eye level. “It’s you and me until graduation, okay?”

You quickly nod and try not to burst into flames right on the spot. He’s too close yet not close enough.

“I think you’re right about 00 Daniel,” you stutter. “They’re taking too long to find the target too. I’ll see you after school then. Class is going to start soon.”

He retracts himself, a bit disappointed that you don’t want to speculate now. “Okay, we can talk later. See you.”

“See you.”

You two head to your respective classrooms. As you slide into your chair, you notice the boy next to you has a red candy wrapper on his desk. The girl in front of him has a purple one.

You really hope the Mathematics Club is right.

When Friday arrives, your stomach is in knots, and you feel ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. The traffic lights are slow today, making your usual stroll to school longer than usual. Students your age all the way down to elementary, pass you by, laughing and chatting with their friends. How can they be so relaxed when the results of the election come out this morning? You bet the paper announcement is already tacked to the bulletin board at the front of the school.

“Good morning,” comes a familiar voice.

“Good morning,” you reply back. President Hwang easily falls into step with you and holds out a tote bag to you. “Oh, you finished all of them?”

“Yeah. That last battle was crazy! I can’t believe it ended like that. And the epilogue! I knew it would happen! I feel so bad for Bando and… You okay? You look a little sick.”

“It’s nothing.” You take the bag from him and hold the books to your chest. You peek inside to make sure the protectors are off and to check that he gave you the right bag. No shoujo manga this time. “Are you nervous?”

He’s surprisingly apprehensive when he asks, “About what?”

“The election?”

“Oh. No, not really. Are you?”

“A little bit,” you lie as the two of you walk through the gate. The bulletin board is surrounded by a crowd, and you’re ready to march through to see what the paper says. Please let President Hwang be on there. “Let’s go.”

But the president is soon stopped by Han Jisung and his followers. Han Jisung holds his hand out, and you hold your breath as he opens his mouth.

“Congratulations on winning, President,” he says with a good-natured smile. He shifts his gaze to you. “And you as well, Vice President.”

You let out an audible sigh and quickly cover it with a cough when everyone looks at you. “Thank you.”

President Hwang shoots you a knowing grin, making you blush, before exchanging pleasantries with his defeated opponent. In the meantime, you push through the crowd to double-check the results. There it is in black ink: Hwang Hyunjin as President. Relief floods through your body, and you happily accept the other students’ congratulations and swap theories about the upcoming season of 00 Daniel with your fellow manga and anime fans.

“Told you,” President Hwang later says after he manages to get away from Han Jisung. He shuts your locker door with one finger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, are you going home now?” President Hwang asks. With no changes in the student council, everything is business as usual, including Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee leaving as soon as they can on Fridays.

“Yeah. Are you staying late again?”

“Not today. Want to walk home together?”

“S-sure.”

While he reorganizes the papers on his desk, you fiddle with the strap of the tote bag. It’s not the first time you’ve walked home with the president, but it sends you into a panic every time. The golden sun and orange sky makes everyone look beautiful but him especially so. It’s difficult not to be tongue tied around him when he looks exactly like the lead of a shoujo manga.

Manga. The thing that accelerated your feelings for him in the first place. His good looks and his sweet talking charm were enough for you to notice him, so learning he shared the same hobby as you? Discovering that he adored coming up with theories?

You were smitten.

“You ready?” he interrupts.

“Yeah.”

The two of you make it to the front entrance before he stops and turns to you. “Actually, before we go, can I show you something first? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure. What is it?” You follow him through the school, taking note that he seems to be headed to the courtyard.

“Have you read Limitless?”

As you step over a pile of fallen cherry blossoms, you rack your brain. You read it a long time ago, mostly because it was on every recommendation list online. “The shoujo about the math tutors? It’s been some time, but yes. What about it?”

President Hwang stops in the middle of the courtyard and faces you again. The sun is behind him, the rays of light forming a crown on his head. “Well, there’s a scene near the end that I thought you might like.”

The end of Limitless…

… features a confession scene in the school courtyard.

He gently takes your hands. “Do you remember the first day we were elected? I was the first person in the room, and I was so nervous to meet you because I didn’t know that much about you. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee said you were really kind, but I was still nervous. Then you ran into the room with a bunch of manga and almost tripped over the rug. You laughed it off and held out a book for me to shake since your hands were full.”

“It was the first volume of Feast of the Gods,” you whisper. That day is burned in your mind. “Lee Chaeryeong just finished the first ten volumes and gave them back to me.”

“And then I asked you if I could borrow them because I wanted to read them but Blueprint was out of stock. You said yes immediately, and that’s when I knew that you and I would be a great team. When you wanted to listen to me talk about the chapters I read, that’s when I knew I liked you. And when you continued to offer me other series to borrow, that’s when I knew I had to tell you. So,” he breathes, “here it is. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

“I… I like you too.”

He breaks out into a grin and wraps you in a hug. He still smells like laundry detergent, and you bury your nose in the collar of his shirt.

“What do we do now?” he softly laughs as he pulls away. “The shoujo mangas usually stop here and cut to a new scene.”

The words fly out of your mouth without thinking. “So is that why you’ve been reading shoujos? For the confession?”

His smile falters but recovers soon after. “Yeji gave it away last weekend, huh? Ah, I was hoping you hadn’t heard her.”

“Actually… I found out when you gave me back Dragon Rider the first time,” you admit. You twirl the ends of the ribbon around your neck. “I took off the protectors and saw some of them. But there’s nothing wrong with liking shoujo! I was just surprised since you always say you hate romance.”

“I mean, I did. I started reading them for confession tips, but then it turns out some of them are really good. Like Limitless? And then I started reading my sister’s, and I kind of like them now. Is that weird?”

“No. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“Really? You’re not weirded out by that?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t care what you read as long as you’ll talk to me about it after.”

“Well, I finished Winter Fireworks recently. Have you read it before?” When you shake your head, he takes a step closer and leans down. “It ends like this.”

As it turns out, the story ends with a kiss.

~ ad.gray

None of the mangas/animes mentioned actually exist. They’re just riffs of other fics we’ve written. Was this just a giant ad for them? Yeah, kind of lol. In order of appearance:

The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider ➞ Normal (Hyunjin)

Tsukiko of the Wolves ➞ 42nd Moon (Hyunjin)

NecRomancer ➞ Magic Words (Hyunjin) 

Why Do I Not Remember You? ➞ Eternally Yours (Hyunjin)

Feast of the Gods ➞ God’s Menu (Felix)

Bleeding Heart ➞ King of Hearts (Bang Chan)

He Doesn’t Know My Secret ➞ Harmony, Melody (Seungmin)

Steampunked! ➞ Matters of the Head and Heart (Felix)

Squirrel Princess ➞ Squirrel and Wife (Han)

Best Friend Boyfriend ➞ Ruin My Life (Lee Know)

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing ➞ Even if Things Were Different (Han)

00 Daniel ➞ Apologies in Advance (Lee Know)

Limitless ➞ love you to limx (Han)

Winter Fireworks ➞ Ringing in the New Year (Bang Chan)

bonus after credits scene

It’s only when the two of you are crossing the bridge do you realize what he has done. “You just spoiled the ending for me!”

“Sorry, I forgot.” After a few seconds, he asks, “Can I give you more spoilers?”

You reach for the front of his blazer. “Yes.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #stray kids au #skz au #20210701

[lemon-boy-stan]

SINGULARITY

summary: a millennium ago, your heart was broken by the only boy who loved you. a forever later, his heart was broken by the only girl he ever loved. genre: angst, vampire and witch!au (y/n is a witch). warnings: none, heartbreak. a/n: listen to/loop ‘singularity’ while reading.

The old birch door swung open with a creak, the rusted sign clattering in the eerie wind. You sighed. This place was old, and there might not be any Wi-Fi here. But it was your only shot at getting a good night’s sleep without the possibility of  being murdered or robbed.

The empty road was dangerous at night and you were almost out of fuel, deserted in the middle of nowhere, miles away from Seoul. It was spooky so quiet. 

There was a soft ring as the door shut and a different kind of ambience filled the velveteen walls with a ghostly light and you felt at home. A pale woman with a hunched back and greying hair appeared at the front desk - which was also birch. Birch and rusting. Like the wood was so old it rusted like metal. 

A cold breeze blew and the lady frowned, raising up her tortoiseshell glasses to her face. “We haven’t had any visitors for a long time... especially since... gosh, it’s been a while. He’ll be very happy, yes, you do look quite like her. Perhaps... perhaps the time has come... a millennium, she said... perhaps it is now time for me to rest... if only...” she appeared to be talking to herself.

You took a step back. You didn’t like this place as much as you originally did. It wasn’t as fancy, more scary. It didn’t help that the woman was really, really creepy, either. 

Despite your discomfort, the lady smiled, clearing her throat, the attention of her gazed eyes turning to you. “But of course, it’s far too dangerous for you to stay outside! Especially not at night...” she shivered, like she’d been reading your earlier thoughts. 

“Follow me, dear, there’s a room down the hall. Unfortunately, you will have to share, as the other six have been occupied for quite a long time, if I do say so myself...” she chuckled at her own joke, though you didn’t really understand it. The place looked kind of empty. “We can move your things inside once you’ve settled in.”

“Oh, no,” you interrupted her quickly, “thank you, but I’ll just be staying overnight.” you might not even stay the whole night. You’d probably find a way to sneak out later without offending the old woman, she looked lonely.

The lady chuckled sadly, “that’s what they all say, isn’t it? He always lures them here, looking for her. Poor man. Feasts on all those pretty girls. In and never out, just like clockwork. Leaves the rest for his hyungs. You’re different, though. Perhaps there is something about you, he might like, hmm? I wish you farewell and good luck, dear, this is your stop. I hope you enjoy reading.” with a tilt of her hand she waved, and then she was gone.

The door swung open by itself, whistling in the air. It was pretty spooky, and it wasn’t even Halloween yet, it was May, but the interior designers obviously didn’t think so. 

The Victorian walls were laced with black swirls that looked like cobwebs. The mirror on said wall was round and coloured an ominous black shade. The bed was black and ghastly, with black and red sheets. Above it hung a black clock that seemed to be broken. 

You checked yours, and it appeared to have stopped as well. You clicked your phone but the screen remained dark. You began to back out of the room, instincts shouting danger. The door slammed shut. The candles, scattered all over the room in black mantles, flickered, their flames swaying in the breeze as a lump formed in your throat. Whoever was here was trying to scare you, and it was working.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” a thick, chocolatey, hollow voice oozed out with warmth, making you jump. The voice chuckled at your surprise obnoxiously. You turned to the corner of the room, where a man with dark hair, pale skin and a ruffled white collar sat at a writing desk, returning his fountain pen to the pot of ink. 

The beautiful man smiled, getting up. “Chaewong really outdid herself this time...” he murmured the words quietly, taking a step forwards, approaching you carefully. “What a brilliant witch she is, hmm?” the woman at the front desk was a witch? Now, that didn’t make any sense. 

“Am I high?” you didn’t mean to say. The man glared at you and you were afraid you’d offended him but thankfully, he sighed, uncrossing his arms. 

“Your generation... you’re all so naïve.” he scoffed at his own words, prancing around you like a predator stalking his prey; as if he were some kind of higher power. You frowned. What did he mean, ‘your generation’? You were the same age as he was, if not a few months younger. Anyone could tell. 

“Look,” you went with your guts. “I get that this is a joke. So, you got your eomma into it somehow, and got a bit of technology for it, too. I gotta say, great job on the set. But this is getting really creepy, and I just really need a place to stay. I don’t mind sharing a room with you, but if you don’t mind just backing off for a bit -” 

Your own eomma had always said you were bad at choosing words of speech. The man growled before huffing and uncrossing his arms again. “You always were the same, weren’t you? Stubborn. Forgetful. Ignorant.” he laughed at forgetful and you clenched your fists; you really didn’t like this guy’s vibe.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m going to call the police. You’re going to jail for harassment. See here? I’m going to call the police on you.” you wove your phone around even though you’d been having trouble turning it on. 

The man sighed sadly, “that won’t work.” he hung his head low, sniffing. The voice that dripped confidence now dripped misery. “I’m sorry, Y/N... I learnt my lesson. I really did. I love you forever. I didn’t mean to court her. I only ever wanted you; only you.”

“How do you know who I am?” these serial killers were dangerous on a whole new level. The black-haired man sighed, pushing back his dark locks. “Magic doesn’t stop time,” he murmured sadly, “but love does.” He stepped closer, hoping, praying, that you recognised those words. All you recognised, however, was that you needed to get out of here, and fast.

“Magic always came with a price,” the man continued on, “but you won’t remember that.” you felt sorry for him, perhaps he had a bad case of amnesia. “You’re the one under a memeory spell! Your own, if I do recall.” could everyone here read your thoughts? “Yes,” he crossed his arms, “yes, we can.”

“‘We’?” you thought out loud. The tall man grumbled loudly. “You used to know them. And it’s your fault you forgot them. They are members of our kingdom’s court.” now he was talking nonsense. “I am not talking nonsense,” he retorted, “merely the truth. You knew them, once, and you left them. But nevermind that. You’re here now, and right now all that really matters, is us. You and I, together again.” 

He advanced, and before you could object, hooked an arm around your waist, and placed a kiss on your lips. You gasped, but not from the kiss.  A white light flashed through your mind at an instant; a thousand memories tumbling into you all at once, pouring the heart back into your soul.

The boys at the palace were brats. They had you set the table only for them to mess it up again. They would send you to fetch things, only for them to tell you to return them shortly after. You went to school, hoping to make friends, only for them to have spread a rumor about you weeks before.

They did get better throughout the years, though, and began treating you as an equal. As their friend. And you didn’t mind, being the only girl in a group of eight. You liked it. 

But you liked one of them in particular, more than the rest. He was kind, quiet, beautiful, and he felt absolutely heavenly. His soft voice always sung you to sleep. His warm heart always comforted your broken one. He was the closest that you’d ever been to someone. He was -

“Kim Taehyung.” you spoke into the breath, gasping out the tears. You felt like someone had torn you open, pulled out your heart, thrown it away for years, only for you to find it again. “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I didn’t mean to. She. I was helpless, she...” only to find it broken again. “Please, please forgive me.” the words stung. “You let her,” your voice broke, “you let her make you a monster.” Taehyung flinched at your words.

“She made me,” he insisted, still holding you tight. “She made me. I couldn’t let her get to you, I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her turn you into...” he choked again, “into what I am.” 

Suddenly cold, you turned around, back facing him, taking a step forwards. “No!” his voice towered through the walls. Chairs and tables worked together to form a barrier that trapped you in with him. “Please,” his thick voice was shaky, “please let me love you.”

A single tear bit your cheek on its way down. That was as much as you would allow yourself over this man. He’d broken your heart one too many times. “I’m sorry, Taehyung,” you shook your head, shaking silently with tears. “But I love you too much.” 

He moaned with such misery that you wanted to break down and cry on him, just like you used to all those years ago. “At least break the curse,” he pleaded, “none of those girls are anything compared to you.” your heart screamed at you. Your lip trembled, “it’s already broken.” you knew he was frowning, “true love’s kiss.”

BTS MASTERLIST // TXT MASTERLIST

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung vampire au #taehyung vampire au #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader angst #kim taehyung x reader smut #kim taehyung x reader fluff #kim taehyung angst imagine #kim taehyung imagine angst #kim taehyung smut imagine #kim taehyung imagine smut #kim taehyung fluff imagine #kim taehyung imagine fluff #kim taehyung x reader vampire au #taehyung x reader angst #taehyung x reader fluff #taehyung x reader smut #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut imagine #taehyung imagine smut #taehyung angst imagine #taehyung imagine angst #taehyung fluff imagine #taehyung imagine fluff #bts vampire au

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 18 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none for this chapter a/n: just two more chapters left to the end !! :D taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​ @hcwurld​​ ← previous chapter || next chapter →​​

Doyoung’s favorite drink is caramel coffee.

He doesn’t like it hot—you recall him mentioning, he prefers it iced, and he finishes it so fast that the cubes don’t melt and condensation doesn’t drip off the sides of the plastic cup.

So you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at this very café. Especially since it is his spot, but it also shouldn’t be news to you when you’ve come here everyday for the past two weeks in hopes of running into him.

You wonder how he’s been doing. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him; forever ago since you saw him with that girl Karina, and you’re curious if he thinks about you as often as you think about him. He’s on your mind daily, sometimes by the hour depending on what you’re doing, and he feels like a drug you can’t quite quit (despite the shortage of time you’ve done fine without him).

And you admit willingly that your feelings for him come rushing back the moment you see that pretty smile dressed upon his lips when he laughs from his chest at the video his friend shows on his phone.

But you continue to sit in the corner of the shop, face behind your device as if you’re immersed in the technology when you’ve got your eyes on him the entire time.

Instagram doesn’t do justice. You never know what he’s really up to, you learn, because his feed only shows the happy pictures he poses for. But his stories—you stay for that. There’s some nights you’d catch him posting something with a scenery, a little heartfelt description written along the horizon, and it gives you a glimpse of how he’s vaguely feeling. Maybe they’re for you, well, you were hoping they were, but for a guy who isn’t the greatest in the romance department, he’s very artistic, so it wouldn’t be surprising if it weren’t for you.

Maybe it was for Karina.

Okay, there might be a slight chance that you were bitter about that chick. She hung out with Doyoung often, from what you speculate, possibly involved in the same friend group, having mutuals together (which, already is how she’s so different from you). She roughly reminds you of that emotion that runs through your veins when you first saw Doyoung talking to Joy; that clenched jaw, tightened fist, and a deep swallow to push down all your anger. Joy was just a friend, and you eventually learned that without having to go the hard route, but Karina… didn’t give you any reason to believe her friendly motives. But Doyoung isn’t yours, you have to remind yourself, and because he isn’t, there’s no need to get upset.

For one, the times you followed (don’t judge, you missed him but didn’t want to approach him if he wasn’t ready) him, Karina always stuck to Doyoung like glue. She was practically joined by the hip; batting her pretty long lashes, cheeks brushed with that coral pink blush like she’s all embarrassed because sweet boy Doyoung accidentally touched the back of her hand, and whenever she got the chance, she’d hold onto his arm tightly, pretending that she couldn’t catch her balance in those Ultraboost sneakers that were basically socks on a sole with no support.

“Ugh, you always do this,” one of his friends says, loud enough that you could hear from where you’re sitting. “How do you manage to beat me every time?”

“I learned the tricks,” Doyoung retorts, voice stable but his face all smug. “Doesn’t look like you did though.”

The other guy rolls his eyes before tossing his phone onto the table. “Forget that dumb game. I’m actually curious about something,” he begins, leaning over with his forearms pressed against the surface. There’s a mischievous smile that tugs on the ends of his mouth, and you rest back in your seat in curiosity when his tone changes. “You and Karina. What are the two of you?”

You nearly snap the pen you’d been fiddling in your hand.

Fucking Karina. Again. This bitch just keeps being brought up, doesn’t she?

Doyoung shifts in his seat, hands with his phone dropping onto his lap. A brow quirks, narrowing a strange gaze at his friend. “Why are you asking?”

“Mmm, heard there’s rumors going around about Karina liking you.”

“And,” Doyoung takes a sip of his iced coffee. “Why’s that matter?”

The friend clicks his tongue, groaning that Doyoung isn’t picking up the not-so-subtle hints. “Because. Have you seen her? Or are you just blind. She’s smokin’ hot like… literally any guy would want to get with her. And you too, which is kinda crazy—”

“—is it impossible to believe that someone attractive can like me?”

“I mean, no offense Doyoung, you don’t exactly look like the type that would sweep those types of girls off their feet. You spent most of the time indoors! Watching movies, playing games, maybe sometimes you go out to clubs and parties but barely and it’s with our geeky friends. Even I can come to terms that I’m a geek. Jocks or bad boys are what she would be into.”

Doyoung sighs. “Where are you going with this?”

“You should date her. Since, you know, you have that chance.”

He shrugs, bending the straw of his drink like he’s occupied with something else that’s going on in his mind. He’s quieter than usual, especially around a friend, and it’s left you pondering what’s got him so tied up. But then, you hear it.

“I’m waiting for someone.”

His guy scoffs in belief. “You’re waiting for someone. Who? That chick you were having friends with benefits with like a year ago? Dude, she was also out of your league. Rode a motorcycle, didn’t talk to anyone, hot, and somehow you got her attention. But dude, she’s been gone for a while now.”

Doyoung purses his lips. “Told her to come to me whenever she’s ready. Karina and I don’t really have something like… that. Not worth dropping the chances of her coming back and seeing me with Karina.”

“She’s got you that bad?”

A soft smile pulls on his lips, and he nods confidently. “Yeah, she does.”

When Doyoung and his friend pack up their bags to leave, he halts in his tracks. “Actually, you head out first. I’ll meet you later tonight, I won’t be going to the pre-game.”

The latter stares at Doyoung suspiciously. “Really? What’s up with you? Thought you said you were tagging along.”

“Yeah but… I gotta do something real quick. I’ll meet up with you.”

Strange, you think to yourself, because Doyoung seemed like he was going to leave too, until that very last second. Then, you notice something. When his friend leaves through those double doors, he turns and looks directly at you.

At you. Like he sees you.

You’re not a ghost, but you’re pretty good at camouflaging yourself with a crowd. You’re not the prettiest nor the ugliest, so being average has an advantage in this field, but Doyoung isn’t like normal people. He sees you, and even though you’re in a black baseball cap with casual clothes to match, he still can spot you in a sea of people.

“You’re here,” he says, his tone between a question and a statement. Part of you expects him to be angry, fuming with rage because you’re here instead of asking him to meet up. “You’re… actually here.”

“I’m surprised you found me,” you retort, standing up from your seat and gathering up your belongings. “I thought I was good at blending with people.”

“I’m in love with you, you expect me to not see the girl I’m head over heels for?”

You pause.

Bag not even slung over your shoulder, your heart does the complete opposite of your motions and races. He what?

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Doyoung straightens his posture, trying his best to read the expression on your face. “Why… Why haven’t you called or reached out? Were you not ready until now?”

“I thought… you had a girlfriend,” you admitted, and truthfully, you’re not sure how Doyoung manages to get you to spill out your insecurities so easily. His eyes widened, and before he could say anything else, you interrupt his train of thought. “But that was months ago. It’s fine. I trained, and I’m back in the field, and I wanted to see how you were doing, that's all.”

“But you didn’t want to call me?”

You clear your throat, drifting your gaze elsewhere. “Like I said before. Thought you had a girlfriend. I don’t want to interfere with anything in your life that could be normal.”

He has a finger on your chin, directing your attention back to him. Your heart skips a beat this time, air sucked out of your lungs from his stare, and you swallow. “I waited for you, though. If you’re ready to come back, please come back. I have never dated anyone since I left your place, and I don’t intend to either. I made a promise and I’m keeping it.”

You hated reporting here.

There’s something ominous about this warehouse; it’s not just the people who occupy it, but it’s the building itself. Outside, it looks like an abandoned stone mill. Worn down walls, windows shattered, and located in a dangerous neighborhood, secluded from all the up-and-coming buildings that are being constructed a couple blocks down. The cars that came for drop off didn’t come here either, so it made the building even more mysterious and seemingly empty.

But the moment you stepped in the front doors—it’s like a factory.

A factory that manufactured everything from guns, grenades, to bombs, and so on. Everything that you wore on missions, everything you held between your fingertips, and everything you utilized in the field were all made here.

The headquarters.

Upon entering, you had to go through security. Guns are to be logged in, identities are checked through the system, quick but yet thorough pat down, and phones are chipped until you leave the premises. Needless to say, they were careful and even someone like you with so much skill and worthiness cannot go undetected here.

“Boss is asking for you.” A gorgeous girl says, clipboard in her arms. She’s got her hair tied in a low bun, glasses on with thick frames, and a pencil skirt to pair with her white blouse.

“I asked for boss, but yeah, that.”

She nods, bowing her head just slightly and you’re wondering how she even got in this field. Shy, quiet, and fragile, she seems, and you wonder if she knows what’s actually happening around here. “Please follow me.”

She takes you down a narrow hallway, far from where the other workers were posted, and takes you through these metal doors that looked too heavy for her to push, but the guards standing by the sides do it for her instead.

“Head on in. He’s waiting.”

“Right,” you gesture her a head nod in thanks.

Taeyong is seated at his desk, two additional guards standing on either side of the wood, and he’s fidgeting with the pen in his hand. “Lookie here. Our star player. Ten’s little sister. What do I owe the honor?”

“I want out.”

#doyoung fanfic #nct fanfic #doyoung smut #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #gyukultfics #idk what to tag these anymore

[nuoyipeach]

Let's Play Ball

Ko Eun X Mark Lee

feat: Universe line

Eun never had much interest in baseball (if any at all), hence never attending the games at her university despite Herin always pushing her for company.

And something she definitely wanted to avoid during her prime uni days were the boys, specifically the ones from the baseball team/club. She's seen how flirty they were, and in her view slightly annoying too. Though there was one who caught her eye only because they shared the same biology class. She could tell he was a player by the jacket he wore, but the second he spoke to her had her questioning if he was really in the team, or just borrowing a friend's jacket.

"Excuse me..." she looked up at the guy who came to her table. "I missed class last week, and you're, uhm... well, no one else seems to have the full notes. Could I borrow yours please?"

Eun was a bit thrown off, knowing her classmates wouldn't be that bad to not take down their lectures. She simply blinked a few times, but seeing his pleading eyes she gave in, reaching into her bag and pulling out last weeks papers.

"Make sure they're in good condition when you give them back." she warned. The boy smiled and nodded.

"Of course! Thank you so much. My name is Mark by the way." he extended his free hand after taking the notes in one, but she already looked away. He chuckled awkwardly and backed away, thanking her again before going back to his place.

Who would have thought this cute guy would end up being the one holding her hand, cuddling her in the cold rooms, kissing her cheeks when saying goodbye, and her most favourite, laying on her lap as they spent time together in her apartment.

"Why won't you come to my practices?" Mark pouted looking up at Eun. Her hand unconsciously played with his hair while she focused on her favourite show, her eyes darting down to him for a second before she shrugged.

"I don't like them, the team I mean. They're so cocky."

"Hey!" he whined, making her laugh. She sometimes forgets her cute, humble, loving boyfriend was also part of that cocky team.

"Well not you, but I've seen the rest. Like that guy, his surname's Kim? He's so mean."

Mark chuckled, taking her free hand to play with her fingers. "Actually Doyoung hyung is the same as you. He hates people disturbing him. If you've encountered him to say he's mean, he was probably worried about getting something done."

Eun nodded blankly, remembering another incident. "Well, there's another guy who I remember asked me for a pen, but he just pointed to it, no words. He's playing with you guys too."

Mark wondered who she meant, before chuckling again. "Does he have a small cute face?" she nodded. "That's Shotaro, he's a transfer from Japan, and just started speaking fluently with us. He probably didn't know how else to ask."

Eun sighed, defeated again, when she remembered one more. "How about that one guy who's always coming into our English class and flirting? He's always wearing the team jacket, it's nameless though."

Hearing that Mark's smile disappeared, his face replaced by a tired expression. He turned onto his side, face facing her tummy, and held her hand close to his lips, her other one back in his hair.

"Don't mind them. They don't have named jackets 'cause they're not even players, they just join the club to look cool, end up doing backup work like cleaning after us."

His silence wasn't of disappointment, Eun knew he slowly goes quiet whenever he was tired, which he was considering he had just returned from another practice earlier that evening. Staring down at him, she continued brushing through his hair as she watched his eyes close, his hand still holding hers, and thought about what he said.

Maybe she should give them a chance. They are his friends after all, and he was probably right. So the following practice playoffs, Eun snuck into the field and sat aside watching them play. She didn't tell her boyfriend she was coming, figuring it would be best for his focus (especially after noticing how he often gets distracted staring at her during their study sessions).

Despite the game boring her, Eun found interest in watching them practice noticing how seriously they were actually taking it. She had never seen Mark be so focused before, as if it was a real game, which she admitted to herself it was pretty attractive.

"Hey." she turned hearing a voice and noticed a group of girls standing next to her. "We're here to watch too. Mind if we sit?"

Eun shook her head and motioned them to join her, and the five girls took their seats. She went back to watching the boys play, when she couldn't help overhear their conversation.

"They look so cool. It's a shame they don't have girlfriends, look at player Na over there!"

"I heard their assholes though, that's why no one lasts with them."

"Right? I heard player Liu didn't show up for a date and didn't even tell her. Then proceeded to ignore her, poor girl."

"Why can't they let our guys play? It's so unfair."

Feeling uncomfortable, Eun tried her best to ignore their words and focus of her boyfriend getting ready to bat for the final throws, when she heard his name.

"I heard player Lee, the Canadian one, invited three girls to the same date in his own house, and didn't even feel bad about it."

Now she lost it. Eun may have been quite negative about the team, but knowing Mark from class she knew he was never like that. She never thought of any of them to be that bad, but realised now she would have almost fell prey to these rumours too if it wasn't for dating Mark.

Having enough of the girls talking, she decided to make a move and prove them wrong. Mark hit his final ball, a home run, and she stood up cheering for him. Of course it took him by shock, the others as well though some immediately laughed at him, but he was smiling shyly as she made way down the field to meet him. He walked up to her as well, even more shocked by the sudden short kiss.

"I should come more, you looked so hot just now." she teased, hands around his waist same as him around her. Mark chuckled shyly, his ears turning read.

"Oooh hoho! Mark hyung is getting shy!" the couple turned to see an orange haired boy say, who Eun recognised as Na Jaemin. "So you're the girlfriend who he's so obsessed with. Hello noona, I'm Jaemin." he smiled widely, reaching out to shake her hand. Eun hesitated but smiled back, shaking his hand.

"OK that's enough PDA please." she turned and recognised the guy Mark told her about, Doyoung. "Minhyung head to the showers. Oh I'm Doyoung by the way."

"I know, heard about you."

The other players awed at the sudden tension between Eun and their team captain, some even getting excited to see him being answered back to in such a sassy manner. Doyoung simply cleared his throat before ushering them away, Mark kissing her cheek, her promising to wait for him outside the field.

As she waited for her boyfriend to shower and come out, the same group of girls appeared. She could see them talking she pointing to her, when one of them walked up.

"Hi. So, are you Mark Lee's girlfriend?" Eun nodded. "I see... How long?"

"Six months I think? You lose track of time really with someone like him." she replied with a smile. The girl looked back at her friends, when another one of them came up to her.

"How are you so sure he's not using you? You know how the playing team is..."

"I do actually." Eun responded standing up, her tone more strict this time. "They're just guys who don't care about publicity. Think about it, you didn't even know I was Mark's girlfriend until today. Would a guy using girls for fun keep it that much of a secret that the rest of the club wouldn't even know? Besides, have you ever actually seen or met the people the rest of the girls they supposedly played with? Or are you just believing whatever you hear?"

The girls were silenced at this, and Eun turned around to leave when she noticed another player standing at the exit smiling at her. Deciding which was best, she made way towards him as he waved.

"I'm Yangyang. And I definitely owe you one for defending us like that." he put out his hand, which she accepted and he shook excitedly. "I bet Mark already told you about the club members, but he doesn't know how they also spread rumours about us just because we don't include them in our outings. Like, just because you're a member doesn't mean you get to work around actual games, it's completely different when you're playing tournaments against other unis."

Eun nodded, she understood what he meant considering she goes through the same with their Performance club. She smiled sympathetically at him, when Yangyang's eyes suddenly drifted to behind her, and he tugged her arm pulling her behind him. She steadied herself and saw, the girls coming their way.

With their boyfriends.

"Hey Liu, found yourself another one?" one of the men asked, to which Yangyang scowled, Eun rolling her eyes. "Why don't you join us for lunch afterwards miss?"

"Sorry but the miss will be busy with her boyfriend taking her on a date alone."

All heads turned, Eun smiling brightly as she skipped towards Mark, pecking his lips in greeting. Again his ears blushed, but his anger towards the guys talking to her remained as he turned back towards them.

"If you're done showing off, go practice some hits. Don't go crying next semester when you don't make it to the team again because you were too busy drinking the night before tryouts."

Eun and Yangyang held in their laughs as some of the girls scowled at Mark, while some who they recognised as first years stared at the guys in shock. They soon went away, Yangyang raising his hand for a high five with Mark before leaving the couple alone.

Eun simply stared at her boyfriend, who finally turned to her with a sheepish smile. "Sorry you had to see that. I guess it's best you don't come to watch anymore." he said dejectedly. But to his surprise, she stepped closer wrapping her hands around his neck, bringing their lips close just enough to touch.

"I kinda like it when you're angry, it's hot. And what kind of girlfriend would I be not showing up to support her boyfriend." she whispered before capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Mark's eyes widened and his hands grabbed at her waist. He would respond, but the public setting wasn't something he was up for, especially knowing Doyoung could come out anytime and scold them for PDA again.

Eun knew this and chuckled as she pulled away. "So, let's go on that date you mentioned, then we can go to my place." her hands smoothed down to his biceps which she gave squeezes to. "A body like this deserves extra care."

"Jesus!" Mark exclaimed moving away, getting more and more shocked by her sudden bold advances. "What's with you? Is it PMS... can't be that, you just had it a week ago, right?" he blabbered nervously, looking at her in worry.

Eun could only laugh, pulling him into another hug, chin rested on his chest as she stared up at him. "I just never saw you so serious and focused before, it's hot. You've always been so cute with me." she laid her head against his chest now, Mark's arms snaking around her too as he chuckled into her hair.

"There's no reason for me to be mad when I'm with you. You make me the happiest."

>>>

The day of the tournament came, their university against a visiting team from the next town. Eun sat in front row, despite Mark letting her take seat at their bench, because she didn't want to take away his focus and so hid amongst the crowd.

Two other girls sat next to her, who she found out within the past few days were Jeno and Yangyang's girlfriends, Hina and Aeri. She got to know them more throughout the practice days and found them to be really sweet girls. They dated the players longer than Eun had, which shocked her even more considering nobody knew about them, but just like Mark the other two didn't want their girlfriends to be the center of unwanted attention.

The game went on, everyone on their toes as their home team were doing amazing as always. Eun couldn't hide her smile and proud face seeing Mark complete a whole round, then proceed to finish the game off with a home run. The whole team lifted him into the air as everybody cheered, and that's when something came up in her mind.

All the I love you Mark shouts bothered her, and she knew she was never one to get jealous, but they still did. She looked around and saw all the people chanting his name, then back at Mark who smiled waving to them.

He was amazing. Maybe a little too amazing.

Quietly Eun snuck away, but Mark was definitely not one to miss it. He quickly followed leaving everyone else behind, and caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asked worriedly, holding both her hands after noticing her sullen face.

She forced herself to smile. "You won, I'm proud of you. But, so is everyone else..." her voice softened as she looked down. "You don't need me holding you back from all that out there. You have all the love you need from the fans. How am I to compete with that?"

He lifted her face up with one hand and smashed his lips onto hers for a passionate kiss, and of course she couldn't not respond. He pulled away but remained close to her.

"You don't have to compete with them. This team won't last forever you know, but my life with my friends and you will. When I'm out during final year, who else is going to keep loving me but you? You didn't even care about baseball until I came along into your life, frankly I've been scared that you'd leave me because you hated the attention from it." his arms snaked around her waist pulling her body closer to his own, pressing their foreheads together.

"You’re my world, my universe." he whispered smiling. "The only reason I win is because with you I can do anything. I may have gotten the university their victory and became their star, but you’re my star, my victory. I know that if I lost, you'd still be the one cheering me on."

Eun was smiling as they closed their lips together for another kiss. They pulled away when Mark continued.

"You know, today was actually my last game." her smile dropped hearing him. "We start final year after the summer break, and I won't have time to work on my thesis while playing, and neither will the others."

>>>

A small celebratory party was held between the playing team at a barbecue restaurant. They cheered and laughed and shared many stories about practice sessions, Yangyang claiming his favourite was when Mark came out to protect his girlfriend, getting the said player a lot of teasing woos. Of course his ears reddened especially in his drunk state.

"OK, I think it's time to get this big baby home." Eun chuckled as her boyfriend hugged her on the couch, snuggling his face into her neck in embarrassment. She pushed him off gently and stood up before pulling him up with her.

She said her byes to everyone and left with Mark hanging from her shoulder, got him in his car somehow and drove it herself back to his apartment. He was already half unconscious by the time they reached, and Eun could only mutter under her breath reminding herself that she shouldn't leave the man she loves as she dragged him through the building.

Finally reaching his room, she dropped him on his bed and decided to help undress him out of his outdoor clothes at least. She reached to pull off his shirt when Mark suddenly grabbed her hands stopping her.

"Don't touch me!" he half yelled. "I will know my girlfriend screw you up will she!" he slurred out.

It was funny, but Eun was so tired she simply pushed his hands off and slapped his chest. "Stupid, I am your girlfriend, who's trying to get you into bed, now shut up and listen will you!"

Mark's eyes opened wide as she continued her task, staring at her blankly. "Wow..." he muttered softly as she started putting a t-shirt on him. "Are you really?"

"Yes mister, we've been dating for 7 months already, get a grip. This is the last time I'm letting you get drunk ever. And Donghyuck is gonna get it from me for sure." she grumbled on angrily as she changed into one of his shirts too, then getting back to bed and pulling him under the covers before joining him. "Now sleep, I'm tired." she grumbled, though her actions seemed so contradict her anger as she snuggled into his side, arm hugging around his chest tight.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Mark woke up from his drunk sleep, still tired and groggy, but couldn't fight the smile on his face seeing her relaxed sleeping figure. Their positions had shifted and he was now on his side holding her close while she faced him, his chest to be more precise, laying her head on his arm.

He rubbed her scalp gently, causing her to shift around and throw her arm around his torso, then becoming still again. He couldn't be any happier, he felt like he was complete. As sleep slowly clouded his mind again, he laid a final kiss on her forehead.

"My destiny." he whispered. "My ace making me move. My universe. You're my biggest win, nothings gonna stop us now."

>>>

hope you enjoyed it💕

#nct #smrookies #nct127 #nct dream #mark lee #nct mark #koeun #srg koeun #ko eun #nct fluff #nct fanfic #kpop fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #nct let's play ball #nct 2021 #nct universe #magutokki #markoeun

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2  ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending. 

With infidelity, its never black and white. 

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

 And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective. 

So infidelity is also never one dimensional. 

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor. 

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time. 

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead. 

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed. 

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most. 

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows. 

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better. 

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating. 

It had been the drinking. 

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers. 

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness. 

 His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo. 

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....” 

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more  weight , to help him realize how  serious  the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his  life  if he somehow got behind a wheel someday. 

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time. 

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?”  ) 

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing. 

That was what I ended my marriage over. 

That was it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five. 

And then came the next part. 

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage. 

I felt like i was spiraling. 

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed. 

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile. 

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.” 

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce. 

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband. 

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was. 

It was hurt. 

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest . 

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened. 

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile. 

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document. 

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

 We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends. 

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending. 

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung . 

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out. 

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd. 

 Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom. 

And the worst part was this :   I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as  a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them. 

That even as my husband,  he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world. 

And I hated myself for it. 

What was wrong with me? 

Why was  I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

 And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!! 

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake? 

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there? 

 This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know. 

 I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy. 

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce.  ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce. 

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over. 

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels? 

And yet, 

This entire divorce  felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it. 

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again? 

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore? 

My head ached. 

 I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it. 

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?” 

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “  Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.” 

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees. 

I stared at him, stunned speechless. 

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed. 

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone, 

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat. 

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

 For ending my marriage of eight fucking years? 

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage,   I had. 

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually. 

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. . 

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out. 

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32 

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #taehyung fanfics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts fanfic