#with my non-existent bae

[starsstuddedsky]

Persimmon Problems

jaemin x reader

summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is

warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any

wc: 18.3k (oops)

a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)

You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink. 

There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.” 

You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.” 

“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”

“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture. 

It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try. 

Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead. 

“That looks like shit.” 

“Trust the process,” he says. 

“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?” 

“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?” 

“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit. 

“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved. 

“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?” 

“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag. 

“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack. 

“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.” 

“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?” 

You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.” 

“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically. 

Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.” 

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. 

“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him? 

“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic). 

Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?” 

“Yeah. How did you know that?” 

His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?” 

You don’t trust your voice so you nod. 

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all. 

“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does. 

You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back. 

Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush. 

The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can. 

By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break. 

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.” 

“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere. 

“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag. 

“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Music to my ears, sweetheart.” 

.

.

Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once. 

It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away. 

You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute. 

Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can. 

Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms. 

A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops. 

Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?). 

“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.” 

Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind. 

“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him. 

“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”

He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.” 

“You can just call me YN,” you mumble. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes. 

The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” 

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.” 

“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly. 

“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says. 

“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you. 

“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point. 

“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says. 

“Did you need a handshake?” 

He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed. 

“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else). 

“Advice?” 

“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?” 

“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.” 

You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?” 

“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets. 

President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position. 

“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at. 

“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council. 

“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder. 

“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?” 

Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him. 

“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.” 

He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.” 

“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse. 

“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.  

 But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy. 

You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone. 

“Are you following me?” 

Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.” 

“As opposed to by myself at the table?” 

He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.” 

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.” 

“You could–” 

“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you. 

“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?” 

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him. 

Jaemin pouts. “Why not?” 

“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.” 

“Not yet.” 

Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.” 

“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!” 

“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.” 

“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense. 

“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.” 

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.” 

“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you. 

What just happened? 

Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?” 

“Yes–wait, how do you know him?” 

Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.” 

You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss. 

“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun. 

“He wants to be president.” 

“Of student council?” 

“Apparently.” 

“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?” 

“Yep.” 

“Huh.” Jisung stares at you. 

“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!” 

Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear. 

.

.

For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up. 

[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin. 

You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you. 

Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety. 

You should have trusted your gut. 

You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance. 

In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester. 

You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.” 

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.” 

“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.” 

He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.” 

You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.  

Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?  

“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says. 

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other. 

Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on. 

“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper. 

Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.” 

“Are you even passing this class?” 

Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades. 

Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.

Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again. 

Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class. 

Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do. 

But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale. 

Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something. 

“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.” 

You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”

“I always do it!” Renjun says. 

“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.” 

“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.” 

“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.” 

Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you. 

“What do you normally do during break?” You ask. 

Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you. 

You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?” 

“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.” 

You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.” 

Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand. 

You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.” 

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would. 

He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.” 

“Really?” You frown. “Why?” 

“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.” 

“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.” 

Renjun raises his eyebrows. 

“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.” 

Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back. 

“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.” 

“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

.

.

Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you. 

So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone. 

“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?” 

“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you. 

Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.” 

“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.” 

“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen. 

The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop. 

A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.” 

“That’s so much work.” 

“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage. 

“You okay?” Chenle shouts. 

“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you. 

He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you. 

“So,” he says. 

You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?” 

“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did. 

“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him? 

“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.” 

“And if I ask you?” 

Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.” 

“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops. 

Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”

“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.” 

“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”

“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin. 

“I heard he’s running for president.” 

“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily. 

“Why are you helping him?” 

“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?” 

“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says. 

“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”

“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.” 

“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say. 

“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.” 

“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.” 

“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.” 

“You don’t have the power to do that.” 

He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?” 

You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!” 

Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises. 

He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing. 

“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room. 

You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out. 

You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning. 

[Na Jaemin] you busy? 

.

.

For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes. 

You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications. 

Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait. 

But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications. 

The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not. 

You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call. 

“Hello?” 

“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.” 

“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.” 

Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?” 

You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it. 

“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.” 

You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?” 

“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.” 

“Don’t you have a lab partner?” 

“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.” 

“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach. 

“So are you free?” 

Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now. 

“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?” 

“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?” 

“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.” 

“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.” 

“Bye, Jaemin.” 

The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate. 

.

.

Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way! 

Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med. 

Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up. 

The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage. 

“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?” 

“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!” 

You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene. 

“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!” 

“Well, you’re not physically possible!” 

“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.” 

“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle. 

“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it. 

Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops. 

“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.” 

“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.” 

Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.” 

“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications. 

[Na Jaemin] in the library  [Na Jaemin] lost in the library  [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs 

[yn] need me to come find you? 

[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please) 

“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting. 

“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.” 

“Why?” 

Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?” 

“Is there any other?”  

“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.” 

“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation. 

“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”

“That’s not at all what I want.” 

“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.” 

“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly. 

He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever. 

“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more. 

[yn] on the way now 👍 

Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.” 

You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.” 

Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought. 

Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies). 

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone. 

“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.” 

“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness. 

[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪

[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥

[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼

You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.” 

Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.” 

“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.” 

“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.” 

You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering. 

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.” 

“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work. 

“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for. 

“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.” 

“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly. 

“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.” 

“How come?” 

“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.” 

“Fresh-tern?” 

“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not. 

“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.” 

“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says. 

“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?” 

He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.” 

You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him? 

You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash. 

“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information. 

Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.” 

“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.” 

“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes. 

“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.” 

“None of you are poli-sci?” 

“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.” 

“You really hate them?” 

“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory. 

“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.” 

“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?” 

“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.” 

“No!” 

“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.” 

“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you. 

Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it. 

You eye him. “Do you even need these?” 

“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile. 

.

.

“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there. 

That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot. 

“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots. 

At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces. 

 “What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts. 

“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts. 

“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout. 

“To the grave!” Renjun shouts. 

“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’” 

“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol. 

“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”  

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?” 

“Professor Ahn,” she says. 

“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.” 

She smiles even wider. “Really?” 

You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge. 

The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name. 

Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute. 

You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave. 

Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards. 

You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms. 

“Jaemin.” You grin at him. 

He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”  

“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny. 

But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips. 

Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.” 

You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.” 

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee. 

You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.” 

He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?” 

“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting. 

Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers. 

Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways. 

Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world. 

Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side. 

“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word. 

Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass. 

“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone. 

Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.” 

You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round. 

Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps. 

Yeah, you’re definitely staring. 

Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist. 

“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music. 

You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.” 

Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?” 

“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free. 

He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk. 

The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty. 

Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away. 

The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights. 

You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back. 

The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from? 

So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters. 

Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.” 

“Do you know what persimmons taste like?” 

“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked. 

“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out. 

He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something. 

“You feeling okay?” 

It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.” 

Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?” 

“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.” 

“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?” 

“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.” 

“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?” 

“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like? 

“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it. 

“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?” 

You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.” 

Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?” 

“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry. 

“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.” 

You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?” 

Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost. 

“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up. 

“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says. 

“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?” 

“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?” 

You shrug. “It’s fun.” 

“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries. 

“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!” 

Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves. 

Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all. 

He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?

“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.” 

“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes? 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.” 

You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard. 

The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too. 

“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it. 

“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined. 

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?” 

“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.” 

“And you?” 

“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he. 

“Take me home?” 

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.” 

You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling. 

The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he says. 

No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his. 

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?” 

He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.” 

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.

Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed. 

“I don’t normally have company,” you explain. 

“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?” 

You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.” 

“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear. 

You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total. 

“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.” 

“The one in red?” 

You nod. 

Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit. 

Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it. 

You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him. 

He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest. 

Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily. 

“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.” 

You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?” 

Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it. 

He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?” 

.

.

[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up  [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3 

You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been. 

No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours. 

Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin. 

“Hey,” Renjun says. 

“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching. 

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.” 

“And how’s Donghyuck doing?” 

“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.” 

You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.” 

“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.” 

“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen. 

Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time. 

An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up. 

“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila. 

“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.” 

“Do you want toast?” You offer. 

He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely. 

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”

“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?” 

“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face. 

“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small. 

He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen. 

1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first 

2) he pretended not to know you were running 

3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone 

4) he never belonged in your world 

The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand. 

Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful. 

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.” 

“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late. 

“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute. 

“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.” 

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.” 

“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?” 

“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.” 

You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.” 

“Okay, I’m not understanding.” 

“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”

“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.” 

“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.

“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?” 

“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.” 

“That would be too easy,” you mutter. 

Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.” 

“That’s what you said last time,” you say. 

“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.” 

You snort. 

“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.” 

You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?” 

Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.” 

You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart. 

It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start. 

Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart. 

“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–” 

“Did you know that I was running for president?” 

Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”

“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white. 

He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.” 

“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.” 

Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob. 

.

.

Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat. 

.

.

Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out. 

But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all. 

And today, Chenle got a puppy. 

She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet. 

“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed. 

“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly. 

“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!” 

“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.” 

“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!” 

“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!” 

You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?” 

He shrugs. “She’s really cute.” 

“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head. 

“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.” 

“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand. 

“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter. 

Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.” 

“What are you talking about?” You eye him. 

“How was the sex?” 

“You’re seriously asking me that?” 

He shrugs. “Well, yeah.” 

You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.” 

Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.” 

“That’s not at all what I said.” 

“And yet you’re not denying it.” 

“Please shut the fuck up.” 

For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you. 

“Just tell me.” 

Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.” 

“Of school?” 

He rolls his eyes. “The election.” 

You stare at him. “Seriously?” 

“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email. 

“But it doesn’t make any sense.” 

Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?” 

You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze. 

“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?” 

“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.” 

You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain. 

“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’” 

Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize. 

And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming. 

.

.

How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol. 

“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?” 

“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.” 

Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!” 

Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung. 

“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says. 

“You better be fun, then,” you say. 

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in. 

The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines. 

When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this. 

You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go. 

He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing. 

“Hi,” you say. 

He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?” 

An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?” 

He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?” 

You shake your head.  

“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest. 

When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you. 

But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.” 

He nods slowly. 

“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.” 

Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?” 

“Do you?” 

He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you. 

“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me. 

“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.” 

Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.” 

He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?” 

You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy. 

“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.” 

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.” 

“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his. 

“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?” 

“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.” 

He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.” 

You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?” 

“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.” 

You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.” 

“They really don’t like me,” he says. 

You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist. 

“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask. 

He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

.

.

You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s). 

Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound. 

You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.” 

“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist. 

“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.” 

“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek. 

“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.  

“Good answer,” you say. 

He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.” 

“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?” 

He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.” 

He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early. 

“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball. 

“A persimmon?” 

“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.” 

You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding. 

“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says. 

“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.” 

He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.” 

“Jay-Z?”

“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.” 

You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.” 

“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?” 

Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him. 

“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.” 

thank you for reading!

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin #na jaemin #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 2

Propaganda Under Cut

Annabeth Chase

I feel like fandom is kinda split on her with percabeth shippers loving her but any m/m shipper I've seen does not like her, really. She is my bae tho <3

Percabeth antis grind my gears so much because they never hate Percy, nono, even though he's arguably done more questionable stuff than Annabeth. Not everyone who hates her is doing so because of a mlm ship— the Perachel stans claim that Annabeth is a misogynist. However, basically everyone that isn't trying to ship her boyfriend with Rachel is trying to ship him with Jason, Nico, or her old friend Luke. They make her out to be this horrible abusive girlboss(derogatory) that she's simply... not. She doesn't insult Percy for having ADHD just because she's highly intelligent. She doesn't physically abuse him, and doesn't lay a finger on him outside of training. She's really devoted to him in a non-anti-feminist way. They just hate her for 'getting in the way' of Nico's convoluted attraction to Percy, or Jason's close friendship with him, or Luke's rivalry with him. But those relationships all flourish the way they were intended by the author: non-romantically. It's not Annabeth's fault for being intelligent or capable or jokingly snide or determined or any of those non-stereotypically-feminine qualities. She's just out here existing and people hate her for not being a man. Sorry for the rant.

She's canonically in a relationship with Percy Jackson for most of the books they're in, but he often gets paired in canon with other male characters, such as Nico di Angelo or Jason Grace. In fan fiction (especially yaoi focused ones) she's characterized as being a stuck up know it all, but she gets into plenty of shenanigans in canon and can be pretty goofy and sweet!

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

#poll #round 2 #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #annabeth chase #naruto #naruto shippuden #sakura haruno

[josephquinnswhore]

All It Takes

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: A close count with the infected has Joel forced to confront how he really feels about you.

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warning: Joel’s kinda mean I guess lol, reader has a breakdown.

Note: heheh. Hi, it’s been a while. For my bae @cool-iguana. Just a tiny fic to hurt my feelings lol. Angst, comfort, Joel realising he loves reader. Infected attack.

A split second was all it took for you to realise your mistake, one that was too late to rectify. Fuelled by a growing hunger, the type that created an ache so deep it felt as it the emptiness of your stomach had grown claws, digging it’s claws into the surrounding organs.

They suppose they could blame the weather for the mishap; the snowstorm they’d unexpectedly been caught in was unrelenting. It was harsh, bitter. The feeling of their fingertips and toes was non existent, the shivering and teeth chattering causing a complete sense of irritation that she couldn’t contain.

Their cold hands were barely holding onto the gun, the end of the freshly warmed barrel from firing a shot had a small bout of a cloud exit the end of the barrel. Realisation had set in barely seconds after their actions; one infected.

One loan runner the two of them could’ve easily taken down without any need for the use of a gun, they knew it was both a waste of ammunition and putting them in danger of alerting their location of raiders or nearby infected.

Dissociation is strange—it’s harrowing and exhausting. It drags you back into your mind to force you to relive your mistake, while the physical body completely unaware of the clicker that had been lurking in a nearby building, seemingly dormant until the fire had been shot.

It was close, too close. The smell of rotting flesh, the terrifying shrill and speed of the infected as it ran straight toward her as she froze. Never once had they frozen before, always composed, articulated and calm. They could almost feel the teeth of the ravenous monsters desperation, dying for something to sink into, the closest part of you being the exposed skin of their neck.

The way their mind had encapsulated that moment and forced the torment on them had almost cost them their life. Unable to process the traumatic events of how close it had been that your life had been taken; so viciously, so quickly and undeniably their own fault. They ignore the ache in their limbs, blood running as cold as their skin in the worsening snowstorm.

Joel had barely managed to save their life, had barely managed to pull out his large hunting knife and find the strength and mobility in his frozen, stiffened and arthritic fingers to push the blade into the creatures head to save your life.

He had yelled, but it had gone unanswered; the same emotionless expression on their face unnerved him, how distant their eyes seemed to be from him. So he took it in his own hands to physically drag you to a small cabin, trudging through the thick snow, struggling to pull your dead weight behind him before shoving you into the small house.

Joel doesn’t say a word to them, just runs his aching fingers through his greying and now, freezing hair, his ears an uncomfortable shade of beet red from being exposed to the cruel winter storm. He watches them; how disconnected they are from it all, from him.

But he still can’t find it in him to shake off the rage, to bury it so deeply inside of him he could act like it never happened, but it did which means it could happen again.

That made you a liability, to yourself.. and him. The thought stung him. It made his heart swell with an ache he hadn’t felt before, in fact it only fuelled his rage, his fear.

“The hell was that back there? You ain’t ever done nothin’ so damn stupid in your life!” His voice is tight and wound up, he can’t stop the words from escaping his chapped and purple lips.

“You know the rules, shit, woman. The hell’s wrong with you? You lookin’ for a damn death wish or somethin’, for the both of us.”

The growl of his voice was so raw, so truly agitated she couldn’t help but feel herself pulling away, evermore present in his lecture than before.

It starts with one tear that slips without you noticing, then two.. you doesn’t bother to count them as they fall, your waterline mimicking a leaking tap, their cheeks are the basin sink as they catch the water that drips down them. The only thing they can think of is the saltiness of the tears and Joel.. better yet his anger, rage.. disappointment.

“Are you goin’ to speak? What the hell do you have to say for ya’self?”

Another beat of silence, she can’t bring herself to reply, to accept what just happened.

“You’re a liability, can’t have ya comin’ out on patrols with me anymore. I’m talkin’ to Tommy first thing when we get back.” His voice is firm, but much softer and defeated.

A.. liability? Is that what Joel saw her as?

It starts as a small fracture in the facade you’re putting up, then it cracks more deeply, pieces crumbling around her by the second until it shatters to their own feet that stand on the cool, slightly rotten and moss grown hardwood floors.

He was right, that’s all they were. A liability, a failure, a disappointment.

Liability.

Failure.

Disappointment.

Repeat. Liability, failure, disappointment.

You want to scream, to beg, to apologise, all that comes out is the choked up breathless and completely broken sob from your wet mouth. It catches his attention, how far you’d broken down, he hadn’t ever seen you like this before, so vulnerable, so weak. Perhaps he had been to harsh.

No. He knows he had, but he was scared—god he was scared shitless of losing you.

His long legs take large strides to get to you, two or three until he’s knelt down beside you, his large arms pulling you into his lap, rocking your trembling body back and forth, trying to offer some comfort after the grief he’d caused you.

He should’ve been gentler, kinder. As he was now, his large fingertips finding solace in her scalp, massaging small shapes as he plays with their hair, brushing it out of their face. As he looks down without obstruction from their hair, the sight breaks him, his small sweetheart curled up in his lap, lip wobbling and face red and swollen from crying.

You needed comfort, not reprimand.

“I-I’m.. s-so sor-ry Joel..” the crack in your voice is like a splintering dagger filled in acid straight into his heart, cracking his ribs and puncturing his lungs, leaving him breathless for a moment, guilty.

“Shh sweetheart, just let me hold you. I’ve got you, you’re safe with me.. I’ll always keep you safe, as long as you’re by my side.”

There was a tenderness in his voice, a sincerity that he had never shown before, he had a second chance and he wasn’t about to let that go to waste.

“I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re everything to me.” The mumble was half faded in the sound of blood rushing to your ears, but relaxed a bit in his arms as she understood what he was telling you.

I love you. I won’t let you go. I’ve got you.

You weren’t okay, not right now. But you would be.

#Joel miller #Joel miller fic #Joel miller angst #Joel miller comfort #Joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #tlou

[deobienthusiast]

be my only one | jacob bae

• pairing: ex!jacob x gn!reader

• word count: 3.7k words

• genre: exes to lovers, angst, fluff, non-idol jacob, non-idol tbz members, there is also a mention of non idol joshua because why not🤷🏾‍♀️

• rating: PG

• warnings: jacob makes the executive decisions in that make him and reader sad, the sad parts are pretty sad guys, BUT IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!!!!, make out sesh also

• tagging: @deoboyznet

• notes: based off of leehi’s only (love that song so much! a favorite of mine) ex jacob trying to rekindle the flame with the only person he wants to be with! WELL WE LOVE THAT!!!!! i didn’t bother to have anyone beta read this because i feel as though we’ve collectively all waited long enough as a group. BANNA BANNA BY @daemour (thank you so much love🩵) THE ENDING IS SO FUCKING BAD OH MY GOD WHY AM I SO SHIT AT WRITING ENDINGS.

If Jacob had to pinpoint the exact moment his life went to shit, it would have to be when he lost you. You were his world, his life. Hell, Jacob would go as far as to say you made up his entire existence. There was no reason to go on if you weren’t there, no reason to wake up in the morning if he didn’t get to see you first. You were single-handedly the only reason Jacob continued on this planet. All the bullshit, violence, corruption, politics. He could ignore all of it when you were around.

To Jacob you were what the sun revolved around. Screw the solar system, screw space, screw NASA. The universe’s entire makeup was created specifically for you in his eyes.

Jacob only knew how to treat you like a delicate flower. He was the gentleman type. Constantly opening doors, lifting heavy objects, carrying the groceries in the house in one trip (which he was positive he could do each time until he tripped over one of his shoes the last time and face-planted). He wanted to be your knight in shining armor, and he was. Always coming to your rescue and supporting you in everything that you did. So, when you came to him that one day, almost three years into your relationship, to rave about getting the dream job opportunity you had been working so hard for, he was ecstatic. Jacob was so proud of you. This was what you had worked so hard for. All the late nights, plans canceled (something Jacob never let you feel bad about), the constant studying, numerous tests. It was all for this big moment.

The happiest moment of his life was finding out you were getting everything you wanted.

“I did it Cobie! I did it! I got the job.” You said excitedly, handing him the acceptance letter.

You were too caught up in your own excitement and emotions to notice Jacob’s dark eyes scaling the acceptance letter. He was particularly locked into the almost two year internship that would bring you across the ocean, away from your home, from your friends and family. More importantly, away from him. Jacob couldn’t be bothered to say anything. He would never want to take this moment from you, so he bit his tongue.

The next time you saw all your friends, you raved about the job opportunity, making everyone buzz with anticipation. They knew how hard you had worked, Jacob had kept them all filled in whether they liked it or not. Sangyeon suggested a party before you left to celebrate.

A going away party.

Jacob hated those words. He didn’t want you to go away, whether it was your dream job or not. He wanted you to stay with him forever. Jacob wanted to tell you that the job he had was enough to support the both of you. He worked hard so that you wouldn’t have to, but that would be selfish. That would make Jacob everything he’s really not. When it comes to you, though, he wants to be the most selfish person on the planet. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to you, and all the work you put into this.

The party came quickly. Jacob was heartbroken. Because the party meant you left quicker. You had noticed a change in his mood, the closer the party got. His attitude had changed so drastically that you hadn’t seen him in almost a week when the party arrived due to him staying with his friend Kevin. You weren’t sure what the issue was, why was the love of your life acting this way. You needed to talk to him about your leaving, you needed to reassure him everything was going to be okay. Jacob wasn’t giving you the opportunity, though.

Everyone arrived at yours around 6. Food, drinks, and lots of storytelling are what the night entailed, but it was hard to enjoy anything with your better half keeping a football field length distance between the two of you all night. Eventually, enough was enough. You watched two of your young neighbors pull Jacob into the kitchen to get him a drink, clearly trying to convince the older boy that alcohol will temporarily solve his bad mood. As you stood, you were stopped by Kevin.

“Jacob has been spending a lot of time at my place.” He said, leaning in close to speak into your ear so you’d be able to hear him over the bustling noise of your party.

You looked at the boy with sad eyes. “He won’t talk to me. I’m assuming this is because I’m leaving.”

“Can’t get anything past you, huh?” Kevin teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You frowned as you stepped away from him, heading towards the kitchen to hopefully rescue a sober Jacob before Sunwoo and Eric got him too plastered. This impending conversation would need to be done sober.

Jacob was in somewhat better spirits when you located him in the kitchen. He was sandwiched between the two boys, and they were all laughing about something, you weren’t sure what.

“Jacob,” You spoke softly, so softly that Sunwoo and Eric didn’t hear. Jacob did, though. He always did.

Jacob let his eyes slowly trail up and down your body. You always looked so effortlessly beautiful. He was so enamored with you, it wasn’t even funny. Your call out to him by his full name was a distress call. You were upset, you were bothered, and he was the cause of it. Jacob hated that. He hated making you upset. Jacob was a very sensible person, he wasn’t one to fret too easily on things. He was a very good communicator. So for him to leave you in the dark for days was uncharacteristic of him. He just needed time to process everything.

Jacob cleared his throat in a sign for the two younger boys to make themselves scarce in the kitchen. He was buzzing on account of the two shots they had managed to get into his system, but he was still sober enough to have a conversation with you. The conversation.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Stupid question. He knew the answer, so why ever ask.

Your eyes rushed to his, darting back and forth as a look of confusion crossed over your face. “Okay? Okay? Why would I be okay when my boyfriend has been avoiding me for a week?”

Jacob flinched at your frustrated tone. Your voice had raised just slightly, loud enough to echo off the white kitchen walls decorated with gold accents, but not loud enough to stop the party that was still going strong hours later.

“I just need time.” Jacob said quietly.

You shrugged, throwing your hands in the air in the process. “Time for what? Time to not talk about our feelings and process things together?”

Jacob sighed. “You’re leaving.”

“Which we knew would happen if I got the internship.” You countered.

“Yeah. But I was expecting like six months, not sixteen. You’re going to be gone for almost two years.” Jacob raised his voice this time.

Long gone was the boy you fell in love with. This was a whole new Jacob that clearly had formed in the week that he was avoiding you. His statement had filtered out of the kitchen, catching the ears of passerby’s. Some stopped by the kitchen doors to crack it open and eavesdrop. It was rare that the two of you fought, opting to keep any issues you had behind closed doors so this was new territory to your friends.

You chuckled to yourself. “Jacob, I didn’t know the internship was going to be that long. Nor did I know they would be sending me all the way across the globe. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am happy for you, but you can’t expect me to not be upset that the love of my life is going to be leaving.”

Tears began to prickle the corners of your eyes. You had never seen Jacob like this before, he had never spoken to you in such a stern tone. You weren’t sure what to do, but you just wanted to make him feel better.

“Okay, so I’ll give it up then. I won’t go. I wouldn’t be able to focus anyway if my boyfriend is heartbroken over the fact that I’m not with him.” You said.

By this time the music had stopped, people were listening in, or standing outside the now open kitchen door, watching.

“You don’t have to do that. And I won’t let you.” Jacob said.

Kevin had pushed his way through the crowd, almost knowing exactly what Jacob was going to say next, as he tried to stop the boy.

“I’m not going to let you give up your dream job for me. I would never let you do that.” Jacob began.

“Hey, maybe we should all just take a breather.” Kevin chimed in softly.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Jacob said quietly.

Your eyes widened at his statement. “What?”

Jacob looked down at his worn sneakers, the same ones you gifted him when you first started dating. The same sneakers you would always tell him you’d buy a new pair because no amount of washing was going to make them look better.

“I’m not letting you give this up for me. And if you won’t be able to focus knowing I won’t be able to function without you, then I’ll make the decision simple. No reason for you not to go if there isn’t a reason to stay.”

You took a step towards the boy, grabbing his hand as you sniffled. “Jacob, please. Don’t do this.”

Slowly, he pulled his hand from yours.

“It’s already done. Party’s over.”

That was the last thing Jacob had said to you before you left for your internship. He didn’t want to make the situation harder than it had to be, so he didn’t go with you to the airport. Your shared friends were not pleased by this. A final opportunity to see each other, and Jacob chose to let you leave on your own. No goodbye, no see you soon, no I love you. None of this was like Jacob, like your Jacob. You decided to just let bygones be bygones. You decided to suck it up, and you left.

The first few months were the hardest. You missed Jacob terribly. You avoided Chinese restaurants and frozen yogurt stores. Botanical gardens and zoos were a no go. Jacob felt the same way. Every little thing reminded him of you. What he didn’t realize was that eventually you became numb to the pain. You had to push on, even if you didn’t want to.

When you got your first promotion during your internship, you had to resist the overwhelming urge to call him. One because he was in a totally different timezone than Los Angeles, and two because you weren’t together anymore. You did call Kevin and Sangyeon, though. And they made sure to inform Jacob of your successes. Jacob couldn’t have been happier for you. Everything was working out for you. You updated Kevin and Sangyeon whenever you could on anything new and exciting while you were in the states. It became a habit to talk to them, and it was no longer because you knew they would tell Jacob. It was because you just wanted to tell someone about what’s going on. You made new friends, started going out again. From Jacob’s heard perspective, you were happy. That was good enough for him. Sort of.

The sixteen month internship went by fast. Before you knew it, it was time to come back home. Jacob had managed to make it an almost full two years without you. He clearly was not the same. He hid himself away, and didn't like going out with friends. It got to the point that Kevin and Sangyeon stopped updating him about you, because they refused to feel sorry for him anymore.

Jacob knew his friends well enough to know that they had been visiting you when you got back home. They probably weren’t telling him to spare his feelings, but he just wished they’d let him know how you were. He wanted to know everything. If you had changed, if you were going to go back to the states, if the internship was everything you had hoped it had been or more. He wanted, no, needed to see you. Thus came his chance.

“A party?” Jacob asked softly, staring down at the takeout Kevin had brought him.

Kevin shook his head with a shrug. “It’s more like a welcome home dinner. No heavy alcohol, no loud music. Just friends catching up with a friend. You should be there, Cob. We’d all want you there.”

Jacob looked up from his food. “We?”

Kevin nodded, giving Jacob a reassuring smile. “We.”

To say Jacob was nervous would be a vast understatement. He was pretty sure he was sweating from places he didn’t know he could sweat from. Everyone was already at the restaurant Kevin had picked for dinner. There was talking and laughing, hugging, some people notably crying. Jacob was greeted warmly by his friends, and for the first time in almost two years a genuine smile made its way to his face. He sat down next to Kevin, joining into the conversation before someone spoke.

“Look who’s here!”

Heads turned to the doorway of the back room everyone was in, and Jacob felt time stop. You looked ethereal, stunning. Your hair had grown. Your style had even changed, but you. You were still you. You still looked like you did when you left. A smile was adorning your round face. The bubbly pep in your step had Jacob smiling to himself. There was a slight flush on your face, most likely from the uncharacteristically warm weather outside. You were looking around, being pulled in every different direction imaginable by friends greeting you. That was until you saw him. When your eyes met, Jacob felt fireworks go off in his stomach. He had never felt so jittery in his life. It was like he had drunk the world's biggest and strongest red bull. A small smile made its way across your full lips as you lifted your hand, giving Jacob a small wave. Jacob returned it.

He stood up to greet you, ready to give you a hug and feel you in his arms again, but you were intercepted by Sunwoo and Eric. Jacob could only laugh. Of course the two youngest of your friends managed to get to you first. You let out a loud laugh as they tackled you, and butterflies bloomed in Jacob’s stomach this time. The sound of your laugh brought back so many memories that Jacob became glued to his spot. He watched the rest of your shared friends get up and greet you, hugging you tightly as if you’d dare to even leave again. It wasn’t until a tall figure appeared behind you that Jacob was eventually pulled back down to Earth. For the first time since you walked in the room all but five minutes ago, Jaocb’s eyes weren’t on you. Rather they were on the person, the man, who showed up behind you.

You stepped back from everyone and looked at the boy. He smiled at you before giving everyone else a smile as your friends warmly greeted him.

“This is Joshua! He was my roomie in the states. I figured I would bring him back so he could meet some of my favorite people.” You told everyone.

Jacob watched the way you two were looking at each other. He couldn’t read the look on your face, apparently you had gotten really good at masking your emotions while in the states. He was able to get a good read on Joshua’s face, though. The look he knew all too well, because he would give you the exact same look. You both managed to make your way through the sea of friends and sit at the large table set up for your party.

You ended up being seated right next to Jacob. Joshua sat across from you and was able to be bombarded by Kevin and your other friend Chanhee to tell his life story. This gave you an opportunity to give Jacob a look over before speaking.

“Hi Cobie.” You whispered softly.

As always, Jacob heard you. You could be a million miles away, and he would still hear you. You just had that effect on him.

He looked at you, finally getting an up close look and felt his breath catch in his throat. You looked perfect.

“Hi.”

A smile made its way to your face at the sound of his voice. “How have you been?”

Jacob smiled back. “I’ve been good.”

Jacob ended the conversation there, much to your dismay. He didn’t want to get into how he had been while you were gone. The truth is, he hadn’t been good at all. In fact, he had been an absolute wreck. He felt like he was trying to function without one of his limbs. He didn’t want to ruin your dinner, though.

The night went by smoothly. Everyone seemed to get along well with your friend, if that’s what he was that is. Jacob mainly kept to himself. Only getting a moment of silence when he excused himself to use the restroom. Kevin followed the boy, stopping him at the restroom door as he looked over Jacob.

“So are you two going to talk or just ignore each other the whole night?”

Jacob shook his head. “We have talked.”

Kevin scoffed. “That’s not what I meant. There are unresolved issues that need to be fixed. I’ll lock the both of you in the closest until they are.”

Jacob let out a sigh, knowing the boy was right. He sulked on the way back to the table, catching your eye in the process. He sat in silence for a moment, feeling your gaze on him. You let out a sigh before laying your hand on his arm.

“Maybe we should talk.”

Jacob looked at you as he nodded. You both stood up to excuse yourselves and headed for the entrance. When you both got outside, the silence of the dark night sky greeted you both. The moonlight cast shadows across your face that made your features pop. Jacob probably said this every time he saw you, but he was still convinced he had never seen you look more beautiful than you did in this moment.

“How were the states?” Jacob asked, breaking the silence first.

You smiled, turning to him as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “It was amazing. I learned so much. Made new friends, experienced new things. I missed home, though.”

Jacob nodded. “You missed your friends.”

A small nod followed his statement. “I missed you, Jacob.”

The boy could only look at you before finally letting it all out. “I’ve missed you. So much. You remember earlier you asked me how I was doing. I told you I’m doing okay, but the truth is, I’ve been absolutely terrible. I literally just got back into a healthy eating and sleeping routine again. When you went to the states, you took a piece of me with you. I never wanted to leave our, I mean, my apartment. I stayed inside all the time. I practically became a recluse. I turned down every offer to go out and spend time with friends. Kevin even tried inviting my family, but it was enough. I thought I would be able to handle ending our relationship. I would never want to hold you back and when you mentioned giving up your internship just to make me happy, I panicked. I was afraid you’d end up resenting me in the long run. I figured I might as well break up with you, because I knew you would leave. There would be nothing to keep you here.”

“You’re wrong.” You whispered.

Jacob gave you a confused look. “I am?”

You chuckled. “Yes. I’ve always had a reason to not leave home, and it’s you Jacob. It’s always been you.”

You stopped only to open your mouth and then close it again just so you could formulate your feelings correctly. “Jacob, I learned a lot about myself while I was in the states. I learned a lot about myself as a person, and I learned a lot about what I want in my life and my career. A lot of things changed for me for the better while I was away, but the one thing that didn’t change was the strength of my feelings for you. The love I have for you, how in love with you I am, that never once wavered. I didn’t even bother trying to find a way to get over you because no one would’ve compared.”

“Not even Joshua?”

His comment made you laugh as you took a step towards him. Jacob took the opportunity to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, trapping you against his chest.

“Not even Joshua, Cobie. He’s just a friend. I promise. I love you, Jacob Bae.” You told him, inching yourself closer and closer until your nose was bumping against his.

Jacob grinned, laying a long passionate kiss to your lips. You practically melted against him, dragging your hands up his chest and to his shoulders before wrapping them around his neck. You tugged ever so gently at the hair sitting at the nape of his neck, making the boy shiver. You pulled away from him, giggling slightly as he whined quietly and tried to chase after your lips.

“Easy tiger. Plenty of me to go around.” You told him jokingly.

Jacob let out a breathy laugh, tightening his grip around you. “I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not Joshua or the states. I’m dragging you back to our apartment and locking the door.”

He lifted you just slightly off the ground, giving you another kiss before he pulled away this time. “I love you, too.”

all the fics belong to @deobienthusiast and are protected under copyright- absolutely no translating/reposting or claiming my work as your own.

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #wkcnet #the boyz #tbz #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #bae joonyoung #jacob bae #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz x y/n #tbz x you #tbz jacob imagines #tbz jacob x you #tbz jacob x reader

[cupcakeinat0r]

hihihihi i have a lot of thoughts of dad bod bc he is my wife and i love thinking about him so sorry for the spam but u asked for it girl

this one is just a general one lol BUT while i do see him drinking sum corona or modelo i definitely know that man is a big wine mom, expensive wine stored where gabi can’t reach (saying this bc i accidentally smashed an expensive wine bottle when i was little and it’s now miguel’s deepest fear). so expect wine nights with miguel, his robe untied with your head on his chest, his feet on the coffee table and cuddled up while you guys talk about whatever — he gets very talkative when wine drunk and will shit talk all the people in your life because i said so

another thought is after reassuring miguel that his body is still sexy in your eyes meow he starts to take advantage of that. normally he’d look like the guy who doesn’t care how people perceive him, positive or not, but knowing how much you love his new body he’d constantly wanted to be reminded of it. so any shirt he’d wear to cover his stomach and arms were now non existent at home just so he can hear a whistle from behind and smaller arms wrapping around him to hold onto his stomach, feeling up his body as you shamelessly mumble suggestive praises while leaning your body into his back .. he likes the validation and attention ok?!?!?! he is me i am him?!?!?!?!

he also likes getting woken up by you sitting on his face or sucking him awf i mean ok byeee !! 🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️

GIVE HIM TO MEEEEE this is all so gud bae omg

First off, the wine ?? (Also, I feel like Gabi would have her own stash of “wine” but rlly it’s just sparkling grape juice Miguel gave her so she can feel included n not tempted to snoop around the real stuff lmao) Yea, he likes em dry, will only drink ‘em if they’re the finest n oldest bc my man is boujee like that. n the untied robe?? Chest hair n stomach out??? Fresh out the shower n smellin like teakwood n sex??? Yeaaaaa ima need a min………

Secondly, I’ve made self conscious dad bod… but cocky dad bod Miguel ??

SOMEBODY HELPPPPP MY PUSSYS GONE CRAZYYYY

Alicia!!!! Girl!!! The ideas r ideaing rnnnn. That’s it, next Drabble is cocky dad bob Miguel. Yea ima make him an attention whore bc EYE said so.

Girl duh, thicc man likes to eat, ofc he a munch n I would gladly wake him up both of those ways every single day uGH GOD, THIS IS ALL I WANT, PLS IM NOT ASKING FOR A LOT.

#I miss my wife #cupcake answers #miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #dad bod!miguel #across the spiderverse #atsv

[shanieveh]

BACK TO DECEMBER 04: druken words, sober thoughts !

scaramouche x reader smau

op note: do you guys like my comeback :D anyways venti said kys so thats a warning (he said it to child so its ok)

"Is this a good top?" you ask Ayaka, the goddess of fashion herself and she nodded. Finally. You now have clothes to wear in that party.

You should really be thinking about the release of grades tomorrow but it's time to party and see him again. Yehey! What if you two meet and talk again? Yeah right. No way. But as clothes were placed and staring at the mirror.

It was alright.

And out of the dresser you stepped out and finally found yourself to the comfort of books and refreshing air conditioning. The reading club truly is well funded.

"You look so good on your outfit bae!" Yoimiya smiled at me.

"They're gonna have scaramouche on the bed right this second." Kaveh even sneered at me.

Rule 24 of the reading club: Always compliment your fellow member in a new outfit (especially if it was made to impress their crushes) BECAUSE WE ALL SLAY. -rule made by kaveh

And as compliments flooded in everytime the members one by one showed their fits. You were all about to dominate floptaglia's party....

....or so you thought

It was no surprise that Childe was rich. The surprise came that even with all this much space the rooms were filled with people. Who will clean this mess? And as your friend scurry on to their places.

Kaeya making out with someone. Oh wait is that Albedo?

Kaveh and Alhaitham bickering with each other. They will probably end with making out. And as all comes down you realized that you were alone. And so the corner of the room, in that tiny empty space you just stand. Feeling left out.

A wine in hand you just sat there watching people. It wasn't that you're anti-social but where will you fit in any of their conversations? You'll just bother them.

"So it is possible to be lonely in a crowded room?" He stared at you and sat in the couch, his voice sound slurry, maybe he had too much.

You didn't bother to greet the voice, instead looking at Xiao blushing while talking to Aether. "It is very much possible. But I'm talking to you right now so I'm a little less alone."

His sound seemed a little hushed, that you can't hear and as an act of curiosity you moved from your place and stared him at the—YOU WERE TALKING TO HIM?! Scaramouche's looked puffy and pouty right now, his once pale skin now slightly red.

And every single plan to meet him flew out the window. He needs rest. And as you carry him, (he was heavy for his size) you finally arrived at the nearest guestroom you tried everything for him to rest. Getting him to bed, giving him a blanket and even tucking him in and making sure he has enough pillows.

He still was awake..

What does the great and mighty Scaramouche need to sleep? You do have something, but you feel like only Kunikuzushi would appreciate it. Perhaps the past is simply non existent to him anymore but still you started to sing a lullaby that his mother always sang to him when he was younger. And little by little he finally went to sleep.

As you grabbed the door handle to exit the guest room he quietly muttered:

"If all of this never happened would we still be what we used to before?"

"....."

"It's for the better."

BACK TO DECEMBER

prev. masterpost. next

SUMMARY: you were childhood bestfriends with scaramouche, and with many unanswered confessions and one sided goodbyes, you both meet again, but now he wears a cold glance even turning agressive when his eyes wander yours, and it all came down the day he became the top of your class, beating you and rejoicing in success. his smile was because of your pain. maybe you could turn back time where promises actually never broke, and love was a beautiful thing.

TAGLIST: @yukiipc @wanderchive @user11918163805279 @gekkow @moon-320 @meowmeowmau @mine-lu @sunaaa @lxkeeeee @faaariiii-world @lazy-sanns @starlightaura @ynverse @ukinya @peachysunflowerOx @creammpuff @scarlightsworld @sakurapeach @sketcheeee @divinechicha @trasshy-artist @virette @kyouzki @redsrrrr @ahseya @1999mercury @slu7 @tatiratty @tatiratty @naheana @baby-bread-in @bluebelony @yelleloww @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @beriiov @kur44pika @sheraeera @itzblazekun @chsyug @reinoodle @anastaxiah @feiherp @dollpoetwriting @thenightsflower @onmywaytoteyvat @raewrz @luvb0t84 @aeongiies @ashy1um @yukii-1 (1/2)

#scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact texts #genshin impact smau

[cyberbugg]

hiiiii i’m taking requests for miguel rn cuz im bad at ideas so yea… also i might do peter b. and hobie if anyone wants because i love them 🥺 anywayz here’s sum rules!!!

✽ im really only gonna do fem reader which will most likely be chubby 80% of the time, just cuz it’s my body type and i wanna see more representation of it with characters i like!!! also if you want me to i can do your body type or any characteristics you have 💕 we love inclusivity here bae

✽ im not gonna do any creepy stuff which is obvious and i won’t elaborate bc it’s common sense i’d hope 😀

✽ i’m really not gonna do any character ships so try not to request anything like that

✽ uhhh i can do mean miguel or soft or whatever you want really just no dub-con/non-con please

✽ for peter im just gonna pretend mayday and mj don’t exist, or it’s just pre-itsv when they broke up

✽ if i don’t wanna do your request sorry but i’m just not gonna do it because i have work and a life 😭

so yea go crazy but not too crazy, peace! ❀

#reqυeѕтѕ ❀｡.*.•. #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x reader #atsv miguel #atsv fanfiction #atsv smut #hobart brown #hobie brown smut #hobie x reader #hobie x you

[msperfect777]

heyyy i follow u on insta!! i have a couple questions abt non duality! if i want to observe/become aware of something that i desire, how exactly do i do that if the 3d is showing my the opposite? do i become aware of having it in my imagination?

ty and luv u bae 💋🎀

literally nothing is real. i will talk more about this in my next post but nothing is real except the fact that u are consciousness. everything, ur wall, the 3d, ur thoughts, msperfect777, is just forms of consciousness, forms of u. it is all consciousness but its not real bc only you as consciousness is real. the rest is illusion and imaginary. so when u say the 3d is showing u opposite, theres actually no 3d, theres nothing but consciousness, none of this is real. consciousness = imagination. how to observe? ur observing these words right now. when u hear rain outside u are observing the rain, u are aware of it. close ur eyes and imagine what u want and it exists to u instantly. there is no 3d for “reflection” bc consciousness/imagination is the real reality and everything else is a form of consciousness / imaginary. hope that helps

[chloe-caulfield94]

Do you think they will have another LIS with Max and Chloe? If they do, I hope they continue with the "Save Bae" ending. Do you have any ideas for an "After The Storm" game? Thanks for all the likes on my Pricefieldizcanon page btw!

I don't think we will get another Life is Strange with Max and Chloe as main characters. But I do think that they will continue the trend started in S2 and Wavelenghts, where the player is asked at the very beginning what they chose in S1 and depending on your answer there will be cameos/mentions of Max and Chloe.

I think it's likely that non-game LiS content (comic books, novels) will continue to follow the "save Chloe" ending, no matter if it's content specifically about them (like the comics) or about other characters (Steph's Story, which mentions them at one point).

It's no wonder that they chose to follow the "save Chloe" ending in the non-game content so far. It simply creates much better opportunities for storytelling than the aftermath of Chloe's murder.

Such opportunitiues include: Max once again finding herself in a situation where she has to use her powers or to let someone die (this was already explored in the LiS comics, with Max's rescue of Tristan). Chloe finally realizing that she does in fact deserve to live, deserves love and deserves a fresh start (this was also explored in the comics). Chloe being reconciled with David and David finally becoming the father figure he promised Chloe to become in BtS (this was briefly touched upon in S2, but it deserves a story of its own). Steph, Mikey and other survivors of the Storm grieving their loved ones (this was explored in Wavelengths and Steph's Story). We could even imagine a confrontation between Max and Steph, if Steph were to ever find out about the events of Storm week (I highly recommend great short fanfic by AO3 user Shisumo about Max telling Steph why she has no right to judge her for choosing Chloe: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37099903 . I also wrote a short fanfic which touches upon a Max/Steph meeting, but I imagined it in a less confrontational manner: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50505817 ).

None of those storytelling opportunites exist after Chloe is murdered. Bay Max would never use her power again, not even to save someone's life. Bay Max would just watch Tristan being murdered, just like she did with Chloe. Chloe would never receive the love and care she so desperately needed, let alone accept that she deserved it. Nobody would be reconciled. Steph and Mikey would go about their lives, not aware that Bay Max is carrying on her shoulders the grief and sorrow of an entire town, like a modern day sin-eater.

Death is final. It solves all problems, but in the least satisfying way possible. It cuts all loose threads short. It's a sudden stop to any and all stories. I don't see an opportunity for any meaningful stories following Chloe's murder. Unless it would be some morbid story about Bay Max stumbling through life, crushed with remorse. Regretting every day that she took her love and friendship back, erased it so that it never happened. That she nipped something beautiful in the bud. Hating herself and finally learning to hate Chloe for making her feel that way.

I am very fond of the LiS comics. So even if we never get another story with Max and Chloe as main characters, I am content with the comics as the "canon" conclusion to their story.

As for my personal idea for a post-Storm game: I would love to see the "other Max/nightmare Max" return as an antagonist. Some time after the Storm, Max would start having visions, similar to her nightmare in E5, where her evil twin would try to once again drive a wedge between Max and Chloe by spewing lies and hate. Max would then be sucked into multiple alternate timelines (like in the first issue of the comics). But they would all be very dark timelines, where "other Max" chose wrong, chose to hurt people. Max would have to work to undo the wrong choices made by her evil twin. Of course, in the end Max would right all the wrongs, rebuke her evil twin and find a way back to her own timeline.

The character of "other Max" could be played in two ways - either as a manifestation of Max's internal struggle or as an entirely separate person - a version of Max who instead of love, friendship, courage and trust chose fear, doubt, resentment and guilt.

I love the confrontation between our Max and "other Max" in E5. It represents a struggle with a dark part of her own mind. And if she tears the butterfly photograph, Max achieves a victory over her own fears and doubts, which is the greatest victory one could possibly achieve.

So I would love to see that struggle of Max against her inner demon (or a version of herself shaped by wrong choices) turned into an entire game.

#max caulfield #chloe price #pricefield #life is strange #lis

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken

So uuuuuhhhhh yeah. I don't know what I was expecting with this movie. Wasn't expecting it to be good, and it wasn't. Nobody is fucking surprised.

Ruby Gillman is, well, a teenage kraken, who lives with her family on land and tries to blend in as a human while being Omg Quirky Relatable Shy Nerd (seriously this movie doesn't have an original bone in its body, we'll get into that more in a bit). She eventually discovers she can turn into a giant kraken and that she comes from kraken royalty. Throw in the breakdown of trust between her and her mother, a new "friendship" she strikes up with a mermaid named Chelsea, and OMG THE PROM IS TOMORROW and you have a whole mess of cliches that didn't come to an end nearly quick enough for me.

So yeah this plot is... extremely derrivitive, on two very specific Pixar movies in particular. It's like... a weird crossover between Luca (fish people trying to blend in on land) and Turning Red (puberty metaphor, mommy issues, etc) and it does none of what those movies did well anywhere near as close to good as they did. Like this movie tries so hard to be surprising and have twists and turns and like... literally none of those surprises landed. None of the emotions landed. None of the jokes landed. Nothing in this boring ass movie landed.

The characters are all pretty one-note. Ruby is your traditional nerdy, awkward girl with a crush on a guy who is also just as bland as stale bread. Her family is pretty uninteresting, her mom is... somewhat better, I guess, and I did like her grandma, but she was about the only character I found some level of enjoyment out of. We also have Chelsea, who big surprise, is our twist villain, as if I didn't see that coming from the second I saw her show up on screen. The way she so easily manipulates and plays Ruby is just... god it makes you wannt scream "DON'T TRUST HER YOU DIPSHIT" the entire time, like girl, I get you're an anxious 15 year old but you should know better jfc.

This movie tries to have lore and be epic, but like... idk it just isn't. The climactic fight scene at the end was so slow-paced and dull, there wasn't really anything about it at all, which for what's essentially a giant kaiju fight, is a damn shame. The jokes were honestly non-existant, and the script itself is already hella dated with so much social media references and modern teen lingo (bestie, bae, etc) despite only coming out last year.

It also doesn't help that, at least in my opinion, this movie is ugly. Like the animation itself is fine, but these goddamn character designs, christ I think they are some of the WORST to ever come out of a Dreamworks movie. The humans all have weird proportions that don't make sense, the krakens don't look like krakens at all and instead look like... humans with long tentacles, which is weird, and the set design... was admittedly ok to look at, but that's about it. Pair that with an utterly forgettable, but servicable score and plenty of equally forgettable pop songs and there's just not much going on here.

I think, at the end of the day, Ruby Gillman is just... lame. Like the concept itself... isn't awful, but the execution, man, they just floundered (get it, fish) on all fronts here. No wonder this thing tanked at the box office. I wouldn't have gone to see it either.

Overall Rating: 4/10

Verdict: Harpoon these lame-ass krakens

Previous Review (Puss in Boots: The Last Wish)

Next Review (Trolls Band Together)

#jen watches #dreamworks watch #jen tortures herself with every dreamworks animated movie #ruby gillman teenage kraken #dreamworks

[thestraggletag]

I'm binge-rewatching ouat (god help me) and a thought occurred to me- Baelfire/Neal existed in the wish realm, did he just seriously allow rumple to be locked in a cage for X amount of years!? He somehow came back to the Enchanted Forest and was like: "Hey where's my da- I mean the the Dark One?" "Oh we keep him in a locked cage in our basement." "AWESOME!" (If that's the case, I'm guessing that's why they moved rumples cage to the evil queen's dungeon... probably everyone got tired of rumple screaming "NOTICE ME MY BOY!" Non stop

First: I'm sorry you've relapsed and hope you get well soon. Second... Ah, OUAT, what a shitshow. The Wishverse was VASTLY unexplored, including how on Earth Bae made it back to the Enchanted Forest, but I have the notion he didn't live long after he returned. Like, he met and fell in love with Emma, knocked her up (I assume they married?) and then he died. So yeah, there is the possibility he never knew? Or the possibility he knew and just never got around to doing something about it because he died prematurely.

But look, this is a show were CANONICALLY Maleficent had sex with Zorro, which produced a dragon egg that hatched into some chick named Lily. So, you know, food for thought there.

[alotofteez]

Sphallolalia | Part 8

Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding. It’s just sphallolalia… right?

Part 8: Life of the Party - Moodboard ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, & slightly smutty ⇢ Warnings: Language, adult themes, sexual content, mentions of violence (non-descriptive), blood & wound, alcohol consumption ⇢ Word Count: 10,316

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

taglist: @joongiebug (url doesn’t exist), @simluvbot​ , @kimtae-bae (can’t be tagged?), @justsayk , @sunsethw4 , @baguette-atiny​ , @youre-a-wallflower-charlie , @knisterlicht, @nevieatiny, @laylasbunbunny 

Life feels stale over the next few days that you don’t see San. Only occasionally does it brighten when he texts you something stupid like a meme or a guess of one of your kinks. But what really lifts your mood is when he randomly checked in on you, asking how you were. It was only once, but it still made your heart flutter.

The two of you never really texted each other before the engagement. You weren’t close in any way, shape, or form. This new territory feels comfortable yet risky. If Mina found out… you don’t even know how she would react, and a part of you doesn’t really want to know. Additionally, you don’t know if San would stop if she did. You enjoy this new side of him. When he’s not hitting on you, he’s funny, kind, and caring, things you never would have described him as.

Most importantly, since your midnight excursion, San and Mingi have made up with San being reinstated as the best man. You don’t bother him about it because Mina has grilled him enough, using it as leverage when she wants him to do something. That is probably why you find Mingi and San waiting with Mina and Yoojung outside this craft store on the morning of the bachelor and bachelorette parties. The corners of San’s lips curve up when he sees you walking to the entrance.

Unfortunately, this is the only time Yoojung can assist in shopping for decoration supplies. Mina wants the wedding party to be more involved in the decisions therefore she sends you, San, and Yoojung to pick out vases for the centerpieces. You don’t know how much San will be of help, but Yoojung has a keen eye for decorating. 

When Mina and Yoojung were getting ready to leave for college, Mina basically had Yoojung pick out everything for her dorm room. It did turn out cute and cozy, kind of like an old Tumblr aesthetic that you remember fondly from high school. Then Yoojung ended up getting her degree in interior design, therefore a lot of faith is placed in Yoojung.

“Hang on. I want to look at these real quick,” Yoojung says, stopping for small gold decorative bowls, “These would match some stuff in my living room.”

San distracts himself with the items on the opposite shelves, picking up random vases and bowls.

“Aren’t there mint accents in some of the wedding decorations?” He asks you as he sets a vase back down.

Your eyes stray to the decoration he just held, and you point out, “No, but that’s teal, not mint.”

“It’s definitely mint,” he argues back.

“Mint is lighter than that.”

“No, it’s not.”

“San, the bottom layer of your hair is teal, and it almost matches that vase,” you say, gesturing to his head.

“My hair is blue. That’s mint.”

“Why are you arguing with me over this? This is irrelevant. Mina doesn’t even want ceramic vases.”

As you bicker with him, his arm swings back, accidentally grazing Yoojung’s butt. It makes her jolt and turn around. He sputters out apologies when their eyes meet.

“Buy me dinner first,” she laughs it off.

Hearing her nonchalance, the blush on his cheeks fades, and you watch him switch on his charm. He leans against the shelf in front of her with a small yet cocky grin.

“Where you wanna go?”

Yoojung is momentarily speechless before laughing even harder, “That was too smooth.”

As she takes a few bowls from the shelf, San glances at you with a satisfied smirk that you want to rip off his face.

“It’s teal,” you finish your quarrel and continue down the aisle to the clear glass vases.

Yoojung quietly corroborates what you said to San while they trail behind, and he just sighs defeatedly.

You browse through the many glass vases trying to find the perfect size. After finishing Mina’s bouquet, Mina gave you a rough idea of how big the bridesmaids’ would be. To save a little bit of money, the bridesmaids’ bouquets will be used as centerpieces for the reception tables reserved for the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and family. The rest of the tables will have slightly smaller versions, which means the vases need to accommodate the different sizes while still looking like a matching set.

The air is wordless until Yoojung finds tall, subtly-detailed clear vases in varying sizes that would look nice with sheer, blush ribbon tied around the neck. The bouquets of beige carnations, pale coral quince, chocolate cosmos, and silver brunia berries would stand out beautifully in the vases full of glass shard rocks and small string lights.

“What do you think?” Yoojung glances back at San, who is standing behind you with his arms crossed.

He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know anything about decorating, so I guess those are good.”

“Cool, I’ll take that as an agreement. Now help us carry these.” She replies and strategically places the five larger vases in San’s arms before the two of you split the nine smaller vases to carry with you taking the extra one, “Be very careful. Mina is on edge today, and I’m not mentally prepared for her to blow up on us.”

The three of you begin cautiously walking toward the flower section where Mina and Mingi should be.

Yoojung decides to strike up a conversation with San on the slow walk, “Do you know a girl named Gahyeon?”

The name seems to ring a bell in his brain as his eyes slightly widen.

“Why?” He counters.

“She’s my friend. I showed her a picture of all of us from the engagement party, and she recognized you.”

He sighs, clearly remembering her, “What’s my Yelp rating?”

“Based on her response from seeing you, it must be pretty high.”

Yoojung walks ahead of you as San peers over at you with a smirk. His ego, at this point, is bigger than this fucking city. Of course, he has hooked up with her, and of course, it was good. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I take reservations, and only for you am I free at any time,” he winks.

“Don’t get a big head over it, though. Gahyeon’s easy to entertain,” Yoojung says over her shoulder, and you can’t help but guffaw. Still, that is rather tamed compared to the maniacal laughter you want to let out. Finally, someone else is here to knock him down a few pegs.

But, unluckily for you, your laugh was enough movement for one of the vases to slide lower against your body. Karma is most certainly a bitch.

“San, one is slipping,” you inform him in panic.

“Hang on,” he says cueing you to stop in your tracks, but before he can do anything to help, the vase falls out of your arms and shatters on the linoleum floor. His eyes catch yours tearing up. You are about to be crucified.

Mina is summoned from the aisle Yoojung turned on, voice underlined with annoyance, “What happened?”

“I tried to carry too many,” San falsely admits.

Without another word, Mina scolds him for it, and he just takes it. Yoojung creeps up behind her with the basket full of flowers, ribbons, and fabrics, and her brows furrow noticing which vase was dropped but doesn’t say anything. You place the surviving vases in the basket. 

Within moments of the drop, an employee approaches with a broom and dustpan and immediately starts sweeping the glass up. San apologizes to them repeatedly and promises to pay for the vase. When you get a chance alone, you will insist that you pay. You feel bad that it happened because you laughed at his expense.

Once the scene is cleared, Mina guides you across the store to another aisle for the next things to grab, which are tape, glue, and florist wire. San breaks away from the group to retrieve a replacement vase. It doesn’t take long to find the supplies, and that marks the end of the shopping adventure. The other girls and you double-check that you got all the materials you came here for. As Mina counts the flowers, she realizes there aren’t enough in the basket.

“We grabbed all of the cream carnations that were out. Do you think they would have more in the back?”

“That might be all of them. There would have been more out, right?” Yoojung shrugs.

Mina, unsatisfied by Yoojung’s response, whips out her phone and goes to the store’s website. In the midst of the frenzy, San returns with a vase.

“It says online that they have ten in stock, and we have nine. Can you and San go check that aisle again, in case it was misplaced? I’m going to ask an employee to check in the back,” Mina directs to you.

You nod and make sure San follows you to the back of the store again.

“We’ll be over in the ribbons section. I forgot something!” Mina calls after the two of you.

Once out of sight, you glance over at San.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you say softly, and he knows what you’re referring to.

“It’s okay. I’m used to her yelling at me.”

“Why did you take the blame?”

“I didn’t want her to be mad at you.”

You’re momentarily speechless before mumbling, “Thank you.”

The flower aisle is organized chaos. While the mess is contained to the shelves, flowers are misplaced everywhere. For a few seconds, it’s silent, allowing you to focus on the task at hand. Until you hear a couple on the next aisle talking, clearly in their own little world.

“Try it. It’s just strawberry,” the girl says.

“I don’t like smoothies,” the guy resists.

“Just taste it. It’s really good.”

“I’d rather taste it off your lips.”

It goes quiet before you hear the light smacking of spit, and you cringe. They’re in the middle of a store; have some decency. Maybe you’re just jealous you aren’t getting tongued down in a crafts store.

“That could be us, but you playin’.”

“If you so much as think about touching me, I’ll kill you,” you warn.

“You’re not killing me right now.”

The subtleness of his flirtation sends the warmth in your cheeks down to your core. The insane side of you wants to ask how he thinks about touching you. Is it playful? Casual? Intimate? Sexual? It takes several internal shouts to get your mind back on track because he could just be kidding.

You scoff and continue your search. Yet digging deeper into the giant mess of flowery shelves doesn’t distract you from falling into thoughts of San and all the ways you want him to touch you. But at least you’re being productive whilst doing so.

“Why are you just standing there? What the fuck are you doing?” You snap when you notice him leaning against the opposite shelves out of the corner of your eye.

A smirk tugs at his lips before he replies, “Respectfully checking you out.”

“‘Respectfully’ my ass.”

“That’s exactly where I was looking.”

“Help me find the flowers,” you deadpan.

“Do you think of me?” He lowly asks with that stupid smirk still on his face, and you know exactly what he’s hinting at. The absolute cocky way he asks makes you want to throat-punch him. There are far more important things to be pondering right now… even though your mind is also stuck in that same gutter. You’re not about to out yourself for allowing him to live rent-free in your head.

“Why would I?” You fire back.

“I bet you do,” he says sounding so sure of himself and resumes looking through more of the flowers, “Especially when you use that toy of yours. I don’t know how you haven’t jumped my bones yet.”

You can’t tell if this is confidence, arrogance, or just a joke.

“You might find this hard to believe, but some people have self-control.”

“Ah, so you want to.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. You should really pay attention to how you word things.

“That’s not- I’m seconds away from stomping you out.”

“Step on me, mommy.”

As much as you want to be serious and chastise him for being so far in the gutter, his quick remark makes you crack up. 

“Stop being dumb and help me.”

A smile spreads across his face seeing you laugh.

“You’re so serious today. It’s supposed to be a fun day.”

“I just want everything to go right today. I’ve already fucked up. We need to find those flowers,” you caution.

“You do know they restock things, right?”

“I know how retail works. It’s just easier if they have everything right now.”

“Not everything has to go perfectly,” he assures you as he resumes searching shelves a few feet away from you, “I can come back up here another day if I have to.”

“But that’s just inconvenient.”

“That’s life.”

You briefly glance at him diligently digging through the bunches of flowers and leaves. The profound things he has been saying to you have you questioning who he is as a person. Though these things vary from short, vague sentences to slice-of-life stories, he hints that there is an obviously hidden side of himself. Have you been totally wrong about him this whole time? These revelations have been preceded by his insufferable flirting. Does anyone else know about-

“I want you until the last flower dies,” San interrupts your thoughts, creeping a stem into your peripheral vision. When you finally look at the flowers, you gasp, 

“Where did you find that?”

As you are caught up in the discovery, he frowns and hands over the artificial carnations without a fight.

“Did you even hear what I said?” He grumbles.

“Yes, and it was a terrible pickup line.”

“Does anything work on you?”

“Nope,” you answer as you head back down the aisle to meet up with everyone else. You don’t want to reveal the direct way to your heart just in case he’s just being an asshole. If he really wants to know, he will figure it out himself. If he finds out and is just being an asshole, at least it will have been a nuisance, and hopefully, he will realize it’s not worth it.

As you near your friends, Mina lights up at what you’re holding.

“Where did you find it?” She asks in surprise.

San’s voice follows behind you, “It was buried in some other flowers at the top of the shelves.”

“Thank god. Now, we can finally leave,” she sighs, pushing the basket to the registers.

The cashier starts ringing up the items, and Mingi watches the total get higher and higher.

“Do we really need the super realistic flowers?” He quietly asks his fiancée.

“Yeah, I don’t want our decorations looking fake and cheap. The other flowers are ugly,” Mina answers as if it should be obvious.

“I wouldn’t mind. These flowers are expensive.”

“It’s fine. My parents are paying for it.”

“I know. That’s why I feel bad.”

“They don’t care. They’ve been waiting to spoil me for my wedding.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable letting them spend this much.”

“Mingi, I promise it’s fine.”

Their argument spans the entirety of the checkout process. Discreetly, you apologize to the cashier as you take the paper sacks to leave. After putting all the crafts away in Mina’s car, everyone disburses to get ready for their respective parties.

A to-do list quickly forms in your head as you drive back to your apartment. You need to shower, do your hair and makeup, pick an outfit for the bachelorette party, put together an overnight bag, and grab anything else you might need for the party. The other day you went to an adult shop to snag a few phallic things for the celebration, such as penis straws, penis suckers, penis plates, penis napkins, a penis crown for the bride-to-be… Why the fuck did you get so many penis-themed things? Is this normal for a bachelorette party? At least you got sperm-shaped confetti to mix it up a bit.

As you shower, you think about what you would want to do for your own bachelorette party. You don’t really have the money to do a vacation-esque party, you’re not into partying or heavy drinking, and you would probably die of embarrassment if Mina showed up with these same party decorations. Maybe that’s just the overly grownup part of you taking over; you have spent so much time acting as a motherly figure to those around you. You find happiness in others having a good time, but maybe you just tell yourself that because that’s the only option you are given.

Once you’re bathed and have your hair and makeup done, you settle on a jumpsuit with a bit of a low neckline that you haven’t worn because there hasn’t been a good enough occasion. It shows off the mature side of you, which is fitting for how you feel about the night. You and Sejeong are basically babysitters for the young, wild ones. A comfy set of clothes is packed along with your other overnight essentials in a tote bag. On your way out, you snatch the paper bag of penis stuff.

Arriving just on time, you are welcomed into Mina’s apartment by the other bridesmaids. The bride-to-be is changing into her white off-the-shoulder bodycon dress. You can feel the excitement when she exits her bedroom with a huge smile as she reveals the garment for the first time. She is showered in compliments. Your eyes sting a bit from tears wanting to spring out. Mina isn’t the same little girl you knew growing up. You have to remind yourself that she is now a young woman doing adult things, no longer your baby sister playing pretend. Your heart just isn’t ready to accept that.

Before heading out the door, you all gather around Mina to take a mirror selfie to commemorate the night.

“To the vineyard!” Mina commands, ushering everyone out of her apartment to lock the door.

“Hey,” Yoojung pulls you aside while Mina is distracted with her keys, “When we get back before we start the movie, me and Kyungmi have a little surprise for Mina.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she sings.

A million things go through your mind, but you honestly can’t guess what those two are up to. You don’t dwell on it because the conversations in the car don’t allow you to hear yourself even think, and also, whatever they have planned shouldn’t be too terrible. Yoojung and Kyungmi know Mina well enough to surprise her with something she’ll enjoy.

At the vineyard just outside the city where the hilly landscape is flourishing with hundreds of rows of grapevines, you and your friends are sat on the terrace with a beautiful view. The weather is perfect, sunny and not too hot or cold. Sitting back, you watch the girls smile and giggle over the different wines. In mom mode, you casually take a few sips of each wine so as to not get toasty. The knowledge from the sommelier is not going to stick as the girls go off on random tangents stemming from words in his information. You will make sure to leave him a well-deserved tip after dealing with the mess that is Mina’s bridal party.

Along with the group’s favorite wine, a server leaves you a charcuterie board to nibble on after the tasting. The board looks super fancy with manchego, red wine merlot cheese, blueberry white cheddar, prosciutto di parma, pita crisps, rosemary crackers, cranberry walnut bread, raspberry jam, lemon dill mayo, fresh grapes, blueberries, and strawberries. It seems like a lot of food, but splitting it between the six of you, it’s just a snack. Once the server leaves, you start pulling things onto your small plates.

“I think the waiter likes you,” Yoojung teases Kyungmi, “He poured your glass first every time.”

“He looks like he has a small dick,” Kyungmi comments, taking you by surprise with her bold statement. You take a sip of water before you choke on a crisp.

“He has big dick energy, though,” Mina refutes.

“Big dick energy isn’t going to fill my hole.”

Between laughs, Sejeong reminds you all to be quieter so that he and other customers don’t hear. It still baffles you how blunt Kyungmi, the quiet friend, can be. You pour her a glass of water, signaling it’s time to sober up a bit, but it’s only in vain.

“Why are y’all trying to get me a man? Doesn’t Y/N need one?” Kyungmi suddenly deflects.

You argue right back, “Hey, don’t drag me into this. He’s hitting on you, not me.”

“I can just tell him you think he’s cute.”

“I’m too old for him.”

You don’t actually know how old he is, but you would be surprised if he was old enough to drink what he serves.

As the other girls loudly refute your statement, you barely make out Yujin’s “yeah, you kind of are.”

You really don’t want to spiral while you are supposed to be having fun. Those intrusive thoughts about your age and where you are in life have been pushed aside for the day, but Yujin brought them back out ruthlessly. No one else seems to have heard her since no one says anything. You slide down in your chair the slightest bit. San’s words from this morning are remembered; “It’s supposed to be a fun day.”

As much as you want to let it go, his age enters the chat. You’re not ancient compared to him, but you know people would think it’s weird that you like a guy younger than you. You wonder if he just acts like he’s interested in older women to tease you. When you’re with him, age never causes an issue. He makes you feel valid and lifts you up if you’re down. Even if he doesn’t fully mean what he says, you like how he makes you feel.

“Y’all are annoying. I need to pee,” Kyungmi announces to the table before standing up.

“Don’t break the seal,” Yujin advises.

“This dam is about to break!” Kyungmi hurries off to the bathroom with a busting Mina in tow.

The other girls resume talking, and your mind strays to something else. You rarely use Instagram, but you know a certain someone, who followed you shortly after telling him you don’t get on social media anymore, might be lurking around on there. Your finger hovers over selecting the photo your group took before leaving. The jumpsuit you decided on for the night makes you feel kind of sensuous, and documenting it in a photo provides the opportunity to make someone wish he was seeing it in person. You post the picture with just the wine glass emoji and tags of your friends’ usernames.

You watch a few slow notifications come up on your lock screen; a like and comment from Seonghwa that says “so pretty ☺️,” random likes from former classmates, and a comment from a relative you haven’t talked to in a while. None of them are who you’re waiting for. Sejeong sweeps you up in a conversation about the concurrent bachelor party, and your phone falls face down in your lap.

“Where do you think the guys are going?”

“Knowing the best man, a strip club,” Yujin answers.

“Yeah, probably,” Yoojung concurs, “But I feel like Mina wouldn’t let that happen. She even told us, ‘no strippers.’”

“I don’t know how they would have gotten Seonghwa to agree to go. I can picture him sitting there not knowing where to look with his hands awkwardly placed in his lap,” Sejeong says, painting a picture in your mind that makes you laugh. It’s true though; he’s quite the gentleman.

After the return of Kyungmi and Mina, your phone vibrates that tempting text message pattern, and you are quick to check your notifications. Like a gift from the universe, there’s an Instagram like and a text from San.

From: San🖕 You look sexy in that picture 7:28 PM

Your face heats up as he does exactly what you want him to. You haven’t drank that much wine, but you think maybe your brain is making this up in a drunken daze.

From: You Thanks. How does it feel to always jack off to my pictures? 7:29 PM

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From: San🖕 I mean, probably not as good as the real thing 😏 7:31 PM

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From: You Guess you’ll never know. 7:32 PM

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From: San🖕 Bet. 7:32 PM

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From: You I’d feel bad taking money from you. 7:33 PM

You note the dots of him typing as you exact revenge for his relentless teasing. Opportunities like this are far and few between. Time to have a little fun.

From: You So… you’ve jacked off to my pictures? 7:34 PM

The three dots disappear, and you grin to yourself for rendering him speechless. The mention of your name sucks you into the discussion about the rooming situations for the lavish hotel where they decided to have the wedding.

To make the reservations, the wedding party needs to figure out who is staying at the hotel and who is rooming together. Mina’s parents volunteered to pay for all of you to stay for the night before the wedding, which is when the rehearsal will take place, and the wedding night. Though her parents live modestly, they have a lot of money, and it’s crazy to you how much they are willing to spend on their only child for a short moment in her life.

For now, Kyungmi and Yujin will share a room, Sejeong and Yoojung will share one, and you and Mina will share another. Mina knows Mingi and San will room together and thinks the groomsmen Jongho and Seonghwa will as well. Mingi’s older brother is undecided, leaving Yunho to possibly room with the other two groomsmen. If his brother stays at the hotel, he will most likely get a room with his wife.

The tasting finally concludes, and the bill is split evenly for it. Upon hearing that your visit is for Mina’s bachelorette party, the manager on hand makes the charcuterie board and additional bottle of wine complimentary. Mina orders a bottle of champagne for her and Mingi’s wedding night and two wines from the tasting to have with your takeout pizza at her apartment. You get a bottle of the strawberry wine you really liked during the tasting since you didn’t have as much as everyone else. As the waiter hands back your cards, the bride-to-be and one of her bridesmaids are whispering on the other side of the table.

“Ask him. Ask him,” Mina elbows Kyungmi, who reluctantly gives in.

“Do you have a business card for the vineyard?” She asks the server, looking up at him through her lashes and raising her eyebrows suggestively.

He grins handsomely and pulls out a card and pen before quickly jotting something down and handing it over.

“You have so much power. What the fuck,” Yoojung says in awe when he walks away.

“Alcohol, my dude.” Kyungmi finger-guns.

Grabbing all your things, you head to the grand entrance of the vineyard to leave. Yujin’s comment is still lingering in your mind, and it’s slowly starting to piss you off again. You really want to say something, but you don’t like confrontation. Like, what would you even say? She specializes in snide remarks, credit to her mother. She could probably destroy you in less than five words.

In the parking lot, Sejeong stops you from going towards the passenger side of her car and asks, “Can you drive? I’m still kind of feeling the wine.” 

The pressure to not wreck your own car is a lot, but the pressure to not wreck someone else’s car? Even worse. As long as it isn’t that person crashing because of alcohol, you will gladly take on that pressure. Throughout the tasting, you only had small sips of wine and drank mostly water so that you and Sejeong would be the sober ones to take care of the others. It’s best she doesn’t drive if she doesn’t think it’s safe.

“Yeah,” you answer, taking her keys.

As you drive back into town, the girls become talkative again. The rowdy ones in the back heckle Kyungmi to text that server while Sejeong orders pizzas for pickup.

“Play WAP to hype Kyungmi up!” Yujin shouts from the backseat.

“We are not blaring WAP in this car,” you stand your ground.

“Play Bad Girls by M.I.A.” Yoojung suggests.

Mina quickly cuts in, “Bad Girls? The baddest thing you’ve done is accidentally steal a pen from a store after signing a receipt.”

“Guys, be quiet! They can’t hear me,” Sejeong yells over their argument, hand covering the phone’s microphone.

“I need to pee!” Kyungmi whines.

“You can go in with Sejeong at the pizza place,” you assure her.

A headache is starting to form across your forehead. You wish you were less sober so you wouldn’t have to worry about everyone right now. It feels like a mistake volunteering to be one of the designated drivers, but who else would be one? Luckily, they quiet down long enough for Sejeong to place your orders.

“We should take a picture to remember tonight,” Yoojung mumbles with a slight slur and nudges Sejeong with her phone to take it.

“Everyone, look up here,” Sejeong commands with a smile and holds the phone up. You momentarily take your eyes off the road once she counts down to take the picture.

“You should send it to the guys,” Kyungmi suggests.

“No, don’t bother them,” you say, knowing you probably don’t look that good in the photo. The overhead lighting in the car is shit, your makeup is probably starting to run down your face since you put it on several hours ago, and there’s a good chance you’re not even looking into the camera.

“Send it!” Kyungmi sings from the very back with Yujin clinging to her, giggling, “Show them how hot we are and how much fun we’re having!”

Mina and Yoojung snicker behind Yoojung’s phone, which is succeeded by all your phones going off.

Chat: ✨Wedding Party✨ From: Yoojung🌱 IMG_3831 8:41 PM

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Chat: ✨Wedding Party✨ From: Yunho🐶 IMG_2475 8:43 PM

“Look at these thirst traps,” Sejeong laughs, flashing you the image from the group chat.

Yunho sent a photo of the guys in his car on the way to wherever the bachelor party is. Your eyes instantly land on San, and oh, no… He looks hot in leather with his hair pushed back. Even more of your sanity is lost. But you must compose yourself and get your eyes back on the road.

The pizzeria isn’t much further, so by the time you park you only need to wait a few minutes until your pizzas are done. Kyungmi accompanies Sejeong inside, and through the storefront windows, you watch her aggressively penguin walk to the bathroom.

To be nice, you allow Mina to plug her phone into the stereo. The first thing she plays is a Kesha song. She rolls her window down just as the chorus is about to start and leans her head out belting out the lyrics, “I’m a mother fucking woman, baby, alright!”

Yoojung quickly follows suit, “Don’t need a man to be holdin’ me too tight!”

You whip around in your seat and reprimand them, “Roll it back up, now. You’re going to get us in trouble.”

The two of them grumble as they do as they are told. They have officially lost their radio privileges. You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but someone has to keep them in line. In silence for a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking them so long in the restaurant. Before you call Sejeong to ask, you notice a text from San.

From: San🖕 Cute IMG_8533 8:56 PM

The image is a zoomed-in screenshot of your face from the picture Yoojung sent. Goddammit, you weren’t looking at the camera. He has to be messing with you because, frankly, you look kind of stupid.

From: You Shouldn’t you be busy right now? 8:58 PM

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From: San🖕 I am, by complimenting you 8:58 PM

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From: You You jack off to that one too? 8:59 PM

“What are you smirking about up there?” Mina leans forward between the front seats to peep on your messages.

As a knee-jerk reaction, you press your phone against your chest, looking guilty as hell.

“Nothing.”

Before San responds, Sejeong and Kyungmi slip back into the car, and you resume the drive to Mina’s apartment without the kids in the backseats acting up again. Once inside, you and Sejeong whip out the penis party stuff. While everyone is distracted, Kyungmi disappears. 

“Why are penises on everything?” Mina laughs, looking at the plates and napkins.

“It’s all that was in the bachelorette party section of one of those sex stores,” you inform her. Maybe you should have just gotten generic party stuff at a grocery store. The selection at grocery stores is probably just as small, but at least it wouldn’t look tacky.

When you’re ready to dig into the pizzas, Yoojung doesn’t allow you. The main living room lights go out and LED strips turn on. 

“You better not have gotten me a stripper,” Mina warns, eyes shooting each girl of the bridal party.

Mina’s bedroom door cracks ajar, revealing only a sliver of darkness.

“We’ve gotten a few noise complaints about this apartment,” Kyungmi says before kicking the door completely open, drenching her sleazy police uniform in the neon light, “For not being loud enough!”

The other girls squeal as Yoojung starts the music. Kyungmi dances her way across the room to Mina, trying to suppress her grin to stay in character. You stand in the kitchen watching the dumpster fire from afar, not really wanting to be a part of it.

“Where is the bride’s crown?” Kyungmi summons Yoojung with the penis crown you brought.

Mina dies laughing while Kyungmi places it on her head and then spins around to shake her ass to the beat of the song. The pizza is completely forgotten, and the bridesmaids are engrossed in the striptease. And, rightfully so, because Kyungmi is actually pretty good at dancing. You wonder if she is just freestyling or if she and Yoojung came up with a routine. Either way, you’re impressed.

Kyungmi goes around to give a little love to the other girls. Before she reaches the other older bridesmaid, Sejeong produces a few bills from her purse, which she makes a show of slipping them into the waistband of the micro mini skirt of the police officer costume. This causes everyone to break down in laughing tears. Kyungmi can’t even finish dancing to the song and surrenders in Sejeong’s lap.

When the regular lights are turned back on, the pizza is finally torn apart onto separate plates as more wine is poured to keep the party going

“Alright, eat your pizza so we can watch the movie,” Sejeong reins you all back in from the chaos.

Kyungmi asks with her mouth full, “Why can’t we eat while we watch it?”

“Because I don’t trust y’all to eat in the dark,” Mina answers.

“Kyungmi, why don’t you go change?” Yujin eyes the girl who just sat next to her on the couch and whose skirt doesn’t cover her cheeks on the cushions.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Kyungmi quips with a smug expression on her face.

That reminds you of someone…

As the atmosphere winds down, you glance at your phone and notice a text from that certain someone. You wish you hadn’t read it as soon as you open it. Your eyes roll out of annoyance because San is really just trying to piss you off.

From: San🖕 Why would I do that when half naked women are all around me? 9:01 PM

-

From: You Isn’t it illegal to masturbate in the middle of a strip club? 9:42 PM

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From: San🖕 Yeah but that doesn’t mean I can’t be turned on. 9:43 PM

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From: You Yeah, I don’t really want to hear about that. 9:45 PM

Though you have never been to a strip club, it feels kind of early for the fun to start. Additionally, no one has really confirmed where the guys went for the bachelor party. You don’t think Mina would allow them to go to a strip club, and if it was suggested, she definitely would have complained to you about it.

From: San🖕 I can see you up there dancing. 9:52 PM

-

From: You That would never happen. 9:53 PM

-

From: San🖕 I’d want a private show, though. 9:55 PM

You glance up from your phone, debating to ask Mina. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you take your chance.

“Hey, what are the guys doing for the bachelor party?”

“They went to some adult laser tag bar place,” Mina says, trying to think of the name of the bar.

“They went to play drunk laser tag? That doesn’t sound safe,” Sejeong comments.

“I know. Mingi isn’t the most coordinated, so I told him if he comes back with a black eye, he’ll be in trouble.”

The rest of the conversation goes on in the background as you call San out on his bullshit.

From: You Mina said you aren’t even at a strip club… 10:01 PM

-

From: San🖕 lol you asked her? Were you that worried that we were? I just wanted to see your reaction, but I wouldn’t say no to a private show 😏 10:05 PM

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From: You I would. 10:05 PM

-

From: San🖕 I’d love to see you slowly dance out of your clothes down to some sexy lingerie, grinding down on me. 10:08 PM

You don’t know about the stripping part, but you are definitely imagining grinding on him, legs straddling his lap. His hands would slide up your thighs to your hips and guide your movements as you impatiently find the friction you so desperately want. He would tilt his head back, his face twisting in pleasure. Your nails would dig into his shoulders where you balance yourself. He would swear under his breath and praise you for how well you’re doing. His fingers would thread through your hair and-

“Y/N?”

You hum in response as you fall hard back down to earth from your wet daydream.

“You wanna change clothes before we start the movie?” Sejeong asks as she picks up empty plates.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumble and head to the bathroom with the bag you packed.

Once in comfy clothes, you claim the armchair in Mina’s living room, too afraid of someone accidentally catching a rogue text from San. At this point, there is no telling what he will send you, especially since he is currently high on flustering you. You wouldn’t mind those types of messages right now. There is some alcohol in your system from the wine you just had, and San has planted a seed of sin in your mind. A bit of flirtatious texting isn’t going to cause any serious damage, right?

That is your mindset until you notice a sobering text from a little while ago.

From: Seonghwa😇 What are you texting San about? 10:11 PM

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From: You How do you know I’m texting him? 10:17 PM

You return to your conversation with San. He has no idea the image he painted in your mind with that singular sentence. But because Seonghwa is aware of your texting, the flirting can’t go any further.

From: You You really have no shame. 10:18 PM

With that final text to San, you force yourself to ignore the vibrations of your phone as Mina figures out how to login into a streaming service on her smart TV. Your heart is palpitating from the adrenaline caused by both men’s texts and needs a few good minutes to calm down. But after the third alert, you give in.

From: Seonghwa😇 I can see your name every time his phone lights up on the table… 10:19 PM

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From: Seonghwa😇 Is he bothering you? I’ll tell him to stop. 10:21 PM

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From: You No, it’s fine. I can handle him on my own. 10:22 PM

You switch over to the conversation with San.

From: San🖕 😘 10:20 PM

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From: San🖕 👉👌 10:20 PM

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From: You 🍆  🏌️‍♀️ 10:23 PM

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From: San🖕 lmao 10:24 PM

The movie Bridesmaids starts in the background, and you try to pull your attention to the television. Mina plops down between Yoojung and Sejeong, snuggling in under a blanket. Not even 60 seconds later, your phone goes off again.

From: San🖕 Seonghwa just told me to stop texting you lmao 10:25 PM

What the hell, Seonghwa? As you think of a response, Mina calls you out.

“Phone away, Y/N.”

A subtle pout is on your lips while you place your phone face down on the armrest. Tonight is about Mina, not San, no matter how thirsty that man makes you. Have fun with your best friend while she is single and still has time to do this. It is girls’ night out, no boys allowed.

With the amount of times you have seen this film, you should be able to recite the script as easily as the alphabet. But it has been a few years since the last time you watched it. There are certain aspects you remember.

The main character Annie is seeing a man her friends don’t approve of, and she knows it’s not a relationship she actually wants. She’s jealous of her best friend because her friend is doing what she wants to be doing; Annie feels stuck not being able to fulfill the societal norms of adulthood. It all hits way too close to home.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re not like that,” Mina comments at one point.

Though you are not, you understand why Annie is acting that way. Jealousy can make you do crazy things. Her closest friendship is threatened, she can’t maintain a stable romantic relationship while her best friend is settling down, and her relationship with herself is clouded by the expectations others have of her. Her way of coping is the only problem… and that’s the only difference between you. You fear bothering, annoying, and angering anyone important to you, therefore you don’t lash out like Annie… or maybe you just haven’t reached your breaking point yet.

Just before the credits start rolling you finally look at your phone and note two text messages, one from one of your employees and one from San. Because it isn’t normal for your employee to text you this late, you tap on hers first.

From: Sammy🛍 Hey, I just got a call about a family emergency and have to go out of town. Can you pick up my shift tomorrow? 10:28 PM

A lamp in the corner is turned on as Mina and Sejeong stand to stretch. The other girls are fast asleep on the floor and loveseat couch. You grab a few empty cups and creep into the kitchen to put everything away.

“One of my assistant managers texted me during the movie and asked if I could cover her shift in the morning,” you quietly groan to your friends as you assure Sammy that you will, “I’m not mentally prepared for that.”

“Do you need to go home?” Mina questions with concern.

“Not yet. I’ll finish helping clean up,” you say as she looks down at her vibrating phone.

“Mingi wants me to meet him and San at his apartment as soon as possible,” Mina says after reading the text.

Your heart begins pounding in your chest at the mention of San’s name.

“Did he say why?” Sejeong asks, half-absorbed in rinsing out wine glasses.

“No, and he’s not replying, so he must be driving. I can’t drive since I just had wine.”

“I’ll take you,” you immediately offer, grabbing your overnight bag. You only had one glass when you returned, and that was before the movie started. Plus, you will take this chance to see San, maybe even smack him around a bit for trying to rile you up.

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to go to bed?” Mina looks guilty.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t want you driving even if you think you can make it over there.”

“I can take her,” Sejeong tries to relieve you of the burden.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just drop her back off when we’re done and then go home.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here in case they wake up,” she says, following you two to the door.

As you head down to your car, you finally check San’s text from over an hour ago.

From: San🖕 Y/N? 10:33 PM

Fuck, he probably thinks you’re ignoring him now, and you don’t have time to respond as you need to hurry over to his apartment. Endless possibilities of what could be Mingi’s emergency run through your mind. The lack of response from him worries you, but you don’t bring that up for fear of panicking Mina. It could be something that isn’t an actual emergency.

As you roll up to Mingi and San’s apartment, Mina points out the pair walking to the building’s entrance. San looks like he’s holding his head which is fairly concerning considering where they have been all night. Mina and you get out quickly and rush to catch up.

“What happened?” You ask as soon as you see the bloody paper towels San is pressing to his brow bone.

“You want to tell them?” San looks to Mingi, who subtly shakes his head.

“I accidentally scared him, and he threw his laser gun at me.”

“This is exactly why I said this was a bad idea,” Mina immediately reprimands them, “Let’s get up to the apartment so that we can look at it.”

“Technically speaking, you said you didn’t want me getting hurt,” Mingi levels with his fiancee.

The look she gives him silences him the rest of the way up. Once inside, San turns around a dining room chair and sits, looking at you and Mina expectantly. Knowing Mina isn’t good with blood, you take charge.

“Do you have a first aid kit or something?” You look between the boys, and Mingi hurries to retrieve it from their bathroom.

Mina hovers behind you, simmering, “Why didn’t the bar help you?”

“They said they were out of bandages, and then they told us to go to a hospital,” San answers while making himself comfortable in the chair.

“Why didn’t you go to one?” You ask, confused and annoyed by the situation.

“I am not going to a hospital over a little cut. I’m not a baby.”

Your eyebrow shoots up at the absurdity coming out of his mouth.

“Maybe a kiss will make it better,” he still manages to hit on you.

You glare at him unimpressed and ask, “Really?”

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” he contends, “Or get you in the mood. Whatever works.”

“Shut up,” you say as you grab his wrist and pry away the tissues stuck to his injury to check the damage.

“Ow, that fucking hurt!” He shouts, pressing the tissues against the cut once again.

“Here. Give me your finger. I’ll give you something else to cry about,” she quips with her hand out and eyes on fire, just as her fiancé comes back with a plastic box.

“Babe, it wasn’t his fault,” Mingi says with a sliver of panic in his voice.

“Now, his face is going to be fucked up for the wedding,” she yells.

“Yeah, it’s definitely going to leave a scar. The hair might not grow back for a while,” you reenter the conversation as you dig through the bandaids until you find the right one, “It might not be too noticeable by the wedding. San, move the paper towel.”

“Why is there so much blood?” Mina sounds frenzied looking at the tissues.

“He’s had alcohol,” you remind her while you disinfect his wound with a dab of a cotton ball doused with hydrogen peroxide. He winces and groans at the stinging sensation.

“I can’t watch. I might pass out,” she says as she goes to sit on their couch.

His eyebrow is split but not enough to need stitches, at least in your opinion. After peeling the backing off of the bandaid, you gently touch around the cut.

“I’m putting a butterfly bandage on it. I have to pinch the skin back together, so it might hurt,” you warn him, and before he can respond you squeeze it closed. 

He hisses at the pain, trying not to jerk away, “Hurry up. Jesus Christ.”

His hands naturally hold onto your waist, his fingers digging into you, channeling his discomfort to its source. One side of the bandage is in place, and you attempt to align the skin accurately. 

“I’ll take my sweet time.”

He groans in misery and annoyance, “Sadism.”

Your face feels like it’s burning. You can’t believe he is bringing up your stupid midnight conversation from several nights ago.

“Shut up.”

When you finally secure the bandaid, he opens his eye and blinks a few times.

“Does it look badass?”

“You look stupid,” Mina deadpans, quite obviously not over the fact she was right about someone getting hurt. She moves from the couch to look at your bandaging work now that the blood isn’t everywhere.

“He always looks like that though,” you joke as San defends himself.

“I didn’t even do it!”

“Be still,” you demand, placing a small square of gauze over the butterfly bandage and taping it down with surgical tape.

“At least I didn’t knock him out,” Mingi chuckles.

“You didn’t hit me hard enough for that.”

“I bet I could though.”

“Why are men like this?” Mina quietly comments to you as you step out of San’s personal space.

San folds his arms across his chest and lounges back in the chair. “No, but I could definitely knock you out.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve had practice.”

“Practice?” Mina echos.

“It was one time,” San downplays.

“What happened?” You ask, bewilderedly looking between the two boys.

Mingi is quick and proud to answer, “Some dude put his hand up one of our friends’ skirts. San confronted him and ended up decking him in the face.”

“That’s surprising,” you say with raised eyebrows and notice San’s face sour, “That you would hit someone.”

His expression softens at your addition. “That was a few years ago. It was a young and dumb decision.”

“It wasn’t dumb. Fuck that guy,” Mingi says, and Mina smacks his arm, telling him to watch his mouth.

As the couple begins arguing over who should stop swearing, you awkwardly start shuffling everything back into the kit, and San wordlessly helps.

But after a moment, he sighs, “I have a meeting in the morning, and of course, this happens.”

“I have work in the morning too.”

“You should stay the night in case I need a nurse.”

You glance at him after closing the little first aid box, “I’m not a nurse.”

“You could dress up as one, and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“I’m not playing into your role-play kink.”

“I’ll mark that one off the list then.”

Your eyes roll back into your head when you realize what he’s joking about again, and you could almost die from exasperation. Then you realize something else.

“Wait, you have a meeting on a weekend?”

“Yeah, it’s an emergency meeting because someone messed up a report with a client.”

Before you can ask if it’s for that nursing home, Mingi suddenly slaps a hand on San’s shoulder and asks, “Did you keep that napkin the bartender wrote her number on?”

Your eyes dart to San. You want to interrogate him about what he did with her number in retaliation to how he acted when that pizzeria guy gave you his number. You want to be petty, take the napkin from him, and set it on fire in front of him. But you can’t do anything because Mina and Mingi don’t know about that night, that you hung out together, that San showed a protective, borderline-possessive side of himself. San notices the flames inside your eyes and grabs the tissues he once held against his eyebrow.

“I guess I can’t call her now,” he says, unraveling the dried bloody napkin, the inked number lost in the dark crimson red. The little smirk on his face is telling of how he feels seeing you physically snap into jealousy. Calling her was never in his plans.

Fuck this, you need sleep.

“As much fun as this has been, I need to go,” you announce before directing your attention to Mina, “Do you need me to take you home?”

“No, Mingi will,” she says, and he confusedly complains.

“I can send you a medical nude in the morning, so you can see how it’s doing,” San offers with a grin.

“What the hell?” Mina questions with a hint of disbelief, “Why would you be nude?”

“I’d take the bandage off,” he quips.

Mina steps towards him, but you hold her back with your arm.

“Get smart with me again, and I’ll break your nose,” she warns.

“We’ll laugh about this one day,” Mingi sighs hopefully. San glares at him while Mina starts in about how she will never laugh about their incident and that it isn’t funny because San’s face will look busted for the wedding.

You take that as your cue to leave. The day has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and you are absolutely exhausted. When your head finally hits your pillow, you are out. Getting up the next morning for work is agonizing. You plan to spend your time in your small office, so you don’t have to deal with people. You have had enough human interactions within the last 24 hours.

But before you leave home, your phone lights up with a call from San. What could he possibly want right now?

“Hey,” he says as soon as you answer, “It kept bleeding through the gauze, so we went to the ER last night. They had to put in a stitch or two.”

Your heartbeat picks up a bit. You feel bad for being annoyed by his call, even though he has no idea that you were. 

“Did they give you anything for the pain?” You ask, making sure to speak in a soft voice.

“They just told me to take over-the-counter pain meds every six hours if needed.”

“Is it feeling any better?”

“It’s a lot sorer now that the bruising is showing up. I can’t show any emotion without being in pain.”

A small chuckle huffs out your nose before concealing your amusement. “Do you need me to bring you anything?”

There’s a short pause before he mumbles, “No.”

Did you just make him shy?

He clears his throat and continues, “Did you tell Seonghwa to tell me to stop texting you last night?”

Oh, fuck. You have hoped to avoid this confrontation.

“No? He asked me why I was texting you and then said he would tell you to stop. I told him he didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh.” The word is barely audible.

“Why?”

“You never responded after I told you he did that.”

“I got yelled at for using my phone during the movie, and right after the movie, we came over. I didn’t get the chance to respond.”

“Oh.” This time the word is louder, more confident.

You pull away from your phone to check the time. You can spare a few more minutes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you anything? I have time before I go to work.”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

A feminine voice speaks his name in the background, and your heart falls into the pit of your stomach. He must have a girl over since he is insistent that you not stop by. He must have called you with a girl in his bed just to taunt you. Did he end up calling that bartender? He really knows how to make you not stand him. Anger fills your chest, and you try to keep it from overflowing out of your mouth.

“You seem busy. I’ll let you go,” you say tersely.

“No, it’s fine. I’m on a break.”

Oh, so it’s a quicky?

“I have work. Bye,” you mumble before ending the call.

This crush is getting out of hand. You are constantly in need of a reminder.

He’s not yours.

He is not yours.

He. Is. Not. Yours.

HE. IS. NOT. YOURS.

Those words repeat in your mind like a mantra, plaguing your time at work. When your brain strays to that phone call and the woman’s voice, you mentally slap yourself. But, god, do you feel stupid, liking a man who will never like you in the same way.

After work, you order your favorite takeout to comfort yourself, and once you have consumed it, you still feel that little emptiness that San will never fill. In the shower, you can’t stop thinking about that woman and how naive you are. Moving your pity party to your bedroom, you feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

From: San🖕 Are you home? 9:26 PM

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From: You Yeah, why? 9:27 PM

Suddenly, you panic that he might be at your door. You are currently naked in a towel, and your apartment isn’t the cleanest right now. It would be embarrassing for him to walk in and think “You live like this?”

From: You You’re not here again, are you? 9:27 PM

Your screen lights up with a video call from San. That’s better than him being physically here, but you still feel a little alarmed. Now, you just have to angle your camera away from the 500 empty cups on your nightstand and the pile of clothes you have been too lazy to put away…

“Why are you video-calling me?” You ask the moment his face appears after accepting the call.

“I thought you might want to see the stitches,” he says, bringing the camera closer for a better view.

“Oh, shit. He got you pretty good.”

The cut looks bigger than you remember, or maybe that’s because part of his eyebrow was shaved off at the hospital.

“Someone at work asked me what happened, and I told him he should see the other guy,” he jokes as he studies the injury on his screen.

“Really?” You shoot him a look through the camera.

He shrugs, “They don’t need to know the real story.”

“Hang on. I’m changing into my pajamas.” You lay your phone on your sheets and head to your dresser to quickly slip on your flannel button-down and pants.

You can hear San quickly exhale through his nose before he says suggestively with what you know is a smirk, “Since this conversation is show and tell…”

“… I’m hanging up now,” you announce as you pick up your phone again, fully clothed. You settle down in bed, sitting up against the headboard.

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, “How was the girls’ party?”

“It was good. The wine tasting was nice. But dealing with all of them drunk is like herding cats.”

He chuckles, “Sweet little Mina was a handful?”

“Her and Kyungmi were absolute chaos. The amount of times I heard ‘shark coochie’ yesterday was more than my entire life up until yesterday.”

“Shark coochie?”

“We had a charcuterie board at the vineyard.”

You watch it register in his head before he cracks up, a hand coming up to cover his cute grin. 

“Anyways… How was the guys’ party before you got beat up?”

“It was fun. There was another group of guys at the bar, and they wanted to play against us. We went a couple of rounds before we got more drinks. Then during that last game, I came around a corner and scared the shit out of Mingi.”

“You were warned it was a bad idea. Was it worth that?”

“Absolutely,” he stands by his decision, “I just hate that my eyebrow took all damn night. I was so tired this morning when I went to the office.”

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach.

“You didn’t have the meeting online?”

He shakes his head, “No, but it wasn’t a super long meeting, so I came back home and slept for a while.”

That woman must have been a coworker. God, you are such an idiot. Even still, he is not yours. Sadly, your brain recalls his words, “Can’t let them get attached.” You really need to chill before he thinks you are getting attached. 

Not wanting to waste any more time on that, you change the topic, “I just remembered something. How much was that vase I broke?”

“Why?”

“I want to pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll find out how much it was and leave that money somewhere in your apartment so that you find it later thinking you left it there.”

“You will never leave my sight in my apartment again.”

“You’re not going to watch me use the toilet,” you contend.

“Fine, but if I find money in the bathroom, I’ll know it was you and give it back.”

“I won’t accept it.”

“Then I’ll hide it somewhere in your apartment.”

Your hand drops to your bed, his view now the ceiling, as you groan, “You’re so annoying!”

His adorable little giggles fill your room and warm your heart. 

Why can’t he be yours?

#san #choi san #ateez #kpop #scenario #fluff #angst #suggestive #smut #san scenarios #choi san scenarios #ateez scenarios #kpop scenarios #san fluff #choi san fluff #ateez fluff #kpop fluff #san angst #choi san angst #ateez angst #kpop angst #san smut #choi san smut #ateez smut #kpop smut #sphallolalia #my fics #my thingies

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Safu

I am adding my vote because the yaoi may be canon in this one but Safu is still Shion's best friend and the way ppl leave her out of stuff sucks ass. Her character development was the ONE thing the anime had over the novels and manga but even the anime only fans won't look at her. She literally said "I want your sperm" out loud with her mouth in a train station to ask her best friend to date her. Weird girl extraordinaire who became bee jesus people need to stop sleeping on her for the guys.

She has a crush on Shion and makes it quite known She also asked for Shion's semen once

Neurodivergent queen! She autismed her way through puberty so hard, she thought her feelings for the protagonist Shion were purely sexual, until she spent time away from him to grow as a person

Annabeth Chase

I feel like fandom is kinda split on her with percabeth shippers loving her but any m/m shipper I've seen does not like her, really. She is my bae tho <3

Percabeth antis grind my gears so much because they never hate Percy, nono, even though he's arguably done more questionable stuff than Annabeth. Not everyone who hates her is doing so because of a mlm ship— the Perachel stans claim that Annabeth is a misogynist. However, basically everyone that isn't trying to ship her boyfriend with Rachel is trying to ship him with Jason, Nico, or her old friend Luke. They make her out to be this horrible abusive girlboss(derogatory) that she's simply... not. She doesn't insult Percy for having ADHD just because she's highly intelligent. She doesn't physically abuse him, and doesn't lay a finger on him outside of training. She's really devoted to him in a non-anti-feminist way. They just hate her for 'getting in the way' of Nico's convoluted attraction to Percy, or Jason's close friendship with him, or Luke's rivalry with him. But those relationships all flourish the way they were intended by the author: non-romantically. It's not Annabeth's fault for being intelligent or capable or jokingly snide or determined or any of those non-stereotypically-feminine qualities. She's just out here existing and people hate her for not being a man. Sorry for the rant.

She's canonically in a relationship with Percy Jackson for most of the books they're in, but he often gets paired in canon with other male characters, such as Nico di Angelo or Jason Grace. In fan fiction (especially yaoi focused ones) she's characterized as being a stuck up know it all, but she gets into plenty of shenanigans in canon and can be pretty goofy and sweet!

I think I may have accidently used fanart for Annabeth's picture, if you have official art of her, send it in!

#poll #safu #no. 6 #no. 6 safu #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #round 1

[mdhwrites]

Continuing with your thoughts on Belos and the non-characters of the protagonists, as I was watching WaD I realized I was rooting for Belos rather than the main character and I wanted your thoughts on that.

Although Belos' character needs the improvements you mentioned, he at least still has agency, in that he is moving the plot along through action rather than reaction.

He has a definable goal (genociding all witches) backed by clear motivations (puritanical belief system; a witch caused him to accidentally kill his brother). He has a plan to accomplish this (rising to imperial power; creating grimwalkers to bring his brother back to life) and yet still experiences setbacks (day of unity foiled; grimwalkers always betray him). He is no less determined, and suffers for his beliefs (rotting body; traumatic hallucinations) while he aims to recoup his losses and finally accomplish his ultimate goal (first attempting to possess the Collector and failing, then attempting to possess the Titan and succeeding)

In short, Belos is a more compelling protagonist than Luz, who has things happen to her without her input (her palisman hatching, Amity telling her how to get out of the Collector's dreamworld, the Titan explaining how she can win still, etc). Also, as you said, by the end of S3 she is at her most unlikable, making us less sympathetic to her. She has no personal goals of her own that connect to her as a character beyond desperately wishing to be accepted by others, which makes her out to be more of a people-pleaser than anything (read: a flaw).

I love Luz, I really do. But she could have been more than what she became. She wasn't allowed to have an impact on the plot, and I regret that. Literally any other main character could take her place and the outcome of the finale wouldn't budge a nudge. It ended up making me root for the villain over the actual protagonist, and that seems like a pretty big problem for a show.

Okay, I try to mostly do my asks mostly in order so this has been long overdue. Let's fix that. *cracks neck* Though... Really for that big statement... This isn't one I have a great into. I've made it clear that while I dislike Luz, I actually find her easier to talk about than Belos. That I personally could never root for him because I find anything good about him to be posturing that the show not only doesn't back up but actively undermines. That a good performance and some good lines don't make up for the fact that nothing he does really has a proper impact on anything or anyone. Worse yet, I've already talked about how people really need to stop asking for 'proactive' protagonists because they're not really a thing and commonly DEEPLY detrimental to your story. So... What am I supposed to say here? Simple: Let's talk about payoff. Because at the point where you're rooting for the villain, it's because you know that they can provide a bigger, more shocking payoff than the characters and that what they have been doing, the enjoyment they have been providing, hasn't been working. Because, especially with a racist fuck like Belos, you aren't rooting for him to win. You're rooting for him to genuinely come one second from the brink of winning. This is where sheer entertainment is actually kind of a big deal. 'The Rule of Cool' exists for a reason. If it looks badass enough, has enough production value and has you screaming at the top of your lungs, SOMETHING is going right. In my opinion, this is actually why I like Michael Bae's first Turtles Movie (I saw it in the break room while working at Walmart) because yes, they destroy physics. They survive shit they shouldn't. It has some really dumb shit in it but it is ALL fun. It couldn't pump the breaks even if wanted to because they ripped them out five years ago because YOLO MOTHERFUCKERS! This is a level of entertainment that TOH understood in S1 and seemed to lose until the finale of S3. It's part of why the magic being so boring matters because I'd overlook plotholes more if the magic inciting the plotholes was more fun. It's actually maybe the ONE kindness I'll give Eslewhere Elsewhen because the time portals get some good gags when they're first introduced and I'm not going to deny that. But how about Looking Glass Ruins? It's actually a perfect showcase of when this principle works and when it doesn't. Gus' retcon on illusion is dog shit. It is one of the worst, blatant choices with the magic system. But MAN that ending sequence with Gus! Does it make sense? Not really with just how ludicrously, stupidly powerful it does paint Gus. Does it make you actively question why he spent all of S1 doing jack and shit? Yes. Is it one of the best sequences in The Owl House and genuinely lives up to how terrifying the reality of Illusion magic is? ABSOLUTELY. It's why while I hate the glyph stuff in that side of the episode, I can't hate his plotline entirely because it's just a great fantasy sequence with some good use of horror elements.

But uh... What about that Amity and Luz plot? It's an extremely basic forbidden section, it makes no sense once you find out the head librarian is a chill stoner dude and the payoff is just a cheek kiss for Luz who incited the problem in the first place. She gets it for getting Amity's job back in a high stakes, dangerous adventure... That's off screen. If you're a Lumity shipper, you eat well enough to make up for the fact that really all they do is stand around and talk with multiple backgrounds behind them the entire episode, not even entirely making sense during those moments (this is actually pretty much the ONLY episode where Amity acts dumb because of Luz. Amity doesn't make enough mistakes in the series to justify that line, potent as it is. This is also the only time she's faced actual consequences for her closeness to Luz.) Worse yet, you're robbed of the adventure and potential comedy that is theoretically the core of the show for the sake of cute, gay panic. And I like gay panic but I also kind of want to see this book dragon. One of those is creative while the fact that it's a book mouse instead of a book worm is all that's special about "This creature eats documents and then can broadcast them." And you know... That's an episode where all the payoffs still work. THE ENTIRETY OF S3 IS ABOUT PAYOFFS THAT DON'T WORK.

Luz's angst? I've talked at length about how dog shit her character finish is and that dominates SO MUCH TIME? And what do you get for it? Stringbean? A character people rightfully were pissed about being way too special and not making any sense? And still reflects poorly on Luz's character finish by being literally the opposite of what she's talking about? I did a whole blog on this too.

How about Hunter being a Grimmwalker? We get one conversation with Gus and I guess Hunter getting possessed and then getting magic, one moment that is laughably short frankly and does NOT fix the issues with Hunter's 'arc' and I still despise him getting magic through his best friend dying because it meant we'd NEVER get anything interesting out of him not having his own magic and that's without getting into anything about disability allegories. Oh, and yeah, HIS BEST FRIEND DIED AND WE JUST HAVE TO MOVE ON FOR TIME. Belos' backstory? Entirely wasted to the point where people's frustrations with it come up like once a week in my Discord because it seemed to so clearly be building up to something only for Belos to come right back around to being a dumb, boring, racist villain with nothing more interesting to him. How about villains before Belos? Well, the Collector is poorly written, makes no sense and is written like he's actually five instead of five thousand. Kikimora is the only other villain and she should have been gone so long ago and what does she lead to? Another mech fight? Who we don't even get to see beaten but instead the bully character who has been literally nothing but a joke for over a season assures as she finally got put in her place. This is writing that from a viewer standpoint is ETERNALLY infuriating. You're waiting for something to happen and the closest you get for two specials, effectively four-five episodes of the show, is Willow angst about her magic and feelings in a way that hasn't been true to her character in literally two seasons. If ever. For a character who is 90% plot device for other characters.

Honestly, at that point wanting them all dead and to see the villain win, just for the sheer shock and brutality of it all, seems kind of reasonable when you can't expect anything satisfying from the heroes. I'd argue, in my opinion, they even fucked up Belos' death for a really bad jab at fucking Steven Universe. HOW MANY SHOWS DO YOU THINK REDEEM THE FINAL BAD!? It's a lot less than you seem to think Owl House so why don't you shut up, especially after you REDEEMED THE COLLECTOR AND DID NOTHING WITH HIM! That's not even a joke. They come up with a contrivance so he can't do shit and then he fucks off. Why? Don't fucking know. Maybe the writers realized that a childish god is really hard to write around and should have given it more thought. Like... Anyone who just couldn't give a fuck by the time they're fighting Dragon Belos, especially once Luz is just given a super form so it's time for the victory lap after she didn't have to work that hard to beat the Collector (that's the impression I've been given since NO ONE talks about the Collector's redemption. Literally the only scene I've seen from that part of the episode is Luz playing with Amity's face.) so the stakes are rock bottom already. And boy, the jokes of the episode don't help with it. The fact that it's callback after callback is cute and good for a finale but how many of these jokes are robbing any momentum of the moment? Fucking everything to do with the Collector in the finale seems to be this way where it's like "Hahaha. Okay now let's actually back to the point." Even when he's trying to be serious like not understanding death, I'm sitting here going "Okay but you wanted to play with corpses and grind bones. You don't get to do this shit and not piss me off." So wanting to just make everyone shut up through Belos winning? I can get it. I definitely wouldn't but I didn't watch S3 for a reason because I recognized that with how everything was written up to it and ESPECIALLY after the first special, I wouldn't enjoy any of it. Not when its only payoffs are in fanservice and romance instead of its magic, adventure, comedy, narrative, characters... You know: Technically all the things it pitched in its beginning. It pitched by claiming to be a professional, animated, comedy adventure. So why not root for Belos? You'll get just as much rooting for him as any other part of the show. +++++++

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#The Owl House Criticism #TOH Critical #emperor belos #toh season three

[sakurabloom48]

Sk8 scenes that live in my head rent free

“I swear you are always drawing something weird”

“Wanna see!”

“Joe I wanna marry your abs!!!!!”

“I wanna climb that cherry tree!!!!”

“One cup of Joe please!!!!”

”they sell Putin here?”

“grow up! I want pizza!!!!”

“Cool C C Cool! The masks kinda cool I guess”

“Hey bitchs, bros, and non binary hoes!”

”that’s what made him seem like he was right in front of you. Oh hi”

“your to close”

”ugh why does up hill even exist!”

“downhill wouldn’t exist without it”

“Thanks langa…”

”Help, Joe that old guy scares me~”

“…”

“Joe are you listening to me im scared~!”

“huh! Don’t worry bae I’ll protect you!”

”The bigger the wheels the faster you’ll go. Just remember to pick the right trucks for them.”

“Pick up trucks?”

“oh my god!!!!!”

~{}~ Those are just a few of my favorite scenes and the top pics ofc so ya…

#sk8 #skate the infinity reki #anime #anime memes #anime scenes #anime moments #lives in my head rent free #sk8 reki #sk8 the infinity #sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 fanart #sk8 headcanons #sk8 joe #sk8 langa #skate the infinity #sk8 miya #sk8 kojiro #langa hasegawa #reki kyan #sk8 cherry #miya chinen #joe x cherry blossom #sk8 shadow #shadow sk8 #anime quote #anime quotes

[tachimichishrine]

Merry Christmas <3

THANKS BAE ♡♡♡ i don't celebrate it but yk what? happy holidays everyone!! and for those who don't celebrate any holidays rn (me included), happy days!! and for those who don't believe in the labelling of feelings and/or the existential presence of joy, days!! and for those who don't believe in plurality, day!! and for those who don't believe in the construct of time, !!

honestly though i'm kinda offended I woke up today and tachihara wasn't under me my non-existent tree smh

#answering my scrumptious little pookies #guys im joking i just happen to suffer from a weird sense of humour pls dont cancel me for being unfunny womp womp