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candyquokka · 12 days ago

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maybe it's not our fault - chapter 01

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─�� ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 10k

a/n: it's here!! special thank you to my croissant baby laure @byunfirstlady (this wouldn't be a me story if i didn't mention her somehow fgfdgh) for reading this for me before posting!! since this is the first chapter, things might feel a little slow, but dw, it will all pick up soon! enjoy <33 and do let me know your thoughts after reading <3

“That is not going to fit!”

He scoffs, already annoyed. “Yes, it is! Just move over a little.”

“A little? I’m already stretched the fuck out! What more do you want from me?”

“Seohyun, I swear to fucking God – “

She yelps, most likely cramping. “Just pull it out, you dumbass – “

“What the hell is going on in here?”

You and Chan stop dead in your tracks, confused at the scene currently playing out in front of your very eyes. You were gone downstairs for less than ten minutes to get the rest of your stuff, with you and Chan carrying a box each that held the essentials to ensure this move went smoothly. And in that time frame, your two other best friends have already managed to be at each other’s throats.

The front door of your apartment was wide open, with dumb and dumber currently looking like two deers caught in headlights on opposite sides, separated by an old armchair whose springs had become a death trap over the years. Last year, when you held parties here, someone was always left standing — it was either the cursed chair or the floor, with most guests picking the latter once they were drunk enough.

“Uh, hi?” Jisung greets, forcing a smile onto boyish features that haven’t changed much since you met almost seven years ago, in high school.

Bewiled, you set the box down by Chan’s feet and approach. “Are you guys, okay? What happened?”

Whistling, Jisung tries to pretend he has everything under control. He doesn’t, he never does, that’s just the type of guy he was. “Duh, we’re fantastic! Everything is under control, don’t even – “

Called it.

“For the love of god, just shut up and let them help us already!” Seohyun barks from the other side, prompting you to peek in to see her straighten her posture, rubbing her wrists in obvious discomfort. With a sigh and a glare from Jisung who steps back to allow Chan to take his place, she explains. “We were trying to get this chair out to make room for the new one.”

Chuckling, Chan inspects the door frame while you pass Seohyun one of the boxes right over the ugly, red chair that’s seen better days. “And it got stuck?”

“Yes, because Jisung didn’t want to listen – “

“Or maybe because you started pushing when I wasn’t ready, like an idiot.” He counters instantly, never one to back out from a fight instigated by Seohyun. Not to be fooled, these two were as close as can be, the bickering reflective of their special bond.

You and Chan share a look as they start again, amusement clear in gentle, doe eyes that have comforted you numerous times over the years. Meeting back in the summer before high school, you and Chan have been attached at the hip ever since, clicking as pre-teens and growing up together, maturing down the same path that’s led you to the same university, and even the same major you also shared with Jisung. Music production has always been a passion of yours, so getting to fulfil that dream with your absolute best friend by your side was a blessing you couldn’t be more thankful for.

“Alright.” Chan stops their bickering, one hand landing on Jisung’s shoulder to get his attention. “Stand on it.”

“Pardon?” Jisung blinks at him, as confused as you and Seohyun were, not sure he heard Chan right.

Smiling, Chan squeezes his shoulder. “So, you can step on the backrest and make it fall over. It will be easier to move afterwards.”

“You think so?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip, not confident in the slightest.

Your best friend nods, giving his bottom an encouraging pat. “Positively. Now go on, I don’t want to spend my whole day in this hallway.”

Seohyun scrambles back, unwilling to get caught in between Jisung and the chair, giving him enough room to do what he must to free her exit.

Watching the whole scene unfold has you smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep your laughter at bay once Jisung realizes the task isn’t as dangerous as he expected. It’s anticlimactic, more than anything, as he gets on top of the chair to step on the backrest, going down slowly without even losing his balance.

He blinks, barely realizing it’s over before making eye contact with Seohyun who bursts out laughing like she’s been holding it in since the beginning. The three of you join in quickly after, your delight bouncing off the hallway walls and lifting the spirits tremendously.

After all, nobody in existence was ever excited for summer to end and classes to start again, with a new, even more demanding schedule than last year. You were in your third year now and things were bound to get difficult the closer you got to graduating.

This silly moment was exactly what you needed to start the new year right, sure it would become a core memory later down the line when you’d all be working adults, with even more responsibilities and nonexistent free time. The sight of Chan dragging the armchair out, without any difficulty whatsoever as Jisung and Seohyun’s jaws hit the floor, incredulous he didn’t struggle like they did, was sure to bring a smile to your face for years to come.

When your only access to the apartment was finally free, the four of you gathered inside with the remaining boxes.

“You weren’t kidding, you do have all of your stuff here.” Seohyun hums, scanning her surroundings, and her new home. The apartment was yours. You moved in just last year and you’ve lived by yourself until now, when you welcomed her with open arms and a little too much excitement.

“Yeah.” You nod, already moving around to put the scattered things back in their rightful places. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t bother cleaning up before leaving.”

The living room was fine – your bedroom was the one that suffered the most, already dreading the thought of having to dig through all the mess to find most of your things.

The apartment was a gift from your parents, after successfully finishing your first year of university living in a dorm. Sure, having your own space was great, but you’d never trade that first year for anything in the world. That’s where you meet Seohyun after all, growing closer and closer with every sleepless night you spent together giggling and talking about everything under the sun, not feeling the hours tick by until one of your alarms would ring, signalling the start of a new day.

It was big, too spacious for only one person to live in, with two bedrooms and a bathroom straight out of an interior design magazine. Even though Seohyun didn’t move in until now, you were never truly alone with Jisung and Chris living right next door. Someone was always keeping you company, which you were thankful for, in more ways than one.

Already moving about like they owned the place, Chris and Jisung were helping you tidy up, with the latter moving to check for anything rotten in the kitchen. With four pairs of hands on deck, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for everything to be back to normal, leaving you to take care of the dusting.

“Alright.” Chan stands, carrying two trash bags. “Ji, let’s go get the armchair.”

Jisung follows before Seohyun calls after them. “Right, is it in your car?”

“I thought it was in yours?” He turns around, stopping in the doorway while Chan is already busy calling the elevator, further away.

You see her brows furrow, setting the duster down before grabbing her car keys. “Nope.”

The ding of the elevator gets your attention, and they share a look before hurrying after Chan, in search of said armchair, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud. You lived high up, on the 10th floor – nobody was ever willing to take the stairs and waste that much time.

And so, in the blink of an eye, you are left alone in the apartment that held so many of your memories, beautiful moments you wouldn’t trade even in exchange for forgetting the sad ones.

You feel a little lost, staring around like you couldn’t recognize your own home, shoulders slumping with a deep sigh. Your gaze moves towards your closed bedroom door, feet following before your hand twists the doorknob and you’re engulfed in sunlight, blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in lighting.

Inside, the sight that greets you seems frozen in time, transporting you back in June to the last moments spent in this room, where you were running around to pack in a hurry. You don’t dare move, just taking it all in as memories flood your mind and make your heart ache in your chest, what still remains of it, anyway.

All of your stuff thrown around haphazardly painted a picture you didn’t enjoy, yet couldn’t look away from either. Your bed remained unmade, with piles of clothing, bags and random objects occupying all the space. Framed photographs were thrown everywhere around the room, just so they would stop glaring at you from their place on your nightstand, face down and most likely damaged by the broken glass. The vase on your dresser, which used to stand tall with beautiful, healthy flowers seemed to have lost its color, struggling to fulfil its purpose because of the dried, mouldy peonies you didn’t bother throwing out before leaving.

But what’s even worse than the mess is what tipped you over the edge back then, falling to your knees on the fluffy, white carpet as you sobbed uncontrollably – the things he left behind were still here, in the exact same spots, in pristine condition. Your room looked like it barely survived the hurricane that shared your name, yet his red cap was still resting quietly next to the flowers he got you. One of his sketchbooks, still opened on that drawing he never got to finish as he got too busy with school, was on the other nightstand, on his side of the bed. A pair of his dancing shoes were by the door, right next to your comfy slippers. They have been there for so long, that you couldn’t enter your room without tripping over them and be reminded of his presence every single time. Hell, you bet if you checked right now, his toothbrush will still be next to yours in the cute holder you bought together, his razor not far away.

There were traces of him everywhere you looked in this apartment, clothes and necessities he left behind on his many visits. Like his football jersey, lucky number 20, you’ve worn more times than him, hung in your open closet among empty hangers that barely held on.

It wasn’t fair, how you seemed to crumble along with everything around you while he, and his stupid things, remained intact. The world shattered beneath your feet, freefalling to your doom of self-doubts and regrets while he continued with his life like nothing even happened. Like you never happened; like you weren’t such a fundamental part in his life in the exact same way he was in yours.

Your ex boyfriend moved on in the blink of an eye, while you were still here, crying at the sight of a stupid toothbrush.

This will never be fair. Why did you always seem to draw the short end of the stick?

New beginnings were usually your favorite. Starting another book, turning a new leaf and switching up your wardrobe for a change, getting the inspiration for another song – these were all activities that brought you joy. Now, returning to campus at the end of summer vacation to begin another school year? For the first time since starting university two years ago, felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t ready for in the slightest. Because how could you ever be ready to start your junior year without him?

How could you possibly embark on a new journey without him holding your hand and guiding you through it all, navigating around every hardship with ease like he was the most experienced sailor in existence?

You had no answers, only questions. Too many that were also too loud, bouncing off of the sturdy walls of your mind that were threatening to crumble with every thud, remaining standing only thanks to the unbearable headaches that reminded you to take a break from all the overthinking.

Your mind went quiet as another voice made its presence known, bringing you back to the world outside your bedroom while shooing the dark cloud above your head out the window with ease.

“Oh my god, we lost the goddamn chair!”

A wet laugh escaped your lips, more tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately tried to wipe them all before joining your friends in the living room. You weren’t stupid – they were worried. That’s why Seohyun was moving in, in the first place. To keep an eye on you at all times, when the other two couldn’t be there and provide the much needed support you craved so badly.

Not like they knew you were aware of their little plan, having them figured out from the moment they showed up at Chan’s doorstep in Australia, last month. They’ve been tiptoeing around you since then, not knowing what emotional state you were in or what’s changed or hasn’t in the two months you spent apart. Sure, Chris might have filled them in, but they were still afraid. Afraid they were going to mess up somehow and have you slipping through their fingers and shatter at any moment, like you were nothing more than a fragile package, all progress lost the second something that reminded you of him jumped into your path.

And, you hate to admit but they were right.

They failed to take into consideration that even though your ex never actually moved in, the apartment was his as much as it was yours, quickly becoming your shared home as you fell into a routine that involved the other at every step.

Your three close friends were the only people present, but all you could see was him, a ghost roaming around and haunting every corner of the house you now despised, his giggles caressing your ears gently every time you moved from one room to the other.

Just being here felt like torture. How were you supposed to spend another two years sleeping in the same bed you shared with the person you thought was going to be your forever?

“Sweetheart.” Chan’s gentle voice coaxes you out of the room as you manage to pull yourself together, no sign of crying or distress still present on your features. If anything, they looked worse than you, crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“We have something to tell you.” Seohyun steps closer, gently taking your hands into hers and intertwining your fingers loosely.

Jisung nods and is by your side in a second, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he lowers his mouth to your ear. “Chris lost your new armchair.”

“What the fuck?!”

Your laughter joins theirs, a beat later, as Chris remains the only one standing there, arms crossed over his chest with his words falingl on deaf ears, nobody paying attention as he begins defending himself.

When you’re pulled into a warm embrace, with Jisung’s cologne enveloping all your senses, you can’t help but start wondering. Is this a good time to finally reveal you never actually ordered a new chair or…?

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

Saturday slipped away into a moment in time, and before you knew it, Sunday was upon you. Your last chance at relaxing before the craziness began, and you’d be thrust into a series of new projects, classes and assignments that were already giving you a headache.

Despite spending the previous night celebrating a new beginning with your best friends, having an intimate pizza party with karaoke and a little too much alcohol, you wake up bright and early to get to a previously made appointment. Usually, you wouldn’t go anywhere for the summer, for the first two months anyway. But since you flew out of the country as soon as your exams were over, you didn’t get to help the animal shelter you have been volunteering at since your first year. It left a hole in your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel guilty for disappearing into thin air, with nothing more than a text sent to the owner to let her know you’ll be going away for a while.

Hopefully, they’re willing to forgive and forget and let you make up for it by spending the next two months as involved as possible.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Comes Chan’s groggy voice, still husky from all the singing he did last night, stumbling out of your spare bedroom with barely open eyes.

You startle, losing your balance while putting on your other shoe and crashing into the wall by the front door. You were hoping to make a swift escape and return before any of them rose since nobody in their right mind would willingly wake up this early.

He appears from around the corner, tank top slightly raised as he’s trying to scratch at his back. “You good?”

“Yep, everything’s just peachy.” Regaining your footing, you manage to put your shoe on and turn your back to him to get a jacket, feeling too awkward to make eye contact right now, which Chan would have laughed about if he wasn’t so sleepy.

“Where are you going?” He yawns, turning to squint at the clock on the far wall, above the couch. “It’s literally 7 am, too early to even be alive right now.”

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him, too out of it for your, and most definitely his liking. Being here was certainly not doing you any good, the walls closing in every time you tried to breathe and lift all the broken pieces of your stupid heart off of your lungs. It felt suffocating, especially when you were left alone with your thoughts as you zoned out one too many times.

Still, you mumble under your breath, reaching for your keys as silently as possible.

“Huh?”

With a sigh, you finally face him, eyes downcast. “Furry Friends Rescue.”

The smile that stretches across his features as he processes your words is so wide and contagious, it brightens up the whole room like he was somehow related to the sun itself, light radiating off of him in waves. It wakes him up instantly, and before you know it, he slips into a pair of slides left by the door and flies to his apartment.

You look after him, confused, and step into the hallway at the same time he does.

“Alright, let’s go!” He beams, locking his door before reaching for your arm softly. “I’ll drive you!”

“Wait, are you sure? I can – “

“Yes, I’m sure!” He frowns, shaking his head and pulling you after him with his newfound energy. “You love it there, and I know you already miss Berry. The least I can do is offer you a ride, are you kidding?”

You can’t help but smile at the mention of his puppy, spirits lifted in an instant. She was such a special little lady and you really bonded in these three months you’ve spent at his parents’ house.

Your parents never allowed you to have a pet, with your mom being allergic, so you did what you could to fill the space that remained constantly empty in your heart.

The drive there is full of laughter and even more singing, with Chris bringing back one of the activities you loved doing since he first got his license back in high school. Carpool karaoke has always been a must in his car, and that’s why you rode with Seohyun on your way back from the airport yesterday. You were a fool because nothing was quite as therapeutic as being silly and singing Disney songs at the top of your lungs with the only person who’s watched you grow into the adult you are today.

The drive to your destination isn’t long, but you still manage to squeeze in five songs before you get off and Chris speeds off. Only after wishing you a good day and making you promise you’ll call once you’re done so he can come pick you up, too. He was too kind, willing to do too much for you sometimes, but you were just the same. You’re afraid you might try moving the moon if he asked, one day.

Your annoying, overprotective brother who wasn’t really your brother, who’d push you into the pool before jumping in to save you in the same breath. He was such a guy.

Approaching with a prep to your step, the shelter’s surroundings have changed drastically since your last visit. The trees in the back have dyed their leaves in warm shades of orange and yellow, scattering some on the ground in hopes of attracting more pet lovers. A beautiful background always pulled people in, just like all pretty things did, and this autumn is particularly beautiful, with sights straight out of famous paintings. Seoul was truly a special city, one that’s nurtured and taught you the meaning of the word love that’s being thrown around too casually for your taste, these days. The city you grew up in, where you found your love for writing and composing, and where you met the most amazing people on this planet.

No other city could compare to your birthplace, no matter how pretty or modern it was.

Just as you make to try the door, with your apology speech all ready to go, it suddenly opens and forces you to take a few steps back in surprise.

“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet.” The apology comes from a tall man, whose delicate features would have fooled you into believing he wasn’t older than a high schooler. Yet his physique begs to differ, you could tell even from beneath all the layers. He’s wearing the shelter’s apron with the logo you’ve had Jisung design a few years back. A new employee, perhaps? You don’t recognize him, so that’s most likely the case.

Your gaze travels upwards until it meets his brown eyes that fidget at the sudden contact. “Sorry, I’m here to see Mrs. Jeon?”

The stranger shakes his head, bleached blond hair hiding an undercut following his every move. “Mrs. Jeon is out of the country.”

You wait for him to continue, provide more details but when he doesn’t and only raises a brow that almost asks ‘what are you still doing here?’ you sigh and turn to leave. “Right. Will you please tell her Y/n has stopped by?”

“Wait, Y/n L/n?”

You turn right on your heel, both of your eyebrows raised as if to challenge his. “Do I know you?”

He brings his hands up, showing he means no harm as a smile finds his rosy lips, one you don’t truly grasp the meaning of. “No! But I know you.”

Alright, now you’re properly creeped out. Noticing the look on your face, the man quickly corrects himself, letting out an awkward laugh as he rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with strangers. Mrs. Jeon does! I was recruited in your place when you didn’t come back in June.”

Oh, so he was your replacement. Great. You had no idea you’d entered a race to see how fast people and places you frequented could replace you during the summer. Very motivating and uplifting. You should have stayed home.

“Oh.” Despite all the thoughts overlapping each other in your head, you only manage to sigh, properly exhausted.

His eyes widen slightly, and without thinking, he grasps your elbow when you turn around to leave for good. “Please do come in! Mrs. Jeon has been waiting to hear from you. She left a note.”

“A note?” When he nods, you shake off his hand and accept the invitation, stepping inside filled with curiosity.

All of the furry friends were in the back, in a separate space away from the reception. The place was modern, decorated in warm, pastel colors that seemed to welcome you with a fuzzy hug, the surroundings pristine. Furry Friends Rescue was built from the ground up by Mrs Jeon’s late husband, who passed away a few years back, right after you started volunteering here. To honor his life, she kept this place running, making it her mission to find loving homes for all the animals that were brought in, investing most of her resources into modernizing the place and treating the animals like they deserved to be treated.

The shelter housed a veterinary office and a pet salon, run by other volunteers who were experts in their fields, students alike and even working people who would come by to offer a helping hand whenever they could. Mr Jeon was a vet – he used to treat all of the animals before he fell sick and became unable to work.

Making his way around the reception desk, which truly resembled the entrance of a corporation, even with all the pet pictures plastered on all the walls, and the dog pattern on the couch, the man picks up a note that was next to the bone-shaped phone.

“Here.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the small paper from him, but you don’t pay any attention to the slight color that appears on his cheeks.

Dear Y/n,

I hope your precious heart managed to heal during your trip

What fitting words for someone who had no idea why you left in the first place. Guess Mrs. Jeon knew you better than you thought, after all.

If you’re reading this, it means I have not yet returned from visiting my grandbabies. It also means Jaemin is the one looking after the place

Please work together until I’m back. He’s a nice kid and I believe you’ll get along well

That is if you’re still willing to return. Always put yourself first. If quitting is what you think is best, just know I’ll never hold it against you

With love, grandma J

P.S. there’s a surprise on the other side 😊

Curious, you flip over the page, eyes scanning the familiar handwriting to decipher what has she left you. A giggle escapes you soon after, shaking your head with fondness spilling from your eyes at her antics. You’re glad that after everything she’s been through, Mrs. Jeon has never changed.

“Is something funny?” The guy you’ve come to learn is named Jaemin asks from the other side of the desk, head tilted slightly in wonder making him resemble an actual puppy.

You dismiss him with a wave of your wrist, pocketing the note. Mrs. J’s brownie recipe you could never get enough of wouldn’t interest him anyway.

“So, you’re Jaemin?” You finally ask, giving him a once-over. He was tall, wearing a denim-on-denim outfit and smiled a little too brightly for your liking. Still, he did look like a nice guy, so you might as well give him a chance, even if meeting someone knew was the last thing you wanted to do.

As expected, he beams, thrusting a hand forward over the desk. “That’s me! Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You give him a small but genuine smile and shake his hand. “I’m a third year at SNU so I usually volunteer here during summer vacation. I hope we get along.”

He nods, listening to your every word. “Yeah, Mrs. Jeon mentioned we go to the same university. I’m a second year majoring in dance! I’m also a part of the football team so I apologize in advance if I ever end up leaving you here all alone when the season starts.”

Oh, what were the odds?

Your smile drops despite your effort in not reacting, retracting your hand a little too quickly while nodding and trying to act as normal as possible. “Cool.”

Turning around, you begin walking in the opposite direction to escape from this awkward situation Mrs. J has unknowingly put you in.

“Shall we go see the animals?”

He’s on your tail soon after, grabbing another apron on the way for you with that ever present sunny smile of his. Jaemin reminded you of a hyperactive puppy, a golden retriever who would do anything to make you happy, pulling silly stunts and stumbling over his own feet.

Turns out, his bright personality isn’t the only reason Mrs. J has hired Jaemin. You spend the next four hours together, taking care of the animals and talking, to your surprise. They all seemed to love him already, causing a ruckus at the mere sight of him, excited to be let out and greet you both properly. The puppies especially as they’d run back and forth from you to him without stopping for a while, barely managing to bottle feed them in their excitement. Jaemin was nice, and easy to talk to, happy to get to know you but also talk your ear off when sensing you might need a laugh, managing to make everything funny. A great pick me up, you ended up agreeing with Mrs J’s statement – he was a good guy, the best that could have replaced you and helped her and all the staff in your absence.

For some reason, he felt comfortable opening up to you, and in turn, you told him some things about yourself too.

“What made you want to volunteer here?” He suddenly asks while cradling a noisy kitten, the sight comical.

You barely think before answering, gaze still trained on the bichon that has fallen asleep in your lap while you were brushing her. “I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up, and I’ve always loved them. I was lucky my best friend had the most adorable puppy in the world right next door, but it wasn’t the same as owning one, you know?”

Jaemin nods, finally calming the kitten, eyes on you. “Oh, that sucks. I couldn’t imagine life without my two babies at home.”

You look up, curious. “You have dogs?”

“Two cats.” He throws a peace sign, chuckling when you smile. “I’m from Busan, so I only get to see them on holidays. I thought coming here and helping out four days a week might help me miss them less.”

“And? Does it help?” You point to the kitten that has fallen asleep in his arms, head crocked to the side weirdly. Looking down, he laughs and sets her in his lap, using his knuckles to gently pet between her ears, one of his hands as big as her whole body.

“It does, actually.” He smiles absentmindedly, most likely reminiscing about his fur babies. “But only momentarily. When I’m back in my dorm room, I still feel their absence.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say, a deep pang of sadness hitting you out of nowhere. You guess this is how Chris and Jisung feel as well, both away from their respective dogs they’ve more or less grown up with.

Jaemin shakes his head, still smiling and not as sad as you’d thought he’d be. “None of that. I facetime my mom every night just to see them.”

“That’s cute.” A smile finds its way on your face as you imagine him using the same baby voice he uses with the animals here on the phone with his mom, cooing at his cats.

“You’re cute.”

An uncharacteristic silence falls upon you as Jaemin searches for your gaze, dying to understand your reaction. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just weird, making you feel like you were doing something wrong. Which made no sense. Jisung and Chan called you cute all the time; not out of nowhere, but when the moment was right. Heck, Seohyun would write entire pages praising your beauty whenever you posted on Instagram – you knew you were cute. But this was different, this was someone that meant it romantically, you could tell. He was flirting with you, shooting his shot and seeing where it landed.

That wasn’t something you could reciprocate, especially not now.

When he notices the look in your eyes, the storm brewing behind them, he adds. “I was talking about Belle over there.”

You look down at Belle, the fluffy bichon in your lap, who is currently sleeping soundly on her back, tummy up and randomly kicking her feet once in a while, dreamland surely rowdy.

“Shut up.” You laugh a moment later, appreciating how fast he took the hint and backed off, leaning over to softly push him on the doggy mats, to which he pretends to fall just for your amusement.

With that out of the way, things return to normal quickly and before you know it, the other volunteers arrive and you’re biding Jaemin goodbye and going on your merry way, back to your apartment.

It’s afternoon now, hopefully your friends are awake by now.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

They were in fact, not awake. Jisung just moved himself from the spare bedroom he shared with Chris for the night to the living room couch to sleep some more, without having to deal with the other’s snoring. Seohyun was buried in your blanket, hiding from the world, in the same position she was in when you left that morning.

Like it or not, it seems their bodies were incapable of pulling all-nighters after doing it for so many years without suffering the day after. Hopefully, you all manage to fix your sleep schedules before your classes start properly, not wanting to miss too many and be left behind, confused out of your minds and barely figuring it out by the time exam season rolls around.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“I’m sleepy.” Seohyun complains, reaching up to rub her eyes before remembering the pretty eyeliner currently gracing her eyelids and stopping at the last second, groaning.

You giggle, full of energy from the coffee Chris made sure got into your system before your first class, swirling the ice in your cup absentmindedly, mind somewhere else.

Busy on his phone, he doesn’t even look up as he responds. “You barely made it to class this morning and you’re still complaining?”

Monday, 10:15 am. Your first class of the day officially ended fifteen minutes ago and as you’ve been doing for two years now, your friend group meet up at your favorite location, the diner closest to campus that has become some sort of sanctuary by now.

Seohyun was majoring in communication so she did not share your classes yet somehow, the four of you have started the new school year in the same way – with a boring, way too long 8 am lecture that almost erased your will to live.

She shoots him a dirty look he doesn’t notice, but otherwise doesn’t respond, too tired to bother with Chris and his top student agenda. Because being popular, good at sports and everyone’s friend wasn’t enough for him; your best friend was the academic weapon every freshman aspired to be, without trying too hard either. Hands down the most gifted and smartest person you know.

“You did go to bed super late last night.” You reach for her hand across the table, gently massaging her palm in hopes she’ll feel a bit better.

Just then, Jisung returns with your drinks, handing them out one by one like he was a barista himself. When he’s done and you all thank him, he takes his seat across from you and Chris, next to Seohyun. “What did I miss?”

“Seohyun was complaining.” Chris responds instantly, fingers typing away. What could be more interesting than spending time with your closest friends?

“Oh, so nothing new.”

At the same time, you softly smack the back of Chris’ head while she smacks Jisung, with a little more force, only the latter reacting loudly.

“Stop being mean.” You reprimand, and Chris puts his phone down with a sigh, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head.

“For your information, being late was not my fault.” Seohyun chimes in, finally in the mood to explain herself after taking several sips of her coffee. “This random guy ran straight into me, I was tackled to the ground!”

Concern flashes over your features. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, don’t worry. He helped me up and gathered all of my books while apologizing. Then I met up with Ji and he carried my bag to class.”

Both you and Chris shoot Jisung a curious look, not convinced he went through all of that trouble out of the kindness of his own heart.

“In my defense,” Jisung shrugs, his arm thrown over the booth behind Seohyun’s head, “I really did not want to come to class.”

Chris chuckles and sips from his strawberry milkshake while you shake your head, smiling and pinching the back of Jisung’s hand that was resting on the table, to which he retaliates by throwing the straw paper in your face.

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention either so he’s not entirely to blame here.” She continues like neither of you has said anything, resting her head in her palm with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Besides, he was fucking gorgeous. I swear I’ve never seen such a beautiful man before. And his freckles? Literal constellations right on his cheeks, oh my god.”

“Okay, Juliet, pipe down.” Jisung flicks her forehead and she swats his hand away, glaring.

Amused, you lean closer with interest. “Did you get his name?”

She shakes her head. “No” Then, her gaze moves to Chris. “That’s why, I need you to find him for me.”

Raising a brow, he reaches for your drink to have a taste before responding. “What am I, the local newspaper? You’re the one who bumped into him.”

“Yes, but you literally know everyone on campus.”

He makes a face, deeming your drink too bitter for his taste. “So do you.”

That was true. Seohyun was the definition of a social butterfly, mingling with all cliques and being liked by everyone she came into contact with. However, she was also very perceptive so if someone’s vibe seemed off, she could come across as cold and aloof, not giving them the time of day.

“Please?” She continues, resorting to the infamous puppy eyes. “This guy might be the love of my life, Chris, please help me.”

“What about Mark?” Jisung buts in, giving her a questioning look. Immediately, you and Chris signal for him to cut it out, abort the ship and never utter that name for as long as he draws breath.

Seohyun’s gaze drops to her cup, manicured finger moving back and forth on the edge, pretending she didn’t hear any of the words that have left Jisung’s mouth. To his credit, Jisung looks a little guilty, arm sliding over her shoulder and squeezing briefly in a silent apology, hoping it will be enough to fix things.

The probability of this mystery guy being the love of her life was low, but Chris seemed to feel bad enough to give in, exhaling deeply. Seohyun’s track record wasn’t great – for some reason, she always fell for emotionally unavailable guys, with her latest situationship ending not too long ago once she realized Mark did not want anything serious.

She didn’t deserve all that. Seohyun was the sweetest, kindest person you knew, with a heart of gold. If anyone deserved to find true love and grow old with rosy cheeks, still feeling butterflies at the mention of her beloved’s name no matter how many years passed, it was her. And you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make that happen.

“Let’s find this pretty boy of yours.” You smile as Chris nods, enjoying the way her face gradually lights up.

“Really?”

“I’d feel like I kicked a puppy while it was down if I didn’t, so what the hell. We’ve done crazier things anyways.” Chris adds and she squeals, getting out of the booth to come over and hug him, suddenly excited.

“Oh!” She rushes back to her seat, instantly rummaging through her bag. “This is his. I think it got mixed up with my books when I dropped them. He was in a hurry.”

The three of you huddle together as she places a small notebook on the table, curious about its contents that might reveal the identity of Seohyun’s prospective new…something. Let’s hope boyfriend, and nobody that treats her less than that.

Chris is the one who dares open it, flipping through the pages in wonder.

“These are…recipes?” He blinks, drawing a blank as the measurements for the perfect ‘gooey brownies’ stare him right in the face.

None of you says anything for a moment, the gears in your head turning and working simultaneously before Jisung breaks the silence with an unexpected outburst.

“Oh my god, he’s a fucking loser!”

Safe to say, he got smacked a couple more times before your next class of the day. Lovingly, of course.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

With everyone promising to ask around for Seohyun’s prince charming, you go on with your day until your last class, when you established to meet again for a little get together with all of your other friends.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm, golden hue that extended throughout the whole campus, creating mesmerizing surroundings you could barely look away from. Thankfully by now, you’re outside, enjoying the warm breeze and nice weather that might not return any time soon as the days will only continue to get shorter and shorter as time passes.

You’re currently near the football field, cutting through near the bleachers to get to the other side where Chris and his swimming team are currently meeting. Seohyun is skipping a few feet in front of you, obviously in good spirits.

“Didn’t know Chris needed a chaperone.” She teases, turning to you with a smile as she starts walking backwards.

You chuckle. “Well, he is our ride.”

“We could have walked.” She stretches her arms as if to prove a point. “It’s such a beautiful day! It’s a shame we have to miss out on the rest of it, too.”

You were on your way to a bar, a new one that opened all the way in Hongdae. The owner has invited 3racha, Chris and Jisung’s music group personally, so it would be rude to not show up, even if you did share her sentiment. If it were up to you, you’d be in bed, snuggling already, but your friends have made it a point to keep you out of the house as much as possible.

“Just say thank you, Seohyun.”

“Thank you, Seohyun, for being the hottest girl around!”

You both laugh, enjoying each other’s company before she turns back around and resumes her skipping, long, bleached hair flowing freely behind her in the prettiest way. As you reach for your phone to record her for memories, a speck of red gets your attention in an instant.

You keep walking but your eyes are glued to the field now, to the eight or so guys dressed in the white and red uniform of your university’s American football team. Your heart rate picks up in an instant, scanning their jersey numbers in a hurry.

Relief floods your system when you don’t find what you’re looking for, slowing down. These guys looked young, most likely freshmen trying out for a spot in the most famous football team your university has had in years. You didn’t know how that worked, your memory failed you as you tried to remember when tryouts took place. It seemed a little too early for all that though, too soon to be looking for new people when the season kicked off somewhere in October, a good month and a half away. You couldn’t help but wonder why the hurry.

“Y/n! Watch out!”

Seohyun’s screaming startles you out of your thoughts, your eyes coming into focus to see a football flying right in your direction, quickly approaching your head. Before you know it, you’re ducking and running, feeling bad for snoozing and interfering with practice. Of course, this had to happen, you were cursed after all. You could never be near a sports field without something hitting you, no matter how small or insignificant the object, it always had to make contact with your face.

However, you don’t make it very far before you come to an abrupt stop as you collide with something or better said, someone, the impact causing you to stumble a few steps back until rough, gloved hands stabilize you by the shoulders.

When you regain your footing and finally look up at your saviour, your heart actually stops.

Because the one looking back, right through you is none other than Hyunjin. Your Hyunjin.

Or actually, he wasn’t yours anymore, now, was he?

Hyunjin who’s written his name across your heart in golden letters, that suddenly lit up at the mere sight of him. Your ex-boyfriend looked almost unrecognizable, his short black hair replaced by long, bleached locks that were pushed back, away from his face in a little ponytail.

You were a fool to think he wouldn’t be here. He was the captain after all and the coach was nowhere in sight.

The air wasn’t entering your lungs anymore, yet somehow you were still breathing, being kept afloat by his familiar hands on your skin, so overly conscious of his touch that you barely registered the shiver running down your spine.

After three months apart with no communication, Hyunjin was finally looking at you, forced to acknowledge your presence. It felt a little surreal, bumping into him so soon. Sure, you were expecting it, but not on your very first day back to campus, not when you still haven’t processed the fact that you weren’t together anymore. Everything in you longed for him and all his endearing quirks, even after all this time; even after he broke your heart.

You don’t dare look away, and neither does he, enthralled by those beautiful eyes of his that used to watch your every move with so much love and care. Now, you don’t see any of these emotions, but there is an intensity to his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on. Time always seemed to come to a stop when you were with him and right now it was no different. All of your surroundings faded, leaving him the sole object of your attention.

There was a new piercing adorning his face, right under his bleached eyebrow. It looked good, like everything he deemed worthy enough to leave a mark on his body. But that wasn’t what got your heart beating again, pounding against your ribcage at an alarming pace he was sure to hear even from afar.

Without looking away, his hands slide down your arms slowly, and for a brief moment, you think they’re going to find solace in yours, just like they’ve done for all these years. By the surprise flickering in his eyes, you believe he thought of the same thing, catching himself at the last second and taking a step back, arms falling to his side heavily.

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” A new voice has you both snapping out of it, finally allowing you to look away and escape the staring war neither had the resources to win. It’s familiar, and as someone stops right by your side, seemingly out of nowhere, there’s no doubt in your mind about his identity.

“Y/n, are you okay?

You blink, and the magic from before finally dissipates completely, almost like the spell Hyunjin has got you under broke the moment he made himself busy by reaching for his helmet on the ground. When you manage to tear your eyes from him, Yeonjun, one of his friends and teammates, comes into view and places a hand on your shoulder in concern. The ball that almost collided with your head is under his other arm, and you notice that he’s not wearing his gloves as he should be.

Eventually, you nod, looking straight into his eyes while mustering your most convincing smile. “Yeah, don’t worry. Nothing even happened.”

“It almost did.” He states, glaring towards the group of men who seemed glued on the spot. “If it weren’t for Hyunjin, things might have ended badly.”

You look away, not knowing how to act around them anymore. Hyunjin doesn’t respond either, just moves out of the way as Seohyun sprints to your rescue, pulling your body into the tightest hug and putting some distance between you and the two men.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” She’s instantly checking you all over, dusting invisible dirt off your clothes before patting your head lovingly, just like a mother would do to comfort her sobbing child. Truthfully speaking, you weren’t far from turning into one, but the mortification of bursting into tears in front of all these people kept your emotions in check. You reckon a football to the face would have hurt less than having Hyunjin treat you like a stranger he’s meeting for the first time, barely reacting to your sudden appearance.

In hindsight, him reacting differently was almost impossible. Especially in the way you’d want him to react. Hyunjin had changed right before your very eyes in the last months before your relationship ended, burying his sweet and sensitive nature so deep down that you feared it might have gotten erased permanently.

Grasping her hands, you nod to calm her racing mind. “I’m fine, mom.” Then, you turn to Yeonjun again. “Sorry for interrupting practice like that. I should have been more careful.”

You hear Hyunjin scoff from somewhere behind you, still not brave enough to show his face, while Yeonjun shakes his head vehemently. “Nonsense. You did nothing wrong. Those guys though? They did plenty.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before excusing himself to join said guys, voice loud and annoyed. “Who were you passing that to? Are you fucking blind or just stupid?”

Yeonjun had no authority over them, not like Hyunjin did anyway. But he was still a seasoned player, one that’s been with the team for two years, so his words carried significant weight. He was a year older than all of you yet only decided to give football a chance in his second year, joining the team at the same time as Hyunjin. Their roles on the team were the opposite of each other – while Hyunjin was on the offensive, Yeonjun was a defensive player in charge of keeping the other team as far away as possible. Yet, they clicked and worked so well together that the probability of SNU losing a game with both of them present was close to none.

Bonding outside the field proved just as easy and before you knew it, Yeonjun became one of Hyunjin’s treasured friends, bringing their envied teamwork to more events than necessary.

For these guys to have a chance before the coach, they first needed to impress these two. And one thing about Hyunjin was that he was very hard to impress, especially in the areas he excelled in.

Your eyes naturally gravitate towards him along with your thoughts, his magnetic field still as strong as always. To your utter surprise, he moved to stand a little further away, facing his potential new teammates.

“Who threw that?”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to overwhelm you, suddenly way too emotional to keep still, to manage to keep your cool and act as nonchalant as he was. You haven’t heard that voice in so long, you’re sure you’d have collapsed if he as much as uttered your name.

Your name on his tongue has always been your favorite sound, no other word ever coming close to having that same effect.

Sheepishly, one of the guys steps forward while rubbing the back of their necks, visibly taken aback by the coldness in Hyunjin’s voice.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow just as Seohyun links her arm through yours and tugs your body closer.

“Apologize.”

“Yes, captain!” He nods instantly, bowing repeatedly in Hyunjin’s direction to show exactly how sorry he feels for disappointing him. “I’m –“

“Not to me.” Hyunjin crosses his arms over wide chest, shoulder blade plates making him look even more intimidating as he stands to his full height, rolling his eyes. “To her.”

Your eyes widen as the guy looks up, searching for you with confusion visible even through his big helmet. Hesitantly, he changes targets, stopping before you and Seohyun.

“Hyunjin – “ You manage to squeak out, hating the way your voice almost gets caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face.

“Let him apologize.” His gaze travels to you leisurely, impatience clear in usual doe eyes.

But you aren’t far behind, a little annoyed by his insistence, managing to pull yourself together to counter. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And last I checked, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” As quick-witted as always, Hyunjin isn’t even looking at you anymore, not bothering to react in any other way, like you weren’t even worth getting annoyed at. “He made a mistake that under normal circumstances, could have cost us the game. He needs to own up to it and apologize not only to you but to his teammates as well.”

Then, the guy seems to get smaller under his sharp gaze, instantly dropping into a deep bow and obeying Hyunjin’s words to a T. “I’m so sorry for throwing the ball in your direction!” In the next second, he’s spinning around and bowing to the other guys as Seohyun struggles to keep in her laughter at his next words. “I’m sorry for being an idiot!”

To his credit, Hyunjin hasn’t addressed him as such, always one to keep things professional. Yet, you notice the slight twitch of his mouth, obviously pleased and amused as Yeonjun bursts out laughing.

The guys bow in return, and suddenly they’re all shouting apologies at each other, owning up to all of the little mistakes they’ve made up until now that might’ve inconvenienced the other in some way, feeling bad for possibly giving anyone a hard time.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, your best friend almost collapses from laughter, needing to walk it off to calm down, only to start again as she locks eyes with Yeonjun a little farther away.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t even know how to react, watching the scene before you as flabbergasted as one could get. It was wholesome to see these kids already acting like a team but a part of you couldn’t help but feel bad once it remembered none might actually get to play and represent their university on the field. Hyunjin was trying to instil some discipline into them, but at what cost? What was the point?

Just as you’re contemplating everything that happened, the eight guys suddenly stop and turn to bow in Hyunjin’s direction as well, apologizing at the same time like it’s an activity they’ve rehearsed beforehand. It gets quiet as they wait for an answer, not even daring to raise their heads and see Hyunjin’s reaction, just patiently waiting for the go ahead so they can go back to practice.

Since when was Hyunjin running this team like the fucking marines?

Despite not looking at him, when Hyunjin nods they all stand to their full heights before him, awaiting further instructions. The mood shifts, all tense and serious like they weren’t sweet and wholesome just a moment ago.

“Since none of you seem able to handle one of these yet,” he barely finishes his sentence before Yeonjun passes him the ball, catching it with ease to hold up for the others to see. It all happened so quickly and naturally, that the others most likely didn’t notice, but you did. Hyunjin isn’t using his dominant hand. “you’ll be running laps until the coach gets here. Whoever is not up for it, drop your gears – you’re out.”

You’re expecting complaints and groans in protest but instead, they all nod and succumb to their miserable fates, doing exactly what Hyunjin has instructed. A little further away, you notice Yeonjun laughing without shame, having a blast at their expense.

“Asshole.” Seohyun murmurs, rolling her eyes, and you’re unsure who she’s talking about. “Let’s go. Any more time and Chris will send his speedo wearing army out in the wild to look for us.”

You want to laugh, to agree, and turn your back on this incident and leave without a word. But you can’t, feet lodged into place like you were standing on the biggest patch of mud around.

Hyunjin’s back was already to you, form cladded in that familiar uniform you’ve felt under your fingertips for years. The 20 under his surname written in capital letters on his jersey were almost mocking you, mad for holding their twin hostage in your mess of a closet. It doesn’t matter – in a month or so, they’ll be replaced in favour of a new design that comes around every new season. Just like your presence in his life will inevitably be filled by someone else; someone better, capable of loving him at his worst.

You had so much to say, so many words eager to escape and latch onto him, to get his attention and feed from it, growing bolder and more desperate with every second spent by his side. Hyunjin always brought the best out of you – until he broke things off. Then everything just came to a stop. Like someone lifted the stylus off of a vinyl before the song got the chance to come to an end, damaging the record and your ears in the process.

You loved music but suddenly, your life was quiet.

Hyunjin has been your muse for the entirety of your relationship, all of your songs based on him and the love that managed to blossom thanks to your shared effort. The butterflies and the fireworks all faded without a trace, making your music sound bland and meaningless, off-key since the one who inspired it was no longer there.

You wanted to call out his name, get him to stop and not leave you behind again but you didn’t know how, unable to without bursting into tears and breaking down for everyone to see. Hyunjin has been a part of your life for so many years, how were you ever supposed to start acting like he never was? Erasing him and the mark he left would surely be impossible without a potion of sorts, some Eternal Sunshine mechanism that will ensure your brain will be tricked into believing he was never here, to begin with.

Seohyun is off to the side, giving you the space needed to put your thoughts in order, for your next move. This was your chance, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t run after him no matter how loudly your heart was screaming in protest.

So, you turn around and latch onto your best friend as she begins pulling you along, quick to come to your rescue as always. Struggling to keep it together, with tears welling up in your eyes, you miss the way he turns to look in your direction one more time. One last time.

You’ve always believed Hyunjin was the love of your life, the one you’d grow old holding hands with.

Now, your perspective has changed, as did the main character role he has played in your story for the past five years. No longer was he the charming male lead, the prince coming in on a white horse to swoop you off your feet in a grand gesture of romance.

Hyunjin was the loss of your life. The one that managed to get away even with the tight grip you’ve tried to keep on his heart.

Hyunjin transformed into a background character that won’t be there for the ride, and won’t get to witness the new developments happening from now on in your life.

You would have rather been the one written off the story if it meant keeping him. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility since without you, there wouldn’t be a story to begin with.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

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candyquokka · 22 days ago

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candyquokka · 27 days ago

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stay (forever, if you’d like) — lee know x reader ; the six times he asks you to stay (2.3k words)

happy bday lee know, you are my light

one.

There’s this thing about Minho—in the way his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes sharp, and lips always in a tight line. It’s why they call him cold, unapproachable. The same people that have intrigue and intimidation written on their faces when they lay eyes on the boy.

They just don’t know him.

His eyes are a lot softer than they describe. They’re wide, wonder-like, and they shine with something you can’t quite identify, but there. Present. There is so much you can decipher with a single look—mischief, pain, sincerity, love.

Those same eyes are looking at you right now. Almost pleading, but painfully trying not to look obvious.

“It’s getting dark outside.” He acts as if he isn’t the reason you’re still at his dorm.

Attempts at leaving, all in vain, flash before your eyes. You have to admit, your best friend is nothing but convincing, and a little manipulative in how he keeps you captive until there is reason for you to stay. “You should stay.”

You can hear the kettle whistling from a distance. It’s water for tea with measurements for two, like he knew you wouldn’t leave.

“Min.” You let out a breathy laugh. He’s almost detached himself from the couch he’d sprawled himself on earlier, inching closer and closer and closer until he gets the answer that he wants.

It’s obviously for your safety, it’s dangerous walking along at night. You would be stupid not to stay. That’s what he tells himself, but there is a feeling in his stomach telling him there’s more to it. He really really doesn’t want to think about it right now.

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Good decision. It seems that you value your life after all,” he says. There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips that he doesn’t quite show. You can always tell, though. It’s usually when he gets something he wants.

“But I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

(You won’t.)

two.

seungmin (2:03am): pls pick minho up. drunk

You have to look at Seungmin’s message twice before it properly registers.

You remember Minho telling you he wouldn’t be drinking tonight, but it seems there’s been slight changes to his plans. You wonder if Jisung’s peer pressure finally worked on him tonight.

yn (2:05am): omw

Your dorm is only a few minutes away from where they’re drinking, and your best friend had asked you to come with him earlier, but you’d decided against it. You weren’t in the mood for the stench of alcohol in your nasal cavity.

Though, with your sudden task of picking the boy up, it seems unavoidable now.

It isn’t difficult to spot him. The moment you’re merely a block away, you find Minho just outside with a sleeping Felix on his shoulder. Their backs are slouched, and his eyes look like they’re fighting not to close.

“(Name)!” Seungmin calls out for you first, and it’s hard to miss Minho’s head pointed directly in your direction the moment your name slips out of his friend’s mouth, like he’s been looking there this whole time.

“It was fun to have blackmail material at first, but now I’m just tired.” The younger boy sighs.

You laugh, and something bitter bubbles in the sitting boy’s stomach. He lets himself sit on the feeling for quite a while. Jealousy is an ugly monster, but he doesn’t know that yet. “Please take care of him.”

When you crouch in front of Minho, the scowl on his face softens.

“You’re here.” He mumbles, exhaustion dripping from his voice. He reaches out to you, and Seungmin mutters something you don’t quite hear.

“Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums. He’s really drunk. And by his curtained eyes and his lack of dignity, you can tell he’s a goner. And so is the sleeping boy next to him.

You look around to see if there’s a convenience store nearby. Water would be a good buffer to the eventual hangover that’s waiting for them in the morning.

“‘M just gonna buy some wat—”

“Stay.” He interrupts you, just loud enough that you get a whiff of the whiskey he’d been drinking.

“You’ll feel better if you drink water.” Your eyes flicker to the convenience store for a moment before refocusing on your best friend.

A visible frown crosses his features, and his skin is flushed out from drinking. “You just arrived. Stay, please?” The way he begs entices you, because it’s not often that your best friend pleads.

“You’re saying please? You must be really drunk.” You laugh before falling to sit next to him in resignation. There is no arguing with him, not when he’s gripping the bottom of your shirt and tugging for you to stay with him for a moment.

Then there’s a sudden weight on your shoulder. He mirrors the way Felix is laying on him.

Five minutes pass.

“Wanna nap.” He mumbles. Minho feels so much like a child like this.

“You can sleep at my dorm tonight.”

“You’ll stay with me there?” He asks, almost innocent. He lifts his head from your shoulder momentarily and looks at you—eyes hazy and hair fucked out from the harsh winds of the early morning. And yet, he still looked pretty. Even at 2 in the morning.

“Mhm, but we have to go now.” Minho groans when your warmth suddenly leaves him, but he doesn’t have time to dwell when your hand meets his vision, outstretched for him to hold.

Seungmin whisks Felix awake.

“Okay.” He grabs your hand with a tired grip, and your bones rattle at how he intertwines your fingers. As if he’s always held your hand that way. And he keeps it that way until you arrive just ten minutes after.

Minho crashes on your couch before you can even hand him a glass of water.

three.

“Stay.” Stone cold sternness.

Minho doesn’t boss you around, at least, never seriously. He knows you hate being told what to do, but there is something about the circumstances right now, something in the fear of your voice, that has him using imperatives.

“Just—” He cuts himself off, trying to keep himself calm.

Even through a phone call, you know what face he’s pulling. That scowl, lips shut, eyes angry. “Stay with Chan. I’m on my way.”

“I don’t know why he’s here.” Fear drips from your voice far too easily and your painstricken words make it difficult for the boy not to speed. Your ex-boyfriend has always tried keeping contact with you despite your obvious distaste. He makes you uncomfortable, and he has aggression tendencies.

The thought of him makes Minho step on his accelerator. He’s thankful Chan is with you. Had he not, Minho would’ve been in deep trouble with the law enforcement.

“You’re with Chan, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

When he arrives, he asks his friend to lead you to his car.

Minho is really angry, and the sight of your ex-boyfriend kicks things up a higher notch. You don’t know what he’s about to do, but he’s scary when he’s upset. Chan tries to take your attention away, but the dynamic in Minho’s voice is too loud. It’s the one he doesn’t like to use on anyone he cares about.

“You’re lucky we’re in public. If you so much as look at my best friend, I’m going to kill you.” There is no remorse when he speaks, and his fists are balled up tight. He’s trying his best not to use them. “Fuck you.”

He returns to you and Chan no longer than five minutes, but definitely long enough to scare off your ex-boyfriend. Chan hands him his car keys, and Minho says nothing the entire ride home. His anger is still evident, almost seething off of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks long after Chan is gone, and it’s only the two of you just outside your dorm. The night air is crisp, cold in contrast to the overwhelming heat he’d felt earlier. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn—”

Minho shuts his mouth when you suddenly wrap your arms around him. “Thank you.”

The rage melts from his face, features softening. He brings his own arms around you.

He stays the night at your dorm.

four.

They’re so pretty!”

Your face stands out in the sea of spring’s flowers. You’re unaware of the way he’s looking at you, eyes shifting in excitement.

“I hope the bees sting you.” You roll your eyes at him, dropping your vision to continue admiring the fields of flowers. They’ve bloomed so beautifully.

Minho disappears for a moment, but you don’t worry too much. He was probably looking for the nearest bench. You’d dragged him out after all. He hasn’t changed at all since you’d gotten together. He was still stubborn, and yet sickeningly sweet when he wanted to.

Your boyfriend comes back with his hands behind his back, and it has you squinting at him. What could he be up to this time?

He’s suddenly standing impossibly close to you, and you almost lose the rhythm of your breathing with how close he is. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. “Stay still.”

His hand reaches out towards you, fingers pushing a few strands of your hair away. A quiet heartbeat later, he pulls back, and the only difference you feel is something pinched just behind your ear. You wonder if it’s what you think it is.

(It is. An unassuming flower decorates the side of your face.)

Minho’s heart softens at the sight. “Pretty.”

The sight of you brings spring’s flowers to shame, he thinks.

five.

Arguing has always been something that wasn’t easy for the both of you, especially Minho. He hated fighting, but sometimes, it couldn’t be helped.

It’s how you found yourselves with puffy eyes and red noses. You barely remember what you were arguing about in the first place, but you have an overwhelming urge to leave. You think it’s so the fight doesn’t escalate, and because you don’t like that look on his face.

You say nothing when you move to open the door.

“What are you doing?” He sighs. He’s hesitant if he should step forward or not.

“I’m leaving.”

“You can’t.”

“I can, and I will.” You sniffle, a hand coming up to wipe your stubborn tears before planting on the doorknob of your shared apartment. “I hate it when we fight.”

“You don’t think I hate it too?” He frowns, hand hovering over yours. “But leaving isn’t the right option right now. Just stay, and we’ll talk about it more in the morning. I know you’re tired, but please. Stay.”

You cry even more into his chest, but he couldn’t be less bothered at the snot that’s staining his shirt. He brings you closer by your waist, hand patting down on your hair to quietly try and soothe you. He regrets letting the argument escalate this far. “I’m sorry.”

“‘M sorry for ruining your shirt.” You pull away, eyes trained on the big wet stain decorating the shirt he’s wearing.

“It’ll dry by tomorrow morning.” He reassures you, swaying the both of you gently. “Please don’t ever think about leaving.”

There’s something about the pain in his eyes that has your heart breaking further, and the way he bends down to cup your cheeks softly in his hands. He doesn’t reek of frustration anymore.

“Wasn’t gonna.” You mutter.

“You scared me for a second.” He shakes your head in his palms slowly before pressing a wet kiss on your lips. Your face is warm from crying. “Just… stay.”

(Forever, if you can. If you’d like.)

six.

You wake up to find him already looking at you, though he’s barely awake himself.

A greeting sits on his tongue, of your third anniversary, but he swallows it down for a moment. “Did you sleep well?” He asks instead, voice a little husky from the morning air.

“Hmmm.” You yawn, feeling something tickle just behind you. You know it’s one of the cats. They’ve grown into the habit of joining you and Minho in bed lately.

He smiles at you softly, arms reaching out to tug you back against his warm, very shirtless chest. And while you’d hate to ruin the quiet of the morning, you know you have to leave in a bit. You’d promised to run a quick errand.

“Baby, have to go.” You giggle when his grip only tightens around you. It’s never easy peeling yourself out of bed with Minho.

“How mean, already trying to leave me on our anniversary.” You know he’s pouting by the way he talks to you. You can only laugh—breathy and genuinely happy.

“I’ll be quick.” You whisper, and you hear a quiet ‘meow’ from your left.

“The babies would hate to see you go.” He whines.

“How classy of you to use them against me.” He smirks quite proudly, limbs still heavy over you. He refuses to let you go, not when your skin on his is a reminder of the things that had happened the night before, not when it feels this comfortable.

The sun continues to seep through the blinds to join the both of you, a taunting reminder that you really had to leave. You try to tug your arm free, but his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“I’ll be right back.” You try to convince him, but all he does is plant a kiss on your neck before burying his face back into the scent of your hair. You know there’s no talking this out with Minho.

“Stay.” You can’t help the way your heart swells at a single word. “You won’t regret it.”

You have a feeling there’s a different connotation to his words. You think you know what.

“Fine.” You know there was never a chance that he’d let you go, even if you tried to wriggle yourself out.

He smiles. “Just wanna stay like this a little bit longer.”

Minho meets your lips like it’s the perfect time to do so. It is, always. He kisses you sweetly, gently, like there wasn’t anything else to do. He doesn’t make a move even when his phone rings somewhere in the room.

And you’ll stay. And stay, and stay, and stay.

Forever.

You think you’d like that.

1K notes · View notes

candyquokka · 1 month ago

Text

In real life | part 1

-> You and Jisung get trapped in a fanfic, and the only way out is to play matchmaker for the main pairing. Hopefully feelings don't get confused or misplaced...oh shit.

college!au, trapped in a fanfic!au, enemies to friends to lovers

gamer!Jisung x creative writer!fem!reader; fanfic!minho x fanfic!oc

13.9K

cursing, teasing, Jisung thinks fanfics are stupid at first, so much banter, sexual tension, a lil suggestive language, kissing, embarrassing moments /second hand cringe, and over the top dramatic-ness bc this is a fanfic within a fanfic what did you expect, Teen Beach Movie vibes

Italicized is the fanfiction the character is reading

I wrote this a while ago with a different idol but I think it fits Jisung so well I had to adapt it :) bonus points if you recognize it or can guess who the original idol was lol

-------------------------------------------------------

"You're still here."

"I'm still here."

Minho doesn't know what to say. He's been a total jerk, oblivious to what's been right in front of him this entire time.

"I thought you would have left already," he says with downcast eyes.

Yes, you should have left. There's no healthy reason to wait around for such a hopeless cause. He's been nothing but cruel, doing the things he did, saying the things he said.

"You're right, for once," you admit, shamelessly standing before him, "but there's still something I have to say."

Minho leans back into his signature ‘I don't care’ pose. It's a defense mechanism. You know because you've seen it before. At the school dance when he supposedly didn't try to kiss you.

Surely, you're going to scold him for his actions. Tell him off. Curse him out. It would be an appropriate response given what he did. It's only fair.

But you open your mouth and the most curious, unexpected words spill out.

"Minho, you've done everything to make me hate you. And I know why. You're scared, I get it. I'm scared too. But that isn't a reason to push me away. The truth is…no matter what you do…I'll always be here. Because I love–”

"Hey! Give that back!”

Your phone is suddenly snatched from your hand, your eyes following it helplessly over your head to the bleacher behind you.

“Sharing is caring, ___, let the rest of the class have a turn.”

Han Jisung. Teaser extraordinaire and the only student you know who got a legit scholarship to a legit university for gaming. That's right, this geek got into university by playing video games. A fact that has continued to irk you after you worked your butt off to graduate high school early and still only got into your third university of choice.

"What is this?" He snickers at the screen, giggling among his so-called friends who always follow him around. "He suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you against his firm body to kiss you with so much passion you feel your heart is going to–"

You swipe your phone back, slapping his hand in the process. "Don't steal people's stuff!"

"Was that fanfiction? Wait, you actually read that crap?" He belly laughs, almost falling off the back of the bleachers, but his groupies catch him just in time.

Too bad.

You shut off the screen with the app still open and stuff your phone in your jean pocket, turning to the front with crossed arms and a pout.

"Mind your own business, Jisung.”

"Do you like it when guys randomly grab you and kiss you?"

"No," you answer a bit too quickly, "like I said, mind your own business."

"Aw, come on.” Jisung nudges your shoulder. ”I didn't mean it like that. Lighten up, it's the first game of the season."

No, he just enjoys teasing you for your reactions. Of course, you try not to let him bother you because, to be honest, he isn't worth your time. But he has this way of getting you all riled up. Stealing your phone, eavesdropping on your conversations, spamming your DMs with that one fancy duck meme that makes you uncomfortable, but he keeps sending it anyway.

You try to ignore him, but he's attached himself to you for stupid reasons. His whole purpose in life must be to make you miserable.

The school's basketball team makes another score on the court and the crowd starts cheering, a good enough opportunity as any to slip away. Just goes to show what having school spirit will get you.

You should have stayed in the dorms and worked on your creative writing final like you originally planned.

"Hey, where are you going?" Jisung calls down the bleachers, but you don't reply.

You have to duck and weave because the stadium is packed like crazy. It's impossible not to bump into shoulders, unfortunately.

Someone grabs your wrist just as you manage to reach the concession stands. You turn around in surprise, but it quickly turns to aggravation.

"You're leaving already?" Jisung asks.

"Yes, I'm leaving. Let go, please."

"Sorry..." He immediately drops your hand. "But it's only half time. Don't you wanna stay a little longer?"

"I've got an assignment anyway."

"Do it later. Come watch the rest of the game with me."

"Why on Earth would I want to do anything with you, Jisung?”

"Whoa," he puts his hands up in surrender, "did I do something?"

"Is it really that shocking? We don't really know each other that well."

"Then let's get to know each other. Go on a date with me."

It's a prank. He can't be serious about this. Jisung found out you like fanfiction and now he's trying to make your heart race by sticking his hands in his pockets and half smirking like he's charming or something.

"Why should I?"

"Because I like you."

"No, thanks."

His smirk turns downward, shoulders slumping. "Why not?"

"I don't like you like that.”

"That's the point of dating," he says with a confident tilt of his head. "You may like me once you get to know me."

"I don't want to date the guy who steals my phone and teases me for my interests.”

"You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stolen your phone. Even if it was the only way I could think of to get you to talk to me," he says with a shy chuckle. “But fanfiction, really? That stuff is for hopeless romantic fangirls."

"I'm guessing you wouldn't want to date a hopeless romantic fangirl, huh?"

"Well, no."

"Then you don't want to date me."

"Come on, that not what I--"

Fans behind you start to bustle, pouring into the open space of vendors and snack bars and bathrooms. The sea of chattering people thickens until it's too loud to hear anything else without shouting.

The conversation is over anyway, so you share one last look and walk away.

His eyes were...disappointed. Sad even.

The crowd is thick and difficult to maneuver. It doesn't help that you're not nearly as tall as half the male fans here. Nonetheless, you press on, trying to slip through holes and low tunnels in the crowd to evade any further conversation with your nemesis.

It blows your mind because this stuff only happens in kindergarten. Teasing you because he likes you? It didn't even cross your mind. No college graphic design major is that emotionally immature, right? If he really likes you, he should treat you with respect like a gentleman.

You squeal when a large shoulder hits you square in the face, complete disregard for the person they just ran into.

Stumbling back, you brace yourself for a harsh collision with the cold cement floor. When a pair of secure arms catch you at the last moment.

"You okay?"

You peer up to find Jisung holding you securely against his chest.

"Yeah," you reply, pulling your legs back underneath you again, but he keeps his arms around you. "Thanks."

"People never pay attention at these things. Let me walk you out–"

He's interrupted when another rough nudge to his back sends him jerking forward, feet shuffling to keep from falling on top of you. His lips lightly brush your nose.

That was close.

You scrunch your nose instinctively, making yourself smaller within his arms when they naturally squeeze around you.

"I'm so sorry...that was an accident, I swear..." he mutters with a light blush on his cheeks, watching your expression with concern.

You have to get out of here.

You push away from his chest, too embarrassed to say anything else. Looking down, you trudge through the rest of the crowd and make a bee-line for the exit.

It's so much easier to breathe once you're outside. Puffs of warmth escape your lips when your head falls back with a large sigh. Finally some evening coolness on your cheeks.

Muffled squeaks of sneakers on the court and groans from the audience are all you need to know the game has resumed. Jisung must have gone back then. There's no way he followed you all the way out here after that–

"___! Wait up!"

"You've got to be kidding me," you whisper to yourself before tuning around.

This dude cannot take a hint.

"I'm sorry for…back there. I got bumped. It was a mistake. I would never, I mean, that's not me. I'm not that guy."

You offer a small nod, arms wrapped around yourself. "It's fine."

"Are you cold? You should've brought a jacket."

"Well, I didn't because I figured I would be inside for most of the evening.”

"Here, you can have mine."

"Don't." You quickly stop him when he starts to strip his outer layer. “I don't need your jacket, Jisung.”

"But–"

"I'm not trying to encourage anything, okay? Please, don't give me your jacket."

He slowly pulls it back over his shoulders with a frown when you tuck your hands into your crossed arms, a slight shiver running through your shoulders.

"At least let me walk you to the dorms. It's dark."

"I'll be fine. Goodnight, Jisung.”

He doesn't respond, but you can feel his eyes on the back of your head as you walk away.

Okay, maybe you feel kinda bad turning down his jacket since you are freezing, and he could have just been trying to be considerate. But knowing he has something akin to a crush, you just couldn't accept it with a clear conscience. Especially not right after turning him down so blatantly.

It's not your fault he decided to express his feelings as if you're in kindergarten and not university for crying out loud.

So what, you like fanfiction? Lots of people do. It's an escape from the disappointment of reality, and everyone needs some of that at some point. Come on, Jisung plays video games for hours a day! Sure, some of it is for his major but he's probably also trying to escape reality part of the time, and you don't blame him.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and open up the tab for your fanfic, finding the spot where you left off. A little escape from reality and distraction from the cold sounds nice right about now.

But you open your mouth and the most curious, unexpected words come out.

"Minho, you've done every single thing to make me hate you. And I know why. You're scared, I get it. I'm scared too. But that isn't a reason to push me away. The truth is…no matter what you do…I'll always be here for you. Because I love–”

He suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you against his firm body to kiss you with so much passion you feel your heart is going to explode.

His lips are perfect against yours, like pillows of sweetness and safety. Like you've never felt before. He must have some kind of superpower, because with one kiss, all that fighting and all that pretending dissolves away. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing…

You shake your head when an image of Jisung's arms around your frazzled frame appears in your mind.

…squeezing you so close you can feel his heartbeat through his white t-shirt.

Minho's hands follow the curve of your waist, allowing the kiss to keep pace for a moment, enjoying your taste, the warmth of your body and the coolness of your lips.

He pulls away from the kiss and takes a deep breath. His fingers gently brush your hair from your face, forehead leaning against yours lovingly as he gazes into your eyes. It feels like a scene from a movie.

He smiles that wickedly beautiful smile and whispers soft and low…

"Watch out!!"

Your arm is grabbed right when you lift your eyes from your phone, the blinding headlights of a car coming right at you.

There's not enough time to even gasp.

All you recognize is the suddenness of your body being jerked back, a stinging pain shooting up your arm and into your shoulder, and the twist of your ankle over the curbside.

Maybe it's your imagination, but you swear that was Jisung’s jacket you saw right before you faceplant into the sidewalk, and everything goes black.

His head is pounding when he finally comes to. Rivers of red behind his eyes like poison threaten to overtake his vision. Even after he tries to blink them away, they persist for a moment.

"What the…" Jisung groans.

Just as he starts to make sense of where he is in space, a body next to him starts to stir as well.

Slowly, you shift where you lay on his arm, rubbing your head where you must have hit it on the sidewalk too.

"Are you okay?"

You sit up, a hand on the side of your neck as you twist to help with the stiffness. Your neck pops and that helps a lot.

"I think so. Did you…” Your eyes land on Jisung and his position on the ground. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he sighs and sits up with you, "just look where you're going from now on."

"I will."

"Sure your head is okay?"

"It's pounding a little," you confess.

"Mine too," Jisung replies, pulling your ripped sweater back over your shoulder.

And then the most extraordinary, unexpected thing happens.

The moment is suddenly in slow-mo. The action of his hand brushing your skin when he moves your sleeve, the way his eyelashes softly flutter when he looks at you. The background blurs into a mass of nothingness, there's a soft hum of a melody coming from somewhere and fairy lights around his face like a filter. You're completely enraptured in the moment, physically unable to look away from him.

When he's finished helping cover your shoulder, the world returns to normal.

Perhaps you hit your head a little harder than you thought. It's playing tricks on you now.

"Hey, Jisung?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Wasn't it nighttime before?"

Curiously, he takes a gander at your surroundings, and sure enough, the sun is high in the sky. That means the basketball game ended and everyone left the stadium, passed by two unconscious students on the sidewalk, and did nothing. The school will definitely be hearing about this.

"It was also October," he comments.

It feels rather warm for it being this far into Autumn. Not to mention the trees are beautifully green and flowering everywhere you look. It's not just a warm day in October. It's a different season. A hot season.

He decides to shake it off and stand up, brushing off his clothes and ruffling his hair.

You stand as well, a little unsteady on your feet.

"You're not too dizzy to walk?"

"I think I'm good. Are you okay?"

"Just a headache."

Something is definitely odd, but you can't quite put your finger on it. It's almost like you're not seeing things quiet right, like your peripheral vision has been tampered with. When you're focused on Jisung, everything else fades into the background until he makes a point to look away again.

You chalk it up to your head still spinning, but you can't ignore the oddity of the environment right now. It appears to be Earth but something is…different. You can't seem to get out of tunnel vision mode.

"Where are all the students?" You ask.

"In class?"

"The whole campus?"

The campus is completely abandoned save for the two of you and the occasional squirrel in a tree.

Jisung just shrugs. He gave his best guess and doesn't have another one. From the expression on his face, he's sensing something isn't right either.

You take a single step and immediately your knees buckle beneath you, a light gasp alerting Jisung to your fall.

His reaction is in slow-mo, arms scooping around your waist, supporting your sudden collapse into his embrace. Your hands land on his shoulders, your chest on his chest.

The rest of the world blurs into a mesh of nothingness while you slowly gaze up at him, eyes sparkling abnormally bright and lips shimmering temptingly. Your eyelids flutter at him, silently speaking to him in soothing tones. His attention drops to your lips, filled with an overwhelming urge to kiss you stupid.

Is that...background music?

Just as the moment arrives, it disappears. You push your self off his chest and stand up on your own again.

"Sorry," you quickly apologize, "I don't know what that was. I just, umm, my legs gave out. Guess I'm dizzier than I thought." You shyly tuck your hair behind your ear and then look at your hand as if it betrayed you.

"It's okay," Jisung assures you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as soon as he gets the chance. "You didn't, like, happen to see anything...sparkly just now?"

"See what?"

"Nevermind!"

Even if you did see something, what reason does Jisung have to believe you would admit you also experienced whatever fanfic shit that just was.

Wait. Oh hell no. It can't be.

"When you accidentally walked out in front of that car – and I pulled you out of the way like a superhero – you were reading fanfiction, weren't you?"

You roll your eyes. "Are you seriously going to tease me right after a near death experience? That's low, man."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he says. "You're gonna think I'm insane, but…doesn't something feel off to you?"

Clearly, you're not about to admit it, but you've definitely felt the off-putting aura surrounding you since you woke up. Your expression shifts to realization mixed with horror, wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

"What is it?" Jisung urges.

Without a second thought, you drop on all fours and frantically begin searching all over the ground, the side of the curb, the grass on the edge of the trees.

"What's wrong?"

"My phone! Help me find it!"

Without arguing, Jisung kneels to the ground and starts searching as well.

Thankfully, you find the device a moment later. The screen is cracked but otherwise it's not broken. It turns on just fine and unlocks to reveal the screen you were reading right before Jisung pulled you out of the way of that car.

"I knew it," Jisung clicks his tongue, "you were reading fanfiction and not paying attention. You could have gotten seriously hurt if I hadn't been there, you know."

"Jisung…" you slowly turn the screen so he can see it clearly.

"What, I don't get–" he freezes, absolutely horrified. "Is it…how is it…doing that?"

"I don't know," you reply, releasing a shaky breath as you watch your words appear in quotations on the screen. "Is it commenting on us?"

You wave your arm in random directions as if that's the best way to test whether or not I actually know what you're doing right now. You look stupid by the way. You should probably stop.

"Oh fuck, no way," Jisung refuses with a shake of his head, watching each letter appear on the screen in perfect time as it leaves his lips. "Whatever sick trick this is, I'm not a part of it. Make it stop right now!"

"I'm not doing it!" You insist, unaware that you are in a way, because these are your words being typed right now.

"No, I'm not! Whoever is doing that, we're not in your story so cut it out!"

Oh, but this isn't my story anymore. It's yours.

"What?"

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you better leave us alone right now!" Jisung yells at the sky.

But here's the thing, I started this fanfic with the intention of two lovers having a happily ever after, but my pairing isn't working out very well. So, I had to improvise.

Welcome to the fic, you two! Let's write some fanfiction, shall we? There's a special pair of idiots who need some help to fall in love.

"I don't understand…" you reply, slightly shaking where you stand.

Jisung notices, but he's too nervous to reach out and take your hand. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's still hurt from your rejection because he genuinely likes you but sucks at showing his feelings ever since his mom walked out on him.

"Hey, isn't that kind of personal? How do you even know that?”

Because I wrote your character into existence. And now, I need your help.

"For what?"

To get this fanfic back on track. There are two characters I've written on this campus who are meant to end up together, but they're not exactly cooperating with me. I need you to find them and get them together to make the happy ending.

"Why can you just write them together?"

That's the thing, I lost control of the story. Whatever I end up writing always backfires. Call it writer's block or poor motivation or just a lack of writing ability, but either way, I need some assistance to get this story back on track.

If you two will agree to help me, I won't control your actions or dialogue, I promise. You can do and say whatever you want and all I'll do is record what happens. Help me write this story from the inside, and I'll let you go afterwards.

"And if we refuse?" Jisung crosses his arms, watching me type his actions out with a disdainful frown on his face.

Then you'll never escape an unfinished wip.

“That’s bullshit," Jisung doesn't believe me. He thinks he's calling my bluff but inside he's secretly nervous I'm telling the truth.

"Am not!"

Am too.

"Am not! You're lying!”

Would you like to test that theory?

"Whatever," he grumbles.

We don't get along apparently, which makes me sad.

But while Jisung and I have our little squabble, you've been carefully considering my offer, haven't you?

"Fine."

"What!?" Jisung is shell-shocked. "You're agreeing?"

"If we do this, we get to go home. Whatever author this is clearly does not intend to let us go unless we agree to help."

You're right, I don't.

Jisung pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he has no choice but to agree.

"Yeah, yeah, okay enough with the commentary," he sighs. "I'll do it."

And from that moment on, the world became a little brighter, more in focus, and Jisung felt his point of view slowly returning to his mind.

"Thanks."

The internal control to move and breathe and speak becomes apparent in your bones as well, filling your lungs, and sparking the tip of your tongue. You look at Jisung with a worried but brave expression.

"Where should we even start?"

In a flash, you and Jisung are suddenly standing in the school's cafeteria. In front of you is a two person table but only one girl sitting alone with her textbook. She's brighter than the rest of the student body and wearing different clothes, which separates her as a main character.

The main female lead.

"Guess that answers that question."

The rest is up to you. Please, make sure the story has a happy ending. I'm counting on you guys.

"You go talk to her."

"No way, you go talk to her."

"Give me one good reason why I should be the one to talk to her?"

"Uh, because you're a girl," Jisung points out the obvious, gesturing to your curvaceous figure. "She's the female lead."

"You're way better at making friends than I am," you argue.

"Says who?"

"Your friends.”

“What about your friends?”

“They’re all extroverts. They adopted me. I did nothing.”

Even just looking at her sitting alone intimidates you. Not that you're always introverted, of course, around your family and in familiar environments you're perfectly fine. But you've never been confident in taking the initiative when it comes to meeting new people. (Neither is Jisung, but he can suck it up this one time).

“Okay, but this is a fanfic. I don't know how things work in this world. Besides, you're one of her own kind."

You hit his shoulder, but his tease did lighten the mood, so he calls it a success. The first time you've smiled since waking up with him on the sidewalk.

"Come on, you're great at bumping into people," you jest, making reference to your interaction at the basketball game with a sly grin.

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Just figure out where we are in the story. Once we know that, we can figure out what's next," you inform, turning him to face the female lead’s direction.

Jisung eyes her from across the cafeteria, nervously biting his lip. Yeah, he's extroverted sometimes, but he's not the best at talking to girls. You of all people should know that; he spent months teasing you because he didn't know how to approach you like a normal human. When he first saw you, he thought you were just…too pretty for a casual introduction.

Granted, this fanfic chick is significantly less attractive than you are. But that doesn't mean she's not a girl.

"Oh, she's coming this way, quick!” You push on his shoulder blades as he leans back, digging his heels into the ground. "Don't lose this chance, Jisung! Don't you wanna get out of here?"

"Don't rush me!"

With a final shove, Jisung trips forwards, nearly crashing into the girl as she walks by. He manages to catch himself but not before his stumbling lands him right in the pathway of…

"Oh!" She exclaims, jumping at the surprise of an odd boy suddenly appearing in front of her.

Jisung freezes, eyes wide and staring directly into hers. He softly chuckles and straightens out his jacket.

"Sorry. I tripped."

"That's okay," she smiles innocently. "I trip all the time."

He scratches the back of his head. "You ever fall when you trip?"

"Huh?" She tilts her head, eyebrows lifted in confusion.

"Nevermind. Umm, I'm Jisung by the way," he introduces himself with a handshake, hoping the conversation can start flowing naturally now that the expected awkwardness has hopefully passed.

The girl accepts his hand, the other tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's nice to meet you, Jisung. Do you ever fall when you trip?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Nevermind. Umm, I'm Your Name by the way." The girl offers a handshake…again.

He accepts it (again) with an unsure look, carefully noting how she just repeated him, word for word. As if she couldn't come up with her own contributions to the conversation.

"I'm sorry, your name is…?"

"Me," she smiles innocently, one of the few actions Jisung realizes that she knows how to do.

"You're…"

"Your Name."

"Right, what is it?"

"My name is Your Name."

"Your name is Jisung?"

"No, it's Your Name."

"I don't get it."

"You're so funny!” She giggles with a soft hand to her lips.

He huffs, "No, I'm Jisung. Who the fuck are you?"

A harsh slap strikes across his back, echoing across the cafeteria but none of the surrounding students pay it any mind.

"Ow!" Jisung yelps, retreating from your hand. "What gives?"

"It's nice to meet you, Your Name. I'm ___,” you say sweetly as if you didn't just leave a nasty red handprint on his back. "I love your top."

"Oh, thanks! I love your top too! Hey, ___, do you ever fall when you trip?”

"Yep." With a sigh and a nod, you face Jisung and speak directly to him, disregarding the girl swaying cutely in her white skirt and tennies. "The author led us to the right girl. She's the reader insert, alright."

Your Name occupies herself, amazed by her own hands and interlocking her fingers with a wishful sigh. She's been written to fall in love with the man of her dreams, to discover angst, heartbreak and become the apple of her lover's eye. When she's not doing anything directly related to that purpose, she's just an empty shell of a character, a copycat filling space and time until her next scene.

"She's dumb as a sack of rocks."

"No one is reading the story right now, remember? The author is still writing it. Your Name is an empty character," you explain, scanning her perfect figure up and down with a jealous click of your tongue.

"So, if someone reads the story…"

"Then part of that reader's character is reflected in Your Name. It's what makes fanfiction fun to read. You get to put yourself in the story."

Okay, maybe Jisung sees the attractiveness in that. It's an escape just like video games, except more lame and desperate.

Your Name has yet to do or say anything else. She just sways with her hands folded against her chest, mind empty, no thoughts, unable to leave or initiate anything without the author's guidance or some other trigger.

"Why would anyone want to be her?"

The doors to the cafeteria burst open, immediately stealing everyone's attention. The whole building pauses in place, heads turning in slow-mo to see what the big commotion is about, choirs of gasps and the sound of panties dropping to the ground left and right.

In walks sex on legs, dark hair fluffy with a gloved hand brushing through thick bangs, skin tight jeans and a leather brace around his wrist. He pretends to pull an arrow from the empty quiver on his hip, shooting a charming wink in the direction of a cafeteria worker, chuckling when they faint against the wall with a hand over their heart.

There's only one person who could have that kind of effect simply by walking into the room.

"That's why," you reply, hypnotized eyes following his every move through the line to get lunch. "The main male lead."

"So, it's all about the guy, huh?"

"Obviously. It is a Minho fanfic, so yeah."

Jisung gawks. "Wait, that's supposed to be the Lee Minho? The famous singer slash actor in real life?"

"Yep," you sigh in content. Even if this is a fanfic, you're in the same room as Minho and you'll never forget this day.

"That dude doesn't know archery," Jisung pouts.

"Yes, he does. Didn't you see him at the Archy Games? He placed out of, like, a lot of people. He got such a perfect bullseye, he hit the camera in the middle of the target!”

Jisung just rolls his eyes, too proud to admit the way you're staring at that fanfic character makes his blood boil something awful. But you're not the only one entranced.

Your Name hasn't been able to blink since Minho walked in, hands folded shyly at her chest and lips slightly parted. She holds her breath as he struts in her direction, whipping his hair out of his eyes only for it to gracefully fall over his forehead again.

Minho passes by with his lunch, but he doesn't even give Your Name a glance, not even the barest of recognitions. She opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, but no sound comes out. Just a defeated sigh when Minho sits down at a table with a bunch of other students and not her.

She pulls her bag further up her shoulder, putting her head down and walking out of the cafeteria as unnoticeably as possible. Jisung watches her, a surprising sense of sympathy for her despite reminding himself she's a fictional character.

You lift a finger to your temple, leaning into Jisung's side as you both watch the scene play out. "I understand."

"What? What just happened?"

"We have to get Minho together with Your Name. She's the shy, unnoticed freshman and he's the popular, sporty hunk with a heart of gold."

"Oh come on, that's the worst trope ever." He rolls his eyes in Minho's direction. "Heart of gold, my ass. He walked right past Your Name and didn't even flinch."

"Like you would know anything about fanfic tropes."

"Video games have tropes too.”

You roll your lips tight when he sticks his tongue out at you, trying not to smile at how cute he was just now.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I could name five off the top of my head."

"Are any of them the shy school girl and popular sports star?"

His expression drops. "No."

"Then you can reference video games again when they can actually help us. For now, we need to figure out a way to get those two together so we can end the fic and get the fuck out of here. Any ideas?"

Jisung shrugs. "I don't know. I'm hungry."

You're deep in thought, unconcerned with Jisung's empty stomach. He starts rubbing it over his shirt, whining your name and poking your arm over and over.

"Let's eat something, pleeease?”

"We don't have meal swipes for this place," you reply shortly, shooing his hand away without ever once losing focus on Minho.

Do fanfic characters usually use meal swipes? The author probably had way better things to write about than whether or not the characters used their meal swipes or paid cash for their lunch.

Besides, this is the spitting image of your real life cafeteria back on campus. If this school is based on that school, then maybe his meal swipes can work. (Does that mean the author goes to your and Jisung's university? Whoa.)

You're not going anywhere. Jisung might as well try.

Wouldn't you know it, Jisung uses a meal swipe to get a tray and two plates for a much needed meal break. So, he makes his way around the different stations of the cafeteria and collects a little bit of everything onto a tray, stacking piles of dino nuggets and mac 'n cheese especially tall.

After tucking two canned sodas under his arm, Jisung finds you right where he left you. Standing in the middle of the floor, eyes glued to the archery star, and biting your nail into a numb.

"Hey, you should eat something."

"You're probably right," you finally admit when your stomach starts gurgling. "Food is important."

"Come on, we can think of a plan while we eat."

The two of you make your way to a free table within eye shot of Minho and slip into opposite booths. Jisung pops open your soda for you, a small smirk on his lips when you gasp at the meal in front of you.

"Dino nuggets and mac 'n cheese? Oh fuck yes, this is my favorite nostalgic meal ever! How did you know?”

Jisung smiles, watching you dig in with a huge first bite. "It's mine too."

You and Jisung decide to map out what you already know and what you need to know on the way to an upcoming archery tournament.

Minho didn't pay Your Name any mind in the cafeteria, but he also didn't display any tension to suggest a break up or fight. It's safe to assume they haven't met yet. Which means you're at the very beginning of the fic. Depending on the author, this could be a 5K walk or a 25K marathon.

(I'll give you a hint: it's longer than 5K).

You stuff your phone back into your jean pocket, already tired just thinking about the work ahead of you.

"Author said it's a lengthy fic. Which means we've got multiple scenes to get through. We could be here for a while."

Jisung swings his arms as he walks beside you, keeping to the outside of the sidewalk so he's closer to the road.

"Shit."

"Yeah," you sigh, fanning yourself.

"Are you warm?"

"Are you not?" You ask in shock, upgrading to two-handed fanning. "It's a million degrees out here. How are you still wearing that jacket?"

Jisung shrugs. "I'm fine."

The sun beats down on your sweater, harshly punishing you for still having it on. Soon enough, you can't bear it anymore. Your arms cross in front of you, fingers pinching the hem of your top and pulling it over your head to reveal a white tank underneath. Instant relief hits your skin.

You tie the sleeves of your sweater around your waist and tie up your hair so it's off your neck.

"Much better," you sigh to yourself. Now maybe you can actually think without getting heat stroke.

"So–" Jisung clears his throat, eyes forward and nowhere else. "So you've read this story before, right?"

"I've read stories similar. The trope is cliche enough. The archery tournament should be a good place to start. Sport events are usually where major plot development happens."

"I sure hope you're right."

Of course, you're right. Minho is the archery champion, so Your Name is bound to be around here somewhere. After all, who would give up the chance to watch their crush excel at what they do best?

No doubt, this scene will be an important milestone in their relationship. You just have to remember your role as wing woman and make sure Minho notices Your Name this time around.

The field is decorated with targets and large, fake deer in the distance. All the archers are dressed in their gear, looking fine as hell. Never thought archery would do it for you, but the strap across the chest and holster around the waist accentuates more curves than you were ready for. Damn.

"There." You direct Jisung's attention toward the provided refreshments. "Your Name is by the water dispenser."

You call out to her as you approach, ducking to avoid the many eyes of the bleachers because good god there's a lot of students here. The crowd makes you feel rather uneasy, but you push your introverted wishes to the side and focus on the task at hand.

"Oh, hi!” She greets you happily before averting her gaze to the man on your left. “Hi, Jisung. How are you?”

“Hi.” Jisung nods at her, but his focus is on getting a cup of water.

"Are you excited for the archers? Who do you think is gonna win?" You ask with a friendly touch to her arm, trying to be social.

"Of course! Minho will win for sure."

"Have you cheered him on yet?" Jisung asks while handing you the cup of water. You gratefully down it in one gulp. So, he gets you another one.

"Everyone is cheering for Minho."

"But did you tell him personally that you're cheering for him?"

Your Name's smile fades a little, morphing into a shy expression as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

"No. I didn't know I should.”

"You totally should," Jisung says while you gulp down the second cup of water. "He'd appreciate the support."

"You think?"

"Trust me, I'm a guy. If a cute girl like you wished me good luck in my tournament, hell I'd wanna win just for you."

Her cheeks instantly flush, eyelids fluttering like butterflies, a dim light starting to glow around her.

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure."

Your Name rolls her lips, running fingers through the tips of her hair. "Do you have a tournament coming up? I'd love to cheer for you, Jisung."

"Me? Uhh, no. I'm not really into sports."

"What are you into?"

"Gaming," he says slowly.

"That's so cool!"

"Yeah, I guess…”

Jisung shares a look with you, unsure how the focus shifted to his interests. You interrupt with a hand on her shoulder, low-key turning her to face Minho's direction again.

"Minho is into archery. Isn't that cool?"

Your Name's neck stays turned toward Jisung until you place two palms on her cheeks and make her look in the direction of the archery team.

She scans Minho head to toe. The archer tightens his quiver, adjusting it on his hip before bending over to tie his shoe. Never thought you'd be jealous of a man's ass but goddamn, the author blessed him with zero regard for their weak audience.

"Wish him good luck like this, watch me–" you hold up two fists and smile as big as you possibly can, making your voice higher pitched and turning your knees in for a cuter effect. "You can do it, Oppa! Fighting!"

Jisung nearly does a spit take. You're fucking adorable.

Your Name seems unsure. "Do you really think he'll notice me if I do that?"

"I'm sure he will. Now go get 'em!" You give her a little booty pat to send her on her way.

She timidly makes her way over to Minho while you and Jisung observe. Minho doesn't have to fall in love with her right now, you remind yourself. All this has to do is get him to notice her, put her in his radar. This is the meet cute, the part where he realizes she's on his side. He finds a companion in someone he never expected, a shy bookworm he's never noticed who is his biggest fan.

Jisung leans in close to your ear. "Call me Oppa. Just once."

"Not even in your dreams."

"Damn it. Worth a try."

While Your Name doesn't knock his socks off, at least Minho recognized her efforts and thanked her for the cheer. They don't immediately hit it off and he doesn't look for her in the crowd during the tournament, but that's okay. He knows she exists now, so something new will happen any minute.

It's almost halfway through the tournament. Your Name has sat down in the bleachers looking somewhat lost since you claimed her spot by the water dispenser.

“Nothing's happening…” you mutter nervously.

"Don't worry," Jisung says, watching Minho shoot his third bullseye in a row, "it's not a 5K fic, remember? Something new will happen any second. The plot has to progress somehow."

Wouldn't you know it, Jisung is right.

From seemingly nowhere, an arrow comes shooting right at you. Instinctively, you squat to the ground at the sound of the arrow whistling past you, piercing and shattering the water dispenser. In slow-mo, of course.

A small wave of water spills out, soaking through your tank and all down your back.

All you can do is squat there for a moment, taking in what the actual hell just happened. The slow-mo effect dissipates but the entire field has gone quiet, including the idiot who just shot that arrow.

Jisung kneels in front of you. "Oh my god, ___! Are you okay? That arrow didn't hit you, did it?"

You shake your head, staring at the ground in silent shock, panic rising in your chest.

"That was way too close.”

You agree, trying to catch your breath when he offers a hand to help you stand.

The moment you're back on your feet, your whole fanfic world freezes. Even Jisung's eyes have gone wide and his tongue gets tied.

Immediately, you cross your arms over your chest, curling in on yourself and trying to cover your soaked through white tank top that's sticking to you like a wetsuit, totally and completely see through. Your brightly colored bra does little to help the situation.

Jisung doesn't hesitate for a single second. He strips his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, zipping it to your chin. When you don't move, he pulls you into his chest for some extra coverage and comfort.

You're not sure what to do, so your face ends up hiding in his chest, eyes squeezed shut, wishing you could disappear in his arms.

"Come on," he whispers, ushering you off the field, one of his arms wrapped around you protectively while the other hovers over your face so you don't see the eyes of the crowd watching.

Consequently, you don't see Minho's curious eyes following you either.

Jisung sits you down on a bench a little ways around the corner where there are no spectators.

"Are you okay?" He asks, kneeling in front of you, hand resting on the bench beside your thigh. “___?”

Your stale expression doesn't shift but your eyes start to fill with tears, the white of your pupils turning pink and your eyelids fluttering at the sting.

Jisung feels his heart drop at the same time your first tear does. The first time he's ever seen you cry.

"Everyone was staring at me. They wouldn't stop staring…"

For the first time, Jisung is witnessing how much your introverted personality affects you. Being embarrassed is a common human experience, but it's so much worse for you. Those kinds of things are only magnified due to your already anxious state in large crowds.

Your body closes up, limbs curling in on themselves even further inside Jisung's jacket.

"They all saw, didn't they?"

"No," he assures you, causing your eyes to lift hopefully. "I was quick with the jacket, so I don't think anyone saw much of anything."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

You know he's just being kind. Usually when people say things for the sole purpose of making you feel better, it doesn't help much. But even though you know Jisung is lying, his little smile and confident nose scrunch are cute enough to make you relax somewhat.

"Thanks," you shrug as a gesture to his jacket around your shoulders.

He smiles, and it makes things a little better somehow. The background blurs, allowing you to focus only on him, putting the rest of the situation into perspective and making things feel all a little less daunting. Life doesn't feel as serious when Jisung smiles, and that's a rare experience for you. Out here, away from all the people, you can regather yourself and process things clearly.

You wanna touch him, just to be in physical contact again – being so close to his chest, hidden and warm…it felt good.

But he stands up first, making your jerk your hand away from where it was reaching out inconspicuously.

"I'll go get a towel and see if I can steal a dry shirt from someone."

"You're leaving?" The question popped out before you could stop it.

He holds back a teasing smile. "Should I stay here?"

"No, it's fine," you say quickly, turning your knees in. "Go get me a shirt. Hurry up."

He just snickers, whispering "cute" under his breath before sticking his hands in his jean pockets and casually making his way back toward the archery field. If anything, Your Name will probably have an extra top you can borrow. It'll be small but it'll probably work in a pinch.

Now that you think about it, you could be in this fic for several days. What about clothes, sleep and hygiene? Do you have a room in the dorms or will you and Jisung have to scrap on the side of the street for basic necessities? The author wouldn't leave you in that horrible situation, would they?

"Hey, you."

That's not Jisung's voice.

You lift your head to see none other than the main male lead confidently strutting over to your bench.

"Just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay. That was quite the splash.”

Just try not to be stunned speechless that your in-real-life celebrity crush is speaking to you as a fanfic character in an alternative universe. Holy shit.

“I'm okay I think.”

"Thank goodness. I saw that arrow heading towards you, and my heart stopped for a solid minute. You've got quick reflexes though.”

"Thankfully," you exhale, “my life definitely flashed before my eyes though."

"What did you see?" He casually asks, taking a seat beside you.

You're suddenly very aware of how close he is, shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg. When he turns his head toward you, the little sparkles in his eyes become noticeable, and you can make out his individual eyelashes.

"School. Family. Friends."

"A boyfriend?"

"No."

"You're single?"

"Yes."

Minho seems pleased to hear this. He adjusts in his seat, a confident smug on his lips and an indifferent shrug on his shoulders.

"We should maybe go out sometime, if you're interested. You know, we could be…friends?" He holds out his hand. “Minho. But you probably knew that.”

If you were feeling more confident or outgoing at this moment, you might call him out on the fact that he just confirmed you were single and then asked you out as a friend when you guys don't even know each other. He definitely thought he was smoother than he actually was just now.

"___," you reply, rather small and quiet, holding out your hand as well.

But instead of shaking it, Minho instead puts his cellphone in your palm.

"Put in your number.”

With no reason not to, you do as he requests, adding a signature koala emoji at the end of your name.

"Why a koala?" He asks amused.

"They're cute."

"You're cuter."

Damn, that response was fast. As if he had it right on the tip of his tongue, ready to go for anyone.

Surprisingly, it doesn't make you nearly as fluttery as expected. It was a good line, but the cocky bite of his lip and the narrow eyes just aren't doing it for you right now.

It doesn't exactly feel very….Minho.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear but it's not flattering and it doesn't make your heart flutter. There's no slow-mo, the world around you doesn't blur into the background. Actually, it feels kind of awkward, and he doesn't put your hair in the right place so it just falls again.

Minho stands, slipping his phone into his pocket now that he's got your info.

"I'll text you," he promises before waving goodbye, his other hand scratching the back of his head bashfully as if he's not used to getting girl's numbers. He totally is though.

Okay. Okay. Don't freak out. This is a good thing. Now you've got a connection with both Your Name and Minho. This way will be easier to manipulate their relationship and eventually write a happy ending. That's the goal. In order to get out of here, you need a happy ending. That's what the author asked for.

Jisung returns a few moments later with a dry shirt and a towel. You tell him what happened, and he doesn't seem very pleased that Minho has your phone number. But what's done is done.

Now it's time for the next chapter.

"Actually, I think we should chill for now."

Jisung can't be serious…is he serious?

"I mean, why not? It's almost night anyway. Look, the sun is setting and we haven't even had dinner yet."

"Okay, so we go back to the cafeteria, get some dino nuggies, and then keep working," you reply.

"Let's go out instead. I don't want dino nuggies."

You gasp, hand over your heart. "Don't want dino nuggies? When does anyone not want dino nuggies? They are the only matter in existence not capable of disappointment."

Jisung laughs with you, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. You wish he wouldn't cover up his smile like that.

"Yeah, okay. I still would rather go get pizza or something," he comments.

"With pineapple?"

"Ew, no I'm not a psychopath."

"Well, I just figured since you don't want dino nuggies, there must be something wrong with you."

Jisung rolls his eyes, genuinely enjoying whatever banter has come out of this situation. He's actually kinda fun to talk to. He's sweeter than you originally thought when all you knew about him was that he liked to tease you. There's something captivating about the shape of his mouth when he talks, the movement of his neck, the shifting of his eyes from you to the sunset.

He leans back on his hands and looks out at the campus. The best place to get a bird's eye view is up here at the monogram. You can see the whole campus from this hill. Just as you expected, it's an exact replica of your campus back in real life.

For some reason, you find yourself watching his profile instead, the lines of his jaw and the curve of his nose. He's got soft features and they match his personality really well, you think. He's handsome. More importantly, he's not going to abandon you here. He proved that today.

"Hey, Jisung?”

“Hm?”

"I'm really glad we're here together." Your heart rate spikes immediately, the realization that you just said that out loud hits you like a ton of bricks. "I mean, I'm not glad we're stuck in a fanfic, that sucks. But if I'm gonna be stuck in here, I'm glad it's with you–”

“With me?”

“Well – I just mean, it would suck more to be alone – not without you specifically, but just alone in general, ummm….I guess, yeah. I'm just trying to say thank you.”

He just waits patiently until you're done stuttering like an idiot, his smile slowly growing with each embarrassed syllable. His eyes fill with fondness, but you don't notice them while you're too busy trying to calm the palpitations in your chest by picking at blades of grass. What's this nervous energy all of a sudden?

"We can have pineapple on the pizza if you want," he says casually.

"I don't like pineapple." You steal a glance at him only to do a double take at his idiotic grin. "What's that face for?"

"Because I didn't know that about you. And now I do."

You're not sure how to respond, so you just scoff under your breath, muttering to yourself and pulling your knees to your chest, suppressing the desire to ask him about his favorite dino nuggie shape.

"Wanna bring the pizza back up here and eat?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

How you fell asleep outside, you'll never know. How you ended up cuddling with Jisung is even more of a mystery.

Your whole body is pressed into his chest, one leg slipped between his legs, and your arms tucked under your chin. He's lazily wrapped around you, arm laid across your side and nose almost touching yours.

When the chill of midnight wakes you up, you're sure it's a dream. His eyes happen to open at the same moment, a deep inhale through his nose as his world comes into view…as you come into view.

"Hi," he grumbles, voice scratchy and low.

"Am I dreaming about you now?"

"You probably got cold."

You look down, trying to move your leg but it doesn't want to pull away from the comfy spot it's found between his legs. When you look back up, he's watching you softly, half lidded eyes swollen from a rough few hours and the greasy pizza.

"So, this is a dream."

"Depends," his lips move through the dark, the feeling of his knuckle softly rubbing your cheek down to your chin and finally across your bottom lip, "if it is, are you gonna move?"

"No."

"Then this is a dream."

"Good."

"What if you pretend to be in love with Your Name?"

Jisung doesn't seem too excited about that suggestion. He lifts one brow and sticks his hands in his pockets, glancing over his shoulder at where the female lead sits at the opposite side of the cafeteria.

"But I don't like her," he says flatly, "plus she's a fanfic character. It doesn't make sense to ask her out."

"It doesn't have to make sense. It's a fanfic," you argue, leaning your back against the wall. "Plus, she's cute, come on. We need her to trust us."

Not as cute as you. And she's dumb. Jisung doesn't know if he could last a whole evening as her date let alone pretend to be attracted to her. She's not his type anyway.

"Statistically, dating someone based on physical attraction alone only works two percent of the time," he assures you, sticking out his tongue at the sour taste of just the idea.

"Well, just pretend this is one of the times when it does."

"Sorry, I don't have enough experience points for that."

You roll your eyes. "Ha ha, very funny. Just go ask her out. We don't have any other ideas than to make Minho jealous somehow, and me dating Minho won't work because Your Name is too timid to act on jealousy."

Well, that does it. Now Jisung is determined to find a better solution. There's got to be a way to get those crazy kids together that doesn't involve you getting with Minho or Jisung acting like he can last longer than ten minutes with Your Name before wanting to suck his brain out through his ears.

"Look, every story has an algorithm, right? We just have to find this storyline's algorithm and use it to make the ending get here faster so we can get the fuck out of here."

"What do you mean?" You ask, not following along at all. But you're interested in where Jisung is going with this exactly.

He glances across the room at Your Name, eyes bouncing between her seat and Minho's table surrounded by fellow archers who think they're cool because they can shoot a tree from thirty yards.

"Okay, hear me out," Jisung starts talking with his hands, which means he wants you to really listen, "You know how in video games–"

"No."

He rolls his eyes but there's no mistaking that tiny smile hidden in the corner of his lips. "In video games there's something called an algorithm."

"This is fanfiction, Jisung, algorithms are a math thing."

"They're also a story thing. The algorithm is the step by step process of what eventually gets you to the ending. It's what draws you in, makes it attractive. Sorta like the formula to the story. Predictability."

"Okay," you reply slowly. "I think I understand."

"So, what's the algorithm of this fanfic? What's the thing that makes the story move forward?"

You have to think for a moment, consider the characters and setting. What's the main premise that's going to eventually trigger the progression of the storyline? The glue between the romantic interests?

"Opposites attract?"

"Getting warmer." He taps his chin. "But not quite. Anything else it could be?"

"Sexual tension?"

"That's it, you're a genius!" Jisung lights up.

A sense of warmth fills your cheeks knowing you answered correctly. You should really stop yourself from smiling like a middle schooler whenever he praises you.

"A build-up of sexual tension between two unlikely characters.” Jisung keeps running with the idea, growing in excitement. “When he sees her, he can't help himself. She drives him crazy without even trying!”

“That's perfect!” Your eyes sparkle as the idea becomes solidified in your mind. “And when she sees him, she wonders if she misjudged him at first glance. Oh! And why she feels so shy when he gets closer.”

“He does stupid things to get her attention.”

“She plays hard to get but secretly wants him.”

“He’s dying to touch her.”

“She has butterflies just thinking about it.”

“And then suddenly–” his arms land on either side of you on the wall, encasing your smaller frame in his presence, “--they can't hold back anymore.”

You exhale, unaware you were even holding your breath, chest sinking and then filling up again with much needed oxygen.

Jisung catches his breath too, the once fanfic-esq excitement in his bones softens as a flash of realization paints his pupils. His eyes trace the lines of your nose to your lips. He should look away. But he doesn't. He can't.

There's that infamous slow-mo, the one that keeps happening during the most inconvenient moments. You're still not sure if Jisung also experiences it, but it's doing things to you.

His features become softer and rounder, the illusion of a blurry background causes your attention to be enraptured that much easier. His eyes gently blink and when they open, they've moved upward, now looking directly into yours, gently asking.

You want to say yes. But the moment is all too fleeting when his expression shifts into something embarrassed, and he suddenly clears his throat and stands up straight again.

You brush off your clothes, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible because whatever the hell that was has no impact on the goal at hand. No matter how unusually pretty his eyes are. Damn.

"So," you pull your hair over your shoulder and then toss it back again, "we need to build sexual tension between Minho and Your Name."

"Luckily, Your Name already thinks Minho is sexy. But how to make Minho notice her…" Jisung comments, a hand on his hip and the other scratching his head.

And then an idea clicks in your mind. "A costume change."

"Be serious."

"I am serious. In fanfiction, when a character changes their outfit to something sexy or different from their usual vibe, it makes the other characters notice them. OC's do it all the time."

Jisung guesses that could work. He tries to put it into perspective by imagining you wearing something you normally wouldn't. His gaming sweatshirt would be much too big for you considering it's big on him. The zipper is broken so it would probably fall off your one shoulder. His cat ear headset certainly would be a costume change, not to mention the sight of your beautiful legs in leggings, or even better, oversized pajama shorts and fluffy socks. He imagines how cute you'd be sitting in his lap and letting him teach you how to use the controller, whining when your character dies for the tenth time, but then getting so happy when you win.

Maybe you even twist around and hug his neck, maybe you're so happy you give him a kiss. Maybe the two of you get so caught up in the kiss that you forget the game and end up straddling his lap in his gamer chair. Maybe things get a little heated and he takes off your sweatshirt. You're nervous but he makes sure you're comfortable first and foremost because he just wants you to feel safe and loved. Because you deserve to be taken care of and kissed like that. You deserve so much.

Yeah, a costume change could work.

Jisung responds before his imagination can go further, "Okay, so how do we do that?"

At that moment, your phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number.

[unknown] hey there cutie ;) it's Minho ;) my team is throwing a party tonight to celebrate our win at the tournament ;) wanna swing by? ;)

Putting aside the major turn off that Minho just asked you to a party without indicating that he will be taking any kind of responsibility for the fact that he invited you to a party, this is just what the doctor ordered.

You show Jisung the screen. "Boom."

"Why four winky faces? Wait a damn minute, is he asking you out on a date right now?"

"Yep."

"Didn't even offer to pick you up," he grumbles, "what a loser."

"It's still a party."

"I guess."

"A sexy party," you clarify, "probably with alcohol. There'll be a bunch of drab-dressed NPC's, and I'll make sure Your Name wears something that'll catch Minho's attention."

As much as Jisung is dreading going to a major social event that's not a gaming tournament, he can't deny that this is probably going to be your greatest chance at making some progress in the story.

He gives a little side eye, a smile in the corner of his lips as the two of you head to get food. "I didn't think you knew any video game lingo."

"I know a little. I live in the 21st century after all."

Jisung commits your giggle to his memory because, fuck, it wasn't slow-mo but he felt his world light up because of it.

You get two trays and casually make your way over to where Your Name is finishing up her lunch.

"Hey, mind if we join you?"

"Sure," she smiles innocently - is it just you or is it annoying how symmetrical and sweet her smile is?

Jisung takes the seat between you both, instantly regretting the decision when Your Name scoots a little closer so their shoulders touch. He looks at you as if you're going to fix it, but you brush it off, starting to eat while moving the conversation along.

"So, Your Name, did you get the invite to Minho's party?"

"I heard about it–" wow news travels fast in fanfics, "--but I haven't gotten an invitation. I don't think Minho wants me there.”

"You're in luck! Jisung needs a plus one."

"I do?" The unsuspecting victim asks in terror.

“Yes, you do,” you repeat firmly. “Why wouldn't Minho want you there? You're his cheerleader!”

Your Name instantly starts acting shy, leaning even closer to Jisung but turning her face away and only glancing to feign vulnerability or whatever other reason girls do that shit.

"You're going to the party, Jisung?"

"Apparently." He glares at you.

"I'd love to be your plus one. I don't typically go to parties, but it might be fun to go together." She bites her lip, catching Jisung's easily distracted attention.

Wait a second, is he actually staring at her?

"Really? You want to go with me?"

"Yeah, I really do!"

His expression softens. "No girl has ever wanted to go to a party with me. I'm kind of a geek."

Your Name shakes her head with a gasp, placing a hand on his bicep with a subtle squeeze. "Oh no! You're not a geek at all! You're the coolest guy I know."

Are those hearts in her eyes? Bitch. Can she back the fuck up? He's not a piece of meat.

Jisung looks totally lost, clearly flustered and very uncomfortable. He turns to you for guidance and you each around him to peel her hand off his arm, starting to regret your plan of having them go together.

But for some weird reason, she didn't get an invite. What were you supposed to do? Did the author just forget that important detail?

"Sounds like you guys have a plan then." That came out a little more offended than intended.

"Yeah," Your Name agrees with a soft giggle. "Should I meet you there?"

"I'll pick you up." Because that's what a gentleman does.

"Kay." She sways back and forth for a moment just looking at him, eventually picking up her tray and gathering her bookbag. "See you later then, Sungie."

She practically skips away, her little skirt bouncing at her thighs. Jisung watches until she's out of the building, out of the scene, out of sight. And then he collapses in the booth with a tired sigh.

"That was intense."

"Sungie?" You mock and cross your arms. "Where does she get off calling you Sungie? You're not even dating, it's just a party."

"If you're that jealous, you can call me Sungie too."

"I'm not jealous." your reply is a little too fast, mumbling after, "...nothing to be jealous about."

He wants to call you out, but you're too cute like this, and he doesn't want to stifle your jealousy just yet. So instead, he lets you grumble through the rest of your meal together, resting his cheek in his hand and chuckling to himself each time you stuff your cheeks a bit too full to keep yourself from cursing.

Jisung doesn't own trendy clothes. Actually, in this universe, he doesn't own any extra clothes. Turns out when you get transported into a fanfic, your dorm room doesn't come with you. A dumb rule, but whatever.

Thankfully, Minho is kind enough to lend him some party wear at your request. Not that the archery star is obligated to share his exclusive wardrobe, but he wants to get on your good side, and Jisung is in desperate need of an upgrade.

Jisung steps out of the closet and grimaces. "It's a little…tight."

"That's the point." Minho whistles. "Girls like tight."

"I like breathing."

"You look hot.”

Despite his requests for something more comfortable, Minho is not the most accommodating character. His compliments help a little bit, but Jisung can't sit down without popping a button and that's an issue.

After Jisung has been dressed, comes the agonizing process of choosing what Minho will wear to his own party. He leans against the door frame while Minho pulls more shirts from the closet and tosses them on the bed one by one.

"So," Jisung talks in the meantime, casually looking at his feet and the walls, "You sure you're cool coming with me to pick up Your Name?"

"Yeah, of course, man," Minho says, trying on the first top and checking it out in the mirror. "___ will be there anyway, so I'll just pick her up at the same time."

The fact that Minho was not going to pick you up without the convenience of Jisung's date is just outrageous. As if guys should need a reason to be gentlemen. If you ask Jisung, Minho needs a reality check. How ironic.

"Plus she's your girlfriend, so I don't mind," Minho adds.

Jisung's eyes go wide. "Your Name? She's not my girlfriend.”

"She's not?" Minho seems shocked, but then shrugs it off. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"It's just…does she know that?"

"What do you mean?"

Minho sighs as if he's not supposed to be sharing this secret information. He slips a shirt over his head, taking his time answering while Jisung's concern grows out of hand.

"Your Name has been going around telling everyone that you asked her to the party, so people just kinda assumed you two are a thing."

"I didn't – I mean, I guess I did sorta ask her, but it was more of a convenience thing. I don't like her like that," Jisung says.

"No worries, man, you don't have to explain anything to me."

Surprised his answer was satisfactory, Jisung decides now may be an excellent time to lure the conversation in a different direction. He's not only here to get an outfit for the party, he's here on a mission. Step one is to get Minho thinking about Your Name.

"So like, if someone else wanted to ask out Your Name, that'd be totally fine."

"Cool."

Jisung nonchalantly drags his toe across the ground, shrugging as if his next comment isn't meant to be important.

"Would you ask her out?"

"Me?" Minho chuckles to himself, "I mean, she's cute, but I don't really know her that well. I'm glad you're the one bringing her actually."

"Why?"

"Your Name is friends with ___, right?"

Uh oh. Jisung doesn't like where this is going. There was a sliver of hope left that Minho hadn't completely counted Your Name out of the game, but it looks like his worst fear is becoming more and more real.

"I'd rather get to know ___ better to be honest. She's less, you know, ditsy."

Well, Jisung can't argue with that statement. He keeps trying, he has to. Even if the hope of getting out of this story without any broken hearts is already long gone.

"Your Name is cute though," he says in a positive tone.

"Yeah, of course she is." Minho's head drops back and he smiles at the ceiling like an idiot. "But ___ is…"

Incredible? Enchanting? Hilarious? Genuine? Smart? Dedicated? Inspirational?

"Hot."

Jisung waits for him to say something else – something about your humor or sense of individuality or favorite shape of dino nuggies – but Minho doesn't mention any of Jisung's favorite things about you.

"Just hot?"

"What, you don't think so?"

"Of course, I think she's attractive."

"You'd have to be blind not to," Minho winks, gathering his shoes and spritzing some cologne into the air just to walk under it. "Besides, I'm supposed to be with the hottest girl on campus."

"Who said that?"

Minho's attitude shifts for a moment, something somber that makes him appear more human than he has before. His usual main character glow dims, and a filter flickers for just a moment, long enough for Jisung to glimpse something that was hidden before.

"Well…if I'm not supposed to get the girl, then what? What am I even here for?"

It's a weird moment, one that Jisung isn't quite sure how to label. There's a dullness in Minho's eyes, behind which is a thought he'd never thought before. His eyes lower to the floor in a few blinks, the corners of his lips sinking too, and then it hits Jisung like a truck.

Minho isn't happy. Not by a long shot.

He shakes it off as soon as Jisung notices it and plasters his winning, stunning smile over whatever realism was showing.

"How do I look?"

Like the boy of every girl's dream. It hurts a little bit to look at Minho and know that's your type. Because Jisung will never be that guy. It's not his character, not his profile. He won't ever be a fanfic boy who wears designer clothes and always says the right thing and has perfect hair. He won't ever be good at archery or acting, or be able to make you swoon simply by walking across the room.

You want a Minho guy, and that's not Jisung.

"You’re perfect."

Your Name is pretty, there's no question. The girl of every boy's dream. But her wardrobe is…well. Let's just say her style is a bit bright compared to your preferred color palette.

"Come on!" She urges you, bouncing on her bed and clapping her dainty hands. "Let's see it!"

This is so stupid. Clothes are not this important, so why you have to try on fifteen different outfits just to make a fanfic character happy doesn't sound logical. Then again, has anything in this world been logical so far?

You shyly step out of the closet and into view, pulling down the material of your skirt to your mid-thigh. Layers of bracelets and patterned stockings flatter your body type while your halter top shows off round shoulders.

"Wow," she says breathlessly, "you're beautiful."

Okay maybe you feel a little pretty, but you didn't come here to get compliments. As long as she doesn't make you change again, perhaps you can actually make some progress on the story.

"Make up time!" Your Name announces, patting the seat in front of her mirror for you to sit.

"Oh, I don't need any, thanks."

"Of course, you don't need any, but it's fun to wear it," she gives you a sassy shoulder and clicks her tongue, gesturing for you to sit anyway.

Her smile says you don't have a choice.

As she starts with some foundation, you figure this is as good as any time to talk about what girls usually talk about during scenes like this.

"So, boys," you start with an awkward chuckle, "they're cute, huh?”

"Boys are the best!"

"Especially Minho. He's super cute, right?" You open one eye while she does the shadow for the other.

Her lips spread into a sly grin, pausing your makeup so she can gasp. "Do you like Minho?"

"What? Me? No!"

"You totally do! You have a crush on Minho, oh my god! That's so cute, ___, you guys are so cute together. I can totally see it!"

"No! I don't have a crush on Minho, he's just a friend. I swear."

"Oh." She seems disappointed. "But isn't he taking you to his party?"

"He's – well, yeah – but it's more of a convenience thing. I don't like him like that."

"Then who's your crush?"

"It's–"

Whoa, were you about to say Jisung? You'd have to cut your tongue off if it did that. Unacceptable and unhelpful, why would he even be on your mind right now? This scene isn't about who you like anyway.

"I don't have a crush." Playing it off with a vague statement is probably wise.

Your Name pauses where she stands, a glitch-like twitch on her lips when she tries to respond. She starts to speak but backspaces over and over, like an unsure author rewriting a line again and again.

"But you're total girlfriend material," she finally gets a full sentence out.

"Thanks, but that doesn't mean I have to crush on someone."

She actually looks a little worried for you as well as confused. "Then what do you do all day?"

"Go to school, take pictures, study, hang out with friends, write fanfi – uhh, write fantasy stories." That was a close one. "Just whatever makes me happy."

"Oh."

It's very faint, but you swear you see her eyes dull for a moment. Her main character gleam fickles out and what's left seems…real. Her shoulders slump into a lower position, the usual pep in her limbs drained while this seemingly brand new concept swims in her mind.

She looks down at herself unimpressed, unhappy.

"Do you wanna change your clothes? They look uncomfortable," you ask slowly, not wanting to assume but also not trying to hinder whatever sudden character development may be happening.

"Oh no! I wasn't…well, I'm supposed to…I dressed up for Sungie," she tells you innocently, "but the skirt is kinda…short, I think."

You take her hands and smile confidently. "Do you have an outfit you feel more comfortable in?"

She nods.

"Then you should wear that instead."

"What if Sungie doesn't like it?"

"So what? To hell with what Jisung thinks. To hell with what any boy thinks. You should wear what you want, not dress for some boy." You stand with half done makeup, Your Name's gaze following you in wonder and amazement. "Is it in your closet?"

She tentatively follows behind, watching you search through the many dresses and skirts hanging prettily organized by color and style.

"Which one is it?"

Your Name shyly points to the very back of the closet, to a small dresser with a single drawer. You open it and immediately gasp.

"Your Name, this is perfect!"

"Really?"

"Of course!" You pull out the clothes and hold them up to her frame, giggling at the sight of her lips slowly twisting into perhaps the first genuine smile you've witnessed from her. "It's your favorite outfit, right?"

"Yeah," she shyly admits. "Because it's comfy."

Then your eyes light up brighter than any main character, an aura of gentleness and genius emitting from your very body.

"Do you have a second pair?"

He's not sure why he's so nervous. It's not like this is a legit date, plus he doesn't even like Your Name.

Minho gives him a nudge. "Smile when she comes down the stairs. Girls like that."

The previous conversation lingers in Jisung's mind, different possible outcomes if he had said something else, if he had kept the convo focused on Your Name for a little while longer. Eventually, the boys got to talking about archery and Minho led the conversation from there with hardly enough time for Jisung to comment.

For what it was all worth, Jisung didn't mind hearing about the different types of arrows and their tendencies when matched with a recurve bow versus a compound bow. Minho is clearly passionate about it, so he let the fanfic character rant. It's what friends do.

"Are they almost done?" Minho checks his phone and chuckles. "Girls. They take forever to get all dolled up, huh? It's cute that ___ wants to look nice for me."

Jisung starts to reply, but it's pointless when you arrive at the top of the stairs.

"Hi, guys! Sorry for making you wait."

With absolutely zero concern for your posture, you skip down the stairs, jumping off the last one and landing directly in front of Minho.

"I'm ready!"

He gawks at you, blinking and unable to utter a single word. You're wearing a blue sweatshirt with matching solid blue sweatpants. Your hair is tied up, all makeup cleaned off, and ugg boots with bows on the back. The only accessory is a cute pair of casual studs in your ears that match your blue aesthetic.

You give him a once-over and smile. "You look nice, Minho."

"___," Jisung catches your attention while Minho glitches, unable to hold in his laugh when you rock on your tiptoes and hold your hands behind your back, "what's with the sweatsuit?"

"Your Name picked it out."

"She did?" He's surprised, as expected.

"Yep!" You turn back to the stairs and call for the last member of your group. "Come on, we're gonna be late!"

All eyes are on Your Name as she appears in a matching pink set of sweats and classic black ugg boots. Her usually perfect hair is half up-half down in a braided bun, and this moment officially marks the first time a boy has ever seen her without makeup.

She shyly begins her descent, immediately reaching for your hand when she joins the group.

"Hi, Sungie," she swallows nervously.

"Hi, Your Name," he smiles, offering her his hand instead. "You look cute in pink.”

“Thanks.”

Her hand slips out of yours and into his. The lovely way his fingers fold between hers, the physical comfort leaking from his touch as it fills every crevice of her self-doubt. You're happy for her in this moment…but fuck, something hurts too.

She's glowing. Not solely because of Jisung. But because she's finally starting to be a main character of her own story. You can see it in the way her smile stretches across her face. There's something different about this one, something much more real.

You're smiling too, on the inside. But for some reason, you can't bring yourself to show it on the outside. All you can do is stare at their hands and feel your chest cave in on itself.

The rest of the world blurs into a hazy background, a lonely melody hums in the distance. The only thing in focus…him. Him and his precious, strawberry cheeks.

You should have expected this. After Your Name's comments left your thoughts in tune with your feelings for him, a slow-mo moment was inevitable. Still, it manages to catch you off guard because…he's not looking at you.

He's looking at her.

Unblinking, gentle eyes scan from head to toe in awe of what they see. His lips part when he talks like a magician using a spell to keep you mesmerized. The sound of your heart thuds in your ears, only getting louder and faster the longer you see him with her. But no matter how loud your heartbeat is, he doesn't hear it. Doesn't even acknowledge you while he's got her in his sights.

He's playing his part, the one you told him to play. But now you're upset because he's playing it too well!

"You look cute in blue." Minho is the one who breaks the slo-mo by offering you his arm, unashamed to have you on it now that he's done belly laughing at the initial shock of seeing you dressed so casually for his party. "Shall we?"

The costume change didn't work, at least not like you wanted. It seems Minho didn't notice Your Name at all after he saw you. Even worse, Your Name couldn't care less about Minho right now either.

Things keep getting more and more complicated. As you walk with Minho behind the other couple, you examine Your Name when she looks at Jisung, when she talks to him, when she touches him. And it's very clear.

Not only does Minho not have a crush on Your Name, but now Your Name's attention has been swept away seemingly for good too.

And you realize…Jisung is glowing like a main character. But when you look at Minho, his aura is as quiet as yours.

Shit.

-------------------------------------------------------

Part 2 ->

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candyquokka · 1 month ago

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heads up: alcohol mentions (drunk reader).

if there's one thing jisung knows about you, it's that you are... probably the most affectionate drunk he's ever met. the giggliest, too, because you've giggled at too many of his friends' bad jokes at this point in the night. he's got an arm loosely around you as the two of you lean against the side of minho's car, waiting for him to finally round up felix and drive all of you home. all jisung wants right now is to go home and recharge for a week straight... and maybe also cuddle with you as soon as he possibly can, if you're up to it.

but right now, you're giggling at penguin videos on his phone (distraction tactic... employed by yourself to use on yourself, apparently), and all he can do is just smile as he watches you.

"jisungie... gonna find you a nice rock..." you sway into his side a little, grinning to yourself as you keep your eyes glued to his phone. he'll end up with so, so many more videos... but he isn't complaining. "gonna get you some kinda pebble..."

he snorts a little, pressing a kiss against the side of your face. "and if i already bought you a rock?"

"gonna buy you one anyway." you finally look away from his phone, just to lean in and start pressing kisses against his cheeks. you're still giggling, all too giddy to have him next to you, and he just fights back the urge to laugh. "gotta make sure my baby has all the pretty things..."

maybe it's a good thing he never carries the ring on him. he'd be getting down on one knee right here and now if he did.

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candyquokka · 1 month ago

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me tweaking out trying to find that one good fanfic

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

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📱Random Texts w/ BF!SKZ 5 (Kiss Edition)📱

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: crack mostly, some fluff

pov: 1st/2nd person (depends on how you read it)

description: random texts with boyfie skz that all somehow ended up mentioning kissing

pairing: boyfriend!skz x reader

warnings: swearing, mention of kissing (rated G for every one)

screenshot count: 23

방찬 (Bang Chan)

이민호 (Lee Know)

서창빈 (Changbin)

황현진 (Hyunjin)

한지성 (Han)

이용복 (Felix)

김승민 (Seungmin)

양정인 (I.N)

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Permanent Taglist (closed)

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyysfics @berryblog @jaydebow @junebug032 @boiohboii

@heistheavatar @lieslab @rainbae-anon @k-cock @hamburgers101

@mrswolfiechan @soulboundauthor @weird-bookworm @thisisnotjacinta @seungmyynie

@halesandy @kpopsstuffs @honeydew93 @beebee18 @stay278

@jaiuneamesolitaiire @babrieeee @brain-empty-only-draken @tenmii @blueforte

@jihanlovic @felixglow @nuronhe @soonyoungblr @phtogravi

@jiisungllvr @puppyminnnie

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candyquokka · 2 months ago

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Video so real

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candyquokka · 3 months ago

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Give yourself kindness when things are a mess! Whether it's physically in your space, or more abstractly in your life, we all need time to sort things out and get the right processes in place.

Chibird store | Positive pin club | Instagram

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candyquokka · 3 months ago

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thinking about non-sexual intimacy with skz. chan draping your body on top of his because he likes to feel the pressure of your weight on him as a physical reminder of your presence. minho holding your hand to his cheek while you watch movies together, and you can feel his skin heat up under your palm. changbin nuzzling his face into your stomach whenever he gets the chance, going at it harder when you laugh from how it tickles. hyunjin having his hands buried into your hair all the time twirling and braiding random strands together absentmindedly. jisung resting his chin on your neck, shoulder, thigh, wherever is most convenient for him. felix tangling your fingers together at all moments like he would die without touching you all the time. seungmin pressing kisses into your skin whenever he passes by you, no matter what you're doing. jeongin moving your arms around his waist for a hug because he doesn't like to ask for it, he'll take it for himself.

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candyquokka · 3 months ago

Note

hey^^ could you write lee know angst. idk i was thinking maybe childhood bsf to lovers and hurt/comfort. like minho has a crush on reader but reader has a boyfriend. maybe the boyfriend just broke up with them so minho comforts them…

first of all, sorry this took me like 85 years omg

second, i combined these two requests, i hope that's okay! the story is angsty, but has a happy ending (bc i can't handle bad endings lol)

enjoy <3

Minho’s heart was absolutely breaking. Seeing you like this, hunched over in your pajamas and sobbing your heart out… He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was rubbing your back and handing you tissues intermittently, lightly scrunching his nose when you put the snotty paper directly on your bed sheets afterwards. Still, he didn’t say anything.

He had received a call from you at 1:15am, and had fully intended on telling you (fondly, of course) to get lost before hanging up on you. His words had been caught in his throat as soon as he heard your sniffles and muffled sobs, shooting out of bed and starting to get dressed before he even knew what was wrong. Through your sobbing, all Minho could decipher was that your boyfriend had cheated on you, and he had never considered hiring a hitman before, but damn if it didn’t seem tempting.

When he had arrived at your apartment, he had let himself in with the code you had entrusted him with. He kicked his shoes off, not caring where they went as he speed-walked to your bedroom. He had knocked on the door gently, so gently you had barely heard him over your loud sniffles and stuffy nose. You had attempted to make yourself look less pathetic before calling him inside. You had failed miserably.

Of course, to Minho you looked beautiful, even with snot and tears covering half your face. He had gently sunk down next to you on your bed and given you a gentle smile. You had attempted to smile back, but your face ended up screwed up in pain as you remembered the reason why your best friend was interrupting your crying session. His chest felt like it was in a million knots at the sight of you, sobbing and crying and so obviously hurting.

“I’m s-so sorry for c-calling you here,” you got out through sobs, blowing your nose immediately after and depositing the tissue with the others on the bed next to you. It was disgusting, yes, but you did not have the energy to go fetch a trash can. “I know y-you didn’t even l-like him.”

This was true. Minho had always hated your ex, and in his mind, he had good reason to do so. In reality? Prior to today, not so much. He hadn’t realized he was in love with you until you were a good month into your relationship, and honestly, that was on him. The fact that you were in a relationship should have made Minho happy, and mostly, it kind of did; when he didn’t have to see the guy who was making you happy, that was.

Minho himself had always had high standards for himself in relationships. He always made sure to remember his significant other’s schedule, their favorite foods and restaurants, their plans with their friends… Your boyfriend had never done any of this, so he couldn’t help but think that he could treat you better. He had kept his distance, though - you had seemed so happy with the other guy, as much as he personally thought you shouldn’t be.

“I don’t care about him,” Minho scoffed. “I’m here because you’re sad. What the fuck has that got to do with him?”

He knew he sounded angry and resentful. He was. He just hoped you didn’t pick up on the poorly masked jealousy in his voice, because as much as he wanted to finally confess to you now that you were presumably single, you needed time to heal first, and he was more than happy to grant it.

He smiled when you snorted out a laugh; nothing would ever compare to your laugh, your smile. One of the seemingly endless knots in his chest loosened a little. God, he was down bad. His heart hurt when more tears flowed down your cheeks, seemingly without your permission, in spite of your laughter.

“Well, that might be true, but I figured you’d be all smug about it,” you muttered back, glaring at him jokingly.

Minho had never felt such relief as when you stopped stuttering through your sentences and started bantering with him. You were always beautiful to him, but seeing you in pain was more than his heart could handle.

“Mm, I still might be,” he teased back with a shit-eating grin. You scoffed and smacked his shoulder, which he jokingly clutched in mock pain. “Heartbreak makes you strong, what the fuck.”

Briefly, he froze. What if he had said the wrong thing? What if he made you burst into tears again? He was already thinking about ways to punish himself for hurting you (mostly through means of making you happy, which honestly wouldn’t be much of a punishment for him) when you laughed again. The sound loosened yet another knot in his chest. He looked over at you in relief, unable to stop himself from smiling softly at the spark that finally reappeared in your eyes.

“I’m sure it’s the heartbreak, and not you being a wimp.”

He gasped and tackled you to the bed, tickling you mercilessly until you were crying - this time out of laughter. Maybe the knots weren’t endless, after all.

~*~

After spending the night at your apartment, completely unwilling to leave you alone, Minho took you out to get coffee in the morning. He insisted on paying, and since your head felt like it was full of cotton, you didn’t care to argue all that much. Your eyes were puffy and your nose was still a little red from the absolute meltdown you’d had not even 12 hours prior, but you had showered, brushed your hair and put on jeans, so you counted it as a win. Apparently, someone else appreciated your effort. While you were sitting at the table waiting for Minho to bring you your food and coffee, a pretty cute guy approached you.

“Excuse me,” he said gently.

You tore your eyes away from your phone, startled. You had been watching a cute TikTok of kittens - a truly pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better, even if it did make you smile a little - and had not anticipated social interaction. Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, but the man just beamed charmingly at you.

“Hi, I’m Hyunjin,” he introduced himself, stretching his hand out for you to shake. You still looked (and felt) confused as you shook his hand and mumbled your name in return, which Hyunjin found very cute. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally do this, but uhm… I was wondering if maybe I could give you my number? I know this might come off as a bit creepy, so I’m sorry if that’s the case.”

His rambling was adorable to you, so just laughed lightly. You didn’t really know what to do with this situation, seeing as you weren’t even technically single yet, much less over your last boyfriend. You figured since you would be the one in possession of the (actually pretty cute) guy’s number, you had nothing to lose really. Plus, honestly, it gave you a bit of an ego boost.

“You’re fine. Uhm, sure, I’ll take your number I guess,” you answered eventually, biting your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Minho was watching the exchange from the counter. He felt like he was losing his one shot with you, especially considering how handsome the guy who was obviously flirting with you was. The stupid guy even got you to smile, despite your last relationship going up in flames mere hours ago. He watched as the guy input his number into your phone, his heart cracking.

“Two lattes and two scones for Minho,” the barista said, handing the boy a tray with his order on it.

Minho snapped out of his reverie and started walking toward the table you had picked out. His timing was perfect, because he didn’t have to interact with the dude - he could barely catch the guy’s quick “hope to hear from you soon” before he had slinked away, grinning like an idiot.

He couldn’t let you know that he was feeling jealous, dejected and heartbroken - those were feelings reserved for you to feel. So, he bravely plastered a smug smirk on his face and teasingly lifted an eyebrow as he approached, the blush coloring your cheeks making his heart speed up without his permission.

“Someone’s got game,” he teased. God, the words felt so wrong to him. He wanted to fall to his knees, wanted to beg you not to look at anyone other than him ever again, wanted to beg for your sunny smile to never leave your face; but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What you needed was a friend, despite your somewhat positive reaction to what’s-his-face’s advances.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, grabbing your scone from the tray he was putting on the table.

“What, don’t wanna tell me about how you’re less heartbroken because I am amazing?” he teased. You glared at him, your eyes flicking between his face and the butterknife you were holding menacingly. “Calm down there, bucko. Anyway, do you think you’re gonna call him?”

Minho wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but something in him felt the need to ask either way. Maybe he was a masochist; somehow, he felt like not knowing at all would hurt more than knowing. You considered his words for a moment or two, taking a tentative sip of your drink in the meantime. Your beauty struck him hard in that moment - he couldn’t really blame that guy for asking for your number, honestly.

“I don’t know yet,” you sighed as you placed your cup onto the table between you. “I mean, he’s cute, but I don’t even know what’s going on with me and….” You sighed again. “I’ll figure it out.”

As much as Minho wanted you to feel better, he couldn’t help but hope that you wouldn’t text that guy. Maybe he was selfish (he definitely was) but his heart was breaking at the mere thought of watching you enter a new relationship with someone that wasn’t him. If you noticed that his smiles were tighter after that, you didn’t mention it.

~*~

Minho was helping you clean your fridge and freezer out when the subject of your love life came up again. It had only been about a week, but you were already doing much better. You had texted your asshole of an ex to end things the day you went to the café, armed with the knowledge that breaking up over text was nowhere near as bad as cheating on someone. It wasn’t exactly taking the high road, but fuck that - you were hurt and you didn’t want to see him ever again. Minho approved.

“So,” you started, and your best friend hummed from where he was hunched over your freezer. Him “helping” was actually him doing it for you; he knew you hated doing it more than anything, and he would do anything for you. In your defense, you were doing the dishes that had been piling up since your breakup. “I texted Hyunjin today.”

Minho’s movements paused for half a second. “Hyunjin?” he asked. He could only assume it was the guy from the café, but he hoped not.

Actually, he hoped you were just joking and the only person you had texted was him. Not that you weren’t allowed to text others, but his feelings for you had been growing exponentially as you spent more time together over the past few weeks, and considering he had already been very much in love with you, he was down bad. His first thought in the morning always looked suspiciously like your eyes, and his last thought at night usually sounded an awful lot like your laughter when he did something deliberately stupid. Screw down bad, he was falling down a bottomless pit and he just kept gaining speed.

“The guy from the café,” you said, focusing on scrubbing one of the particularly dirty plates. Your best friend took a deep breath in and blocked his unwarranted, jealous thoughts - they could remain in his head all they wanted, but he refused to let them taint his time with you. It was too precious for petty arguments.

“Ah,” he mumbled in reply, pulling out the last shelf from your freezer. When he stood up straight, his back crackled concerningly, making you look up from the sink at him and giggle. He considered doing it again just to hear your laugh again; it made his chest expand with a particular brand of happiness only you had the power to grant him. “Did he respond?”

Did he want to know? No, this time he definitely did not; however, he knew that you would get suspicious if he didn’t ask, so he resigned himself to hearing about it. He figured that even if he couldn’t have you in the way he wanted, he could at least look after you. He had done it before, as much as it had killed him.

“He did,” you answered, and Minho could hear your smile without even looking up. It was bittersweet, you being happy because of someone else.

“So you do have game, I’m impressed,” he teased. Your happiness trumped his, any day of the week.

“Shut up,” you whined and promptly flicked soapy water at him, making him screech like a hyena - mostly to make you laugh, but the water did feel cold as fuck. “We decided to go get coffee together, I guess, but I don’t know how I feel about it.” You turned back to the dishes, scrubbing intently at the same plate.

Even though you said it casually, like it didn’t matter to you at all, Minho heard the tension in your voice. He immediately dropped everything, standing up and turning to you. You always had 100% of his attention (the poor man couldn’t help it) but now he was laser focused. You were feeling bad in some capacity, and he couldn’t stand for it.

“Hey,” he said gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. He almost kissed you when you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling and looking so domestic in your rubber gloves. He forced himself to move on. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to, okay?”

You nodded distractedly, looking down at the soapy water filled with dishes. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” you muttered, “I do. I just… Feel like I’m not done. With… him. He really hurt me, Min.”

The tears in your eyes made him wonder what it would take to hire that hitman he had been thinking about two weeks earlier - it would probably be worth it. No, it definitely would, your happiness was more valuable than literally anything else, ever. He gently placed his arm around your waist, squeezing carefully. You smiled at him, giggling slightly. It was a sad sound, but better than crying.

“I know, baby,” he answered, leaning his head on top of yours as you placed the (finally clean) plate on the drying rack and picked up a wine glass. “Look, if you want to go, you should. Just tell me when you guys are meeting up, and I’ll make sure I’m free and I can come to the rescue if you need me to, yeah?”

You didn’t even blink as you dropped the glass in the sink and threw your arms around your best friend. Your tears spilled over your lower lashes, tracing streaks down your cheeks, but you didn’t care; your best friend was the best person in the entire world.

~*~

Minho was pacing. You were on your date with Hyunjin - was it even a date? - and he was feeling more restless than he had in his entire life. He was glad you had decided that your happiness was more important than the hurt your absolute dick of an ex had caused you, but he couldn’t deny the large cracks in his heart at the thought that he wasn’t the one bringing you said happiness.

When he received a text from you, he jumped to read it and answer it as soon as possible. He started walking toward the door before he even read it, just to be prepared if you needed him to come running.

y/nnie: it’s all good, min! no need to come :)

y/nnie: thank u for looking out for me <3

Oh. Well. He felt relieved as well as disappointed. He pushed the disappointment back as far as he could, hoping to bury it forever. He sat down on the couch and stared at his living room wall as his heart broke. Fuck.

~*~

“So how was your date yesterday?” Minho asked as casually as he could when you met up the next day. He only asked after you had pushed him onto your couch and stuck a facemask on his skin, his head tilted back. He basked in your touch.

“What?” you laughed, shaking your head as you pushed another mask onto your own skin beside him. “Min, it wasn’t a date.”

His mind felt numb. He was trying so hard to force himself not to get his hopes up again, to not allow himself joy for your lack of romantic interest in this Hyunjin guy. He closed his eyes but raised his eyebrows, his head lolling toward you in a manner designed to make you laugh. You did. He felt successful.

“Look,” you sighed. “Hyunjin also thought it was a date at first, and honestly, I thought so too. But then I just… It felt irresponsible and unfair to go on a date when I know for a fact that I am not ready for it, that I’m not emotionally available enough for that. It felt mean, honestly. So we talked, and I told him how I felt, and he said it was all cool. We’re friends now, and I set him up with Ryujin. She was ecstatic, by the way.”

Minho listened carefully to your explanation. He always listened to you, but this time he really analyzed every single word that spilled from your lips. He opened his eyes to look at you once you went silent, his chest filling with butterflies when your form registered in his brain. You were wearing sweatpants and a tank top, your hair a complete and utter mess on top of your head and looking like some kind of bank robber because of your facemask; and yet, you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

If you had been dating, he’s pretty sure he would have proposed just like that. Just ask you. Because that was so you and Minho, it epitomized your relationship; easy, casual, no need for embellishment or pretense. Just… you. And him. He hoped he would get the opportunity to propose to you one day.

“I’m sure she was,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. You snorted, and he fell deeper.

“Anyway,” you continued, “Hyunjin is a cool guy. We just didn’t… click like that. And even if we did-” you stopped yourself, shaking your head with a sigh. “He’s not for me. I’m not ready now.”

“You know,” Minho started gently, making you look into his eyes. He smiled a little at the thought of how you must look, both covered in facemasks and gazing into each other’s eyes softly. You sunk back on the couch and leaned your head back over the back, just like he was doing. “I don’t think you will be ready to date until you have a conversation with Fuckface McGee.”

His uncreative name for your ex made you burst into laughter, and Minho felt like he could fly. You looked beautiful like that, head tilted back, eyes scrunched up and mouth open in unabashed laughter. He filed the image away in his mind along with the countless other precious memories he had with you.

“You might be right,” you said when you had sobered up, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips. “Maybe I should… talk to him. Meet him.”

The room was silent for a while. He felt your hand sneak closer to his, and he grabbed it without hesitation. You often sought comfort from him like that, finding physical contact with him steadying. The silence was nice, comfortable and thick with unspoken affection for one another and the relationship you had. Minho started to feel sleepy.

When the timer went off, signalling for you to take the facemasks off, you shuffled into the bathroom together. As you were stood side by side, he caught your gaze in the mirror. He saw the discomfort, the insecurity and the pain that filled you and gave you the smile that never failed to fill you with calm.

“Again,” he said, “let me know when you’re meeting and I’ll make sure that I’m available.”

Your heart clenched.

~*~

“I met up with him today,” you said offhandedly as you watched a movie together a few weeks later.

It took a few seconds for the meaning of your words to sink in, but when they did Minho’s entire body stiffened. He didn’t need to ask who - your tone (combined with the proverbial storm cloud that seemed to have made its home above your head for the day) clued him into the fact that you were talking about your cheating scumbag of an ex. He didn’t know what to do. He had spent the past weeks helping you recover from what that asshole did to you, but he hadn’t actually asked you where your relationship stood. He decided that the best approach was to be nonchalant, objective; just be there for whatever you had decided to do. Even if it might kill him.

He knew he was being dramatic - he had seen you in a relationship before, it wasn’t new to him. The problem was that he finally felt like he could breathe now that he didn’t have to see you be in love with someone who wasn’t him, when he could finally start to cautiously give you hints about his feelings. He was sure you didn’t notice his advances, if you could even call them that. He was too much of a coward to do much.

“Okay,” he answered slowly, waiting for you to continue without taking his eyes away from the TV. He had no idea what was happening on screen. “I thought you were going to let me know when you were meeting? Did it go okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled humorlessly, “we did not get back together. Nor will we ever.” He felt like fist-pumping the air. “I just decided that I deserved closure, and went in there with that attitude.”

“You do,” he agreed, finally turning to look you in the eyes. “What he did was fucked up, Y/n. Never forget that.”

You laughed lightly and nodded, ruffling his hair a little. You turned around and rested your back against his chest, continuing to watch the movie. Minho wouldn’t be able to do that if he wanted, the weight of you against him combined with the smell of you too much for him. He prayed you couldn’t feel his heart beating against your back and did his best to relax and savor the moment.

“Actually,” you hesitantly spoke up after a minute or two, “he told me something.”

“Oh?” he hummed back, fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. It was so soft.

“He, uh, he thinks you have feelings for me,” you mumbled, reaching down to play with the hem of your shirt.

Minho’s entire body went rigid. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He did have feelings for you - actually, scratch that, he was full-on in love with you. He wanted to date you, move in with you, marry you, have kids with you and grow old with you. Without you in his life, everything looked bleak. Could he really tell you, though? What if it made you uncomfortable? What if you thought that all these weeks of him helping you get over Fuckface McGee was some sort of plan to woo you? It wasn’t, he hoped you knew that, but…

He was scared, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of finally letting his feelings out. Being able to tell you felt like a huge relief, no matter the outcome. He decided to let the excitement win.

“I- uhm.”

Okay. Fucking great start, Minho. Truly fantastic stuff.

“I told him he was crazy, of course, but… Do you? Like me, I mean. As more than a friend.”

Your voice was so small, so careful, and he hated that you were holding back. You never held back with him, and he never wanted you to. He wanted to know everything about you, every single thought that went through your head. For once, prioritizing your feelings over his own meant that he could prioritize himself, too.

“I do.”

The answer made it feel like time was standing still. You were frozen, staring up at him. He was frozen, staring right back. He couldn’t breathe. The TV chattering on in the background faded away, feeling almost alien in the tense moment where nothing else seemed to move.

After at least 30 seconds of silence, Minho decided that he’d had enough. He took your stunned silence as a rejection, and knew that he would need to move on. That was okay, as long as he got to have you in his life as a friend.

“Y/n, it’s literally okay if you don’t feel the same. I will be in your life in whatever capacity you want me to be. I get it if you need a break from spending time with me while I sort my feelings out, but-”

“Please don’t.”

Your words made him stop. What the hell did that mean? Did you want him to stop talking? He could feel all his earlier bravado slowly exit his body, and decided to let you take the reins. As long as you were comfortable in every situation with him, he couldn’t care less what happened between you.

“I didn’t mean- I don’t-” You stopped and took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean for you to stop talking. I always want to hear what you have to say, so I’m sorry it came out like that. I meant… please don’t sort your feelings out. Unless sorting them out means that you want to be with me. Because I have been in love with you for years, and you’ve been so great these past few weeks that I-”

Your word-vomit was interrupted by your best friend’s lips on yours. He would apologize once he was finished kissing you, he would, but he couldn’t be held responsible for this reaction. He had been wanting to kiss you for so long, had been in love with you for so long, and it was finally reciprocated. You would forgive him. Hopefully.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and you tasted like the strawberry chapstick you always wore as well as the chocolate popcorn you were eating during the movie. He would put up with your gross chocolate popcorn as long as you would be his. He couldn’t help the borderline moan that he exhaled when you kissed him back, and he definitely couldn’t stop the butterflies in his chest from erupting when he felt you smile against his lips. He was getting dizzy, but he wouldn’t stop; he couldn’t. You. You liked him. You liked him.

After a minute or two, you pulled away, breathing hard. The kiss hadn’t been particularly raunchy, but he always managed to steal your breath no matter what he did, so it didn’t surprise you that you were lacking oxygen after a simple kiss.

When you looked into his eyes, you saw the sparkles in them - the sparkles that you adored, the ones that would come out when he talked about his cats, his friends, and his latest experiment in the kitchen. The sparkles that only came out when he was truly happy. You couldn’t get any oxygen in your lungs if you tried, so you just collapsed against his chest, your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Minho’s entire body erupted in goosebumps as he felt your breath brushing against the skin of his neck. He wrapped you in his arms as tight as he could, a big, dumb, dopey grin on his face. He was holding you. He had kissed you. You felt the same. He was flying.

“Please tell me you’re mine,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Only if you want to be, of course, but I would really, really like it if you were mine. If I was yours.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought of him being yours sending your mind into an absolute frenzy. You extracted your face from his neck and looked into his eyes again, your legs turning to jello. Thank fuck you were laying down.

“I’m yours, Minho. And you’re mine.”

Your best friend - well, boyfriend - grinned so big he felt like his face was going to split in half. He couldn’t help himself and planted a big kiss on your lips again. You melted into him, resting comfortably against his chest. You felt safe and warm, and like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Minho’s heart, which had been cracking continually for the past month, was healed. It was pounding against his chest, reminding him of the fact that he was alive and breathing, and that you loved him back.

a/n: thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it. i would really appreciate if you liked and/or reblogged my fics, as it encourages me to keep writing <3

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