#and ignoring his obnoxious instagram caption

[cecoeur]

Daniel in the paddock ahead of the sprint | F1 Chinese Grand Prix at Shanghai International Circut | Sprint & Qualifying | 📸 - Kym Illman

[stray-kids-react]

Same birthday as them

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° Is the type to reschedule his own birthday so it could just be your day, but you will refuse his kind suggestions because you'd feel awful if you made it look like his birthday was just brushed aside like it's nothing.

° Let's you blow out the candles on the cake, smiling at you like a lovesick puppy which always makes Minho do obnoxious gagging noises as the other members join him and laugh. But Chan gets revenge on them, with frosting attacks.

° Gives the price with the candle in it, and will scoop up dollops of icing onto your piece of cake if you like frosting. And if you aren't a fan of frosting then he will steal the large amounts on your piece and put on his own piece.

° Always.. And I mean ALWAYS. Writes you birthday cards that make you cry, because he uses such kind words and makes you feel very special. Hyunjin will awkwardly pat your head as Felix clings to you like a koala.

"What words do you out in the letters to make her/him cry?" Hyunjin asked.

"Just the truth from my heart."

"Hyung she's/he's crying even harder now." Felix whispered, grabbing napkins.

Lee Know

° It always ends up going the complete opposite way you guys planned on spending your shared birthday. You both planned on going to a hotel to spend a few days away from everyone and everything, and now you were Camping with skz.

° Let's you open your presents first, secretly eager for you to open the one he bought you. And will laugh in the member's faces, bragging about how he always buys the best gifts for you. He says it's because you share one brain.

° Tries to play the birthday boy card with you, saying 'baby since it's my birthday can you get a drink?' and you always remind him that it's your birthday too so you shouldn't have to do favors on your birthday unless you want to.

° Will poke frosting onto your lips before kissing it away, making all of the members react in disgust and cringe. Even though you both know they are happy you two are together, but they are still like family and will tease both of you.

"Get a room." Seungmin whined.

"It's our birthday, every room is our room."

"Felix get the water guns." Changbin ordered, preparing for battle.

Changbin (our birthday boi! ❤️🎂)

° Very clingy, even though it's your birthday as well he will want to be babied as much as he can get. He'll baby you to return the favor, but please just cuddle him all day to make his birthday wishes come to life.

° Takes you out to a restaurant with no members, just the two of you dining together. He will insist on wearing party hats to the very fancy restaurant, getting weird looks from the posh and frugal diners that surround you.

° Even though he is sited earlier on being babied, whenever you suggest that you can help pay for the meal he always denies it and pays fully. And when whine asking why he's spoiling you, he explains that it's your birthday, you deserve it.

° Will rent out a hotel room on the top floor, taking a few selfies with you to post on instagram, captioning a long rant about how he feels so special to have met such a wonderful person who shares his birthday.

"You don't have to pay Binnie, we can go half-"

"I insist, it's your birthday you deserve it."

"But it's your birthday too."

Hyunjin

° He shows you off 10× harder than he usually does, you simply did his hair in the morning cause you wanted to. And she showed it off to all of the members, staff, and fans who were watching the stray kids daily vlogs.

° The members will purposely celebrate you more for the first half of the day, just to annoy Hyunjin. But they always soften up and congratulate him too, making him go back to his usual confident prince aura.

° Wants kisses 24/7, and will become pouty if you deny any of them. Always whining, saying that it's his birthday wish to kiss you. That sentence alone always makes you cave in and kiss his adorable pout away.

° Will read your letters for you while you open the gifts, when it comes time to open his gifts you will return the favor and read the letters. Once he reaches your gift, without even opening it he will say it's his favorite gift out of them all.

"Now for the best gift of the night."

"But you haven't even opened it yet."

"I just know it is the best."

Han

° Wakes you up with a birthday song, forcing his members to sing it with him and dance to it. The only ones who truly get into the song are Chanbin and Felix. You were a bit surprised to see all eight guys surrounding your bed.

° Will set a cute date in the JYP café, sharing your favorite pastry and his favorite pastry with each other. You two hoped to be left alone, but some fans decided to visit the café and give Han this huge cake while ignoring you.

° After Jisung began to notice more fans surrounding the building, he decided to take you back to the dorms where you could finish your pastries and drinks there. Even though it wasn't as 'romantic' it was still nice and calming.

° You both just have a relaxing time together alone, watching you favorite movies and ordering your favorite foods and drinks. Only going to socialize with everyone else when Chan calls for both of you to open the gifts.

"Happy birthday Han oppa, we love you more than anyone else in the world."

"Oh, thank you so much. Umm we actually should get going."

"OMG IS THAT HAN JISUNG OVER THERE?!"

Felix

° You tell Felix every year to not just focus on you, but he truly just can't help himself. Which is why you woke up to a loud clang in the kitchen, to find your boyfriend baking you a birthday cake at 4 in the morning.

° You were about to scold him for trying to spoil you, but he just passes you a spoon with some of the icing and batter on it. You can't stay annoyed with you angel of a boyfriend, especially when you remind yourself that it's his birthday too.

° The reason you tell him to not focus on you, is because if you don't tell him that. He will go overboard, and spoil you more than a Kardashian. Which sometimes makes you feel bad for not spoiling him just as much.

° You both facetime your families together, opening up your presents in front of them and the members. Your mom is crying the whole time because she can't get over how happy you look and how you got with such a nice guy.

"I've never seen my baby look so happy."

"Aww, you are extra smiley around me."

"Can you please just open the gift." Changbin sighs playfully, waiting ten minutes over you two gushing over each other.

Seungmin

° You struggle whenever it comes to buying gifts for Seungmin, just because he is so calm around you and always tells you that he doesn't care what you buy him as long as it's from you. He'll even say he doesn't need gifts.

° He's such a sweet boyfriend so you always want to spoil him, but he always manages to get a more heart wrenching gift than you do. Which is now why you are hunting down different stores with Hyunjin, who hasn't bought him a gift yet.

° You both rush towards the music store, when you bump into Seungmin. He is holding a couple bags full of stuff, and he can't help but smile brightly when he runs into you. Knowing exactly why you two are shopping.

° Hyunjin tries to take a peak at the bags to see if he could get any ideas from them, but Seungmin moves them away as he places a small peck to your nose before leaving the store. Making you lost with questions as to what he got you.

"Seungmin! Hi... W-what are you doing here?"

"Getting your presents ready."

"He's always ahead of the game y/n, I swear."

Jeongin

° You both have a whole birthday week, giving each other small little gifts like candy and chocolates before the big day finally arrives. And that's when the members create this huge party for you two, going all out because they are whipped.

° You and Jeongin will steal some of the balloons and keep them in your room to play around with, playing balloon volleyball with each other when neither of you can get to sleep. He always wins because he slaps the balloon so harshly.

° Will have one last dance alone with you after the party. Both of you in your pajamas in his room as you sway back and forth to a soft slow song. You can hear him humming to song against your shoulder.

° During the party, he made the mistake of pulling you in for feverish kiss. Making Itzy, Twice, Day6, Ateez, TxT, Btob, and Ofcourse Stray Kids all start Hollering. You've never witnessed Jeongin blush so harshly before.

"Get it Jeongin!" Han yelled, making Chan slap his arm.

"They're all staring at us."

"That's because you attempted to French kiss me in the middle of the dance floor."

[wing-ed-thing]

Senioritis: Table 4 (Hidan x Reader, Chapter IV)

Synopsis: You were officially stuck with Hidan for the last semester of your senior year of high school. You’re determined to spend as little time with the obnoxious flirt as possible.

Word Count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo (and no, I still don’t do NSFW), Characters are Legal Adults, Non-Graphic References to Sexual Themes, Crude Humor, American!High School AU, Jock!Hidan, Nerd!Reader, Modern AU, 99% Sure that Reader is Gender Neutral, Reader is Referred to as a “Bitch” (non-derogatory) 

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Notes: 

You proceeded to quickly and disastrously implode. But on the plus side, you had never received so many notifications before. Messages covered the whole of your lock screen, even from apps that you used so little you forgot you had them downloaded. Numbers sat next to the names of acquaintances with notifications piled on top of each other, a testament to the sheer volume of text that had been sent. But as you opened them, the positives quickly exited your mind. You started at the bottom.

Deidara sent you a series of messages the day before. You knew he tended to be busy after school so you wondered how he found the time to message you. Perhaps all the times he complained about how busy the musical kept him were an exaggeration after all.

“Umm,” he started, “Were you going to tell me that you and Hidan were a thing or did I have to eavesdrop?” A side eye emoji. Your chest pounded at his words. A missed call, something not atypical of Deidara who always seemed to have too much to say to text. With your schoolwork and your surprise date (you cringed at the phrase), you didn’t even notice. He messaged again twenty minutes later. “I won’t forget this... May your coffee forever be the wrong order.” Later that evening. “But... get it lmao.” You frowned.

“Hidan and I aren’t a thing,” you typed back and moved on to the next notification.

A picture overtook your phone screen along with three big question marks at the bottom. The sky was dark, but the colored lights cast a light glow over the crowd of people. And highlighted in a sloppy, green, drawn-in circle was you and Hidan. The two of you were facing away from the camera: you laughed, looking up at him as his arm draped over your shoulders. You didn’t even see Deidara’s cousin there and she easily could have come up to you to chat, but then again, you supposed that Ino had always been one for the dramatics. You didn’t know what to type back, so you ignored the photo.

“Obi_Tobi requested to follow you,” Instagram read, “OrigamiAngel requested to follow you.” You accepted the requests without another thought and requested to follow each of them in turn. Neither Obito nor Konan had ever really spoken to you before, but you supposed that you didn’t have to know someone closely in order to be connected online.

Obito’s photos immediately came up in your feed. He posed in the gym mirror, a particularly large weight in his right hand and his phone in his left. Konan’s story blinked up at the top of your timeline. You clicked and a complicated origami project sat in front of a serene background.

“Sixty hours of work,” said the caption. A pink heart emoticon sat next to it. You shook your head to yourself, closing out the app. You had become distracted. A message from Deidara swooped down at the top of your screen and you dismissed it quickly, moving on to clear out your next cache notifications.

“I’ve got the last section done, so all that we need is polish. How does it feel to have the biggest project of the year done early?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the news. Kabuto was always, consistently, the best project partner that you could ever ask for. Your thumbs moved across the keyboard.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best? Because you’re the best,” you praised, “I’ll look it over. Sorry I’ve been busy lately.” The response came immediately.

“Don’t worry about it. Get to it when you can we’re a week early after all. I know you’re busy—” A new text. —“Say hi to Hidan for me. He stole my Pokemon cards in third grade.”

You gritted your teeth and once again made an attempt to ignore discourse about Hidan. Because you’d say it once, and you’d no doubt have to say it again; you did not have feelings for Hidan.

A notification, but this time it was from Obito.

“Obi_Tobi accepted your request. You are now following Obi_Tobi. Obi_Tobi sent you a message.”

“Hey,” it said, “It was nice seeing you at the carnival the other night! We should all hang out together sometime.” It felt odd engaging in a conversation with someone that you had known for years and spoken to zero times. You didn’t know what to make of it but concluded that the gesture was nice.

“You too!” You typed back, trying to match some of his enthusiasm. “I know we don’t get to chat a whole lot so let me know when you all are doing something.” You weren’t exactly enthusiastic about hanging around a group of people who were practically strangers to you, but you wanted to acknowledge his offer at the very least.

“For sure! I’m glad that Hidan found you—” You frowned down at the message, but didn’t have time to deny anything before the second text had your blood stopping in your veins. —“We never thought he’d be able to get over Konan. Guess he wanted an easier challenge.”

The last part made your blood boil, but for some reason, the first part made you just as upset and you had no idea why.

Hidan’s string of messages were left unanswered.

***

You dreaded returning to school the following Monday. It felt like everyone was staring at you. Granted they weren’t, but your rising anxiety sure made it feel that way. You sat back in your chair, burying your face in the front of your jacket as you attempted to mentally prepare yourself for your next period in senior seminar. Your heart pounded in your chest and you wished that you had chosen a different seat harder than you had ever wished for anything before. The dismissal bell rang and you were in no hurry to gather your things. Perhaps, you reasoned, if you packed up slowly, your next class would come slowly as well. It didn’t work.

You were making your way down the hall when a hand gripped your shoulder. You tensed up under the touch, but when you turned, you only found Deidara. He balanced a cardboard tray of coffee in his left hand. His hand retracted from you to politely and wordlessly hand you a small drink.

“What did I do?” he asked, eyes lidded and tired. You stood to the side of the hallway, confused.

“What?”

“You’ve been acting weird and you haven’t answered any of my texts.” He sighed and shifted his weight to his back leg. Deidara was never good with confrontations, but the very idea of an issue with others bothered him too much for him to ignore. So in times like these, he forced himself to talk it out. “Is this because I accidentally gave you bad milk last time you came into the cafe? Because that was an accident that you shouldn’t hold against me!” You looked down at the drink he just handed to you.

“You gave me bad milk?” Deidara opened his mouth only to close it once again in acute frustration. Your voice sounded small and more puzzled than anything else. “Why would you bring me another drink if you’re apologizing for serving me bad milk?”

“If you’re not mad about the milk, then what did I do?”

“Deidara, I’m not upset about anything—” The bell rang and you both walked into the classroom. —“I’ve just been, I don’t know, feeling a lot— Holy shit!”

Sitting in your seat was the large, red-ribboned stuffed bear from the carnival. The memory of the prize left in Hidan’s back seat came flooding back to you and you nearly winced. Hidan sat in his regular spot with a big grin on his face, waving over at you. He held his arms out in a grand fashion. You slowly handed your drink back to Deidara with a nod, a silent thank you and promise to retrieve it when you were finished. Hidan babbled about something as you grew closer. You tuned him out for the most part, sheer panic setting into your chest. Since you came in late, everyone else was seated. You plucked the bear out of your chair, ignoring Hidan as you immediately asked your teacher,

“Can I bring this to my locker?” Your voice came out louder and higher than usual, but your teacher nodded if not to simply get the stuffed animal out of the classroom. You set your bag down with haste and bolted out the door. The seat in front of Deidara sat empty.

You shuffled down the now empty hallway, the limbs of the bear hitting your legs as you walked. Luckily, your locker wasn’t too far away and you could get back to class quickly. People glanced out at you as you walked by the open doors of their classrooms. A few teachers turned, following the distracted gazes of their students. You heard your name called from down the hall and you almost stopped walking. You faced forward and continued on despite the sound of footsteps echoing behind you.

“Cute idea, huh?” Hidan said when he finally caught up with you. You didn’t even face him and instead kept walking. “I couldn’t find you before first period this morning but it was kinda a blast carrying that guy around all day. It’s like having a little buddy. And by ‘little buddy’, I mean the bear, not my—”

“Hidan—” You frowned up at him, unfortunately having already arrived at your locker. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He offered you nothing but a slow blink. You jiggled open your narrow locker and attempted to shove the bear inside. It wouldn’t fit without a fight.

“Well, yeah, but I wanted to come with you.” Hidan hardly paused before barreling into another topic completely. He leaned against the locker next to yours, forearm up above his head as he towered over you. “So, are you free this weekend, baby?” You stopped short, putting in just enough effort to ensure that the stuffed animal didn’t topple over onto your head.

“You know we’re not a couple, right?” You resumed your struggle and Hidan attempted to help you. You shooed his hand away and he returned to his leaning spot. You pulled out a few books and odd items, setting them on the floor and tried the bear once again.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be something, you know, later.” You finally got the door shut. Your back met the cold metal as you studied him, exasperated.

“Something?” you asked. He shrugged again.

“Yeah, I mean, I know people like to, you know, hook up and stuff—”

“Mhm.” Your eyes narrowed and your lips pursed.

—“But I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to have my own bitch—”

“Excuse you?” You crossed your arms over your chest. The genuine look of confusion on Hidan’s features was lost on you completely. You looked upset, annoyed at the very least. That expression wasn’t a new one. In fact, it was one that Hidan knew very well. Why you were so annoyed today completely escaped him.

“I said, that I’ve always wanted to know—” You shook your head, skin slowly heating up.

“I heard what you said, I was giving you a chance to choose your words differently.” You gritted your teeth, glancing around to the open doors in the hall. You adjusted your voice. The last thing you needed was for someone to catch you talking to Hidan and spread some odd rumor on top of the ones that were already flying around. “I’m not sleeping with you or otherwise, Hidan. I-I-I...” You stammered in sheer frustration. “I’m not a challenge.”

“I never asked you to and I never said you were.” His tone was devoid of bite or defensiveness. You were left to process his words which hung in the air around your head. You shook it as you tried to think to yourself.

The tension left your shoulders for a split second. He was right, after all. Hidan never asked you to do anything inappropriate. Despite his loud mouth and crude sense of humor, he always respected your boundaries when it mattered. He flirted with you to no end, but for once you actually considered the prospect that he might actually like you. And if Hidan had genuine feelings for you, maybe it wouldn’t really be such a horrible thi—

“But I mean…” He waggled his brows at you suggestively. “If you want to. It’s one of those yes but no things. What can I say, you’re just hot.” A pressure coiled around your lungs. Your pulse beat loudly in your ears. Something split between anger and hurt bubbled in your chest.

“And?” you questioned. He scrunched up his face.

“And what?”

“Hey!” You turned to look at a teacher sticking her head out of a nearby classroom. “You two should be in class. Move along, this isn’t a place to chit-chat.” You walked away wordlessly and continued to ignore your loquacious counterpart.

“Just leave me alone, Hidan.”

***

Hidan had a different tutor from then on. You emailed Mr. Nara as soon as the dismissal bell rang and luckily, with an organized honors roster, he found someone right away. Hidan couldn’t say that he was necessarily pleased when, instead of you, Sasori met him in your usual spot in the library. Sasori didn’t seem to be happy about the arrangement either, snipping something about having a place to be after school and not having time to deal with nonsense. Sasori tapped, and if he and Hidan were on the same wavelength, they could have produced a nice rhythm.

“Stop that.” Hidan grumbled as Sasori’s pen once again knocked against the table. Sasori sat back in his chair with a blank expression, pen in hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t have your face practically on the table, it wouldn’t bother you so much.” Hidan couldn’t do much more than continue to grumble. He tried his best to get through his worksheet as quickly as he could, for once not wanting to be tutored after school. Sasori rested his foot against the spindle of the chair across from him as he slumped in his seat. His thumb traveled up to the top of his pen and he gave it a click. Hidan stopped completely and glared up at him.

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” Sasori gestured to the questions in front of his student.

“Get your shit done.”

Meanwhile, you were down in the theater department, sitting amongst Sasori’s costumes with Deidara. After what happened in senior seminar, you promised that you would talk to him, leaving briefly to pick up lunch before coming back. Deidara, as it turned out, was never as busy as he claimed to be. He chuckled over his sandwich, mouth still full as he snorted to himself.

“I’m sorry, but it’s just really funny.” You frowned at him, drink to your lips.

“It really isn’t.”

“Oh I think so!” He swallowed and went to take another bite. “So you have it bad for Hidan, so what?” His words were muffled around his Italian bread. He shrugged, spilling lettuce down onto the paper wrap on his lap.

“I don’t have anything for Hidan, just to be straight. He’s so gross and over the top and we’re known each other since elementary school—” Deidara lifted his energy drink to his lips, mumbling into the lip of the can.

“Which is why you find it so hard to admit to yourself that you might want a piece of that…”

—“He’s just absolutely infuriating. I’m so pissed that I fell for it, you know? I swear, I’m switching groups if I can help it, there’s no way I’m working with him for the rest of the semester.” A silence overtook the art room and you angrily munched on the last of your chips. Deidara stayed quiet for the most part until he cleared his throat.

“So, let me know if I’ve got it right...” A smile broke out across his lips once more. “You kissed Hidan, yelled at him, and ran?” Your scowl deepened.

“Eat your fuckin’ sandwich, Deidara.”

Senioritis (each character series interweaves with the others, but they can be read alone or in any order)

Table Four (Hidan x Reader), Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Table Two (Deidara x Reader), Part I 

Senioritis: Lab (Sasori x Reader) Part I Part II

Notes: Hidan sucks as communication, but when he said ‘it’s one of those yes but no things’ he meant, yes he wanted to but he didn’t if Reader didn’t want to. Consent is sexy, y’all

I still don’t do NSFW so please don’t read this chapter and ask me or I will cry. It’s like a little secret since this isn’t really one of my more popular series. So shhh it’ll be between us.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[nugnthopkns]

don’t say you miss me

word count: 5.5k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, references to sex but nothing explicit, cursing, recreational drug use (marijuana), alcohol consumption, there is no happy ending

recommended listening: overnight | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: second installment of hiiapl! little overnight inspired ditty that i’m actually pretty proud of. i’m having so much fun with this it’s insane

You had never meant to get attached.

It was a lot easier said than done – especially with Kevin. He was loud and obnoxious, sure, but it was part of his charm. When you first met him, outside a club in downtown Winnipeg, you were blown away by his duality. He had been so loud with his group but quietly brought you a bottle of water after you puked on the sidewalk. After insisting you take his number so you could let him know you got home safely, Kevin convinced you to go to dinner with him. One meal turned into several and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual fling with the Winnipeg Jets’ newest centre. It was mostly sex, with the ocasional interaction outside of the bedroom, but something about Kevin made it feel like more than just a hookup. Over the few months you slept together your feelings shifted, and you began to harbour a rather large crush.

Just when you were going to take the leap and talk to Kevin about getting serious fate reared its ugly head. After only being in Winnipeg for six months, electing to not return to Massechusettes right away after the Jets playoff run finished, Kevin was traded out of the city. The news split your heart in two – there was no way the two of you could become a couple. Though long distance could have been an option, you weren’t going to ask him to commit to that. Being a professional athlete is tough as is, and having a girlfriend a six hour flight away was extra stress you refused to put on Kevin. 

The last night you spent with Kevin was emotional. Lots of tears were shed, mostly from you. You knew he was compartmentalizing it all and trying to not let you know how much the trade was affecting him. Whenever the two of you had talked about hockey, Kevin was always quick to mention how much he loved Winnipeg and how much he wanted to stay. Neither of you talked much, too focussed on wallowing in sadness and committing each other’s bodies to memory. He left the next morning, and there was a silent agreement that whatever the two of you had was over. It was fun while it lasted but now you both have to be adults and get on with life. 

☼☼☼☼

Nearly six months later you consider yourself to be getting on with life just fine. You’ve got a better paying job, a new apartment, and enthusiastically throw yourself into any project that’s presented. To others, however, you’re barely hanging on. Any time you get a text notification, you hold your breath until a name flashes that isn’t Kevin’s. A notification from Instagram saying he viewed your story makes your heart beat three times as fast. You constantly check for updates on how he’s playing, and watch as many Flyers games media blackouts will allow just to catch a glimpse of his face. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake Kevin Hayes. 

“They’ll be in town this weekend,” your best friend Rachel says. “Are you gonna reach out to him?”

You nearly drop the carton of chinese food you’re eating on the floor. “I didn’t know that,” you stammer, trying to make your surprise believable. Kevin will be back in Winnipeg for the first time since being traded. You knew this already, of course, because you have the Flyers scheduled imprinted in your memory.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew they were coming to town. The NHL app stays open on your phone at all times.”

Caught in your lie, you can do nothing but duck your head. You’ve thought a lot about what you’re going to do. Should you send him a text, let him know you’re available after the game? Or should you ignore him completely and make it seem as though you’re doing much better than you are?

“I don’t know Rach. I’ve never had a sort of ex come back to the city he left me in.”

“He didn’t necessarily want to leave you,” Rachel points out. “He got traded. If you want my two cents, I don’t think you should give him a call. You need to move on, not stay stuck in the past.”

Your friend is right, and you know that’s what you should do. Moving on from Kevin would be easier if you didn’t try to contact him. He hasn’t reached out to you so you assume you’re the only one in the relationship still struggling to come to terms with his departure. You struggle with the decision until puck drop, but ultimately decide against texting him. It simply wouldn’t be beneficial for your fragile heart. 

A small group of friends has gathered at Rachel’s to watch the game. You’re lucky, or unlucky, to run with a crowd of die-hard Jets fans who get together any time they play, whether it’s at someone’s house or a sports bar around the corner from the arena. Though you tried your best to get out of it tonight, making up any excuse you can think of to stay at home and sob quietly into a pillow, Rachel knows better than to let you be alone and forces you to be in attendance. 

It’s a pretty quiet game with the Jets dominating the first two periods. The Flyers are sluggish, not connecting passes and taking far too many penalties. You’re pretty sure Winnipeg has it in the bag when the puck drops for the final twenty minutes of play, so you turn your attention away from the television, picking up a conversation with Christina, the girl your friend Tyler brought along. 

Some choice words must have been said to the Flyers in the intermission because they come out swinging. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, they’ve tied the game. The period is full of contact, with multiple players from each team spending time in the penalty box. Your attention is once again returned to the large screen for the final few minutes, and your jaw drops as you watch Kevin dangle through the Jets defence to sink the puck into the back of the net. It turns out to be the game winning goal, and you sit in silence as your friends pay up the money they lost in bets and check their updated fantasy pool standings. Maybe you should text him. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” you hear Rachel whisper in your ear. Your other friends know of your past with Kevin, they were around and spent some time with him, but they don’t know how much you were still holding on. Everyone besides Rachel assumes you’re alright – that Kevin is just a blip in your past. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, but tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. It stays there – out of sight, out of mind – until it buzzes some time later. Expecting it to be your mother hounding you for not calling in a while, you pull it out. A message from Kevin flashes and you go whiter than a ghost. 

Taking the boys out celebrating the big win. You in? 

The words, so casual, feel like a punch to the stomach. Why the months of radio silence just to ask to see him like you’re friends? Making sure that no one is paying attention to you, you quickly type out a reply. 

That’s not a good idea and you know it Kevin. 

You send the message and immediately turn off your phone. This way you won’t have to deal with the aftermath until much later. You allow other things to hold your attention and don’t head home until you’re so tired that it will be impossible for you to think about Kevin’s text. 

When you power your phone back up in the morning, you’re shocked to find that Kevin never responded. He obviously didn’t care too much about your absence, and part of you wonders if he was just being polite. It doesn’t make sense, but instead of letting your brain overthink the lack of response you throw yourself headfirst into cleaning your apartment. Hours later it’s spotless, and you slump onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. You check your social media notifications, a few mentions from your friends about the shenanigans you all got up to the night before and your sister tagging you in a post letting you know she’d like to visit a specific beach the next time she comes to visit. Kevin’s profile photo sits at the top of your instagram feed, and before you can stop yourself you click to view his story. 

It’s a snapshot of his teammates with bright smiles on their faces. Each of them is holding a can of beer, and a few look as though they shared a joint before entering the establishment. The photo is captioned ‘glad to be back in winterpeg’ and is accompanied by a couple of snowflake emojis. Your heart clenches inside your chest – it hurts more than you thought it would to see him enjoying himself as though he has no bittersweet feelings about being back. It would be beneficial to unfollow Kevin, but you can’t force yourself to pull the metaphorical trigger and completely cut him from your life. 

Kevin leaves the next day for Vancouver. You know this because you watch his story yet again, and curse yourself for grasping at straws. Why must he have such a strong hold on you after so long? A call to Rachel has her driving to your place in minutes, ready to hold you while you cry and distract you from the pain that still lingers from his first departure.

☼☼☼☼

It’s easier to forget Kevin without him being in the city – you do your best, and eventually it sort of sticks.

He no longer crosses your mind every few days. You go weeks, sometimes a month or two, without thinking about him. It’s nice to no longer get sad when you enter a bar you frequented with him or wince when someone mentions how he’s playing. It also helps that he never returns to Winnipeg. 

There’s no reason for him to. The Flyers don’t play another away game against the Jets the rest of season, and as far as you know he doesn’t frequently talk to his old teammates. Your life fades into a quiet routine you come to love dearly. The world feels balanced for the first time since Kevin left and you’re nothing but thankful. 

Life moves on, and you find yourself succeeding in your career – so much so that you’re quickly offered a promotion. The change increases your workload and doesn’t leave you much of a life outside of work, but it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s a welcome distraction and keeps thoughts of Kevin out of your mind. No one comments on your genuine improvement, but you know they can see it. Rachel is proud, and she’s told you exactly once. It’s all you’ll get out of her so you take it and roll with it. The rest of the regular season passes without you so much as knowing, or caring, and before you know it there’s a notification for an article saying the Flyers were eliminated in the second round. For the first time you find it really hard to care.

☼☼☼☼

Summers in Winnipeg are your favourite. The city is warm for the first time all year and the flowers look beautiful in full bloom. With the promotion you’re afforded more vacation time, which you plan to take full advantage. There’s nothing you love more than hanging with friends in the sun, soaking up the rays, and casually drinking. 

The days bleed into one another in the way that all good summers should, and before you realize it it’s your last day at work for a week. It will be nice to be free from workplace constraints for a while, and your friends have the time off as well. The group of you are heading to a cabin on Falcon Lake where you’re sure lots of partying will take place. You suggested getting farther away, but settled on the area in case Tyler’s sister goes into labour. He’s a very family oriented person and offered to watch his nephew when the time comes. 

Four o’clock comes faster than you ever could have imagined, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to your co-workers. Some complain of your ability to leave during the busiest season of the year, but most of them wish you well. You put an immense amount of work into your job regardless of the quarter and know you deserve the break. If you don’t stop at the grocery store on your way you’ll be in trouble since you’re in charge of all the breakfasts and you currently only have a half-eaten loaf of bread that could go stale any day. 

You’re in the cereal aisle, deciding whether or not you really need Honey Nut Cheerios for the trip, when you hear his unforgettable voice. It’s loud and booming and brings back so many feelings that you’ve learned to repress that you turn on your heel and head to the nearest self checkout despite only gathering half the items on your list.

Back in your car, you dial Rachel’s number and try to regulate your breathing. 

“Hello?”

You don’t bother with any formalities. “Kevin is here.”

“In Winnipeg?” she asks, more than a tad confused. “Why would he be in Winnipeg?”

The interior of the Ford Escape you drive feels too small, so you crack a window and peel out of the parking space. Rachel’s voice reverberates throughout the car thanks to the bluetooth system. “I don’t fucking know, but he’s here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Y/N,” Rachel says, always the realist. “He lives in Boston. What would he be doing in Winnipeg in the middle of July?”

You aren’t sure, and make sure to tell her so. “But it was him,” you swear. “He was in the grocery store.” You stop at a red light, placing your blinker on and checking both ways before turning right. A few more minutes and you’d be safely tucked away in your apartment, away from the world and the possibility of running into Kevin.

“There’s like a hundred tall gingers in the city babe, you didn’t see him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see him,” you agree. “I heard him. How many tall gingers are there in Winnipeg with Boston accents?”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming over.” With that, Rachel hangs up, and you pull into the parking garage. You sit in silence for a minute or two before deciding your shaking legs can hold you upright. Perhaps you weren’t as over Kevin as you thought. 

Rachel spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with you, ensuring you don’t do anything stupid and letting you spew all your feelings, both good and bad. More than one bottle of wine is consumed, but you have more than enough time to nurse a hangover. If you play your cards right through the week this won’t be the only time you do it either. 

You wake up on top of your pristine sheets, Rachel grumbling beside you – she’s never been as good at holding her alcohol.

“What time is it?”

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes a few numbers and you have to stare at them for a minute before you comprehend them. “Just after eight,” you say, sitting up. Surprisingly, you feel fine. Maybe the crippling weight of your feelings for Kevin cancels out the hangover you most definitely should be feeling. 

“We need to get going. Gotta pack the car and hit the road. I’m the one who needs to get the keys so we have to be there before everyone else,” she sighs, grumbling something else under her breath as her feet hit the floor. 

You just laugh at her and head into the kitchen. While Rachel showers you make coffee and pack the food into the ancient cooler your father gave you when you moved out many moons ago. It has served its purpose on several trips like this – you’ll be sad to see it go eventually. You switch places with Rachel, and once you’re feeling refreshed the two of you stuff your trunk and hit the road. 

The drive is rather uneventful, with the both of you sitting in silence, and it doesn’t take you long to approach your destination. Rachel is a poor navigator so you’re tasked with figuring out where you’re going and making sure you get there, but it could be worse. You have a general sense of where you’re going. Getting the keys is painless and you get to work unpacking your overloaded SUV.

“Do you think there will be other people around we can party with?” Rachel asks as you close the trunk for the last time. 

You shrug. “Don’t know Rach. It doesn’t look like it.”

She drops it, agreeing with you, and you separate to unpack your personal belongings. The cabin is large enough that no one has to share a room, which you’re grateful for. Though you love your friends dearly, they don’t always know what personal space is. At some point in the afternoon the rest of the group trickles in, and by dinner you’ve all settled and are ready to party. 

Tyler figures out how to use the ancient barbeque and sets to work cooking the burgers. Everyone else gets side dishes ready or sets the table, with Christine starting a bonfire. You don’t know her well, only having met her a few times, but your friend seems to be infatuated with her. She fits in great with the group so you aren’t worried about any awkward tension. Dinner passes in a fit of giggles and shouts, and once the dishes are done you can relax fully. 

The beer you grab from the fridge on your way out the door makes your insides fuzzy in the best way possible. By the fire, surrounded by those who care about you the most, you feel at peace. You’re yet to think about the sudden reappearance of Kevin in Winnipeg, and you’d like to keep it that way. Someone grabs the beat up acoustic guitar you found in the living room and thrusts it in your direction. You’d taught yourself to play in college, and it comes in handy for times like this. 

“I refuse to play Wonderwall,” you laugh, shooting pointed looks at each and every person sitting around you. 

“Come on Y/N,” Rachel groans. “Just once?”

“Fuck off.”

You don’t mean it, of course, and strum the opening chords with a grimace on your face. Tyler counts everyone in and they sing for you, which is appreciated. You might be decent at playing, but your singing voice is one that shouldn’t see the light of day if it can be helped. It’s more fun than you imagined it could be so one song turns into three, and before you know it your makeshift jamboree attracts the attention of the neighbours you didn’t know existed. 

Applause erupts from behind you, and you flush enough that your cheeks warm significantly. “You guys are so good I hate to disrupt the rhythm,” a deep voice says, “But do you mind if a buddy and I join you? We’re a little lonely by ourselves next door.”

Tyler’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, jumping up to pat the man on the back. “Of course man, come on over! I’m Tyler, and that’s Rachel, Christine, Marshall, and Y/N.”

You all wave politely, and the mystery guest introduces himself. “Nice you meet you guys. I’m Nolan.”

It’s then you get a good look at who you’re speaking to. He seems to be a few years younger than you, maybe early twenties, and he has a face you just can’t place. Maybe you’ve seen him around Winnipeg – the city is small enough that you can often spot the same faces in a crowd. “I’ll just yell at him to come over and we can get the party started,” Nolan explains, “Kev, bud, come on over! And bring a couple beers.”

All the blood rushes from your fingers at the name. You shake them intensely, willing your circulatory system to function properly again. If you had to hazard a guess there’s probably a million people in Manitoba named Kevin. There’s no reason for it to be Kevin Hayes. You’re most certainly still spooked from your near encounter with him yesterday. 

“Fuck Patty, you couldn’t come back and grab your own?” the emerging figure grumbles in the vocal stylings you’ll have imprinted on your heart until your dying day. Kevin is here, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds you’ll be face to face with him for the first time in over a year. 

You stand abruptly, not stopping to explain your hasty exit to anyone, and practically run into the house. The door slams behind you and you do your best to make your heart rate return to normal. Tyler shouts something you can’t quite comprehend, but you know it’s probably some sort of reconnection greeting. He’d met Kevin a couple of times while the two of you were together and had gotten along with him well. 

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, “You good?”

You hadn’t heard her come in. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean like I knew he was in town but never in a million years did I think he’d crash my fucking vacation.”

She nods in agreement. “What do you want to do?”

“Stay in here forever?” An eye roll is sent your way but you choose to ignore it. “I’m serious Rach, I can’t go back out there, at least not tonight. Every time I think I’m over him he finds a way to make me realize I’m just faking.”

“I know,” Rachel says simply. She really does – as your best friend she’s privy to your every thought on the matter. After making sure that you'll be okay she heads back outside, armed with an excuse for your early departure. 

You spend the rest of the night tucked under the covers, listening to the laughter of your friends outside, no doubt in your mind that Kevin is the source for most of it. He’s always been good at commanding an audience. Thoughts swim freely in your brain, most of them occupied by Kevin in some capacity. Was tonight just a one off? Will you have to eventually face him? What will you say? Eventually sleep comes, though it’s fitful and fleeting. 

☼☼☼☼

You do your best to avoid Kevin, and it works for a day or two. Tyler has stricken up a friendship with the athlete, and spends more time with him and Nolan than your group. You don’t mind all that much because they typically are out on Nolan’s boat or lounging in their cabin, but every night the group reconvenes at your firepit. The excuses are starting to run out – there’s only so many times you can say you have heat exhaustion before someone stops believing you.

“Y/N, Kevin hasn’t even mentioned you,” Tyler whines one night after dinner. “It won’t be awkward. We only have a few days left, please spend time with us?”

“I’m spending plenty of time with you,” you grumble. “You promise he won’t say anything?”

Tyler shoots you a smile that lets you know he knows that he’s broken down your resolve. “Why would he? If he was going to do it he would have already.”

You aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. You’re glad he’s faring better than you, but on the other hand you wish he’d at least make an effort to inquire into your well-being. Maybe it was simply proof that you were still holding onto something that didn’t mean much of anything. Eventually you’d have to face the music, whether it be with Kevin or someone in the future, so you make the decision to try and at least get used to seeing former flames in social settings. 

“You’re rolling my joints tonight asshole,” you grumble, shoving your sock clad feet into a pair of worn out sandals. 

There’s a small commotion, mostly in excitement at your begrudging agreement, and you roll your eyes as you grab what is destined to be your first of many beers from the fridge. Rachel slides up beside you on the way out the door and squeezes your hand, letting you know she’s ready to support you no matter what happens. It’s comforting, and the nerves in your stomach settle a small amount. 

Marshall is already outside, helping Nolan start the fire. They seem to be extremely similar and you’re glad they can seek each other out when the rest of the group gets too rambunctious. The rest of your party filters out of the house and takes up residence in the adirondack chairs. Kevin doesn’t appear to be around, so you allow yourself to speak freely, loud and unabashed. 

“No I’m telling you,” you insist, trying to convince Nolan your stance on Jack Antonoff is correct. “Jack is literally responsible for reinventing pop production.”

He laughs at how into the conversation you are. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“Because you fucking listen to Lorde!” 

Someone else is laughing along with you and it nearly stops you in your tracks. At some point Kevin had joined the party, but you hadn’t noticed. Knowing that he was listening makes you suddenly self conscious, and you wrap your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Nolan can tell you’re uncomfortable and does his best to relieve the tension. 

“Kev, do you wanna run back and grab the weed?” he asks. 

The auburn haired man pulls a baggie out of his hoodie pocket. “Got it right here baby cat,” he grins. “And it’s ready to go. You got a light?”

Nolan tosses him the lighter and Kevin expertly puts the joint between his parted lips. He lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, and you watch him more intently than you should. You’re thrown back to the memories of Kevin’s apartment downtown, where you’d smoke in content silence after a night of passionate sex. The scenes flash in your mind and you’re overcome with melancholia. You had been so happy in the moment, and now you’re in a similar situation but feel nothing. Other than sharing in your laughter, Kevin is yet to say anything to you. 

You must have been lost in your thoughts, because Kevin is staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Y/N? Do you want a hit?”

It takes you a second to snap out of your daze, but to cautiously take the lit joint from his hand. “Thank you Kevin,” you say, voice timid. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since he left Winnipeg for the first time. 

He shoots you a dazzling smile and your insides threaten to turn to mush. No matter how hard you’ve tried to convince yourself you over him, that you’ve moved on from Kevin, you know you’re wrong. Kevin Hayes will have some sort of hold on you until you die. To distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of emotion you inhale deeply, hoping that the buzz smoking will bring can clear your mind. You really don’t want to think about what you lost when he’s right in front of you. 

The three of you sit in silence, passing the joint in a circle, and listen to the conversation your friends are engaged in. Marshall ropes Nolan into a game of cornhole and he goes begrudgingly. As he stands he sends you a sympathetic look, and you know that he’s familiar with your history with Kevin. It doesn’t surprise you – Kevin isn’t exactly one to keep secrets. 

“So,” Kevin says once it’s just the two of you, “How have you been?”

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ve been good. Work has been crazy lately, so this break has been really nice.”

He presses, and you indulge him in a conversation about your new job, though it can barely be considered that now. Everything is surface level – you’re afraid of letting Kevin in too much. Though your fling may have been brief, it didn’t make his departure or the lack of contact any easier. He tells you about his life in Philadelphia and how much he loves it there. Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a loaded question. 

“Do you like it more than Winnipeg?”

Kevin falters. It takes both of you a moment to process what you said. Not one to lie, he answers truthfully. “Yeah.” It comes out in a sort of deflated sigh. “But I miss –”

“Don’t say it,” you rush, trying hard to keep your voice down. “You don’t mean it.”

An embittered huff comes from him, and you watch carefully as he peels the worn ball cap off his head and tugs on his curls. “I do,” he insists. “I absolutely miss you.”

You no longer care who can hear you. “If you missed me, you would have texted. Called. Anything,” you say cooly. Everyone else has clued in to the fact that something is going on between you and Kevin, and have migrated inside in an attempt to give you privacy.

“I did. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea to see each other again.”

“Because it had been over half a year!” you shriek. “And it had been radio silence before then. You left Kevin, and I’m not blaming you. I know it’s your job. But you left and it was so fucking hard, and it stung because you didn’t even try. So when you hit me up after that game I knew I had to say no. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’m still so in love with you that if you asked I’d uproot my life and follow you to Philly. I don’t want to be that girl.”

The outburst leaves you gasping for breath. Never before had you spilled heartache so fast – with a sort of reckless abandon. Anytime you’ve had these types of conversations you’ve been calm and collected. You’re currently the farthest thing from it. 

Kevin’s expression softens, and a sadness fills his eyes. “I was scared,” he begins, “Because for the first time in my life I was with someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. Sure, we weren’t serious, but I was going to take it there. Then I got traded and the plans I had went to shit and I was too scared to do anything about it. So I let you slip away.”

Silence fills the space between you. You don’t know what to say, so you focus on unraveling the loose thread from the hem of your cardigan. Kevin shuffles in his seat awkwardly. “Where do we, uh, go from here?”

The question shocks you. To the best of your understanding, you had made it perfectly clear where your relationship was headed. “Nowhere,” you breathe. “You head back to Philly, meet another girl, and fall in love. I stay here, do my job, and learn to be content with myself.”

“There’s no room for us in your little plan?”

“We’ve run our course Kev. As much as I still love you, will always love you, we’re too fundamentally different for us both to really be happy in a relationship. You have to know that.”

He nods. “I do.” With that, Kevin rises from the chair, gives you a sad smile, and leaves. You assume he’s calling it a night, and you wish to do the same. Finally having that conversation was exhausting and all you want to do is sleep for the next twelve hours. 

☼☼☼☼

The rest of the trip passes without you seeing Kevin again. He and Nolan left early the morning after your conversation, and you do your best to enjoy yourself. Part of your brain makes you believe you’re the reason they left, though Tyler tells you otherwise. No one asks about what happened between you two, not even Rachel, and you return to the city determined to start anew. Eventually you break the cycle of obsessing over Kevin’s stats, and take it upon yourself to unfollow him on social media. Life goes on. 

Things never really get easier. You still find yourself grieving the loss of Kevin, late at night when you can’t sleep, but are confident in your decision to say goodbye for good. Time heals everything, and eventually you’ll be okay. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[earthfluuke]

SarawatTine, "I'm wearing the smile you gave me."

SarawaTine + “I’m wearing the smile you gave me.”

Tine should be happy for his boyfriend. Getting to compete in a nationwide music competition is a big deal and can open so many doors for him in the future. It’s a big accomplishment, and to say Tine is anything less than proud is a complete lie. But feeling happiness is much more difficult than pride when loneliness overwhelms most of his senses.

Being apart has never gotten easier for him. During the days, he can better ignore it. He has studying to do, cheerleaders to train. But coming home to an empty apartment, the smell of Sarawat diminishing the longer he’s gone, makes him feel as though he’s been sharply slapped across the face, all of the sadness he’d left at the door earlier that morning rippling back into him.

He cuddles his miniature Sarawat doll, burrowing into his pillow in the hope that he can soak up a bit of the man he loves the most, but it’s futile. After experiencing the real thing, small traces of Sarawat just aren’t enough for him.

Hearing his phone ring, he rolls over to unplug it from his charger and check the contact name. He guesses that it’s his brother checking in on him or Ohm attempting to lift his spirits with the promise of bottomless alcohol. But to his surprise, the picture of the person he’s so badly missing lights up across his screen, and he scrambles to hit the answer button.

“Hello?” he says as he brings the phone to his ear. “I thought you were supposed to be competing tonight?”

Sarawat’s voice rushes into his ear, and he sinks into that feeling, letting it wrap around him like the tight hug that he so desperately craves. “We are, but we’re pretty far down in the lineup for the first round. We’ve got some time before our set.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be there.” He has yet to miss one of his performances, as his boyfriend at least, and it doesn’t feel right that the first one he has to is such an important one. He should be there, front and center, cheering him and the rest of the band on. “But I know you’ll do great.”

“There’s a lot of good groups here,” Sarawat says. It’s subtle, but just beyond the surface of his words, Tine can hear the slightest of nerves in his voice. It’s difficult to pick up on, but for over a year, he’s become an expert in all things Sarawat Guntithanon.

Commenting on it will only lead Sarawat into a spiral of fierce denial, pushing him further over the edge. Distraction will take his mind away from his anxiety, and Tine is more than willing to oblige.

“You know the reason why Scrubb is my favorite band, right? Their songs make me feel more than I feel without them.” A faint hum drifts through the phone, urging him to continue. “No other musician has ever made me feel the way that Scrubb makes me feel. Until I heard you perform. Even when you’re on stage in front of a whole crowd, the way you sing makes me feel like you’re playing just for me. Like you know every one of my feelings and put them into your songs.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line before a breathy laugh falls through the speaker. “I’m always playing for you, no matter who else is around to hear me.” It’s the typical, cheesy line he’s used to hearing from Sarawat. It’s enough for him to know he’s feeling better, and for that, he’s relieved. “Even tonight, I’ll be playing for you.”

“And I’ll still feel it,” Tine assures, wide smile spreading across his cheeks as he brings the Sarawat doll to his mouth to speak into its felt hair. “That’s how good of a musician you are.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like me,” he teases.

“Oh, please. No one could ever be as obnoxious as you.”

They both laugh – because they know it’s true – and Sarawat says, “We’ve got to warm up, but I’ll call after the performance.”

“Good. I want to hear all about it,” he says, before adding, “Good luck. You’ll be amazing as always.”

“Thank you, little buffalo. I love you.”

His heart squeezes a bit too hard, nearly knocking the air out of him. After missing him all day, hearing those three little words are simple but effective. They make him yearn for him even more, but he doesn’t tell him so. He instead returns the sentiment with, “I love you too,” before they hang up and part once more.

Back to the silence of the bedroom, he flops onto his back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. A few more days, and Sarawat will be back where he belongs. It feels soon and far away at the same time.

Somewhere between crawling under the covers and skimming over his unread emails, an Instagram notification pops up at the top of his screen. Opening it, he’s surprised to find a selfie of Sarawat staring back at him. He rarely takes photos of himself, even more rarely posts them to his public profile.

In this one, he’s smiling without his teeth, his hair styled for the stage. He’s as unfairly handsome as ever, and Tine wishes so badly to reach through the screen and kiss that smile until it grows wide enough to show his teeth. Beneath the photo, likes and comments are already accumulating. What catches his eye, however, is the caption Sarawat’s chosen: I’m wearing the smile you gave me.

How right they’d both been to think that no one would ever be able to be as stupidly romantic – mush, gush, and all of that – as Sarawat. He double taps the picture, and the heart turns the same shade of red as he’s sure his cheeks are. The next few days cannot pass fast enough, but when they finally do, he’ll be eager to see that smile in person.

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

<<Prev | Next>>

Part 11

Angel spent most of the next morning nursing an excruciating hangover. He hadn't even had that much to drink, but he still spent a good amount of time hunched over, retching into the toilet. When finally his stomach had settled enough to get a sports drink down, he crawled back onto his futon and pulled a blanket over his head. 

He intended to spend the rest of the day like that, napping and forgetting the night before, but sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned fretfully until finally he grabbed his phone from the end table and checked his notifications. 

His Instagram notifications had been going off all night, to the point he finally silenced his phone, something he never did normally. There were notifications for followers, comments, likes - and one tagged picture from Clayton's account. 

His stomach dropped and he thought he was going to be sick again. He didn't want to look at it, but he knew he had to. He needed to know if his entire social media career was over. He couldn't stand that thought. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to being a nobody so desperate for cash that he quit school to strip. He didn't want to be just a face in the crowd again. 

He hesitated a long time before tapping the notification. The Instagram logo came up on the screen and he was presented with a picture of himself and Clayton. Clayton had his hands on either side of Angel's face, and was forcing his mouth onto Angel's. Angel was tagged in the post, but all the caption said was 'West Virginians know how to party'. There was no mention of the fight, no acknowledgement that Angel looked completely surprised in the photo. 

He scrolled through the comments. They were all hearts or eggplant emojis or declarations of jealousy. 

That was Instagram for you, he supposed. Everything sanitized for public consumption, worst qualities twisted into aspirational ones. 

There was no way he could possibly talk about the attempted assault now. He'd just look petty and attention-seeking. He'd get accused of being a gold digger looking for a pay-off. 

And the worst thing about it was that when he checked his own profile, he found that overnight, he'd smashed past ten thousand followers and was edging close to twenty thousand. His follower count had more than doubled, and he didn't even care. It had happened the wrong way. This wasn't the kind of attention he wanted. He didn't want to be seen as Clayton Howard's hookup. 

Morbid curiosity compelled him to check Youtube. Sure enough, Clayton's vlog channel had posted a new video about Charleston, but it mostly covered the daytime as he and his crew had run around the city being obnoxious to locals. Angel's stomach twisted. God, he could see so clearly now how everything Clayton did was an act. An especially grating one, at that. How had he ever had a crush on this guy? 

And then there was Angel on screen, smiling into the camera and throwing up a peace sign as Clayton wrapped his hand around his shoulders. The rest of the video was made up of rapid cuts - walking to Broadway, drinking Fireball shots, dancing. Then a shot that mirrored the photo on Instagram of Clayton kissing Angel, his friends hooting in approval. The video cut to Clayton shouting at the camera for the viewer to buy his merch and subscribe to his channel, and that was it. Video over. His disgusting behavior completely edited out, Angel's fate left in question. 

Angel put the phone down, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. He felt like trash. Literal trash, in that he'd been used and tossed away. And nobody even knew it. Nobody would care. After all, he had less than 20k followers. 

He stayed like that for a long time, face pressed into his pillow. Tears came on and off, but he didn't even feel sad. He mostly felt empty. He was nothing, a nobody. A fake persona for the internet to consume and then throw aside. A pretty face that got views. Content. 

His phone rang. He ignored it. It stopped. He continued to lay there, feeling awful. 

Time passed. He wasn't sure how long - he may have dozed off at some point. But then the phone rang again and brought him back to the present. 

He couldn't hide from the world forever. 

He lifted his head and turned to look at the phone, precariously balanced at the edge of the futon. His eyebrows came together in confusion. That wasn't the name he'd expected to see on the caller ID. 

"Hello?" He asked, bringing the phone to his ear. 

"Hey dude," Demie replied. Angel noticed for the first time that despite his tone being monotonous, there was a warmth under Demie's words. His voice was rich and deep, like the ringing of a gong. 

"Demie?" Angel asked. Of course it was Demie. But still, he was surprised. "What… what's up?" 

"Just checking in on you, man. You seemed super out of it last night." 

Oh, that was right. He'd called Demie. He couldn't remember much of the conversation, but one part did stick out in his mind. In his drunken state, he'd told Demie he liked him. And Demie had replied in kind. 

For the first time that day, his heart didn't feel like a cold heavy lump of metal in his chest. 

"Yeah. I'm okay." Angel lied. 

"You sure? You seemed… I dunno. Out of it." 

"I mean…" Angel took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke again, he had to fight to keep his voice from cracking. "I just… I really looked up to his guy, but now I know he's a complete ass, and I can't even talk to anyone about it, because they'll just take his side." 

"Yeah, fuck that guy," Demie said, and Angel couldn't help but smile. It was just the way Demie said it - he had no idea who Angel was talking about, and his tone didn't even change, and yet it really felt like he meant it. 

"Honestly, I feel like garbage," Angel said. "I just keep thinking about it over and over and I feel so fucking stupid."

"Yeah, uh…" There was a pause. "Do you wanna listen to a song I've been working on? I dunno, might make you feel better."

"The Orpheus one?" 

"Nah, it's an older song. It's part of this concept album Mar and I were planning about the Trojan war, but Mar moved before we could finish it."

"What's it about?" 

"You know who Achilles is, right?"

"Uh… he had a weak ankle, right? That's why we called it the Achilles Tendon." 

"I mean… that's the really short version of it, yeah. So Achilles had this best friend, Patroclus, who gets killed by Hector of Troy. And Hector takes Patroclus' armor, and that pisses Achilles off, so they fight. So Achilles wins and kills Hector, but instead of giving him funeral rites he ties him by the ankles and drags his body around outside the walls of Troy." 

"That sounds… intense, but okay." 

"Cool, hold on a minute." 

There was some scuffling in the background, and when Demie came back it was clear he was on speakerphone. 

"Okay, ready?" He asked. 

"Sure. Hit me." 

Angel could hear an acoustic guitar. The melody wasn't what he'd expected - he'd expected something fast and brutal, like the stuff he'd heard at the concert. But instead this was slow, plodding, like a funeral march. 

Then Demie's voice came in, low and resonant. Even over the phone it made Angel's sternum vibrate. He sang slowly, deliberately, drawing notes out in long holds. 

The lyrics talked about Achilles, about the pain he felt. It described how he lost a half of his soul, and how he sought revenge. But it wasn't a huge, bombastic revenge - it was a bitter one. The Achilles that Demie sang about couldn't heal the hole in his heart, and so he took it out on Hector. He didn't hate Hector, though, and he felt shame for the way he treated Hector's dead body, and he knew it would lead to his own eventual downfall.

It was a song about the cyclical nature of revenge, and of loss. Angel didn't even notice until the song ended that he was crying. Not silent tears, either - he was actually sobbing. 

There was a clatter as Demie picked up the phone again. 

"What'd you think?" He asked. 

"Holy shit, man," Angel choked. "Holy shit that was so fucking deep." 

"How'd'ya feel?"

"I--" Angel wanted to say that he felt like shit, obviously. He had already felt like garbage and then Demie had gone and sung an incredibly depressing song to him, clearly it would just make things worse. 

And yet, it hadn't. He didn't feel bad at all. In fact, he felt fine. Good, even. Like he was rejuvenated. It was as if the previous night hadn't even happened. 

"I feel better," he admitted.

"Cool. Hey, uh… be careful and stuff, or whatever." 

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks." 

"Cool, see ya." 

"Okay. Thanks. B--" The line went dead before he could tell Demie goodbye. 

He sighed, turning over onto his back. His entire body felt lighter, and the tune of the song swirled around in his head. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but it was like Demie's voice had healed him. His hangover was gone, his anxiety was gone. He wouldn't necessarily say that he was happy, but he felt… good. 

There was one thing he was certain of, though: he was falling fast and hard for Demie. Not in the parasocial internet crush way he'd felt about Clayton Howard, but in an organic way. Demie had been there for him twice now, despite virtually being strangers, and each time he'd come away feeling better. 

Not to mention, the way Demie had sung about Achilles and Patroclus had been so powerfully, painfully gay. 

He wanted so badly to see Demie in person.

[ddaenqu]

Short and Sweet

Update Me Drabble - This is set before the events in Update Me

pairings: fanboy!jimin x idol!reader

themes: Non-idol Verse AU, Reverse Idol AU, Fanboy AU, Fluff, Angst,

tags: possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, overprotective behavior, unhealthy behavior, toxic behavior, sasaeng behavior, stalking

a/n: oh baby, this is for the love of my life, min (@jooniescupcakes). thank you for being my friend and happy birthday!!!! i love you so much :((( and would’ve stopped writing if it weren’t for you, my first friend on here that’s stuck w me during my weird 2am talks. you’re so sweet n cute n adorable and i only wish the best for you. i hope you enjoy this! just something i thought would be cute for update!jimin, especially since around the time you wanted a drabble with him. and i’m also freaking out because i don’t know whether i scheduled to post this when it’s july 22nd for you, or if it’s still the 21st, like i’m having such a trouble, so i’m sorry if i get it wrong :(((

Jimin absolutely hated it here.

The constant chattering filling the small room, feet that hit hard on the poor wooden floor, the constant buzz of energy that sounded like a white noise throughout the room, and the sweat that clung to the walls and skin of everyone.

He didn’t want to be here, as he always hates being at the dance studio, but today—especially—he did not want anything to do with this place.

Jimin looked around the room, beads of sweat forming at his forehead and then his legs aching, throbbing uncomfortably that he was always shifting his leg to get rid of the odd tremor in it.

Everyone was white and black to him, their faces blended into the same, their words and voices sounded like plain mockery when they spoke to him, their eyes downcast as if they bored with life, and he knew for a fact they were. They lived their lives in ignorance, he thought in spite, looking back at his phone, showing an event on the calendar with an event in capitalized words.

Just looking at it made his heart thump in an immense amount of infatuation, butterflies fluttering at the pit of his stomach, his body screaming with energy burning at his breaths, slow to comprehend a sudden rush of excitement that came and went.

Didn’t they know what today was? How important today was? Who in their right mind thought that having a lesson today would be fine?

They were obviously fucking stupid.

Usually, he’d be at home, retweeting, replying, and liking everything of yours, over and over. A cake, your favorite type, and flavor, sitting nicely in his fridge with newly bought wine sitting atop his counter with a nice ribbon he bought—in your favorite color—tied around it.

Instead, he was sitting in his dance studio, covered in, his words: grease. With people he didn’t like, neither did he have newly bought wine or a pretty cake sitting in his fridge, he doesn’t have anything.

Jimin already feels useless as it is, but now that he’s consistently messing up on the dances—he’s close to ditching or making up some half-assed excuse to get out of here.

He clicked his tongue, brushing his hair out of his face, and clicked on Twitter, hoping to lessen his sour mood.

Looking through to see all of your fan accounts, most in English, some in Japanese or Korean (that’s as far as he could understand). He can somewhat notice they were all making a mess of themselves over you, noting certain words like “I love you” in English. He couldn’t blame them though.

It was your birthday after all.

His holiday.

The one day he feels complete as if he’s celebrating something with you, being with you, knowing you’re going to be having an Instagram live, responding to birthday wishes—you’re going to be there—for him.

At one point, he thinks it’s unfair how everyone gets to celebrate it too. He wants to feel special when he congratulates you personally through a private message, email, even fan mail that he’s made sure to send in accordance to your time zone.

Although, you never reply, never text of it, or utter a word about it. He knows you must’ve read it. You had to.

You loved your fans. You love him.

He scrolls further and further through his feed, through tags that were related to you or your birthday, constantly switching through different social media’s just to look at photos you’ve posted hours ago, only to look at your face—your perfect smile that radiated everything. Everything he wants to have at this moment.

It’s a constant reminder, seeing your captions in English, never in his language, or you, rarely being able to tour, and when you do, it’s never Korea.

He detests it.

Couldn’t you learn Korean for him? It’s hard, he could understand that at least, but with his help, you could easily learn it. That way you could always understand his posts, his love and adoration for you, you could be with him and only him.

Life would be so much easier if you were with him.

A shy smile reaches his lips, only imagining what you would look like if he ever had to chance to meet you. He’d imagined you’d be shocked, that’s a given, but you would be happy.

The things he would do for you on your birthday. An unhealthy amount of dates to the park, the restaurants, the beach. Lavishing you with gifts he could only imagine were the best of the best, diamonds, gold—anything you looked at with interest, it’s there—and his hand, intertwined with yours, tight enough to leave marks.

The dance instructor walks to the front of the room, already ruining his mood. Jimin dreads their heavy steps and their obnoxious clapping to collect the students, to prepare them for another onslaught of useless dancing. The songs weren’t nearly as good and fun as yours, maybe he’ll have a talk with the instructor to change it.

“Five-minute warmup,” they state blandly, then going on to busy themselves with something or someone else, Jimin didn’t care.

Of course, he still listens.

He, slowly, goes to shut his phone off and toss it into his bag sitting in the corner of the room, obviously situated from the rest of the class’ bags. Until his phone vibrates and rings, a notification from Twitter once again. Your username popping up on the notification screen (he practically has all of your usernames ingrained into his brain, from every each app you use)

It’s a post. A thank you message.

It’s for him.

Jimin flushes with heat, his breathing becoming irregular the moment he opens it up, reading it over and over, and over. Eating up every word and letter you used, every smiley face, every emoji, everything. He doesn’t care at this point if his ears and face are red, sweat collecting at his neck—he doesn’t care at all.

He curls into himself in his awkward sitting position, his heart hurts and hurts. Muscles that were limp before, slack against the floor, were now building up with newfound energy.

Quickly, typing out a response to the thank you letter, knowing he will come back to it later and reply with something better than what everyone else is replying with under your post.

A simple “I love you” will suffice, for now, ending with a short and sweet, “Happy birthday :)”

(thank you for reading! and send birthday wishes to @jooniescupcakes please, and go all out with praises 🧸❤️)

[xialing-gf]

lovesick (chapter 1)

Summary: you don’t know if MJ is your soulmate and frankly, it was too big of a question to ask but it crossed your mind anyway

Wc: 1017

a/n: this is a four chapter fic collab with @dutchiewhotriestowrite!

“Did you hear? Jake and Scott got their soulmate tattoos! It’s super cute,” MJ pulled out her phone, turning it on and scrolling through her Instagram. She stopped scrolling through her feed once she reached the photo Jake posted of him and his soulmate’s matching tattoos. They both had a vibrant tattoo of a blue and red rocketship tattoo on their wrists and were grinning widely in the photo. The caption was simply three words and an emoji: “i love you ❤️”. You smiled at their joy, glad to see that another one of your classmates had found their soulmate. Sometimes it felt like you would never find your soulmate, even if you did have feelings for a certain someone.

Ever since you were young, it was a known fact that everybody had a soulmate in the world. The chances of somebody not having a soulmate or the soulmate system messing up were slim. The only way to identify your soulmate was by their tattoo. Soulmates shared matching tattoos in the same area (behind the ear and on the wrist were common locations) and tattoos only appeared after a soulmate said “I love you” to their soulmate. Some soulmates found each other as early as preschool or elementary school and sometimes it resulted in kids being disappointed in their soulmates.

In middle school and high school, the soulmate system really complicated relationships because now that people were socially encouraged to date, if you said “I love you” to whoever you were dating and soulmate tattoos didn’t appear, it usually resulted in an awkward messy breakup. Sometimes two people believed they were soulmates and it turned out they belonged with other people and in those cases, they always tried to fight against the soulmate system but in the end, they learned to love their soulmates and lived happily ever after, just as how the soulmate system had planned it out.

Nobody really questioned the soulmate system; most people just accepted its existence and went along with the system. Ever since you developed your crush, your interest in the soulmate system had escalated. You were desperate to find out if there was some sort of formula or any indications of who was your soulmate so you wouldn’t break your heart by saying those three fateful words on the soulmate system website but found nothing. You did, however, learn how the system worked. Apparently, there was an entire large committee of trained professionals that handpicked soulmates for people and once they picked your soulmate, it was set and there was no way to change it. You considered reaching out to the committee and asking who had determined your soulmate but decided that it would be too obnoxious.

“Hey, Y/n? Earth to Y/n?” You blinked, bringing yourself out of your thoughts and back to reality as MJ waved her hand in your face. You laughed off your moment of spacing out and MJ sighed in relief, distress leaving her expression. “Are you good?”

“Yep. Just tired,” You brushed off your thoughts and focused on the photo MJ was showing you. You truly were happy for the couple that found out they were soulmates but sometimes everybody falling in love and finding their soulmates made you worried that you were never going to find yours.

MJ put her phone away and took out her sandwich, taking a bite out of it as she sat criss-cross applesauce on the other side of the lunch table. Throughout the years, you and MJ matured but she still kept some child-like habits that made her even more adorable. You took out your lunch as well, asking as you unzipped your lunch box, “When did they find out they were soulmates?”

MJ leaned forward on the lunch table, her elbows resting on the surface of the table as her eyes shone brightly. She explained between bites of her lunch, “Jake told me what happened during biology today. Well, me and basically everybody else in the class. He said that he and Scott were going on a date at Starbucks and that they had been sitting at a small table, holding hands and cuddling when Scott said ‘I love you.’ Now, Jake was super shocked because they had agreed, like every other person in a high school relationship, to not say those words in case they weren’t actually soulmates but after a few seconds, the tattoo appeared on their wrists! Jake said he cried so much and they both told their parents already.”

MJ had a dreamy expression on her face, clearly fascinated with the soulmate system and tattoos. You giggled at her expression before taking a bite out of your lunch. The soulmate system, despite all your research, still seemed very mysterious and it relied heavily on luck, in your opinion. In many other people’s opinion, soulmates weren’t chosen by luck, but in fact, chosen by destiny.

Admittedly, some couples seemed to be made for each other. Those couples often seemed unrealistically happy and always loved being around each other, but not to the point of obsession. Soulmates always ended up in consensual, healthy relationships and the soulmate committee worked hard to ensure that it stayed that way. However, despite their best efforts, there were always errors in the system (even if it only occurred less than 1% of the time). You always sort of hoped you were one of those errors because if you had no soulmate tattoo, then you wouldn’t have to worry about not being with the right person and having to go through an unnecessary heartbreak when you could be living in blissful ignorance.

Then again, you wanted a soulmate tattoo because if your crush really was your soulmate, you would know that you were meant to be with her for sure, leaving little room for doubt and more room to openly love her. You wondered if she thought about you like you thought about her and wondered if she wanted to say those three words to you too. But you never asked, even for all those years of loving her.

~ taglist: @sleep-i-ness @chickenstrips45 @marvelouschloe

comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapter! @dutchiewhotriestowrite will be uploading it soon :)

[ponyoscenarios]

➳Not thinking about you pt2 // Kim Junkyu

Okay part two is finally here omg. I had soo much trouble with this but here it is fINALLY! I hope you enjoy it♡

PART 1

Breaking up with you wasn’t the only thing Junkyu did wrong, and now after he realizes his mistakes, he tries to make things right. 

Hyunsuk and Yedam flinched at the sound of a door being slammed.

“What’s his problem now?” mumbled Hyunsuk not looking up from his phone.

“Do you think it has something to do with Y/N?” asked Yedam worried, his eyes glued to Junkyu’s bedroom door.

“They probably fought again” answered Hyunsuk nonchalantly “I have no idea how has she not broken up with him by now, he’s been so obnoxious lately”

Lately Junkyu had become someone unrecognizable. His behaviour started changing for worse and it didn’t go unnoticed by his team members. The lively and mood lifting Junkyu everybody remembered was now just part of the past; lately he had become haughty, disdainful and disrespectful. He would ignore his friends, didn’t follow curfews, and over all was annoyed by everyone and everything. This brought a lot of trouble with the rest, specially Hyunsuk; being one of the eldest, he wanted everyone to get along well and since they had been with each other for so long he wanted it to feel like family, but with Junkyu’s attitude it was impossible to achieve.

“Junkyu, is there anything that’s bothering you?” Countless times they had initiated this conversation and countless time they had gained nothing from it.

“No Seunghun, I already told you” answered Junkyu dryly getting up from his seat and walking towards his room.

“Junkyu” he tried again “we can’t continue like this, what is it? Did we do something wrong?” he stepped in front of the younger boy blocking his way.

“I said no, just leave me alone” persisted Junkyu, walking past Seunghun and bumping into his shoulder on the way.

“It’s impossible with him” sighed Seunghun turning to the rest.

“I’m so annoyed by him” exclaimed Hyunsuk rolling his eyes.

It’s not that he tried to be this way, it just happened. He didn’t want the rest of the boys to see him this vulnerable. None of them knew about his breakup and he didn’t want them to, Junkyu knew they would just pity him or make him talk to you about it, and his pride couldn’t take it. He found some sort of comfort in being alone, but it also meant that sometimes he felt lonely without you, and whenever his mind betrayed him he resorted to checking your social media pages. It became an unhealthy and confusing habit. On one hand he always ignored the texts you sent him; you wanted to know his reasons behind breaking up, you wanted to know if there was something bothering him, you still cared about him, but he never answered them, you wanted him to remember old feelings and he didn’t want that; and on the other hand, he would constantly check up on you, he knew it was incredibly selfish but he didn’t want to see you happier without him, and by your lack of posts and the pitiful captions you wrote on some, he knew you weren’t and that pleased him.

“Guys you have to see this” exclaimed Byunggon handing the phone to Yedam, while Doyoung and Jihoon watched over his shoulder.

Jihoon gasped after reading a text you had sent to Byunggon “Is this why he’s been so sensitive?”

“He had been this way for a while now, so I don’t think so” responded Yedam shaking his head.

“Why didn’t he say they broke up?” asked Doyoung feeling worried for his friend.

Byunggon shrugged “Who knows, maybe he doesn’t want us to know, Y/N said he didn’t even tell her why, he just broke it off”

“That’s weird, they seemed happy together” added Jihoon trying to think what could’ve gone wrong between you two.

“Do we tell him we know?” asked Yedam cautiously.

“Let’s not to, he’ll tell us when he’s ready” answered Byunggon exiting from your chat and locking his phone.

The following days everyone tried to be as careful as possible when it came to Junkyu, they knew he was going through a hard time even if he didn’t show it. To him it was best if he acted as if nothing had happened, he thought the rest didn’t know so it was easier for him to continue as usual, or as he had been lately.

He assured himself he didn’t miss you but there were times in which something would remind him of you and a weird and unpleasant feeling washed over him so he realized that to completely forget about you and any regrets he might have he had to distract himself with other things. So he became extra obsessive with his career. His days consisted mainly on waking up late, skipping breakfast so he could avoid the rest of the boys, going to the company, working on stuff by his own, practicing with the rest and then going back to the dorm and locking himself up and only going out when Chaewon begged him to.

Junkyu knew it wasn’t healthy the way he was coping up with the breakup but he told himself there was nothing to be sad about. He had broken up with you because he was bored, he was busy, the spark faded, you changed, he had a million reasons to do it and it was for the best. He didn’t miss you either, he had everything he had ever wanted, there was no time for a pathetic relationship with someone who didn’t understand him.

One evening as he was checking your instagram as usual he came across a new post. It was a picture of you, Hani and two other girls he probably met but couldn’t be bothered to remember.

‘To new beginnings’ your caption read and he scoffed at how ridiculous that sounded.

“Yeah right” he mumbled to himself annoyed “as if she could forget about me” and as he continued reading the comments from your friends something inside him hurt.

‘You deserve to be happy Y/N’ ‘We didn’t like him anyway’ ‘You’re worth so much more’

A single tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it immediately, there was no way he could miss you. But the longer he stared at your face the harder the pain in his chest become. Your smile looked so genuine and happy, and he wasn’t the one causing it anymore.

It took him six months to face the consequences, but better late than never. Doubt started clouding his mind and he started questioning his decision, was it for the best to break up with you? Of course, he needed to. But why wasn’t he feeling any better? Maybe he needed more time to process the situation. It had been a long relationship, he couldn’t move on that fast, his feelings were normal, he read that after a breakup people would obviously want to be back together, but he had to be stronger and not call you back. But then again, you were already moving on and that wasn’t part of his plan.

He concluded that he needed to see you. He didn’t want you to move on yet, and if you saw him maybe you’d fall back again for him, not that he cared about your feelings but he couldn’t take that you were moving on this fast. But he couldn’t go alone, it was too risky.

“Hi, are you busy right now?” he said nervously through the phone.

“No, why?”

“Let’s go somewhere, I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes, don’t make me wait” he said hanging up with trembling hands.

He made sure he looked perfect, he wore your favorite clothes on him and that one perfume you loved on him. He wanted you to remember every single moment you’d had together and how much you loved him, he needed you to be there for him, even if he wasn’t giving you anything in return.

“I told you not to make me wait” he said annoyed as Chaewon got on the car.

“I was only two minutes late, God, relax” she said rolling her eyes and looking out the window “why did you wanted to out anyway? You’re such in a bad mood”

He ignored her and kept looking forward as he drove. The whole ride he was tense and anxious, and Chaewon worried about him. She knew she was his only friend lately and as difficult as he might act sometimes she knew he needed someone by his side and she was more than willing to be right beside him.

“We came all the way here just for coffee?” she groaned looking at the store displeased and then back at Junkyu who was frozen in his seat.

“Well” Chaewon sighed “let’s go, what are you waiting for?” “Oh yeah sure” answered Junkyu coming back to his senses.

He entered the store as calmed  and collected as possible, but he was feeling the complete opposite inside, this really was a bad idea.

As he looked up to the counter he was half disappointed but half satisfied.

A brand new face he didn’t recognize greeted him.

“Hi, welcome, what can I get you?” a messy haired boy said brightly.

“It’s too late to get coffee” said Chaewon analyzing the menu “I want a salted caramel hot chocolate, what about you Junkyu?”

He stared at the menu hanging in front on them a little bit too long before answering.

“Can I get an iced americano and…” he scanned the place and turned to looked at the empty table right at the back. The place hadn’t changed at all, everything was as he remembered, it hadn’t been that long since the last time he was here, but everything about him had changed. He stared at his table, the one he always sat at, the one where everything had started. Sometimes he regretted choosing that coffee shop instead of the many others around. Things would’ve been so different then. “Do you have lemon macarons by chance?” he said finally turning to the new boy again.

“Of course” he answered smiling “they’re one of our best options, okay I’ll get you your order in a few minutes, have a seat”

As they went to take a seat Junkyu’s eyes lingered on his table, he didn’t dare to sit there, too much had happened in that place and it felt wrong to go back just like that.

“Why are you acting so weird?” She asked thankfully taking a seat on another table.

A knot began forming in his throat. Being at the coffee shop after so long made him realize that maybe he actually was happy once and he took it for granted. He remembered the times he would watch you work and he would write songs about you but he would always be too shy to show them to you, and now he regretted it, there was so much you never knew.

He scanned the place once again but he couldn’t see you anywhere, maybe you didn’t work here anymore. Maybe this place brought too many memories and old feelings to you and it was hard to take it. He smiled at that thought. Somehow it felt good to think about you missing him. He liked the idea of you remembering little details about him, or seeing something and be reminded of him, or cooking his favorite dishes when you felt lonely. He knew it was wrong but he enjoyed the idea of you still being head over heels for him even if he had moved on. And he had, there was no doubt about it, he probably moved on too quickly, when you were still dating.

“Y/N” a voiced exclaimed behind them.

On instinct he turned around. His heart started pounding inside his chest. He didn’t see you anywhere though, it was just the guy from before furiously wiping something off the counter, but just as he tried to convince himself he had heard wrong, you walked out of the kitchen.

You looked just like the last time he saw you, but with shorter hair, he knew you had cut it though, he checked your instagram often. Your eyes looked sadder, it wasn’t hard to notice, people say the eyes are the windows to the soul and Junkyu haven’t met anyone who fit that better than you. It was incredibly easy for him to know how you felt just by looking at your eyes and even though he tried to lie to himself and deny that he didn’t care about you anymore, it hurt him seeing you like that.

“Oh my God, Eric” you exclaimed bringing your hands to cover your mouth as you laughed “What a mess”

The boy- Eric turned to you with a pout “I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to”

You laughed again at his attempt to stop you from getting angry at him “It’s okay” you responded ruffling his hair and then taking the cloth from him and wiping the counter. “Go make another hot chocolate, I’ll clean this up”

You looked up naturally to apologize to the customers for the delay, and just as you did you locked eyes with Junkyu.

His heart skipped a beat and turned his eyes elsewhere. His face felt hot and he was uncomfortable. Chaewon noticed the weird exchange but didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t say you weren’t feeling anything. Your chest felt tighter and a knot formed inside your throat. You just wanted to get out of there.

“I’m sorry for the delay” you barely managed to say looking at your hands. “We’ll serve you your order in a while” you finished and almost ran inside.

“What’s wrong?” exclaimed Hani who was taking a break inside the kitchen, upon seeing you crying.

You shook your head unable to speak. “He’s here” you finally muttered.

Hani rose from her seat while Eric looked at both of you confused.

Hani peaked through the door and gasped as she turned to you.

“And he had the nerve to bring another girl in here, oh he’s dead” she exclaimed walking out outraged.

“Don’t” you stopped her grabbing her by her wrist “it’s not worth it, Hani”

“But he owes you an explanation! He can’t just come in here as if nothing has happened, it’s not fair”

“I don’t care, let him be” you shrugged

“Yeah right you don’t care, why are you crying then?” She pointed out and you wiped your tears immediately.

She got loose from your hold and grabbed the tray with Junkyu’s and Chaewon’s order.

She walked out the kitchen and towards them.

“Here’s your order, a salted caramel hot chocolate for the lady, and lemon macarons and an iced americano for a cheating bastard”  and as she said those words she poured the entire cup in Junkyu’s head.

Junkyu rose to his feet immediately and looked at Hani furiously as coffee was dripping through his hair.

Chaewon gasped and brought her hands to cover her mouth.

“What’s your problem?” exclaimed Junkyu stepping closer to Hani trying to intimidate her, but he didn’t know Hani better, she was never intimidated.

“My problem is you! Why would you come here after what you did? Don’t you have any shame?” You wanted to stop her from causing any more trouble but you couldn’t do it.

“I’m so sorry sir, we’ll get you another coffee, Y/N bring out a towel for him to clean himself” Eric spoke  fastly clearly flustered while pulling Hani back. He didn’t know Junkyu as he started working there a while after Junkyu started distancing himself so he didn’t know Hani’s reasons.  

Seeing you didn’t move from your spot he called you again. But you didn’t want to move, it was childish and all but in a way he deserved it.

Junkyu turned his eyes from Hani to you and his glance softened. He was embarrassed, hurt, angry, too many emotions came to him at once.

He now realized how you saw him. He realized you thought he had broken up with you over another girl but that wasn’t the case, he could have never done that to you.

But now it didn’t matter, he was too angry. He took Chaewon’s hands and exited the coffee shop.

“Oh my God, Junkyu why did you let that happen?” exclaimed Chaewon panicked.

He took of his jacket and tried to clean up his face ignoring Chaewon’s questions.

“Why did she even do that? And she called you a cheating bastard, were you dating her?”

Junkyu rolled his eyes at her “Can’t you just shut up? I’m not in the mood for it” “You’re never in the mood for anything” spoke Chaewon crossing her arms and looking somewhere else. “Why did you even bring me to your girlfriend’s work, that’s not cool, were you trying to make her jealous? It didn’t work obviously” she laughed as she remembered how that girl drenched Junkyu in coffee.

Junkyu glared at her “If you keep laughing I’ll leave you here” he said walking to his car.

Chaewon shrugged and got in.

Unfortunately for him, when he arrived at the dorms he was welcomed by the lively chatter from his team members coming from the living room and he was not in the mood for it.

He just wanted to go to his room and not hear a word from anyone but his friends had other plans.

“Hey Junkyu where were you?” asked Doyoung greeting his friend with a smile.

Junkyu rolled his eyes “Out” he responded not stopping to talk to anybody.

“Junkyu come here” spoke sternly Hyunsuk standing up from the couch.

Junkyu stopped and turned to his friend, “What?”

Hyunsuk usually let Junkyu’s behaviour slide but he always found it to be annoying, but tonight he wasn’t having it.

“I have no idea what you’re going through right now, but it doesn’t give you the right to be a fucking asshole to everyone” said Hyunsuk stepping closer to his younger friend.

Junkyu scoffed. “What I’m going through is not yours or anybody else’s business so stay out of it”

“I don’t care about it, my only problem is that you keep making everyone uncomfortable, so you learn how to behave or..”

“Or what?” asked Junkyu insolently while pushing Hyunsuk back.

Hyunsuk laughed in disbelief, he couldn’t believe what Junkyu was doing.

Seunghun stood up and stepped in front of them trying to stop a future fight but Hyunsuk pushed him out of the way.

“Or I’ll have to teach you how to” he said pushing Junkyu.

Hyunsuk knew this wouldn’t end too well for him, Jukyu towered over him, but he had to put him in his place.

As Hyunsuk pushed him, Junkyu pushed him even harder and that’s how it became a mess.

Hyunsuk threw a punch straight to Junkyu’s face and hit him hard, making Junkyu’s lip bleed a little. Junkyu then threw another punch to Hyunsuk stomach, and more punches and shoves came. Everybody else, alarmed, tried to separate them but they ended up being pushed around, and earning a couple of punches themselves.

Junkyu managed to untangle himself from the mess and walked out the dorms.

Everybody just watched him walk away quietly.

“Hyunsuk that wasn’t the right way to do it” spoke Byunggon running a hand through his hair.

“He asked for it” answered Hyunsuk wiping the blood from his lip with his shirt and walking towards  the bathroom.

As Junkyu walked out of the dorms, he realized he had nowhere to go. He started walking aimlessly until he saw a convenience store.

He walked in and received weird glances from the people inside due to they way he looked.

He hung his head low avoiding contact with everybody. He quickly grabbed a water bottle and tissues and headed outside after paying.

He wet the paper and dabbed it on his lip. He flinched at the contact and cursed Hyunsuk under his breath. Junkyu didn’t like the way it had turned out but he was too angry at his friend to feel sorry.

He continued walking and started thinking about everything that had gone wrong that day.

You didn’t want him anymore, he got a coffee spilled over his head, he got into a fight with one of the most important people in his life and now he was wandering around, it was too dark and cold and he regretted not buying anything to eat at the convenience store because he was really hungry.

He sat on a bench and pulled out his phone. He sighed as he opened up his gallery and stared at all the pictures of you he still kept.

Maybe it was because he felt extremely lonely and needed someone to talk to but he didn’t even realize when he dialed your number.

“Junkyu?” You spoke softly and it seemed you had just woken up.

“Hi” he answered and you could barely hear him.

“It’s almost 2am why are you calling?” you answered the phone out of habit but now you realized you shouldn’t had.

“I…” a knot formed on his throat stopping him from talking. He just wanted to cry, to apologize to you about everything, he needed your comfort, he missed you so much. But somehow he couldn’t say a word.

“Junkyu if you don’t have anything to say, let me sleep” of course you didn’t want to hang up but a part of you was just done with him.

“I’m sorry” he whispered before hanging up.

Tears started rolling down his cheeks and he felt too hurt to stop them. He had fucked up big time and now he would never get a chance to make it right. And not only was he a jerk to you but to his friends as well. He didn’t know how he’ll go to the dorms and face them after what just happened. It was better for him to stay where he was, or maybe go to a hotel and stay there for a while. Maybe he might even have to leave the group, he was too much of a hassle for everyone.

He was trying to think of a plan when his phone started ringing nonstop, he turned his phone off after seeing it was his team members. He was too embarrassed to answer.

An hour had just passed but it felt like so much more to him when he heard someone screamed his name from across the street.

He stood up and realized it was Hyunsuk.

Hyunsuk ran to him and engulfed him in a hug.

“You’re such a dumbass Junkyu” he exclaimed not breaking the hug.

Seeing his friend cry made Junkyu cry as well.

“I’m so sorry Hyunsuk” he said hugging his friend tighter.

“I know, I shouldn’t have been so hard on you” Hyunsuk responded smiling to Junkyu. “Now let’s go, everybody’s worried about you”

Junkyu smiled embarrassed. He hated to be a problem to the rest.

When he arrived at the dorms he was met by Jihoon who as soon as he saw him threw himself into Junkyu.

“Where’s everybody else?” Asked Hyunsuk sitting down.

“They’re not here yet” answered Jihoon breaking the hug.

“Where were they?” Questioned Junkyu but he already knew the answer.

“Looking for you, you idiot” exclaimed Jihoon slapping him.

When everybody came Junkyu properly apologized for how things have been, he told them what he had been feeling and that there was no excuse for his behavior but he felt terribly sorry.

Everybody knew of course but they were glad Junkyu finally decided to trust them with it.

“Why did you even run away?”

“I felt too embarrassed and angry, Doyoung” answered Junkyu as he played with his fingers still not feeling completely comfortable with the whole situation.

“You have to trust us” added Byunggon patting Junkyu on the back. “We’re a family”

“I know that” answered Junkyu rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I felt that if nobody else knew then it wasn’t real”

“So you still miss her?” Asked Yedam carefully.

Junkyu smiled bitterly. “Yeah I guess I do”

“She was the one who called us, you know” added Jihoon walking towards the kitchen.

Junkyu suddenly sat up and turned to him with wide eyes. “She did?”

“Yeah, we were going to give you some space but then she called and said she was worried something was wrong” explained Byunggon “so we went out to look for you”

Junkyu tried to refrain a smile. It felt nice to think that you still cared about him.

“Did you call her?” asked Seunghun softly.

Junkyu looked at the floor shyly. “Yeah I did, I wanted to apologize for everything”

“You wanted to apologize to her first than to us” joked Hyunsuk playfully rolling his eyes.

“No it’s just” started Junkyu being cut off by his friends’ laughter.

“I’m just joking, I know you probably have A LOT to apologize for when it comes to Y/N” added Hyunsuk.

“Actually” began Junkyu unsure if he should mention it. “I went to see her”

Everybody looked at him in shock.

“when?” exclaimed Yedam.

“Yesterday, when I arrived I was coming from her work”

“And did you talk to her?” asked Jihoon walking back in and looking completely engrossed in the story.

“No” responded Junkyu fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Something happened and I couldn’t”

“What happened?” asked Seunghun concerned.

“Uh, her friend might have drop a coffee on me”

The rest of the guys did not even try to contain their laughter.

“Well, honestly you deserved it” said Jihoon laughing.

The following days were better thanks to the support from the rest of the boys; Junkyu began feeling good, he slowly started becoming the person he used to be, before the break up, before debut; the cute light hearted boy who managed to make everyone laugh. And now his bond with the rest of the members went back to the way it was before or even stronger, and for that he was immensely grateful; it finally felt like a family again. He was aware that his only responsibilities were being a good team member and being happy for his fans.

He also decided it was time to take risks he had been too afraid to take before. One thing he had always wanted to do but kept it to himself, apparently for too long, was being more participative when it came to the production of their songs. He had always wanted to help write lyrics, he loved that but there was always a little speck of insecurity holding him back. But it felt like the right time to do so.

Junkyu realized now how wrong he had been when he thought he had to to keep himself so busy there would be no time to think about you, since that was never the case. There were times he would be on stage, trying to focus on his performance but his mind was set on you, or he would be practicing but the only think he could think of was your face.

“What is it Junkyu?” asked Yedam sitting up in his bed as Junkyu entered his room hesitantly.

“I wanted to show you something” answered Junkyu shyly “I’ve been working on something and I think I could show it to you” he said giving his notebook to Yedam.

Yedam scanned each page carefully, reading everything while a smile threatened to appear on his face. He was beyond proud Junkyu had finally gained enough confidence to show what he worked on.

“They’re really good, this one specially” said Yedam pointing at a certain page Junkyu was unfortunately too familiar with.

maybe it was us So helpless and young Or maybe everything was all my fault And I regret All the times Of leaving you, in the back of my mind Cause maybe it was me And I just couldn't see But maybe it was me

“Is this about…?” he said softly trying not to sound too intrusive.

“yeah” confessed Junkyu smiling sadly “I guess everything in there is about her in a way”

Yedam nodded empathetically “Are you sure you’d like to use this, isn’t it too personal?” he asked worried for his friend.

Junkyu got lost on his thoughts for a while before answering. “I want her to listen to it”

He waited everyday by his phone after the song was released. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up but he couldn’t help but want you to call him and tell him you heard the song. He didn’t expect anything after that, he just wanted you to know he was aware it had been his fault and that he regretted his decision; that it had been rushed and ridiculous and that was not how he had wanted it to turn out.

“She never called” Junkyu sighed, smiling in disbelief. It had been a month since the single was released and he had not heard anything about you; he could only hope you had listened to it but didn’t want to talk to him.

Hyunsuk patted his back but didn’t say anything, he knew there weren’t any words that could comfort his friend in that moment.

“I have to move on” Junkyu said after a while, running his hand through his hair.

“But do you want to?” pointed out Hyunsuk looking at his friend sympathetically.

Junkyu laughed, but it sounded bitter and hurt. “No I don’t, but I don’t have an option do I?”

He knew it was time to let go of you, it took him some time to realize what a shitty boyfriend he had been, but now there was no use in beating himself up for it. There was no way you could give him another chance, and he accepted it; you deserved so much better, he had always known that.

You deserved someone who could take you out and show you off, someone who could be there for you whenever you felt sad and show up at your doorstep with chocolates and flowers, someone who could share your happy moments and celebrate with you. You deserved a better boyfriend and he wasn’t the one. He needed to let go of you so you could be happy, because that’s all he ever wanted for you. And hopefully you were happier now, without him.

He tried picturing you with someone else, someone better. He tried to be okay while thinking about you looking at someone with the same affection you used to look only at him. He tried imagining you giving all your love and attention to someone new, and he felt incredibly selfish for feeling hurt. He didn’t like it, he didn’t want you with someone who wasn’t him. He spent to much time trying not to think about you, but he didn’t realize that all along you were the only one for him, and he prayed you thought the same way.

“He must have seen this already” whispered Hyunsuk to Byunggon in the kitchen.

Byunggon scratched his head while thinking “He would’ve said something” “Who? What?” chimed in Jihoon walking in.

Hyunsuk hushed him and motioned him to get closer.

Byunggon handed him his phone and Jihoon gasped, “He doesn’t know yet?”

“I don’t think so” responded Byunggon in all seriousness.

“We have to stop him from seeing it” added Hyunsuk trying to form a plan.

“Where is he?” asked Byunggon heading out.

“I think he’s in the bathroom” pointed out Jihoon.

“JUNKYU” screamed Hyunsuk walking towards the bathroom and knocking hard.

“WHAT?” screamed Junkyu back

“What are you doing?” asked Hyunsuk, receiving a slap from Byunggon for his dumb question.

“What do you think?” responded Junkyu sarcastically.

Hyunsuk laughed awkwardly “Oh yeah, just hurry up, OH and do you have your phone there?”

“No? Why?”

“Uh nevermind” added Hyunsuk before running to Junkyu’s room to look for his phone.

“Aha, here!” exclaimed Hyunsuk finally finding it among the mess in his bed.

“What do you plan on doing with it? Hiding it?” asked Byunggon trailing behind Hyunsuk.

“maybe” he said smiling mischievously “or we can smash it” he finished with a shrug.

Byunggon grabbed the phone from his hand. “We are not going to do that” he said lifting the phone up high out of Hyunsuk’s reach while the smaller boy fought for the phone.

“I think it’s for the best that he knows” commented Seunghun as he leaned on the doorframe.

“How do you know?” asked Hyunsuk stopping what he was doing.

“Jihoon told me” Seunghun answered casually.

“PARK JIHOON” exclaimed Hyunsuk and Jihoon walked in with an apologetic smile.

“What?” he wondered acting oblivious.

“We told you not to tell anybody” spoke Hyunsuk.

“No” explained Jihoon “you told me not to tell Junkyu”

“Tell me what?” asked Junkyu walking into his room as the rest fell into silence.

No one wanted to tell him what was happening.

“Well? Oh and why do you have my phone?” he said while taking his phone back from Byunggon’s hand and sitting down in his bed expecting someone to answer his question.

“Well the thing is” began Hyunsuk not knowing how to continue.

“The thing is?”

“The thing is Y/N’s dating someone else” Jihoon confessed while the rest of them look at him in shock and then turn back to see Junkyu’s reaction.

“Oh” exclaimed Junkyu awkwardly. “No, it’s okay” he said standing up “I’m fine don’t worry, it had to happen someday, that’s fine”

“Are you really fine?” asked Byunggon softly.

“Yeah,I’m good” he answered faking a laugh “How did you find out anyway?”

“It’s on her instagram” informed Hyunsuk not wanting to look at Junkyu in the eye.

“Oh, good for her” smiled Junkyu heading out while the rest followed him.

He turned to them and faked another smile. “I’m good guys, really… I’m just going to go for a drive”

“Let me come with you” suggested Seunghun, not thinking that it would be a great idea for Junkyu to drive by himself.

“No thanks, I just need to be alone for a while”

He was calmer than he had imagined he would be. His brain needed time to process what was going on and he didn’t want the rest of the boys there when it happened; it was something he had to do alone.

He just kept driving ahead without thinking where to go, it was until he stopped for a while and realized that he didn’t know where he was. He noticed a convenience store a couple meters away and parked his car there.

He breathed deep several times to calm himself down as his emotions began blooming. He didn’t want to go in looking like a wreck, let alone crying, he needed to calm himself down. He then walked in and headed straight for the snack aisle, maybe some candy or a soda could keep him distracted enough, but he didn’t even wanted to eat or drink anything, his stomach was a tangled mess.

As he stood in front of the snacks deciding what to buy, he noticed someone struggling to reach something off the top shelf, without thinking much he walked up to them to help. He grabbed the bag of chips the person wanted and handed it to them.

He dropped the bag as soon as his eyes turned from it to the person next to them.

“I’m-I’m so sorry” he stuttered quickly picking up the bag from the floor.

“No, it’s okay, thanks” you spoke and gave him an awkward smile.

His heart stopped for a second, he missed seeing you smile, even if it was a fake one.

He handed you the bag and you could notice his hands were trembling.

“I-” both of you spoke and then let a forced laugh.

“You go first” he offered.

“I have to go now” you said trying to look somewhere else.

“Oh” he said disappointed “Okay, it was nice seeing you” he said faking a smile.

You nodded and walked away.

He didn’t even notice he was holding his breath until now. His heart was racing and his palms were sweating.

Here you were, just a few steps away from him, he knew it was his moment to apologize, he didn’t expect you to go back to him, he knew you had Eric now, but the least he could do was to apologize for not being the person he had promised you he would be, if you even cared at all.

He grabbed whatever was nearest to him and quickly payed for it. He couldn’t let you walk away again.

He rushed out and noticed you were still in the parking lot.

“Y/N” he called out running towards you but as you turned around to face him he noticed the tears in your eyes.

He walked closer to you and as if on instinct, pressed his forehead to yours while cupping your cheek.

You didn’t push him away, it felt too familiar, you had missed it.

“Can we talk?” he whispered and you noticed his eyes where close, but little did you know it was to keep his tears in, and you just nodded.

He walked you to his car and opened the door for you.

As he went to his side, your brain started working again. It was like when he was around you fell into a spell and couldn’t think straight. You realized maybe getting into his car and talking to him wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it, that was what you had wanted all along.

You noticed how tense and anxious he was as he got in, and honestly you were too. It had been a while you had talked to him and you had not even the slightest idea what could it turn into.

He sighed and looked at you but you couldn’t look at him back so you continue staring at your hands which were in your lap.

“I’m sorry” he spoke softly.

A knot began forming in his throat, he didn’t want to cry in front of you, he didn’t want you to pity him, but it was hard to keep his emotions controlled.

“I’m so sorry” he repeated inching closer and grabbing your hand.

“Why?” you answered getting loose from his hold.

“I’m sorry Y/N” he continued and this time he couldn’t stop the tears, he knew he had hurted you.

You didn’t want him to continue apologizing, it meant nothing to you if you didn’t know which were the reasons behind it.

“But why?” you spoke sternly and he looked at you surprised by your tone.

He looked elsewhere and took a deep breath trying to calm down.

“I thought you were better off without me; everything was too overwhelming; I was too stressed and I guess I took it out on you. I don’t deserve you, I never did” he explained too softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

You wanted to believe him but it sounded too cliché and cowardly. This wasn’t the Junkyu you had fallen in love with.

“But it wasn’t better” he continued looking at you and inching closer “I missed you, I miss you. I was stupid, I can’t live without you Y/N, I miss talking to you all the time, I miss your laugh, I miss making you laugh, I miss your food, I miss our conversations, I miss everything about you” He was too close now, he prayed you couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

He cupped your cheek and his face was just inches apart from yours. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. You had missed his touch, his scent, his warmth, if you could you would’ve stopped time right at that moment.

Slowly he leaned in, you could feel his uneven breathing as he got closer and you shut your eyes even tighter as your lips connected.

His lips on yours felt right; they tasted like home. As if you’ve been aching for this moment since the last time you had kissed him. His lips were soft and his kiss made you feel wanted. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach just as the first time.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he deepened the kiss and your hands went to his hair while he caressed your cheek.

“I love you Y/N” he whispered to your lips as he went back in for another kiss, but this time it felt different. Not as innocent and loving as the first one. He pressed his body closer to you even if there was not any more room left.

“Junkyu” you whispered trying to catch your breath but he didn’t want to break the kiss.

“Junkyu” you said again a little bit louder and tried to push him away.

He looked at you confused before realizing what you were thinking.

“I have to go” you said still not fully into your senses while you tried to open the door.

“Don’t” spoke up Junkyu grabbing your hand “I can be better for you, I promise you” tears started rolling down his cheeks as he spoke “I need you in my life Y/N please, stay” he finished looking at you pleadingly.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, you had just started dating Eric and he didn't deserve this. He had been so supportive and nice to you, it made you feel sick to think about what you were doing.

But on the other hand, the only person you had pictured next to for the rest of your life was asking for a second chance. You knew you deserved better than who he had been but he could change, it wasn’t going to be easy but even though you hate admitting it, he still owned your heart and you would drop anything if he asked you too.

After a few minutes of awkward silence you spoke again.

“Junkyu I was wrong.” you said softly not looking at him “I thought for a while I could die if you weren’t by my side” you laughed bitterly “I genuinely thought I needed you to be happy. I was so hurt, I felt betrayed. I waited for you to explain how did you fall out of love, I waited for you to call and say it was a joke, I waited and waited and you never came. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to. I faced the fact that maybe you weren’t the one for me. I tried to move on but I couldn’t, until one day it just happened. You weren’t the first thing on my mind one morning, and I knew it was over. And it’s not that I deserve someone better because in my eyes, you’re still the best.” your eyes were full of tears and he was still holding on to your hand.

You took a deep breath and looked at him.

“But you made that choice for a reason.You thought you were better off without me and that’s enough for me to know I should let go. I will probably regret this once I leave but I’ll not regret it five years from now.” you finally said pulling your hand away from his and opening the door.

“Y/N please”Junkyu whispered and you could see it in his eyes he was just as hurt as you were but you had made up your mind.

You shook your head. “It’ll be better this way Junkyu” you finished with a smile. A genuine one this time. You were thankful for the good memories you shared but it was time to have a proper goodbye.

As you walked home you were breaking inside. You wanted to run back to him and tell him you took back everything you said. You wanted him to hold you closer. But you fought it back. It had been hard to let him go the first time because you didn’t want to, but it was different this time.

You didn’t want him back in your life.

A/N: “Junkyu’s song” is actually Sody’s Maybe it was me btw, check her out! Also, I’ve never broken up with someone soo I’m sorry if it doesn’t sound very accurate lmao. 

Thanks for liking the first part btw! It means a lot to me♡

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -6-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, feelings, underage drinking

Word count: 4.4k

Emma can’t breathe.

No, really, she can’t breathe. She stumbles out of the nook in sidestage and manages to throw herself past confused crew members until she reaches the first dressing room she finds, his, and shuts herself away.

She sinks into his couch and shoves her head between her knees, desperate for oxygen, for stability, for quiet. Her nose hits the cool leather of the sofa and that helps a little but she can still hear and feel everything. And it stings.

She plants her hands on the coffee table in an attempt to ground herself. It works enough to let her lift her head and look around.

Shawn’s dressing room is never trashed. There are water bottles everywhere from various friends and crew members but otherwise the place doesn’t look like it’s had a rock star anywhere near it. She focuses on noticing details about the space to drown out his voice. He’s finishing “Mercy” and he sounds a little more composed than he did during ‘Bad Rep’ which she wishes she wasn’t thinking about so she stares at one of his guitar picks sitting on the coffee table.

She picks it up and holds it between her thumb and index fingers in both hands like it’s the holy eucharist. It looks worn – Shawn gets attached to things easily so he carries around the same guitar pick until he loses it and when he does, he gets moody. It’s the only thing keeping her from stealing this pick and keeping it.

Emma stands, still a little shaky, and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. She closes her eyes to steady herself but it backfires. In her mind’s eye, he’s turned toward her so obviously she’s sure the video is already all over the depths of Shawnblr and Instagram captioned by women screaming about who he could be singing to. She makes a foggy mental note not to look.

She does actually consider barricading herself in here and letting only him in when he’s done with the show but she remembers she has no idea what to say to him after their conflict last night. So she gathers herself as much as she can be gathered and leaves.

She stands outside the venue for a few minutes willing the redness in her eyes and cheeks to mellow before she can think about heading back to her bus. She can’t distinguish his words anymore but she can sift through the din to find that it’s “Lost in Japan.” She gives herself until the end of the song before she begins the death march to the bus.

She’s not remotely surprised to find Sandra and Margaret up hunched over the table in the front lounge with at least three laptops and finishing up another phone call regarding her career she wasn’t included on. Her melancholy and hollowness are sapped out by bristling annoyance.

“Anything I should know?” Emma snaps, folding her arms over her chest, looking indignant despite being out of the bus after the agreed upon bedtime rules.

Sandra and Margaret exchange a look that says ‘let’s not even go there.’

“We have a meeting next week with Kyle Dillon’s publicity team in Chicago. I’ll talk to styling about your look. Need you up at 4 for your morning routine before the meeting at 8.”

Emma, not for the first time at taking instruction from Margaret while Sandra’s nose is in her phone, is dumbfounded.

“Kyle Dillon? For what? A collab?”

Kyle Dillon’s raunchy hip hop/pop wouldn’t mesh all that well with her bubblegum fluff pop but it wouldn’t be the first time her manager, mother and agent all came up with something so ridiculous Emma thought for sure it was a joke.

“We’re working on an image thing,” Margaret sighs, aggravated by having to explain it, “Your Influencer numbers are down. We need something to give you a boost. You and Kyle are going to go out for a while, get you back on the board.”

Emma swallows. They want her to fake date Kyle Dillon. It’s like the start of a really weird fanfiction.

She runs her tongue against her lower lip and furrows her brow, unsure of where to begin arguing. Not that it will matter. Not yet, anyway.

+

Shawn doesn’t look for her when he gets off stage. He doesn’t check her dressing room, doesn’t scan through her Spotify to see if she’s still up and blasting Hank Williams on her bus. He showers quickly and goes to bed under the weight of all his band and crew’s curious eyes. He’s pretty sure he’ll wake up feeling normal again now that he’s got it out of his system.

He doesn’t.

When they arrive in Chicago, it marks 5 days since they’ve talked, which is the longest streak they’ve had since they became friends over the tour break. Shawn is grouchy, which is pretty unusual for him. When he gets like this, it’s because he’s chewing on a song, but it only ever lasts a day or two at the most before he finds his way through it. This is different and no one can agree on who should try to poke the bear to get to the bottom of it. At a loss, they leave him alone.

Emma is pretending nothing’s wrong because that’s what she’s good at. She pretends it’s absolutely fine that Mabel wrangled her into a sheer blouse and a tartan mini skirt for this “meeting” that feels more like two families arranging a marriage. It’s definitely fine that Kyle has been looking across the conference room table at her like she’s his birthday present. And it’s fine that she can’t get Shawn’s face and voice during their weird “Bad Rep” moment the other day out of her mind.

Everything is absolutely fine.

They’re not signing contracts or anything, it’s not quite that formal. They’re all in a big room talking weird, seemingly inconsequential logistics – “well, Island really wants her to be seen with Shawn and—” “yes, but Capitol really needs him to bring the young girls back in so—” “with an average of 3-5 Instagram posts on each of their accounts per week, we can—”

Emma tunes it out. She watches Kyle across the table as he eyes her. Two or three years ago, Emma would’ve given her left arm to be set up in this kind of arrangement with Kyle Dillon. He’s a former YouTuber, not unlike Shawn, but he always maintained a sharper edge and more of a ladykiller vibe in contrast to Shawn’s more earnest, pink-cheeked Canadian thing.

Shawn’s never looked at her like this, like he wants to crawl under the table and bury his face between her legs. Emma’s a little disturbed by recognizing her disappointment in that. But it’s disappointment mixed with appreciation, too, because maybe he wants more than that from her.

Or he wants more than that from the version of her he’d get after he fixed her, maybe.

Kyle is about 5’8”, slim, wiry build. He’s got that skinny six pack thing happening. He’s half black and half Jewish and happens to be covered in gorgeous freckles that Emma used to try to count on a poster on her wall. And he can dance.

Could be worse, she reminds herself, licking her lips across the table at him. His eyebrows lift. She smirks. He giggles. She giggles back.

The meeting ends with Kyle and Emma exchanging phone numbers and Sandra giving Emma a disapproving look for her mid-meeting flirting. As though it’s inappropriate to be making eyes at the guy you’re being set up to look like you’re sleeping with. Emma ignores her.

Kyle texts her that night while she’s in bed listening to “There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back” on repeat, trying to get “Bad Reputation” out of her head. They talk for an hour. He doesn’t make her wait between texts or anything, no games are being played. Since it’s all meant to be manufactured, there’s less pressure, she notices.

He’s not as big a douche as he seems in the media sometimes, which is cool. He definitely has his moments that put her off and he tries to get her to sext with him which she’s absolutely not interested in but overall, he doesn’t seem as obnoxious as she expected.

She kind of wanted him to be, though. It would be nice to throw in Sandra’s face. And… and a piece of her doesn’t want to be attracted to anyone but Shawn right now. She doesn’t let herself think about why after their blow-up. His stunt in St. Paul on stage made it harder to ignore. But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try.

But if Kyle will get Sandra and Margaret off her back for a few minutes, fine. She’s not up for a fight, anyway. Ashley is coming, thank god.

Emma and Ashley met by happenstance outside a bar in West Hollywood. Emma had been having dinner with Margaret and Sandra next door at some ritzy Italian place where they were sure Emma would get papped. Emma didn’t even really know who Ashley was while they were both standing on the curb waiting for their cars from the valet. Ashley struck up a conversation, asked Emma for a selfie and tagged it on Instagram. They started DMing and Ashley invited her out with her and her crew and the rest, as they say, is history, thoroughly recorded in headlines on Perez Hilton and Buzzfeed.

Ashley’s attending a club opening in Chicago during the few days they have off before the show at Allstate Arena. Emma was going to go anyway, obviously, she and Mabel have been prepping potential outfit choices for over a week, but it’s decided that it’s the perfect opportunity for Emma and Kyle to “meet” and “hit it off.”

Ashley arrives in style, as expected. She’s pocket sized compared to Emma but somehow seems to take up all the space in any room she occupies. Emma likes that about Ashley – it’s not often she gets to fade into the background, be less seen. With Ashley it’s almost an inevitability.

She looks like a walking, talking Snow White only with better eyebrows and a killer body. It occurs to Emma briefly that she might do well to keep Ashley as far away from Shawn as possible the next couple days… but then she remembers she’s not supposed to care that much. And, honestly, given the way he spat Ashley’s name during their showdown makes her think maybe Ashley is no threat to Emma at all. Not that Emma is in a position to be threatened by the idea of someone else wanting Shawn. Obviously.

Ashley is on the phone with her agent when Emma heads out in search of caffeine for them. She turns the corner in the narrow hotel hallway and finds herself a faceful of chest. She practically bounces back off of Shawn, who instinctively reaches out to grab her arms to steady her. The look on his face seems to Emma like regret when he realizes it’s her. Maybe after everything he’d rather see her spring backwards and fall flat on her toned little ass.

He’s walking back up from the hotel gym. He’s all musky and sweaty and Emma actually has to clench her thighs a little from feeling the moisture from his t-shirt condensate on her nose. She coughs.

“Hi,” she croaks, not avoiding his eyes like she sometimes does.

He looks uncertain. “Hi.”

She opens her mouth to say hopefully something coherent when he speaks again.

“Are you—I mean, how… are you good?” he stumbles, ducking his head and reaching for the back of his neck bashfully. Emma wants to call a technical foul – he can’t be allowed to be this cute when he’s otherwise being so annoying.

She raises her chin. “I’m good. Ashley’s here. We’re going to a club opening tonight.”

Shawn’s jaw visibly clenches. “I know. I’m going too.”

Emma’s tough shell cracks too easily. “You’re… what?”

He shrugs. “Island still thinks we should be BFFs. Thinks Ashley Jackson might be good for business.”

His disapproving tone makes her want to smack him. Instead, she purses her lips and narrows her eyes.

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

If she were in a generous mood, she would forewarn him about Kyle. But she decides he hasn’t really earned it. Instead, she steps past him, feels her heart shriek out desperately like it wants her to turn around and run face first into his chest again. She continues her caffeine hunt like nothing’s wrong.

Shawn leans against the wall. She doesn’t always bring out the best in him, he’s noticed. He has an odd protective streak that turns him a little more sarcastic and biting than he usually is. He definitely doesn’t like it. But he’s not sure how to control it, either.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma wiggles her keycard into the electronic door lock while holding two green tea lattes. Ashley is perched on the end of the bed, stock straight like the dancer she used to be, scrolling through her phone.

“That took a while,” Ashley purrs knowingly. Emma chuckles, glances down at her Stan Smiths.

“Ran into Shawn in the hallway,” Emma states, sitting cross legged on the bed a few feet from Ashley.

Ashley is focused now. She lifts the plastic cup to her lips, keeping her eyes trained on Emma. “Do tell.”

“There’s something… I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants from me. He’s… I think sometimes he sees right through me, right into me. And then as soon as I’m comfortable he says something that makes me think he wants to change me.”

Ashley nods sagely. “Men are so threatened by women that have fun. They’re not comfortable unless you’re just doing your job and lying down at night under some fucking loser who only wants to do missionary.”

Emma snorts, unconvinced, and glances away as she speaks. “He’s a nice guy. We texted a lot over tour break. But I can’t figure him out. The other night… nevermind.”

Emma looks back at Ashley who’s looking back down at her phone. She raises her little pointed nose in a polite smile. “Hmm?”

Emma misses Shawn a lot in that moment. She shakes her head, pretending it’s unimportant. It’s better, anyway. Ashley probably doesn’t even know “Bad Reputation” and wouldn’t be able to help, instead spewing something about Penny Lane and Kate Hudson being robbed of an Oscar. Emma doesn’t know what Ashley is talking about sometimes but it makes her feel like she has a cool older sister who goes off on intelligent tangents. And gets her weed.

That night, the caravan returns. There’s an extra car for all of Ashley’s crew and her oversized ego.

Shawn watches with interest as they all pile in, Ashley and Emma last. Emma looks beautiful and uncomfortable by her friend’s posse. It stirs a little whisper of hope in Shawn’s gut. Em is here, too.

But Em is not the only unexpected guest.

Shawn sort of hates himself for being at a club opening, especially one called “Trench” but his friends are here and everyone else is game so he has to be, too. He starts in on the bourbon as soon as they’re in the cars. He has two fingers of it in his hand almost as soon as he walks through the door at Trench, which does strikingly resemble a trench.

He eyes Emma carefully. She’s too good for this place. She looks so fucking cute tonight, he thinks, hoping no one’s watching as he rakes her from head to toe, admiring her white slip dress that looks more like a nightgown than most nightgowns he’s seen, and her cool slicked back hair. He wants to put an arm around her shoulders and walk around, absorb some of her clout.

But, he thinks bitterly with a slug from his drink, the clout is fake. He likes what’s real. And the longer they’re standing around in the overcrowded VIP section of Trench, the more he wishes he could be with Em in his dressing room plucking at acoustics, maybe writing together. Instead he’s watching Emma and Ashley do shots of Patron for the ‘Gram.

He plunks himself down between Geoff and Brian, silent and stoic. They do their best to engage him but aren’t surprised when he doesn’t respond. He’s been a little dead behind the eyes since the night of “Bad Rep.” Which still no one understands.

Shawn isn’t actually watching Emma when Kyle appears. He’s glancing around the club trying to guess how much this place spent on blacklights through his bourbon-soaked haze. Geoff nudges him. Shawn looks up.

He’s never met Kyle Dillon in person but he’s heard stories. Kyle Dillon stories remind him a little bit of Blackbeard. Depending on who they’re told by, they’re either spoken in hushed, reverent tones about a master seducer so legendary you don’t dare speak his name above a whisper, or it’s made plain that he’s a douche. By the way Kyle greets Emma with a wet kiss on her cheek and a palm flat on her ass, Shawn’s comfortable assuming the latter.

He tenses slightly and feels his fingers test the cool walls of his high ball glass. Kyle talks into Emma’s ear and by the way she flutters her eyelashes and shrugs an arm around his waist, it’s clear this isn’t their first meeting. Shawn’s throat starts to close up so he waves down more bourbon. And keep ‘em coming.

Emma feels his eyes burning a hole in the back of her dress. Let them, she thinks, this is who I am.

Even after three shots of Patron, she doesn’t have herself believing that.

This is the second fucking time he’s been frustrated almost to the point of tears by her antics in a club. He doesn’t even like clubs. What the fuck is he fucking doing here? If he were a little more sober, he’d have the good sense to get up and leave before he did something stupid or witnessed her do something stupider. A piece of him still wants to be around, though, in case Ashley reaches for a little bag of whatever in her purse. Not that that’s Shawn’s job, to be caring about what Emma may or may not be using recreationally. Maybe it’s her new boyfriend Kyle’s.

He hears Kyle’s name in a whiney, snarky voice in his head. He reaches for more bourbon. He doesn’t want to hear anything in his head.

An hour after Kyle arrives, Emma finally gets to sit down. The tequila hasn’t quite dulled the ache of her new pointed toe disco ball Louboutins. But she loves them like she would love a pet if she were allowed one. She actually looks down at them affectionately and rubs off a mark with a thumb she licks.

She leans back and swings one leg over the other, sighing. She clocks Kyle talking to someone that looks suspiciously like Zac Efron at the far end of the VIP section. Ashley went to do a line in the ladies’ bathroom. Time to look for Shawn.

Her placidly interested expression drops when she sees him. He’s a little slumped over in a booth. Geoff is illuminated by a blacklight on the opposite side and is wearing a serious expression. Emma’s heart throws itself across the room before she can even scramble to her feet to check it out.

Her hustle in her shoes is impressive. She reaches him in a few long, brisk steps. She tries not to make a scene as she squats beside the table, wishing her dress wasn’t so goddamn short. Fucking Mabel.

Geoff eyes her warily. Her face tightens. Her bullshit tolerance is low tonight.

“How much has he had to drink?” Emma asks without looking directly at Shawn. She sees his head bobbing slightly in her periphery. She tries not to wince.

Geoff looks like he’s about to get defensive, which Emma has no time for. She rolls her eyes and straightens up.

“We have to get him out of here. I don’t want people seeing him like this.”

A flash of confusion at Emma’s concern shows on Geoff’s face before he can paste over it with resignation. He nods.

Emma looks to Shawn, finally. His eyes are open, barely, and he’s still holding onto a melting glass of boozy ice. She wrenches it out of his fingers and lifts his hand, squeezing.

“Hey, look at me,” she demands, voice as quiet as ever but firm. Shawn’s eyes wander to hers. He frowns almost comically.

“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” she mutters, jerking her head at Geoff to help get him upright. Thankfully, at this time of night, no one’s really watching them and the VIP section is well hidden from the rest of the club. There’s a separate exit to a pap-free zone outside. Their cars were supposed to meet out front to catch her and Kyle “canoodling” outside.

With one arm around Shawn’s frame and one hand frantically shooting a text to the driver, she maneuvers them toward the exit before it’s blocked by a familiar freckly face.

“Hey, he ok?” Kyle asks, raising his eyebrows at Shawn, looking judgey. Emma wants to slap the smirk off his face. She huffs.

“He’s fine, I’m taking him back. We’ll have to get papped some other time.”

Kyle looks like he’s ready to argue and she’s sure it’s more about what he thought was going to happen after they got back to the hotel that he’s disappointed about. She doesn’t give him the time. She and Geoff sweep Shawn through the doors. She’s pleased he’s a compliant drunk rather than sad, angry, or, the worst of all, tricky.

The car is waiting for them. Geoff helps get him inside and they sandwich him in the backseat on the unnervingly quiet drive back to the hotel. Again, they’re brought around back despite the late hour, just in case any fans have staked out the place. Geoff and Emma are still silent on their trek up through the back bowels of the hotel to the service elevator, but Shawn has started blabbering.

He’s muttering into Geoff’s shoulder, nuzzling him sweetly. Emma tries not to smile. Shawn’s eyes open as he’s rolling his temple against Geoff’s arm and he seems to spot Emma.

“Ems,” he whispers, closing his eyes like the name brings him comfort. Goosebumps spread on her skin like wildfire. Geoff turns his eyes to the ground wisely.

He continues mumbling, talking incoherently about something or nothing, looking over at her through squinty eyes as though she should be paying attention to what he’s saying but she’s too busy trying not to twist an ankle in her skyscraper stilettos while she steers him down the corridor.

Outside his room, Geoff swipes Shawn’s wallet and locates the keycard. They get him inside and flop him down face up on the bed. Shawn’s eyebrows pull together and he releases a low groan that makes Emma smile. She looks around, takes stock of her supplies, before she kicks off her shoes and nods once at Geoff.

“You can go.”

Geoff looks baffled. “I…?”

“Go. I’ve got this.”

She’s not leaving him much room for protest and by the ‘don’t fuck with me’ look in her eye, he takes option number one and bails, telling her to text him if he needs anything. Emma makes a mental note that she likes Geoff more now.

She plants her hands on her hips and looks down at Shawn. He’s sprawled awkwardly on the bed, jaw hanging open slightly, eyes fluttering. She’s had some practice with the drunken hotel room recovery thing, so she slips into nurse mode.

She pulls off his shoes and belt so he’s at least a little more comfortable. She almost goes to remove his button up but it feels just a hair past too intimate so she leaves it. He’s sleepily pliant, moving as she needs him to, even sitting up so she can force feed him a bottle of water and some aspirin. He’s still talking about absolutely nothing, head bobbling, eyes opening and closing randomly.

When he’s downed the water, she props him up long enough to retrieve a lined garbage can to leave by the bed. When she returns, he’s hunched over sideways like a plant towards the sun. She hauls him upright and smooths her fingers through his hair before she realizes how… not ok that was.

He opens his cloudy chestnut eyes at her like he forgot she was there. “Emma.”

“It’s me,” she confirms under her breath, watching his adam’s apple bob on his throat.

“Kyle Dillon,” Shawn groans, swallowing roughly.

She expects him to follow that up with another thought. He doesn’t. It seems to say enough.

He closes his eyes for a minute or two, breathing quietly. “Why?” he whispers.

It breaks her heart just a little bit.

“It’s fake,” she admits easily, “It’s a PR stunt.”

Shawn opens his eyes again. “Fake? Like Hailey?”

He’s a little childlike and blabby when he’s drunk, making him more adorable than she anticipated. She giggles. “Fake like Hailey.”

Shawn seems satisfied by this and shimmies back against the headboard. He’s coming back little by little, Emma can tell. She’s not going to leave until he’s mostly sober. Not even if he wants her to.

“What happened the other night?” she hears herself say.

She and Shawn look equally shocked by her words. She snaps her jaw shut and frowns.

“The… song?” Shawn guesses, wincing as he adjusts on the mattress. She nods.

“I didn’t know you were there.”

Emma doesn’t buy it. “Funny, because I know you saw me. I know that’s where you watch my shows from.”

Shawn looks a little guilty, a little sheepish and a little indignant. “I only ever listen to ‘How I’ve Been.’ Your other music…”

“Sucks?” she chuckles. He returns the sound but it sounds choked off and tired. She curls her legs up to her side and he watches.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Em.”

Words Emma’s heard since she was a small child. Easy to swallow, not so easy to believe.

“I like you.”

Now those… those are new.

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia @carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books

[ashiiblack]

Pliroy Week Day 4: Thunderstorms

(Many thanks to @phaytesworld for the prompt. My day 4 for Pliroy week is exactly 1000 words and includes 20 questions)

Yuri glared at his phone. JJ was late. Sure, it made sense with the pouring rain, but why didn't the asshole let him know he wouldn't be on time?

Plus, it was JJ's dumb idea for them to go out. After hooking up several times the past season, Yuri finally gave into JJ's begging for a date. This was how he repaid his kindness?

He took another drink from his mocha and scrolled through his phone. There was nothing from JJ on any of his socials, which was unusual. His last Instagram had a selfie of him grinning at the camera with the caption, "Ready to tame a tiger." It brought an involuntary smile to his face. Yuri caught himself and bit his lip. Why was he smiling?

Suddenly, a round of buzzes and beeps resounded in the cafe as a flooding warning came up on Yuri's phone. He stared at the affected areas. That was where JJ was staying. Was he okay?

His heart began to beat faster and his mouth felt dry. Yuri shook his head. He didn't want to start worrying about the bastard. This was just supposed to be a date to prove that they shouldn't be anything more than fantastic sex. Yuri didn't actually like JJ Leroy. Wouldn't that make him insane?

Still, Yuri thought back to some of the moments between them after sex, when JJ held him close and they talked about everything from their last competition to those obnoxious Kardashians. JJ was a good listener and had talked him through a fight he had with Mila. Sometimes it felt like more than a hookup, but could they really work out?

He watched as someone's husband walked through the cafe. His wife walked up to him, gave him a quick kiss, and they sat down together holding hands. Yuri crinkled his nose. Was that what JJ wanted? Was that what he wanted?

Yuri was blinded by a flash of lightning and then was submerged in darkness as thunder boomed. Several people in the cafe screamed. The power was out. Why had he agreed to go to a cafe when he clearly needed at least five shots of the strongest vodka he could find?

The baristas walked around passing out a pass for a free coffee. As though Yuri gave a shit about the inconvenience of being in the dark. Where was JJ?

He stared at his phone. JJ was forty minutes late and the storm had only gotten worse. Maybe he wasn't as dumb as Yuri always thought he was and he pulled over to wait for the storm to pass. Did the flooding slow him down?

Yuri had sworn to himself that he wasn't going to text JJ, but he gave in and typed out a message that he didn't think sounded too desperate. where ru?

Five minutes crawled by and Yuri watched out the window as people ran out of their cars and into the different buildings for cover. This was one of the worst storms Yuri had ever seen, and he still didn't have a response from JJ. Why was he so late?

He felt tears prickle at his eyes and he smacked the table, causing several people near him to jump. Yuri didn't like JJ. He couldn't. Why was JJ so great?

JJ was soft and hard in all the right places. Despite his dumb jokes, he made Yuri smile. He made Yuri feel special. Plus, JJ didn't care what other people thought about him. Weren't those attributes Yuri liked in a person?

As Yuri checked his phone for the umpteenth time, he saw the headlights of a familiar red Mercedes. Instead of staying inside and ignoring JJ like he'd planned, he found himself standing and rushing outside. He had to be sure it was JJ and he was alright.

The rain pelted his body like bullets. He was dripping with water after a few seconds of being outside. JJ parked and turned off the engine, then opened the door and stood. His eyes widened as he realized Yuri was standing right in front of him. Fuck, he looked so attractive.

"Asshole!" Yuri shoved him with both hands and he stumbled backward. "You're almost an hour late!"

JJ gave Yuri a smile. "I'm so sorry, Yuri-chan! There was an accident on the freeway. I got caught in traffic and my phone died." He held up his phone. "Come on, let's go inside."

"I was - I was -" Yuri shoved JJ again. "I was worried about you!"

Fuck, had he said that out loud?

JJ's lips parted in surprise. "What?"

Yuri grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him down for a kiss. They were both soaking wet, but Yuri couldn't care less. JJ was safe and apparently, that's what he mattered to Yuri. Even though it was freezing outside with the wind and rain whipping around their bodies, JJ made Yuri feel warm. He made Yuri feel like home.

He pulled away. "Be my boyfriend."

JJ tilted his head. "You want that?"

"Yes, dammit. Don't make me ask again." Yuri narrowed his eyes at JJ, then took his hand and they walked towards the entrance of the cafe. "The power is out but you could get a scone if you wanted."

They walked into the cafe and JJ turned to Yuri. "You didn't ask me."

"What?" Yuri crossed his arms and realized that everyone in the cafe was watching them.

JJ gave Yuri a playful smile and squeezed Yuri's hand. "You didn't ask me; you told me."

Part of Yuri wanted to punch him, but the other part had been so worried about JJ, he didn't care about the embarrassment. The latter part won out. He looked up at JJ and drew in a slow breath. "Jean Jacques Leroy, will you be my boyfriend?"

He kissed the top of Yuri's head. "I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend, Yuri-chan."

The rain didn't seem to fall as hard.

[soulspideys]

l o v e - tom holland

summary: tom and y/n are so in love. from the way he looks at her to being the only one he truly adores. love was made for them. this is the ups and downs of being in love with tom holland.

notes: gif not mine based off the song by nat king cole. this was supposed to be something cute and small i wrote in an evening but here we are a week later with the longest fic i’ve ever written. please leave me your thoughts, i worked really hard on this!!

word count: 3542

“L” is for the way you look at me

You smiled to yourself as Tom slipped his gaze past the cameras, allowing it to settle on your face. The interviewer continued to ask, and he replied promptly, but his eyes stayed on you the whole time.

You stuck your tongue out at him. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. He was temporarily distracted.

“Tom?”

“Sorry, what?” Tearing his gaze from you, he returned his attention to the interviewer. There was a huge grin on his face. “Sorry, Harrison was making faces at me behind the camera.”

The interviewer laughed cordially. Harrison made a choking noise and you bit your knuckles to keep from laughing too hard. Tom waggled his eyebrows at you, his eyes soft and full of humor. Your heart thudded as it always did when you remembered he was yours.

“You guys are gross,” Harrison muttered. You snorted, shoving his shoulder gently.

Tom watched you two fondly. His best mate and his girlfriend got along wonderfully; it was all he had ever wanted. And as the interviewer droned on about Infinity War, he found himself unable to keep his eyes off your banters with Harrison.

As for you, his gaze left you in pieces. It was so gentle, so warm; so loving. Tom Holland loved you. You pinched yourself, glad to feel the sting.

“O” is for the only one i see

“Tom! Tom, look over here! Over here, Tom!”

The paps clamored obnoxiously. You smiled at a few of them, feeling a bit odd having your photo taken like a celebrity. You were just there as Tom’s plus one, but everyone treated you like Zendaya.

“Tom! Tom!”

You glanced up at your boyfriend, surprised to find his eyes trained on you, a dreamy smile playing on his lips. He blinked shyly when you widened your eyes at him. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, love. You’re beautiful as always.”

He tilted his neck, capturing your lips in a swift kiss. It was quick, but the reaction from the paparazzi was thunderous. Cameras clicked a million times a second and you nearly went blind from the flashes.

“TOM!” they screamed. “TOM, OVER HERE!”

“Shouldn’t you pose or something?” you asked out of the side of your mouth. “After all, this is press for your movie.”

“Hm?”

You glanced back at him. His eyes hadn’t moved from your face. With a smile, you leaned in, letting the paparazzi lose their minds all over again.

“V” is very, very extraordinary

“So, Tom, I have to ask,” Nikki said to her son as they stood in the kitchen together. “What’s it like being a teen heartthrob?”

You tilted your head to hear Tom’s answer from around the corner. You lay on your stomach on the couch in his parents’ living room, with the kitchen residing on the other side of the wall. You’d tried to ask Tom similar questions, but he always dodged them. Surely he wouldn’t refuse his own mother?

“Oh, you know,” mumbled Tom, trailing off. Your stomach dropped in irritation.

“I mean, there are so many girls after you,” Nikki pushed. “Aren’t they all the same?”

There was a pause. Then Tom said with a smile in his voice, “No, mum. They’re not.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be with y/n if she was like all the other girls, would I?”

“I suppose not.” Nikki sounded thoughtful and curious. Tom wasn’t deaf to her unasked question.

“She’s wonderful. I’m in love with her. She never ceases to amaze me.”

“Does she know?”

“I hope so, mum.”

Smiling to yourself, you caught your lip between your teeth. After a moment of silence, the topic changed and you pushed yourself to your feet. You rounded the corner to a polite greeting from Nikki and a bright smile from Tom.

You intertwined your hand with his and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, he blinked in surprise. “What’sat for?”

“I love you.”

He smiled and kissed your temple. “I love you too.”

“E” is even more than anyone that you adore

You watched the boys through your sunglasses, a small smile on your face. Harrison gave a warbling yell, launching himself into the pool and on top of Jacob. They both went down. Zendaya sighed, turning a page in her script.

“Come on, y/n!” It was Tom. “Get in! The game is so much fun!”

“It’s a little too barbaric for me,” you called back as Jacob and Harrison floundered to the surface.

“No way, this is just the warm up!” insisted Harry.

“Yeah, the actual game is very civilized,” Tom told you earnestly.

You glanced to your left. Zendaya was watching you with a small smile. She nodded encouragingly when your eyes met, and you swung your legs over the recliner. “Alright, fine. I’m in.”

“Yes -- wuaaargh!” Harrison’s cheer was interrupted by Tony tackling him back into the water.

You pulled off your top, ignoring Tom’s cheeky whistle. You made your way over to the pool, standing at the edge and looking at the rowdy boys below.

“Get in!” Harry shouted, tossing the ball and catching it.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, dipping your toe in. Tom was treading water, watching you. Some boys were muttering to each other, and you smiled to yourself. Glancing at Tom, you realized he was the only one you hadn’t fooled. You winked at him before shouting, “Cowabunga!” and launching yourself into the pool.

Boys shrieked and scrambled to avoid your wave. When you resurfaced, Tom paddled strongly over to you and kissed you hard. When you both nearly went under, you laughed. “Tom, stop! We’re gonna drown!”

“Okay, pick teams!” shouted Jacob before Tom could reply.

“Tom, you’re with me, right?” Harrison asked.

“No way, mate,” chuckled Tom, shaking his locks out of his eyes. “I’ve got my girl.”

“But we’re always on the same team! I’m your favorite!” Harrison pretended to pout.

Tom shrugged, and Harrison swam away. He turned to you with a smile. “Nah, he’s not,” he whispered, kissing you again. You were smiling too much to kiss him back, and anyways, Zendaya blew the whistle and the game began.

and love is all that i can give to you

“Yeah, I know. I just miss you.”

“I know, baby, I miss you too. You got my gift?”

You bit your lip, fiddling with the blanket you were laying on. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Did you like it?” You could hear Tom’s uncertainty through the phone and exhaled gently, glancing at the giant teddy bear resting against your bed.

“Yeah, Tom, I loved it. I love stuffed animals.”

“No, not that gift.”

Your brow furrowed, disappointed that he had brought it up. The fancy piece of jewelry was resting on your headboard; he knew you’d never wear it, but it held sentimental value. It had your names intertwined in gorgeous lettering, but you were scared to touch it in case you broke it.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful, Tom.” You swallowed around the uncomfortable lump in your throat. “Must have cost a fortune, though.”

“Yeah, well, you’re worth it, darling.”

“Don’t.”

You instantly regretted your words, especially when Tom mumbled, “You don’t like it.”

“That’s not true, Tom,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead and rolling onto your back. “I just... it’s wonderful, but it’s a constant reminder of how much more money you have than me.”

“You know that doesn’t matter to me, love.”

“I know it doesn’t, but it matters to me. I feel like I have to work twice as hard to show you I appreciate you, and sometimes all I can buy you is like a box of your favorite candy. All I have to give you is my love.”

“That’s all I need.”

It was quiet, but it was enough. Your eyes stung, and you smiled to yourself. Tom didn’t say anything, and you tried to hold in a sniffle. It didn’t work.

“D-did I say anything wrong? I’m so sorry, I was trying to make things better, I didn’t mean to--”

“No,” you choked out through the tears. “No, you said the perfect thing. God, I love you so much, Tom.”

“O-oh. I love you too, darling. I hope you know that. I can’t put a price on how much I love you.”

“Neither can I.”

love is more than just a game for two

Upon hearing an irritated sigh from Tom, you looked up at him. He was scrolling through instagram, and you knew that those two things combined never meant anything good.

He had just posted your first “couple” photo. He had his arm around you, his lips pressed to your cheek. The caption was “happy six months babe” with picture credits to Harrison (bless his heart).

“What’s the matter, babe?” you crawled across the bed, coming to lay on your stomach next to him. He shrugged, but his frown remained the same.

“Just dumb comments.” He shut his phone off, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close before nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He pretended to fall asleep, but you knew better.

“Tom,” you mumbled. “I love you, but you can’t just ignore this.”

“Sure I can,” he said into your neck. “I’ve done it before.”

“Mmmm, but this time it involves me, so....” 

When you picked up your own phone, he reluctantly withdrew. You scrolled through some of the comments, your eyebrows raising in surprise. They weren’t mean or hateful necessarily, but there were definitely ignorant and inconsiderate comments.

omg who’s next??

z and now y/n....... who’s gonna be his next “best friend”?

can’t believe it’s been six months!! that’s so long!!!

it’s a no from me

“Okay, that’s enough,” grumbled Tom, taking your phone and shutting it off before setting it down on the bed. He picked up his own, opening up instagram and going to the story capture screen.

“Tom, what are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m gonna address something,” he told you simply. Then he began to record.

“Hey guys, just wanted to thank those of you who are being incredibly sweet and supportive! As for the rest of you, I have a little something to say.”

You sat up, unsure if he wanted you in the video or not. 

He went on, “I didn’t need to show you my healthy relationship with this wonderful girl I love. But I did, because I respect and like you guys. But a relationship isn’t just two people seeking to entertain spectators. This relationship is about the two of us loving and working well together.”

You shuffled closer, and he wrapped his arm around you. “I love y/n, and I’m not planning a ‘next one.’ She’s gonna be here awhile -- if she’ll have me. I’d hope that’s okay with you guys.”

He kissed you on the cheek as the video ended. Then he pulled a face. “I should end it on a high note.” A devilish grin grew over his face. “Go get the cling film?”

As you two sat on the bed ten minutes later, you began to shout. Tom hit record.

“Harrison! Harrison, come quick! Tom won’t wake up!”

“What!?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, get in here!”

Harrison came pounding down the hall, the cling film catching him squarely in the face. He went down like a rock, and you and Tom nearly cried from laughing so hard. 

two in love can make it

“H-how long?”

Tom sounded as though he might cry as he whispered back, “Six months. Possibly more.”

“And there’s no way for me to come visit or for you to come back?”

“No. Even Harrison can’t come.”

You chewed your thumb, a nervous habit. Tom was running his hands through his hair, obviously beyond distressed. You were used to press tours and the like, but this was something you had never anticipated. A month, two months, fine. But anything more than that... they were crossing into long-distant relationship territory.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Tom choked out. “I feel like such a fucking prick, a selfish twat. All this for a stupid move....”

“Tom, you know how I feel about that. Your career is your life. Always put it first.”

“Yeah, but this is....”

“Different.”

“Completely.”

“I know.”

He looked at you, his eyes red from lack of sleep due and stress. Running a hand over his face once, he took yours in his own. “What are we going to do?”

You knew what he meant. “I don’t know, Tom. This is... a lot.”

“Yeah.” His voice broke and he looked away in shame. 

You lifted your hand, bringing it up to cup his face. A tear slipped out of his eye, and you swiped your thumb along his cheek to catch it. When he brought his own hand up to cup your face, you realized you were also crying. The both of you cracked broken smiles, laughing weakly as tears fell.

“I feel I know where this is going,” Tom breathed.

“I do, too.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “We’re so... good, though. We are so good that we know and agree on what needs to happen.”

“I won’t be able to stand it,” you admitted. “and neither will you.”

“Right.”

“But what other choice do we have?”

He looked at you, deep brown meeting y/e/c, and suddenly you saw every hope and wish and ounce of guilt reflected back at you. 

“We could get engaged.”

“Wh-what?” You gasped, so stunned you pulled your hand back. 

Tom winced, taking your hand back in his. “I didn’t mean for it to come off so ugly and rushed. I’ve thought about this for a long time. I’ve put a lot of thought into it. I want to get engaged, y/n. I want to marry you. But if we need to put us on hold until I get back, I’m willing to wait.”

“Oh, Tom....”

You were crying, but he still cupped your face oh-so-gently and brought his lips to yours. You could taste your tears in the kiss, but you forced yourself to embrace it; to remember the feel and the taste and feeling of belonging that his kisses gave you. Six months was a long time to go without that feeling.

Tom was first to pull away. He wiped your tears away, smiling weakly. You knew he was just trying to put on a brave face. He felt just as destroyed as you did.

“When do you leave?” you asked him softly.

“Tomorrow.”

“Best make tonight count, then, if there will be no us for six months.”

He nodded, but there was no cheekiness. You pushed him back on the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him tenderly. This was no fevered, passionate fuck. You were going to make love.

“We’ll be okay,” Tom whispered when you paused in your kisses. “I love you so much. We will make it.”

take my heart and please don’t break it

Tears poured down your face. You ignored Harrison’s shout to wait, you tore your arm free of his grasp and sprinted forward. He was here, he was right there, he was home. 

“y/n! Stop!”

But Harrison couldn’t pretend. As you pounded through the airport, shoving past families in fanny packs, Harrison was hot on your heels. The security guards shouted after you, but you both ignored them.

You could hear camera shutters ahead. The familiar buzz of excited fans. The calls of his security: “step back, back up, back--”

Then he was there, and your feet stopped in their tracks. Harrison collided painfully with your back, but you barely moved. Tom Holland was making his way through the airport, and holy shit, he was real.

“Tom! Oh my god, Tom! Sign this, please! Can I have a picture, Tom?”

He hadn’t noticed you or Harrison. Eight long months, all he wanted was a nap. He should have been home already, but fuck it, he was home now.

“Go on, y/n,” muttered Harrison as the security guards caught up to you two.

You glanced at him. He nodded, and you turned back to face the coming crowd. Tom lifted his head, and his eyes widened. “y/n?”

It broke the spell. You sprinted forward; Tom shoved the items back towards the fans, running towards you. The paps grew louder, pushing the fans out of the way; the fans gave squeals of alarm and indignation; and then everything fell silent as your lips crashed together.

His arms were wrapped tight around you, and your hands were in his hair, holding his head close. You broke apart, both breathing hard. Tears splashed down your front, and Tom’s eyes were rimmed with red.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

You felt the same way. Leaning in close, you kissed him again. This was slower, gentler. You were forced to pull away when the security guard tapped Tom on the shoulder.

“We gotta go. Can’t stick around longer. But you’ve certainly given the media some good content.”

“Let’s give them a little more,” Tom said with a cheeky grin, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away. He walked past you. You turned, confused, and then realized what was happening.

Tom paused in front of Harrison. His best friend’s eyes were red.

“Hey,” Tom said weakly.

Then Harrison was crying and laughing at the same time, and the two were gripping each other close, their fingers scrunched in the back of each other’s shirts.

Camera shutters flashed, and you began to cry again. Then you walked over to the boys, prepared to leave the hustle and bustle. But Tom grabbed your hand, signalling for you to stop.

“Tom, we gotta go,” you said with a smile.

“I know,” he breathed. “But I made a promise eight months ago. We were technically on a break, but the thought of clubbing made me feel sick to my stomach. I’m still helplessly in love with you, y/n. And I hope the feeling is at least a little mutual. Please...”

He dropped down on one knee, and the fans lost their minds. You placed a hand over your mouth, hardly daring to believe.

“Marry me, y/n?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.”

He stood up, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Harrison was crying too, but he tried to pretend he wasn’t. You knew that paparazzi photos would come out of him wiping away his tears, and you smiled at the thought of the three of you laughing over them.

“Now come on,” Tom whispered. “Let’s get home.”

He took your hand, leading you out of the airport, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you had been home from the moment you saw him for the first time.

love was made for me and you

“Teen girls everywhere are both saddened and touched as pictures of Tom Holland and his wife at their wedding are released.”

“How does that even happen?” you laughed to your husband. “The wedding literally isn’t over.”

Tom shrugged. “I’ve stopped questioning it.”

“Now, will the bride and groom please make their way to the floor for their first dance as newlyweds?”

Tom stood, holding out his hand. You took it, Harrison reaching over to help you with your dress. You thanked him with a tiny wave and a whisper as the two of you made your way to the floor. Your song started to play through the speakers.

You took Tom’s hand, placing your other on his shoulder. He linked one around your waist, and the two of you swayed slowly on the spot.

“God, this is so right,” you breathed.

“About fucking time,” he agreed.

“Have I mentioned I’m love with you?” You asked him with a small smile tugging on your lips, gazing into his eyes.

“Just a few times,” he answered, his eyes flickering to your lips.

You closed the distance, kissing your husband as the meaningful song filtered through the speakers. Harrison was watching you guys a little wistfully. Harry and Sam had their phones out, filming the wedding.

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest. “I cannot wait for five years from now.”

“What?” Tom sounded beyond confused. 

“When we’ll be super rich, living in a beautiful mansion,” you explained. “And we can wake up at ten and that’s okay or we can wake up at four in the evening and that’s okay too. And we’ll make food together and invite Harrison over every other day and your brothers will call us lame because they’re secretly jealous.”

You lifted your head, looking Tom in the eyes as you went on.

“You’ll probably have an oscar by then, so I can say I’m married to an oscar-winning actor. Even if not, I’ll say I’m married to the best actor in the world, because I am. We’ll be silly but also really sexy and who knows...” You grinned shyly. “Maybe there will be a little one on the way by then.”

Tom blinked hard, trying to hide the tears glistening in his eyes. His smile was huge as he croaked, “I think that sounds perfect.”

You leaned in to kiss him again. “So do I.”

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[honeyedhoseok]

Noona |02|

 word count | 5.1k

genre | noona x jungkook; college au

warnings | profanity, smut (in the future)

summary | There’s no denying the sexual tension between you and Jungkook that developed over the summer, and all thanks to social media. But now that he’s a freshman at your university he expects something more than a flirty text from you–and you’re not so sure if you’re ready to give it to him yet.

| Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you muttered, closing your eyes before you lost your shit.

You were laying in bed, scrolling through your morning feed and catching up on last night’s Instagram posts when Jungkook snapped you, a confident smirk adorning his face with the caption see you tonight noona under the picture. The conversation from the night before came flooding back to you immediately and you groaned, throwing your phone to the side to avoid having to respond.

What the fuck was wrong with your drunk brain? It always went way left and got you in trouble, but this time was different. You’d promised Jungkook something in return for all the teasing that had been going on for the past few months—and you were positive he was more than ready to cash in.

You rolled out of bed, the sunshine beaming in through your windows and illuminating your room in bright light due to the fact that you’d slept past noon. Yujin was at the kitchen counter, hunched over a bowl of cereal and looking like the dead.

“You’re awake?” you asked, going over to the coffee maker to start a fresh pot. “I’m honestly surprised. The amount of vomit last night…” You trailed off, shuddering at the memory. “Linda Blair would have been jealous.”

“Yeah? Well I feel like I’ve been exorcised, so I can see the resemblance.” Yujin dropped her spoon in her half-full bowl, rubbing at her temples tenderly. You reached into the cabinet above the counter, grabbing a bottle of pain relievers and shaking out two for Yujin before you popped two into your own mouth.

“Take these,” you muttered between pressed lips, filling a glass of water from the tap. Hopefully they would work fast enough to give you an adequate response to Jungkook. Your head and heart pounded in rhythm at the thought of him, each one working overdrive due to its own cause.

As if he could read your thoughts, your phone dinged on the counter beside you: another snapchat from Jungkook.

“So while you were trying not to die last night, I may have done something really stupid…” you said, watching as Yujin dry-swallowed her Tylenol, making you wince at the sight.

“This is about you cradle-robbing, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes at you, picking up her spoon and thrusting it in your direction. “You’re an idiot.”

“I didn’t even—I am not cradle-robbing! He’s a grown man!” You crossed your arms. “That’s besides the point. I told him he should come to the party tonight, and I may have mentioned…us getting together…alone…”

Yujin was already shaking her head by the time you finished, grabbing her still half-full bowl and pouring the milk down the sink, leaving behind the soggy remains of her cereal to throw in the trashcan. “So you’ll get what you want. What’s the big deal here?”

You pressed your lips together in thought. She was right in a way. So why did you feel so anxious whenever you thought about it?

“I’m just—I’m scared of what this means, you know?” you said, exasperated. “I don’t know if Jungkook actually likes me or just thinks of me as a cheap fuck or—what if he does like me? What am I supposed to do? And then if he doesn’t like me and we fuck–”

Yujin whipped around in place. “Wait, are you saying you want to be with him?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t think so? I don’t see him like that but—” Your headache was definitely starting to come back, the Tylenol doing the opposite of their job as you felt a tightening around your temples. “This is stressful. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about it this hard…it’s Jungkook for fucks sake.”

“Exactly,” Yujin said, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms. “Why are you thinking about it so much? I thought you wanted this. In fact, you’ve been wanting this, ‘cause I’ve been hearing things about his possible dick size since that pool party we went to over the summer.”

“That was theoretical! This is real!”

Yujin sighed. “I’m going to my room. I need to prep if we’re going out again tonight.”

She left you with a feeling of irritation settling into the joints of your fingers as you picked up your phone, opening the latest picture from Jungkook. His legs were stretched out in front of him on the couch, the thick muscles of his thighs visible through his sweats—the same ones he was wearing in the picture he sent you the night before. There was no caption, just a picture merely to remind you that you hadn’t responded to his first one.

You typed out a response: go take a shower and change your clothes you bum

Jungkook couldn’t keep his mind off you. All he needed was a distraction, something that would keep his mind busy for hours at a time until he could see you tonight–which is why he found himself on the couch, un-showered, with Taehyung absolutely beating his ass in a game of Call of Duty.

“Stop with that fucking camping shit, Tae. If I get sniped walking across the grounds one more time I’m gonna fucking throttle you.” Jungkook sent a menacing glare across the room to the other couch, where Taehyung sat with an obnoxious head set on, his eyes glued to the flat screen tv that sat on the entertainment system. He answered without looking away.

“That’s the name of the game, kid.”

Jungkook was trying hard to concentrate, letting his tongue rest between his lips as he pressed the buttons harder on his controller. He rounded the corner of a building, looking around for Taehyung up high just as his phone dinged on the couch beside him, breaking him out of his trance. He glanced down, giving Taehyung ample opportunity to kill him one more time, running full speed at him on the game and giving Jungkook no chance to aim his gun.

“Fuck yeah!” Taehyung exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air as he watched Jungkook’s character fall to the ground in the final kill cam, signaling the end of the game. Jungkook could care less as he swiped his thumb across the screen, your reply on snapchat popping up.

go take a shower and change your clothes you bum

He smirked a little, exiting the app and returning to his normal texting app. I’ll shower if you join me ;)

“Jungkook, you down for another round?” Taehyung asked, removing one headphone from the side of his head so he could hear his friend’s reply. “Dude?”

“Huh? What?” Jungkook asked, too engrossed in the flirty conversation that was about to develop as you replied back. “Nah, Jimin can take my place.” He got up from the couch, passing Jimin as he came out of the bathroom, towel-drying his damp hair.

He heard Taehyung mutter an annoyed comment about being whipped just as he shut the door to his bedroom, stretching himself across his bed as he read your latest message: Nope, I’m already clean

Text message sent 1:29pm

I’ll make you nice and dirty tonight, don’t worry

Noona

Text message received 1:32pm

Okay yeah sure

What are you doing for the rest of the day?

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed at your obvious attempt to deflect his flirty line. Normally you were all up for some playful banter, what was going on?

Text message sent 1:34pm

Just chilling until the party…probably gonna unpack some more. you?

 Noona

Text message received 1:35pm

Nothing

 You were being short now. Something was definitely up. Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to ask you, too scared that you were going to tell him that you weren’t coming to the party tonight—or worse, that you weren’t interesting in fucking him anymore.

Text message sent 1:36pm

Do you wanna come chill over here?

Taehyung knocked on his door twice then, busting in without waiting for Jungkook to tell him to come in. He frowned at his friend over his shoulder, irritation lacing his voice. “What the fuck?”

“We’re going to grab some lunch on campus. You coming?”

“Yeah, just a sec.”

As Taehyung shut the door, Jungkook glanced down at his screen, seeing that you’d read his message, but the typing bubbles to let him know you were in the midst of replying didn’t pop up.

You spent the rest of the day doing things around the apartment—unpacking the rest of your clothes, setting up the kitchen and the bathroom, cooking dinner for you and Yujin—basically anything you could to get your mind off things until it was finally time to start getting dressed for the party.

You’d sent Jungkook a lame excuse about an hour after he texted you asking about coming over, and then filled your day with mundane tasks so that you wouldn’t feel bad about blowing him off. If you told him you were busy and then did things around the apartment, that technically wasn’t lying, right? Even if you didn’t have to do those things? He’d responded with an ok so you figured he was fine with it, ignoring the fact that his shortened answer seemed a little peeved in nature.

Yujin came out of her room in a cloud of perfume, already sipping on a red-cup concoction she’d thrown together in your kitchen about thirty minutes before getting dressed. She believed in pre-gaming to the fullest just in case there were lame drinks at the party—like beer—and most of the time she convinced you to do the same. She pulled the edge of her skirt down, willing it just slightly past the curve of her ass and you rolled your eyes.

“Nice outfit.”

“It shrunk in the dryer, I swear!” she complained, struggling to yank the unyielding fabric down once more. “I just bought this!”

You shook your head at her, frowning. “Just wear something else, you don’t wanna be fiddling with that all night.” You glanced down at your own outfit—a pair of jean shorts and a black keyhole tank top—that looked lackluster in comparison to Yujin’s. What would Jungkook think?

Yujin walked back in her room to rummage through her drawers for a few more minutes so you went into the living room, your wedges dangling from the fingers of one hand as you scrolled on your phone with the other. Jungkook had posted a snapchat to his story forty seconds ago and you clicked on it, glancing over the video of him, Jimin and Taehyung taking a shot in someone’s kitchen that you didn’t recognize.

“Jungkook is already there! Hurry up!” you yelled to Yujin. Your stomach flipflopped as you stared at the video on loop a little longer, catching a glimpse of the pale expanse of Jungkook’s neck as he tipped back the shot glass contents.

“The Uber will be here in five minutes, let’s go.”

There were other girls standing around outside when you got downstairs, each dressed in their own form of party gear, giggling with their friends and talking loudly about anything and everything. The scent of cheap cigarettes and Victoria’s Secret perfumes filled the air around them, and you sidestepped one of them as she stumbled back from the group, adding action to the budding story she was in the middle of telling. You and Yujin stood off the side quietly, still sipping from your red solo cups as the Uber app updated you that the driver would be there in two minutes.

Upon seeing a red Chevrolet pulling around the corner, you downed the rest of your drink and Yujin took your cup, placing it inside her own and tossing it into the bushes beside your apartment complex.

The Uber driver made small talk with the two of you as you drove off-campus. You were mostly grateful for it because you couldn’t deny that Uber drivers creeped you out. They were hit or miss—either nice and normal or total wack jobs that really shouldn’t have decided to be a driver in a college town. But, the conversation kept your mouth busy and therefore your mind.

Five minutes into the ride, just as Yujin was talking about restaurants she enjoyed downtown, a popping noise was heard over the sound of the talking, followed by the car unsettling itself and shaking everyone up. You gripped the side of your seat, looking over at Yujin with panicked eyes.

“What the fuck just happened?” she asked.

The uber driver sighed, pushing a button on the dash for the hazard lights and pulling over slowly to the side of the road. “The tire just blew. Sorry, ladies.”

Jungkook took his phone from his pocket, hitting the lock button to light up the screen so he could check the time again—it was the third time he’d done it in ten minutes. Each time the screen mocked him with its emptiness: no messages, no snapchats, no nothing from you.

He sipped from the solo cup in his hand, clicking on snapchat to see if you’d updated your story with anything that would let him know you were on the way but that was a bust as well. Where the hell were you?

Jimin tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the guy that was handing out fireball shots at the counter, rounding up a group of people to take one with him. They quickly followed in suit, plucking a tiny solo cup from the stack on the counter and letting him fill it with the cinnamon-flavored liquid, enjoying the burn in their throats as they went down.

Jungkook was feeling good, but he wanted to feel better. He wanted to get the jitteriness out of his stomach for when you did show up so he could be sure he wouldn’t fuck things up with you.

Jimin suggested they go find Taehyung and set up at the beer pong table, but Jungkook needed another shot. So he took another. And another. And then he grabbed a cup of party punch to sip on. Jimin shot him a you-better-fucking-slow-your-roll look but he just grinned, sipping from his cup and leading the way through the house.

The party was in full swing now, the walls of the house vibrating with the music pumping from the stereo system. People leaned close to each other to talk, bodies congregated into sectioned areas of the house—the kitchen where the drinks were, the living room where the music was, and the foyer where the games were—as well as people littering the lawn and back porch.

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place. He’d been to a party before, but nothing like this. He saw you at these all the time, looking like you were having the time of your life but at the moment he didn’t feel like that at all. He wondered if it was because he only knew two people there, or if he just needed to drink some more and fucking relax.

He sipped from his cup and followed his older friends as they gathered another person for a beer pong tournament. When they finally started, he realized he was pretty good. After two games, he and Taehyung had found their rhythm and were running the table, winning 3-0. Everyone else was too plastered to make the cups. Jimin was trying hard to carry his team on his back, but one plastered guy and one sober stood no chance against Tae and Jungkook’s competitiveness.

Jungkook was still only slightly buzzed though, the very faint feeling of lightness in his head wasn’t satisfying to him. He needed more and he needed it now. So, he trudged back into the kitchen, in search of a clean shot glass and some vodka.

Yujin and you sat on the sidewalk, watching your Uber driver attempt at fixing his own tire. He swore he knew how to do it, but he was currently watching a tutorial on his phone for step by step instructions, his tools laid out beside him on the ground.

“There’s no way to cancel the fucking ride once it’s started,” Yujin said, smacking her lips and placing her phone back in her bra. “We literally have to sit here and get our money’s worth.”

Cars passed by, some slowing down like there were going to help, but upon seeing the driver looking like he knew what he was doing, they sped up again and went on about their nights. If it were just you and Yujin pulled over on the side of the road, you were sure about ten people would have stopped to offer help—mostly guys because of your attire, but hey, anything would have been better than this.

“Sir, we would help you,” you called out, ignoring the way Yujin muttered a fuck no we wouldn’t under her breath. “But we don’t know shit about changing a tire.”

“That’s okay, ladies. Just a few more minutes…”

“He’s said that like five times now.” Yujin stood up, dusting off her skirt and holding a hand out to you to hoist you from the ground with her. “If I don’t have tequila swimming in my veins in the next thirty minutes I’m gonna kill someone. Probably him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow, how un-selfish of you, Yu. Way to go.”

Yujin went to stand close to the street in the hopes of flagging a car down, but the array of forty-year-old moms that went by in their minivans didn’t give two shits about a party girl in a leather skirt with her thumb out.

A few more clinks, twists and grunts later, and your driver had finally fixed the tire. He was all nice and sweaty by then and the car reeked of his perspiration but neither you or Yujin tried to dwell on it. You were over an hour late for the party by now, and you both knew everyone there was going to be well into their drinking by the time your sober asses showed up.

And you were certainly right.

There were already evident signs of people reaching their limits—some were staring off into space on the front porch as you passed, some were clutching their stomachs vomiting in the azaleas. The sight made you annoyed more than it did disgusted. It was going to take you forever to catch up.

Yujin dragged you straight into the kitchen the minute your foot stepped over the threshold, where she grabbed two shot glasses and a random bottle of rum off the counter and filled them up. You clinked, tapped your shot on the table, and then downed it before urging her to fill it up once more. It wasn’t that either of you were trying to get wasted, it was just that parties were a lot less fun when people were intoxicated around you and you weren’t. You tended to notice things you wouldn’t, such as the uncomfortable heat that was settling over the house due to the packed bodies, or the horrible rap music that was blasting through the speakers, or the array of drunk guys that were crowded around the beer pong table making way too much noise for a dumb game.

“What the fuck is going on over there?” you asked, pointing in the direction of the crowd of bodies.

“Testosterone, maybe?” Yujin shrugged. “Let’s go find out.”

The two of you crept up on the crowd, sipping on cups of party punch and trying to peek over the tall shoulders that were blocking your view. You found a hole in the circle and edged your way through it, finally taking in who was kicking ass at the table.

Jungkook, poised with a ping pong ball in hand and one eye closed as he aimed, was shooting towards the last cup at the opposite end of the table. The side of the table nearest to him still had all ten, which was the cause of all the noise. The boys were getting so hyped at winning a game without letting the other team get a chance to try that they were literally salivating at the mouth. You didn’t get the hype over games like this, but they were fun to watch nonetheless.

“Alright!” Jungkook yelled over the crowd, his words slurring a little bit. “If I make this fucking cup you motherfuckers are running a naked lap around this place!”

The crowd yelled, whooping and hollering at the thought of their own guy friends having to take their clothes off. Jimin, who was on the losing team, was shaking his head before Jungkook could finish his sentence. “I’m not fucking doing that. No way.”

“Scared of showing everyone your baby dick, Jiminie?” Taehyung teased.

Yujin was beside you at this point, leaning towards your ear to murmur, “Either way, I’m down to see it.”

You rolled your eyes, focusing back on Jungkook. He looked good—way better than you remembered. You two hadn’t seen each other in about a month, and despite the array of pictures he’d sent you during that time, nothing could compare to the sight in front of you. Although, you had to admit, he was more drunk that you’d ever seen him–his steps slurred and un-calculated, his speech dragging and his eyes glazed over all gave away the amount he’d had tonight before you got there.

Despite all of this, he launched the little white ball in his hand towards the other side of the table, his jaw squared in arrogance as it splashed into the cup with ease. An eruption of noise sounded, yells and screams and whoops with the guys all jumping up and down as Jungkook slapped Taehyung’s hand in congrats and returned high fives. A few were chanting “naked lap” over and over again but Jimin’s brow was furrowed in irritation, his eyebrows drawn together angrily as he yelled, “I’m not fucking doing it! I didn’t agree to that!”

Amidst the craziness, you felt Jungkook’s eyes somehow fall on yours, his expression equal parts surprised and giddy as his gaze raked over your entire body before coming to land back on your face. You gave him a small smile and a wave in return.

“Noona?”

He walked over, pushing through bodies to envelope you in a hug, his strong arms wrapping around your upper body and squishing your face to his chest. You breathed in the scent of his jacket, fighting the growing butterflies in your stomach with everything in you. It was just Jungkook. Why did seeing him in person after all this time make you so fucking nervous?

His leaned a little too much of his weight on you and you stumbled back a step, placing your hands on his chest to push him back up straight. “Jesus, kid, how much have you had?” you giggled. Yujin had disappeared to refill her cup and probably go see if Jimin was going to get naked, leaving you along with Jungkook in the foyer.

He smirked, cocking his head to the side. “Enough. I had to wait for your slow ass to get here!”

“It’s not my fault. The Uber driver got a flat!”

You moved to allow space at the table for a much quieter game of beer pong, pushing yourself into a corner with Jungkook standing in front of you.

“You left me hanging again,” he frowned, hiccuping slightly. “Now you owe me.”

“What do you want?” you asked, trying to ignore the fire erupting in your belly as Jungkook stared down at you with half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched, and you knew the words that were going to come out before he even said them.

“A kiss.”

His breath smelled like alcohol and his cologne was overbearing due to his proximity, but it was all you could do not to reach up and grab the back of his head and smash his lips against yours. He placed one hand on the wall behind your head, effectively trapping you in his presence.

“Whaddya say, Noona?”

“I say,” you stalled, looking down at your cup, “I need some more drink.”

You went to duck under his arm but Jungkook was quick, moving his body to the side to block you. You cursed the wideness of shoulders and chest under your breath, hating the way your small frame was completely swallowed by his bigger one.

“You scared of me or something?” he taunted, smiling widely. “Come on.”

Your pulse was racing underneath your skin despite the irritation lacing your tone. “I’m not scared of some big, dumb freshman. Will you move?”

“Not until I get what I want.”

“Jungkook–”

“Just one little kiss?” he pleaded. “Don’t you wanna kiss me?”

“Stop asking questions! If you want a kiss, why don’t you just take it?” And stop making me make the decisions!

“Whoa, Noona. I mean, if that’s what you like, then I can,” he chuckled. “I just thought I would let you make the first—”

You reached up, interlocking your fingers in Jungkook’s hair to snatch him down to you and crush your lips against his. The kiss was angry—mostly because you didn’t want to be forced to kiss Jungkook like this, you wanted to do it on your own time and preferably when you’d had a few drinks—but he didn’t seem to mind in the least. He snaked his arms around your waist, pulling your chest against his and digging his fingers into your back as he tilted his head and closed his eyes. His tongue snaked into your mouth immediately, rolling against your own and filling your mouth with the taste of the many shots he’d had already. The kiss was warm and wet and messy and pretty hot, if you were being honest. You tugged on his hair to get him to pull away, tugging on his lip roughly with your teeth until it popped back against his own with a wet sound.

He smirked, but leaned down to press his against yours once more, this time softer and for just a few seconds—enough to leave your heart racing and a small sigh to escape from your lips. “Thanks.”

His eyes closed for a second too long and he swayed a little, pressing his forehead against yours to steady himself.

“Kook? You okay?”

As he pulled away from you he hiccuped a little, air passing through his nostrils as he breathed deeply and brought one hand up to cover his mouth. “I think—ugh—I think I gotta—”

He was tearing away from you then, stumbling through bodies until he was out the sliding doors in the kitchen that connected to the back porch, leaning over the railing to puke into the empty garden bed down below. You sat your cup on the counter as you rushed after him, your hand coming out to pat his back in small circles as he heaved up everything he had in his stomach.

“I’m glad there weren’t flowers down there,” you murmured, turning away from the sight below that was slowly but surely wafting its way up to your nostrils.

“Fuck the flowers—” Jungkook spat, just before another wave of puke rocketed itself out of his system. You winced. This was not at all how either of you had wanted this night to go, but you couldn’t help but be a little grateful at the situation. 

“What the hell?” Yujin asked, stepping outside at that moment and coming over to you two. “I left you alone for like fifteen minutes—wait, is that Jungkook? What a pussy!”

“Hey, fuck you!” Jungkook croaked, taking one hand off the railing to stick his middle finger up at Yujin behind him. You patted him on the back a few more times before reaching to snatch an unopened bottle of water from beside you on the railing.

“Drink this.”

Jungkook straightened, lifting a hand to wipe at his mouth before he swished some water around and spit it over the side of the deck. He was avoiding your eyes now, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of you. Cocky Jungkook was probably gone now that he’d embarrassed himself in front of you.

“Why is it always me that gets stuck babysitting the weaklings?” you teased. “First Yujin last night, now you. When am I gonna get to have some fun?”

“I’ll give you some fun, alright,” he growled, looking at you from under his lashes as he crouched to sit with his back against the railing and sip his water.

You crossed your arms. “Sure you aren’t too sick for that?”

“I’m never too sick to dominate you, since that’s your kink.” He grinned up at you in a way that had you narrowing your eyes. “Right, Noona?”

“Okay, ew,” Yujin said, rolling her eyes. “On another less disgusting note, they’re trying to get every one to go home. There’s a rumor that someone called the cops.”

Jungkook groaned. “I’ve gotta get out of here, then.” When you and Yujin looked down at him blankly he added, “I’m underage?”

“Oh yeah, shit.” You pulled out your phone to order a ride but the prices were skyrocketed since it was so late at night. “Fuck, it’s like twenty-five dollars right now!”

“Where are Jimin and Taehyung? If we round them up that’s like five bucks a person.” 

While Yujin disappeared back inside to find them, you crouched down beside Jungkook, making sure there were no bits of sick on the porch before you sat down. “You feeling better?”

“Kind of.” He shrugged. “I wish you’d gotten here earlier.”

“Me too. It’s more fun to get wasted together,” you grinned. “Well, except I don’t get wasted ‘cause I’m a pro.”

“Oh really? I recall seeing you plenty of times where you looked pretty wasted on Snap.”

You batted your eyelashes at him. “Not me? You must have me mistaken with some rookie who can’t hold their alcohol!”

“Whatever. Next time we’ll get here and drink at the same time, okay?” 

“For sure. There will be tons of parties before the end of the semester.”

In addition to that, plenty of more time with Jungkook. And plenty more chances for him to cash in on your promise–which you tried not to think about too much in order to keep the heat from settling into your belly again. 

As if he knew what you were thinking, he added in a low voice, “Yup. And lots of opportunities to get you alone.”

As if his hormones knew no boundaries, his eyes instantly darkened, his tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. You had to look away first to calm your racing heart and find something else to focus on. 

Man, were you screwed. 

[singingunderthecurtain]

Together For Real (ChanyeolxYOUxKris) Mini Series 5 — FINAL

Mini Masterlist

Picture not mine, found everything on Google

Author: @julietsoddeye AU: Canon/EXO Universe Genre: Angst | Fluff Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Kris Trigger Warning: Distrust, Feeling of Betrayal, basically some angsty stuff. Word Count: 5,341

Plot: You, an EXO manager, developed a dangerous relationship with Kris and one day he suddenly left EXO and it left you devastated. For some reason, you found yourself being in a relationship again with one of the boys. And it’s Park Chanyeol.You set boundaries with him, but he shamelessly breaks all the rules making you want to run away.

January, 2017

It’s one of those spur of the moment kind of thing and you suddenly found yourself walking in the arrival area of Vancouver International Airport. Your old best friend from childhood found you on social media and she contacted you immediately. You found out that she and your sister were neighbors in Vancouver and that’s how she got ahold of you. She somehow convinced you to fly out to Canada to attend her wedding and weirdly enough everything fell into place. Your boss allowed you a week off from work and Chanyeol was busy filming his new drama, so you knew you won’t be seeing him for a week maybe even more.

As you were about to exit the building, a bunch of girls about 10 or more was crowding over someone sitting on a random bench. You stopped on your tracks to fish for your phone that was blasting your ringtone. You looked at the screen and it’s your friend calling. She said that she will be arriving soon to pick you up. You decided to sit on a random bench, near the little commotion that was happening in front of you and wait right there for her. You looked up from your phone curiously and your eyes meet someone you weren’t expecting to see.

You sat there, motionless with a detached expression on your face. Your heart started to beat really fast and loud, so loud you can practically hear it routing from your ears. Your skin prickle with goosebumps when he half smiled your way before returning his gaze to the girls who were lining up in front of him. He was all smiles as he signs random papers and notebooks for them. The security team is all around him but keeps a safe distance since the girls were being respectful.

You’re suddenly jolted alive from your trance when your friend poked you on your arm and her face blocks the occurrence you were watching.

“Hey, you weren’t answering my call, so I just entered the airport to find you!” She said and you look up to see her brows furrowed in agitation.

“Sorry, I was distracted.” You replied to her and she relaxes her face and smiled. She gave you a hug before she turns her back to look at what your eyes were transfixed on.

“Do you know that person; he seems like a celebrity of some kind?” She asks.

“N-no.” You lied. You stood up from your seat and he turns his attention back to you when he saw in his peripherals that you were standing up. You ignored him and you start to pull both your luggage and your friend to exit the airport.

“Oh my God, he looked right at you.” Your friend whispered loudly.

“Ah really? Where’s the car?” You try to change the subject immediately. She just pointed at a car in the waiting area where her fiancé was waiting at, waving for the both of you. She dropped the subject and just let herself be dragged by you.

When you arrived at the hotel, you asked if they want to have an early dinner. But they told you that you should rest for tonight since you look pretty tired from your ten-hour flight, which was the truth, they told you that they will be seeing you tomorrow when the both of them and the rest of the family will check in at the same hotel for the wedding. You obliged and they left you to rest after a little bit of catching up.

You tried sleeping but your mind just keeps repeating what happened at the airport. No matter what you do, he just keeps popping up your head, constantly reminding you of the past. You considered calling Chanyeol back home, but he doesn’t even know where you are right now. You promised him that you will never leave without letting him know. You did anyway again this time, but you know he will be busy enough to even notice your absence. You’ve done it once before, you sneakily slipped out of the country once without him knowing. And you have a perfectly good reason for going to Canada; it was your friend’s wedding.

You looked at your phone and it's only 9 PM meaning its already 1 AM back at home. Chanyeol’s probably still in the studio practicing, or maybe even filming. You were thankful that he wasn’t calling or texting you right now because you wouldn’t know if you should lie or not. You decided to just go down to the restaurant of the hotel. You wore the heels you brought with you to this trip for the wedding since the hotel was a little fancier and heels looked appropriate for the place.

When you got near the open door of the restaurant, the Hostess who was standing stoic and poised, gave you a sincere smile while clutching a menu on her chest.

“Good evening. Please follow me.” She ushered, pointing at the door, motioning for you to enter the restaurant.

“Good evening... Thank you.” You answered as you tail her move.

“Would you like a table or be seated at the bar?” She asked while occasionally looking at you as she walks you in. The place was really cozy and ambient. It was kind of dimly lit, making the place look romantic and dreamy perfect for a couple's date night. There were only about seven or so people in there right since it’s the weekdays in the middle of winter making the place really quiet with the jazzy music the only source of a noise. The bar area was empty and you feel like drinking so you can get a little buzzed and fall fast asleep.

“By the bar, please.” You smiled at her as you answer and she smiles back and proceeded to walk you to where the bar is. A waiter saw that you were being ushered to where he stood and pulled up a stool for you to sit on. You thanked the gentleman with a polite smile and sat on the chair that he pulls up for you.

The Hostess gently set the menu in front of you and left you to go back to her station outside of the restaurant. The waiter was glued next to you as he waits for you to browse through the menu. Since nothing looked appetizing to you right now, you settled for baked oysters and a glass of Muscadet.

The wine was given to you immediately (as per your request) while you wait for your oyster to come. You sip your wine and already you feel the warmth of it coating your body. Your empty stomach churns when the alcohol mixed in with your gastric acid. The soft music in the restaurant was making you relax and a satisfied smile danced along your lips.

Your phone vibrated and you see the screen with an unknown Canadian number calling you. You wondered for a little bit before answering the call. But it ended almost immediately when you finally decided to pick up. You shrugged your shoulders half-heartedly and continue sipping your wine. You got bored after a little bit and decided to take pictures of the bar and post it on your Instagram with the caption “Oyster and Wine kind of night ^^”

As you were scrolling through your SNS, your phone vibrated again indicating a text message. You saw on the notification tab that it was from the same unknown Canadian number. The text was in English.

 Unknown: So it’s still your number? (seen 9:32)

You: Who is this?

 Two minutes passes by and the baked oysters finally came, you set your phone aside and started eating. An hour and three glasses of wine later, you were definitely feeling buzzed and sleep finally found your eyes. You came back to your room and immediately fell asleep when you crashed onto your bed.

You wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than you did last night. The wine helped you fight off your jet lag, you were still not one hundred percent yourself yet, but you’re feeling fine. No head or body ache, which you usually get when you travel to Vancouver when you visit your family.

 ______

  If you Google search “Winter Wedding”, everything you see there is exactly what your friend’s wedding looks like. The theme is a good mix of Pinterest-esque and Hipster vibes but nothing too obnoxious. The gazebo where the couple read their vows were adorned with lace and white lights that twinkle beautifully under the purple, pink and blue late afternoon of the early evening sky. Everywhere around the garden were tastefully embellished with similar lights and lace with a touch of Snowdrop Flowers.

As the bride walked down the aisle, you looked at her groom with his tear stained face and it made you think about Chanyeol, the gentle giant with the stupidly adorable face who for the past couple of years smiled and shed tears just for you only. Maybe it was the wedding feels or the guilt building up over the years, but you miss him all of a sudden.

You suddenly miss his hot breath blowing on your face as he tells you that you're beautiful. You miss his lips worshipping every inch of your body as he remove pieces of clothing off of you and you softly mumble his name with the pleasure he’s gracing you with. And you suddenly miss him whispering sweet nothings into your ears when he was done making love to you.

“Yah! Answer your phone!” You sister loudly whisper to your ears; interrupting your thoughts.

“I— what…” You cast your eye over to your clutch bag on the table and sure enough, you can hear your phone vibrating loudly inside of it.

You took your phone out of the clutch and the same number from a few days ago was calling you again. You excused yourself to your sister and she nods her head once and focused her gaze back in front once where the family of the bride and groom were giving out their speeches one by one. You slowly crept your way beyond the garden of the hotel, to a more quiet part to answer the call.

“Hello.” You answer in English since it’s a Canadian number. There was a long pause before the person on the other line replies. But you know they were there because you can hear them breathing on the receiver.

“Hi…” He finally answered. You already know who it was even though you haven’t heard his voice in nearly three years.

“Who—who is this?” You still ask just to verify.

“It’s me, Yifan.”

Confirmed.

“I couldn’t say hi to you at the airport.” He spoke again before you can even react. You covered your phone’s receiver to let out a long sigh before responding.

“It’s fine, I—I understand.” You answered with a half-assed smile as if he can see you.

“Where are you right now?” His voice low and almost inaudible when he speaks English.

“I’m currently in Gastown, attending a friend’s wedding.” You answered in a monotone.

“Can I see you?” The desirous tone in his voice made your heart skip a beat and a weird bolt of electricity you haven’t felt for him in years suddenly run up and down your spine, your skin prickles with goosebumps.

You gave him the address of your hotel and your room number, you did it. After all these years, you are still weak for him as much as you were three years ago. He told you he will be there in less than twenty minutes. So you tell your sister you suddenly felt ill, blaming your fake jet lag. You tell her you’ll rest for a bit in your room and will be back as soon as you can. She said that it’s okay if you didn’t come back and will just have to explain to your friend what happened. You thanked her and almost tripped your way to the elevator going back to your hotel room.

You get there with plenty more minutes to spare for you to be able to clean up a little bit. The bed and bathroom were, thankfully, cleaned by housekeeping and only have to keep away the random clothes sprawled around your room. Just as you were finishing up, there was a knock on the door. Your body shoots up from being hunch from picking up clothes, looking at the full-size mirror to smoothen the nonexistent crinkles on your taupe dress that hugs every curve of your body very well.

You steadily, but nervously walk your way to the door. Breathing in and out deeply before opening it wide.

  ______

  It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve been back to Seoul and the last time Chanyeol contacted you was last week when he squeezed in a sneaky phone call on his last day of filming. He was all lovey-dovey while he whispers his ‘I love yous’ and ‘I miss yous’ on the phone.  It was never weird not getting phone calls from him for days, but it’s impossible for him not to text you, not even a single word. He usually will even send a selca to show you where he is or what he is doing. He never ignores you, ever.

When you call him, he never answers and lets it drop to his voicemail.

 Voicemail 1:

“Hey. How are you? I miss you. I have bought Maple stuff for you and the boys. Call me when you can. Bye.”

 Voicemail 2:

“Hey, I see you finally read all my messages. Let me know what’s up with you. Call me or at least text me back.”

 Voicemail 3:

“Yah Park Chanyeol. What’s happening? Are you that busy? Are you still alive? Let me know.”

 Voicemail 4:

“Seriously Chanyeol, I’ve been calling for four days straight now. At least send me a one word text letting me know if you’re still breathing.”

 Voicemail 5:

“This is the fifth day I’m calling you. What’s happening? Are finally done with me? At least be a man and let me know.”

 You knew Chanyeol didn’t get angry just because you went to Vancouver for a week without him knowing firsthand. He knew you went there for a wedding, you told him the last time you talked and he even said he wanted Maple Syrup straight from Canada, which you have to lie about not getting so he’ll be surprised once he gets home to you. Your patience finally wore thin, you took matters into your own hands and called Jae. You’ve been worrying for the past few days and you try to steady your breathing before you pressed call on Jae’s number.

“Hello…” Jae answers immediately after 2 rings.

“Hey Jae!” You greeted with a calm voice.

“How are you? How was Vancouver?” Jae asks. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“Jae I’m gonna be honest. I called because of Chanyeol…” You started.

“Yeah about that, he asked me to get all his stuff from your apartment.” Jae interrupted but was careful with her words.

“What?! WHY?” You almost screamed on the phone.

“I—I don’t know either. He didn’t tell me why.” You know Jae was telling the truth and you can tell she’s pouting as she answers you.

“Tell him I won’t allow you to. He has to come get his stuff on his own.” You said.

And before Jae can even respond, you rashly ended the call and turn off your phone so none of them can call you back.

______

As you were about to fall asleep, vigorous knocking on your door woke you up. You know only Chanyeol knocks on your door that way. You locked the deadbolt of the screen door so he can’t just enter. You rub your eyes so that you can wake up completely and shout out that you were coming. The moment you opened the door, you see the outline of Chanyeol’s frame, the small door light was blaring from above him so you can’t see his face clearly. You also see Jae near the top of the stairs, doing signs with her hands telling you that she will go down to her aunt’s house to give the two of you some privacy.

As you turn the bolt unlock, Chanyeol recklessly pulls the screen door open making the nail of your index finger to get caught and broke just where the skin ends. It kind of stung you a little bit, but you pretended not to get hurt. As he pushes you slightly aside so he can enter, you looked at your finger and sure enough, it was bleeding a tiny bit. You immediately put your finger in your mouth and sucked the blood off to hide it. Once you’re sure the bleeding stopped, you stomped your way to where Chanyeol is in front of the closet and dresser drawers you shared with him.

He’s pulling all his clothes out of your closet with vexation in his action, you cross your arms over your chest, waiting for an explanation from him. Chanyeol looks at you once with obvious annoyance in his eyes and continues shoving his clothes into a big duffel bag scoffing as he did so. You’ve never seen him this mad before and you know you did something that really offended him this time. Your hard expression softens and your once crossed arms fell limply on your sides.

“Chanyeol…” You whisper softly. He didn’t answer and just continue shoving clothes into his bag. “Chanyeol tell me what’s wrong?” The pleading in your voice made him look at you. It sounded new to him. You never begged before, It was always him supplicating to you.

“You are what’s wrong!” He shouted, finally giving you an answer other than silence and dismissal.

“What did I do?” You ask, your face full of confusion.

“You went to Vancouver, that’s what you did!” Chanyeol said as he hit the door of the dresser with his fist. His anger scared you slightly and you know it’s been building up for days now.

“I only attended my friend’s wedding; I told you I went there! I even bought all those Maple products just for you and the boys!” You reiterated while pointing at the mountain of Maple candies and other stuff on the dining table.

“I don’t need your Maple shit, okay!” Chanyeol shouted again, his eyes burning with rage and tears were starting to form in the corner of his eyes. You were taken aback because this is the first time Chanyeol cursed directly at you, he never curses unless he was fucking you or he accidentally stubs his toe on something.

“Why are you so angry, Chanyeol? What did I do wrong?” Your eyes are starting to sting from the tears building up. Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrowed because of your question. He plucked his phone from the inside of his sweater pockets and clicked on it a few times.

He threw his phone in your general direction, hitting you on your thigh and it dropped on the floor in between your feet screen up. You read the title of the article “Kris Wu seen in a hotel in Canada with an unknown girl”. Your whole body convulses as your knees drops on the floor. You grab his phone with shaky hands to read the article.

Kris Wu, ex member of EXO, was photographed entering a hotel room in Vancouver, BC and exiting an hour later. After a few minutes, an unknown woman exits the room as well and was seen attending a wedding in the same hotel.

You didn’t even finish reading the poorly written article and just scrolled through grainy pictures of Kris entering and exiting your hotel room. There were pictures of you, but your face were blurred and unclear as you exit and went back to the wedding. Even though the pictures weren’t clear, you knew Kris’ fans still saw your face. And it’s only a matter of time before they know who you are. You clicked the next article and it has all your pictures and SNS information in it. You skipped on to the comments section of the article to see what people are talking about.

 +++ Oh wow, she’s actually really pretty. kekeke

 +++ OMO wasn’t she Chanyeol’s manager?

 +++ Ugh I hate her already, stealing my oppa from me!

 +++ Kris’ girlfriend is Korean?

 +++ Isn’t she an EXO manager?

 +++ Yeah she was! But she quit now!

 +++ She works at a small advertising company. She’s a normal office worker now.

 +++ Maybe she quit because Kris left SM kekeke

 +++ Can’t believe Chinese fans actually follows Kris in Canada kekeke

 “I recognize the dress and those shoes you were wearing in the pictures! I bought them for you, for God’s sake!” Chanyeol slumps on the floor, wiping the fallen tears carelessly with his sleeves.

“This isn’t true, Chanyeol!" You paused. "Well, it’s true. But nothing hap—“ You explain to him but your words were cut off abruptly when he stood up from the floor as he hastily pulls on his duffle bag full of his belongings.

“I’ll tell Jae Noona to pick up the rest of my clothes next time. Don’t contact me anymore.” Chanyeol said as he grabs his phone forcefully away from your hands.

You tried to run after him while you’re still kneeling but he was too fast in his tracks and before you can even stand up properly he was already out the door. Defeated, you just crawl up to your bed, heart still aching from the episode that happened. You didn’t even bother turning off the lights or locking your doors. You just lay in bed and cried yourself to sleep.

______

“How are you?” Kris broke the ice with a smile. You smiled back at him before answering.

“Never been better.” You answer him simply, the smile on your face not faltering one bit. The two of you were awkwardly seated face to face on the small dining set in your hotel room.

“That’s good to hear,” Kris mutters. “You look really good.” He added subtly before he fell into silence again.

“Thank you.” Was all you could respond to his small compliment.

“By the way congrats on your latest song, I heard it did great when it was released.” You said before the air turns awkward again.

“Thanks. I wrote that song thinking about you.” Kris said so casually like it’s a part of a normal conversation. You were almost taken aback, but you don’t let your face show a single emotion.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you know you’re still hurt when he left without any notice. He was the sole reason why you keep disregarding Chanyeol’s love for you. But now being with each other’s presence, you know that you don’t want to be confined to the past anymore. You don’t want to be imprisoned by Kris and you want to let yourself free from his ghost to finally give Chanyeol what he deserves, your undivided love. It was fate that you saw Kris at the airport so that you can finally have the closure you were always longing for.

With your silence, Kris stood up from his seat and he got down on one knee in front of you. He took your hands in his and you struggle to shake him off but his grip was tough. Kris looked up and his eyes bore into yours.

“I know it’s been years already but I wanted to say I’m really sorry for leaving without saying anything…” Kris started, his voice shaking with emotions. “I can’t keep a serious relationship with anyone because I know deep inside, you’re the only woman I trust with my heart. I’m sorry that I was such an asshole before, please forgive me.” Kris’ grip on your hands eased and his arms wrap around your torso. He buries his face in your lap as he keeps crying out his apologies.

“It’s always been you, I can never love anyone buy you. Please forgive me, I’m so sorry I hurt you, I know I did. Let me make it up to you, please.” Kris begs, your heart swells and it reminded you how Chanyeol keeps begging for your love all these years.

“I forgive you Yifan it’s okay. Please stand up, you don’t need to do this.” You stroke his hair gingerly and he looks up to stare at your eyes.

“I forgive you, but I can’t be with you anymore.” The glint of hope in his eyes was suddenly washed away with tears and his face fell dark.

“W—why?” Kris’ lips quiver as he spoke the question to you.

“I don’t want to keep hurting Chanyeol anymore. He was there for me when you left. He loved me even though he knows my heart still belongs to you. He was patient with me all these years, Yifan. Thank you though, for seeing me today really thank you. Because this made me realize that I’m in love with Chanyeol.” Your love for Chanyeol finally came out and this time you know it’s for real.

“I—I understand. Thank you for setting the both of us free. And I’m sorry.” Kris sniffed the snot build up in his nostril and loosens his grip on your stomach.

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for Chanyeol because he didn’t deserve how I treated him for three years. And I’m sorry that the guilt was eating you up. I know you only want freedom from the company, but I didn’t know I was also holding you back.” You cup both Kris’ cheeks and wiped the tears away from his face.

“You holding us back were all on me. It’s my entire fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” Kris smiled as he places his warms palms over your hands on his cheeks.

“Thank you Yifan.” You lean over and gave his lips a quick kiss and he closes his eyes as if he’s savoring the moment, savoring you for the last time.

______

It’s already almost 2 AM and you just got done with your laundry. You mentally curse yourself as you hang your blankets on the metal rack, the clothes, and beddings you needed to wash have built up for the last three weeks now. You were overloaded with paper works at your job and by the time you get home you just couldn’t do anything but cry because you miss Chanyeol so bad. Just when you finally realize you're in love with him, ready to give your heart fully, he realizes you’re nothing but shit thinking you cheated on him with Kris. You wanted to explain yourself, but he already blocked your number.

You tried not to think about him, though he is literally everywhere. From advertisements, television shows, Magazine covers and the internet. Even when you close your eyes he was there lingering in your dreams. You can’t escape Park Chanyeol. You fall asleep every night wishing he’ll be by your side, waking up every morning crying over him in your sleep. This was karma finally punishing you for hurting the one person who loves you unconditionally, the only person who gave his heart to you without second thoughts.

“Why are you out here in the cold with skimpy clothing!” Your thoughts were interrupted, startled by the whiny complaint from Chanyeol. His heavy arms wrapped tightly around you from behind. Is this a dream?

“What? Chanyeol, what are you doing here?” You push his arms off of you, twirling around to see his disheveled appearance. His legs were wobbly and sluggish. His hair unkempt and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You…” Chanyeol attempted to reach out for your face, but his legs lurched and almost falling hard on the floor if not for you catching him in your arms.

“Chanyeol you’re so drunk, how did you even get here?” You sling his arm around your shoulder and proceeded to take him inside.

“I took a taxi!” Chanyeol shrieks and giggles in a drunken stupor.

“Where is Jae, why isn’t she with you?” You ask but he didn’t answer. He just pushes the door open and pulls you straight inside. The both of you collapsed on the bed, your back resting on the soft surface. Chanyeol looks at you with his tenderly half-lidded eyes, you weren’t sure if his eyes were red because of intoxication or if he has been crying.

“Why did you cheat on me? Do you still love Kris Hyung, huh? Answer me!” Chanyeol slurs his words, but you can hear his words clearly.

“I didn’t cheat on you Chanyeol, I love you I will never do that to you. Please just sleep for now. You’re so drunk. We can talk about this in the morning, okay?” You coo, turning him around and he didn’t fight it, sleep was already taking over him.

The next morning, you wake up before Chanyeol did. You slowly slip off his grip and he stirs a bit but didn’t rouse. You then quickly grab a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin you keep on your vitamin cupboard, setting it down on the bedside table and you left to go to your kitchen. As you were in the middle of making breakfast, you heard him moaning and cursing under his breath. The bottle of aspirin rattles indicating that he’s taking a pill from it.

“Good morning!” You look behind you and smiled at Chanyeol when you heard his feet shuffling. You set down the platter of pancake on the table and grabbed the bottle of maple syrup from your kitchen counter. Chanyeol grunts as he looks at the bottle of Maple Syrup as if it reminded him of something that makes him irritated.

“Did you really mean what you said last night?” Was the first thing Chanyeol said when he sat down on the chair of the mini dining set.

“What did I say last night?” You ask as you sat right across from him, memorizing his beautiful face just in case he leaves and never came back again.

“That you love me?” Chanyeol finally looks straight into your eyes, his face nervously anticipating your answer. You smiled at him and reach your hand to hold him, he stiffens when he felt your skin touch his.

“I love you. I’m in love with you Park Chanyeol.” You say and without a hitch, Chanyeol stood up from the chair and grabs you into his arms. His face nuzzles onto your hair and he inhales your scent deep into his lungs.

“Just so you know, nothing happened between me and Kris that day. He wanted me back, but I told him I have you waiting for me back home.” You felt Chanyeol smile on your neck and he lets go of you slightly to look at your face.

“I’m sorry for doubting you. I love you. Let’s be together for real.” You both chuckle at his reference and he leaned into you to give you the most passionate kiss.

[thesinglesjukebox]

BLACKBEAR - HOT GIRL BUMMER

[1.42]

More like Hot Girl... huh, that's already the title

Nortey Dowuona: White rappers whining about women being hoes is the most tiresome type of white rap, and Blackbear is just a white rapper who sings 70% of the time and since I used to really to be into that mediocre crap as a teenager, I know young teenage me would still hate because of the stupid guitar strums and dull ass rapping. And now that I've fully explained why I hate this song, here is a random Token song you could listen to as my fellow writers cut the Bear up. [0]

Ashley Bardhan: Okay, I know I'm not the demographic for this song because I'm not a fifteen-year-old living on Long Island anymore. If Christopher Columbus was alive right now and made music, it would sound like this. [1]

Joshua Lu: Blackbear probably thinks "Hot Girl Bummer" is a hot girl stunner, but compared to "Hot Girl Summer," it just feels a lot hot girl dumber. [1]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Please retroactively add 1 point to every Juice WRLD song I've ever blurbed. This is a parade of terrible sounds and ideas, not loud or obnoxious enough to ever become fun and not chill enough to fade away. Blackbear has made the most impressive monument to being unrepentantly, pettily awful since "Jordan Belfort." I sometimes wonder if pop music writers (myself especially included) performatively pan songs like this, overstating their badness for dramatic effect. In this case, though, I cannot overstate my lack of enjoyment. [0]

Joshua Copperman: "I'm pullin' up wit' a emo chick that's broken" is enough to negate anything I like about this song. There are things to like! The production, from Kanye West associate Andrew Goldstein and Blackbear himself, is suitably aggressive for a song this bratty, and the taunting melody is suitably juvenile. (The "fuuuuck you" run at the beginning also earned a laugh.) Then the "emo chick" crosses a line, somewhat bad at any age but particularly disgusting for a 28-year old to sing. The narrator of "Hot Girl Bummer" is clearly an exaggerated character, but the uncomfortable image of Mr. Bear pulling up to a college party with someone ten years his junior is hard to shake. I'm indifferent towards the rest of the song, but on lines like that and "they can't fit me in a Trojan," the subtextual sleaze is hard to shake. [0]

Katherine St Asaph: "Hot Girl Bummer" is an awful song. The lyrics are reprehensible. The earworm delivering the lyrics is reprehensible for being so effective. The song's existence is reprehensible, if only because it's well on its way to Baauering the actual "Hot Girl Summer," no matter how much the artist claims otherwise. ("I just saw a meme on social media!" is the "they weren't a cultural fit!" of the music world, a plausibly deniable excuse for idea jacking.) But if you ignore the words -- which Blackbear's timbre and vocal production helpfully make easy, except when they don't, which of course coincides with the most obnoxious lines -- the production is great: verses sludgy and dark, chorus a great pop-punk hook dying to rip off its twee flower crown of a synth twinkle and its surrounding dudely context. In other words, dying for "some emo chick" to steal it for her answer song. [5]

Kylo Nocom: Nobody should entertain Adam22 emulating the Weeknd. I'd be convinced Blackbear had no idea about what Hot Girl Summer was ("I guess I don't listen to enough rap because I didn't know too much about it," did he even Google it?) if his co-opting of Birkin bags as an image didn't seem like an overt reference to "Act Up." Elsewhere, his manipulative bullshit is as disgusting as his vocal manipulation is fascinating. Pass the hook and production onto one of the Twenty One Pilots geeks and I can guarantee their product would at least be passably honest. [3]

Alfred Soto: I'm tempted to accept "Hot Girl Bummer" as a pisstake, and if Eminem or a nü-metal artist or something had released it in, say, 2001 he would've had a different culture. As it is, "Hot Girl Bummer" has a couple nimble rhymes and beats; the rest is crap. [3]

Alex Clifton: Blackbear is the kind of guy who annotates his own song on Genius and has the nerve to point out "one more line, I'm superhuman" is a double entendre because it could refer to extending the verse... or to drugs. He also is nearing thirty and thinks that yelling "fuck you, and you, and you" repeatedly makes him edgy because it's his "relationship with society in a way." I feel bad for every girl who has met him at a party. [0]

Ian Mathers: The sound of aimless, pointless self-loathing rebounding on itself and spraying all over the place. Catchy enough I'm sure I'll hear it everywhere, being muttered along to equally by people who aren't thinking about what he's saying and people who are and could use someone who actually gives a shit. [1]

Natasha Genet Avery: Blackbear penned "Hot Girl Bummer" as a reaction to social media shallowness, but what's more shallow and opportunistic than neglecting to do five minutes of research to understand what you're even reacting to? What made Megan Thee Stallion's 2019 #hotgirlsummer work is that it had clear tenets that resonated with people in a news cycle that objectively sucked. "Hot Girl Bummer," which throws incoherent Instagram captions over a discarded Post Malone backing track, falls apart because there's no point of view behind it--other than the light misogyny of instinctively resisting something that makes women happy. A reluctant +2 for the ear-wormy melisma of Blackbear's initial "fu-uu-uck you." [2]

Will Adams: Eamon didn't die for this. [1]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]