#animoji down

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness (2)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

People really liked the first entry😲

I don't know what to say, thank you all for liking the first one so much?? I can only thank you by getting down to business!

I wasn't too sure on the majority of the rankings so I won't be mentioning them unless it's Dottore, Scara, Childe and Signora as theirs are already in the game/confirmed!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Unbelievable, this is utterly risible!" Sandrone shouted, fuming while pacing the pavement back and forth.

"I see... Because the nature of this world is not directly controlled by another existing entity, the co-ordinates weren't inputted correctly and polluted the portal. I wonder, are the co-ordinates still viable? I need materials."

"Dottore, shut your damned mouth and get us out of here!"

"Sandrone, dearie, calm down. I'm sure the Doctor has a plan. If he didn't, he'll be facing the wrath of 10 other harbingers." Pulcinella remained calm, sitting on the park bench he found behind him while leaning on his wooden walking stick.

"I knew I should have continued with collecting the Gnoses instead of agreeing on a side mission." Signora sighed to herself, staring at a different park bench covered in bird shit.

"Even in this world, pigeons continue to be a nuisance."

The harbingers watched as Dottore quietly picked a circular gadget from his pocket and began to pick at it with a screwdriver.

"Dottore, what would that device be?" Capitano questioned the shorter man, admiring the green trees surrounding the group.

"A solution." He continued to tinker, earning questionable glances his way.

"Hey Scara, I think he has no idea what he's doing." Childe whispered to the puppet, leaning down to his ear.

"For once I agree with you." He nodded, grabbing the rim of his hat and hitting the ginger in the face with it.

"You two aren't very discreet." Dottore shook his head, showing the gadget to the other harbingers.

"I created this Compass just in case a situation like this would occur. Once I input the code Her Majesty helped me discover, it will point the way towards our Descender." He explained, pressing the button on the back of the gadget.

A small, glowing, white line soon emerged from the north point and followed a trail.

"Found you."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Fuck me!" You cursed, jumping back-first onto your bed when seeing a familiar death screen.

You were stuck. Despite spending all your extra-savings, you still couldn't defeat floor 12.

Not to mention you couldn't use one of your strongest characters, Childe. He was fine yesterday, but when you tried to use him today he was very glitchy and even froze your game!

At first, you didn't really mind since who would want to use the crit-less bastard anyway?

Now you were regretting that mindset because you forgot he was your strongest hydro character.

"Y/N, get your arse down here! It's restaurant day." You heard a voice from downstairs.

Ah, the family-favourite tradition. It's no lie nobody in your family can't cook for shit.

To balance our unique curse, we go to a restaurant together every now and then.

"I'm coming down. Just let me finish studying this page!" You shouted back, lying smoothly. Great, now you can attempt this pesky floor one more ti-

"Y/N, NOW."

"Fine, fine! I'll leave my page blank."

When you came face to face with your parents at the bottom of the stairs, you saw your mum aggressively tapping her phone.

"Darling, you're aware that you don't need to press the screen so hard, right?" Your father asked, putting his hand on your mother's shoulder.

"I am not in the mood for your jokes. My sister said 10 minutes ago she was outside waiting in the car, she's still not here and is sending me stupid animoji's!"

Yikes.

"Mum, you're not you when you're hungry. You can have this cereal bar, it'll probably be awhile before Aunt 'Never-Show' turns up." You said, handing her a Granola bar.

"I don't see how this helps, we're going for lunch soon anyway." She muttered, taking it from your hands.

Works like a charm every time.

Sorry for taking so long! So much for 'getting down to business :/ (I have written down solid plans though)

Pierro will be PLATONIC, I tried writing a couple scenes for him and I only see him as an oppressive grandpa rather than a romantic yandere...

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

Some people asked to be tagged! Never done this before so sorry if I get this wrong:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff

Thank you for supporting me thus far!

[a-place-to-exist]

specific things that i know happened before i even knew about DID that comfort me in the idea that i do in fact really have alters because i’m doubting:

- had an alter write about how she was afraid i could make them disappear overnight since they only lived in my mind and how she thought maybe we were all just parts of one person that was too divided before signing off goodnight with "our head hurts"

- me telling my friend about "the other girl in my head" that doesn’t want me to talk about some things otherwise she gets really angry and yells at me and gives me a headache

- me telling another friend about how "another me" sometimes hit my body to take control and said friend being like "hmmm maybe it’s an early sign of schizophrenia"

- me having a panic attack on a walk even though i felt literally great 3 seconds before and didn’t understand why the hell my body was panicking and then proceeding to talk to myself down saying "we’re alright, we’re going home" while not understanding what the hell was happening or why i was even talking to myself using "we"

- me having a huge breakdown while being absolutely unaware of why i was crying my heart out in the kitchen for no reason a tuesday at 12pm all while feeling the most heart-shattering pain ever. before it went away suddenly and i was fine and ate lunch

- me completely forgetting about the fact that i told my friends about "the other girl in my head" and actually completely forgetting the existence of any alter or what they did or the fact that i used "we" pronouns until i learned about DID by chance and suddenly remembered

- me making different animojis of myself for my different "moods", with different colors

- this one is shortly after i realized i was a system but: constantly forgetting anything i was learning about DID for like the first 2 weeks at least. I even forgot why i was researching DID in the first place. Had to take so many notes so many times. also had a weird anxious stomach ache when i researched

- me feeling the need to write down "important thoughts" in my note app, thoughts that would stand out from the rest and feel different, often short bits of sentences that i didn’t really know the meaning off (i sometimes called it automatic writing) (looking back, many could be attributed to alters)

- me always feeling like i was doing alright but also in terrible pain and not understanding how i could manage to hide it so well and function relatively well (emphasis on relatively)

- me writing that i "gained consciousness at 13 years old" and then years later that i "gained consciousness at 17 years old"

- an alter controlling the body when i was unable to move on the bathroom floor and getting me to bed. She was mean and scolded me and hurt me but she got me to bed

[solacedeer]

watched 47 meters down on netflix and it wasn’t scary because none of the characters made a single good decision and the sharks looked like animojis

[glowingeyes]

tyler animoji I would lay down my life for you

[animojiinfo-blog]

Animoji Info | Everything About Animoji

[dkfile]

banana split. 03

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

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

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

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

PART 01 | 02 | 03 [FINAL]

i. LUNGE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you just compliment me?”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He works at an ice cream parlour.”

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

“Aye, aye, captain.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N.”

“It seemed appropriate.”

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

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

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “But Chaewon—”

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

Jaemin snorts. “No, you’re not.”

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Y/N, don’t be an idiot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaemin’s face falls. “Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For some odd reason, you think your chest warms.

ii. DOUBLE 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He hates you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are so fucking dramatic.”

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iii. DOUBLE HOOK DATE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaemin gives you a look. “It can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huff. “Of course you don’t.”

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

“Who’s more influential than Leonardo?”

“Ellen.”

“What the fuck?”

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

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

“Who says I can’t! I’m flexible!”

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

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

Jaemin gapes. “I can’t believe this.”

“Sorry, man, I’m just saying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. “Christ—”

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

“Then why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

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

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

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

He frowns. “But what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what did you mean?”

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

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

“Are you okay?”

Donghyuck glances over and sends you a look.

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

iv. COTTON CANDY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is harder than you think it is.”

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

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

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

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

Jaemin frowns. “Um… okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he says. “Next time.”

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

“Renjun, can you get up and help me?”

v. COCONUT BLISS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It burns his insides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I definitely didn’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell was that?” Jaemin hisses.

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

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

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

“Oh, Christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi. SHOW N’ GO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shudder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, I haven’t tried them yet.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Jaemin brought me here to—”

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

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

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

“Mom—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. “Was it really that bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force a smile. “I won’t.”

vii. FOOL’S GOLD

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

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

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

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

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t mind it.

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

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

viii. ROCKY ROAD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yangyang blinks. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking fantastic.

ix. SWEDISH FALLS

Yangyang is terrible at keeping secrets.

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

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

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

Frankly, you don’t know either.

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

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

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

This relationship is fake. Sometimes you forget.

You wait for Jaemin’s big ask.

You wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you wanted something big and dramatic?”

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

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

“What?”

“You’re literally in love with Jaemin.”

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

“Good luck, Jeno.”

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

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

Jaemin isn’t here yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x. BLUE MOON

He knows he fucked up.

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

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

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

He carefully puts the ice cream scooper on the counter.

“You didn’t come.”

He has no excuse. “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

This throws him off guard. “Sorry?”

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

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

“Homecoming’s tomorrow, Jaemin.”

“I know.”

“So are we going together or not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not my fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to go to the dance.”

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

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

You purse your lips. “Jaemin.”

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

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

“You’re missing the after-party.”

“I’d rather be with you anyway.”

God, fuck you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You wore one to the wedding.”

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

“Yeah, why not?”

“And you’ll kiss me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Jaemin pouts childishly. “This is terrible.”

“You poor thing.”

“Kiss me to make me feel better?”

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

xi. HONEY LAVENDER

“Stop laughing.”

“N—shit, okay.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m trying! Look, I’m not even—fuck, you look so stupid—!”

“Y/N!” Jaemin whines, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I look stupid because of you—stop giggling, my parents are going to kill me—this suit is ruined.”

He’s supposed to be mad at you, but it’s hard when you’re dabbing a tissue helplessly on his shirt, the sound of your laughter echoing down the empty hallway and drowning out the sound of the booming music from the gym. “It’s not my fault you spilled punch on yourself.”

He huffs. “It is, actually, unless you forgot that you scared the shit out of me.”

You laugh loudly again, arms growing weak and it falls against his chest. “I’ve never heard you scream so loud before.”

“Please shut up.”

This goes on for two more minutes before you eventually give up and stand, telling him that nobody will even notice the big red stain on the front of his shirt because of the lights. He scowls lightheartedly before he falls into step with you as you both make your way back to the gymnasium.

“God,” you huff, and Jaemin isn’t sure if you’re talking to him or yourself. “My arms are all wet from trying to remove that stain.”

Jaemin is about to retort, saying it’s not his fault you rested your limbs against him because you were dying from laughter, before he stops in his tracks. You don’t notice, too absorbed in rubbing the tattered tissue on your skin in hopes the liquid will go away before your arms become sticky.

“Y/N,” he calls for you, smiling mischievously. You spin around to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You owe me for ruining this suit.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “What do you want? A pack of gum? We can stop by 7-11 on our way home.”

“Give me a hug.”

Your eyes narrow, startled by his statement, but you walk two steps towards him before you realize what he’s doing. He grabs your arms before you can turn away.

“Jaemin—mmph!” you exclaim, wriggling as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you against his chest. “You prick, you’re going to stain my clothes, too! Oh, you’re so fucked, I swear to God—”

You grow quiet when he starts to laugh in your ear—albeit a little evilly, but it’s melodic nonetheless—and you relax, moving so you can wrap your arms around his middle. You aren’t sure if he’s surprised. You swear, for a moment, he stiffens, before the tension leaves his shoulders.

He pulls away, examining your outfit before saying, “You still look great.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Hm,” he muses, throwing his arms over your shoulder. “Technically, that was me getting back at you for ruining my suit, so we’re even.”

The both of you near the doors to the gymnasium when he glances at you. He thinks all the air in his lungs disappears because you’re pretty when the faint red lights hit your face and your lips part as you peer through the small window in the door. His face softens and a smile he isn’t conscious of appears on his face—gentle and lovesick.

The door swings open, almost hitting you and Jaemin.

“Gross,” Yangyang says the moment he steps one foot out the door. Behind him, Renjun is sending the both of you an apologetic look. “God, I owe Donghyuck ten bucks now.”

You stiffen at the mention of your friend. “What did you bet on?”

“You guys disappeared,” Yangyang sighs frustratedly. “I said you two were probably making out somewhere. He said you guys were staring into each other’s eyes because Y/N is too chicken to make the first move.”

Jaemin swears your eyes might pop out of your sockets. “That bitch—”

Yangyang throws his arms up in the air as he moves to walk back inside. “I don’t even have ten dollars on me!”

Renjun pinches his nose. “I’m sorry.”

Amusement bubbles in Jaemin’s stomach when you slip from his grasp and stomp into the gymnasium. He follows after you as you make your way to the food table. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pour punch on him, too.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, grinning. “Aw, you know me so well.”

He scoffs breathlessly and lets you tug at his fingertips, trying to convince him to help you get revenge on Donghyuck. You add something about Yangyang, too, in hopes that will get Jaemin on your side, but he’s too busy admiring how your hand fits in his and how pretty the left side of your face looks—

“Stop staring at me.”

Jaemin sputters. “Sorry?”

“Stop being obsessed with me,” you murmur, eyes zeroed in on the table ahead. “And help me with my revenge plan.”

“I’m not obsessed with you!”

“Okay. In love with me, then.”

“You are so up your own ass.”

The smile you give him is blinding.

★ author’s note: tbh i wanted to add more angst (originally i was gonna have jaemin be like yeah... i lied i always hated you) but i wanted jaemin and reader to break each other’s hearts because.... cmon.. they’re so cute,, i hope u guys liked this tho this was rlly fun to write

★ tags: @lanadreamie​ @sunflowerhae​ @juyeo-on​ @t-toodumbtocare​ @hyuckiesoftie​ @choerriesmotion​ @aliceinwhateverland​

couldn’t tag: @sungchannel @zhong-lele

© all rights reserved dkfile, 2021.

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: What Dan and Phil Text Each Other

Date video was published: 07/15/2018 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 380

The first texting video! And the last main channel video posted during the II tour. (Although we saw their faces a lot in live shows, gaming videos, and on Instagram and stories.)

0:00 - the fact that basically all their clothes on tour also matched the branding was commitment (although much easier for Dan, lol). also, crammed together on the smallest seat in the bus. sure, makes sense

0:28 - lol at Dan’s interpretive dancing? in to back up what Phil is saying

0:45 - that does not seem like the best way to send and save files you might need again

0:50 - lost of gesture mirroring here

1:01 - “I realized we text each other the weirdest stuff” after seeing two videos worth...huge understatement, hahaha

1:14 - appropriate, and also hilarious emoji choices to represent them here

1:27 - lol at Dan doing the thinking face

1:30 - until the second texting video when they seem to send a lot of animojis

1:32 - both of them just smiling at it

1:41 - so based on the timestamp of that first one from Dan’s new phone, all the texts they’re showing in this video are basically from 2018

1:45 - of course. great, completely normal start 😂

2:09 - something I love in this whole video is how they both know exactly what tone they meant when sending the texts and are doing that intonation when reading them out loud

2:15 - also, not the first or apparently even second time Phil had dropped his glasses in the toilet. a real day-to-day concern of his

2:20 - absolutely zero personal space in this video

2:15 - I LOVE this look at their collaboration. also laughing at the thought of them leaving jokes for the other to find in unpublished video titles and such

2:52 - it really isn’t that much better 😂

3:16 - Dan typo number one. also Phil must text from both his phone and his computer sometimes, I’m guessing, but the way his switch from auto-caps being on or not

3:20 - love that they were both thinking of comparing it to Phil’s pizza incident and sent those at probably the same time

3:38 - “we have a noise for that” help 🥺 they’re so strange but they’re so strange together and it’s great

2:52 - that’s a picture Phil also shared on Instagram, from when he was visiting his family in early March before they left for the tour

4:08 - wonder if this is from the same time when Phil was with his family...also Dan still playing Rock Band in 2018 is something

4:12 - “I still love it when you do typos” god Phil, could you sound any fonder 😭

4:29 - definite Phil-bait

4:34 - in both texting videos, Phil with the umm...sexy Instagram ads

4:49 - ahahaha at Phil’s little shrug

5:06 - they really do share a sense of humor, huh

5:27 - “this is peak Dan and Phil...this encapsulates us” really setting this one up

5:32 - “I’m on my way back to Phil” okay there loud-Dan

5:41 - how when Dan just sends a “..” then does Phil know it’s something else he should ask about

6:00 - christ Phil looks so fond about the rat

6:06 - but now getting into some texts from during the tour

6:07 - that looks painful

6:11 - Phil looks shocked that he’s going to get his leg out but then immediately checks to see if it will be in frame, lol. “leg out for the lads” didn’t even phase me by this point of 2018

6:24 - am surprised Dan managed to injure himself like that rather than Phil

6:32 - they don’t show timestamps on most of the screenshots, but this one is from mid-European leg of the tour in Helsinki

6:47 - even if they have separate hotel rooms, they’re still figuring out which one to get together in

7:00 - this hilarious tiny window! Dan’s text reactions to it are fantastic. he can’t even.

7:45 - Phil was amused by “nose deaf”

8:06 - the upside down smiley emoji from Phil 😂

8:19 - oh Phil...not good

8:48 - must have been recent as Phil remembers what he couldn’t find

8:53 - this “dramatic reading” is one of my favorite parts of this video...particularly Phil’s “Tell me every detail”

9:29 - that is loud; tour bus filming must have had a lot of interruptions

9:51 - is this even that funny? they certainly think so

10:13 - absolutely love sassy-Dan

10:26 - that is a large pigeon. this is pre-Steve

10:37 - did Dan just text Phil that emoji when he could see him across the airport or something?

10:56 - they had read this one in the PINOF 9 bloopers. although they said “work them” instead of “stretch them” in that video. I’m guessing the text in this one is the accurate one since it’s a full screenshot

11:05 - love that Dan knows they shared this but has no clue where 😂

11:19 - I know there was hot debate on whether they censored something from above “all the dips,” but I don’t think so. the way Dan seems to text is to send every thought/line as a separate message. we don’t see him use a line break in any other text we see, so I’m thinking he just accidentally had hit enter before typing

11:26 - truly do not understand Phil’s capitalization

11:27 - absolutely love this bit too

11:41 - another one of those Dan lines that randomly goes through my head

11:50 - awww at the wild Dan-hair and casual filming

12:07 - Dan survived a sequel...although not with the old phones, lol

This is still one of my favorite videos. Although it’s definitely been overtaken by the 2021 texting video. Still in shock that we have a pco-era sequel now. The texting in this one is not quite as weird, lol. Maybe because they didn’t share those with us here, or because they were outside/apart more for the texts in this one, rather than mostly texting each other from inside the same house.

This video was posted mid-American leg of the tour before they went on to Australia and New Zealand, and then around Asia. They were finally back home in London on September 22.

[arlert0]

Hey bestie could u do some SFW + NSFW headcannons for armin. Also enjoy this Animoji I made of king coco

ooh yes homie i gotchu !! and look at HE 🥺💙

warnings: sexual content ! nsfw under the cut

SFW:

‣ You catch this boy staring at you literally all the of the time, he likes admiring different things about you when he takes notice 🥺

‣ Always wants to play with you hair no matter if it’s really short or really long, he just wants to play with it

‣ Gives you cute nicknames — “Bby” (without the ‘a’ because he thinks it’s adorable), “Pretty / Pretty girl”, “Cinnamon”

‣ Will leave you his shirts and hoodies with you since he noticed it makes you really happy

‣ Likes to hug you from behind with his hands on your tummy

‣ Buys snacks for the two of you to share when you’re watching tv or just hanging out together

‣ “We should go out to that one Great Lake so we can find a bunch of those little fossils!” — Randomly suggests cute date ideas that just pop into his head

‣ Literally is so clingy and does not want to let you go, please he loves you to much

‣ Will make sure to remind or tell you how good you are at doing something

‣ KISSES. All over you face. Armin loves kissing your face, especially pressing tiny kisses to the tip of your nose or even rubbing his own nose against yours.

‣ Likes to share his music with you, he even has a collaborative playlist with you on Spotify of Youtube; he enjoys listening to your music tastes as well

‣ When you’re both out together he likes to hold your hand and do the little thumb thing !!!1!

‣ Expect lots of compliments from our outfit to just random things about you

‣ You’ll definitely have more beach dates than necessary but it’s always fun every time

NSFW:

‣ When I say he loves to, he loves to tease your chest, he really enjoys the way you react to his lightest of touches

‣ Your HANDS, don’t get Armin started on your hands. You can literally be doing something like opening a jar and he’ll look at your hands and become flustered

‣ His moans and grunts are normally slightly low, but he can get quite loud

‣ “You feel so good” , “Oh baby, you’re so good at this” , “You’re doing so well” — Always gives you the best praises

‣ He also loves to be praised, please do it, he’ll get off so hard

‣ Will definitely beg you to sit on his face, he wants your soft thighs squeezing his head — Hands down the best at giving head whether you’re sitting on his face or not, he’d honestly cover the entire half of his face in your slick if he needs to; and he doesn’t mind it either, he loves the mess

‣ “Fuck baby~, think you can give me another?” — (; likes to overstimulate you sometimes, he loves the faces and sounds you make when he gets your legs to shake around him

‣ If you pull on his hair he’ll just melt in your hands like putty

‣ Also when he curses during sex, he does lots & it’s just hhhh so hot

‣ If you want him to do something specific to you he will, he just wants to make you feel good and make you happy

‣ If you’d want to dom him he’d let you do that as well

‣ He’s really open to try new things dom or sub, he’s so 🥺 about it too if you were the one to ask to try something

‣ He’s honestly secretly a perv, this boy has you in his mind all of the goddamn time — Him coming across you in his shirts is something on his mind often too

‣ Armin loves it when you bite and suck at his neck to leave hickeys but he always leaves your skin scattered with really prominent ones.

‣ Whispering things into his ear instantly turns him on tbh

‣ Likes missionary and lotus a lot so he can watch you, he thinks it’s really intimate — But he also really likes doggy, spooning and fucking over tables eheh

‣ Likes to give & was a little shy at receiving at first goes all out with it now

[seijch]

bitches make one post about suna in the smoke grays and suddenly it turns into a full round of headcanons...

content warning. drug use (vaping)

TERUSHIMA: man i swear do NOT put this man on the aux!!!!!! some ppl do not believe in paying for a streaming service and i hate to break it to you but yuuji is one of them,,, Want A Break From The Ads? If You Tap Now To Watch A Short Video, You’ll Receive Thirty Minutes Of Ad Free Music type beat... its not even worth it at this point 🤮🤮🤮 his pre-work fits always go hard. shops exclusively on stockx and buys apparel from the store if he fucks w it (and when it goes on sale ... original retail price kinda expensive tho). surprisingly good w the elderly? no one expects it from him but he ALWAYS gets compliments from them and no one else ever wants to deal w the crabby old people so they send him in for a quick and easy sale 🤝🏻

SUNA: ALWAYS vaping in the back. if youre near him in the stockroom hell blow the smoke in your face. punch him. do it. this is the aisle where there are no cameras. BIG sneakerhead but doesnt like to answer questions nskdfsd you could b asking him if a shoe is good for running nd he hits you w that “idk i just work here” and WALKS AWAY. like i KNOW you work here bitch thats the fucking point!!!! his shoe game is always on point so he always gets questions since people think he knows what hes talking abt (he does,, But 😐😐😐)

SHIRABU: at the register. designated cashier, only here because tuition does NOT pay itself... air max supremacist; owns three pairs of air max 270s in the most BASIC colorways 😐 judges customers when they walk in. if he sees someone trying to fake flex he WILL gag. once saw a man and his son with the toyota logo hanging from their matching gold chains and hasnt recovered since.

KOGANEGAWA: gets LOST in the stockroom and is always 🧍‍♂️ when he does. compliments the scent of whatever flavor puff bar suna blows into his face. isnt in the work gc when he first gets hired bc he has an android NJKSDSA but eventually upgrades and is welcomed in (but overuses animojis unironically.....baby please youre embarrassing us). absolute king. one of the best sellers on the floor during back to school season; the mans a high-five machine!! the kids love him. (as they should!)

ATSUMU: gets confused for yuuji from behind a LOT and bitch if this doesnt PISS HIM OFF!!!!!!! youd rlly think that having another person out there w the same exact face as you would train you to handle this shit better but guess not bc tsumu gets SO mad he stomps off to the back and has to 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ for a bit..... osamu works at the food place two doors down and tells all the cashiers to make him pay full price, fuck a mall discount SDJAKDA there are too many pictures on his ig story of him and suna (reluctantly taken by aran) holding shoes to their ears like theyre the latest iphone. someone stop them before i reach thru the screen and shit in their shoes.

KINDAICHI: originally started working just to make money and knew NOTHING about shoes but bitch did he get INTO IT!!!! yeezy or bust, baby!!!!!! his go to work shoes are the tail lights but he also owns the desert sages (among others). his bank acc is NOT HAPPY,,, homie spends more money than he makes at his shitty minimum wage job 😭 once he learned the Shoe Lore he rlly came into his own as a solid seller but i would not be lying if i said before then he was on stock duty ....

ARAN: mvp of the store!!! gets along w the kids, gets along w the older folks, can hold a conversation w the sneakerheads, you name it hes got it !!!!!! on track to become an assistant manager if he so chooses -- the manager is alr begging him to come on full time but he doesnt wanna tie himself down to a life of selling shoes, yk? has people coming to the store just to see HIM like its a fucking host club. admittedly not as into shoes as someone like suna or tanaka,, definitely knows how to appreciate a Good Shoe but is halfway between a casual and a Full Sneakerhead tbh...

TANAKA: you wouldnt believe it but he is the KING of shoecare, both in usage and in sales! doesnt care as much when it comes to his regular old volleyball asics but when hes at work or out on the town? the flex is honestly UNREAL...catch him slacking, i dare you. shits on anyone who buys a team jordan like ,,, ok gatekeeper! his collection of retro jordans reaches almost concerning levels and refuses to sell any of them. he hasnt worn a good third of them, either (hes waiting for That Moment, whatever the fuck THAT means). only slightly above terushima when it comes to aux privileges. (theres also a video of him in the stockroom wearing nothing but booty shorts at the top of a ladder lipsyncing the lyrics to chandelier by sia. dont ask.)

BOKUTO: THE customer service guy. he spends small amounts of money like nobodys business but is lowkey scared of big purchases... drops $15 for food eight times a week like its nothing but wont buy a pair of $180 shoes... ok. as a result his collection is nowhere near as big as some of the other guys but he treasures them all and takes very good care of them!!! knows JUST what to say to warm any kind of customer up to him (gets hit on a lot, much to the dismay of tanaka nd yuuji)... also has a lot of former customers recognize him (its the hair) and he just has to go 😃 haha hey! every time.

NISHINOYA: whenever he cant reach smth and needs to be out on the floor asap he can and WILL climb up the shelves of the stockroom like a fucking MONKEY NKSFSN 😭😭😭 the authority when it comes to shoes for running, hiking, the gym, etc. if its outdoors leave it to him! had a pair of 270s but the bubble POPPED the one time he used the ladders as he came down..........hes literally traumatized and ALWAYS brings it up whenever he shares a shift w shirabu (who has since asked to not be scheduled w noya due to a “difference in beliefs” MSFSDS)

FUTAKUCHI: ive said it before but hes one of Those People thats worked half the stores in the damn mall so he was hired as a cashier during the holiday szn and left the company a few months later. youd think hed get along w fellow cashier shirabu but 😃 the manager avoids scheduling them together unless the stores gonna be busy bc one of them is gonna wanna use “the better register” and get mad when the other claims it first .... like theyre both FUNCTIONAL arent they??? 😭😭 does NOT give a shit abt shoes!!! never even learned the stockroom, just kinda figured it out as he went along...whenever someone asks him for their size in a shoe he hands it off to someone on the floor unless he cant avoid it (but believe it or not he will always give that person the sale...unless its suna bc he knows suna doesnt give a fuck)

@wackatoshi​ jic you dont see it when it drops 😚😚

[himbodiaz]

I’m gonna send some dumb questions because I’m bored- here’s the first one: what do you think each of the characters are like as texters? Who takes forever to respond? Who double and triple texts? Who sends gifs and memes? Who never uses emojis and never plans on it? Who uses a lot of emojis? I feel like Buck double and triple texts and sends gifs. He either responds to texts when he gets them or a week later. Albert sends memes and also double/triple texts. Chim responds to Maddie in a timely manner but to everyone else who texts him, he takes a little while to respond. Eddie doesn’t strike me as much of an emoji guy. Maybe the 🤨 emoji or the 😂 laughing emoji but that’s really it. He always responds to texts in a timely manner almost immediately. I feel like Hen responds to most if not all of her texts in a timely manner and she uses the iPhone animated emoji avatar thing I forget what that’s called but I feel like she sends that a lot to people

Oh, eddie definitely takes forever to respond. the man always has his phone on do no disturb, and the only numbers able to get through it are chris’ school, carla, abuela, and pepa. buck used to be there, but he wouldn’t stop texting eddie randomly at three in the morning, so he had to take him off.

i feel like meme people and gif people are two different breeds. like bobby is very much a Gif Man, I know you said albert sends memes chim has probably the most extensive meme folder of anyone at the 118 (maybe good memeing just runs in the han family?). (also once bobby figures out how to send gifs, he adds them to everything he sends. his favourite gif is this one of a family all sitting down at the table for dinner, and he makes sure to use it every time a meal is ready, and he’ll add a little comment like “grubs up!” or “come fill your boots!”)

eddie definitely isn’t an emoji guy. he tried to once because of chris (dad, you can just do :) every time!! there’s emojis for a reason), but as quickly as chris encouraged him, he put a stop to it. there’s only so much of “hey chris 👋🏻 make sure to remind abuela 👵 that you’re going to jessie’s 👧 birthday party 🥳 🎂 🎉 tomorrow!! it’s a pool 🏊‍♂️ party so make sure you have your swimsuit 🩳” a kid can take.

maddie uses a lot of emojis. not the same way eddie does (thank god), but in the exact way that a millennial would. (one night she’s hanging out with karen and eddie watching real housewives, and sends chim a selfie of them all with wine glasses (and eddie rolling his eyes) captioning it “girls night 🍷 💅💁‍♀️”)

buck absolutely triple texts. also he texts exactly how he speaks. like you know when you’re reading someone’s texts and you can tell exactly how they would be saying it? yeah that’s buck (am i projecting? yes. am i right? also yes). buck will see a text and mean to respond but just forgets because he put his phone down to grab something and suddenly it’s like the text didn’t exist.

hen being an animoji person is both ridiculous but also makes so much sense. i can just picture her sending one to chim (parenting advice maybe?) and she’s like a *spins wheel* tiger, and what she’s saying is actually helpful, but chim is so overtired that he can’t stop laughing (he shows it to maddie too and both of them are in stitches)

sleepover weekend!!

[imessageactive-blog]

How to Fix iMessage Waiting for Activation Error on iPhone

Apple's iMessage stage is a protected visit arrangement more than one billion individuals approach day by day and has immediately become a fan top choice. It's safe, private, and works with any gadget Apple makes.

Since it's so mainstream, iMessage not enacting as expected is create for turmoil and concern. The issue normally happens when actuating another telephone yet isn't restricted to your acquisition of another gadget. During the arrangement cycle, your Apple ID will actuate iMessage on iPhone in the background.  imessage is waiting for activation While sitting tight for enactment iMessage can't be utilized, so it's conceivable you've recently acted excessively fast – or there are different issues.

What is "iMessage Waiting for Activation"?

You might be pondering "for what reason does iMessage say sitting tight for actuation?" According to Apple, the 'hanging tight for enactment' message isn't the only one you may see. Here are a couple of varieties:

Enactment ineffective

A blunder happened during actuation

Couldn't sign in, if it's not too much trouble, check your organization association

Incapable to contact the iMessage worker. Attempt once more.

With iMessage initiation ineffective, you will not have the option to send iMessage talks or instant messages. There are some truly straightforward fixes for the issue, as well!

Why it Happens

To comprehend why iMessage has issues initiating, it's ideal to begin with how iMessage functions. We will in general consider it a framework that sends messages starting with one gadget then onto the next, and that is valid – yet iMessage is additionally a cloud-based help. iMessage works from a worker; the center explanation may see the "iMessage sitting tight for enactment" message is on the grounds that their gadgets can't match up to the iMessage worker. This could be for an assortment of reasons:

There's no SIM card. On the off chance that you buy your gadget through a transporter, they will give you a SIM card so you can settle on decisions and convey messages by means of a cell message. Some of the time iPhones without SIM cards – particularly new telephones – have issues associating with the iCloud worker to send iMessage messages.

Your transporter obstructed you. Another telephone plan can set aside some effort to enact. On the off chance that yours was bought close by another iPhone, it is possible that your transporter hasn't yet enacted the arrangement, so your telephone can't synchronize to the iMessage worker.

No Wi-Fi. iMessage works extraordinary over Wi-Fi, and in case you're in a helpless assistance region without a dependable Wi-Fi association, this could be the reason your iPhone can't synchronize to the iMessage worker.

Date and time might be off. Workers confirm date and time with the gadgets they're adjusting to, and if your telephone possesses the wrong date and energy for the district it's in, that may make the worker become befuddled and block your gadget.

iMessage may simply be trapped. Hello, it occurs! Like some other help, iMessage can hang and get inert. Not to stress, we have a truly straightforward fix for this one!

iCloud might be down. Apple runs its whole help stack from iCloud, so any assistance interruption to the iMessage workers all throughout the planet will resound to our gadgets.

Instructions to fix "iMessage Waiting for Activation"

Since we comprehend why it's an issue, how about we examine how to fix it so you can get to sending writings, iMessages, GIFs, emoticon, Animoji, and stickers!

Switch Airplane Mode

Off-line Mode in iOS rapidly flips your cell and Wi-Fi availability. It was intended for air travel, so little gadgets would not meddle with correspondence gear on planes. It's additionally a helpful stunt for resetting how your iPhone or iPad interfaces with cell or Wi-Fi associations.

Here's the way to flip it on your iPhone, which may address your iMessage association hardships:

Open the Settings application on your iPhone

Flip the switch close to "Flight mode" on

Stand by a couple of moments, and switch Airplane Mode off once more

[draintheblood]

on whatsapp if u click on one of those little animoji’s it automatically sends for some reason and the hating thumbs down one is way too close to the emojis i use the most. going to accidentally start a fight soon

[kaylorevidence]

TS7 Era Masterpost

A masterpost dedicated to everything gay Taylor has done this in this era so far! 

If you’re more interested in reading the version on my website, here’s the link to that as well. 

Performing with Hayley Kiyoko (again) - December 5, 2018

As we all remember from the Reputation Era, during the tour Taylor brought Hayley out as a surprise guest. 

In December the tables turned and Hayley brought Taylor out during her performance at the Ally Coalition Talent Show. It's an event centered around raising money for LGBT Youth. 

They performed Delicate, which has been claimed by the gays (Taylor agrees).  She was a happy bean, and everything was right in the world. 

Also, this happened. 

Surprising a Gay Couple - February 23, 2019

Taylor surprised Alex Goldschmidt and Ross Girard at their engagement party. Taylor sang King of My Heart for them as well!

ELLE Essay - March 6, 2019

For the US version of Taylor’s Elle article, she wrote about 30 things she’s learned in the last 30 (technically 29) years.

Here’s a quote that really stood out:

“We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.”

Sounds an awful lot like this part of her pride speech right?

“But it’s even more brave to be honest about your feelings and who you love when you know that that might be met with adversity from society.”

If you pay close attention to the numbers in the essay, the colors resemble the lesbian pride flag (different shades of red and pink). Here’s Taylor in her lesbian pride flag dress from tour too!

Rainbow Instagram Post – March 14, 2019

TEP Donation – April 8, 2019

Taylor donated $113,000 to Tennessee Equality Project, an organization that supports LGBT rights. Mike Curb from Curb Records also matched Taylor’s donation!

Single Announcement – April 13, 2019

Last October, Taylor posted this picture of her and Andrea playing Scrabble. Seems harmless right? Hahaha, no. This is Taylor Swift after all?? Fans speculated that because of the caption and the fact that National Scrabble Day is April 13th, that something would be happening that day. April 13th is also a day that was stamped on the calendar Taylor released.

Fans ended up being correct. On April 13th, Taylor announced that something (presumably a single) would be released on April 26th, 2019. April 26th also happens to be Lesbian Visibility Day. Coincidence? I think not. Here’s another post with tons of notes pointing out what day the 26th is as well. There’s no way Taylor didn’t know what day this was. 

Yellow Suit & Rainbow Rings – April 14, 2019

Taylor posted a close up of what appears to be her in a yellow suit wearing two rainbow rings.

It was eventually noticed that Taylor was wearing the two rainbow rings on her ring finger on her right hand. Here’s a post explaining more about what that means. There’s been heavy speculation that her and Karlie are engaged (I’ve also gotten it confirmed 4 times) so Taylor wearing those rings on that ring finger is quite interesting. 

TIME 100 Gala - April 23, 2019

While performing New Year's Day at the gala, Taylor very clearly sings "I want HER midnights" not once... But TWICE. It happens around the 21:15 and 21:58 mark. The second time is much clearer than the first, as it seems she worked up more courage throughout the song. Obviously this was important for many reasons!!

Other than this iconic moment, this is one of the clearest "hers" we've ever gotten from Taylor.

A few days later, the media started to pick up on it as well:

Vulture

“My personal favorite theory hails from the Kaylor shippers, the faction of Swifties that believes that Taylor Swift and her former BFF Karlie Kloss were romantically involved. The theory is that Swift has been dropping hints about her love for Karlie Kloss since the Reputation era. On Tuesday night, Kaylor shippers picked up on something crucial: During Taylor’s performance of “New Years Day” at the TIME 100 Gala, Swift seemingly changed the lyrics from “I want your midnights” to “I want her midnights” not once, but twice. “New Years Day” is the final track on Reputation, which, in theory, could segue into the “next chapter…”

Buzzfeed News

“Then when Swift performed at this year’s Time 100 Gala, she apparently switched the lyrics in her song “New Year’s Day” from “I want your midnights to “I want her midnights.”

Single Release - April 26, 2019

The song is about individuality, and the video is chock-full of rainbows. Here's a great analysis of the video. It's all very gay.

V Magazine Article - April 28, 2019

V Magazine wrote an article noting the queer undertones to the new single, and Taylor liked it on Twitter and Tree retweeted it.

ME! Lyric Video - May 1, 2019

A smaller nod to her queerness, but worth noting I think:

Entertainment Weekly Cover & Interview - May 9, 2019

On the cover, Taylor is seen wearing a pride pin. She also confirmed in her likes on Tumblr that it *is* a pride pin, shutting down any talk that it isn't. Taylor also liked this on Tumblr in support of her queer fans after the cover dropped.

As part of the spread, Taylor talked about how intoxicating, lovable and sexy Jodie Comer is as Villanelle in Killing Eve. Killing Eve is a show that revolves around Villanelle (a psychopathic assassin) and Eve (a MI6 agent) that are obsessed with each other. Taylor also talked about being obsessed with Killing Eve's creator, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, and talked about how she likes Fleabag (another one of PWB's shows). In an interview after the BAFTA's in May of 2019, Jodie said she ran into Taylor at the Globes earlier that year and that Taylor said she watched Doctor Foster, another show Jodie was in. Seems like Taylor binged all of Jodie's shows just like the rest of us. She's truly one of us!

On top of that, Taylor noted that she likes King Princess, a queer artist that makes explicitly queer music. Her latest single is called Pussy is God. That means that Taylor is familiar with King Princess, Hayley Kiyoko, and Kehlani (Taylor added Honey to a playlist).

Within the spread Taylor also said:

“This time around I feel more comfortable being brave enough to be vulnerable, because my fans are brave enough to be vulnerable with me. Once people delve into the album, it’ll become pretty clear that that’s more of the fingerprint of this — that it’s much more of a singer-songwriter, personal journey than the last one.”

Which is very reminiscent of her Pride speech from June of 2018 when she said:

“You guys, June is Pride Month, and I think a lot about how it’s very brave to be vulnerable about your feelings in any sense, in any situation, but it’s even more brave to be honest about your feelings and who you love when you know that that might be met with adversity from society…”

She also said something similar in her ELLE essay in March of 2019:

"We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears."

Playlist by ME! - May 24 and May 31, 2019

Taylor created a playlist for Apple Music that included many LGBT artists explicitly singing about women. Here are a few of them:

Holy - King Princess (only on the first version)

Cheap Queen - King Princess

Back in My Arms - Carlie Hanson

Follow My Girl - The Japanese House

I Want to Live with You - Alex Lahey

When promoting her playlist using her animoji, she was wearing a sweater with a pride heart on it as well.

🌈HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!🌈- June 1, 2019

In kicking off pride month, Taylor took to Instagram to post a copy of the letter she sent Senator Alexander in regards to the Equality Act the House passed.

Within her letter and Instagram caption, she used language that appeared to include herself within the LGBT community. She proceeded to like these posts on Tumblr as well (x) (x) (x)

She also kicked the month off by donating to GLAAD!

[queenssunshine]

Making a Living off of Death (1/4)

I literally cannot believe I’ve posted my first fic to AO3! This is my first fic in almost seven years, so I’m really excited to become a contributing member of fandom again. 

Anyway, here’s my first Spider-boy fic, and in the spirit of Whumptober, it is of course whump.

Read On AO3 Here

When people ask him what he does, he generally tells them he’s a freelancer. On occasion they will enquire further, “A freelance what?”, to which he will respond, “Whatever I can.” That’s basically true—while he deals mostly in assassinations, he also does assaults and robberies on occasion. Sometimes he needs to put the fear of God into people. Sometimes he just needs to play God.

The hit on Tony Stark comes to him in a heavily encrypted email that takes his computer two days to work through. Sometimes clients are paranoid like that, making the orders so difficult to access that most people in the business walk away before they even know what they’re for. He supposes this isn’t a bad idea. Plausible deniability and all that. But it’s annoying for him to have to wait around for his program to work out the endless lines of tangled code. This also probably means payment will come in a similar form, which is even more annoying.

Anyway, the hit on Tony Stark gets sent to him and three other colleagues and he’s the first one to decode it (and probably the only one to try) so first come, first kill. The built-in kill code activates and his instructions unwrite themselves from the screen, his laptop defaulting to his desktop photo of the silhouette of a dog on a sunset. Alright, time to strategize.

First, he has to get to New York. Then he has to figure out how to get Stark’s schedule. Then he has to get close to him. Then he has to kill him.

Hacking into Stark’s security team is above his skill set but gaining access to his employee files ends up being pretty easy. Cross-check some names, Google some addresses, hack a local AT&T store, and boom, he has access to the personal phones of who he has decided is two key players in his plan: the head of security and an intern.

He decides these two are key because he sees them too much. Photos from expos, parties, conferences, press events—the two are a constant presence at the side of Tony Stark. The security head quite frankly looks like an oaf, and the intern doesn’t appear to be older than college age, so he decides that they can’t do too much thwarting to his plan. The more he gets to know them through the screen, the more he feels that way.

The emails that the two have sent back and forth are heavily encrypted, and there are heaps of text messages that are as well. He can’t believe it, but his main source of information is coming from the animojis that the two send each other on occasion. The intern favors the alien. The security head favors the brown bear. (The intern also thinks the security head should use the poop one more, but that’s beside the point.)

Through the animojis, GPS tracking, and some old-fashioned stalking-- er, in-person reconnaissance, he discovers that the intern is a student at a magnet school in Forest Hills and that the security head is, for whatever reason, his personal after-school driver. The relationship between the two of them seems pretty relaxed. They clearly have a long history of uneventful school pick-ups, because he just sits in the visitor parking lot and stares at them without detection as the security head pulls up in the black Audi, the intern hops in, and they wait in the long queue to get off the campus. He trails the car, but the location of drop-off changes on the daily—sometimes a restaurant, sometimes a bodega, twice it was just an alleyway. Once they went to Stark Tower, or at least he assumes that’s where they were heading, but by the time they were two blocks away he decided to drop off to avoid getting clocked on any of Stark’s cameras. Even though Stark probably had access to every CCTV in town. Sometimes you just have to play it safe.

After about two weeks of monitoring, he gets his golden ticket. His phone pings a few times in a row, and he opens it to witness an exchange between Alien and Brown Bear:

[Alien] Are we still on for after school? [Brown Bear] Yeah, he had to move some stuff around so we might be late, but we’ll still be there. [Alien] Cool! It’s probably better, I don’t want—[the alien hesitates, rotates his head, lowers voice] Mr. Stark to have to deal with people freaking out about him being here. [Brown Bear] Don’t worry about it, kid. [Brown Bear] I think he’s kind of excited to see your school and your friends. [Alien] Okay, well I’ll see you guys later then. [Alien] OH! Can we please go to Julio’s again? Please? I’m craving breadsticks. [Brown Bear] Boss says okay.

So the decision had to be made: to carry out the assassination on a high school campus, or at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. He sighs as he Googles “Midtown academic calendar forest hills,” and sighs again when he discovers that tonight is the Annual Science Fair. What will Tony Stark do in the presence of one thousand geeks and their parents: double down on security or keep it modest? He rapidly Googles some more, trying to find instances of Tony Stark, billionaire and savior of the universe, attending a high school science fair. Bingo. Seven years ago he had attended the science fair of the Bronx High School of Science, and according to r/TonyStark and r/IronMan, he had only had Brown Bear and his gauntlets at his disposal. No supplementary guards? Not wise, Stark. Still, one instance was not enough to base his operation on.

Further inquiries reveal that Stark, in his years since becoming the savior of the universe, has only grown laxer. His prosthetic arm doubles as a housing unit for the Iron Man suit, sure, but it seems to be de-weaponized most of the time. He’s spotted without security regularly—outings with clients, with the Avengers team, with the kid, all solo. Rarely a body guard appears, but it’s only when he’s with his daughter or wife. Maybe it’s because Stark thinks he’s too big to fuck with. Maybe Stark is, and maybe this is a big mess in the making. Oh well. He decides the assassination is going to go down at the school, but he needs one more thing to make it go off well. So he calls a colleague, has them transfer the encrypted message, decodes it again (but faster, thank you machine learning), backward engineers it, and makes a phone call. And a request.

Two hours later, a cloaking suit arrives at a P.O. box, to which he has the key.

Sometimes his clients gift him cool things to execute a mission, but a cloaking suit is hands-down the coolest thing he’s gotten. He didn’t know what he expected when he takes it out of the courier box, but it looks almost civilian—a thick grey windbreaker with lines of reflective material running down the sleeves, and a pair of pants to match. It’s basically a tracksuit. He’s relieved. New Yorkers have likely seen weirder things than a man dressed in full tactical attire on the subway, but it’s still nice to have a low profile.

He messes around with the settings and soon enough he’s standing before the hotel bathroom mirror almost completely invisible, only a slight warp betraying where he is. Nothing anyone would see unless they were looking for it. Without the hood on, he looks like Harry Potter on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. He is—he dare say—giddy.

He deactivates the cloaking, grabs his guitar case (read: sniper rifle) and wallet and leaves the hotel.

Before getting to the school, he has a slice of pizza, a coke, and a bag of gummy bears. This is not good fuel for the potential get-away sprint, but he can’t help himself. He’s so happy, he can just feel the brewing of a good mission on its way.

He arrives at the school after classes have let out and before the end of the science fair, meaning that the parking lot is a ghost town. His cloaking suit already activated, he climbs up on his predetermined hiding spot (a portable building next to the bus parking lot which would allow him ample cover and a quick escape were things to get hairy), sets up his Barrett M82 (already sheathed in its matching grey cloaking suit), and hunkers down. He lets his mind wander as half an hour passes, thoughts looping around his ex-wife (that bitch), his breakfast tomorrow (maybe that 2.8-star diner down the street), and his dog (who was currently boarding at a doggy daycare next to his house in Kentucky and got a time-out today). Finally, families start spilling out of the front doors of the school, and from his view atop the portable, he can clearly see the faces of all exiting.

Fifteen minutes pass of parental pride and filial embarrassment before Stark, the security head, and the intern come walking out. By the time they exit, most of the fair has cleared out and only a few cars remain in the lot—probably teachers and staff. The intern is clutching a blue ribbon and a small trophy while the security head struggles to maintain hold of some kind of robotic device. Stark has his hands jammed in his pockets, strolling casually, lips quirked in a contented smile as the intern rambles about something. He can barely hear it—something about how the intern knew his project was good but didn’t think it would win an award or anything. For a moment, he pauses, feeling a little remorse. He had always wanted kids. The intern seemed pretty endearing. Oh well. Moment over.

He lines up the sight on Stark. It’s a clean shot, a beautiful shot, a stars-have-aligned-and-I’m-about-to-get-away-with-this shot, and he feels the rush of a perfectly executed assassination flow through his veins. This moment is why he mainly deals in assassinations. This high of having so much power yet not even being seen, it hits different. He drops the safety and just as his finger twitches back to the trigger the most bizarre thing happens.

The intern looks at him.

Of course, the kid can’t look at him, he has the cloaking suit on, but the kid’s suspicious eyes pass over the top of the portable and he feels violated.

Also, he squeezes the trigger thrice.

And then a more bizarre thing happens: the kid drops.

Well, shit.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 2

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, rain, misappropriation of Taylor Swift lyrics

WC: 6.4k

The night was unseasonably warm. The Hofbrauhaus employees seemed to want to take advantage, leaving the windows open so the sounds of rowdy midnight drinkers and the lederhosen-wearing folk singers travel out alluringly to passersby on the streets of Munich.

The team sat down for drinks at 6pm, ate enough schnitzel to lay down a base for more beer, and continued to drink stein after stein until the place largely emptied out.

Ginny laughs, loud and hearty and hiccuppy at Andrew joining in with the folk singers even though he doesn’t speak a word of German. The rest of the team, here to celebrate a very successful festival stop nearby, are largely occupied watching the fiasco.

Ginny’s Shawn radar has been carefully honed after working for him for four months. When she doesn’t hear his deep, throaty chuckle, she looks around. He’s disappeared.

Or, she thinks he has until the long, large table she’s sitting at jumps a little with a loud smack.

“Oh, fuck!”

Ginny ducks her head under the table. Shawn is crouched beneath, rubbing the back of his head and squinting up at her. She tilts her head and coos. Something, probably something at the bottom of the glasses in the two very large steins of hefeweizen she drank, has her crawling under the table after him.

He’s hunched over, too tall to sit comfortably beneath the table. Since Ginny is only two or three inches shorter, she too is scrunched up beside him.

“Dropped my phone,” Shawn mumbles, shaking his head, chuckling at himself.

Ginny makes a face and curls a hand around the back of his head comfortingly. “And you bumped your head.”

“I bumped my head,” Shawn sighs, closing his eyes and leaning back into her touch. It’s so disarmingly innocent, it sobers Ginny up for a moment.

When he opens his eyes and smiles at her, she feels drunk all over again.

“So great, having you on the team,” Shawn murmurs, pushing himself on his hands over the sticky floor to sit a bit closer to her. She swirls her thumb against his scalp in response. His eyes flutter shut.

“So great being on the team,” she says in a teasing voice, but it’s as sincere as any moment she’s ever had.

Shawn’s eyes are shut long enough for Ginny to study his profile and fall face first into the feelings she’s been covering up since that first plane ride. His cheeks are ruddy and pink from laughter and alcohol. He’s got a fresh, warm tan from playing festivals since the spring. He’s humming along to the German folk tune but she doesn’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

His eyes open. He looks over at her. Her hand stills on the back of his head.

Shawn leans in and kisses her like it’s something they’ve done a million times. The truth is, there’s nothing “first kiss”-y about it. It’s warm and easy and familiar and Ginny wonders if they’ve just spent entirely too much time together at this point to feel awkward about anything, including kissing under a warping wooden table in a 600-year old brewery with a barmaid in an Oktoberfest getup walking by swinging a bell and bellowing “closing now!” at the top of her strong German lungs to get them all the fuck out of there.

Ginny murmurs into his mouth, the first time he gets that pretty sound out of her. It makes his dulled senses come alive, sends his nerve endings sizzling in the warm, late summer breeze. He revels for a second or two before he remembers who they are to each other. He breaks away, but only as far as her cheek because he’s still drunk and she’s still warm and soft and Ginny.

“Is it ok that I did that?” he pants.

She’s nodding before he finishes the thought. “Yes. Please. More.”

Those are the best words Shawn could’ve imagined leaving her sweet, wet mouth. It’s all he can do to keep from diving back in, wandering hands and all.

“Tonight.”

It’s a one word promise -- an adventure, a secret, a first chapter of a story to write together.

Ginny’s returning grin puts the pen to paper.

+

How many times has Ginny been told to ditch her notebook and go digital?

Well, at least once more now as she shuffles up to Shawn’s hotel room a few doors down from hers. She tugs at her long slender fingers, bounces on her toes and otherwise fidgets until she decides, after going through it all in her head again, that she has to knock on his door.

Ginny flicks her head back, tossing her hair a little as she clears her throat. Her knock is sharp and rapid -- Shawn always knows it’s her when she knocks like that. He had been just about to strip out of his gym clothes for a shower. She caught him just in time.

He sniffs as he opens the door. “Hey.”

Ginny makes a dejected face. “Do you have that bag? The green one, the backpack? I think my notebook was in it.”

Shawn’s face scrunches. He tilts his head back. “Aw, Gin, not again.”

“I’m sorry,” she moans, tipping her face forward into her hands, shaking her head, “I really am, I know it’s a problem, and I really have been better lately, but yesterday was mad. And I just can’t find it. Could you look?”

Shawn waves her inside and lets the door slam behind them. Ginny tries not to look too carefully around his room, because it usually leads to memories that tend to be painful to revisit so early in the morning. His bed is unmade and looking like he ripped all the sheets off in the middle of the night -- he’s not sleeping well, it seems. He has half a dozen water bottles stacked on his nightstand, covering his clock. His lyric notebooks and guitar are out.

“Are you writing today?” she hums, strapping her arms behind her back like she’s worried they’ll fly out and touch everything around her inappropriately. Including him.

Shawn bobs his head, lifting backpacks and duffels, peeking around suitcases.

“Yeah, I thought I’d just-- oh! There is is.” He hands her the old green Jansport backpack.

Ginny chews on her lip and rifles through it. Her stomach sinks. She makes a whimpering noise.

“Oh, no.”

Shawn sighs and perches on the end of his bed. “Ok, just relax.”

“That notebook has everything in it!” Ginny squawks, dumping the contents out on his bed, blinking hard around the realization that his sheets smell like him, I mean, of course they do, but wow, it’s kind of intoxicating and definitely not helping her frazzled brain right now.

“Please don’t do the ‘I’m the worst PA ever’ speech again,” he urges, widening his eyes at her and lifting his acoustic into his lap. When she makes him nervous, he uses the guitar as a shield.

Ginny shakes her head and stuffs her hands in her hair. Her chest tightens. Her pulse pounds in her ears. Her stomach swoops. She looks anywhere but his urgent eyes.

“It has my schedule, my numbers, my notes, my to-do list, my already done list, my ‘people to call and bug about things’ list. Oh god, and when I tell Andrew I’ve lost it again, he’s going to make the face.”

Shawn winces. He knows the face she means. It’s the closest he’s come to feeling the shame he got when his mother scolded him. Andrew does that face exceptionally well.

“Listen, we can fix this,” Shawn reasons, standing off the edge of the bed to come eye level with her. She screws her jaw up and lets her furrowed brow soften.

“How?”

He kicks at his sneakers and shrugs, “We’ll call everywhere we went yesterday and ask if they have it.”

Ginny offers him a hesitant smile. “I don’t have anyone’s numbers. They’re all--”

“In the notebook,” Shawn finishes with a huff. He squints at her, “Seriously, how do you even survive like that? You’re the only woman I know that uses her iPhone X for animojis, Spotify and absolutely no work stuff at all.”

Ginny’s heard it before, specifically the last time she misplaced her notebook, which Shawn helped her track down in Brooklyn. She wrinkles her nose.

“I get it, this is my sign from the universe. Go digital. I get it.”

Shawn decides to keep his snarky quip to himself, the one that says “the last time you lost it was the sign from the universe, this is the universe hitting you in the back of the head.”

“Kay, then we’ll go find it,” Shawn announces, lifting his shirt off from the collar and tossing it into a heap of dirty clothes.

Ginny blinks. “You’re writing today.”

“I’ll write later.”

“We have Taylor later,” she reminds him in a quiet, reverent voice that makes him laugh. He knows why -- they’ve been looking forward to this Taylor Swift show together for months. Ginny’s had her outfit planned for at least half that time. Not even her missing notebook could keep her away from Taylor’s third night at Wembley.

Shawn strolls toward the bathroom and thinks better of kicking his shorts off as he goes. He looks over his shoulder and smiles reassuringly.

“We’ll find it, Gin. London’s not that big.”

With a wink, he’s behind the bathroom door, turning on the water so hot the steam ripples out from underneath and muffles the sound of his wet clothes hitting the ground.

+

“We’re doing such a good job looking,” he praises, his voice throaty and quiet as he talks into the skin of her earlobe between sucking licks.

Ginny’s eyes flutter open. She drags a hand up the side of his thigh to give his bum a squeeze. “Mmm, best lookers ever.”

“Yeah. We’re so good looking,” he mumbles, nipping at the shell of her ear as she laughs.

“I’m such a minger, we’re never going to find it,” Ginny whines, running her hands up and down Shawn’s biceps in the back of the cab as they speed through Williamsburg, trying to remember the name of the bar they went into the night before where Ginny thinks she might’ve left the notebook. The motion is more soothing to Ginny than to Shawn.

He pulls away from the comforting smell of coconut oil by her ear and pecks her lips as they screech to a stop at a red light.

“‘S fine, baby. Even if we don’t find it, I’ll get you a shiny new notebook.”

He smirks teasingly, flicking at the delicate gold hoop in Ginny’s septum. He goes to speak again when Ginny plants her lips on his and swallows his gravelly moan as the cab swerves through a quickly changing yellow light.

+

The first stop? The BBC.

Ginny insists on a black cab. Shawn insists on the tube. Jake insists on a hired car.

Jake wins.

With a driver in the front seat and Jake beside him, and Shawn and Ginny in the back, Ginny tries not to see the resemblance to nights they used to go on these funny little chaperoned dates. In Toronto, they were left to their own devices, but if Shawn and Ginny wanted to go out in LA or New York or London or just about anywhere else, Jake tagged along. Neither of them argued, knowing first hand how Shawn’s fans can get sometimes. But when they were dating, Jake was a bit of a buzzkill.

(He did try to give them as much privacy as he could, though, bless him.)

Now, as Ginny watches red double decker buses full of shaggy Londoners cruise past, seeing signs for places like Elephant & Castle and Knightsbridge, she knows it’s different, as much as she’d like to reach across the center console and take his hand. She can’t.

He doesn’t want her to.

Ginny looks back at him. He’s staring out at his window at the Thames, bobbing his head like he’s writing melodies somewhere deep under those thick brown curls. She thinks of a million things she could say right now -- stupid little comments like the ones you make to a best friend who you could never be bored of. She holds them in so as not to distract him.

She looks back out the window at her hometown.

She doesn’t feel him looking back at her.

+

They don’t have any luck at all at the BBC. Shawn can’t very well come inside without causing absolute mayhem, so she hops out of the car in the pouring rain and races for the doors. Showing her ID gets her far enough to prove she was in the building yesterday, but they don’t have a notebook reported in lost and found and won’t let her upstairs to look.

She grumbles a begrudgingly polite “cheers, thanks very much” and heads back out, defeated.

When she gets back inside the car, Shawn is typing something on his phone and looking pink-cheeked. He doesn’t seem fazed when she announces her notebook is still at large. He just nods and suggests they head off to The Connaught.

Shawn does come in this time because it’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday and it’s quiet enough. He’s slumped over the marble counter of the concierge desk as they wait for the staff to check lost and found. He’s drumming his fingers and bobbing his head again, turned away from her.

Ginny smiles and tugs at a curl at the back of his neck for his attention. He turns, startled, but smiles at her smile.

“Working on something new?” she guesses.

He shrugs. “Sort of. It’s old. I got a new piece in my head for it, though.”

Ginny nods. He likes that she never presses him to make him tell her exactly what he’s working on. She knows he’ll show her when he’s ready.

Ginny looks up, studies the ceiling. She narrows her eyes, noticing little cracks that she wonders if they should be concerned about. She imagines this building is probably pretty old, given the neighborhood they’re in, and damage like that could--

“So are you seeing your mum and dad this trip?” Shawn chirps.

Ginny blinks hard, transitioning. “No, not this time.”

Shawn ducks his head, nodding a little. He’ll never get over that -- he’d never pass up an opportunity to see his parents these days. He has to remind himself not everyone has the same relationship to their family that he does.

“Don’t make that face,” she teases, stepping closer to him, rolling her eyes at the squelching sound her wellies make on the fine marble floor.

“What face?”

“The poor little orphan Annie face. I’m seeing them both in a few weeks when we’re on break and I have time to spend with them. Get to see my Han, too,” she adds, looking pleased.

Shawn is grateful for the out she gives him to step away from family chat. “Yeah? How’s she feeling?”

“Good, I think. She hasn’t started requesting pickle and mushroom-flavored ice cream, so we’ve got that to look forward to.”

Shawn makes a horrified face. “Jesus.”

Ginny shrugs. “Pregnancy’s mad.”

Shawn widens his eyes, agreeing silently with a nod of his head as the concierge reappears looking faintly apologetic.

On to the next.

+

The Waterstone’s in Piccadilly Circus is another place Shawn shouldn’t walk into without a full squad of security. Piccadilly is a hotbed of tourists, even on a horrible, rainy weekday. Ginny runs in under Shawn’s watchful gaze. Ten minutes later, she slogs back out, arms crossed over her chest, hood struggling to fit over her tuft of curls. He leans across the seat to open the door for her. She settles and flips back her hood, smacking her red-painted lips. Shawn flattens his lips sympathetically.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Shawn.”

Shawn shakes his head. “Gin, it’s a day off. You’re not my PA today, you’re my friend.”

“Yeah,” she chuckles darkly, “Your friend who dragged you out of a perfectly lovely writing day, I know how you love to write in the rain, to go hunting for a notebook I should’ve digitized months ago.

Shawn snorts. “If you’re trying to get me to fire you, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Ginny tilts back against the headrest and feels the tears of frustration start to well. She fights them back, but she’s exhausted and overwhelmed. A stray tear trickles and catches Shawn’s attention.

He leans over the console, slow and gentle. He nudges the tear off her sharp jaw onto his finger and decides to pull his hand back rather than slip it back against her scalp to massage her. She blinks quickly, embarrassed, so he doesn’t coddle her. He turns his gaze forward through the battering rain against the windshield and nods.

“We have one more place to look. And I have an idea.”

+

Shawn looks up blearily, aware he must have dozed off. A solid, sweep-you-off-your-feet orgasm combined with a big meal, a day off, very little sleep and a rainy afternoon will do that.

He looks for her before he consciously thinks of anything else. He finds her sitting in the windowsill, watching the downpour. He smiles. She hates rain in every city in the world except when she’s here, home in London.

She’s in his Harvard sweater and a little pair of black panties, lying on the cushioned window seat of their little boutique hotel by Regent’s Park with her extraordinarily long legs stretched up above her, propped against the sill.

She looks like his next album cover waiting to happen.

She turns to look at him when she hears the sheets rustle. She lifts a sweater paw and waves bashfully. He grins, waving back. His chest hurts. The I love you is fighting so hard to break out of his heart it feels like a wild stallion against his ribcage.

To distract himself, he rolls over, snags his phone off the nightstand and sits up, framing her in portrait mode. She doesn’t shy away from the camera, special dispensation for just himself and Josiah.

If he were a normal 21-year-old with a normal job and a normal life, he wouldn’t hesitate to make that photo his lock screen background. As it is, he saves it and focuses on the fact that if he were a normal guy with a normal life, he’d never have met her.

+

They pull up outside the water cab station. Ginny narrows her eyes and looks between Shawn and the absolutely empty queue leading up to the boat which has maybe four or five commuters onboard. Shawn’s eyes are full of wonder. He nods at the Range Rover door for her to open it.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“Shawn. Rain,” Ginny points out weakly, knowing he won’t be swayed from this. He loves the romance of this -- not the fun, hand-holding, whispered kisses kind of romance, but the Byron and Keats kind, the kind that has him furiously scribbling lyrics into his phone while she holds an umbrella over them in the downpour.

“It’s pretty, though,” he says wistfully, turning his head to look out the window again, “Look! There’s the London Eye. We’ll get a good view from the boat.”

He nudges her to get her to move faster. She grumbles about how Londoners hate the Millennium Eye and his English mother should be ashamed of him, but opens the door to step out. He’s prodding her sides, taking the umbrella Jake offers to hold it over them. Ginny tries not to jump a foot in the air when he puts a friendly hand on her midback to keep them close under the cover of the umbrella, guiding her toward the boat that’s headed for Battersea.

The boat has an enclosed section with seats. The other six people on the boat either don’t know or care who the hell Shawn Mendes is and are instead busy being perturbed, tutting about the weather.

Shawn plunks into a seat by one of the windows to look out at the view of Westminster as they begin to chug past. It is sort of sweet how he bumps her elbow and points out Big Ben like she’s never seen it before.

It’s even sweeter, perhaps, because they’re left alone.

Ginny realizes after a minute or two that Jake has made himself scarce the way he used to when Shawn and Ginny were on a date. He’s a few rows behind them, checking his phone and keeping an eye out for trouble, like always. Shawn hasn’t seemed to notice the familiar behavior, he’s too caught up in the river view.

Ginny catches Jake’s eye and lifts a brow. Jake shrugs innocently and looks away like he has absolutely no angle here at all, what, who, me? Ginny covers a snort by a cough and turns back, crossing her legs toward Shawn.

“I bet my life would be so different if I grew up here,” Shawn muses, eyes glittering as they pass the Parliament building, becoming slightly more visible as the rain thins.

“Did I tell you my parents almost moved here before I was born?” Shawn hums. Ginny smiles and shakes her head.

“Can’t imagine you with a posh London accent. You’d make your fans even more insane than they are,” Ginny jokes. The tips of Shawn’s ears pink up. He shakes his head.

“Maybe I never would’ve gotten into music at all. Maybe I would’ve become obsessed with football.”

Ginny wets her lips and tilts her head from side to side. “It’s possible. You could’ve become a rowdy, Chelsea-obsessed chav. But… I don’t think you found the music, mate. Think it’s there, no matter where you are or what you’re surrounded by.”

Shawn swallows. He looks over. In the bluish-gray light of the rainy afternoon, Ginny glows like the tip of a cigarette in the dark. Her smile is gentle, the best comfort he knows. He turns his gaze down to his lap and bobs his head.

“I think you’re right. I think it’s that way for us both.”

Ginny laughs, tinkling and light, “That’s perhaps generous.”

Shawn shakes his head with determination. “You’re every bit the musician I am, though. You really are.”

Ginny’s jaw muscle twitches. She picks at a hangnail. “I don’t write music.”

“You could,” Shawn adds, eyes going wide, “If we just sat down with a piano and a guitar, I think--”

“Hey, listen,” she laughs awkwardly, cutting him off like she always does when he starts to poke his finger down this rabbit hole, “I’m just fine with my little home movies. They’re just for me, like an athlete with game tape. I’m content.”

Shawn swallows his words.

You could be better than content. You could be so fucking great.

It’s not his place. It wasn’t then, it isn’t now.

He backs off because they’re practically alone on this boat cruising down the Thames and he’s too relaxed to pick a fight with her. Instead, he sits forward, elbows on his knees and stares. Ginny measures out a one, two, three count, admiring his profile in the misty light before turning her attention to her phone.

“Hmm?” Shawn murmurs. Ginny looks up to see him gazing back at her curiously. He gets twitchy when she appears to be working and he’s relaxing.

“It’s the house rental for Josiah’s stag do,” she answers, scrolling through the email confirmation of the villa they’ve rented in Ibiza for the event.

Shawn chuckles, sitting back against the bench, watching the sea of umbrellas around the Tate as they float past.

“Still can’t believe you volunteered to plan that.”

Ginny lifts her chin. “If I can handle Hannah Dyer’s hen do, I can manage Josiah Van Dien. Plus, his best man is his 15-year-old cousin. If I hadn’t stepped in, he might not have had a stag do.”

Shawn shakes his head fondly. “And he deserves it.”

“He most certainly does,” Ginny confirms. She feels Shawn’s breath on her cheek as he tilts his head to watch her thumb through her inbox.

“Better save that email. We don’t have a notebook to write it all down.”

Ginny’s eyes lift. His look is sleepy and teasing. She would give anything to cup a hand around his cheek and tilt her forehead against his, just for a quiet moment. They both always liked that -- being centered together.

Instead, she bumps him with her elbow and worries her teeth into her lower lip.

+

The notebook is dead. Long live the notebook.

Shawn did his level best to distract her, rambling on about the single and the promo and Hannah and Josiah’s wedding and anything else he could think of. If nothing else, she’s soothed by the sound of his voice.

But back at the hotel, she faces the music. Shawn gives her shoulder a squeeze when he drops her off outside Andrew’s room before skittering off to his own to get back to his guitar. Beneath the dull reverberation of her fist against Andrew’s door, she hears the unmistakable strumming of the Martin acoustic Shawn’s so fond of.

Andrew lets her in, wrapping up a call. She takes quiet mental notes of the highlights she picks out -- “ok, I’ll have that to you Thursday at the latest. Sure, I’ll tell him. Yes, I’ll ask about that” -- the things she can pin into and remind him about to keep the ship running smoothly.

Or… smooth-ish.

As he hits ‘end call,’ she hands him a sad attempt at a cup of tea from what’s available to them from hotel convenience. He smiles gratefully and tips his glasses up on his head, rubbing his eyes as she settles into the armchair across from him.

“Ok, so what’s wrong?” Andrew guesses.

Ginny winces and somehow manages to tuck her outrageously long legs up into her chest and tilt her head. “Lost the notebook again.”

Andrew groans. “C’mon, Gin.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I am. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve already rebuilt it in my phone though,” she announces hopefully, waving her coral iPhone in the air.

“How?” Andrew laughs, sipping the tea she always makes too sweet.

She shrugs, “Remembered most of it. Called your office and got the phone numbers I was missing. I downloaded a bunch of apps. Set up reminders. I’m a 21st century girl now.”

Andrew decides to sidestep the Zenon reference he was about to make, and the lecture he doesn’t think she needs.

“Do you want to yell?” she offers, “You can yell if you want.”

“Nope. It doesn’t spark joy,” Andrew sighs, silencing a notification on his phone.

Ginny’s quiet for a minute. Her lips twitch like they do when she’s trying to get her mouth around words she’s too proud to say. Andrew waits patiently.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve dropped more balls than I’ve meant to in these last couple months. I’d hate for you to think I’m not up to this. I know it’s… unconventional to say the least.”

Unconventional to continue employing his artist’s ex as his PA?

…. Unconventional barely covers it.

Andrew wets his lower lip and bobs his head. “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that in this business trusting our instincts has to come out on top. I knew when you sat down to talk to me, even before Shawn did, that keeping you on wasn’t going to be a mistake. I knew you wanted to learn and you weren’t going to let anything get in the way. And I mean, fuck, Ginny, you lost your notebook and were able to recreate the entire schedule and to-do list and all of it in a couple of hours. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Ginny hadn’t been fishing for compliments when she confronted the issue so when they come, especially from a boss she admires and really dearly loves so much, they make her fidgety.

“Right, well thanks,” Ginny replies stiffly, bobbing her head, “I’ve added a reminder to finalize that week of August 18th before Thursday, a reminder to tell Jake about the help with security in New York and a reminder to ask Cez about the lighting for the 21st. They should sync to your calendar.”

Andrew rolls his eyes affectionately. “Thank you, Virginia.”

Ginny wrinkles her nose at the use of her full name and shoots him finger guns on her way out the door, trying not to listen at Shawn’s door at the bridge he’s working on because she knows he’ll let her hear it when he’s ready.

+

Upon a beige leather throne, in expensive athleisure, surrounded by her cats with her legs crossed beneath her pretzel-style is Queen Taylor in all her magnetic, approachable glory.

Ginny’s fingers twist around Shawn’s when they enter. She wasn’t particularly nervous to meet her until Shawn mentioned off-hand that he’s never brought a girl to one of Taylor’s shows and he’s not sure how she’ll react. The faucet of anxiety started dripping until Shawn’s fingers were going pink in Ginny’s grip and he was squirming to get them away from her.

“Chill out,” he chuckles in her ear, brushing his lips against her earlobe and it’s meant to be soothing but he does it in front of Taylor fucking Swift so it only makes it worse.

Taylor’s in hair and makeup already, so the dichotomy of her comfy leggings and hoodie against her angled sleek bob and the deep purple palette used on her delicate features is startling. She stands to greet them and quickly makes jokes about her delight in having more tall people around. It’s disarming in a way Ginny thinks only someone so grand and likeable like Taylor could pull off.

She hugs Shawn warmly, rubbing his back and laughing at a joke Ginny couldn’t hear over the rushing noise in her ears. When Taylor turns her attention to Ginny, Ginny just grins.

Taylor swings her into a hug just as affectionate as Shawn’s and giggles in Ginny’s ear like they’re old friends who share secrets, “I can’t believe he brought a girl back here, he must be so into you.”

Ginny goes hot under her skin and reaches for Shawn’s hand again as soon as Taylor releases her. She looks them over with a smiling nod of approval and welcomes them to sit, showering them with offers of food and drinks. Despite the rush and whirl of Taylor’s team around her, she gets them drinks herself, asks about Ginny’s hometown, about what got her into music. Ginny narrowly avoids elbowing Shawn in the ribs when he mentions all too proudly that Ginny’s a singer, too, and she’s “completely amazing.”

Taylor rightfully senses that leaping all over Ginny asking to watch her clips or hear about what she’s working on would send Ginny spiraling. Instead, she beams, warmly and very believably tells Ginny she’d love for her to send her something to look at -- Shawn has all her info.

They don’t spend too long backstage before Taylor has to get changed. She hugs them both warmly again, plants a kiss on each of their cheeks. She shares that look, that one that feels like they’re the two most important people at her show, and can’t resist a comment:

“You guys are so great together. Keep making each other happy, please.”

Back then, it was hard to imagine them doing anything else. 

That show was Shawn and Ginny’s intro to the world as a couple. He didn’t give a moment’s pause to holding her hand, to wrapping his arms around her and swaying her as he sang in her ear. He kissed her during “New Years Day” for all to see. In fact, those were the fanarazzi shots seen around the world.

As the internet screamed, Shawn and Ginny sang, pounding their hands on their chests, squeezing each other’s fingers as they wailed along to their collective favorite Taylor song, “Love Story.”

Their singing was loud enough to drown out everything, at least for a while.

+

There’s no time for a pre-show visit this time and for that Ginny can be eternally grateful. She has no idea what Taylor does and doesn’t know about their breakup or the circumstances surrounding it, so avoiding the subject altogether feels safest.

Shawn and Ginny bring along a crew of friends and teammates, all of whom are balking at the sights and sounds of Wembley Arena. Ginny sticks fairly close to Shawn as they go through the different sectors of security, receive passes, and are led to the friends and family section where Ginny ducks her head to avoid the gazes of people like Karlie Kloss and Cara Delevingne.

She’s busying herself chatting with Brian who’s attempting to argue that Reputation was a better album than 1989 and Ginny’s trying to explain how simply insane that is when the lights go down.

Ginny’s been to every Taylor tour since the Fearless tour in 2009, she’s no stranger to the caliber of show she can put on, but to be continually mesmerized and impressed by the live performance after being a fan for so long is a feat, as Ginny sees it.

She looks over to Shawn, watches him grin at the theatrics of the stage and get swallowed up by the talent of his friend. Ginny hopes people feel about Shawn’s shows the way she does about Taylor’s. She knows she does.

She’s caught in a glance. He feels her gaze and looks over midway through “Delicate.” In the months since their breakup, she got exceptionally good at turning away just before he’d catch her eye. Maybe she’s tired, maybe she’s off her game, maybe it’s the innate romance of a Taylor Swift show that has her keeping her neck stiff and leaving her eyes on him for him to find.

His smile is warm and soft -- it’s not loaded down with unspoken words or regret or questions or resentment or history. It’s just Shawn smiling at Ginny. Ginny smiles back.

Five songs later, Taylor’s heel strikes the stage as she pounds through the “marry me, Juliet” section of “Love Story.” Shawn and Ginny can’t hear it. They’re gripping each other’s arms, jumping, singing way too loud.

+

Ginny would be perfectly happy returning to the hotel, thank you very much, but she’s outvoted tonight.

Taylor’s on a flight to Tokyo practically the moment the lights go up, so they have to find another way to entertain themselves. During the show, a couple of Shawn’s people have mixed with the model people and now all the people are heading to Shoreditch House which is absolutely fine with Ginny except it’s not really because she’s exhausted and there’s nothing she loves more than locking herself in a room with a piano after a Taylor show. But where Shawn goes, Ginny goes. At least on work days.

The series of enormous tinted-windowed Range Rovers pick them up from the bowels of Wembley. The group is all mixed up now -- Brian has made some new model friends, Josiah and Cara are laughing about something in the back row of the car Ginny’s squished into beside some really attractive celebrity types that Ginny only vaguely recognizes. Shawn’s in the other car.

She actually likes Shoreditch House. It’s always been one of Hannah’s favorite spots. If Hannah weren’t a sneeze away from being a new mum, she’d probably be game to join them and Ginny would feel a lot more enthusiastic. But Hannah’s across town asleep curled around a body pillow with her husband playing video games on a low volume in the next room. So Gin’s on her own.

Not exactly on her own, of course. She knows about half the people there. Andrew and Cez have bailed but the rest of the squad is still assembled. They go wandering into the converted warehouse seeking out drinks and a party.

Ginny can’t see Shawn anymore, but that’s ok. She’s had several (many, many) shots of tequila now and no longer minds not being in a dark hotel room with a keyboard and the voice memos app because she’s got an arm around Geoff and they’re scrambling words from different Taylor songs from different eras and for some reason it’s the funniest thing in the world.

She’s not looking, but she catches sight of him anyway. He’s standing by the bar, towering over a short, dark eyed, ombre-haired woman wearing a very expensive dress. His eyes are all alight with whatever story he’s telling. He’s having fun. Ginny smiles and turns back to Geoff, who’s mashing up the words to “White Horse” and “Blank Space” and it’s absurd and not funny but fuck, it’s so funny.

Shawn doesn’t make the rounds, exactly. He says goodbye to a handful of people who will spread the word that he’s off to the rest of the group. He drops the information skillfully, strategically, so Ginny’s the last to know. She knows he does it to be delicate, so she doesn’t accidentally see him leaving with his arm around someone, because he’s thoughtful even when he’s horny.

It’s not the first time since they’ve broken up, anyway. She figures eventually, when it’s comfortable, he’ll go back to his usual farewell to her which usually includes a squeeze around the waist and a murmur in her ear that he’ll see her tomorrow, don’t worry, he has his alarm set, he won’t be late. She never has to remind him, though. He’s never late.

When Jake leans into her ear to tell her the cars are out back and Shawn’s already left, Ginny can fill in the blanks even with her tequila-soaked brain. She nods and turns away because she knows exactly what kind of look is on Jake’s face and she doesn’t want to see it.

They round up and head out, models in one set of cars, Shawn’s team in the other. Geoff plays Taylor Swift on Bluetooth all the way back to the hotel. Ginny nods her head to “Love Story” because she can’t cry, she can’t scream, she can’t even pout. She can just breathe and watch the river go by.

Pls support Taylor shipping the hell out of Shinny and buy me a Ko-fi (link on homepage)!

Taglist:  @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @stillinskislydia @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @accioarmenian @sinplisticshawn @mutuallynotmutual @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve

[myreputation]

You Need to Calm Down, animoji style