#minho hates stretching but loves stretch goals

[ringdingdongraffle]

📣 LET'S 📣 GET 📣 THIS 📣 BREAD! 📣.

[the-only-ace]

Hey I know you are really busy with all the request and job and all that but can you do shinee's reaction to s/o stealing their t-shirts and hoodies?? You can make them one shots of you want too😁

shinee reacts: their s/o wearing their clothes

heyyy~ i really liked this request because i personally love to do this. for this request, i want to try something new since you gave me an idea with the one-shots part. so instead of describing their reactions, i'll convey it in a form of a short story. it will still be per member! i hope you will like this one (heads up though, the posts is a bit longer than my usual shinee reacts) <3

p.s. if you guys can, kindly let me know if you like this kind of format for shinee reacts. thank you!

send in your requests here!

onew / jinki: you sighed for the nth time within just 10 short minutes. you were staring and pouting in front of your closet for you can't find the perfect clothes for your brunch date with onew. it was a hot day today and you just wanted to wear something cute but comfortable. however, it seems like your wardrobe doesn't offer that kind of outfit.

your eyes slowly traveled toward onew's part of the closet. his side was full of quirky graphic tees which you always find adorable. you don't usually borrow his clothes but you can't help but to take a peek at them and take the one that caught your eyes.

it was a white oversized shirt with a cute box cartoon drawn in front of it. you tried it on and it stopped perfectly on your thighs, making it look like a cute dress. surprisingly, it even matches the pair of sneakers you were wearing.

before you can even decide whether you were keeping it on or not, onew walked into your room. his hair a bit damp and he was only wearing a towel considering that he just took a shower.

"oh, is that my shirt?" he pointed at you.

"uh... yeah. do you mind? i just wanted to wear something that is yours." you sheepishly replied.

"no problem!" he beamed his big bright smile before proceeding to get his own outfit.

you muttered a thank you then went to your vanity to finish touching up your makeup. afterward, you grabbed your phone and wallet and placed them inside your shoulder bag.

"alright, I'm ready to go..." you trailed off as you saw what he looked like. "what the hell are you wearing, lee jinki?"

"your shirt?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly feigning ignorance.

he was wearing your favorite grey t-shirt and it looked pitiful on him, it was as if it can tear at any moment. it barely covered his abdomen and was stretched to its limit.

"no shit, sherlock." you facepalmed at his usual weirdness. "what i want to know is why... why are you wearing it?"

"i thought we were doing a thing wherein we wear each other's clothes." he shrugged as if his response should be expected.

"what? no! please have mercy on my shirt and put on your own clothes." you can't help but laugh at him as you pushed him back to the dresser.

"alright, alright! i just wanted to make you laugh and look, it worked perfectly." he playfully pinched the tip of your nose before taking off the top he borrowed. "also, you should keep that shirt since it looks a hundred--no, million--times better on you."

"thanks, love," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a warm hug.

key / kibum:

after the long busy months, you were finally having a girl's night with your best friends. you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room to give yourself a final check. your hair was styled into textured waves and your lips were colored with the boldest red lipstick you can find. your nude heels matched the little black dress you were wearing. your outfit looked almost perfect and you just knew what you were missing. you quickly snatched key's gold leather jacket and put it on. ah, perfection.

this was the norm for you. your boyfriend's wardrobe was beyond incredible especially his outerwear collection and you just had to wear them every chance you can get. to be honest, key was very stubborn in letting you borrow his clothes... at first. after all the compromising, begging, and crying you made, he eventually budged and gave up. of course, it does not come for free. he practically made you sign a contract that once you stained his clothes, you have to shoulder the bill of the laundry and the shop will be chosen by him. however, if you damaged or god forbid, lost his clothes, you have to replace them. you immediately said yes to all of the conditions in a heartbeat. so far you only paid for 2 incredulously expensive laundry bills.

now, you were finally ready to leave. you walked out of the bedroom and made your way down the living room. there, key was sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite tv series.

"I'll be going out now," you announced as you grab your car keys near the front door.

"hey, hey, hey!" key clicked his tongue upon seeing your clothes. he was now looking behind his shoulder and giving you a stink eye. "is that my jacket?"

"um... maybe?" you gave him an awkward smile.

"of course, it's mine." he shook his head disapprovingly. "only i can pull that off, by the way." he sassily added.

"wow, i didn't know the fashion police was here. you should have given me a head's up, babe ." you bit back with a scoff. the last time you checked, you looked damn fine in it.

"just stating facts, baby," he replied in english.

"alright, then why don't you take me shopping then? so you can buy me a new set of clothes that will satisfy your standards." you challenged and if he said yes, you were clearly the winner.

"excuse me, i do call you 'baby' but i am not your sugar daddy. go now, you'll be late." he shooed you off.

"okay bye," a playful smirk appeared on your face. "daddy."

this made key rolled his eyes before turning his back on you. he would very much rather ignore you if you keep on acting that way.

"it's bye now, for real." you giggled as you open the door. "love you!" you called out before stepping out.

"love you too, brat." key mumbled with a small smile.

minho:

winter was approaching and the air was slowly becoming colder than usual. it was the best time to stay in the comfort of your warm home and enjoy hot cocoa with your loved ones. a perfect time to wear your sweaters and hoodies indoors. however, this was not the case for minho for his favorite hoodie was missing.

"hey, babe?" he called out from the bedroom. "have you seen my black hoodie? the one with the white writings on it."

"what's that, i didn't hear you?" you went inside a few seconds later.

and there it was, his favorite hoodie being worn by his favorite person. you looked smaller while wearing it since it was way too big for you. the hem almost touched your knees and your whole arms were lost inside the sleeves. he can't help but smile at the sight.

"nothing, i was just looking for my hoodie but it looks like i found it." he gestured at the clothes you were wearing.

"oh, shoot. sorry, i didn't tell you that i borrowed it." you hit your forehead with your palm.

"it's okay. you're free to use them anytime, anyway." he patted the top of your head.

within the last few weeks, minho noticed that you sometimes wear his clothes. it was not a daily thing though and you even asked for his permission. slowly, it became every day and he would just be surprised to see you walking around the house parading his jackets and sweaters. he didn't mind it though, he was just curious about what you do to your own clothing. also, he hoped that he still had some remaining tops for himself during the cold season.

well, guess luck was not on his side.

his eyes were staring at his closet wherein there was only one jacket left, one. you followed his gaze and you promptly felt the warmth raised to your cheeks. you were surely red from embarrassment now. you were happily wearing his clothes that you didn't have the time to count how much was left.

"oh my god, i'm sorry! i didn't--" you cut yourself off as you watched him put on the lone jacket from his dresser. "i'm sorry, i didn't notice it. i just... can't help myself. your jackets are so comfortable and warm compare to mine." you tried to explain yourself. also not to mention that they all smelled just like him.

"don't worry about it." he reassured you as he placed his arm around your shoulder. "just be mindful next time. i might end up half-naked someday, you know."

"how can you be so sure that's not my goal?" you teased before sticking your tongue out.

he laughed at your silliness and then pressed a soft kiss on your warm forehead. you decided to make a cup of hot cocoa for him as a peace offering.

taemin:

it was past midnight and it was raining cats and dogs outside. you visited taemin in his apartment for a stay-at-home dinner date but a storm came before you can even go back home. taemin then convinced you to spend the night there instead. it was not a big deal anyway since you stayed over a lot of times already. you just didn't bring your sleepover bag with you and the dress you were wearing was definitely not comfortable to sleep on.

your caring boyfriend of course promised to ease your worries. the two of you shared a warm bath after dinner and he lent you his clothes for you to change to. so that was how you ended up on his couch, fighting off sleep because the show you both were watching always had a cliffhanger ending per episode. you two needed some answers before you can drift off to sleep peacefully. it was the weekend tomorrow anyway so staying up late won't hurt that much.

your head was laying on his lap while his right hand was playing on the locks of your hair and his left one was comfortably resting on the top of your hip. his hand would occasionally rub circles on the exposed skin. as much as you hate to move from your cozy spot, you had to or else you might end up dozing off right there and then. not to mention, him playing on your hair does not help at all.

you slowly got up from the sofa as you tried to stifled a yawn. "i'll just go get some cold drink." you pushed yourself up from your seat.

you then raised your arms and stretched with a satisfied groan. your shoulders and back were sore after laying down for more or less 3 hours. you can even hear your joints cracking from stretching out. also, you felt the shirt you were wearing raised up.

taemin's shirts were not overly huge for you whenever you wore them. the hem barely covered your behind and right now you were sure that a tiny portion of your buttcheeks was peeking through the white tee. you weren't conscious about it, taemin saw much more than that anyway.

suddenly, you felt a slap across your behind which made you freeze on your spot. you looked behind and saw your boyfriend confidently leaning on the couch with his legs crossed.

"did you just slap my butt?" you inquired.

"uh-huh," he nodded with a cocky grin. "want me to spank you again?"

you frowned a little as you processed the sudden change of mood. taemin won't deny it though, seeing you in his shirts always made his heart skip a bit and his breathing ragged. you always looked effortlessly sexy in them.

"sure, why not?" you replied wickedly after a few seconds of silence.

taemin processed your answer in a split second and he hastily grabbed you by the waist and threw you on his broad shoulders. he did not forget you give you another smack on the ass when he made his way toward the bedroom, the television was completely forgotten.

[lixiepeach]

Love Bites, Part 6

Summary: Fourty-seven years ago, Y/N’s life ended after a chance encounter at a nightclub with her now vampire sire Hyunjin. The arrogant ex-prince has hated her since that night, blaming her for everything and has made it his goal for the rest of eternity to make sure she knows it.

Another chance encounter has her pining after a very human university student. She knows getting close to him will put his life at risk, but she can’t help but be drawn in by his sweet nature and adorable smile. What happens when her vengeful sire learns of her interest in the human boy? Can she save him or will Hyunjin ruin everything once again?

Characters: Vampire!Chan, Vampire!Minho, Vampire!Changbin, Vampire!Hyunjin, Vampire!Jisung, Vampire!Felix, Human!Seungmin, Human!Jeongin, Vampire!Reader

Pairing: Starts Hyunjin x reader, but endgame is Jeongin x reader

Warnings: Blood (it’s vampires so…), violence, Hyunjin is a major asshole, abuse, fighting, smut, unprotected sex, language. 

MASTERLIST

1990

“I love you.” 

You stare at the man in bed next to you. You don’t love him. You don’t even like him. He was only there to fulfill a need. Nothing more. 

“I know.” You roll over, sitting up and stretching. 

“Fuck, you’re hot.” 

You smirk at him over your shoulder before you grab your pants, slipping them on. “Thanks.” 

He grabs your hand, drawing your attention. “Stay.” 

“I can’t. You know that.” 

His grip tightens. “Why not? You never stay.” 

“It’s...complicated.” 

He tugs you back onto the bed, surprising you. “You always say it’s complicated. What’s the truth? There’s someone else, isn’t there? That’s why you never say it.” He climbs over you, pinning you to the bed. “You’ve never loved me because you love someone else! All you’ve ever done is used me!” 

You push him off of you, sending him across the room. He hits the wall with a thud, dropping to the floor. You speed over to him, pinning him to the floor with your hand around his throat. He stares up at you in shock, gasping as you tighten your grip. 

“You’re right. I don’t love you. You’ve never been anything more than a dick to sit on when I want it. And there is someone else. There’s been many others and there will be plenty after you.” 

“You...bitch.” He gasps out. 

You bare your fangs at him. The last thing you see is his terrified eyes before you drain the life from him. You fall back against the wall, staring at his dead body. Emotions begin to roil, and you pick up his body, barely making it back to the house in time. You stumble down to the furnace, tossing him in before turning it on. 

You sink to the floor next to the furnace doors, leaning back against the rock wall. His wife will be home soon. She’ll find him missing and call the police. You had been careful but...if anyone saw you together...

The basement door opens, Felix coming down the stairs. He kneels in front of you, pulling your hands from your face. 

“I messed up.” You say. “I really messed up this time.” 

“It’s okay. We’ll take care of it. We always do.” 

**********

2022

“What’s all this?” You ask as Jeongin closes the door. 

His bed is covered in rose petals, candles lit and set around the room. The lights are dimmed, and there’s quiet music playing. 

“I’m ready.” He says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “I want to do this.” 

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “You’re sure?” 

He leans forward, kissing you hard. You can smell the arousal coming off him already, threatening to pull you in as well. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

You kiss him again, pulling him closer. “If you change your mind...we can stop. Whenever.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be saying that to you?” 

You smile, cupping his face. “It’s your first time. I want you to be comfortable. Not pressured into doing this.” 

“I’m the one who called you over here, remember?” He says. 

“I know. I just want to make sure.” 

He bends down, grabbing the backs of your thighs before lifting you up into his arms. You’ve never been so happy about him working out before now, holding onto him as he carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, kneeling over you. 

“I’m sure.” He says, looking down at you with dark eyes. “I’m very sure.” 

You’re at a loss for words, looking up at him in the low light. You can see him perfectly with your enhanced eyesight made for seeing in the dark. You find him the most beautiful in this light. The way the candlelight makes his skin glow, the lust-blown look in his eyes. He’s beautiful in any light, but this is becoming your new favorite. 

You sit up, running your hands under his shirt. His skin is warm, even against your warmed skin from the blood you had drank last night. You push his shirt up, fingers feeling every ridge of his muscles. He pulls his shirt over your head and you bite your lip as you take him in. He’s all smooth skin and muscle, and you’re unable to stop yourself from sitting up and putting your hands on him. His own hands lower to your hips, his fingers teasing the band of skin below the hem of your shirt. 

“Take it off me.” You say, looking up at him. 

He slowly lifts your shirt, tossing it to the floor. He stares at you and your lacy pink bra. You’re glad you wore it, though you’re upset that your panties don’t match. If you had known, you would have prepared better. But he had sprung this one on you entirely. 

You kiss him again, pulling him down to meet your lips. He’s eager, slipping his tongue into your mouth immediately. You can’t help but smile a bit at how sweet he is, feeling a bit like you’re corrupting him. 

You reach back, undoing your bra, tossing it to the floor. He pulls away from you, staring down at you with wide eyes. 

“You can touch me...if you want.” You say, noticing the slight nervous tremble to his hands. You grab one of his wrists, placing his hand on your breast. “Right here.”

You lean back as he touches your breast, squeezing it gently. He cups the other one in his free hand, lips slightly parted. You gasp as he brushes your nipple, making him look up at you. 

“Do that again.” You instruct, holding onto his wrist as he flicks your nipple. 

You let your head fall back as he touches you, enjoying the gentleness of his hands. Normally you wouldn’t prefer a soft touch. You liked to hurt. Softness made it easy to grow feelings. You didn’t want feelings with the people you used for your own pleasure. But with Jeongin, the feelings had come first before the desire. You wanted to be soft with him. You wanted to take your time, let him explore your body. You didn’t just want to fuck him. You wanted to make love to him. 

He kisses you again, hands gently massaging your breasts. Your panties are soaked just from being close to him, breathing in his own desire. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans, something he’s not bothering to hide this time. 

His lips trail down your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. You moan softly, ready to pull him away if he bites you. You couldn’t let him taste any of your blood. Not that you’re thinking he’d even try to do that. But just in case. 

His mouth continues down your chest, until he’s replacing his fingers with his mouth. You gasp in surprise as he sucks at your nipple, tilting your head to watch him. 

He pulls away for a moment, smirking up at your surprised face. “What? I’ve watched porn.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “Of course you have. I knew you weren’t that innocent.” 

He smirks, leaning back down to suck at your nipples. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sensation of his hands and his mouth on your body. You had spent many days in the last few weeks picturing this moment. What he would feel like over you, touching you. When he had finally kissed you, you had imagined over and over what his lips would feel like on your body. You wanted them everywhere, you wanted him everywhere. 

“Fuck.” You moan, your panties continuing to dampen. “I need you to touch me.” You breathe, the scent of your mixed arousals going to your head. 

“I am touching you.” He says. 

You roll your eyes. “Still can’t avoid being snarky even in bed.” 

He blushes a little, dimples showing as he smiles sheepishly. “No.” 

You cup his cheek, lifting his face. “It’s cute. Don’t stop.” 

He grins wider, eyes closing into slits. You can’t help the smile that forms in reaction to his own. You reach down, pulling your skirt and panties off in one go, letting your legs fall back open around him. He stares down at your pussy, mouth slightly open. 

“Oh fuck.” He breathes, unable to look away. 

“What, I thought you said you watched porn?” You say, teasing him. 

“I have...but that’s porn. This is...you.” 

You sit up, kissing him as your fingers work on the button of his jeans. “You’re sweet, Jeongin. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” 

“You need to hang out with better people.” He says, nipping at your bottom lip as you palm him through his boxers. 

“That’s why I have you.” You say, tugging his boxers down too. 

He’s hard and leaking already, looking like he could blow at any moment. “I’m trying really hard.” He says, leaning over you. 

You smile, cupping his face. “Hey. Even if you only last ten seconds, there’s other ways you can make me cum. This is about you.” 

He nods. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” You say, taking his hand and placing his fingers against your slit. “I’m more than ready for this.” 

He hisses as he feels your wetness against his fingers, more precum dripping from his tip. “Fuck, I’ve always wanted to try oral.” 

You smile. “We can do that later. Right now you want to be inside me.” 

He nods, reaching over to his nightstand to grab a condom. Not that it would have made much of a difference, but if it makes him more comfortable, you’d do anything. You scoot up against the pillows, pulling him closer. You wrap your hand around him, guiding him into you. 

You both moan at the sensation, your arms wrapping around him to pull him against you. He slides into you all at once, the painful stretch making you grip him ever so tighter. He’s breathing heavy into your ear, leaning on his elbows to hold him up. You hold him, letting him adjust to the feeling. It’s heavenly for you, finally fulfilling your dream. You had wanted this so bad for so long and now you were getting it. 

He slowly begins to thrust, trying to find his rhythm. You hold onto him, moving your own hips to help him. He’s thick enough you can feel the drag of him against your walls, stretching you as you tighten around him. It’s all too much, your own body getting close to cumming with the thought that you were finally getting to do this with the person you loved. The only person you’ve ever loved.

“Oh god.” He groans, lips brushing your ear. “I don’t know how much longer...”

“Don’t hold on.” You moan, hands going to his ass to move him harder into you. “Cum for me, Jeongin.” 

It only takes a couple more thrusts before he’s a moaning mess, twitching as he cums into the condom. What you would give to feel him cumming inside you, but that was for later. His whole body shudders, hips stilling. You watch him in awe, falling more and more in love with him. 

“What...about you?” He breathes, attempting to push himself up slightly. 

“Here.” You help him up, taking his fingers and putting them on your clit. “Rub.” 

He does as he’s told, circling his fingers around your clit. He’s still inside you, starting to get hard again as you clench around him. Your back arches as you get close, the sensation of his fingers getting to you. You never came this fast, but everything was different with Jeongin. 

He falls forward, groaning with you as you cum, gripping his arms as you cry out his name. You both stay there for a few moments, Jeongin catching his breath. He’s slick with sweat, but you don’t care. 

“Did you...did you cum twice?” You ask as he pulls out of you. 

He nods, flushing. “Yeah.” 

“That’s hot.” You say, pulling him close as he tosses the used condom into the trash. 

He lays down on the bed, pulling you against his chest. You rest your head over his heart, listening to it beat in his chest. It’s your favorite sound, something you could spend the rest of eternity listening to, but you know that’s not possible. To spend eternity with you, he’d have to become a vampire. Lose all the human things you loved about him. You were gambling now, diving deeper and deeper into a dark hole you would have to reach the bottom of eventually. You can’t turn him. You can’t do that to him. But eventually you’ll have to leave. 

“Stay.” He says, hand lacing with yours.

“Jeongin...” 

“We can keep the curtains closed. Lay in the closet. Whatever you need. Just...don’t leave me. Not this time.” 

You sigh, feeling tears prick at your eyes. They always did this the first time. But this was different. You couldn’t cold shoulder him and walk out before the sun rose. This was Jeongin. You had just made love for the first time, his first time ever. You couldn’t just walk out and leave him. 

“Fuck.” You breathe, sitting up. “It’s...Jeongin...” 

“Hey,” He grabs your arm softly and you turn away from him quickly. 

“I need to make a call.” You grab your phone from the floor, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over your head before you hurry out of the room to the bathroom. 

You close the door, making sure it’s locked. You try to breathe, desperately wiping the bloody tears off your cheeks. You weren’t ready for this. You weren’t ready for it to fall apart. Not now. Not after this. It would break his heart and yours. You would never recover. You’d spend the rest of eternity thinking about this moment, regretting it. You can’t do that. Not to him. Not to yourself. 

You calm yourself down, making sure there’s no blood on your face before you make your way back to his room. You sit down on his bed, chewing on your lip. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, not wanting to look at him. “I just can’t risk it.” 

You can practically feel the disappointment. You can smell it too. It kills you, but you know the risk is too great. 

“I get it.” He says, wrapping an arm around you. “I just...want you to be honest with me.” 

You could cry again. But instead you shove it down, pushing all those emotions away. “It’s...so complicated. I don’t know how to tell you without you thinking I’m crazy.” 

“I would never think you’re crazy.” He cups your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “I love you, okay? I mean it. I just...want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I know. I love you too. So much it scares me sometimes. I just...can’t be out during the day. At all. I don’t know how to explain it in a way that you could understand. But I have to go home in a few hours, barricade myself in a house with covered windows and sleep until tomorrow night.” 

He takes your hand, nodding. “Okay.” 

“When things are better...we can talk about it. But not right now. I just want to spend the next few hours with you.” 

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Main Masterlist 

For this masterlist specifically, please assume all reader inserts are female readers. This will be noted on their postings but just in case this comes across someones dash. 

Posting date Kink Title {Pairing} Summary 

I am currently taking Dean, Klaus, Ivar requests specifically for Kinktober!! (if you have Stiles ones I may accept them but will likely not post them until November)  **  YOU ARE ALSO WELCOME TO REQUEST FOR ANY OF THE MALES FROM VIKINGS OR MEDICI  BUT THOSE FIRST THREE ARE MY ALWAYS LOVES

October 1- ABO Kink - Petrichor and Cedar {Alpha!Dean x Omega!F Reader} You go to the bar one night, just wanting to get out of the house when there’s a smell that knocks you off your feet and sends you into unexpected arms.

October 2 - Voyeurism 100 Points (Weasley Brothers x Nikki ) It’s just another day at the shop for Nikki and the boys ((Actually posted on the 21 but I am putting here tokeep track of how many are left)) 

October 3 - Daddy Kink - Called Your Name {Alpha!Stiles x Omega! F Reader} You hate Stiles Stilinski and there’s not a soul that can convince you otherwise. He’s supposed to be gone letting you get some studying in but when the cocky Alpha calls your name youworry he may need some help

October 4 - First Time Knotted - A Good Alpa {Alpha!Dean x Omega!F Reader}  You're working at the Roadhouse when you meet a green eyed man that’s got your arousal permeating the room.  ((Actually posted on the 27 but I am putting here to keep track of how many are left)) 

October 5 -  Marking Kink -Marked {Stiles x Reader}  An adventurous afternoon with your long time boyfriend leads to an awkward moment with his dad. 

October 6 - Public Sex -  The Hot Tub {Thomas (TMR) x Female!Reader} ��A game of Truth or Dare with the gang leads to you confessing some information about Thomas and it seems that Minho has a plan for what to do with that. (Please note this is an Modern Day AU- the maze was not a thing but there is an unnamed trauma they all experienced)((Actually posted on the 31 but I am putting here to keep track of how many are left)) 

October 7 -  Master/Pet Dynamic - Master {Draco Malfoy x Female Reader} The thing about the dynamic... he tends to know what it is you need... even when you don’t ((Actually posted on the 31 but I am putting here to keep track of how many are left))

October 8 -   Mirror Sex - I Like You Begging... Do it Again  {Dean x Reader} You had been dancing round Dean for year. When you get invited to a wedding, things finally seem to go your way. 

October 9 -   Breath Play - Take My Breath {x Chelsea}   The thing about wearing one of Dean's flannels is that it always gets him going, even when she’s just folding laundry. ((Actually posted on the 31 but I am putting here to keep track of how many are left))

October 10 -  Girl on Top - Stay {Billy Russo x Reader} It’s been years since you’ve seen the man and when he shows up at your bar and confessions are made… well it’s time to make up for lost time. 

October 11 - Lingerie Kink - Please Don’t Wear Green {Luke Alvez x Reader} You’ve hooked up with him before the two of you started working together... but when you find yourself in his arms and a teasing text from him makes you throw caution to the wind ((Actually posted on the Nov 1 but I am putting here to keep track of how many are left))

October 12 - 

October 13 -  Breeding Kink - Nightcap Activities {Stiles Stilinski x Reader} Getting home from date night, Stiles gives you news that means the two of you can finally work towards pups - requested by @thegirlwhoimagined​

October 14 - Somnophilia - Enjoy (Klaus x Reader) The sight of you on his bed is enough for Klaus to enjoy a kink you’ve mentioned.

October 15 - Semi-Public Sex - Impatient (Ivar x Ellie ) A missing bra, some margaritas and Ivars gaze left Ellie feeling a bit frisky and that was how they ended up in the kitchen

October 16 - Phone Sex - Needy (Stiles x Reader) When Stiles has been gone longer than normal you decide to try something new that leads to a very interesting phone call.

October 17  Squirting - The Hybrid Brother (Klaus Mikaelson x Reader) You’re in New Orleans because you need to speak with the leader of the Tremé Coven but when one of the Originals shows up you learn he’s achieved one of his biggest goals you can’t help it when a congratulations evolves. 

October 18 - 

October 19

October 20 

October 21 Doggy Style - A Pazzi Heir (Francesco de Pazzi x Reader) You had been having a hard time conceiving with your husband. A conversation with Emilia, your families maid, leads you to trying something new in bed. 

October 22 

October 23 

October 24- Anal - Stretched Limits (Dean x Reader)  Dean and you push yourself past a soft limit and you get a chance to learn if you like it or not. 

October 25 

October 26

October 27 

October 28 

October 29

October 30 

October 31

Things I am working on for this 

Age Gap  {Dean x Nikki}

stuart x pregnant!reader

First Heat Kink - Untitled Fic { Stiles x Reader}

Request:  could you do a fic of Alpha!Stiles and Beta!reader where they are best friends and they have to share a hotel bed together and reader and stiles slowly go into heat/rut together because of each other and they try to resist it because they want to be friends but give in and get together with ABO dynamics? (i know that was very specific i have so many ideas but can’t write for my life💀) also i life your work!- you deserve so much more recognition!  

[kpopblurbs]

Kinktober Day 14 - Brat Taming

Pairing: Minho/Reader Word Count: 3.1k Tags: Brat taming, phallic gags, pegging, dom!Minho, sub!Reader, hints of exhibitionism, female reader Kinktober 2019 Masterlist AO3 Link

You couldn’t help but try and tease Minho, it was just so fun to push his buttons and see how he would react. This time you were out with him and his friends, you were sat talking to Chan while Minho was talking to Jisung. Well, it was more like Jisung was talking to a wall as Minho was completely focused on you and Chan. You laughed at something Chan had said that probably wasn’t even that funny, gently resting your hand on his thigh as you did so. That was the last straw for Minho, he stormed away from Jisung, cutting the poor boy off mid sentence. He walked up to you and cleared his throat, “Babe, I’m talking to Chan.” you said without looking up at him.

“It’s fine, I mean he seems a little upset.” Chan said looking awkwardly between the two of you.

“You know how pissy he can get.” you responded, still not sparing a glance at Minho. Deciding enough was enough, Minho reached down and pulled you up by your arm.

“We’re gonna go home.” Minho said to Chan, though he kept his eyes on you.

“I assume you’re gonna do some weird sex thing so we’ll stay out for a few more hours.” Chan said, at this point he was very used to dealing with the two of you. Minho began to walk away, maintaining a tight grip on your arm, you smiled and waved at the other boys as you were dragged away. He released his grip on your arm as you emerged onto the sidewalk, opting instead to keep his hand on the small of your back, guiding you down the street. You were only a couple of minutes away from the dorms so the walk was quick, he didn’t say a word to you, the silence from him only serving to make you more excited knowing you had succeeded in your goal of pissing him off.

“Bedroom. Now.” he demanded as soon as you entered the dorm.

“Or what?” you challenged, still not ready to give in to him.

He growled and stormed up to you, putting a hand on your throat and pushing you up against the wall, “You’ll regret it.” his voice low and angry. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach as he squeezed his hand around your throat, not enough to cut off your air supply but enough to serve as a warning.

“Oh will I?” you challenged again, your voice was slightly squeaky from the hand around your throat but your cockiness still shone through.

He growled again, removing his hand from your throat and used it to grip your hair roughly. He stepped away and, using the hand in your hair, lead you to the bedroom. “Incredible.” he spat out as he walked, “You’ve only said three things to me and I’m already sick of hearing your voice.” He closed the bedroom door behind him and pushed you toward the bed, releasing your hair so he could pull out the toys he was planning on using. “You have two options,” he said with his back facing you, “You can take your clothes off now before I tie you up, or you can continue being a brat and I’ll tie you up anyway and cut the clothes off of you.” You weighed your options for a second before deciding to take your clothes off, you actually liked your shirt and knew that he would hold up his threat if you disobeyed. You tossed your clothes at his feet in a small act of defiance, “Good choice, even if you’re still gonna act like a brat.” 

He finished gathering the toys and walked back over to you, “Are you gonna lay down or am I gonna have to threaten you again?” he asked. You thought for a second before moving to lay on the bed knowing that you’d have other chances to push his buttons. He laid down the items next to you, thinking for a second before picking up the padded cuffs, he hooked one around each of your wrists before bringing your arms up over your head and linking the cuffs together around one of the bars on the headboard. You tested your restraints, tugging on them slightly before deciding you were happy with how they felt.

You looked at him expectantly, “Is this it or are you gonna actually punish me?” you smirked at him. He glared at you and picked up another item, a penis gag, long enough to fill your mouth but not so long that it made you gag.

“I told you I was sick of hearing your voice.” he said, pressing the tip up against your lips. You refused to open your mouth so he reached up with one hand and pinched your nose closed, cutting off your air supply. You held your breath for as long as you could before you had to open your mouth to breathe and as soon as you did, he thrust the gag into your mouth, hard enough for it to tap the back of your throat and make you gag. He buckled it behind your head while you adjusted to the weight of it in your mouth, it made swallowing a little difficult and forming any coherent words was next to impossible. He smiled at you, “Finally some peace and quiet.” he said making you glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that, one wrong move from you and i'll lock that around your head so you can prove to everyone how much you love having your mouth full of cock.” You attempted to say something snarky but only managed a couple garbled noises, “Maybe we should get a longer one. One that hits the back of your throat so all you can do is gag around it, then maybe you’d be less of a brat.” He took two of his fingers and placed them on the part of the gag that covered your mouth before giving the gag one quick press, once again sending the tip of the gag into your throat and causing you to gag again, tears welling up in your eyes at the sensation. “What do you think, kitten, should I grab the lock and make you wear that around the other boys?” you shook your head. “What’s the matter, earlier you had no problem flirting with Chan but now you don’t want them to see how much of a slut you are?” you shook your head again. “Well then you should start being less of a brat. Next time you act out like this, that’s what’ll happen, got it?” you nodded in response. “Good.” he removed his fingers from the gag and selected another toy, it was one that you had bought a while ago but that he never let you use no matter how desperately you wanted to.

He held up the strap-on so you could see it clearly, you held back a whine as he looked at it, “You’ve been wanting to use this almost as long as we’ve been together, right?” he asked, you nodded. “All you wanted was for me to let you pound me into this mattress.” you nodded more enthusiastically. “Were you hoping for the chance to dom me?” you nodded again. “Well that’s just too bad, see I was thinking I’d let you wear this, fuck myself on it while you can’t touch me, and then just throw it away.” this time you let the whine slip out, not being able to finger him open or bend him over and take him how you wanted him would be absolute torture. “Judging by that reaction, it sounds like you don’t want that?” his voice was teasing, you shook your head. “Well isn’t that just too bad, cause that’s what’s happening.” you whined louder. He ignored your protests, setting down the strap-on and picking up the ankle cuffs, he attached one to each ankle and pulled your legs down to the end of the mattress where you had connection points to a strap that went under the bed, he attached each cuff to a connection point forcing your legs to remain open. The restraints held your legs flat enough so you couldn’t even bend your knees, this meant that if he did fuck himself on your strap-on, no matter what you did you would be unable to get leverage to fuck up into him.

“Still feeling bratty?” he asked, you glared at him, “I’ll take that as a yes.” He grabbed the strap-on and began strapping it onto you, lifting up your hips with one hand so he could get it properly situated onto you. You put up as much of a fight as you could until he tightened the last strap. “I have to say, I’ll be sad to see this thing go after tonight, it would’ve been fun to let you fuck me, too bad you never earned it.” he said, wrapping a hand around the thin plastic dildo and giving it a couple of strokes, you whined desperately. “Although, I think it’ll be just as fun to see the look on your face when it goes into the trash.” he said with a smirk. You whined again, “Oh shut up,” he scolded, “You don’t get to act like a brat and then complain when you get punished. In fact, I don’t want to hear another noise from you. I want you to be my perfect little fuck toy tonight, one more peep and you won’t cum for a year.” You held back the whine that bubbled up in your throat, knowing that he would make good on his threat if you disobeyed. “I’m gonna use you until I’m satisfied and then maybe, if I feel like it, I’ll let you hump my thigh till you cum, sound good?” you shook your head. He shrugged at you, “Sucks.” was all he said before moving off of the bed, he stood up and stripped himself of his clothing before settling himself between your legs.

He grabbed the bottle of lube that he had placed next to you and got himself into position. He drizzled some lube onto his hand before wrapping it around his cock and pumping slowly, using his other hand, he scooped some of the excess lube onto his fingers and brought them down to his hole. He pressed one into himself and moaned softly, the hand around his dick still moving slowly. You knew that he was moving so slowly to get you riled up and as much as you hated to admit it, it was working. You could feel your resolve slipping with every movement he made. He added another finger and hissed at the stretch, he always added the second finger too quickly, almost enjoying the sting of the stretch. You watched intently as he began to scissor his fingers, he cried out as he curled them up, hitting his prostate dead on. He began to fuck himself on his fingers, still stroking himself slowly as he started grinding down on his hand. You began to tug at your restraints, wanting nothing more than to take over for him, to feel his hole clench around your fingers. You looked up to see the fucked out expression on his face only to find that he was looking at you, he was biting his lip, his pupils were blown but his resolve was still strong, he was determined to break you, to make you be obedient. Finally he pulled his fingers out of himself, he used the lube on his hands to slick up the strap-on before moving to straddle you. He moaned loudly as he sank down on the dildo, you resisted the urge to whine at him, you were still tugging at the restraints but he was no longer paying attention to you. He began to slowly move himself up and down on the dildo, his hand going back to stroking himself. Obediently you didn’t even try to thrust up into him, the visuals of him ignoring you and treating you like an over-sized sex toy enough to finally break your resolve.

“What’s the matter?” he asked between moans, “Did I break you that easily?” his voice sounded steady despite all the noises he was making. You didn’t acknowledge his question, too lost in watching him sink down over the dildo. Not satisfied with you ignoring him, he reached down and tweaked one of your nipples, the sudden contact making your body jolt and you snapped your head up to look at him. “I asked you a question, slut, did I break you that easily?” you looked down, not able to maintain eye contact as you gently nodded your head. “Does that mean you’re gonna be good for me, now?” you nodded again, “Good, I’m still gonna throw the strap-on away after this, but I’m glad to know you’re gonna start acting right.” You bit back a whine, still trying to be good for once. His bouncing began to get faster and sloppier, you watched the muscles in his stomach tense rhythmically as he got closer to his high. He threw his head back in pleasure and you watched as he fell apart on top of you, he cried out as his orgasm hit him, sinking down on the dildo and grinding himself through the waves of pleasure. His release covered your stomach and you went back to tugging at your restraints, just wanting to touch him. He caught his breath for a few seconds before lifting himself off of you, almost immediately he began to undo the straps for the strap-on and pull it off of you.

“Now, I know you finally decided to be good, but you still need your punishment for acting like such a slut today.” he said as he picked up another toy, you whined at him. “I’ll let that noise slide but I’m telling you right now that the other boys could be home soon and if you make too much noise, one of them just might come in here to check on you and you wouldn’t want that, right?” you shook your head. “Good girl.” he said before reaching down to press his thumb to your clit, your body jolted and you cried out from the sudden contact. He smirked at you and began to move his thumb in slow circles while he talked, “Now, here’s what's gonna happen, I’m gonna set you up with this,” he held up a wand vibrator, “and then I’m gonna leave the room, I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I do know that you’re gonna wanna be real quiet cause I’m definitely not gonna close the door, got it?” you resisted the urge to whine and attempt to argue around the gag, instead just nodding your head.

He smiled triumphantly at you before reaching down and grabbing a leather strap, he used that to secure the vibrator to your thigh, ensuring that it was pressed right up against your pussy before moving away from you and pulling his clothes back on. Once he was fully dressed he reached over and turned the toy on, you cried out at the intense vibrations coursing through your body, “Remember, baby, try and stay quiet.” he said before leaving the room. True to his word he left the door open a crack. The thrill of getting caught increasing your excitement tenfold and causing a sudden orgasm to hit you. Your best to stay quiet through the pleasure, only letting out soft whimpers. The pleasure quickly turned to pain as the vibrator began to overstimulate you, you tried to wiggle away from it but the strap on your thigh kept it securely in place. You were still wiggling around when you heard the sound of the front door open and the distinct sounds of the rest of the boys coming home.

“Are you guys done?” Chan called out cautiously, unable to respond to him you did your best to stay silent as you heard Minho respond to him, their conversation picked up and you heard the sounds of the rest of the boys spreading throughout the dorm. Luckily your room was at the end of a hall, there was no reason for anyone to walk to your door and even luckier, no one did. The fear of getting caught increased as you heard the boys began to settle into being at home, knowing that at any moment one of them could knock on your door and see you in such a compromising position. Soon enough you heard footsteps approaching your door, your body tensed in fear as the door slowly opened, the adrenaline running through your body triggering another orgasm. You did your best to hold back the noises but plenty of noises still slipped out as the door opened all the way to reveal Minho. He quickly shut the door behind him, tears spilled down your cheeks as the toy began to overstimulate you once again.

He walked over to you and turned the toy off “Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, you nodded frantically and began trying to apologize around the gag. “Shh, baby, hold on let me get all this off of you.” quickly he undid the strap around the toy, setting it off to the side before removing the cuffs on your ankles and then moving up to the cuffs on your wrists. As soon as your arms were free you grabbed onto him and pulled him close. “Hold on, let me get the gag out of your mouth.” he said pulling away slightly to unbuckle the gag. He pulled it out of your mouth slowly, trailing a string of spit behind it that he quickly wiped away. Tears were still streaming down your cheeks as you began to apologize to him again now that you could actually speak. “Hey, hey it's okay.” he said, pulling you close and running his fingers gently through your hair, “You did so good I’m so proud of you.” he said softly. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

“Just you.” you responded.

“Cute.” he smiled down at you before shifting around, you held him tighter, afraid that he was trying to leave. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I’m just trying to get comfortable.” you loosened your grip slightly and he moved himself so he was laying down before pulling you over and laying your head on his chest. “You know I love you, right?” he asked, you nodded, “Good, cause I really do.” you smiled softly as your eyes fluttered closed. The exhaustion from everything he had done finally taking over as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[hyunjizns]

dating hyunjin

⤷ hyunjin is like my ULT bby so  my heart is just crying rn

how you guys started dating

so basically you’re minho’s bestie and ofc like the good friend you are you go to his dance competition to give all of your support

and you support his partner in crime felix because y’know, friendship goals

anyway this is like minho’s biggest competition yet and his biggest rival himself is there, hwang hyunjin

you would never ever tell minho that you found hyunjin hella attractive 

because you know rivals !!

but that didn’t stop you from admiring the boy

like how does he move his body like that??

so what happens is that there’s the lil break for the dancers to get themselves together

and felix and minho just disappeared so you were left all alone looking at the dancers do their thing

and hwang ! hyunjin ! just slides up next to you like okay boy shouldn't you be stretching or something?

and he just goes like "hi there" shyly

hello,, heart are you still there??

but unfortunately you don't get to talk much more after that because minho and felix return just to ruiN your guys' moment

so hyunjin just smirks at minho beacuse again, rivals and returns to his dancer friends

minho is like wtf y/n?!??! and you're like i dunno

anyway so the whole competition's over now hyunjin like waits until he's sure minho and felix have gone about their business

and then he comes back up to you

now lemme tell you that this boy has been wanting to ask for your number for agEs now but he just couldn’t

because he’s a shyy boyy okay

anyway he finally got the guts to do it and he starts up a conversation with you until he smoothly asks for your number

like 10/10 flirting skills mr. hwang

and there blossoms a beautiful friendship

so you guys like talk every hour of every day like what is hyunjin without y/n at this point ??

and ofc minho notices but he supports it because y’all are cute wtf

and you know it you can feel yourself catching feelings for this boy

usually you'd try to get rid of feelings fast but this hwang hyunjin we're talking about

i mean it’s inevitable anyway from all the selfies he sends you, his charming personality, your guys’ 4 hour calls, everything is just great

and you guys go out together so often pls

each of your friend groups are like jUst datE AlReady 

it’s killing them the mixed ! signals ! you give each other

one second you're acting like a couple, shamelessly flirting and the next being super shy

but as we know, mr. hyunjin is a shy boy so you take it upon yourself to ask him out

it was on one of your lil friend date thingys 

and you’re both eating your ice creams and joking around and laughing until you take a deep breath and are suddenly serious

and you turn and look hyunjin right in his pretty dark eyes

and he’s like y/n ???? you okay???

he gets worried easily he doesn't wanna mess anything up

and you’re like taking his hand in yours and giving him a nervous smile

“hyunjin, i like you, a lot”

and he’s taken aback for a few seconds so you start panicking until this boy grins

“i like you too, y/n”

and it’s unspoken but you two know you’re a couple now and you’re that couple too

cue all of your friends rejoicing because finally

you two gave them the biggest headache ever

hyunjin as a boyfriend

my favourite part yes

sooo hyunjin for one is that soft boyfriend that just melts !! at everything you do

like heck you could just be there lying down and this boy is crying because you just look like the most beautiful person to ever grace this earth

like bare faced you ?? yes

you in literally any outfit? yes

you who just woke up ?? BIG YES

he’s that guy who’s big on sleeping with you (in the soft way duh)

he lives for morning kisses

and cuddles okay, he loves cuddles

and yes i will say it, he sometimes like to be the little spoon because he just likes the feeling of someone being there for him okay

usually he’s very touchy with you, he absolutely cannot keep his hands off of you

i mean c’mon, you’re his baby

but that’s after he gets super comfortable

he doesn’t wanna make you feel weird or uncomfortable so he has to make sure you’re okay with everything

he loves to play-fight and tickle you to death

when he’s done torturing you he makes sure to hug you so tight

you’re like hyunjin, please i can’t breathe

and he just does his cute little giggle and kisses your forehead

FOREHEAD KISSES!!

let me tell you, hyunjin loves these, both giving and receiving 

this boy also lives for temple kisses so expect a lot

kissing in general is something you guys do pretty often and they’re usually short and sweet

for your first kiss together it’s gonna be the shy confidence radiating from hyunjin

his hand is either cupping your face, holding your waist or on the small of your back

he likes the feeling of you being close to him

it just makes him feel real good, you know what i’m saying?

if you guys do make out, it's passionate because you wanna express all your feelings through the kiss

he lives for neck kisses but you can only mark him when he's sure he won't get into trouble

he likes marking you tho

NSJX im screaming pls

kissing in front of the members is something he does not do frequently

he’s a shyy boyy like mentioned before

and though he likes to show them that you’re his, he doesn’t wanna take it too far

the boys’ teasing gagging sounds make him blush HARD

you too

so you guys just kinda refrain from kissing in front of those fools

you guys would cuddle sure, hold hands or just be under each other all the time

chan’s like rolling his eyes at you love birds

i think hyunjin would also really like matching outfits

personally, i also feel like he has absoultely no problem with you stealing his sweaters

so go for it 

he thinks that matching outfits is just the ultimate couple goals so 

yea prepare to match pretty often

this boy also LOVES to send you selfies of himself

and kkami don’t get me wrong

kkami is his child

well, your guys’ child

so your gallery is filled with hyunjin’s selfies in every situation 

and his gallery?

full of pics of you, including the selfies you send in return to his selfies to the pics he takes of you off guard

he really values your relationship and he’s quite the emotional one so

if you guys ever get into any aruments or fights he’s the first to crack and talk it out

he hates seeing you sad

all he wants is for you to be smiling so you bet that if you’re feeling down that he will do the absolute most to make you feel better

he’ll attempt to make you your favourite food even though he’s a mess in the kitchen

or he'll make the room super cosy for you and put on your favourite show and never leave your side

if you need space though, he's very respectful of that and will give you space that you need

i'm sorry he wouldn't be able to stop worrying about you

he loves dancing with you too like he doesn't care if you can't dance

he just cares about you having fun with him so he's gonna be the happiest man alive when you jam out to a song with him

he's gonna choreograph a dance, specially for you because you're that important

and like when he sings for you, you just go uwu

he doesn't like to do it often but when he does your heart just goes skbfksbfkwdl

at night if you're unable to sleep he'll hold you close and whisper sweet things to you

he'll peck your face all over and rub your shoulder

and he definitely won't be sleeping until he's sure you are

to sum it up, hyunjin is the most caring boyfriend you could ever ask for

he just wants you happy and healthy and would do anything for that

everyone deserves a hyunjin

omg my heart- :((

[taendrils]

the heartbeat challenge | 1

― ❝things never work in your favour when you run out of fucks to give, and right when you do heaven seems to throw the seed of evil right into your arms, or more precisely on the corridor to your college dorm. you swore an oath to hate the XY population, blood and pinkies and everything- but namjoon, the shy brunet helping you with your sister’s wedding has always been a man of science- and he seems to love testing just how much he can make you tick.❞

• pairing: namjoon/female reader  • genre: fluff, comedy, a college rom-com, semi-wedding planner a.u • warnings: slow burn, swearing, mentions of sexism and unhealthy dynamics in literature • wordcount: 16k words

a/n: this fic contains satire interpretation of a ‘man-hating’ oc. oh and a very cute namjoon. also this is my longest fic/series thing up to date. cheers and let’s enjoy.

“And a toast to the young couple!”

The people sprawled across the joined tables cheered, the sound of champagne glasses clinking and the sound of friends laughing in delight pleasant to your ears. Few things in life could beat the sensation of hearing nothing but sounds of happiness around, and you took it all in–letting your head fall back and closing your eyes, barely keeping yourself from raising your arms in the air. Between the winter midterms and the inter-semestrial break filled with nothing but volunteer work where you’d encounter children screaming on schedule and coming home to find your love interest–a.k.a the latest lesson chapters all spread out on the kitchen table–at last, you could say that you felt relaxed. One moment ready for the history books where this sort of happiness surrounded you, and one you deserved for sure.

Maybe you deserved it because the earrings you had been wearing for the past five hours insisted on pulling your entire earlobe off or at least fight for their custody, and some part of your knee still stung as a reminder to never rush with blades on your legs again. Especially at eight in the morning when a hyper Yuna who resembled the children you interacted with more than enough swayed into your room like a fairy of adult representatives–clipboard in hand and face lacking any concern. She resembled her corporate supervisors down to the hem of her tailored coat, ready to check every item that met the standards from her list and glare at anything else that didn’t. For her, it sounded like the perfect plan.

For you? Not so much.

She started out with your room, sending daggers to the dust on your nightstand before shifting her eyes to you. Or what was supposed to be you, hidden between three pairs of pants and a nest of messy hair, suitcase left open in the carpet’s middle and the rest of the clothes thrown out at random. A fallen soldier with hopes as high as the sky, but nowhere near ready to get struck with by the chains of femininity and requirement to socialize.

You know, like she didn’t tell you about her engagement party a whopping two days ago, as you were in combat to recover the countless days of sleep that you lost this semester in like, eight hours.

At first, living a quarter of your life with sleep deprivation, you thought you were imagining things, or you made unintentional contact with the spirit world in your attempts at meditation and regaining the self you lost as the years of education progressed. But no, here she was, diamond sparkling in artificial light like a laser pointed towards a jail sentence, focused on you. You didn’t dare to open your eyes, fear tap dancing as it travelled in slow motions across your spine at the chance that said light could hit you right in the pupil.

Spineless as you were, you allowed her to drag you along to whatever beauty rituals were going on in the household, passing a tray of cookies that you could blame on Minho’s choices for sure. Maybe the date too, with his impatience and competitive streak coming together to create the best party in the shortest time. To be honest, you had no idea about any of their whereabouts.  And hours later, between passive-aggressive calls, Hyoyeon arguing with staff as she watched last night’s MMA match, and a bright-eyed Minho swatching tissues to figure out the best colour coordination, you found yourself at a much bigger location, with everything that you dreaded next to you.

Namely, men.

Sure, you enjoyed making people happy and an enjoying an easygoing atmosphere; you were a firm believer (or someone who strived to be) in a life without worries, and thus every moment spent smiling brought you a hair closer to your goal. But men were... well. You’d leave that for them to explain.

Now, confronting the statement, people might think that you suffered from an attention-starving syndrome. Did you? Perhaps. The possibility was out there, far away, like your toleration for the male sex, but a self-grasp told you that your hate did not arise out of being ignored. Not that you were Miss Popularity ever or had friends more than you could count on your toes all high school. One could say, you did well enough to float in the middle of the spectrum–you were not demonized for not appealing to them, but neither did you get a confession or even guys from your parallel classes sliding into your Facebook messages using the classic ‘sup’. Oh, the tragedy of missing so much in life.

In fact, if you take time to think about it, that’s been your signature in most of your endeavours. Existing in the middle of any crowd. From a family standpoint, you weren’t able to shine like your sisters–Yuna being a signed model, recognised for her kindness and charming personality and Hyoyeon resembling the movie-version of a female badass–a no-nonsense boxing trainer. Each of them challenged the norms in their own way, subverting femininity or straight up refusing to conform to it and then... there was you.

That Feminist. Loud and a little annoying. Struggling with both.

The fact that they had settled and formed their own lives and routines while you skated on dry land through college didn’t help either. When you hung out with them, the reminder made you cower a little, fold yourself back into the shell you developed in your younger years from the lack of stability you experienced. You heard a lot about their boyfriends too– fiance and boyfriend, and from what you collected Minho seemed nice enough for a model, not to mention Hyoyeon’s doctor boyfriend, and you learnt to put up with them. Somehow.

However, you weren’t familiar with the faces to your right at the linear table, making it impossible to prevent having your mouth glued shut the entire time the photographer told each of you to smile and blinding you with the lights. Because here was the thing.

You had a blank face. A resting bitch face, like some said, or a woman not smiling face, as you liked to call it. You wanted to express your excitement, you really did, but the thought that your sister would soon be trapped close to forever in a relationship that could only be broken off if she gave her car, or worse–her TV screen held onto the corners of your mouth just like those damn earrings. Hence why, instead of expressing unfiltered joy over Yuna’s engagement, this time official, ring and fancy place rented, you looked like the personification of a rocking chair. Giving occasional nods as if you absorbed all information regarding next week’s weather.

Shame on them for dolling you up like this, hair parted, pretty braids tight on your scalp and orange dress making you look like a fairy. A fairy protecting the pumpkins and other agricultural crops, puffy sleeves moving like waves with your every movement and pleated fabric brushing over smooth thighs. Thighs you gave your blood, sweat and tears to.

Did you deserve to sit next to a man, all beautiful like this? What wrong have you done?

Since you were a child, you gained knowledge about the prices one had to pay to achieve happiness, and to restore the balance, with the peaceful music in the background and smiles in harmony to match it to your left, red wine you had been eyeing all evening on the other side, came the existence of the man. A tall gentleman with hair gel that spread to his brain, and whose arms were too big to stay by his sides, hence why he was taking up all the space on the table and separating you from your one true love. What was left to do, you pouted, interact with him and get into a potential discussion of how you can correct flabby arms, or risk your joints by stretching all across the table so you’d snatch the other one?

Not in the mood for a gym discussion in a trying time, you got up and used the remaining flexibility skills you had to bend across three welcoming faces. The liquid was so close now, its proximity tempting you and charming you into a trance. You wanted to experience this intimate moment, and to assure no one would pay attention to it– having you adverting your eyes to the table parallel to yours... making contact with your greatest enemies.

Your sister, with Minho and his mother who lit up at the sight of you. “Here she is, our youngest!”

She was a nice woman, short perm smoothing over the ends of her cheekbones. A figure that stood up to her son’s forearm, gentle and caring. As a general rule, you loved being in her presence, but you were already sensing the wrinkles forming as your eyes almost screwed shut with how hard you tried to raise the corners of your mouth. Not like you minded one bit, only one part of you wishing to avoid witnessing the impending disaster of interacting with her at social events.

Getting back into a normal position, you let your hand drop off the bottle, fingers longing for the coldness and bowed right as she averted her gaze to the chair you had been sitting on, then to the unknown guest. “And this must be your date?”

Your eyes widened, reaching to touch her only to have your hands freeze midway. “Oh, no, no way–I don’t have a date.”

“How come? Look at you, you’ve filled out so well,” she smiled as she squeezed the extra weight on your hips. To admit, the praise added a few points to your self-esteem meter, but it was no match to the aggravation you experienced in her presence because she had to ask about the other set of chromosomes at each meeting. It was part of the old lady gossip: asking about graduation, when you will get a job, oh and also if you’re not married by twenty-two when are you picking up a man so they can open another question folder. The one branded with a guaranteed approval stamp, none other than ‘when will you have grandkids’.

Insistent question marks to follow it soon after despite you not being related.

“I came to celebrate these two. I’m not looking for one right now,” you said, hoping your tone sounded polite in the least bit. Being accustomed to old ladies, who made up in curiosity for all they lost in height was a full-time job you never stopped learning from.

“Are you staying celibate? Waiting to save yourself for ‘the one’?” she inquired further. Here we go.

“Yeah, course she is.” Minho puffed, letting out a laugh. “For the One Lord Jesus Christ, you mean.”

“Amen. I will find my way, I’m sure,” you took a step back, attempting to return to your chair.“This family needed a cat lady anyway. You guys will be beautiful at 35 and all that, and I’ll be having my wrinkles illuminated by the laptop screen.”

“Coding?” Yuna supplied.

You took it as one of the instances to use your fake smile.“That’s plan A. If it fails, I’ll resort to the worse: write fanfiction in various locations.” Plan B was always ‘Embarrass yourself to the point they don’t talk to you out of their own will’. And get money.

“Oh, come on–”

“I could be in your basement and you won’t know it because Arnold Augustine the Third keeps wailing from the milk temperature.” you leaned your head forward, mimicking the way you sat while you typed on the keyboard, “Clickety clickety clickety clack, clickety clickety clack clack.”

“There is no way I would name our kid that.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, tell your fiance here who made me create an Instagram page to ‘keep the name’.”

His mother stood there with a tight-lipped mouth, the kind of expression others had when you weren’t close enough for them to get the joke, giving back the same forced politeness you gave a minute ago.“I can always introduce you to somebody, child.”

Minho tapped the beautiful girl four seats from you, whispering to her as she passed him the wine, and sometimes you envied him and Yuna for being so in-sync because the next second she was holding out a glass to you as he poured away the bottle’s contents. The drink matched the shade of her velvet floor-length gown, you noted, and if you thought you resembled a fairy of autumn, she was the season’s goddess.

“She’s enjoying herself enough, trust me,” her fiancé added as she passed you the glass. “I think we should check on uncle as well, don’t you love?”

Releasing a breath you’ve been holding for the entire meeting, you sat down, finally pouring the entire glass in your throat in one go, pose relaxing soon after. However, something bothered you–the feeling from this morning still lingered on your legs, little droplets of blood making your knee itch until you found a chair corner to relieve the sensation. Your knee moved farther, knocking into something solid. More accurate description provided, knocked into a muscled thigh fighting to rip out of a blue suit.

“Don’t have a date, huh?” the man grinned as he rubbed his leg against yours. Interpreting your gesture as romantic, movie flirting? Oh God. “Youngho, I’m a bodybuilder.”

A tab opened in your head to search for the profession: male thot job #1.

“Oh no, no no. No, thank you. I am here for the wine,” you explained, “I have a boyfriend.”

Yes, the wine. And the side piece was mango chicken.

“A lady shouldn’t drink so much. It’s not good for you,” he gave you a gentle smile, and you laced yours with the gentlest of ironies as you replied.

“A gentleman shouldn’t give unsolicited advice to strangers.”

He turned back to his plate, and you added another face to the history of guys who disappointed you on the first meeting, struggling to make space on your brain’s list.

Starting with your first crush, a basketball player who acted so nice with you and even pretended to know half the math you did to get close to you and work together. The joy was he seemed quicker to make fun of you for your moustache to his friends whenever they questioned your closeness. Second one, same field but a smaller ball to throw around, as sweet as they come, got bored with your dynamic when he met another girl who liked trap and Rammstein. The third one didn’t even know you existed–not that you were doing much to attract his attention either as you spent half your time staring at his hands and vintage shoes.

Then you considered the what ifs. If you wracked your brain enough, you could still remember the second date you went to at seventeen, eyes holding onto the remaining flicker of hope. Immersed into the memory, you recalled the way your pompadour partner, beer in hand, gave a detailed explanation not of your beauty, but of how much he hated communism and ‘feminazis’. After that, you lost count of the large-shouldered figures passing your life and focused your curiosity on said feminazis. Cool girls that, like you, realized long ago how the key to feminism didn’t have to do with hating men but happened to support the cause.

Attention syndromes aside, you didn’t lack ‘experience’ either. Didn’t even know what people considered experience. You kissed a lot of boys in truth or dares when you were fourteen (and man did you think you were doing something). Also, you were good at faking interest for dares when all you wanted to do was kiss them. Who would have thought you’d end up with a profound dread for the male sex? A good portion of the population who interacted with guys over sixteen, it clicked to you. After your discovery, you wished you could form a society made up of girls that were unfortunate enough to be attracted to those they hated. Yes, we exist, you wanted to say.

A capital flaw that turned you off beyond belief (not that they ever turned you on in the fun way beyond your bedroom and in the outside world) was their lack of dependability, besides opening their mouth. Your high school best friend, Yoongi, you remembered him as one of the most kind-hearted people that you knew. You could have almost said him alone showing this much humanity had been enough to clean the stains of his gender’s reputation, and yet. There’d always been that one little detail that proved to you that Yoongi was indeed a man.

Case in point: the one time in senior year in which you needed a photocopy for your album that required you to search half a town for. It went well, except for the fact that between seven bus stations you still weren’t sure whether they had the machine for it. And Yoongi being a few steps away from the store couldn’t bother to ask about it on the premise of ‘being sick’. Also, who could forget your high school sweetheart, Jungkook, your athlete deskmate who called a lovesick you for the first time during a presentation to ask you whether you’d join his clan in Dragon City.

Spoiler: they didn’t do photocopies there. But at least you contributed to the pay of bus drivers as you succumbed to breeding dragons ready for war.

The realisation came in at a much later time. Although the crushes came and fleeted and you had a greater chance than others at being smitten from the first three conversations with anyone, there was a territory you hadn’t adventured into. No longer did you bother to explain the heavier reasons, the tear-jerkers and mood ruiners. At the time you’d choose to go with the simple alternative.

You had never cared for a man, and you never planned to.

The standards raised. You became mature; you hated men. And nothing could have convinced you otherwise.

At least the free booze on table five distracted you from it.

So, about The Feminist.

The roots of this reputations had been foreign to you since you didn’t talk to many people outside of your dorm or classes. Even while volunteering, you kept it with the three friends you went there with, not making an effort to be social more than that. On the occasion, you’d act out to pull the laughs out of your friends and didn’t bother to scan the people watching, therefore it became a mystery to you how your first impression switched between a clown and the aluminium tinfoil hat.

You had your fair shares of conversations with frat boys in your freshman year when you were a small bundle of hate. Even then, as you expressed your opinions they twisted your words, mocked you as you kept to politeness while conversing. ‘I thought you didn’t like men’, they’d say with a smug face, carrying on with expressions which made you sneer. From the other side, your tinfoil sons and daughters, you heard about your supposed plans to go to Law School only to get into the government and implement liberalism and laws to limit their rights.

Well, they had the spirit but messed it up at the end. Not wrong but not true either. Sounded like another back-up plan in case it went wrong with computers. You ended up being a famous case in the ethics classes you took before you decided on coding, all gritted teeth and ready to eat guys who substituted a personality with monotonous voices and wearing glasses. Despite the events which to this day made you more reluctant to express yourself, you still frequented some classes related to the humanities field: you remained in gender studies and literature.

One of which you were currently sitting in, on the edge for the last hour due to today’s theme of discussing novels of experience. Ten minutes left and your wings would be free, with no hint of annoyance or anger for the entire day. An achievement uncommon for a lesson requiring creativity and freedom of belief, which you loved expressing but avoided hearing.

Creativity had its perks and downsides. One of them was that everyone was allowed to manifest it in one way or another, which left space for questionable fiction not only to be created but to be discussed and theorized over in academic circles. Such example you didn’t want to experience again had been the latest reading assignment, one of the choices for today’s topic. Most of your classmates who chose to present had ventured into other choices, letting you live and catering to your neurons. Until you heard the incantation.

“Based on a definitory experience in 1929, the book which puts to light the tragic heroine bearing the same name explores the idea of retrospection, of relieving a love whose absence leaves the individual…”

Leaves them blessed that they didn’t read such bullshit. You rolled your eyes, remembering the read you got through during winter break, the slowest 120 pages of your life. A tint of sadness seeped through the anger building in your loins, threatening to overflow. The rest of the emotions you learned in high school psychology came to you in their order. Starting with the disgust you felt at the author’s description of the young girl which were both infantilizing and barbaric, marking her bright presence and sense of spirituality as below him. The little fucking intellectual who sat and beat his dick to how he was the sole individual on Earth capable of self-reflection.

In the beginning, the first state to follow had been surprise. Surprise that no one thought to leave that man in a ditch after a drunk night and use his manuscript as toilet paper. With your eyes closing the night you read, in its steps happiness followed, now that it was over and you could go sleep and never check it again.

Lastly, fear. You understood and if you had to name a positive about the story would be the accurate portrayal of subjectivity, of how one would misinterpret based on their thought process and obsession with another person. Fiction had the qualms of exploring said concepts but to you, the way people related and discussed them based on reality’s moral system mattered most. You feared that people would take this toxic relationship and call it a love story and you feared the backlash following your disagreement.

“The subjective perspective of the events makes the impossible love even more painful for the protagonist as he is forced to separate from the young girl, ‘woman and child’, who ends up succumbing to his infatuation and wishes to give herself completely to him with the symbols of spirituality around them bearing as witnesses. A powerful interior conflict can be observed…”

The impossible love. Romeo and Juliet were shaking in their boots at the love of an unempathetic protagonist and a girl too young to know what love meant. You’d think the asshole had an interior conflict since he was stepping over any moral compass known to man.

“…, this way, an authentic and vulnerable experience is captured by the author. It is a story of irremediability, of a consuming love which young people aspire to experience and live for.”

Breathe through your nose, lips pursed to even out your inhales. Once again, the mere mention affected you more than it should’ve, and your mouth won the race over your self-control.

“I disagree.” You didn’t wait for the professor to call your name. Not anymore.“It makes no sense to brand the book as a love story or something a teenager should strive for because of the male character’s actions and his view of her throughout the story. A novel of experience? Certainly. The subjectivity and the protagonists’ reflective notes throughout the narrations guarantee it.”

“Well–” your classmate cut in, but you gave no sign of stopping.

“But she is described as ugly and barbaric, below him despite her high education and extensive poetry knowledge and changed from virgin to whore as she gives into him. These thoughts do not disappear even after he ‘falls in love’ and starts to feel whole next to her because of his supposed superiority. This is not a tragedy, separating them was mandatory to protect her.”

You let your head drop, pursing your lips as you waited for the counter argument. At the silence,  the professor took to watching you, pondering over the answer.“I think you should reflect on the mentality of the 30s. During that time, it could’ve been considered as such.”

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t stop the slight tremor of your tone and the voice that raised another octave. “Are we still living in the 30s? Why are we perpetuating the same mentality, why are we letting it slip with this excuse?”

The professor’s gaze alternated between you and the clock pointing towards the end of the class, “We should leave this discussion for the next time.”

The whispers increased. From behind you, a girl spoke. “Here she goes again with this extreme stuff. I swear, I’m a feminist too but she is exaggerating.”

You were familiar with the type. The one to laugh at your jokes and watch with undivided attention whenever you wanted to lighten up the mood by making a fool of yourself. Several times you heard them laugh at jokes made at the expense of women, several times you were shut down when you stood against it, the moment you call it out you get called a sensitive extremist.

And it wasn’t always bad since men’s voices were an echo chamber to you or radio noise at best, yet the women. The pressure put on women like you by other women suffocated you, settling over your windpipe no matter what you replied. Those were the most frequent case when it came to the rising of your doubts. Chest heavy, you chose not to retaliate, storming out as soon as you collected your things, hoping that time alone would help you solve the issue within yourself.

“Hey, wait–” you snapped your head to the sound, wild eyes contrasting the touch of calamity in his. “I–”

The guy got out of class, hurrying after you. Even a buffoon would see the correlation.“Has the professor said anything?”

He paused in his tracks, taken off guard by the question. “No, that's not it. I wanted to tell you–”

Emotions weren’t your best feature, and you had a few arguments with them here and there. They would threaten you, you’d fight back, they’d reach for cat videos or a thing you did ten years ago and you’d shut up. And isolate.

Which was what you were planning to do right now, if not for Beanie Boy over there testing–wait. You’re sure you’ve seen this guy outside of literature.

“You're in my gender studies class, aren't you?” you pushed, remembering the denim jacket and beanie from a row in front of you, a classic colour combination. Besides that, who could forget the impression he left from the first day, starting off his speech with: I'm tired of his story, It's time I listen to hers. Girls cooing, an unusual image present in your lectures and a few giggling over the shy gestures following. That you remembered.

The tangled letters of his name stayed foreign to you, more concerned with paying attention and learning, and so did his motif to look for you. From what you gathered, he was a unique individual, popular for his Instagram outfit shots and scenery captures. An apparent style whose amalgam of characteristics you didn't recall seeing in recent lectures.

You tilted your head, hand falling to your hip. “Do you want the notes, is that it?”

His mouth gaped, dimples growing to see the light. “Oh, thank you for offering–”

“Then it’s settled. Come to the dorms on Floor One by Thursday, I’ll be there then,” you said with the solemnity and suspicion of a drug dealer, quick to turn around and walk away. More than ever at this hour needed the space to calm your nerves and collect yourself enough so you could pay attention to the next classes.

Still, were you so cheap now that you’d hand out your notes to anyone now to get rid of them? Information is the way to life, and yet you traded it just to get away from it.

Classic.

Five days later fate found you in yet another tricky situation. For as long as you’d live in the campus dorms, you were to never experience peace or any tranquillity. Be it you were cursed or stamped with bad luck at birth, the fact had been internalized long ago, along with your animosity for the object you have lost once again. There was no other way. You pressed the door’s handle, tempted to give up and bang your head against it so you had a way out of this situation.

At least you weren’t completely hopeless.

Once pulled out of said thoughts, you felt around for the phone in your jeans, battling with the sleeves of your fur coat to retrieve it so you could dial Yujin, “Hey, any chance you’re around? I lost the key again and I can’t face Mrs. Choi for the third time this month. Can you please go instead of me?”

Past desires loomed over you once again as you registered your roommate’s words: she didn’t think you’d be home this early, so she locked the door till she returned from the library. Your schedule followed: meet up with your girlfriends and revise the material for next week’s finals as you ranted on the side, but you didn’t have access to it. Duh.

A possibility that not everything is out to get you manifested as you heard steps on the hallway, and you took it as your saving grace… until you checked who it was. A perfect candidate for directing your frustrations to. The Man of the Hour. The most recent addition to your database, who said nothing about the missing material. You were friends on Facebook, for fuck’s sake, did he not care enough to ask for your room number? Did he have other resources to access your personal information, you questioned, frantic in your thoughts which made you turn around, determined to find the answers.

You marched up to him, cutting off his chances at avoidance. “You!”

He pointed to himself, mouth agape.

“You made me wait for so long, and you didn’t show up,” you chastised, wincing a little at how your neck cracked when you stared up at him. “I even organised my papers for you.”  

A hand came up to scratch at his own.“Uhh, I appreciate it… but I-I’m not here for that.”

“So, guess it’s for another time? How long will this take?”

Your patience was running thin more with each meeting, though you remained careful in front of the man. Given your current moods and schedule, you didn’t have the chance to rage about education- and a part of you didn’t want to either. The more you saw him, the more you took your time to observe him, along with his gestures, both of which made you reconsider your opinion of him. Such as no matter how tall and imposing he was, he never looked you in the eye.

Not to mention how you were locked outside your room so you stood no chance to even touch said cellulose, thus you had close to no right to be angry.

“I... This is my room. I moved to 113 at the beginning of the semester.” His gaze once again, drifted elsewhere, studying the hall and reverted back to your shoulders, to the soft curve of your jaw.

“Did I not see you before? Ever?”Were you that absent and disconnected from your surroundings?

“Well, uh… you must’ve seen a lot of these.” He bent to touch the ground before getting on his tiptoes to raise his arm as high as he could, and an image of huge beige coats and white sneakers popped into your mind. The assumptions you made led you to the face your roommate told you about, Kim Seokjin, a pure aphrodisiac senior from art history. You mistook Beanie Boy for him, you thought, coming back at the right time to watch the former grin bashfully at his joke. He surely caught you smiling, for he continues his newfound rambling. “Yeah, Hoseok says he won’t get down in the club with Vincent Van Gogh, so I switched on the coats. Sorry for confusing you.”

“So that’s what he’s been doing instead of practising at 5 AM,” you said, shivering as you remembered the way his steps brought more complaints in your sophomore year than the last generation combined. “You get used to the sound after a while. It worked wonders during exam season, I didn’t fall asleep one night.”

“It’s the same thing, he just has more audience now.”

You chuckled, police sirens going off in your head at the realisation that you were enjoying this, a little too much. With suspicion creeping up behind you and a sense of urgency to cleanse yourself through group conversation, the need to end the conversation throbbed in your veins. “Well, thanks for that. See you!”

You felt bad for leaving like that, but a complaint appointment and anxiety generated from the possibility that he will ask you to bring them now were already keeping you locked towards your destination: the lounge.

“I heard there was an emergency,” you sat down on the couch as you bid hello to the group of girls, books, notes and flashcards scattered on the table and their laps. You recognised them as the girls from your floor, a few doors away from you, with whom you spent a good majority of your time at the beginning of freshman year before drifting apart, each focused on your own majors and forming groups there. Besides Sojung, your close friend you plopped next to, you’d see them on occasion and spend your time with them pretending to study and trying out nearby cafes.

“Yes, we ran here as soon as we heard about your struggle,” she said, expression serious as she petted your head. Not long after, her grin grew in time with yours diminishing, satisfied at how she stole your joke out in the open like this. Despite your opposite attitudes, Sojung’s deadpan humour was never far from your dramatic one and many times she was quick to outwit you. She already knew about the events at the party, having them narrated in an incoherent string of texts, followed by the conclusion that you were in need of pleasant company.

“You mean girl,” you pouted, “and to think I came all the way here to support you.”

The girl rolled her eyes, going back to her study material, forehead crease a little too obvious, and you welcomed the challenge to make her laugh.

“These exams shouldn’t exist. They’re stressing you out too much,” you complained, wishing you could do more when the light bulb flickered in your head. “I’ll change my major. I’ll get my diploma in being a wall so I can protect every girl from these assholes. See what they do then.” Catching a glimpse of the corners of her mouth rising, you pondered the occupation: not a bad idea at all if you considered it.

“This is hell. Don’t you have things to revise too, girl?” Seungyeon, the criminology major and girl you wish you could be, said. Serious yet sociable, a go-getter with elevated thoughts said at the right time, she was as close to a college model you had.

“It’s a few brackets and logic commands. Not a lot to grasp. Either it works, or it doesn’t.” If you had lived in a world of your own wishful thinking and didn’t stress out over these two months in advance, yes. Studying and trying out the material at midnight became incorporated into your routine, allowing yourself a two-day break every week. In spite of it, you were glad you didn’t have to memorize entire textbooks and that your field allowed for skill practice, adding the literature classes you partook in to exercise your creativity and widen your perspectives.

“Plus, I’m here to listen to any of you who needs help, since my girl here has other plans,” you said, tone honey-like as you encouraged your proposal. You were aware at that not many of them were bold enough to ask for help first due to fear of inconveniencing others, making you cautious in approaching the subject and with enough luck catching some friends. You didn’t know Seungyeon that well on a personal level, but you were striving towards having more people as ambitious as her, what was a little sugar coating? And as expected, she grinned at you, getting up to hand you her portfolio, all written in cursive black ink.

“Can you quiz me on these terms?” You nodded, brows furrowing at the thesaurus language.

Close to thirty minutes later, coat discarded and your head spinning from the new information, your hand froze on the foiled page as your phone started buzzing in your back pocket.“Pits of hell, main demon speaking.”

“Please stop doing this whenever you’re answering me in public.”

“There’s a price to pay if you’re making me participate in a phone call.” you smiled, delighted by Yuna’s whiny tone, already picturing her desperate eye roll. “No, it’s ok. Keep going.”

“I talked to the receptionist and he said they can rent us the place March 30th. Some TV broadcast will host a reality series there from the fifth onward.”

Blood drained from your face.“T-that’s. In two months,” you stammered, shoulders already slumped at different heights from the stress building and slapping each bone at varying times. “Why not April first so you can say psych? Please…”

“Minho thought it’d be funny too. He has a spring collection in Portugal on the third.”

“What kind of thing is he modelling on your wedding week? Lord.”

“Tuxes.”

“Forget I asked,” you said through your teeth as your nails dug into the cover of Sojung’s manual, threatening to fold the piece and rip its remains. “And you want me to do what? Mhm… A few errands, right, close family wedding. Thank fuck for that at least. Sure, I don’t have anything else. Yes, I’m serious. Love you. Ok bye.”

Shifting your eyes to the group, you stared each of them in their pupil with solemnity as your body slumped on the couch till it met the criteria of a shapeless blob. “I’m doomed,” a sigh left your lips as your hand travelled to meet Sojung’s, craving physical affection in this time of need. Might as well get it from a pretty girl. “Here’s my end, cheers. Please raise a drink in my memory next time you go out.”

The girl cooed at your dramatics and squeezed your hand, reaching to caress your cheek and pull your head to her shoulder. She was not the one with words, but she never minded offering you physical comfort to remind of her support. Your eyes closed by themselves, wishing to drape yourself over her long legs and hide your face in her neck, a place where no responsibility could haunt you as you were hidden by her styled hair and comforting arms. In your crisis, you thanked heaven for women’s existence and for your luck to be surrounded by so many of them before you continued.

“She wants me to help with the wedding and I-I don’t know anything about this shit. I’m not good at the whole aesthetic thing.”

And a little part of your heart broke, the truth of your statement ringing in your ears. Although you learnt how to be confident in your abilities as you grew out of teenage years, you still had more to go through until you were comfortable with the unknown. Enthusiastic willingness existed, but it wasn’t always enough, and it hurt to be aware of it once again, having your stomach throb from the fear of disappointing or ruining things with your input.

“But you have style,” the girl added. “I love those tennis skirts you wear.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know about colour coordination, or materials, hell I don’t even know what a chiffon is...”

“Then why offer to do this?”

“Cause she’s busy you know,” you peeked at the biology book in her lap (the one you threatened to snap mere moments ago), thinking about how great it would be to exist as a paramecium.“She has a career and all while I’m here considering majoring in being a wall. And I don’t want her to carry such a burden alone.”

“You have time to learn. And if not, I know someone who can help with that. Namjoon is amazing with these things. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

A part of your brain lit up in recognition, but you ignored it, not bothering to look-  too busy wallowing in your misery to be bothered with chats.

Sojung moved, making your head snap off her shoulder and have you grasp your surroundings–to be specific, their new addition to it: Beanie Boy from Gender Studies, sat on the folding chair with a stack of books in his lap. “Namjoon, you’re here, I have to ask–”

Time ticked as gears turned into your brain, throwing the information in every angle until you processed it. You nodded, mouth agape, thinking what you should put inside a conditional command to make this situation look better, hopeful as you were. It ended up something like this:

if (disasterhappens) { pleasedont(); }

Squeezed between the timeline of a Data Structures course and the unforgiving cold, you stepped out of the bus the same pace as Namjoon, whose name you picked after your last encounter. In your classroom, he’d often remain quiet, thus your conscience didn’t feel too bad about making an excuse for your pea-sized memory. Faces were easy to memorize, but God forbid, hold on to a name and your brain threatened explosion. This time, true to his word, he ditched the coat, going for a padded jacket.

It worried you the slightest, as it had him open to the attacks of the weather, but you kept it to yourself.

“What are we doing?”

“They got most of the stuff done, so I don’t have to bother with calligraphers and shit to send out invitations or find photographers, we picked the dress three months ago... it should be easy.” You flicked open the cover of your pocketbook, proud of the doodles you managed between the tasks. “I have to rent the tablecloths, organise the seating positions, order the flowers, argue with the guy at the venue, other useless stuff, then- oh! Get the cake- that’s her taking pity on me for sure.”

“Do you have any specifics? If not, we can work something out. I know what women like.”

You squinted in suspicion, tone rich with all the certainty you had the ability to muster. “I bet you do.“

His eyes widened, “No, I didn’t mean it like that-”

Keeping your mouth shut for the first time in your life, you stood to realise he was helping you; he didn’t look like he signed the petition to buy you a tinfoil hat. By law, you were obliged to restrain the second nature which leaned towards hostility- for men. The notion made you sigh, wishing for a way to tell him it was fine without it becoming weird or turning into a race for apologising. “Either way, I have no escape. Might as well drag someone to hell with me.”

Namjoon said nothing, stirring and adding salt to the soup of guilt you were harbouring for the last minute which boiled in your gut and threatened to overflow.

“Schedule comes as planned: be back at the station by 4 to take the 4:03 bus. That’s a 15-minute ride till we get to Yuna’s house where we’ll drop these, and from there it’s a 30-minute walk to the building.” With that, you sprung into action.

“You got this figured out, huh?” his voice rang with a tint of impress you picked up on.

Your lips pursed to suppress a smile as your pace slowed, “I mean, of course I do.” It was little before you changed your mind, thoughts running wild between your responsibilities and morals because of them battling out. The whirlwind made you move with more speed, your words almost matching the fastness of your legs.

“Thanks for coming with me and stuff. This will be a piece of cake, but still.” you shrugged, a little awkward to be running errands with a guy at 3:15 PM like one of those middle-aged couples. Hence why you resorted to Conversation 101, mastering it in time to deal with such an unfamiliar situation. Truth be told, your wished for a method to express your gratefulness now that he doubled it by he was accompanying you in the time between classes, a holy period marked by relaxation– not picking out from thirty shades of silk red.

However, by itself, the ‘thanks’ had remained stuck in your throat, in need of an extra push to make it sound nonchalant instead of a word of relief which decreased the anxiety blood levels.

He didn’t seem to mind. Namjoon walked behind you without struggle due to your bulldozer walk, eyes fixed on his steps and hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I’m happy to help.” You turned your head to look back at him, a pursed smile lingering on your features making you repeat the action every five seconds. Turn, stare, square up with your facial muscles.

“You must really want those notes, huh? Is the class that important?” you joked as the two of you approached the store, hand reaching out to open the door with Namjoon trailing close.

“Well, I-” Namjoon paused, startled when your feet came to a halt at the doorstep, body spinning to make eye contact with him. The grip you had on the door handle twitched as you watched him come closer and closer, releasing right as he was about to step inside. In a perfect impersonation of an ostrich, his head pulled back as the door closed in seeming slow motion, reminding you of how much of a bad fanfiction your life was every time you went outside.

His widened eyes bordering on mania met yours through the glass, breaths living him as if he was trying to deflate and disappear from you as soon as possible. You gasped and bowed your head, moving to open the door, tugging it towards you with no result before his hand enveloped the handle, yanking it open. The force sent you aiming towards the pavement before strong fingers gripped your forearm and pulled you straight.

Straight into him.

Your mouth gaped, arms flying out to his biceps to push him away from you and save yourself out of this situation–that’s what you were planning. Instead, you froze, fingers still gripping the muscles because, despite the accident, you were touching him. A man.

The best part was that Namjoon seemed as frozen as you felt, his gaze busy tracing every feature, never leaving your face. Your heartbeat became more erratic by the second as embarrassment crept upon your cheeks, but you were not the bitch without prior experience to trainwrecks like this- after all, you made codes. Thus, you laughed and tightened your grip, slowly shaking him before the pace increased. “We have to be very precise! Do you understand me? This is for a far greater cause, we need to pay attention to every shade and detail, point blank-”

“Period. I wouldn’t have been here if I didn’t know,” the words come out gentle as he tilts his head, fingers trailing forward to pet your shoulder before distancing himself. He gave a curt nod, signalling for you to move, and if this was any other time you would’ve protested, you took it as an opening to flee.

“Yes, of course,” you mutter as you walk through the variety of fabrics. Yeet. The notes app on your phone came in handy now, as you had an excuse to focus on anything but him. Most of the instructions were clear, silk fabric, ask for the rented option because buying requires to iron them and none of you knew how to use a household object like that, stick to the theme and pick-

“Apple red?” you said out loud to the cloned shelves adorning the entire store, each inclined in a different way for aesthetic purposes, or to make your life difficult. “She’s so pretentious. What even is that, they all look like fucking red.”

“Couldn’t a professional do this?” Namjoon inquires from beside you, scrutinizing the interior design before settling on a banner painted on the wall. “Live laugh love. Very suburban.”

“Dunno, maybe this way they thought they could get away with spending less money. Not like they’re lacking any, goddamn family-oriented capitalists.” you rambled, being used to inserting dramatic lines in your speech with your girlfriends. Nevertheless, this territory had boundaries on pending left to be established. From your knowledge, guys weren’t used to interacting with language innovationists, so you had to sweeten the deal a little to avoid feelings of inferiority. “They could’ve counted on me finding a hero since men and all are sooo good with details.”

You sighed. Way to go, sarcasm.

Namjoon only chuckled, continuing to study the store’s organisation system. “I’ll go look for what we need, and we’ll get back in 10 minutes to compare. Hope that’s okay.” He dashed by you, your brows furrowing before realising it was time to roll, stomping away to browse through foldings.

After forgoing the opportunity to give up halfway, you returned to him with six different shades, raising each hand to present it to him, starting with the first option at hand, a deeper shade of red.“I think I found it. How’s this?”

Namjoon licked his lips.“Uh, well, it looks a little-”

“A little what? It’s red.” you pointed with your head as if it was obvious before lifting the others up. “All of these are red.”

“That is wine red,” he explained as he scratched the back of his neck. “We should pay more attention to details if we want to do a good job.”

Your left eye twitched. Namjoon had been kind to you (human standards, not male ones) in the time you spent together. Guaranteed, his timing was off during most of your meetings and in objective standards, he did nothing wrong, but your conscience didn’t enjoy subtle reprimanding. In fact, she felt threatened, ready to have you bring out the big guns. You had some logic and attention to detail too in any state of tiredness; it was a matter of whether it wanted to be exercised.

Despite your lack of knowledge in colour theory,  blamed on your monochromatic wardrobe, at first sight, it looked like apple to you! Yet, determination rose in your chest and now the world shed new light upon your sight- you would pick the best goddamn apple colour in this store.

He did nothing wrong. Still, you weren’t at fault either because your competitiveness flared over the most useless reasons.

“Huh, seems like I’ve been eating the wrong apples.” You wanted to drop the fabric onto the floor for dramatic effect, yet your common sense stopped you, too worried about the workers that would have to clean up after the two of you. “How about this one?”

“That’s burgundy.”

“How do you even know those?”

“My mother has that hair colour… Every lady over forty in our neighbourhood uses that.” Chin tucked, he looked down at his pile to avoid your gaze. “I think this is more accurate.”

You inspected the piece with the attention of a fine painter, ready to create your own Starry Night with tablecloths and future flowers.

“Looks like candy. That apple’s full of chemicals. Yuna only likes organic, farm stuff,” you chirped out of pure pettiness, and Namjoon must have sensed it, because his pose turned frigid, glare with raised eyebrows aimed like an arrow towards you. “I’m sure this one is right-”

“That’s crimson,” his voice interjected. “There’s no way this is good for a wedding unless we’re talking the Red one.”

Both of your tones grew sassier and the man you sassed at the end of your course morphed into a reflection of yourself. Nice but ready to cut if you’d open your mouth in the next three seconds. Bad for both of your sakes, you had no qualms about passing whatever limit because you were the tear in the system–for fuck’s sake, you made the system. “Lucky for me, I have no idea what that is. I don’t watch hipster shows.”

Let out a sound similar to a laugh meant to be suppressed yet it escaped anyway. “That’s the farthest thing possible from hipster.”

“Fine, I’m not supposed to care about those anyway.”

A passive-aggressive smile. “Yes, we should go back to our task and try to solve the problem.”

Another one. “There’s no problem, I’ll look for more and then we’ll go on our way.”

“Of course,” Padded boy retaliated before sitting in front of another shelf. “This?”

“It’s blinding my eyes. It’s not gonna match. She also wants freesias, let’s just find something similar,” you said as you dug through the packages on the bottom shelves. “Ha, how about this?”

“It... “ He tilted his head, letting out a deep exhale, “it looks good.”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” You clutched the fabric to your chest, ecstatic to leave colour combination to the experts and never return again.

With crossed arms and hostility radiating off him, Namjoon, the image of attention to detail, looked as if he was about to launch into a rant about nihilism and why shit like this shouldn’t matter at your smallest gesture. You mastered the same fixed stare, as your friends told you several times and you focused on the floral details at the empty cashier’s spot, scared of what might happen if each of you directed it towards the other.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Both your heads snapped to a man in overalls, flower crown resting on top of his head and grin beaming on his features- until he saw the both of you glaring at him, “Oh. I apologise for the delay.”

You broke out of your trance, gesturing at the packaged cloth. “We’d like to rent uh… ten of these.”

The man returned with your fulfilled request and you hurried to get a hold after swiping on Minho’s smiley-face covered credit card. You gave an awkward smile which you hoped he saw before switching to Namjoon, who was a bit difficult to interact with due to the messy way you were holding the items.

“I’ll hold them myself. Help me out with the door,” you muttered from under the mountain of fabric, feeling a little self-conscious of being this authoritative in a fabrics store.“If you want to.”

“It won’t move. Hold on.” From outside, he clutched the handle and pulled it back with his entire body, leaning half-suspended in the air. His leg, like a whip from God, stretched out over the pavement in pointé position to reach the other door and fight to push it as you squeezed through the minimal space.

Ignoring Namjoon still stretched out trying to open doors for you, you checked your hand watch, the image making you gasp.“Oh no! It’s 4:10 p.m.” You turned to him, eyes wild and devoid of any humanity as he got into standing position at last.

“We had to be at the bus station at 4! The next bus is in 6 minutes and it’s going to take us 15 minutes to get there and I can’t afford a taxi.” You sprinted with the most speed, but after an entire fifteen seconds on the clock your feet planted on the ground, hands on your knees and throat constricting as you struggled for air.

“Why do I never do cardio I-” you panted to no one in particular as Namjoon’s figure passed you, increasing the distance with controlled steps. “Oh fuck. Hold on. Wait!”

Your body did its best to maintain your equilibrium as you chased after him, tablecloths in hand.“How on Earth are you moving this fast-”

With a gaze at his wit’s end, he waited till you advanced to him before snatching the packed items from you and digging through his back pocket to get his wallet out. “Hold this and pay,” he said as he intertwined his arm with yours, hitting the acceleration button full force without warning, “There’s no time for little legs.”

Once again, your heart joined the marathon.“Hey–wait! Wait, I didn’t plan a sprint in this, my hair’s going to be ruined!” The wind’s presence smacked you at once too, even air attacking as you tried and failed to keep up with his pace. Thus, all left to do was whine about it. “Move slower! My hair, I–I can’t let people know I’m ugly–hey!”

“Spill.”

“Quite interesting that you assumed I’d have anything to complain about when I never did it in my life.”

Sojung quirked her eyebrow, pausing her scrolling to turn her head and judge you properly, to which you pursed your lips- fighting hard to not burst into laughter and blow your cover.

With the aid of a motivational discourse about the balance between studying and having fun (the most you can have in said weather), you managed to bribe her into watching a movie as long as you made the sweet tea and let her pick. A problematic duo, Sojung and these choices, since she had a torturing streak going against your brain cells, but you followed her rules, ready to rumble by immersing yourself into whatever character you deemed the dumbest. Now, warm cup in hand, there you stood, squeezed to her side due to the bed’s size, looking like her disciple, or at least a very starry-eyed novice.

How else were you supposed to be, as you were cuddling with an objective image of temptation under the blankets, bare feet ducking under hers to steal her warmth? A woman who radiated daintiness without effort, the tips of her hair still wavy from Saturday’s party enough to create the aura of an Aphrodite of Science who pulled you in, who charmed you into wanting to feed her grapes and braid her hair.

“You haven’t talked about it in days. I’m worried,” she stated as if you broke our friendship code by avoiding the wedding topic, which you thought you were doing a pretty good job on. Yesterday you even stuck to the manners code while convincing the photographer not to reschedule, reminding him with the required politeness of who he was dealing with. Your sister didn’t like to flaunt her status and neither did you with yours (whether you had one was arguable), yet you never minded reminding people who she was in case she got too humble.“You’re not like that.”

“Fine, don't look at me like this- there’s a reason why I should’ve said no. I made a fool out of myself.” your friend nodded, giving you the gesture for ‘go-ahead, confess your sins’. “So we got to the store, I walked first right, cause you know how I move, and I opened the door and you know I’m not an animal so I wanted to hold the door open for him but-”

“But he’s a man.”

“Yeah and I can’t-” you closed your mouth, opting for indecipherable gestures with your free hand, “fraternize with the enemy, for lack of a better word. And I almost hit him with the door.”

With a temporary interest, you watched as the beginning credits for whatever movie Sojung picked. This way you could postpone the pain a little. Deep breaths.

“I didn't know how he is with these things, I- we argued a lot. Over tablecloths.”

“Of course. Like me and Mino when we had to do that project together. The cells we had to analyze looked like cones to me but he insisted they're joints.”

You laughed, a full sound that came with you shaking your head, “The bar is on the fucking ground, God.”

“Mhm, but I'm sure Namjoon wasn't like that. He's very immaculate and detail-oriented with his work, not thinking about joints,” she emphasised on the last words. “He’s an alright guy. A little passive-aggressive sometimes but he'll get over it.”

“Yeah, he’s-” you sputtered, an adequate definition of Namjoon still foreign to you. Good would raise suspicions, not bad would have Sojung urge you into detailing. “Bearable.”

She gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. “Right. And his Insta shots are cute. You should follow him.”

You sighed, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone and obey her request. After a search lasting less than a few minutes, you caught sight of familiar fashion popping into your recommended. You clicked on the profile, pictures of animals and outfits for the day welcoming you, his trademark coats fitting perfect with his long legs.

Compared to the rest of his feed, his fifth picture was a close-up one, with him sitting on the ground, a deer on each of his side. At the display taken from a Disney picturesque, there it was: guilt drowning you again, this time sour edition. Why were you like this.

Granted, despite your differences and mutual pettiness, he tried to be patient for as long as he could-bless his heart- while you started out colder and less optimistic than usual and let your attitude get the best of you. Grumpiness was not a trait of yours, it was by chance you let it take the wheel again as you pressed the follow button. Bold of you to think he’d notice with his 1.3k mark, coming from the girl with 70 followers and three pics of you smiling.

Cuddled up to your friend, you settled on forgoing this matter, focusing on the movie and hoping the guilt soup would simmer down. Later swearing as your insides turned to mush, you buried your head in the pillow, groaning as you re-imagined the scene with the male lead trespassing for the girl- risking fines for plucking the rose and jumping back the same gate with no effort. A hundred other similar scene to this one came back to you, and yet your reaction was impossible to control- half-way between an eye roll and batting your eyelashes, brain alternating between commands. Old, young, there were reasons cliches were cliches, and the public's feelings were what made them popular from the start.

This love was the exact movie love which would never be possible in real life, where the oh-so-young hero gave roses and heart attacks to an innocent girl having no prior experience with motorcycles. Thus, you didn’t bother to fight against indulging a little in whatever trope the movie was displaying. It mixed the leather jacket and typical bad boy vehicles with a retro type of romance.

“Why do you always insist on this kind of movies?” you asked, pleading with your girl to cease these activities but also hinting to her you wouldn't mind another one. Especially for this week, a time where love and capitalism went one on one. Valentine’s day was a sensitive topic for you, anti-capitalist and all, but you were aware of the loneliness some friends of your experienced. Hence why ever since you were a freshman, you bought envelopes and red paper, brought your trusted heart stapler and got to work. You had close to no criteria for your choices: close friends, people you had pleasant interactions with, girls under stressful situations. Random people on hallways who made you smile and later got a letter with a lollipop and your attempts at a cursive: ‘Someone’s thinking of you! Please buy chocolate on sale this year!’

“Wanted to get us in the mood.” She winked at you as her hand found yours under the blanket, laptop propped on her legs, “It’s fun seeing you squirm.”

“Come on, men in real life are not like that. There’s not one dude out there who will be this attentive to you, and if he does he's gonna get you in debt. You'll have to bail him out of jail.”

Sojung shrugged, yellow turtleneck brushing adorably against her chin. You didn’t know what offended you more: her silence or how cute she looked without even trying - making it impossible to stay fake-mad at her.

“My judgement’s been rotten, but if I said one fair thing in this world is that one.” An accusing finger was pointed at her, “You should agree. I haven’t seen you talk to any of the guys in your classes outside of school.”

Sojung took one long glance at you, taking her time to answer. “I guess I’m too busy right now.”

Your brows furrowed, “Yeah… college’s a bitch. But this time it’s doing you something good, right?”

“Eh. Another one?” she asked, seconds away from your definite yes.

After two more hours of cringing and containing your cooing, you remembered today’s goals: find Namjoon and consult him about the next weeks’ schedules, establish a proper plan. Of minimal interaction, if possible- in which both of you secured efficiency and less trivial arguing. You shook your head, finding the thought’s beginning ridiculous- going to his room, seeing him to tell him you didn’t want to see him.

Wasn’t a complete truth either.

Sense of responsibility and need for order aside, this was a bad idea. You didn’t check in with him, part hesitation part not having his number and being too awkward to write to him on Facebook (you were friends, you checked). Yet, you stood at his door, fist hanging in the air.

Three raps, a deep breath to calm your nerves- what nerves? Why would you experience that? You could do this. You knocked on doors before, thank God.

With newfound confidence, you smacked said door with all you had, positive that Namjoon would hear and you’d have no way out of it then. Bag on your shoulder, you fiddled with the letter hidden behind your back, hoping the glue dried enough not to move the heart from its middle. Earlier today, as you were bracing yourself for your mission, you saw Hoseok heading for practice. It eased you a bit, doing this in front of Namjoon alone.

The door opened and your mouth curled to the sound of it rattling from its hinges, “Hi, are you busy?”

Namjoon, in all of his bear pyjamas and bedhead glory, eyes round and wide stared at you with uncertainty. “I’m… not doing much. You can come in.”

“Were you sleeping? Sorry I didn’t say anything, I don’t have your number and-”

“No, no, we can solve that. I-” he paused, seeming to struggle, “That’s how I sit when I don’t study or go outside.”

Following after him, you watched as he sat back on his bed, same lotus position and brought his legs closer together to make space for you. Soon, he must have realized his mistake, tips of his ears turning red as his gaze moved back to you. “I mean! You can sit in Hobi’s bed. I’ll-” He rolled out of his bed, crouching next to his roommate’s bed so he was next to you, “yeah.”

“I don’t want to take away too much of your time-”

“I don’t mind.” He licked his lips, head dropping down, “Well, not that much. Please continue.”

You bent to show him what you’ve been working on- a logical scheme to ensure productivity without spending too long on a destination, tying together similar events. One which you ended up doodling on for illustration, marking the points where you might have trouble later and the way to approach them. “This is the battle plan. Minimum effort, maximum fun. I fucking hope.”

“Cute,” Namjoon said, a close-mouthed smile on, and you were right in the radius to get a glimpse at the true depth of his dimple. Oh. You pouted, mouth opening and closing as you tried to form a coherent thought at his words. You were not cute. “I mean the sketch.” 

Chest deflated, you pursed your lips at the geometric owl you drew, not pausing to catch the amused glint in his eyes or how his grin was growing. “Ok, first destination. So I searched for Google reviews, right, and the guy at the venue is a total asshole.”

“What’s the plan then?”

You breathed out, “I was… I was hoping that you can help with this one. I, err, struggle with being diplomatic around guys.”

He nodded, signature dimple popping out again.“Sometimes.”

Your mouth gaped in mock offense before you caught his gaze again. You cursed under your breath, looking down at your chest in indignation then switching to his desk chair. It resembled the one in the lounge to the point it was suspicious–making you squint at the offensive object, recalling the image of Namjoon last sat on when he was pulled into this mess.

“…And I’d appreciate you giving me some tips maybe, on how to deal with the guy. I’m desperate.” The option of going there and listing everything you and your family wanted without a compromise was tempting, but there were several warning bells pointing towards the opposite result.

“To begin, don’t judge his colour combination outfits.” He chuckled, lifting your mood a little. “Be assertive, but don’t make him feel out of control. Bring your demands in as suggestions.”

“Look intimidating but polite,” he said softly. “You already have half the part down.”

You puffed, “I breathed.”

“Doesn’t matter if the situation seems bad, don’t bend down to whatever he may tell.” He extended his palm towards you, and you gave him the sheet. “You think he stands a chance against these?”

“I was planning on that, but-” But it was difficult for you to do these without becoming snappy, without attempting to have the fucker trip with the power of your glare. Your voice died down in your throat as you stared at the bullet point tasks again.

Check in, talk about catering options and suggest food for their catering team to serve, confirm the guest list and the number of hours spent. Return a month later to assign the seats and assist the decoration process in case there was any need for changes. All that came as an obstacle was the man. The little devil impersonator you head so much about on hidden google reviews.

If you lost your cool it meant sabotaging one of the most important tasks of the entire scheme, which would guarantee a disaster in case you messed up. Here you were, with a possibility of rivalling Cinderella and getting expensive shoes stuck on stairs, only you’d lose the entire place instead of the shoe. It wasn’t like you could hold a wedding under your local drawbridge either-why did Yuna leave this on you? Why not pick Hyoyeon or Minho? Was this the time for you to develop a diplomatic streak?

Namjoon interrupted your impending existential crisis, “I’m free this weekend.”

Using the rational side of your brain, you submitted to his request, crossing off your earlier decisions. No interaction my ass, you thought. “Fine. I’ll pick you up on Sunday.”

As he meant to return your plan, you got up. “Actually, that is for you. And also this.” You pulled out the blue envelope, heart left intact to seal it.

“Oh?”

A rush of panic hit your gut from how he was looking at you, expecting you to go on. Did he want you to spell it out? God, no, you–“…found it at the door.”

As he got a hold of it, he let out a fake gasp; yet you weren’t so sure about the excitement which came across real, urging you to check the letter again for things you might have missed.

“Woah, it's right in the middle! Very sharp with the details,” the man tilted his head, not giving you any time to breathe. Like he was testing your reaction.

You tried to keep any tint of emotions at bay despite your body naturally adopting a more confident pose at the praise.“Mhm, agreed.”

“This is very thoughtful. I should thank the person when I see them. Even though it came four days earlier,” he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah-”

“Must have messed up the date.”

“Hey!” You paused, mouth closing shut. “Who cares? They made an effort.”

“You’re right, I’ll make sure to let them know.” He nodded with solemnity. “Was that it?” he asked and ended up mimicking your previous gesture, not meaning to come out like that.

“Uh, I have to go anyways.” You laughed to try and mask how startled you were. “I’ll… see you in a few days. Have a good one?”

I’ll try, he wanted to say, but instead he nodded, following you to the exit.

After you found the most bizarre way to ask for his number again, he meant to return to studying, thoughts of his appearance forgotten now that you left. He didn’t do much else since he woke up, neither he could say he expected anything to happen today, and he was long accommodated to the sturdiness of his chair to be bothered by sitting there for hours.

Settling on his usual space, he placed the papers you gave him under his stationery, focusing to remember the line he remained at. Though, it was no easy task, the little heart and doodles pulling on his attention and disregarding his work ethic. Damn them.

Before he registered his actions, Namjoon grabbed the papers again, taking in every piece of information laid on the battle notes he started out with. One thing that stood out to him was the contrast between your big personality, which appeared effortless to him, and your writing. He sort of expected messier handwriting taking up space on the sheet, similar to the way you acted each day.

Meeting you didn’t happen often, but he was neither blind nor deaf, he heard the degree of familiarity you used in speech even with teachers, had seen you in passing comforting people from the same dorm. He felt like a witness to some of your antics by the vividness Sojung described them with, complaining that kids at the volunteering centre would spend more time with you, attacking you with kisses to as you screeched and swore revenge.

Your writing was smaller and much more organized, taking up half the A5 paper you gave him. He didn’t know why he was even thinking about this, or why he felt like he found something new about you through it. Next came the letter, which contained a heart-shaped lollipop and a note attached to it, this time written in cursive but bearing the same letter size.

He chuckled as he read. Chocolate on sale. Ha, he bought that February second.

Some of the regrets for your experience together washed away as he spent more time re-reading, an impulse having him reach towards his stationery and take the scissors, cutting your schedule plan in half. You, in particular, were not the main cause for said emotions, he knew that much. Often he had a hard time telling people no, wishing to help as much as he could even if it came at his expense and a disappointed look from his friends who pleaded with him to listen, to stop caring so much about other people’s situations and turn his attention to him. Be selfish, take a break, practice self-care or whatever he wanted to call it, they told him. Look at you for once.

He still struggled with that. This time, like many others, his conscience was telling him he’s doing the right thing, but there was a slight change. Something pleasant stirring up in his loins, a level of contentment with his decision to accept. He could at last witness you rip that fucker to shreds.

The anatomy book was still open, but for the time being, he had no motivation to continue studying. He wanted to prevent losing your indications too, so he put the paper inside the book before closing it, only image available being the freesia you drew next to the first circle. No more information for now, he thought. After all, he could research plenty in his surroundings for the current chapter.

The cardiovascular system.

Based on your poor approximations, it had been more than a week since your last encounter with Namjoon, and a part of you wanted to scream because you had kept a lot of secrets in during this time. There was no date from when you began classifying your life as before and after Namjoon, but as the timeline stretched out you started talking to him more and more. To the point where you’d have inner monologues about it and whether you were doing the right thing, like the case in point.

You forgot about yourself on several occasions, swimming in special mathematics and the burden of college life which nearly drowned your optimism alongside that of your friends’. Yet, to your surprise, at least twice a day you’d find a lifeboat to lean onto which came in a package with a hose to swallow the water. Weird metaphors aside, in other words, you and Namjoon started texting a few days after he gave you his number and you managed to deliver the notes. And not just one phrase here and there, but multiple messages that had you debating food choices, new courses and the density of your literature teacher.

It turned into a habit, checking your notifications between classes because of him. Those close to you knew you preferred real-life communication to texting and made efforts to hang out as much as possible, so your phone hardly buzzed most of the time.

With the exception of him, of course. You discovered hidden opinions with the help of your flair for complaining and progressed on the stages of your friendship enough to be comfortable with the idea of him helping you. Well, calling it a friendship could’ve been a stretch, but development is development. Difficulties still arose in the eye contact department, but you discovered he opens up far more when he didn’t have to face you. Were you scary like that? He even followed you back on Instagram before liking all of your pictures, it mustn’t be the case.

Though, you couldn’t be the one to talk, because you ended up seeing him in passing once and got an existential crisis from waving at him, unsure whether you were at the stage for it or not yet. Ready to duck into a bush and never speak again, your eyes widened as you spotted him waving back and smiling, pointing at you to whoever he was with. Even bigger was the shock coming from him walking towards you and striking a conversation, asking you about your studies and the week you had. He was the same as always, shy grin on and ears listening with diligence as you fumbled for words and gaped like a fish at his interest in your well-being.

It was hard to hate him. There, you said it. Hard to despise a person of his type when all he did was-

Ping!

Driven by habit alone, you wet your lips as you unlocked your phone, thankful for the distraction of the thoughts causing you to be distracted in the first place.

[beanie boy] 8:50 a.m: you know, if that photographer keeps being an asshole, i got this friend that can replace him real quick [beanie boy] 8:50 a.m: his style is a little more middle-aged art teacher than mine, so it might be hard to accept him but he’s great [beanie boy] 8:51 a.m: promise?

The corner of your mouth curled, recalling the recent discussions of the guy throwing a fit because Yuna wanted a shot near the lake outside of the ceremonies, followed by one at the central park and how she went on to pay his fuel to shut him up. You didn’t even realise the lecture was close to finishing, and from what you heard, Thursdays around this time they’d let him go a few minutes early. According to calculations, he must’ve been texting you right as he got out of class.

[you] 8:52 a.m: you have ties in the photographer industry? [you] 8:52 a.m: is tht why you know so much colour theory…,, Damn

Where did he have ties though, it occurred to you. What was his major? During the time you spent talking, you felt like you knew a lot of trivial information about Namjoon that most of his classmates didn’t, but the origins of his passions stayed foreign to you. The notes app in your head updated with the urge to find out about it.

[beanie boy] 8:54 a.m: i held his light in the art museum as he was developing pics. We bonded then

You furrowed your brows, thoughts that Namjoon might have more titles around the campus except for the one you gave him foreign to your conscience. To this photography guy, he was light Boy, who helped him through hard times- was it his thing? Help random people, make them feel special and then never meet with them again?

[beanie boy] 8:54 a.m: his art is also weirdly motivational. Idk what it is about dog paws and noses that moves me to tears but it’s very helpful when i have a hard time [beanie boy] 8:55 a.m: are we on for today?

[you] 8:58 a.m: yes i hope so

He told you he didn’t have plans for the upcoming week starting today, and the venue devil reserved your discussion for the same days. Still, a part of you grew anxious from his lack of reply and agreement as you moved to the next class. Scurrying for your phone, you began typing again.

[you] 9:09 a.m: i mean, it’s ok if we don't Do it now. [you] 9:10 a.m: there’s still time. Idc

You put your trust in one man and look what happened. He hated you. He wanted to ditch you-

[beanie boy] 9:14 a.m: what? yes i want us to go today [beanie boy] 9:15 a.m: for the record, i ignored a ppt presentation to answer this [beanie boy] 9:15 a.m: and ouch, that’s cold. you really hurt me this time. [beanie boy is typing…]

[beanie boy] 9:19 a.m: maybe you can make it up to me with some tea later?

Your breath hitched as you read the notification on your phone. Too dangerous out there to open it.

[beanie boy] 9:19 a.m: heard it’s good for the soul

Yeah, the fucking soul alright. Glad he was preoccupied with his as he was toying with yours. Half pettiness half need to pay attention to your surroundings, you put your phone back in your pocket, ready to concentrate on your lecture.

Immersed in the new information and ways to solve presented to you, you forgot about your feelings regarding the matter and came back more energized and ready to take on the day. The day in which--oh no.

[you] 11:23 a.m: we’ll see about that [you] 11:25 a.m: meet me in front of the art building in three hours?

You didn’t mean to come out mysterious or cold, but now that it was done you were starting to embrace it, showing how much of a layered person you were. Bet photo guy didn’t keep him on his toes like this.

Bet photo man didn’t have to wait in front of a building looking like a sheep lost from the herd, no shepherd in sight to calm your nerves. Its new-age design and uneven blocks brought all the space for doubt to slither into your heart, no answer from Namjoon as of yet. You were hoping for the best, self-esteem steeling itself for you to erase the idea of him ditching you.

A hand fell to your shoulder, his face leaning into your range of sight and you let out the breath you were holding. “Hey, sorry I’m late. The professor wouldn’t let me go.”

You didn’t bother to turn to him, pout ever present as you rubbed your shoulder to get a bit of warmth. The wind was ruthless. “Wouldn’t want to keep such an artefact from discovery. Bet they had a lot to say.”

He still hadn’t let go of you, fingers instead tightening on your shoulder and bringing you closer to him, continuing to rub your grey jacket. You took a peek at him and he paused, cheeks puffed before he burst into laughter, making you look at him in wonder.

As he came back from it, his grin was still present, wide and shiny and rivalling the sun. The kind of expression that’s overwhelming, that makes your eyes crinkle and your mind foggy. It’s merciless in the way it lets the feeling seep through, surrounds with the sensation of allowing your defences to drop. It pulls you in and caresses your thoughts into melting, urging you to enjoy the moment. An endearment which is too familiar to you, but which had never risen from your essence and left drops of warmth and honeysuckle in its path.

Then, as an offence against your well-being, he said, ‘I’m glad you think so’, pulling you out of your daze.

You shook your head. This couldn’t be happening.

“Are we taking the bus this time too?” he said as he resumed to his usual distance.

“Uhh… that’s the plan.”

“Great! Let’s go!” he raised his eyebrows, challenging you with his power walk once again. The chances of you wearing the crown for the fastest walk were slim now that you had met Namjoon.

You didn’t even register the walk to the station, too preoccupied in trying to keep up with him and answer his questions about the guy at the venue as he was blurting out random ‘what an asshole’s. Paying for the ticket and squeezing between a swarm of people came as a blur as well until you were forced into Namjoon’s personal space, close enough to smell the wavering scent of his fabric softener. His gaze turned to you, face getting closer and making your eyes widen.

Namjoon opened his mouth to apologise, but you cut him off by reaching out and plugging one of the earbuds he removed to hear you back into his ear. With that, you turned around so your back was facing him, letting out a deep breath to even your heart rate. You didn’t remember crowded places having such an effect on you, though you supposed crowding anxiety developed at any age.

“How do you feel?”

“Focused,” you said. “I’m estimating the chance I’ll fail this.”

“Failure will never overtake you if your determination to succeed is strong enough.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Namjoon seemed to switch back to his shy persona, avoiding your gaze before his head snapped back to meet your eyes. “Just something to remember. Quotes like that usually calm my thoughts.”

It did make you calmer, just because you imagined Namjoon with his own suburban quote room. Maybe he was the type to read the quotes and meditate after, do a little yoga? Stretch those long legs and kicking other planets while he was at it? “Oh… thank you? Do you read them often?”

He nodded as he brought his cap down, bravery vanishing as the both of you entered the venue.

You grasped the modern twist that brought so many people in, that created a ballroom atmosphere even with the ordinary white curtains closed shut. Lines bloomed from the root of a crystal chandelier and served to separate the rose tones in pleasant shapes. Near their end, they were pulled from their seams and moulded to create another rose-gold halo, which reflected the light of the diamonds and poured right onto the glass-like floor. The thought that you’d be spending at least a day uninterrupted here was thrilling–it made you hide your hands behind your back, intertwine your fingers so you wouldn’t slip and touch.

If the place lured you into letting loose, the three-piece tailored to fit his frame posed a tightness to the chest area of the man waiting in the corner encouraged everything but. He surged forward with power stance and introduced himself to both of you, reaching out to shake Namjoon’s hand. You quirked an eyebrow as you exchanged names, sharing a confused look with him. Following his gestures, you studied both of their reactions with a careful eye as they shook hands, comforted by Namjoon’s lost gaze. At last, he moved to you, and you gripped with the biggest force your noodle arms could handle.

“Our pleasure.”

“We have provided a full course dinner with traditional dessert and listed our vegetarian options in the e-mail we sent. Our in-house catering accepts suggestions up to 10 days before the due date. You can only choose to switch a meal with another one that is available on our list.”

He led the two of you on a tour of the place, explaining the back door exits and pointing to the emergency pans plastered on the main hall. Alright. Positivity. It wasn’t so bad, Breast Man over there might’ve stored some sense of organization and compassion in those gigantic tits–

“The team will be available from the start of your appointment and continue till the end of the day. Anything after midnight will have to be covered by your service or paid for a fee.”

Your face fell.

“I–I don’t understand, if we paid for the entire day then how do they need to pay again?”

He beamed. “Nothing has been covered for the 31st.” Caught you without a reply and continued,

“The only thing ensured from one to seven a.m are the accommodations for the guests coming from abroad which will take place at our partners from Novotel.”

For fuck’s sake, were you about to argue with this asshole over the hours in a day?

“We reserve a full day of preparations, and it is recommended you visit during the week for a check. The rest, in case you want to you can reserve a date to establish the final changes to the menu, decoration, and other services that our team has covered.”

How you wished for the chandelier to drop down and split the earth so you’d never have to face this man again.

Despite the circumstances being turned against you and your temporary fluster, you tried to collect your thoughts enough to formulate an answer. In the corner of your eye, you saw Namjoon tensing. “Of course. I have some right now Regarding the main-course. Swipe the vegetables for carrot puree and add caramel soy sauce. And we’d like–”

And then the head gears that caught up to you made you notice how he was doing nothing but stroll around like a pompous poodle, not paying any attention to you. Did he insist on meeting so he could stay here and attempt to intimidate you? Very funny, how you’ll show him–

The suggestions. Right.

Or not.

“We provide–”

“Sir, with all due respect–” The rest of your cognitive functions not responsible for speech lounged to watch another episode of your embarrassment. “Having a set schedule for the guests is impractical since each plane has its own set-off time. Leaving them with no place to stay for possible hours on end is impolite, and I… I think that it’s not an image your business strives to have…” Your confidence was leaving you like your last hope, but by his face you were making some points. Namjoon remained quiet next to you, nodding on occasion and making little sounds to support your words. Being a beginner in the art of scamming, neither of you could find a strong enough argument for all of his schemes, but you remained tough, defending Yuna’s choices in front of this food and muscle growth connoisseur.

Annoyed from your end and sure to have picked on your guard dog behaviours, tight suit ended up noting the food changes and finalised the details for your next meeting, part of him left unsatisfied, from the way he was watching you and Namjoon. Maybe it was the chest. Then, as if struck with a revelation that will make his horns show at last, he smirked down at you.

“Business aside, it’s a little early to get married, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, body stiffening as you processed his words. You were doing your best, but the feeling was already weighing upon your chest at the mention of doubt regarding the couple. This guy. “Sure, a little early for me to–”

Without a word, you felt Namjoon’s pinky lock with yours before gripping your entire hand and enclosing it in its own. You stopped in your tracks, struggling to think of something else. “to… make a decision, but for them, it’s not. They love each other a lot. They’ll be so happy to be married.” You nodded to yourself, 100% sure of what you were saying as you squeezed Namjoon’s hand unconsciously.

With that, you got out of the situation in one piece, arrangement still intact but with a neon purple bruise to your ego. Devil man made you promise you’d call and schedule another meeting, this time with the staff for decoration as he seemed to milk the last seconds of his scammer persona.

As he was all jittery, you waited for him to release his grip, but, to your surprise, you found yourself pulled further from the building.

“I apologise,” Namjoon whispered, his hand hanging onto your open one.

“Huh?”

“That guy, ugh–he’s very good at making people lose their temper. That was ridiculous.” He puffed, at the limit of frustration and something you couldn’t decipher.“I didn’t know what to say or if you wanted me to say anything. I don’t know, I guess–I didn’t want to discredit you. Not in front of him. Not e-”

He switched to your still intertwined fingers and watched as the tips of your fingers dragged against his. You let them drop back to your sides as you watched his, curling around his denim pocket. You never looked at him, too focused on trying to pick each line running through your head to notice him getting lost in the distance between your hands.

“Namjoon?”

The words died on the tip of his tongue. “Mmm?”

“How was I?”

“Uh…You were fine, got a little carried away at the end. But that’s–we need to talk about–”

You shushed him, a rush of motivation hitting you. Blame it on sparkly eyes, your lack of care for yourself, the moon, Mercury in Retrograde. You were thirsty, and you were going to do something about it. Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Forget it. Let’s go get that tea.”

a/n: and part 1 done! feedback means the world to me and i’ve been working on this for like two months so pleathe tell me ur thoughts! peace! its gonna get spicier in the next parts but we had 2 establish some ground...ehehe ;) thx to miss liana @yuengi for being the sexiest wife n beta possibol.!!!

[bundle-bab]

Capulet and Montague

GENRE • fluff uwu ; gryffindor!Chan x slytherin!reader

WORD COUNT • 4,231 or somewhere around there

A/N • I had a ton of fun writing this but the ending is pretty bad bc I've never been good at writing endings,,,, also, a note: my writing has no social or political value and nothing in my texts should be seen as anything more than a light-hearted SKZ fic,,,,enjoy!

+ +

• there's something to be said for the love that comes from being someone's closest friend. It's a love that's often disregarded, thought not to be as strong as love between a couple. 

• you and Chan first met as kids, having gone to the same elementary school.

• you were a muggle-born, but knew that magic existed growing up because of some of the crazy things you saw around Chan and his magical parents.

• Chan told you stories of a school for witches and wizards called Hogwarts, and he taught you about the events of the Battle of Hogwarts and about the legendary Harry Potter.

• it all fascinated you, and you found yourself wishing that you had abilities like Chan was sure to one day.

• not only because having magic would be super amazing, but because you knew that, in just a few months, Chan would be getting a letter telling him that he'd be going off to an amazing magical school and leaving you in your stupid, boring muggle life

• one night you got quite angry about this, and in your annoyance the lightbulb shining in your room burst into a thousand shards.

• your mother, hearing the noise, ran up to your room, took one look at the glass coating your floor, and screamed

• it seemed that she and your dad had a bet on whether or not you were a witch, and your mom just lost

• (that and she was freaked out about the fact that there was glass all over the floor and you were in the middle of it)

• the next day, you told Chan excitedly, and he took the news even better than you had expected 

• while he was excited to go to Hogwarts, he dreaded leaving you — so now that he didn't have to, he couldn't wait for you both to get to school

• within a few months, you both had been whisked away from the homes you were so familiar with to a new setting, that magical castle, and had been sorted into different houses.

• while Chan was disappointed that he wasn't in the same house as you, that didn't stop him from sitting at the Slytherin table during every meal so he could see you (despite some glares he received from some competitive Slytherins)

• despite everything that had happened at Hogwarts in the past few decades, the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor still existed strongly in some students' hearts

• most people saw you and Chan as the bridge between the divide, since everyone knew you were insanely close and always had been — almost like some Romeo and Juliet type stuff.

• it was in your second year that Chan became Gryffindor's newest Keeper

• you thought it made sense that he became a keeper, since he was such a protective person by nature.

• however, not everyone in your house was so thrilled about you being besties with someone on an opposing team.

• thankfully, that was when your Slytherin side kicked in, and when the threats spilled out of your mouth.

• Chan would often apologise for your aggression, and that's when you tended to question his house placement.

• "I don't understand why you're not a Hufflepuff," you would tell him. "Sure, you're brave I guess — but you're also a huge softie who loves everyone???? You are the embodiment of uwu."

• over the years you and Chan stayed close, and it was custom for you to sit at each other's table, switching between Slytherin and Gryffindor each day.

• you did have friends other than Chan, of course. Not many, since your easily-angered nature tended to scare people away.

• there was this Slytherin named Minho who, contrastingly, was very level-headed. His Slytherin traits came in the form of his pettiness and lack of care towards existing, you had learned.

• Minho was well-liked in the school for his Quidditch skills, being one of the best Seekers Hogwarts had ever seen

• games usually ended within minutes if Minho was playing, so Chan had grown to dread Slytherin vs Gryffindor games.

• One day, in your fifth year, Chan found you in the library and crashed into a chair with his head in his arms.

• "We're going against Slytherin for our very first game," he said, a groan escaping him at a volume that earned him a stern glare from the librarian.

• "Who's the new Gryffindor seeker?" you asked with little sign of interest as you flipped the page of your magazine (yeah no you didn't go to the library to study)

• "This guy named Jeno," Chan said. "He's pretty good, but Minho's still gonna wipe the floor with us."

• You offered him a slight smile. "I mean, Slytherin has always been the best house anyway—"

• You elbowed him. "Don't worry about it. You'll do great. You always do."

• Chan seemed to light up upon hearing your encouragement, smiling at you.

• gosh, that pretty smile of his hadn't changed in all the years you knew him

• ahem

• what was that brain???????pretty smile???????

• like ofc it was pretty but why were you thinking that

• "Hey, so I've got practice now," Chan told you, "can you come with me? It'd be fun, I promise."

• you doubted that it would be as great as he made it out to be, but bc you were soft for your bestie you went with him.

• Gryffindor's captain, a tall boy you knew as Sungjin, looked between you and Chan as you approached the team.

• "A Slytherin?" he questioned, looking at Chan. "I know you two are close, but we're about to go against her house, Chris."

• "She literally couldn't care less," Chan said, and you shrugged in agreement. "Besides, nothing she could tell Minho could make him better than he already is."

• Sungjin, shrugging, agreed to let you stay.

• Chan waved to you happily as you climbed the stairs to the stands, where a boy in yellow-accented robes already sat.

• he was one of Chan's friends, a Hufflepuff named Jisung. You'd seen him playing as a Chaser, going up against Chan pretty often during games.

• he smiled at you as you sat down. "You've never come here before."

• "How would you know?" you asked. Jisung laughed.

• "Don't get defensive," he said. "I come to almost every practice. Annoys the heck out of the other teams, but there's no rule against watching another house's Quidditch practice." He smiled again, eyes moving back to the stretching Gryffindor players. "Not like I'm here to steal tactics. I just like Quidditch."

• "I had noticed," you said, sitting a couple of seats away from him. 

• "So did Chan drag you here or did you offer to come?"

• It struck you as an unnecessary question, but you answered nonetheless. "He asked if I'd come, and I didn't want to disappoint him."

• Jisung grinned. "He talks about you a lot, y'know."

• "How so?"

• Jisung only raised his eyebrows, smirking at you. You didn't know how to take that — so you shrugged it off, deciding he was only teasing you for some godforsaken reason.

• Watching Chan practice was far more interesting than you had expected. Quidditch had never really been your thing, and you mainly only went to Gryffindor games to support Chan. You even missed most Slytherin games, which led to Minho teasing you about how you were so "in love" with Chan that you didn't bother going to any game he wasn't in.

• as if

• Chan was different when he was on a broom. There was a fierceness in his eyes that you never saw when he was hanging around with you.

• you had noticed years ago that Quidditch brought out Chan's Gryffindor side, and his energy spilled out into his game.

• you watched as he stopped goal after goal, a small grin spreading on your face.

• he really was incredible. His talent probably rivalled that of Minho's, but Chan had never realised that because Minho, as a seeker, was often the cause of the more noticeable game events.

• Chan was humble, you knew, but you would have been okay with him talking about his talents because honestly, he deserved to.

• when practice ended that day, Chan insisted he walk you back to your common room, despite fully knowing that he wouldn't be able to get to Gryffindor before curfew.

• you passed Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs rushing up the stairs to make it to their dorms, but you and Chan walked together slowly, enjoying each other's company. You also passed some Slytherin girls, who watched you with snake eyes (bc they're snakes not bc they're Slytherins)

• Chan stood next to you for a second longer after he said goodbye to you at the painting. He looked like he was considering something — and after a moment, he gave you a quick hug

• you had 0 idea what possessed him to do that, but you weren't complaining in the slightest

• "See you tomorrow, Y/N!" he called before waving and leaving with the brightest (and prettiest) smile you'd ever seen.

• you kept replaying that in your head as you climbed into your common room, from how warm his embrace was to the smile he left imprinted in your mind.

• it wasn't the first time Chan had hugged you, but it felt different this time. You couldn't really explain it.

• your happy moments were cut short when a group of three or so Slytherins climbed in behind you, and you recognised them as the girls you and Chan had passed earlier.

• "You know you're a traitor, right?" said one of them, brushing past you rather aggressively. "Always around with that Gryffindor kid."

• "You seem to think I care," you said. "I can't be friends with a Gryffindor? Kind of stupid logic, really."

• "You care about that Gryffindor more than you do your own house," said another.

• "Obviously," you said nonchalantly.

• the girls said some more things that got on your nerves, along the lines of "Gryffindor and Slytherin have hated each other since the beginning and that's how it'll stay", and if not for the happy-energy hug Chan had given you earlier, you'd have knocked them out about five sentences ago.

• they were about to say something particularly slap-worthy when Minho walked down the stairs into the common room.

• Minho, beloved by all, was quite talented at getting people to shut up without saying anything, and so the girls scrambled up the stairs to their dorm room.

• "Thank you," you said to him, and he shrugged.

• "Get some sleep, okay?" he said. "Don't do anything stupid about those girls."

• "No promises," you replied before wishing him a good night and trudging up the stairs.

• you only dormed with one of those girls, and you knew she'd never try anything with the other students in there with you.

• however, on your bed was a slip of parchment folded up tightly

• unfolded, it read: "Romeo and Juliet died when they tried to create a bridge between Capulet and Montague. We won't kill either of you, rest assured, but we won't hesitate to make life very difficult for you both if you keep this up."

• the girl was staring at you.

• so, not breaking eye contact, you decided to pull out one of Chan's Gryffindor scarves he had given you in fourth year on your birthday, and you slowly wrapped it around your neck and intertwined it with your own Slytherin one.

• gosh you were petty sometimes

• it was fun

• honestly you didn't understand why they cared so much?? It wasn't their business at all.

• while some Slytherins gave you trouble, majority of them didn't care and let you be. Your house really wasn't that bad, the only reason you didn't have more friends was because you were in a constant state of grr

• so why did they bother you?

• it came to you that maybe one of them liked Chan and was jealous of you, but you figured that wasn't the case.

• eventually, you just chalked it up to old values running in the family, or maybe just a competitive spirit between the houses.

• the next morning, a Sunday, a sudden flame of indignity flared up in you, and you headed to the Hufflepuff table first chance you got.

• Jisung did not at all expect to see you, based on how he jumped and dropped bacon from his mouth when you tapped him on the shoulder.

• "What are you doing here?" His mouth turned into a small smirk. "Shouldn't you be off flirting with Channie?"

• "I need you to help me make something before the Slytherin and Gryffindor match," you said. "Can you come to the library after breakfast?"

• Jisung groaned. "It's my day off and you're making me do homework?"

• despite his protest, he agreed to help you out.

• you and Chan would have sat at the Slytherin table that day, but you convinced him to let you sit with Gryffindor instead — not because you were afraid of the girls (bc that would never happen), but because you wanted to avoid Chan finding out that something had happened.

• if Chan found out that people were giving you trouble, he'd worry about it and try to do something about it, and you didn't want to give him something else to stress over.

• Chan had hoped to spend the day with you, so you had to regretfully tell him that you were gonna be busy for a big chunk of the day

• you offered to meet him outside the Gryffindor common room at 4 so you could hang out before dinner, and he seemed happy with that.

• you should have known better than to leave Chan right after those girls threatened you, because when you had finished and said bye to Chan, they came over to your best buddy.

• "Where's Y/N?" they had asked. "I thought you two always spent Sundays together."

• Chan, who knew these girls as sixth years who you had snapped at before but didn't know much more about them, told them you were busy.

• "So... She's too busy to hang out with you, but she's able to spend time with Jisung?" the one who left the note said. Chan cocked his head at that, and she jabbed a finger towards the entrance of the Great Hall, where you and Jisung had met and were leaving together.

• Chan knew better than to get jealous, though he was definitely a little confused.

• so, he decided to ask you about it when you met up later that day.

• "So... are you and Jisung close now, or...?"

• you shrugged. "He's okay, I guess. I wouldn't call us close — honestly, you and Minho are my only friends. He's just one of the few people I haven't annoyed the heck out of yet."

• Chan nodded. "Then were you guys studying today?"

• "I can't tell you," you said, trying to hide your smile. "It's, uh, a surprise."

• Though Chan didn't want to get suspicious, he didn't feel better after that chat.

• and, just like that, those Slytherin girls got into his head like any good Slytherin would.

• Chan noticed every interaction you and Jisung had, which had become more frequent in recent times due to Jisung being your help for this surprise

• the surprise was a huge, 6 foot long banner, emblazoned in colour-changing glitter with the words "Go Chan!", and in small brackets underneath, "and Slytherin".

• you figured that making that banner would not only make Chan happy, but make it clear to the Slytherin girls that your best friend meant so much more to you than Slytherin, and that nothing would come between you.

• little did you know, something already had.

• you and Jisung finished the banner two days before the Gryffindor vs Slytherin game, and after dropping the banner off in your dorm, you came down to the Great Hall where you and Chan would be eating at the Slytherin table.

• you quickly noticed that there was no red and gold amongst the green and silver, and that Chan was sitting over at the Gryffindor table.

• "Hey, why're you here instead of at the Slytherin table?" you asked as you squeezed between Chan and another Gryffindor you knew as Changbin. Chan shuffled uncomfortably.

• "I dunno, why are you always with Jisung instead of me?"

• you faltered, realising that he was upset, and Chan continued.

• "Do you like him or something?"

• "What? Gosh, no," you cried. "I don't like him! I like—"

• You cut yourself short to stop yourself from spilling too much, but your hesitance to tell him only make Chan more upset.

• "Wow, something else you won't tell me," he muttered.

• this really wasn't like him, and you were beyond confused. Chan was one of the few people who you had never gotten mad at, but by the way the conversation was going, you felt that was about to change.

• "Chan, what's gotten into you?" you asked, doing your best to stay level-headed. Chan didn't answer, chewing on his steak angrily and avoiding your eyes. That was when you blew up at him.

• "How am I supposed to help you through whatever's bothering you if you won't give me the time of day?" you yelled, standing up. "All of a sudden you're just brushing me off? I haven't even done anything!"

• Your voice was one that carried, and people had started looking. Chan, red-faced, yelled back, "You're just so in love with Jisung that you throw me aside!"

• If he was anyone else, you would have slapped him — but there was some slim of sensibility still in you that stopped you. "Joke's on you," you replied, "because the only reason I was hanging out with Jisung was for you, because you're the one I'm "just so in love" with."

• and then you stormed out.

• and geez, you really should have known better than to get mad.

• because over at the Slytherin table, three sixth year girls were smiling to themselves.

• you spent the night completely regretting what you had claimed at dinner.

• You had just confessed that you were totally in love with Chan, and it was while you were destroying the friendship you had, all the while screaming in front of the entire school.

• Earlier that day, you had finished your big surprise for the person you cared about most in the world.

• And now, all of a sudden, two days before the long-awaited Gryffindor vs Slytherin game, the closest friends in the entire school were giving each other the cold shoulder.

• This brings your total of friends to two: Minho and Jisung.

• and those friends were seriously worried. Jisung, though he wanted to comfort you, knew that it was probably better that he try to talk to Chan.

• But Chan was avoiding him. He had stopped being mad at him when you said that you liked Chan and not Jisung, but Chan was now too embarrassed and guilty to be around Jisung.

• That left Minho to look after you.

• He would glare at people who whispered when they passed you, and he'd make snarky comments that you normally would have.

• He sat with you in the corner of the common room until everyone else went into their dorms and fell asleep, so you could avoid the hush that came over your dorm when you walked in.

• You felt bad, since you knew that between Quidditch and his own relationship issues, Minho could do without babysitting you — but you were in such a quiet state that you couldn't tell him to rest.

• On the day of the game, Minho came out of his dorm in his Quidditch robes only to see you in the common room, banner-free and in pyjamas, reading a magazine.

• "Y/N," he said in a warning tone, "Y/N, come on."

• "I'm not going," you said. "Not only am I mad as heck at Chan, but half the school will be there, and I can't be bothered dealing with more stares."

• Minho had never thought anything could quench your hot-headed nature — and this did not fly with him.

• The female prefect for Slytherin, a girl named Soyeon, had just come out of her dorm, so Minho asked her to grab the banner out of your room. When she returned, Minho tucked the banner under one arm, grabbed you by the wrist, and marched you out of the Slytherin common room.

• You struggled against his grip, and you nearly slipped out a few times. The only reason Minho was able to hang on was because he had so much experience gripping on to his broom in horrible weather conditions.

• So you, still in your pyjamas, are forced to march up the stands and sit next to Jisung, delivering the banner to him.

• (It crossed your mind that you could make a break for it, but you knew Minho would hop on his broom and nyoom after you in an instant)

• Chan searched the crowd, looking through the green and silver, not expecting to see you but truly hoping he did.

• After a moment of realising that, after what happened, there was no way you'd want to sit with the other Slytherin, he looked to the miscellany of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who decided to show up — and sure enough, there you were, pyjama-clad and sitting next to Jisung behind the glittering "Go Chan! (+ Slytherin)" banner

• the banner you had made to show the Slytherin girls that they couldn't stop you from being close with Chan, that he meant everything to you

• and as Chan realised that, all the anger he had built up spilled away instantly

• you, however, were still annoyed

• but as you watched Chan play even more desperately than ever, glancing down at you more times than he usually would, you found yourself grabbing onto the edges of the banner, a small smile spreading across your face

• After an extremely close save, a wide smile spread onto Chan's face and you saw him looking down at you.

• For a couple of moments, you shared that smile despite the physical and emotional distance between you.

• the game ended with a very close Slytherin win; Jeno, Gryffindor's newest Seeker, gave Minho more of a run for his money than he'd have liked. Based on the nervously amazed look on Minho's face when he had just barely grasped the Snitch before Jeno, you knew he'd be training even harder in future days.

• You and Jisung rushed onto the pitch, unable to reach Minho through the mob of Slytherin lifting him above their shoulders, but you could and did reach Chan.

• There was a second of hesitance for you both, before Chan swept you into his arms.

• You buried your face into his warm shoulder, tears falling onto his sleeve despite your best efforts.

• When you pulled back, Chan cupped your face and gently wiped at your tears with his thumbs, whispering, "Hey, it's okay, it's okay."

• And then, after a second, Chan gently planted an awkward kiss on your lips. There was a whoop from somewhere behind you (Jisung, you figured).

• It was a kiss that ended quickly, but got his point across.

• "I'm so sorry that I jumped to conclusions," Chan whispered. "I, um, I really liked the banner. You two made it look really nice, I appreciate it."

• "I'm glad," you said. Then you hesitated, and he noticed. He asked what was bothering you, and despite your better judgement, you decided to tell him about the Slytherin girls who were giving you trouble.

• Chan thought on it for a moment, before saying, "They were the ones who pointed out you and Jisung to me."

• That's when it clicked for you. The reason Chan had gotten mad, the sudden split between you that would have never happened on its own.

• And geez, did you have some snakes to slap.

• Chan had begun stressing over you getting bullied, but you told him you were fine. You said that you had thick skin for everyone except him, and that earned you one of Chan’s pretty smiles.

• "Let's not worry about it today, okay?" you said, taking his hand in yours. "We'll deal with it tomorrow. I want to...catch up."

• So you and Chan rejoined Jisung, who Chan fervently apologised to. Then the three of you followed the Minho-carrying mob to the Great Hall, where you ate at the Slytherin table (it was custom, after all).

• In the next few days, you, Chan, Jisung and Minho reported the bullying to Soyeon, who passed the message on to your head of house.

• The bully who you dormed with was moved to a different room, and replaced with a much more pleasant girl who you could even befriend one day, who knows?

• No Slytherin gave you and Chan trouble, and Gryffindors would often whoop and holler when you and Chan held hands at their table.

• As winter came, you and Chan were sitting out in the snow, fingers interlocked as you watched the Slytherin Quidditch team flying around in the distance.

• Chan looked at you, and planted a kiss on your cheek.

• "I love you too," he said rather suddenly. You looked at him, confused, and he smiled.

• "I know I can't exactly compare to announcing it in front of the whole school in a fit of rage, but I wanted you to know."

• and as you squeezed his hand tighter, whispering that you loved him as well, you could tell that the bridge between Capulet and Montague had been completed.

[writingforthethinkers]

From One Maze To Another

The Maze Runner

Pairing: Newt X Reader

Word Count: 1488

Warning: teensy-weensy bit of fighting

Summary: Requested: Hi, could you maybe do a tmr newt x reader where them reader is a runner from group Bs. Maze and Minho and her cross paths and go back to the glade (the reader puts up a fight) and her and newt just click instantly.

A/N: This was really interesting to write, and I kind of liked the idea of Group A and B’s mazes being connected in some way! I also twisted the request slightly so the reader is more going out to find Newt than getting there by accident. Hope you enjoy!

I barely stopped to hug Sonya and Harriet goodbye before I set off into the maze, filled with determination to achieve my goal.

“Are you sure about this? I mean, how do you know you’ll even find this boy?” Sonya asked, worry etched into her features.

“Sonya’s right, (Y/N), what if you do this and the grievers get you before you even have a chance to look for a way into some other maze. A maze that – I hate to point out – we don’t even know exists.” Harriet said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I am sure. I know what I have to do to get to him, and I’ll do it. Whatever it takes. I promised him before we were thrown into these mazes that I’d never leave him, and I’m not going back on that promise,” I replied, remember the memory that crashed through my dreams, a memory of a boy with sandy-blonde hair and warm hands that were placed against my cheeks, holding us together.

“Okay.” Harriet gave in, and Sonya soon did the same, telling me to stay safe and wrapping me in one final embrace.

That exchange had been hours ago, and I’d been running ever since. I just kept going. Running and running until I found myself in an unknown part of the maze. The familiar turns and bends were gone, and I ran in no real direction, just attempting to get further and further into the mess of looming stone walls.

I met with no other form of life for another hour or two, when I suddenly came into contact with someone with heavy breathing as I sharply turned a corner.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting it, and neither was the person I ran into. As we collided, they yelled out, falling to the floor while taking me down with them. I knew he was from another maze almost instantly, mainly by the survival instinct that must have kicked in as he grabbed a knife from his pocket, attempting to brandish it at me while I tried to do the same thing.

“Who the hell are you?” He shouted after the two of us had stopped moving, faces dangerously close, weapons raised.

“(Y/N),” I answered. Not bothering to be subtle, I carried on with what I needed to find out. “Are you from another maze?”

The boy moved back slightly, confusion glazing his features.

“‘Another’?” he finally asked, confirming my suspicions.

Hesitating, I prepared to ask my next question. This was it. I had a name, and if this boy didn’t know it, I’d just abandoned my home, safety and everything I knew for nothing.

“Do you know someone called Newt?” I loved the sound of his name. Ever since the memory, it had played over and over again in my mind, like a broken record. But as I said it aloud, it almost tasted sweet on my tongue.

The confusion seemed to heighten on the boy’s face, a hint of recognition as the name drifted through the air between us.

“I think you better come with me,” he finally spoke, placing a strong grip on one of my arms and pulling the two of us to our feet, dragging me in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Get off me!” I tried to resist, pulling against him. I’d slipped my knife into its sheath when we began talking, but I wished I’d kept it firmly in my hand. The boy took no notice of me, continuing to drag me through the maze as I struggled. Soon, I’d decided enough was enough, pulling myself around so I was facing him and driving my knee up into his groin, instantly releasing his grip as he cried out in pain.

“Holy mother of – what was that for?” He groaned, bending over.

“I told you to let go,” I stated, before pushing him up against the wall, ignoring his moans of pain. “Now this is how it’s going to go. Take me to Newt, I know you know who I mean, and I won’t be kicking you anywhere sensitive again.”

“What did you think I was trying to do, shank?”

“You could have said so,” I mumbled, moving back.

A silence began between us as the boy straightened out his shirt and gave a weak cough; an attempt to ignore the pain he was in.

“I’m Minho, by the way,” Minho stated, stretching out his hand. “And yeah, I do know Newt. He’s my friend. But I have quite a few questions for you, random-girl-who-I-just-found-and-instantly-kicked-me-in-the-genitals.”

“It wasn’t instantly,” I took up the offer of his handshake, a small smile gracing my face, a flash of victory in my chest.

I’ve done it. He is real. Newt’s real and I’ve almost found him.

“Well, I’m guessing you’re going to want to come back to the Glade with me and meet good ol’ Newtie. And maybe I can find out a bit about you on the way,” Minho said, a smile on his lips as he began walking. I caught up and we walked side by side.

“You know he said he had a dream about a girl,” he continued, looking to me. “I made fun of him for it at the time, as expected. But, you know, maybe he had some truth behind his fever dream.”

“Maybe I do too,” I agreed, as we continued through the maze.

It turns out I wasn’t too far from the entrance to the maze, as it only took a little over an hour to make it to what Minho calls the Glade.

On arriving, I realised it looked the exact same as my old one, save the placement of a few buildings. It was so strange. Most people didn’t realise our arrival through the doors. All but one, that is. His hair was the same sandy-blonde that I remembered, and his face was just as perfectly defined as in my memories, if not more so.

But the best thing was our mutual recognition on seeing each other, as even from metres away, his eyes lit up slightly as he must have recognised my face. Minho was right, he does know who I am. And I know who he is.

Newt.

The boy begins walking towards us, and I try to control the smile that threatens to spring onto my face.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Newt asks as he stops in front of us, looking to Minho in utter surprise.

“This the girl you were talking about?” Minho questions with a triumphant grin, admiring the disbelief on Newt’s face.

“I can’t believe you two just walked through those doors,” Newt stated, eyes flashing to me for a moment in a nervous glance.

“I just found her,” Minho replied, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I more found him,” I intervened, heart melting as Newt’s honey-brown eyes flashed over to mine, this time staying.

“We sort of ran into each other and held knives to each other’s throats. But it’s cool, we’re besties now.” Minho elaborated, making a smile cross my lips as the same happened on Newt’s.

“Anyway, I think you two needs some alone time. Newt, why don’t you take (Y/N) to the Homestead, and I’ll tell Alby that there’s a new edition to the team and your relationship status has changed from single to taken!” Minho had run off before either of us could reply, and we soon fell into a joint laugh at his words.

“C’mon, love,” Newt said once our laughter had died down, his voice a gentle hum, “it’s this way.”

We sat side by side on one of the rows of benches, shoulders grazing as we looked around the room in front of us. There were so many words sitting on the tip of my tongue, but none of them seemed to want to be said aloud.

“So,” Newt said into the quiet.

“So,” I repeated, unsure of how to elaborate.

“I had a dream about you. Well, more of a memory,” Newt explained.

“Me too. I made you a promise I didn’t keep,” I told him, looking into his warm eyes. “That’s why I came here.”

“I made a promise to you too,” Newt stated, making me raise an eyebrow. Maybe we remembered different things, I was the only one to make a promise in my memory. “And I didn’t keep it.”

“What was it?” I asked, leaning closer slightly.

Newt looked deep into my eyes, hesitating for a second as I watched him contemplate what he was going to do. It wasn’t a moment later that he had made up his mind, a warm hand moving to cup my face as he lent forward, eyes fluttering shut as our lips met. I instantly closed my eyes, enjoying the some what familiar sensation of our lips moving in unison as I knew I’d found the boy from my memories.