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stuckwith-harry · 5 years ago

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hey you, i only followed you recently and I really like your hinny fanfics and your poetry. Would you mind telling me about your process when you write? I really wanna learn how to write properly and you seem to take your craft so seriously. How do you built a story, how often do you edit, how much time do you spent on your work, what do you try to go for,...? Thanks xxx

Anon, this is the coolest ask I’ve EVER received, and I’m hanging it on my wall next to all the colour-coded flashcards with poems on them. This is going to be LONG, and by no means exhaustive - I’m gonna jump around and ramble a bit and if there’s anything specific you wanna hear more about, please ask! I fucking love talking about writing!

I’m gonna put most of this under a cut, but before we dive in: yes, I tAkE mY wRiTiNg sErIoUsLy in the sense that I’d like to publish some original bodies of work in my life and to have physical copies of them exist on a bookshelf that’s not my own. I don’t need it to pay the bills, but if you googled my full name I’d like for, like, a poetry collection to show up and not, I don’t know, the two poems I got published in a regional newspaper when I was eight.

(And please let the record show that they’re fine poems for a primary schooler. The cringe years came way after that, kids.)

So, even having some ambitions in the industry, the reality is that I’m a 19-year-old kid with a keyboard and a dodgy internet connection who discovered fanfiction when she was twelve and got hooked for life. We’re going to retire the idea of “writing properly” for now, because writing is supposed to be fun and I haven’t actually gotten accepted into that Creative Writing Bachelor’s degree I so desperately want to do. YET. Don’t let the fancy writing blog (@jessicagluch) fool you into thinking I know what the heck I’m doing. But, okay, with that out of the way, let’s get into what I’m personally doing right now, yeah?

Fanfiction

You asked about process, and the truth is, I don’t … really have one. For the Muggle/FWB AU called “Let Me love” I just published, I actually wrote a pretty detailed outline that I then filled in, which was fun, but it’s not a habit exactly. I’d written a lot of assorted scenes and pieces of dialogue for that one, too, so I had a lot of material and just had to put all the scraps and pieces in order and stitch it all together. After the brainstorming, word-vomity part of writing Let Me love, my #1 task was figuring out where everything went, and making sure it’s all there.

As soon as I’d written a full first draft, no gaps, and the anatomy of the whole thing had somewhat clicked into place, I moved away from it for a while. Wrote something else. Came back maybe a week or two later, polished up the prose a bit very late at night.

Figure out when your creative hours are, if you can pinpoint it at all. Mine are precisely “I was supposed to be asleep two hours ago and I’ve got an important thing tomorrow” o’ clock. Sigh.

Just - leave it alone for a bit, come back with fresh eyes. I love writing Let Me love - I’m working on part 2 right now - but after you’ve fucked around with the same sentence fifty times, you get sick of it. And I did. At some point you have to decide to put down the pen and let it be.

Especially because fanfiction isn’t something you’re writing for a publisher - hopefully, you’re writing it mostly for you - no one is holding a gun to your head to get rid of every last adverb or stuff like that. I can do what I want, MOM. I am allowed to make the thing I’m writing as tropey and campy as I want and hold up a big old middle finger to the rules, if that’s what I want to do.

Fanfiction, to me, is this grand, batshit writing playground. That’s why I fell for it in the first place - it’s inherently self-indulgent and hedonistic and that you can write everything EXACTLY as you please is the primary purpose it serves as a genre. So go wild.

(Process-wise, the one thing I do very consistently is making moodboards and playlists. I like having some inspiration material to swim around in, which helps me figure out what the story looks and feels and sounds like in my head.

Every fic has a soundtrack. SOUNDTRACKS ARE IMPORTANT, PEOPLE.

Like, Let Me love is all coloured lights and night-time London and texts left on read. It’s neon signs and wearing somebody else’s t-shirt, messy bedsheets and hangover breakfasts and quarter-life crises.

This is the Pinterest board.)

What I pay most attention to is the stuff that gives the text depth beyond the surface. I look for metaphors - and I personally prefer the ones that carry through the whole thing, ideas we explore throughout the story and revisit at the end. I look for themes that hold a story together beyond the plot. I look for subtext and imagery and I want symbolism, goddamnit.

(That’s the poet kicking in.)

And of course, I’m a product of my generation, so I love referencing other bodies of work and subverting tropes and stuff like that. Hey kids, intertextuality is fun!

(Like, do you see what I did there? See how the phrase “hey kids x is fun” in itself is a reference to something? See??? I’m a fucking genius.)

I think we need some examples. Allow me to toot my own horn for a minute.

In the Halloween 2018 oneshot I wrote, which is about Harry grappling with the anniversary of his parents’ death when he’s a little older, he visits the graveyard with Ginny and Lily Luna. Ginny comments that “it’s freezing”, to which Harry responds with the titular, “you’re warm”. And yes, it’s October, it’s probably cold. They’re keeping each other warm. And yes, it’s maybe about comfort in harsh situations in general, a more metaphorical warmth, if you will. I get it.

But when you remember this exchange is taking place on a graveyard, you might start to wonder about warm, living bodies as opposed to cold, deceased ones. And then you think about how this whole story is about the living remembering - in a sense, living with - the dead. And how it’s about death as a part of Harry’s life. And you can probably guess by now that all my literature teachers fucking adored me.

(But he’s also choosing a side here, maybe. But I’m merely the author, you don’t have to listen to me at all. My words beyond the words don’t mean shit unless you decide they do and even then you’re going to find yourself knees-deep in a debate around authorial intent in record-time. In the age of “Nagini was a cursed human woman all along”, I’m not sure I want that.)

I also reference other pieces of work a lot. Often poems, and even more frequently, songs. The songs in Let Me love are VERY IMPORTANT and I can’t show you the full playlist right now because SPOILERS. But the chapters are split into sub-sections via song lyrics. Those are part of the playlist. There’s also a lot of referencing songs in general because Harry is a big music fan in this one, but that’s just indulgence on my part. If I want to make a 21st century Harry a Mitski stan, then I will. And I did!

(AND Let Me love has a Friends reference. For funsies, but also, for much more than funsies.)

“I love you / please do not use it” was inspired by a poem by Savannah Brown called “organs”. (It’s linked in the author’s notes at the beginning.)

“It’s two sugars, right?” borrows and/or references a ton of lines and phrases from T. S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men. Most noticeably:

Sublety isn’t my middle name, exactly. (The forget-me-not-blue sky in The Bride On The Train, anyone?)

In short: I like when my fanfictions are worth rereading. I like when you can come out the second read having found a little more than you did the first. I like when you can wander around a little, and, like a treasure hunter, make some strange new discoveries.

Lastly: of course, writing from your own experience helps. Spy on your own life. Collect all the ways in makes you feel, like a thief, write it down, memorise it, put it in the story. Reuse! Recycle! ✊🏻

I fortunately don’t relate to Harry’s childhood trauma, but the feeling at the beginning of “We’ll figure it out” - which is a story set shortly after him and Ginny find out she’s pregnant and he’s struggling to connect with everybody else’s simple bliss, because he’s terrified, and he’s terrified of admitting he’s terrified - that was real. That “wait a minute, this moment is amazing. I’m supposed to be the happiest person on the planet right now. Why am I not feeling it? What is this emptiness? Am I not happy right now? Why am I having doubts? I’m not supposed to have any doubts! What the fuck is wrong with me?”, that was lifted from a specific experience.

Side note, I’m really proud of that one.

Okay, poetry!

Where there is even less rules and more fucking around ensues!

I read and promptly lost a quote recently about how explaining a song sort of defeats the purpose. (I’ll link it here if I ever find it again.) In some ways, poems and songs work really similarly, and I think it applies here as well: if you could really explain the whole poem in one sentence, or a few sentences, if you could accurately and concisely summarise exactly how it feels, then you wouldn’t really need the poem. My favourite poems (or songs) tend to be the ones that outline a really specific emotion via a few powerful images, but I couldn’t precisely tell you what the emotion is. Like, I know exactly what this thing is saying, I know this exact feeling, I GET-GET it, but don’t ask me to explain the thing, just READ the THING, and you’ll KNOW.

Mitski does this really well. Like, I couldn’t explain to you what Last Words Of A Shooting Star makes me feel, but it does. I can tell you that “I am relieved that I left my room tidy, they’ll think of me kindly when they come for my things” cuts through me like a hot blade but I can’t pinpoint exactly why and I don’t want to. All I know is she Gets It, and that I want her writing chops, goddamnit.

Or, like, look at Laura Gilpin’s Two-Headed Calf. Yeah, I’ve read that poem a hundred times and thought a lot about all the themes it’s presenting me with. But I have zero desire to explain those themes to you, because I’d kind of be robbing it of its magic. I don’t want to tell you what it’s about. I want you to read it and I want to simply sit with the knowledge that we know, we Get It, that “twice as many stars as usual” kicked you in the shins, emotionally speaking, as much as it did me.

Few words, max impact, is key.

In Mary Oliver’s words, we want something inexplicable made plain, not unlike a suddenly harmonic passage in an otherwise difficult and sometimes dissonantsymphony - even if it is only for the moment of hearing it.

I’m realising right now that leading with these shining examples and then following them up with my own thing is nerve-wracking. But I like to think that I accomplished something like that with a little poem I wrote called Basements.

It’s is based on the prompt “back to nature” and follows that, uhm, somewhat loosely, a little subverted. I think it’s about impermanence and nostalgia and the fact that the places we lived in continue to exist even when our lives in them don’t anymore. It’s about that and a lot of other things. Maybe. The truth is, I don’t want to explain it to you: I just want you to read it, and then I hope that it made you feel something, and I’m going to trust that you Get It. Maybe you don’t get the same things I did, but that’s great. I’d love nothing more.

Before it was all those things, it was a poem about my life. The neighbourhood with the yellow house across the graveyard that I spent nine mostly happy years in. (The house, not the graveyard.) Every single thing in there is true: my sister really bust her lip and we both cried; wild lilac really grew there; we did spend most of our summers catching tadpoles, and yes, that neighbourhood was a construction site from the first day we lived there to the very last.

And I really sat in the driver’s seat of the family car about a year ago and watched it from afar. I didn’t come up with that - it’s my life. I only went on a scavenger hunt through my own memories, through the places and records and mementos of my life, and arranged a few specific anecdotes in a way that would give them meaning.

It’s kind of what I’m proudest of when it comes to my poetry - that I get to just live my life and see the metaphor and the meaning and symbolism as I’m experiencing it. I sat in the car and I thought, huh, that’s definitely making me Feel A Thing right now, that I’m sitting in the driver’s seat looking at this place I haven’t really been to in years, my childhood home, where I don’t live anymore. That I drove here myself.

I think that, when done right, specific makes universal. If you arrange a kaleidoscope of memories in just the right way, what it’s making you feel will speak for itself, and you won’t have to explain it. Most people who’ve read “basements” probably didn’t spend countless summers playing in literal holes, originally dug out for basements that were never built because no one wanted to move there. Holes that then grew full of weeds and wild lilac and felt like miniature jungles right outside our parents’ houses. It was perfect, it was specifically mine, but the feeling behind it is universal, I think.

Like, that’s how half of Taylor Swift’s RED works. That’s how most good Taylor Swift songs work. That’s why the bridge in Out of the Woods is so good and why I love New Year’s Day so much and it’s EXACTLY why All Too Well is considered her best song by so many people. Because she zoomed in on the details of her life and let the world take a look. Because “we dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light” is a line in that song. THAT’s why it MAKES YOU FEEL THE THING.

Back to poems? This:

So we tell them all about the dayWe planned revolutions on my bedroom floor, or how we onceSpent an entire Monday lunch break making life plans over ice creamAnd most of our parties talking politics over beerWe both paid for ourselves.About the days you drive me to school. In your carI am the girl, front-seat passenger of our lives,Who does not need reach for the steering wheel –The road is alright.

isn’t fiction. These are my memories, carefully selected and re-arranged for Politics at Parties Boy.

I didn’t make up these film stills of a non-romantic relationship that never became anything other than non-romantic because neither party ever made a move. What I did is look at my own life like it’s a piece of fiction. If these memories were a movie, you could pluck them apart and say, see, the screenwriters put this scene here to communicate that.

The truth is, I am the screenwriter and the protagonist and the actress and the director and the camerawoman. I looked at a teenage girl who refused to let her friend buy her a beer at a school party and decided “huh, I guess that tells us everything we need to know” because I was that girl.

And I did pay for the beer, so we’d never move into “let me buy you a drink” territory. He was already driving me to school.

That’s my best lesson on poetry, really. I look at my life like it’s a piece of fiction and then I make it one. I put personal memories in poems meant to be read by other people, I overinterpret everything that happens to me, am literally constantly thinking about how to work every knock-back and struggle into my narrative arc and look for symbolism in anything from the date, the weather, and the colour of my front door. I watch myself in third person all the time and thus become my own muse. I’m the painter and the painting.

It’s a somewhat narcissistic and masturbatory approach to poetry, but as far as writing about your own life goes, it’s what works for me.

As far as writing about not yourself goes - well, I’m a narcissist and I’m bad at that, but I wrote a poem about the Mars rover Opportunity that shut down this February called Spirit shuts down and Opportunity feels no tremble, no ache. For stuff like that, if you don’t happen to be Struck TM by a lightning bolt of inspiration (which is the exception, not the rule), a good old-fashioned mind-map helps. I just let my robot grief go wild on the page for a bit and what I ended up writing about was death and the human condition and being a teenage girl, maybe.

I really enjoy taking two concepts/ideas and juxtaposing them, watching a theme unfold in the overlap. Like, it’s a poem about a robot AND about being a teenage girl and in between those two lies a poem about the futile attempts to teach a robot human emotion. Maybe.

It’s a poem about how my mum always cries at the airport and about me making my own happiness my priority and it kind of ends up being about my intense guilt of making my parents watch me change and grow and leave.

It’s about the night I wandered through a quiet street in Central London at 1 a.m. and realised that the city of my dreams sleeps like any other place, that people wake up early and make coffee and go to work and have bad days here. That it’s not all dream. It’s some people’s lives. But it’s also about watching another person sleep - the way someone’s face changes when they do.

In the middle lay a poem about finding a friend in a lover. Not the daydream, but my life.

Lastly, I can’t talk about my own poetry without talking about my darling poem 5 disasters. It’s my pride and joy. Like, you could kill me write now and I’d be like, it’s okay, I’ve written the poem I want to be remembered for and it’s this one. I wrote it in less than a day and every time I think about the fact that I wrote

I cravedsomething more violent than death, somethingviolent enough to bea beginningand for my life to be thousands of themI wantednothingto remainexcept the girl that sentthe disastersand survived -may this wasteland bewhere I find her.

… I lose my shit a little bit.

(5 disasters was a rarity in how quickly I wrote it. It often takes me weeks. Sometimes months. There’s poems I’ve been meaning to write for years now and I still haven’t found the words. Take your time.)

5 disasters is a lot of things, but within the context of the poetry collection it’s hopefully going to exist in one day, it serves as almost an instruction manual for metaphors: here, the floods and rainfalls are always change and the forest fires are always my highschool demons and my friends and how they look the same. The colour yellow is always referencing the same love. Basically, I like pinpointing my symbolisms and then crafting a poem around them. You end up creating something like an in-poem universe that you get to navigate like a fantasy novel. Like you’re telling a story about a natural disaster, but it’s all a metaphor, Hazel Grace.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. As I do.

I hope this serves as a starting point of sorts, anon. Most importantly, have fun, don’t concern yourself with all the rules too much. Experiment, be bold, read lots.

Again, if you’ve got any questions, I’d be thrilled to help. Thanks for the opportunity to toot my own horn to this outrageous degree, it’s been a blast.

#this is SO LONG i'm SO SORRY i was VERY EXCITED #jessie the writer #owl post #anon

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fanta-ceo · 7 years ago

Text

What Works

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: romance, hurt/comfort, college au, badboy!yoongi, friendship au, fluff

Word count: 6277

Description: “‘Does that really work on girls?’ ‘Depends on what you want from them,’ Yoongi drawls. You try not to gag.“ He only seems to admit he wants you when he’s drunk, and you’re too far in denial to even notice it’s happening.

a/n: this is based off a prompt request that’s a quote. I’ll stick it at the bottom (you’ll notice it pretty fast tho tbh). Ill be writing bts living together at college till i die. --Baekbek

He’s hungover.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says. It’s impossible to tell if Yoongi’s eyes are actually open through the dark shades, and the weird way he’s slumped to the side in his armchair could either be masking his slumber or a new creative way of sitting. Jungkook seems to believe he’s awake. You’re pretty sure he’s asleep.

You turn the page in your textbook because your roommates coming home late from a party last night doesn’t have to affect your study schedule. Even if the idea of Yoongi doing his classic bad boy routine on some girl at the party makes you feel sick.

You don’t care at all. You’re completely focused on your Physics exam tomorrow. Completely.

“Hyung,” Jungkook repeats. Somehow, while Yoongi looks like he died last night, Jungkook looks bright and peaceful after a night out. Probably because Yoongi got completely wasted and Jungkook doesn't drink much with his athletic scholarship on the line. Jungkook always takes his health too seriously. “I have a question.”

Yoongi’s bending his neck at an awkward angle. It looks really uncomfortable. Is he really sleeping? You don’t know why he’s down here instead of locked in his room, sleeping off last night. You turn a page noisily without looking up, asserting that you are not paying attention because you don’t care. Yoongi was supposed to help you last night and he ditched you for a party when he doesn’t even like going out, and that’s what really bothers you. It’s that he ditched you, definitely not what he did at that party, what he always does at parties, the reason he goes to parties in the first place—

It's just that he was supposed to help you. ...Right.

“Hyung,” Jungkook repeats. You glance up at him, but he doesn’t look bothered at all by the lack of response. He looks rather hopeful, actually. Like any second now, Yoongi will magically respond.

You pale. Damn. He’s going to keep asking until Yoongi answers. And that distraction would not be conducive to good study habits. “Yoongi,” you quip, reaching out with your foot to poke his calf with your toes. Yoongi jerks, then groans, head dropping before he lifts it begrudgingly and runs his hand through his already messy blonde hair. “Your son is asking you a question. Don’t just ignore him.”

Jungkook is everyone’s son, as far as you’re concerned. Yesterday it was Taehyung. The day before, Seokjin. Jin probably made the most sense—

Yoongi pulls down his sunglasses to squint miserably at Jungkook. “What.” He croaks. Then he pushes his sunglasses back up and he shifts back into his armchair. He looks worn and annoyed, but not much different from an old man. Part of his charm—one moment, he’s sexy and charismatic and the next, he’s a stiff and grumpy 23-going-on-70 year old.

“How do you ask a girl out?” Jungkook asks, completely innocent. You balk, giving up on pretending to study. Yoongi doesn't seem to react, but his black shades make it hard to tell. You’re not really sure there is one. Yoongi is so hungover and miserable, he would sit without flinching through an earthquake. But he moves when you kick his leg... You suppose that has something to do with his gentlemanly nature he tries to pretend doesn't exist.

You almost think he’s not going to answer. What was Jungkook thinking? And what will he do if Yoongi doesn’t answer? You wouldn’t put it past him, to completely ignore something he saw as stupid. But wouldn’t Jungkook just keep asking?

Yoongi saves you from finding out; he shifts in his seat again, making it clear he hadn’t died in the last minute. “That’s easy,” he says, neck bent at that awkward angle with his head lolled to the side. His voice sounded gravelly and dry, husky from his hangover. “You open the door and you tell her to get out. It helps to tell her she’s annoying.”

Jungkook blinks. You laugh. You stop quickly, surprised at your lack of control, and clear your throat as you force your eyes back to your textbook. You didn't look away fast enough, of course. The quirk of one side of Yoongi’s lips was definitely a smirk, and it frustrates you even more. Not like you knew why, of course. You laughed at his joke, of course he’d feel smug—so why should you feel irritated? But you burrow deeper in your chair, pulling the textbook up to shield your face.

“Is that how you’d do it?” Jungkook asks, continuing his weird game. “You’re the aggressive type, hyung. Does that really work on girls?”

“Depends on what you want from them,” Yoongi drawls. You feel like gagging, scowling into the text and bringing your textbook higher to hide your expression.

“So if you wanted a date, you’d just tell her to get out? And then follow her? That’s really a strange method, but maybe you can make it work,” Jungkook offers.

“Mm,” Yoongi hums noncommittally, probably losing interest in the conversation.

“Hyung should show me how it’s done,” Jungkook says, all innocence that you don't believe at all.

Oh you can’t handle this. You set down your textbook, frustrated that you can’t concentrate and even more frustrated that you’re amused and so fond of these boys, despite your feelings. “Jungkook,” you say. “You don’t need help picking up girls. What is this about?”

“I wanted to know Yoongi-hyung’s plan,” Jungkook says with a pure expression. “He says he likes a girl—"

What?

"—but he hasn’t made a move, so—“

“Ya!” Yoongi shouts, diving for one of Seokjin’s dense magazines and flinging it at Jungkook, but he easily bats it away with a laugh. Your fingers begin to shake, so you clasp them tightly in your lap. “Brat,” Yoongi seethes. “Why are you bothering y/n with this nonsense? Go play outside with your friends,” he grumps.

He says he likes a girl? So Yoongi, last night—

“You should have heard him last night,” Jungkook turns to you with a grin. “He was—“

—last night, he ditched you, escaped you, to tell the boys all about the girl he likes?

“Jeon Jungkook!” Yoongi hurls another magazine at him. “I covered your utilities last month and this is how you repay me, you cheeky sack of shit—“

He didn't even consider you someone he could confide in, he had to run away to a party so he could tell everyone. And he's mad Jungkook's brought it up even now. You try to swallow, but it feels impossible with how tight your throat is.

“I’m helping,” Jungkook whines with eyes that sparkle, trying to pout.

He says he likes a girl. Fuck, does it really have to hurt this bad? It had felt like there had been something there, but maybe it was only your own delusions and feelings filling the gap between you. He'd been so gentle, especially recently, and there had been times when you'd talk on this couch late at night together and it would get quiet and Yoongi would stare into your eyes and wet his lips and look like he wanted to say something and you'd thought—you'd thought—

“I told you to go play outside!” Yoongi snips.

“I thought you were joking,” Jungkook says.

“I wasn’t,” Yoongi shoots back, scowling.

There was so little connecting you two. You'd tried so hard to find reasons and excuses to be in his life, but if he liked someone, then that was all over. That meant you guys were barely friends. That meant everything would change. He'd be out with some perfect girl, with long legs and a sweet presence and confidence, and he'd kiss her but he wouldn't stop the way he had with you, and he wouldn't apologize with shitty apology coffee for two weeks. He'd probably wear that cocky little smirk and he'd whisper things in her ear and—

And maybe he'd still stop by your room to make sure you weren't studying too hard, forcing you to take a break when you were stressed and overworked and exhausted. And maybe he'd still cook breakfast on your exam days, even though you went crazy trying to hide it from him to prevent that kindness and he always figured it out anyway.

But you can't imagine that he'll stay back from parties anymore on Friday nights to watch a scary show with you, and throw pillows at you when you start getting scared, and laughing at you when you jump at the scary parts, and talking with you for hours when it's over, moving closer and closer towards each other unconsciously till things grew quiet and it felt like speaking would break the spell and Yoongi looked almost nervous... And then he'd say, voice soft yet rough that maybe you both should get some rest. And your face would feel flushed and you'd hide it because you felt embarrassed by your own reaction, and when you'd glance at Yoongi you'd find he was avoiding your eyes as well.

That wouldn't happen again. Yoongi wasn't that type of guy, to confuse a girl like you while dating someone else.

Jungkook has a way of following orders as if they were his idea in the first place. He stands and stretches languidly, grinning to himself sunnily. “I’m going to go play outside with my friends like my dad recommends,” he announces.

“Ya, who are you talking to?” Yoongi gets chatty when he's angry: one of his many charms. “Y/n is studying for her exam and you’ve been bothering her this whole time. Only I’m here to listen and I already gave my orders so obey in silence you little shit.”

Jungkook salutes him on his way out, completely unbothered, but not before he tosses you a wink.

He says he likes a girl. You smile depsite the feeling that the ground has been pulled out from beneath you. Yoongi sighs, ruffled and ill at ease like a cat resettling after the dog has left the vicinity. You want to maintain your smile because he really is cute, even though he’s trying not to be—but your heart is beating so heavily yet so dully in your chest. He says he likes a girl.

It had been painful enough, knowing what he was doing out there with any girl warm and willing, pretty enough to catch his eye. What hurt even more was that one night, you were that girl. Over eight months ago, he'd pulled you into a drunken, sloppy kiss, and there was no hesitancy, no questions, just desire and Yoongi's classic intensity and the feeling that your knees were going to buckle. Yoongi's kisses said you're mine and you felt it and you wanted that.

And just as you'd begun to kiss back, he seemed to come to his senses. His lips slowed, his hands froze, and then he'd jumped off of you like he'd been burned. He said sorry, over and over, before staggering off and disappearing the rest of the night.

You don't know what hurts more. That strangers get the kind of scraps you beg for, that you could have been one of them if it weren't for your personal relationship with him, or that even if you were close enough to make kissing wrong, you'd never be close enough to make kissing right.

It was painful enough like that. And you tried not to take that personally—Yoongi had said a few times over the past year that no way in hell was he getting a girlfriend, he liked his freedom a lot thanks, he didn't need anything else. But it felt personal. Other girls got to have him fuck them, and you got apology coffee for two weeks because he felt so guilty about accidentally kissing you.

It hurt to be something but never more and now, now Yoongi's found someone he wants to surrender his precious freedom for. Now, Yoongi actually likes someone. He spilled it all while he was drunk. And that makes what's left between you—absolutely nothing.

“Cheeky little bastard,” Yoongi mutters, and when you look up at him, he looks a little flustered. Of course, he did go to a party just to avoid a moment like this, so maybe it really was embarrassing to him. He clears his throat. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, looking off pointedly.

You realize, belatedly, that he wants a reaction. You force yourself to smile. “It’s not,” you say, eyes going to your textbook like you're hardly interested. Your vision is blurring. “Why didn’t I know about this mystery girl?” you ask from behind your textbook, trying to sound normal. You wonder if he can hear the desperation, the desolation, in your voice as clearly as you can.

Yoongi doesn't answer at first. When he does, he sounds thoughtful. “I wasn’t hiding it. I was waiting for the right time to tell people. But Kim Taehyung got me fucking wasted, and I started bragging."

Yoongi would be the type, wouldn't he? Whoever he liked would be the type to brag about. "Oh," you say weakly. Damn it I'm about to lose it. You clear your throat, praying that will be enough. "But why would you wait for the right time on something like that?"

“Impulsive confessions can be really hurtful,” Yoongi responds immediately, as if reciting from the Book of Min Yoongi, which houses many proverbs and rules that he adheres to strictly. He mainly pulls it out to lecture the young ones in the house. “A girl deserves a really thoughtful and meaningful confession when you like her as much as I do. Otherwise she might not take you seriously."

You guess hearing it from someone else counts as accidental. "So you're not just going to ask her to leave?” You ask, your weak attempt at humor. And that's when you feel a tear on your eyelashes and you know you've lost your insignificant battle. You jump to your feet and throw your textbook in your bag with desperate speed, keeping your face hidden from him.

“Of course not,” he says.

“I’m going to study in the library,” you say. You pull on your shoes so quickly you almost trip, your trembling fingers struggling to tie a knot so you give up after a second.

Yoongi doesn't answer for a moment. “Good idea,” he finally says, looking off. “There are no noisy bastards to distract you there.”

“Jungkook isn’t that bad,” you say, barely thinking as you reach for your backpack and cram your textbook in. Yoongi mutters something under his breath. "What?" you say, not looking at him.

“Nothing,” he waves a hand. “Have fun. I’ll see you later.”

“Sleep it off,” you call over your shoulder. He grumps in response.

Your brain is fuzzy and woolen from hours of ingraining foreign concepts into your mind. And still, you can feel the hurt stabbing at the back of your heart, unwilling to be forgotten. You lay your face on the cool wood of the desk and stare off. The library is closing in a little bit, so you know you have to go home and face whatever's waiting for you.

You don't understand Yoongi. You want to, but you can't. You just know you really like him, whether he's being cocky and overconfident or awkwardly shy and hardworking and kind. When you'd first moved in, he'd really scared you. He had a bad reputation from yelling at a professor in freshman year, and he wore a lot of leather. But as the days had gone by, you'd realized he wasn't anything like people said. He acted tough, but in reality he was sweet. He cared a lot. Even though his mouth was sharp, he'd do anything to help others. It melted your heart to see the way he was always nagging Jungkook and Taehyung, but even when you felt like you deserved the same tough love approach, he had nothing but gentle things to say to you...

You hate that when remembering the conversation this morning, you want to laugh at how flustered he'd been by Jungkook. Who are you talking to? Y/n is studying for her exam and you've been bothering her this whole time. He always acted like your time was so precious...

If only he didn’t have to be so cute, like sitting in the living room with sunglasses on in broad daylight when he was so hungover. Why does he have this effect on you? You drag your finger along the desk, tracing patterns lazily as you blink slowly, feeling your exhaustion press on you like a heavy blanket. You wanted to sleep, but the walk home was twenty minutes in icy wind and bitter cold. You want to stay inside a little longer and think about things that don't hurt.

Of course, everything hurts right now. You really, really don't want to face the fact that Yoongi likes a girl. Because that means you've crossed the line from just a friend to jealous and overlooked and second best. You'll have to be okay with the idea of someone else seeing Yoongi's softer sides, that someone else will get to hear Yoongi speak in that quiet, slow voice in the early hours of morning, contemplative and peaceful at a time when dreams could almost become reality.

You'll have to find a way to stop loving him. You're not sure that's possible.

Your phone begins to buzz. You blink, listening to the vibrations through the desk, before forcing yourself up with a sigh. You answer it without looking. "Hello?" you mumble, voice thick from lack of use.

"Ahhh, I knew it." Yoongi's voice on the other end makes you jump. You straighten and look around, as if he might appear behind a bookcase. "You're at the library still, right?"

"Sorry, um," you say haltingly because you really do hate talking in the library when a quiet voice carries so far, even if it's deserted before closing. "What's up?"

"I'm parked by the Harrison," he says. "That's a short walk for you, right?"

"Yeah," you say dumbly.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride," he says. "The car is hot and toasty."

You're flustered because your first instinct is to reject unnecessary kindnesses, but he's already arrived, he's already waiting. All you have to do is go outside. So instead, you melt. "Thank you so much," you practically sob with relief. "You've saved me. I didn't want to walk through the cold."

"It's no problem," Yoongi says, a note of smug satisfaction in his voice and you know you made the right choice in flattery. You stand up and begin to pack up your notes and textbooks. You're a little distracted as he continues. "You've been studying since early. Did you think to eat?" he drawls.

Your stomach clenches with hunger. You're tempted to lie, but starvation is apart of this great new study diet you've been working on... And you honestly forgot. "Sorry," you hiss quietly, wary of the guy three tables away still scribbling away in a notebook.

"Mmm," Yoongi hums knowingly. "Jin-hyung made pizza. I protected yours from the wolves."

You laugh, then clap a hand over your mouth when the poor fellow student shoots you a look. Your cheeks begin to burn. "Thank youuu," you praise him quietly. "I'll be to your truck in a little, okay? I've got to hang up."

"Okay," Yoongi says, and he hangs up first with a click. You immediately stuff your phone in your pocket and haul your backpack onto your shoulders, wincing at the weight, and begin the trek to the back of the Harrison lot. After going down two flights and through the library, you nod to the security guard who probably knows you by name at this point, and you push open the doors to outside. The cold is unbearable knowing warmth is so close, and you walk quickly, cutting through a lawn with a dusting of snow, feet crunching through the ice-coated blades. Your nose burns from the cold air, your breath coming out in fluffy puffs of white. it doesn't take long before you can see where he's waiting, but it feels like an eternity before you reach him. His old truck is running, chugging pollution into the wintry night, but at least its heater is blessedly hot and functional. Your relief makes your body feel like jelly.

You're saying thank you before you've even got the door open. "Thank you so much," you say as you try to haul yourself into the seat. "I was going to stay in there forever. You're amazing. You're heaven sent."

"It's dangerous to walk home so late at night," Yoongi says, helping you with your struggle to untangle yourself from your backpack, chuckling quietly. "I would have come for you no matter what. Don't stay out so late."

"I know," you admit, only a little whiny. "I didn't realize so much time had passed." That wasn't strictly true. You'd known. You just hadn't cared, which was about the same thing. "Really, thank you so much. I hate the walk."

"It's not a big deal," Yoongi says. "Buckle up. This thing could die anytime now."

"Okay," you say, strapping yourself in. It's not like you ever don't. He's just running on autopilot because Taehyung has a habit of forgetting and that kind of thing ticks Yoongi off.

Yoongi turns up his music as he pulls out. It's something calming, some piano piece, and you feel yourself melting into the comfortable seat. You feel warm and cozy, the gentle music lulling you into a state of total relaxation. You know he was probably listening to heavy rap and put in this CD just to calm you. And for awhile, you float. It doesn't matter, whatever has upset you today. In this moment, it feels like none of that really matters.

Yoongi's chuckle brings you back down to planet earth. "You're really tired, aren't you?" he asks. "You're like Taehyung. You don't even realize you're tired until you're almost asleep."

"Sorry," you mumble, blinking drowsily. "Today was long."

He's quiet for a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Hey, I want to go out tomorrow," he says after a moment.

You don't react for a moment—until god-like inspiration strikes you. "Woah—is it the end of the world?" You tease with a broad grin."Min Yoongi? Going out on Sunday morning?"

He scoffs. "You really think that's funny?"

You snicker to yourself tiredly, falling back against your seat with a lazy smile. "Yeah."

"It's not funny at all," he retorts firmly.

"I'm a little funny," you say, pinching the air to show how little you are funny. He snorts, but he chuckles.

"Yeah, you're a little funny," he admits softly, looking out his window for a second before staring straight ahead again.

"Ha," you smile dreamily before you turn to stare out the window. You're at a stoplight, only a minute from home now. "I'm so tired. What are you going to do tomorrow?"

"I want to go out with you," he says.

"Oh," you say. "That sounds fun. What do you want to do?"

"Hm, yeah," Yoongi scoffs with a self deprecating laugh. "I'm sorry, I want to allow you to misunderstand because that's easier, but you need to know what I really mean so you can reject me properly. I'm a gentleman like that." Sounds like another rule from the Book of Min Yoongi.

You sit up, feeling more alert. "What do you mean?" you ask.

"Jungkook is an ass," Yoongi says, looking ahead deliberately. "He made me do this more quickly than I wanted, and I really don't like to be rushed."

"You don't have to rush," you assure automatically. "Is this about what he said this morning? Do you need my help with something?"

Yoongi glances at you, eyes unreadable. "You're really dense, aren't you." He states it, not a question at all.

"I think I'm pretty perceptive," you say defensively.

Yoongi laughs. The light turns green, and Yoongi begins to drive. "You're smart, but you're definitely dense."

If you're dense, you like to think it's deliberate on your part. It makes it easier not to feel hurt, unless it's so obvious not even you can ignore it. Like when someone like Jeon Jungkook slams it in your face that the guy you like doesn't feel the same. At that point, your pitiful self defenses don't amount to much. "I think that's a compliment," you joke. Badly.

He snorts, so maybe it wasn't all bad. "I'm describing you. Of course it's a compliment."

"Everything you say about me is a compliment?" You check.

"Sorry, I'm stalling," he admits. "I want to look at you when I say this. Is that okay?"

You fall back into your seat, confused. He starts a conversation that he wants to finish once you're home? "Okay, sure," you say, nonplussed. "Like I said. You don't have to rush anything."

Yoongi is quiet for a long time. "I'm starting to think I do," he says softly. You don't respond, honoring his request for more time, so you look out the window. You're beginning to feel stupidly hopeful, even while you can feel the ghost aches of hurt build inside you, waiting for the unexpected blow of his words. You've been hurt before, and you're not going to let this catch you off guard. You're not going to expect anything good, even if his laugh is warm and his eyes gentle and he looks so soft in that flannel.

He pulls up to your apartment and parks behind Jimin's car. He turns off the ignition, but you don't move, following his lead with trepidation as he stares sightlessly at his steering wheel. Without the music, atmosphere feels muted and hushed but not deafening, like the quiet of snowfall.

He hums to himself, voice unnervingly loud after the quiet. "I'm really nervous," he confesses, turning to look at you. He looks utterly solemn, and he doesn't look the Yoongi you're used to—he's neither gentle nor confident. He looks like he's about to face some tragic doom but he's squaring himself and forcing himself regardless. "I got wasted last night," Yoongi says. "And I blurted out something I barely wanted to admit to myself, let alone everyone."

"It's okay to like someone, Yoongi," you say. "Are you acting like this because you didn't tell me and I heard about it from Jungkook?"

His eyebrows raise, disappearing in his fringe. "A little," he says. "But not really. You should have been the first to know, but there's nothing I can do about it now. But I think it's different from what you're thinking. You're being really stubborn right now," he chuckles.

"Then explain," you say, looking down and hugging your waist.

"Yeah, I should get on with it before it gets too cold in here," Yoongi muses, eyes following the movement. The temperature is fast plummeting, but that's not why you're hugging yourself. But you don't explain; you just look at him, waiting.

He clears his throat. "I told myself I didn't need anyone," Yoongi mumbles. "But then I met people who actually gave a shit about me, and they wouldn't let me pretend I didn't feel the same way. I really started to care about them, after a long time of isolating myself from everyone. I was a really shitty person." You want to protest, but something about the way he's looking off convinces you to hear him out.

"And then you moved in, and I don't like meeting new people. But I started noticing how much you do for others, and how little you do for yourself, and I started to worry. And then we really talked one night, and I realized the sound of your voice is really calming. And when I tell you things, I don't feel so..." he pauses, clearing his throat. "I started making excuses to be around you, but then I started holding myself back. It felt wrong to get close to you."

He looks down, running his thumb along the bottom edge of his steering wheel. "And then I got drunk and I gave in. And I kissed you. And I'm really, really sorry about that."

You sigh immediately. "Come on, Yoongi, that was ages ago, and I wasn't even mad—”

"I feel really bad because I kissed you for the wrong reasons," Yoongi says, looking at you for the first time, and his eyes are blazing with intensity. "I did it because I wanted you, really badly. But I should have been kissing you because I had feelings for you."

Your throat feels tight. Always so close, but just out of reach. He really knows how to torture you. "I didn't care, Yoongi."

"Because I did have feelings for you, y/n. I do have feelings for you." Yoongi says, firm and distinct. "But I was fucking scared, and I felt so ashamed. I've never felt like this before, I've never dated anyone. I don't know how to be... a good guy," he says, looking away again like these words are difficult to admit. "I've tried to be a good friend, but it's hard when I have feelings like this. I want so much more. I'm constantly holding myself back. It's so... frustrating," he laughs roughly, raking his hands through his bleached hair. "It's never enough. Always so scared that I'm going to give myself away."

Your heart is in your throat, feeling so shy. Why is he saying all of this? You just want to scream that you feel the same way, but he's a hell of a lot better with words than you are. "Then what's changed?" you prompt quietly instead.

"Of course our housemates did," he says, lips twitching. "Taehyung and Jungkook wouldn't get off my back, and then everyone else piled on. And after this morning, I just felt like an asshole. It was cowardly, to hide my feelings for so long when they weren't going away. But... I know how burdensome this all can be, so I'm prepared to—"

"I feel the same," you interrupt, unable to bear him going on. "I've been in love with you for a year." Wait did I just— "I mean—not, like, love love, I've just been—um," you falter after tripping over your words, mortified at your slip of tongue, no matter how true.

Yoongi looks at you, quiet but eyes scorching with intensity. "Yeah?" he asks, voice husky. "Really?"

You nod, not trusting yourself not to blurt out anything else completely stupid if you opened your mouth again.

Yoongi's lips twitch, like he was fighting a smile, but he looked happy enough to ease a little of your embarrassment. Your face still felt so hot, especially knowing he could tell. "Okay," he says quietly, leaning towards you. "That makes me happy," he says, voice growing huskier as his eyes darken, one of his hands going to your chin to tip your head up to look at him. "Then I want to ask you out for tomorrow," he says. "Like a date. I really want to take you out."

"We don't have to go out," you say, barely coherent with him so close. You can feel his breath, and your eyes keep stopping on his lips before you force them back to his eyes, only for them to fall again. "It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just because of—”

"I want to be alone with you," he interrupts, his thumb dragging across your cheek tenderly, his eyes on your lips as he speaks. You swallow, your stomach tightening with unfamiliar desire. This is the sweetest kind of torture, your nerves building inside of you. "We'll never be alone if we stay home."

He's completely right. The joy of six roommates. You try to nod, until you realize he's holding you, and you swallow again as his other hand cups your head and slides into your hair. Your breath feels very short and fast. Don't let me hyperventilate and pass out on him. His eyes meet your eyes, and your eyes drop to his lips.

He closes the distance and presses his lips to yours, a soft brush you can barely feel, and your eyes drift shut as he brushes your lips again, lingering then firm, again. Your heart is beating so loudly you feel like he must be able to feel it, and your mind is racing with anxiety—you're so nervous, you know you're not going to handle much more like this—your hands are sitting stupidly in your lap—but with one last chaste, plush kiss, Yoongi leans back with eyes hooded with heated, controlled emotion.

"That's the way I should have kissed you the first time," he says softly.

You're not thinking very clearly, dizzy and very much lovestruck. "I was okay with the other kiss," you say honestly.

His lips twitch. "I'll kiss you like that later. But not right now. I wouldn't be able to stop." He strokes your cheek again with his thumb, so tender your heart explodes inside you, but then he leans back and his hands fall, stealing all your warmth and leaving you disoriented. "Don't get out," he says, opening his door. The chilled car fills with a gust of wind, and you shiver. "I'll get your door."

Your brow furrows, but he's slammed his door shut before you can protest.You watch him cross around the car in bewilderment, and he opens your door with a self-satisfied little smirk. "I don't like chivalry," you say firmly, trying to hide your own anxiety. "It's really unnecessary."

"Bear it a little," he says with a smirk, eyes soft. "I'm really happy right now," he says, holding out a hand. You grip it and clumsily step out, knees almost buckling. He holds you firmly without teasing you—now that's chivalry—and then reaches for your long forgotten backpack and swings it over his shoulder without comment. You feel extremely flustered.

"That's heavy," you protest weakly. "I can carry it—” You can barely support your own weight.

He scoffs. "I have pride."

You go to the gym way more than Yoongi ever does, but he shows no sign that it’s heavy at all. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, especially when he knits his fingers with yours and effectively distracts you. He shuts your door with this free hand and begins to lead you to the apartment.

"I've had to hold myself back a lot," he says conversationally. "I don't want to hold back right now. So even if it's a little embarrassing, try to be understanding."

You bite your lip. How can you fight it when hearing those words make you so happy? "You're going to spoil me," you grumble. "And when you get lazy, I'll get angry. You know that's how to really piss a girl off, right?"

"I'm not going to get lazy," Yoongi says confidently.

You silently promise yourself you won't let him feel burdened enough to slack off. You'll fight every step of this weird chivalry dance. You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, after all.

When you enter the apartment, it's noisy and chaotic like most Saturday nights. Everyone has recovered from the night before, it seems. Seokjin is loudly fighting for a romantic comedy while Namjoon and Taehyung insisting on their own suggestions, and Jungkook and Hoseok are throwing cushions around, making Jin turn around to yell at them, and Jimin is just sitting back and laughing, a bowl of untouched popcorn waiting for the movie. No one notices you guys walk in at first—not until Namjoon turns, and then grins broadly at seeing your linked hands.

"Wow! You guys talked, right?" Namjoon asks, giving you guys the thumbs up.

Seokjin glances over his shoulder distractedly, but when he sees you both, his eyes widen comically as his jaw drops. "I knew it!" He explodes. "I told you—ya, I told you that she liked you—“

Jimin begins to clap for you guys from the couch, cheering enthusiastically, and Hoseok energetically joins in. "So sweet!" he croons shrilly. Your face begins to heat up.

"I finally told her," Yoongi says, dropping your hand to hook his arm around your waist, holding you tightly. He sounds a little too smug. "And she feels the same way."

"I'm so happy for you guys," Taehyung steps forward to wrap you both in a hug, squeezing you both before stepping back with a big grin.

"It was all me," Jungkook confides to Jimin who laughs, not taking him seriously at all, but unfortunately, his voice carries to Yoongi's ears.

"Ya, Jeon Jungkook," Yoongi calls, loud and obstinate. "You're a little asshole who got off too easy this morning. I'm going to shave your head, you stupid ass. You really stressed her out. I'm kind of pissed right now," he drawls, arm dropping from your waist.

"I just wanted advice," Jungkook protests, grinning goofily.

"Advice?" Yoongi scoffs. Then without warning, he rips his shoe off and chucks it at Jungkook. Jungkook dodges with a masculine shriek, dissolving into hysterical laughter as he grabs a pillow to throw right back.

Hoseok reacts instantly, ripping off his house slipper and throwing it at Seokjin. "Shoe fight!" Hoseok explodes with a manic grin.

"A shoe fight? Let's use pillows!" Seokjin yells, but he's laughing as well. And somehow, the news of your relationship is lost amidst a spontaneous fight of throwing anything moderately soft around the room, yells and shrieks of laughter drowning out any protests of Jimin and Namjoon.

a/n: Yoongi rlly is a badboy he was just so soft for the reader lol. One day I’ll write a good badboy yoongi.

Quote: JK: “how do you ask a girl out?” YG: “Easy. You open the door and say, ‘Get out, you are bothering me.’”

#bts #yoongi #suga #bts ff #fanfic #bts fanfic #imagine #scenario #prompt #yoongi!badboy #badboy!yoongi #angst #bts romance #bts fluff #bts college au #best friends au #how do you ask a girl out #jungkook

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oh-beyond · 8 years ago

Text

Idol’s Life - Part 2

Chen was so stressed and busy, schedules on a daily basis, no joy, no rest, no nothing, SM getting into his private life way too much, overwhelmed, doesn’t have a moment to even breath, he was done… but meeting this foreigner unexpectedly will make his days more manageable.

Fluff but it’s Chen so he always tries to add a bit of spice to everything because… it’s this cheeky person he is.

Chen (Canon) x Reader

Masterlist

< Part 1 - Part 3 >

He kept sniffing, he was so vulnerable, it felt like you needed to protect him from the world, this can’t be real, Kim Jongdae was between your arms feeling how he trembled, it was genuine act of neediness for some affection, you had read here and there some of the rumours about a girlfriend he had, you were almost certain that this is why of his sudden clinginess with a total stranger that he almost run over while driving.

“Oppa…” you whispered “oppa…” come on, just tell me what’s wrong, I swear I will take anything you tell me to the grave”

His nose was all runny and his eyes full of tears, he blinked it away and a small tear fell creating a line in his beautiful face, he looked away embarrassed, not believing what he just did and how he acted on impulse ending in this hug, he was mentally scolding himself but at the same time he wanted to go for round 2.

You were completely shellshocked, your hand travelled to the nape of his neck again stroking his hair lightly, goosebumps forming on his skin as he shivered looking back at you.

“I’m sorry ___, I don’t know what had gotten into me, I am just…”

You surprised him this time when you pulled at his neck bringing him into an embrace that you felt in need for just as much as he did when he asked you to hug him.

“Shhh, you don’t need to say anything to justify yourself” you spoke close to his ear.

Jongdae loosened up completely his weeping very noticeable, he pulled at the fur of your coat into fits and you patted on his back.

But it was getting too warm, his breath and the tension from having Jongdae this close… you kicked your tights completely off your knees bumping into his own, he understood you needed some air… but…

“Noo, noo, just a little bit more, Polar bear feels nice.”

Jongdae was back!

“Ha! So my polar bear is nice now? I thought you didn’t like him, I thought you wanted me hug you, but all this act was to get some of my beautiful fur” you pushed him away softly meeting his pout again ‘mental breakdown, can you not do that Chennie?’ you thought to yourself.

“One more hug please~~~”

“But you needed to see my knees right, look how fine they are.”

“Oh yes yes, I’m sorry” he said slowly looking at your bare thighs.

“My knees are here tho, my thighs are perfectly fine.”

“Yah! I wasn’t looking where you think I was.”

“Yeah sure, so seen my knees? Here they are, happy? I’m perfectly fine, see?”

Jongdae went on his knees again lifting his head “can I?”

You nodded really not knowing what you agreed to, you pushed your coat off your shoulders, and he surprised you taking your left calf securing his hand on the back of your knee placing his thumb over your kneecap massaging it again checking if you were hurt anywhere.

“Ah ah ah” unintentionally your hands pushed at Jongdae’s shoulders lightly.

“Does it hurt?”

“No but your thumb is too harsh.”

“I don’t believe you, just tell me honestly.”

“I swear this is nothing to do with what happened, you just were digging too harshly.”

“Then I guess I should be more gentle.”

“Kim Jongdae-ssi, why are you doing this?”

“In return for those hugs, it made me feel really good, I needed it so bad” he replied doing the same to your other knee.

“I’m glad you feel better, I mean there’s nothing worth being upset about”

You kept staring at each other awkwardly, Chen played with his hands looking at your apartment in more detail, you didn’t know how to act either.

“Mmm so what where you doing right next to our offices?”

“I was going to check the dates for the fansign.”

“So you were coming to see us wow, who’s your fav-”

“SUHO! SUHO IS MY FAVOURITE!”

“Alright got it, you are excited… I kind of understand that, Junmyeon hyung is handsome the fucker, yeah”

‘Little he knew’

Jongdae run his hands over his face out of frustration “can’t believe I almost killed a Dutch EXO-L, that would be the cherry on the top, I can see the headlines ‘EXO’s Chen killed an innocent Dutch fan as he was crying over his breakup with the noona that lied to him and told him she loved him and she was a fucking gold digger’”

Silence…

“Okaaay… do you want anything to drink?”

“I probably should leave why do you need to cope with my shit?”

“You can stay… if you want… I don’t want to seem like a crazy fan, but you can relax here, for a while.”

“I really think I should go tho, but maybe I could get your number, you know as you are a visitor and you might need anything during your stay here.”

“Yeah as if you have time for someone like me” you said after snorting.

“I will try my best, maybe I could see you at the fansign, that is if you pay attention to me in Junmyeon hyung’s presence.”

“I say the same, I hope you remember me.”

“How could I not? I don’t recall seeing anyone with your eye colour” he said lowering himself at your eye level “I think Minseok hyung had similar eye lenses once.”

“Yeah I’m special.”

“OK special, thanks for having me over, for not revealing my identity, for listening to me, and for those amazing hugs” he added standing up walking towards the door.

You followed him remembering that your shirt wasn’t that long and your tights were forgotten in the floor, it would look weird to put them back on, so you just pulled at your shirt to cover what you could cover.

Jongdae stopped before turning the door handle, he did notice your bare thighs and he had no shame in looking from your toes acknowledging all the way up meeting your eyes and the smirk you had in your face.

“Are you done?”

“Sorry I didn’t mea- I swear, it’s just you have beauty spots in your legs like me.”

“It’s only fair if I see them too, don’t you think oppa?”

He didn’t reply he just simply let his jaw drop.

“I messing with you! OMG Koreans are so naive.”

“You didn’t just say that.”

“I’m sorry.”

You heard Jongdae exhale “no sorry doesn’t work with me, you need to make it up to me, you totally stereotyped Koreans and the whole thing… and so… I’m kind of hurt.”

“And so… how do you think you can forgive me oppa?”

“Well, let me think of this one, I don’t want to waste it.”

“Would you like another hug?”

“Sounds nice.”

You were just about to go on your tiptoes but he stopped you, WTF?

“Polar bear… he felt quite nice in fairness.”

“Ha?” you couldn’t believe this lil shit, this was Kim Jongdae, the one you knew it existed, oh dear god, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You turned around to get it but you felt your wrist being grabbed spinning you around.

“I was kidding ___, did you actually believe I want it, right?”

“I did, he’s better than a boyfriend if you asked me I wouldn’t blame you, he hugs very good.”

Just then you felt Jongdae bringing painfully slow close to him, you wanted to see what he was up to, you completely got lost in his eyes his hair falling further on his forehead as he looked at you.

“Thank you ___, I’ll see you next week at the fansign.”

You felt a stab in your chest when he turned the handle of the door and waived at you one last time, as he disappeared in the elevator you let your breath out that apparently you had held for so long closing the door behind you leaning on it.

You replayed all the incident in your head as you cleaned away your apartment, thoroughly after that you fell on the couch and played on your phone checking your tumblr blog looking at the thousand Chen pictures you had and were re-blogging, it felt so strange, well at least you’d see him next week at the fansign.

You were just drifting to sleep on the couch when you heard your doorbell, you looked through the peep hole, you saw a man wearing a hoodie and a face mask, just like Jongdae’s.

“Open up it’s me.”

His voice…

You opened super excited “oppa? What-?” you said letting him in.

“Are you free?” he asked closing the door behind him with his butt as he carried big bags.

“I am.”

“You like gaming?”

“I do!”

“아 진짜? 대박~~~ - ah jinjja? Daebak~~~ - oh really? Cool!” was he glad or what?

“Is that bad or good?”

“So you, a little girl that likes gaming, you are sent from the heavens, not only the perfect cuddle provider, you also like video games, Chanyeol and Baekhyun would so envy me right now.”

“Full of surprises oppa.”

Jongdae got out a playstation and a Fifa 2017 game “your country vs mine?”

“I’m not that keen on Fifa tho.”

“Yeah of course not, why would you? You are girl, I’m really stupid sometimes.”

“No no, I’ll try it out, but you will have to tech me.”

“Yeah sure, but what do you like?”

“Wii? I love Wii sports.”

“Wait a minute.”

Jongdae got his phone out and dialled a number asking you to hold the phone for him as he unboxed the console.

“엽세요! 네 민석 형! 외 콘솔은 살거예요? 부탁해요! - yeobseyo! ne Minseok hyung! Wii consoleneun salgeoyeyo? butakhaeyo! - hello! Yes Minseok hyung! Can you buy me a Wii console? Please!”

“형, 제발, 나중에 말할거예요 - hyung, jebal, najonge malhalkeoyeyo - hyung, please, I’ll tell you later.”

“네 네, 알게씁니다 - ne ne algesseubnida - yes yes understood.”

He followed and texted this person something leaving the phone behind, offering you a controller “ready?”

“Ready to teach me?”

Jongdae came closer shoulder on shoulder placing his hands over the controller as you held it, it was uncomfortable, not really optimal, you sat on the floor between his legs which he welcomed and off you went, you weren’t really playing he was playing alone, but say it was enjoyable was an understatement, you looked up and saw how his sorrows suddenly diminished, his knees hitting your shoulders it seemed he was in a different world full of happiness nothing mattered.

His phone rang making him realise that he was all over you, he awkwardly got up answering the phone.

“잠깐만요 - jamkkanmanyo - wait a moment” he said opening the door.

You followed him peeking to see who it was you saw the one and only Kim Minseok, you recognised him immediately his eyes were no joke, even wearing the face mask he was so distinctive, they were talking and they looked serious, Jongdae didn’t look happy he kept nodding and saying ‘알게씁니다 -algesseubnida - understood’ it looked like a light scolding, or advices, you didn’t know if maybe Jongdae being here was getting him into trouble.

They noticed you peeking, Jongdae smiled your way and and Minseok waved at your direction, suddenly remembering you were only wearing your shirt, ‘shit what would Minseok think about you now?’ you just waved and bowed going back to the living room looking for your tights, Jongdae came back placing 2 big bags on the dinning table, he saw how nervous you were tights in hand questioning wether to wear them or if the harm was already done.

“What’s wrong?”

“It was Kim Minseok-ssi, look at me!” you said looking at your bare thighs.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What is he going to think?”

“Why so scandalised? He didn’t even see anything, besides you look perfect.”

You tried to swallow that giggle that was threatening to make an appearance, he placed the smaller bag on the dinning table taking out what it seemed like food.

“Chicken! Kai’s favourite food” you said innocently.

Jongdae stopped for a second lifting his gaze at you “yeah… accurate.”

“You made Minseok-ssi get us food?”

“And a Wii, I thought we can have our competition in something you can actually play.”

“Competition?”

“I am going to kick your ass, you will see what Koreans are made of.”

‘Oh dear but your mind went to something not Wii related… what Koreans are made of? And kicking your ass? uuuuuuuuh’

“Yah! Come on, the food will get cold.”

“I can’t believe you made Minseok-ssi bring you food, to this stranger’s house.”

“He knows I feel much better now, all thanks to you, you have no clue, this morning I was like… just eat.”

You brought 2 plates and a cans of coke and sat down as Jongdae placed some chicken pieces in your plate, you ate quietly absorbing the view of Jongdae and chicken, this private show was he giving you, he looked like a 5-year-old, the sauce all over his lips it looked funny and so natural but also your hand couldn’t just leave it, you took a tissue and pointed at where he needed to clean his mouth, Jongdae brought himself close and asked you to wipe it for him ‘stay focus, stay focus, this is chicken, nothing else’ but deep down inside, Jongdae knew… he did see it and feel it as your hand trembled…

After you finished you cleared the table and showed Jongdae to your bathroom to wash his hands, he opened the big bag grabbing a small backpack, he took it and went to the toilet, he took his time, 15-20 minutes and he still wasn’t out.

You washed your hands in the sink and connected the Wii yourself, you heard the bathroom locker and…

“Wha- why? What’s wrong? Is this like candid camera or something? Why are you wearing that?”

“Mama era! Aren’t you a fan?”

“You are wearing silver harem pants, a white leather jacket with little mirrors all over… and I really don’t want to know what’s underneath” you said with a disgusted face.

Just then Jongdae opened the jacket and you recognised it, that horrible sleeveless top with golden sequins hanging.

“OMG why? You look horrible.”

“Just so you know the jacket was Sehun’s, the pants were Luhan gege’s, and the top was owned by your beloved Junmyeon hyung.”

You couldn’t, this was too much, you sat in the couch laughing your ass off covering your face with the cushion, what was he trying to do? It looked like he wanted to brighten your mood or something, wasn’t he the one who was depressed?

You felt his hand on your back and you looked at him.

“Why tho?”

“I feel comfortable with these, payback, for making fun of Mama era.”

“Really? Alright, I guess you need it for the round we will have in the Wii, let me get comfortable also, you didn’t get any games so we only have the Wii sports, hmmm let’s start with tennis” you said heading to your room “and ah before I forget, there will be penalties if you lose, think of how to penalise me if I lose, altho I won’t.”

You went to your room and closed the door breathing heavily, what was happening? This was better than a dream, or was it a dream? Were you just going to wake up and none of this really happened?

You took off your shirt and went for a nice bright pink t-shirt, why not tease him in a different way? Yes that one that had a more accentuated cleavage, because why not? Then… shorts, yes, you wore these anyhow, it’s nothing to do with impressing Jongdae… or was it?

You sprinted to the bathroom brushed your teeth thoroughly… because you were a super clean person and after every meal you brushed your teeth anyhow, nothing to do with Jongdae, pfffff as if anything would happen.

You sprinted back to your room…

“Yah! Come on, I’m super warm here I want you to enjoy the amazing jacket I’m wearing before I take it off, it’s too warm”

“Now you know how I feel wearing my polar bear” you replied from behind your closed door.

You brushed your hair and did a side braid resting on your left side, displaying your own gems… beauty spots, questioning why were you doing this now?

Makeup because after eating chicken you needed it, simple, pink lipgloss, you fixed your eyeliner, and applied a bit more blusher… just to match the t-shirt, right? Final touch, perfume, because the chicken smelled… just because of that.

“I’m ready!” you announced, Jongdae straighten himself in the couch and poor soul, his Adams apple was way too big not to notice that he gulped and it bobbed up and down.

“That’s not fair~~~” oh here it comes the whining “ah waeeee?”

“What’s not fair?”

“You look… nice.”

“You do too oppa this was your golden era” your head titled to the side bringing your arms across your chest “like literally, I need my sunglasses you are shinning.”

“Yah!”

“Alright are you ready?”

“Yes, but… every time you lose, I get something.”

“What do you want oppa?”

“A cuddle, a nice tight hug, if you lose, you hug me.”

Now questioning your morals… should you just lose every round and cuddle with him all evening?

“Sure if that is what you want, I have no problem, but it ain’t happening, just saying… and you? Hmmm, let me think, if you lose you take off the jacket, and you sing for me, whatever I request.”

“Deal!”

Round 1 - Tennis

“First point goes for me, YES! Victory!”

“That is beginners luck, besides the freaking jacket, it’s startling me.”

“Yeah yeah sure, my hug.”

“Can’t we just count and when we finish you get all the hugs in one go?”

“How does that work tho, like you hug me then you detach yourself, then again? It sounds stupid.”

“Hmmm, how about this? A hug is like 30 seconds, so if like I lose 3 times you get a 1:30 minute hug.”

“What? 30 seconds? No, 2 minutes each, and you will lose 10 times at least, so multiply that it comes to a 20 minute hug.”

You cleared your throat and looked at him, he had a smirk on his face, ‘shit’ was he for real?

“Let’s discuss this after we finish shall we?”

“No now!”

“Oppa…”

“I’m sorry it must sound off, but…”

“You know I’ll hug you even if you don’t lose, all of us need cuddles every once in a while”

Jongdae smiled again loosening up, he felt too comfortable, it was very strange he had absolutely 0 worries… while at SM they were losing their shit, Jongdae had at least 7 missed calls from Junmyeon, and his managers, he decided to forget that he was Chen, and enjoy this day as Jongdae.

Round 7 - Bowling

“You are too distracting, how am I supposed to concentrate when you are… look at you! You are so mean, all I wanted was cuddles.”

“You will still get 2 cuddles lasting 4 minutes, you are also distracting, thank god the jacket is gone, prepare yourself to sing for me after this”

“I don’t like losing, I’m not playing anymore.”

The whining, his voice… you were ready to tell him to cuddle for hours.

“Alright I don’t want to upset you, just admit I’m better and we can do something else.”

“I’m not saying!”

“Oppa~~~” you said sitting next to him, you poked the Chenguns… brrrrr you did shiver, focus on something else…

“OMG, where did you learn to say oppa that way? Korean dramas do influence in the wrong way”

‘Shit’ true… what’s with the sexy tone? You covered your mouth your eyes doubled in size.

“Alright! I have an idea, and in this you won’t win, EVER!”

You nodded.

“Staring contest, the rules are, we can do anything, but we can’t talk and the teeth cannot show.”

“Go for it Jongdae-ssi”

“Oppa!”

“Sure.”

You crossed your legs and placed your elbow on your knees and stared at him, Jongdae simply crossed his arms his hands resting at the back of his head, and then the Chenguns came to life, you saw all the beauty spots he had all over them, again you traced lines in your head connecting them, he decided to add some spice to this, he run his fingers through his hair, and smiled carefully not showing any teeth, the smile turning sideways it was a definite smirk, he followed your eyes that shamelessly were checking him out and started rubbing his arms flexing his muscles ‘what a tease’ but you didn’t break eye contact (yes you did)

You noticed how eyebrows knitted as he came closer to your face, you blinked slowly, ‘excited!’ an understatement, he kept coming closer and closer, his nose scrunching, he looked as if he was counting your eyelashes, you should had melted at this stage but you needed to see him closer, to count his beauty spots, to make sure they were real.. safe and sound.

“와~~~ 정말 아름답다~~~ - wa~~~ jeongmal areumdabda - wow, really beautiful”

“AND I WON AGAIN!”

“Ha? Oh yeah.”

You stood up and jumped up and down in front of him, bouncing… bouncing…”

He got up and pulled at your arm making you stop to look at him, his smile long gone, carrying a serious look, as if he discovered something…

“Can I get my reward now?”

“What? You lost, this was the deal.”

“Please…” he asked but didn’t wait for a reply.

He hurried his head on your left side, his nose touching your collarbones, you felt his lips unmoving, his arms at the small of your back bringing you close, his hair tickling your ear, your hand held at his shoulders, whenever he hugged you he felt small and vulnerable, all you wanted was reassure him that everything would be alright, but you knew better, he would soon leave and go back to his stressful life, was it a good idea to let him enjoy himself this much? He would get the wrong idea that he could do this everyday, this was Kim Jongdae between your arms, but he would soon go back to Chen.

“오빠 괜찮아요 - oppa gwaenchanhayo - oppa it’s alright”

You heard him sigh, hugging you tighter, his face turning burying himself more if possible his lips definitely touching your skin.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Can I stay?”

“Stay? Sure, you can stay and leave whenever you want, we are friends.”

“Can I leave tomorrow morning?”

You pushed him slowly your hands cupping his face tugging his hair behind his ears “listen oppa, I don’t think it’s a good idea, you might get in trouble”

“I know you might think I’m just a famous idol AKA fuckboy or something, but believe I just want to be away, I don’t want to go back, and I can’t check in any hotel with my name, would you book me a room under your name?”

“Oppa, this will harm your career, you have enough in your plate already”

He was too sensitive, his breakup too fresh, he had hatred and worry and he wasn’t ready to hear a refusal.

He pulled himself away from you taking his backpack to the bathroom with a huff, he pulled the awful top off his head wearing his hoodie again, you looked away when he pulled his pants off, he came back after a minute wearing his face mask and his hat.

“Thanks anyway, and I am sorry again.”

“Wait the consoles!”

“Keep them, I won’t need them again, I have schedules for the rest of my life, I hope they let me eat and go to the toilet”

“Oppa wait” you said touching his shoulder his eyes following your hands.

“Bye”

A week had passed, he didn’t call you or text you, and he didn’t really offer his number when he was over.

Today was the fansign, yes you were going to go and you were going to look at him into the eye and scold him without words, he will have to read it in your eyes, you were mad at him, you understood that he was upset and perhaps you needed to be more understanding but that didn’t give him the right to steal your cuddles and never look back.

You arrived at the SM Coex Atrium, hundreds of Korean fans aligned waiting to enter, you had your CBX and Lotto album ready to have it signed, of course the CBX was Chen’s version, you decided to put that away and go for Suho’s page on the Lotto album, yes you were here for Suho, the almighty Suho, you would finally see those lips close enough to please your fantasies, you were for Suho dressed in a perfect black mid-lenght dress that hugged your body perfectly hells in addition to your polar bear coat.

Finally you entered and you could already see Chanyeol and Sehun’s heads sitting down, oh dear the amount of stupid things fans asked them to do, Baekhyun the only one that seemed to comfortable pleasing the suffocating fans, and next was Chen who winked at every single fan who called him oppa, it made your stomach churn in a bad way.

“외국인! 외국인! - Wegugin! Wegugin! - Foreigner! Foreigner!” said Chanyeol poking at Baekhyun’s arm.

‘Oh no please out of these 9 don’t let Chanyeol notice you the most, it would be a horrible turn of event’

“안녕하세요 - Annyeonghaseyo - hello” you greeted with a bright smile

Jongdae saw you and didn’t make any impression, he looked away continuing his interactions with the fans.

“You like EXO! Bery gud” said Chanyeol.

“Who is best?” followed Baekhyun asking.

“My favourite is Suho-ssi”

“수호 형! 봐요! - Suho hyung! Bwa! - Suho hyung! Look!” shouted Baekhyun shamelessly.

All set of 9 pair of eyes looking at your direction, including Jongdae’s, Baekhyun got up and pulled Suho from his seat and almost forced him to shake hands with you, Chanyeol then followed by bringing you behind their table for a picture.

It was horrible, fans went crazy, you were no expert but insults were the first thing you learned in Korean and they were ringing in your ears, Suho also looked like a deer caught in headlights, he was so uncomfortable, Baekhyun kept giving him directions to smile as they asked for your phone to take the picture, you took it off your purse you felt Jongdae’s fingers brush on top of yours taking the phone from your hand, taking the damn picture, finally handing it to you, the look in his eyes, and today his hair was brushed to the side displaying his glorious eyebrows that didn’t lie, it felt horrible, why did you tease him like this? Did he need this right now? But actually… why was he upset? Maybe it wasn’t Suho’s incident, maybe he didn’t want to see you to begin with.

You tears threatened to make an appearance, you bowed and thanked the guys and just left the building without having your album signed, rushing outside leaning on one of the EXO stands and the main entrance, you took your breath before sprinting again, you were so upset that you kept running and running, playing the events in your head…

A shower is what you needed after this shitty day, you went inside and tried to think about something else, why was this affecting you so much? What did you try pulling out? What was this that you did?

Your doorbell was ringing, you heard knocking, well you were not going to open it now, you were enjoying this needed long shower.

“Yah! Open the door, come on I’m sorry.”

“Please just open.”

“Please~~~”

Jongdae looked at the keypad playing along opening and closing the cover, thinking if he should ‘929x′ played in his head, his fingertips touching the numbers.

“Please open the door, you are there I can hear you”

He didn’t really, but he heard your phone ringing inside.

‘929x, 929x, 929x′ questioning… should he? Should he?

He did, he pressed 9-2-9-x, the door beeped and he invited himself in.

He peeked inside the living room, you weren’t there, he then heard the water running in the bathroom, making him feel a bit better, you didn’t open not because you didn’t want, but because your couldn’t.

He sat in the couch comfortably waiting for you to get out, he rubbed his neck, he looked around, and then he noticed your phone in the tea table, he took it wondering if you put that picture you took with Suho today as your wallpaper, sigh of relief when he saw it wasn’t but a simple EXO logo, he heard tumblr notifications, one after the other, maybe your passcode was like your door’s, what would be the odds?

9-2-9-x and it unlocked, and it directly went to the tumblr app that was opened

He chocked in his spit as he scrolled down looking at his million pictures, his confidence grew, yes there were loads of Suhos but in comparison… nothing.

“귀엽다… 귀엽다… 너무 귀엽다 - gwiyeobda… gwiyeobda… neomu gwiyeobda - cute… cute… so cute” he kept repeating, his face hurting from the big wide smile.

“Jongdae-ssi?” you asked holding onto your towel at your chest for dear life “what are you doing here? What are you doing with my phone?” you said too upset to care that you only had a towel wrapped around you.

Jongdae stood up his jaw dropping to the floor, you came closer to him to take your phone back, you snatched it from his hands and saw he had the tumblr app opened, you were so embarrassed, what to do now?

You buried your face in your hands and you felt his arms embracing you, his warm breath in your ear “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to, it was just ringing I thought…”

“I’m upse.t”

“You are a Chen stalker, interesting…”

“You invaded my privacy.”

“And you are a stalker, pretty little girl.”

“You entered my house without permission.”

“Can you hug me back?”

“I’m still upset” you added your hands still covering your face.

“Please… can you hug me?”

It was like hypnosis, your hands left your face now feeling his chest on your cheek, your hands traveled around his waits meeting again at the small of his back.

“Baby, you know something? I have never felt so happy in my life, the feeling of your neck touching my face, your cuddles are magical.”

You detached yourself momentarily looking up at his face “really?”

“Yes, hug me again” he pouted, but you also had this fantasy of touching his face.

Your fingertips finally touching all his face beauty spots, the ones in his eyebrows, his temples… Jongdae closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Thank you for letting me bump on you last week.”

“It feels like you are my stalker tho oppa.”

Jongdae lowered himself touching his nose with yours “be my cuddle buddy?”

You nodded your head, making Jongdae squeeze you bringing you back into his loving cuddle.

“But baby, you need to admit that I give good hugs too” he added now rubbing your back creating goosebumps all over your body reaching for your scalp massaging gently, his nose well buried in your sweet spot behind your ear.

You covered him and tugged him tightly with the duvet making sure his toes got tugged in also fixing the pillow.

“The couch is too small for me” he whined.

“You could go back to the dorms, I’m sure sharing the room with Minseok-ssi is way better than this” you said admiring the big pout formed in his lips

“Goodnight oppa.”

“잘자 - jalja - good night.”

You heard the million missed calls Jongdae was getting all through the night, you hoped he didn’t get in trouble, you heard him loud and clear huffing and cursing, he was too frustrated, you wondered what were the texts that he received said, finally all this concluded when you heard a big noise crash in the wall, his unfortunate phone most probably, followed by some sniffing, oh was he crying? You wanted to get up and check on him but he was faster, you heard the squeaking noise of your bedroom door as it opened slowly, you shut your eyes tightly feeling the cold air hitting your arms followed by a dipping on the mattress and finally the warmth of a body at your back, Jongdae’s arm bringing you closer from your waist, your back resting comfortably at his chest as he pulled your pillow from under your head replacing it with his arm.

“Let me cuddle with you for a bit” he whispered at your shoulder “I feel so miserable.”

You turned around feeling his chest on your cheek, his lips touching your forehead, he couldn’t resist the urge to place a kiss, you felt his soft lips over and over, going lower, you couldn’t handle the cuteness you lowered your face your hand resting on his bare chest.

“You know I didn’t get to sing for you.”

“괜찮아요 오빠 - gwaenchanhayo oppa - it’s alright oppa”

“She’s dreaming, she’s dreaming 내 안에 잠이 든 널 마지못해 웃으며 난 그저 너를 바라본다 아침이 오면 아무 일 없듯 깨 버리니까”

“She’s dreaming, she’s dreaming You’re asleep in me I can’t help but smile I’m just looking at you, because In the morning, as if nothing happened You’ll wake up.”

________________________

A/N: thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed.

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