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luvdsc · 7 months ago

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barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting.

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!��

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again for spring semester this year (since all freshmen with a business major has to take the same Gen. Ed. classes), not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note one time, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a mere stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes?

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, too caught up in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for.

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun.

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s practice midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He directs another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction. Actually, the two of you became very good friends once you very quickly got over the fact that you were firmly placed in the friendzone. He’s even dating one of your best friends now).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. You blink slowly once. Then twice.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ii. you want to go for a ride?

“I’m getting sus vibes from him.”

Flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder, Lana takes a long sip of her wintermelon milk tea with honey pearls, a spitting image of that one infamous Starbucks meme of your school’s alumni, Hyungwon (His picture can still be found floating through discord chats, and you’re ninety percent sure your school used it in one of their recruitment brochures at one point). She’s sprawled out on the beanbag in the corner of your shared apartment’s living room, her HP laptop covered in sailor moon stickers balanced across her thighs (She swears HP is the best laptop brand, but you don’t trust electronics advice from anyone who can’t even use a toaster properly).

“Have you even spoken to Jaemin? How exactly are you getting sus vibes from him?” Moon jumps in, glancing over the top of her MacBook as she takes a quick break from her latest coding project regarding polynomials, matrices, and a bunch of other math terminology you rather not think about. You left all that arithmetic jargon back in high school after you got a 5 on both AP calculus exams and got to skip all required math classes for your accounting major (Sungchan wasn’t so lucky).

“He’s a fratboy finance major.” Lana rolls her eyes.

“Point taken, but weren’t you into that senior, Jaehyun? He’s one of them. You called him your soulmate,” you interject, and she splutters for a few seconds before putting her hand up in protest.

“Listen, I was going through a perpetual mental breakdown at the beginning of this semester. It doesn’t count. You try being a pharmacy major. Thank god I switched out to English. My mental state was compromised, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“What do you mean not thinking straight? Lana, you literally chose the straightest, most heterosexual man out there.” Moon jibes, closing her laptop now with an air of conceding defeat. You have to give her props for trying to work on some assignments, but you already knew no one was going to get any work done tonight. It’s a Thursday night anyway, which means you have until Tuesday to get all the homework assigned today done. You can always work on them on Monday night and inevitably curse yourself for not getting it done earlier when you end up pulling an all nighter and show up to your 8 a.m. international marketing tactics class with raccoon eyes.

“This is bullying, and we are on an anti-bullying campus,” Lana complains, giving the two of you the stink eye before leaning over and lightly shoving the snoozing boy sprawled across the floor next to her. “Wake up, Yang. Moon and Y/N gang up on me when you’re not awake to absorb all our gentle bullying.”

The boy in question sits upright, bleary eyes and the drying ink from his notes now decorating his cheek, a lasting reminder of the makeshift pillow for his impromptu nap. Yawning, he stretches his arms, rubbing his face and making an even bigger mess of smears. “What’d I miss?”

“We were just discussing Lana‘s tragic crush on Jaehyun last year,” you say, and she makes a strangled noise next to you. “Were you up late sewing again?”

“Yes,” Yangyang grumbles, “You would think Kaneki would be so easy to cosplay since he wears all black, but the mask is taking forever to make.”

“Can’t one of your sugar daddies buy one for you?”

“What sugar daddies? If I had one, I wouldn’t be stuck in here trying to balance equations,” he moans, crumpling up another sheet filled up with scribbles and his latest attempts at answering the second to last problem for organic chemistry.

“My bad, I thought you would have some from your cosplay account.” Moon shrugs, rummaging through her large soccer mom purse for a snack and triumphantly pulling out a box of green tea Hello Pandas. “You have like 100k followers on there.”

“My audience demographic is weebs.” Yangyang deadpans. “How many weebs do you know who are rich enough to send five thousand dollars every week to a struggling college student?”

“Wait, we’re going off topic right now. What do you know about Jaemin, Yang?” Lana cuts in, and Moon nods in agreement (You try not to look too interested, but fail miserably, no doubt).

“Jaemin Na? I’ve never talked to him personally, but there’s always stories about him and his friends. Jeno is on the baseball team and notorious for his body count. He’s the one that takes up like 30% of our university’s anonymous confessions Twitter account. This is his insta, but he’s not really active on social media.” Yangyang passes his phone around for the three of you to see Jeno’s Instagram. There’s a whopping total of fourteen posts, and every picture of him with someone of the opposite sex features a different girl. Instant red flag.

“Lia is pretty big on Tik Tok,” Yangyang continues, grabbing his phone to pull up her account to show all of you. “She’s pretty and is actually really good at singing, but she's basically trying to be the next Addison Rae. Jimin models, and she’s going by Karina nowadays. I heard she tried to trademark that name or something. She posts dancing Tik Toks. She and Yeonjun collab a lot. He walks for New York fashion week and has a Tik Tok for dancing, too. I’m like 70% sure they’re only dating to boost their views. Somi is the most popular one out of them. She’s the blonde one. She’s pretty talented and I heard she signed onto the same company as the Blackpink House. She’s even done a makeup video with Vogue recently.”

“And Jaemin has a pretty large social following. He takes decent pictures, and that’s what he insists his insta is for, but let’s be real, the majority of his followers are there for his face. You should see his TikTok. He literally just recorded himself looking at the camera and put some generic caption, and he racked up like seven hundred thousand likes,” Yangyang grumbles, pulling up his account to show you all the video in question. “Like literally, what the hell is this? I have to put in so many hours making my outfits and editing my videos and all he does is smile and paste ‘Don’t have a valentine again… hope this will change soon’ on top, and the preteens are foaming at the mouth.”

“Wow, jumpscare warning next time you show me him please.” Lana wrinkles her nose at the repeating offensive clip. Yangyang merely shoves his phone even closer to her in response, and she flips him off.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked about him. Why are you suddenly interested in him? Is this your Jaehyun 2.0 phase starting up?” Yangyang grins, and Lana flicks his forehead in retaliation.

“Shut up, when are you guys gonna let that die? Besides, it’s Y/N who’s interested, not me,” Lana retorts, and immediately, the spotlight is back on you. You cough awkwardly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Uh, he just asked if I would tutor him…”

“And you said yes?” Yangyang sounds scandalized and utterly betrayed. “Why would you willingly fraternize with the enemy like that?”

“What enemy? I didn’t even know he knew I existed until this very recent development occurred.”

“Influencers like him are instant enemies to me, and as my friend, he’s your enemy by association. I can't believe you’re helping the competition,” Yangyang sniffs.

You don’t have the guts to tell them all that the only reason you accepted his tutor proposal is because you got ahead of yourself and despite all the odds and signs, thought Jaemin was asking you out. You know your friends won’t make fun of you (too badly), but that is completely humiliating, and you will be taking that to the grave.

“It’s just tutoring, don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, making a face at him. “He texted me yesterday, and we’re meeting up at the library later today, and I reserved a private study room for two hours.”

“Oooh, so it’s a study date?” Moon teases, and your cheeks betray you with the amount of heat now emanating off of them.

“Shut up, it’s literally just tutoring. We’re going over supply and demand curves.”

“No, back up, he texted you yesterday and you didn’t tell us about him until today?” Lana interjects, holding up her hand and putting on a faux offended expression. “What kind of friend are you? We’re supposed to tell each other every nitty gritty detail about our love lives! Like Sungchan texts Moon good morning texts at eight in the morning, and by 8:30 a.m., we’re already getting a play by play about it in the group chat!”

Moon turns pink and opens her mouth before deciding against it and quietly shuts it. Yangyang silently laughs next to Lana, his shoulders shaking (You decide that you shouldn’t tell them Jaemin actually asked you in person to tutor him three days ago or else, Lana will chew you out even more).

You protest, flailing your arms around slightly in exasperation. “There’s literally zero development in my love life! I have nothing going on in it, and I can guarantee you that he does not see me in that light whatsoever.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Lana looks wholly unconvinced, and your two friends look back and forth between the two of you like two kids watching their divorced parents fight. “So… Do you need help picking out an outfit for tomorrow?”

“… Yeah.”

iii. sure, ken. jump in!

“Hey, Y/N!”

Jaemin loudly whispers a little breathlessly as he drops his bag onto the table and slumps into the chair next to yours, his chest heaving slightly. Startled, you jerk up in your chair, heart skipping a beat when you realize he’s here. You were supposed to be in a private study room, but there was a group of boys already in there, and as the most non-confrontational person to walk this earth, you decided to cut your losses and take a table nearby.

“Did you wait long? I got caught up outside the library when Somi stopped me and completely forgot,” he says apologetically, pulling out his textbooks, and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile.

“No, it’s alright. I was already here anyway, and I got some extra studying done.” You gesture towards the papers and notebooks strewn across the table’s surface, covered in your notes from today’s classes. “Should we start with today’s lesson? How much did you understand in class today?”

“Maybe the first five minutes of it only.”

You pause, glancing over at him. “Professor Hwang was ten minutes late to class.”

“Exactly.” Jaemin nods, and you stifle a laugh. He grins at you. “I don’t think you realize how much of a hopeless cause I am when you agreed to tutor me.”

“We can start from the beginning then. You have four weeks until the midterm, and we can go through every lesson we’ve had so far. I’ll make up a study schedule if you give me yours. And if you continue to go to Donghyuck’s tutoring hours too, you should hopefully be able to catch up and do well on the midterm.”

Jaemin wordlessly pulls up his class schedule on his phone, and you plug them into a Google calendar that you quickly share to his email. “So, I color coded your classes in green, and my classes are in pink. Do you have any other things that we need to work around?”

He peers over at your screen, scanning the contents. “I have my weekly frat meetings on Tuesday nights and mandatory events on other nights.”

“Alright, you can put them in and we’ll figure out meeting times,” you say, pushing your laptop towards him and he starts to add in his extracurricular activities.

“Party from 8 pm to 1 am?” you read skeptically, your eyes scanning over the event he tacked in under this week’s Friday.

“Yeah, can’t miss it,” Jaemin says, typing in more events and making sure to color code them in blue. “Don’t you have things to do on Friday night too?”

“Uh, maybe grab a poke bowl from the dining hall to go and watch another Banana Fish episode,” you say awkwardly, fiddling with the small Gojo keychain you have attached to your pouch.

Jaemin stops, looking over at you. “You watch Banana Fish?”

Your cheeks grow warm. “… Yeah, why?”

His eyes light up and he asks eagerly, “Did you see the latest episode? When Golzine leaves Arthur in charge?”

The two of you continue discussing the plot as he finishes up adding in his schedule for the next four weeks, finally nudging the laptop back towards you. “Do you need to add in your stuff too?”

“Mm no, it’s fine. I already put in my classes, and I’m not in any clubs or sororities,” you answer, making sure to input Donghyuck’s tutoring hours as well before scanning over the calendar and pinpointing areas where he’s free for at least one to two hours. “Okay, should we start with meeting three times a week?”

“Huh, you memorized Hyuck’s hours?” Jaemin notes, giving you a sly smile as he moves closer to look at the schedule.

“Huh? No, don’t you always know your professors’ and TAs’ office hours?” you ask, looking up and are immediately startled after underestimating the proximity between you and the beautiful boy next to you.

“No, I’m not a nerd,” he snorts lightly, and you laugh awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction and put a little more distance between the two of you before you go into cardiac arrest, “Right, yeah, well, anyway—”

“You were also interested when I said Hyuck mentioned you before,” Jaemin says suddenly, sitting up straight before a wide grin spreads across his face as he loudly exclaims, “You totally have a crush on him!”

“Quiet down!” You immediately shush him, the tips of your ears burning as everyone within a 40 feet radius in the library is now staring at the two of you. You’ve never received this much attention before, and you very quickly realize that you absolutely hate it. You loudly whisper-protest, stumbling over your words in a panic, “I—I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Oh, come on, your face is getting hot and you’re stuttering. You do too like him,” Jaemin laughs softly, propping his elbow onto the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he gives you a once over. “I could totally make you into his type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask hotly, cheeks burning even more when you feel his eyes graze over your figure.

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun. We can go to the mall and pick out some cute clothes for you, and then swing by the hair shop. You’re definitely using the wrong conditioner and shampoo,” Jaemin continues, eying your hair for a quick second.

“Wait, wait, we’re just here for tutoring, what are you even talking about?” You ask, bewildered before grasping a stray strand of your hair between your fingers. “And what do you mean I’m using the wrong shampoo?”

“And conditioner,” Jaemin pipes up, picking up his phone to search up some better brands he would recommend. “What have you been using? 2 in 1 Head and Shoulders?”

“No,” you huff softly, your ears growing even warmer at the accusation. “I just use whatever my mom buys in bulk at Costco.”

“Okay, well, you should use this instead,” Jaemin says, showing his phone screen to you, and your eyes widen slightly when you note the price tag.

“I cannot be forking over nearly seventy dollars on shampoo and conditioner,” you say incredulously, pushing his phone back towards him and waving your hand dismissively. “And there’s no way I’m going to spend even more money on new clothes.”

“Okay, fine, I think I have some unopened bottles from sponsored deals that I can give to you,” Jaemin sighs, opening up his text messages to find his friends’ group chat. “Or my friends would have some good ones, too. Maybe we can get you some of their free clothes from sponsorships, too.”

“You guys just get free clothes?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, glancing over at you. “On second thought, Karina and Lia aren’t the same size as you, so you won’t fit them. We can just order some basic pieces online or something for starters.”

“We—We aren’t doing this,” you loudly whisper back to him, hyper aware of the other students around you who keep glancing over at Jaemin. “Let’s just focus on making this schedule and helping you pass your midterm.”

“Oh, please, doll, it’d be fun. Just think of it as a payment for your tutoring,” Jaemin persuades you, scooting closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours lightly. Your breath hitches in your throat at the pet name and his touch. You’ve never been this close to any boy before, let alone one as attractive as Jaemin.

“You’ll look so pretty, I know the perfect outfits to make for you. And I can teach you how to get Hyuck’s attention, too,” he continues, nudging you lightly, and you’re still dazed, unable to get over the fact that he’s impossibly close to you, close enough for you to count the pretty lashes framing his even prettier eyes. You wonder what it’s like to be that beautiful, what it’s like to have people falling at your feet, what it’s like to mesmerize everyone the second you walk into a room.

Honestly, if Jaemin asked you to jump, your only response would be “how high.”

“If I agree to this, will you finally pay attention?” you sigh, and Jaemin instantly brightens up, nodding and giving you another one of those smiles that makes your stomach flip flop. Your Achilles’ heel is one very persistent boy who goes by the name of Na Jaemin, and he has hit you with a direct bullseye.

“Yes, I’ll be a model student, doll.”

You hesitate for a split second before relenting. “Okay, fine, deal.”

iv. i’m a barbie girl in the barbie world.

Jaemin is easy on the eyes, but currently proving to be very difficult for your nerves during your fourth tutoring session. Your wardrobe has increased in style and size by now, and you’re dressed in a pretty lilac top that wraps around you and accentuates your curves and hides what needs to be hidden perfectly. Your jeans may dig a little more than you’d like into your stomach, but it’s your fault that you chose to wear your photo jeans instead of your sitting jeans. Also, your hair has never looked better, all thanks to the boy seated next to you.

“No, when there is a low supply, there’s a high demand. They directly affect each other,” you try to re-explain to the boy next to you, drawing out the line graph once again. He stares down at the familiar graph before looking at the written practice problem in front of him. Professors must have an insane amount of patience, you silently think to yourself.

You sigh. “Let’s put it this way. You and Jeno want to buy the same shirt, but there’s only one left in the right size. So that’s two people who are demanding the one shirt. And the store only has one shirt in its supply. So how would you describe this situation?”

“Oh.” The look of realization flashes across Jaemin’s face as your example easily snaps the puzzle pieces into place for him. “There’s a high demand and low supply. Too many people want the shirt, but there’s not enough shirts.”

“Yes, you got it!” You cheer quietly, mindful of your location at one of the library’s tables. “Now try reading through the practice problems and draw the appropriate supply and demand graphs for each one.”

“And when I’m done with this, we can take a break, and I’ll teach you how to do makeup. My friends will help,” Jaemin says idly as he reads through the first problem again.

Your stomach lurches slightly at that, and you hesitate. “Your friends?”

“Yeah, you know, Jeno, Karina, Lia, and Yeonjun. Somi, too, but she’s been busy. I can teach you basic skincare and makeup, but the girls will have to help you with the rest,” he says casually, scrawling down his first answer and the corresponding graph.

You swallow hard, your voice croaking slightly before you hastily clear it. “Are you sure? Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, doll. You’re like a puppy, and everyone likes those,” Jaemin mumbles idly, eyebrows furrowing as he rereads the second problem.

“A puppy?” You don’t know whether to be offended or not yet.

Oh, you know, just that you’re cute and all,” Jaemin laughs lightly, starting to write down his next answer, and your heart nearly stops in your chest. You force yourself to breathe regularly again.

“Oh, I see,” you start to answer coolly, but stuttering on the last word, internally cursing your tongue at the last stumble. You try to sit calmly and relax for the rest of the tutoring session as Jaemin slowly makes his way through the practice packet, but the knot in your stomach continues to tangle even more, growing ever bigger. Maybe you should just tell Jaemin that lunch didn’t agree with you and cut this meetup short.

But that means less time spent with Jaemin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Jaemin is nice, so his friends should be as well, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to be nervous. Even if they’re all incredibly beautiful, hot people with the most unapproachable aura you have ever encountered.

Like honestly, how is someone like Karina even real? Her face could start a modern day equivalent of the Trojan War. She is literally the face blueprint for every main female character you play in your otome games.

Turns out, Karina is even more gorgeous up close. Ridiculously close with the way she’s inches from your face as she swipes on some blush on the apples of your cheeks. You never thought you’d see the resident it girl here for you, standing in the middle of your dorm room, let alone have an actual conversation with her that extended beyond a polite hello when she stops by for Giselle. It’s already been 45 minutes, and your nerves still haven’t calmed down.

“You just need to apply a little bit here and here on both your cheeks,” she instructs you, pointing towards your cheekbones and carefully applying the rosy powder to the same areas. She pauses in the application momentarily so that you can type out a few notes into your phone covering her directions. “You can go heavier if you want the cute sunburn, Sabrina Carpenter look, but if you do too much, you’ll end up looking like my ex.”

“What?” You’re startled, glancing over at her and nearly getting blinded once again by her lethal face card. She laughs lightly, giving you a slight smile. “A clown.”

“Oh, got it,” you chuckle, albeit nervously, shooting her a quick smile. “I’ll make sure to not do that.”

“Relax, it’s easy. Just a bit of makeup here and there, and you’ll be fine. All I do is some mascara, falsies, and a good lippie when I’m lazy, and I’m out the door in ten minutes,” Lia jumps in, holding several different tubes of lip tints.

“Are you sure? That’s really it?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over the various makeup products strewn over your desk. It looks a lot more complicated than what she had just described.

“Well, maybe you might need a bit more, like concealer and foundation. And some bronzer and heavy contouring. But just stick to the skincare routine and it’ll help lessen it,” Karina sighs, dabbing some highlighter to the tip of your nose before seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, adding hastily, “But it’s so worth it, trust. You’ll look so pretty, and it comes with so many perks. Girl math is knowing you can go out with no money and just your face card.”

“Hey, you’re friends with Yangyang?” Lia pipes up, noticing the photo strip you have pinned on your corkboard, nestled between the various Mystic Messenger Seven fanart and Zorro art prints.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I am. You know him?” You answer, and she nods before leaning in and evenly applying a thin layer of periwinkle tint on your lips. “Yeah, we’re in the same German class. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Well, you definitely can’t tell her about the raging heart on he has for his best friend, but it’s not like he really is seeing anyone either. You do vaguely remember Yangyang saying Lia was pretty and talented during his quick 5 minute minute class to Jaemin and his friends, so it’s not like he hates her either.

“No, he’s not,” you answer, hoping you made the right choice, and Lia’s face visibly brightens. “Oh, really? That’s great.”

“Okay, we’re done.” Karina announces, stepping back and holding up a mirror for you. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh, wow,” you suck in a breath, nearly gasping in surprise as you peer at the glass. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The contouring lifts up your face, slimming it down, and the blush gives you a pretty pink hue that makes you look sun kissed. Your lower lashes have nearly doubled in length with the mascara, giving you a pretty babydoll look. Karina had perfectly applied a set of falsies for you, framing your eyes delicately, and the shimmery eyeshadow and soft winged eyeliner accentuates your eyes even more. Your lips are the prettiest shade of pink, tinted and glossy.

You can’t believe it is your own reflection staring back at you.

“Now put this outfit on,” Lia says with a knowing smile, placing a shopping bag in your lap. “Jaemin picked it out.”

“Oh, really? Alright,” you manage to mumble out, dazed and still admiring yourself in the hand mirror. Karina laughs softly, nudging Lia before moving towards your door. “We have to get to a sorority meeting now, but I hope you like it, doll. And make sure to practice.”

“I love it,” you say breathlessly, grazing your fingertips against the cool glass, still in disbelief. “And I definitely will practice.”

“Mm, good, text us if you need any help! And send progress pics! We want to see how it’s going,” Lia answers, waving over her shoulder before the two of them exit your dorm. Sitting there alone, you stare at your reflection for a little longer, admiring yourself. You feel so pretty.

You finally remember the paper bag on your lap, and you immediately dig into it, pulling out a flowy floral sundress. It’s beautiful, and you quickly tug off your jeans and tshirt before going to your drawers to dig around for the appropriate bra for the dress. You manage to find it, snapping on the bra around yourself from the front before twisting it until the clasp is against your back. You hastily push your arms through the straps, tugging on either side until it’s on perfectly. You suck in a quick breath, internally preparing yourself for the battle with the next piece of clothing, a.k.a. your worst enemy: spandex. You’ve familiarized yourself with the awkward jig you have to do around your dorm until you’ve wriggled into the tight elastic enough so that it sits in the correct spot and sucks in all the right places.

At last, you won the war, but you feel sweaty now, flopping back onto your bed for a quick break. You flap your hands in front of your face, thanking whoever decided to invent setting spray. You grab your deodorant spray and douse yourself in a heavy dose of it before picking up the sundress and slipping it over your head. To your great relief, it slides on perfectly, and you quickly shuffle over to the full length mirror hanging on the back of your door. You straighten out the dress and quickly pat down any strand of hair knocked askew from your latest struggles before giving a smile to the mirror.

Dare you say it? You look pretty.

You’ve never looked this pretty before.

You happily take out the dainty gold heart necklace you had carefully tucked into your top desk drawer, struggling for a few seconds before you manage to clasp it around your neck. You quickly pull the pendant towards the front before slipping on the strappy sandals you left next to your desk. You grab the cute purse you bought last week, now packed with the perfect essentials, and give yourself one last once over.

You have nowhere to go, but you decide to take a walk to the dining hall. After all, you’re dressed up so nicely, makeup done so perfectly, you can’t waste it on another night stuffing your face with hot Cheetos and rewatching the first season of Haikyuu!!. Opening your door, you step out and nearly run into someone.

“Oh, finally, you’re done, doll. I thought you died in there or some…”

His eyes widening in utter shock, his next word dies on the tip of his tongue when Jaemin sees you standing in front of him. His mouth falls open slightly before he quickly closes it to swallow harshly, his throat running dry. He’s never seen you like this before, never imagined that you’d be this pretty. He inhales sharply, stiffening slightly as his eyes rake over your figure, seeing how the dress perfectly accentuates your figure, and settles on your face.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” Your eyes widen slightly before your cheeks grow warm when you notice his stunned reaction.

“Um,” he croaks out, voice cracking before he quickly swallows again, silently cursing when puberty decides to make a belated appearance. “Lia texted me that you were done, so I wanted to see how it went. You look… wow.”

Your cheeks heat up even further, and you laugh a little nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “R-really? It’s not too much?”

“No!” He immediately blurts out before his cheeks flush carmine. “I—I mean, you look really good. You should dress like this more often.”

You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face, and Jaemin’s heart flip flops in his chest. “Really? Thank you, I will then.”

“Of course, really. I picked the dress myself after all,” He tries to joke before hastily clearing his throat. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I was just going to go to the dining hall and grab some food,” you answer awkwardly, shifting your purse over your shoulder slightly and tightening your fingers around its strap.

“Let me take you out for dinner.” Jaemin blurts out, a little high pitched, mentally facepalming at how he sounds. “I mean, we can go over some of the harder problems in that packet since I probably need more studying anyway, and I’ll teach you a couple more dating tricks.”

“Sure, okay, that sounds good.” You give him a wider beam, and Jaemin feels his heart beat a little faster. Maybe you don’t need that much teaching from him after all. Seems like you’re a quick learner.

v. life is plastic, it’s fantastic!

“The only thing you’re fucking is stupid.”

“Shut the hell up, Yeonjun. At least I’m not sticking my dick in crazy.”

You watch the light argument going on between Jeno and Yeonjun in amusement. You and Jaemin had just finished your ninth tutoring session two hours ago, and you think he’s getting on track to actually scoring a decent grade for the next midterm. You were initially going to head towards Lana and Moon’s dorm for your weekly anime show marathon, but Jaemin insisted that you stop by the Alpha Sigma Psi house for a small party. Giselle and Karina are both part of that house, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to make a quick appearance. Good thing you spent some time touching up your makeup before today’s tutoring session.

“Hey, doll! Join the photo,” Jaemin calls out to you, gesturing you towards the area he and the rest of his friends are standing. You see another really pretty girl—Minjeong, was it?—standing on the side, holding up a phone and preparing to take the picture.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can just take the photo instead,” you laugh awkwardly, extending your hand out towards Minjeong, but Jeno gently nudges you forward, “No way, you never take pics with us. Just one, come on, Y/N.”

“Yeah, join us!” Jaemin says brightly, tugging you towards him and you stumble slightly, falling forward into his chest. You quickly catch yourself, hands suddenly pressed against his chest, and the blood rushes to your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you start to babble, trying to push yourself away before Jaemin quickly wraps his arm around your waist. “Nope, you’re staying here, it’s just a few pics, please, doll?”

“I—I mean, I don’t really—”

You start to say before Minjeong’s voice cuts through the air. “Okay, I’m taking it in five seconds now. So get ready and pose or be ready to live with the consequences on Insta forever.”

Everyone immediately shuffles around, and you’re squeezed even tighter against Jaemin, and you just know that he can feel your heart pounding rapidly against his chest.

“Smile, doll,” Jaemin laughs gently, squeezing your hip lightly and you inhale sharply at that, your heart rate spiking and increasing exponentially. You muster up a few shaky smiles as the flash starts to go off.

After a few more pictures, you manage to untangle yourself from the group and hurriedly go towards Minjeong. “I can take the pictures, you should join in.”

She immediately brightens up at that, giving you a kilowatt smile as she hands you the phone and slips into your original position in between Jaemin and Karina. “Oh, thanks, Y/N.”

You wait a few moments for everyone to get readjusted before you begin to snap some photos, having already mastered this from the previous hang outs you’ve joined and knowing how to take the best angles for everyone, including all the 0.5 zoom out ones. After taking some additional group and solo photos for the girls, you’re finally free of your duties. Your eyes widen when you check the time on your phone, and you hurriedly make your way over to Jaemin.

“Hey, I need to get going now. I have to get to Lana and Moon’s dorm, so I’ll see you later,” you say quickly, already beginning to brush past him as the realization sets in that it’s been over an hour when you told your friends that you would only be fifteen minutes late.

“Wait, what? Hey, hold on, doll.” Jaemin reaches out to you, but you slip past him, calling over your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late!”

He strides over, soon matching your pace as you speed walk back to the freshman dormitories. “Can’t you slow down a little bit? It’s not like you all haven’t seen these episodes before, plus we watched a few of them together after our last tutoring session.”

“Yeah, but I’m over an hour late,” you stress, slightly frazzled now as you hurriedly type out an apology to send to the group chat.

“Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine. They’re your friends. They should understand,” Jaemin reassures you, grabbing your hand and you freeze slightly. He notices your stop and teases lightly, “I said slow down, not stop. What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you stammer out a little too quickly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. He’s holding your hand. Na Jaemin is hand in hand with you, fingers intertwined. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming.

“Well, alright then, come on, let me walk you back,” Jaemin laughs before tugging you along. “You can help me pick out which pictures to post on Insta along the way, too, yeah?”

“Oh, sure,” you say breathlessly, your heart rate quickening to an embarrassing speed when he squeezes your hand gently, and you nesrly trip over your own feet.

“Perfect, so what about this one?” He holds up his phone to show you the picture you had taken for the group earlier, and you falter slightly. Why are you feeling a little disappointed with his choice?

Jaemin notices your hesitation and says a little softly, “I know you’re a private person. So I thought you’d prefer if I posted the group photo you took. You always take the best pictures for me, too. You know my good side the best. And it’d be weird if Hyuck saw, too, right? But did you want the other photo? I mean, if you really want it, I can..?”

“No!” You hurriedly say to reassure him, squeezing his hand lightly. “No, you’re right. I don’t want my picture out there. And um, yeah, that definitely wouldn’t be good if Hyuck saw.”

Jaemin gives you a relieved smile. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not upset, right, doll? We still have that fun pic of us and our homemade pizzas from earlier that I posted on my finsta. I didn’t know making pizzas would be that easy.”

“Of course not, don’t worry about it,” you laugh softly, continuing to walk back to the freshman dormitories, and Jaemin swings your joined hands between the two of you freely.

“Mm, I’m getting free cooking and tutoring lessons in exchange for dating tips. Two for the price of one is quite the good deal for me, right?” Jaemin teases lightly, and you let out another laugh.

“You’re right, it is. You better step up your game then.”

“Oh, just you wait, you’ll get dating tips and a boyfriend, so we’ll be even,” Jaemin chuckles softly, squeezing your hand, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach once again, and you muster up the courage to say something a little more teasing.

“Is that a guarantee?”

“Well, you have a demand, and I must supply, right?”

“…I don’t think that’s how it quite goes, Jaemin. Maybe you need a few more tutoring sessions.”

“All I hear is that you want to spend more time with me,” Jaemin laughs, giving you the prettiest smile, and your cheeks warm up even more, heart stuttering in your chest. Speechless, you let him continue on, his chattering filling the air as you listen with quiet content, your hand securely tucked in his for the remainder of the walk back.

vi. you can brush my hair.

Jaemin sits on the edge of his chair across from you at the table in the dorm common area, anxiously tapping his fingers against the flat surface. You are down to the last page of the mock exam packet, carefully going over his work with a red pen. You made minimal marks on the papers, a stark contrast to the very first practice exam he had worked on near the start of your tutoring. At that point in time, he didn’t even get to the end of the exam.

“Amazing.”

You say in awe, scanning through the last problem Jaemin had completed before tallying up his final score and calculating his results. “I can’t believe it. You got an 87.”

“No fucking way,” Jaemin is wide eyed, staring at you in disbelief, and you give him a wide smile, sliding the packet over to him, so that he can look over the exam and notes you’ve written for the problems he missed.

“Yes fucking way.”

“Holy shit, this is insane,” Jaemin breathes out, carefully reading through each page, and to his utter amazement, he understands every note and explanation you had added next to each incorrect question. He looks up at you, beaming, “I really got a B+?”

“You did,” you confirm, smiling back at him. “And who knows? It might become an A if the exam gets curved.”

“Oh my god, I owe you my life,” Jaemin chuckles, staring down at the graded exam in front of him, still in disbelief. “Seriously, doll, thank you so much.”

“Oh, of course, anytime,” you laugh sheepishly, twisting the rings adorning your fingers around nervously before averting your attention elsewhere, standing up to go towards the adjacent communal kitchen and carrying your filled tote bag with you. “A—Anyway, I brought some things to celebrate a job well done so far.”

“And how did you know I would’ve done well? What if I completely bombed that exam?” Jaemin teases you, standing up and following after you.

“I don’t know, I guess I just believed in you,” you stutter out, cheeks warming up as you set down your tote bag on the counter, unable to look him in the eyes, and he freezes, mulling over your words silently.

You believe in him? Someone who’s a hopeless cause? He honestly didn’t even believe in himself, he thinks to himself, his chest constricting uncomfortably, a foreign feeling making its entrance known to him, constricting around his heart. He inhales sharply, shoving it away with an easy going smile. “Is that so? Well, thanks, Y/N. And what are we doing now?”

“Making pancakes,” you answer, busying yourself with pulling out the ingredients from your tote bag. “You need to be well fed before the midterm. Your brain needs food. And the class is at 8 am, and neither of us are not morning people, so this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Pancakes?” Jaemin echoes after you, glancing at the various items strewn across the counter’s surface. “Does it really take this many ingredients? Isn’t it just the box mix and water?”

“That’s the short cut way. We’re making pancakes from scratch,” you laugh softly, taking out a mixing bowl and whisk along with the measuring cups and spoons.

“But why? It’s so much easier the other way.” Jaemin whines softly, and you chuckle lightly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”

You hand the one cup measuring utensil and bowl to Jaemin and nudge him towards the flour. “Help me measure out two cups of flour.”

“Alright,” he sighs, opening the bag of flour and carefully scooping out the first cup, scraping off any excess before dumping it into the bowl before repeating the process. “What next?”

“Four tablespoons of sugar,” you answer, handing him the sugar and appropriate measuring utensil before working on measuring four teaspoons of baking powder and a quarter of a teaspoon of baking soda. You pour those to the mixing bowl as Jaemin quietly measures the sugar and adds it in as well before waiting for your next instructions. You quickly drop in half of a teaspoon of salt before pushing the bowl towards him. “Now whisk this together gently, please.”

Jaemin busies himself with combining the dry ingredients as you take out half a stick of butter from the fridge (The one labeled with your name, of course. You’re no food thief, unlike someone who’s been stealing other people’s leftover takeout). You microwave it to get four tablespoons of melted butter before making your way to Jaemin’s side.

“Okay, now make a well in the center of it,” you say, and Jaemin clumsily makes an indent in the dry mixture before looking towards you for approval.

“Perfect, now add in two teaspoons of vanilla extract and crack the egg into it there,” you instruct him, and he obediently follows your directions. You measure out one and three quarters cups of milk and add it to the well before also pouring in the melted butter.

“Do I just whisk it together now?” Jaemin asks, picking up the whisk again, and you nod.

“Yes, mix it all together. It’s fine if there’s a few lumps, but it should be smooth overall.” Your eyes trail over his face, and you stifle a small laugh. “You got a little something on your cheek.”

“What?” Jaemin looks up, pausing in his whisking and you can’t help but giggle, staring at the flour dusting his cheek. “There’s flour on your face.”

“Oh, really? Can you wipe it off for me?” Jaemin laughs softly, attempting to brush at it with his shoulder but failing to reach that high.

“Oh, s-sure,” you stammer slightly, your hand quivering slightly as you outstretch your fingers and gingerly brush your fingertips against the apple of his cheek. His sun kissed skin is warm beneath your fingertips, and your breath hitches in your throat before you gently wipe away the remaining residue. You can feel his gaze searing into your face, but you refuse to look him directly in the eyes.

“There, all done,” you murmur, hastily pulling away and taking a step back. Jaemin lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He clears his throat, setting down the bowl. “I think this is all done, too.”

“Oh, great, that’s great,” you say, immediately focusing on the bowl before carrying it with you towards the stove, turning it on. “Let’s set this to medium-low heat. And I’ll add some butter to the pan, so the pancake won’t stick.”

Jaemin hands you the leftover butter and pan for you to set onto the stove. You use the spatula to move around a pat of butter, coating the pan nicely. Once the stove is ready and the butter starts to sizzle slightly, you pour a quarter cup of the batter onto the pan, expertly flicking your wrist to rotate the pan and cause the batter to form a perfect circle. You pull out a small container of blueberries, sprinkling some of them on top.

“Woah.” Jaemin watches you, impressed. “Teach me how to do that.”

“This? It’s easy,” you laugh softly, checking on the pancake until its underside is golden and small bubbles start to form on the top. You quickly move the pan, flipping the pancake onto its other side. “You can try making the next one.”

“Yeah? Will you wrap your arms around me and give me the one on one experience?” Jaemin jokes lightheartedly, and you nearly choke. “I mean—I don’t think that's completely necessary.”

“Relax, doll, I’m just kidding,” he laughs softly, nudging you gently, and you let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, totally. Just a joke.”

Once the pancake is golden on both sides, you carefully slide it onto a plate Jaemin pulled out from one of the cabinets. Your heart rate finally returns to its normal state, and you manage to say calmly, “Maple syrup and whipped cream are in the fridge.”

Jaemin takes out the aforementioned toppings, generously slathering on some butter before pouring the syrup and spraying whipped cream onto the pancake. He cuts out a small piece and quickly spears it onto his fork before taking the bite, nearly moaning in delight at the first taste.

“Holy crap, this is so fucking good.”

“My secret recipe,” you say proudly as you start to pour the batter for a second pancake, evenly spreading it on the pan. “Was it worth the effort?”

“Yes.” Jaemin swallows, almost immediately going for another bite before he gazes at you, giving you a genuine smile, and your heart rate again increases to an alarming speed.

“Definitely worth it.”

vii. undress me everywhere.

You finish the midterm in forty five minutes, being the first one to turn in your completed exam. This means you finished twenty minutes before the class ends and consequently, either failed it spectucularly or knocked it out of the park. You really hope it’s the latter.

Despite being rather preoccupied with other matters a.k.a. your suddenly thriving social life, you managed to cram in some studying here and there because your mother would absolutely kill you if you lost your provost scholarship. Gifted kid burnout? Who’s that? You never heard of her before (Just kidding, you’ve had plenty of breakdowns and cry fests over calculating bond values and stock prices).

Now outside of the classroom in one of the open study alcoves, you drop your Longchamp bag on the empty chair next to you before tugging at the back of your jean skirt before carefully sitting down. You make sure to readjust your bra straps, tucking them under the ruched fabric of your white shirt. Tapping your fingers against the scratched surface of the table, you briefly admire the shimmery gold ombré manicure adorning your nails that Jaemin had chosen last week. You pull out a compact from the inner side pocket of your purse, carefully checking your makeup to ensure it is still in pristine condition before quickly swiping in another layer of your Buxom plumping lip gloss in the best shade: fir royale.

The flurry of text messages pinging across your screen quickly catches your attention, and you tuck your mirror and tube of lip gloss away before scrolling through them, letting out a quiet scoff at Karina’s latest melodramatic outburst in the clout chasers group chat:

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: guys, gals, and yuckjun

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: what tf ??? why are you calling me out

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up or else I won’t make out with you anymore

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:46 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you that touch starved bro

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: anyway as i was saying

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: this skank in my marketing class has been copying my outfits and posting them on her insta and she has like 10k followers now

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: time to tear a bitch apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: like look at this shit

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: sent {10 images.jpeg}

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: my followers are gonna rip her apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: she’s downgrading my brand

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: dw girl i’ll do a response video so my followers will see too

[ 11:48 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: she can’t get away with this

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:48 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: idk… they’re similar styles but that’s what popular rn

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: it’s gonna be song jia 2.0 watergate

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: just say you’re broke and go

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: if she’s gonna plagiarize me, she better do it right like bffr walmart version

[ 11:49 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: you have proof they’re fake?

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: i mean fake bitch fake bags right

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: idk she’s kinda hot

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up jen be like your hairline and fall back

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: HELLO ?! back me up yeonjun

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: um

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: if you wanna be fucking stupid then knock yourself out

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: hey my place tonight jun 🥰

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you gonna listen to your own advice yj

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: excuse me ????

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: 🤐🤐🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: proverbs 26:11

“Hey, doll, what’s so funny?”

Jaemin appears next to you, and you let out a startled squeak, jumping in your seat, and he laughs, quickly placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You look at him wide eyed for a few seconds, his question not yet registering in your mind, and he waits patiently for your answer.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up, and he smiles at the endearing sight. “Just Karina ranting about something and Yeonjun being whipped.”

“Ah, so the usual?” He reaches for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and you stand up, pulling your skirt down once more to ensure you’re covered. The two of you start to make your way out of the Langley Hall.

“Yep. How was the midterm for you?”

He brightens up, opening the door for you and you thank him. “It wasn’t too bad at all! I actually understood like 90% of the questions and for the others, I was able to narrow down the answers between two choices, so 50/50 chance, fingers crossed I picked the right one.”

You beam when you hear that, and he returns the smile, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you pretend to wipe away faux tears. “I feel like a proud mom.”

“I think my mom actually will be proud,” he says, eyes scanning the cars parked on the nearby street before finding his. He grabs your hand, tugging you along. “C’mon, we gotta go celebrate that our misery is over until finals week. Plus, we gotta prep you when you talk to Hyuck.”

“Wait, what?” You abruptly stop short, and he nearly loses his grip on your hand. “When am I talking to him?”

“This Saturday. You’re coming with me to the Nu Chi party, right?”

“Since when? I don’t go to parties,” you protest, “They’re too loud and noisy, and beer is gross and—”

“You went to the Alpha Sigma one a few weeks ago though?” Jaemin interrupts, and you shake your head. “That was a small party though. This one is the party of the semester. What if I embarrassed myself in front of the entire school?”

“Parties are the prime time for meeting people and getting to know them because alcohol makes everyone friendlier and people don’t stay within their friend groups,” Jaemin interrupts. “Do you really believe that you’ll get him to like you by, I don’t know, one day, your eyes will meet across the classroom, and he’ll fall madly in love with you? This isn’t one of your fanfics, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, letting go of his hand on purpose, and he frowns, bottom lip jutting out in a pout before reaching out for your hand again. You swiftly dodge him, and he whines, quickly snatching your hand up and lacing your and his fingers together.

“I hope this isn’t how you’ll treat him on your date. Thank god we’re doing a trial run right now.”

“A trial run?” you echo him, and he nods, flashing you that favorite smile of his that never fails to make you weak in the knees.

“Well, we have to make sure your first date goes perfectly so there will be a second, right? Practice makes perfect,” he says matter-of-factly, and you nod slowly in agreement. The logic makes sense somehow.

“Okay, so where would you pick for a first date?”

“Maybe a cute cafe? Oh, there’s that one place: Cloudy with a Chance of Boba!” You brighten up, thinking about that boba shop’s menu you spent a good half hour scrolling through on Yelp last night.

“Mm, the most popular place right now is that ramen place on the end of Maisie Street. It’d probably be best to go there,” he muses, tugging you along via your intertwined hands. You nearly stumble in your heeled sandals but swiftly catch yourself.

“O-oh, okay, so are we going there now?”

“Nah, let’s do the ice cream place next door to it. Not really feeling noodles at the moment.” He stops to look over his shoulder at you, and you run into his back, causing him to let go before quickly reaching out and grabbing your arms to steady you. “Woah, be careful.”

“Sorry.” You’re flustered, your cheeks now growing hotter than a furnace. Jaemin reaches forward, his finger carefully swiping at the smudged lip gloss on the corner of your lip. “Where’s your lip gloss? You should reapply this.”

Eyes widening, he then shifts and peers behind him, craning his neck to the side in all attempts to look at the back of his shirt. “There’s not a mark on my shirt, right?”

You quickly rub off any shimmery residue. “It’s fine, your shirt is dark blue, so you can’t see it anymore.”

“Oh, good. Wait, where’s your lip gloss?” You fish through your bag, pulling out the tube and handing it to Jaemin. He uncaps it, giving you the lower half of the gloss before gently grasping your chin with one hand. He leans forward and tilts your head towards him, his eyes focused on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach erupt in an instant. You try so hard to stand still, fidgeting with one of the rings on your finger behind your back.

Jaemin’s face is so close to yours that you can count every single long dark eyelash that frames his pretty eyes. His lips are the prettiest shade of carmine, and you wonder what it’s like to be Aphrodite’s favorite child. How lucky you are to already be basking in the attention of her favorite; imagine how much luckier he is to be her favorite.

The beautiful boy in front of you carefully applies the gloss for you, fully concentrating on coating your lips with a pretty sheen once again. When he glances up, he’s almost blown away by the way you’re looking at him.

You look stunning, pretty as a picture in VOGUE magazine. Not quite the cover page, but you’re nearly there. A swell of pride runs through his veins, like an artist admiring his latest masterpiece on show in MOMA.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, handing back to you the lip gloss. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

“Alright.” You follow behind him like a lost puppy, and he reaches back to grab your hand and interlace your fingers. Your heart nearly skips a beat as your cheeks grow warmer once again, and for a split second, you wonder if he feels the same way.

“We’re here,” Jaemin announces, letting go of your hand to open the shop’s door, the bell above it jingling faintly as he gestures for you to go inside.

You enter the pretty shop, marveling the clean and simple interior with circular white tables and matching garden iron chairs surrounding each one. There’s bright greenery and plants decorating the edges of the shop, and the wall is covered in mismatched frames of paintings and pictures in various sizes and colors. The cheeky neon sign displayed near the front read, “It’s not gonna lick itself!”, and you laugh softly when you see it. The display of different colorful ice creams at the front are absolutely enticing, and you’re already struggling to decide which two flavors to pick.

You finally decide on a Vietnamese coffee and honeycomb swirl, accepting it from the cashier before you start to pull out your wallet. Before you can even pull out your card, Jaemin taps his phone against the screen, paying for both yours and his.

“Never pay on the first date,” he chides you lightly, picking up his ice cream. “Always let the guy pay for the first date.”

“Oh, but shouldn’t we at least split it?” You ask sheepishly, walking towards a table near the back that he gestures towards. He follows behind you, picking up some spoons and napkins.

“If the guy is so broke that he can’t pay $7 for your ice cream, then he shouldn’t be out dating anyway. He should be getting a job,” Jaemin retorts, tugging your chair out for you before sitting across from you and handing you a spoon and napkin. “Don’t you watch that Shera lady? Sprinkle, sprinkle and all that jazz. Maybe you can split for the future dates, but if the guy has any basic decency, he would pay for the first one.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, taking a hefty scoop of your ice cream and having the first bite. It’s delicious, and you make a mental note to buy a pint and bring back to your dorm to share with Giselle later.

The two of you continue to discuss various appropriate topics to broach on a first date (“Hey Jaemin, you like cheese? My favorite’s Gouda.” “… Please do not ask that.”). You quickly jot down bullet points in your Notes app, your fingers flying over the screen as Jaemin instructs you on good conversational starters and body language.

“So you just need to touch him on his upper forearm and then pull away. Stroke his ego and say he’s funny or some shit like that. At least you don’t have to force yourself to laugh with him though because Hyuck is naturally funny anyway. And he’s good at keeping up the conversation and a people person, so it won’t be awkward even for your first date,” Jaemin continues as you nod, rapidly typing what he says.

“And at the end of the date, touch his shoulder again, glance down at his lips for a brief second before making eye contact. If he’s bold enough, he’ll go for the first kiss. But then just immediately smile and say you had a great time before he can lean in. After that, he won’t stop thinking about that moment, and it’ll drive him crazy, and he’ll be texting you for a second date within the next day.”

“Mm, okay, I think I got it,” you mumble absentmindedly, engrossed in writing down the last few bullet points and Jaemin leans over to take a closer look at your phone, his eyes flitting over the screen.

“So for the last point, do I have to deny the first kiss then? Smile and walk away before he leans in and…”

You start to ask until you look up, and your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity, your and his noses almost brushing. Jaemin is so pretty, even prettier when you can count the few freckles dotting his face, can clearly see the mesmerizing golden flecks dotting his irises, can admire the way his lips look so soft and curve into the picture perfect smile. Your heart thumps wildly, nearly falling onto the floor along with your jaw when you glance up from staring at his lips and see that he’s already looking back at you with the softest expression on his face.

“You don’t have to,” Jaemin murmurs, and your heart stutters in your chest as he moves in closer, his lashes brushing against your cheek, and suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours. They’re pink and soft and slot perfectly against yours in a way that has your heart skipping beats and stomach doing cartwheels.

Eyes widening, you freeze up, letting out a quiet squeak of surprise, before he pulls away, giving you an amused smile. The lingering warmth on your lips makes your cheeks heat up, and you have to break eye contact, stammering over your words as you gently graze your fingers over your lips in wonderment.

Jaemin laughs softly as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll have to work on this too then. You’re kissing like it’s a Park Shinhye kdrama.”

You’re still dazed, cheeks growing even warmer as you avoid his gaze, fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of your skirt. “That was my first kiss.”

Jaemin pauses at the realization, his cheeks flushing slightly before he clears his throat, giving you a half smile and a light chuckle, “Oh, really? That’s cute, doll. Well, I’ll teach you some tips, so you’ll be better at it by the time you ask Hyuck out. At least you got a decent first kiss, right? No big deal.”

“Yeah, no big deal,” you echo softly, your heart still racing at breakneck speed. You pretend to focus on the remnants of your ice cream in the bottom of your paper cup, fingers gripping around the container tightly.

Jaemin was right.

You don’t think you’ll be able to stop thinking about this moment anytime soon.

viii. come on, barbie, let’s go party!

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Moon asks worriedly, helping you with your makeup as you sit, perched on the edge of your bed. She uncaps your eyeliner as Lana fusses with your shirt, smoothing out any of the wrinkles. “Actually, I can’t do it. You do it, Yang. You’re an expert at this.”

“Alright, give it to me.” Yangyang comes over, grabbing the eyeliner and expertly draws on the wing above your right eye. “Years of cosplay have finally come in handy. Although, I still can’t believe you’re putting in all this effort for Jaemin.”

“I need to look pretty. He usually does my makeup for me, but he’s busy right now,” you mumble, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously. “It’s my first time going to a party. I can’t embarrass him when he’s a ten.”

“Yeah, in rupees,” Yangyang scoffs, and Lana frowns at you, stopping in her tracks. “Don't talk about yourself like that. You’re already pretty, and if anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with that slime ball. I can’t believe he doesn’t even have the decency to pick you up. Why are you the one going to his place?”

“He has some frat meeting right now,” you answer, glancing down at your newly manicured nails. The pearl color shimmers under the light, and you can’t help but admire it even more. You wish they were a little shorter, but they really do look quite pretty.

“What meeting? We’re in the same frat. Also, hold still,” Yangyang huffs, holding your chin as he draws on the left wing over your eye. “We need them to look like twins, not cousins twice removed.”

“I don’t know, he just said there was some meeting,” you mumble, holding perfectly still until he finally finishes. “Maybe it was a one on one meeting or something, who knows?”

“I still think he’s shady,” Lana grumbles, and Moon nods as well. “Yeah, like the first kiss thing?”

“It’s no big deal,” you wave your hand dismissively, hopping off of your bed and taking a look at yourself in your mirror. “Better to get it over with, right? I mean, imagine being this old and not having your first kiss yet.”

“Is that what he said to you?” Moon huffs, affronted, and you shift in your place uncomfortably. “No, of course not. It’s just—everyone gets their first kiss when they’re like fourteen or fifteen, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Lana says indignantly, tucking your hair behind your ear carefully. “You wanted it to be special, didn’t you? It just feels like… he took something away from you.”

“He didn’t. I wanted this,” you answer loudly, ignoring the way your stomach flip flops as you try not to think back to that moment. He kissed you, he really does like you back, he might have not said it out loud, but he knows how much it means to you (Wouldn’t he?).

“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” Moon gives in, and she and Lana exchange a worried look that goes unnoticed by you. But what can they do? They can continue to try convincing you, but it will never work when it falls on deaf ears.

“I am,” you insist, avoiding your friends’ gazes and staring at yourself back in the mirror. Moon attempts to lift the mood again, offering you a tentative smile in the reflection. “This whole thing is like a whole emotional rollercoaster, and Yangyang is definitely not tall enough to ride.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m literally almost six foot tall,” Yangyang shoots back, and you laugh, relaxing once more as you watch your friends start to bicker again.

“Listen, you can’t be delusional and short. Pick a struggle.” Moon counters, and Lana agrees, handing you your phone to tuck into your pocket. “She’s right. You carry yourself with the confidence of a much taller man.”

You smile fondly as the bickering between your friends continues. You miss them, you realize with a jolting pang of regret, you haven’t been hanging out with them as often as you used to. In fact, the majority of your weeks are spent with Jaemin and his friends.

It’s your first cold dose of reality, and you’re hit with a startling truth. You haven’t been a very good friend lately.

—

Lana drove you to the Nu Chi Theta house, and you felt like a kindergartener being dropped for her first day of school. Your face feels hot as a wave of embarrassment rushes over you as you notice the amount of glances you receive from the insanely pretty girls and boys already on the front lawn and streaming out from the front door. You quickly exit the vehicle, hurriedly waving good bye over your shoulder before making your way into the house, almost tripping over the raised walkway.

You wander around the house, searching for Jaemin and quickly sidestepping a through the couples and other students dancing around, nearly getting bowled over by someone you recognize from your school’s football team. He gives you a quick once over before offering a half apology, eyes set on another girl on the other side of the room. You take a deep breath before pushing your way into the next room, finally spotting Jaemin with his friends, minus Jeno and Somi, by the staircase and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, squeezing through two couples busily making out in the doorway and wincing slightly when you jostle both of them, causing them to give you dirty looks before resuming their activities.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Karina says brightly, giving you a perfect smile and reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“My first frat party? Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” you laugh, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear nervously before fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Jaemin gives you a small smile, and you return it with a slightly shaky one, your eyes flickering towards the fading pink, glossy lip mark staining the collar of his shirt. The color is much too dark to be Jaemin’s, and your stomach churns slightly.

“You look so pretty, Y/N, I love the confidence,” Lia chimes in, gently pinching the fabric of your skirt between her manicured fingers. “I love this, you’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.”

“Oh, of course! You can borrow it anytime,” you agree quickly, flashing her a slightly forced smile before glancing over at Jaemin again, unsure what to do.

“Where do you shop?” Yeonjun asks, glancing over at your outfit. “The shirt is nice, too.”

“Oh my god, yes, we have to go shopping together sometime, and you’ll have to show me all the good places,” Karina cuts in, nudging you gently before letting out a sigh, looking over at Lia. “God, I’ve been feeling so fat lately, like freshman twenty might be getting to me.”

“No, same, I’ve been extending my gym sessions and doing Pilates,” Lia huffs softly, and you remain silent, switching your weight around on each foot, glancing over at Jaemin helplessly.

“I need another drink. You coming, Y/N?” Jaemin finally speaks up before brushing past Yeonjun, and you hurriedly follow behind him, careful not to fall behind or get swept away. He quickly pushes through to the kitchen, finding a spot next to the counter covered in various bottles of cheap alcohol and stacks of red solo cups dispersed in between.

“You want one?” Jaemin asks, extending a shot of vodka he just poured out towards you, and you shake your head before he gives a wry smile. “You sure? It’ll help with the nerves. You were shaking back there.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “You noticed?”

“Everybody noticed,” he snorted, handing you the cup, and you wince slightly before holding your nose and downing it in one go. “Give me another then.”

“Atta girl,” Jaemin hands you another shot and you take that one just as quickly, making a face that causes him to smile subconsciously. As he pours himself a cup of beer, he spots Donghyuck by the pool out back, and a knot settles in his stomach uncomfortably. He almost doesn’t want to tell you, and he doesn’t know why. It’s just because he worked so hard to make you look this good, and his loudmouth friend gets to reap all the benefits, he tells himself, taking a swig of his drink, Donghyuck doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Ignoring all the stop signs and whistles going off in his head, he gestures towards Donghyuck outside, clenching the red cup in his hand a little tighter than normal. “There’s your chance. Gotta do it before the alcohol wears off.”

“Oh, um, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” you stammer out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear again (It’s one of your habits when you’re nervous, and he thinks it might be his favorite). He pushes down the growing knot in his stomach.

“We’ll talk later, yeah? You can’t miss this,” Jaemin insists before nudging you in the direction of the pool outside despite your soft protests.

“W-wait, I jus—” you say desperately, but Jaemin merely waves you off before disappearing back into the party inside. You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him after all the effort he put in these past four weeks.

You’ll tell him later.

—

“Oh? Where’s your little Barbie doll, Jaemin?” Karina simpers as she lazily taps her pretty manicured nails against the half filled red solo cup in her other hand when Jaemin returns to his original spot. “Have you gotten bored of playing with her yet?”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin answers hotly, “She’s… fun. She makes me laugh.”

“How? By looking at her?” Yeonjun snorts, chugging his own cup before crinkling it in his fist. Jaemin wants to throw up. “We thought you just did this because you’ve been having a dry spell and were bored. Where is she anyway?

“She’s talking to Hyuck right now,” Jaemin mumbles meekly, shoulders slightly hunched over as he stares into the depths of his own solo cup.

“Really? I mean, is she even his type?” Lia asks skeptically, straightening up in her spot to see if she can spot you or Donghyuck anywhere. “If anything, I thought her friend—the pretty English major one—would be his type. How is she anyone’s type?”

“Hey, he turned her from a four to a solid eight. She might even go up half a point once you introduce her to an exercise and diet plan.” Karina says offhandedly, raising her cup towards him in mock salute before taking a sip.

“Yeah, how are you going to do that? It’s not like you can even sugarcoat it for her because then she’d eat it too,” Yeonjun throws out with a smirk, and Jaemin feels sick to his stomach, the nauseating feeling growing exponentially and gnawing at him as his friend continues, “I mean she’s probably already on the seafood diet because she sees any food and just eats it. How can you even stand her, Jae? The way she just follows you around like a puppy. Isn’t it annoying?”

“God, I know, the way she basically chases after us like a lap dog is so pathetic. At least she takes good insta pics for us though, so she’s somewhat useful. But we had that one really good group photo at that last party, and she totally ruined the picture. You can’t even crop her out because she had to stand next to you, Jae,” Lia complains, rolling her eyes, and Karina laughs, taking out her phone and scrolling through her photos.

“Oh my god, I know the exact photo you’re talking about. It’s this one, right? She practically threw herself into your arms,” She flashes her screen towards the group, and Jaemin wants to shrink and crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Was it the best photo of you? No. Was it the worst? Maybe close to it. You’re standing sideways and still taking up more space in the photo than the others, and the flash photography did not do any favors for you. You stand out even worse than Will Smith in the sunflower costume meme. He cringes inwardly, noting the way your skirt had rolled up and you’re smiling a little too widely. He makes a mental note to help you practice better, more flattering poses later on.

“You know that famous baby hippo? Moo Deng? I think we found her twin from the future,” Yeonjun barks out a laugh, reaching over and zooming in on you as Karina smirks before putting away her phone. Lia giggles and glances over at Jaemin, scrutinizing his reaction before a sly expression makes an appearance on her face, saying coyly, “You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Jaemin flushes, embarrassment coating his cheeks, and he immediately snaps, “Shut up, I might be lonely, but I’m not despera—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Lia says loudly, effectively cutting Jaemin short. “How did it go? Are you and Hyuck gonna be the new couple on campus?”

Immediately, his heart drops even further to his stomach, and Jaemin whirls around to see you standing a few feet away. Did Lia know you were there? How long were you standing there? Did you hear them? Did you hear every horrible thing they said about you?

“Oh, Donghyuck said he wasn’t interested, but he was nice about it,” you say, offering a vague smile in Jaemin’s direction, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief as his heart starts to slow back down to its normal rate. A part of him is glad that Donghyuck rejected you, and he nearly misses what you say next, too caught up in this unfamiliar feeling.

“I think I’m going to head back to my dorm. I’m a little tired. Thank you for inviting me.”

With that, you turn away and walk off, but something still doesn’t feel right to Jaemin. It’s a split second decision but for once, he puts his heart over his mind and chases after you, ignoring the increasing whispers from his friends and their eyes searing into his back.

ix. raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by na jaemin.

Jaemin is right on your heels the entire time you walk back to your dorm. All he receives is stony silence from you that he fills with babbling nonsense, asking you what’s wrong to no avail. When you finally enter your dorm, you turn to him at last, and he perks up. However, the two words that come out of your mouth have him deflating faster than Yangyang’s ego when Alice called him a shitty kisser with too much saliva (“You’re supposed to make me wet down there, not up here. Honestly, dude, if I wanted to drown myself, I would’ve jumped into the ocean.”).

“We’re done.”

You decide to bite the bullet.

After freeing your feet from their pointy death contraptions, you peel off each layer of clothing one by one, unzipping the mini skirt and kicking it away before tugging at the spandex, unleashing the breath you’ve been holding in since 8 a.m. to fit into it. There’s still indents marking the dips in your waist and your thighs, a lasting reminder that stays like an embarrassing stain. You fling that abhorrent piece of elastic elsewhere, and it falls near the end of your bed, out of sight behind the pile of textbooks you haven’t touched for the past three days.

“Hold on, what are you talking about? We made so much progress. You wanted to do this,” Jaemin protests, following after you and picking up the discarded garments you threw haphazardly. He waves around the skirt like a white flag. “You wanted to be in the popular crowd, and you got it. You’re this close to dating Hyuck. Yeah, he might’ve said no now, but we’ll come up with a new plan—You can bounce back from this! Why are you quitting now?”

Removing the off-the-shoulder pink top that restricts your arm movement, you quickly slip on an oversized sweater before reaching back and unhooking the strapless bra whose underwire has been digging into your ribs for so many hours, a sigh of relief escaping between your teeth. You toss it onto your chair without another care in the world, and it lands next to the shirt in a heap.

“Because this isn’t me. This isn’t what I like.”

“Of course, it is. This is still you: just new and improved,” he insists, frantically attempting to hand you your discarded shirt and pleather skirt. You ignore them, opting to pull out and put on your favorite pair of stretched out gym shorts from middle school that you had shoved in the back of your closet to make room for all the flashy clothing Jaemin picked out for you. “We’re having fun. You’re popular and pretty now. You’re almost dating Donghyuck. You have everything that everyone wants. You’re the girl the boys want to be with, the girl all the other girls want to be.”

You shake your head, reaching for the packet of makeup wipes near your sink. “It’s not what I want.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about? This is what you asked me to do.”

You throw him a scathing glare, and he takes a step back. “God, Jaemin, for once in your life, take off the stupid rose colored heart shades, and you’ll finally see all the red flags around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaemin asks defensively. He thought everything was going according to plan; he’s going to pass macroeconomics, and you got to talk to Donghyuck and are this close to scoring a date with him. People notice you wherever you go, the two of you receive compliments, his friends like you, everyone likes you.

“I have to pretend to like things I hate and hate the things I like. I have to do things a certain way, act a certain way, pretend this is all effortless. I don’t know if people are being genuine or pretending like I am. I hate this—this fake version of me.” You spit the words out like fuel to a fire, and you stand there in all your blazing glory, ugly uniform shorts and all.

“My thighs keep chafing. My feet have blisters everyday from these boots. This foundation makes me break out even more, and I can’t type up my notes in class or write fast enough because of these nails, and my grades almost took a plunge. I’m basically freezing my tits off out there in a shirt I don’t like. The lashes make my eyes itch, and this skirt is so short that I have to keep pulling it down every five seconds before I end up flashing someone.”

You don’t recognize the girl in your mirror anymore. You pluck off the falsies lining your eyes, scrubbing furiously at the layers of expensive brand name makeup covering your skin. You wipe off every inch of it until your bare face stares back at you, slightly puffy, blemishes, faded acne scars and all. You feel like you can breathe a little better now.

“Did you really think it’s easy being one of us? Do you think people will notice you if you show up in sweats with Cheetos stains?” Jaemin stares at you incredulously. “This is how it is. I don’t get why you’re throwing it all away like this.”

“And yet, you were all for it when I threw away everything before.”

“Because you asked for it! You asked me to—to make you into someone Donghyuck would date!”

“You don’t get it.” You whirl around on your heels to face him instead of the mirror, and the anger and intensity laced in your voice nearly blows him away. “I like myself the way I am. I never hated myself. I may be insecure about how I look sometimes, but who isn’t? Yeah, I like wearing cherry lip gloss and mascara sometimes. It’s fun trying out new hairstyles and clothes and learning to do better makeup. I like getting dressed up for special occasions. I like doing these things on my own terms. But this? What I’m doing to myself right now? This isn’t the same. Am I supposed to keep up this charade for the rest of my life? If I do eventually go out with Donghyuck, am I gonna have to keep lying to him? To everyone? I want people to like me for me. To actually know me.”

“If this is how you feel, then why would you keep doing this?! If you hate it so much, then why?” He’s frustrated, carding his fingers through his hair as he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re angry over this. You look gorgeous, so what’s the problem?

“Because I liked spending time with you!” you burst out, “I never liked Donghyuck—I liked you. I wanted it to be you. It was fun at first, I did like it at first, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. I can’t be friends with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

There’s a jolt in his heart when he hears your confession, but the second jolt comes quickly afterwards at your last words. Denial is the first stage of grief, and he pales at your final declaration. “What are you talking about? This whole thing is so that Dongh—”

“Oh, please. You can drop the act. This isn’t about Donghyuck anymore. This is about you being too embarrassed to be seen with someone who doesn’t fit your aesthetics.” You air quote the last word for emphasis, and his jaw tightens at that. “You’d rather drop dead than go out with a four like me, right?” You smile sardonically at him. “I may be a four on a seafood diet, but my ears work perfectly fine, Jaemin.”

You heard it all, and Jaemin feels like he is going to throw up. All he can do is scramble and grasp for the last remaining straws, protesting vehemently, “I wasn’t the one who said any of that!”

You laugh humorlessly, “Is that supposed to make it better? You’re better than them because you didn’t say it out loud? You didn’t deny it or defend me either, so what’s your point?

His mouth goes dry, and he opens and shuts it several times. Swallowing harshly, he barely manages to croak out a weak reply. “That’s— I didn’t mean—I only really thought that before I knew you.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it? You already judged me before you even knew me based on how I look. Even now, you still judge me.” He starts to open his mouth again, but you merely shrug as if you’ve accepted this for all your life, and he closes it meekly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes

“That’s okay. I’m used to it. That’s how it is for people like me. I know I’m not someone people fall head over heels for immediately. I’m the one who reaches out to people first. Guys don’t fall over at my feet, wanting to carry my books to class for me. The pretty girls ask me to take their Insta pictures for them. I don’t get free drinks at the bar or invited to all the parties. I’ve never been asked out by a total stranger, and no one writes their number on my cup of coffee,” you say matter-of-factly, a resigned smile on your face, and it has him curling into himself internally, his conscience slowly eating away at him.

“And you know what?” you continue, “That's life. That’s okay because I’m happy with who I am. I like who I am. If I have to give myself up to get Donghyuck or you to like me, then he’s—you—are not the one. I shouldn’t change who I am for a boy—or anyone for that matter.”

“That’s not—We were doing this for you. You wanted… you wanted this makeover. You wanted this.” He’s desperately clutching onto the end of the rope, and you’re holding the scissors to cut it off. You show him another half smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It stopped being about me. It started being about what you wanted, what you liked, what you wanted me to be. I was your charity case, your little Barbie doll.”

You tilt your head to the side, studying the boy in front of you and he silently squirms under your scrutiny. “Tell me one thing, and be honest. Did you even know I existed before Donghyuck mentioned me as a tutoring option? Before you needed me for a grade booster? Would you have liked me then?”

Would you have liked me then? Your question echoes in his mind, and Jaemin freezes, dropping the clothes in his hands. You know. You know he likes you, and the embarrassment creeps up on him in the form of carmine dusting his ears and cheeks, like spilled wine on white linen.

“There are over one hundred students in the class,” he objects. “Sorry for not fighting my way through all of them to find you and have a crush on you sooner.”

Jaemin seems to not realize that he just confirmed his feelings for you aloud, and perhaps, if he had told you this a few weeks ago, you would have been ecstatic and called up Lana and Moon the second he was out of earshot. But this is now, and you’ve grown exponentially since then.

You give him a wistful smile, and as the dread piles up in the pit of his stomach, he knows this is the start of his downfall (or perhaps, he’s already been falling this entire time). He slipped from the pedestal already long ago, and it’s only a matter of time before he hits rock bottom. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall from grace.

“I sat in front of you diagonally. You asked me to pass notes to my friend. You know, the girl who sat next to me? Alice? The one you asked out and went on a few dates with at the beginning of the semester?” You state the facts calmly, and his eyes widen at that. “It’s okay. But you must’ve remembered that we were in the same group for a presentation last semester, right?”

Jaemin stays silent, and you have your answer. It’s one you’ve known deep down in your heart all this time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. After all, someone can announce they’re going to punch you, you can even see the strike coming to your gut, but simply knowing doesn’t do anything to ease the painful aftermath.

You chuckle humorlessly, fingers uncurling and recurling into fists as your nails press moon shaped crescents into your palms before you look him straight in the eyes. “I don’t fit into your cookie cutter life or match your rose colored Instagram filters. I don’t have the perfect model figure or the perfect face. I don’t look like the girl of your dreams, and I know that it just fucking kills you inside that you fell in love with me.”

Jaemin flinches, curling in on himself when he finally meets your gaze and finally sees the absolute hell fires of fury and repugnance ablaze in your eyes. You know that he loves you, and he’s ashamed that you’re right. You’re absolutely right.

Why is he so afraid of loving you?

He loves how smart you are, how witty you are, how funny you are, how genuine you are, how you understand every obscure Haikyuu!! reference he makes, how you laugh at his jokes, how you dm him the funniest memes on Instagram, how you wear your purple scrunchie around your wrist during every exam for good luck and how you let him borrow it too. He loves how you treat him as more than just a pretty face, how you actually listen to him and make him feel like what he says matters, how you make him feel different—special—like he doesn’t have to compete with all the other Barbies and Kens out there. He’s much too vain, much too superficial, much too selfish, much too proud to admit it out loud, but he’s in love with you, and yet, he can’t bring himself to love every single part of you.

And the truth of that matter is the ugliest of all.

But there are standards that he has to uphold, why can’t you understand this? He lowered his standards for you, and you still couldn’t meet them. You have the personality already, you are this close to being the ideal girl, and well, you both have to make changes. It’s the prince and princess who live happily ever after, not the prince and the pauper, or god forbid, the ogre (No offense, Shrek). This is real life, and society has unspoken rules. He sacrificed so much for you, he put his reputation on the line, so why couldn’t you do this for him? After all, love always has some sacrifices.

Right?

But when Jaemin looks at you now, there’s everything, but love staring back at him. You look at him like he’s a repulsive piece of chewed gum stubbornly stuck to the bottom of your Steve Madden heel. It strikes a nerve and completely eats him to the core, but he pulls himself upright because nobody talks to him like that, nobody looks at him like that, certainly not someone like you. He invented you, he made you into the next Princess Mia, the next Cady Heron, the next Serena van der Woodsen, and this is how you show your gratitude?

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. You act like I’m the first person to judge first based on looks. Everyone does it. Am I supposed to strike up a conversation with every girl on the off chance she’s everything I want? Do you think anyone would fall for you immediately when you looked like that? The saying is ‘love at first sight’, unless you’re one to believe in the whole ‘love is blind’ idea, which you clearly do,” Jaemin snaps, sneering as he eyes you up and down. His heart and mind are screaming, crying, begging for him to stop, but his pride dropkicks him headfirst into the hole he dug for himself, raging for him to get the upper hand again.

“How is it my fault for not knowing you’re the whole package when the wrapping doesn’t match the contents?”

The unfiltered words slip out of his mouth, and he immediately regrets it, closing his eyes, but it’s too late. He sees the instant look of devastation that appears on your face, and it hits him like a boxer’s punch to the chest. He starts to backtrack to no avail. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

“I am never going to be enough for you, am I?” you whisper, your breaths stuttering in your chest as your initial sarcasm turns into quiet truths now that eat away at him. “I’m either too much or too little. There’s always going to be something you’ll want to change, something you want to fix.”

“Y/N… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It was an accident. I just—”

Jaemin can’t continue on, his voice trailing off as he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep apologizing, he’ll do anything it takes to take back what he just said, but the damage has already been dealt. He’s always known he’s an asshole, sure, but this is beyond anything he’s ever said or done in the past. He just secured the seat of honor in Dante's ninth circle of hell, and there’s no return ticket.

“You just what? You thought it would be okay to say anything to my face just because it’s not up to your standards?”

Jaemin’s face pales. “N-no, I—this isn’t how it's supposed to go, I just—It just slipped out, can we start over?”

A public rejection from any boy or girl would hurt infinitely less than the words Jaemin spat in your face. The things that his friends said before within earshot? You could take it because you couldn’t care less about them at the end of the day. But this? This was coming from someone you trusted, someone you care about, someone you lov—No, you don’t even want to think about that.

Jaemin never loved you. He never even liked you. The harsh reality slaps you like a cold shower in the middle of a winter night, and you want to curl up into a ball under your covers and cry until you fall asleep.

And yet, you will not let him humiliate you any longer. The spell has been broken. Cinderella is back to her rags, and her Prince Charming is nowhere to be found. She’s stuck as a toad that’ll never change. Eyes watering, you inhale sharply, laughing quietly in disbelief before you straighten up and your face hardens.

“Are you actually listening to yourself? You think we can start over? You treat people like they’re disposable, like they’re nothing, and once they don’t match with your theme of the week, you toss them even faster than the time it takes for you to choose an outfit.” Your chest is heaving, and the tears threaten to fall, but you push on, swallowing the lump in your throat. He reaches out for you, and you take a step back, shaking your head.

“You can’t hurt people and expect them to just let it go. I get it, I know I’m not the thinnest, or the nicest, or the funniest, or the smartest, or the prettiest. I know that I’m hard to love. I get it, Jaemin. I’ve always known that.”

You choke on the last sentence, swallowing hard to stifle the hiccup that bubbles up in your throat. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”

Rapidly blinking back your tears, you march over to your door and throw it open with such force that the doorknob could have left a dent in the wall. You don’t want to cry, you’ve always been an angry crier, and you desperately want the tears to stop. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry and hearing your confession. He doesn’t deserve any of that. Jaemin doesn’t deserve your tears, and he certainly doesn’t deserve your love.

“Get out.”

Jaemin stares at you, mouth agape like a fish on land. You gesture heatedly towards the outside, choking slightly. “What are you waiting for? I said get out.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Am I a joke to you?” you quietly ask, and his eyes widen.

“No! No, Y/N, you’re not, I jus—”

A single tear manages to escape despite your best, frustrated efforts, and Jaemin instinctively reaches out for you. You swat his hand away, angrily swiping away the stray droplet with the sleeve of your sweater. His heart wrenches in his chest as his hand dangles limply by his side. You’re crying because of him. He caused that, and he feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

You refuse to let any more fall, glaring at him through the unshed tears and entirely disgusted with the boy standing in front of you. “Don’t touch me. I’m not crying for you. I’m crying because I’m so angry I wasted all my time on someone who never cared about me.”

That’s not true—I love you, he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to form the words because his pride won’t loosen its grip on his heart. He loves you, he’s in love with you, why can’t you see that?

You steel yourself, taking one shaky breath before looking pointedly at the door and repeating yourself, “Get out. Leave me alone.”

Numbly, he makes his way over to the door, ears ringing. You glower at him, the intensity searing and digging into the side of his face. When he stands outside of your dorm, he struggles to turn around and face you helplessly. Your eyes soften for a moment, and it shoves the dagger deeper into his chest when he recognizes that look. It’s the same look he wore when he first saw you, and the shame that emerges nearly chokes him. The mixture of pity and disappointment painted across your face revolts him entirely, and he feels like he’s going to vomit. Jaemin is utterly humiliated.

Your gaze intensifies once more when you stand up to your full height, stare unwavering and chin raised up. Gripping the doorframe tightly, you drive the final words into his heart like a stake.

“I am too good for you, Jaemin, and I will never love someone like you. I deserve better.”

And for a split second, you almost convinced yourself when you said that.

You shut the door in his face.

Jaemin calls your name through the door several times, desperation ringing clear in his tone, but it falls on deaf ears. Apologies are a fool’s best friend, and you’d be a fool yourself to believe them. Holding your breath, you wait until you hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, until the solitude greets you like an old friend. And at last, you drop the facade and let yourself cry. Back pressed against the door and head bowed, you finally let go until all the tears are gone and you’re gasping for breath, the quiet hiccups and sobs bursting forth and breaking the silence in the same way he broke your heart over and over again.

You love him.

There’s no one to blame, but yourself. In the end, it’s all your fault that you were in this mess. How can you be so stupid? You can put lipstick on a pig, but it would still be a pig. Built up insecurities will bubble up to the surface no matter how much mascara and blush you apply. The warning signs were all there in flashing technicolor, but they were all tied up with shiny ribbons and deceiving perfect smiles. They lit up your usual drab life of blacks, whites, and grays, and you were blinded by the glitz and glamor— blinded by him. It is hard to see the red flags and stop signs through the rose colored Instagram filters. You trusted him and gave him your heart when you should’ve known it’d end like this.

You got greedy and tried to steal the spotlight, and you received it, front and center. You are the joke. You are the punchline, the comedic relief, the center stage of a slapstick comedy show. This is what you get for going off script.

Because you love him.

You were supposed to continue to delude yourself into thinking that you don’t want to find love, that you enjoy being on your own, that you enjoy being single, that you are perfectly content with never experiencing romance instead of facing the cold harsh reality head on: no one sees you as desirable or dateable. And when your friends tell you that you’re not missing out on anything with dating, you were supposed to nod and agree, when secretly, you desperately wish you can experience that for yourself instead of living vicariously through your friends’ love lives or the 3 a.m. scrollings through cheesy romance fanfiction on Tumblr. You’re been fine all these years, haven’t you? You were doing so well living on your own.

But you love him.

It’ll come when you least expect it, that’s what they tell you every time, but what are you to do when you can’t help but expect it your whole life? What are you to do when you so desperately want to know what it feels like to be loved in that way? God, when is it going to be your turn? When is it your turn to daydream about someone and know that they’re daydreaming about you too? When is it your turn to have someone walk you home? When is it your turn to hold hands with someone? When is it your turn to feel the giddy butterflies and experience a good night kiss? When is it your turn to be kissed in the rain? When is it your turn to experience the romance you can only dream about?

How much longer will you have to be patient? How much longer do you have to wait, living in denial over the soul crushing reality of it all? How many more stars do you need to wish upon until you learn to accept the painstaking truth? You weren’t meant to be loved in this lifetime.

God, you love him.

It’s embarrassing when it shouldn’t be. You just want to be touched by hands that care, loved by a heart that beats for you, desired by someone who thinks you are enough. It’s the way you would give up ten years of your life in a heartbeat to experience being the prettiest girl in the room just once and have people look at you. The overwhelming shame washes over you when you never had your first kiss until now with a boy who never cared about you, never went on a date before, never had a boyfriend before, and you have to lie and say it’s by choice when it’s not. It’s not. You have so much love to give, you have so much space in your life to share, you have so much time to spend with that special someone, but the grains of the hourglass are spent waiting and longing for a stranger who will never come.

The thought of it all just makes you sick. It makes you sick that you wish so terribly that someone would just look in your direction for once. For once, you want to be looked at in that way like all the female protagonists experience in the movies. And you know your value shouldn’t be based on desire and objectification, you absolutely know it, but it still hurts when you go out with your friends and you’re the one dancing alone or sitting back and watching the purses. You’re the one standing there by yourself, while every single one of your pretty friends is being approached by someone. It still hurts so fucking bad when you try to put yourself out there, but guys have already moved past you or don’t even acknowledge your existence simply because of your face or a number on a scale. And when he came into your life and gave you one measly ounce of attention, you ran with it when you should have run away. It’s absolutely exhausting, leaving you out of breath and on the verge of throwing up, to chase after someone who never even looked at you, to chase after their attention, praying to god that they’ll one day make you feel like you are worth it, that you’ll finally feel some sort of value.

Forget ever being loved, you weren’t even wanted.

There is no such thing as happily ever after’s for the extras. Girls like you don’t get to star in love stories. Why did you ever think it would end differently?

You love him.

And he ruined you. Even worse, you let him.

You wish you never met Na Jaemin.

x. i can’t go out tonight. *fake coughs* i’m sick.

You would like to give a formal apology to Bella Swan for not understanding why she was so depressed over Edward leaving her for six months and making fun of her. In your defense, you were like nine years old when the movie came out, and you were more interested in Barbies back then (Plus, you were Team Jacob because you wanted a pet dog at the time).

You didn’t even go through a break up, but it sure as hell feels like one.

You probably would continue to wallow in your misery for weeks, clutching onto the only two men you could ever trust in your entire life: Ben and Jerry’s while watching every iconic 90s and early 2000s rom-coms on repeat if it weren’t for your best friends. But enough is enough, and you get that you shouldn’t be spending weeks crying over a boy who hasn’t even spent one second thinking about you. It’s just hard to take that first step back up again when you feel like you tripped and fell all the way down to rock bottom.

And so, you finally let your friends into your shared dorm room, and you definitely do not miss the poorly disguised look of disgust and shock when they see the giant mess on your side of the room (You’re very grateful that Giselle has been staying at her boyfriend’s place for weeks now). It’s an intervention at this point—one that you desperately need, and you know it.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” you sniffle, still wrapped up in your comforter like a giant burrito and clutching onto the ice cream carton like a lifeline. You know that your friends will just rip it off like a bandage, and you have mentally prepared yourself for it. Your voice comes out wobbly still from the tears, and you hate it. “I know I was stupid for letting a guy walk all over me like that. I know if any of you were in this situation, I’d tell you that you’re better than that and to get over him, but it’s just so hard to do it.”

“He who shall not be named is a scumbag, and I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him,” Lana states, pursing her lips together. “I hope he has a bad hair day every single day because I know he’d be screaming, crying, throwing up if he could never get a perfect selfie ever again.”

You choke back a sob, giving her a watery smile. “That would destroy him.”

“Good. Fuck him. Metaphorically, not literally. Why should you care if you are the girl of his dreams or not? Be the girl of your dreams. You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny and he’s just some guy who still doesn’t know how to use the correct ‘your’ in an Instagram caption.”

You can write down a thousand and one reasons why he was the most horrendous, most awful, most vile person to ever grace your life. But at the end of the day, why does it matter? What good would it do? You still love him, and that’s the worst pill to swallow.

“I just—I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Y/N, if you believed that Jaemin wasn’t a shitbag for the past four weeks and all the time before that in his life, then you can believe in yourself right now for two minutes and listen to me,” Lana says firmly, clutching onto your shoulders and forcing you to look her in the eye as she continues on, “Remember the Barbie movie? He’s just Ken. Ken doesn’t have a good day unless Barbie looks at him.”

“Yeah, like channel your inner Gina Linetti. Listen to Chelsea Peretti. ‘Men used to hunt.’ What’s Jaemin doing? He’s pushing twenty and doing aegyo on camera,” Moon chimes in, and Lana nods furiously in agreement before elbowing Yangyang in his rib not-so-subtly. “Contribute to the conversation, Yang.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” Yangyang says, pausing in the middle of your room and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh congrats, I didn’t know you could do that. But stop because you’re not good at it at all,” Moon says, completely ignoring the dirty look he throws at her immediately. The little exchange brings a small smile to your face and it feels nice to laugh. You’ve forgotten how to do that. You miss your friends. You’re grateful for them for not giving up on you when you already have.

“Come on, let’s go see ‘Crazy Rich Asians.’ It’ll be fun. We can watch Lana fangirl over seeing her favorite actor,” Moon encourages you, and Yangyang nods in agreement. “Yeah, she picked a better man after the Jaehyun fiasco.”

“Oh my god, let it go. I didn’t like him that much,” Lana huffs softly, grabbing one of your spare pillows and launching it square into his face in retaliation, and he lets out out a high pitched shriek that makes you giggle.

“Weren’t you gonna go see it with your best friend, Yang?” You ask, glancing over at him and he shakes his head, a slightly sour expression on his face. “Nah, she’s going with Dejun already.”

“So unfortunately, we’re stuck with him now,” Moon says solemnly as Yangyang immediately throws her a dirty look. The look on his face makes you laugh, and it makes you feel a little better and your heart a little lighter.

You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you; the right person will never make you beg. The right person would never chip away at you, erasing different parts of you, until you fit their picture perfect mold, until there’s nothing left of you. You would never have to call your friends at 4 am, drunk and crying for their validation, praying to whatever higher being is up there for them to take you back. Your friends have never looked at the scars and freckles dotting your skin and suddenly deemed you as unlovable. Your best friend wouldn’t call you fat and point out every single one of your insecurities. You are not unlovable because you decided to eat a third taco or decided to not wear makeup today or didn’t shave your legs. You may fight with your parents and siblings, but never once have you felt unloved by them. Never once did you have to get on your knees and plead for them to love you back.

You know you are worthy of love because your friends and family make it look so easy. They have shown you what love is really like time and time again. You’ve been a shitty friend these past few months, prioritizing a boy over the ones who really matter. They’ve been so patient with you this entire time, and with an open heart, you realize that it is time you finally start properly loving them and yourself too.

You are loved.

xi. that’s so not fetch!

Jaemin slinks out of the lecture hall, noting the dirty looks your friends have sent him from the other side of the room. He’s been standing outside of the classroom before the session starts for the past few weeks in hopes of catching you, looking like a complete creep (and definitely feeling like one). But what’s he to do when you wouldn’t return any of his texts or calls? It’s humiliating, and he feels smaller than an ant under a microscope.

He pretends to leave class early, staking out in the bathroom across from the classroom. Counting down the minutes, he sees the first wave of students pouring out from the classrooms and finally spots you. His heart jumps to his throat, and his hands begin to grow clammy.

You’re back to wearing your loose jeans and basic t-shirts, your favorite purple scrunchie wrapped around your wrist and an old Jansport backpack slung over your shoulder, decorated with pins of all those familiar characters from his favorite anime. Your face is bare, aside from tinted lip balm, and you’re smiling. You’re laughing at something your friend next to you says, and with a sinking heart, Jaemin realizes that perhaps maybe you are pretty in the slightest way.

He finds himself taking one step towards you, then another, maneuvering around the other students rushing to leave. He’s getting closer and closer, if he called out your name, you would hear him. But you wouldn’t stop for him this time. He knows that.

Jaemin is getting closer, just a few more steps until he can just stretch his hand out and tap your shoulder, and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest until a pretty manicured hand grabs his upper arm lightly.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

He pauses, turning around and seeing Somi staring back at him in surprise as she continues, “I thought you don’t have any classes at this time.”

“Yeah, I—” he hesitates, glancing over at your retreating figure and Somi follows his gaze, her eyes softening as she lets go of his arm.

“Oh, were you waiting for her? Sorry about that,” she apologizes, pulling away and he shakes his head, shrinking back. Maybe it was for the better that you got away. It’s probably a sign from the universe telling him to let it go.

“No, it’s okay. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway,” Jaemin admits at last, starting to slink off, and Somi furrows her eyebrows, a puzzled expression gracing her face as she hurries slightly to catch up with him, matching his pace. He exits the building, crushing the graded economics midterm with a red 89 circled at the top in his fist and shoving it haphazardly into the side pocket of his backpack usually reserved for his water bottle.

“What are you talking about? The two of you are practically glued at the hip. She adores you,” she laughs softly, tilting her head slightly as she glances over at him. He ignores her look, continuing on his way off of campus and towards his safe haven: a small dog friendly boba shop snug in between a bookstore and a 24 hour laundromat he frequents more often than he likes to admit.

“I honestly thought you’d ask her out at some point.”

Jaemin winces at that, her light response rubbing salt into his open wounds, stitches torn and bleeding, and he spits out the next words defensively, his pride rearing its ugly head again. “No way. I never liked her like that. She’s not my type at all. Have you seen her?”

“What is wrong with you?” Somi frowns at him, stopping in her tracks, and he halts, unable to look at her and throwing out a dismissive “What?” In her direction.

“Why are you talking about her like that? I thought you liked her,” she answers, staring at him in disbelief, and he curls his fingers into fists, gripping tightly as a multitude of conflicting emotions war inside of him. He starts to walk again, barely glancing over at Somi.

“She was just my tutor. I passed my midterm, so I don’t need to be around her anymore.” He responds weakly, uncurling and recurling his fingers into fists as he desperately tries to stay calm.

It was so much easier to pretend around his other friends. Aside from Jeno, they always took his words at face value, never one to pry. And Jeno would never push him, knowing that he would eventually come to him at his own pace. But Somi? He’s forgotten about how she can be after she’s been so busy with her schedule, missing out from the majority of hang outs for her social work and events, and their class schedules never overlapped. She can spot a lie a mile away. She actually cares. In a way, she reminds him of you, and he can’t bear to meet her gaze anymore.

“She’s your friend,” Somi retorts, following him into the boba shop, briefly stopping to pet the adorable Samoyed wagging its tail near the entrance. “You spent more time with her than any of us, except maybe Jeno. And you weren’t just studying in the library. I’ve seen her on your finsta and close friend stories.”

“Okay, and now she’s not. She’s not my friend anymore,” Jaemin answers sharply, punching his order into the self service machine. “It happens. People stop being friends. So back off, Somi.”

“Jeez, what is your problem?” she snaps back, following him towards the back, settling on a pillow in one of the comfortable nooks converted into a small seating area across from him. “I caught you following Y/N, and now you say you’re not friends?”

Jaemin hesitates, fiddling with one of the decorative pillows in his lap. “We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, but friends fight. You can apologize, right?”

Jaemin is silent.

Somi stares at him, and he wants to curl into himself. It’s the very same look you gave him before you shut the door in his face, and he feels the bile in his throat already. Her voice is quiet. “Jaemin, what did you do?”

“I—,” he whispers, breaking off and clenching his fists. He is already replaying that moment in his head, seeing the look of utter devastation on your face, and he wants to run away. The ugly truth is front and center, and he is unable to ignore it any longer.

“I fucked up, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jaemin bursts out, burying his face in his hands and unable to face his friend. He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “I said some shitty things to her, some really fucked up stuff.”

“Like fucked up as in messy drunk thoughts or fucked up, fucked up?” Somi says softly, hesitantly, as if she doesn’t want to believe her friend is the worst of the worst. Jaemin’s heart sinks even lower than rock bottom as he continues to hang his head low.

“I…” Jaemin’s voice is less than a whisper as he finally confesses the horrible truth to someone for the first time. His voice cracks as he recalls every single disgusting thing and insecurity he flung back into your face.

“I said that it would be stupid for her to believe in love at first sight, that she wasn’t up to my standards, that it’s her fault, that I was ashamed of her, ashamed that I even liked her because of the way she looked.”

The silence is deafening, and Jaemin feels the same wave of humiliation wash over him as it did on that very night. Somi is speechless, and he can’t bear to look at her, one hundred percent knowing that there would be a raw look of utter disgust and horror on her face because that is the exact way he would look at himself. He sits there in silence as the guilt and shame pile up even higher; he is past the point of wallowing in self pity, already drowning and gasping for breath.

“Jaemin… she was your friend,” she murmurs, gazing at him, mouth agape as the shock finally settles in, and he flinches slightly at the past tense. “She actually cared about you. She made you happy.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to you.” Somi continues quietly.

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. “I know.”

“Then why?”

Because I was stupid, he thinks silently, Because I am a coward. Because she embarrassed me. She made me feel small. She made me feel insignificant. She made me look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I absolutely hated what I saw staring back at me.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin whispers, staring down at his lap in resignation and unable to swallow the truth.

He knows.

xii. you can’t sit with us.

You continue to avoid Jaemin in Macroeconomics, choosing to slip into class at the very last minute. You see him waiting in front of the classroom every session for the past three weeks, searching for you, but you opt to go to the professor’s office hours every time before class and end up walking with her to class as she answers your questions about the assigned readings and problems. Alice saves you a seat in the front row, and you never told her but you’re grateful when you realize she must have asked her other friends to sit around the two of you, effectively barricading Jaemin from any attempt at sitting next to you. Finals week comes and goes with the winter break following suit, and you think he has finally given up on any attempt at reaching you.

But life has an unfortunate penchant for bringing up things—or people—you wish to forget when you least expect it. It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday four weeks into the spring semester, and you’re exiting your last class of the day, tucking your laptop into the cute tote bag you bought from the New York Strands bookstore as you walk across campus.

“Y/N.” Jaemin appears in front of you, and suddenly, all the air in your lungs seem to have been sucked out. It’s almost embarrassing how two months of self progress can be toppled over as easily as a house of cards. Your brain says to hate him, but one glance at him still has you weak in the knees. You take a deep breath, counting to three before walking around and ignoring him entirely.

“Please, can we just talk for five minutes? I’m sorry.” He desperately reaches out for you, and you can see some people starting to take note of the two of you, their gazes on your back.

“Leave me alone, Jaemin.” You continue to walk away, hiking up the strap of your bag higher over your shoulder, desperately trying to quell the stupid colony of butterflies in your stomach that have laid dormant for so long. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, just five minutes—three minutes—and I’ll leave you alone forever. Listen to me,” he says in a quiet tone. It was an order, a request, and a plea all at once.

You pause, scrutinizing him for a few moments before grabbing his arm and dragging him away from prying eyes. You stop on the secluded side of the building underneath the magnolia trees before dropping his hand. “You have two minutes. Talk.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Good to know you’re self aware. You’re finally experiencing some character growth.”

Jaemin grimaces at your stony expression. “Okay, that was deserved. I truly am sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and I’m an asshole who took advantage of you. You do deserve better. You deserve someone better than me. But I want to be that person. You make me a better person.”

You stay quiet, and Jaemin fidgets around. “Is that… is that okay? I know it’s selfish of me, but—”

“You’re right, that is selfish of you.”

Jaemin falls silent at that, face flushing before he speaks up meekly, “Can’t we start over? Try again?”

In that moment, you truly pity the boy in front of you. The lost expression on his face tells it all as he desperately clutches onto whatever lifeline you’re willing to toss out. But he’s causing you to drown, and you need to cut the cord and put yourself first for once. Maybe you can change him. But you can’t do this to yourself again.

You take a deep breath and pinch yourself, reminding yourself that this is the same boy who broke your heart because it wasn’t pretty enough for him. “There is no trying again. You never tried, and I’m done trying for you. Jaemin, you don’t love me. You’ve never felt that way towards me.”

“Yes, I have! I do! I really do,” he protests, and you shake your head, taking a step back. He starts to take one step forward towards you and hesitates, staying in his original spot. Your gaze is cold, and he finds himself wishing that you would look at him in the way you used to.

“You love the idea of me: the one you built up in your head,” you say, tone growing quiet. “But I’m nothing like her. To some degree, I think I might be the first genuine connection you ever made with a girl. You liked the way I felt about you and how I acted for you. I changed everything about myself for you, I would’ve followed you anywhere, I would’ve done anything for you, and you took advantage of that. You took advantage of the fact that I love you.”

You may not truly know what love is, but you know it’s something he never gave you. It stings, knowing that even after all of this, you still secretly, desperately long for the type of love you know will always be out of your reach. A part of you wants to believe him, but this time, you listen to your mind instead of your heart.

Jaemin’s head shoots up at your confession, eyes widening in belated realization, and you curl your lips inward, biting your lower lip. You love him. You love him, he now knows, and to your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Three steps forward and two steps back is still one step in the right direction.

“One day, you’re gonna find someone who’s finally enough for you—someone who’s worth making pancakes for,” you say wistfully, pausing for a minute before gathering the courage to continue.

“And you’re gonna fall in love with them. Like really love them. You’re gonna love them so much that you’ll try your hardest to be enough for them. You’re gonna try so fucking hard to be the one they want, the one they love, that you’ll do anything for them. You’ll even change yourself for better—or for worse.” You grip the strap of your tote bag even tighter, a dull pang in your heart making its appearance, and Jaemin winces, lowering his eyes as the regret and guilt pools into his stomach.

“But sometimes, it won’t be enough. It’s not going to be enough,” you continue, swallowing hard. “And it’ll never be enough for them. You’re willing to move heaven and earth for them, but they won’t notice. Or maybe they don’t even care. No matter how hard you try to love them, it won’t matter unless they want you. Unless they choose you. And it’ll hurt like hell. It’ll hurt every single time you see them, every time you hear them, every time you think of them.”

Your voice softens, shaking slightly as you take in a wavering breath before pushing forward. “And when it hurts, you’re going to think of me. You’re going to remember me because that’s when you’ll understand what it feels like. That’s when you’ll know how I felt. How it feels to not be enough. How it feels to have your heart ripped to shreds by someone you care about—someone you love.”

His heart drops, and you give him a wistful smile before it quickly disappears, and your expression schools into one of indifference. You continue to walk forward confidently, brushing past his frozen figure. You see your friends waiting for you on the other side of the lawn, and you look over your shoulder at Jaemin one last time, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself.

“And you know what? I hope to fucking god it hurts you as much as you hurt me.”

The world continues to spin, you keep moving forward, and he remains rooted in his spot, unable to look away from you. There are so many Barbies and Kens out there, so many more Na Jaemins who will come into your life and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll make them feel special and more than a pretty face, he belatedly realizes, he’s disposable and so easily replaceable, but there’s only ever going to be one you.

As he watches you walk away, Jaemin thinks he is starting to understand.

EPILOGUE.

Life likes to play cruel jokes, and the senior year gives you the most hilarious one of all in the form of your final capstone project. Last you heard about Jaemin, he had switched his major to pre med (which was ironic to you since that field would require him to care about other people, which he clearly proved to be incapable of). However, your university decided to implement a cross collaboration between the various schools, and it’s just your luck that you find yourself paired up with Jaemin. Giving him a tight smile as you take a seat across from him in the library room he reserved, you take out your laptop.

Jaemin had asked earlier if you wanted to request a new assigned partner, but you highly doubt any professor would switch up a pairing on account of one person being guilty of being the greatest asshole to ever exist (Plus, you’ll come across many guys like him in your field of work, so you might as well start building up your tolerance now).

It is the final time you will meet up with him before the big presentation, and the two of you work together in silence, only breaking it to discuss the project topic. It is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, settled somewhere in between—kind of like a purgatory for relationships. You’ve stopped thinking about him a while ago already, but seeing someone who once was a part of your life always brings back memories, whether wanted or not.

“I met someone.”

Jaemin breaks the ice, unable to hold it back any longer. He feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn't get this off of his chest. There is a slight pause in your writing before you resume, but he knows you are listening.

“I met her after… after our…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what to call it—what the two of you had. An almost relationship. “… After us.”

You continue to write, taking note of several points to be discussed based on your slide. He puts down his pen, clasping his hands together as he fiddles with one of the rings wrapped around his fingers.

“I made her blueberry pancakes.”

You sharply inhale for a brief millisecond before you jot down another bullet point. One, two, three, four, five bullet points until you can breathe normally again. You’re twenty two years old, but you suddenly feel like you’re eighteen again. You sometimes loathed your younger self, but because of her, you learned so many things (Forgiveness is one of them).

“I don’t know what else to do, except keep making her pancakes.” Jaemin sits there idly for a few moments, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil, before he laughs derisively, “She’s in love with my best friend. She never told me, but I can just tell.”

There’s another pause from him. Staring down at his notebook, he swallows hard, the lump in his throat never fully going away. His voice cracks as he whispers out his question:

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Your pen stops moving across the paper, dropping to the side. There’s a black scribble from where it fell. You still continue to look at the index card, focusing on the college ruled lines until they become a mosaic blur of blue, black, and white.

“Eventually.”

Your tone is impassive, and his head snaps up at your reply. You pick up the pen again. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s staring at you, an unrecognizable expression in his eyes.

Perhaps, it would have been different if you had met the present day him back then instead. Perhaps, it would’ve worked out. Maybe he would have made another girl fall in love with him, broke her heart, and come out unscathed. Or maybe he would still be the same as his past self if he hadn’t met you. It’s the butterfly effect; you don’t know what would have happened, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

By now, you have mourned him for longer than you have loved him.

“Y/N, you were never hard to love. I was bad at loving. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

And this time, you know he truly means it—that Jaemin truly understands. It is good that he has learned and tried to become a better person. You just wish it didn’t have to come at the expense of you.

Your first love teaches you what love isn’t.

The threads holding the pieces of your heart together these past three years have always been so fragile. Just one tug at the heart strings, and everything unravels so easily, like grains of sand slipping through your fingers. You’ve nearly forgotten what heartbreak feels like, the old wounds opening up for a long forgotten friend that you had prayed you would never meet again.

You discover that it hurts even more the second time around.

“I wish I fell in love with you back then.”

His tone is forlorn, a silent resolution wrapped in happenstance. You continue to write down more notes for your part of the presentation, the soft scritches of your pen against paper almost masking your quiet response, and Jaemin nearly misses it.

“So did I.”

1K notes · View notes

haologram · 3 months ago

Text

pink stationery ❤️‍🩹 w.jh

synopsis: everything with junhui has been a step towards something, but neither of you are very clear on what when it comes to the other. genre: co-workers to lovers ; angst, fluff. pairing: office worker!wen junhui x fem!reader word count: 7.9k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: it's stupidly vague and i'm sorry for that. minimal swearing, i guess? mentions of eating and food. they're just stupid what to listen to: starstarstar - dosii ; take me - miso ; say yes - seventeen ; heart burn - sunmi ; i was made for lovin' you - kiss. author's note: i'm going to be honest, i've been having a really hard time with life and i just wanted to write something regardless of deadlines and expectations. i also don't care if it makes sense, i just wanna write. i love my collabs, though, and they will get done. i just want to be vague and mysterious and stupid for a moment in time and not worry. welcome our beloved junhui to the haologram blog <3 i've missed him so dearly. [star dividers] by @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr, and thank you to cam for the bar name! enjoy!

HE SMELLS LIKE LUMBER SOMETIMES.

He smells like the tree trunks he chops for firewood at his cabin on the weekends, and he picks up pinecones. He dusts them off and examines them, and the best one is always promptly delivered to your desk by lunchtime on Monday afternoons.

That was the extent of your relationship with him, and really, any of your co-workers. He’d never spoken a word to you (not that you could remember, anyway) but has somehow figured out that you like pinecones. Particularly not ones that smell like cardboard boxes from the home section at Marshall’s.

No one speaks to you unless they need something, and rarely does someone need something from you as a person.

No invitations to drinks after work – you see them enough as it is. You hang up on remote meetings without saying much of anything, and you’re usually the first to leave the call without so much as a goodbye. Your emails and short and dry, signed off with only your name. You avoid the catered lunches provided by whatever restaurant your company paid out and stick to wedging yourself into the sixth-floor storage room with your package of fruit snacks and a sad turkey sandwich. There was a pink chair in the corner that you liked and tried multiple times to convince Mike (the janitor) to let you have but he refused.

You do not make eye contact during breaks, and you don’t stop by the break room for coffee or complimentary muffins. You lied about why once, when you were asked by a coworker – and absently claimed a gluten allergy, only to be seen eating bread a few hours later. That coworker hasn’t spoken to you since, and you don’t think she plans to.

But him?

He started talking about two years ago, a year after you joined the company. He started talking too much, you could argue, but he would say it’s just enough.

He’s too friendly, you thought. He dropped by your desk with a warm cup of tea every morning, if not your precious Monday morning pinecone. He slid a soft, lemon-blueberry muffin under your nose with a soft smile every once in a while. He asked you to lunch, to drinks, and he always sent you a separate follow-up email after remote meetings when he could very well just add your tasks to the bottom of the mass list he always sends in the group mail.

He was just above you on the corporate ladder, but you felt no pressure to answer him in terms of social interaction. He didn’t make it a point, either – he just existed in your vicinity, and only came into your space when you allowed. Quite like a cat, you are.

He told you about his life, quietly, calmly. He told you about how he learned wushu growing up, and how he played piano. He told you about how he got the cabin as a gift from a friend who was moving abroad, unlikely to return and much less spend time in the quiet woods surrounding your town. He told you about his late-night snacking habit, about his cat, Luna. He told you about his best friend, Minghao, and how he was the best man at his wedding a few years ago.

But above all?

He listened to you.

He looked at you like every word from your mouth held weight, carefully nodding along to your mumbled stories of troubled childhood. He listened to you talk about your favorite dish, your favorite color, even your theories about how middle children suffer the most. He laughed at your wry jokes, the dry humor – though he would bite it back at the deadpan comments you’d make during department meetings.

He always sat next to you in those department meetings. His knee was always just barely brushing yours, the soft material of his slacks making your skin prickle as it touched your bare thigh. He’d pass you doodled notes on his pink stationery with My Melody on the edges. He always adjusted the hem of your skirt down subtly when you stood up and pushed your chair in after you skirted around it. He waited until you’d gathered all your materials to leave, walking alongside you back to your desk even if his was across the office.

And it made people wonder what about you had his attention so deeply.

You’re not interesting to any of them, you never had been. You’re a liar (about a gluten allergy, of all things) and the kind of quiet that made them feel stupid if you looked at them for too long. They felt like you were judging them, when really – you were hoping they’d speed up their long-winded questions to end the painfully awkward social aspect of you fixing their problems.

Sometimes, he’d send you home early to help you escape their judging eyes.

He’d send you an email – the subject line usually only taken up by “🏠?” The body usually contained nothing more than a new picture of Luna, but you always appreciated it.

He’d be looking over the edge of his monitor to watch you hear the dreaded Outlook ding, your eyes slightly lighting up at the sound before really brightening the moment you saw it was him. You’d look over the edge of your monitor, raising a brow that didn’t hide your shy smile as you sent him an email back before quietly packing your bag and slipping out of the office.

It was always just a meme you’d found during your lunchtime Pinterest scroll – one you’re sure he’d seen you add to your shared board.

Because, of all things, he’d chosen to first share his Pinterest with you. You saw his dream home, vintage cars, cool jewelry and the stupid memes he liked you send you in the middle of the night when he was thinking of you.

You still reread that text, he sent it over a year ago.

MESSAGE FROM: Wen Junhui ♡ [2:32AM] of course i think about you. [2:33AM] i think about you all the time. after breakfast, when you try to sneak out of the office to hide in that storage room upstairs. even outside of work, sometimes i see things i think you’d like. but i mostly think about you now. [2:34AM] i think it’s a comfort that you pass my mind before i go to bed. or maybe just an association i've made with the fact that i check our board every night to see if you’ve added anything. [2:35AM] but...i prefer the former, honestly. goodnight, y/n. sleep well. ♡

You added the little heart to his contact name that same night.

Granted, things between you and him never went further. He talked to you, he walked with you around the office, he gave you many ways to contact him outside of work even if you never texted him first. He shared moments of his day with you if you missed work or worked from home – which was rare and always worried him. He would send pictures of a lone pinecone sitting on your mousepad if you weren’t there when he delivered it, followed by whatever random emoji he felt fit the mood. Sometimes it was a hazelnut, sometimes it was a cat.

Sometimes, it was the heart wrapped in a bandage.

You tried not to overthink it.

But it was hard not to notice the whispers about him.

How a lot of your coworkers talked about him, and how cute he is. How sweet, smart, gentle. How he’s soft-spoken until he’s around his friends, even though you knew that his best friend was just as soft spoken. He worked two floors down, Xu Minghao.

You met Minghao and his wife (and the rest of their shared friends) the first time you were ever invited out for drinks – and the first time you ever hesitated to say no.

Junhui managed to get you right in the nick of time, too – right as the clock struck five. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to log out of your programs when he leaned over the wall of your cubicle with a twinkle in his eye that made your chest ache.

“Have a drink with me. My friends are coming, too, but you know. I’ll be there.”

And you had more than a drink – you had a good time. You had three blood orange margaritas and a sip of his beer, but it was like you were shining brighter than a million suns. You let yourself sink into the soft vinyl of the booth, surrounded by him and his scent and his friends. You let yourself talk, out loud and with gusto about everything. You were uninhibited, and you remember how they all warmly smiled as Junhui pushed your hair out of your eyes as you talked about how there was no way the megalodon shark was extinct.

He walked you home that night, the two of you a little too tipsy to navigate the train or drive. He walked on the sidewalk closest to the street and held your pinchy heels in his fingers, letting you skip around and complain about the humidity. He only smiled, his hip bumping yours every once in a while, when you swayed a bit too far.

When you got back to your apartment, he waited against the railing in front of your doorstep to watch you step inside. You remember hesitating before asking him if he wanted to come in for a nightcap.

His eyes widened, and for a moment – he considered it. You saw how his eyes flickered to your lips, before he cleared his throat.

“Maybe another night. Thank you for coming out with me tonight, I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.”

It hadn’t been, but his soft rejection was certainly disappointing. You shook your head then, staring at him for a split second more before speaking.

“It was nice. I��d...I’d like to do it again, sometime. Just us.”

You smiled softly, before giving him a curt nod and slipping into your apartment before he could respond. You leaned against the door, sliding down the cool wood before hearing him utter a soft goodnight.

Since then, the two of you had gone for drinks over and over again – just the two of you, and with his friends. When it was just you, he’d talk about everything and anything under the sun. But when it was with his friends?

They really liked you, enjoying the excitement that they never saw in the office. One of them, Kwon Soonyoung in finance, offhandedly mentioned that they hadn’t known you and Junhui were friends until he started mentioning you at random moments. Your face had felt hot as the rest of them giggled and agreed, with Minghao’s wife letting it slip that ‘random moments’ meant any time he could.

“Yeah, he brings you up a lot. Oh, Y/N likes this. Y/N would love that. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. It’s so cute.”

You don’t remember Junhui refuting it, but you remember the flustered blush that settled in his cheeks after that. Things between you and him didn’t change, though.

Until they did – one month, three days later, Junhui got a girlfriend.

It was like he had vanished entirely – gone were the warm cups of tea on your desk, the muffins, the pinecones. No more invites to lunch or drinks with him or his friends. No longer did you receive emails asking if you wanted to go home early, no more pictures of Luna, no more separate follow-up emails outlining your tasks after remote meetings.

None of it really bothered you, until you realized that your shared board hadn’t been updated by him in a while. Then, you noticed it, truly – he'd unfollowed you. Pinterest, Instagram, even Spotify. Spotify!

He didn’t sit next to you at department meetings, either. No more passed notes, no more pushing your chair in. And he rushed out right after, not bothering to even speak to you.

And people noticed.

You hadn’t realized that by allowing yourself to associate with Junhui and his friends, you became more than a blip on people’s radar. People knew your name; they knew your face. The girls gossiped about what he could possibly see in you, unaware that you were reapplying deodorant in one of the stalls. Men speculated about your relationship status, wondering amongst themselves if you were open-minded – while they stood outside for a smoke, making you scrunch your nose in disgust at them for more reasons than one.

People knew you – his friends, still said hello in the hallways. Minghao, gave you warm smiles and extended invites to drinks that you’d swiftly decline – with excuses of working late, of being tired, or whispering that time of the month. He always nodded, smiled...but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Once you realized Junhui was avoiding you for what you believed was a girlfriend, it took you less than twelve hours to get back to your reserved demeanor. As long as you didn’t make noise in your cubicle, no one came around – and people realized then that your gaze wasn’t mean to intimidate or judge, but to time. You didn’t want to talk to anyone you didn’t have to, more than you needed to – and that was bothersome to most of them.

Of course it was; in their minds, they’re great.

They’re a catch, they’re fun to be around.

But they’re not him.

They’ve never cared to ask you a single thing about yourself beyond your relationship status and where you got your shoes. You always just stared until they left or mumbled something about the local DSW.

Things with him never returned to the easy friendship you thought was starting to form, even as you rung in the new year at the company party. It made you sad.

Maybe because you had a bit of a crush on him, actually.

You thought a little too hard about the meanings behind his messages, the pictures of his weekend retreats to his cabin that he insisted you were always welcome at, especially if his friends were there. You missed the shared memes, the shared playlists, the way he’d sometimes find you inside the sixth-floor storage room, sitting on the dusty pink chair that always made him smile a little too fondly.

You liked Junhui, more than just a cubicle crush that you could discuss with your girlfriends that you didn’t have.

But he had one. One that meant more to him than you ever would, even with the way he opened his heart to you.

You thought about what he shared with you – videos of him playing the piano at Minghao’s wedding for his first dance with his wife. He shared his presence and comfort, often walking you home and your hands always brushed. You felt like a schoolgirl every time you’d tuck your hand into your pocket. You once got caught in the rain together and stood under the bus stop before he fished his headphones out of his pocket and gave you one.

He played starstarstar by Dosii as he pulled you out from under the safety of the bus stop, and the two of you walked to your apartment instead. Hand-in-hand, soaked to the bone, with the string of his headphones forcing even more proximity that made your cheeks heat.

You don’t remember who interlaced your fingers. If it was you...you’re still happy. It means he was okay with it, maybe he wanted to.

If it was him?

He definitely wanted to.

However, it’s all filed in your memories now – because you look over your monitor to see his brows fixed in concentration as he types across his keyboard, with you not even a blip on his radar. You watch carefully as he reads his own words over and over, before his eyes flicker up and meet yours.

You’re not surprised when his shoulders sag for the umpteenth time, and he looks away.

Like he wants to say something. Like he wants to talk to you, but the words get caught in his throat and he can’t seem to get them out. It’s been a year since you’ve spoken, and you would’ve forgotten the sound of his voice if he wasn’t your co-worker – but you never forget that night last spring, drenched in the rain.

You would’ve kissed him; you could have kissed him.

It’s spring, again.

You walk to the train station after work in silence, with nothing playing in your headphones for the first time. You sit in between an elderly couple and a lone high school girl absently staring at a long thread of messages on her phone. They’re all left unanswered, and she repeatedly fills the text box with words before deleting them and starting over.

You feel like that girl – except she’s brave enough to ask for answers and you’re gripping your purse in a claustrophobic panic.

It’s a Wednesday in summer when you finally get tired of waiting for answers. Almost a year to the date when he first asked you to get drinks with him, you get an idea.

Have a drink with me tonight.

That's all it says.

You stand over the copy machine, the sticky note you scribbled on moments earlier folded neatly in your hand. You wrote and rewrote it at your desk, your hands trembling and smearing the ink. You had to walk past his desk to submit the paperwork you were making copies of, and you planned to slip it onto his mousepad on the way back to your own.

You don’t get a chance to do that, though.

Your eyes are closed when you hear the copy room door open, but you don’t bother to look up as that same woodsy smell fills your nostrils.

He doesn’t speak, but you know it’s him.

You know, from the smell of lumber and the click of his shoes and the tension that makes you feel suffocated as you peer over your shoulder. He’s silent, thumbing at his own paperwork. He only glances up when he feels your eyes on him, but this time, you don’t look away.

His jacket is gone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie slightly loosened. You’d stare if it wasn’t against girl code to ogle someone else’s man.

You turn, fully facing him as your last copy gets stapled by the machine and slides out. You gather them in your arms, before holding them to your chest and holding the sticky note out to him between two fingers. He glances at the hot pink paper, swallowing carefully before reaching for it.

You give him a soft smile, before spinning on your heel and heading out of the room without a word.

You’re moving at lightning speed to get out of the office before he can get a chance to catch up with you – shoving your copies into your manager’s hands with a rushed run-down of the day’s events and outages. You thank her with a bow, before beelining for your desk and yanking your purse out of the bottom drawer.

You make it to the elevator without him noticing you, your eyes catching a flash of his white shirt and the hot pink paper unfolded in his hand.

You feel your phone buzz in your hand as you reach the lobby.

NEW! Message From: Wen Junhui (WORK) [5:32PM] where?

It’s nearing seven when he finally has the courage to get out of his car.

He’s been sitting in front of the bar for ten minutes, hoping to see you walk by. If you’re late, you won’t notice that he is.

Message From: Y/N ♡ [5:35PM] at dizzy’s [5:35PM] 6:30?

He waits another three minutes, watching the corner before his hand finally grabs the door handle and pulls.

He sees you almost instantly, sitting quietly at a booth in the back. You’re not in your work clothes anymore, instead wearing a soft red dress and your hair is pinned back. You’re smiling at the waiter, who seems to be really interested in talking to you as he slides a margarita on the table. He holds the menu out, only for you to shake your head.

He watches your glossed lips shape around the words: I’m waiting for someone.

Him. He’s the someone.

He wants to be the only one. Ever.

He tongues his cheek as the waiter nods, patting the vinyl of the booth above your head. You lean your head back slightly, closing your eyes as your forefinger picks at your thumb’s cuticle. A nervous habit of yours, one he’d picked up on the first time he spoke to you.

About pinecones, actually – but you don’t remember that at all. He doesn’t know what possessed him to bring them up – but he learned, through your hushed whisper in the elevator that morning – that you liked them. You like pinecones, because they are so diverse while all still being the same thing.

He hadn’t understood it then, but he did now – albeit differently.

He was like the pinecones, because he tried to show you that he liked you in so many ways...through the invites to drinks, the lunch, the shared memes.

The pinecones.

Sliding warm tea on your desk and lemon-blueberry muffins, to cracking jokes and passing notes to you on his pink My Melody stationery. To pulling your hair out and brushing your hair out of your face, to letting his friends embarrass him by practically outing his interest in you every time they got together with you and him for drinks at this very bar.

To walking you home, even in the rain, just to spend a little more time with you.

Only to realize that it was futile, because you didn’t see him that way.

You didn’t see him as more than a friend, but he’s not brave enough to tell you why you should.

“Hi.”

Your voice is smooth as he finally slides into the booth opposite you, his skin warming at the sound of it. He clears his throat, giving you a curt nod as he adjusts himself in his seat. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it to the side before feeling guilt begin to settle in his stomach.

“Sorry. I was...”

He gives up on coming up with an excuse, only running his hand through his hair as you nod. Your manicured fingers stir your straw in figure eights, the flash of an heirloom ring you never take off catching his eye. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Your eyes are curious, before tilting your head. “Being late? It happens.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t know, before clearing his throat again when the waiter swoops in to save the day. He internally thanks whatever God is out there as he asks for a beer, earning a scrunch of your nose as the waiter nods and leaves once more.

You don’t say anything as he shifts, only stare. Maybe through him, maybe into him.

He doesn’t mind the warmth of your gaze. He never has.

“I didn’t know getting a girlfriend meant you’d treat me like I never existed.” You start softly, his eyes widening as you purse your lips. “I understand creating distance, because there is someone new. Someone who could perceive you and I as something more, when it’s not.”

“I...I don’t know what to say.” He admits lamely, the shock of you thinking he has a girlfriend not yet settling into his bones. “Who told you I have a girlfriend?”

You only shrug, taking a quick sip of your drink before shaking your head.

“Does it matter?”

He blinks, when the waiter slides the beer bottle on the table as he passes by. He touches it, the glass cold as he tongues his cheek.

If this is a way to get over you, by getting you believe there is someone else when there isn’t -- he’ll take it. He’ll take it because then it means he never has to tell you how he feels, and he’ll never have to face the way you reject him so kindly.

“I guess not.” “Mmh.”

You trace circles into the side of your glass with your thumb, before another smile graces your lips.

“Are you happy?”

How could you ask him that?

Of course he’s not happy.

He hasn’t had a proper conversation with you in an entire year, and he’s been too much of a coward to admit that he wants more. He wants to kiss you in the elevator, in the break room, in the storage room on the sixth floor during your lunch break. He wants to hold your hand on the way to department meetings, under the table at drinks with your friends, on the walk to your apartment before you pull him in for a good night kiss. He wants to come into your apartment for a fucking nightcap without knowing he’ll say too much and lose any chance of ever being more to you.

So instead, he pulls away.

He stops talking to you, he removes you off every social media platform he can think of, so he doesn’t have the urge to peek at your dream home board on Pinterest, or the way your dream wedding is so similar to his. So he doesn’t have to be subjected to the cute outfits you post on your Instagram story before you leave your apartment for work, even though he’ll just see it when you arrive and he’ll have to take a deep breath so he doesn’t scream about how nice you look.

So he doesn’t have to know that you’re listening to the playlist he made for you to stay calm in the packed morning train on the way to work.

On the way to him.

“No.”

Your eyes soften, your brows scrunching in that same worried way they do when you’re listening to someone explain their problems to you at work. You nod, that comforting look of understanding glazing over your eyes.

“Can I ask why?”

He doesn’t bother responding, his mind racing as he thinks about all the pinecones sitting in his car, the ones that he’s deemed perfect enough to place on your desk but hasn’t been able to. He thinks about the way you slip out of the office and how your heels sound as you sneak upstairs to the sixth floor during lunch. He thinks about when Mike caught him off-guard by coming down to his desk and saying that you liked a pink chair that was in the storage room and kept asking about it.

A pink chair that used to belong to him, when he first got the company a few months before you did.

He sighs, fishing his wallet out of his pocket and sliding two twenties on the table.

“No. It’s better if you don’t.”

He doesn’t allow himself to look at you as he slides out of the booth, his hand gripping his suit jacket much too tightly for it to go unnoticed. You don’t stand, only nod as you take another sip of your drink.

“I hope it gets better. Have a good night, Junhui.”

He fights back tears as he makes his way out of the bar, your understanding look stuck in his mind as he drives home. He doesn’t bother looking at the pinecones in his backseat or changing the playlist that blares through his speakers when he connects his phone – a playlist you made for him, for his long drive home from work.

You’re in everything he holds dear to him. The music, the cabin – even if you’ve never been there. You know him, everything about him that is worth knowing in his eyes.

Except the fact that he’s in love with you, and that he’s a liar.

JUNHUI ISN'T AT HIS DESK ON THURSDAY. OR FRIDAY.

The whispering starts on Monday, with lots of wayward glances towards you and you almost want to go down to Minghao’s desk and ask if Junhui is okay.

But you don’t -- you glue yourself to your chair until lunch time, only to see that the pink chair you loved is no longer in the storage room. Mike tells you that the original owner took it out on Wednesday night and offers a soft apology. You shake your head and say it’s okay, before turning around and going back to your desk.

You arrive at your desk on Tuesday morning to your desk chair missing. There is a warm cup of tea on a coaster, and a cranberry orange muffin in front of your keyboard – but none of it distracts from the sudden pop of color next to your mousepad.

A plastic pink storage box.

You don’t bother to put your purse down as you crack the corner up, and your eyes widen as you realize it’s full of pinecones. There’s an envelope attached to the underside of the lid, and you pluck it off carefully before leaning against your desk. You peel it open gently, only to see the familiar pink My Melody stationery.

Junhui.

You ignore the urge to look up at his desk to see if he’s watching you over his monitor, feeling eyes from your co-workers trickling in as they spot the pink box. His handwriting is scrawled in purple ink across the stationery, and your heart sinks as you take in the slightly smudged words.

My Y/N,

I’m sorry about Wednesday. In fact, I’m sorry about the past year that I’ve gone without speaking to you. I have no excuse, only an explanation that probably won’t make things any better but will certainly give you some clarity.

I pulled away because I knew things would get too much for me. I’ve got a weak heart, and I can’t take rejection well – so I figured I’d cut ties first. It never worked, cutting contact with you; I found myself constantly missing the sound of your voice. I wanted so badly for you to reach out first, but I should’ve known better than to expect that when I was the one who wedged my way into your life. Our friendship was fun, and I miss listening to playlists with you during the walks to your apartment, but it simply can’t be anymore.

I like you so much, it’s painful to be around you and know you don’t feel the same.

I wanted to kiss you that night last spring. The rain and everything, it felt like a movie. Maybe that’s corny, and maybe it’s too forward but it doesn’t matter anyway because nothing will come of this. I’m sorry, for being too much of a coward to ever explain this to you in person. And for telling you now, through a letter written on stationery.

With this, I’ve got to admit something; finding out that you think I have a girlfriend when you’re all I’ve been able to think about since that first day we spoke is insane to me. Where do you get your gossip from? Is it a subscription? Unsubscribe effective immediately.

Speaking of effective immediately, I’ve taken a new position at a new company. So not only am I a coward for confessing this way, but also because I’m running away from it all. I don’t think I could handle not going home to you, even after seeing you all day. I’m not equipped for the agony of a silent, one-sided office romance that you read about in books.

I recommended you for my position. Don’t worry, people won’t talk to you nearly as much as they do now; but still...have fun, yeah?

I hope you enjoy these pinecones, for whatever you might end up using them for – and the pink chair. Funny, it belonged to me when I first got to the company. That’s why Mike never gave it up, but he told me you liked it so I figured you should have it.

Now it belongs to you! Quite like my heart.

Have a good day, Y/N. I’ll miss you.

Always and forever yours, Junhui ♡

Your chest aches as you realize all the opportunities have slipped through your fingers.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Wen said he’d like for you to have this.”

Mike startles you as you see the pink chair being rolled behind your desk, the fabric pristine and the small stain from spilled coffee at the edge is gone. Your fingers flit across the headrest, before you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Guess he changed his mind, huh?”

He only smiles, nodding his head before turning on his heel and leaving.

You look at the cup of tea. It’s still hot, so it must’ve been placed recently. You glance over at his desk; how vacant it looked. Almost like how your chest feels after having your heart ripped out.

You don’t really notice that you’re moving until you’re in the elevator, nervously nibbling on your lip as you frantically press on Minghao’s floor number while balancing the box of pinecones on your hip. It feels like an eternity as the damn thing jostles, and you nearly trip as it finally opens on the third floor. You beeline for Minghao’s desk in the back, only to see him quietly arriving with his headphones slid over his ears and his wife’s lipstick still stamped on his cheek.

He glances up as he feels your presence behind him, his eyes widening before a smile graces his lips.

“Y/N! What brings you down here?”

“Where is he?” You blurt, your hand still holding the note. He raises a brow, sliding his headphones off and onto the desk as he takes a seat in his desk chair.

“Where is who, sweetheart?” “Junhui.”

His lips form an o-shape, making him nod before he shrugs.

“Why should I tell you?”

You gape at him, almost losing your grip on the box on your hip.

“Because you obviously know, and if you care about me–” “Tell me why I should tell you, Y/N.”

You huff, your cheeks hot as you tap your foot. He tilts his head, an expectant look in his eyes before he speaks again.

“I do have work to do, you know.”

“Because I need to tell him that I...” You choke on your words, scoffing out a humorless laugh as you feel your eyes sting with tears. “Because I need to tell him that he’s an idiot.”

“You can text him that, you know.” “I’d rather die than text him how I feel.” “So, you admit you feel some type of way about him.”

He grins, slim fingers typing his password into his computer. You scowl.

“I never said anything of the sort.” You argue, and Minghao gives you a look that says, really bitch?

“You like him. It’s obvious to all of us, everyone in this office.” He reaches for his water bottle, his fingers aptly flicking the cap open. “So, admit it. Admit you have feelings for Wen Junhui, and I’ll give you the information you want.”

You look at the crumpled stationery in your hand, your heart swelling slightly at his handwriting.

My Y/N. Always and forever yours, Junhui ♡

“I love him.” You mumble softly as you stare at the paper, not catching how Minghao’s eyes widen. “I’m in love with him, Hao.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, before looking up to see Minghao looking at you with a soft glaze over his eyes.

“I expect you and your boyfriend to get drinks with my wife and I this weekend in exchange for this.” His tone is warning as he reaches for a pen, his hand swiping a sticky note off the pad. You nod, ignoring the way your cheeks heat at the idea of Junhui being your boyfriend as he holds out the green paper. “Here, leave that. I’ll keep it safe, so you don’t have to lug it around.”

He holds his hands out for the box, and you hesitate before carefully placing it down. You open the corner, taking one of the pinecones out with a wince as he raises a brow before you shove it in your purse.

“I can explain.” “Over drinks this weekend. I’ll work out your attendance with your department manager.”

You smile gently, glancing down at the sticky note. It’s an address to an apartment building.

“Thank you, Minghao.” “Go, sweetheart. You’ll get caught in the rain if you stay any longer.”

And you go.

You don’t bother waiting for the elevator, practically flying down three flights of stairs. You sprint out of the lobby, nearly slamming into yet another of Junhui’s friends, Joshua, before yelling an apology over your shoulder. You make it outside, holding both pieces of paper in one of your shaking hands while the other fishes your phone out of your purse.

A fat raindrop falls on the screen as you map out how far the address is, and you almost welcome the cool water falling onto your cheeks as you run to the train station.

NEW! Message From: Hao [8:02AM] day 1 of my best friend being a traitor. how is working from home, you bitch?

Junhui snorts as the message comes in, settling carefully in his desk chair. He feels a bit alone as he texts back a simple, I’m sorry; the usual soft chatter of the office replaced by the sound of his aircon blasting. Everything feels too casual – his white t-shirt tucked into his blue jeans, the softness of his house slippers instead of his usual heavy dress shoes. He feels like he’s waiting for a lunch date with one of his friends, rather than signing into work for the day.

He looks over the edge of his monitor, no longer seeing your warm eyes looking back at him; but a cat calendar flipped to July. He rolls his shoulders back, sighing inwardly when his phone buzzes incessantly on the desk.

Your contact photo fills the screen.

INCOMING CALL FROM: Y/N [PLEDIS]

He feels the entire world stop. His breath is caught in his throat, and he suddenly can’t feel his limbs. He watches the phone ring until the call fails, nearly falling out of his chair as he stands up and grabs it. His hands are shaking too hard for him to press the missed call notification, only for you to call back again.

His chest is tight as he shakily breathes out, his thumb swiping across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“I wanted to kiss you that night, too. I have never once though back to that night and didn’t feel regret knowing I didn’t kiss you.”

You sound slightly out of breath, and the sound of rain is loud in the background. He feels his stomach drop to his ass; feet rooted to his spot in his office.

“Y/N, I–” “You don’t have to say anything. Just come outside.”

He blinks as the call ends, staring at his reflection in the dark screen.

You’re outside.

“Shit.”

He nearly stumbles as he darts out of his office, beelining for his coat closet and shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. He grabs the umbrella that leans against the frame of his front door, not bothering to grab his keys as he fumbles with the lock and throws the door open. A rumble of thunder startles him as he quickly shuts the door behind him, his fingers trying to fiddle with the umbrella when he hears your voice echo through the complex.

“Junhui!”

He glances over the railing, his eyes darting all over the courtyard before spotting you a few feet from the stairs. You’re wearing the black dress you wore the first time he’d spoken to you, and the attempt to wear open-toed shoes was ruined by the rain.

“Wen Junhui! Get down here!”

He feels laughter bubble up in his chest as he realizes you’re completely drenched, your hair is stuck to your face and your dress is practically dripping like the clouds above.

“You come up! It’s pouring out here!” “No, you have to come down here! I came all this way, it’s only fair!”

He can’t really see your smile from where you are, but he can hear it. He can hear it and it’s like the rain doesn’t matter. It’s like this very moment proves he was an idiot not to overthink all those intimate moments between the two of you – the way your eyes would light up at his stupid emails, the way you’d let his hands linger on your neck or ears after brushing your hair out of your eyes. All the playlists, all the similarities down to the fact that you both want marigolds for your dream weddings.

The way you interlaced your fingers that night last spring, and he’s so glad you did.

“Junhui!”

He shakes his head, dropping the umbrella on his doormat before sprinting to the staircase, hearing his heart pounding in his ears as he barrels down the stone steps.

“What...what are you doing here? You’re going to get sick, I...”

He trails off as he realizes you’re staring at him with a sparkle in your eye he can’t swallow. Your smile is all teeth, and he feels his chest ache as you shrug innocently. You take a step closer, tilting your head.

“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”

He feels his cheeks hot, and he absently runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re drenched, Y/N.” “I was that night, too. We both were.”

You shrug again, before stepping out from under the stairwell back into the rain. You hold your hand out, the rain pelting it as he hesitates to take it. You wiggle your fingers, making him tongue his cheek as he takes it, letting you pull him out into the rain. You hand slides up his arm and cradles his jaw gently, and he fights himself not to lean into it but ultimately fails.

“I told Minghao I’d tell you you’re an idiot.”

He snorts, “Is that on his behalf or yours?”

“Mostly mine, but I’m sure he has his own things to say about the matter. A year, Junhui? A whole year.” Your lip is jutted in a pout, and he sighs as the rain starts to soak in through his shirt. His hair is starting to stick on his forehead, and your hand swipes it back.

“I’m sorry. I know that it’ll never be enough to say it, but I truly mean it.” He gently touches his forehead to yours, his heart warming at the way you peer up at him through wet lashes. “I don’t blame you if you don’t forgive me, either. It was a shitty thing to do.”

He hates how your eyes soften, because he feels his knees grow weak as your other arm loops around his neck. He tentatively wraps his own around your waist, pulling you closer and he swears he sees your smile grow shy.

“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t think hearing you out would be worth it.” You say softly, and a rumble of thunder makes you both flinch. A laugh escapes you, before your thumb strokes his cheek gently.

“Is this still like last spring?”

He smiles softly, “No.”

“Did you ever think this would be the first time you get to kiss me? Like this?”

He laughs, “No.”

“Is it better, though?” “Considering I’d hoped we would’ve gone on a date—” “Say yes before I regret coming all this way.” “Yes.”

Neither of you move, but he feels it. He feels the same feeling of want he did that night, the same feeling of yearning that floated off you without a single word. You tilt your head up, your nose brushing his lightly .

“I’m really cold.” “I told you to come up.” “This is more romantic.” “I hope you know ‘romantic’ can also cost you three sick days at work.”

“You’re worth all my sick days, Wen Junhui.” You mutter, pressing your lips to his. He can’t help but smile into it, his arm tightening around your waist as his other hand cups your face softly.

All the warmth from your eyes, the bashfulness of your smiles, the kindness of your heart is too much for his heart to handle. He can’t believe you’re really here, in his arms...your lips so, so soft and eager against his.

“We have to go inside. You’re going to get sick.” He forces himself to pull away, his heart melting at the way you chase his lips slightly. You frown, and he can’t help but press a chaste kiss to your pouted lip. “We can kiss all you want inside the apartment, I promise.”

You don’t seem embarrassed at all as you smile at the mention of it, even if he feels his own cheeks grow hot as you nod. He feels his entire chest swell slightly as you interlace your fingers with his and pull him towards the stairwell, biting back his giddy smile.

YOU SMELL LIKE LUMBER SOMETIMES.

You smell like the tree trunks he chops for firewood at his cabin on the weekends, and you roast his marshmallow for him – despite Minghao’s teasing.

He still picks up pinecones. He dusts them off and examines them, and the best one is always promptly delivered to you at lunchtime as he drops by the company to whisk you away. The lunch invitations that once meant you’d be holed away in the storage room with a less-sad turkey sandwich from the deli down the block, now meant you’re getting bombarded with kisses before he finally lets you get out of his car with your to-go cup of iced tea.

That wasn’t nearly the extent of your relationship with him. Now, he has a photo of you on his desk at home – and you have one of the two of you together on yours. Your pink chair is complimented often by your coworkers, and you’ve apologized to Diane for lying about a gluten allergy.

Though you’re back to being under the radar, people notice the changes. They notice that Junhui, who no longer works alongside them, is still frequently in the lobby – but he’s picking you up. He’s kissing you; he’s spinning you around and calling you, my love.

No one speaks to you unless they need something, and rarely does someone need something from you.

But Junhui?

He can’t help but need you every single day. He slips his pink stationery love letters into your purse before you leave his apartment on Sunday nights, even if he’s begged you to stay the night just one more time. He accepts invites to anything that means he can bring you with him -- drinks with Minghao, lunch with his mother, even a weekend trip that was meant to be strictly business, but he spent most of the time that he wasn’t presenting glued to you in the hotel room.

Junhui doesn’t let you take the train anymore. Junhui takes your shy offers for a nightcap that usually end up with you kissing him breathless on your couch off two glasses of wine. Junhui, of all things, holds your hand on the table at drinks with his friends that are now yours, too.

Junhui listens – to your complaints about work; to your theories about birthstones and how whoever chose them was clearly biased for September to have the sapphire; to your sweet whispers as you slip your hand down his shorts late at night, and the whiny moans of his name that slip from your throat when he’s pinned you against his mattress.

But above all?

Junhui loves you.

Unabashedly, uninhibitedly and irrevocably.

428 notes · View notes

minarisplaything · 10 months ago

Text

I Know What You Want ft. Wonyoung

premise: Inspired by those "your birth month is your ex gf and your current gf" slideshows on tiktok. Might do more of these because they are light and fun.

pairing: Wonyoung x Male Reader content warning/kinks: cheating, daddy kink, anal a/n: happy sunday, always lube up properly o7 audio version (note: audio version is without daddy kink bc i got too lazy to edit around it) wc: 2.4k

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Wonyoung asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

"You sound jealous."

She shrugged. "I'm not jealous. I just didn't realize Sunmi-sunbaenim was into robbing the cradle."

"I'm twenty-one," you pointed out. Surely grown enough to make your own decisions on who you dated.

"She's thirty-two," Wonyoung countered.

You let out an annoyed sigh, "I'm not doing this with you today, Wonyoung. Why did you want to meet?"

Wonyoung bristled at your directness, her posture straightening as she scoffed. "You start fucking some hag and you start acting brand new around me."

"Some hag? Really? Wasn't it you who kept saying how much you adored Sunmi-sunbaenim?"

"That was before she took what was mine."

You let out a bark of dry laughter. "I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, Wonyoung."

A healthy response would have been to accept the setting of boundaries and acknowledge their mistake. Which naturally meant that Wonyoung took your words as a challenge.

"Is that right?" she asked, taking a step towards you. "You belong to her now, huh?"

"That's right." Which wasn't exactly true. You didn't think you belonged to anyone but something about the entitlement she was acting with made you respond out of indignation.

What you didn't expect was for her hand to reach out, manicured fingers sliding down to grasp your crotch. "Then why do I still get you hard?"

"Wonyoung -- "

A thin eyebrow arched itself, the picture of arrogance. "Are you going to deny it?"

"Your delusional."

"Am I?" She began to massage your cock over your clothing, and despite your protest, your cock was all too eager to respond to her familiar touch. "Are you telling me if I bent over right now you wouldn't fuck me against this wall?"

God you hated her. Or at least you should. The reality was that despite your separation. Despite the toxicity that had existed in your relationship. Despite being in a happy relationship now. There would always be a part of you that was weak to her. To both her advances and her behavior.

As if sensing your wavering disposition, her touch became heavier. "I'm not wearing any panties under this skirt," she said her tone taking on an innocent air. "Just the way Daddy likes."

That was all it took.

It was pathetically easy in the end for Wonyoung to get you to snap. Though, if anyone was going to be capable of it, it was going to be her. She knew you too well, for better and for worse. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if her whole look today; the mid-thigh length skirt, the cropped blouse that was a size too small and hugged her frame as a result. She even let her hair down today so it'd be easy for you to grab it. Combine that with her lack of underwear and calling you daddy and, well, you never stood a chance.

You surged forward, gripping Wonyoung's shoulders and spinning her to face the wall. She lead out a delighted fit of laughter as she arched her back, pressing her ass against your groin. Your hands moved to your buckle, shoving down your pants to free your cock from its denim cage.

"I can't stand you, you know that?"

Wonyoung giggled as she tossed you a look over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Daddy."

With cock in hand you used the other to shove her skirt up, revealing that she had spoken true in her words. You could see her bare pussy, practically begging for you. You bit your bottom lip, hating that the thought of missing this crossed your mind. "You were waiting for this weren't you?"

"Can you tell?" Wonyoung smiled wickedly, "Can't you see how wet I am for you?"

You could. And if you needed any further confirmation you ran your cock between her legs, coating it in her arousal. You had to stop yourself from delving into any further foreplay. This was just a one-time fuck to get it out of your system. At least that was what you told yourself. But as you slipped the tip of your cock into her and began to thrust forward, you were reminded of why it had been so hard to quit Wonyoung in the first place.

"Oh fuck yes, Daddy," Wonyoung said, her back arching further. "You feel how you're stretching my tight pussy? You haven't felt that in a while have you?"

You bit back the urge to tell Wonyoung that wasn't how that worked. Now wasn't the time for a biology lesson nor defending your girlfriend's honor. Instead you focused on stuffing her inch by inch, watching as her pussy swallowed more and more of you until you were pressed flush against her ass.

"Oh, fuck," you groaned out, your head falling forward slightly.

"It feels good doesn't it? It's perfect," Wonyoung cooed. "We're perfect."

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Don't think I'm won over that easily."

Refusing to give into the sentiment that she was suggesting you slipped your cock out of her before stuffing her again and again. You repeated the process, each time going a bit hard, a bit faster while making sure she felt every inch of your cock. The truth was it was fucking heavenly. Sex had never been the reason your relationship fell apart. And even now months later it was like returning to something familiar. Despite yourself you wanted to enjoy this, for however long it lasted.

Your fingers moved to tangle in her dark, wavy locks, pulling her head back as her lithe body shook with your rough thrusts.

"You like that, Wony? This is what you wanted right?" You taunted, giving into the moment as you seized back control.

"Yes!"

"You couldn't find anyone else to fuck you this good could you?"

"Noo," she moaned.

You tugged on her hair roughly, "No, what?"

"No one fucks me this good, Daddy!" Wonyoung cried out.

You rewarded her diligent response with a spank on her fit ass.

"Mmmfph!" She moaned, biting her bottom lip as you continued to fuck her roughly. You could feel her walls tightening around you, her juices already dripping around your cock each time you pulled out of her. The telltale signs that her first orgasm was on the horizon were there for you to see. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her mouth hung upon as she did her best to hold herself against the wall. All she needed was for you to push her over the brink.

"Are you going to come for me? Come for daddy," you whispered against her the shell of her ear as you stuffed her.

"F-fuck! I'm coming!" Wonyoung cried out, not even bothering with trying to contain her moans of pleasure. The look on her face was pure ecstasy and you found it was a look that, despite having near memorized it, it was one you missed.

Her walls tightened around your length as her orgasm shook her body. You were relentless, continuing to fuck the top idol through her climax. One arm slipped around her waist should her legs go weak on her. By the time it was all over she had leaned forward, her face pressed against the wall, her eyes slightly glazed over as her body rocked with your slower thrusts.

As you looked at her perfect ass still pointed out to you, an idea popped into your head.

"Don't move" you instructed her, though you weren't sure if she comprehended you.

You slipped your cock out of her, ignoring the lazy "Hey..." That came from Wonyoung at your action. You were still achingly hard and now thoroughly coated in her juices. That would come in handy soon enough. You got down on your knees, spreading her firm cheeks. Her pussy lips were swollen from your rough fucking but that wasn't your target, instead your tongue was probing her asshole, much to Wonyoung's surprise.

"W-what are you doing," she asked, the intrusion bringing her some of her senses back. Still, she made no move to stop you.

Her inaction only emboldened her as your tongue worked her backdoor. In all the months the two of you had spent together. In all the spontaneous sessions that broke out between you whether it was loving or after a fight, this was the one hole that Wonyoung had never let you claim. In fact, she had been adamant about it every time you even mentioned it. But you had a plan for that now. When you were satisfied you withdrew your tongue and moved to test her hole with your index finger.

"Really, what are you up to back there?" Wonyoung said, letting out a shaky breath.

"Ssh, just relax," you instructed her.

"You – fuck – you know that's off-limits," she returned.

Now was your trump card.

"Sunmi let me fuck her ass."

A poignant pause hung in the air. It was as if Wonyoung was considering what you had just said. Though, given her actions thus far, you had a feeling you already knew her mind was made up. Wonyoung wasn't nearly as cut-throat as some made her out to be but she wasn't someone who took kindly to coming in second place. Least of all when it came to you.

"Make sure you don't go to hard" she finally said. "And you better soak your cock, I'm not some stretched out hag."

"Unnecessary," you chided her. Still, she was right on one point. You returned your tongue to her asshole, preparing it the best you could before moving back to your feet. Your cock slipped inside of Wonyoung again, giving her a few rough thrusts before pulling out and applying some more natural lubrication of your own as you spit on your cock. Finally you were ready. Well, as ready as you could be. Mostly your cock was just aching at the thought of finally being inside Wonyoung's ass.

You positioned your tip at her entrance, gently beginning to push the head forward. "Remember to relax," you said, a hand on her lower back.

"Oh, fuck," Wonyoung swore, her cheek pressed against the wall. "You're too fucking big."

"I thought you liked that," you taunted her.

"Shut up," she groaned.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was the Wonyoung you knew. Not the princess she pretended to be in front of the camera. You continued pushing ahead, slow and steady as the head of your cock finally penetrated her.

"Holy shit..." You muttered under her breath.

"Fuck. Just....wait there a second," Wonyoung muttered, one long arm reaching back to press against your hip as she got accustom to the new stretch.

You were more than happy to abide. Even just having past the head of your cock in her ass had you reeling. You knew that some of your reaction would be based on the novelty of it. On the fact that you were fucking Jang Wonyoung's ass for the first time. That you were the only person to ever do so. But the truth was it also felt far better than you could have imagined. It wasn't your first time. You hadn't lied when you said that Sunmi had taken you first. And, to be fair, you had loved it then too. But it had been different. You had merely experienced it as Sunmi rode you, in control the entire time. On top of that,t here wasn't the same history. As much as you hated to admit it, it didn't compare to this.

"Okay," Wonyoung said, breaking you from your thoughts, "You can move."

That was all you needed to hear. You pushed forward, inch by inch watching as her hole stretched around your cock until you made it about halfway down the length of your shaft.

"This will have to do," you grunted.

You began to move your hips, slowly at first as you rocked against her before adding more vigor. Steadily with drawing your cock before filling her backdoor again and again. Soft pants left Wonyoung as her nails dug into your flesh, her hand holding onto your thigh.

"How does it feel," you asked her.

"Like I'm being split in half," she groaned.

"And?"

Wonyoung was silent for a moment before a breathless, "...so good."

"Yeah?" Your cock twitched inside of her.

She nodded, her eyes closed, "Fuck yes. Fuck, your cock feels so good inside my tight little asshole."

"That's right," you said, picking up the pace. "And no one will make you feel like this."

"It's all yours," Wonyoung moaned. "Always yours, Daddy."

Somewhere along the way you had transitioned to the one who was laying a possessive claim as opposed to Wonyoung. Whatever, you tossed it up to the heat of the moment. This changed nothing but it did motivate you to see this through to the end. After that it'd be like this never happened but until then her ass was yours.

Your grip on her hips tightened as your pace increased, pounding her backdoor. Wonyoung's hand dipped between her thighs, rubbing her clit as she chased her second orgasm.

"Fuck!" She chanted, becoming more vocal as her climax drew near.

"I'm going to come," you grunted. "I'm going to fill you up."

Wonyoung didn't have the capacity to reply, instead her mouth fell open in a silent cry as her second orgasm washed over her. Not one to be a liar you finally managed to fit your entire length into her ass, just in time for your own release to hit you. Your cock swelled before spilling an obscene amount of cum into her bowel. As you pulled your cock out you watched your cum ooze out of her puckered hole.

"Jesus christ..." You muttered, chest heaving. The sight alone was damn near enough to make you want a round two.

For once Wonyoung didn't have a smart comeback, instead slowly sinking to the ground in a heap, her cheek still pressed against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Idly you couldn't help but wonder if this was how she imagined this encounter was going to go when she first confronted you. Maybe you'd get to ask her once some of her senses returned. For now you just wanted to bask in the pleasure of what had just happened without thinking too hard.

TWO WEEKS LATER.

"Un-fucking-believable."

You stared at your phone, watching as the latest tiktok reel came across your screen. You watched as your girlfriend, Sunmi, and your ex-girlfriend, Wonyoung, completed a dance challenge together. Of course, Sunmi had no idea about your past relationships. Wonyoung on the other hand was well aware.

And yet here she was, doing a dance challenge with the same woman whose boyfriend had been fucking her ass not two weeks earlier.

You could only shake your head in disbelief and some mild concern. "What the hell are you plotting, Wony."

#wonyoung smut #wonyoung x male reader #ive smut #male reader #kpop smut #girl group smut

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sorryimananti-romantic · 1 month ago

Text

The Leaders | Chapter XI

"lies, control, rules, numb, hatred, emptiness."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, things get fluffy with woogi, angst levels up with hj, smut mdni! (fingering, overstimulation), mention of bombing.

chapter wc: 10.7k

chapter synopsis: you continue to deal with clients at the warehouse with wooyoung and mingi and you find solace in each other’s company amidst the tough times. you meet ji chang wook of the sirens with hongjoong who helps you formulate a plan– to get assemblyman wi on your side before president lee does. in between all of this, you suspect that hongjoong and seonghwa are hiding something from you. seonghwa assures you that they will tell you when it’s time and you spend the night with him. things take a dark, dangerous turn, creating confusion and chaos.

prev chapter recap: you meet president son and lady kim with hongjoong and they confirm that they are the anonymous funders of the weapons channel. they also share their suspicions of president lee regarding president han’s assassination and reveal that he is the man behind strictland’s nuclear ops. you and lady kim share your fond memories of president han and she takes an interest in your pearl ring. hongjoong reveals that the sirens answer to president son and they have a meeting scheduled with them now. as per president son’s request, you find yourself with winter, an rv spy, as your bodyguard. you go to the warehouse and start to deal with unsatisfied clients with wooyoung and mingi. among them is ju seok tae, the nephew of mr. jang of eden news. hongjoong and seonghwa begin to look into your mother’s pearl ring with sunmi of maddox and co. and discover that all records of the ring’s purchase are absent which raises suspicion.

For most of your life, you had believed that there was a stark difference between the elites of Eden and the common man.

There was no way that the elites breathed the same air, walked on the same ground and looked at the same sky as the common man. Those were the people of struggle and loss, of constraints and darkness. As someone living in Edenary which was a safe haven for the elites, you did not need to fret about the people that dwelled elsewhere. They could never look you in the eyes, your father told you, because you were an elite.

They did. They looked you in the eyes whenever and wherever you encountered them– be it in Edenary itself, in the warzones where your status meant nothing, or even post-treaty when they carried the burden of rebuilding Eden. They looked you in the eyes and showed you that as an elite, you shared the same struggles and constraints. You were not different. They were simply more empathetic than you because they did not choose to exercise their power to create a distinction between humans.

There was something about the common man that always pulled you in– your attention was always drawn towards how freely they laughed, as if they had no care in this world, as if the weight of this world wasn’t on their shoulders. The crescendo of their laughter was enough to make you realise that Edenary was not the paradise that the elites made it out to be. Edenary was a bound city where every man was on his own. It was a place where the people dressed their finest to hide the ugliness they carried within their souls. It was a place where you couldn’t really exhale loudly, lest people learned the secrets that your breath threatened to carry away with the wind.

Edenary was a prison. You realised that your circumstances weren’t unique– each family in Edenary was caged in the walls of their homes, the walls that were built on the blood of the innocent. Each individual in Edenary carried with them the sins of their forefathers. Some carried those sins in their proud smiles or watchful eyes. Others attempted to conceal them with soft words and gentle touches. But there was one thing that these two shared– the fact that they were proud to be here, despite everything.

And that pride was a double-edged sword, and double-edged swords often turned on their wielders especially when the wielder found themselves surrounded by predators.

There was only one predator in the room right now, and it was you. Seated in the centre of the small, dark office room at the warehouse with only a card table separating you was your client, who was currently pretending that the bead of sweat trickling down his temple wasn’t annoying him. You swirled the red wine in your glass casually before shifting in the chair so your client got a brief glance of the two daggers and a gun snug on the belt against your thigh.

You fixed your leather jacket and concealed the weapons when you were sure that he got a good look.

“It’s quite simple, Mr. Kudo,” you clasped your hands on top of your knees, not breaking eye contact. “You will lose more if you back out of your deal now. You should be a gentleman and keep your word, don’t you think?”

“The weapons project might shut down for good,” he warned with wide eyes. “There’s been rumours about the network closing. As someone from Utopia, I have to make sure that my country does not get involved if they start arresting everyone who’s been funding the project.”

“That will not happen, I assure you,” you replied calmly. “If that was the case, the identity of the person who got arrested for funding us would have been exposed. Isn’t that right?”

Mr. Kudo contemplated over his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. “You’ll guarantee that if things start to take the right direction, me and my client can back out of funding before Utopia’s name gets dragged in the mud?”

“Absolutely,” you assured him. “In fact, we will be terminating our contracts with all foreign parties to ensure their animosity if things look bleak. Before any damage can occur.”

“And what’s the guarantee of that? How can I trust you?”

“The same way that I did not shoot you in the head when you walked in instead of your client and demanded that we hear you out. We excused your spies trespassing here– they’re still alive if you wish to take them back. Barely, might I add. I’d be making my decisions quickly if I were you, Mr. Kudo.”

You had to admit– you had a knack for negotiating, and seeing the man squirm and look as if he was about to burst the veins on his head was oddly satisfying. He nodded in resignation and you refrained from passing another comment on the man’s bruised ego, shaking hands and signalling Winter who had been stationed in the corner to let his spies go.

Winter accompanied the man outside and when he disappeared, you let out a big sigh, grinning when Wooyoung and Mingi walked inside, looking proud.

“We heard everything– it was a struggle to keep Wooyoung from laughing out loud,” Mingi said, shaking his head in amusement.

“You did well!” Wooyoung patted your shoulder. “I told you this would work.”

What he meant by that was the leather, the weapons on display on your belt, and the bold red lipstick. According to Wooyoung, any man would get intimidated by such a combination, and you had to admit that he was right.

“Plus, you look awfully hot,” Wooyoung tugged at your chin affectionately and you rolled your eyes but smiled anyway.

“I might do this more often. I feel confident in this getup,” you said, assessing your form. If all it took for men to get intimidated and fold under your glare was a daring outfit choice and the confidence that came along with it, you would definitely be doing this again. Winter came back and you smiled gratefully at her– the idea was Wooyoung’s, but it was Winter who got you prepared for tonight.

A master spy for sure. You felt like you were wearing another skin during the meeting, and perhaps, that’s what you needed to do from now on. Wear different skins and trick people into granting your wishes.

“Well, this concludes the last client for this month?” You asked, recalling the list mentally. You had been dealing with a number of clients in the past two weeks, dividing and conquering for the most part.

“Yes, looks like we’re finally getting a breather,” Mingi said as he adjusted his jacket. “Are you going back to the office?”

“Yeah, I need to report back and get updated about the other matters,” you pursed your lips. “Can’t talk about it on the phone– Seonghwa said the line might be tapped.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong,” Wooyoung agreed, the three of you moving out of the warehouse to the break area. “We usually rely on an informant doing the job for us and relaying messages when we fear getting tapped.”

“Oh? Who’s your informant?”

“Usually some kids from the orphanage, or one of the RV spies if they cooperate,” Wooyoung eyed Winter who was currently out of earshot, drinking from a can of beer. “Jaemin and Renjun could do that job for you– the pair is the best when it comes to trading information, and they’re reliable and inconspicuous. They’d give the RV spies some competition, I bet.”

“Jaemin and… Renjun?” You asked, the second name unfamiliar.

“Renjun is also one of the kids from the orphanage. I’ll see what he’s up to these days, but you can use them even if you’re back at the office and want to send us a quick message,” Mingi said and you nodded. The kids must really be trustworthy then.

“Yeah, I have to get back to the office for the meeting with the Sirens, but I’ll probably need the kids to relay messages once I’m back here.”

“And when are you planning to leave, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked. “Want me to drop you off?”

“I’ll get back with Winter in my own car tomorrow, and hopefully squeeze in a nap before things get hectic,” you passed Wooyoung a knowing look and he stifled a smirk, making Mingi laugh out loud. “I mean… we have the rest of the evening free, right? What are you up to?”

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung shrugged, “No plans… yet. I don’t think you want to go practising again.”

You groaned– you had been doing plenty of shooting practising with the boys and basic self defence with Winter in your free time here. That involved you getting roughed up in the process and while it was not a very enjoyable experience, it was necessary.

“We could go to the beach if you feel like it,” Mingi suggested.

“The beach?” You straightened. “I mean, if we’re all free,” you said and the boys nodded eagerly. “I would love to.”

The drive had to be more than an hour long, but it felt shorter because Mingi and Wooyoung kept you engaged in discussion, talking about everything but business. They managed to wring out details about your life in Edenary which you weren’t reluctant to share, just a bit hesitant since it really wasn’t much except a brooding father and an annoying brother.

You told them about how Sector 1 and Edenary felt like two different worlds sometimes, but you had never felt as if you were free in Edenary. Somehow, Edenary was more suffocating which you realised on your trip with Hongjoong and Seonghwa back when you were to make the deal with Tiffany.

In exchange, you also managed to hear some stories from their past. Wooyoung told you about his family who lived in Sector 2, away from all the mess of the Crescents. He was on good terms with his family, as were the rest of the Crescents, and he often paid visits.

You learned that Wooyoung was Yeosang’s friend from before the war and as a strategist, he encountered Hongjoong which was how he met the rest of the boys. He was surprised to learn that you and Mingi were in the same squad and he was pretty sure you must have encountered paths with Mingi as a medic, since apparently, Mingi was usually the one who had to get nursed most often. While both of you did not recall ever encountering each other, it was still a nice thought.

“It’s not that he got hurt often,” Wooyoung teased, earning a smack from Mingi who was driving tonight. “He just loved being nursed. He claims that he met every nurse in his squad which was quite a handful, right?”

“Must be why he does not recall seeing me then,” you pouted.

“And why do you not recall seeing me? If we ever met, that is,” Mingi questioned.

“Because you have changed so much since,” you laughed at the memory of the photo that he showed you not long ago. “You were just a scrawny lad back then.”

“And now?” Wooyoung questioned, craning his neck back with a deep smirk to see how you would respond.

“Now…” you folded your arms, catching Mingi’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Scrawny grownup lad?”

“Unfair,” he muttered and Wooyoung shook his head.

“You’re a man now, that’s what she means,” Wooyoung explained and you hummed in agreement. Mingi was a man now– tall, strong and handsome. Nothing like the kid that he was during the war.

You finally reached the sandy shores that bordered Sector 2, the sea a bit clearer here since it was quite a distance from the port. You could still spot a few boats and ships in the distance, illuminated by the half moon that pulled the tides, making them crash loudly against the rocks. You shut your eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the smell of the salty waves with a smile.

“Why the lack of people?” You wondered, though you weren’t complaining.

“It’s kind of dangerous during the night. The tide is unpredictable,” Wooyoung explained. “But it’s always crowded during the day, and especially during the weekends.”

“Look,” Mingi pointed in the distance at a group of people. “Some people still come at night but it’s better to stay away from the waves.”

“Ah,” you pursed your lips. “Can we at least walk on the shore?”

“Definitely,” Wooyoung took one hand and Mingi took the other, almost in synchronisation. “We are your guards. We won’t let you drown.”

“If you let me go,” you warned as you walked deeper into the shore until the waves washed your mid-calves, “let it be known that you both make the worst guards.”

“No body, no crime,” Mingi shrugged and you tsk-ed, though the three of you ended up laughing.

The pair swung your hands and did not let go even when you wished to tuck your hair back. They did that for you, only after laughing whenever you got smacked on the face by your own hair thanks to the fierce gusts of the wind. In return, you splashed them with your feet.

After a good, long walk, the three of you settled down on the sand to take a breather. You pulled your knees forward, not minding the sand that stuck to your bare legs– in fact, you quite liked where you were right now. The sound of the waves crashing against each other was soothing enough to make you feel content.

“Do you think we’ll ever get such a moment of peace again?” You mused, digging your fingertips into the sand. “It feels like we have to steal these moments ever since the silver light project began.”

Mingi hummed in thought but it was Wooyoung who said, “I don’t think we can fully rest anymore, Luna. At least, not until silver light is a medicinal drug available in all hospitals of Eden, and the Strictland nuclear base matter gets settled.”

“It’s only going to get more chaotic with the elections coming up soon,” Mingi added. “President Lee must be anxious now. He’s going to suffer damage when the public learns what he’s been doing behind their back.”

Wooyoung straightened his back proudly. “I knew something was off about that man. I was right. But for once…” He faltered, mirroring your position and resting his head against his knees. “I wish I was wrong.”

You smiled in defeat. “The elites will suffer, we shall make sure of it. We will keep stealing these little moments of peace. Everything will be okay– no matter how trapped we feel, we must be in control of our life. That is all that matters at the end of the day.”

“Wise words,” Mingi said playfully and you grinned, the three of you soaking in serenity, tucking the memory of tonight in a corner of your heart. With Mingi’s hand intertwining with yours as he scooted closer, you let Wooyoung rest his head on your shoulder. The three of you huddled into a cocoon, cherishing the last few moments of peace before you would go back to being a Crescent and a Leader.

It was good to be back at the office, working alongside Jihoon and Eunha and getting the recent updates. Apparently, the boss’s nonchalance was slowly taking the shape of anger. You heard about how Hongjoong and Seonghwa had taken upon themselves to find the mole among all of the Crescent employees, which was quite the number. As someone who had witnessed Seonghwa’s methods firsthand, you shivered at the thought of what the others would be facing. You did not want to think about how Hongjoong would be navigating that course.

The office was empty for the most part of the day, especially after Eunha’s shift that left you alone on the upper story. You unlocked Hongjoong’s room and decided to wait there, having done most of your work and knowing that the two would be arriving at any moment. You were surprised to see the mess on Hongjoong’s desk– Seonghwa was usually cleaning everything up, organising everything and making sure nothing was out of place.

They must have been really busy or tired, you thought. You were aware that the two had been here in the morning so you wondered if they left in a hurry.

Taking it upon yourself, you started organising Hongjoong’s desk– also because the time would not pass. You hummed a tune that you had picked from Mingi, an addictive melody he was usually singing while he was absorbed in work. You put the extra documents in the cupboard and just as you closed it, the door opened, revealing Seonghwa.

“You’re here,” he smiled, “I was wondering if I left the door unlocked.”

“You would never,” you grinned, spreading your arms for the underboss who gladly held you, spinning you around and making you chuckle as you clung to him. He set you down and you tucked the long silver strands of his hair back. “Where’s Hongjoong? I heard that he was with you.”

“We parted ways to save some time but he’ll be back soon,” Seonghwa pressed his lips to your forehead. “How was the warehouse?”

“Fun, I’m not even going to lie about it,” you said and Seonghwa scoffed in amusement. “But it’s really good to be back. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Seonghwa kissed your cheek, lingering there. Your fingers tightened around the lapels of his coat in response and you found his eyes fluttering shut as he relished the feeling of being so close to you. Your heart warmed infinitely.

“Is everything alright at work?” You asked in a low voice as if you did not dare to interrupt his train of thoughts. However, you might have actually done that because he shook his head.

“Let’s talk about work when Hongjoong gets back, yeah?” Seonghwa looked you in the eyes, brows furrowed and you thought you spotted true yearning in his eyes.

You smiled and nodded, meeting his lips with yours and losing yourself to the bliss that came along. It truly blew your mind that Park Seonghwa was a man who yearned for you. Perhaps, he could hear your thoughts because he held you all the more delicately and kissed you all the more passionately, proving that you needed to pay no heed to your silly thoughts.

“Are you here for the weekend?” Seonghwa asked when he allowed you to break apart for breath and you nodded.

“I have to leave on Monday though,” you told him. “Need to tie a few more loose ends before I come back.”

“Good enough,” Seonghwa caressed your cheek. “That means we have time.”

“Time for?” You asked, though you already knew the answer, and Seonghwa confirmed it with a searing kiss, making you take steps back instinctively until your back met with the wooden surface of the cupboard. You laughed into the kiss but Seonghwa intended to swallow every sound that he could draw out of your mouth. He pulled away with a dangerous smirk, one that had your legs feeling weak and your grasp tightening around him.

“Love,” Seonghwa muttered, cocking his head and letting his hands trace the curves of your body until they met the little gap between your blouse and your skirt, cold fingertips finding purchase on your bare skin and making you stifle a gasp. “If you keep making such pretty sounds, I’ll only have to do better and see what other sounds you’re capable of making.”

You let out an elongated sigh, indicating that you did not really oppose that proposition. Seonghwa gave your waist a squeeze before tilting your neck with his other hand, leaving soft kisses and bites on your sensitive skin, letting your tiny whimpers fuel him until he could no longer take it, capturing your mouth in another kiss and doing wonders with his tongue. You let yourself get consumed by the feelings in that moment, hearing nothing but the sound of your lips and tongues clashing against each other, though you did think for a moment that perhaps, you heard the sound of dull footsteps. But who would dare interrupt you–

You pushed Seonghwa back gently, catching your breath and looking towards the door– shut. You were about to go back to kissing Seonghwa when you spotted a figure from the corner of your eye.

“Oh, carry on, by all means,” Hongjoong said, thoroughly amused. He was sitting cockily on the couch, having been enjoying the show for a few moments now. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You felt heat creep up your face and you looked away, positive your face was red as beet now. How could you both miss the sound of Hongjoong coming inside? There was no way you both were that occupied with each other to miss the sound of the door–

The smirk Seonghwa sent in Hongjoong’s direction gave him away and your eyes widened. Seonghwa knew that Hongjoong had entered, yet he had made no move to stop himself. On purpose.

“Wasn’t planning to,” Seonghwa’s raspy voice responded. Hongjoong’s own smirk only deepened and Seonghwa chuckled, finding your shock funny.

“Relax,” Seonghwa whispered, pecking your cheek and then trailing his lips to the corner of your mouth. While your hands clutching his collar were an indication of your confusion, because were you really going to give the Captain a little show?, Seonghwa pulled your body flush to his and pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss.

You didn’t initially respond, far too aware of the Captain’s gaze stuck on the two of you. He was in your vision, and you could see him. But the way he licked his lips, anticipating your move, had your head spinning as if you were high on some drug and you made a split-second decision, opening your mouth for the underboss and kissing him back even more enthusiastically, just for a few seconds, before pulling apart and resting your hands on his chest to tell him that this was enough.

All the while, your eyes never leaving Hongjoong’s. He didn’t seem fazed, only mildly amused. You looked at Seonghwa who seemed more surprised that you responded but his surprise quickly shifted into laughter, shaking his head in resignation.

“I’ve found out something new about you tonight, Luna,” Seonghwa whispered in your ear. “And I plan to make use of that very soon.”

Vaguely, you remembered Yunho once mentioning something about how Seonghwa enjoyed watching. You had been too oblivious to understand back then but now… it was clear that the underboss had a very specific kink.

“Shut up,” you muttered, smacking his arm before straightening your clothes and going to sit in front of the boss. “Captain. How do you do?”

“Oh, I’m fine now,” he scoffed, looking at Seonghwa. “Get back here, you lovesick bastard.”

You stifled a smile and Seonghwa plopped down on the couch in front of you, laughing shamelessly. Something told you that it was not Hongjoong’s first time being an observer, and the thought alone sent warmth and tickles in your body but you did your best to push those thoughts away.

For now.

“I’ve met with and sent some spies in Tiffany’s direction– wherever that is,” Hongjoong decided to take upon himself to break the awkwardness. “She’s pretty much disappeared. I don’t think she’s in Wonderland.”

“I personally think she’s in Halaland,” Seonghwa added. “Let’s not forget that she’s half-Hala and it is the perfect spot to hide given her circumstances.”

“Maybe not the best,” Hongjoong countered, “If she’s involved with the Strictland business. Though in retrospect… there are probably some people from Halaland who are part of the group vouching for Strictland nuclear ops to be a success.”

“I think someone of Tiffany’s standing won’t step out of the shadows until she wants to be found. All we need to do is wait,” you suggested.

“I don’t get why we’re waiting,” Hongjoong grunted. “She’s tempting me to go back to my old ways and pull out my sniper rifle from the basement of my house.”

“That’s mine,” Seonghwa huffed. “You ditched yours on the battleground.”

“What’s yours is mine,” Hongjoong shrugged. “What’s it doing in my house if it’s yours?”

“Uh, I get that you’re gangsters but let’s be civil for now– Tiffany hasn’t really attacked us yet. We received her advance payments. Silver light is in production. I’d rather wait for her to provoke us before making a move.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong nodded in thought. “While we wait, we’ve got a meeting with one of the leaders of the Sirens on Sunday. The meeting point will remain undisclosed. They’ll send a driver who’ll take us to the location. Luna, you’re coming with me.”

You nodded. “Who else?”

“We’ll take one bodyguard. Let’s take Winter this time,” Hongjoong said. “Taeyong will be tailing us just in case.”

“Got it,” you said. “Should we be candid with the Sirens about what we have on Strictland?”

“President Son says we can. They can be trusted and they already know a great deal,” Hongjoong scratched his chin. “Maybe they will provide us with the missing pieces of this puzzle.”

“I sure hope so,” you slumped back. “Because it feels like we’re going in circles. We can’t move forward until we know who can be trusted.”

“The answer is no one. Not a single person can be trusted,” Seonghwa sounded sombre. “We have to watch our backs. An ally means that we have the same goal. It does not mean that there is trust.”

And with that in mind, you prepared yourself for the meeting with the Sirens. While you got ready, Winter briefed you about the Sirens and their history, a very insightful account of her experience with the rebel group that was formed right after President Han’s assassination in 1966.

According to her, it was never a one-man party. It always had a considerable number of members despite the police’s great efforts to quell their spirits. What was odd about the group was that they didn’t have a specific ‘leader’. There were a few people who claimed to be leading the group, one of whom was probably going to be meeting with you.

Winter also added that there was suspicion that some of the leading members of this group had been President Han’s supporters or her private spies when she was alive. President Lee was not at all acquainted with any of the Sirens so President Han must have never shared anything about these people with her husband– or if she did, or in the case that President Lee found out later, he was doing his damned best to root out all members on the grounds that they never became an official group and remained a privately operating organisation.

The ride to the location of the meeting was mostly silent, with Winter in the front seat next to the driver who you reckoned was a Siren himself. It took about 20 minutes to reach what was a plain looking house in a well-populated residential area. Clever, you thought, to have a meeting here to draw minimal attention. No one paid heed to the car so you figured that it was the driver’s own house.

You were right. As soon as you stepped inside, you were hit by the smell of herbs and butter. The driver led you to the backyard and you spotted a middle-aged woman, presumably the driver’s wife, standing in an apron and buttering trays to be fed to the oven with a small girl clutching at her knees. You didn’t dare to pass a smile to the two, finding the air in the house oddly unsettling.

Stepping out in the open air of the backyard, you were met with the sturdy back of a man with hair that needed a cut badly, smoke blowing from the tip of his cigarette. Upon hearing the sound of your steps, he turned and gave the three of you a long look, waiting until Winter stationed herself at the corner before finally breaking into a handsome smile.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man who has done a great deal for Eden,” His rich voice sounded. He dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his boot on the grass. Hongjoong walked towards him and they shook hands.

“Good things, I hope?” Hongjoong asked.

“A little bit of both,” The man shrugged in good nature, turning to you. “And a woman of many names. How shall I address you, then?”

You bowed your head in greeting, glancing at Hongjoong. He definitely knew about your connection with Secretary Park then, but that was no surprise considering that the Sirens now answered to President Son. “Luna would be fine.”

“Lovely name for a pretty lady like yourself,” he pressed his palm over his chest. “I’m Ji Changwook. I don’t think we’ve ever had the chance to meet. Please, have a seat.”

The three of you settled down on the lawn chairs and the man of the house served you with wine and fresh garlic loaf from the oven. The three of you made small talk about the weather and politics for a few minutes. You watched the driver offer Winter some bread but she refused, trained not to consume anything especially when active. The driver only proceeded to stand alongside her, chatting in a low voice.

“I heard about your weapons channel facing some difficulties,” Mr. Ji said, lighting another cigarette and giving you both a look. “When do you plan to resume your activities?”

Hongjoong cracked his knuckles in thought. “As soon as we know what our enemies really want. It’s unfortunate that the weapons dealings had to be put on hold when clearly, it was only meant to aggravate us.”

“And?” Mr. Ji blew the smoke sideways. “Were they successful?”

“Not quite,” Hongjoong smirked but added. “It only means that we’re on the right path. They wouldn’t be wasting time attacking us if we were barking up the wrong tree.”

“And they will continue with their little attacks, though I must warn that you should be prepared,” the Siren leaned forward. “These people stop at nothing.”

“And who are these people?” You asked.

“Why, the elites, of course,” Mr. Ji cocked his head. “Who specifically, we are not sure. Secretary Park and President Lee, definitely. Major Sung of Strictland. They’re planning a hoax as we speak. Our president aims to create an opportunity to send his troops to Strictland and annex it.”

“Is that really true?” You asked. “That would be violating a lot of international laws.”

“Which is why he’s planting baits for Halaland. Just watch, and be prepared,” Mr. Ji warned. “President Lee has the military under his control, be fooled no more. He is planning to join hands with Assemblyman General Wi, probably promising him a presidential seat.”

“Is that why you called us?” Hongjoong asked. “You cannot convince General Wi, but we might.”

“Bingo,” Mr. Ji said, accentuating the syllables, his eyes twinkling. “The elections are not too far away. With the Strictland business, time will travel far too speedily and before you know it, you’ll be casting your votes. We are a rebel party– no politician would want to be acquainted with us, for the right reasons. However… you can shift the political tide to your favour.”

Hongjoong hummed in thought, probably planning in his head already.

“Ever thought of getting into politics?”

“I’ll be damned,” Hongjoong raised his hands in surrender. “What can the Sirens do for us?”

“We can help you resume your weapons channel, for now,” Mr. Ji offered and Hongjoong looked interested. “Under wraps, of course. Provide you with a little stability while you mess with the elites. If you need manpower, let us know. We answer to President Son and will be happy to help you.”

“Noted,” Hongjoong shook hands with the man. He settled back and took a deep breath before asking, “Can I ask how you know so much about President Lee’s movements?”

Mr. Ji smiled. “Just like your spies,” he said, pointing at Winter who simply grunted in mild annoyance, “We’re everywhere too. We were originally a group of few private investigators for President Han, but…” Mr. Ji met your eyes and held the contact. “We had to pause after her death for safety reasons. Anyways, our people are in the Eden Hall. President Lee is very queasy because of us and is making rash moves, so we are a little responsible for the recent messes, my bad.”

“No worries–”

“Safety reasons?” You asked, your question overlapping with Hongjoong’s. Hongjoong motioned for you to continue. “Were you being threatened for investigating whatever President Han put you up to?”

“Not quite,” Mr. Ji said, unconsciously looking towards Hongjoong and you didn’t miss the look they shared.

“We’re on the same page,” Hongjoong interrupted your train of thought. “We will contact you soon with an update on General Wi.”

Mr. Ji nodded and Hongjoong got up, indicating that the meeting was over. You followed Winter and Hongjoong asked you to wait in the car, sharing a word with Mr. Ji.

You did not know why but you could not swallow the bitter taste at the back of your throat. There was something that Mr. Ji knew about you, something that perhaps Hongjoong was aware about as well.

Some things were definitely being kept from you. Was it because they did not trust you? Or was it some stupid excuse like your own good? You did not know, and you were not sure if you wanted to know. Hongjoong was always stressing about how you were a Leader now so you decided to let the matter go for now and give him some leverage. If something was being kept from you, they must have a reason.

However, Hongjoong was also a very observant man and he did not miss how you were lost in your own head. Now that you were in your own car with Taeyong and Winter in the front, he felt comfortable enough to brush his fingers against yours, making you look his way.

“Everything good?” He asked.

You nodded. “Just thinking.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, understanding.

“Don’t think too much.”

Not an order, but a request. You met Hongjoong’s eyes, his gaze focused on the contact between your hands. When he pressed his hand against the back of yours, you gave in and intertwined your fingers.

And that was enough.

“We’ve been summoned, we hear.”

“By a certain Miss… Madness?”

“Lunatic,” Jaemin corrected and you shot glares at the pair.

“That’s Miss Luna for you both,” you added, beckoning the boys to come closer. “You must be Renjun.”

The new informant boy seemed to be Jaemin’s age, the same mischievous glint in his eyes that curved as he smiled, long strands of hair framing his face. His getup was simpler than Jaemin– no cap but a woolen scarf wrapped around his neck over a plain set of clothes.

“We bring news from the warehouse,” Renjun bowed and Jaemin followed suit and you chuckled at their theatrics. “It’s weird to deliver news to a new face, though.”

“Get used to it,” Jaemin told him. “The Captain likes her. She’s his first mate.”

“Ah, is that so?” Renjun asked innocently and you pressed your forehead against your palm.

Such innocent kids.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” You asked and Renjun scoffed, muttering something about how he could see why the Captain took a liking to you.

“‘Production phase is almost over. Transportation is beginning soon. Please confirm– we’re occupied by security concerns’. Says Choi San.”

“Ah, I’ll relay the message to the boss and you can come back for an answer in the evening– or whenever you spot your Captain. Okay?”

The kids nodded, waiting for any other instructions. You only dug out a handful of chocolates that you had received from Lady Kim from your visit to the Son Residence in Sector 2. The boys happily took the treat.

“Is this a bribe?” Jaemin narrowed his eyes.

“Give it back,” you ordered and the two broke into giggles, running away before you could take action, leaving you smiling for a while even as you went back to filing boring reports.

It was just past 7 in the evening, which meant Seonghwa would be coming back any time now. Hongjoong had already left with Taeyong to have another meeting with the Crescent employees who were aware of the illegal side of the business. It seemed like Hongjoong was taking out his frustration on finding the mole– he was resolute, and he insisted that he had to be the one to get to the bottom of it, only allowing Seonghwa to tag along sometimes.

It was Yunho who was in charge of testing the Crescents’ loyalties and reminding them who the boss was around here. Since he was still in Edenary, due to come back in two days, Hongjoong was keeping himself busy in any way that he could, insisting that sitting idle and waiting for things to fall back to place was not his style. You wished Yunho was here– the boss was certainly a lot calmer when his reliable consigliere was around. Plus, Yunho’s presence alone relaxed not only Hongjoong but Seonghwa and you as well.

You missed him. Even though you were always occupied by someone or something, you missed Yunho. It was interesting how big of a headspace he occupied, but it was also strange how you had made a space for everyone in your heart in a matter of a few months.

You missed Yunho when you were stressed and needed to feel grounded. You missed San when you felt alone and wanted company– a friend. You missed Yeosang when you doubted yourself and wondered if you were at the right place. You missed Hongjoong– a lot, especially when you were at the warehouse– because he saw something in you that no one else did, and always reminded you of who you were. A Crescent. A Leader. An equal.

The door of Yunho’s office room opened with a knock and Seonghwa peeked inside before entering. He shut the door behind him, not taking off his coat but standing and watching you.

“What’s up?”

You missed Seonghwa whenever you felt lost. He always guided you back to the light. And right now, you felt lost. You couldn’t get the ugly feeling of something happening behind your back out of your head. You knew that Hongjoong would never betray you like that, but it had happened twice now– a private word with President Son and Lady Kim, and a private word with Mr. Ji.

You were also conscious of the fact that if Hongjoong was up to something, Seonghwa might be the only person who would know.

“Just a bit tired,” you admitted. All your energy was being used up by your gut warning you that something was amiss. If not with Hongjoong, then with someone else.

“Something is up,” Seonghwa cocked his head as he watched you and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Come here.”

Before you could process his request, you had already moved into his arms. You rested your head against his chest, hearing his firm heartbeat. Seonghwa wrapped his arms around your shoulders, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head and waiting for you to speak.

“I’m just being silly,” you began, and he stifled a chuckle, earning a smack. “But I think Hongjoong is hiding something from me. And if he is, you are too.”

Seonghwa’s expressions didn’t change in the slightest, his lips remaining in a small smile as he met your eyes, as if daring you to challenge him. “Whatever gave you the idea?”

“Hmm, you’re not denying it,” you pointed out. “Just a feeling.”

Seonghwa tucked your hair behind your ears. “Have you heard of the phrase, ignorance is bliss?”

“Seonghwa,” you warned, feeling your stomach churn in disappointment but he shook his head.

“I bet you have,” Seonghwa continued. “Do you know why it is so true? Because what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

“So it is something that could hurt me?” You raised a brow, your hands curling into fists subconsciously and Seonghwa wrapped his own hands around yours.

“No. We’re just looking into something, and if we end up finding anything of importance, you will be the first to know, I promise. But until we’re in the void, we’d rather stress about it ourselves, yeah?” Seonghwa planted a kiss on your forehead. “You’ve already got a lot on your plate.”

“I can handle more,” you pleaded but when he gave you a look, you muttered, “I know.”

“I know you can handle more, but we may be looking in a very wrong direction and we don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up or contribute to the confusion. There’s already too much going on.”

“I understand,” you nodded.

Seonghwa hummed. “How can I make you feel better, love?”

“Hmm… have you had dinner yet?”

Seonghwa smiled deeply, glad about the opportunity. “I know just the right place.”

Which was how you ended up in his house– awfully organised and neat, but still very homey, just as you had left it when San brought you home. You told him that you were getting deja vu since a certain lieutenant had also taken you home like this, though it wasn’t a dinner date. Seonghwa told you that he had heard all about it which made you blush deeply.

Seonghwa had a lavish dinner in mind, so you washed up in the meantime and joined him in the kitchen, sitting on an empty spot on the counter and admiring his back as he cooked on the stove.

Seonghwa laughed deeply when he turned around, his gaze raking down your figure and taking account of your state– you had changed into one of his dress shirts, a white piece that barely covered your thighs. He met your eyes and raised a brow.

“I’m not an easily riled up man, I must tell,” Seonghwa said casually, adding spices into the soup and tasting it, nodding to himself and turning the stove off. You didn’t miss the way the muscles in his jaw moved.

“But you’re all tense now,” you teased, hopping down and setting the table with him. He already had a bunch of ingredients and side dishes prepared so all he had to do was whip a quick dinner. You took a seat across from him, your bare legs no longer a distraction.

But his bare forearms were.

“Eat up, love,” Seonghwa set a piece of meat on your rice bowl and you passed him a look, taking a bite and praising his cooking skills. As you ate, Seonghwa told you about how he was basically the housekeeper here. The Crescents– Ateez– preferred eating at home instead of outside to avoid eyes. The Bar was their more frequented place since they had privacy there.

After the war, the eight of them lived together for quite a while in a small apartment, sharing rooms and focusing on growing their business. They only got separate places some couple of years ago, but they still could not let each other go. This house, he revealed, was everyone’s hangout place since Seonghwa maintained it so well. Took advantage of him, he complained, but the twinkle in his eyes said otherwise.

“So no one minds, and anyone can come and go as they wish?” You asked, and he nodded. “It must be lively here then.”

“It’s lively even when only San is here,” Seonghwa chuckled. “He never sleeps alone.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the state of his room. He probably stays up all night with his pillows if he’s alone,” you said and Seonghwa laughed loudly.

“No, it’s not that he can’t sleep alone. It’s that he refuses to.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, grinning. “Must be nice to have someone to go home to. I understand why San is like that. I quite like my peace and space, but it’s nice to not be alone.”

Seonghwa smiled at your words. “Yeah, you have a roommate, eh? You get along with her?”

“Yep. Wendy. Even though we barely have time now, it’s still nice to have some life in the house. She’s like you– cooks for us despite being busier than me, lets me crash in her bed even though I can sleep alone. She’s a wonderful friend.”

“You sound like someone who hates being alone,” Seonghwa pointed out.

“I don’t hate being alone,” you shrugged. “I just didn’t realise I was lonely until I met Wendy. I thought I would prefer my peace and quiet, but it turns out I just needed the right people in my life.”

“Ah, one of life’s greatest lessons,” Seonghwa grinned, the two of you chatting some more as you finished your food. You thanked him for cooking a lovely meal for you and offered to clear the kitchen while he washed up. Since he seemed to have no intentions to let you go, he accepted that and you started your job, making sure to place everything as it was before.

You were reading the notes taped to the refrigerator– grocery, reminders, silly scribbles, when Seonghwa snaked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and nudging your cheek with the tip of his nose. “What are you smiling at?”

“Whose idea was this?” You pointed at a silly doodle that seemed to be an attempt to capture Mingi’s facial features.

“Probably San’s,” Seonghwa chuckled. “I no longer remember because everyone uses it now.”

“Bet Mingi loves that,” you scoffed, your attention shifting to Seonghwa when he nudged your cheek again.

You shifted in his arms, pushing him back gently until he leaned against the counter to match your height. You caressed his cheek lovingly, meeting his strong gaze and tracing the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip.

When Seonghwa tugged you closer, you joined your foreheads and brushed your nose against his, gauging his reaction. You were aware of every little movement that he made and just when it looked like he was about to kiss you, you drew back.

“I’m still mad about the other night, by the way,” you said and Seonghwa shut his eyes, stifling a laugh. “I haven’t even kissed Hongjoong on the cheek yet, Seonghwa. How could you make him watch us… making out?”

“That’s on you,” Seonghwa challenged. “Don’t pretend you did not like it when he watched.”

You pursed your lips, caressing his neck absently. “Does Hongjoong… like me?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Seonghwa suggested. “Because you seem to hold him in high reverence… is that why you’re so afraid to make a move with him?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just… I guess I’m waiting for the right timing.”

“And what about us?” Seonghwa smiled. “Did we have good timing?”

“Very good,” you grinned. “You’re somehow always there to pick up the pieces when Hongjoong breaks my heart.”

“Wish Hongjoong could see how I do that,” Seonghwa said in a raspy voice, capturing your lips in a searing kiss just a beat later.

Just like in Edenary when Hongjoong had made you cry, Seonghwa was healing you up with his passionate kiss. He wasn’t wrong– you were afraid of doing something wrong with Hongjoong. He seemed to respect you too, or maybe he was waiting for you. Whatever it was, you could make sense of it later, for now…

You were hyper aware of Seonghwa’s hands on the small of your waist as he deepened the kiss and fell into a familiar rhythm with you. His plump lips tasted sweet and you thought you could kiss him forever, or let him kiss you until you would lose all sense of self. The movements of his hands up and down from your waist to your hips sent a trail of electricity in its wake, reminding you about how much you desired Seonghwa.

It had taken you far too long to come here, but now that you were in his arms, almost bare, you planned to let yourself go.

Seonghwa perhaps understood that, picking you up in his arms and making you wrap your legs around him, your laughter ringing in the empty house as he steered towards his room. You only had a second to look around before he dropped you on the bed, his demeanor shifting noticeably.

“Do you know what I plan to do with you tonight, love?” He asked, holding your chin and running his thumb across your parted lips. He didn’t need to hear the answer, for it was evident in your eyes. “Are we good?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“I’m going to kiss every inch of your body,” Seonghwa promised in a deep voice, making you shiver as his words registered in your being. “And then I’m going to make you mine.”

You nodded and he leaned down to kiss your mouth sweetly, the wet tendrils of his hair tickling your face when he drew apart just a fraction, reading your face.

“You’re going to tell me if at any point you are uncomfortable, or simply want to stop. Understood?”

Your heart did a big flip inside your chest– just what were you getting into? Where was the gentleman? There was not a hint of the gentleness in the way he was grabbing your chin now, his gaze darkening.

“Are you ready?”

You nodded almost absently, and Seonghwa shook his head.

“Words.”

“I’m ready,” you breathed, pulling his arm to bring him closer. “Have your way with me, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa smirked so dangerously and slowly that your toes curled. You understood then– he planned to make a mess of you first before he would break you with his gentleness.

And he started by unbuttoning your– his shirt but he did not take it off, letting it fall sideways to reveal your bare chest. His eyes left a burning trail on your bare skin and he crawled forwards, making space for himself between your legs. With a lick to his lips, he lowered his face and met your lips in a searing kiss, gripping your waist as he moved his mouth against you, leaving wet kisses on your mouth before trailing his lips down to your neck, licking and sucking relentlessly wherever he decided was the right spot.

Perhaps the way you squirmed and moaned under him was indication enough that he was on the right path, sucking at the right spots and touching you just the way you needed to be touched tonight. He didn’t hold back his own satisfied moans, digging his thigh purposely on your clothed core, smiling against your neck devilishly when you let out a groan. He drew apart to watch you, cupping your flushed face and teasing your lips with his over and over.

“Seonghwa,” you breathed and he planted a sweet kiss on your mouth. You started to grind against his thigh, lifting yourself up better with your elbows propped on the bed while his hands went to cup and fondle your breasts. You repeated his name over and over like a chant and he kissed you after every breath, almost losing himself there before he pushed you down, making you lay flat on the bed. He trailed his lips down your chest, leaving kisses everywhere, running his hands lovingly across your body until he reached your navel.

He looked up at you and waited until you gave another confirmation before he started spreading fluttering kisses along your thighs, nudging your clothed clit with the tip of his nose and holding you steady when your back arched in response. He hummed against the fabric of your panties.

“You’re already a mess, darling,” he muttered, teasing you further by tracing his thumb over your core. “And I haven’t even begun.”

“You’re something,” you breathed, sharing a laugh with him. His mouth ghosted over your throbbing core and it took everything in you to not take control of the situation. It’s not like you could either– his gaze remained challenging as if daring you to try.

When you looked at him pleadingly, he finally gave in and slowly but surely removed your black panties, getting back between your legs and giving you one look dripping with lust before latching his mouth to your clit, making your legs squeeze against his head as a loud moan escaped your mouth. While he sucked and kissed relentlessly, you clutched at his hair, only fuelling him.

“Seonghwa– too much,” you said, feeling wave after wave of arousal course through your body and leaving a tingling sensation in your extremities, making your fingers and toes curl as you lay helpless and completely submitted to the underboss.

“You can take it,” he simply said in a raspy voice, licking up your slick folds and humming in satisfaction.

“I can,” you told yourself, barely able to hold yourself when your legs threatened to squeeze shut. Seonghwa kept one hand as a brace on your thigh while the other played with your clit in circular motions as he dived his tongue deeper inside. A string of curses left your mouth while he toyed with you, the lewd sound of his lips making out with your cunt mingling with the breathy sounds of your moan that only grew louder with each passing second as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Seonghwa,” you breathed. “I– I won’t last–”

“That’s okay,” he looked up at you, the sight of your wetness spread over his mouth and jaw making all strength leave your body. “Let it go.”

With that, he went right back to continuing his ministrations, his hands tightening around your thighs and the tip of his nose providing just enough friction as he swirled his tongue. You could do nothing but moan out his name as your vision went white with pleasure, release coursing through you as if it had been whipped out of you. For a few ecstatic moments, you were gone before you came back to Seonghwa gently cleaning you up with his tongue.

He smiled at you and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before crawling upwards on top of you, tucking your hair back and murmuring in low whispers about how good you did for him, peppering kisses all over your face.

And then he whispered something in your ear that made you shiver involuntarily, followed by more praise as his kisses began to feel laced with innuendo, his hands rubbing soothing circles preparing you for what was next.

“You can take another, right? I know you can.”

He proved himself right again and again, testing your capabilities and switching from holding you gently and making love to you, to showing you what he himself was capable of. By the end of the night, you lay limp in his arms but no other place could have been better.

You were home, and you were loved.

Sometimes, you wondered what the fates had in store for you. The world did not revolve around you, but it sure felt like you were no more than a mere puppet in this twisted game of lies, control and hatred. A pawn in the big game of chess. Maybe the fates would lead you to the altar to be the sacrificial lamb soon. You wouldn’t be surprised.

Whatever the case was, you weren’t alone. You were sure Wooyoung and Mingi felt the same way as one of their crew members arrived at the warehouse to deliver news that had you all holding your breaths.

“What do you mean the MX warehouse was bombed?” You looked towards Wooyoung and Mingi who were equally shocked, if not more. Wooyoung got up slowly, the colour draining from his face.

“Yeosang and San– are they safe?”

You felt your heart sink at the vulnerability in his voice– never had you heard his voice break like this in all of the two years that you had known him.

“They’re safe and assessing the damage– they were not at the warehouse when the blast occurred,” Soonyoung assured and Mingi groaned in relief, rubbing his face. You sighed, finding Wooyoung’s hand and squeezing it in assurance.

“Hyungwon and Jooheon got injured, but nothing too critical,” Soonyoung revealed and you breathed ‘oh my god’. “A few soldiers also got injured, but no casualties.”

“And the goods?” Mingi asked.

“Safely transported before the attack happened,” he confirmed and Mingi collapsed back onto his chair in relief.

“Are we sure this was a deliberate attack?” Mingi inquired.

“Pretty damn sure,” Soonyoung admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “Our hitmen are after them, on their trail as we speak.”

“Okay, well,” Wooyoung got up, determined, hands in his pockets. “This changes things. I’m going to have to take matters into my own bloody hands now.”

“Wooyoung,” Mingi warned but he only shook his head and proceeded to dial the phone to order Seokmin’s presence in the office. He all but slammed the receiver down, gulping down his anger. You could understand why he felt that way. It was very well warranted.

As soon as Seokmin arrived, Wooyoung asked him to round all the workers present at this warehouse for he was going to conduct an interrogation to check if there was a mole right under their nose. Seokmin seemed to understand. He did not try to defend himself or the others, simply did what he was asked to.

Considering the gravity of the matter, this seemed to be the wiser take, the first step to ensure their safety as a whole. If MX warehouse could be bombed, no place else was safe and they would have to make sure that security around this Pledis warehouse remained tight.

Mingi went to squeeze Wooyoung’s shoulder, muttering something in his ear and kissing the corner of his mouth before leaving. You took a deep breath and shared a nod with the older capo who must have decided to lead the interrogation in Wooyoung’s stead. Wooyoung was rubbing his face while he tried to calm his nerves, pacing in the room. You let him be for a few moments before you walked towards him in the corner of the room and held his hands.

“Everyone is safe,” you reminded him. “No one got hurt.”

“But they could have gotten killed,” Wooyoung looked at you dead in the eyes.

“That’s true, but they didn’t,” you insisted. “So take your breather and then straighten your shoulders. We’ve got to keep our cool.”

“I know,” Wooyoung sighed deeply, looking away. You let go of his hands to tuck his long hair away from his eyes, cupping his face in the process.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Vulnerable. His eyes gave away what he felt. He did not need to speak to tell you the rest, but he decided to try anyway.

“Someone is deliberately targeting us,” Wooyoung almost whispered. “And I’m trying not to lose it right now. I could take out my weapons and round everyone up– anyone who was aware of what we were doing at the MX warehouse could be the mole, and that’s not a lot of people, Luna. We were betrayed by someone close, and I’m not sure I can forgive them when I find out their identity.”

You nodded in understanding. “Someone who was close to you… they must have been in quite the pinch to betray you and risk getting caught.”

“I don’t care,” Wooyoung announced, cupping your hands but keeping them where they were on his face, lowering them just a tad bit towards his neck. “We have a code. You break that, you lose your neck, friend or not.”

“But do you know what the mole has done in giving away the location of the warehouse?” You began and Wooyoung raised a brow in anticipation of your answer. “Exposed the pool of people who we need to look into. We can now use that pool to draw them out. We won’t need to find the mole– the mole will willingly walk into the trap now.”

“You’ve got an idea,” Wooyoung finally smiled. “I can see that in the twinkle in your eyes.”

“I’m tired of being the marionette, Wooyoung,” you admitted. “It’s about time we cut our strings and pull the player onto the stage.”

Wooyoung hummed in agreement, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as a thanks. “I’ll make sure Mingi isn’t terrorising our crew.”

You chuckled softly. “You do that. I’ll make some calls.”

You rang the main office and Eunha picked up, informing you that the ‘goods’ were safely transported to their new location. Seonghwa and Hongjoong seemed to be away, probably making their own rounds of interrogation. There were only a handful of trusted people who were aware about the new location of production of silver light, and that included the immediate bodyguards and hardly a handful of other people involved directly in its transport or safety. To think that the mole was so close…

It was time to make your move now.

However, any thoughts about scheming evaporated when Jaemin and Renjun came rushing through the warehouse in the dark hours of the night, right before you were about to leave with the boys to go home. The duo could barely catch their breaths and you watched them, baffled.

“This is no time for kids to be out and delivering news, no matter how important it is,” you reprimanded, taking in their state. Sweat trickling down their foreheads, cheeks flushed from running, you assumed. “A call would have been fine.”

“No, it’s not the Captain who sent us,” Jaemin shook his head, going from leaning against Renjun to straightening a bit, flinching. “We got news, and it’s bad.”

“Well?” You frowned. “What is it?”

“President Lee has dispatched a troop of soldiers for Strictland,” Renjun breathed and you failed to contain a gasp. “It’s not on the news yet, they’re doing heavy censoring but it’s only a matter of time before the public learns–”

“Hold on,” you raised a hand, trying to make sense of that and failing. “How? Why?”

“Apparently, Halaland has ‘violated’ some terms of the Treaty of the Eight Hills,” Jaemin huffed. “I don’t know what that is about, but that’s what we’re hearing. Assemblyman General Wi seems to have joined hands with President Lee.”

“No,” you breathed. Your loud heartbeat sounded right between your ears. “What does that mean for us?”

The kids did not know the answer to that, but you knew. This was how it began in 1958, a simple accusation thrown in the air with no verifications and no credibility, triggering the events that lead to the long, bloody war. And with a troop of soldiers now on their way to Halaland? There was no way Halaland would just sit back and not retaliate.

“Go home,” you instructed the kids. “Don’t stay out too late, and stay safe, you hear me?”

The kids nodded, sombre like nothing you had seen before from them. You passed a weak smile to Jaemin but he didn’t return the sentiment, pale. They only bowed and left, disappearing into the shadows.

You did not know how long you stood in the office room, thinking and thinking, when Wooyoung and Mingi arrived to let you know that the car was waiting.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mingi commented, “What’s wrong?”

You met their eyes and they waited for an explanation. However, nothing made sense anymore.

All you could hear was the ringing in your ears and all you could see in front of your eyes were the young and tired, weary soldiers who wished to go home but made a house 6 feet under the ground.

You would not let it happen again. This time, you had power. This time, you would wield it and make sure to protect your people.

“I become the bearer of the bad news yet again. Call the boys, Wooyoung. We’ve got a war to stop.”

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@lorensonebraincell @sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @jjaemasung @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @vcutparis @missbangtangirl @zaynsfl4m3s @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @katerade23 @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @curse-of-art @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @chanst1ddies @softsanglix @yongility @sang-09 @sweetinsaniiity @a-teez-4-exo @omgsuperstarg @saintriots @bihwabi @pshwifey @emotionallyanaemic

#ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #ateez mafia au

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