#those fucking dumb ass school milk cartons!

[animal-lover-forever]

Guys... I lost the battle... 😮‍💨😔

But not the war! He may have survived. But I have slayen his fellow Conrad in battle! 😈

[missinghan]

to my youth ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : summer au; high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 11,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slow burn

❖ summary : it is official that life hates you because not only was your first few days of summer ruined by a stupid field trip, but things also got somewhat freaky… whatever kind of ‘freaky’ you’re thinking about.

❖ note : i know i said i’m ‘experimenting’ with new stuff but guess who’s back with another mediocre, not-that-well-written mess of a domestic au; please (kindly) yell at me to dabble into a new genre after bearing through this fic- happy reading!

one.

The echoes of your summer days remain as flowers immune to the winter chill, they say.

You’re not entirely sure who even fathomed their time and effort to come up with that statement but from your point of view, those flowers would most likely have either died out from the summer heat or withered horrendously because of the arbitrary showers of rain. Or you’re the only one who doesn’t have the luxury to see life through a rose-colored lens.

Because the first thing that comes to mind for you is the bucket of ice-cream and a YouTube OG that you’ve ceased to finish since finals started two weeks ago. The bell rings, pens down, everyone pours out of the classroom after handing in their exam papers. No one really bothers to check up on each other’s answers anymore; the last subject for today was AP Psych and you don’t know about them but you honestly can’t care any less thereafter cramming the entirety of five chapters. 

Sprinting down the staircase, you easily spot Felix amongst the midst of drowsy high school students for the bright color of his hair. He truly believes that if he slaps enough hair essence and coconut oil on his head four times a week, his hair won’t feel like straws when he changes it every other three weeks. But it’s only a matter of time before balding catches up to him, he’ll learn eventually.

“Please don’t tell me that you left your keys in class,” you sigh upon the sight of him fumbling with his folders and textbooks while trying to open his locker in vain. Just thinking about walking all the way back to the third floor makes you want to use your backpack as a pillow and take a nice nap in the middle of the hallway.

“Gee, Y/N,” Felix makes a face to not show the sense of relief washing over him when he locks eyes with you. “Who do you take me as? A clumsy person?”

“No, just a dumbass.” You coldly snatch a slipping book from his arms before turning to twist the disc in the combination of your birthday until the lock clicks, shaking the shackle off to swing his locker open. It’s a silent tradition that you both set each other’s birthday as your locker’s combination since elementary school; it started out as a stupid joke at first but neither of you really bothered to change it. 

“Why the hell would you put your keys in the locker?” you widen your eyes in disbelief as he grabs the bright yellow Spongebob plushie to collect his keys with a shit-eating grin

“My alarm didn’t go off today, so I was running a little late,” he defends himself while dumping everything out of his backpack, hugging an empty water bottle to his side. 

You throw a wave at a very tired Hyunjin walking side by side with Seungmin on his right and Jisung skipping happily towards your direction. Seungmin looks exceptionally moody today, you pray he didn’t mess up an easy question to take it out on all of you later in the car. “Bet you were staying up late to play Overwatch with Chan.” 

Felix manages to grin stiffly at your comment, turning on his heels and trudges onto the school’s parking lot. “Fine, walk home.” 

“Hey, you forgot to lock this!” you pull his steps into a halt by making a grab for his hand, utterly oblivious at how his cheeks flare up with a bright shade of red at your touch. Or out of embarrassment. Whatever, same thing. 

Felix might be a better driver than you, but he’d be fired ten seconds into the job of a babysitter.

With that being said, when Jeongin decides it’s a good idea to cheer a passive-aggressive, post-exams Seungmin up with a carton of strawberry milk and then proceeds to get lost in his own school, the very same school he’s been attending for who knows how long, you’re the one who manually pulls his ass back into Mrs. Lee’s Jeep within ten minutes. 

And Seungmin has already fallen asleep by the time Jeongin’s back, so now he’s the passive-aggressive one while sipping on the milk bitterly. Either way, this is why you headcount although there are only six of you after Changbin starts getting busy with his college applications. 

“What took you so long?” Jisung looks up from his phone the moment you climb into the passenger’s seat, clicking in your seatbelt (drive safe, kids). 

You immediately feel the need to snap a photo of Jeongin accidentally breaking the cafeteria’s door with the staff running towards him in a panic. They’re more scared for his life than the door itself and that’s… sweet to say the least but with the way that the embarrassed boy is glaring at you through the rear-view mirror, you decide to keep your lips sealed. 

“It’s getting dark so all hallways start to look the same, you genius.”

Jisung momentarily sticks his tongue out at you. “God, you’re so rude to me. You’d never talk to Felix like that.”

“Because,” you drawl. “Lix is a pure-hearted angel descended from the realms of Heaven. Whereas, even Lucifer would see you as an eyesore in hell.”

“See! You’re doing it again!” Jisung points a finger at you in accusation, jumping up and down in his seat but no one really cares. It’s not like you’re speaking any false facts. “Stop bullying me!”

Seungmin shifts his body a little, nose scrunched up at the noises that wake him right up. “Jisung,” he warns his friend without opening his eyes. “Sit the fuck down, you have five seconds.”

Felix smirks when Jisung immediately cowers, slumping and leaning himself against Hyunjin in utter defeat. He learned not to mess with Seungmin after throwing a wallet at him on impulse. “Jealous much, Han?” 

“Nah, she’s all yours bro,” Jisung waves it off tiredly; bickering and making fun of Felix’s gigantic crush on you is too much for his brain to process today. He can really use a long, solid twelve-hour summer hibernation after getting home. 

The statement prompts Felix to look over at you when there’s a red light—the same exact moment as you stop staring at the bakery from across the road to lock eyes with him. There’s a little spark igniting at the pit of his stomach, stirring up butterflies inside his rib cage. But he snaps out of it after seeing you raise a brow at him, implying a silent ‘what?’ before turning away again. Felix has always been the type to stare so you don’t bother to think about it too much. 

The problem is: he only stares at you that way. 

A shade of coral creeps its way up to his cheeks, his gaze averting back on the roads when the light turns green. As Felix tries to calm the erratic tempo of his heartbeat, he also thinks about how much time he’d have left to confess before high school is over and everyone takes their own different paths. Then again, the future is far too blurry for him to make out anything and the thought of changes petrifies him a bit too much. 

Felix wishes to hold your hand until the very end but he’s a little scared...because what if you never wanted to be with him in the first place?

two.

Your brother has one talent, and that’s his ability to irritate the living daylight out of you even when he’s practically on the other side of the planet.

Minho (un)fortunately finished his finals with flying colors, and inevitably, you’re the first victim to receive a series of texts that consisted of nothing but self-indulgent, excessive bragging. Basically, he’s allowed to do whatever slash go wherever for a good three weeks before his summer internship begins, dragging his dumb ass back to hell—where he rightfully belongs. 

He’s probably chomping on a terribly unhealthy amount of pizza, pretzels, and any type of New York street food that you can name from the top of your head. It’s not like he’s paying for them anyway since Chan doesn’t allow people to touch their wallets if they happen to eat out with him. 

Your phone vibrates obnoxiously on your desk, the judder slightly muffled because it’s lying on top of your wide-open psych textbook. You haven’t bothered with cleaning up yet; finals only ended yesterday and you decide that you won’t touch anything until the disarray starts to scrape against your nerves. 

Side note: you’ve specifically told everyone not to call you three consecutive days after finals because yes, you’re that much of a loner, and yes, your stamina level for tolerating human interaction is awfully low. 

Second side note: no one ever listens. 

“Good morning, this is Lee Minho’s personal bullshit pail,” you mumble after your thumb swipes against the screen to pick up, your limbs curled up on the floor. “How can I possibly help you today?” Your morning voice isn’t necessarily threatening but rather scary; according to what Minho claimed, it sounds identical to that creepy girl from The Grudge so he groans aloud, his voice suddenly going out of focus on the other line from pulling his phone away.

“Jesus Christ are you still in your hermit phase after finals?” he questions callously, sounding not at all pleased with the way you greeted him. “Where’s mom and dad? Usually, they would have slammed your ass by now for staying inside like a vampire.”

“Don’t be insufferable, it’s only like…” you trail off while bending forward to take a good look at the little Sumiko Gurashi alarm on your bookshelf that Felix gave you during middle school. “Nine thirty-something and they’re at the park to exercise, duh- why do you care?”

Your brother almost sings on the phone, “Because you’re my little baby sister-” And this prompts you to pull the device away for the sake of your poor ear. It doesn’t help when you’re already surrounded by a group full of obnoxiously loud individuals on a daily basis. Not trying to call anyone out but Han Jisung is at the top of the list, his name in bold, capital letters being circled and underlined multiple times with a red marker.

“Who do I gotta kill to sleep in on a dreadful Sunday morning as any normal, cranky, antisocial high school student would?” you deadpan and rub the bridge of your nose dreadfully. 

“I don’t know, go murder Jisung or something.” Honestly, that’s tempting… but no.

You can physically see the smug smile on his face right now, simpering in delight at your imminent misery. He knows goddamn well about your relationship with sleeping schedules and that’s the perfect excuse for him to ruin those little specks of time when your brain cells are getting an actual break. 

These are also the times when you wish phones don’t fucking exist. 

“By the way, are you gonna go on the field trip tomorrow?” 

This question wakes you up almost completely because your eyes are now wide as a fish’s out of water, your hand automatically putting him on speaker before digging through the folders inside your backpack. What field trip? No one said anything about a field trip. And who thought it’s a good idea to force some worn-out, post-exams, sleep-deprived students into a field trip right after finals?

Minho hums coyly when the only response he’s getting is the rustling sound from your backpack, “Hmm, see what I meant there, little sis? Oh, the downside of living under a rock at its finest.” He doesn’t have to be here for you to fully picture the way that his lips curl up, dark brows wiggling whenever he’s right about something. Your brother wins most of the time against other people but overtaking you is an entirely different story.

“Oh screw off and go buy yourself a sense of humor.”

“Don’t be so mopey, isn’t Felix gonna be there?”

“What does Felix have to do with this?” you grit after managing to pull out a piece of paper from the very back, buried under countless of your essays. And it reads ‘field trip’ in caps at the top with tomorrow’s date right beneath. The trip lasts for three days, you’re going camping with the grizzly bears for three days—a total nightmare, basically. 

“Pfft, you’re actually dense for someone with a sparkly report card,” he sneers. “That kid has been crushing on you since elementary school. Are the signals that fucked up?”

“You mean when I accidentally spilled orange juice over his head? Sure, bet that’s why he’s so head over heels for me,” you snicker, unfazed by these kinds of statements. Minho only knows Felix because he was the president of your school's dance club and you fully believe that your brother is simply trying to mess with your malfunctioning, cranky mindset. 

“I fucking beg to differ, he always stares at you like you’re the love of his life, even when you stupidly poked yourself with a needle,” Minho announces as if he’s a love expert, tsk, amateur. “He might just confess during the trip, who knows? Campfire flickering. Sharing the same s’mores. Surrounded by nature. That sounds romantically ideal to me for a confession.”

He’s visioning everything like a terrible cliché film where two high schoolers stubbornly deny their feelings for each other until they start noticing how cute the other person is while magically being forced to be alone together. The worst kind of high school movie—which is also almost every high school movie. And you best believe that you’d a hundred percent kick your brother’s ass off that director’s chair because people live and breathe for this kind of overused entertainment. Tragic. 

“Alright, fuck this, I’m out-“

“Wait!” Minho exclaims out of nowhere, almost blowing up your eardrums. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You swear you’re rolling your eyes so hard, they’re about to fall out of their respective sockets. “Well, obviously,” you put the piece of paper down with a sigh, contemplating ways to minimize the amount of socializing in the upcoming three days. “Haven’t you bothered me enough? No?”

“You can’t leave me like this,” he whines in an annoyingly high-pitched voice that sends chills down your spine. 

“You need me, we’re connected.” 

He sounds like a whack version of Minnie Mouse for a second there, the kind of plushie that looks cute but with disturbingly creepy voice audio; no parents would let their children go near that aisle. 

You yawn as if there’s no tomorrow, stretching your limbs tiredly. “What I need is for you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone so I can go on my merry way to pick up snacks for this stupid field trip,” you utter lifelessly. 

“You hurt my feelings,” Minho pretends to clutch onto his chest and lets out a dramatic gasp, his voice doused in pure sarcasm. “What a heartbreaker, Y/N.” Said the one who always keeps his apathetic front up like a fortress’ wall and tosses every single love letter on Valentine’s Day into the recycling bin, handing the chocolate out to his classmates like he’s giving leftover vegetables to his least favorite relatives.

“Oh, I can tell,” you reply with fake enthusiasm and mock empathy. “You know how I can tell?”

“Do not finish th-”

“Cause we’re connected.” With that you hang up, slamming your phone harshly onto the surface of your textbook. 

three. 

You might love your room a little too much, it’s getting somewhat unhealthy.

It was furnished with a rather meager budget after your family moved out of your hometown when you stepped into elementary school. Things stay the same, well, most of it as time passes by you unknowingly. Your sad bookcase used to exist for one sole purpose—carrying countless books and plushies has now been upgraded with too many polaroids of your dumb group of friends, a neatly framed photo of Class of 2020 and two trophies that don’t even belong to you since Minho ran out of space as he kept participating in random dance competitions. 

The morning beams find their way through your white curtains and stain your walls with patches of yellow, eventually bugging your vision until you successfully convince yourself to either 1) wake up and get ready for school or 2) lazily stride across your room to shut the blinds completely so you can head back to bed. It’s summer… so option one is temporarily non-existent for a solid three months. 

Hey, you’re just simply making up for those all-nighters with a new cup of coffee every two hours.

Speaking of your bed, it’s soft but takes up so much space to the point that Hyunjin keeps complaining about not having enough room for his legs when he’s sprawled across the floor with Jisung, vigorously focusing on a presentation’s outline. Seungmin calls you lame for not throwing away your childhood plushies and letting them hog at least one-third of your bed, but Felix doesn’t mind since he always needs something to hug. All the more reasons why you can only trust Felix.

You might miss having those idiots being loud and invading your personal space...maybe.

Your phone rings for the second time that morning when you’re walking downstairs, shoving your keys into your pocket and grabbing a protein bar on the counter. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now, Minho,” you bark into the device, chewing on your breakfast aggressively, not bothering to look at the caller’s ID.

The closest convenience store is only twenty minutes away from your house but there’s a sticky note on the fridge from your mom, reminding you that she needs eggs to bake cupcakes for her company’s twentieth anniversary while your dad is running low on his Red Bulls. Basically, you’re in distress. It’s not like your dad should be inhaling those sugary drinks on a daily basis and your mom can just buy premade goods from the bakery. But there are more options for snacks at the supermarket…

“Y/N, the fuck?” The response of a voice as deep as the Pacific ocean almost makes you choke on air. “Did I wake you up or something?” Felix sounds flabbergasted on the other line, slightly taken aback. You almost feel bad because he’s the only sweetheart in your chaotic squad (besides Chan, obvi) except when he stays up late gaming with Hyunjin, pleading for your notes the next morning with puppy eyes.

“No, Minho did,” you grumble before tossing the wrapping into a bin.

“You don’t say,” Felix replies flatly, but his voice soon grows merry again after pushing the topic of your brother aside. “Oh, and I’m coming over to return your earphones, wanna grab breakfast?”

He practically lives ten minutes away from you, sees you almost every day even if it’s the weekend since he can’t stay in the same house with his sisters for too long and puts you on FaceTime every night to prevent himself from slacking off on assignments. The only time he didn’t get to see you for a week straight was when he visited Australia and accidentally dropped his phone into the ocean. It was a rough week without you nagging him for doing something stupid. Fundamentally, he’s merely making up more excuses to spend time with you after finals.

Chuckling, “Only if you’re treating me, I’m about to go broke from buying snacks for our field trip tomorrow.” you say breezily. 

And you’re only telling him that because he might just pay for your snacks as well since Felix Lee eats freshly grilled steak and mashed potato for breakfast. Baffling, absolutely. Plus, he works at a boba shop every summer either way and he would never hesitate to spend the entirety of his paycheck on any of his close friends. Irrelevant but the point is: you kinda don’t wanna go out alone today.

Or you’re just in the mood to go with Felix. That’s a useless statement since you both see each other at least ten out of twenty-four hours per day. 

“By the way, you know what I just realized?” Felix smacks his palm on his forehead. “This is our last field trip, like ever.”

Walking over to the rack of shoes down the hallway, you let out a large exhale. “That’s unfortunate on your behalf. I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem with that,” you tell him with zero consideration, your brain cells too busy picking out a pair of shoes to process the five basic steps to empathize with another human being. 

“No,” he emphasizes helplessly. “I meant, it’s like our last high school field trip. We’re graduating next year, no time to sleep with the grizzly bears again.”

You can only manage to utter, “Oh.” Shit, college is right around the corners. 

“Jesus fucking Christ what the hell am I supposed to do after high school? Stay here? Go abroad? Wait, aren’t applications for going abroad supposed to be turned in a year beforehand? Why are you only telling me this now!?” 

Felix laughs wholeheartedly through the phone, amused at your sudden outburst. “Y/N, calm down. You’re going to college, not prison,” he brushes it off casually but in a way, college is technically prison. Slaving over a degree while working part-time jobs, chasing time relentlessly like you’re driving in the middle of a foggy night with one headlight out. And you’re forced to open up with more strangers. It’s terrifying, actually terrifying. And you’re not the type to be easily terrified. 

Now come to think about it, you don’t get why you were so pressed about it five seconds ago. It’s a good opportunity not to leech off your parents as much, like dabbling, taking one baby step at a time into adulthood. After that, you’ll graduate again, probably settle somewhere with an adequate job and find someone, starting to think about having ki-

Hold up, you’re going too far. You’re barely a senior. 

“I guess we’ll just have to make the most out of this summer,” Felix’s voice snaps you back to the surface of Earth faster than a tick of a clock. “We’re outside, by the way. Open up.”

That fast? Furrowing your brows, you hang up to slip into a pair of sneakers before sprinting to the front door. Wait, your hand freezes as it grazes the doorknob. We?

Not again. 

“Why the fuck..” you cracks a lifelessly crooked smile after pushing the door wide open. “..are you here?” It’s only ten in the morning, and you don’t think you should be screaming at the top of your lungs to be jumped on by the whole neighborhood.

Felix takes a step back, a little scared for his life. “Uhh, to return your earphones?”

“No, no,” you run a hand through your hair tiredly. Just when you thought this day was gonna be peaceful. “I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about them. Since when was this an agreement? How dare-“

“Why yes, I missed you too!” Jisung exclaims like the little shit he is, throwing an arm over your neck to ruffle your hair. No one ruffles your hair without getting their ass slammed- except for Minho. “Why the long face? Let me guess, until this exact second, you thought there’s a fucking squirrel, a lama, a dog, and a kitten standing at your front porch? No, it’s us, your Forever BFFs.” He’s one of the reasons why you refuse to understand the humans’ language sometimes.

With a harsh shove from you, Jisung staggers backward only for Hyunjin to prevent him from rolling like a ball in the middle of your neighborhood. “One more word and I’m telling the whole class who your crush is,” you threaten, earning an involuntary snort from Seungmin. 

“I hate to admit this, but she might actually say yes if he makes the first move.”

Hyunjin supplies unconstructively, “That’s why he didn’t ask.”

“You know what, Hwang,” Felix says with a smirk tugging at his lips, bumping his fist against Hyunjin’s without turning his head. 

“Oh screw all of you.” Jisung’s getting all the attention he wanted this early in the morning yet he still feels like a loser. Perhaps he should try shutting up once in a while. 

four.

“Thanks for giving me a ride, uncle, you really didn’t have to,” Felix says generously from your dad’s back seats, scratching the nape of his neck as though this is the first time he’s ever shared a ride with you. 

He’s too humble sometimes you just want to smack him across the face with a pillow to stop being so formal with your dad. Heck, Felix downright called him ‘dad’ by accident once during a Christmas dinner back in middle school and your dad even encouraged him to keep addressing him like that. 

Not to mention, Felix is chomping on a turkey sandwich that your mom made this morning specifically for him after finding out that his parents are currently out of town and there's nothing but ramen in the cabinet. God forbids her to starve the same kid who helped your dad fix his bumper. So really, he should be expecting these things by now. 

“Oh it’s not a big deal, you’re too nice,” your dad laughs as he pulls over to your school’s front gate, careful not to run into that one really tall, ugly tree. You’re lowkey paranoid that people might die if it collapses during a storm or something. “Perhaps you can return the favor by getting a drink with me sometimes.”

Felix blinks numerous times, slightly gobsmacked. “...but I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

“Correct answer.” And you snicker when your dad turns around to toss a wink at your friend’s direction. “Doesn’t mean that I’m forbidding you kids have fun,” he clarifies upon the baffled expression on Felix’s face. “But not too much fun, got it?”

“Okay, okay dad, I’ll see you in three days,” you shake your head before climbing out of the car. “Don’t starve the cats while I’m gone. Oh! And Soonie still needs his lactobacillus-“

Your dad brushes it off with a sheepish smile, “I’ll leave it to your mom, muffin, I can’t even remember which dry food is for which cat. I also don’t think they’ll be starving anytime soon, those little demons are getting quite fat actually since your brother spoils them all the time.” You can only give him a mere eye-roll because as much as he claims to hate having pets, there have been countless times when you caught your dad red-handed trying to tuck the cats into bed in the middle of the night. 

Felix soon catches up with your steps after bidding him farewell, crumpling the sandwich wrapper in his palm. “Wait up, muffin,” he says breathlessly with a few skips, starting to think about not skipping dance practice again this summer before his body gets out of shape. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, followed by a harsh elbow jabbed into his side. Felix grunts in pain, slowing down a little but still tries to walk side by side with you nonetheless. “You don’t deserve that complimentary breakfast, I’m telling mom to cut your portion off next time.” 

“Ah! Come on, muffin! You’re being mean.”

Your biggest fear has inevitably come true—after all those years of erratic mood swings and other weird things puberty puts you through, Felix still makes fun of you for the nickname that your parents came up with on your first day of school. It doesn’t help with the fact that he meets them quite often too. Like four out of seven days a week since your parents love coming over to each other’s house for dinner. 

“Flip that scowl upside down now, will you?” Felix cups your cheeks and squishes them together, attempting to make your smile by tugging at the corners of your lips. “Aren’t you excited about the trip?”

You scoff at him, “Are you even hearing yourself? My entire existence reeks off ‘excitement’ 24/7.” 

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not responsible for whatever happens next to your face.”

But when you reach up to peel his hands away, you’re bound to make a grave mistake by looking straight into his eyes. The morning light hits his face at the right angle and it makes him look like a puppy—which you wouldn't mind starting at all day. Although it’s not like you haven’t got a good look at him before, something’s different today. From the way his irises twinkle gently like thousands of celestial bodies to how his freckles scattered across his cheekbones like the remaining bits from a supernova, his full lips with a prominent Cupid’s bow and his cute crooked teeth. 

You know all of these things; perhaps you’ve never put too much thought into them before. Not when you’re constantly facepalming at him for doing stupid TikTok dances and trying to eat a banana with its peel on. But now when you actually acknowledge them, your heart momentarily skips a beat. Or two. 

Doesn’t matter, you hate this feeling either way. 

“Get a room, this is disgusting to watch.” 

Seungmin steps in between you two with his backpack slung over his shoulders, hands resting on his hip like he’s babysitting you and your biological parents don’t pay him enough for this tedious job. But Felix is too busy making sure that his eyes aren’t malfunctioning when he sees a pink tint on your cheeks to focus on whatever nonsense Seungmin is spewing at him. 

“Get on the bus, losers! Y’all are embarrassing me!” Hyunjin yells as he plants a foot onto the bus, trying his best not to be subtle about the fact that all of your classmates have already been seated. 

You can practically see Jisung making weird faces from the window and next to him is a very cranky-looking Jeongin with his earbuds plugged in, deciding not to tolerate any chit-chatting this morning. It’s a shame how the school’s always on a low budget when it comes to transportation; consequently, some random freshmen got squeezed in with your class. 

So you elect to ignore your friend’s questionable behaviors (sometimes you wonder what he’s on to be this zealous at six in the morning) and grabs Felix's hand to climb onto the vehicle before coach Kim kicks your ass for slowing the schedule down. 

As you shuffle down the narrow aisle, you quickly realize there are only two seats left at the very back—basically, you feel a little guilty for not getting a good spot for Felix but he doesn’t seem to mind because he taps you on the shoulder lightly, signaling for you to move.

“Ugh, I wanna go home,” you sigh, slumping into your seat after tucking your backpack neatly on the small compartment above. 

“You’re boring,” Felix comments flatly but he’s partially glad that he got to sit with you instead of some blabberer. “Need this?” Fishing his earphones out of his backpack, he wiggles the banana milk case in front of your face. 

You only nod lazily at the offer, causing him to huff in disbelief before slipping in a side of his AirPods into your ear. You both have pretty similar taste in music so you don’t mind when he puts one of his playlists on random and Fly Me to the Moon bleeds into your eardrums. The soft melody makes you yawn a little, eyelids getting droopy. 

“Tired.” Is the only warning Felix gets before you decide to drop your head onto his shoulders, slipping your arm around his torso comfortably like it’s a pillow. You personally don’t do cuddles but since he’s into those things and smells nice—very fruity, somewhat musky too, you might as well take advantage of that with the hope of sleeping throughout the entire ride. 

“What is wrong with you today?” he asks with glowing cheeks. 

“Shh shh, I’m recharging my battery.”

Felix is a little flustered, to say the least. But instead of complaining about your sudden clinginess, he rests his head on top of yours like second nature, allowing his childhood song to drown out some of the background chatters. 

You should really be clingy more often… though he’s not gonna risk his pearly white teeth by telling you that. 

five. 

Your school actually knows how to manage money in a smart way. Shocker, you know. 

You are thrown off upon hearing that no one needs to worry about the grizzly bears, or wolves (hey, one can never be too careful) because everyone gets to share a log cabin with a maximum of three other people. 

In fact, the camp counselors have confirmed that even though they’re throwing a bunch of inexperienced, dumb high schoolers smacked in the middle of the wilderness, there’s really nothing to do other than boring team-building exercises...and fishing. In other words, the only creature that can somewhat do harm to you is mosquitoes. 

It’s been pouring nonstop when your classmates tried to set up the campfire with coach Kim screaming into their eardrums last night, no wonder those little shit are thriving to make your life more miserable—they’re in their element, reproducing at a terrifying pace. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” 

Hyunjin clutches a hand to his chest in both relief and terror after realizing the curled up figure sitting by the window is just you. He steps inside the cabin completely and flings his wet bangs away from his face, shoving the umbrella in his hand into a stand by the shoe rack. “You look like shit, are you okay?” he furrows his brows, slightly concerned about your eyebags and the way your lips crack from dehydration.

A soulless smile finds its way to your face. “I’m pretty sure ‘shit’ and ‘okay’ aren’t supposed to be in the same sentence but thank you for asking, I appreciate it.”

Here’s another downside to being a homebody: you can’t fucking sleep on any other beds that aren’t yours. And surprisingly that two-hour nap on the bus wasn’t enough to fuel you for the rest of the trip. But lucky you, it’s most likely going to keep raining cats and dogs and trash pandas for the rest of the day. Outdoor activities are no longer mandatory and you can almost hear your non-existent muscles crying in sheer joy. 

“Drink,” Hyunjin sighs at your pathetic state and decides to toss a water bottle in your direction. 

However, all you do is retrieve your limbs deeper into Felix’s fluffy blanket since he refused to use the grey one that’s draped over every bed beforehand. You’re far beyond grateful for that because those fading, questionable-looking stains just scare the crap out of you. And also because the fluffy blanket smells like him; you rest your case.

“You were knocked out for the entire bus ride, so why the hell can’t you fall asleep on a decent bed?” Shaking his head, Hyunjin plops himself onto Jisung’s bed like a potato, accidentally knocking over the neatly folded pile of clothes. He really doesn’t give two flying fucks about the fact that his friend spent an excessive ten minutes to organize his stuff so coach Kim won’t be barging into their cabin with a megaphone at five in the morning again. 

“She can only fall asleep on Felix, that’s why.” You roll your eyes in the bitchiest way possible, not bothering to chuck the abandoned water bottle at the unwanted guest of this terrific conversation. 

Hyunjin almost lets out a shriek when Seungmin jolts up from his bed, hair messy, a leg sticking out from his comforter. “You know, until this exact moment, I thought that you were dead or something.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Seungmin elaborates as he bends over to reach for his glasses with squinted eyes. “There’s a 99,9% that Felix will make the first move but at the same time, it doesn’t mean the other 0,01% won’t happen so you,” he jabs his index finger towards you. “Better be doing something other than walking around camp like a zombie.”

Hyunjin tilts his head in confusion. “Since when was this even a thing?” You’re this close to have a permanent hand imprint on your forehead for facepalming every two seconds with your idiotic friends around. 

“Uhh, since forever?” Seungmin feels the need to voice out. “Listen, since the day Y/N spilled orange juice on Felix’s favorite shirt, the amount of times they’re forced to be together has risen tremendously. And when their parents found out their families live like ten minutes away from each other, they practically see each other every single day. Even outside of school. They tolerate each other, meaning the dynamic is long-lasting. Their bonding encouraged friendship.” 

“But we’re her friends too?”

A deep breath. “No, their friendship was incited to grow into something bigger, more profound because Felix has a special ‘click’ with Y/N that he doesn’t with us. God, Hyunjin, it’s been what, almost a decade! How could you not see it?” Seungmin says with expressive hands, almost yanking every strand of hair off of his head. It’s too early for this, his brain is about to implode. Hwang Hyunjin being dense just feels like a metaphoric chokehold to him. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin simply ignores his frustrated friend to look over at you slipping into your sneakers. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“That’s because she’s about to either shut the door in my face then find Felix or kick my ass and then find Felix,” Seungmin informs with a yawn, and this prompts you to muster a fake smile. 

Oh, I’m fucking livid. 

“You know me too well.”

He questions with heavy irony, “I’m sorry did you just agree with me?”

“Oh no, no, I take that back,” you brush him off. “Is Felix still outside fishing?”

“I think so?” Hyunjin replies while running a hand through his hair in mere distress; Felix’s competitiveness goes a little mayhem sometimes when it comes to Jisung being better than him at something since they’re so close. That’s one of the sole reasons why Felix always manages to maintain his flying GPA because Han Jisung procrastinates like no other but still tops his class every single semester. 

“I didn’t find him at the lake, though, wonder where he went.”

You widen your eyes, somewhat alarmed since it’s almost lunchtime, and Felix Lee never, and you mean never, ever let himself skip a meal. He always gets a nice nap after stuffing his face with enough good food too, so that’s a bonus. But that’s not the point, the point is: you’re starting to get a little worried because he’s been fishing all morning, wandering alone in the wilderness without a camp counselor. 

You’d better not find him sleeping with the fishes. 

six.

Maybe you were right, maybe Felix is a dumbass.

Because listening to his ego and coming back to the lake after breakfast was a horrendous idea. 

It’s such a pity how those weird-looking vehicles have stopped driving around camp the moment it started pouring outside. Heck, he didn’t even bring an umbrella after asking the coach to check today's forecast. 

So tragically, he’s now stuck underneath the canopy of a cafe ensuing coursing his way through the water blizzard and seeking refuge but can’t walk back to his cabin where his cabin-mates are probably having the time of their life drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on hand-picked fruits.

Felix exhales in torment while gazing outside, everything’s completely white-out thanks to droplets of raining streaking the horizon. Perhaps dashing back might be his one solitary option, but shivers soon run up his spine again, reminding him that he’s probably looking like a wet rat—his black Converse sodden, water seeping through the thin fabric of his uniform, numbing his skin. 

Ruffling his wet fringe, Felix’s hand fishes inside his pocket to look for his phone only to realize that it’s not there. “Shit...great..just great, today is my lucky day.” Even if the camp counselors didn’t confiscate all the electronic devices, there wouldn’t be any service in the middle of the woods either. Splendid. 

“Ugh, Y/N,” he groans under his breath. “Why did you let me do this?”

“Shit.”

 “AHH!”

Felix shrieks upon the tiny voice squeaking out from behind him. And he sighs in pure relief to see a little girl standing mere inches away, looking no more than a seven-year-old dressed in a yellow raincoat. “Hey kid,” he chuckles and crouches down to her eye level. “Where are your parents? You’re not supposed to be out here alone when it’s pouring like crazy.” 

And to his dismay, “Shit,” the little girl giggles, finding a new profound interest in the curse word that he accidentally spewed out seconds ago. 

“Shh shh,” Felix frantically places an index finger on his lips while darting his eyes around in terror—he might be sued if her parents found out how their daughter picked up a bad word from some random high schooler. Suddenly he feels bad for his future kids. “No, no, we can’t say that. It’s forbidden. What’s your name?”

“Mina,” she answers cutely and fiddles with the ends of her braids. “Who’s Y/N? Is she your girlfriend?”

Felix chokes on his own saliva. “...no, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, my dad always calls my mom’s name when he messes things up.”

“What does that have to do with- oh, shit,” he facepalms himself. This kid is going to give him a cardiac arrest any second now. “It doesn’t matter if she’s my girlfriend or not, what matters is I need to get you back to your parents. Do you know where they are right now?”

Mina simply shakes her head with a pout. “Okay, let’s go find them then,” he can’t help but cracks a smile, ruffling her hair endearingly. Most kids would be bawling their eyes out by now knowing that they’ve strayed from their parents; she’s a tough one. 

Felix gently grabs Mina’s hand, biting down on his lower lip as he prays that a cold doesn’t catch up to him tomorrow and ready to dash out of the canopy that’s been keeping him dry for the last hour or two. But then a figure comes into view from afar, holding an umbrella while squinting their eyes through the thick streaks of rain. 

“Y/N..?” he mutters to himself in disbelief when you quickly skip underneath the canopy, collapsing the red umbrella in your hands. Felix recognizes that umbrella anywhere—isn’t that Hyunjin’s? Have you been looking for him? And for how long too?

“Didn’t even think about bringing an umbrella, smartass,” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Oh dear, who do we have here?” Before Felix can defend himself in vain with lame excuses, you’ve already taken your attention off him to stare at the unfamiliar presence. Your intense gaze scares Mina a little, causing the little girl to squeeze Felix’s hand, hiding behind his leg. 

Your friend laughs, patting her little head in reassurance. “Mina, this is Y/N, my classmate. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

“Are you really going to bother with this little one?” you scrunch your nose a bit. “We’re having pork rib soup, by the way, better hurry if you don’t want Han to hog your portion all to himself.”

Felix rolls his eyes at how utterly apathetic you are towards children. If you can get a perfect A in calc then why is it so hard to simply comprehend that every twelve-year-old needs to be returned to their hypothetical parents safely? “What part of ‘a common sense of morality’ can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t want to, actually, sounds like a lot of work,” you hum sarcastically. 

“Your girlfriend is scary,” Mina ensconces herself further behind your friend, officially detecting you as a threat rather than someone who will potentially bring her back to the cabin where her parents are probably flipping the whole place upside down in a panic—which is exactly what you’re planning to do. 

In your defense, you don’t detest kids in general. Only the bratty ones. And Mina is borderline bratty. 

“You know, I can spare her some time, Lost and Found is like..ten minutes away from here.”

“Y/N-” Felix wants to scream at you, rubbing the side of his temple in distress. Imagining you babysitting your neighbor’s newborn last summer with nine bucks per hour, ten hours per day, and five out of seven days per week is one of the few things that constantly keeps him from having a good night's sleep. It baffles him how you haven’t accidentally drowned the infant while giving her a bath. 

Mina gives the side of his jeans a tug, round eyes staring up at him expectantly. “Or we can get juice pops!” she exclaims happily and looks over to you, mustering her best puppy eyes. “Please? I don’t want to be alone..” 

“Twenty seconds ago, you called me scary and now you’re guilt-tripping me?” you crouch down to get a good look at the kid. Bright, innocent brown eyes, cute button nose, and a chipped front tooth—perhaps she’s a little too cute to not get her juice pops. 

Then, “And juice pops too? You evil mad mind genius,” you say after standing up to unfold Hyunjin’s umbrella, swinging it over the top of your head. “That’s extortion, kid, you’re too young for that.”

Felix breaks into a fit of giggles upon seeing you failing at trying to keep a straight face and steps in beside you under the umbrella. His next problem just pops up right then and there—Mina can’t squeeze in considering the umbrella that Hyunjin gave you is solely used for one person. 

“Mina, hop on here,” he decides to get on his knees, permitting the little girl to clumsily climb on his back and eventually plopping herself onto his shoulders. 

“Oh, oh, oh, can you two hold hands?” Mina suggests with a shit-eating grin on her face. This causes Felix’s cheeks to burn with a bright shade of red while you’re too busy throwing daggers at her with your eyes to notice. “My family does this all the time, my dad would carry me on his shoulders and my mom would hold his hand as we walk home after going to the park.”

You and Felix yell simultaneously, “We’re not your parents!!” But that doesn’t seem to scare the little girl. You’re both just encouraging her. 

“Yip yip, horsey, don’t be disobedient now,” she giggles to herself and pulls at a solid patch of Felix’s hair, making you cringe because his hair and scalp have already had enough from his questionable obsession with bright hair colors. 

“Ow! Mina! Stop it! Ow!”

“Okay quit torturing my friend,” you tell her and decide to slip your hand in with Felix’s, intertwining your fingers to secure the grip before showing it to Mina so that she’ll stop before any blood is drawn. “There, we’re holding hands just like your mommy and daddy, you happy?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything even when Mina nods happily, releasing her monstrous grip off his poor scalp. He only lets you tug him away from the canopy of the cafe as he gazes downward, eyes glued to how your hand fits into his perfectly. The sound of rain tapping against the umbrella suddenly bugs him, suffocating him in a way. In other words, it’s really unnatural to think this way about his best friend but he doesn't want you to let go at all. 

Everything seems to move faster when you’re holding onto his hand so certainly. Felix thinks you’re fully aware but try to fight off the voices that are taunting you to just drop it. And truth is, you can care less because your head is now far too fuzzy to focus on anything but the road ahead. 

You pray he doesn’t feel the pounding rhythm from your veins. If your red ears haven’t given it away already. 

seven.

Jisung has weird friends, that’s a fact. And no, you’re not talking about the gang that saved his ass every time he got into trouble aka you plus JeongMinLixJin. You’re talking about those kids from Class 2C that are mutual friends with Changbin.

Because the moment Jisung barges into the cabin and starts babbling nonsense that you can’t comprehend (not that you can comprehend any of his shit on the daily), you know that he just came back from a get together with those sketchy dudes who managed to sneak some booze inside a shampoo bottle.

“Uhm okay, who gave Felix alcohol?” he squints his eyes hard. 

You are more than aware that Jisung is mildly smashed by the way that his cheeks are tinted with a light shade of coral, hiccupping every ten seconds and slightly more clumsy with his feet. He almost tripped over the rug at the front door if it weren’t for Hyunjin who caught him in time so that he wouldn’t break one of his precious teeth. Those painful years of constantly slurping on watery porridge after every dentist appointment to tighten his braces shouldn’t be going down the drain. 

Speaking of bland rice water, that’s all Felix has been fed with after returning to camp because he has no choice. The sickness finally caught up to him as a result of staying outside for too long while still dressed in his rain-soaked uniform. Even under the cotton comforter, he’s radiating heat on the outside but stoically shivering on the inside, his energy level is as diminished as his appetite. 

The nurse said there’s really nothing that can be done but give him some pills and let him ride it out so now Felix’s all curled up in a corner of his bed, cheeks burning flush of fever, coughing and sneezing occasionally. He refuses to be moved to a completely separate cabin because sleeping alone in a confined place knowing that the grizzly bears might be roaming outside your door is quite frightening for a junior in high school. 

“God, what makes you think I’m the batshit drunk one here?” Felix croaks, his voice more hoarse and gruff than usual because every word pains him, his vocal cords pulse in agony at each syllable. And that sentence was probably the longest thing you’ve heard from him since dinner. 

Jisung lets Hyunjin toss him onto his bed, face down, and props himself up on his forearms. “Uhh, have you checked yourself the mirror?” he hiccups, words a bit slurred, palms outstretched in a grabby motion. “Seungmin, water- ow! What the fuck was that!?” 

He rubs the side of his head while babbling incoherently like a fucking five-year-old because Seungmin decided to chuck a water bottle at him. Those years of playing baseball during retreats indeed paid off. 

“I went for the head,” Seungmin looks up from his book calmly, acting innocent. 

Jisung whines and turns to his side, watching as the water bottle rolls back towards him after coming in contact with the wall. “God, I miss Minho. You guys suck,” he takes it before sitting right up but flops himself back down when a pang of pain claws at his temple. Who even allowed him to drink?

“Didn’t he make your high school experience miserable?” Hyunjin laughs, sitting down on the corner of his bed, legs curled into his chest. 

“Hello? That was me,” Seungmin clarifies, he sounds a little offended. “He called me a nerd for studying late at the library for our finals! Our fucking finals! Do you know how insecure my freshman self was? I was so hurt!” 

You cross your arms and mumble, “He’s the same guy who treated you ice-cream after finding out you got a B in physics.”

Hyunjin hums, butting into the topic, “And he made me do fifty push-ups because I unintentionally skipped a day at practice. Our Dance Club really didn’t need a president who effortlessly snatches the Asshole of the Year Award like he’s stealing candies from a kid.”

“Please, you’re practically buddies now,” you scoff. “You always play Mario Kart and rewatch the Avatar series with him, even during midterms!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jisung suddenly gets on his feet, jumping up and down like a maniac. You’re highly concerned for the bed by the creaking sound that it’s making—sounds just like something straight out of a horror film. “He almost threw a knife at me!”

You’re running out of excuses to defend your stupid brother at this rate. What’s the point in trying anyway? “Han, it was a plastic knife, chill.”

Jisung crawls off his bed to approach you, pinching his thumb and index finger together before shoving them to your face. “I was this close to dying! You try having someone threaten to throw a knife at you during lunch break,” he complains like it’s the end of the world. Truth is, you’ve seen (and experienced) worse things. 

“Minho’s still my brother.”

Staring at you, Jisung looks unimpressed. “He wanted to kill me because I commented on his puffy cheeks that day.”

“He’s adopted.”

The conversation is pulled to a halt right there when Felix does a full-body groan, his head spinning and sweats starting to collect at his hairline. With his mind buzzed like he’s floating, the bickering only adds to the pressure that’s squeezing each of his functioning brain cells. In other words, it feels as though Han Jisung is a fucking hamster going on a marathon across his body, nibbling on his limbs and ears as he’s going through a hangover, his immune system going on a rampage. 

Felix doesn’t even drink. 

“That’s my call for a bedtime story.” You glare at Jisung when he clears his throat while you’re attempting to tuck Felix into bed, pressing your palm against his forehead to check his temperature. It’s not climbing anymore, he should be okay after sweating everything out. 

Hyunjin pulls his friend back onto his bed, locking his limbs in tight before he waddles around and potentially breaks one of those decorative pieces on the bookshelf. “Not to burst your ego, but I don’t think you’re sober enough to give us a good story,” he says unapologetically. 

“Puh-lease,” Jisung lets out the weirdest chuckle at that, wagging his forearm like those Japanese ceramic cat figures that are supposed to bring people good fortune; and Han Jisung is notorious for bringing people anything but good fortune. “They didn’t even have vodka, only Strongbow. That shit is too weak for me.”

You snort involuntarily, “Actually, I think you meant you’re too weak for those bottles of cider.”

“Wow, Y/N, what a snake.”

eight.

The bonfire crackles, flaring up to life when coach Kim tosses a lit matchstick into the pyramid pile of branches and woods. The flame projects long shadows of the trees all round along, swirling and curling in obscure shapes with the high schoolers that each hugs their own cup of hot cocoa, chomping on their marshmallows of choice. 

Glowing embers beneath are colored by the inferno that seems to be moving with the rhythm and melody of the song that they’re all singing along, drumming their feet and bobbing their heads simultaneously. 

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to join them?” Felix says apologetically after sneezing into a piece of tissue, his nose all red and swollen. “I can just… I don’t know, read a book or something.”

When he refers to those oddly colorful and rather bulky-looking books on the shelves, Seungmin immediately stops putting a cookie inside his mouth midway. “Those are called ‘aesthetically useless interior decoration’, Lix. Good luck trying to open those plastic blocks,” he expresses with his hands after stuffing the cookie into his mouth, chewing rather aggressively. 

Felix feels quite bad because, for all he knows, Hyunjin and Seungmin have been planning on going kayaking today and trying out volleyball tomorrow. You’re all going home in two days yet they’ve done nothing but pigging out in pure distress. “Still, it’s a summer camp, you all should be out there having fun, not stuck inside to look after me while tolerating...that,” he quietly looks over at Jisung who just exited the bathroom after splashing his face with some water. 

At least he doesn’t look crazy and homeless now. 

“How are they doing that again?” you join Hyunjin as he rests his head lazily on his forearms, staring outside from the cabin’s window like Rapunzel in an alternative universe where Flynn Rider managed to escape the tower with the crown, leaving her behind longing for civil human interactions in vain. 

“They sing..” he drawls. “And turn their heads to look at each other in the eye.”

You wave it off absentmindedly, falling on your back so now your head is hung upside down from the bed, your arms dangling midair. “Well, that sounds exhausting,” you mumble, ignoring the way that Seungmin is internally judging you. 

Hyunjin sighs, “Never one for sentiment, are you?”

“Easier to let it burn,” you answer flatly, sitting upright when blood starts rushing to your head. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Seungmin immediately forces a smile at Felix. “We’re not really into sitting with a bunch of idiots just to enjoy a mildly decent hot cocoa either way.”

Suddenly the lights go out, and Felix immediately curls himself further into the blanket, a little thrown off. Jisung’s face comes into view out of nowhere when he makes a grab for the oil lamp that no one seems to take notice of, lighting it up with a single match. “C’mon, kids, no bonfire is complete without a good ghost story,” he crosses his legs on the floor happily, still somewhat tipsy so his body is bouncing in excitement with occasional hiccups. 

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchange questionable looks before scrambling to the floor, settling themselves a few solid inches in front of the oil lamp with a sigh while you only shrug at Felix, propping your head onto your hands. Laziness is starting to hold you hostage on Hyunjin’s bed at this rate. 

Seungmin spares Jisung a slight glare, “Better not bullshit us with the same one that you heard at school-”

“No,” Jisung’s lips morph into something similar to a smirk, he looks concerningly confident for someone who’s utterly terrified after watching IT. And now he’s attempting to give his bros who are equally jumpy about everything and anything, you’re excited to see how this goes. “I heard this one from a camp counselor, true story.” You definitely don’t like the sound of that.

At first, the ghost was no more than a chill in the air, a shimmer of mist to the common eyes. Through the heavy rain and fog that seeps through people’s skin, chilling the core of their bones, it slowly came into focus. It wasn’t until the camper found refuge under a canopy of an abandoned café that it congealed into a form—a small child with brilliant round eyes, dressed in white clothing. 

For a moment, all was silent and still. It was as though the camper got hypnotized, feet planted to the ground. Then, he could hear a small lullaby in a cheerful voice. 

“Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St.Clements…” They know how that one ended. 

Suddenly someone blows out the candle, but Jisung’s voice still rings in your eardrums. “When the camper took a step back, the ghost spoke again, this time with the voice almost of a smoker and grin…” You can feel Hyunjin hop back to bed with you in a tick of a clock, holding onto you for dear life with the infrequent whimpers of fear. 

Jisung proceeds to continue, “The grin soon became a snarl, baring teeth like a wolf when it finished the lullaby…”

A muffled silence descends. And, “Have you come to play…?”

“AHHH!!” Felix lets out a petrified shriek, but what confuses you is the sound of Jisung grunting rather in pain. Seungmin sighs in disapproval, flickering the lights on while leaning back against the wall. 

And now before your eyes is a slightly traumatized, feverish Felix with clattering teeth, quivering inside his blanket. Whereas, Jisung is sprawled across the floor, hugging his poor stomach, hacking up lungs. Deserve.

“This is why you don’t give people who can high-kick jump scares, dumbass,” Seungmin comments and crouches down in front of Jisung like his knight in shiny armors, letting a bottle of ointment dangle between his fingers. “Put this on, bet it’s already bruising.”

Hyunjin releases his arms around you and walks towards the freckled boy who looks like he’s about to slip into a coma. “Lix, are you okay?” he knits his brows together, starting to feel somewhat concerned. 

Felix only waves it off with a raspy laugh, standing on wobbly legs with his blanket still wrapped around his figure. “I’m fine, I’ll just go wash my face.” Truth is, he’s anything but fine. And it doesn’t help when he accidentally has a glance of his own reflection in the body-length mirror from across the cabin—his hair is sticking to his forehead, his face is slightly more puffy than usual, and his eyebags look like he hasn’t slept in decades—he looks worse than a trash can, basically. 

“Hyunjin,” you raise a brow at your friend’s current state.

“What?”

“Catch him.”

“Huh-” Hyunjin snaps his head back when a loud thud is heard, eyes growing twice as big in sheer panic upon the sight of Felix laying on his stomach, mere inches away from his feet. “Felix!!” Your friends rush to his side while you’re too busy checking the thermometer by his nightstand. The temperature doesn’t seem to be too alarming, he should be fine after sleeping and sweating it out. But really, Felix looks more like he’s having the nap of a lifetime rather than passing out from the worst fever of the century. That doesn’t stop everyone from freaking out, unfortunately. 

Also, everyone can agree that this is the first and last storytime to ever happen.

nine.

Felix sits on the beach, eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. He lets out a sigh, an exhale of relief when a breeze passes by him, tousling his hair as he buries his feet deeper into the primrose-colored grains. The briny aroma that exists in every fiber of air makes him feel at ease, as though unknotting all his angsty-teenager worries with grace. He feels a bit better, partially because his fever has already gone down when he shook you out of your half-asleep state at four in the morning. 

“Why?” you ask without turning your head after sensing his tense posture.

Felix looks confused, a little startled when you break the silence. “Why what?”

“Why the long face?” you unknowingly exhale too, stubbornly gazing forward. “Thinking about something?” For some reason, you’re too...scared to even spare him a small glance. This isn’t you, did his fever rub off on you or something?

To your dismay, his sudden inquiry catches you off guard. “High school is going to be over in a year, have you thought about what to do?” 

You open your mouth to protest with something along the line of he’s overthinking again and there’s still an entire year ahead to make new memories but when you’re about to utter the first word, your mouth automatically snaps itself close. It’s like you have an entire masterpiece planned out in your mind but when someone tosses you a blank canvas, you’re standing there in defeat like the biggest idiot. Felix is serious this time, you know it’s not because he’s lightheaded after riding out the fever. 

“Honestly?” you breathe out. “No, I haven’t. God, I don’t even want to think about it, the future scares me a little.”

Upon the mossed rock and vibrant horizon, comes the sun rays that are promised by the starlit sky. It makes you both a little breathless, not exchanging a single word nor moving a muscle for a while. 

Until, “Fine, it scares me a whole lot,” you confess, gaze cast downward as you hug your legs closer to your chest. “It sucks because everyone seems to have their lives together, Jisung is finally taking his interest in music seriously, Hyunjin is planning on being an actual theater kid, and Seungmin is...I don’t know, but he’s definitely onto something. Point is, everyone is already one too many steps ahead of me, I’m just..here, stuck. And I don’t feel like I have-”

“A lot of time left.” Felix finishes your sentence, prompting you to look at him this time. His delicate features shine under the cracking lights of dawn, starry eyes twinkling and lips outstretched into the smile that you absolutely adore. He has such a contagious type of smile that it makes you feel a little less dead inside whenever you see it. But your heartbeat also grows a little more ecstatic. 

A hearty chuckle. “You’re not alone, you know,” he says while not breaking away from the eye contact, this makes your throat grow dry. “I still have so much to do, so much to...say yet too little time. So yeah, don’t think about it too much, I’m never gonna leave you behind no matter what.”

You have to hold back a playful scoff at that; and to think he was the one who brought up this sappy topic. “If anything, you’re the overthinker in this relationship,” you tell him with a nudge on his rib. “But if you’ve already had my back, then you should know that I’ll always have yours too.”

Because what would you do without an overthinker like Felix? Drowning your sorrow by stress-eating in the middle of the night? Bottoming out on questionable drinks to end up like Han Jisung? Winging every single important choice that can potentially flip your life upside down in either a good or bad way? Not in a million years. He knows that you need him as much as he needs you, harsh truth but you still hate it either way.

You both don’t look forward to the future, like at all. 

You’re too apathetic and overall just a big ‘meh’ about it. You’re the type of person that goes with the flow, letting life toss you around like a ragdoll until you finally snap at some point to fight back because you know where the line between giving up and knowing that you’ve had enough is. Meanwhile, Felix is rather anxious about things. If a piece of paper with a pencil can draw out the map of his entire destiny ahead then he’ll have it finished in one night. But he’s grown out of his middle school self to know that things don’t always go as planned.

Guess if things turn out to be shit, you’ll still have him.

“Does that mean if we’re still single in our thirties, you’ll marry me like how our parents always joke about?” Felix cracks a shit-eating grin this time, one that makes your heart swell but for the most part, you wanna whack him unconscious with a pillow. 

You sneer in return, “Sure, but you’ll have to fall for me first.”

There’s a pang in Felix’s chest, it’s so loud and evident that he’s afraid you might hear it. You really didn’t have to slap him in the face with that seemingly harmless statement. “Hmm, who would even fall for a stubborn hermit crab like you?” he jokes to hide the nervousness that’s crawling upon his spine. His ears are probably bright red right now. “Although...that wouldn’t be a problem with me.” Because he’s already fallen for you, a little too hard actually.

“What does that even mean?” you only hum after questioning his statement, nothing makes sense right now since you’re getting a little sleepy because a certain someone wanted to watch the sunrise which simply lasted for about two minutes after two(ish) hours of waiting.

“I don’t know,” Felix laughs before standing up, dusting the sand off of his jeans. “You go figure it out, smartass.” With that, he runs off with his Converses dangling between his fingers, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of the beach like a total dimwit. Slowly, within those five seconds of making eye contact with your best friend again, his words zero in on you like a wakeup call. 

Urgently grabbing your sneakers, you chase after him. “Hey- wait! GET BACK HERE!” By looks of it, you’ve probably figured it out now. It’s not like he’s trying to be subtle either.

Felix feels like he just gained strength from spewing out that indirect confession, and it gives him a tiny ray of hope that he still has his entire youth before his eyes to tell you how he really feels. Or his whole life if you don’t start resenting him for crossing the line that no one dares talk about when they have a thing for their best friend. 

Either way, as long as Felix sees your presence side by side with him at every ups and downs, he’s home. 

[fuckmewithyourtoespj]

reddie + misc 1

this simply ran away from me and went so overboard i’m sorry you have to stand witness to me Not Being Able To Shut Up jane jhshdhfhd

“All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

The first time Richie saw him, he almost tore someone’s head off over the ‘abysmal, completely fucking repulsive’ state they had left the kitchen in. It was two plates, a stick of butter, and a pan left out on the counter. 

He was loud, brown-eyed, and 5′7″ (at most) worth of curly-haired indignation and health facts. He was sporting a worn out band tee that was practically drowning him, sweatpants with one leg rolled up to above his knee, no socks (or shoes), and a rather impressive bedhead, none of which gave him pause for even a second when ripping into the other guy at 7.15 on a Saturday morning. Richie hadn’t been able to look away.

(or stop thinking about it for days following the incident; that guy sure had been something to contend with)

The second time Richie saw him, it was his only morning class of the week (or the month, if you counted how often he actually attended. Richie didn’t), a Thursday. He had stopped in the doorway into the dining hall, looking as wrecked - if not more - as the first time Richie saw him, saw what Richie had chosen to eat his cereal with instead of milk (orange juice), said ‘nope’ loudly, and turned right the fuck back around. 

Bill, who had been passed out in the seat next to Richie’s, lifted his head just in time to see someone leaving faster than if someone had bit him in the ass. 

“What happened?” He had asked, and Richie shook his head slowly. To be frank, he hardly heard what Bill had said, his brain lagging, eyes glued to the spot that had been occupied by the fluffiest hair he’d ever seen just a few seconds prior.

(he couldn’t answer Bill even if he tried, his heart was beating too fast and his throat was too dry, and he was starting to feel dread settling at the bottom of his stomach)

The third time Richie saw him, he had gotten up early on a Friday, for no particular reason at all. Just like that. Naturally. 

And he had walked down to the dining hall at 7.05 am, naturally, made his coffee and eggs and gross cereal, sitting down in the seat with the best vantage point, naturally. Because that was natural for him. 

When he arrived, Richie watched him stumble into three tables before making it to the kitchen, hand shielding his already mostly closed eyes, and punch one of the fridges after walking headfirst into it. Then Richie watched him take out half a boiled egg, dish out a spoonful of mayonnaise onto it, eat half with his eyes closed, then chug half a carton of milk from the carton, put the carton back in the fridge, and take out a block of cheese before closing it. 

Richie was getting the impression that maybe mornings weren’t this guy’s deal either. 

His eyes caught Richie’s as he walked out the kitchen, half-eaten mayonnaise-y egg and whole ass block of cheese in hand. Before Richie realized what was happening it was way too late to pretend he hadn’t been staring. 

For a while he just stared too, swaying on his feet, before his eyes flicked over to Richie’s breakfast and the perplexed crease between his brows turned into one of anger and disgust, and, as he continued on his way out of the dining hall, he pushed Richie’s bottle of orange juice over. 

(a jolt went through Richie, his face burning, and he felt the beginnings of a  desire to find out who this guy was prickling at the back of his neck. he didn’t like what was happening at all)

–

His name was Eddie. 

This is something Richie found out the fourth time he saw him, while picking Bill up from his noon class for Friday lunch (buying a shitty baguette each at the cafeteria and getting high on the hill behind the art building), almost falling and cracking his head open on the edge of a desk at the sight that met his eyes upon entering the lecture hall. 

Because. There he was, a way down. Talking. To a guy.

Talking to a guy that was Bill. 

And then he was turning away from Bill. Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder. Gesturing over his shoulder, something that may or may not have been a wave. 

He was going to walk towards the exit! 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Richie’s brain jumped out the nearest window at the same time Richie dove under the nearest desk. He hit his head on a table leg, swore loudly, swore a lot. Got discovered, naturally.

Not his proudest moment, truth be told.

“You’re that orange juice and cereal guy, right?”

Richie felt one thing and one thing only wash over him. Fear.

That was not Bill’s voice. Bill wouldn’t ask him who he was, anyway. Bill knew very well who he was. No, this was the voice that had endeared him so when hearing it cussing someone out for being mildly unsanitary. This was the voice that had directed nothing but the word ‘nope’ at him specifically, yet still managed to accelerate his heart-rate to speeds before unknown to Richie, still managed to make the room’s temperature rise by dangerous amounts.

Or maybe that was just Richie’s body temperature. Who knew.

Richie opened his eyes, slowly, and oh fuck. From his vantage point down on the floor, this mystery orange plus cheerios hater looked like an angel, a brown-haired, brown-eyed, freckled 5′7″ (or shorter) angel that looked…

Hm. What was that emotion? Anger? Concern? Discontentment? Amusement?

Boredom? 

Fuck, Richie hoped it wasn’t boredom.

“Yep, that’s me,” he answered finally, and holy fuck was that his voice? He couldn’t actually sound that out of breath, right? 

The guy nodded, and stood there in silence for a moment, eyeing Richie - what was that look? - before shaking his head, and picking his bag up off the seat in front of him, before-

“You’re so fucking weird, dude.” 

And then he was gone. But he had-

He had laughed. Chuckled, really. Which meant he…

He didn’t think Richie was boring. Might have thought he was funny even. 

Bill found him still laying there, eyes sparkling with something Bill had never seen on Richie before, grinning goofily up at the desk above him, no doubt covered in chewed-up gum as old as the school itself. 

“What the f-f-fuck, Rich?” 

“Bill!” Richie shot right up upon hearing the sound of Bill’s voice, the memories of the past ten years and growing too tall to even fit underneath a desk at all let alone comfortably evidently escaping him for the moment, or else he might not have hit the edge of the desk with his forehead. He didn’t seem too bothered about it though. “Ow. Bill! Bill are you listening?!” 

“Yes, Richie, what the fuck?”

“Bill, you have to tell me who that fucking guy was.” 

–

The next time Richie saw him, it wasn’t Richie who saw Eddie at all. It was, in fact, Eddie who saw Richie. He sat down opposite Richie, wearing an over-sized hoodie, bottoms that could only be described as booty shorts, and flip flops, and simply asked (demanded) Richie to pass his orange juice. Richie, brain still stuck in the past, in the moment he had noticed the shorts, pushed it towards him wordlessly, to which Eddie uttered ‘thanks’, and, without missing a beat, started rambling about how much he hated his professor, his car issues, and his friend Ben’s idiotic lady drama, stopping from time to time to make his disgust at Richie’s food choices unequivocally clear. 

(and Richie was gone, he was so gone, even trying to convince himself otherwise was useless at this point)

–

“You are so stupid, the dumbest person I’ve ever met in the entire world, you know that? You’re so dumb, every time I talk to you I can just feel my braincells leaking out. You are making me dumber, that’s how stupid you are, asshole. Your own mother-” 

“Yeah your mother’s hot too, what’s the problem, spaghetti?” 

“The problem? THE PROB- don’t fucking call me that Richie, I swear to God - the PROBLEM!!! Unbelievable. The problem is, Richie, this. This right here.” 

“I don’t see a problem.” 

“YOU DON’T SEE A- Richie, I am going to kill you. I hate this. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. Who the FUCK packs a dishwasher like this? You’re such an asshole, for fuck’s sake… Now I have to do it.”

“Please, do go ahead, Eds,” Eddie held his middle finger up at Richie, and Richie, cackling, leaned back on the counter behind him as Eddie started taking out plates, muttering under his breath the entire time. 

For the past month, this had been routine. Eddie and Richie woke up (early, way too early for either of their likings, so why they continued to do so was beyond Richie), met in the dining hall or the stairwell, argued, ate breakfast, argued, cleaned up after themselves, argued. Sometimes, Bill would join them too, but he wouldn’t contribute much apart from falling asleep while eating and telling the other two to shut up once in a while. 

To anyone observing from the outside, they looked simply like an old married couple (as well as the two most obnoxious fuckers in the building, but that was besides the point). To Bill… Bill didn’t give a fuck about what was happening there, he just knew it was too early for it to be happening. To Richie…

Well. That thought would have to wait. Because when Richie had suggested Eddie repack the dishwasher, he didn’t really think about- well. He didn’t really think. 

Because Eddie, well. Eddie was wearing those ridiculous fucking shorts, the ones Eddie insisted were not booty shorts even though they fucking were, the ones he owned multiple pairs of in various colors, the ones that showed his ass in just the tastiest of ways when Eddie leaned over the dishwasher. 

And Richie? He put himself in a position where had no choice but to look on. Just sip his coffee and ponder the nice, shapely curves of Eddie’s ass…

Nope. Wasn’t happening. 

Richie must have made some kind of noise because before he’d even had the time to turn away Eddie was straightening up (which did wonders for Richie’s heart-rate) and turning in Richie’s direction. There was a look on his face that Richie did not like, did not like at all.

“You okay there, Rich?” 

Richie did not know how to answer that question. 

“You’re looking a little red. Are you sick?” Eddie took a step forward, an absolutely evil smile on his face. “Got a fever, maybe?” 

Richie was going to kill him. Just straight up murder him. “I’m fine.” 

“You sure about that?” Richie avoided Eddie’s gaze as if he were going to explode on sight if he met it. Eddie was too close, close enough that Richie could feel his breath on his face, close enough that he could do something stupid if he really wanted to. It was simply put, too much to handle.

“You forgot to turn the dishwasher on.” Richie informed, deflecting, stepping around Eddie carefully, not trusting himself to even brush shoulders with him at the moment. He reached into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a box of dishwasher capsules, ignoring the fact that Eddie hadn’t finished repacking the dishwasher yet. 

“You ever going to ask me out?” 

Richie’s brain short-circuited, and he dropped the box of capsules. His coffee would have gone too, if he hadn’t regained his senses in just the right moment and placed the hand previously holding the capsules on the cup, steadying it. He turned and gaped at Eddie, mouth falling open in disbelief. 

Had Eddie really just said that? Had those words really come out of Eddie’s mouth? And they were directed at him, Richie? Richie “Trashmouth, has never known when to shut up for a God damned second in his life” Tozier? Richie Tozier? Not another Richie? Him? 

“But all I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” 

“Oh I am very well aware of that fact.” 

“And you want me to ask you out?” Richie reiterated. 

“Yes.” 

It simply did not make sense. In no universe did the cute guy with the curly hair and the brown doe eyes and the freckles, the guy who was way out of Richie’s league, by the way, the guy Richie had been pining over for the better part of two months, with his deadly little booty shorts and his truly fatal comebacks, want Richie back. It just didn’t happen.

And yet…

Eddie looked so confident. So sure of himself. The question in the raise of his eyebrows, the tilt of his lips, the way he was almost brushing Richie’s elbow with his fingertips. It was driving Richie off the edge. Erasing absolutely all rational thought. It was a wasteland up there, in his brain, nothing but TV static and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Which is why he simply had no choice but to say something stupid. 

“Why does it have to be me and not you? Why can’t you ask me out?”

“I don’t know if your old man memory is too shit to remember, but I was the one who spoke to you first, I took the first step. I am the only reason we’re talking right now.” It was possible that Richie might have had an answer for that, but it was in that moment Eddie chose to place a hand on his chest, and all attempts at a thought went flushing out again. “I can’t be the one doing all the work in this relationship, Richie.” 

“You,” Richie’s brain stuttered and came to a stop at the word ‘relationship’. Maybe if Eddie stopped biting his lip and smiling like that he’d be able to get a coherent sentence out, but why should Richie get to be a functioning human being, right?

“So, you ever gonna ask me or not?”

“Yes.” 

“Good,” Eddie patted Richie’s chest before taking his hand away, (Richie felt a horrifying urge to whimper at the loss, the place Eddie’s hand had just been burning up), only to run it through a few of Richie’s curls. He stayed there for a second, and Richie thought he saw his composure slipping away. His eyes started drifting away, somewhere Richie was desperate to follow, wherever it was, and Richie was this close to reaching in…

But then Eddie was gone, over by the dishwasher again. Just like that, he and his fuckass booty shorts were gone, placing cups with a neatness Richie wouldn’t be able to achieve even on his best day, and Richie…

(Richie needed to take a nap)

send me a ship/dynamic and one of these and i’ll write a ficlet anything ranging from a ficlet to a full length 150k word fic apparently

[tvntae]

heartbreak hotel 6

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook

plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea?

genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff

warnings: none

~

You look over at Jungkook, who looks solely at the road ahead of him. Either he's wholly concentrated, or he's got a lot on his mind because he hasn't said much the entire ride. It's not that you don't mind that, though. You'd been staring at him on and off for the past 5 minutes. Silently wishing you could run your fingers through his thick pink mess of hair. With the few times, yourself and Jungkook had been alone together; it had been something that you had never gotten to do. You ponder for a while how it would feel, to grab hold of his silky hair and tug just a little at a time. The cute noises he'd make would have your head spinning; you wouldn't even know what to do with yourself.  

Regardless of the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, Jungkook is mulling over quite a few things at the moment. It is made evident by the way that he's been biting his lip into oblivion and how his grip is bit-by-bit getting tighter around the steering wheel. You want to ask him to spill his guts, but you are also not the type to pry into others psyche. Besides, it seems like any time you do try to take that extra step to get Jungkook to open up to you he gets hella defensive. You don't need that negativity right now, at least not while he's driving. So, you leave it at that, if he wants to talk, then he will, but you won't push the truth out of him. He's an adult with his own problems, you're not his therapist or his wife, so there isn't a need for you to try and break that 4th wall. 

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" Jungkook breaks you out of your retrieve, and for a second you question if he's speaking to you or not.

Nonetheless, you hum your agreement, and you see the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. "I'm not from here, you know." He tells you, and of course, you had already known that. You had previously done some pretty good research on your boss. Any private detective would have been impressed with the lengths you went through to learn more about Jungkook's life. "I wasn't aware of that Mr.Jeon. Where are you from?" You only lie to keep up with the conversation, hoping that maybe this would be the time that Jungkook reveals more about himself to you than any news article and office gossip had. 

Jungkook visibly slumps when you don't use his first name, but he shakes off the disappointment. You can see it sort of peeves him, but it's his own damn fault that you aren't as comfortable around him anymore. He audibly clears his throat and answers "Busan." You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. Perhaps, he longs to be back home. Maybe if he were back there, he'd be just any regular ole 20-something, scrapping for cash and eating ramen damn near every night for dinner. Perhaps he'd be more akin to you. That way he'd feel much more relatable and not so untouchable. You are one-hundred percent sure you'd never in a million years have a chance with a guy like Jungkook, whether he'd be a millionaire businessman extraordinaire or college student Jungkook. But at least maybe you'd have room for some kind of friendship. 

"Really? Busan, huh? You don't sound like a Busan native." You laugh, and Jungkook smiles at that. "I've adapted, I guess. Just like you in a way. You're pretty good at Korean even though you aren't from here." You two remain quiet for a moment, only letting the soft hum of the radio speak for you.  

He was right, though, Seoul is beautiful. The air is so much different than back home, and honestly, you don't mind it. Being here is truly like something beyond your imagination. "Why did you leave?" You suddenly ask him. 

"Wanted to be an idol when I was a kid. Trained for years, up until I was 15, but the company I was in didn't have enough budget funds to make the debut happen." You were left speechless. That small piece of information was something that has never been mentioned before. For the brief time, you'd known him, Jungkook for sure does not seem the 'idol' type. You're otherwise stunned, and the bitterness in Jungkook's voice also leaves your heart feeling heavy. A kid, moving to a foreign place, most likely without his parent only for his dreams to be ruined due to false promises. That angered you. You couldn't fathom what small Jungkook might have gone through back then. "It's all in the past now, over it." He assures you, but the look of sorrow in his doe-like eyes tells you that that's something that will take many more moons for Jungkook to be over ultimately. Slowly but surely you're starting to piece together the enigma that is Jeon Jungkook.  

One of the many things you can say about Jeon Jungkook though is that he is undoubtedly a man of expensive taste. The apartment, no more like a tower that he lives in, is sky-high. It touches the highest of clouds, and it shines like the stars resting beside the most upper floor. It's a gated community, so only the richest of the rich reside here, and it makes you feel oh so out of place. Jungkook doesn't say much about your astonishment as he parks his luxury car in his private parking spot. You get giddy thinking about what the inside of this place must look like though, Jungkook only rolls his eyes at that, but secretly he's enjoying your reaction. "Come on, or you'll get lost, this place is pretty big," Jungkook exclaimed. You jokingly scoff, "Yea, getting lost in a place like this doesn't sound too bad." That is until security catches up with you and notices that you don't belong here. 

~

The halls inside of the building are pristine white. The light casting from the chandelier reflecting the tiled floor and walls almost cause the narrow hallway to the elevators to be too blinding. A little forewarning from Jungkook would have been friendly, but you guess after a while of living here you'd get used to such a thing. The elevator ride up is silent, but you do see the button Jungkook pressed before stepping away. Floor 10. Room 312.

Once the elevator comes to a stop, Jungkook motions for you to follow him, he unlocks his door with his secret passcode, and you hear a beep on entry.  

As you step foot into Jungkook's home, he leads you down steps, the first thing you are met with is the very same pristine white covering the floor and walls like downstairs in the lobby area. The ceiling is lined with antique gold chandeliers; they brighten the living space significantly. The kitchen is small in comparison to the larger area that is the living room, but that doesn't stop it from being the most gorgeous area you've ever seen thus far. Open windows line the farther wall, giving a breathtaking view of Seoul. 

Everything here is so primitive that is makes you wonder if whether or not Jungkook even uses the downstairs portion of his apartment. He's entirely a minimalist, besides the very high in value art that paints his walls, he doesn't seem to have much furniture down here. He directs you sit to take a seat on the couch facing towards the television. "You hungry?" He asks you as he makes way towards his fridge. "I could eat." He's back alongside you within seconds and plops down, handing you one of the cartons of banana milk he grabbed for you and himself. 

"I don't think this counts as food, Mr.Jeon." You tease him, and he shakes his head to that. "I was planning on ordering something for us, fret not."

"So it says here we need baking soda and anti-dandruff shampoo. I guess we just mix it? Or we could use equal parts of vinegar and water?" 

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Jungkook looks at you incredulously, a flash of panic crosses his face. "No, I actually don't, but you don't have a choice but to trust me." You purse your lips. You've never had to do this before. The last time you dyed your hair was high school, and you had never fucked up so bad that it turned an undesired color. Jungkook mumbles something incoherent under his breath, but you chose to ignore him for now, opting to just get this process over with. 

~

After a little more research, you deduct which ingredients would be best to use for not only stripping Jungkook's hair of the vibrant rose gold color but also to keep his hair safe from any permanent damage and breakage. Section-by-section you divide his hair into parts and add the mixture you created to remove his dye. It's only about an hour and a half process to get it all removed and add his desired color, but you're glad that in the end, everything worked out for not just you but obviously for Jungkook too. 

You wait patiently for Jungkook in his upstairs living area. It was pretty identical to the one he led you to a few hours ago, expect the furniture was different, obviously. And it wasn't as big of an open area, it was more secluded and off in its own section of the apartment. The room was about the size of a master bedroom, give or take a few square feet. This room wasn't as minimalist as the other though; it seems as though it is used more frequently. The slippers set next to the end of the chair that your sitting on gives away that much. They seem to be about your size, and if you were in the right state of mind right now, you'd be able to piece two and two together.

 Those slippers unmistakably belong to Jungkook fiance, and this is undoubtedly a room she uses often. If you were smart, you'd gather your shit and leave, hailing the next cab out of here, but you aren't, your feet stay rooted to the ground, and your stomach continues to turn with uneasiness. You twiddle your thumbs out of anxiousness. How could you just up and forget that this is the home of Jeon Jungkook and his fiance? And what sucks more is that you don't even remember that unfortunate woman's name. For God's sake, what the hell is wrong with you? And not just you are to blame but Jungkook as well, he persistently puts you in situations like this and your dumb ass still bends over backwards for him.

"You good?" Jungkook asks worriedly, and the deep baritone of his voice makes you flinch. Your fists are balled up by now, and you try, you really do, to loosen the tension within your body but the more you think about everything, the more pissed off you get. 

Also, the confused look Jungkook wears does nothing more than help you reach peak pissocity. Your teeth clench and your body trembles, but you're still able to answer him. No, is what you reply and he slightly jumps back at that. You determine you can't take it anymore; you won't be that stupid bitch that let's just anymore walk all over her. Not not today. You grab your purse, stand up and walk, no strut, because you're a bad bitch, not a weak bitch, right past Jungkook. You might not know this place like Jungkook does, but goddamit you will try as you might to find an exit.

You feel Jungkook hot on your heels, as you head towards the front door for your shoes. You don't stop, though, it only gives you more initiative to walk faster. 

You hike your skirt up a little higher once your fist is within reach of the doorknob but before you even get a chance to grab hold of it Jungkook is pulling you back. Your body stops on impact with his very hard, still very wet chest. "Where the fuck are you going?" You feel the growl in Jungkook's chest, it makes you wince, and for a second you question if you trying to escape was an excellent idea, to begin with. Maybe not, but you just wanted to show him how fed up you were — fed up with his ever-changing personality. One second he's doting on you and the very next he treats you like he doesn't know you at all. You're willing to put the sex stuff all in the past if that's what he wants. But you can't deal with his ways of trying to put it all behind him. You are not the type of person to just sweep everything under the rug and deal with it once it resurfaces. 

No, you have to talk things out. And, if you're going to continue to work for Jeon Jungkook than he won't have a choice but to talk about it. 

"Why did you bring me here, Jungkook?" The question, at least to you, is simple enough. But to someone like Jungkook, who always seems to have ulterior motivates it's probably one of the hardest questions he's had to answer this week. See, dealing with money, numbers and almost one-hundred employees is something as close as a cake-walk to him. Dealing with feelings, now that's a totally different ball-park. 

A flash of diverse emotions crosses Jungkook's face. He's so overwhelmed in thought that you try pulling away from him, seeing as he isn't paying much attention. But, he is, his grip is so tight on your wrist that it's damn near painful. You don't make a noise though; you need to hear from Jungkook's own mouth why he brought you here. 

It's quiet for a moment, so quiet that you're sure Jungkook can hear the steady beating of your heartbeat against your rig cage. 

You open your mouth to speak but before you can get anything out Jungkook cuts you off. 

"I..I like spending time with you. I enjoy being around you, you're always so nervous around me and I, you, so... yeah. That's why." He trails off towards the end.

Your head seems like it might actually explode right now. The longer Jungkook's sentence went on, the more it felt like a ploy to get into your pants. But Jungkook hasn't really made any advances towards you, other than that kiss. 

Though, that's a discussion for another day. Maybe, just maybe Jungkook is telling the truth, and if so one side of you can't help but to feel content. On the other hand, though, the other side, the more moral side of yourself, feels nothing short of guilt. 

"You can't stay stuff like that, you're married," you groan, "it isn't right." Jungkook's grip is still firm around your wrist, he left little to no wiggle room, and having to be this close to him leaves your body feeling hot. And not in a good way. 

"I'm not married." He grits. It only continues to anger you more. How could he just lie so quickly to you? Yeah, maybe he isn't married, yet but sooner or later he will be. He's spoken for, and you know that if his significant other were to stumble on into this scene of Jungkook embracing you, then she would not be too pleased with what she sees. Hell, if you were her, you'd ask question later beat ass first. Married or not, though, another woman lives here. This is her home. Their home. That quilty feeling washes all over you once again. 

"Jungkook, you may not be married now, but you will be, and it's inappropriate for me to be here. So I want to go home, so let me go." 

"No." You roll your eyes; being around him is always like some childish game of cat and mouse. You would be the cat if that much weren't made clear. You are forever chasing his ass no matter what obstacle he's set for you in your path. Dangerous or not, you are always right behind him, tail tucked under your legs. "Just stay and let me explain, and if you still want to go home afterward, I'll be more than pleased to take you. Just please... stay."

~

Arranged marriage. Jungkook had explained to you how the marriage of he and his fiance came about. His father, a significant man in the business world, and his fiance's father somewhat of a mogul were lifelong friends. Still, are to this day. The two had promised the hands of their firstborn children, to authenticate their bond further. Although Jungkook has an older brother, he rejected their father's dispositions and moved away to the states. Leaving Jungkook to take his place. Jungkook explained that even though they don't talk much, he knows his older brother is happy. He's married and has already started a family.

You can't say the same for Jungkook, he seems bitter, and under the right circumstance, you're able to see why. It must be challenging to be as successful a person as Jungkook, to have worked so hard to get to where they are and still have some type of moral pull on their lives. That pull being his parent. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. No matter what decision Jungkook makes, someone won't be satisfied at the end of it all. You had asked if Jungkook and his fiance loved each other. Without hesitation, he answered no. 

You felt a little bit of hope, but why? Why, when you know that no matter what Jungkook will choose the fate his father designed for him. What will happen to you once everything is settled? You refuse to be the other woman; you can't live like that and Jungkook should have more of a heart to let any woman he claims to like to live like that. You shake your head at the thought because of course, Jungkook would allow you to live in such pain, he's a selfish bastard. Then again, so are you, even after everything, you want to stay. 

You need to stay for him. 

[eddsmoped]

have any matt headcanons?

it’d be a crime if i didnt

- He’s dumb but not oblivious. sometimes he’s the only voice of reason

- VERY blunt and rude, most of the time doesnt even know what he’s saying sounds super mean

- speaking of he’s also a salt shaker and can AND will roast everyone

- he’s known edd since they were little kids, edd was his first friend!!

- him and edd are also best friends :) matt kinda treats him like a brother

- Matt was THE PRINCE of the school in highschool. most popular kid, had authority on everyone, and went to all the parties....and yet he hung out with tom, edd and tord who were all the “weirdo outcasts”

- he has little fangs and is allergic to the sun bc of his vampire powers

- GETS JEALOUS AND ENVIOUS VERY EASILY, ESPECIALLY OVER EDD...like if he sees edd spending more time with somebody else other than him he becomes highkey a bitch

- watches anime with tord

- CANNOT hold a conversation. his attention span is terrible.

- unless the conversation is about himself

- very emotion driven, but doesn’t cry often?

- VERY GOOD AT BAKING PASTRIES 

- drinks milk Straight Out Of The Carton like a fucking animal

- wears contacts :)

- Edd ran him over with a barbie 4 wheeler when he was 9 and now he has a scar on his back bc of it

- Edd ALSO made him cry a lot when they were like 4-9 bc Edd was a feral child

- HE DID SOME CRAZY ASS THINGS AS A HIGHSCHOOLER....Like try to hire an assassin on a kid he didn’t like or got away with murder while framing another kid for it. But those are stories for another time.

- allergic to dogs which sucks because he LOVES DOGS SO MUCH

[moodring89]

Snow White & Bambi

Pairing: Yoonji x Reader (F X F) Rated: M / NC-17 Genre: Gender bend!AU, College!AU Warnings:  Lots of anxiety, panic attack mentions Summary: She wasn’t even looking at you, but she might one day. In a classroom consisting of only twenty students, Min Yoonji might see you at the front of the room, skimming over words that weren’t yours, but were still riddled with meaningful similarities. An inside joke with yourself – that Yoonji was a lot like a Disney princess, visually anyway.   ‘She was a princess, who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore, they named her Snow White.’

Sequel: Dragons & Bambi

A/N: I would like to say right now that I do not know shit about college or college basketball. This is a work of fiction, so just go with it. Also, some of the Brothers Grimm pieces were adjusted to befit the story more, so go with that, too.   

Snow White & Bambi

Why was it that every time you saw her, your mouth went dry? Breathing was a simple task for most and yet, your lungs felt constricted, and useless. She was new three months ago, a transfer student from Daegu. You could hear it in the lazy slur of her words, whenever she’d been asked to read aloud during Literature class. Today you’d been called up and it was ironic that you found yourself reciting one of the Brothers Grimm best tales, eyes lifting from each line just to catch a glimpse of pale skin and soft black hair. She wasn’t even looking at you, but she might one day. In a classroom consisting of only twenty students, Min Yoonji might see you at the front of the room, skimming over words that weren’t yours, but were still riddled with meaningful similarities. An inside joke with yourself – that Yoonji was a lot like a Disney princess, visually anyway.   ‘She was a princess, who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore, they named her Snow White.’ Yoonji’s skin was like fallen snow, like a cloud had permanently muddled her skin with its shadow. She was an ice storm with a calm that comes after and not a second before. There was no fair amount of subtlety to her existence. Bored, catlike eyes remained focused on the rain tapping on the window, as a pink tongue slid out across her bottom lip, before she returned to doing that pout-thing that made you forget how to breathe. It caused your voice to tremble throughout the next paragraph, which was enough to raise interest when the professor lifted his head with concern. Could you imagine? Nah, it’s all good, professor – it’s just that my gay ass is currently invested in being tongue fucked by Yoonji, is all. Please, go back to your Subway menu. You’d decided a long time ago that something had to change. Even if you knew that you would have to be the one to make the first approach, it was still difficult to follow through with it. And you weren’t the most articulate with your words. Yoonji was weighed the second she arrived, the popular girls trying her out, and passing her up once they realized that she was of the musically creative and athletic sort. One would think that the two would contradict itself, but it didn’t. Not when Yoonji played, whether it was in the music room on the piano, or out on the court. It made you question yourself, wondering what the hell you were good at, except pining. The class ended with the tale going unfinished and would be saved for tomorrow. You placed the book inside your bag and stalled in leaving, wondering if Yoonji would actually eat lunch today, or if she’d skip. Skipping meals was a too common occurrence with her, which worried you. Did she not have money? Did she not like the food…? A shoulder nudged into yours, the impact nearly sending you into the lockers with a shrill. Jimin was pleased with herself, “Allow me to help you be less obvious.” Your only friend was pure evil and a part of you believed Jimin only befriended you, because you were woefully short. She’d once said you did ‘something’ for her legs? So, really, you were a walking favor that Jimin cashed in on every single day. Rubbing at your sore arm, you continued down the hall, “I think being obvious would only improve my situation, really.” “Try rolling your skirt up a few inches,” Jimin said, knocking into you out of habit. She was a clingy, hands-on friend, who was chock-full of platonic kisses, and hugs. “She might be straight,” you reasoned. Although, doing something more with the school uniform might help you standout a bit more. “Yeah, but my gaydar doesn’t pick up false signals, sweetie,” she grinned, before patting away at the same shoulder she’d just slammed into the locker. You winced. “Hey, Yoonji!” Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Fuck, no. The girl paused at the end of the hallway, short black hair falling over her shoulder when she turned. Jimin gestured enthusiastically, “Come here.” You were in your friend’s stupid mochi face, cursing low, “The fuck you doing?” “Helping. I mean, it’s this, or nothing happens, ever.” She looked at you seriously, “Remember what happened with Jeongguk?” “Uhm, yeah. You slut dropped on his dick and now you own it.” “That’s right. Now slut drop.” Yoonji approached, expression as vacant and uninterested as her voice, “You beckoned?” “I did, yeah. Wanna join us for lunch?” It was effortless, you thought, watching Jimin in awe. Even if she was your only friend, you certainly weren’t hers, and this was probably the reason. Yoonji was taking awhile to answer, a brief look of confusion flitting across her face, before turning glacial. You could see it so well, the storm reflecting beneath the surface of her pale skin. You decided to save her, throwing her a lifeline, “You probably have other things…” “You know what? Yeah,” Yoonji answered, staring directly at you – her words were tired and rough like gravel, easily droning you out. “I’ll join you.” “What a relief! My friend here was starting to think you were a vampire,” Jimin teased, purposefully slowing in her steps, so that Yoonji could comfortably walk with you. “Talked about calling in reinforcements, like Van Helsing or something, like a big ol’ nerd…” You shook your head, denying it, “I don’t have those connections.” “That’s a shame,” Yoonji sighed heavily, as though the small walk to the cafeteria was enough to wind her. “…since I’m Dracula’s third cousin.” Jimin played along well, well enough to make you feel envious all over again. “But you take sunlight like a pro.” “The power of the right BB cream.” Unbelievably hot were Min Yoonji’s blasé responses. She’d stated it so casually that it was almost deemed feasible in your tragically gullible mind. Forget Princess Yoonji, upgrade to Vampire Princess Yoonji, please. Thank you, brain. “This line is ridiculous. All the salad bowls are gonna be gone,” Jimin whined, stomping her foot like a child, latching onto you – swinging your linked arms around for good measure. Yoonji’s sleepy, feline eyes remained fixed on you the whole time, finally, finally watching you. She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, contemplative, “I’m probably not gonna eat. I’ll go find us a table?” “Sounds good,” Jimin said, saluting Yoonji with her free hand. This was your chance to spoil her, even if it was with food, which – what better way, really? You would just double up on everything you usually get and then offer it up like it was a mistake. “So, like, this was all very easy, wasn’t it?” Jimin was smug and a smug Jimin was…eh, whatever, it was fine. You let her have her moment. “It kinda was, yeah,” you said, agreeing. You grabbed a tray, grabbing two of the ham, cheese, and jelly sandwiches. A set of jjiggae of the day, bowls of rice, two cookies, and cokes. A thing you’ve yet to witness was a happily fed Yoonji. In the end, this would probably end up as being more of a treat for yourself. “You thought she was the undead. You said that she was grumpy, unapproachable, and yet…” Jimin grabbed for her salad bowl. There were still tons of them left, thus concluding that your best friend was terminally dramatic. “And yet!” “Yes, yes, and yet she was nice, alive, and approachable,” you said, as you finished with paying for the food and skimmed your eyes over the cafeteria, finding Yoonji at one of the far back tables. She hadn’t run away yet, how lovely, and hopeful. Jimin already tore open her strawberry milk, humming blissfully around the straw with each sip. The girl was incapable of eating or drinking without making some type of noise. “Awe, look, she secured the table furthest from the jocks.” “Because they suck?” you offered, unhelpfully. “Anything else you’d like to say about my boyfriend?” “Tell him I said, ‘Hi’, since I know you’re about to ditch me for him.” “Wow, you know me so well. It’s seriously scary sometimes. Enjoy your lunch date,” she said, waving her carton of milk at you. “And you can thank me later, by the way, and properly. Like, with snacks and story time. Okay?” This bitch. “Oh, ‘kay then…” You’d wanted to lean on Jimin as a social crutch, but that wasn’t going to happen, apparently. So, you approached Yoonji, as calmly as you could manage, which was a solid twenty percent out of a whopping one hundred. If she’d noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, she asked, “What happened to sparkles?” Oh. It was possible that Yoonji only agreed, because of Jimin was there. It was an addictive sort of energy that your friend tended to give off, a very positive and friendly vibe that everyone wanted a piece of. “You mean mochi sparkles? She spotted her boyfriend, who just so happens to be a bunny. Mochi and bunnies go together. Who knew?” You placed the tray of food down on the table, trying not to make it obvious that half of it was intended for her. You laughed at the arrangement, as though it wasn’t purposeful. “I think I bought too much. Way too much, in fact.” “Almost like an identical serving for two,” Yoonji said, letting you know that she knew – she knew, she wasn’t dumb, and you would never assume that she was, but there was underlying anger within the tone that she was using. It was a pleasantly sarcastic lilt that had your mind forgetting its function. “Two soups, two sandwiches, two drinks. All accidental? Do you make these mistakes often?” “Not u-usually,” you stammered, wondering if you’d offended her. “I don’t like eating alone, s-so whatever you don’t eat, I’ll give to someone else, or it’ll get tossed. It’s really no big deal.” “Bullshit.” The nervous smile you’ve been giving her fell from your face, shoulders visibly slumping. Admittedly, you weren’t used to confrontation. You sure as fuck weren’t prepared for Yoonji’s wrath.   “What?” “You eat alone all the fucking time. In the library, which isn’t even allowed, so however you manage that, probably with magic, or whatever the fuck – congratulations. The music room, you’re always off to the side, nibbling away on your gimbap. Let us not forget,” One side of her mouth was curled into a derisive smirk, going on and on like she was Sherlock fucking Holmes, about to hand your ass over to Scotland Yard, “…the gym, where you’re usually snacking on something banana flavored, pretending like you give a shit about basketball, which I’m pretty sure you don’t. Bullshit you don’t like eating alone. Just say it. This is all out of pity, isn’t it? New girl from Daegu can’t afford a meal? Let’s invite her to lunch?” What left your mouth next was neither a word nor a syllable, but was a long shaky breath. Your fingertips were cold with anxiety, in shock that Yoonji would perceive your intentions as pity. The dark look in her eyes was like black ice, full of tempered rage that was about to unleash with one wrong move. Meanwhile, all of those times you thought she never saw you, she did. She did. She’d listed every occasion, oblivious to the fact that it was to become closer to her. “That’s not,” you whispered, shaking your head. You felt weakened by her accusation. “I could never do those things or think that way about you.” “What? Did you think that by being charitable that it would make you seem like a good person? Hate to break it to you, Bambi, but the world doesn’t work that way. So, stop giving me those fucking eyes.” She settled back onto the bench, bringing a leg up so that she could rest her arm against it. Due to the cold weather, female students had the option of wearing sweatpants beneath their skirts. Yoonji did this more often than not. “We’re not going to be friends, but I am going to eat all of this food,” she said calmly, although her words were dripping with spite. “I mean, you bought half of it just for me. Out of the kindness of your heart…” By now you’d lost the nerve to eat, let alone to continue on with a conversation where Yoonji painted you as a horrible person. You were the villain in this pseudo-fairytale you’ve thought up. You could only hope that it was not Jafar – anyone but that turd, although his beard was pretty legit, and majestic. Great. Now you were envisioning Yoonji in a hot red Arabian harem garment, chained at the wrists, feeding you fruit, and wine… You had fucking problems.  She proceeded with what she said she was going to do, ripping the plastic off the sandwich, dipping her soup spoon into the spicy jjiggae. She shoveled food into her mouth like this was her only meal within the past week. At this rate, she’d probably end up with an upset stomach, but you couldn’t say anything. Instead, you watched the way her mouth parted for each bite, her complexion flushed due to the spices. You could cry. You might do just that, but not in front of her. “Thank you for eating with me,” you said, grabbing for your bag with trembling hands. She stared at you when you got up from the bench, “You didn’t even touch your food. Sit.” You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to cancel her out, because you wanted to obey that voice so badly. “You know, there’s a reason why you always saw me eating alone so often. We only have one class together and lunchtime was the only time to…” You stopped yourself, because nope, you weren’t that brave yet. You repeated the statement. “It was the only time.” She grew quiet then, too quiet for comfort. A deep pout settled against her jjiggae stained lips and you could tell that she was assessing you – all of you, your words, and actions. You could literally feel her picking you apart into pieces, searching for more faults. You shifted under her gaze, bringing your bag to your chest. A single bow, because no, you two weren’t friends, and you weren’t going to see her for the remainder of the day. You probably wouldn’t see her at all outside of Literature class. No more being a weirdo and eating lunch in super obvious places. It was time to put your fixation with Princess Yoonji to bed.

Time passed slowly. You noticed every cruel, drawn out moment of it. Lunch might’ve been the only time to see Yoonji, but now it wasn’t. You’d spent your lunch period at a table full of jocks, watching Jimin feed her oversized baby bunny his fries. Jung Hoseok would yet again, bark up the wrong tree, despite being shot down on numerous occasions. “You know who I saw yesterday?” Hoseok asked and really, you hated these types of questions. You shrugged, because seriously, “Who?” “Yoonji. She was working the counter at the cat café.” Well, of course she was. She too was a cat and sometimes cats work with other cats. It all made sense. “But I also saw her working at olive bbq just last week. She’s a busy girl. Probably sick of seeing my face by now.” Your crazy mind was already thinking of all the olive bbq’s in the area, as well as cat cafés, except you weren’t about that life anymore. Nope, Yoonji handling cute, cuddly, flooofy cats, and choosing the right kitty for you would have to wait, indefinitely. Yoonji handling an order of spicy chicken would have to wait, too. Knowing her though, she’d get angry over a generous tip. How dare you. Even a week later, you still couldn’t escape from Yoonji. You didn’t bother with responding to him, as you took your tray to the garbage, and walked out of the busy lunchroom. Even when you heard Jimin calling your name, you did not stop – couldn’t, even if you’d wanted to. Your arms felt too loose, fingertips too cold, an oncoming panic attack ready to be set off. Escape. Abort it all. Just as you’d felt the sudden urge to run, to pick up your heart rate – it had all come to a stop. Your body had collided with something firm. Not a wall, but a person. A glimpse of the beat up converse, sweatpants, and skirt combo should have been enough to properly deduce it, but it would be rather unusual to see Yoonji here. A hand on your arm stabled you and pulled you in, bringing you out of oncoming student traffic. You almost didn’t want to look. But you did, stuck in your own version of hell, where round-the-clock torture was helplessly staring up at an unimpressed Yoonji. The panic in your bones slowly eased, having no other choice but to regain control, as though her mere presence was enough to subdue your fears.    She smirked down at you, voice somewhat smug, “You’re real short, you know that, Bambi?” The nickname wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah,” You sighed, still calming down. You’ve heard that numerous times. “But why can no one get over it?” There was cat fur clinging to the hoody that she was wearing under her school blazer, the hood thrown over her head with silky black bangs falling just beneath her brows. The halls quieted, leaving you both standing there with the muffled sounds of hip-hop music coming through her headphones. Even when you dropped your arm down, she hadn’t bothered letting you go. “Probably because it’s really cute,” she said – Wait, what? “Nothing I do is cute and I’m not even trying to fish, this is just fact,” you said, voice shaking with nerves, as you looked down to where her fingers were still curled in your sleeve. Silver adorned fingers, so many rings. Black matte painted nails. Yoonji’s hands were nice to look at and oh – kay, you were doing that thing again. Focus. She shook her head, disagreeing. However, “I noticed that you’re around a lot less lately.” Was there any reason why you should be around? You wanted to say those words, could feel them on the tip of your tongue, ready to come out. Coward. You were a damn coward. “It made me think that maybe,” she started, licking at her too red lips, drawing your attention to them. Fuck whenever she pouted when she talked, which was always. “…you’d actually wanted to be friends? Look, my attitude is total shit, I know.” “No, it’s uhm…” You don’t even know where to begin on the subject of Yoonji. You tried though, rolling your wrist so that you could hold onto the hand she’d snagged your sleeve with. She hadn’t even flinched at the contact, unblinking. “I like your personality. I do. I like that you’re standing here in a hallway with me, apologizing, kind of, in your own way, while rap music plays through your earbuds.” You hesitated, because now you’re dangerously close to outing yourself. “Tell me,” she said, firmly. The space separating you both dwindled, as she took a persistent step closer. You leaned your back against the wall behind you, not trusting your legs. “Whatever made you pause just now, forget about it, and tell me.” “I…” “Bambi.” Fuck. Your response was a classic, one that no human deserved the right to use – truly. In a world where words had failed you, but actions would not – you reached for the side of Yoonji’s face, cold fingers slipping beneath her short black hair, brushing over the silver studs along the lobe of her ear. Her skin was soft and hot, it was everything, but your mind was not able to keep up fast enough to fully appreciate it. What you hadn’t been expecting, was Yoonji to lean into your touch with her dark, catlike eyes burning into you. And despite making the first move, Yoonji was the one who kissed first. It was all wet, firm pressure, and too short-lived. You’d smelled the strawberry gloss, before you tasted it, running your tongue over your bottom lip when she pulled back, savoring it. Her voice was low, yet noticeably affected, “Was that okay?” You dropped your hand from her face, not trusting yourself not to lean back in for another kiss. You nodded, shyly, “Yes.” “Good girl,” she said, brushing her thumb over her own mouth, fixing you with a lopsided smirk. It was provocative and heated. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen.   Don’t judge a cat by the size of its claws. 

Literature class. The professor was still very much invested in making it through the Brothers Grimm tales. The strangest part was when Yoonji volunteered this week. Your girlfriend wanted to read aloud by her own volition. It was suspicious and intriguing. However, once she’d read the story title, it all made sense. An angry flush covered your skin, as you quietly watched Yoonji go on.   She crossed one leg over the other, a slender hand poised so that she could lean comfortably against the podium. Her dark eyes flickered to yours every so often, utterly pleased with herself, ‘Inside sat a tiny girl, no bigger than a thumb. The woman called her Thumbelina. For a bed she had a walnut shell…’        The lengths she’d go to just to make a short joke were impressive. If Jimin were here, she’d be rolling. That was alright. You had plans for Yoonji. The good, ‘fuck you’ type of revenge that would either land you deeply satisfied or devastatingly single. Tonight was a home game for the girls basketball team. It was also the last of the season. You’d get to sit on the bleachers and look pretty, rooting for moonlight aka the bringer of storms aka Min Yoonji. She was twice as foulmouthed while out on the court, aggressive in all her competitive endeavors. Okay, so maybe you enjoyed watching her play. The only difference was that now you had access to Taehyeon’s closet – Hoseok’s new girlfriend, who somehow managed to smile in the shape of a box. It was kind of cute. Both she and Jimin were rays of sunshine in your life, blinding, yet necessary. And although you hadn’t known Taehyeon for as long as Jimin had, it took no time for you to get close to her. Yoonji waited for you after class, not outside, but right at your desk. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Thumbelina,” was all you had to say. She hummed, amusedly, “It was appropriate and worth all the social awkwardness.” You were still trying to adjust to her newly silver dyed hair and the shorter cut that had come with it. It made her look all hot and androgynous – and you were pretty much screwed. It took effort to refrain from cooing at her for the umpteenth time, going on about how cute – how gorgeous – how perfect the color and haircut looked on her. How well it went with her soft pale skin and dark clothes. If your two friends were the sun, then Yoonji was pure moonlight, and you needed both. “But was it worth me making this face at you?” You asked, trying your best to embody the cat from Shrek. Yoonji deadpanned, “I think you already know the answer to that.” Then she slid her fingers between yours, going by routine, steering you into the direction of the lunchroom. You stopped before going in, knowing that this was as far as she’d take you anyway. Yoonji was still not up for eating with jocks, despite being the female equivalent of one. “After lunch, Jimin and I are gonna go to Tae’s for a little bit. So, I won’t be able to watch you practice before the game tonight.” She narrowed her eyes, visibly vexed by that, “That’s a lot of pretty girls in one room.” “Pretty girls with boyfriends,” you reminded her, which was a fact she already knew, since residing within your friendship circle for almost a month now. “Besides, I can’t be stolen from you. Unless, that’s like, an easy thing that can be accomplished? Should I worry about all of the girls you rub up on during games? And my friends aren’t just girls, but they’re pretty girls?” “I get it,” she said, waving off your point. “I just don’t like it, but I’ll get over it. You’ll be at the game though, correct?” You shrugged, “By that time, I might find myself in a threesome I won’t be able to refuse. Pretty friends and all. We’ll have to see.” She pulled you away from the doors, backing you up between the wall and the drink machine. It was a small space, which was something that Yoonji seemed to enjoy all too much – small spaces, with her small girlfriend. No matter where you were, it seemed. In this particular spot, she was tugging at your lips, pulling on them until they were swollen red from the abuse. A soft whimper into her mouth made her grow more impatient to have you, slender fingers at your throat keeping you still. Your kept your eyes closed long after the heady kisses had ended, feeling a little too hot and needy for her. The familiar ache at the pit of your stomach reminded you of just how easy you were for Min Yoonji. How just a single kiss could tear you into pieces, skin flushed deeply, panting even though you’d had more than enough air, like you’d been deprived. The hands at your throat tightened a fraction and your head tipped back by its force. Her breath reached your skin, “Look at me, Bambi.” You did as she asked of you and felt imposed by what awaited you the moment that you did, meeting the heavy stare that you were no longer a stranger to, able to tell the difference between what was Yoonji’s usual look of iciness versus a darkening expression of lust. She wanted you. No matter what the circumstances were, you would want her, too. Her mouth twitched into a knowing smirk, aware of the effects she had on you. “It isn’t very nice of you to try and make me jealous,” she sighed, words lightly skimming your lips. “You know I don’t like it and yet…” She dropped a hand to the hem of your skirt, dark eyes watching you intently, as she ran her fingers along the top of your thigh, bringing the material with her, “…you continue to tempt me as though I wouldn’t fuck you right here just to make myself feel a little bit better.”          You caught her wrist the moment she’d conquered a questionable length of skin. Even if her closeness hid you from view, it was still dangerous. Saying no to her was difficult, for the both of you. Yoonji’s auto-response was to draw you in closer by your neck, brushing your lips together in slow, languid drags. For a moment, you’d thought it would melt away your resolve. You might actually allow her to have her way with you right here at school. “Take a picture, so we can use it as blackmail.” The familiar voice startled you away from your girlfriend, which proved to have failed anyway, what with being pinned between Yoonji and the wall. Jimin had her arms crossed, openly judging. Oh, damn it.   Jeongguk tilted his head, considering it, “I might.” “Well, that killed it for me,” Yoonji said, removing her hand from your skirt. Not wanting to give any nearby jocks the satisfaction, as she placed a quick kiss against your forehead, and said her goodbyes to the rest of your friends – for your sake. One last look at your embarrassed and slightly debauched state had her simpering, “See you at the game.” Taehyeon’s room was the size of a shoebox. Her closet, however, was big enough to make even Carrie Bradshaw jealous. It was probably the only reason why she put up with it. There was a single bookshelf dedicated to manhwa and handheld devices with the games stacked high consisting of otomes. Next to her bed was a collection of fashion magazines and an even bigger pile of sewing patterns. “You should wear this beret,” Taehyeon said, removing it from its limited edition box. “…with the short black skirt and the thigh highs.” Jimin was over on the bed, chipping away at last week’s nail polish. “I know it’s the last game of the season, but is this really necessary? I’ve been telling you to wear shorter skirts since the beginning of time.” Taehyeon answered before you could even open your mouth, “One, I’m shocked that this is coming from you and two…yes, it’s necessary. You should dress up every day. It’s empowering and it feels nice.” Jimin practically rolled her eyes in defeat, “Whatever.”  Despite being smaller, the skirt fit exactly how Taehyeon knew that it would, dangerously short, and super tight around the waist. The shirt was a simple striped, long sleeve – matching the black and red beret. Accessories were not your thing, but Taehyeon had plenty, allowing you to borrow her jewelry. The prettiest item was the black ribbon choker. You joined Jimin in retouching your makeup, using her dark red lipstick when she’d offered it. You’d never been so daring, but tonight was about driving Yoonji out of her mind, so why not? Your friends never partook in watching Yoonji’s games, which was fine, but not really? Taehyeon dropped you off on the east end of campus, since it was the closest to the gym. Your two friends were leaving you stranded to catch a movie. It was rather sad, considering that crowds made you feel uneasy. You always made sure to sit on the bottom bleachers, so that if need be, you could easily escape. Tonight wasn’t about your anxiety, though. It was about being supportive. The moment you caught a glimpse of silver hair, you were deeply reminded of that fact. Yoonji was in her dark red jersey, padded brace supports on both legs, which were just as distracting as your thigh highs. A Nike headband kept her bangs out of her eyes for the most part, balm making her mouth look rosy, and slick. Now this was a look, a whole meal in fact. You loved it. The only thing better was when she started searching the busy room for you, even while the coach was speaking directly to her. Being stared at was intense enough, but one look from Yoonji was enough to set your skin ablaze. The moment she found you, she’d paused completely, and it was the same for you, too – everything seemed to stop within that moment, even your breathing. The contact from sight felt no different from touch, as she dragged her eyes across your body with slow deliberateness, taking in all the obvious changes to your outfit. You watched the way her pouty lips fell apart, kitten tongue flashing out, before she cocked a slender brow at your newfound bravado. You felt more than vulnerable within that moment, like you were about to be devoured whole. Being in trouble with her was exhilarating. Disobeying, misbehaving, being defiant – these things made for a very impatient Min Yoonji, not that she had much of it to begin with. The captain walked with her out onto the court, Nam Joonhee. You were introduced once before. It was obvious that Yoonji was woefully distracted and you’d almost felt bad about it – almost. She shook her head at you, casting you a long meaningful look, before the match started. You’ve had Yoonji explain her position to you plenty of times. She was a point guard, because she was the best at handling the ball. Quick – quick at passing, quick at dribbling, quick at bringing the ball to the opposing team’s basket. Yoonji was especially good at long distance shooting. Every time she bounced up to take a jump shot, it was usually a secured point. Hell, you’d seen her shoot and then turn her back on it, because she knew that it would land. Your girlfriend was like that, insufferably smug about most things, prone to catty hair flips, full of conceit – a self-proclaimed genius. You sat through two hours worth of Yoonji running her mouth, sending the double birds to one of the tallest members of her own team. The more physically exhausted she’d become, the more invigorated she felt by it, sweat glistening at the back of her neck, as she strained for another basket. Halftime, timeouts, the typical highs and lows of a long game, the threat of the opposite team catching up, of scoring a point, of another girl getting way too close to Yoonji – blocking her movements, crowding her in, nearly shoving her down. It had you on edge. The match ended with a one point difference, Yoonji’s team reigning victorious. Usually the girls would head into the locker room, but it looked as though Yoonji was saying her goodbyes early, patting the back of the same girl she’d flipped off earlier. Seokgenie her name was, if you remembered correctly. A visible pause – Yoonji’s body straightened with tension when she looked over her shoulder at you, dark eyes on yours then, which had been a frequented action throughout the game. Time could not prepare you for how fast she’d closed the distance, wordlessly grabbing you by your wrist, and hauling you out the double doors. The silence was to be expected, as she brought you further away from the crowd, away from everyone so that no one could hear you screaming bloody murder. You noticed the route she was taking. The school bathrooms were kept unlocked during the game. Yoonji practically hurled you far ahead from where she stood, releasing your wrist with enough force to send you into the counter. You’d caught yourself with your palms against the surface. A wild angry Yoonji appears. She gestured with a finger, pointing from the top of your beret down to your boots, “Who’s closet did you raid, because it sure as shit wasn’t yours.” “Taehyeon’s…” you said, attempting to tug your skirt down. It kept riding up, the damn thing. “I thought you’d like it.” Yoonji tilted her head at you, eyes narrowed like you should know better, “We can both agree that it’s not your style.” “Maybe it is now,” you said, shrugging in nonchalance. Why did it have to be a thing? Not that it was much of a threat, but, “Be prepared for a new collection of miniskirts and thigh highs.” She chuckled softly at that, lacking any real amusement, “Oh, my sweet Bambi. You know as well as I do that tonight was all about distracting me. You wanted my attention all to yourself, didn’t you?” Striking the figurative match, she continued, “Your behavior is coming off as rather needy as of late.” Needy? Oh. “I never meant to distract you, but since we’re on the topic. Let’s say that I was trying to do just that, I’d say it worked. You did miss that layup when I started fixing my stockings,” you said, voice trembling at the end of your sentence when she started coming closer. You followed her pace, carefully stepping backwards each time she advanced. “The end score was only a one point difference. You could have lost the game all because of me.” The heavy glare she’d settled on you was enough to let you know that there was truth to your statement. “Yeah, we could have,” she agreed with you, taking a moment to pause, becoming absolutely still. Perhaps pointing out her mistakes wasn’t a good idea on your part, you could see that now – could feel it within the intensity of a single glance. “My head was elsewhere, but that was your fault. I kept thinking about what I’d do to you once I finally got you alone. Take my time bringing you back to my place, so that I could fuck you with that pretty new toy we picked out, but you know me. I’ve never been any good at being patient.” You nodded, well aware of the fact that she liked to go fast. Dating Yoonji was something you had always envisioned as a slow affair filled with shyness, and timid firsts. When, no less than a week after she’d kissed you in the hallway, she had you screaming into her Lord Nermal bedding, making you come against the firm press of her mouth, her tongue still fucking into you after you’d been sated – wanting more from you.     “Looks like you’re out of room,” Yoonji observed with mock pity, watching as your back met the stall and you startled at the contact. She was careful not to touch you at first, even when she’d been close enough to do so, which drove you absolutely mad. Instead, she reached for the lock, and twisted it so that the door opened. You fell inside with little grace and quickly found yourself being pinned to the surface once it’d been closed and relocked. Yoonji’s skin was still damp with sweat, the ends of her silver hair soaked. The smell was a heady mix of her perfume and two hours’ worth of exertion. At this closeness, her eyes fluttered painfully slow, thick dark lashes framing pretty kitten shaped eyes, her pupils dilated with want, staring at you with a slow curl of her red lips.  “Are you ready for my undivided attention?” she taunted, pressing the full length of her body against your own, lips falling against your temple with each word, “This is what you wanted, baby. You wanted to dress like a slut for me and now I get to treat you like one.” You were frustrated, petulant in a way that only she seemed to bring out of you, “That’s not what I was trying–” She touched her cool hands to your face, pulling you into a kiss that was deceptively light, and sweet. You knew that it was an apology for the wreck that was about to happen, because the next pull of your lips was with her teeth, the sharp pain causing you to whimper. She soothed you with her tongue, mouth pliant when she licked into your mouth, growing more invested with sucking, and nipping at you every time you attempted to regain any semblance of control. Your lipstick was sure to be smeared, since Yoonji was wearing it now, the dark shade of wild berries staining her pale skin. It was hot – it shouldn’t be, but it was.        The shirt you wore was purposefully low cut, revealing a few straps of your bralette. She’d once commented on how it looked a lot like a harness on you, enjoying the thought of it. Yoonji’s breasts were small, which was probably why she played with yours so much. They were full, big enough to avoid button ups since the age of twelve, cringing at the catcalls you still managed to receive, even on days where your chest was bound, because you hated them so much. Hated, although with the way Yoonji practically worshipped them, you were starting to gain confidence.  She pulled your shirt over your head, arms already raised to assist her, when she stopped – allowing the fitted material to serve as its own restraints. You tucked your hands above your head into a more comfortable position, a breath escaping when she closed her fingers around your throat. The pressure slight, just enough to remind you that you were hers, “I’m still gonna take you home after this…” Her other hand was teasing below the many straps. “…so you can ride me on that cute little cock we bought. I wanna watch your tits bounce. Bet you’d look so pretty. Would you like that?” Your thighs closed against the ache you felt, clenching painfully around nothing, but you needed – needed so badly to be filled by her. She tightened her fingers when your response was delayed too long for her liking, “Words.” It was difficult, your mind becoming hazy with want. You wanted her however you could have her. You managed a small, “Yes, please.” She released her grip on you to pull at the front of your bralette. The straps were adjusted lower, trapping your nipples between the thin lines of the material, exposing you further. Yoonji’s hands were pleasantly larger than yours, weighing your breasts within her palms, short black nails digging into your sensitive skin as she bent down to tease – encircling an erect bud with her tongue, before sucking messily – the sound of it was twice as loud given your surroundings. You were already trembling. Each time she brought your sensitive skin into the hot suction of her mouth, the pleasure shot straight to your core. You tried moving your arms, on the brink of desperation, “I want…ahh…to touch you…” Her only response was a sharp nip of her teeth, fingers growing more possessive when she gripped and kneaded at your hips. Yoonji’s lips were the color of cherries, swollen red from working over your skin. You shrunk against the surface when she stood at full height, staring at you from behind strands of silver hair, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth. “Wanna be good for me?” she asked, leaning into you so she could tug your shirt off the rest of the way. She moved back before you could reach for her, making it clear that you weren’t permitted to do so. “The point of this is that I get to do whatever I want with you, not the other way around. Now lift up your skirt.” True to tonight’s theme, this wasn’t really your style, either, which was probably why your face was on fire. You were reduced to a shy, anxious mess. She knew it, too, eyes as black as charcoal, challenging you to dare be defiant. Your fingers uncurled from your sides to slowly pull the fabric high enough for her to see your panties – the same panties that had nothing to do with the rest of your outfit. “Tinkerbelle,” Yoonji noted, the Disney character print of your underwear was endearing to her, heavy gaze alit with amusement. “This is more you, isn’t it? Nothing like the little slut you’d come dressed as, hm?” The words slipped past your lips, before you could stop them, “Fuck you.” “Fuck me? You’re really in no position to be saying that...” There was a hint of Daegu satoori in the lazy drawl of her words, the inflection doing something to you all on its own. All Yoonji had to do was whisper into your ear and you would be a mess. She laughed at your obvious struggle, the derisive sound turning you on more than it had angered you, “My sweet, sweet Bambi.” She leaned down, immediately parting your lips with her tongue so she could fill you. You loved when Yoonji kissed you – loved how she took her time with it. She was thorough, drifting over your teeth, along the roof of your mouth. Yoonji stole whenever she kissed, consumed and tasted every bit of you, until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You hummed, easily falling captive when her hand moved past your stomach, slipping beneath the cotton of your panties. You were clean shaven, which wasn’t news to her, but she still groaned at how smooth you felt. It was difficult to focus on the hot tongue delving between your lips, when she slid her middle finger between your soaked folds, gathering your arousal and coating you with it, making each touch afterwards slippery, and wet. You rolled your hips against her palm, breaking the kiss with a sharp gasp – forgetting about where this was happening. “Wanna know what gets me off?” Yoonji teased, speaking into your lips. You nodded slowly, nose to nose with her. You wanted to know. You really, really did. She leaned in so that she could say the rest against your ear, her mouth pressing firmly. It caused your shoulders to scrunch up. She murmured, thickly, “Getting you off.” Yoonji was…impossible. You would have said so if you could, but words were too hard a task when her lips wandered down the side of your neck, expertly swirling her tongue – marking you in several spots. Marking was her new thing, although it was usually in less obvious places. You would have to hide these, but she didn’t seem to care. Not even you cared, becoming lost to the incessant strokes of her delicate fingers, the way she allowed you to grind against them, moving at whatever pace you desired. The sharp sting of her teeth along your collarbone made your legs tremble, the molten heat at your lower stomach ready to unfurl. You were shameless when you were gone. The small moans and quickened breaths resounded harshly off the bathroom walls. You were so painfully close, teetering over the edge when she wedged a finger in deep, pulling back far enough to watch your downfall – pushing in another digit, pumping them in and out of you. You were thrown off – orgasm delayed for only a few short seconds longer, as she rocked the heel of her palm against your clit, making you come in white pulses of intense pleasure. She waited for your muscles to relax, before slowly removing her fingers. You finally closed your eyes, expelling the air from your lungs in one shaky breath. “Yoonji…” Fuck. That was amazing. Your head was resting against the stall door, body still thrumming with energy. The high you felt then could conquer anything, when your panties were suddenly being torn down past your thighs. You stepped out of them somewhat dazedly. Your girlfriend was kneeling on the tiles, the padding from her basketball gear supporting her knees. The sight was enough to kill you dead. She brought your leg up to rest atop her shoulder, nuzzling into your stocking covered thigh, her teeth catching on the fabric like needles over silk. You should have known that she wouldn’t be done with you. She never truly was, proven time and time again to be the insatiable one. “Spread yourself for me, baby,” were the words pressed into your skin, as impatient fingers pulled at your thigh highs. She was hungry for more of you, eagerly sucking and nipping her way closer towards the mess she’d created between your thighs. You were always so easy for her, obeying despite the brief wave of apprehension, parting yourself wide for her. The look she sent you made chills run down your spine – her eyes pools of black, peering up at you from behind her long, pretty lashes. You knew that you were well and truly fucked.  She wasted no time, covering you with the tight heat of her mouth, drinking you in – her kittenish tongue curling into the sticky arousal at your raw pink entrance, slurping lewdly, wanting it all for herself. The deep moan she elicited struck you at your very core. You were already so sensitive and you both knew that it wouldn’t take much. The sounds of her tongue darting inside you were loud in your ears and you swore you could hear shoes scuffing across the school floors nearby. It made you all the more desperate to come. “Yoonji, more…” you pleaded, breathlessly. She was all too willing to oblige you, replacing her tongue with two of her fingers, pressing down in a way that made you feel deliciously full, before she pushed in a third – stretching you, filling you to the brim. You stared down at her somewhat helplessly and swore that her eyes grew darker then. The moment she trapped your clit between her lips, it was over. With her nails biting into your skin, she kept your leg still, as she started flicking her tongue back and forth in rhythm with her fingers thrusting into you. You’d spiraled so high, so fast. The second orgasm was always more intense for you, the tight pressure of your walls clenching around her as you came. You could feel her lavish around and between her digits with her soft tongue, soothing you through your orgasm, licking you clean. What the hell just happened? Yoonji carefully set your foot back on the ground, her slim arms catching you around the waist when you’d slumped forward. Your name was on her lips, as she murmured gentle things to you, trying to bring you back into focus. She pressed you more firmly against the door, brushing your hair away from your face, her fingers cold in contrast to your heated skin. Now she smelled like you. You made a face at that, hearing her chuckle. “We should wash up,” she said, helping you get dressed, but refusing to return your panties? It wouldn’t be the first pair she’d kept, but now you’d have to face the public, commando. She held the cotton within her palm, before pointing at you accusingly, “Think of it as your punishment. Maybe don’t try to distract me next time. You already do a good enough job as it is. This whole thing was just overkill.”    You rolled your eyes at the weak excuse, as you picked up the beret that had been knocked off your head at some point. Taehyeon would kill you if she ever found out. You adjusted it, as you started fixing your hair in the mirror. You could feel Yoonji’s eyes watching you, practically burning into your skin. “What?” You asked, meeting her reflection in the mirror above the sink. You rinsed your hands under the faucet.   She shook her head, knowing it was probably ridiculous, but, “I’m thinking of how I’m going to make it to the car without touching you.” Your mouth went dry. Oh. 

Lunch at the jock table was less painful when your girlfriend decided to join one day. Jimin was pleasantly surprised when she took a seat down beside you, a tray of food in her hands. Taehyeon was practically beaming, sending you a knowing look, having sat through so many venting sessions – listening to you go on and on about how much it bothered you that Yoonji never partook. “Why so surprised?” she asked, nudging the tray close to you. “I bought us lots of bread. For you, for me, and the cats…” You were excited to go to work with her later. Yoonji tended to smile a lot around cats. Not just any smile, but the big gummy smile – the same one that caused you to sweat and have heart palpitations.   Noticing that you were zoning out, she started kissing at your cheek, once – twice – five times, before her hand fell to your waist, pulling you as close as she could get you without having you on her lap. Jeongguk seemed unsettled, cheeks flushed a deep pink. Jimin brushed her hand over his skin, cupping his face and whispering something into his pierced ear. You only heard the end of what she’d said, reassuring him, “I’ll ask soon, okay?” “Nah, ask now,” Yoonji said, pinning Jeongguk beneath her eyes. “And let him say it. I really wanna hear the words from this fucker.” You turned towards your girlfriend, sincerely confused. “What is happening?” “I want to see you two…” Jeongguk started, words nearly dying on his tongue. The intensity of Yoonji’s glare was intimidating and maybe he liked that a little too much. He motioned towards Jimin, “I would like for us and for you…” “The only dick my girlfriend is getting, is mine,” Yoonji said, simplifying it for him. “We’re flattered though.” “And you?” Jimin asked, somewhat hesitantly. Yoonji was hot. The entire table would merrily agree with that notion. If Taehyeon and Hoseok weren’t so speechless, perhaps they’d inquire themselves. “Whose dick will you be receiving?” “I’m not interested in dick,” Yoonji said, keeping her eyes on Jeongguk’s, her expression turning sinister. “So, you should be careful. Maybe not offer your girlfriends up like they’re sacrificial offerings.” “Duly noted,” Hoseok quipped, smiling so hard that his eyes were gone. Probably vacationing at some fantasy at the back of his mind, one where Taehyeon was dancing in a martini glass.      Yoonji brought a piece of cream bread to your lips, acting casual, “You have weird friends.” You nodded, “Yeah, I just found that out.” “Still want me to come and sit with you at lunch?” “Nope. Never again, in fact,” you said, prepared for things to go back to normal starting tomorrow. She buried her face into your neck, her soft laugh tickling your skin, “I didn’t think so.” Min Yoonji, your insufferable girlfriend. A Disney princess from Daegu. Dracula’s third cousin. The storm and the moon. Yoonji… “Bambi.” 

Fin~

[italiantea]

tag thign

tagged by @noisyjoints thanks my bro

rules: answer questions, ask some of your own, then tag ten people!

1. do you like mushrooms?

no. solid no.

2. what kind of comedy do you prefer?

uhhhh like the goofy kind? the kind where everyone just does dumb ridiculous shit

3. a place you have always wanted to visit?

hmmm. somewhere in the north? in the Wilderness where you can see the stars n northern lights and shit. that’d be neat

4. can you swim? ride a bike? ice skate?

yes (barely, my stamina is terrible im basically just bsing my way thru the water) yes and kinda? my friend used to drag me ice skating in the winter so i know how to go around the rink in circles without falling on my ass (mostly) but no fancy tricks or anything

5. big bag vs small bag

like a decent sized one i guess. with school bags i tend to go with just big enough to fit my shit and then i wear that one till its ripping apart at the seams. i dont have anything especially big n sturdy but i also dont use those like. tiny lil ones that can fit like a wallet and phone and nothing else. too impractical. where am i going to fit my jacket when i dont want to carry it.

6. describe the coolest rock you have ever seen/owned

my mom and bro went on a trip to the beach and brought back like a bottle of beach sand n little rocks and shit and i found this cool looking spiral one thats white n pink. looks pretty.

7. ever regretted buying/tasting a food?

so theres this really nasty non refrigerated milk stuff in taiwan. came with school lunch in lil cartons. its the kinda stuff that half the people hated and the other half loved like theres no in between. so anyway i avoided trying the stuff because it smelled really gross but one day i was like hey you know what fuckit why not ill try it, cant hurt. took like 2 sips.

oh man fuck that shit. disgusting. felt like puking all day. but then i went home in the afternoon and found out i actually had a stomach bug (not fun not fun lots of graphic puking) so a while later, me, stupid me who just didnt learn, decided to try it again because i thought hey maybe i only wanted to puke bc of the stomach bug maybe the actual taste isnt that bad.

nope. nopenopenope. still bad. i aint touching that shit with a ten foot pole now also i am an idiot.

8. thoughts on running.

oh man running, like sprinting at top speed? best feeling ever. i feel so powerful, so young, so free, there is so much energy in my body

……for like. one minute. then everything after that is Hell and my lungs are dying and i can taste blood in my mouth.

okay seriously though im decent at running, used to be in track n field and all that but im so gotdamn lazy so im terrible at long distance running and basically anything else that i cant power thru with sheer athleticism and explosiveness. but i think despite how goddamn painful it is, its actually pretty satisfying? like not in an edgy i like pain kind of way but like it feels good to give your all and be completely exhausted at the end. also the feeling of running at full speed and then managing to make it on the subway is one of the most satisfying feelings. like i feel like death but fuck you I made it you piece of shit

9. a ridiculous thing your parent/s/guardian/s didn’t let you do as a kid?

hmmmm. i cant recall anything ridiculous but its kinda more of a general Asian parent thing to be overprotective? like ‘you have to blowdry your hair if you dont youll catch a cold and die’ and ‘bring a jacket it’s going to be cold and youll catch a cold and die’ and ‘filter ur water, boil ur water, its dirty if you drink it you’ll get sick and die’ etcetc (ok im exaggerating slightly) and meanwhile all these german kids are running around in shorts in the winter drinking tap water and eating apples straight off trees lol

im still finding out shit recently that’s like. completely normal to europeans/americans that’s so alien to my asian ass (like its normal to each peaches with the peel on?? but why would you do that its so fuzzy and covered in pesticides)

10. where were you before tumblr?

i was in my youtube phase, and before that i was addicted to dumb facebook games

heckit not tagging anyone cuz i cant think of any good questions now and i only interact with like 3 and a half people on this site anyway