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kangaracha · 4 days

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head above water | chapter 2

also written by @keepswingin

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pairing chan x reader, jeongin x reader

genre love triangle, coming of age, angst, sickfic, friends with benefits, college au

summary Homework, a small business, overbearing parents, a boyfriend that isn't a boyfriend. And then there's whatever is going on with her best friend, who seems to want something...more than a friendship, if he ever gets around to asking her about it- life is complicated, and far too busy for Y/N to be bothered with being stressed, or sick, or whatever it is that's making it hard to eat and sleep and focus on her work-

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

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Seungmin throws a granola bar at you as you slide into the seat next to Jeongin, the wrapped snack hitting your shoulder with enough force that you shoot him a glare that could kill as soon as you're settled. Felix smothers a soft laugh in his next bite of sandwich, while Jeongin's arm brushes your shoulder as he reaches over and picks up the offending granola bar, inspecting it for a long moment, before launching it at Seungmin's head.

Hyunjin ducks from beside Seungmin, even though it's not needed with Jeongin's aim as the bar hits Seungmin directly in middle of his forehead. When he returns to his full height, he rolls his eyes and glances at you like you're the problem.

"What?" you ask, knowing your voice is a pitch too high to be innocent. You can't keep the smile off your lips, and Jeongin isn't really bothering to hide his either as he reaches nonchalantly for another fry. "He threw a snack bar at my head."

"Does that really make it okay to throw it back at his head, even if he does deserve it?" Hyunjin deflects, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Jeongin interjects, shooting Seungmin a look. "Maybe we shouldn't throw things at all. If only someone got the memo."

"Shut up," Seungmin says, rolling his eyes. He tosses the bar back over to you, this time with a much lower aim as it lands pitifully in front of you, wrapper crinkled and letters bunched together forming something far from the name brand. "Eat," he tells you, like you should already know. "You skipped breakfast."

"Stalker," Jeongin mumbles.

"So you do care about me," you goad, looking up at Seungmin as you tear the corner of the wrapper. "I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Funny," Hyunjin says, already finished with his own meal and sliding the remainder of his food towards Felix. "Maybe his heart is only big enough for one of us."

"I hate all of you," Seungmin corrects, only for his eyes to find yours once more, something knowing sitting far too close to the surface for your comfort. "Do you feel any better?"

There's a part of you that doesn't want to answer; if you do, you risk worrying them even more, and you know that homework has been rough lately, and the last thing you want to do is cause anyone to think about you more often. You don't want to burden anyone like that, even if you know they don't mind. But it's something deep inside of you that hesitates, that refuses to dig in roots and be okay with doing so. It's your parents getting to you, you're sure, unable to forget all the things your mother has said when she thinks you aren't listening. Something like that, that makes all of this so difficult to unravel properly.

"Not really," you admit finally, taking a small bite out of the bar. Even now, your stomach wants to reject the food, churning in discomfort. "I guess I caught a cold, or something. I've been feeling off for a while now."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Felix asks softly, leaning forward on the table. "We could've helped you out with homework."

"She doesn't need help, she needs to see a doctor," Hyunjin says, a journal open in front of him as he doodles another last minute assignment for the craft he's going to school for. For someone who loves art, you've always wondered why he decides to wait to do everything as close to the deadline as possible.

"I made an appointment yesterday," you say, taking another bite. It's about all you can manage, and you leave the bar on the table, curling your hands in your lap. Jeongin notices, and Seungmin does too, which annoys you more than not feeling well does. If they paid attention to you this much, how would you ever be able to hide anything from them?

"Do you want one of us to take you?" Felix offers. "If you don't feel up to driving, that is."

"I'll be fine," you reply, shooting him a soft smile. "Thanks though."

Felix smiles at you in return, before he happens to glance at the time. "Shoot," he mutters, gathering his trash onto his tray and picking up Hyunjin's as well. "We have to go."

Hyunjin stands with a sigh, looking back to you. A few other students are doing the same when you glance behind him. You can't remember exactly, you find after a few more moments of thinking, but you're pretty sure that they both signed up for the same extracurricular for study hall with the bad luck of it being located halfway across campus, which meant they had to leave their allotted lunch period a bit earlier than the rest of the group.

Maybe you did catch the cold of the century, if it was already affecting your memory like this.

"Let me know if you need anything," Hyunjin tells you, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Okay now you guys are worrying too much," you say, rolling your eyes. "I'm fine, seriously, and I even made a doctor appointment so I wouldn't have to hear anything else about it. Do I dote on any of you like this when you catch a cold?"

"Yes," Felix chimes as he grabs Hyunjin by the arm, tugging him away. "Talk to you later, stay safe!"

"So overbearing," you sigh as you turn back to Seungmin and Jeongin, pushing the bar in front of you further way. Maybe if you move it an inch every few minutes, neither will notice that you didn't actually finish it. "I'm fine."

"Finish eating then," Seungmin tosses back, pushing the bar back towards you.

So much for that plan.

"Shut up Seungmin," Jeongin intervenes. "She's not hungry."

"You always defend her," he grouses, shooting the younger a knowing look.

"You're just jealous."

"I'm really not," Seungmin deadpans, and you're afraid that if he rolls his eyes anymore, they'll just get stuck right in the back of his head. You reach over and steal a single fry off Jeongin's plate and pop it in your mouth just to make a point. It would've worked better if it didn't sit in your stomach like a rock in a pond, out of place and abundantly heavy, but there's nothing you can really do about it now.

The three of you fall into a comfortable silence as the other two finish their meals, and you busy yourself by scrolling through your phone. Somehow, you end up on your mother's Facebook page, and you can't help but stare at the most recent post that taunts you; it's a mess of gushing words about how beautiful the Bahamas are this time of year, followed with a picture of her and your father lounging on the beach. Your dad didn't bother to get a new bathing suit. Your mother's almost hilariously sunburnt.

Your thumb hovers over the like button, but you find you can't bring yourself to do it.

It was always so easy for them to run away from their problems, and a luxury for them to even have the ability to do so. You envied it sometimes. You envy it now, stressed about too much and ready to just take off in the nearest direction and not turn back. This...cold, or whatever it was, really wasn't helping either.

The bell chooses then to ring, shattering the constant murmur of the room as other students begin to disperse. Seungmin is among the shuffle, climbing to his feet, pointedly leaving the granola bar behind as he goes. "Thank God," he mutters, sparing another look at Jeongin, a certain gleam in his eye that usually means he's up to no good. "Get me out of here. I'm really not in the mood to play matchmaker."

Jeongin freezes from beside you. You lift your eyes, a question of confusion brimming on the tip of your tongue, but Seungmin is gone before you can say anything at all.

"What was that about?" you ask Jeongin instead, turning in your seat to gauge his reaction. He avoids looking at you for a long moment, fingers drumming on the cusp of the table. His cheeks are dusted pink, and there's a flip in your stomach the longer the silence stretches. Seungmin couldn't mean...

"He's just trying to start stuff," he dismisses, giving you a short smile. It doesn't brighten his face like it usually would, and there's something else off about it, but you can't put your finger on what exactly that could be. "We should get going. I'll walk you."

You hum, but the rush to change the subject doesn't go unnoticed. You can't help but think about it as you walk to class, Jeongin's arm beside your own the entire way as he talks about anything and everything to keep the silence at bay.

A different kind of emotion swirls through you. You're afraid to know what it is as Jeongin carefully hands you the granola bar you thought you had left at the table with a soft smile, fingers brushing against your own.

taglist

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @rylea08 @jenniferlr @enzos-shit

@sxnset-angel @amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @thatonedemigodfromseoul @briar-rose23

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kangaracha · 5 days

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Tumblr PSA:

Idk how long this is going to be an issue. Maybe forever. But when you're tagging people in Tumblr posts, you need to start tagging them in groups of five. After each group, press enter and tag the next group in a new block. If you do not do that, all of the tags after the first five will not work.

I learned this the hard way.

Your tags need to be organized like this.

@/tag1 @/tag2 @/tag3 @/tag4 @/tag5

@/tag6 @/tag7 @/tag8 @/tag9 @/tag10

@/tag11 @/tag12 @/tag13 @/tag14 @/tag15

And so on.

Hopefully this doesn't last forever, but it's definitely the way you have to do it for now.

#oh thank god i knew we'd figure it out

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kangaracha · 5 days

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there's so many people in this world that i would theoretically like to put on a racehorse and let them go at it just to see what happens. just to see. theoretically.

just ride one lap around the track. how hard could it be bestie? it doesn't require any balance or skill after all.

I always thought it was like an exaggeration when horse people would talk about how silly it was for anyone to think that riding a horse does not require any particular level of skill or balance or anything, or even that they "drive themselves" (???) but just the tags on the reblogs of that "can you ride a bike and/or horse" post from me alone are demonstrating how overconfident some people are in their (often entirely theoretical!) ability to stay on an alive and moving animal with a will of its own.

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kangaracha · 6 days

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At some point in your life, you were taught that being slightly annoying is an unforgivable sin. Maybe it was by your parents or a teacher or a friend or a bully or an older sibling. But someone taught you that being slightly annoying is a crime punishable by death.

You must unlearn this.

You must accept that all people will be annoying at some point or another in their lives, maybe all of their lives, and that this is okay. It is okay for strangers on the bus, it is okay for children in the grocery store, it is okay for people on social media, and it is okay for you.

If you ever want to truly love your fellow humans, if you ever want to truly love yourself, you must have forgiveness for being annoying.

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kangaracha · 9 days

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QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 17

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n today's self promo is catskin which is a felix x reader fantasy/fairy tale oneshot that i am pleased enough with that i might write a part two. anyway, here's more of the drama you're really here for.

previous | masterlist | next

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At 6:05 on the dot, there's a knock on your door.

He must have been up all night waiting for your text, you think as you answer it, the way that he'd made it down the stairs within five minutes of your alarm going off. You're still in your pyjamas, a hoodie thrown over the top when you'd dragged yourself out of bed to combat the early-morning cold of your apartment.

The boys waiting outside your door are dressed similarly, at least, padding around in clothes they've chosen at random from a laundry hamper somewhere and shoes that they kick off as soon as they pass through your doorway. You're not surprised to see Chan, hair sticking up at every end like he's gotten straight out of bed for this and not bothered to even try to stick it back down again, but you are surprised to see Changbin. You don't think you've ever seen or heard a peep from Changbin at this time of the morning.

"Good morning," Chan says as you close the door, lingering within arm's reach as Changbin wanders his way further into your apartment like he's looking for something.

"Good morning," you echo, your attention divided between the two of them. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Chan hedges, hesitating like he's not decided yet what he's going to say next. "Changbin is here to steal your cereal."

"Hyunjin ate all of mine," Changbin says, his feet carrying him one step closer to the kitchen in question.

You wave him towards it, despite warnings you've been given against ever giving him free reign over your pantry. "There's eggs in the fridge too if you want them," you offer, and your heart lifts at the way his face lights up. It's funny how such a little thing could cause such simple joy.

"Gamsamnida, noona," he says, and disappears into your kitchen.

Chan steps into your line of vision.

"What are you doing here?" you ask when he doesn't immediately say anything, though the pit in your stomach and the sleepless night unravelling behind you say that you already know the answer.

He draws in a breath and holds it, anticipation paling his face just enough for you to notice. "I'm being honest," he says, his eyes flicking up to the kitchen door. Changbin doesn't appear - he's busy making a lot of noise with your pans in there, the slam of a cupboard door a little too obvious to be anything but deliberate. "I promised I'd be honest with you, so...I'm here."

"About the things they're saying online, or what's going to happen next?" you question; and you don't miss the way that his face falls, his brow tightening imperceptibly.

"You've seen it," he sighs, as if he'd been hoping for something different.

A grim smile twists itself around your mouth. "It's trending," you point out. "It's kind of hard to miss."

"True." He looks away, eyes casting behind him to where Changbin is being deliberately noisy in the kitchen as he hunts through your cabinets for something. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you question. "You didn't do anything."

"They're my fans," he says and then blinks, correcting himself. "Our fans - if something I've done makes them think-"

You've seen the messages he's talking about, the back-and-forth between fans debating whether this was his idea or something that had been forced upon him by the company. Always Chan - Chan's group, Chan's members, Chan's decision. If the trending tags were anything to be believed, the general consensus was that the Chan they knew and loved would never do this to them, nor would he endorse it. It was obvious that you had forced your way into the group, and at first opportunity he would drop you right back out again; if only they screamed loudly enough in opposition, JYP would give him that choice quicker.

You didn't find that daunting at all. There wasn't a black pit opening inside your gut every time you thought about it, the urge to get back to the practice rooms and gruelling hours of work scratching at your skin.

"You're acting like you told them to do this," you tell him wryly, and the corner of his mouth quirks upwards. Nearly a smile, despite how sardonic it feels.

"I definitely did not," he answers, a hand pressed to his chest in honesty. "I meant what I said the other day. You're one of my people now."

Inexplicably, warmth blooms in your chest around the icy cold that has had a stranglehold around your stomach since you'd first seen...well, everything that's happening. The reminder of the conversation you'd had before all of this began is timely - it was easy to forget sometimes, around the screaming of a thousand voices that it couldn't be true, that he had chosen you, in a backwards way. That all of this was only happening now because he'd fought with the company for you. Because he'd won the fight, a feat you've never seen accomplished before, in a long career of letdowns.

Your teeth grit together at the thought of those voices online, hiding behind screens as if they know anything about what’s happened in the last three months or even the past six years. You had forgotten for a while last night, all the things that Chan had said; you’d felt like throwing something across the room, God’s Menu playing over and over through a tinny speaker until your body moved without thinking. You’ve contained most of that rage since, under the assurance that none of them know what they’re talking about, and truly, you don’t think that you’ll really care at all as the days wear on; but still-

"Someone should have told them that," you say without thinking, and then watch as Chan's brow furrows. "Sorry. I didn't mean you. It's not your fault."

"Someone will," he replies. "Once I've been to this meeting with management. Which I am probably going to be late for."

His phone appears in his hand, the screen lighting up to show him the time. "If you have to go-" you begin to say, already moving out of the way of the door.

"He's eating breakfast first," Changbin says from the kitchen door before Chan can argue with you himself.

"Am I?" Chan asks; but his voice is mild and his feet are already turning towards Changbin, all the fight draining from his body before he has even begun.

"You think I'm going to eat all of the eggs myself?" Changbin fires right back. "I'm not a pig."

"But I thought you were a pig, Changbin," Chan says and watches in amusement as the sound of Changbin shouting indignantly fills the air of your apartment.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @keepswingin

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kangaracha · 11 days

Note

lee know + sorry, I love you

He'd always loved dance more than anything else, and this is no exception.

Fluid and sharp, shifting with every change in the tempo, drumbeats like puppet strings tugging at limbs. Her body creates lines that imprint themselves on his vision like too-bright lights, silhouettes of her dancing behind his eyelids even when he closes them. Her music permeates their practise room even after she leaves; at the end of every chorus, he expects her to laugh, or to say something snappy, like she'd recorded herself over the track when they'd danced, the music and their movement equalising each other.

"You've been practising without me," Han complains over the absence of her voice, and Minho blinks back into reality.

Boys, sweating under the hum of the airconditioner, and the same movements he's been drilling into his limbs for weeks and weeks. He's supposed to be watching the others, but on the ninth runthrough of the day, he'd wandered off for a moment. It happens.

"No I haven't," he lies between breaths, squinting at himself in the mirror. Had he messed up that last move? He can't remember - he'd just been moving with the music, doing whatever they'd been doing last night. "I'm just better than you."

"And I bet that jacket on the couch is yours too," Han scoffs. In the mirror, Minho finds the end of the couch - and yes, there is her jacket, soft pink and edged in black. He'd told her the middle of summer was too hot for a jacket, even in the middle of the night, and he'd been so correct that she hadn't picked it up when she left, too busy laughing at him imitating her stumbling over the chorus of the song that's repeating in the background now.

He considers lying again - not because he has anything to hide, but just to see how far he could string Han along - but the novelty has passed on, along with his breath and the little energy he'd dredged up sleeping the first five hours of the morning. "I'd rather go deaf than listen to her evaluation track again, and the dance break needed work anyway."

"Did it?" Han questions, his arm falling heavy around Minho's shoulder. His heart is beating like a jackrabbit's, oppressive heat rolling off of his skin. Minho's pretty sure he's going to get a rash if they stay pressed together like this for too long. "Or did you just want to give her shit about it?"

Minho shrugs, his face a poster of indifference. He's sure it's amusing. "Is it my fault if she can't hit the beats right?"

"Probably," Han tells him. Minho snorts and steers him towards the long couch at the back of the room, aiming for the coveted spot beneath the air conditioner.

"Did you tell her how you feel yet?" Han asks as he deposits both of them on the seat, his arm still tight around his shoulders.

Minho pauses, his stomach twisting around itself from more than the heat. Complicated; that's how that question makes him feel. Exhausted, because there's no right way to turn and no clear answer to give.

"I told you I'm not going to do that," he answers, in a voice that's lowered so that the other boys won't hear. Not keeping secrets, per say, but just...keeping it quiet. He didn't need Seungmin riling him up about it at every opportunity, nor did he want to sit the boy down and tell him that this was really serious to him; life wouldn't be right without Seungmin buzzing around the edge of his consciousness like a gnat. Didn't need Chan worrying himself to death about how to handle it either, when Minho could handle it just fine on his own.

"And I told you that that's really dumb," Han answers, not for the first time.

"I like just being friends," Minho insists.

"Liar," Han insists more.

And he's right; with every day that passes, and every night they spend holed up in this studio, he hates being friends a little bit more. But there are words, as an idol, that are dangerous to say, actions that, once taken, he cannot take back - and even if he didn't wear a name and a face known to millions of people, saying hey, i love you to his strictly a friend could destroy everything he has.

He doesn't want to imagine the world when she runs away. He doesn't dare to imagine it if she stays. In the light of it all, this eternal limbo seems like the better option, even if it eats away at him a little bit inside.

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kangaracha · 11 days

Text

RING, THE VICTORY SONG full prompt collection AO3

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Gen Fic/Multichaps

NEVERMORE music videos verse/skzcu; on the eve of being torn apart, eight boys tumble into a world where their music seems to hang in the very air they breathe; 150K AO3

OVERWINTER missing/bonus scenes from nevermore AO3

LYRE LYRE on his last night with the group, IN must make a choice: to stay, or to go; 8k AO3

LEAVE After an accident splits apart the group, Felix is left alone in the world, wishing for better days to return (little does he know, that dreams come to those who truly want them). TUMBLR | AO3

WHAT THE WATER BROUGHT The ocean expands, the days grow longer, the earth loses its patience with every inch it cedes to the shore. For the hundreth time, Minho washes up on the shore of a small island and wonders when this - long months at sea, endless battles to keep their ship, the golden age of whatever the hell they want - will come to its end. AO3

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SMAUs

QUEENMAKER bang chanxreader; as one opportunity to debut disappears, another arrives - joining two year old group Stray Kids as a replacement to their missing ninth member. smau. TUMBLR | AO3

HEAD ABOVE WATER bang chanxreader, yang jeonginxreader; homework, a small business, overbearing parents, a boyfriend that isn't a boyfriend. And then there's whatever is going on with her best friend, who seems to want something...more than a friendship, if he ever gets around to asking her about it- life is complicated, and far too busy for Y/N to be bothered with being stressed, or sick, or whatever it is that's making it hard to eat and sleep and focus on her work. TUMBLR

DAYBREAK lee knowxreader, dystopia au; independant entertainment doesn't make money, everyone knows that - not dancing, not boxing. not without a company's name attached to it and the soul ripped out of it so that it can only sit on the stage bleeding. you knew you never should have agreed to buy the studio with him, that the bills would pile up and the income would run dry and the goverment would come knocking telling you to shut up and sit down...but it makes him so happy, when you see him dance. it gives him a reason to keep coming back. you don't know what you'd do without that.

THE FLOWERS YOU GATHERED IN MAY lee knowxreader; following an escape from near-death and an accident that leaves you unable to do most of the things you once loved, an old friend invites you to join a dance studio for loners and strays - people just like you.

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Prompt Fills

AS IT ENDS bang chanxreader; 'chan + 'a god bows before a mortal'; fantasy au

THE HYMN OF BABYLON lee knowxreader; 'minho + 'meddlesome angels, and the people they save'; dystopia au, fantasy au. religious dystopia.

CATSKIN lee felixxreader; 'felix + twisted fairytale'; royalty/fantasy au, based on the fairytale 'catskin'

lee know x sorry, i love you lee know x losing 3racha changbin x charmer changbin x eclipse han x forgotten felix x focus

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kangaracha · 11 days

Note

Felix + focus

(this is actually written by @keepswingin, who gained access to my blog for five minutes and decided she wanted my prompts list)

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It's bad luck, and you know it's bad luck, but you can't stop yourself from sneaking across the hall as soon as nobody is looking. You close the door as quietly as possible behind you and turn around, fully prepared to tease your husband to be, only to find him standing before the mirror, shakily adjusting his tie.

Felix is muttering to himself as he struggles with keeping his hands steady, smoothing them down the sides of his pants, once, twice, three times, and then he catches your eye in the mirror, and he freezes, and something about it reminds you of a deer caught between bright headlights.

"Sorry," you giggle, approaching him with your heart thumping wildly in your chest because this is actually happening, and he's going to be what you wake up next to every morning, and those hands will help you cook dinner and those eyes will look at you and call you beautiful and - and you're getting carried away. "I couldn't wait."

You reach out for his hand as soon as you're close enough, twining your fingers together. You can still feel him shake despite it, and the small smile he gives you is wobbly at the corners, and his eyes are crinkled in that anxious way that he claims he doesn't do, and you tug him closer, reaching your other hand up to curl around his cheek.

"Hey," you whisper, his eyes catching yours. "You're okay. Everything's okay. Focus. Focus on me." You press your forehead against his and hear his chest stutter with a long exhale. "I'm right here."

"I'm sorry," he says as soon as he's able to, blinking fast. Leave it to him to apologize over things that don't require one. "I was just - my mom left to go find something, and I was standing here alone and I just got to thinking and then I - " Another breath, this one calmer than the last. "I just don't want to mess anything up. On our day."

"You could never ruin our day," you tell him, and then your smile grows because you can't help yourself and he knows how you are. "Even if you did, I'd still treasure it all the same."

It does work in dragging a laugh out of him, genuine and carefree. "You're going to make me worry all over again," he throws back gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You're beautiful, by the way."

"Can you still act surprised when you see me walk out? My mom already threatened me," you ask, and then his lips pull into a smile you'll never forget as he moves closer, lips brushing lightly against your own.

"My mom threated me too," he admits quietly, and then he's kissing you, and you can't help but wonder how any of this could ever be bad luck when it's the luckiest you've ever felt.

#stray kids #roo writes #skz #felix #lee felix #yongbok #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #felix imagines #felix drabbles #felix drabble #reader x felix #felix imagine #felix x reader #felix reaction #felix reactions #lee felix imagine #lee felix reactions #lee felix imagines #lee felix x reader #usually i have fun comments to leave but i know nothing about this fic #other than that keeps got into my inbox #said 'oh you only have like 15 prompts in here that's doable'#and then said 'it's so much easier to pick them when you don't have 150' and #wrote mine and not any of her own 150 #anyway zom mom this is what i was gonna throw a rock at her about the other day #cause i wanted head above water edited and this is what she was doing instead #completely arbitrary tasks in my inbox #and to the casual readers who don't know us #i stg i can write my own shit this is just

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kangaracha · 11 days

Note

skz + losing 3racha

(this is actually written by @keepswingin, who found out i was saving this for a nevermore oneshot and said 'not if i write it first' and kicked me out of my own house)

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The door creaks as he pushes it open, the room beyond dark and unwelcoming in a way it's never been before. Minho's not used to this - the quiet, the lack of unopened snacks sprawled throughout the room, the absence of clothes, of beanies, of half-finished verses scribbled hastily on scraps of paper or napkin or an old thank you card from a sponsor.

The room used to be alive with his memory. Now it just sits, a void of their own making, because attempting to do anything otherwise was something Minho couldn't bring himself to do. Not then, not after, and certainly not now, even if it was the company forcing him to be in here after threatening of doing it themselves. And Minho would never let them do something like this themselves. Not now, not ever, not when it was something that concerned Jisung of all people.

"Is this it?" she asks, attempting to peer over his shoulder. She's a ball of energy wrapped with anxiety, he could tell from the moment he met her, and he had hated it. Hated how it reminded him of Jisung, hated how it reminded him that the world around him would keep spinning even if his own had stopped still.

"Yes," he whispers, willing his voice to stay steady.

He takes a step inside, and can't stop his chest from hitching, the soft exhale that leaves him breathless. The bed is made, stripped of old sheets. The shelves are empty, the desk pushed into the biggest corner wiped clean and prepared with a brand new laptop sitting on top.

She brushes past him gently and comes to a stop in the middle of the room, eyes flickering across what awaits her. Her hands squeeze into fists beside her, and Minho hears her chest hitch too, but when she turns to him, there is nothing but excitement glittering in her eyes.

"Thank you," she says, even taking the time to bow. Minho can't bring himself to react, at least not when he's frozen like this, unable to form anything close to words as the odd feeling in his chest tightens more. "I'm so grateful your company is providing me with this opportunity, and that you guys are being so welcoming."

She watches him for a long moment, and if she's waiting for Minho to say something, he can't, he can't, not when he's in Jisung's room with someone else and Jisung hasn't been here in months, and the last thing Minho ever said to him was something he never should have said at all, and then he was gone, they were all gone, and Minho and the rest of them were -

"Minho-ssi?"

- left behind.

Minho blinks. He feels like he wants to scream, or cry, or not speak for a long while. "I'm sorry," he whispers, turning towards the door. "Please let us know if you need anything." He closes the door behind him just breathes a for a moment, before pressing his forehead to the wood and closing his eyes.

He can pretend that it's Jisung shuffling around inside if he closes his eyes.

The room is a mess of wires and cameras as he sits off to the side in a lonesome chair, allowing a crew member of the channel they're interviewing for to clip a microphone onto the collar of his shirt. The man doesn't say much as he does, and Minho doesn't really pay attention as he leaves, his mind beginning to drift as he watches someone else struggle with fixing Seungmin's shirt in front of him.

He gets lost in a mind a lot these days, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's lost until one of the members is gently tugging his attention back to the present, a soft look here, a gentle touch there. Too nice, for someone like Minho, who is the barbed wire thrown over a fence long forgotten. Sharp edges and a sharper tounge, once upon a time. Now, he feels like something lost in the wind, far from home.

"Okay, we're ready to start!" The director announces, walking into the middle of the set and clapping his hands together. "I'd like to go over a few things before we begin."

And then he waits, eyes scanning the room, like he's looking for someone in particular. He is, because he wants the leader of the group, the one in charge of Stray Kids as a whole, and Minho doesn't realize that he's talking about him until Hyunjin is beside him and gently tugging him up from the chair.

Minho turns to him, something hot prickling in his throat. He would spit an insult, before. Now, he simply presses his lips together and allows Hyunjin to walk him over to the director with a stiff smile.

The director waits patiently as Hyunjin apologizes on Minho's behalf, and then the older man launches into what he expects from the shoot, among some other things. Minho doesn't really listen, simply nodding his head when needed.

He forgets to speak up, sometimes. When they're filming or out at an event that is mostly spoken in a different language he doesn't care about enough to learn. But he's had to learn, and he's had to lead, and none of it ever makes sense in his head because all he wants to do is lock himself in Jisung's room and never come back out.

Sometimes he even goes as far as pretending that Chan is still around, only for that cavern in his chest to grow wider when he turns and finds he was never there to begin with.

"What do you think?" the director asks, curious tone cutting through Minho's thoughts. "You know your group best."

This isn't my group, he nearly corrects, mouth forming Chan's name like second nature. But Chan isn't here, and Chan isn't the leader of Stray Kids anymore. Lee Minho is the one in charge of the five original members, and the three new ones.

("To keep the name relevant," a higher up had said to Minho as soon as he had asked about two girls joining with only one new boy, instead of keeping them as an all boy group. "Sales are down, and the media has finally stopped talking about the other three. We need to send a positive message of acceptance in these trying times.")

There's a rope cutting into his chest. He can't breathe. Hyunjin squeezes his shoulder, thumb pressing against his skin hard enough to hurt. It keeps him from crying. He's thankful he doesn't cry. He's not supposed to cry.

Chan was never supposed to leave.

"Whatever you think works best."

The studio is cold and bare of the energy it used to have when Changbin would be there alongside the other two, spitting curses or lyrics or swatting at whoever had decided to make fun of him in the moment. Now it's home to a revolving door of producers that Minho never likes.

Some bring lyrics that are too disconnected for singles. Others merely want to pander to the girls, offering them notes that Seungmin and Jeongin were more than capable of nailing themselves. The b-sides don't flow like they used to, and far too many of them are disjointed and heavy in rapping that's too heavy for songs meant to be light.

The chorography is the only thing that stays the same after all this time, the one thing Minho can still throw himself into without having to think. He's given Hyunjin and Felix more work to do in having to train two girls with left feet, though the new guy wasn't too bad, but they never complained.

"Good," this producer tells him, waving a hand with a small smile. "That's all your lines."

Minho wants to say something, anything. He wants to record the whole thing, strain his letters less, hit that note like how he should be able to. But the words well up in his throat, and nothing comes out.

He nods, and murmurs his thanks as he pulls the headset off.

The booth is too quiet. The producer is too quiet.

Everything is too quiet without a voice to tie all of it together.

He stands on the bridge and watches the boats as they pass underneath him, the wind stinging at his cheeks. Every breath fills his chest with cold air, and it keeps him here, and awake, and alive, as he watches the lights of the city blink and flicker in the distance.

Minho had brought Jisung here, years ago. They had talked for hours, standing on the edge of the universe, even if it was nothing more than the pathway of a bridge. He had smiled so much that his cheeks had hurt, and Jisung's laughter had been the sweetest thing he had ever heard. Minho had hugged him - pulled him close and buried his face in the crook of his neck, stayed there until forever was something he thought possible.

"I'll never forget you," he whispers against the next breeze, hoping it will carry his words to wherever they were, wherever Jisung was. "I don't think I ever could." An exhale that rattles his bones. "I don't want to."

He closes his eyes. Listens to the wind, and the waves, and the beat of his own heart.

Something warm wraps around him, squeezing him tight. It feels like someone he knows. He doesn't open his eyes, afraid to shatter whatever illusion his mind has created this time. And then a hitch of breath, and a small, raspy voice, whispering close to his ear.

"You don't have to."

44 notes · View notes

kangaracha · 11 days

Text

the tophers cop it again 😔✊

Sorry, I Love You | Chapter 11

pairing: Jeongin x fem reader

genre/warnings: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, friends to lovers, unrequited love, will they, won’t they dynamic, abusive relationship, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, emotional/psychological abuse

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: Swearing, Soobin mention, mention of food, drinking/alcohol (drink responsibly)

summary: Jeongin is in love with his best friend and he has been ever since he met her back in high school. He’s not sure how Y/n feels about him and in order to persevere their friendship, it’s a secret he keeps to himself. But when Y/n starts showing interest in one of their new neighbors, Jeongin starts to worry about the future of their relationship.

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 4,836

screenshot count: 19

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"Uh-huh...Seung--Seungmin-" You wedge your phone between your face and shoulder as you run around your apartment getting your things ready.

"--I just think editing-wise, we can do a whole thing with color filters for mood--" Seungmin continues on the other end of the call.

"Seungmin, that's a good idea but--"

Knock knock

"Should we do that artificially with a filter in post or should we try to mess with the lighting? Lighting might look more natural but harder to produce since a lot of the film is outdoors--"

You drop your bag on your couch and roll your eyes before heading over to your front door, praying that Seungmin isn't on the other side. You love him, you really do, but he's been pestering you nonstop since the start of winter break about the film. You didn't even mean to answer his call. You were so busy getting ready to leave that you instinctively answered the phone without checking.

"That's a really good point and question, but Seungmin I have to--"

You pull open the door to find Jeongin standing on the other side. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he's even there. You thought he went home to Busan after his last final for the semester. But here he is, standing in front of you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his thick, black puffer jacket. A dark blue beanie sits on his head, pressing his bangs to his forehead. The bottoms of his blue jeans are soaked from walking through the snow. Or rather the slush on the floor that gives the false illusion of snow. You made the mistake of jumping into what you thought was a snow pile the other day and instead slipped into an unsuspecting ice puddle.

"Y/n? Are you listening to me? I'm trying to bounce ideas off of you and you're not throwing anything back." You can almost picture the pout sitting on Seungmin's face right now.

"Am I allowed to talk now?" You ask as you wave for Jeongin to come in.

"Who is that?" Jeongin asks, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes.

"Seungmin," You whisper back, holding the phone away from your face so he couldn't hear you. You can only imagine the rant Seungmin will go on if he thought you were ignoring him to talk to someone else.

Jeongin wastes no time yanking your phone out of your hand and putting it to his ear. "Hey, Seungmin, it's winter break. Go drink some hot chocolate and chill the hell out."

"But--" Jeongin ends the call before Seungmin can continue and hands you back your phone.

You stare at your phone for a second, waiting for Seungmin to call back before tossing it on the couch with your stuff. You take Jeongin by the hand and drag him over to the heater.

“Here, before you get hypothermia.” You mutter as you pull him to sit down.

“I’m not going to get hypothermia from the ends of my pants being wet, Y/n.” He laughs. Still, he sits on the ground to humor you.

You pull a blanket from your couch, the one that Lia made you for Christmas last year after complaining about how cold the winter is, and toss it around his shoulders. “Oh? Are you an expert on hypothermia?”

“It’s called common sense, idiot.” He smirks, lightly flicking your forehead.

“If you had any common sense, you would have rolled up your pant legs a bit to avoid this.” You crawl over to your couch and grab your phone to check the time, “I thought you went home like everyone else.”

“I decided to hang back and enjoy the quiet at the apartment. My parents don’t care as long as I’m back in time for midnight mass. Plus my brothers are annoying so staying here is a bonus.”

You swear under your breath when you realize how little time you have to get to the airport You toss your phone into your bag and triple-check that you have everything you need. "Not to be rude or anything, but you couldn't have come at a worse time, Innie."

"You have to go pick up your family from the airport, right?" You glance over at Jeongin as you slip your bag over your head. He's staring at you upside down, his head thrown backward. His round-rimmed black, lensless glasses slowly fall off his face.

"Yeah, and their flight is somehow early so I need to leave like, yesterday."

“Let’s go,” Jeongin slowly stands up and starts walking towards the front door.

“What?”

“Did you think I came here to spend time with you?” He says flatly.

The twitch in the corner of his mouth threatening to break into a smile gives him away. It's barely noticeable, but you know it's there. You've been friends with him long enough to be able to read him like a book. If you wait a little longer, he'll start to smile and then turn his head quickly so you don't see. His ears will turn red and he'll cover his mouth like he was trying to wipe it.

"You have nothing better to do than to drive me to pick up my family from the airport during break?" You question as you grab your apartment keys and meet him by the door.

"Didn't you know?" Jeongin leans down, placing his head on your shoulder, "I was placed on this earth to be your chauffeur. I'm fulfilling my one true purpose."

You slightly move to meet his eyes, careful to still keep your distance. You can feel the heat from his breath on your cheek. He looks at you with puppy dog eyes so soft and kind, they put a begging Kim Seungmin to shame.

"You're so fucking weird." You laugh, gently pushing him off your shoulder. His face feels warm against the palm of your hand. "This is why we need to get you a girlfriend. Someone to make you normal."

Jeongin opens the door and softly pushes you outside. You tighten the scarf around your neck as the cool air nips at your nose. "I'm normal enough around you."

"That is such a lie," You laugh again as he walks out of your apartment. You double-check that the door is locked and follow Jeongin to his car.

***

**Bold = English; Regular font = Korean**

You push in the door to your apartment and walk in first, holding the door open for your parents, brother, and Jeongin. It feels weird having your family in your apartment for the first time. In the four years you've lived in Korea, they've never been over once. Neither of your parents could take off time when you first moved and your brother was too busy moving back to his campus to help. They've seen your apartment in video calls and pictures, but having them standing in your tiny apartment is strange. For the longest time, it felt like you had two lives, one in South Korea and one back home. And now, both of those worlds are colliding. Even if it's only for a couple of weeks.

"Y/n, where do you want me to put these?" Jeongin asks, holding some of your mother's luggage.

"Just put it in my room, In. Thank you," You neatly organize everyone's shoes by the door, watching your family from the corner of your eyes. They took off their shoes when they came in, but their courtesy ends there as they now wander around the small apartment, opening doors and cabinets.

"You'd think with how much I'm paying for the place, it would be a bit bigger." Your father comments from the kitchen.

"It felt small at first, but it's just me so it's fine." You reassure him as you set your brother's things next to the couch. "You and mom are going to be in my room, by the way."

"Oh honey, you didn't have to give up your bed for us." Your mother coos, coming up behind you.

You know in the deepest crevice in your heart that, that's a lie. That if you didn't give your parents your room and instead gave them the pull-out couch that your brother is going to sleep on, she would fuss about it the entire time. Maybe even the rest of your life. Not in an obvious way, no that would be too kind. She'd make little comments about how her back hurts or how she could hardly get any sleep because she could hear the neighbors walking in the hallway. Or that the kitchen faucet kept her up all night. You love your mother, but sometimes she knows how to push all your buttons in the worst way possible.

"Y/n," Jeongin walks out of your room and makes his way over to you. "I'm going to head home now. Call me if you need anything."

"By home, you better mean Busan." You warn as you walk him to the door.

"What fun would that be? Plus, I've never experienced Seoul during Christmas." He grins at you as he pulls his shoes back on.

"And you're not going to this year. You said you're going back for midnight mass." You remind him.

"I can come back on Christmas day. I told you that we do everything on Christmas Eve since Christmas Day is Jesus' birthday. Something about greed and keeping it holy. I'm not going to miss out on anything," He stands up and readjusts his clothes.

"Yang Jeongin--"

"Oh, Y/n, is your friend leaving? Tell...what's his name again?" Your mother asks, coming up next to you.

"My name is Bob, ma'am." Jeongin stands up, extending his hand out to your mother.

"Be so fucking serious--" You glare at Jeongin before turning to your mother. "His name is Jeongin, mom."

"Jeongin, right. Tell Jeongin to stay for lunch at least. As a thank you for picking us up." Your mother places her hand on your shoulder, a large smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, it is okay. Enjoy family time." Jeongin reassures her.

"We insist. It's the least we can do. Think of it as a thank you for also taking care of my daughter."

"What are you doing?" You whisper.

"If it is okay with Y/n?"

"I'm being polite," Your mother whispers through a smile.

"You know how to do that--ow!" You rub your arm where your arm pinched you and pout at her.

"I didn't get to meet your other boyfriend, I'm going to meet this one." She finally admits.

"He's not my boyfriend. He's just my friend." You nearly shout.

"He knows his way around your apartment." She hums, not breaking eye contact with Jeongin.

"That's because he's my best friend, he spends a lot of time here. Hell, he practically lives here."

"He does what?" Your father asks, coming back into the living room.

"Kill me," You mutter under your breath, tossing your head back.

"If you insist, I'll stay for lunch. If that's okay with Y/n." Jeongin smiles at your mom, not even looking at you. He's good with moms, you'll give him that. You've witnessed him win over every single one of your friends' moms that you've met. It's impossible not to like him, but in this instance, you wish it was.

"What are you doing?" Your head snaps back up, raising an accusing eyebrow at Jeongin.

"She invited me for lunch." Jeongin tilted his head innocently.

"She's clearly jetlagged, don't listen to her." You groan.

"You're overreacting, it's just lunch." He laughs politely.

"And the twelve disciples thought the last supper was just dinner."

"That's blasphemous,"

"You're so right. Why don't you go home before I drag you to hell with me? Better yet, go all the way to Busan."

"Lover's quarrel?" Your brother pops up out of who knows where and drops down on the couch behind you.

Five minutes. It takes your family five minutes in your apartment, a grand total of twenty-five minutes in South Korea in general, for your family to completely drive you up the wall. It all floods back, why you left in the first place. You could have attended film school back home, but you decided to move as far as you could and somewhere they wouldn't have any interest in visiting. You wouldn't have to deal with them much outside of weekly phone calls. Your family could be worse, but the constant meddling in your life is enough to drive you insane.

Annoyed, you grab Jeongin's hand and drag him off to the kitchen. His fingers are stiff in your hand, almost like he's unsure if he should wrap his fingers around your hand. "C'mon, Bob, let's go make lunch."

"I'm...I'm not allowed in the kitchen," He stammers.

"Don't worry, I'm not an idiot. You're not going to cook anything." You let go of his hand as soon as you are far enough in the kitchen. You finally turn around to face him. His ears are as red as the shirt poking out from under his jacket. "I'm just saving you from my family interrogating you."

"I wouldn't mind," He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You say that now," You roll your eyes as you grab the apron next to him. You grab one of your spare aprons and hand it to him. "But trust me, after like 2 minutes along with them, you'd be begging me to save you."

"It can't be that bad."

"Speaking of bad," You toss the apron on and tie the string in the back, looking him in the eyes again, "When did you get so good at English?"

"I've been practicing," He follows suit and puts his apron on.

"For?" You walk past him and begin getting ingredients from your fridge.

"...My...resume." He mutters.

"What kind of reasoning is that? You aren't even that prepared for class."

"His name is Bob?" You hear your brother asking your parents.

You let out a deep sigh as you set everything on the counter, "Idiots, both of you."

***

"Mom and dad are asleep, let's go out." Your brother says, walking back into the kitchen where you and Jeongin are talking.

Somehow, lunch turned into dinner which turned into the five you you playing card games until your parents decided to call it for the night. You're exhausted too, although, you're not sure if it's from all the translating you've been doing or just the overall energy you've been exerting for the day.

"And do what, exactly?" You question, dealing out the cards that Jeongin just shuffled.

"Isn't there a place around here that's popular for clubs and stuff?" Your brother sits down in the seat next to you. He rests his head in the palm of his hand and stares at the both of you.

"Are you talking about Hongdae?" Jeongin asks, picking up his deck.

"Yeah, yeah, Häagen-Dazs!" Your brother says happily.

"There is no way in hell you heard him and thought he said Häagen-Dazs--How are we related?" You fold your arms on the table and drop your head into them, resisting the urge to just slam your head into the table at your brother's stupidity. "Anyways, you're too old for Hongdae."

"I'm 25?" Your brother furrows your eyebrows at you.

"Exactly, you're basically geriatric here. They're not letting you in." You explain, lifting your head.

"Plus you're a foreigner. A male one at that." Jeongin adds.

"But...but you guys are young enough right? You can get me in. Plus if Y/n dresses how she did in high school, the bouncers will be too distracted and let us in."

"You're just going to pimp out your baby sister like that?"

"What else are you good for?"

"Literally anything else," You slap his arm and roll your eyes. "Besides, I'm not sneaking you into a club so you can whore around and cheat on your girlfriend. You know, the one you've been dating for 10 years and still haven't proposed to."

Your brother hangs his head low and picks up his cards. "She left me,"

"You should have proposed," You joke, still looking at your cards.

"Don't kick me when I'm down," He groans, dropping his head to the table.

"Down bad, maybe,"

"I'm down bad? What about the time you--"

"Finish that sentence and mom and dad are going to spend Christmas fishing your body out of the Han River." You threaten.

"'Whoring around?' 'Down bad?'" Jeongin whispers to you.

"Channie after two bottles of soju and beer," You explain simply.

"Ah, a slut. Got it." He gives a firm, understanding nod and goes back to looking at his cards. "You know, we could sneak him in. He looks a little sad about his girlfriend leaving him."

"He's just being dramatic. He'll be fine," You wave him off.

You know Jeongin is right. You could just sneak him in. It might be harder with just the three of you, but you've done it before with your friend group. Back before most of you were old enough to get into clubs, you figured out how to sneak your entire friend group in. Did it set the feminist movement back a few decades? Sure, but it was worth it to spend a few hours partying with your friends.

Your eyes can't help but wander over to your brother. You chew on the corner of your bottom lip as you think about it. Sure, he's a pain in the ass, but he's still your older brother. He's taken you to places he normally wouldn't be caught dead to cheer you up growing up. Watch movies that he claims he hates and let you paint his nails and practice makeup on him more times than you can count. He did it while huffing and puffing about how much he disliked it, but he still did it.

"Shit," You mutter under your breath, "Okay, give me twenty minutes."

~~~

The hard beat of whatever music is being played too loudly over the speakers booms through your body. You can barely see two feet in front of you, with how poorly lit the club is. It's hot, which was a nice contrast from the cold outside when you first walked in, but it's become increasingly uncomfortable, nearly unbearable, in a short amount of time. The Irish coffee he had ordered for you when you first came in was a good idea in theory, something that would keep you awake and still let you share a drink with your brother. But now it's too hot to drink coffee with whisky in it. You had to steal a few ice cubes from Jeongin's water to cool it down enough so you drink it without feeling hot yourself.

"He's having fun," Jeongin points to your brother in the mass of sweaty bodies dancing in front of you. He has his tongue down the throat of some girl whose name you're certain he can't pronounce.

"I'm going to be sick," You groan, leaning further into the seat of the booth you're in. The red plastic leather peels off your skin, nearly glued to you from how long you've sat there. You're glad he's having fun, you just wish he wouldn't do it in your line of sight.

Jeongin laughs and pats your hand, trying to reassure you. His head softly bounces in tune to the music being played. You take a sip of your drink before leaning back again, the bitterness from both the coffee and the whisky hit your tongue in a way that makes you pull a slight face. The whisky burns your throat as it goes down. You feel all warm and fuzzy like you're being hugged from the inside. Except, it's one of those uncomfortable hugs that go on too long and make you feel too hot. There's not much you could do, you already took off your jacket after a few minutes of being in the club.

"Hey," A guy who looks to be around your age, maybe a little older, says, sliding into the booth next to you. "you look bored, do you want to come home with me to eat ramen?"

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before turning your head in his direction. You're entirely too tired, hot, and tipsy to deal with any of his bullshit. "Fuck off,"

"What did you say?" His tone is sharp. You're not sure if he's taken aback by the fact that you can speak Korean or how disrespectful you're being towards him, but you can feel the change of energy radiating off of him.

You feel an unexpected weight on your shoulders. Your eyes flick down and see Jeongin's hand hanging off your shoulder, carefully making sure not to touch you inappropriately. He leans in close, pulling you away from the guy and staring at him in the eyes. "She said 'fuck off.' Now go,"

The man looks between the two of you before letting out an exaggerated scoff and getting up from the table. The two of you watch as he walks over to another table, this one filled with a few girls who are definitely a little too drunk.

"Thanks," You say simply, resting your head back. Jeongin doesn't remove his arm, allowing you to use him as a cushion. You think for a moment, something about this situation is familiar. Not an exact match, but a similar one. You can't help but let out a low chuckle when you realize why.

"What's so funny," Jeongin's other hand brushes against your cheek, moving a stray piece of hair that you weren't aware of that was stuck to your cheek.

"Nothing," You slightly shake your head.

"You're laughing, how is that nothing?"

"It's sad, not funny" You sit up slightly, taking another sip of your drink. "The last time I was in Hongdae, that was pretty much happening a lot. Soobin and I were already bickering the entire night so we got into a fight about it. He was so mad that he made me walk home. Alone. It was pouring rain too,"

“Is that where that cold you had around my birthday came from?”

You let out a low hum and slightly nod your head. Your eyes flutter shut, the warmth in your body leaving slowly. Or maybe you're finally getting used to the heat. Your body feels like it's floating above the table you and Jeongin are sitting at. You know you have a higher alcohol tolerance, but maybe the exhaustion is making you more susceptible to the whiskey in your drink.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He whispers, his voice is soft and warm like honey against your ear.

“It was around 3 am. Didn’t wanna bother you,”

For a second, you're no longer floating but falling. No, not falling, you're being dragged down. Only for a second. You open your eyes slowly. The crowd in front of you is now slightly tilted like you're suddenly in the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It takes you a second to realize that your head is resting on Jeongin's chest.

Badum

You're not sure if your heart is beating in tune with the music or trying to keep up with the thumping coming from Jeongin's chest. The thumping in his chest doesn't match up with the music. It's louder and faster than the song that's currently playing. Your left-hand snakes up and presses on his chest, trying to settle his heartbeat, the fabric of his red cotton shirt soft and nearly silky underneath your fingertips.

“Idiot,” He murmurs. He pulls you in a little closer, making the beating of his heart louder in your ear. “You don’t bother me. Stop thinking you're a burden on others when you're not. I'll pick up anytime you call so don't do that again. Okay?”

“Hmm,” You hum in agreement, your eyes fluttering shut again. The beating in his chest slowly settles into a calm, soothing rhythm. You can't even hear the music anymore, only his heartbeat. The smell of his cologne, which somehow managed to last the entire day, finds its way into your nose giving you some sense of security and familiarity. Somehow, it smells more like home than your parents did when you hugged them. Your hand lightly grips the fabric of his shirt as you just lay there.

“C’mon, let’s go dance,” He says, tapping your forehead with his free hand.

“Dance?” You mumble, cracking one eye open.

“You’re falling asleep or passing out from being tipsy. Either way, it’s not going to look good for either one of us if I have to carry you out of here. So let’s dance,” He pulls you upright just as smoothly as he pulled you onto his chest.

You turn to look at him, both of your eyes open now. His face is red, almost like he's been drinking something other than water alongside you this entire time. You reach out and place your hand against his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, his skin hot against it yet again. “Careful, Yang Jeongin, someone might think you're in love with me.”

He slowly sucks in his lower lip, his eyes dance across your face. Like you're a book and he's trying to decipher your words. Or maybe he's trying to find his own and the answer lies in your eyes. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand off his face before sliding his hand up, taking your hand in his. He gently leans forward, next to your ear. His breath makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "Would that be so bad?"

You pull away from him, leaving your hand in his, and narrow your eyes at him, trying to read him. You're not sure if he's serious or if the alcohol that's quickly leaving your system is making you misunderstand what's happening. Your eyes scan his face for answers and, unlike him, you're unsuccessful. His face is redder than it was before. It's almost like he's absorbing all the alcohol in your system through your hand.

“In—”

Thump

Someone bumps into your table, causing your drink to topple over and spill onto both of your laps.

"Shit," Jeongin mutters as he drops your hand and scrambles to grab whatever napkins are on the table. He gives some to you and helps you clean up the now ice-cold drink that's dripping down to your feet, his own pants being neglected.

"I'll be right back," He says quickly before leaving you at the table and disappearing in the direction of the bathrooms.

Before you can even process what happened, your brother slides into the booth next to you. "People here are weird. I was making out with that girl and all of a sudden she's talking to me about ramen."

You quickly shake your head and focus your attention on your brother. You pick up the now empty cup that used to hold your cocktail and go back to trying to clean your jeans. "You're going to be so upset you said 'no' later."

"Was ramen code for something?" He turns his full body to face you. You glance at him before going back to clean up your mess. There's a small red mark at the base of his neck and dark pink lipstick smeared across his mouth. You can only imagine how much trouble he was about to get himself into.

"I'll tell you later," You wad up the dirty napkins and put them in your cup.

Your brother looks around, realizing that something is missing, "Where's your boyfriend?"

You freeze at the word boyfriend. You're used to people assuming that you're dating Jeongin, but somehow, this time feels different. Before, it always sounded accusatory. Like the two of you couldn't be just friends. That you were using the term "friends" as a veil to hide illicit-esque behavior. But now...

"Would that be so bad?"

Your brain replays that phrase in your head over. Surely, he was taking advantage of your intoxicated state to tease you like he usually does. That, had you not been interrupted by cold whiskey and coffee pouring into your lap, he would have let out a loud laugh and left his mouth hang so widely open that you wouldn't be able to see past the dark-lined half-moons where his eyes should be as you stammered out a response. Something that he would tease you about for the rest of your lives.

"He's not my boyfriend, dumbass. We're just friends." You sigh, thumping your brother on the back of his head.

Your brother rolls his eyes as he rubs the back of his head, a smile that would make the Cheshire cat envious spreads across his face. "Look, I'm saying this as both your older brother and as a guy, you may be 'just friends' with him, but he’s definitely not 'just friends' with you,”

—

Buy me a coffee?

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Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @veedoesntknaur @nuronhe

*the rest of the taglist is in the comments*

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