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#AND STRAWBERRY BLONDE. STRAWBERRY BLONDE MY BELOVED OH MY GOD

sungbeam · 1 year

Note

hello!! i really love your writing oml it's all i've been reading these past few days <3 i hope this request can help you!! 9 + 61 + (opt) 73, fluff/crack (mostly crack i suppose), agent/mafia au with txt taehyun? tyvm <33

𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲

agent!kang taehyun x agent!gn!reader

0.7k words, very humorous/crack-based, bro im sorry but there is no fluff in this 😭 but slightly flirty tae, low-key abrupt ending sorry skcndk, kang taehyun is delicious

a/n: i believe this was my beloved 🌌 anon's request!! (ﾉ´∀｀*) so sorry it took so long for me to fulfill love, but i hope u like it still :')

The best thing about this city, you decided, was that the nights were warm and lively. Even from your vantage point at the little bistro on the corner of the street, you could watch the groups of people pass by bringing vivid conversation and bright laughter. Along the river, tourists flocked to join in the midnight picnic festivities that this part of the city was known for.

It was a shame that you were here for work, and not for play.

You idly sipped your glass of iced tea, the outside of the glass perspiring against the heat and creating a ring on the metal table. “Any day now, Beomgyu.”

“Patience is a virtue, Yn,” Beomgyu’s voice sounded in your ear to the accompaniment of clacking keys. He grumbled, “Usually he’s early.”

“So they're a he?” You mused into your cup. You were currently perched at the corner bistro, not for a nice cup of iced tea (that was an added bonus), but for an informant. Beomgyu had been the one keeping in touch with this certain person. However, this time, he apparently wanted to meet you. You hadn’t even known the informant was a “he” until Beomgyu had just revealed that to you.

Beomgyu grumbled on the other side of the speaker. "Yes."

"You're pouting, aren't you?"

You could see him sit up straight and wipe the pout away from his face. "No! I-I'm not pouting!"

You chuckled over the rim of your glass as your eyes skimmed the boulevard once more. "So who's this guy?" You asked once more, hoping he would just give in and tell you—

"Oh, just your favorite person."

You whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice behind you, and you came face to face with a man with strawberry blond bangs falling in his eyes, a smirk settled on his pretty face, and in a dark blue button up that fit far too well on his body. You nearly dropped your glass, but that wouldn't have been very professional.

Kang Taehyun settled in the seat across from you just as a waiter came by to ask him for his drink order. "I'll have what they're having," he said, gesturing to you.

You held the side of your face with your free hand. "I'm way too sober for this."

"Then make that two martinis," Taehyun corrected with a laugh. When the waiter took his leave, Taehyun laced his fingers in front of him on the table, head cocked to the side as he considered your mild scowl in his direction. "You seem pleased to see me, love."

Your scowl deepened. "Choi Beomgyu, I'm going to murder you."

A squeak from the other side of the earpiece.

Taehyun's smile widened. "After you kill me then, I suppose?"

"You're supposed to be at headquarters, Kang," you said to him. You crossed your arms over your chest. "What're you doing as Beomgyu's so-called informant? International burglary isn't even your jurisdiction—" You shook your head, waved your hands; you knew you probably looked like a chicken with its head chopped off. "What're you doing out of the office?"

Kang Taehyun was a formidable agent under your same intelligence organization, but he specialized in the behind the scenes work like Beomgyu; he wasn't a field agent like you. He was out of his element, out of those round spectacles and those smart suspenders and white shirts rolled to the elbow. He looked like an agent in the field, or at least, he looked like any regular, rich tourist who walked this boulevard. God damn him, he looked good, too. (You were this close to making a scene—)

"I'm on reconnaissance," he told you, leaning forward onto his elbows. It wasn't that you weren't pleased to see him, but rather, you couldn't believe it was him. You really didn't like surprises. "And your reaction was truly something I had to experience in person, Yn."

You rolled your eyes, the tension breaking for just a second as the waiter set your martinis on the table and left. "Oh, I bet."

"I thought you missed me," he said, his lips pursed in a feigned pout.

Heat flared in your cheeks and you looked right into his eyes to ask, "Whatever gave you that idea?"

There was that wide, toothy smile of his again. "I just assumed, y'know," his tone was offhanded and casual as he took a sip of his drink, "because I missed you."

txt m.list

permanent taglist: @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @super-btstrash-posts @hibernatinghamster @otchae @bigballsz @shakalakaboomboo @ashxxkook @kpop718 @ethereal-engene @kim-jvnkyu

#txt x reader #kang taehyun x reader #txt scenarios #txt drabbles #txt oneshot #txt imagines #taehyun scenarios #taehyun drabbles #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshots #taehyun x reader

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tricornonthecob · 7 months

Text

Oh shit here we go

LK 101 - Boston Spilling the Tea Party (part one)

pt pt2 pt3

Lets be honest, the real reason this series exists: Walter Cronkite as Benji Franx.

why is there only one dude on what appears to be a fucking *frigate* I mean I know why, animation budget, but my point stans

Also fuckin seizure warning on the Atlantic, brah.

Cluny the Scourge just hanging out on what I'm assuming is Sarah's bed? Or is that just her pet. Did she have a beloved pet rat?? Was she a rat girl??? This has caused more questions.

Is this her room?? Why is there a bed belowdecks like this? why is her room so massive?? Am I looking too hard into a DIC cartoon?

I love how this girl just canonically vibes with chaos. Alone, 15 years old, going to the colonies, in a fucking storm that even the grizzled sailors are freaked out by, and she's writing to her mom how exciting everything is. She's either dissociating like a champ or she's a legend. Also how are you not seasick??? Oh right you're an accomplished rider and horse girl you got that inner ear

Not gonna lie though, listening to this girl talk about her dad coming home from the wilderness and how they're all gonna have an awesome life is kind of sad. Oh, honeyyyyy. No. Can you imagine being her mom and getting all these letters? Oh god now I've made up more headcanons.

she really has the worst luck with ships, doesn't she.

SuCh SyMbOlIsM

This dork. Also why is his collar so fucking open jfc.

In this house we stan Exasperated Dad!Moses

"When someone wants to know what's on my shirt I can sell 'em a newspaper!" is the kind of idea I'd expect from an ADHD/PTSD madlad. I feel like both Sarah and James vibe and thrive off chaos, but only one of them has a balanced inner ear.

Gotta love Eager Beaver getting knocked down a peg by Exasperated Dad.

The *flair.* The *drama.* The *exasperated and slightly amused adult*

aaaaaaaaaaay the French Fry! The Brains! The feral younger sibling! The one I vibed with the hardest as a feral younger sibling!

Henri: Bitch I'd do it again!!!!

Dear writers: why the fuck did you set up an enemies-to friends-to lovers pipeline so hard like this.

oh my gOdD Moses is such a dilf

Ok is it just me or did they design her as a redhead in the beginning and slowly lighten her to strawberry blonde later on, or am I just losing my mind.

do you think they boinked. Dirty Old Man Franklin absolutely tried to make a move on Lady Phillips.

We all worry about your feral daughter, Lady Phillips.

AND WE'RE ON NICKNAME TERMS? Yeah they boinked.

Sir. SIR. Two of those associates are children.

THEY FUCKING. BOINKED. NEW SHIP FRANKLIN/LADY PHILLIPS WE CALL IT FRILLIPS OH MY GOD NO WAIT THEY'RE A POLYCULE.

They'd absolutely get hammered and watch a Pats game, I'm a little disappointed the directors didn't tell the voice actors to lean into the New England accent. Also why does the guy on the left look like Peter Griffin.

It can't be Boston, there aren't nearly enough maniacal drivers with homicidal intent

*there* it is.

Damn this dude got REAL into it.

He just. Hops over tea chests and pulls himself up over a ship. To interview people. Fucking madlad.

Henri is getting *into it* feral frenchman child.

I don't think that's a normal response. That abandonment/orphandom PTSD does things to a brain.

well somebody sure had fun discovering After Effects transitions.

Yeah your ship's cool and all but does your ship have a meetcute that involves blunt force trauma with weaponized literature.

To be continued because of the 30 image limit

#liberty's kids #james hiller #sarah phillips #henri lefebvre #Lady Phillips #amrev #Benjamin Franklin #Boston Tea Party #Tricorn on The Cob Watches LK And Makes Inane Commentary #Frillips #The Frillips Polycule is keeping me together #the alternate title for this was Boston Has A Kiki #tricorn watches

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shinchiroslxt · 15 days

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MY DEAR ACHILLES,

If you've found these words written on paper, I'm long gone, probably been killed by a trojan or by your mother, oh my beloved Achilles, oh I love you so— I can already miss the sun gold hair on your head, the grassy green eyes and the softness of your lip's that would keep me stable, the warmth of your rough palms that would protect me from any danger. I never really understood you Achilles, such a beautiful been, The greatest of Greek found a poor exile boy like me interesting, I never really understood what you were thinking but I am glad you choose me. Like the vow for marriage, till death do we part, it crushes me like a boulder when I think about it, I can't imagine a world without the glow of your light to guide me but now your pride has consumed you, your beauty fading; rage and greed for honor and respect replacing it ever so quickly. Achilles, even so, I've never stopped loving you. As you are half of my soul as a poet would say. I still remember the promise you made to me about becoming the first Greek hero to be famous and happy and I hope my death doesn't make you depart from your promise. I still remember the time we would sit by the rocks, throw stones, eat, and gossip, I would observe you quietly, your beauty, your robust structure, your sweet voice, and your kind personality, you are a sight for sore eyes. Sometimes I wish I was born a woman, so I could've borne your child instead of daidemia, do not get me wrong, I do not hate nor envy her just to make that very clear. I'm ashamed to lose a beauty like you, I hope the warmth of your lips could meet mine during my final breaths but what can I do? Lord hades had already called my name, taking me to the Underworld but remember this, even if lost in eternal darkness, I'll find you, even if we change, size, shape, voice, and color, I'll always be able to find you as your presence outshines the rest. I wish I could've lived longer, you're the sun you've never seen the night but you hear its songs from the morning birds and I'm not the moon nor am I a star but the one who sings the tunes to the morning birds. I know your mother didn't like me much, she didn't approve of our relationship, and I don't blame her, I mean I am an exile with nothing to his name, yet you stay with me through thick and thin. I am grateful that I can leave this world with memories of you; why must love hurt like this. you have destroyed yourself and for this, you will be hated for your actions but not by me but by the people that had placed their trust in you. And if you loved me—this could've been avoided, what am I even saying, of course, you love me, you were just blinded by fury and in this story, there is no happy ending, so please do not grieve for I am already dead and even though you are a demi-God, your tears can not bring back the dead but we'll meet again don't know where or when but I know we will meet again perhaps in another life and if that happens I hope you will be set free of your burdens and will be able to enjoy life, love and me. All though it pains me to say this it has to be done, so this will be the first and it shall be the last.

Goodbye, my strawberry blonde

Goodbye my beloved

Goodbye Achilles.

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write-like-wright · 3 years

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Oh my goodness, I simply LOVE your Herlock fics! Poor guy has virtually NO x reader fics and I'm desperate for more! Could I request a one shot of Herlock x reader, falling in love at first sight?

Thank you, anon! I'm here to quench the overwhelming Herlock thirst on this hellsite.

Pairing: Herlock Sholmes x gender neutral reader

Warnings: falling in love with Sholmes in spite of his human disaster status, fluff, Iris being babey

Word count: 1,005

Today by some blessed chance is one of those days when the sky is almost blue, the air almost clean and warm enough to be enjoyed without a coat. London autumns are rarely ever so kind to the inhabitants of the great city and you're absolutely determined not to waste the opportunity. You decide to take a stroll through your local park, a book in hand and some snacks carefully packed in your basket. Rarely do you get the chance to soak in some sun in the foggy capital of the British Empire, therefore every such occasion must be used to the fullest.

Unsurprisingly, the park is brimming with life. Young couples excitedly strolling through the grass hand in hand, children running around and laughing, even some elderly gentlemen who seem to have forgotten their beloved curmudgeonism for a day to enjoy the warmth. You settle down on a bench under the shade of a tree and open your book, hand digging through the basket for a snack to enjoy. Aha, a freshly baked cupcake with some pink strawberry frosting! You decide to take your time and enjoy your afternoon, nibbling on your delicious cupcake between paragraphs.

"Good afternoon!" A cheerful, high pitched voice pulls you out of your food-induced haze. It's a little girl standing before you, a wide smile on her face that reaches her bright blue eyes. "My name is Iris, Iris Wilson! I am ever so sorry to bother you, but the smell of those delicious looking cupcakes made me come over. I'm quite an avid baker myself, you see. Would you be so kind as to share your recipe with me?" How could you say no to that sweet little face?

The girl joins you on the bench and you give her the recipe and some of your cupcakes too, which she accepts eagerly. "Oh, thank you so much! They're ever so delicious! I'm sure Hurley would love them if he were here!" Hurley? Just then, an exasperated male voice reaches your ears. "There you are, Iris! Where in the devil did you wander off to?! We were meant to be playing hide and seek! I've been waiting in my ingenious hiding spot for a century now! There are thorns in my thigh, Iris!"

You are speechless. Is that her father? The resemblance is... certainly not there. "Hurley," Iris sighs, her head bowed. "We were meant to be playing catch... You just disappeared on me, so I assumed you got distracted by a case or such. I'm ever so sorry." Her eyes perk up then, "I've made a friend while waiting for you! How kind of them, to share some food and a recipe with me!"

"Oh." The man stills, as if only now noticing your presence. "How do you do, my dear? Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Herlock Sholmes. You've heard of me, no doubt?" Silence. "Well, how peculiar! I thought all the residents of our fair city knew my name!" He joins you on the bench through some bizarre twisting motion. "Nevertheless, I must admit, the sight of those cupcakes is making my mouth water. May I?"

You blink, utterly dumbfounded. "B-be my guest," you blurt out, offering him the sweet treat. He's an... interesting man, truth be told. His clothes are strange, odd trinkets hanging around his waist and... goggles? resting on his deerstalker hat. He certainly has a way with words you decide, listening to him blab on about his great accomplishments, Iris occasionally jumping in to correct or supplement his memory. "By God, what a pleasantly lovely day it is today, wouldn't you agree?" With that, he strips off his coat and hat, letting them rest over the back of the bench. He's quite handsome, you must admit. There is a certain boyishness to his look, face youthful but obviously not still a lad. His blonde curls are messy and falling into his blue eyes and he brushes them back with his gloved hand every once in a while. You just nod, hoping that you're not blushing and that he hadn't noticed you staring.

"I must say, my dear, as a connoisseur of all things sweet, you certainly know how to hit the spot!" You blink, definitely blushing at this point.

"E-excuse me?" He laughs, holding up his half-chewed dessert. "Why, these cupcakes of yours. Absolutely divine!"

"O-oh. Thank you, sir." You can't help but sound a bit disappointed. At the same time, you wonder what exactly is wrong with you.

"Quite welcome! Although I must admit, my dear Iris and I seem to have relieved you of quite a fair share of your food, yes. You must allow me to make up for it! Shall I treat you to some lunch? Perhaps dinner? I insist!"

You look at him, quite surprised by his boldness. Could he be... No, certainly not. "That sounds... lovely, Mr Sholmes. But really, I'm quite happy to share. You needn't concern yourself with paying me back or the like."

He laughs. "Nonsense, my dear! We won't take no for an answer. And please, call me Herlock, won't you?"

You smile then. "Well, in that case, I suppose I must accept. Thank you, Mr- Herlock." Mr Herlock. How foolish I must look, you think, the blush back in full force.

"Excellent, then! It's settled!" He looks around frantically for a piece of paper and something to write with. "Do stop by our address tonight at 8. I do quite look forward to seeing you." He adds, a bright smile gracing his youthful face.

I do? He does? Goodness gracious.

They bid you farewell soon after and walk off, the girl excitedly babbling about her new friend and the feast they must prepare. You stare at the back of the blond man, confused by the events that just transpired. As if feeling your gaze on him, he turns his head and shoots you a quick smile. You feel your cheeks burning.

Good lord, what a disaster I am.

#Herlock Sholmes #iris wilson #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #dai gyakuten saiban #x reader #herlock sholmes x reader #one shot #anon #ask

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 3 years

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fabina h/cs?

Oh yes I was hoping someone would ask me this. Warning this got very long I have a lot of thoughts and feelings

They are so sweet it makes everyone wanna barf sometimes

In S1 some of them (Mick, Mara, Alfie, Patricia) place bets on when they're gonna get together. Mick wins

During S2 Amber tries to get them together in a multitude of different ways. She tries mistletoe, the old "trapping them in a small dark room together" trick, conspiring with Patricia and Alfie to ensure they just so ~happen~ to find themselves alone together, etc.

Throughout S3, they literally never stopped thinking about each other

After graduation, it's a really turbulent and transitionary period in Fabian's life, and he has to assess what he really wants. And he realizes he never stopped loving Nina, and he wants to be with her again

Amber actively encourages him to go after her, saying he'll regret it for the rest of his life if he doesn't

Nina realizes the past year without him has been miserable. It's been awful not having her best friend by her side to talk to and confide in and do things with, and she's missed him so much. So when he reaches out, all of her feelings come rushing back with an intensity, and she decides she doesn't want to lose him again, and they get back together. For good this time.

They go to college in America together, and Fabian ultimately moves to her hometown of Cleveland to be with her

After college they work at a museum together looking at historical stuff all day long. They get to nerd out and they work together well; it's a dream job

Nina tries her best to introduce Fabian to American culture. Some of it is a bigger culture shock than others. Nina is always incredibly amused when he doesn't get words right or he gets flustered and confused at certain customs

He's not sure how he feels about American fast food

American pie, however, is his new favorite thing. Especially Nina's gran's pies

The Fourth of July scares him. But barbecues are nice

Nina is a fan of Cleveland's baseball team. She takes him to a game, and by god is he confused. He has trouble following. The first game is a lost cause. But once Nina points out how dependent the game is on math, then he starts to get the hang of it. A little bit

American driving, however, is horrifying to Fabian. Nina's a pretty good driver, and Fabian's fairly good (if not a bit stiff and nervous) at driving in the UK, but in America it's a whole different animal. Not only are they on the other side of the road, but the drivers here are fast and aggressive. It's very scary. The ONLY reason he eventually learns to do it the American way is because he wants to be able to take Nina out and be a competent enough man to drive a car around

Speaking of cars: one summer they definitely go on a cross-country road trip, just the two of them. It's meant to bring them closer and be romantic, and it is. They love looking at all the sights together, and Fabian is amazed by the sheer diversity of landscape and how gorgeous parts of the country can be. He TRIES to split the driving 50/50, but America is just so goddam BIG, like intimidatingly huge, and he's not used to driving for that long. The driving ends up being more like 70/30 in Nina's favor, but she doesn't mind. She gives Fabian the responsibility of making a road trip playlist, and he knocks it out of the park

At home, they enjoy cozy nights by the fireside, reading and snuggling under blankets

Sweaters! They are sweater people and I enjoy the image of them snuggling together in sweaters

Handwritten letters! They write each other handwritten letters all the time, especially in the summer between season 1-2 and the period of time between graduation and Fabian making the move to America. They both keep every single letter they receive and each keep them stored in a sentimental little box

They like to frequent old/used bookstores and antique shops. Their place is filled to the brim with odd knickknacks and collectibles that they find, and they have an entire wall with shelves piled high with books

They don't need a lot of fancy stuff, and they don't care about being high-class; they don't care much about appearances, and they don't need a lot. All they care about really is being together.

They learn to get better at communication and not let anyone else's opinion about their relationship impact their relationship. They're the only ones that know what's best for them, and they take things at their own pace

Nina can get overly emotional and stressed sometimes, and Fabian's her rock. That's how it's always been, and that's how it always will be

They love to watch the discovery channel and the national geographic channel, along with netflix documentaries

They fuckin LOVE escape rooms, they use every excuse they can to go to escape rooms

Nina takes Fabian to the rock and roll hall of fame, and he's like a kid in a candy store

They are frequent patrons of their local coffee shop, to the point where all the baristas know who they are

They are very cheesy and sentimental all the time. Most everything they do is very thoughtful and has some kind of meaning

They like to write cute notes to each other and leave them around the house

It takes Fabian forever to actually propose to Nina, to the point where he gets calls from Amber just about every day asking when she's getting an engagement announcement. He just wanted to be careful and deliberate about it and make sure everything was perfect

He makes sure the proposal is simple and romantic. He sets up a candlelit dinner, the lights are low, he talks to her softly and sweetly and tells her he loves her and pops the question

Nina, surprisingly, does not cry. Fabian, however, definitely does when she says yes

He proposes with a family ring; his grandmother's ring. It's very sentimental and has a lot of history behind it, and we all know Nina loves that stuff, and the history and story makes her very emotional

He does what he should have done in S2 instead of writing a poem: he writes her a song and plays it for her on the guitar. It's her favorite thing he's ever done for her.

After the engagement they tell Amber before they tell anyone else, because she'd kill them if they didn't

They surprise her with a video call, and they don't tell her at first, but then Nina surprises her and shows off the ring, and Amber screams so loud they're convinced she's going to break glass.

Amber is even more excited than they are, she talks with them absolutely non-stop about their wedding. She even tries to take control of it at some point

Their wedding is a fairly small wedding; it takes place at an outdoor venue in the spring, at a beautiful location just outside her hometown in America. Mick is the best man and Amber is the maid of honor. Amber gives an incredibly emotional MOH speech and sobs buckets. Gran walks Nina down the aisle

Her wedding dress looks a little something like this; definitely something with long lacy sleeves

They have 3 kids, all girls

The oldest is Evelyn, named after Nina's gran. She's got dark hair, Nina's curls, Nina’s light blue eyes, and she looks like Fabian. She got Nina's courageous leadership side, she's very adventurous

The middle child is Sarah. She looks like someone legit photocopied Nina. Same hair color, same curls, same eyes, same general facial features. She got the intellectual and bookish side of both of them

The youngest is Eloise, kind of a little bit after Sarah's mother but mostly they just liked the name. Often they call her "Lou" and she definitely goes by that when she's older. She somehow got to be strawberry blonde, has less curls than her sisters, she has Fabian's blue-green eyes, and is a mix of them both when it comes to facial features. She got the part of them that liked to sneak around and break the rules; as she gets older she becomes very rebellious, and Nina jokes "are we sure this child came from me and not Patricia?"

All 3 girls are little troublemakers and they're partners in crime

At some points when the girls are a bit much Fabian gets stressed and shouts "we're outnumbered!!!!!"

Amber is their aunt and showers the girls with expensive presents all the time, especially clothes, which all of the girls LOVE. Nina and Fabian accuse her of spoiling them and she says "If I can't spoil them then what's the point of being the rich beloved aunt?"

The girls do indeed love Amber, all three of them adore her

When the girls get older they find the boxes of letters their parents wrote to each other, they think it's very sweet

Even as they get older, the two of them always set aside time to be romantic with each other

And they remain each other's best friend and confidante forever and ever

yo please feel free to keep sending me these! or asking me my opinions on stuff! this is a lot of fun!

#hoa ama #ama #anon #asks #house of anubis #fabina #fabian rutter #nina martin

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vroomvroomkachowboi · 3 years

Text

I Hear a Symphony

smut, fluff, angst: angst/fluff

pairing: draco malfoy x reader(fem)

word count: 1.5k (1580)

summary: draco’s has been depressed ever since astoria died and he’s been learning to parent as a windowed single father, that is until he meets y/n

warning: death, depression, cursing

a/n: inspired by a song i found on tik tok called “i hear a symphony” by cody fry, i totally recommend it, it’s soo good. ik i said i was gonna write a fred imagine, but dang i’ve been getting so much inspo to write draco imagines. ik astoria died when scorpius was 13, but let’s pretend she died much earlier, also don’t know much abt astoria, so if anything is wrong, i’m sorry. I'm super proud of this so without further ado, enjoy

Draco still remembers the day of Astoria’s funeral. He held his son, Scorpius, crying as he clearly lacked his mother’s warm touch. Narcissa and Lucius gladly took in Scorpius while Draco mourned and grieved. He had entered his large, empty mansion, and laid in his California King sized bed, feeling the dent of his late wife’s body on the mattress.

He had to pick up his son a week later because he could not look at him, a reminder of Astoria, and the fact that she risked her health for him, for him to not be lonely after her blood curse took her, and yet he was still lonely. He felt a void in his body, and waking up every morning, it felt like it was just getting bigger.

He noticed he was getting very pale, so he decided to take Scorpius and himself to an ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. The lady at the register had y/l y/h hair, and y/c eyes. As Draco got closer to the register, he noticed how young she was, possibly around his age. She gave him a sweet smile. “That’ll be 2 galleons sir,” She says. He pulls out 2 galleons out of his left pocket and puts it on the counter. “Thank you. Have a nice day-ooh, your son is going to need napkins.” She lets out a giggle and hands him more napkins. And she was right, Scorpius had strawberry ice cream all over his mouth, dripping from his chin. “Thank you.” He says quickly, and grabs Scorpius’ hand to sit down.

Draco often took Scorpius out so he wouldn’t be cooped up in the house all day. Draco also didn’t want to be reminded of the emptiness that his wife left behind.

They both decided to go to a park in London. Draco sat on a bench, observing his child interact with the muggle children, he knew Astoria would be happy about it. “Hello.” A familiar female voice startled him. He turned around to see the lady from the ice cream shop in Diagon Alley. “Hello.” He replied.

“I thought Malfoys hated muggles.” She says and takes a seat next to him. He shifts over, uncomfortably, but she didn’t seem to notice. “No, I stopped thinking that way. What about you? What are you doing here?” He says. “I came to visit my muggle family. My niece is over there.” She points to a young girl on the swings. He nodded, unsure of what to say.

They both just sat in a somewhat comfortable silence, while watching all those happy young kids running around.

Suddenly, Scorpius’ screams were heard from across the playground. Draco got up quickly and rushed over to his son. Scorpius had scraped his knee really badly. Draco carried him over to the bench, with Y/n still sitting, in shock of the crying child. “I fell off the swings!” Scorpius whined when Draco asked what had happened. “Oh god, I can’t use my magic here! I’m sorry Scorp, I can’t heal you.” Scorpius seemed to cry louder.

Draco's heartbeat quickened. It felt like everything was closing in. ‘Astoria would’ve known what to do.’ He thought. He felt so unfit to be a single father.

“Don't worry Draco. I’ve got just what you need until you get home.” Y/n said. Grabbing a brown bottle and a cotton ball from her bag. “My brother gave me all this stuff in case my niece got hurt. What luck.” The bottle read “Hydrogen Peroxide”. Draco watched as she poured some on the ball. “This won’t hurt.” She said with a soft tone in her voice, and Scorpius nodded hesitantly. She dabbed the cotton ball on the wound, he watched as it bubbled.

“What is it doing?” Draco asked. “It’s cleaning the scrape. I’ll put a bandage on it, and you can fix it with magic when you get home.” Draco nodded. “Thank you. What do we say, Scorp?” He asked. “Thank you.” Little Scorpius said quietly and got up to play again.

“I believe I never got your name.” Draco asked. “Y/n.”

This was the start to a lovely friendship. Draco and Scorpius often went to visit Y/n at the ice cream parlor. When Draco needed Y/n, she’d always be there. Because she knew how vulnerable he was since the death of his wife, he also trusted her enough to babysit Scorpius, and thankfully Scorpius loved her.

Every night after her shift, she’d come over with pints of ice cream for all of them to eat. With her help, he was able to finally mourn healthily. No longer was he alone at nights, she would sleep in the guest room close to the master’s bedroom.

Although, something was wrong with Draco. He cared for his new friend, but his admiration for her grew the more he got to know her. He grew feelings for her quickly. ‘I can't do this to Astoria.’ Was always a reoccurring thought, but the more he tried to suppress it, the more his love grew.

It also seems that Scorpius viewed her as a second mother, he couldn’t hurt them.

He decided to give her the silent treatment. The less he hangs out with her, the faster his feelings fade, right?

It went on for a month. Slowly but surely, ignoring Y/n more and more. She spent most of her time with Scorpius, not that she minded, but Draco was acting strange.

So, enough was enough. She was going to confront him about it. So on a Friday night, she put the blonde 6-year-old to bed. Hearing the light snores from the young child, she slipped out quietly from his bedroom, looking for his father. She looked all around the large home, but found him outside, sitting on a bench by the tall grass hedges.

“Draco!” She called out. He flinches and hesitantly looks up at her. She sat by him. “What's up with you? You’ve been acting strange lately.” He stayed quiet. “You can trust me, Dray. We’ve been friends for over a year now.” He sighed loudly. “I...I like you.” He whispers.

“Oh.”

Draco shuts his eyes tightly, feeling as if it was a mistake. “I think you need to leave.” He hears Y/n’s feet shuffle on the grass. He let out a heavy breath and puts his face in his hands. Tears pour out of his grey eyes. ‘I can’t do this to Astoria.’ He felt so guilty. As if he was cheating on his wife. Why did he need to feel this way? What would Scorpius think? Would he think he's replacing his beloved mother?

“I’m sorry, Astoria.” He cried. He headed to the master’s bedroom and dozed off.

The next morning, Draco had realized it was a mistake to send Y/n home, because Scorpius had been nagging him all day about her whereabouts. It went on for an entire week as well. He also felt very lonely, she brought light into the dark home. He needed her, whether it was as a friend or a partner.

He decided to make amends, so he took Scorpius to the ice cream parlor.

Y/n heard the bell at the door, she was ready to serve her next customer, until she realized who it was. Draco and Scorpius. “What can I get you two?” She said professionally. “Strawberry.” Young Scorpius replies. So she scooped some strawberry ice cream for the 6 year old, and handed the cup to him.

Scorpius thanks her. “Go find us a seat. I’ll be there in a second, Scorp.” Draco says to him. Draco pats him on the head before sending him away. “And you sir?”

“Come on, Y/n. Don't be like that. I’m here to apologize.” He looks into her e/c eyes. She sighs loudly before going to face him. She walks towards him. “Talk.”

“I’m sorry. I apologize for ignoring you and for sending you off after confessing something big like that.” He grabs Y/n’s hands. “I have feelings for you. And I thought that if I ignored you, they might go away, but they didn't. Having a crush on you felt like I was cheating on Astoria. I felt guilty, and I didn't want Scorp to think I’m replacing his mother.” She furrowed her eyebrows but let him continue. “Ever since you entered my life, you’ve helped me become a better father and helped me mourn. You're my best friend, N/n, sending you away made me realize how much you’ve impacted me and Scorpius’ life. My life was boring, and miserable, but you came in, and you pieced me back together and fixed my broken heart. Astoria would’ve want me to be happy, and I’m happy with you.”

“Wow.” Draco chuckles at her one word. “That was one of the most beautiful declarations of love I've ever heard.” She threw her arms around him, and he quickly returns the gesture. They both knew what the other wanted.

Draco and Y/n pulled away from each other a little, but only to lock lips. Y/n’s hands were placed on his waist, while Draco’s pale hands were on her face.

Kissing each other was like hearing an entire symphony, adrenaline rising, and making them want more affection from each other. Draco once felt like he would never be happy again, but now he's the happiest he's been in over a year.

She pulls away and smirks, “I’ll get your ice cream now. I’ll see you once my shift is over.”

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brain-reads · 3 years

Text

dnf fics that make me scream into my pillow at 2 am

disclaimer: i do not wish to cross the ccs boundaries in any way possible. if they ever say or indicate that shipping makes them uncomfortable, this post will be immediately deleted.

i will keep updating this list as i read more

note: all of these fics are on ao3

complete, multichapter fics:

heat waves: classic angst with fluff, such a good fic tho the descriptions are so well written

inkling: THE WAY I SCREAM FOR THIS FIC PLEASE ITS INCREDIBLE AND I REALLY DONT READ A LOT OF AUS GDSFUIJHSD anyway- this is basically about a soulmate au where anything you write on your skin is shown on your soulmate’s skin on/after both of your 18th birthdays and oml it was adorable (bonus karlnap! sgfhbd) this is one of my all time fav fics and i would HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT !!!

chasing snowflakes: mutual pining, fake dating au because george has been telling his family that he has a bf but he doesnt, angst and christmas fluff

12 days of DNF-mas: sequel to chasing snowflakes and honestly the loml i would marry this fic if i could it is so cute with the right amount of angst and asghfhdsvbfhhsdn

7 minutes in heaven, but it’s 7 days in florida: SFGHDJFJHSGDFSBDCX I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY WITH THE AMOUNT OF MUTUAL PINING AND FLUFF AND SAPNAP THIRD WHEELING IS SO FUNNY

lovesick (the beat inside my head): the only au i am probably going to read for dnf ever, highschool au, dream and george havent seen each other and dk where they live, gnf is moving to florida, meets clay at his new highschool, and well ;)

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes: highschool roadtrip au! oh i loved this one so much, it was amazing i would highly recommend it <3

stick with me: angst. so much angst. but it is so worth it the feels are insane!!! dream and george trapped in an airport together because of a hurricane, chaos ensues

heavenstruck: guardian angel au !! cw for major character death (i cried a lot in this one but it is so worth it)

hold me close: ahhh the yearning the angst the fluff this fic is just *chefs kiss* i would highly recommend it (also!! a tiny bit of bonus karlnap again :D)

it was only a fic: sfgdhn dream accidentally gets invested in a dnf fanfic. that cant end badly can it

moment’s silence: smut and sexual tension. thats all i have to say for this fic (the students really be actin like us dnf stans-)

incomplete, multichapter fics:

tidal pools and stars: it’s an amazing read, quite a lot of angst but mixed with some softer moments (i cried in this fic like thrice-)

helium: sequel to heat waves, hopefully with a happy ending? it’s genuinely so good there’s an incredible balance of angst and fluff

blushing!: oh my GOD this was AMAZING ITS ADORABLE AND SGFHB BONUS KARLNAP AND SKEPHALO (implied) DSGFHBD I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS FIC

an interstate paved with memories: another roadtrip au ! updates every friday

early age: im so sorry this is so much angst theres a lot of tws in this fic too so please go through that before you read it

bedroom walls: oh boy are y’all in for a wild ride on this one. college/uni au, frat boy dream, internalised homophobia, SMUT, this fic has it all

oneshots:

this is a drista moment, lets just accept it: drista content my beloved, i’ve only ever read one more dnf fic that’s been from drista’s pov (and sadly that was only the last chapter) and i loved it! this is such a sweet oneshot there’s just something so domestic about these fics and i am so asgdfhjshf /pos AGAIN THIS IS ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVOURITES AND I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT

they say love is contagious: sickfic!!! all fluff no angst, absolutely adorable, dream, sapnap, bbh, and big q are all visiting george and dream is just taking care of him because he gets sick sdfhdsbvjfdn

“i thought i lost you”: the PAIN OH MY GOD I CRIED its so beautiful the yearning the love the everything and the way i can picture this so vividly- i would highly recommend giving it a read

3 am showers: ahhh such a cute domestic oneshot, honestly i love sickfics so much they’re adorable

paper rings: read it. trust me. it will not let you down i swear

hold what’s close to your heart: dream and george are dating in this one and they finally meet and oh its just so cute

you are home: this is so super cute, another feel good domestic fluff fic that just warms my heart :’) george reminisces over some special moments in his and dream’s relationship

like real people do: tooth rotting fluff. its another oneshot and just,,, yes. i read an incredibly angsty and frustrating fic before this that i will neither name nor recommend but this just fixed my mood completely

chasing rays of sunlight: red string soulmate au 10/10 would recommend

stella by starlight: god domestic fics just make me so happy, george is in florida, but he’s here to stay! and just in time for new years too!

tawny, marigold, caramel and somewhere in between we fall in love: another fic centered around george’s colourblindness! i swear these are just too cute to handle-

stumbling into place: sdgyufjhbn i laughed so hard this is so cute and funny the way sap think george got a cat is so gdsfhbv

heart and throat, lined with it: im gay and touchstarved so i read about gay cuddles help

strawberry blond: roommate au!! college au !!! ahhh i love it

stay on the phone just to hear me breathe: a 5+1 of dream watching george sleep (it sounds creepy when i say it like that but i promise its good)

dream’s dollar donations: established relationship, dream and george have a fight and now dream’s trying to make it up to him <3 super cute and fluffy

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wither-rose-circus · 2 years

Note

all the ladies for the ask game?

- acacia

Lizzie - Any AUs?

Well, given the theory/AU concept of both series being run by the Watchers was partially canonized today, I feel like that doesn’t count anymore. So I’ll say the Producer AU, my absolute beloved. Strifesolutions, it’s more or less founder, is like one of the og 3L blogs back when there were maybe 10 of us (so some amount of respect there) and I remember spending like an hour trying to hunt down that suit skin, and Redwinteroses’ fanfiction about it (Another Hero, Another Mindless Crime) holds a very special place in my heart.

Cleo - Favorite meme/inside joke?

I have made Red’s “It is Tuesday, my dudes” Ren edit my discord pfp every Tuesday for like the past 4 weeks and I’m honestly a little bummed that there’s no reason to do it anymore.

Pearl - Favorite piece of fan content?

Oh god, you cannot seriously make me choose- I can’t possibly pick between the hundreds of artworks and fanfics in general so I’m gonna pick my favorite animatics instead since they’re fewer and farther between. (Though as an honorable mention, literally any art made by Ghosted-Jazz or Wasyago is an automatic fave for me). Also I’m splitting this between 3rd and Last Life at least.

For 3rd Life, it’s a tie between Vyeoh’s Strawberry Blond animatic and Zylisticart’s Goodbye animatic. I cannot describe how much I adore them both. For Last Life, I gotta say Scar’s Lament by Fantasticalrain. It’s definitely not because I’m heavily biased towards that song for personal reasons, but also the art is just fantastic.

(Some more honorable mentions are Sex with a Ghost, Where Is Your Rider, We Raise Our Cups, Impulse’s Turn, and oh god this is gonna get too long if I don’t stop)

#mcyt #last life smp #asks #acacia #ask game

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howggswouldreact · 3 years

Text

🏥 The Personification of Our Love | Kim Lip

Request: kim lip x reader where the reader is pregnant and goes into labor pls ~~~ love your blog ♡♡♡♡ Plot: Jungeun is waiting at the Hospital while Reader is in labor. Jungeun's mind flies to loving memories. Words: 2, 222 Genre: fluff, pregnancy Notes: i use to say "i loved writing this one" because i really do love writing things you all request me. and i loved writing this one. i love to write about things that involve family and friendship, etc. this one is the type to make my heart feel at peace... i hope you enjoy it and have a nice read! ♡♡

Maybe Jungeun shouldn't keep her eyes open for so long, without blinking. At least that's what Haseul was telling her all the time, but she wouldn't be aware of what her friend was saying until hours later, when the white doors were opened and a person wearing blue from head to toe told her that she was finally allowed to enter. For now, she had her hands cupped over her mouth, her feet tapping the floor in a frantic rhythm, her heart pumping blood like crazy.

Why couldn't things be like in the movies, where she could just have a camera filming everything that was going on in that room?

How was it going? How were you? And how was the baby? GOD, WAS THE BABY OKAY?

The movements of her feet accelerated even more and she felt the touch of a hand resting very cautiously on her knee.

"Stop doing that, you're looking like a maniac!", Hyejoo's voice, impatient and at the same time anxious, sounded beside Jungeun.

"I think I'm having a nervous breakdown.", she replied in a low voice, sweat forming on the corner of her forehead.

A huge, vibrant smile appeared in the blonde's vision and warm hands took hers, that were cold, in an affectionate squeeze. Jiwoo.

"How about if we go get something to eat? I'm sure there must be anything good in these machines full of food.”, said her longtime friend.

With a nod and letting Jiwoo guide her, Jungeun was pulled by the arm to a vending machine in the corner of the waiting room. While, in her mind, Jungeun was pulled for a few moments before what would be the greatest moment of her life (along with her wedding day, of course).

8 AM, same day

"Christ! It’s like I'm about to explode!", you said, putting your hand on your belly and feeling a twinge in your back.

"A beautiful, healthy child is going to appear from this explosion...", Jungeun started to speak, slowly approaching the bed, leaning on one knee and then the other. "And this child is very...", her hands landed on your belly, one of them over your right hand. "... very loved!"

"And we haven't even thought about the name of this beloved child yet."

You looked at her with a disapproving gaze.

"I don't want to decide anything right now because I think it will be more exciting to take this important decision when the time comes.", Jungeun shrugged without looking at you, she was very busy stroking your belly button.

"Maybe if you just let me..."

"Don't even think about it. This baby is mine too, you know?", the irritated tone disappeared from Jungeun's voice when her eyes met the playful glow of yours. She smiled.

"You know I would never make a decision like that without you, right?"

She nodded and lifted her body so she could kiss you, but there was a huge belly between the two of you - with a baby on the way in - and you started to laugh.

"Ahhhh!! So close yet so far!", dramatized Jungeun, as she lay down beside you and kissed your forehead and then your lips. "Now, close enough."

10 PM, the day before

"I still can't believe you chose this crackhead to be our baby's godmother...", you whispered to Jungeun, leaning on the doorframe while watching Jiwoo dancing some children's music and doing a super choreography in front of a camera.

Jungeun smiled at you.

"It's not like you didn't say 'oh, babe, I would never forgive you if I didn't choose Jiwoo to be our baby’s godmother', right?"

All the girls were there, they decided to have the first “Girls’ Pajama Party with the Baby” even before the baby was born. Not that you didn't love the idea, but to see Jiwoo carrying that camera everywhere was hilarious. You wouldn't miss an opportunity to make fun of it.

"You have to understand that I have hormones. Many! And they are crazy running back and forth, telling me what to do all the time! It's not like everything I say is valid while pregnant. Plus: I didn’t know she would do this Good Luck Charlie sort of thing."

With a mischievous look, Jungeun brought her face close to yours, smiling like a mischievous child.

"So it means that I am right deciding that the baby's one-year birthday should be Taeyeon-themed."

You gave her an angry look.

"I've been carrying our beautiful baby for nine months. If it were to honor someone on their one-year anniversary, it should be me."

A warm laugh from the bottom of Jungeun's heart filled your ears. She came over and wrapped her right arm around your waist while her left hand was over your protruding belly. None of you had reached such a full level of happiness like this before.

"Don't worry... Taeyeon won't be a party theme, I promise." she kissed your face. "It's so easy to annoy you lately. But there's no need to worry. The one-year anniversary theme will be Harry Potter, anyways."

You rolled your eyes trying to hide a smile. Jungeun noticed it. She always did. She smiled back and stroked your belly once more. It was difficult to know which of you two was most anxious for the family to be finally complete.

5 months ago

"Come on, say something very beautiful and with enough meaning, because then I will edit with a ballad song in the background."

Jiwoo was pointing the camera at you, whose lips were covered with doritos crumbs and ice cream, while Jungeun held up a jar of that same ice cream that you dipped the spoon from time to time.

"I can only think of how bizarre these mixtures become each month, I have no idea what beautiful things I can say.", Jungeun spoke while giving you a judgmental look. “I can’t believe my baby is eating… this.”

"Just say my name, so you will say one of the most beautiful things in the world.", you replied, raising your eyebrows as you dipped the tip of the doritos in the pistachio green and put it whole in your mouth.

"Grooooooss.", Jiwoo hummed as she turned the camera to her face. "I hope you don't have to deal with this often."

You two were at Heejin's apartment, decided to stop by as you were walking around the neighborhood looking for that ice cream flavor. Yeojin and Jiwoo went to meet you. This was yet another visit for the future "aunts" of the baby to come.

"I will definitely deal with them to keep you safe." Yeojin noted, beside Jiwoo and staring at the camera.

"Don't worry. We will protect you from anything that might negatively affect you, even if it means taking you away from these delinquents' arms." Heejin said, joining the other two.

"An army against us?", Jungeun asked as you put one of those doritos in her mouth.

They giggled. Another scene for the baby's life documentary, directed exclusively by Kim Jiwoo.

7 months ago

"Well... maybe we should... maybe we should buy baby things? Or set up the baby's room?", You suggested, astonished by the news that, finally, you were going to have a baby.

With the results of the exam in hands, Jungeun was very quiet on the way home. Parking the car in the garage of the building where you lived together, you waited for an answer to your questions.

Pregnant? Who knew you would be pregnant? Well, it was your dream two months ago. You both decided to make this dream come true. But it was a short while ago, actually. And you were not expecting a positive response so quickly. On the first try? Wow! This was really fast.

You noticed Jungeun's trembling hands and, now that you were pregnant, you would have a child of both of you, increasing the "family with our shape" because it's gonna be "the personification of your love", as the blonde said a few times. You wondered if she regretted it. After all, it would affect both your lives on a large scale, even though it was, at the moment, no more than the size of a bean.

"Look, I... I understand if you don't want to say anything. I will respect your space, but I thought it was our decision and..."

"Could you excuse me for a moment?", Jungeun said, in a whispering voice, and getting out of the car.

You understood that you shouldn't go after her and you were left with no reaction to her words. Meanwhile, outside the car, in the light of the vehicle's white headlights, the blonde of exuberant beauty and small body read the exam again, a growing smile on the pink lips that you loved to kiss so much.

Suddenly, to your shock, she let out a cry mixed with laughter and jumped in the air. It was as if, there, in that deserted garage and with you in the car, there was a space where Jungeun could celebrate it with vivacity. She was just so full of joy!

She was just as happy as you are, obviously! She just needed to find a place to outsource it, a moment when she could be free, a place where she could celebrate it!

Jungeun's hands held the test results as if they were holding the most precious thing in her life. And, somehow, it was.

You flashed the headlights in sync with her leaps and, watching her body turn to the car, her dark brown eyes staring into the glass, you knew what she would say and you both said at the same time, in a whisper only your hearts could hear.

"I love you."

Back to Present – 3 AM

Keeping a packet of m&m's in her jacket pocket, saving it for you to eat later, Jungeun finished eating a strawberry cereal bar, chewing slowly as the girls entered into a conversation to try to calm their spirits. In fact, everyone there was looking forward to you and the baby being well and being able to receive visitors as soon as possible.

Jinsoul told a story of her adolescence and the girls highlighted some parts, asked a few things and laughed. But Jungeun's mind was just a few feet from that waiting room.

Were you in pain? Was the baby finding the way out safely? Was the baby healthy? Were you okay?

She had no way of knowing. She went to the bathroom, the girls followed the blonde head with concern as she crossed the room to the door with a blue sign written "toilet".

When closing the door already inside the bathroom, every sound coming from outside was isolated. Jungeun turned the tap on and felt the cascade of water flowing through her fingers, finding some calm with that, since the only person who could give her the biggest amount of peace was in labor.

She washed her face and dried it with paper, stared at her reflection and realized she was pale. She would only regain color when she could finally see you and the baby.

She put her hand on the door handle again, turning it, and when she closed the door behind her, she noticed that all the girls were standing, staring at the beginning of the corridor. Her face turned in the same direction, where a nurse was standing still, noticed the movement of the woman's lips and the signal for her to follow her on a path. That woman would take Jungeun's to where her heart belonged.

"I wish you were with me... with us at the moment…", you whispered.

"The nurses didn't let me in, babe, but I'm here now..."

Jungeun was almost crouched beside the bed, her face close to yours. She reached up and stroked your cheekbones, touching your forehead with hers.

“How was it?”, she asked.

“It was like I was shitting a coconut.”

Her throat exploded with a pleasurable laugh, making you laugh along, even though you felt a lot of pain in your entire body. Tiredness was overwhelming you, but not enough to see your baby again.

"I only saw our baby for about 5 seconds and I was barely able to see that little face before they did the cleaning and exams."

Your voice was a whisper and Jungeun shook her head, as if she told you not to worry about it, and then she gave you a peck.

When the nurse came into the room and placed the baby in your arms, Jungeun was already crying. She never thought that your love could take on a human shape, so small, fragile and beautiful.

"Oh, God... I love you both so much..." she said, letting those strong tears run down her clean face as she bent down to kiss the top of the baby's head very gently.

That little body, with small hands, gripped her finger firmly and you knew that you would not let anything in the world do anything to destroy that purity. Jungeun felt the same way. Somehow, you knew that. You felt that. Perhaps because you had known her for a long time. Perhaps it was because of love. But you did knew. And she also knew that, whatever happened, her family would always be the homewhere your hearts could rest.

#kim lip scenario #kim lip scenarios #kim lip reactions #loona reactions #loona scenarios #loona scenario #loona imagine #kim lip x reader #jungeun scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #girlgroup scenarios

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thequibblah · 3 years

Note

hi so i'm looking for some new music to listen to and i thought you could help because you have great taste!

if this helps, i'll tell you what i normally listen to, which is very basic & basically the same few artists over and over lol

- mostly just taylor swift, she makes up 70+% of my listening probably haha and if i had to pick a favorite genre of hers it would be the folkmore style

- some other pop, like olivia rodrigo and conan gray and lorde & some doja cat but i'm not a huge fan of doja's lyrics

- lyrics are really big for me, so is having a pretty voice and nice melodies

- i love your playlists but the old songs are usually not my style (there's been some though that i really like, ty for that !! <3)

- ceremonials is my favorite florence album

- liability is my favorite lorde song

no problem if u don't want to!

OH i basically recommend things for a living so why not music, eh?

so. what i'm getting from this is that you have three big listening buckets: soft acoustic and indie pop and just plain old pop. so i will divide my recs by those broad genres! i too prefer singable music so i will try to lay off on especially dissonant artists, or mark them as such so you can be prepared (LOL)

acoustic/folksy (i'll admit i am a big indie pop girl so this stuff will be a bit sparser)

phoebe bridgers — admittedly she is more alt-rocky, but see garden song, savior complex, moon song, graceland too, prayer in open D

waxahatchee — can't do much (GOD THIS SONG), lilacs, st. cloud

lucy dacus — also more alt-rocky, but here r some softer jams: hot & heavy, christine, green eyes, red face (a jily song)

anything by first aid kit! start with stay gold and the lion's roar

hozier — i feel like most people on the internet have listened to SOME hozier but check out wasteland, baby! (i tried to pick individual songs and ended up listing most of the album LOL)

kacey musgraves — another artist you've probably listened to already, but try golden hour

brittany howard — stay high must be the sweetest song in existence, and basically all of her album jaime

arlo parks — the whole album but especially caroline, hurt, and black dog

lake street dive — i can change, good kisser (a mary song if i've ever heard one), and i adore their hall & oates cover!

anya marina — this whole album has had me by the throat since like 2013

lucius — just the whole album wildewoman, h/t @figg-anon for putting me onto this!

idk what tf genre fiona apple is but try her out as well!

artists i listen to less of but are in this vein: the lumineers, bon iver, vance joy

u know i had to rec some old people shit (LOLLLL), so in this vein, joni mitchell, heart, judee sills, emmylou harris, joan baez, vashti bunyan

one-off songs you might like: hold you now by vampire weekend, big wheel by samia, i eat boys by chloe moriondo, strawberry blond by mitski (i worship at the altar of mitski but she might not be your speed haha), like i used to (acoustic) by sharon van etten & angel olsen, body by julia jacklin, jackie onassis by sammy rae and the friends, cowgirl bebop by HANA

indie pop BELOVED

maggie rogers — ok i cannot recommend this higher like if u like lorde and conan gray drop everything now and mainline maggie's brilliant debut album

HAIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! — they've got poppier songs like want you back and more mellow songs like summer girl, but honestly i would just recommend a deep dive because they have a pretty surprising breadth within their own alt-rock/pop niche

caroline polachek — can sometimes get way out n weird in the pop sense but so hot you're hurting my feelings is a very listenable pop standard (also it's so funny she's such a clever lyricist also this is irrelevant here but she sounds amazing live), also love look at me now and her cover of breathless

charli xcx is more experimental pop but would rec trying out warm (FT HAIM!!!), blame it on your love (FT LIZZO!!), and official

rina sawayama — technically her album is all sorts of genres but especially XS, comme des garcons, paradisin', bad friend, and tokyo love hotel

orla gartland is a lil softer and i love more like you, oh GOD, and did it to myself

king princess — especially cheap queen, 1950, holy, but basically all of cheap queen

more one-offs: kansas by ashe, comeback by CRJ (full paean in her honour to come in the pop section), i am a big fan of other people covering the bleachers (LOL) especially rollercoaster by charli xcx and i wanna get better by tinashe (full tinashe praise to come too), saturdays by twin shadow (FT HAIM!!!), the kiss of venus and 3 nights by dominic fike (also his interlude on halsey's album), aute cuture and milionària by rosalía, young lover by st. vincent (i love her but again might not be for u haha), good days by sza, backyard boy by claire rosinkranz, slow dancing by aly & aj, hot sugar by glass animals

if ur down to try out something weird witchy and cool, kate bush is like the originator of 9 billion pop and rock genres and hounds of love is a masterpiece

pure pop (we can split hairs on what makes pure pop LOL but basically everything here is based on ur enjoyment of doja)

carly rae jepsen — ok if u haven't listened to her non-radio-hits u may be like "what?? call me maybe lady???" to which i say YES, especially window, stay away, no drug like me, and too much

victoria monet — this may or may not be a selling point to you, but victoria is a frequent ariana grande collaborator and you can absolutely hear it in her music (see also: the mattress spring background noises in dive JUST like they are in positions...), and i love experience, go there with you, and we might even be falling in love, and why not throw in her ariana grande collab monopoly

magdalena bay — how to get physical which i am destined, nay, contractually bound, to put in a jily modern AU someday, killshot, stop & go

tinashe — basically ALL of her new album!!! SO good. i also love rascal (superstar), esther, and old jams like company (and i JUST found out she has a chaka khan cover!)

chloe x halle have the most angelic vocals in the world

this might sound actually demented because WHO hasn't heard love on the brain but rly... go give ANTI a re-listen...

tove lo — especially are u gonna tell her, mateo, and jacques

WAIT I FORGOT TO SAY ROBYN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERY ROBYN SONG!!!!!!!

for that throwback poppy sound u may as well go real throwback KJAHKJA and check out donna summer!

one-offs: right to it by louis the child n ashe, serial lover by kehlani (also more by her but im getting lazy now kdjfhgk), missed calls by max n hayley kiyoko, peppers and onions by tierra whack, idk who hasnt heard this song but circles by meg, todo de ti by rauw alejandro (the way i wanted this to be song of the summer so bad ;___;)

hope you enjoy and pls come back and tell me if you really liked any of these!!!! xoxo

#genuinely i have revealed so much about myself w this i feel like you could pick me out of a spotify lineup HAHHAAH #ask me #anon #music disk horse

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

all i want for christmas - isaac lahey

Hey crew! Happy holidays my loves 💓 whether you celebrate or not i hope you’re having a wonderful week! Here’s something a lil festive ;)

Enjoy + let me know what you think💓

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: none :) just fluff

Master list

It was that time of year again. The most stressful, crazed, chaotically wonderful time of the year. Of course, it was the annual McCall pack Christmas party.

The one occasion in which there was absolutely no getting out of, whether you were in Beacon Hills or not. The only day of the year where every single member of the pack would get to see each other all at the same time.

Since graduating from High School you’d all gone your separate ways, living your own lives and fulfilling your respective destinies.

Since you’d seen your beloved pack last, you’d been contently living a quiet life in a small town in England. It was pretty sweet, you lived in a spacey cottage and worked in a very quaint bakery. It was safe to say that being a werewolf in a tiny cottagecore village was a lot easier, and entirely less stressful, than being a werewolf in Beacon Hills.

But, as they all say; home is where the heart is.

Because you lived across the world, the Christmas party was the only chance you got to see the majority of your dearest friends, so you always kept the date.

Every year without fail since the pack had formed, December 23rd, Christmas eve eve, was strictly reserved for festive supernatural celebrations.

It had been a long day of airport lines, connecting flights and luggage collections but you were finally sitting in a cab on your way to Derek Hale’s loft.

There was always the unspoken dress code of “way fancier than you need to be” at these parties, it was a code that yourself and Lydia in particular took very seriously. Even if that meant slipping into a little black dress, your favourite pair of heels, applying a full face of makeup and doing your hair in an airport bathroom.

Which for you, was the reality. But regardless, you looked hot as hell.

The cab driver’s sleavy glances at you through the rear view mirror only confirmed the fact.

“Christmas party?” The middle aged man asked, looking at you more intently than the road.

“Mhm.” You replied, faking a sincere smile.

He let out a low whistle from between his thin chapped lips and rose an ungroomed eyebrow, “Someone there you’re trying to impress?”

Now that was the golden question. With a forced chuckle you brought your gaze to rest on the crescent moon glowly in the black sky.

There was someone there that you wanted to impress, as a matter of fact.

It was one of those fickle things. A will-they-won’t-they of epic proportions and it had been going on since junior year of high school. Sure, everyone loves a slow burn, Stiles and Lydia are a perfect example of this.

However, your fire seemed to be taking its sweet time catching alight.

Shaking the thoughts away you let out an exhausted sigh, “Unfortunately, yeah. There is someone I’m trying to impress.”

The cab driver let out a chuckle, “If ya ask me, if however it is doesn’t have to pick their jaw up off of the floor after seeing you they are a fool.” He told you, not trying to hide the looks of approval he was giving the neckline of your dress very obviously.

You couldn’t stop the booming laugh that left your painted lips at his statement, he was such a creep but he was definitely onto something.

“Who knows maybe this will be the year.” You said through a laugh. The driver nodded his head and then exclaimed cockily as he, thankfully, pulled up to Derek’s complex, “Yeah, and if not, you know where to find me.”

Trying your very best to contain your laughter at the man before you, you wordlessly got out of the car, grabbing your suitcase, which was full of presents, from the trunk.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful!” He called jovially through the passenger side window, you looked over your shoulder and gave him your best fake smile, “You too.”

As you began towards the building's entrance you lowered your tone, muttering a quiet, “Creep.” Under your breath.

The sound of suitcase wheels dragging against the concrete pavement echoed through an empty lobby area as you made your way to the rickety old elevator, trust Derek to buy the entire building but choose the loft on the top floor.

A bell sounded when the elevator finally arrived, you stepped inside and waited patiently for the contraption to carry you to the top floor.

When it arrived you could hear Christmas music booming from behind the huge sliding metal door that separated the loft from the hallway, there was a lot of excited chatter inside the loft so you assumed you were the last to arrive. Fashionably late.

Just as you were about to pull the door open, you paused and pulled out your phone, opening the camera and giving yourself one last look over. The status hadn’t changed since the airport, you still looked hot as hell.

Disregarding the anxious butterflies fluttering around your stomach, you took a deep intake of breath and plastered a genuine smile on your red lips and opened the door.

“Hello my darlings!” You made your presence known with an over the top false British accent as the pack turned to see who had just arrived. The second their eyes landed on you the whole room exploded with excitement.

Lydia squealed in delight, rushing up to you and pulling you into a tight hug. Your arms wrapped around her tightly and your smile widened when she began swaying you excitedly in her arms before pulling away. The strawberry blonde held you at arm's length, her eyes scanning you from head to toe then fixing you with a knowing smirk.

“Cute dress. Who is that little number for?” She teased menacingly, raising an eyebrow as if she didn’t already know the answer.

You’d missed her little games, but that didn’t mean you’d forgotten how to play along since you’d seen her last. You put your hand over your heart and looked at her dreamily, your horrible imitation of a British accent returning, “Why it’s all for you my love.”

It was then that Stiles broke the two of you apart saying, “Y/n, you’re my best friend and we share a lot of things but I’m afraid my girlfriend is not one of them.”

With a disappointed sigh, you shot your best girl friend a wink, “Forbidden love.”

“Shut up and gimme a hug already, God.” Stiles said in an exasperated tone, but the huge grin on his face betrayed his voice as he wrapped his lanky arms around you.

“Hey Sty.” You giggled, reciprocating his hug. When he pulled away you noticed the rest of the pack were now crowding around you at the door.

Scott stood like an excited puppy waiting to get to you and the second you laid eyes on him you felt excitement burst within you.

With a huge smile on your face you threw your arms around his shoulders, squealing happily as the alpha lifted and spun you around in his hold. It felt so good to be with wolves again, you already felt stronger.

“I’ve missed you!” You told him, your feet pressed back on the ground. Scott’s smile was so bright as he exclaimed, “You too! You’re the only one I haven’t seen since last year! How are you? Are you doing okay on your own? How’s England?” He fired out in the brotherly way he usually did, you couldn’t help the fond smile on your face as you patted his cheek reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Scotty. I’m all good.”

The next few minutes were spent hugging and catching up with the others, Malia, Derek and Peter had welcomed you home in the doorway with hugs.

“Where are the puppies?” You asked, referring to Liam and Mason.

“Kitchen. Liam is trying to find something that’ll make us all drunk.” Malia told you, looking at your suitcase with expectancy.

You motioned towards the case by your side with a knowing grin, “Ok, I’ll go get those two. Your names are on the presents that are for you.”

“Yes!” Malia cheered, pecking your cheek quickly then almost sprinting to the case.

When you got to the doorway of the kitchen you leaned against the frame, watching as Liam chugged a bottle of vodka, trying to get some kind of buzz from the liquid while Mason watched in awe, “I don’t see you for a year and suddenly you’re a frat boy.” You sighed out.

Liam stopped in his tracks and looked towards you, “Oh hey, Y/n” He greeted you with an adorable smile and Mason gave you a small nod of greeting and you nodded your head towards the living area where the others were exchanging gifts.

“There’s presents for you guys if you wanna go get them.” You informed them, smiling as they all but ran past you towards the gifts.

The kitchen was empty now, save for you and a half full bottle of smirnoff. Tiredly you made your way to the wooden counter opposite the door and sat yourself up on it.

As you swung your legs gently in the air, you took a moment to close your eyes and enjoy the moment to yourself.

The moment ended with a gentle knock on the doorframe, and when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Standing in front of you, in the flesh and all of his glory was Isaac Lahey. “You mind if I join you?” He asked softly, you gave him a smile and beckoned him over.

“‘Course not. Come in.” He smiled in return and casually made his way over to you, he hoisted himself up beside you on the countertop.

“I didn’t realise you were here yet.” You told him, eyes studying his face, he hadn’t aged a day since the first day you met him.

Even now, years later, he still maintained that youthful lost boy aura. The sparkle in his eyes never dimmed either.

Isaac turned his head to face you, a warm smile decorating his lips as he did so, “Sorry I missed your entrance, I had to change. I came straight from the airport.”

You nodded in understanding, “Me too. Changed in the airport bathroom though.”

He chuckled at that, you didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled across your body or how they lingered on the hem of your dress that had ridden up ever so slightly when you’d hopped on the counter.

When he caught himself staring he cleared his throat and looked away, when he was met with the look of knowing on your face his own erupted in a blush.

“You look…” He started but trailed off.

“Incredible? Amazing? Stunningly gorgeous? Come on, Isaac. Help me out here.” You teased, bumping your shoulder against his.

“All of the above.” He answered, equally as cheekily, he knee pressing against yours as he pulled something out of his back pocket.

It was a narrow rectangular envelope, he fiddled with it nervously before holding it in your direction, “I got you a present.”

You took it from him gently, “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to. Open it.” He urged, blue eyes glued to you as your fingers pried the envelope seal open.

As you pulled the contents of the envelope you looked to Isaac in confusion. It was a flight ticket to Paris for New Years eve.

“A plane ticket?”

Isaac nodded, blush returning to his face, “Yeah, I know you’ve always wanted to go and there’s the completely unrelated reason that I have an apartment in the city and would really love to spend new year’s with you.” He rambled on nervously and you smiled up at him.

“So you’re essentially asking me to come for a slumber party?” You grinned, giggling when he rolled his gleaming eyes at you. “I’m kidding. I’d love to come to Paris with you.” You told him, taking his hand in yours to stop it from fidgeting.

Isaac squeezed your hand in response, a happy smile on his face, “It’d also be a really great opportunity for me to finally admit that I’m in love with you.”

There was that fire you’d been talking about, after way too many years, it was finally lighting up.

“Good. That would give me a chance to tell you that I love you too.” You played along, biting back a shit eating grin as his face moved closer to yours.

You could hear Lydia behind the door, hushing the others as they all screamed along to “All I Want For Christmas Is You”.

“She’s been standing out there listening since I came in.” Isaac whispered and you only responded by sliding your hands up his shoulders.

Absentmindedly, Isaac’s arms wrapped around your waist as you continued to lean in closer, whispering, “Then let’s stop talking.”

Isaac’s eyes widened at that and he swooped his lips the rest of the distance to yours, murmuring, “God, I love that plan.”

His lips clung to yours while your hands moved to his hair. It had been a long time coming. After all the almosts and could haves, his lips were finally on yours.

The kiss was broken when you couldn’t hold your smile back any longer, Isaac’s lips were now tinted red from your lipstick but they were formed in a breathtaking smile.

“I think we should stop talking more. Like a lot more.”

“They kissed!” Lydia whisper shouted to the rest of the pack, who were pretending not to listen to the conversation happening in the kitchen.

Scott let out a celebratory “Whoop!” As did Malia and Mason.

“And! She’s going to spend New Year’s with him in Paris!” Scott clapped his hands together then, holding his hand out to Stiles, “Called it. Hand it over.”

Stiles grumbled, necking the rest of his drink before fishing a twenty out of his pocket and shoving it in Scott’s hand.

#isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x reader #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #lydia martin #malia hale #liam dunbar

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wincore · 4 years

Text

sour tangerine | huang renjun

pairing: keyboardist!renjun x songwriter!reader

words: 15.3k

summary: ‘i gave up on that sort of music,’ he’d said. but not like this. not when you’re there to grab his wrist and drag him into your ridiculous notions about music that make him want to tear all his hair out. huang renjun falls in love with two words that escape your lips, and now he has to pretend his cheeks aren’t caked in a blush as red as donghyuck’s guitar. maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to joining this band of idiots just for an incredibly cute songwriter.

themes: rock band!au, fluff, (mostly existential) angst, comedy-ish

warnings: making out, alcohol, college kids being college kids

song recs: hello sunshine - wetter // how to love - day6 // today - nell // rooftop - n.flying // what can i do - day6 // red - the rose // i loved you - day6 // leave it - n.flying // baby - the rose

a/n: nct dream 00 line rock band. that’s it. who wants to join my renjun cover literally any song by day6 agenda. if you think this is like a kdrama compressed into a fic i am so sorry but you are correct hsdksh also i do not know what it’s like to major in music or make music so... please bear with me.

special thanks to @insomni-writing for beta reading this ilysm!! and @cinanamon because your support made me actually finish this ily dude <3

With hair dyed blond and a stream of colourful words ready at the tip of his tongue, no one assumes Huang Renjun majors in classical music. Not when he’s threatening Lee Donghyuck by the vending machine, not when he’s pulling an arrogant half-smile by the semester-end results and certainly not when he’s hardly ever seen near an instrument as elegant as the grand piano.

If they heard him play it just once, they’d forget the rest.

He strikes the keys gently, and then all at once in a motion so very unique to him—and you know this, not because you were stalking him, but because you happened to get a very rare ticket to the national level performing arts concert (which you didn’t scam out of someone that time, you swear). Looking pristine in a clean tuxedo and with then dark hair swept to the side, Huang Renjun looked very much like an alien, like the words leaving his mouth and the things he’d do would be so unpredictable.

You were right.

Huang Renjun plays the piano like he’s not of this world.

He plays soft rock tunes even better—which, this time, you know because you were, in fact, stalking him while he spent extra hours in the practice room. From the lazy smile on his face to the way he let himself loose (for once) in a hot pink hoodie he kept trying to cover with his bag all day, you knew he was perfect.

Out of all the miserably planned (and timed) situations you’ve pulled yourself into, this might just hit top 3.

You’re going to convince Renjun to join your band.

Which is easier said than done, because Renjun is just as stubborn as you are, if not more. You’ve never wanted to smack someone so bad and neither have you ever contemplated the outcome of spontaneous fistfights as much. But as frustrated as he leaves you, you know you need him, or your picture-perfect plan will fall apart before you’ve even started to paint.

The first time you’d nudged him in class, he’d sent you a glare as soon as the question left your lips. You’d fought a pout, the warmth on your cheeks popping like firecrackers. But you’re not easily discouraged, no, not really, not ever.

The second time, you’d spread your arms in front of him to get him to stop walking off, looking more of a lunatic than a college student (sometimes, what’s the difference?) and Renjun had pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in an expression more than annoyed.

“Please!” you yelled, catching the attention of fellow students.

Renjun eyed your palms flat against each other, elbows raised in a most comical prayer and announced a “No” just as loudly before briskly walking away.

The third time, you’d sent Donghyuck, your lead guitarist, who you really shouldn’t have expected to perform better than you did. You know they’re friends, so that should have worked better, right? Wrong. Renjun had returned a pouting Donghyuck, complaining nonstop for two whole days afterwards and with a message from Renjun to “in the best of words, fuck off”.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your watch. This is your last time to book him for your ragtag rock band (still unnamed) and you’re going to leave him with no choice. You can do this.

You tiptoe from one side of the corridor to the other, the large windows drenching you in an uncomfortable amount of sunlight. But you are quiet—you know how to be sneaky and you’d be lying if you said you’re not at least a little bit proud of it. Renjun stays at the senior practice room well into late afternoon and if the door was closed fully, you’d be hearing nothing of it.

The old model of electronic keyboards in the practice room, which made you wonder if electric instruments ever rust, now plays ringing clear. It’s not just the fondness with which your school’s beloved pianist plays it but the added charm of his structure, straightened enough to focus but relaxed just as much.

A few minutes pass by in quiet contemplation, as you run through your plan again. First, approach him with a friendly gesture, offer him your strawberry milk or something. Second, block every exit he might seek once you’ve cornered him. Third, spew that long speech you prepared—a pretty pile of words ought to move him. Right? If all else fails, you’re going to call in Jaemin as your secret weapon. The boy can charm a rock, and you hate to be doing that to anyone (even Renjun), but drastic situations call for drastic measures. You take a sharp breath.

Oh, he’s singing now?

You misstep over the marble flooring and the door creaks open a little too loud.

Shit.

The music stops. You take a good second to swear at yourself, well and full, before breathing in and entering the practice room with as much confidence as you can gather.

“Renjun!” you say, grinning wide and arms stretched as if you’re there to welcome him.

Renjun looks at you, surprise smeared across his face. He quickly picks up his bag, shaking his head at you as he makes his way towards the door.

“You- “

Instead of all your brilliant planning, you resort to pulling a disgruntled Renjun into a lonesome corner before he can leave. It would seem more of a threat than an invitation to join, you’ll admit, but right now, you need Renjun to not glare at you with a scowl so obvious. It’s not that his face makes you nervous, it’s the outcome of today’s attempt. The bright afternoon sun reaches his hair and the left side of his face, a warm hue over eyes that look at you with more than just mild annoyance. He wears a grungy dark jacket over his lightly coloured T-shirt and has the audacity to claim he doesn’t do rock.

“Are you trying to kidnap me or something?” he asks, adjusting the strap of his bag.

You quickly smack the wall so your arm blocks his way, though the impact of it makes you wince.

“Join me,” you say, looking at him, determination across your face though the sentence comes off more cult-ish than you’d want.

Renjun takes a step back to look up and take a sharp breath.

“I already told you,” he says, raising his voice, “I don’t do that sort of music anymore.”

“Anymore?”

Renjun groans, lips shaped in perfect annoyance. “Just how long are you going to keep this up?”

He tries to escape you but you take a hasty step closer, his back hitting the wall with a thud. It’s not all that fun, getting people to join your band. It’s even less fun when Renjun’s cologne is a tad too minty for your tastes.

“I’ll do anything!” you say, pressing your lips tight as the pleading grows in your eyes.

“Anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” You jolt up straighter.

“Then leave me alone forever for the rest of my life.”

Renjun crosses his arms and you frown, a sigh lacing your lips till you bring yourself to look him in the eye again. It’s not yet time to pull out Jaemin, you’re not even sure if that will work, but you might just have something else.

“Lee Chaerim!” you suddenly yell. “You like her, don’t you?”

It’s a long shot but if it works…

Renjun’s cheeks dust pink and he takes a step back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. Bullseye. You fight a snort before he can catch you. Gods, he’s so obvious.

“Wh-what gave you that idea?” he retorts, pitch shooting higher before he recomposes himself. “She’s a classmate, idiot. And don’t yell her name!”

“Star pianist Lee Chaerim,” you wave your hand about. “Who wouldn’t have a crush on her? I mean you’re a close second though.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s really not…”

“I’ll score you a date with her!” you declare, grinning like a maniac. “If you join my band.”

Renjun sighs, shoulders sagging. “You’re really not going to drop this, are you?”

“Nope.” You shrug, popping the ‘p’ in a helplessly obnoxious manner.

Renjun leans back against the wall, head tilting to look you in the eye as the frown grows prominent over his lips.

“And you think scoring me a date will make me want to join your…band?” Renjun snorts.

You shift your eyes awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t really paint you as the Romeo type either but hey, I don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“(name)?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh. That’s actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard from you,” you muse before quickly returning to the subject at hand. “Ah, come on. Just give it a chance, please?

“I major in classical music.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk crawling over your lips. “And yet you’re more than decent at Queen on the keys.”

Renjun straightens, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “You’re stalking me?!”

“No, I’m scouting you. All the big companies hire people to do that.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Er, it’s called extraordinary.”

“Extraordinarily annoying.”

“Stop arguing with me!” You stomp your foot.

Renjun mimics you in a rather aggressive tone, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. You pull a face, throwing a soft punch at his shoulder to which he responds with a sharp cry and a glare.

“Fine!” Renjun says, massaging his shoulder. “I’ll give you one week to prove to me this band’s worth my time.”

You feel something akin to surprise before his words register. Worth his time? He's just about as arrogant as you expected.

“Deal,” you say, shooting him a forced smile.

From the light periwinkle of his T-shirt to the blond strands astray against his forehead, there’s a sort of halo surrounding him. You press your lips together before you can laugh at his supposed angelic qualities, before he somehow starts to look as pretty as your friends describe.

“Starting today, I’m your lyricist and composer!” you grin, extending your hand towards him.

“I...You…”

Renjun hesitates before taking your hand in a firm shake, but not before pursing his lips in doubt. Perhaps you could have warned him before grabbing his wrist and so unceremoniously dragging him here.

“I didn’t even join,” he mutters.

“I’m giving you the full trial!” you defend.

Renjun stays quiet before suddenly clearing his throat. “You can- You can let go of the wall now.”

Your eyes trail to your hand and you immediately retract it with an “ah”. There’s barely any distance between your chests, and you suppose you were successful in cornering him—a little too effectively. Renjun shakes his head, quickly walking past you with no gesture of goodbye.

“You’re going to be disappointed, (name),” he says quietly before leaving.

You blink in confusion at his disappearing figure.

Whatever. When have you ever paid attention to words of warning? You glance at the back of Renjun’s head from the second floor’s handrail as he rushes down the stairs, albeit a sort of grace to his movement, and sigh.

Donghyuck owes you twenty. You’re going to be rubbing it in his smug face that you’ve recruited, er, almost recruited the unreachable Huang Renjun. And for a date? He must be far more romantic than you thought. You don’t think you’ll ever understand him.

You take a slow, deep breath reaching all the way to your belly.

Your plan is working out. It’s going to work out—soon you can be writing songs to a rhythm and melody of your choice, for people who can hear the words and dance to it. The world’s gonna sing along to your songs, to the chorus to your ambitions.

“Renjun?!”

Between Donghyuck’s agape mouth and Renjun’s defensive stance, you really don’t know who to approach first. This place was apparently the only room in all of Seoul a bunch of college kids could rent out and while all of you dished out a remarkable chunk from your earnings, it was worth every penny. From the ugly orange wallpaper to the stinky couch, you wouldn’t trade a thing in this room, except for maybe Jeno’s withering plant in exchange for a new one. Poor thing’s been dead for as long as you can remember (courtesy of Jaemin).

“(name) actually convinced you?” Donghyuck asks, exaggerated surprise in his voice before he drops it lower. “You can tell me if you were threatened or something, promise I’ll get you out of this.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, a smile making on to his face anyway. “It’s just for a w—mph!”

You slap a hand over Renjun’s mouth, stepping in to grin victoriously at Donghyuck. “See, Hyuck? I told you I’d make it work. Now, pay up.”

“You bet on this?”

The curtains are drawn shut but the room lights are bright in a strange sort of way, like someone in the sixteenth century discovered electricity early and decided to reinvent candlelight out of it. Late afternoon isn’t as gentle as it is in winter, but you’d rather have patches of sunlight decorating the room instead of the garish yellow lights. The lavender air freshener you sprayed a few minutes ago has already settled in, the previous scent of instant noodles, though delicious, finally gone. You should’ve brought the coffee mix, you think with regret. A productive day needs a productive start, as you’ve always been told. (You might have messed up, but it’s never too late, right?)

You think you should have anticipated a little adjustment trouble after all.

Jeno walks headfirst into the mess—with Renjun choking Donghyuck under his arm while you try to not drop the pile of records from the small coffee table and onto the Dorito dust-covered wooden floor. The recorder is safe, a good few feet away from your mayhem.

“Oh, hey Renjun, didn’t know you’re a part of this,” Jeno says, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Renjun mutters in response, loosing up on Donghyuck.

You narrow your eyes. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

“Yeah, we’re in the same dorm,” Jeno answers, shrugging before he drops his bag onto the couch.

You gasp. “You could’ve just asked him all this time?!”

“Uh,” Jeno drawls out before coughing forcefully. There’s a slight change of air, and your inability to read situations, for the first time, is a major help.

“Hello, trouble children,” Jaemin announces as he enters, his bag thrown in Jeno’s direction, who seems relieved for the interruption.

“Oh, hi Renjun!”

“You know him too?” You’re almost offended at this point.

Jaemin stares blankly in confusion. “Yeah, we’re…all…in the same dorm.”

You throw up your head in exasperation, an annoyed huff leaving your parted lips. “And none of you thought of asking him to join?!”

“We didn’t think he’d ever agree,” Jaemin says, glancing at Renjun discreetly.

Renjun stays quiet, shrugging before he plops down on the couch. “Anyone wanna tell me what we’re supposed to do today? Apart from killing Donghyuck?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so bad at rock, paper, scissors,” Donghyuck retorts quietly.

“You cheated!” Renjun sits up straight, glaring.

You raise your palms like the peaceful negotiator you are, and honestly, all they had to do was decide the lead vocal for the new song, which Renjun vehemently rejected.

Donghyuck gasps. “Renjun isn’t half as innocent as he looks. Watch out (name)—oof.”

Renjun elbows him in the stomach, the resulting expression on Donghyuck making you wonder just how much strength Renjun really has.

“Renjun, Donghyuck. You’re both lead,” you say, finalizing.

“What?!”

The two of them look at you, one with betrayal and the other with an emotion very close to murder. It wasn’t easy coming to the decision, sure, but for this song, you’ll be needing Renjun a little bit more. Is it treacherous of you to have picked out the song most suited to him? You have your reasons, however. You’re not letting Renjun leave without experiencing the wonders of performing at a local pub, and in general, you’re a little iffy about letting him leave at all. You need the keys and you need a chance. You have something to prove.

“Just this song, Hyuck,” you sigh. “You know we switch up things every time.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “The show's coming Saturday, right?”

You nod when Renjun interrupts.

“Show?!” he blurts.

“We’re performing,” you answer, shrugging. “You know Odd Fruit? In Hongdae?”

Renjun wrinkles his nose, shifting back. “No? Isn’t that a dive bar?”

“Best place for us,” Jaemin grins, resting his elbows against the headrest beside Renjun. “Saturdays are for rock.”

Renjun sighs. “I don’t- I don’t sing rock.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t peeping or anything but wasn’t that you in the shower? What were you singing again—”

“Okay, okay!” Renjun sits up straight, heaving a sigh, his shoulders moving with it. “I sing Disney songs in the shower, it doesn’t mean anything…”

“We can do that sort of music too.” You grin, tilting your head. “We can do any music!”

“Yeah,” Jeno encourages thoughtfully, “Even idol music!”

“No,” everyone says in unison.

Jeno mutters something under his breath, sulking as he sinks into the couch and crosses his arms after adjusting his bright red baseball cap.

Renjun shakes his head, recomposing himself. “You want me to perform next Saturday?! That wasn’t in the deal!”

You furrow your brows. “I told you it’s a full trial!”

“That’s over a week!” He throws up his hands in exasperation.

“The trial week ends on Friday and Saturday’s just a bonus,” you reason, crossing your arms.

You don't break the gaze just in case it determines your stand. It’s probably a full minute of glaring at each other before your humble audience intervenes, Donghyuck bursting into laughter and the other two following. You share a puzzled look with Renjun, looking around for an explanation.

“We’re gonna have a blast this Saturday,” Donghyuck says, wiping a tear from his eye. “I can’t wait.”

“We’ll get to practise,” Jaemin says, resting his palm on Renjun’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna have fun, trust me.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mutters.

That’s all you need to hear.

Renjun isn’t half as disagreeable when he’s focused. His brow line is straight, lips parted gently and eyes almost hazed over as if his fingers over the keys have eyes of their own.

Renjun is also fantastic at perfecting your notes. You always thought he’d be too prissy to work with you, but he doesn’t seem to care about that anymore. With flushed knuckles and long fingers, part of hands that were meant to play the piano—you’d say Renun lives up to the musical prodigy title. The short demo you’d played for him somehow swirled and twined into music so him and yet still you, rock undertones with light blues. You haven’t met anyone who can play with melody like that, besides Donghyuck.

Rock means hope. Undone to be done.

And maybe, part of you is a little disappointed at how well he handles the pre-performance stress. You would love to see a hint of jitters in him for once. Saturday wastes no time in creeping up and while you wish you could say you feel what your band looks like, you don’t. The pre-performance stress is very, very different for you.

Let’s say, you’re not too sure about reviving rock music in Seoul. It’s not very popular and still considered underground, but hey, at least it’s easy on the ears and it is honest, if nothing else. And an honest sound wins, right?

You lock eyes with Renjun, before they're ushered to the centre. There's not much to be said. You smile with a determined nod, holding up both of your thumbs to the boys. This will work out. It will.

And at the very least, you're getting two shots of whiskey on the house.

The place is shabby, but not too shabby for a dive bar. There’s a giant mural… thing of what seems to be the hybrid of a peach, apricot and dragonfruit. You’re not too sure, actually. Just as crowded as you expected, the lights glow dim and the smell of musk and lime keep in check the other foul smells that could possibly emanate from the human body. Lovely. Your fingers play against your lips as they stretch into a smile. It’s the perfect place to play your song, but maybe the jitters have a purpose after all.

There are foreign faces around, quite literally, and it makes you nervous. You settle by the bar, your last words of encouragement drifted off further from you to whatever that excuse of a stage is.

Renjun looks calm as ever. The confidence in him is not what you'd expected, though a bubbling feeling in you suggests it's even better this way.

“You finally got someone on the keys,” a familiar voice calls from behind the countertop.

You turn your head to find Doyoung, arms resting on the table and holding what seems to be a bottle of vodka so tenderly, you’d think it was either his child or an explosive.

“Huang Renjun,” you respond, smiling. “Like the best pianist in our year. Or maybe second best.”

Doyoung laughs. “You kids could be as good as us some day. Need more practice.”

“Hey, old man, it’s not your time anymore,” you say, raising an eyebrow with a cheeky grin. “Maybe you were the best keyboardist back then but…”

You lean in to emphasize as you point at a Renjun furrowing his brows at all the wiring. “That guy’s going to outsing you. It’s the new era now. Etcetera, etcetera.”

“You talk like I’m from a different generation.” Doyoung scoffs, though the corner of his lips twitch. “Still dreaming of making your boyband? Do you guys even have a name?”

You pout. “It’s not a boyband! Okay… technically, it is a boyband. And no, we don’t have a name.”

You sulk for a moment or two at the way Doyoung had called your life’s work a boyband in that uninterested tone. Nothing’s wrong with a boyband. You sigh.

“At least we’re getting free alcohol, eh?” you nudge Doyoung, him being the reason you’re getting to play here anyway. What does a graduated music performance major do in his free time? Bartending, apparently. You haven’t ever really questioned his life choices and you’re not going to start now. Never question your seniors.

“I’m not serving you kids alcohol,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.

“We’re legal,” you argue, crossing your arms.

“Hard to believe.”

You see the smile lines crease on Doyoung’s face and before you can retort, a hum of strings resounds through the place, loud enough for the two of you to catch.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck mouths sheepishly to the two of you, Doyoung responding with an eye roll.

“I didn’t know that demon could get nervous,” he mutters and you laugh at the comedic duo the two of them make.

Donghyuck clears his throat into the mic and you cringe, but not before holding back your laughter at the terror in his eyes. Right then, the keys are struck, and suddenly, music is into motion.

You absentmindedly hum along, smiling to yourself before it strikes you to monitor the crowd. You gulp, a crease in your brows as you look around with the determination of a child at a pet shop scanning for a puppy to adopt.

You give up after a minute or so, the feeling weighing heavy. Reading facial expressions has never really been your thing, especially under lights that don’t acknowledge the purpose of their existence. (You’re not saying this because you have bad eyesight.) Fun varies. Everyone in this place is in a crowd of their own, and if not a crowd, in a dream. Some nod along, some smile but you, you know the song better than anyone else in this room. It has to be worth something.

You sigh. Your desperation gets a notch crueler each drawing year, and yet, the questions still arise. Do you have to be someone? A smiling face at a dive bar is more than enough to be, you think.

You mouth the lyrics, nodding your head along to the baseline you helped make. You think Doyoung chuckles beside you, something about taking self-love too seriously but you can’t hear him over the sound of the band.

Bass. Drums. Keys.

Suddenly, in the moment between heartbeats, your eyes meet Renjun’s.

He sings into the mic full of self-assurance, teeth occasionally making an appearance in a chaotic smile. It's always the little things that make the person. Eyes peering down at the keys, barely keeping open at certain parts and yet you think you see a hint of exhilaration in them.

The riff of the second song starts out loud. This is Donghyuck’s song and this time, it turns heads. You’re not sure in a good way or bad, but it wouldn’t be the first time people have wanted to beat him up in a bar. You snicker to yourself but just then, two guys cheer from the crowd, a red-faced Donghyuck flashing them a grin.

“Ah, Jaehyun and Taeil are here too,” Doyoung notes. You’ve never actually met the two but you’ve heard of them so many times you think you could replace Doyoung as their lead singer.

The song is called Cheers and for good reason.

Donghyuck smiles into the mic, and with a highly anticipated breath, you realize, Renjun is smiling too. Little by little, the night grows more optimistic and into the palms of your youth. Even in this tiny, crowded place. Even in a room full of people you can’t read.

The song ends in time, but not enough for Donghyuck to actually convince Doyoung to give him drinks. It’s not a Saturday night without their fights, and despite that, the atmosphere is warm with spoken words. You think you catch Renjun beam at Doyoung’s compliment, suppressing your own smile at the two..

Clink, splash, clink.

“You know, for someone as excited about whiskey, I thought you’d be better with liquor,” Renjun says, sighing as his hesitant finger pokes you in the forehead.

Your eyes open so suddenly, Renjun flinches and you ease into a smile. “I’m not that drunk. The next shot, maybe.”

That’s not entirely true because you’re sure the previous one just needs a little more time to settle into your gut. Renjun, on the other hand, seems to be better at dealing with alcohol. The peach hue across his cheeks make you want to pinch them and you’ll give it twenty minutes before you lose control and actually do.

The two songs were only three and a half minutes each but they seemed to stretch long enough for you to be pleased with them. You’re not sure about the rest.

“I almost messed up the beat there,” Jeno mutters, resting his head against the bar table. Jaemin shrugs beside him, taking another shot. The two of them can hold their liquor, at least. Donghyuck cannot.

“Was it that bad?” Donghyuck asks, adjusting the red bomber jacket he was so sure made him look cool. “I don’t think it was bad. I mean, we all do embarrassing things once in a while—”

“Does he not shut up?” Renjun wails before looking at you accusingly. “Don’t end up like that.”

“I don’t mope, Renjun,” you snap, your finger unsteady as it points at him. “You better remember that about me.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “And you’re gone too.”

“Tell me,” you say, your lips tugged into a lazy smile, “you enjoyed it, didn’t you? I saw you smiling.”

Even under the wash of blue light, you can see his cheeks tinge with colour. Is Huang Renjun purple now? Not the crystal clear jewel you’d expected, but these hues are so much nicer on him. He doesn’t always have to be under golden spotlight—he can just bask in the mulberry shades of a nearly sketchy club once in a while.

“Renjun,” a loud whine erupts from beside you, Donghyuck immediately wobbling up. “I can’t believe you actually agreed to play with us. C’mere, let me give you a smooch.”

Renjun curls his lips, desperately trying to fight off Donghyuck clinging onto him for life, and you hear a grunt of pain from Renjun in a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible. You laugh, clutching your stomach and hear a few strained words from Renjun about how no one ever helps him. Who would help him when he’s providing you the funniest event of the weekend?

Jeno is the knight in shining armour tonight, pulling Donghyuck off but not before the boy lands a kiss on Renjun’s neck, in turn getting smacked in the lips a little too hard. Donghyuck places his hand over his mouth, keeling over with eyes shut in pain and Renjun mutters about how he deserved that. He fits in just fine, you think.

“You wanna… not do that?”

Renjun pulls the shot glass away from you, and you frown at him.

“So tell me,” he says, leaning in a little closer to be heard over the song. “Why did you want me to join your band so desperately you forgot your own dignity? I’m not saying you had any to begin with but…”

“Look, Renjun, I don’t give away embarrassing secrets when I’m drunk,” you warn, poking him right between the ribs. “Even if it’s not embarrassing. Or a secret.”

“Right. You’d do that sober,” he sighs, arms a polite distance from you when you try to stand up.

“Now you tell me—”

“You didn’t even answer me.”

“—did you have fun?”

Renjun pauses, taking a moment or two as he scans your face. The light dances across his features, gentle eyes and parted lips, across the dark jacket over a white shirt that has turned fluorescent under the lighting. You forgot how fun this place got beyond midnight, when they play beats to dance to for a crowd that seeks nothing more than fun.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Renjun might be trying very hard to stop the smile over his lips but you can see it in his eyes. And perhaps, people are only seen when they are true to themselves.

“Huang Renjun!” you yell all of a sudden, voice still drowned out in the delicate discordance.

Unfortunately for Renjun, you yell directly into his ear and he responds with a violent recoil, hand flying to his ear involuntarily. He probably cries out too but the music is deafening, something you enjoy rightly so. Or is it the alcohol? Should you have stayed sober for Renjun’s sake? Right now, you don’t even mind the strong minty scent wafting from Renjun—in fact, it’s welcoming, even.

You wobble onto his chest before tentatively pushing yourself away. You curse at yourself. You weren’t supposed to get hammered. How much did you drink? You can’t even bear to look at the bill right now.

“You know what? I’m not having fun right now,” Renjun speaks into your ear and you jump. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

You sit back down on the bar stool, pouting at the fuzz blooming inside your head. No more words for tonight. In all honesty, why doesn’t anyone ever let you dance?

“Oh no, you don’t.” Doyoung pulls the bottle of whatever-alcoholic-beverage out of your reach. “Do you even know how expensive that is? You’re going to have to pay.”

You think you sober up a little, sitting straight. “Oh no. I don’t have money. I’m not cleaning the place again.”

A sort of unspoken arrangement passes between Doyoung and Renjun, who you’re sure have never met before. You know Jaemin’s dragged Donghyuck home, the same way you’d drag your pet cat away from the kitchen and Jeno is the only one with a driver’s license and Doyoung’s trust (hence, designated driver). Which leaves the two of you.

Renjun heaves a sigh, pulling you up by the shoulders. “You’re going home. Or whatever dumpster you came from.”

He proceeds to mutter something about Jeno being late but in the moment, you flash him a grin, walking perfectly away (at least, you think you do) and out into the night. Renjun follows, flustered by your absolute lack of restraint as he somehow manages to stop you from tripping over the sidewalk.

“You didn’t dance,” you complain, looking at him.

“You didn’t let me,” he retorts. “Look at you. You’re as bad as Donghyuck. Babysitting him is difficult enough.”

You grumble before agreeing. “Okay, fair. Next time, no drinking. Unless it’s free.”

What college student would have the audacity to turn down free drinks? Huang Renjun should not have been this good at holding his liquor. Needlessly, your thoughts are incoherent—not too good for a songwriter, right?

Huang Renjun has a lighter touch than you thought. He has a polite hold over your shoulder, in a way friends do most often, and you might feel like you could have been friends with him forever, but you can never tell what he thinks. Sometimes, Renjun really is extraterrestrial. In the way he talks, in the way he looks at things and in the way you almost believe he’s going to do something unspeakably outrageous someday.

You feel a certain sprout of warmth in your chest as he sits quietly beside you in the noisy car Jeno loves to drive. Must be the alcohol, of course. Of course.

And sometimes, you come up with words fit for a song. To fall asleep in last night’s clothes and wake up with tomorrow’s dreams—all part of the grand plan, part of the crusades of youth, nothing more and nothing less. That sounds like something you’d love telling your family when you’re old and grey. You laugh to yourself, pulling the covers over your head, not knowing how you even ended up here.

It smells minty.

With that one fleeting thought, you doze off in your unwashed bed sheets and faintly lemon-scented pillows, shades of plums and oranges and cherries of the night twisting into midnight black.

Playing at Odd Fruit is now a thing. Your thing. The band’s thing.

As if you needed any more reasons to stay over at the bandroom, now that Donghyuck and Renjun bickering keeps everyone up all night. You’re not blaming them, of course, when you join in the fun too. The day Renjun’s nostrils stop flaring and his eyebrows don’t furrow into an oddly adorable expression will be the day he’s finally set free from your ‘ill-treatment’.

Tap, scratch, tap.

Donghyuck fiddles with the strings of his guitar, while the rest lay slumped in any clean bit of space they could find, like runners after a marathon. Which is funny, really, considering you were the one running errands and cleaning up the damn place and it’s yet still somehow trashed. You could be having a little more energy, you always could.

However, the lengthened nights have left you in a state you’re rather afraid to be in. Your eyes don’t grow any more determined when it’s time for end semester tests, you don’t grow any happier at the thought of graduating. There are so many tunes to find, so many words to scribble—just how will you catch up?

Fun is a perfectly valid reason to do things but it’s only so long before the rest of your feelings each grip you by the limbs.

“We need to do something more,” you say, pacing the room. “Something that’s a little more eye-catching, you know?”

There’s a pause.

“Make Jeno play the drums shirtless,” Donghyuck suggests.

Jeno sighs, still not having figured out how to respond every time a scandalizing proposition escapes the boy’s mouth. At this point, most of you have considered duct taping him over the mouth but it’d never work. Renjun’s tried.

“Why do we even need it?” Renjun asks, eyes on the ceiling as he lies back on the couch.

“To improve!” you say, shoulders hunching.

“I don’t need improving,” he mutters, neck angled to the side in contemplation.

“Yeah, you should see Renjun at the dorms,” Donghyuck snorts. “I don’t think he can get any better.”

Renjun furrows his brows. “What?”

“You play the keys in your sleep, Renjun,” Donghyuck says, almost distastefully. “You keep tapping and tapping against the study desk. How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”

“And you snore,” Renjun mumbles, glaring at him. “How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”

“Guys,” you interrupt. Your lack of sleep throughout the exam season has not left you any better than this. “More important matters at hand.”

“Why are we so stressed anyway?” Renjun sighs.

There’s another pause in the quiet afternoon. You’d think it’s comforting even to have the same fear lingering beneath each of your noses, that same existential grasp ready to pounce—all within the comfort of the same room you share. All those late nights sharing ramen have meaning after all, as do the utter messes all of you make on Friday evenings as the boys try to practise, as does every Saturday night performance and every Sunday afternoon spent trying to watch the same movie on a tiny phone screen.

“How about we each look for inspiration?” Jaemin pipes up, eyes still a little lost.

Everyone turns to him and he straightens ever so slightly. “Me and Jeno can come up with a beat, (name) and Renjun can look for a melody and Donghyuck—”

“Can fuck off?” Renjun suggests helpfully.

Donghyuck pouts, crossing his arms. “Hey I’m—”

“Yeah, maybe Donghyuck can fuck off,” Jaemin says, fighting a smile. You raise an eyebrow, wondering which one of Donghyuck’s antics finally got on Jaemin’s nerves.

“This is harassment,” Donghyuck mutters before sinking into the couch beside Renjun. “Well, good for me! I get a day off—”

“No, you don’t,” Jaemin disproves. “You’re cleaning up this place.”

Donghyuck lets out a gasp. “All by myself?”

“Well, you trashed the place all by yourself,” Jeno reasons.

You tune out the bickering for a few moments. There are important matters at hand and no one seems to be listening to you. You play with your fingers absentmindedly when the thought arrives that maybe you should declare your secret little project. The song you wrote with Renjun in mind, that is. You should admit that it’s really just a nicer way of saying you wrote a song for him.

Astounding, isn’t it? This should be the part where you feel your pulse quicken. It’s just a song and the nights spent with him on the keyboards, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes has given you a head full of rhythm and song. It’s just a song.

You’d do anything for a good song.

But first, you need your audio converter fixed. The damn thing’s been generating noise all on its own, when it’s clearly your job.

“I need to go to Yongsan,” you say, picking up your bag. “We can find inspiration along the way, can’t we Renjun?”

“Why do we need to go—”

“Oh, get me some replacement strings for my guitar,” Donghyuck chirps.

“And a new pair of drumsticks,” Jeno says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You sigh. He really needs to stop breaking those. Where do drummers get such unparalleled rage on a drum set?

You walk over to the door before turning back and sending a pointed look at Renjun.

“I… have to?” he asks, and the look in his eyes almost makes you pity him. If anything, he’s having it worse than the rest of you are, with balancing the weekly gigs and practising for his piano recitals, though he never studies like the rest. You feel sorry but clearly, not enough.

“Yes,” you reply hurriedly. “Quick, get up, come on, we’re wasting time.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t pull my shirt!”

It’s so easy to get Renjun to do things these days. You bite back a smile as he fixes his collar, features still disgruntled by your (over)enthusiasm. His bag is cuter than you thought for someone who dresses punk (“It’s not punk,” he’d snapped, after re-dyeing his hair yet again.), with three different moomin keychains hanging against a baby blue hue.

You should know better than to let yourself think about someone so much.

The subway is absolutely lovable when it isn’t rush hour.

Skyscrapers nearly aren’t as looming as they are on rainy days, but you make your way through a still busy city, the heart of it beating like a snare drum with each passing moment. A little rain cannot stop Seoul.

Renjun walks beside you explaining how you should really look into this new underground artist you’ve already listened to three times this week because of him. He never seems to understand that you are, in fact, capable of remembering the things he says.

“I wrote a song about you,” you say abruptly.

Very smooth.

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Like as a gift? A fan song? I’m so flatter—”

“No, stupid,” you interrupt, shifting your eyes upon irrelevant surrounding details. “It’s not about you. I just thought you’d like it.”

You pause.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit about you. A gift for joining. You can sing it to yourself in the shower or something.”

“You know, I feel really offended when you call me stupid.”

You glare at him. His ears are tinged red but right now, you’re a little more than done with his insults. Sure, you make mistakes—like dropping a full open can of soda on your own lap or submitting the wrong assignment to the wrong professor—but at least you’re not cynical Huang Renjun, incapable of making mistakes at all. It would be much more infuriating if you hadn’t seen Renjun drooling in his sleep or vigorously wipe at his nose after having snacks too spicy for his own good. You suppress a retort.

You reach the subway entrance taking slower steps than usual; but time is not a constraint here.

“It’s not a diss track, is it?” Renjun asks, suddenly doubtful.

You can’t help your laugh (and horrifically, snorts), in turn evoking a smile in Renjun.

“No, it isn’t,” you assure, before grabbing his wrist and skipping down the steps, Renjun’s panicked voice yelling at you to slow down.

“Can you not do that?” he complains, massaging his wrist at the subway platform.

“You made it through without tripping,” you reason, sticking your tongue out at him.

He reaches out to flick your forehead but you cover it just in time, a grin blooming across both your faces at this childish playfight. The train arrives with an almost soundless screech and you hop on slowly with anticipation in your footsteps.

“So what is it about?” Renjun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees.

“You,” you respond, nonchalant.

“Very informative.”

The noise of the trains keeps the moment engaged, chuffing throughout as busy as they are.

Renjun lets out a barely audible gasp. “It’s not a- It’s not a love song, is it?”

You laugh, amused.

“Renjun, I knew you were arrogant but not this arrogant,” you tease.

He flushes hotly, and there’s that feeling again—that maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t have anything else to hang on to and music is the only ledge left.

You wrinkle your nose before shaking yourself off the feeling. Rainy days always do this.

“Besides,” you say, “I’m still going to score you that hot date with star pianist number one, aren’t I?”

“Not number one,” he begins before hesitating. “That’s… not necessary but thanks.”

You punch him swiftly and he responds with an oof, clutching the ball of his shoulder.

“Don’t be shy,” you complain. “That’s not fun.”

“Well, I’m not fun,” he retorts. “I don’t need to be. I like having a working brain.”

You send him an exaggerated hurt look, hand reaching to pull at his cheek before it gets swatted away. Somehow, in this exact moment, you find a new tune and it doesn’t seem to be the end of your search. You contemplate saving it in your voice memos but you figure a noisy subway train is the last place to record. Besides, you don’t want to lose the look in Renjun’s eyes when he’s talking about how impressive the new relocated concert hall is.

“It’s called Not Feeling Spring,” you say when the train doors open to your station.

Renjun raises an eyebrow, somewhat disbelieving, although you’re not sure of what.

“You’ve definitely packed some insults in there,” he accuses.

You look at him, defeated. “Trust me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Step, step, splash.

“Ew,” Renjun says, shaking his foot after landing on a particularly damp part of the sidewalk. They really should have evened out the path when laying the pavement. But unfortunately for Renjun, he’s already stepped onto rainwater in bright yellow converse.

It’s not just his shoes that look like daisies could bloom over them either—there’s paint over his denim jacket in pictures you’re aware that Renjun himself painted. A nice little touch, but not a very smart choice for a garment. How unlike him, you think to yourself when you hear him sigh and complain about the weather.

“So this is your famous shop?” Renjun asks, eyeing the discoloured walls of the store by the shop.

“You’re doing your thing again,” you reply, face souring.

He looks baffled. “What thing?”

“Your thing. The one where you act all cynical.”

“I’m not cynical.” He crosses his arms.

“Great, you’re even cynical about being cynical.”

Inside is, of course, as warm as ever. The walls are vibrant red, in stark contrast with the exterior and you think you see Renjun’s face grow pinkish. You smile at the man behind the counter, in his late fifties and smile still somehow as bright as yours.

“What’s the problem, dear?” he asks, glancing at your laptop. “You know I can’t help with software issues.”

“I know,” you say, “But I’ve tried every guide on the internet and there’s still unnecessary noise.”

He clicks around your screen for a few seconds.

“Have you tried getting a better mic?”

“Uh.”

Renjun snickers beside you before promptly apologizing at the two pairs of eyes on him. You didn’t bring him here just to embarrass yourself in front of him. Your cheeks flush as you tell the man you’ll come another day with your mic, before heading to the supplements aisle. Renjun follows you quietly, silent laughter yet still etched over his face and he looks away when you glare at him.

“Are you sure you wanna buy the wooden drumsticks?” Renjun asks, picking up the carbon fibre ones instead.

“Jeno loves the wooden ones,” you defend. “And you really think those are within my budget?”

Renjun shrugs, keeping them back in place.

“Feels like I’m shopping for babies,” he mutters.

There’s a second’s pause before he straightens, a particular discomfort in his being. “Not- Not like my babies or something. I- I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” you say, trying very hard to hold in your laughter.

“I don’t like that face you’re making.”

“You don’t always have to explain yourself,” you smile before heading to the counter.

The scent of rain makes you nostalgic. You step outside with Renjun and into the sound of rain against pavement. It’s wet and damp, and your hair clings to your skin in that horrific discomfort of humidity, truly one of the worst cruelties of rain. You make a face but an idea strikes you smack across the forehead.

You gasp.

“This can be our stage!” you declare, spreading your arms.

Renjun pulls your arms down. “Don’t block the sidewalk!”

“Sorry.”

You shove your bag onto Renjun, bewildering him even further. The sleeves of the jacket he rolled up, fall into place again as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“This,” you say, waving your arms about, “Should be a stage.”

“Huh?”

Renjun looks unconvinced at your flailing and you sigh.

“The rain!” you say, trying to sound as enthusiastic as you can. “Isn’t it romantic? You’ve never thought what it would be like playing in the rain?”

“Uh, inconvenient?”

You groan. “Come on! Picture it for a second.”

You give it a moment before showing him what you mean. Renjun bursts into laughter at your air guitar performance, suddenly unaware of the pit-a-pat.

“It would be nice,” he says, his teeth poking against his lips. He places the bags under the shaded entrance of the store before stepping into the drizzle.

Pitter, patter.

Renjun flashes you a goofy smile, shaking the water out of his hair only for the rain to come in stronger. With raindrops caught on eyelashes, you can only think of the soft, rising melodies that come in movie scenes like these, except it’s a lot more uncomfortable than they show it to be. You smoothen your hair, getting slightly frizzy due to the raindrops. You’ve always wanted to do things out of line and out of regularity and it’s not just because of the price sticker spelling ‘youth’ that clings to your back—but now, is it selfish to just want to stay under the rain?

In a way it feels just the same as ever; like singing barefoot on an asphalt road, cooling rains and people around, without a care each. You tell Renjun about the time you were stranded by the bus stop under heavy downpour for so long, you decided to walk home with pneumonia a step behind you and he tells you that you’re an idiot. It’s nothing unusual but it makes you smile when he laughs at you.

The rain slows again before you can start to shiver, chest rising and falling with each breath that fills your lungs.

“I have a song!” you declare, eyes shining. “A love song. We’ve never done a love song.”

“A love song?” Renjun asks, laughing almost. “You want to write a radio love song? Why?”

“Because, Huang Renjun, there’s not a thing in the world that isn’t made for love.”

Renjun pauses before wrinkling his nose. “Don’t preach me.”

The clap of thunder startles the two of you out of calm. It’s not so much the screams that left your mouths simultaneously as the looks you get from passersby. Renjun looks at you the same time as you look at him, his ears red and eyes nervous.

“Lightning doesn’t- Lightning doesn’t strike in the middle of the city, does it?” Renjun asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, like a hare stranded in the middle of a busy road.

“I don’t know!” You respond, pulling him by the sleeve to the nearest cover. “I don’t want to know.”

Renjun grabs your hand and you realize with a thump in your heart the effect of it. He pulls you to the side, saving your jeans from the fate of getting splashed by muddy water courtesy of an oncoming car.

“Ooh, quick reflex,” you say, despite the clanging of cymbals inside your ribcage.

He shrugs, picking up the bags and shoving yours to your chest.

“Ow?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know why.”

“You know, you’re not as grumpy as I thought you were. You’re still petty, though.”

“Thanks.”

When you’re back to the bandroom, you find Donghyuck snoring on the couch with an even more worn out Jaemin sitting cross legged on the floor and his head against Donghyuck's knee. Jeno looks like he’s in a world of his own, tapping away at his phone in a game he seems to be losing at.

“Why are you guys wet?” Jaemin asks, cracking an eye open. “Had some life-changing experience?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Why do you guys look dead?”

“I am dead,” Donghyuck mumbles in his sleep to which Jaemin shakes his head.

“He didn’t even do the entire cleaning…”

You hope the skip in your steps isn’t too obvious. You have a song and this time, it feels pure in a way that you haven’t made before.

“I hope you guys came up with a beat,” you call.

“Uh, about that—”

“I have a new song!” you announce bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Your declaration is met with a bunch of smiles. Soon enough, everyone in the room is up and to their positions in a matter of minutes.

Music isn’t about being eye-catching, considering the eyes have nothing to do with it anyway. You signal Renjun who in turn, clears his throat.

A strum of guitar string. Four notes on the keys. Bass. A beat on the drums.

“One. Two. Ah, one, two, three, four!”

The cafeteria is jam packed at three a.m so it’s a good thing you brought Renjun here an hour early. So, your top secret, full resistance, avant-garde mission? Your new song and the one for Renjun, of course.

“So this is top secret,” you whisper when he sits down from across you.

“I’m sure it is,” he snickers.

You pass your notebook to him, scribbles neater than usual. (That’s only because you rewrote the song in a new page.) You start your laptop, waiting for the screen to load as Renjun goes over the lines.

“My dreams and I don’t get along,” Renjun reads aloud before furrowing his brows.

Ah, I hate people.

I hate my friends too.

And I love saying that which isn’t true.

“Oh, very funny, (name),” Renjun scorns, crossing his arms. “Is that what you think of me?”

You chuckle to yourself. Maybe it was a little petty, but you love the look on Renjun’s face when he’s annoyed, nerves a second away from being completely fried. Just for fun. This was just for fun.

Somewhere along, however, you can’t deny the essence of him you’d so hopelessly wanted to capture in the melody, in rhythm and timbre, orchestral almost. It’s each note of the piano he plays to himself late at night in the bandroom, each featherlight hit on the cymbal and the song you hum to yourself on the bus ride to classes every morning.

It’s a love song.

You break into a sudden coughing fit at the thought, Renjun flinching before offering you his bottle of water. Somehow, the gentle hand on your back trying to ease you gives you yet another reason to support your unwanted epiphany. That’s just ridiculous. It’s something natural between friends, isn’t it? Yet, you’d gag at the idea of writing Donghyuck into a song.

You calm down and meet Renjun’s eyes, the glint of something familiar making you pause.

“Water?” he offers, and you straighten.

“I had the stupidest thought,” you say, trying to laugh it off.

You can’t do it. You can’t make light of it with him.

“When do you not?” he says, a soft smile on his face.

You smile awkwardly in response, avoiding his eyes as you rub circles on the soft flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

It’s quiet, much more than not, distant buzzing of the 3 a.m. university cafeteria crowds drifting through the space between you and him.

“Do you ever- Do you ever think about doing it?” Renjun asks.

You blink before feeling warmth on your cheeks.

“Doing what, Renjun? That’s a little too private to ask. I mean, I could answer, of c—”

It doesn’t take long for him to burn bright vermillion at the cheeks.

“I- I didn’t say that,” he defends, stuttering over the words. “I was talking about making music. Do you ever think about it or do you just do it?”

“Oh,” you respond intelligently, the embarrassment making you flush harder. Funny, you used to laugh the loudest at these sorts of mistakes. “I don’t- I don’t know. I think about it after I’ve… made it?”

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“You… do like it, don’t you?” he asks, something akin to worry in his eyes.

You hum, smiling. “Of course I like it, Renjun.”

No. The truth is, you don’t even know how it makes you feel. The truth is, you do feel sick listening to your own song over and over again. Have you run far enough? Do you have to be running for this?

You seem scared. Is that what he wanted to tell you? You can’t be that easy to see through, you resist. When he held your hand earlier, could he feel it shake?

You’re so afraid that all of this is for naught that you can’t feel it anymore. You hardly make music for yourself, for no one else to hear. Is that what you wanted? When you wrote Not Feeling Spring, were you searching for something you desperately wanted or something you lost? You’re only twenty and you’re aging.

You snap yourself out of the whirlpool of questions to a drowsy Renjun playing with the bracelet around his wrist, lost in his own circle of thoughts.

“I wanted to give up on this,” he whispers suddenly. “I wanted to give up on music.”

You hold your breath till he looks at you, a strange sense of vulnerability that makes you want to reach over the table and share some of the warmth your palm offers.

You’ve already drawn the conclusion.

“You’re not alone,” you say, leaning in with the widest grin.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Are you saying that to comfort me? It barely has any effect. Thanks, th—”

You shake your head, standing up abruptly and scrambling onto the tabletop. It’s the perfect time to be a little ridiculous. Renjun looks around, alarmed, tugging at you to get down which, unfortunately, draws even more attention.

“Raise your hand if you’ve ever wanted to give up on music!”

There’s a moment of pause before laughter erupts, followed by a few cheers and almost as many raised hands as you’d expected. Some of them tell you to get back to your date, or focus on completing overdue assignments—friends and friends of friends. They are music students, after all.

Renjun looks around the place, rosy hued in the face, though he isn’t as angry as you thought he’d be.

“I almost never started,” you say, giggling as you resume in your seat. “Giving up came so much later.”

Renjun laughs. You don’t even have to make music out of it.

“I tried to give up the piano,” he admits, still flushed. “But I couldn’t break the habit of playing against my desk. Even then.”

You smile, resting your chin against your palm. “That sounds just like you. Now tell me, when did you discover flumpool?”

Renjun frowns and you feel an uncharacteristic thump in your chest. You want to draw your finger against his cheeks and the space between his brows, against the strained lines—the thought of it much more scandalous than the action itself.

“I didn’t- My parents didn’t- ugh.” He hesitates. “Look, everyone hated my style of music. My parents, the neighbours, their dogs.

Your eyes soften as you sit up. “I’m sure they didn’t hate it—”

“No, trust me on this one.”

Suddenly the honey tint of his voice is dripping a dangerously low baritone. It doesn’t sound like him and it sends a shiver down your spine, a certain coldness you never thought would seep into you. It is the loneliness of curbed dreams, after all.

“I thought I should’ve given up on music altogether. Became, what, a doctor? A lawyer?” Renjun sighs. “Whatever I do, it shouldn’t be music, right?”

He heaves a sigh in sync with you. There’s a passing moment in between where you can clearly see the apple of his eye, shining a daunting amber and a warmth you can only feel over coffee tables in university cafeterias at midnight.

“But you’re here now because this is the closest you can be to music?” you offer, your smile sheepish.

Renjun laughs, your eyebrows furrowing as he tries to stop. “No. No, classical music was the last option on their list—but it was on the list.”

You smile, although it is small and gentle. And—unlike anything you’ve felt since you jumped onto the adulthood train.

“They like it now, though,” he beams, shoulders relaxing as if rid of a burden.“I mean- They said- They said they’re proud of me.”

When someone decides to confide their happiness to you, it is just as precious.

You look up, eyes bright as you finally get to ruffle his hair. “Well, I’m proud of you too!”

Renjun coughs indiscreetly, shaking his head before facing you. “Th-Thanks. It’s… good to hear.”

“Say it back,” you demand, making Renjun laugh.

“I’m… proud of you,” he says with rose-tinted cheeks.

The midnight chatter grows louder when the two of you pause. A symphony of voices through the area, higher pitches and lower, baritones and trebles. You wonder what people talk about most when you are quiet. You have friends—it’s not like you’re alone, per se. But everyone seems to be running, away from something or towards something. Your bones feel heavy for a second as you stir the coffee. Is it selfish to just want to get to know someone? Neither of you moving a muscle, with laughter that isn’t carried away by the wind.

“I didn’t think I’d be good at anything apart from classical,” he says, reluctance in his mouth. “Sorry about all that ruckus I caused when you asked me to join.”

You raise an eyebrow, nose wrinkling at the apology. “Renjun. It sucks when you apologize.”

He groans. “You’re really annoying, you know that? I was being nice.”

“I know,” you say, grinning. “It was all forgiven a long time ago. Can’t believe you had to say it out loud.”

“Oh, pardon me,” he says, voice rising. “I was taking into consideration your below average understanding of social cues.”

“You’re going to get smacked.”

That night, when you leave Renjun at the intersection to your respective dorms, you have yet another unwanted epiphany. He waves you goodbye with a smile, pale blue T-shirt hanging loose on his shoulders and you wave back as ardently as you can against your prominent heartbeat. Huang Renjun has the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Some days, you take the bus together to and from classes. It’s not like the dorms are far but walks are considerably less fun when you’ve barely rubbed the sleep dust out of your eyes and class started ten minutes ago. Besides, you’re not letting the student bus pass go to waste.

Rattle. Rattle. Woosh.

You yawn and it quickly spreads to Renjun beside you. Classes are over and there’s no practice today. You can hear a popular song play through his earphones and tilt your head to look at him, a suppressed smile on your face. Renjun does a double take when he notices you, a little flustered as he quietly offers the other earbud and you put it on with a short word of thanks.

It is a track by one of Seoul’s favourite bands and you’re not going to lie, say you haven’t fallen prey to its charms. A catchy baseline, engaging drums and attractive vocals—you stop yourself. When was the last time you enjoyed a song without deconstructing it piece by piece? You sigh and Renjun shifts beside you, though no words part from his lips.

Absentmindedly, you find your head drawing nearer to his till they bump once and you startle away, only to laugh at each other. Is this another useless epiphany of yours? That Renjun has a lovely laugh—these are getting out of hand.

You look out the window instead, skyscrapers shiny and metallic as always and with little to offer. Unwittingly, a pout climbs onto your face at the prospect of feelings bubbling up right when you’re setting Renjun up on a date. He doesn’t know, of course. It’s meant to be a surprise and somehow, the little voice in your head won’t stop yelling at maximum volume inside your head about how wrong this is. Is it selfish? To an extent—nothing ever is purely selfless and you haven’t lived long enough to question. So why are you even bothering with this whole surprise?

Because you don’t want to think about the feelings. As if they’re things to be thought about. As if you can throw them away into the trash bin like a crumpled piece of paper.

An elderly couple boards the bus, sharing a large shopping bag as they take slow, careful steps over the aisle. Renjun responds almost at the same time you do, getting up so quickly Renjun has to hold on to the strap so as to not trip over you. The couple thanks you and you nod politely, trying not to bring attention to the earphones tangled around your necks.

You take a step closer in an attempt to separate the wires but it only makes you lose balance, Renjun clutching the cloth at your back so you don’t faceplant right into him. The other hand hangs overhead on the strap, grasping so tight his skin has turned red.

He glances at the old couple once, blood rushing to his cheeks at something and he turns his focus back to you.

“The- The wires- We should—”

Young love isn’t what this is. How silly. There’s enough of that all around.

“That’s what I was trying,” you interrupt. “Wait.”

You use your hands to pull the bud from your ear, trying to figure out how the loop even coiled this way. Renjun’s hand pushes against your waist at the sudden jerk, your soul almost leaving your body at the unexpected feeling of falling down. You breathe out, cheeks getting warmer. This isn’t quite uncomfortable, though.

When you look up to meet Renjun’s eyes, you feel something faint, a hint of something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“There,” you say, the wires all out of their miserable twining.

Renjun barely nods, the music still blasting loud and clear through the buds. His hand still holds the strap for balance, and the other still holds you, for reasons private.

There’s a warm flush over his face when he mumbles about crowded buses and the afternoon heat, eyes averted to every corner but you.

You laugh. Renjun is adorable when he least expects to be. And when you least expect him to be, he’s even terribly attractive. You swear by the way he’s looking at you, if you leaned in a little further, he’d let you kiss him.

Wait, what?

You sober up quickly, in a moment of clarity you do not wish to have. You’ve never felt the weight of the feelings this intense. Yours isn’t the name he should be calling out so affectionately. Her. Anyone else. You were so sure of it. Huang Renjun’s fleeting interest in romance doesn’t involve you—cannot involve you.

That’s why you’re doing him (and yourself) a favour. Besides, you promised it anyway, didn’t you?

You gulp.

When did you start explaining yourself for everything you do?

Step, screech, step.

“Where the fuck are you even taking me?” Renjun complains from behind you, light on his foot. “You said it’s not too far away.”

“It’s a surprise!” You stop walking to cross your arms.

“I hate it when you say that.”

How would he react? You think he’ll get a little angry, maybe scowl at you or even yell a little. You haven’t been able to look him in the eye longer than two seconds for about a week now.

“Ta-da!”

You stretch your arms to point towards the new cafe in town. Renjun looks at you and then the cafe and back again.

“You’re taking me on a coffee date?”

You choke on air, coughing before you can clear your throat and clarify.

“Not- Not me. Remember I promised you a date with—”

“No.”

“Yes! Wait, is that disbelieving no or are you saying you’re not going to go?”

Renjun closes his eyes and sighs, as if dealing with a toddler. “I’m not going. Why didn’t you say anything? I’m not prepared or anything!”

Something takes a tumble and falls inside your chest. You smile at him nevertheless.

“Don’t be shy now. She’s waiting, come on.”

Renjun shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it seems equally uncomfortable on each. He peers intently at you, looking up and down your face before pressing his lips together.

“Have fun,” you wish.

You push Renjun towards the door and he hesitates, some part of you expecting a little more resistance. He shrugs, although he seems to be holding back a smile. This isn’t the time, you tell yourself.

You turn on your heel before you lose your final excuse to be able to say that you are not completely enamored with Huang Renjun.

The afternoon would be more peaceful if it weren’t for Donghyuck and Renjun yelling at each other. This time, you’re not to blame.

“That’s not how you tie a bow tie!” Donghyuck complains, though Renjun won’t let him anywhere near.

“I know you’re trying to get back at me for drawing on your face last Saturday,” Renjun yells back. “But this is the pre-annual concert. You’re not fucking anything up.”

Donghyuck grumbles before settling down. Four music performance majors and yet none of them know how to do a bow tie—if it weren’t for you, Renjun might have ended up with his usual askew one. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, and you’d just rather not look at him too long anyway.

Formal white shirt, a much debated black bow tie and polished black dress shoes on Renjun aren’t strange to look at—in fact, they quite suit him when, despite its striking colour, his hair is parted neatly to the side. But they’re all so out of place in the bandroom, monochrome against messes, that you start to wonder if you simply think too much about him. That all of his colours and melodies are just there for you to notice.

It’s not true, of course.

But when did you become a cynic?

“I’m going out,” Donghyuck says, huffing, “Why are they taking so long to buy ramen?”

Oh no. No, no, no. You try to mask your panic. Is one person enough to check up on Jaemin and Jeno? Would it be weird if you left too? Before you can answer those questions, you and Renjun are the only ones left in the room. You stand awkwardly by the couch, Renjun a few feet away, smoothing out the creases on his shirt.

You clear your throat, bringing his attention to you.

Nice going.

“So how was your date?”

You had to ask that, didn’t you?

The voice in your head has never been so loud before. When your question goes unanswered, you look up from the highly interesting floorboards to Renjun trying very hard to fight a snort.

“We talked about the recitals, extra lessons. Joked about you being an idiot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Chaerim’s not interested in guys.” Renjun laughs. “I thought you knew!”

There’s a pause.

“Wait, you were serious about setting me up with her?”

You stare a little too intensely at the space between your feet. Why would you choose now of all times to be coy? You keep yourself from swearing out loud.

“I- I didn’t know, okay?”

You feel the heat over your cheeks, the sound of everything other than your own heartbeat drowning out. A few more seconds pass and you worry more.

“Don’t set me up on dates,” Renjun says, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’ll never work out.”

“What? Why?”

Renjun falters only to cover it up. “I- I… Why do you keep avoiding me?”

You can’t answer that.

“Setting me up on a date, never looking at me when you talk to me—are you going by the book or something?”

You hold your breath. He’s not misunderstanding and it only makes matters worse.

“All that because you don’t want to be in love with me?”

“Renjun, that’s not—”

“So what is it?”

You look up from your restless fingers and regret it almost immediately. The way Renjun looks at you, it damn near breaks your heart. His nose is a pale shade of red, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with undecided words.

“Am I- Am I dreaming everything up? Just tell me you don’t like me. I thought I made myself obvious.”

You can feel your pulse against your eardrums, ready to burst open any second.

“Renjun. It’s not about this,” you say, voice strangely low. “It’s about music—It’s always about music. I can’t risk anything.”

“Risk? What risk? You’re afraid you’re going to stop making music when you’re with me?”

“No—”

“You just want your songs on the Billboard charts?

“And what if I do? I just want to be heard—”

You can barely breathe at the lack of distance between the two of you. Renjun looks straight into your eyes and you remember why your heart has been hammering in the first place.

“So it isn’t about music.”

You fall silent. It’s not wrong to want to succeed. But it’s never been about that. You were preparing yourself for a race while you repeated your love for it that was never there. Music is not a race and so, it is not the race you love.

“I didn’t want to be rich or famous,” Renjun says, voice lower than usual. “I don’t want to be rich or famous.”

But a musician does not want to be forgotten, does he?

For once, Renjun is fearless and you are not.

“There are worse things,” Renjun says, breath against your cheek and a rapid pulsing in your wrists. You look from his eyes to lips before breathing out slowly, eyelids growing heavy despite yourself.

The sudden bang makes the two of you jump away from each other.

Donghyuck kicks the door open, hands occupied with steaming instant ramen cups and Jeno walks in with the sprite.

“Jaemin’s paying and we forgot our wallets,” Jeno offers an explanation when you raise an eyebrow.

You clear your throat awkwardly as the two scrutinize you with eyes you’re not yet ready to meet. You know you’ll never hear the end of this and better yet, you can pretend it never happened.

“Aren’t you supposed to get going?” Jeno asks, struggling to balance this month’s entire supply of ramen while Donghyuck holds the top of the pile.

Renjun responds with a soft ‘yeah’, eyes glancing at you once before he grabs his coat.

“I’ll see you for practice then.”

With that, the sounds inside your chest draw to a deafening close.

You’d think Doyoung would perform with his own band at his brother’s wedding.

(“I don’t want to work on the day my brother gets married.”

“I thought you work as a bartender?”

“Oh, dear.”)

You’re not complaining, of course. The longer you spend in the bandroom, the more suffocated you feel. You can’t meet Renjun’s eyes and neither can he meet yours. You rejected him, for fuck’s sake. It cannot get any more awkward than that. Any distraction will do.

This might be the first time you’ve been to a wedding on a Thursday night. At the very least, you’re happy about it being an outdoor wedding, the cool night air refreshing you the moment you step into the garden. It’s fairly large and you know Doyoung’s brother is an actor, but it never really struck you how wealthy that meant.

“There’s a chocolate fountain?!” Donghyuck gasps, walking towards it before Jaemin grabs him by the collar.

“Stage. We’re being called.”

Donghyuck massages his neck before he decides to give everyone an unnecessary pep talk.

“Look, Renjun, you better sing like that’s your ex, who you’re still in love with, getting married,” Donghyuck turns to advise a deadpanning Renjun.

“I- what? You should do that yourself.”

You smile at them encouragingly, smacking Donghyuck a little too hard on the back (you need payback for him “borrowing” your lunch on Monday) and stand at the sidelines. Donghyuck’s guitar seems to be the brightest thing in the venue, followed by Renjun’s hair. Unfortunately for Jeno, they couldn’t get the whole drum set in and the puppy dog look on his face when he sees the box-shaped cajón might have affected you some other day.

They perform as usual, if not more enthusiastic to be in front of a crowd that isn’t drunk or worn out or both. The love songs you wrote came to be useful, after all. The muse of them, however, stands out even now.

This time, your heart skips a beat to meet Renjun’s eyes. And he doesn’t take them off you the entire performance.

The soft vibrato of his voice doesn’t fade easy, the crowd clapping along to the song with encouraging laughter. You move to the drinks table—it’s a good thing the wedding has a no kids rule because there’s alcohol you haven’t heard of at the bar table. Or maybe it isn’t a good thing. You’d love to see the look on Doyoung’s face when some rebellious twelve year-old chugs a shot of vodka. The thought makes you giggle.

You keep your word, even if you were drunk when you’d said it. You didn’t drink at any of the gigs, mostly because Doyoung wouldn’t offer anything for free, but a deal’s a deal. This doesn’t count, does it?

You take the shot after a few moments of contemplation. You’d ordered it on impulse and whatever dare of whim you have left in you.

Unbeknownst to you, the songs had stopped about five minutes ago, enough time for Renjun and the rest to appear at your side.

“Doyoung never said there’d be alcohol,” Donghyuck says, not trying very hard to hide the sparkles in his eyes.

Renjun doesn’t say a word, not even at the obvious flush over your cheeks from the drinks.

“I need to go to the washroom,” you say, wobbling as you stand.

“Woah, (name),” Jaemin says, steadying you. “Take someone with you.”

“I’ll go.”

You avoid Renjun’s eyes, even now. Looks like shame isn’t as easy to wash away as it seems.

You can’t hear anything apart from your pulse, a rather disarming thing to have to listen to when it’s for long enough. You walk wordlessly to the building, locating the washroom after a few twists and turns and Renjun waits patiently for you outside.

It’s always bizarre to see yourself in the mirror of a public washroom, especially with alcohol in your system and a flush over your cheeks that you think makes you look cute. You rinse your face and dry it before you exit.

Renjun leans back against the wall, eyes glazed over in thoughts he spills only occasionally. He looks gentle in the fairly lit hallway, under lemon-coloured lights.

“Renjun,” you call absentmindedly.

He straightens immediately and for the first time in a while, you stare at each other for longer than four seconds.

“I don’t want you to feel awkward around me,” you begin. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean—”

“Cut it out.”

You feel a drop in your heart at the harshness in his tone. Even so, you don’t feel any less drawn to him.

“Don’t be like that,” you say, voice nearing a whine. “You know I’m not any good at this. I… I have so much work to do.”

“Are you so insecure that you can't trust yourself?” he hisses, and somehow the truth of it doesn’t lessen the euphoria of proximity with him.

“You have pretty eyes, Renjun,” you say, but his eyes are not what you’re looking at.

Renjun looks down, sighing out heavily. “Stop this, (name). Don’t play.”

You smile. “This isn’t a drama, you know?”

It really isn’t, but the touch you're craving has been collecting, drip drip drip, and now it’s ready to boil over in a climax befitting any stupid drama. There should be a soundtrack to go with it, right? Renjun’s face so near to yours, lips full and pink, and heartbeat erratic under dim lights. Temptation has never been a sin to you. Then, what are you afraid of?

For a moment, Arctic Monkey’s Snap Out of It loops in your head.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, the last shred of your senses fallen apart.

He falls silent, at a loss for words you don’t want to hear.

You can’t blame the alcohol. It’s not that you wouldn’t do this sober—it’s that you would definitely do this sober, and all would be ruined just like that. So now, while you’re under the thinly veiled excuse of being drunk, you might as well say it.

“I want to kiss you,” you repeat, bolder.

Oh, sudden proximity can make you aware of so many things. For instance, Renjun has changed his cologne, less minty and more citrus. You aren’t even looking at him when you lean closer, pressing your lips softly and yet carelessly against his. You feel returned pressure and for a moment, the wash of numbness.

Renjun pulls you away by the shoulder, eyes wide in panic.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you apologizing? God, I hate you. I could listen to you speaking forever.”

You bury your face in Renjun’s neck and breathe in. He gives in almost too soon, a hand gently resting against the back of your head while his arm wraps around your waist.

“Let’s get you home,” he whispers.

You feel him shift, the rhythm of his pulse loud in his jugular, and somehow it makes you breathe a sigh of relief. The night fades little by little into the chatter of crowds, to the the hum of a car engine and finally, to the inevitable quiet of your own bedroom.

It’s a Friday. They’re supposed to be nice.

Of course, it would be were it not for a list of things. One: your fading hangover. Two: the vague regret of a drunk kiss. Three: your friends you can’t tell a word to. You might just die of shame before the autumnal existential dread settles in.

“Do you guys have any idea whose number this is?” Donghyuck asks, holding the handkerchief open for the rest of you to see. “I don’t want to be accidentally related to Doyoung hyung.”

The night is bleeding into the evening outside as Jaemin stands up to flip the light switches. You stay curled up at one side of the couch, Renjun by the keys as he tries to figure out a tune and a state of calm that would be perfect if you weren’t falling apart inside. The bandroom always made you feel at ease, but it doesn't seem to be working its charm now.

“You drink too much,” Jaemin states. “You would’ve remembered if you didn’t have an entire bottle of soju.”

“I wasn’t the only one,” he defends, sending you a pointed look. You roll your eyes. Donghyuck never did learn to take the blame.

“Didn’t Renjun and (name) leave early?” Jeno asks innocently. “What were you guys doing for so long by the washroom?”

Renjun presses on several of the keys at a force too hard, the haphazard symphony bringing everyone’s attention to him.

He awkwardly clears his throat. “Home—the dorms, er. We went back. Taeil hyung drove us.”

You don’t know about the atmosphere, but you could definitely cut something with a knife right now. Your eyes shift from person to person, nothing unusual about them except for the two of you.

“Does anyone want to come get ramen? I’m hungry,” Jaemin suggests quietly.

Jeno shrugs, getting up.

“I just had a cup of ramen,” Donghyuck begins before breaking into a smile. “Too much ramen can never hurt.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, ready to fall asleep any moment, if it somehow alleviates the messy scribbles in your head.

“Me too,” Renjun says, back to playing out the tunes softly.

Your fingers tap against the armrest of the couch, occasionally scratching it out of boredom. The atmosphere is still just as thick but you can't say much about it hanging there.

“You’re not sleeping,” Renjun says suddenly, more of a statement than a question. “You look tired.”

“Yeah.” It’s all you can manage.

“Is your hangover gone?”

You cough when you try to answer, getting more nervous with each passing moment.

Renjun slowly walks towards the coffee table, picking up the bottle of water to offer it to you. You utter a short ‘thanks’ and before he can get back, you tug at his sleeve. Your breathing is sharp but you don’t react much when he sits beside you, legs outstretched in front of him.

“Your roots are showing,” you note, hand involuntarily reaching out before you stop yourself.

Renjun sighs. “What’s wrong? You don’t- You don’t have to—”

He clears his throat.

“—You don’t have to pretend around me.”

There’s a rustle of cloth as he shifts to turn to you, eyes concerned when they look over.

“I’m just...sad,” you admit, the feeling weighing down when you do. “What, you never have days like these?”

Everyone does, don’t they? The truth is, sometimes you get a little sick listening to your songs. If you don’t hate it at least once, is it worth it at all?

The monthly breakdowns have taken a hard turn now that you don’t have much to do. No exams, no more weekly gigs due to Odd Fruit’s renovation and most importantly, hardly any inspiration. You don’t know how to do things unless you’re on the run. It’s so stupid.

You speak of dreams and yet, yours feel void.

“I do. A lot, some weeks.”

Renjun hesitates. You know he’s dying to talk about last night, he’s never been the sort to let feelings rot inside his stomach. But how do you tell him that despite knowing life’s full of ups and downs, no one’s bothered to explain to you which is which? You’ve never lived life with clarity.

Sometimes life hands you tangerines instead of lemons. Sometimes they’re still as sour.

You look back at Renjun, heart churning with feelings you don’t understand. From wide eyes to his full lips, there’s a way you can’t help but stare. It wasn’t the alcohol—you still want to kiss him. Maybe you should start with an apology, maybe those are meant to be said out loud sometimes.

“I’m sorry I… I ‘m sorry I kissed you,” you say, finally. “Without warning.”

You wonder how you turned into this. Head over heels for something that might not even be real.

“I’m not mad,” he mumbles, “Just don’t go around kissing strangers.”

You let out a short laugh, rubbing your arm. It’s not like you to explain yourself but for him, you’d spill every single thought that crosses your head. Does he know that? You’d never let him but now—you can’t say you mind.

Quiet.

“I- I may not always know what I’m doing, Renjun,” you start. “I want things and I don’t know how to get them. Sometimes I don’t even know what I truly want.”

There’s a short pause when Renjun draws nearer.

“You want to make music,” he says with certainty, gaze trailing over your eyes, then nose, then lips. “You want to have fun…”

Your heartbeat quickens despite everything.

“...And right now, you want to kiss me.”

It’s partly the confidence, and partly the fact that his lips are less than three inches from yours, that you close the gap without hesitation.

It’s different—of course, it’s different this time. There’s no goddamn alcohol and the amount of clarity you can taste with your mouths pressed together is more than you’ve ever had. All the sounds in the world fall silent, replaced by the rhythm of your lips moving against his. Renjun’s hair is soft and he hums when you run your fingers through them, not song enough but still full of melody.

You pull apart after a few minutes, breathing heavily before you push your lips against him again, rising to keep your leg on either side of him. For a moment, there’s a sinking feeling and then a soaring one, and it evens out to the mellow drumming of your heart against your chest as Renjun holds your waist with the same delicate desire as ever.

The second time you pull apart, Renjun breaks into the widest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You can’t help but reciprocate, burying your head against his shoulder.

“I think you should get off me.”

You pull back, frowning severely.

“Oh, that’s very romantic,” you huff, eyebrows furrowed as you move to sit beside him, crossing your arms.

“Hey.”

You look at him and he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the back. Somehow, the gesture calms a part of you down, a part that hasn’t been calm for a very long time. You smile without realizing, leaning in for another kiss when the door slams open.

You yelp, clutching Renjun’s hand harder with just about the same force he does.

“Jeno.”

You turn around to see Jaemin glaring at Jeno on his knee, Donghyuck fallen over his leg and both of their faces scrunched in pain. Jaemin shoots the two of you an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his head.

“Did you guys know this room isn’t all that soundproof? I can’t believe the neighbours didn’t complain.”

The tip of Renjun’s ears flare red, and he points an accusing finger at the three of them.

“You were spying on us!”

Jaemin clears his throat but Donghyuck snorts before he can say anything.

“You’re still holding hands, lover boy.”

The statement flusters Renjun further but he doesn’t let go.

“Look, did the two of you think we’re stupid?” Donghyuck continues. “God, we thought your pining romance would, like, break up our band or something.”

You flush deeper, averting your eyes.

“You cry at romantic comedies,” Renjun provokes.

Donghyuck stutters something incomprehensive before crossing his arms indignantly.

“We’re glad you’re dating now!” Jaemin butts in. “Ah, I can’t wait for all the love songs. The two of you do great on those!”

Renjun turns a brighter shade of red. You’re not going to be the one to tell Jaemin that he’s not helping at all but you sigh instead, resting your forehead against Renjun’s shoulder.

“Ugh,” Donghyuck makes a gagging sound. “Does this mean you’re going to be all heart eyes in here? Right in front of my innocent eyes?”

He shuts up when he receives four glares all at once, the air turning dry.

“I’m guessing you guys didn’t buy any ramen,” Renjun says, sighing.

“Shall we go?” you ask, looking at him.

He nods, smiling at you.

“You guys don’t mind us crashing your date, do you?” Jaemin says, wrapping an arm each around the two of you.

“I’m not complaining.” You shrug.

“I heard there’s a new flavour. Tastes like crap apparently,” Renjun says.

There’s collective laughter and Renjun beams, walking over to the door with you in tow. Every once in a while, you don’t mind peeling off the layers of a tangerine, especially since winter is near.

You were right, Renjun did change his perfume to something more citrus-y. It’s the little things that build up in simplicity and it’s the little things that give everything flavour, from songs to journeys.

Crackle. Shrrk. Rustle.

“Dream,” you say, the noodles slipping through the chopsticks.

The others look at you quizzically, as if you’d suggested the most ridiculous thing ever.

“That’s the name. Our band!”

Under the convenience store lights, it somehow makes sense—and that’s one of the only moments of clarity you need.

#nct dream scenarios #nct renjun #cznnet #neowritingsnet #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #renjun fluff #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream #moonwrites #anyway hope you guys have fun this is way longer than i intended for it to be i am mad #and i know i only recommended songs from idol bands but it's always good to check out the krock scene lol!!#rock band!au #tw:alcohol #so this wont show up on tags heart been broke so many times </3

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thekookprincess · 3 years

Text

Strawberries and apples

JJ Maybank x kook! reader

Summary: The newest Kook Princess always smells like strawberries and apples and Outer Bank’s very own troublemaker can’t help but wonder if she also tastes like that.

Warnings: swearing i think? some angst but mostly fluff

Notes: hi! this is my first time writing here (please be nice!) and english is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes! this maybe a little cliche, also, no gold hunting! au ‘cause they deserve to be normal teenagers. hope you guys like it!!

(not my gif)

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If anyone were to tell the so-called Pogues that they would have a kook in their group at the start of the summer, the four of them would laugh and say that it was impossible, but two weeks in, the universe proved them wrong when no other than Sarah Cameron and their beloved leader John B started dating, making Sarah an “honorary pogue” as she liked to call herself once she was welcomed into the group.

At first, it wasn’t easy, Kiara and Sarah weren’t exactly best friends but after some little scheming from the boys they made up and everything seemed perfect, that is, until Sarah was dethroned from her “Kook Princess” title, apparently, hanging out with the Pogues made her a traitor and the kooks didn’t waste any second finding a replacement. Y/N L/N, Sarah’s best friend, accepted the title with a satisfied smile, after all, if the Cameron girl was going to ditch her for her new friends, becoming the new kook princess was the perfect payback.

Y/N wasn’t one to jugde, she even spent almost a year trying to make Kie and Sarah to make up, though that didn’t work out too well, the point is, once she found out about her best friend and the pogue leader she was nothing but supportive, only to have her little nice gesture smacking her in the face when Sarah started being “too busy” to hang out with her.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N, is just that...I don’t think they’re ready to have another kook around” Sarah’s words replayed in her mind as she was “officially” presented as the new princess in an exclusive kook party; the ex-princess wasn’t invited and as Y/N danced with some stuck-up kooks she couldn’t help but think “another kook? that’s what she thinks I am?” and driven by the need to prove she was not just another annoying rich girl, she dissapeared from the party.

That’s how she found herself in front of John B’s house, her flower crown almost falling off her head and the sundress she was wearing covered in dirt from the roads she fell onto while running there; her once white shoes were now almost grey and her knees had little cuts covered in blood but she didn’t care, of course, she didn’t think she would find the whole gang sitting in the front porch.

Sarah was the first to break up the perplexed silence her friends had fallen onto, standing up from her seat next to her boyfriend and approaching the girl with worry “Oh my god, Y/N/N, what happened? are you okay?” the princess just nodded, her e/c eyes scanning the faces of the other four teens who were staring at her in silence. Kiara stood up and approached the girls with caution, they all knew who she was and what the flower crown in her head represented, so she still had some doubts about the seemingly innocent girl, but she noticed the cuts on her legs and her face softened, leading her to where she sat before her appearence.

Y/N remained silent as the brunette girl entered the house claiming she had to clean the wounds before they got inffected, Sarah, however, didn’t stop asking questions with evident worry in her face and voice. She looked at the girl she somehow still considered her best friend and just asked “Do you really think I’m just another kook?” her voice was barely avobe a whisper and she hated how soft and hurt it sounded, the silence didn’t help, as the blonde just looked at her two friends and her boyfriend with a confused expression that they mirrored; when she finally decided to speak Kie had already retourned and was starting to clean her cuts “What? What do you mean, I-I don’t understand” Y/N sighed, of course she doesn’t even remember, she thought “You said they weren’t ready for another kook...is that all I am?” she pointed at the pogues, who watched the conversation like it was a tennis match, with their heads moving to look a the two girls, even Kiara stopped playing doctor to look at them.

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N, and that was almost two weeks ago” the Cameron girl looked somewhat embarrased “Yes, it was two weeks ago since you stopped texting me and hanging out with me ‘cause, apparently, hanging around kooks isn’t so funny anymore” anger was evident in her voice and for the first time since she got there, John B speaked up “Whoah, okay, I’m sure she didn’t mean that, L/N, let’s not jump to conclusions” the kook rolled her eyes at the boy’s protective words “I didn’t ask you, John B, but since you seem so eager to respond, tell me, what did she mean, then?” after that, hell broke loose, Sarah claimed she was overreacting, obviously backed up by her boyfriend and when the kook princess said she didn’t know she needed a guard dog, the blond boy she recognized as JJ Maybank jumped into the discussion as well, defending his best friend; the other boy, Pope, she rememberd him from the countless times he delivered groceries at her house, and Kiara tried to stop the fight, they seemed to be the only ones with a brain, she noted.

“You know what, I get it, you were tired of playing the good girl in Figure Eight and figured I would be just a reminder of the life you hate so much” she was almost crying and she felt Kiara taking her hand when she finished cleaning the cuts, giving her a squeeze in hopes to calm her down; she muttered a weak “thank you” to the girl and looked at Sarah again “No! It’s not that! I’m sorry, okay? I was worried that I would lose you, that you wouldn’t like them, that they wouldn’t like you...I didn’t want to lose my best friend, but I guess I was stupid and I already have”

Y/N’s features softened and her angered voice dissapeared, her usual sweet tone reappearing “You could never lose me, S” a smile broke the guilty look in the blonde’s face and she wrapped her in a hug, whispering “I’m sorry” a dozen times “It’s fine, just don’t do it again” they both smiled and the pogues relaxed, offering the kook girl to stay with them for the rest of the day.

That was how the newest Kook Princess ended up being a “traitor” just like the one before her. It was almost a month after that day and the Pogues plus the two kook traitors, Y/N thought that sounded way cooler than “honorary pogues”, were sitting and chatting at John B’s front porch; Sarah and John B were cuddled up in a chair way too small for the both of them while they listened to Kiara rant about some envirommental issue, Pope was sitting beside her, watching her with a small smile and JJ was currently defending his right to use the hammock, but Y/N wasn’t having it.

“Come on, J! Just move a little! We can both fit in there!” Sarah glanced at her best friend, who stood in front of a grinning JJ, she had her arms crossed and the most adorable pout in her face, the blonde shaked her head smiling knowingly and focused on Kie’s rant again.

“No we can’t, sugar” sugar, he had been calling her that since she joined the group, saying it was because she smelled like strawberries and apples and that it was “too sugary”, that was also the argument he always used to not share the hammock with her “you know I can’t stand your sugary scent, Y/N/N, I’m sorry but we can’t share the spot” he smirked, thinking the girl would roll her eyes and take her usual spot next to the cuddling couple like she always did, but this time the L/N girl had another plan in mind.

Without a warning, she pushed JJ’s feet, that were dangling in the air as he sat in the hammock facing her, making him lay in his back, and she quickly climbed in the hammock, laying next to him and giggling like a little girl once she saw the look of pure shock in the boy’s face. “Great” the boy groaned and faced the opposite side, trying to hide the blush that threatened to reveal the real reason why he didn’t want to be close to the kook.

Since the girl joined the group and he discovered her signature scent, he became intoxicated by it, so much that it often clouded his mind when she would talk to him, the smell of strawberries always hit him first, followed by the sweetest apples he’s ever smelt; he often surprised himself thinking if the lipgloss she always seemed to wear tasted the same as her sugar coated scent, if she tasted like that.

He tried to push thoughts aside as he dared to look over at her, she was still giggling, and every time she moved the wind carried the intoxicating smell over to him, making him close his eyes and suppresing a groan, with his eyes still closed, he heard the giggles beside him ceasing and then he sensed the girl moving again “Are you okay?” her voice seemed too close and it was a sweet whisper that warned him, don’t open your eyes, but he was never the one to listen, even to himself, so he opened his eyes, and he immediatelly regreted it.

Her face was just centimetres apart from his, some strands of her hair tickling his cheeks, her e/c eyes stared back at him as she repeated the question, his gaze instantly fixating in her lips, the movement they created when she talked, how the lipgloss she was wearing made them seem shiny and how bad he wanted to figure out how they tasted, before he knew it, he was breathing heavily, his baby blue eyes turning dark.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up once she realized the change in his demeanor, his eyes were still focused in her lips, his own slightly parted. His breath was hitting her due to the close proximity and if one of them moved a little closer, their lips would be touching.

“I’m fine” he swallowed “it’s your stupid smell again, I can’t stop thinking about-” he cut himself before finishing the sentence, eyes still dark and now wide as he stared in her eyes, that didn’t help, her eyes were shining with curiosity and they looked absolutely breathtaking up close. “About what?” her voice was soft, sweet and velvetly and he finally thought, fuck it, “about whether you taste as good and sweet as you smell” she let out a small surprised noise and as he looked away from her, he noted she was almost on top of him, arms in his chest, he placed his own tentatively in her waist and looked at her again, searching in her eyes something that told him to stop, but she just smiled and shifted even closer, lips brushing his as she spoke “Well, then you should figure it out, don’t you think?” he breathed a strangled “yeah” and closed the small gap between them.

He was finally kissing the newest Kook Princess, and, as he did, he smiled when he indeed tasted her sugary scent in her lips. He was right, she did taste like strawberries and apples.

#outer banks #jj maybank x kook!reader

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tendous-socks · 3 years

Text

♡ valentines day with the girls ♡

synopsis : how i think you’d spend valentine’s day with the karasuno girls🥰

pairings : timeskip! kiyoko x reader, timeskip! yachi x reader

genre : fluff

warnings : none!

disclaimer : sorry i’m late for valentine’s day! but my birthday was yeasterday and i was writing this on monday but never got around to posting it aha

side notes : none !

status : finished !

kiyoko

the picnic

it was a little depressing honestly, walking down the street, in a strawberry dress, black boots, and a kuromi backpack.

it would’ve felt worse if you were single, but luckily you were on your way to meet your beloved girlfriend, kiyoko at the park.

walking a little too slowly down the street, you couldn’t help but stop at few jewelry shops, having to resist going in and looking around for something better.

though the sign to the park yards away didn’t help the sweat running down your face from the heat. albeit mid february, the sun was unusually hot this day, which was what prompted the sudden idea to have a picnic by the park.

speeding up a bit, the objects in your backpack bumbling around as you lightly jogged past some speed walking granny’s who couldn’t help but spare you a glance through their running mouths.

a ghostly smile stretched on your glittered face as cherry blossoms buzzed around in the air like confetti, helping your running nerves a bit as you took in the serene scene around you.

it was beautiful

“ y/n - san! over here! “

and so was she.

kiyoko.

she looked as gorgeous as ever as the wind tickled her face and combed her hair her matching blue dress fluttered around her as the pink petals danced.

“ goddess ? “ you couldn’t help but mumble as she made her way towards you, running down the hill a bit as her usually stoic face was replaced with a smile bigger than yours.

“ hey “

you couldn’t help but stare at her- all of her.

how her short hair was brushed by the wind, her beauty marked that was gifted to her by the gods, her lush lips, defined collar bone. she looks-

“ amazing, you look amazing y/n “

there was a little gasp that escaped the back of your throat as she took your hand, leading you away to where she came from.

“ youre kidding me- kiyoko you’re that one who looks absolutely stunning. i thought i saw an angel up there! for real for real!”

laughing a bit, she sat you down on a cream-colored blanket that was decorated with pink drinks and a cute pink frog cake that‘s held in a glass container as blossoms decorated the blanket around you.

holding your hands

leaning into your ear she whispered. “ you got the goods “

“ oh i got the goods “

smirking as you whipped out your bag, she popped open a cherry soda as she watched you bring out snacks from your bag.

valentine-themed Doritos, chocolate covered strawberries, gummy sticks, pink kit kat's , and more were piled onto the denting blanket as the black hole offered more to give. though a little shake of the bag would beg to differ.

“ let’s dig in, shall we. “

smiling down on the two girls, the tree showered them both in love as their cackles. made sure to give a little extra as they posed for photos, moving a little so the sun could reflect the royal blue-colored woman.

even gave the pink one place to perch her phone, as the sun setter away into the evening, and as she was embraced by the blue colored girl, as she gave her her hand.

yachi

the cake

“ are you sure it’s supposed to look like this “

“ of course it is yachi, looks exactly like it as we did a fine job if i do say so myself. “

“ ... right “

“ LISTEN it’s the thought and taste that counts “

a piece was cut out of the horribly mutated cake as the blonde girl carefully ate the pink slice.

“ tastes like crap y/n-chan “

“ DONT SAY IT SO CHEERFULLY “

perched side by side in their shared kitchen, both the girls stared at their creations.

one that was handled with TLC, looking fresh off of pinterest with little green frogs snuggling on a brown blanket on top of a pink cloud.

it was adorable.

anything would look better compared to its neighbor.

running icing, clumps of vanilla batter mixed in with multicolored frosting sat on a drooping cake as there were two globs of green frosting next to each other, hanging into the edge.

it was hell on earth for those two globs as they said their final goodbyes before splattering into the plate.

just like the cakes, each i cook looked exactly how they turned out. messy with messy, cute with cute.

“ I W “

“ yeah yeah i know i know, you win again “ you pouted as she beamed up at you.

small warm arms wrapped around your torso as she pulling you into her embrace, head on your chest as her bright smile remained.

blink

with the two little shoulder devils disappearing, you returned her hug and her kind smile with a.n almost sinister one.

“ huh, y/n what are doing? haha y/n you’re gonna get me dirty- y/n no “

and with that your assault began, first your frosting-covered hands skidded down the back of her shirt, just missing the apron she was wearing as she started to squirm in your grasp.

her desperate cries for help fell on deaf's ears as they slowly turned into wails of laughter, along with yours.

and soon enough there was frosting soaring through the air along with pieces of cake as you both narrowly dodged each other’s onslaught of attacks.

though the outcome of the fierce battle proved wrong as you both collapsed onto your shared couch panting heavily as frosting covered you both from head to toe. giggles still coming out, in short, gasps as you both snuggled closer.

“ wanna watch some rom-com ? “

“ yeah sure “

who knew valentine’s day could get so messy?

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yandere-society · 4 years

Text

Roses | M

Sypnosis: You grew up dirt poor in the shadows of society, barely managing to survive without parents or family and very little money. Somehow through multiple part-times and endless overtimes, you land a job at the most profitable company in your country: the Jeon estate. Now you work for the young head of the estate, Asia’s most powerful man, Jeon Jungkook, as an assistant. One day, as you are preparing for the Grand Valentine ball which Jungkook has formally set up for his and his fiance’s anniversary, you realize two things; Jeon Jungkook and the rich like him will always live above people like you and two, Jungkook really loves his fiance. Or…is it really her he loves?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,350

Admin: @roses-ruby

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Warnings: yandere themes, blood, death, murder, mentions of smut, mentions of sexual harassment, evil plans, letter openers; those knife looking kinds

You had always been jealous.

“I’ve been thinking about her a lot these days…”

The morning air wraps around your frame with frigid clarity. You had to breathe once, then twice to be able to concentrate on the intense eyes before you.

“Your fiancé, sir?”

With a sober gaze, you focus on the handsome yet stoic man sitting in front of you. His stare was vacant but captured your whole torso in a viper like grip.

“About what to get her.” He speaks in the same dull tone as before.

“…Maybe roses?”

Women like roses, right?

He tilts his head at you, as if he was signaling you about how thoroughly he was contemplating your answer. The action raised goosebumps along your upper arm until they met with the cold polyester sleeves of your dress shirt. There was such beauty even in his most simple movements, but truthfully there was nothing quite simple about the raven-haired man that eyed you with such an unreadable expression. Even though you reacted in such a way, you refused to let him see you fazed. To invite him to sink his teeth below the upper casing like he so desperately wanted.

Not yet.

With a sigh that yelled defeat, he leaned back in his chair. Mumbling to himself.

“Roses it is.”

And just like that, he dismissed you. Looking off into the distance on the left, where a large window displaying the huge metropolis laid bare. You wonder how it must feel – the raw power of staring out that window, knowing that every inch of the land could be yours within seconds. All he had to do was say the word. How would it ever be like to wake up every day wearing uncountable riches and diamonds and dynasties upon your thick skin? Either to mold or to destroy.

How does it feel to hold the fragile earth within your fist?

Perhaps you were curious because you’ve never had that luxury. Left behind to rot by that very earth itself, you’ve never had any luxuries. For you were just a simple, everyday peasant unlike the heir to the Jeon throne himself. The differences between you both were similar to that of the sun and moon. He sat on a throne you could only watch upon, forced to stand up on your impoverished legs for the rest of your life until they were to cave when you were to finally die.

Only the red are privileged to sit.

Your pace is nimble, but you manage to make it back to your desk outside his office. With a sigh, you plop down onto your rolly chair. The cushions mold into your stiffened back and your muscles relax against the plush. In the back of your mind, behind your closed eyes, you picture someone pressuring each side of your heart. Being the cause of the faint ache you felt inside your chest.

But you don’t get to rest for long, as a loud bang enters your office hallway. Startled, you sit up – and as soon as you do, the chalky screeching surrounds your ears.

“My God, some people are insufferable! I mean how hard is it to clean a dress? A monkey with a sponge could do it! Accident they say, those lazy rats. Really – and today of all days as well. This is sabotage! I will have them regret the day they tried to cross me-”

You watch with wide eyes as the lady in red hair clacks around in her maroon heels. She was seething with anger, cheeks rosy and steam coming out of her ears. But even through her fury she remained the epitome of beauty, her doll like features heightened by her puerile attitude. All you could do was gape at her as the pounding in your brain grew from her each word. With one final stomp, she stops, right in front of your desk. Her body was facing your boss’ door as she glared into the distance quietly before whirling her head at you. Eyes squinted with menace making you jump in your seat.

If looks could kill.

“What are you looking at, pig?” She snarls

Before you could answer her, the door opens. He comes out with his hands in his pocket, heartless as usual. But his eyebrows were furrowed, and you could sense the annoyance in his stance.

“What’s with all the commotion?”

“DARLING!” It was as if all her animosity had vanished in that instant. She leaped over at Jungkook, arms flailing and eyes sparkling. Your lips twitched subtly at her shrill scream.

Wrapping her long arms around him, she practically moans into his neck. Her red lip gloss smearing over his soft skin. He places his hands on her hips to hold her – and himself – steady. They look so perfect together – a sight to behold. Yet something threatens to crawl out your throat the more you watch them.

“Darling, it was awful! The Chang’s, darling – they ruined my expensive, custom made ruby iridescent Prada evening gown! They ruined it, darling!” She loudly wails into his shoulder.

Jungkook listens to her cry, before sighing. You couldn’t read him completely, it felt like he was looking at a young child throwing a tantrum. A precious child. “Why would you even use an industrial dry cleaner when you have professionals at home babe? What did they do to it?”

She backs away from him, looking into his eyes like a hurt puppy.

“T…They tore a piece from the bottom…from the wash they say… Miuccia designed it for me herself Kookie…y-you can’t let them get away with this.”

Jungkook stares into her glossy orbs for a bit, before he glances at you. His gaze makes you jerk, facing elsewhere in a heartbeat. It felt like you were interrupting them, your cheeks burn with shame. Your heart even more until you heard him huff.

“Alright, I’ll contact Min. He’ll be able to handle it.”

“Oh darling, I love you so much.” She screeches, hugging him once again.

Min. That was the family lawyer. A cut-throat man who managed to make powerful billionaires beg for their livelihood on Jungkook’s feet. One small-time laundro mat was a speck of dust compared to them. Your chest ache grew as you clenched your fists beneath the desk. The poor Chang’s had just managed to put their oldest into college, they had no savings left. They were barely handling 3 more kids and multiple elders to nurture, 9 people in total in one small apartment. Something like a lawsuit was bound to put them out on the streets. But now that they had crossed paths with Jeon’s beloved fiancé, how horrible their fate was bound to be.

There were thorns in your throat.

“Darling, I just wish tomorrow will be perfect.”

Her tone always contained a particular weight that captures your attention back to her. Jungkook was still looking at you, his stare heavy, holding down your shoulders. You felt the red explode inside your pupils as she wrapped herself around him before kissing him.

“Don’t worry, it will be. I promise.”

They start to make out, unabashed. But what shame would a rich person ever have? The cold morning air surrounds you again, as you steady your breaths, and try to get back to work. Manage to yet again contain your jealousy.

Sadly, you end up missing the intense eyes that were still on your figure, gripping tightly and never moving off once.

Valentine’s day. A time of small importance to you.

Is what you say as you eye the crimson curtains and scarlet carpet. The chandelier had a red tinge in its shards, lighting up the vast room in an almost bizarre way. A ballroom fit for the never early King and Queen. You stare at the monotone waitpersons cavorting about, carrying colored shots and expensive sweets in their trays. Your eyebrow perks up as your gaze lands on one of them being subtly touched by an older gentleman. His aged wrinkles in his drunk, lustful gaze versus her frightened young orbs and doe posture. It reminds you of your past. In all those cheap diners and broken eateries, being groped and disregarded all at the same time. In those days as well, Valentine’s day meant nothing to you.

Turning back to the long table before you, you pop another chocolate covered strawberry into your mouth. At that moment you hear soft laughter, making you look toward the left end of the table. There stood your coworker, Jimin, in his pink tux and blonde hair. He was talking to another coworker. You turn your eyes away once he catches your gaze.

And coincidentally, they end up meeting with the man you’ve been avoiding all night. On the other side of the table, stood Jungkook. Your breath gets caught in your throat. Jungkook in his infrared suit. A blend of garnet and carmine and sanguine. Gelled hair, bright skin, dark glare. Such marbled precision. He was staring at you then too, when Jimin came to flirt with you a while ago. As well as when Taehyung tried his luck.

And oh, if looks could kill.

Your little moment is interrupted when another man in red walks up to him, starting a conversation. His red wasn’t as strong as Jungkook’s, you noticed. Actually, you’re sure Jungkook probably held the strongest red in the world, just like her. They were born with it after all. You, on the other hand, worked your whole life through the mud pit to be able to bear pink upon your frame. A few of your coworkers wore pink too, some of their attires barely blushing, while the ones worth more wore fuscia. The waitpersons wore white and that forced you back in time the most… the time you could only wear white like it was a scar engraved into your skin.

Maybe you should make peace with the fact that a day like today wasn’t something for people like you to enjoy. That even if some people still view you as nothing but a body to fulfill their desires, you now have a face to go along with it unlike the servants around you. Maybe you should be thankful you are more blessed than the help. And the helpless. Even if you desired a lot more. It’s always been like that hasn’t it. A few speeches of wisdom draped upon the less fortunate public.

“Be grateful for what you have.”

Startled by the voice, your head whips back, where the lady in glimmering red stood. It was her, the one who had arrived with him, hand in hand, half an hour late. Yet she had instantly been the main attraction at the ball, people swarming towards her like hungry bees. Her gown was the color of a rose’s center – the strapless dress, lingering the ground like a mermaid’s legs, hugging her slender figure so delicately – it was the epitome of perfection. Your pink sun dress fell short in comparison. The impenetrable beauty was addicting, attracting even the shyest of insects into her clutches. For a second you got high on her scent alone, before the malicious tone of her words settled into your brain.

Why was she here? A minute ago, she was stuck to Jungkook’s side like she was glued together with his larger frame. Perhaps she gave him some space to breathe for once, but that still doesn’t explain why she came up to you out of all the bugs about. Seething in her perfect set of teeth, she glares a hole through you, making you unnerved. Even with ill intentions written in her eyes, she presented a beautiful, kind smile on her cherry lips.

“You’re probably happy knowing that you’re the only secretary Jungkook hasn’t fired within a week. You’re probably thrilled to have someone like Jungkook promote someone like you to the department head. You probably get off every time he calls your filthy name.” She breathes into your face; her breath was cold and pupils sharp. “You might think you have him wrapped around your finger and I’m not sure you know who you are, but since your poor education has failed you so greatly, I’m here to remind you.”

She steps closer into your space, as a way to intimidate you. “You’re a mutt he’s taking pity on and nothing more, you understand me? A pig shouldn’t get so happy being fed the scraps of a stallion. You mean nothing to him and as soon as he’s fucked you senseless, he’ll forget about you like every other girl that has tried to take my place.”

Her smile never faltered. If anyone was watching this interaction, they’d think she was having a pleasant discussion with you. That the reason you were shying away from her was because you could not handle her radiant glow and pouring compassion. And in the same second the gears in your mind started turning, searching for a possible response, she took a step back.

“Don’t try to get too close to him. Don’t smile so much when he looks your way. Don’t let your pathetic feelings cross the line. Stay in your lane and be grateful for what you have. Because trust me, I can make everything disappear.” With a nod, she brushes past you.

Gone, just like that.

The spot that once held her being is forgotten, your head turning to watch her leave. A few butterflies fly up to her, each one wearing a thousand more on their figures and necks, but nothing that could be compared to her red.

It felt as if she never threatened you. As if she wasn’t the villain you just witnessed but a sweet cerise princess. You watch the girls gush about her life; about how luxurious her dress, her hair, her nails, her jewels, and the Grande Valentine ball was. About how blessed she is to have loving wealthy fiancé like Jungkook. She laughs agreeing with them while exhaling the same breath she took pretending to be humble.

Soon you were blending into the background. As usual.

Finally able to pry your eyes away, you stare at the ground, feeling the ache in your chest slowly cover your vision. It felt like the green, bitter thorns from a Rose’s stem, pressing against your heart with brutal force. You already felt like an outsider as soon as you stepped in here, but this was the final straw. The thorns grew amongst your chest, you spent hours finalizing every single thing about tonight on Jungkook’s command. All for his precious fiancé, choosing the colors out of your personal reach and decorations and the drinks and the food. And yet you feel like you just showed up uninvited to a stranger’s house. Knowing nothing here was meant for you.

Parting your lips, you begin walking towards the exit, ready to crawl back into your mouse cave where the lights weren’t so exposing.

You trudged along the exit hall, feeling the cheap heels of your shoes leaves sores against your soles. The ball was only an hour in, and you were fleeing way before midnight. It shouldn’t matter however; it was best to remember that Valentine’s day and its activities hold no meaning to you. Foggy thoughts run throughout your head as you watch the gleaming floor.

When you were almost at the door, a shadow overcasting the tiles and resembling a person makes you halt. Your head tilts up to catch the man in the elegantly fitted red suit, staring back at you with those familiar eyes.

“Leaving already?”

You aren’t sure how you ended up here.

All you remember was him telling you to follow along and you obeying his command silently. He led you out of the banquet hall, into his rumbling sports car and then straight inside his mansion. Jungkook never uttered a word, but his essence – his aura…it spoke for him. You walked behind him placidly, like the prey of a snake slowing moving inside the predator’s seams. When he walks into a room, the walls light up immediately at his presence. They glow of a lavish chamber leaves you jolting in place as he carelessly strides to his open bar.

How was this any different from where you just came from? If they wanted, they could have just held the ball here.

You watch as he grabs a bottle from the shelf, turning around and placing it on the counter as he picks up a glass.

“Would you like a drink?”

You immediately shake your head in decline. He shrugs, pouring himself a good amount of dark liquor. As you stand still, watching him take a sip, confusion finally settles in from the whole ordeal. Why would he bring you here? Your ignorance made you feel like scum on the back of his expensive shoes.

She probably always felt at home here.

Jealousy was a suffocating feeling and to deal with the pressure, you look away. Try to think about something else other than his ethereal face. On a small, decorative table to the left of you was a stubby golden vase, filled to the brim with roses. The vibrant flowers capture your orbs closely, like you were being lulled in by their appearance alone. You take small steps up to the table, your heart beating in your ears. When you were close enough you could see the thorns decorating the stems.

The thorns that hindered the beauty of the red.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you pick up a knife – possibly a letter opener from underneath the vase. You carefully take a stem into your hand, pinching it beneath your fingers. With a quick breath, you slice away a thorn, then two. Ridding the plants of its spikes and ugliness in animosity. Making it perfect with each removal.

Your haste movements froze when a hand grabbed yours. You look up to see Jungkook, holding onto you while staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What are you doing? I thought you liked roses?”

That’s what you wanted to ask him, what was he doing? Why did he bring you here? But it’s not like the rich were born to be questioned. As you hold his gaze with anger, but bite your tongue from speaking, he sighs. Taking the knife out of your hands and placing it back on the table. He replaces the object with his fingers and your whole body heats up from the rush of your hands.

His scent was heavenly. Like a thousand roses laid amongst a field.

“You…at the ball…you seemed off.” He says, capturing your attention with the same incomprehensible face he always has on. “There were so many bugs flying around you there…I needed to take my chance.”

“…What?”

You watch closely as Jungkook tongues his cheek.

“You’re always so…closed off. Like there’s nothing on your mind…like you couldn’t care less about anything. I always…notice.” He huffs, looking at the floor in concentration. “I remember, it was your third day. I was passing by on my way for an early brunch with a buddy. And I saw the support manager fall onto a wet floor. The way she screamed…I and everyone around us rushed to her. Through the commotion and her cries and everyone making sure she was okay…I spotted you sitting at a desk 10 feet away. I saw you…and you didn’t do anything, even though she was in obvious pain… you just gave her a glance and then went back to work. She ended up breaking her arm and suing the company, so I got rid of her but none of that mattered.”

He looks back up at you. “What mattered was you…you caught my eye. Your lack of interest in everyone, your empty eyes. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

It goes quiet for a moment and you now know how haunting the silence is in a big space like this. That and Jungkook’s presence made the atmosphere surreal.

“Would it have made a difference?” You question. His eyebrows raise at your response. “I mean…if I had cared…would her pain have disappeared?”

Jungkook gazes deeply into your eyes, like he was trying to read you. The hand that held you shifted slightly and you tried to not let the movements affect you. It was then that he broke out into a smirk, he seemed intrigued.

“I guess not.”

“No, it wouldn’t have. The one place there is no worth – no red – is in compassion.”

He chuckles. “I suppose with my status and what my family’s taught me…I’m inclined to disagree. But I can’t help…like this…like you.”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows as he looks away, turning crimson. “I can’t explain why…so don’t ask me. I’ve been involved with plenty of other women…but it was always carnal pleasure. My fiancé always made sure they didn’t last long anyway but it doesn’t matter…they bore me. Yet…I don’t know what it is about you that calls to me. To keep you close to me.” He turns back to you with a determined face. “I want you and I want to get rid of anything in my way that keeps me from you.”

It felt like time stopped. The lull reverberated off the walls with intensity. There was a strange new sensation in your chest the more you stared at his sharp features. He was born with the beauty of red. When you finally felt like you could breathe again, you took your hand out of his. For a split second, you felt his whole physique embody a pout before you lightly placed your finger on his shoulder.

He froze under your touch. You continued to lightly rub at the fabric of his red coat, before placing your other hand on his other shoulder. Jungkook couldn’t look away. Especially not when you moved closer to him, not when he could feel your soft breath hit his face.

“Is this…close enough?” You whisper, watching the way his bright eyes turned dark. Within moments you felt a sudden source of heat around your waist, before you were pushed into his sturdy chest. His heartbeat matched your rhythm and your lips hovered one another as your orbs fought for balance. There was a cocoon of warmth around you, traveling up your spine as his thumb brushed your waist.

“It’s perfect.” He says before you feel his naturally red lips touch your coral ones.

It had been a while since your last kiss. That would explain why your tongue felt so sensitive and weak against his. Your hands hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady and at that moment, you recall how this very scene happened before you just yesterday, with his hand on her hips. You recall the jealousy. Bitter thoughts don’t ever completely vanish, do they?

As he bites your bottom lip, you fail to conceal a moan. He smiles into your kiss, before breaking away. Your lips were raw, and although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew they were swollen red. So you begin to smile as well.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says before kissing your cheek, down your jaw and into your neck. “All mine.”

You hold onto the back of his head as he nips at your neck. Gazing at the roses behind him.

“And you, mine.”

You woke up to the dark.

It didn’t take you long to figure out you weren’t in your house. The smell…the atmosphere…the scenery…it was all different. Not the familiar color you were used to. Your ear catches the sound of soft snoring, so you turn to see Jungkook sleeping peacefully by your side. His dark bangs covered most of his eyes and you slowly raised your fingers to move his hair out of his face. He seemed so different when he was asleep compared to his cold office demeanor. So calm and innocent – almost like a child.

In that second, your throat feels dry, so you try to sit up. Maybe you’ll have that drink he spoke of now. But a heavy arm thrown across your body stops you. You peek underneath the blanket to find Jungkook’s biceps holding onto you tightly. He was definitely the possessive type. With a quick inhale, you subtly try to remove his big arm off of you. Freezing whenever he faintly stirred. When you’ve managed to become free, you get out of bed, wincing as soon as you get up.

Even without the light, you could tell how damaged you were as you limp towards the door. He didn’t hold back in bed, wanting you to show him every expression of pleasure – of pain you were capable of. Him and only him, he said. There were bite marks on your neck and ass…he loved using his mouth. And then there was his endless fucking stamina. But truthfully you didn’t mind it one bit, it felt like he was pouring his deep rich wine upon you. You felt yourself inflaming up from the inside out, it was a feeling like no other – addicting.

Actually, you’ve always known about his interest in you. He had managed to make his face unreadable because of the position and line of work he’s in. But he’s still always slipped around you. You saw the subtle yearning and longing way before you came up with this plan. A plan that was necessary, you had never been this lucky before after all. And you wonder if she saw it too. If she knew you weren’t like Jungkook’s others. Perhaps that’s why she came up to you tonight. To try and stop you.

But mere warnings don’t work on the desperate.

As soon as you’re in the other room, the living room lights flash on. Prompting you to squint, while trying to adjust to the brightness. Once again, your attention is immediately captured by the vivid red roses in the golden vase on the small table across the room. You begin walking towards the vase mindlessly but once you were a couple feet in, you notice another shade of red to your left.

A glittering red.

You turn to face her, the princess of the kingdom, in her soon to be king’s castle. Naked and sullied in retrospect to her lavishly covered frame. But strangely, compared to you in this moment she was weak.

It was her face. Her face as she glares at you, eyes squinted, and lips pulled back. Mascara and tears ran down all over her cheeks and her eyes were puffy swollen. She stood there, shaking in her heels as her hands clenched into fists. How could she look so pathetic dressed in red of all things? There was something funny about the sight…it almost made you burst into laughter. Instead you pursed you lips and raised a brow.

Right then she launched herself at you.

“You BITCH!” She screamed at the top of her lungs before you felt her sharp nails collide with your cheek. Your ears rung as you try to regain your balance. You didn’t have time to react as she pulled your face up using your hair and smacked you twice before pushing you down. Already frail torso crashing upon the tiles a bit too easily.

Really, you felt like laughing as you laid there while she screamed and pounded her weak fists onto you. You couldn’t feel the pain, nothing at all, not even when she banged your head against the tile. Not when she kicked you in the gut. So you laughed, and you felt her go quiet for a second. Small giggles turning into something insane. Your laugh got louder and louder as your cheek connected with the cold floor. The ringing surrounded your ears, but you still heard her curse underneath her breath, calling you crazy. You’ve always hated her voice.

“DIIIIEEEEE! DIE YOU CRAZY BITCH! HE’S MINE!” You could hear her tight dress starting to rip with every sudden jerk and twist. It was ironic. Your head felt light and your vision started to blur as she pulled at your stands frantically. Suddenly, you were being pulled up onto your legs with the world spinning around you and thrown right into the small table you couldn’t stop being called towards.

On impact, one of the legs gave out, causing you and the vase to slip onto the ground. You were completely out of it for a few seconds. After a blurry moment, you could finally feel the wet water and the broken wood and the shattered glass and the cold metal scraping against your skin as you struggled to get up. That…and the green thorns stuck inside your chest, bleeding raw.

Once you were up, you struggle to maintain your steadiness. As your slippery feet came to a halt, you stare down at your wounded chest. At the thorns in your heart, before you hear her shrill voice coming towards you again. So, you timed it in your head. Waited for the bottom ruffles of her beautiful dress to slide along the tiles and signal you. Let her red give her away.

And once she was close enough, you spun around. Extended your hand until you could tell the blade collided through something hard yet pudgy. Everything comes to a standstill. You hear her inhale loudly before her face actually appears before you. Eyes wide and mouth parted. Her hands were still in midair, they were coming for your neck. Her shaky pupils gape at you, before looking down below where the knife met her.

When she’s distracted, you take out the letter opener from her stomach before slamming it back into her once again, a little left. It made a soft, stubby sound and she gasped faintly. Your hands shook dimly with the blade still inside her, blood staining your fingers. The ringing had vanished now, and you were facing the silence of the mansion. Now that you had gotten the gist of it, as quick as you could, you stabbed her a third time. It was your final attack because as soon as you took the edge out, she fell backwards with a loud thud. You didn’t have time to process everything, just cringed at the way her head collided with the floor.

For a while, you just stood there. Weapon in hand, watching the way the blood slowly oozed out of her sides. Her eyes were wide open in shock, lips parted, and jaw unhinged. Bringing the blade up to your face, you closely examine the loose blood along the edges as the knife gleamed underneath the lights. Red was truly a magnificent color. If you were to split her open, would she bleed it all out before you? Let you have all her secrets and riches? You take the blade and carefully wipe both sides of the blood onto your chest, over your heart. Making a perfect x and letting yourself become red.

Like you’ve always wanted.

Once you were done with that, you look back at her. At her lifeless face and sunken eyes.

“What are you looking at, pig?”

Just then a hand grabs yours from behind. You dropped the letter opener in surprise, and it crashes onto the floor with everything else. The object is replaced by long fingers. Your head whips back to meet a bare Jungkook standing right behind you, as handsome as ever, staring at you with a smile. There was a little insanity in his eyes, the same one you saw every morning in the mirror.

“I was wondering how to get rid of her myself.” He says, before wrapping his arms around your shivering torso and placing his mouth on your neck.

It had only been a few hours after Valentine’s day, and here you stood. Being gently rocked by your boss, with his beautiful fiancé bleeding out on the floor in front of him. Even in death…she was the epitome of beauty. And you had always been jealous.

Not of who she was to Jungkook.

But because of the vibrant, glowing, bleeding red rose she always resembled.

What you were jealous of was the rose she embodied.

The rose you wanted to be.

#yandere society #bts #jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader

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