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chilligyu · 3 years

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info: hong jisoo/reader, teen+, street fighter/friends to lovers au genre: drama, romance, angst | word ct: 5k warnings: descriptions of wounds, violence, fighting, blood, unrequited love summary: once upon a time, two young children made a promise. for nearly twenty long years they kept that promise. but everyone has their breaking point. and she found hers. note: this story has been written, rewritten, edited, smooshed together, more times than I care to admit. but,,, I think I finally got it to a point that I'm really proud of. thank you to everyone who's helped me out along the way, @xfirebenderx you have been my saving grace. tysm!!

tagging: @joshuas, @moriiyun, @starlightjoong, @lavenonie and @sincerelyskye

“Please…”

A familiar voice begged her quietly from the darkness.

“Don’t leave me…”

With a shaky hand on the doorknob, she froze. She kept her back to him, unable to fully process what was happening. Trying desperately to fight the urge to run as far away from him as she could.

How did everything go so wrong? She wondered to herself, on the brink of tears. What happened to you?

The answer wasn’t so simple, but God it would’ve been easier if she left. She should’ve left months ago but she didn’t, she couldn’t. She would stay by his side and endure everything because she made him a childish promise so many years ago.

Back when they were young, she promised to never abandon him. To never turn her back, to be there for him because no one else was. And he made promises that echoed the same. They were best friends, after all. It had always been them against the world. Despite that, despite everything they had been through together, her better judgement was screaming at her to go. She wanted nothing more than to leave him behind, to finally save her battered heart from the person who kept breaking it.

From him, Hong Jisoo, the one person she promised she would never leave.

“Okay.” She whispered. “I’ll stay.”

She turned around slowly, stomaching her pride and well-being because he needed her. Inhale, exhale. She wouldn’t cry over him, not yet. He needed her, he needed something. He was laying on her couch, blood soaking the cheap upholstery, and his body was shaking from shock. There wasn’t much she could do, but she was all he had. They were all they had.

While she cleaned his wounds, she struggled to pinpoint the exact moment when he had taken things too far. For as long as she could remember, he had always toed the edge of mostly acceptable and borderline insane with a certain amount of grace. That’s what set him apart from everyone else, apart from his extremely deep sense of justice, overwhelming selflessness, and eagerness to do whatever he could to help people in need. Often at the expense of his own wellbeing.

From chasing purse snatchers to sneaking into abandoned warehouses that weren’t actually abandoned just to save pit bulls from dog fights, Jisoo made it painfully clear that he lacked the minimum amount of self-preservation. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get in way over his head, but she would always be there to help him out. He was a bit of a troublemaker, that much was obvious. Not that she ever cared. Because no matter how much trouble he got into, there was always a good reason. He promised her that a long time ago.

That was a promise he didn’t need to make because she knew full well that Jisoo was, and still is, a good person. Everything he did, every crazy endeavor, was to help people. She had seen it firsthand enough times in her life. That was how they met back in nursery school, after a particularly nasty classmate put gum in her hair Jisoo leapt into action. He tackled the kid to the ground with ease and taught him a thing or two. That was also the first time she saw him get into a fight, and it wouldn’t be the last.

What she couldn’t understand, what she couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around, was why he got into street fighting of all things? Because that wasn’t somewhere in the grey area between acceptable and insane, that was insane. That was way past insane. Not to mention it was against everything Jisoo stood for. How did her capeless hero go from selflessly protecting others to actively hurting people? What changed? What was the reason? And how on earth did she get caught up in this mess?

The answer was simple, and she didn’t like it one bit. All he had to do to convince her was ask. He asked a simple question, one wrapped up in the pact they made as children.

“Remember how you said you’d always be there for me?” He started nervously one afternoon while she was studying in the library. “I have a favor to ask…”

Honestly, she couldn’t remember exactly how he worded it, but she got the gist of it. Her best friend wanted to become a street fighter, to hurt people for money, and he wanted her to come with him. He said he didn’t want to worry his roommates by coming home late at night when he could crash at her place. That way if he got hurt, she could patch him up like she always did, and no one would be the wiser. He discussed all of this with her like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like getting beat up regularly was no big deal at all.

Part of her wanted to scream at him, to berate him for making such reckless decisions, to take him by the ear and drag him home to his parents so they could give him a piece of their mind—

Then, he smiled at her. The very same smile that could melt the coldest of hearts and her mind went completely blank. She couldn’t remember much of the specifics after that because he had effectively hypnotized her with his infectious smile. She didn’t even make a fuss which wasn’t typical of her in the slightest. Not that she could ever imagine saying no to him, nor did she even plan to. He needed her, he’s always needed her.

Still, she desperately wanted it all to be a bad dream. Even as she stood on the sidelines for the very first time watching her best friend get punched, kicked, tackled and more, she prayed that it wasn’t real. She did her best to ignore how he grunted in pain, how the crowd turned ravenous over the sight of spilled blood, and how he looked eerily similar to the caged dogs he used to save from that same fate. Seeing him like that made her heart ache in ways she never knew it could.

How she missed the days when the worst thing Jisoo got involved in was under the table delivery jobs and falling out of trees trying to save stray kittens. Because when she looked at the man standing in the ring wearing her best friend's face, grinning triumphantly with his hands in the air, she could hardly recognize him. He looked nothing like the kid who protected others no matter what. Not with all that blood on his face.

Who are you and what have you done with Jisoo? She worried to herself as she toweled off his brow. Why are you doing this to yourself? What could possibly be worth all of this?

Still, she attended every fight and acted as his personal medic. She promised him that much. And for a short period of time, it went pretty well. For several weeks he was on a winning streak, no one could beat him. Much to the dismay of the people placing bets against him. See, while Jisoo didn’t look like much of a fighter, or the type of guy to even get into a fight, he was really good at it. That’s why she never worried about him being outmatched in the ring, he could handle himself. Not only that, before every match, he made her a promise.

“For good luck?” He asked sheepishly with his pinky finger extended. “I can’t do this without you.”

Looking at his finger, she thought back to all the times they made each other a promise over the tiniest things. It started when they were young. When he was going into a test or a school competition she made him promise to do well, kick ass, and various other things. It seemed silly to her back then, but it always worked out. Because Jisoo always swore up and down that if it was a promise to her, he would follow through without fail. And she believed it, even when the odds were stacked against him. She had to because it was the only way she could sleep at night.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” She said calmly, locking pinky’s with him.

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll be smart.”

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll win.” She finished with a weak smile.

He nodded, grinning ear to ear. “I promise.”

Right before he turned away, fully prepared for the violent show he was about to put on, she pulled him back in for a reassuring hug. As much as she didn’t want to see him get hurt, even though she couldn’t stand the thought of watching him helplessly from the sideline, a promise was a promise.

“Be careful out there.” She whispered in his ear.

He held her close for a brief moment. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”

If I don’t then who will?

They lingered a bit longer than either intended. Eventually Jisoo headed out into the crowd with his hands raised proudly over his head, and she pretended to be happy for him. The crowd cheered on the newest contender while her stomach did backflips. Everything seemed fine until his opponent landed a blow that sent Jisoo to his knees. In truth, she almost gave up right then and there.

I think I’m going to be sick...

Why she didn’t draw the line at street fighting back then, the one thing she couldn’t support, was beyond her. Or why she thought it would be a good idea to stand there and constantly watch her best friend get beaten senseless time and time again. She swore that she had absolutely no clue way she let him get away with everything, why she didn’t try to make him see reason long ago—

But she did.

Because I’m hopelessly in love. She sighed, wringing out the blood soaked towel. I’m in love with a man I can never abandon, no matter how much it hurts.

Maybe if she wasn’t, she would’ve had the courage to leave and never look back.

She had accepted that being in love with her best friend was going to be hard, even when she was just silently pining from a distance. In hindsight she didn’t realize how easy it was back then compared to how it is now. Watching the man she loved throw himself into dangerous situations with reckless abandon or never knowing when he would appear on her doorstep in dire need of help did not bode well for her sanity. Because loving Hong Jisoo was the equivalent to getting her heart broken every single day. She had to be ready to lose track of him for several days, she had to be willing to drive to the ER at three in the morning, and she lived every day wondering if today was the day. The day that he happily followed his moral compass off a cliff simply because it pointed him there.

The moment that Jisoo stopped being a misguided rescuer and became a selfless martyr wasn’t one she could name. When they were in school, everything seemed so innocent. He was always trying to save the lost souls of the world, even the ones who didn’t want saving. He would only date girls who needed fixing, doted on friends that needed his help, and everyday he tried to save people from themselves.

Surprisingly, she didn’t fit into any of those categories. She was the type to save herself. Throughout their lives she never asked him for anything, and perhaps that’s why they were such good friends. The last thing she wanted to be was another one of his projects, a hopeless cause he refused to give up on. If anything—he was hers. Over the years she stood by him, desperately hoping that he would eventually get a grip on reality. That maybe he would see the light and stop being so—good. She hated herself for thinking about it that way, but it was the truth. She knew better than anyone that if he didn’t find some sort of balance he would run himself to the ground.

Much like he was actively doing.

“Not going to wish me good luck today?” He teased her as he wrapped his fists.

She rolled her eyes. “You need a lot more than luck, Jisoo.”

“Ouch.” He winced unconvincingly. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break tradition, I don’t know how I’ll make it without you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She muttered.

“I didn’t realize that my concern for safety was ridiculous!” He laughed, clearly unable to read the room. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. I need you.”

And I need you to stop hurting yourself.

Despite her thoughts, she raised her pinky finger towards him with a sigh. “Promise me.”

She made him promise to be quick on his feet, to be smart out there, and to win. While the words spilled out of her mouth she had a sinking feeling in her stomach, heavy and all consuming. Dread. And as he ran out to start his fight the feeling only got worse. Something was about to go terribly wrong and she knew it.

Her mind wandered back to their days in school, when Jisoo was the beautiful contradiction of a perfect student with a shady background. People saw him running deliveries late at night, dealing a lot in cash and thought the worst. She knew the truth, she knew that his neighbour had injured himself and couldn’t afford to hire anyone to take care of deliveries. So instead of watching from the sideline, Jisoo did what he did best. He helped the old man secretly and accepted what little payment he could offer.

How she missed those days of innocence and promise. How she missed the memories of Jisoo’s selfless actions, ones that were slowly being lost beneath the sea of blood.

It turns out she was right to be worried. It was the first time Hong Jisoo ever broke a promise to her. He was carried out of the makeshift arena by two other fighters, barely able to stand on his own. They threw him at her feet and left without a word because he had lost. Before shock had a chance to set in she scrambled to his side with a wet rag, instinctively wiping off the blood that covered him while she did her best to keep her dinner down. He looked—he looked terrible. She had a hard time recalling a worse sight in her entire life.

He was barely recognizable.

“I’m sorry…” He said weakly, his good eye pleading with her. “I broke my promise…”

“Shut up.” She instructed him. “Don’t even think of that right now, let’s just get you home.”

It was a struggle getting him back to her apartment. He wasn’t a big guy but he wasn’t tiny either. Luckily her roommates were nowhere to be seen so they wouldn’t have to explain anything to them. Only a few people knew the truth of Jisoo and she had a feeling that the list was getting shorter. After lugging him up the stairs she got him onto her couch, not even bothering to try and keep it clean, and pulled the med kit out of her bag.

Since he started fighting she had no shortage of rags to clean him up with, they had become somewhat of a necessity. Still, she somehow dirtied every single one trying to get him clean. It would’ve been easier to sit him in a hot shower and let modern technology work its magic, but he couldn’t sit up on his own let alone stand. Not only that, he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. She didn’t want to risk him falling.

Eventually he was clean and everything seemed to be—okay. Or as okay as he could be after that. Just looking at him had her on the brink of tears. She couldn’t stand seeing him like that, a mere shadow of the man she had loved for so long. His right eye was swollen shut, his nose most definitely had been broken, and the smile that melted her heart had been cut through. She didn’t even dare to look at the rest of him, at the bruises peering out from underneath his tank top and the open wounds that seeped through his jeans.

I need to be strong. She decided. For him.

Except that was only an hour ago.

And she had no strength left.

Once he fell asleep her resolve finally broke. She promised herself when this all began that she would never let him know how much the whole ordeal hurt her deep down inside. No matter what, she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t be someone he had to worry about, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. But enough was enough. Whether she wanted to or not, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. She wept freely over someone she cared for, admired, and loved despite everything he put her through. Because he swore that even if every bone in his body was broken, he would never break a promise to her.

But he did, and she couldn’t trust him anymore.

“Please…” He begged quietly. “Don’t cry…”

She didn’t stir at the sound of his voice, or the reassuring hand on hers. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Jisoo? What is worth all of this pain? Can you at least tell me that much?”

Silence descended upon them in response to the one question that he refused to answer. It drove her crazy, that he was doing this to himself and wouldn’t even tell her why. Why he suddenly transitioned from an angelic rebel without a cause to a ruthless brawler in the streets. She felt like the little boy that chased away bullies was slipping from her grasp, the Jisoo that was laying in front of her—she could hardly recognize.

And she decided that night that she wouldn’t have a part in it anymore.

The next time he called her to meet him for a fight, she didn’t respond. Nor did she respond to any message he left after that. For weeks she had absolutely nothing to do with Hong Jisoo. He left her a dozen voicemails, a hundred messages, and she told herself that she didn’t care. He broke a promise to her so she broke one to him. She couldn’t stand there and let him break her heart over and over again without consequence. Street fighting—she wasn’t going to support that any longer.

That didn’t mean her heart didn’t ache for him anymore. She wasn’t sure if that would ever be the case. She made some acquaintances while she attended Jisoo’s fights so she was able to keep tabs on him, forever fearing the moment when he was going to take it too far. When, not if, the next call she got from him came from a hospital. Sometimes the news was good, sometimes it was bad. She felt equally terrible each time.

In fact she felt terrible consistently, regardless of Jisoo fighting or not. As the days passed the sensation only seemed to get worse. She left him to stop feeling so horrible, to let her heart heal in some way. Apparently leaving him wasn’t as easy as she hoped. She still longed to see him, to make sure he was okay, to be there for the one person who had always been there for her. The one who asked her to stand by him, and the one she left behind.

After not speaking to him for almost a month she showed up at his apartment with kiwi ice cream as an apology. It wasn’t much, but that’s all she needed in the past so at least it would be a good start if he was still mad at her—if he had ever been mad at her at all. They had never really fought before, not to a point where she refused to talk to him. It was new territory for both of them. She had to keep reminding herself that things would never be the same and she would have to accept it. This was his life now, and maybe it could be hers.

When he opened the door though, her heart stopped.

Jisoo was basically bandaged from head to toe, his arm was held precariously in a sling and what little skin she could see was beaten black and blue. Butterfly bandaids kept open wounds together, injuries she had already taken care of had scarred, and her heart shattered into a million pieces all over again.

“Hey.” He greeted, ignoring her devastated expression. “Long time no see.”

“Jisoo…” She gasped. “You—you’re—”

“I’m fine.” He tried to reassure her. “I know it looks bad but I’m—”

“If you say I’m fine one more time I’m going to snap.” She hissed through her teeth. “You’re not fine, you look like absolute hell. You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

He laughed, quite unconvincingly. “This is nothing, I promise you I’m—“

“Enough of your stupid promises!” She screamed at him. “I’m fucking sick of them!”

“I know I broke my promise to you,” He started with a sigh, “but we both knew that just because I promised you something, didn’t mean that I—”

He stopped when he saw the tears falling from her eyes.

“Oh please don’t cry.” He begged. “You can yell at me, you can hate me, but please, please, don’t cry.”

“I won’t stop.” She informed him. “If you’re going to keep going out and fighting for no goddamn reason and coming back looking like this then I’m not going to stop worrying about you!”

Shaking his head, he headed back into his apartment. “And if I have a reason?”

“Then tell me!” She begged as she finally unraveled. “Jisoo—if you’re not going to tell me why you’re doing this then I can’t be your friend anymore. I can’t stand here and watch you get beaten up for money. And I hate that you even asked me in the first place! I’ve been through enough for you and have asked for anything, not a damn thing except for an explanation! After everything I’ve endured for you I’m pretty fucking sure I’m owed that much!”

As he turned back around she could see the hurt in his eyes. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—it’ll get better, I’ll prepare more, I—”

“You’re completely missing the point!” She cried. “I’m not watching the person I love get beat within an inch of his life every other night! I can’t do this anymore! I’m sick of worrying about you every time you’re out of my sight. It’s not fair, it’s not healthy! And you’re honestly an asshole if you think I’m going to stand by you while you do this for a minute longer!”

When she turned to leave, her confession laid out at his feet, broken and bloody like her heart, Jisoo reached out for her one last time.

“What did you just say?” He whispered, sorrow in his eyes. “Did you just—”

“Yes.” She confirmed. “I love you Jisoo and I always have, but I won’t put myself through this anymore. Since you’re not going to stop then this is goodbye. I can’t love a man who doesn’t even care that he’s broken my heart more times than I can count.”

He didn’t let go of her.

“Please, let me explain.” He pleaded with her. “Don’t leave like this.”

“So now you’re going to tell me?” She spat, turning and yanking her arm from his grasp. “After I’ve just confessed to you now you’re going to tell me everything? I didn’t realize the truth came with a price. You’re an ass that’s got everyone fooled. Even me.”

“I know, I am.” He agreed, running his good hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to bother you with my reasons, I didn’t want to get you involved. But it wasn’t fair of me to keep you in the dark like that. I never should’ve done that to you.”

Crossing her arms, she waited.

“You remember that old man I helped out as a kid?” He started. “The shop owner?”

She nodded.

“A car crashed into his shop a few months ago.” He continued. “The damage was too much for insurance to cover and he didn’t have the money to get it fixed on his own so I offered to help. My usual side jobs weren’t paying me enough, so my boss told me about the underground fights and how lucrative they can be…”

“Jisoo—” She exasperated. “Please tell me you haven’t been—”

“I have.” He admitted sheepishly. “I’ve been—I’ve been giving him the winnings from my fights. To help him out. I just wanted him to—”

“You’re telling me that this has just been another one of your selfless missions?” She questioned in disbelief. “Have you told him where the money’s coming from? Does he know that you’re risking your life for him? Do you think that’s what he wants? Do you think that anyone with any ounce of decency would ever want this?”

Jisoo pursed his lips. “Well, no, but that’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—don’t—want him to know. It would break his heart—”

“So it’s okay to break my heart but not his?” She laughed bitterly. “You know what, fine. I’m done. You’ve shown me that you only care about the well-being of others. I’m obviously nothing to you. I don’t even care why you’re doing this anymore. I’m leaving, and you—”

He interrupted her tirade with a kiss. Forceful and desperate, trying to cling to whatever relationship they had. One that had been mangled and shredded to a point where she wasn’t sure there was anything left to save. Mustering her strength, she pushed him away. She might’ve loved him but that wasn’t what she wanted.

“You’re right.” He finally admitted. “Losing you isn’t worth all of this, I’ll stop. Promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me.” She said vehemently, tears springing from her eyes in anger. “What’s to say you won’t break this one too?”

“Because I love you.” He whispered. “And I know now that everything I’ve put your through hasn’t been right or fair but I promise—I swear that this will be different. No more fighting, that all stops now.”

She wasn’t convinced. “And what about tomorrow when someone asks you for a loan? Or when some stranger needs your fucking kidney? What’re you going to do then? I love that you’re so needlessly kind and generous but what you’re doing isn’t kindness anymore. It’s martyrdom and I’m scared of what you’re going to do next! At what point do you finally say no?”

For a long time there was silence.

“I’m sorry.” He returned quietly. “I’m sorry that I don’t know when to stop and I’m sorry that you always get dragged into these things. I’m sorry that I’ve just become so accustomed to your support that I expect it regardless of how stupid I’m being. I’m sorry that I didn’t know how much I was hurting you, I’m sorry that I’m in love with you just like you’re in love with me. I’m sorry I’m probably the hardest person in the world to love. But I promise you that things will be different now.”

She wanted to believe him, she really did. She wanted to run into his arms, never let him go, and have everything return to normal. She wanted to go back to when they were teenagers hiding a stray dog in his garage so his parents didn’t find out, back to when the only calls she got in the middle of the night were about new adventures and childish discoveries. Back when loving Jisoo didn’t hurt. Not like this.

She wasn’t sure that existed anymore.

“Jisoo I don’t—” She started, chewing on her lower lip. “I don’t know if I can forget these past couple months, let alone forgive them. You proved to me that I barely know you anymore and I don’t know how to move past that.”

He nodded in understanding, he knew it was going to take a lot more than an apology to win her back. “Alright, what do you want to do then?”

A hysterical laugh spilled past her lips. “Now that I really don’t know. Just—I don’t think I can trust you as a friend so I definitely won’t trust you as anything more. I love you but—but love isn’t always enough. It’s going to take more than a guilt ridden apology to help me move on.”

“What about a promise?” He offered with a soft smile. “A promise to you.”

“Jisoo…” She sighed. “A broken promise brought us here in the first place.”

“I’m not asking you to make me promise, I’m making a promise to you.” He clarified. “No pinky promises required.”

That caught her off guard.

“I promise to never get into another paid fight.” He began confidently. “I promise to never let anything like this ever happen again. I promise not to put myself in harm's way unless I’m protecting someone. I promise to take my well-being into consideration. I promise to do everything in my power to make it up to you. And I promise to be your friend no matter what.”

While he said no pinky promises required, they locked their little fingers almost reflexively. At that realization she started sobbing, letting that small promise make her feel happy and safe for the first time in a long while. She was unsure of where they would go from there, but she had a good feeling that everything would be okay if given enough time. Because Jisoo made her a promise, and as much as she protested their childish tradition, he always made it a point to keep his promises.

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jeonginify · 3 years

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j:mixtape/heart_drive — han jisung. ·˚ ༘♡

↝ pairing: han jisung x reader ↝ genre: humor, angst, fake dating au, soundcloud rapper au ↝ word count: 24k ↝ warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit language, jisung is dumb... like actually an idiot. this is the idiots to lovers that you didn’t know you needed. some good ol’ slow burn, which i’m sure is obvious because this is a fucking beast but it must be noted, so i’m going on the record here... yes this did take me an entire year to write, no i am not proud of it but here we are. i hope you enjoy?

↝ description: for the past year, you’ve had a big fat crush on the (very) oblivious han jisung. you’ve dreamt about dating him… you just never imagined that when it finally happened, you would be the last to find out. or, jisung, in all his glorious idiocy, decides that the two of you faking a relationship is the solution to all his problems. (he, of course, conveniently forgets to let you know about it.)

At 10:30am on a Saturday morning, halfway through midterm season, you find yourself studying hopelessly at home by candle light.

You know how it sounds—studying, on a Saturday, in the morning? Just because you’re a struggling college student doesn’t mean you don’t have standards.

Except, at this point in the semester, you’re getting desperate, and all your standards are quickly going out the window. With exams and deadlines piling up, you’re barely hanging on, and it’s all you can do to not drown under the sheer amount of work you have to complete within the next week.

If you’re being honest, you’ve probably been wearing the same hoodie and leggings for the past three days, and you can’t quite remember the last time you had a proper meal—you know, one that consists of more than hot cheetos and gatorade. For the last week, you’ve bounced back and forth between your apartment, the library, and your classes like a ball inside a pinball machine, and you can feel your will to live slowly disintegrating as time passes.

As an anthropology major at a university renowned for their liberal arts programs, your curriculum is challenging—and although it is undeniable that you love what you’re studying, sometimes it can get a bit much.

It’s usually around this time in the semester, actually, that you begin to regret your life choices.

Choices like deciding it would be a good idea to study by candlelight.

In your defense, though, you don’t really have many options. Not since the storm last night that knocked out the power in your building, anyways. Your landlord promised it would all be up again by tomorrow, but you need to study (like, today) and well... Let’s just say the tiny windows in your apartment make a jail cell look like a resort.

You’re pouring over your archaeology textbook miserably when your phone chimes, startling you out of your reverie.

You fumble for your phone, eagerly dropping the pen you had been previously holding, and your best friend’s name flashes across the screen as you unlock it.

[10:37am] hyunjin: y/n r u up yet [10:37am] hyunjin: wait, dumb question. ofc u are

You almost groan when you read the messages, blinking blue across your LED screen.

You love Hyunjin, you really do. As his best friend, you don’t really have much of a choice in that manner actually. But you can’t help the dread that washes over you at his message.

Because the thing about Hyunjin is that he has a knack for coming up with harebrained ideas and half baked schemes, and always—always, no matter how hard you try—manages to rope you into them too, regardless of whether or not you have more important things to be doing.

[10:45am] hyunjin: i can see u reading the msgs!! respond to me!!!!

[10:45am] you: fuck [10:45am] you: i thought i had my read receipts off??

[10:46am] hyunjin: u did [10:46am] hyunjin: i turned them back on 😌

[10:48am] you: bitch

[10:48am] hyunjin: mayb if u answered my texts i wouldn’t have to turn them on huh

[10:49am] you: wtvr 🙄 [10:49am] you: what do u want?

[10:50am] hyunjin: come over

[10:52am] you: look i know i’m hot and all but

[10:52am] hyunjin: what [10:52am] hyunjin: OH EW NO

[10:53am] hyunjin: why would u ever say that 🤢 [10:53am] hyunjin: i’m out of ur league pls

[10:54am] you: u mean I’M out of UR league

[10:54am] hyunjin: no i said what i said

[10:55am] hyunjin: but NO this is not why i texted u [10:55am] hyunjin: some of the guys r coming over so u should come 2

[10:56am] you: can’t, have 2 study

[10:57am] hyunjin: it wasn’t a question

[10:58am] hyunjin: cmoooon y/n you’ve literally been killing urself over midterms [10:58am] hyunjin: pls. i haven’t seen u in like a week :(

[10:59am] you: yea cuz unlike u i actually want to PASS [10:59am] you: shouldn’t u be studying too??????

[11:00am] hyunjin: pfft, studying is for losers [11:00am] hyunjin: when was the last time u left ur apartment anyways

[11:01am] hyunjin: ur brain is gonna liquefy soon!!!!! [11:01am] hyunjin: pls :((((( i think u can take a break for an hour at least :(

[11:03am] you: srry can’t hear u over the sound of archeomagnetism and dendrochronology

[11:04am] hyunjin: did i mention jisung is gonna be home

At the mention of his roommate, you tense up.

Because here’s the thing—his roommate, Han Jisung? You’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known Hyunjin, and there are a few undeniable facts about him.

Like how he’s really loud, kind of annoying, maybe even a little bit of an idiot. But if he’s an idiot, you must be an even bigger one, because you’ve had a big fat crush on him for a long time.

A really long time.

On the upper side of 2 years kind of long time. And the thing is, you aren’t even the kind of person who’s good at hiding these kinds of things. You think the only reason he hasn’t figured out is because of how oblivious he is, because you aren’t very discreet. Hyunjin caught on over a year ago, and he never fails to use it as emotional blackmail.

But you’re not so whipped that you would drop everything at the chance to see him, okay... You’re not!

Still, your heart beats a little faster as you fumble to type out a response.

[11:08am] you: okay, and?

[11:09am] hyunjin: oh, nothing~

You can hear his teasing singsong in your ear, like a tick you can’t shake off, and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him over the head or kick him in the shin more—probably both.

[11:11am] hyunjin: listen, i know ur stressed over this archaeology midterm [11:11am] hyunjin: but i need my weekly y/n fix sooo

[11:13am] hyunjin: if ur not here in half an hour i’m gonna beat ur ass

[11:16am] you: u think that scares me? [11:16am] you: i’d like to see u TRY

[11:18am] hyunjin: well if ur not coming... i guess i’ll just... [11:18am] hyunjin: tell jisung all ur embarrassing secrets

[11:19am] hyunjin: maybe i’ll start with the waffle house incident from freshman year?

[11:20am] hyunjin: pls come over :((( we can play mario kart :((( [11:20am] hyunjin: i’ll even play toad h- 🤢toad harbo- 🤢

[11:21am] you: Mrssage read at 11:21am ✓

[11:22am] hyunjin: BITCH IS THAT A TYPO [11:22am] hyunjin: TOAD HARBOR IS DISGUSTING I’M WILLING TO SACRIFICE A LOT 4 U

[11:24am] you: Message read at 11:21am ✓

[11:25am] hyunjin: ITS NOT EVEN 11:21 ANYMORE???

[11:27am] you: Message read at 11:27am ✓

In the end, though, it doesn’t take much for you to cave.

You would like to make it expressly clear that your decision to take a break has absolutely nothing to do with Han Jisung, and instead has more to do with the fact that Hyunjin (as infuriatingly annoying as he is) was right when he said your brain would liquefy soon if you don’t leave the house.

After all, you have been studying your ass off for the past two weeks, and maybe a little break would give you a chance to refocus. And, although you aren’t going over in the hopes of seeing Jisung... Well, it couldn’t hurt, right?

So, with the intent to stay for two hours, max (you do have a little self control, after all), you find yourself at Hyunjin’s building.

The building that he lives in has thin walls, and the moment you step onto the landing of their floor, you can hear the faint sound of the Mario Kart theme and some very aggressive yelling echo down the hall.

It gets louder as you round the corner, and you can vaguely make out someone telling Hyunjin to “suck it, frogface!” by the time you arrive at his door. Shaking your head slightly, you lift your hand to knock, but before you get too far, the door swings open.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin exclaims brightly, the grin on his face faltering as he looks you up and down.

“Wow. You look...”

“Amazing?” You respond dryly. “I know.”

He raises a brow. “I was going to say like you haven’t showered in a week or slept in two, but okay.”

You narrow your eyes and then punch him—because, yeah, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean he should say it anyways.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” you grumble. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you take in his appearance: clean and fresh and like he’s actually slept in a bed recently.

You and Hyunjin are both anthropology majors—it’s how you met, actually. Freshman year and he was one of the only people you could stand, mostly because of your shared love for dinosaur bones and aversion to large groups of people.

And yet, despite carrying the same course load for the past two years, he always seemed to manage it better than you ever could.

You don’t really understand it, like... At all. It’s like one of the mysteries of the modern world—how Hwang Hyunjin manages to ace his classes with flying colors while simultaneously not knowing the difference between Paris, France and Paris Hilton.

“Are you going to let me in?” You ask pointedly and he opens his mouth, probably to say something snarky back, but promptly shuts it when you shoot a glare at him.

Wordlessly, he holds the door open for you, and you step into the apartment.

“Guys,” he calls out and your eyes land on Jisung and your two mutual friends, Felix and Seungmin, as you walk into the living room. “Guess who finally decided to show up!”

“Hey Y/N,” Seungmin smiles slightly as you flop onto the couch next to him with a sigh. Felix and Jisung both grunt in your general direction, but they seem too consumed with what looks like an intense game of Mario Kart to do much more.

“Hyunjin threatened you into coming over too?” You ask as you shrug off your sweater, and Seungmin snorts.

“Yeah, something like that,” he says back lightly. “Were you studying?”

“Yes,” you wallow, “but... Here I am despite my better judgement. What about you?”

“I don’t really have much work this weekend,” Seungmin replies. “Other than, you know...”

He holds up the worn book in his hands and you groan.

“Lucky... I wish I was a literature major.”

“Jisung, did you just red shell me?!” Felix exclaims, aghast, and your attention shifts to the TV.

“And if I did?” Jisung responds smugly, his eyes trained on the illuminated screen.

Felix narrows his eyes. “I mean, that’s what this blue shell is for, I guess.”

“Fuck,” Jisung curses as he—playing as baby Peach—gets bombed, and Felix (baby Daisy) speeds past.

“Language!” You chide instinctively. “There are children here...”

“Sorry!” Jisung spares a glance at you, a cheesy and apologetic grin stretched across his face, and your heart skips a beat.

Your cheeks heat up and he tilts his head curiously to the side, as if he’s about to say something more—and then the moment passes as Hyunjin chimes from the kitchen, “don’t talk about Felix like that.”

You turn in his direction and try your best to deadpan, but your face still feels warm and the words almost catch in your throat.

“I was talking about you,” you childishly stick out your tongue, and felix reaches over for a quick high five without looking away from the screen.

“Y/N,” Jisung complains distractedly. “You can’t take Felix’s side. You were my friend first!”

“Sorry,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “Maybe if you were winning, but...”

“You’re not,” Hyunjin pipes up helpfully as he slouches down in between you and Seungmin, and you nod in agreement.

“What he said.”

Jisung sticks up his middle finger at the two of you. You and Hyunjin, ignoring him, fist bump.

It takes a few more minutes (precisely three more courses, including Moo Moo Farm and Yoshi Falls—seriously, who gets 12th in Yoshi Falls?) before Jisung throws down the controller in defeat, a groan leaving his lips.

“You’re cheating anyways,” he scoffs, crossing his arms as he turns away from Felix stubbornly.

He looks like a child, and you and Hyunjin burst into laughter as Felix ignores him, breaking out into a very... interesting victory dance as he chants “I beat you!” over and over again.

Seungmin rolls his eyes at their childish antics and Hyunjin keels over, almost falling off the couch as Felix begins doing something reminiscent of the chicken dance. You pull out your phone with no hesitation and open Snapchat, unwilling to pass up the opportunity for blackmail material.

“I won,” Felix crows, and Jisung waves him off, annoyed.

“Yeah, we know.”

Felix jumps back on the cushions next to him and looks at him expectantly. “So, ‘fess up. What have you been hiding from us?”

“What, did he feed Minho’s cats fish food again?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, that was one time,” Jisung complains immediately, “and you know how confusing the label is! Both of them have pictures of fishes on them, how was I supposed to know the difference between the cat food and the fish food?”

He pouts, and you look away quickly—even when he’s upset, he still looks cute.

“By reading the label,” Hyunjin says plainly. “You know, like an actual functioning adult.”

“Bold of you to assume he’s functioning. Or an adult,” Seungmin pipes up.

“Okay,” Jisung scoffs. “Is it, like, national bully Han Jisung day?”

“It doesn’t have to be when you make it so easy,” Felix shrugs.

Jisung looks around helplessly, and when his eyes meet yours, you just purse your lips.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s right,” you begin,” but if the shoe fits...”

He pouts again, and you cough as your breath gets caught in your throat.

“Okay, but seriously—“ you begin, desperate to change the topic before he does something even more adorable and you just spontaneously combust on the spot.

“—What are you hiding? If it’s a dead body, I can help, but you’ll have to give me a few hours.”

“It’s not,” Jisung shudders, “but the fact that you are so prepared for that possibility makes me absolutely terrified.

You grin at him sweetly. “As you should be.”

“Y/N, please don’t kill anyone,” Hyunjin begs. “Please, not again.”

“Again?” Jisung coughs, aghast. The four of you collectively ignore him.

“Okay, so if it’s not the fish food thing, or a dead body, then what did he do?” You ask Felix.

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be?” Felix says sarcastically, turning to pointedly stare at Jisung. “Would you like to, I don’t know, share with the group?”

“Share? W-What?” Jisung asks, suddenly nervous. HIs ears are flushed, and you can see the sweat forming on his brow. “I have nothing to hide!”

Any semblance of conviction vanishes when his voice cracks on the last word, and you snort.

“Well, now we definitely believe you,” Seungmin says dryly.

Felix rolls his eyes. “According to Yuna, that’s not true.”

“Yuna?” You interrupt, slightly confused. “Like... Yuna, my roommate Yuna? Changbin’s cousin, Yuna?”

“Yes, Y/N,” Felix sighs. “Do we know any other Yuna?”

“Oh.” You pause for a moment. “I suppose not. Well, you can continue.”

“W-who’s Yuna?” Jisung stutters and his voice pitches upwards. Much to your chagrin, you can’t help but note once again how cute he looks...

“Jisung, you’ve literally been friends with Yuna since you were kids,” Hyunjin deadpans.

“...I don’t have friends!”

“You won’t after this...” Felix sighs again, exasperated as he turns to you.

“Y/N, you said something about knowing how to hide a dead body?”

You raise a brow. “Are you doubting me?”

“...No.”

“That’s what I thought,” you nod smugly.

“Whatever Yuna told you, she’s lying,” Jisung declares finally, after a moment of silence.

Felix scoffs.

“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell Yuna about some secret girlfriend you have, that you conveniently forget to tell any of us about?”

You must be really tired from all the studying earlier, you think to yourself,, because if you didn’t know any better, you would swear you just heard him say Jisung and girlfriend in the same sentence, unironically...

Jisung, the idiot who after a year and a half of pining, still hasn’t realized how you feel about him. Jisung, the thick headed dummy who literally can never take a hint, and somehow has the worst track record with girls despite how attractive and funny he is.

Hyunjin snorts, voicing your thoughts. “Girlfriend? Who would date Jisung?”

Well, you would, but you’re not about to say that out loud...

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out!” Felix hisses as he turns to glare at Hyunjin, who’s jaw drops open in response.

“Wait, you’re being serious?”

There’s a strange feeling that starts to rise in your throat. It’s almost like a bitterness—but the kind that burns, and a knot tightens in the pit of your stomach. Your body feels hot, almost as if fire is coursing through your veins.

Is he being serious?

“Yes, Hyunjin, obviously,” Felix groans.

His words are like a knife in your stomach, and you almost forget how to breathe.

“Well... I mean...” Jisung begins slowly, his eyes flitting around the room, and Felix punches him.

“I will call Yuna right now.”

That shuts Jisung up, and he sits that, pouting like a wounded baby.

But he doesn’t deny it, and your throat tightens. Your body feels like its overheating and you think you might vomit—is this what jealousy feels like? You swallow, and your tongue scrapes against the roof of your mouth like sandpaper.

“So Yuna doesn’t know who it is?” Hyunjin asks skeptically.

“No,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “because there is no one. She must have heard wrong.”

And he sounds convincing—partly because his voice stays steady as he says it, but also because you want it to be true. But you know Yuna. She’s blunt and straightforward and sometimes a little mean, but as long as you have known her, she’s never told a lie. SHe hates bullshit, so you know Felix is telling the truth.

“How could she have heard wrong?” Felix cries. “Nothing rhymes with ‘I have a girlfriend!’“

“Not nothing,” Jisung reasons, but he’s quickly shut up by the pillow Hyunjin snatches from your grasp to throw at him.

“We’re going to find out one way or another,” Seungmin reasons, “so you might as well tell us now.”

“Well—I mean, there’s not—“ Jisung splutters, and you can feel how frantic he is. How much he doesn’t want to talk about this.

Well, that makes two of you.

Felix opens his mouth, looking like he is about to protest, but you can’t take it anymore—you have to change the topic, and quick.

“Okay ladies,” you clap your hands together dramatically and all attention turns to you temporarily, the words dying on Felix’s tongue. “This has been fun and all, but can we wrap this up? If he says he’s not dating anyone, then he isn’t. Plus, I have 30 minutes left of my break, and I believe someone promised me some Toad Harbor action.”

“Are you challenging me?” Hyunjin quirks a brow, and any thoughts of Jisung and his mysterious girlfriend are forgotten.

Bless boys and their short attention spans...

“And if I am?” You throw back half-heartedly.

He scoffs, flexing his fingers. “Oh, you’re on.”

“Well, would you look at the time!” Jisung glances down at his bare wrist, tapping it as if a watch is there. “I should be going now...”

Felix scowls at him. “What do you mea—”

Jisung catches your gaze, mouthing a quick “thank you,” before he jumps up from where he is sitting and makes a break for his room. He manages to get inside and slam the door shut before Felix gets the chance to wedge his way in, and there is a distinct click of a lock as Felix bangs on the door angrily.

“Han Jisung, this is not over,” he says murderously.

Jisung doesn’t respond, and Felix, glowering, slinks back to the couch.

Hyunjin, who seems to not give a fuck about it, throws you the spare controller and willingly selects Toad Harbor (the worst course, in his opinion, but his opinions are often wrong.) You finish the race in first place—obviously—but the entire game, your head swims with thoughts of Jisung and his mystery girlfriend.

You’re not sure when or why you started liking Han Jisung. Your feelings for him weren’t something you expected—there wasn’t one grand gesture that captured your heart or one particular instance you can remember that decided it for you.

It’s just, one day you started to notice the little things—like, how when he laughs, he has a habit of hitting whoever is nearest to him because he laughs so hard. How when he tells a joke, he tells it with his whole body: his words, his hands, his face. How when he’s out eating with anybody, he always makes sure everyone else has started eating before he does. How he’s not the best at putting his emotions into words, but while he might be boisterous and loud, when it comes down to it, he’s a really good listener.

And then, you started to realize other things too. Like how you unconsciously look for him everywhere you go—how your heart beats a little bit faster when he’s around, and when he’s not, an unshakeable pit of disappointment weighs your stomach down.

That’s when you knew you were absolutely and totally fucked.

Developing feelings for Jisung wasn’t very memorable, but meeting him for the first time... That’s a different story.

It happened a little more than halfway through the first semester of your freshman year, on one fine Wednesday night when Hyunjin happened to forget his lab notebook in his dorm (like the absolute dolt he is) twenty minutes before said lab began.

He calls you, panicked, begging you to get it for him. He doesn’t have time to make it to his dorm and back in time, and his TA is an ass who’s policy is that every lab session you show up late to, your grade drops a letter. He’s near tears on the phone, blubbering on and on about how much he’ll owe you if you do this one thing for him—so of course, out of the kindness of your heart, you begrudgingly agree to bring his notebook to him.

“Yes, Hyunjin,” you sigh into the phone that is wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you pull your sneakers onto your feet. “I know where your room is. Yes, I know from the—I don’t know, hundreds of times I’ve come over?”

You pause.

“Yes, I heard you. The blue one. Yes, okay, I got it. Can you stop stressing? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”

He starts to say something more, but knowing him, it’s probably just more complaining, so you hang up before he can give himself another panic attack. The line disconnects with a beep and you step out of your room, heading towards the nearest stairwell.

Hyunjin is just lucky that you both happen to live in the same dorm building, you think to yourself wryly as you begin to hike up from the 2nd floor to the 5th, where he lives.

It’s only 3 floors, but you’re still winded by the time you make it up, and you take a moment to catch your breath and curse your weak lungs before you continue down the hall towards Hyunjin’s room.

The two of you are so close that you spend almost every waking moment together, but despite it, you never really spend much time in Hyunjin’s dorm. It’s a combination of the facts that he has a bit of a cleanliness problem, and that your dorm happens to be less stairs to climb—which sounds like an absurd excuse, but when you consider that the elevators seem to be out of service every other week, actually makes quite a bit of sense.

As such, you haven’t met his roommate yet. You’ve heard stories of the elusive Han Jisung from Hyunjin, as well as your other mutual friends Seungmin and Changbin, but he might as well be a ghost for how many times you’ve actually seen him.

When you arrive at room #5014, decorated with cute little postcards by Hyunjin’s endearing RA, Chan, you don’t hesitate before grabbing the handle and swinging the door open. You might not spend much time in his room, but you’ve definitely visited on enough occasions to know that (despite your best efforts) Hyunjin has a bad habit of leaving his door unlocked.

You can’t count how many times you’ve scolded him for it, but his reasoning is that nobody wants to steal from a broke college student and, well, you can’t really argue with that.

You’ve barely taken a step into the room before a high pitched shriek pierces your ears, and you jump in fright when you see a tall and very blond figure cowering on in the left corner of the room.

It’s only when your eyes meet his wide and terrified gaze that you match his scream.

“Who are you?!” You demand immediately, your hands fisted and thrown out defensively in front of you. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to steal from Hyunjin? He doesn’t have anything worth stealing, if that’s what you’re trying to do!”

“Who am I? Who are you?! And why would I want to steal from Hyunjin?”

“Why should I answer you?” You challenge. “You’re the one trying to steal from a poor, unsuspecting college student!”

He gapes at you.

“He doesn’t have anything worth stealing, anyways! Just... this?” You trail off, confused as you pick up a small metal frying pan from the mess of his desk.

“I—“ The boy begins, but you thrust the frying pan in his direction threateningly.

“Who are you?” You repeat. “And before you answer, you should know I have pepper spray and I am not afraid to use it.”

“Woah there, Rapunzel!” He throws his arms up in surrender. “I’m Jisung! Hyunjin’s roommate.”

You pause, slowly lowering your arms.

“Oh.” Then, as realization hits you: “Oh.”

A wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you clear your throat as you try to play off your fighting stance as a really, really awkward hair tuck—which turns out to be even more challenging than you anticipated, considering the fucking frying pan in your hands.

“Yes. Well, that would make sense.”

He stares at you, his eyes narrowed, and you roll your bottom lip anxiously between your teeth.

“Well. Um, I’m Y/N.” You offer awkwardly as you try to set the frying pan down as inconspicuously as you can.

Even as you do, his bewildered gaze never leaves you, and you wince at the loud clang the pan makes as you set it down.

“Oh,” he says a bit lately, and you see recognition flash across his face. “Y/N, you’re Hyunjin’s archaeology friend. Right?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the p and immediately regretting it afterwards. “That’s me.”

His mouth forms a small, soundless ‘o’ but doesn’t say anything more, which you take as your cue to continue.

“I, um, didn’t mean to barge in like this. I just thought, you know, that you wouldn’t be here... I swear I don’t just randomly barge into people’s rooms! Hyunjin just left his lab notebook, and he needed someone to get it for him, so... here I am,” you ramble.

“Of course he would forget to mention that his roommate would be here,” you mutter to yourself.

“Huh?” He asks, confused, and you perk up.

“I was just saying that again, I’m really sorry for barging in on you like this.”

You pause.

“Oh, and, um, for accusing you of being a thief...”

“It’s alright?” He says awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. “I mean, it’s not the first time someone has come in randomly, so I guess... Don’t worry about it.”

You nod and another moment passes. The discomfort is palpable.

“So...”

“So!” You repeat, wincing as your voice comes out a little too loud.

You aren’t sure what to do in this painfully uncomfortable situation.

“Um,” your gaze flits around the room as you search for something—anything to say and break the tense silence. When your eyes land on his desk, you light up.

“Oh, are you into music production?” You ask, genuinely curious as you take notice of the mic and synthesizer he has set up and plugged into his laptop.

“Huh?” Jisung splutters for a moment, his eyes wide as his composure slips. “W-What would give you that idea?”

His eyes flit nervously around.

“D-Did Hyunjin say something to you? Because, I mean, wh-whatever he said, it was just a joke!”

You give him a weird look and he flushes to his ears.

“Um, no, Hyunjin didn’t say anything.” An awkward pause.

“I just was asking because of all... that.” You motion at his desk.

“O-oh,” Jisung winces.

“W-Well, the thing is...” he stutters, grasping for words that don’t seem to be there. “It just an, um—“

You don’t give him the opportunity to explain.

“No, it’s okay!” You exclaim hastily. He looks even more flustered than earlier, and you can’t help but feel bad. This—whatever it must be—seems to be a touchy subject.

“I didn’t mean to pry!” You say quickly. “Hyunjin keeps telling me I have a problem with running my mouth and butting my head into other people’s business, so really, you don’t have to explain! Just... Forget I said anything, actually!”

You walk as you talk, blabbering as your head towards Hyunjin’s mess of a desk. His blue lab notebook is glaring at you from on top of a stack of miscellaneous assignments, and you waste no time as you snatch it up.

Jisung just watches you wordlessly, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Um,” you hesitate for a moment as you turn around to face him. “Well, again, sorry for... literally everything that just happened. I’ll—I think it would be good if I left now...”

It’s so awkward that you half-wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, and your only consolation is that it seems Jisung feels the same way too.

You grab the doorknob and twist, speed walking out of the room and down the hallway without another word.

It’s only once you’ve rounded the corner that you pause, barely refraining from banging your head on the wall in frustration. That was a fucking disaster.

Oh, you are definitely kicking Hyunjin’s ass for this later.

With a deep breath, you make it to the stairwell and take the steps two by two until you reach the ground floor. You’re only slightly winded as you pull out your phone to check the time. There are still thirteen minutes until Hyunjin’s lab begins, and yet you’re not surprised to see eight unread text messages from him.

[7:40pm] hyunjin: it’s the blue one!!! pls get the right one omg

[7:41pm] hyunjin: y/n are u getting it [7:41pm] hyunjin: my dorm is unlocked u know that right

[7:43pm] hyunjin: y/n [7:43pm] hyunjin: y/n why aren’t u reading my msgs

[7:45pm] hyunjin: y/n!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[7:46pm] hyunjin: o yeah i forgot to mention.... jisung might be in the room

[7:46pm] hyunjin: oops

You quickly type out a message

[7:47pm] you: yeah thanks for the heads up 😐 [7:47pm] you: i’ll be there soon now stop bothering me

Four minutes and a very furious scooter ride across campus later, you are met with a very frantic Hyunjin outside the life sciences building, who tackles you the second you prop the kickstand of the scooter and step off of it.

“Y/N!” He throws his arms around you and squeezes you so tightly that you choke. “Oh my god, thank you. Have I mentioned I love you? Because I do. I love you so much!”

“Yeah,” you flip your hair over your shoulder as you hand him his notebook. “I know.”

“You literally have saved my life tonight,” Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with tears and you roll your eyes. Why is he so overdramatic?

“It’s what I do,” you shrug in response. “You owe me dinner though. Friday night, no excuses! I want sushi. That expensive place we always pass on the way to the convenience store.”

“Anything for you,” he says seriously and you grin.

“I met your roommate, by the way,” you tell him.

“You did?” Hyunjin glances up. “And?”

“And?” You parrot, glaring at him. “And I’m going to kill you! I can’t believe you never told me he was hot, and now I’m pretty sure he hates me!”

“What did you do to him?” He asks wearily.

“Nothing!” You exclaim quickly. “I swear. I mean, I might have accused him of trying to steal from you, and also maybe, um, embarrassed him when I asked about his whole music set up, but...”

“He told you about 3racha?” Hyunjin gapes.

“No.”

A moment passes.

“Wait, 3racha?” You backtrack, baffled. “You mean, the rappers that you’re always playing that are, like, internet famous? That is what your roommate does? I thought he was just an audio engineering major like Chan!”

You watch as an expression that clearly reads oh shit passes over Hyunjin’s face before he tries to hide it and fake confusion.

“What? Noooo...” He says nervously. “W-What are you talking about?”

“No wonder he was super weird when I asked about it. But 3racha’s stuff is like, really good.”

A moment passes. “Does this mean your roommate is famous?”

“W-What?” He stutters. You glare at him, and a moment later, he lets out a heavy sigh.

“...Yeah.”

“Does this mean you’re friends with the rest of 3racha, too?” You ask.

“Well...” He says slowly. His eyes are too guilty, so you know it must be true.

Then, you gasp and your knees start wobbling as something clicks in your head.

“Chan?!”

He breaks.

“Okay, yeah, Chan, and Changbin too.”

This time your knees really do almost give out.

“Seo Changbin?” You choke. “And he enver told me?”

“Yeah, well, you can’t tell anyone,” Hyunjin grumbles. “Technically, I’m not even supposed to talk about it. Nobody knows except me, Chan’s roommate, and you know.”

“Nobody?” You gape. “Not even Yuna?”

“Especially not Yuna,” Hyunjin says solemnly. “It’s a really sensitive topic for Jisung... His one condition for joining Chan and Changbin was keeping a low profile, and well... People really eat up the whole secret identity thing.”

“Oh.” A moment passes. “Okay.”

He looks at you expectantly.

“Oh, yeah, I promise I won’t tell anybody. My mouth is shut,” you mime a zipping motion over your lips and Hyunjin lets out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, good.”

He glances down at his watch and lets out a wheeze.

“Oh shit, I have to go!” His eyes widen comically and he doesn’t waste a moment before turning on his heels and running towards the science building.

“Okay, bye sweetie! Have fun in class. I’ll come pick you up after soccer practice!” You call out like the obnoxious friend you are.

Predictably, he flips you off, and you laugh.

A week after that Saturday that you find out that Jisung has a girlfriend finds you finally through with all your exams. You are stuck in the library, struggling through your last essay before you’re finished with this midterm period, and the freedom tastes so sweet that you are having a hard time focusing.

But, somehow, by some magical stroke of luck, you make it through your essay. You’re putting the finishing touches on your argument against big pharma when Hyunjin comes barrelling through the bookshelves, nearly slamming into the table you’re sitting at in his haste to reach you.

Surprised, you look up to find your best friend keeled over at the waist, panting loudly as he tries to catch his breath.

“Hyunjin?” You whisper, confused. He has class right now, and you’re not sure why he’s here in the library instead of in the liberal arts building halfway across campus.

“What are you—”

He takes a deep breath, before screeching out, “you bitch!”

You can’t count how many heads turn at his exclamation and you narrow your eyes and yank him down into the seat next to you before he can say anything else.

“Not that I don’t love to be greeted this way,” you whisper, “but can you keep your voice down? We’re on the quiet floor.”

“Keep my voice down?!” You think you see a vein bulge in his forehead and his eyes almost pop out of his face, but he listens and lowers his voice to a very aggressive whisper-shout.

“Still too loud,” you pinch his ear. He winces but doesn’t say anything but before he can say anything, you pin him with a look that shuts him up immediately.

“Now. Why aren’t you in class?”

“Oh, sorry,” He mutters sarcastically. “I seem to have forgotten about it because of bigger things on my mind. Like, I don’t know, my best friend keeping a secret from me!”

You deadpan. “What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin scoffs.

“What are you talking about?” He mocks, his face twisting up. “Stop acting like you don’t know! You’ve been outed, okay, and I just found out from Changbin.”

“I have no idea what your talking about,” you tell him honestly, then pause.

“Wait... Is this about the time Changbin and I went out for ice cream without you? Because in my defense, you were passed the fuck out on the couch after those six shots and Chan said he would take care of you.”

He gasps, outraged. “You went to get ice cream without me?”

“Maybe don’t black out during the pregame next time,” you shrug.

“We’ll get back to the ice cream thing later,” Hyunjin promises you seriously, “but that is not what I’m talking about.”

“Okay,” you say mildly and he glares at you.

“I mean really,” Hyunjin pouts now. “How are you going to let me find out you have a boyfriend from Changbin, of all people?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then you snort, turning back to your essay.

“Yeah, okay. You had me for a moment there.”

He narrows his eyes and kicks you rather meanly under the table.

“Wait, are you being serious?” You double take, but his eyebrows are drawn together, and there isn’t a hint of humor on his face.

“Y-You think I’m in a relationship?” You ask in disbelief, and he nods resolutely.

“I know you are.”

“And pray tell,” you say, trying to stifle the laugh that bubbles up in the back of your throat. “Who exactly am I dating?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says simply, and you swear—your heart stops beating in that moment.

“Who?!” You splutter as blood rushes to your face, and now you are the one loud enough to draw the attention of everyone within a 10 foot radius.

He just scoffs.

“And you really thought the two of you could hide it from me, too. Your best friend. Honestly, the audacity!” he rants, but you’re still unable to contain your shock.

Your mouth opens, then closes, opens, then closes again as you search for words that aren’t there.

“O-okay, you can stop joking around now,” you blubber nervously. “What is this really about?”

Hyunjin just stares at you, unimpressed.

“That’s not going to work on me, Y/N. I can see right through you.”

“T-Then Changbin must be pulling your leg,” you mutter as you start drumming your fingers against the table nervously, “because I am most definitely not dating your roommate.”

You say it, and you know it's the truth—it’s so painfully the truth, but by now your cheeks are flushed and warm, and your eyes are shifty. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that Hyunjin thinks you’re lying to him.

And you aren’t, but he’s so stubborn that you know he won’t believe you no matter what you say.

But—you aren’t dating Han Jisung. You’re pretty sure you would know if you were, and you definitely wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, much less from your best friend.

“He’s not,” Hyunjin says, exasperated.

“A-And how do you know that?” You ask him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Because Jisung is the one who told Changbin about your relationship.”

“He did what?” You shriek. You’re so loud that you are probably two minutes away from being kicked out, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You feel like you’re in an alternate universe, one where things don’t make sense and everything is opposite of what is should be. You must be, right? Or maybe you’re dreaming. Yes, that would make so much more sense.

“I mean, I don’t care that the two of you are dating,” Hyunjin sniffs, “but you could’ve at least told me. I mean, my best friend and my roommate. Hiding it from me! I can’t believe…”

He keeps rambling on, but the blood rushing through your ears muffles his voice, and you take two fingers and pinch yourself—hard. This fever dream must be because of all the coffee you drank yesterday, you think.

Except when you pinch, you actually feel it.

“What?” You mutter yourself, your heart beating a mile a minute as your brain struggles to comprehend the fact that you are, in fact, awake. Which would mean…

“Hyunjin,” you interrupt him, feeling a little bit crazed. “You’re saying that Jisung told Changbin that his secret girlfriend, the one he’s keeping from all of us, is… me?”

Your best friend scoffs. “Yes, Y/N, obviously. We all know now!”

You look at him, your head swimming with many thoughts (none of which make sense) and he stares right back.

And then—you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Y-Y/N?” Hyunjin asks uncertainly, concerned when your cackling starts to border on maniacal.

Your chest hurts and you reach a hand up to wipe away a tear—it’s just that funny. It’s funny that Hyunjin thinks you’re dating anyone, let alone Han fucking Jisung, the guy you’ve had a big fat crush on for who knows how long. It’s just funny.

It takes a moment for your laughter to subside, but you can’t shake the crazy grin that seems to have taken up residence on your face. You’re more than aware how fucking mental you must look, but—well, you feel like your brain might melt into goo soon, so you can’t really help it.

Hyunjin looks more than a bit frightened, but you pay no mind as you close your laptop (probably a bit more forcefully than you should have) and then shove it into your bag.

“Where Jisung is right now?” You ask him with a sweet smile, but your tone is cutting and sharp, and he shrinks back into his seat a little.

“He’s a-at Banana Tree,” Hyunjin stutters out, mentioning the local café on the outskirts of campus, and you jump up from your seat.

“Great. I’ll see you later.” And before he can process it, you’re gone.

It’s a ten minute walk from the library to Banana Tree, but with the amount of adrenaline rushing through your veins, you manage to make it there in six.

The café is cute and quaint and is like a little slice of heaven for you. It’s been your favorite place on campus since you discovered it your second semester of freshman year, and you can’t count how many times you’ve been since. It’s so adorable and—most importantly—affordable, which is why you’re a bit surprised to find that it isn’t as crowded as it usually is.

On most days, the line is long and winding and it’s more than a little difficult to find a place to sit, but today you find that the line is considerably short and only a few people are scattered throughout the coffee shop.

Usually, you would be ecstatic; the short line means instant gratification for your coffee addiction, but today—you don’t hesitate before breezing past the cashier and heading straight towards the back, where you immediately spot Jisung hunched over his laptop in the corner.

His eyebrows drawn together in concentration beneath his wire-rimmed glasses, and he’s looking good in his hoodie and skinny jeans, but you’re here on a mission and you refuse to let the way your heart skips a beat distract you from it.

“Wha—Oh!” Jisung yelps, looking up and almost falling out of his seat in surprise as you slide into the empty chair opposite of him.

“Y/N! Jesus, you gave me a heart attack,” he breathes out, as he clutches his chest, and you raise an eyebrow.

“You’re still alive,” you say mildly. “I think you’ll be fine,”

“Well,” he clears his throat as he straightens up in his chair. “Yes, but…”

He isn’t sure what it is, but the way you’re eyeing him, like you’re trying to figure out the best way to kill him, makes him nervous.

Which is funny, because in your head, you actually are running through places you could hide his body without being caught…

You know, just in case.

“So…” He says slowly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” you respond conversationally as you snatch his iced coffee away from him before he can protest and take a nice, long sip.

You watch as the frothy liquid travels up the straw as you try to convince yourself not to stare at him, because you know the longer you look at him, the quicker your anger will escape you.

Even now, looking half-scared and half-confused, he still manages to look good. With those glasses, he’s giving off those “hot TA that you might hook up with at a frat party” kind of vibe, and you know if you stare too long, you’ll forget why you’re here in the first place.

“What’s up with you, boyfriend?”

That one word is almost like an arrow with how sharp you throw it out, and from the way Jisung’s expression slowly melts from one of confusion to one of grim understanding and dread, you can tell that it hits right on the bullseye.

“Look,” he says quickly, his face heating up. “I can explain, I promise!”

“Well,” you drawl. “By all means, go ahead.”

You’re shorter than Jisung, but from the way he seems to shrink under your gaze, you might as well be towering over him.

A moment passes, then another, almost as if he’s trying to figure out how to begin, and then:

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

You wrinkle your nose at the unexpected question.

“Well, actually I’d rather like to forget the whole accusing you of being a thief part, but yes.”

“Yeah, understandable,” he nods. “It was really awkward.”

That is an understatement.

“But I’m not talking about you threatening me with a frying pan,” he continues.

“You said you forgave me for that!” You protest, and he deadpans.

“I lied.”

You open your mouth, not sure whether or not you’re going to insult him or just kick him under the table.

Instead, you opt for saying, “well then, which part are you talking about?”

“The, um, well,” he looks around, suddenly awkward as his voice lowers to a mumble that is so soft you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“What?” You ask, your ears straining.

“Well, you know… When you found out about, um,” he gesticulates randomly in the air, and you squint.

“Jisung, I have absolutely no idea what you’re trying to say,” you tell him exasperatedly. “Can you use your words?”

“3racha!” He finally explodes. “You found out about it when we first met.”

You stare at him, confused. “Okay?”

“And, it’s just that… You know how it’s a secret right? The whole ‘nobody knows who they are’ kind of thing. I mean, now it’s really big all over campus and people like the whole mystery… Say it’s part of the listening experience or whatever… But even from the beginning, I never really wanted people to know it was me,” he rambles on, and it’s like a dam has broken. The words pour out of his mouth and he can’t seem to stop them.

“Which is why it’s kind of ironic that, like, the entire time you’ve known me, you’ve also known my biggest secret. Actually, it’s a bit unnerving, if I’m being honest. I’m surprised Hyunjin managed to not tell you even before you met me, actually but it’s just that—” He takes a deep breath, cutting off his tirade when he notices the glare you have focused on him.

“—Well, what I’m trying to say is, you know, the reason we don’t go public isn’t because we think we’re above it all.”

You stare blankly at him.

“Yeah, I understand that,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and he balks at you.

“What I don’t understand,” you continue on, “is what exactly 3racha and your underground rapping career have to do with the fact that our closest friends now seem to think we’re in a relationship.”

“Well,” he begins sheepishly. “It’s actually kind of a funny story.”

You glare at him.

“Okay!” He’s quick to say. “Well, basically, Yuna might have suspected I was hiding something from her, and when she was, like, two seconds away from figuring out about 3racha, it might have just… slipped out?”

Jisung pauses and the air is thick with anticipation, as if he thinks you might smack him right then and there.

“Slipped out,” you echo in disbelief. “That you have a secret girlfriend, and that girlfriend is me?”

“Yes,” his voice is small.

“But… Why me?” You ask after a moment, lost.

“I-I mean, you were the first person to come to mind,” he mutters as his shifty eyes avoid yours. “You know about 3racha, and I panicked, and then I had already said your name and it was too late...”

You narrow your eyes and he lets out a sigh.

“Look,” he begins solemnly. “I know it’s out of the blue, but you know how Yuna is… Well, actually, you know how all of our friends are. They don’t give up easily, and I swear it wasn’t my intention to drag you into this, so I’m really sorry.”

Jisung hesitates.

“And I’m really sorry to have to ask you this, too, but…Would you mind going along with it? Just for a little while! I know it’s a lot to ask, but you would be saving my life.”

He looks you dead in the eye. “Like, literally saving my life. I think Yuna and Felix might murder me if they find out the truth.”

A moment passes, then another as you scramble to find words. You’re not sure what so say, how to respond to… that, and the longer you wait, the more worried he becomes.

“Wait, you don’t have a boyfriend right now, do you?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

Your reaction is instantaneous and you scoff a little. “No, I definitely do not.”

Jisung sags in relief, but his eyes stay trained on you, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous. The earnesty of his gaze is piercing, and it makes you flush.

“So, you actually want to do this?” You ask him for confirmation. “Lie to our friends and pretend like we’re dating?”

“Yes?” He winces.

You look at him for a moment, watching as he braces himself as if he’s expecting the worst, but the truth is—you already know your answer. Hell, he could ask you to jump off a cliff and you would probably say yes to that too.

“Okay.”

“Wait—really?” He asks in disbelief, and you nod.

“Yeah, I mean… I wouldn’t want you to have to tell everyone about 3racha because of me, so… I guess there’s not much of a choice, anyways.”

“Oh, thank God,” He blurts out, looking like he’s only seconds away from bowing down to you and kissing your feet. “Thank you so much. I really owe you.”

“I just have one question,” you say after a moment.

“Yeah?” Jisung replies, distracted, as if nothing could bring his mood down.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“What?” He cocks his head to the side.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why didn’t you just ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I would have said yes.”

“Oh.” He pauses, and a look of realization passing over his face.

“You know… I didn’t even think of that.”

You have to refrain from smacking yourself in the head. Of course you had to go and fall for an idiot.

Of course.

You are spiraling.

“Jisung, I don’t think I can do this.”

You are spiraling, and there is literally nothing anyone can do about it because, oh my god, you are an idiot for agreeing to a plan so idiotic that it has already started to fall apart.

It’s currently two days after you agreed to lie to all of your friends and fake date Jisung, and the two of you have been sitting in the student activity center for the past thirty minutes working through the details of your “relationship,” because like the idiots you are, you both managed to forget you had to figure these things out if you hoped to convince anyone that you are in love.

Great.

Except—when you wake up this morning, the day starts off bad, and only continues to get worse. It’s almost as if Murphy’s law chooses you as it’s sole victim today, because anything that can go wrong is most definitely going wrong right now.

First, you almost sleep through your British literature lecture in the morning when you’re alarm decided to conveniently stop working (and by stop working, you mean completely fall apart, most likely because of the way Hyunjin had thrown it at the wall last Thursday when the two of you decided to unwind with a bottle of wine... Each.)

After stumbling into the giant lecture hall still in your pajamas, you manage to make it to you next class—Stats—on time. Until you realize you somehow managed to forget about the quiz that your TA sent fifty emails out about.

Then, after that ordeal, you show up at the sandwich shop right next to the Maths building in hopes of grabbing a quick bite to eat, only to find the line winding and out the door.

It’s as you are about to scream violently into the void because of how crappy the day has been going that you get a text message from Jisung, who asks if the two of you can meet at the student activity center. With a sigh, you quickly type out a reply before dragging your feet up the hill and towards said building…

…Where you proceed to wait for who knows how long because, in true Jisung fashion, he shows up late to a meeting he himself set up.

And then, after you eat half a bowl of soup, he finally shows up, frantic and apologetic—which leads you to now.

“Y/N?” Jisung asks uncertainly, waving his hand in front of your face.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually managed to talk me into this,” you breathe out, rocking back and forth slightly in your chair.

The weight of what you are about to do—lie to your friends, pretend to date the guy you have feelings for, all of the above?—hits you like a freight train.

“Like, seriously?” You turn your frantic gaze to Jisung’s face. “You really want to do this? There is no other excuse we can use? Maybe they’ll believe us if we tell them it was just a joke?”

“Um…” He says meekly, but you are on a rant and you barely even hear him as you continue on.

“I can’t believe that out of all the people in the world, it had to be my name that you thought of first... I mean, I don’t even know if I should be flattered or just angry, because oh my god, Jisung I really can’t do this. Hyunjin is my best friend! How am I supposed to lie to him? I don’t think I can lie to him. Like, physically, I think it’s impossible. And then I’m going to have to lie to Yuna, and Changbin too? I live with Yuna, she’s going to see right through me! Who’s going to believe the two of us are dating? Oh my god, I think I’m going to pass out. Why would you—“

“Okay, Y/N,” Jisung interjects, grabbing you by the shoulders gently. “I’m going to need you to stop for a moment and just breathe. Can you breathe for me?”

You look at him, bewildered, as if you’ve never heard of the concept of breathing. Right now, it actually feels like you haven’t. You’re all hot and panicky, and you’re not sure your lungs are functioning correctly—if they are at all. It’s like all eyes are on you, and if you were a little bit less crazed, you would know that’s not true, but right now—right now, all you can think about is how nice it would be if you just dropped dead right here.

“Breathe,” he nods encouragingly. “Yeah, in and out, can you do it with me?”

A moment passes, but he’s looking at you so expectantly, and even ten seconds away from a panic attack you’re still whipped for him, so hesitantly, you nod in agreement.

“Alright, that’s great,” he beams at you.

“Just in,” he breathes in and you shakily follow suit. “And out.”

You repeat once, and then twice, and by the third time you can feel yourself calming down.

“Oh. Okay, yeah,” you shake your arms out. “It’s all good, right…”

Jisung grins and your heart skips a beat—but this kind of nervousness, well, you’re used to it by now. The familiar butterflies in your stomach are almost grounding, and it only takes a few moments before you’re completely calm.

“So,” you clear your throat, embarrassed. “It’s all fine. Lying to our mutual best friends is fine, right. What were we talking about, anyways?”

“Oh!” Jisung starts. “I think we were on what our first date was.”

“First date?” You wrinkle your nose. “Can’t you decide?”

“Hey, I already decided how I asked you out. Our first date is yours to decide.”

You groan, thinking about how Jisung—after a lot of thinking—had come to the executive decision that he asked you out two months ago, after he ended up taking care of you at some frat party you both went to while Hyunjin was home visiting his parents.

The truth is, that weekend you were abysmally sick and could barely get out of bed, and Jisung was studying for the four midterms he had the following week, so neither of you went to that party—but... Nobody needs to know the truth, right?

“Fine,” you say finally. “We’ll just say our first date was the movies and dinner.”

“No, that’s too boring,” Jisung protests, and you glare at him.

“Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “I would never plan a date as boring as the movies and dinner.

It has to be at least a little realistic, right?”

You glare at him.

“Then, pray tell, what kind of date would you plan?”

“Well,” Jisung begins matter-of-factly. “To start off with, dinner is so overrated. I think a brunch picnic is much more fun, especially because breakfast food is like, ten thousand times better.”

“That’s just because you have an unhealthy obsession with french toast…” You mutter.

“French toast is a superior food group!” He tells you adamantly.

“Not a food group,” you sigh. “But fine. A brunch picnic, is that all?”

“Well, the brunch picnic would be at that park next to the Han river, and while we’re there, we would feed the ducks there because they are so cute,” Jisung continues. “And then, I would take you go karting—but I would let you win, because I’m good first date material.”

“Go karting?” You raise an eyebrow and he sticks his tongue out.

“I mean, you’re so competitive…”

A moment passes as you think about it, and then you nod.

“Okay,” you shrug. “But—let’s get one thing straight. I would win because I’m better, not because you let me.”

Jisung scoffs. “As if.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wonder who it is that can’t even win Mario Kart, then?”

“First of all,” he is quick to protest. “That’s just a video game!”

“Sucks that you can’t win at go kart even digitally,” you respond, disappointed.

“Well—“

“Anyways!” You exclaim, pretending you don’t hear his cries of protests. “We’ve figured out how we met, when and where our first date was, how long we’ve been dating… What about why we’ve been keeping this a secret?”

“Oh,” Jisung pales. “That one is easy.”

You furrow your brow in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Um…” He trails off. “Well, hypothetically… Hyunjin and Changbin might have threatened to, you know, hypothetically kill me if I ever tried to make a move on you?”

You narrow your eyes. “They did what?”

Jisung winces, as if bracing for you to yell at him, but after a moment, you just sigh.

“Whatever…” You mutter under your breath, even as you plot. “I’ll deal with them later…”

He lets out a sigh of relief and visibly relaxes, which only makes you want to smack him because—you can’t be that scary, right?

Instead of asking, you clear your throat. “Anyways, is there anything else?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Jisung scratches his head as he thinks.

“Well then,” you say. “We should be fine. I mean, we’ll have to tell our friends soon, but with a few more days to prepare, I think we might be able to pull it off…”

You reach up to gnaw on your nail nervously, and it’s as you’re running through the various ways you might actually be able to convince your best friends that the two of you have been secretly dating, Jisung gets a text message.

“It might be rough,” you mutter once again, although this time it’s more to yourself than to him. “But, well, Hyunjin is kind of unobservant, so with our luck, he might just glaze right over it anyways…”

“U-um… About that,” Jisung starts nervously, and you look up at him.

“Yes?” You ask, taking a long sip from your water bottle.

“Hyunjin just texted me that he’s going to meet us here in, like… 5 minutes?”

You choke on the water, barely stopping yourself from spewing it everywhere—and just like that, your hysteria from earlier comes crashing down on you.

“I’m sorry, what?!” You balk, your fists clenched so tight you can feel the crescent-shaped nail marks forming on your palm.

“Okay, in my defense,” Jisung protests immediately when you threateningly wield your blue mechanical pencil in his direction. “I told him not to come, but he has my location on and he said he’s coming here anyways!”

You inhale sharply, and a moment passes.

“Give me your phone.”

“W-What?” There’s a hint of fear in Jisung’s eyes, but you don’t even care as you try to calm yourself.

“Did I stutter?” You ask, your gaze murderous, and he sinks back into his seat.

“N-Now, Y/N, let’s just think about this logically…”

He looks like he’s going to say more, but you’re already up and out of your seat, reaching over the table you are both sat at for his phone. Jisung, a step ahead of you, snatches it out of your grasp.

“Give me your phone, Jisung,” you say stubbornly.

“If I give it to you, are you going to throw it across the room?” He asks.

“…Maybe.”

He pauses, as if he’s actually thinking about it, before telling you plainly: “Mmm, in that case… No.”

“Jisung,” you whine. “Give it to me! All I want to do is turn off your location sharing, okay? I promise I won’t do anything to your phone… Mostly.”

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak something over your shoulder catches his attention. You’re still halfway out of your seat, pouting at him.

“Y/N—“ He tries to interrupt, but you ignore him and continue on.

“I mean, first you decide to go around and tell all of our friends that the two of us are dating without even consulting me first, and then you let me find out from Hwang Hyunjin of all people, before finally coercing me into a fake rel—mmph!”

Panic flashes across Jisung’s face and his eyes widen as he stares at something directly behind you. And then, before you can process it, he’s grabbing your face with both his hands—his left one on your cheek and his right one awkwardly placed half on your chin, half over your mouth.

Then, he yanks you close to him and plants an over-exaggerated kiss on top of the hand that is covering your lips.

“Oh, hi Hyunjin,” Jisung says loudly when he pulls away. “Didn’t see you there!”

Your face is so red and you’re so surprised that you can’t move, not even when Hyunjin lets out a strangled gagging noise as he comes to a skidding halt next to the table you and Jisung are sitting at.

“Were you guys just—kissing?” Hyunjin asks, his face contorted in disgust.

“What?” Jisung says, almost defensively. “Nooo…”

“—You know what… Nevermind.” Hyunjin shakes his head, as if that might remove the image he just saw.

“I guess you two really are dating…” He mutters to himself, repulsed.

“Anyways,” Jisung clears his throat a moment later as you continue to stare, unblinking and stone faced off into the distance. “Why are you here, Hyunjin?”

“What?” He asks. “I can’t visit my best friend and roommate on this random Wednesday afternoon after they kept their secret relationship from me?”

“Um…” Jisung trails off. “Honestly, I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

Hyunjin huffs. “Well, if you must know, my ecology lecture was cancelled, and I have nothing better to do, so I came here.”

You’re only half listening, and your best friend looks at you weirdly.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asks Jisung, waving his hand in front of your face. “Was kissing you really that emotionally scarring?”

Jisung scowls and kicks Hyunjin under the table, and you still don’t respond.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin calls out. “Y/N?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, his voice registers, but it’s like your brain has shut down and your synapses have stopped firing, because all you can do is stare.

“Y/N,” your best friend sighs exasperatedly, and then reaches out and smacks you across the face.

“Ouch!” You squeal, effectively knocked out of whatever stupor you had been in.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin? That hurt!”

“That hurt?” He mocks.

“You know what really hurts? My best friends hiding their relationship from me for—“

He stops.

“—Wait, how long have you guys been dating for?”

“Two months,” you grumble.

“Two months?!” Hyunjin shrieks. “You imbeciles hid this from me for two months?”

“Yes,” you glare at him.

“Sorry?” Jisung adds helpfully.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Hyunjin cries out and you roll your eyes.

“Nobody is paying you for this, dummy.”

He pouts. “Well, someone should.”

“Pay you? For doing nothing? This is exactly why the institution of capitalism is detrimental to the function of society as a whole,” you scoff, and Jisung and Hyunjin look at you weirdly.

“What?” You say defensively. “I’m taking a course on communism versus capitalism, and I have a paper due today.”

“Okay…” The weird look doesn’t leave either of their faces.

“Wait,” you start. “My paper! What time is it?”

“It’s 4:24—“ Hyunjin tells you.

“Fuck!” You exclaim. “I have to turn in my paper to my TA by 4:30!”

You waste no time in grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder, and then getting up and practically running out of the student activity center.

“Good luck!” Jisung calls out, but you’re already gone.

“Do you think she heard me?” He asks Hyunjin.

“No.”

A few days later, you’re walking out of your music appreciation class when you get a frantic text from Jisung.

Technically, you aren’t even meant to be taking music appreciation this semester. But when you were registering for classes last semester, the ethnoarchaeology course you wanted to get into was full, and this was your only other option.

It turned out fine, though, because it’s a blow off class, an easy A that gets your fine arts core credit out of the way, so it’s a win win.

[7:01pm] jisung: HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[7:02pm] you: what’s up?

[7:02pm] jisung: OUR COVER IS ABOUT TO BE BLOWN!!!! [7:02pm] jisung: YOU’RE IN THE MUSIC BUILDING RN RIGHT????

[7:03pm] you: yes??? [7:03pm] you: what do you mean our cover is abt to be blown???

[7:05pm] you: jisung????

[7:05pm] jisung: was doing 3racha stuff [7:05pm] jisung: now yuna is coming to visit cb

[7:06pm] jisung: HELP?!

[7:06pm] you: oh lmao [7:06pm] you: u had me worried.. just hide somewhere until she leaves

[7:07pm] jisung: no y/n [7:07pm] jisung: i told her we were hanging out 2nite [7:07pm] jisung: y/n she has my location on

[7:08pm] you: oh [7:08pm] you: oh fuck [7:08pm] you: where r u??? i’ll come 2 u [7:08pm] you: outside practice room #4

You find yourself breaking out into a brisk jog right when you receive the message, turning down the hallway until you find the stairwell and then taking the steps two by two. Three flights later, you come out on the 2nd floor, and it doesn’t take long for you to spot Jisung pacing nervously in the corridor lined with practice rooms.

“Jisung,” you hiss as you approach, looking both ways down the hall to make sure Yuna isn’t here yet.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathes out in unadulterated relief when he sees you.

“Why did you tell Yuna we were hanging out tonight?” You ask, your eyes narrowed.

He shrugs helplessly. “Changbin, Chan, and I had plans tonight, but she knows Changbin is a part of 3racha, and—I don’t know, I panicked!”

You let out a deep sigh, and then square your shoulders.

“Okay, first of all—we need to have a talk about having your location on for all of our friends, because this really keeps fucking us over,” you tell him sternly.

He nods miserably. “I know.”

“Second of all,” you continue, relaxing slightly. “This actually isn’t that bad… If Yuna asks what you were doing here, you can just tell her you came to pick me up from class. It’s the perfect cover.”

“Really?” He asks dubiously, but you can see the weight ease up on his shoulders slightly.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “It’s believable, and she’ll have no reason to suspect otherwise.”

“Okay…” Jisung relaxes. “So, how was your—mmph!”

And then, before he can finish his thought, you’re yanking him by the wrist and all but shoving him through the first door you find.

Which, of course, with your luck, just so happens to be a broom closet.

“What the fuck?”

“Yuna was coming down the hallway,” you hiss. “Now be quiet!”

“Oh,” he mumbles, and silence falls over the two of you.

You’re hyperaware of how close you are to Jisung—the closet is small and dimly lit, and there’s virtually no where to stand with all the space the mops and buckets, and you’re almost chest to chest. He’s staring awkwardly off into the space behind your left ear, and your furrowing your eyebrows as you strain to hear out in the hallway while simultaneously pretending this isn’t the worst situation. Ever.

As you listen, you hear the clicking of heels grow closer—which you assume is Yuna, if her obsession with strappy heels is anything to go by. The rhythmic clacking becomes louder as she gets closer, and then, it suddenly comes to a stop.

“Yuna,” you hear Changbin’s voice, close to the closet you’re currently hiding in. “What’s up?”

“Changbin!” She exclaims. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“W-What did I do?” You can hear the fear in his voice, and if you weren’t scared shitless that your roommate might find you and turn that anger onto you, you would probably find it hilarious.

“Chan told me everything,” you can practically hear the way her eyes narrow murderously, and you and Jisung share a mutually horrified look.

Being on Yuna’s bad side is something you never wanted to experience.

“H-He did?”

“Yes, you fool! I know that you were passed out last Saturday after going to that Sigma party when I specifically told you that you couldn’t go because we were having brunch with your mom.”

Jisung lets out a snort, and you elbow him in the ribcage.

“What?” he mutters. “I was there. He downed like eight shots in fifteen minutes and blacked after that.”

“Be quiet,” you glare. “They’ll hear us.”

Changbin and Yuna’s conversation continues on, escalating into what seems to be an argument, but Jisung is grinning, his eyes bright, and it takes your breath away to the point that you can’t even hear what they’re saying above the rush of blood in your ears.

Now you’re the one staring off behind his head awkwardly, your palms sweaty as you try to think about anything except how cute he is and how nervous that makes you.

A moment passes, with Changbin and Yuna still talking outside the closet you’re in, and Jisung clears his throat awkwardly.

“So…” He whispers a second later. “Do you come here often?”

You stare at him full on.

“What the fuck?”

He shrugs. “I’m trying out new pick up lines. What do you think?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “That wasn’t even a pick up line. That was like… I don’t even know, but it definitely wasn’t a pick up line.”

“Really?” He raises a brow. “Then what is?”

You scoff. “As if I’d ever use my lines on you.”

“No, now I’m interested.”

“Well that’s too bad,” you stick out your tongue.

“Please?” He asks, and you open your mouth to say no—until you see his wide puppy dog eyes, pleading with you, and you melt.

“Mmm,” you press your lips into a tight line.

Yuna’s voice rises outside, and you turn away from Jisung as you mumble out, “I dunno, something like... Are you a greenhouse gas? Because you’re hot enough to cause global warming... Or something.”

There’s a moment of silence and you cringe at how embarrassing it is, and then Jisung barely manages to stifle a laugh.

“Maybe I should just stick to being straightforward,” he says, pursing his lips to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Because it seems you have the witty pick up lines covered.”

“Personally,” You wrinkle your nose. “I think you should stick to saying nothing…”

“What?” He pouts. “The classic ‘let me take you out on a date’ never fails.”

“Mmm,” you grimace. “I give it a 5 out of 10 for getting to the point, but 2 out of 10 for creativity.”

“Wow okay,” he says. “I guess I can’t do anything to impress you, huh?”

“Not really.”

He grins. “What a mean thing to say to your boyfriend.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the way your jaw drops when he says that. Because—it’s one thing to fake a relationship. It’s another thing to actually hear him call himself your boyfriend.

You cough slightly, barely managing to clear your throat before glaring at him.

“Fake boyfriend.”

Jisung chuckles, and he’s so close to you that if you think about it hard enough, you can convince yourself that you can feel his laugh. His breath is minty and warm, and ghosts across your cheek. You think you might melt into a puddle if you spend another moment in this closet with him.

“What?” He says playfully. “Am I not real boyfriend material?”

You deadpan.

“Jisung, I’ve seen you pick your nose.” You snort. “The day I date you is the day you dye your hair blue.”

“Well, I mean—“ He begins, but it’s at that moment that you realize you can no longer hear Changbin and Yuna arguing on the other side of the door.

“Shh!” You hold your finger up towards him, pressing your ear against the door.

A moment passes, and then another, and you still don’t hear anything.

“I think the coast is clear,” you say hushed to Jisung.

Then, you open the door slightly—only enough for you to see out into the hallway through the sliver of space between the hinges of the door.

The hallway is empty, and with a sigh of relief, you swing the door open all the way.

“Oh thank god,” you exhale, and for the first time in the past 10 minutes, you feel like you can breathe again.

“Well,” Jisung says awkwardly, following you out of the broom closet. “Sorry about this… I really didn’t think Yuna would be coming here tonight.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s no big deal. You’re just lucky I actually decided to go to class today.”

“Well,” he says. “Thanks anyways. Can I treat you to dinner to show my appreciation?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Free food?”

“I mean,” Jisung mutters. “It’ll be cheap food, but yeah. I’ll pay.”

You grin. As a broke and nearly starving college student, the cardinal rule is never turn down free food.

“Lead the way!”

The next night, Jisung finds himself at Chan’s apartment in an attempt to complete the song the 3 of them had been working on the night before.

After spending the past three hours mixing and remixing sounds and still being dissatisfied with the product, Chan had decided they needed a little bit of a break from it all—which leads them to now, sitting in the living room around the dingy coffee table that only has 3 functional legs, eating spicy ramyeon like their lives depend on it.

“So,” Jisung starts in between slurps, chewing obnoxiously as he talks. “What d’you think of the new lyrics? I know the old ones were a bit… eh, but I really feel like these might be the one!”

Naruto is playing in the background, and as Jisung goes to take another bite, Chan and Changbin exchange a look.

“Well…” Chan starts wearily, but Jisung—consumed in his food—doesn’t notice his tone.

“Jisung,” Changbin interrupts, shooting a pointed glare at Chan. “We need to talk.”

“We are talking…?”

“We need to talk… About you and Y/N,” Chan clarifies, and Jisung freezes.

There’s a noodle hanging out of his mouth, which is agape, and ice floods his veins as anxiety washes over him.

Y/N? Why do they need to talk about you?

They stare at him, expressions deadpan, and then it hits him.

Oh god, Changbin and Chan found out that you’re not really dating and you’ve been lying to all of them. The ruse is up, the two of you have been found out.

“W-Well,” He sets his chopsticks down hesitantly, his hands shaking slightly as he goes. “I mean, we don’t n-need to…”

“Um,” Changbin gives him a weird look. “Yeah, I think we do. This is kind of a big deal, Jisung.”

“Mmm, no,” Jisung’s voice pitches upwards and he clears his throat. “It’s nothing! Whatever you’ve heard, it’s not like that!”

Chan furrows his brow.

“No, I’m pretty sure it is like that.”

Dread builds up in the back of Jisung’s throat, and he realizes—his death is close. Because if Chan and Changbin have found out his lie… It’s only a matter of time until Hyunjin discovers the truth, and then the rest of their friends…

…Including Yuna.

The thought is so scary that Jisung has to frantically take a large gulp of water to calm himself down.

“Jisung…?” Changbin questions, concerned as he watches the younger boy down his entire water bottle in ten seconds flat.

“Okay,” he sighs, squaring his shoulders as if he’s preparing to fight someone.

“Look, I know it looks bad, but I have a reason okay!” Jisung blurts out.

Chan clears his throat. “Well, yeah, of course you have a reason… But that doesn’t mean you should have done it anyways…”

He shudders and Changbin nods.

“Yeah, dude,” he says, disappointed. “Like come on. I thought you were better than this.”

Jisung runs a hand through his hair.

“Listen, guys, I’m really sorry! It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, I swear…”

Chan sighs heavily. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should write love songs.”

“Yuna just cornered me, and—wait, what?!” Jisung cuts off when he realizes what Chan has just said.

Chan winces. “Yeah… your new lyrics aren’t, um, bad, but…”

“Please, no more sappy love songs?” Changbin adds helpfully. “Like, you and Y/N are dating, which is kind of cool… gross, mostly… But please. We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Huh?” Jisung continues to just stare at his friends, openmouthed and confused.

Changbin rolls his eyes. “What will people think if the mysterious and elusive 3racha suddenly start writing love songs?”

“Um—I, um, imagine that… Wouldn’t be cool?”

“Exactly,” Changbin nods. “So, we have an understanding?”

Jisung stares, helplessly. “I guess?”

“Great,” Chan affirms. “Now, about that bridge, I was thinking…”

The next few weeks pass in a weird sort of limbo, where you find yourself spending more time with Jisung than you thought you ever would.

After he treats you to cheap diner food that Thursday you almost get caught by Yuna, you two make it a habit of grabbing dinner together every week after your music appreciation class. Jisung somehow manages to convince Changbin and Chan that spending their Thursday nights in the music building is a good idea just so that your schedules can match, and you think it’s kind of cute that he’s that dedicated to keeping up your fake dating ruse.

Soon after that, you end up seeing him everywhere you go.

Like when he shows up with coffee for you after your Tuesday tutoring sessions in the student activity center, or when he saves a seat for you in the library on Wednesday nights because he knows you have weekly quizzes on Thursday to study for.

You soon find that if you aren’t on campus for classes or back at your apartment, you’re usually at Hyunjin and Jisung’s place. You spend so much time there—which you didn’t think was possible, considering your friendship with Hyunjin—to the point that they end up telling you where they hide the spare key.

You’ve known where it was for the past year (under the doormat, because they aren’t very creative) but you let them think that it’s news to you.

It’s weird, because in the span of a few weeks, Jisung becomes so commonplace in your life that sometimes, even though you don’t mean to, you forget it’s all fake.

Okay, well—obviously the friendship part isn’t, because the two of you have been friends (or, at the very least, friendly) for the better part of two years.

But when Jisung casually slips his hand into yours as the two of you walk down the street together, or when he greets you with a hug that makes you feel so warm inside while your friends are watching, it’s easy to pretend—even if only for a second—that this is for real.

When you let yourself believe that (which, you’re ashamed to say is far more often than you’d like it to be) you’re left feeling even worse afterwards, when you come down from whatever cloud 9 he has pushed you up onto and reality sets in.

When you remember that none of it is real, that you’re just friends and you’re a fool for thinking otherwise, well… Let’s just say, it’s not the nicest feeling.

Which, as one can imagine, leaves you feeling increasingly confused. You spend so much time with Jisung that you never get a reprieve from him, which—a few months ago would have been a dream, but now, it just feels like torture.

You end up spending more and more time obsessing over your complicated feelings for him, and sometimes (most of the time) you just want to scream because of how frustrating it is.

You almost do, actually, when you walk into their apartment after your classes end, and Jisung greets you with a tiny kiss on the cheek—something that he’s done before, usually when your friends are around, but still continues to catch you off guard.

“Hey,” he says easily with a grin, and you kind of want to punch the stupid smile off of his stupid face. “How were your classes today?”

You clear your throat, fighting off the heat rising to your cheeks.

“They were fine… Yours?”

“All good,” he responds before frowning. “Although, Professor Moon was kind of a dick today…”

“Well,” you begin as you set your bag down and flop onto his couch. “You’re only taking his class for credit, right?”

He nods.

“Then you shouldn’t stress yourself out about it like you did last time. He’ll always be a dick, no matter how long you spend worrying about his class.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, melting into the seat next to you. “I guess you’re right.”

You scoff. “Of course I am. I’m always right.”

He raises his arms in mock surrender. “Oh, my bad for forgetting, your Holiness.”

You flip him off and he laughs.

“Anyways…” You continue, your eyes roaming across the living room, which looks different than it usually does today. “What is this all for?”

You motion to where there are streamers hanging across one empty wall, and then to a banner underneath that reads simply ‘HAPP’ in big bubble letters.

“Oh,” Jisung’s eyes land on the decorations, and he shrugs. “We’re kind of having a part tonight. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Um.” You stare. “No?”

“Oops,” he mutters. “Well, we’re having a party?”

“Thanks for the heads up,” you roll your eyes sarcastically, and he grins.

“Well, now that you know… Are you going to come tonight?”

You purse your lips. “When you say party, do you mean like, a party?”

“…Maybe?”

You raise a brow. “And what’s the occasion?”

“Nothing big,” Jisung mumbles. “Just, you know, my birthday…”

You choke.

“Your birthday?!”

He winces. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Jisung!” You gasp, punching him in the arm. “It’s your birthday today?”

“Yes?” He says it like a question and you smack him again.

“How did you manage to not tell me that?” You exclaim.

He pouts. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Jisung,” you deadpan. “We’re literally faking a relationship. Of course it’s important!”

“Oh, yeah,” he says a moment later, as if he’s forgotten completely about it, and you want to give him one of slap, just for good measure.

God, when did you get so violent?

“Well… I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” you gripe at him. “I don’t even have a present for you…”

“Oh, I don’t need any presents,” he says bashfully, and you glare at him.

“Now everyone is going to think I’m a bad girlfriend!”

“No they won’t,” Jisung placates, and you let out a groan.

“Well,” you sigh forlornly. “I guess this means I’ll be here tonight…”

“Yay!” He claps excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever…” You mutter under your breath.

At that moment, Jisung’s phone buzzes, and his smile melts into a frown when he checks the message.

“What’s up?” You ask, curious.

“Oh, Changbin just messaged saying there’s been a mix up with the drinks for tonight,” he tells you slowly. “He needs my help.”

“Are you going now?”

“Yeah,” he gets up, grabbing his coat from the chair across from you. “I’ll be back in like, 30, okay? Don’t destroy my apartment while I’m gone!”

You scoff. “You’re the messy one.”

“I’ve seen you in the kitchen, Y/N,” he calls out, hopping a little to put his shoes on.

“Okay, first of all—“ You splutter, but he’s already out the door with a wink in your direction, and you’re left alone.

“—Whatever…” you finally mutter to yourself, a pout on your face.

Without hesitation, you kick off the house slippers you are wearing and curl your feet underneath you, grabbing a blanket and the remote to the TV as you settle in on the couch and make yourself more comfortable.

That’s how Hyunjin finds you fifteen minutes later, when he arrives with an unholy amount of party decorations in his grasp.

“Y/N?” He asks, his arms overflowing with plastic bags.

“Hey,” you say distractedly, not bothering to look away from the TV as you greet him.

“O… kay…” He says to himself after a moment, setting the stuff down onto the counter.

“Where did Jisung go?” He asks as he grabs scissors from a drawer and begins cutting open the bags of decorations.

“He said something about Changbin… drinks… I’m not really sure, actually,” you reply back.

Hyunjin sighs. “That’s so helpful. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you snark back.

“So…” He trails off. “Are you going to help me set up, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Do I look like I want to help you set up?”

Hyunjin glares at you.

“You look like someone I’m about to kick out of my apartment.”

With a loud, overdramatic sigh, you pause the show you are watching and then haul yourself up off of the couch so you can join Hyunjin in the kitchen.

“Well… I guess I can help,” you say begrudgingly.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin says blandly. “You can start by finishing the sign.”

He motions to the ‘HAPP’ hanging sadly on the wall, and you snort.

“What, you’re telling me it isn’t supposed to look like that?”

Hyunjin looks like he’s about to smack you, but instead says, “Y/N, can you just do it?”

“Yeah, whatever…” You snatch up the bag of bubble letters and grab a roll of tape before heading to the living room.

It isn’t too difficult to finish the sign, and you’re finishing sticking up the last two letters when Hyunjin joins you with—surprise!—even more streamers.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says slowly as you finish the sign and step back to admire your handiwork.

“Yes?” You ask, grinning at your best friend.

“…Why does that sign say ‘Happy Birthday Bitch!’?”

You bat your eyelashes innocently.

“What?” You ask. “Am I wrong?”

He sighs. “No… But it’s Jisung birthday. Don’t you think we should be a little nice to him today?”

You pout. “Well…”

He glares at you.

“Fine, whatever! I’ll change it… You’re lame anyways…”

It takes you another ten minutes to take down the sign and replace it with the much more appropriate, and much less fun ‘Happy Birthday Jisung!’ but you do it, and right as you move on to helping Hyunjin hang streamers—because God forbid there be anything less than the hundreds of them already lining the walls—Jisung arrives back, with Changbin and Felix in tow.

Changbin and Jisung are both carrying cases of beer in their hands, and Felix follows with a large tote bag that you assume is full of various bottles of hard liquor, although you can’t see inside the bag because of how big it is.

“Hey, Y/N,” Changbin smiles at you as he passes, and Felix perks up when he notices you.

“Y/N!” He exclaims. “Do you—“

You cut him off before he can finish.

“—And that is my cue to leave.”

Felix scowls. “You don’t even know what I was going to say…”

“You were going to ask me to help you with something,” you scoff. “I’ve already reached my manual labor limit for the day, but nice try.”

The blond boy sulks his way into the kitchen, just as Jisung comes out after setting down the boxes he had been carrying.

“You’re going already?” Jisung pouts.

You pat him on the cheek sweetly.

“I mean… yeah,” you tell him.

“What, do you expect me to stay for a party dressed like this?”

You motion down to your expertly coordinated ensemble of sweats and a ratty t-shirt that you think might be Hyunjin’s.

“Well,” Jisung says reluctantly. “I mean, I think it’s cute, but…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” you threaten as you dig an elbow into his side. “Anyways, I’ll be back by 9, okay?”

“Okay…” He mutters sadly.

“Finally,” Hyunjin says at the same time. “She’s leaving!”

You stick your middle finger up in his direction as you grab your bag and shove your feet back into your shoes.

“Bye, bitches!”

And then you’re out the door.

Your apartment isn’t far from theirs—just around the block, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re climbing the stairs up to the 4th floor, where you live.

When you unlock the door, you’re greeted by a dark room, and you’re a little surprised to find that Yuna isn’t home right now.

You flick the light switch on and kick off your shoes, walking into the kitchen to find a post it note stuck to the fridge.

Out buying Jisung a present, it reads. See u tonight! xoxo Yuna

You crumble the note in your palm before dunking it into the trash, NBA style, and you scowl when you miss.

Yuna’s note reminds you again that Jisung didn’t give you any notice about his birthday, and you can’t help the annoyance that rises inside of you—especially because you didn’t have the chance to do the bare minimum and scrape together a present for him.

With a sigh, you drop your school bag on the floor of your room as you head towards your closet, rummaging through your clothes as yo search for something appropriate.

You’re looking for an outfit that says “it’s my (fake) boyfriend’s birthday today and he totally did not just tell me about it 3 hours ago!”

It’s uncertain whether the cropped top and black jeans combo that you finally settle on gives off that vibe, but you think it looks decent (at least, better than your sweatpants…) and so you go with it.

You spend the next hour and a half around the apartment, cleaning up and taking care of small tasks here and there as you try not to think about the party tonight.

There’s a sort of anxiety weighing down on you about it—you’re not sure why, either. You’ve never really had a problem with partying and letting loose before, but you have a sneaking suspicion that the weight in your gut has something to do with Jisung.

It’s as you finish sweeping the living room that you come to the startling realization that its now nearly 9, and you lost track of time as you were cleaning.

You haven’t even started your makeup—because you didn’t want to sweat it off while stress cleaning—and you practically trip over yourself in your haste to get to your room. In a panic, you quickly swipe some concealer and mascara on, before finishing with a little lip gloss, and although it is the simplest makeup routine you could have come up with, it’s already past 9 when you stumble out of your room, hopping a little as you try to shove your sneakers on.

You take a deep breath as you shove your keys in your pocket, and then—just for good measure—you open a kitchen cabinet and pour yourself a shot of vodka from Yuna’s not-so-secret stash.

You down it quickly and it burns your throat, leaving an acrid taste in your mouth and a weird warm sensation in your chest and your head—most likely because you overestimated the amount when you poured it out, courtesy of the Disney mug you’re using as a shot glass.

Go figure.

You find yourself gripping your keys and pepper spray tightly as you make the short trek to Jisung and Hyunjin’s apartment, and by the time you end up outside their door, it’s well past 9:30pm.

The pounding bass of whatever music is playing inside thrums out into the hallway, and you’re not sure if knocking is the right way to go—frankly, you’re not sure they’ll even hear you if you do.

Not even a moment later, the door swings wide open as a drunk couple comes stumbling out, so entangled in each other that they barely notice you or the door that they leave open behind them.

“O…kay…” You mutter. “Kind of early for that, but…”

Shaking your head, you walk in to find the festivities in full swing. It catches you momentarily off guard just how many people have managed to fit inside the small apartment, and the disco strobe lights are disorienting as you search around for a familiar face.

I mean, you knew it was a party, but honestly, you don’t even know half the people here.

Finally, after what feels like forever, your eyes land on Jisung, and you’re so relieved that you sigh.

And then, you notice the giant grin on his face, and the very attractive girl he’s talking to. You watch as he says something, gesticulating with his hands as his eyebrows raise, and your mood sours instantly. The girl lets out a giggle, smacking his arm lightly before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear flirtatiously, and your eyes narrow.

Something ugly twists in your gut, particularly when you notice just how close they are standing, and your teeth clench.

You know you have no right to feel jealous—you aren’t actually dating Jisung, after all—and yet the ugly pit of emotionsin the depths of your stomach that blazes despite the fact.

A boy with dark hair walks by you at that moment, obscuring your vision—he’s friends with Hyunjin, you think, his name might be Jeongin?—and you zero in on the solo cup in his hand, filled halfway with a dark liquid.

“hey,” you clear your throat, catching him before he manages to walk away. “Where did you get that?”

“Hmm?” He says, his gaze slightly unfocused and a lopsided grin on his face. “Oh, drinks are in the kitchen.”

“Thanks…” You mutter out, barely waiting for a reply before you are stalking off in that direction.

You waste no time in grabbing a cup from the stack next to the drink station that has been set up, most likely by Changbin based on the color coding. The first bottle you see is a giant thing of rum, and you don’t even hesitate before pouring a generous amount into your cup and then topping it off with some Coke.

You take a large swig, still a little astounding by the amount of people here that you don’t know.

Honestly though, you are content hovering in the kitchen and avoiding human interaction for the rest of the night—until you spot Felix a few feet away, heading towards you.

Your eyes widen, and without a second thought, you’re ducking out of the kitchen and back into the crowded living room, pushing through sweaty bodies to get away from him.

The thing is—you don’t have a problem with Felix. Really, you don’t. In fact, he can be kind of funny to be around, most of the time. Except for when he’s drunk—he goes absolutely nuts when intoxicated, and you do not want to be the one taking care of that tonight.

The last time you did… Well, let’s just say you’ll never look at limes or white bedsheets the same again.

Unfortunately for you, it seems you can only avoid one person at a time tonight, because when you finally manage to shake Felix off of your tail by hiding in a back corner where you’re obscured from the view of most people, you find yourself with the perfect view of Jisung.

You find that he’s now surrounded by a gaggle of girls and a couple of guys, and he seems to be telling a very animated story based on his facial expressions.

He looks good tonight, you realize—with his hair slicked back like that, and those dumb black vinyl pants you bought him as a joke because they make his ass look fantastic.

You never thought he would wear them out in public, because he was so embarrassed when you made him try them on, but now—well, you definitely regret that purchase.

It’s almost depressing, watching him from across the room like a lovestruck girl, when it seems just about every other girl in the room is ten times more attractive than you and checking him out too.

It’s unfair, because—really? Jisung, the dork who can barely look a girl in the eye without saying something stupid is the center of attention at this party? You think he must be at least a little tipsy, from the way he seems to actually be able to hold a normal conversation with those girls, and you’re kind of mad that it’s not you over there flirting with him.

Which is stupid. You’re his girlfriend after all—well, fake girlfriend. Whatever, same thing. You’re not sure why you are over here, pouting in the corner, instead of over there by his side. In fact, you’re not even sure why you didn’t just go up to him when you first got here, like a normal person.

Because no, of course you had to be weird and overthink things way more than you should.

“He’s hot,” a voice interrupts your trail of thoughts, and your gaze snaps from Jisung to your right, where you find an attractive guy standing and observing.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

He looks vaguely familiar, and it’s only after a few more seconds of staring that you realize who he is—Minho, the guy that Jisung occasionally cat sits for.

“I’m—huh?” You splutter, coughing slightly.

He leans against the wall casually, a smirk dancing across his lips, and he nods towards Jisung.

“Well, I just don’t understand why you’re moping here in the corner instead of just going over there. He won’t bite… Probably.”

“I-I’m not moping!” You protest.

“A-And besides,” you continue, your voice still lacking conviction. “He’s actually—well, you know—we’re… dating.”

Minho raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his cup.

“So you’re Y/N?”

“…Yes?” You say back hesitantly.

“You don’t sound very sure about that.”

“W-Well, I am!” You say indignantly.

He tsks you. “Okay… Well, all I’m saying is, that is not the face of someone dating the man of their dreams.”

You turn to look at Jisung, for only a second.

“How… How do you know he’s the man of my dreams?”

He scoffs. “Honey, he’s the man of everyone’s dreams.”

You tilt your head to the side, thinking about it.

“Okay, fair.” You admit.

He grins wickedly, before extending his hand.

“I’m Minho,” he introduces himself finally.

“I know,” you reply back, taking a sip of your now almost empty drink instead of shaking his hand.

He retracts it back with a smirk, not even slightly offended.

Your still watching Jisung intently, and it’s only when one of the girls he’s talking to wraps her hand around his arm and pulls him closer to her that it gets too much for you.

Abruptly, you turn to Minho.

“You want to do shots with me?” You ask, suddenly.

“Shots?” Minho perks up, interest piqued. “Hell yeah.”

“Great.” You down the remaining contents of your cup before setting it down on a side table. Then, you grab him by his wrist and all but drag him with you to the kitchen.

You waste no time in setting up tiny red plastic cups the size of shot glasses—2 for Minho, and 2 for you—and then you’re grabbing the tequila and pouring it into them.

“Tequila?” he asks, surprised. “So you really want to feel something, huh?”

You glare at him. “Shut up and drink.”

He grins at you but complies, and the two of you throw back the shots together.

“Oh, that is absolutely foul,” you say, barely able to stop yourself from gagging. Belatedly, you grab a quarter of a lime and suck on it.

“Want to do more?”

“You’re kind of crazy,” Minho winces as he swallows. “…I like it.”

You shrug, already feeling tipsy, and you waste no time in refilling the cups.

You lose count of how many shots the two of you have taken—five? maybe six?—but it doesn’t matter, because after the 3rd one, your head is already fuzzy and any thoughts of Jisung have successfully been pushed to the back of your mind.

The two of you have been arguing about various things (most of which you forget by the time you move on to the next topic), and you find that you are actually enjoying yourself.

And then, whoever is in charge of the music decides to change things up, and suddenly 3racha is blaring through the apartment and you find yourself thinking about Jisung once again.

You frown, taking a sip from a cup—just Sprite, now, because Minho decided to cut you off a few minutes ago while you could still speak in full sentences.

“Do you like 3racha?” You yell at him over the music, and he nods eagerly.

“Oh, definitely! Their stuff is really good, and it’s so cool that they go to school with us!”

Minho takes a swig from his cup, which likewise, is Sprite.

“Okay, I have a question,” you shout into his ear to be heard over all the noise. “This could make or break our friendship, so you better answer correctly!”

Minho nods solemnly.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“From 3racha?” Minho asks, pondering.

You nod, and his brow furrows as he thinks.

“Hmm… I think they’re all great, but I would probably have to go with CB97.”

“CB97?” You exclaim, aghast.

“I’m sorry, I think…” You say slowly. “I think this is the end of our friendship.”

“What?” Minho pouts. “No! Who’s your favorite, then?”

“Uh, J.One, of course,” you say it like it’s obvious. “That’s the only correct answer.”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah J.One is pretty cool, but CB97 is just unbeatable.”

You scoff.

“Sure, CB97 is fine, but J.One is obviously the best!”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth—you’re so heated, you aren’t even sure how long the two of you have been arguing.

And that’s how Jisung finds you: drunk and angry and defending his honor.

“J.One carries the group!” You shout as he enters the kitchen. “I think you should get your hearing re-evaluated. You might be in danger of going deaf.”

Minho opens his mouth, his response ready, but before he can bite back, Jisung has already interrupted.

“Y/N!” He exclaims, barely able to hold back his laugh as he sees you, red in the face with your brow drawn taut as you glare at Minho.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

At the sound of his voice, you come up short, and a confused look comes over your face as you turn to look at him.

“Jisung?” You ask, bewildered.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins. “How much have you had to drink? And how long have you been here?”

“I had 5… 5 shots?” You tell him, holding up 8 fingers, and he narrows his eyes. “And also some rum and coke!”

You pick up your cup of Sprite to take a sip, but Jisung takes it from you gently.

“I don’t think you should drink anymore,” he tells you. “Otherwise, you’ll wake up with a killer hangover tomorrow.”

“Huh?” You say, staring at the cup. “Oh! It’s just Sprite.”

Jisung takes a sniff to confirm, before handing it back to you, embarrassed.

“Oh, sorry…” He mutters.

“It’s okay!” You grin cheesily. “Minho told me I should stop drinking, too…”

You point to where Minho is standing, and he gives Jisung a little wave.

“Did you know tequila is kind of gross?” You whisper, leaning in close to his ear.

“Yeah,” he tells you with a laugh.

“Now,” you declare. “Can you please settle this and tell Minho that J.One is obviously the best in 3racha?”

He raises an eyebrow, amused.

“You think J.One is the best?”

You frown. “Yeah, obviously. I have to stay loyal, after all. I can’t just change my mind mid argument, can I?”

Jisung lets out a laugh, and Minho’s eyes flit between the two of you.

“Well—I’m just going to get something else to drink from, um, over there,” he motions vaguely off to the right, before giving you a long meaningful look that you don’t quite understand.

“See you later!” And then he’s gone, leaving the two of you in the kitchen alone.

“So I’m guessing you’ve been here for a while,” Jisung says a second later, and your gaze snaps to his face.

“Hmm?” You hum distractedly. “Oh. Yeah, probably? I think so…”

“Why didn’t you come find me?” He says, his brow furrowed as he looks you in the eye.

The music is thrumming, the lights are dim, and all you can think about is how hot you feel. Why is it so hot in here?

“What?” You ask, still a little disoriented.

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, and you find yourself staring at him. The top to buttons of his shirt are undone, and you can see his collarbones peeking out as he pushes his hair back. You find yourself mesmerized.

“I-I mean,” Jisung says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “I was waiting for you…”

You’re so blatantly checking him out that you don’t notice how embarrassed he looks at the confession, and you barely manage to catch what he says.

“Oh,” you murmur, your eyes now focused on his hand. “Well, I mean, you looked busy when I got here and I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.

You stare, thinking it’s obvious enough.

“Well, first it was that really tall girl, with the highlights,” you begin listing, counting on your fingers as you go. “Then it was that guy in the muscle tee… And then it was the other girl, in your econ class. I just didn’t want to interrupt…”

“You wouldn’t have been interrupting,” Jisung mutters. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend,” you chime helpfully.

His expression falls, almost imperceptibly.

“Right. Of course…”

You’re oblivious to it all, too intoxicated to notice the slight shift in his mood.

“So, how has your party been so far, birthday boy?” You grin, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“It’s been nice,” He responds distractedly.

“Did Hyunjin make you do shots with him?” You ask curiously. “He was, like, really excited about making you do that.”

Jisung wrinkles his nose.

“Ugh, yeah,” he groans. “That was not fun. My liver is going to be gone before I even graduate.”

“Boo, don’t be such a wimp!” You exclaim. “Shots are fun.”

Jisung opens his mouth, about to bite back a response, but before he can—someone comes barreling in your direction, tackling him in a hug that leaves him stumbling a few steps back.

“Jisung!” It takes him a moment to realize the person who’s hugging the life out of him is Yuna.

“Yuna,” he chokes out, startled with his hands hanging by his side awkwardly.

“So?” She says, grinning as she pulls back. “How’s your day been? Excited to finally turn five?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “If I’m five, that must mean you’re four, huh?”

“Touché.” She throws back. “But seriously, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” he says back, almost shyly.

“Yuna!” You exclaim belatedly, finally realizing who she is.

She turns to look at you, and Jisung swears her eyes light up as she launches herself at you.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you! I missed you,” she says as she wraps her arms lovingly around you—very unlike the anaconda chokehold she had held Jisung in only a few moments before.

“I missed you too,” you pout as you return the hug.

Jisung’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“Don’t you guys live together?”

Yuna waves him off. “Yeah. Your point is?”

“…Nevermind,” he mutters wisely after a few moments.

“So,” Yuna says, raising an eyebrow. “how have the two of you been?”

“Good!” You say cheerfully, your voice pitching up a little bit higher than you mean for it to.

Yuna’s gaze is one that can kill, and the way she’s looking at the two of you—a mischievous smirk on her face… It makes Jisung uncomfortable.

“Y-Yeah,” Jisung stutters, his hand finding yours and gripping it tightly. “You know… Doing couples stuff, being a couple… All of that.”

Your roommate raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely,” you nod seriously, and she lets out a short laugh.

“You two really are perfect for each other,” Yuna says, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe it took you both this long to realize it.”

You frown at the implication of her words, focusing so hard on the part where she says the two of you are perfect for each other, that you miss the way Jisung clears his throat awkwardly and stares daggers at Yuna.

“I guess…” you say slowly, your brows knit together.

“Well!” Yuna exclaims, clasping her hands together. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, but there’s a dance floor that is calling my name. Hyunjin bet me that I couldn’t out dance him, and you know I never back down. I’ll see you guys later!”

She waves as she goes, and the two of you watch even as she disappears into the crowd.

“So…” Jisung begins jokingly a few moments later.

“I guess we’re just perfect for each other, huh?”

You’re drunk enough that you can’t tell whether he meant for his words to come out sounding so bitter, and if you had been more sober, you probably would have questioned it.

But you’re not, and so your mind passes over it onto the next thought: namely, the one that has been running through your mind the entire night—how attractive Jisung looks right now.

You don’t know why, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from staring. Granted, you aren’t really trying all that hard.

And, if you’re being honest, it’s his fault for looking so good…

“Y/N?” Jisung waves his hand in front of your face when you don’t answer.

And then, against your will, your mind flashes to all the pretty girls he was talking to tonight—first, the one he was talking to when you walked in at the beginning, who he was grinning at like she was the funniest girl in the world. And then, later, when he was surrounded by a whole harem of them, all flirting with him.

At those thoughts, something ugly rears its head inside your heart. You didn’t really think you were the type to get jealous before tonight. Frankly, you don’t even have a reason to be jealous.

He’s not actually your boyfriend, what right do you have to care about who he talks to and flirts with?

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, concerned as you stare off into space.

And then another thought occurs to you—why is he so dense? For two years, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and not once has Jisung noticed. You’ve been pining after him hopelessly, and when he finally makes a romantic advance—it’s to fake a relationship for his convenience?

“Y/N?” He repeats your name once more, and this time, your gaze snaps to his face.

You’re not sure what it is that spurs you into action. Jealousy, exasperation, maybe even just plain anger at him and the circumstances he’s put you in.

Although, if you’re being honest, it’s probably mostly the alcohol that’s rushing through your blood that makes you do it, but before you can second guess yourself, your hands go to cup Jisung’s face, and then you’re yanking him down to your height and pressing your lips firmly against him.

At first, you meant for it to be chaste and short. Just a simple and impulsive peck that is meant for—closure, maybe? You aren’t really sure. It’s not supposed to be anything more than a small playground peck, mostly because he’s so infuriating and you can’t focus on anything but his lips, and you just need to get it out of your system.

But then, you’re close enough to feel his breath, hot and light against your lips. He smells like cotton and lemon with a hint of vodka, and his eyes—when you look into them, they are dark and confused and even a little concerned too, and before you know it, you’re throwing all caution to the wind and kissing him.

You’re really, truly kissing him, the way you’ve dreamt of so many times.

It’s frenzied and sloppy, and really not that great because you are both too drunk to focus on accuracy, but your hands snake around the nape of his neck and you find yourself lacing your fingers through his hair as your eyes slide shut. You hate yourself a little bit, because you enjoy it so much.

But the worst part of it?

The worst part is that Jisung kisses you back. It takes him a few seconds to react, but then his hands are on your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you closer and melts into your lips. You don’t even know how long the two of you stand there, completely absorbed in each other.

Even as you break the kiss, your hands stay wrapped around his neck, just as his hands stay firmly on your waist. Your foreheads are pressed together, and there is this dumb little grin stretched across his face.

It takes you both a moment to process. But then, Jisung is whispering to you, almost breathless, “what was that for?”

You look up into his eyes to find them wide and curious, anticipating your response.

It’s then that you realize what you’ve just done.

“Um,” you breathe other a moment later, your voice thick and your head swimming with confusion. “Happy birthday?”

“Thanks,” he grins a little, but then his expression drops when he sees the panic in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say awkwardly, stepping back from him even as your throat closes up.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, you just kissed him.

“I’m—I have to go pee,” you say dumbly.

“Okay,” Jisung tells you softly.

And then you walk out of the kitchen, to the bathroom—where you pause for a moment, before continuing past it, to the door and out of the apartment.

You don’t stop until you get home.

You spend the next week avoiding Jisung.

It’s not easy, mind you—but you still manage to do it. In between the texts and phone calls from not only him but various members of your friend group, you somehow are able to hide, almost as if you don’t exist at all.

That’s not the hard part though. No, the hard part is avoiding Yuna. You leave for your classes early in the morning and come home late at night in a desperate grab at not running into her. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting on your phone is permanently set to on, and you go out of your way to study only in the archaeology library, despite how far away it is from your apartment.

You’re like a ghost in the wind, the way that you make yourself scarce, and the only person you speak to is Hyunjin—mostly because he’s the one person you can’t seem to avoid.

He is your best friend, after all, and when the two of you share almost every class, it makes it impossible to avoid him.

But, to your surprise, you find that he doesn’t press you at all. Over the course of the week, not once does he bring up Jisung or the party on Friday, and you would think that he hasn’t noticed anything out of the blue if it wasn’t for the way he strategically avoids mentioning any of your friends.

You can’t help but love him for it. He doesn’t ask for answers, even once, and you are reminded once again why he’s your best friend.

You are a wreck for so many reasons that you can’t help but wrap your head around, and the only thing that keeps you together is that Hyunjin continues to joke about the stupidest things as if you both don’t know that you are seconds away from falling apart.

But, come Friday, it seems your luck has run out.

When you arrive home in the early evening, you find Yuna sitting in the living room, her arms crossed as if she’s waiting. Well, obviously you know that logically, she’s waiting for you. But hey… It could be something else, right?

Wrong, if the pointed glare she pins you with is anything to go off of.

“Sit,” she says shortly.

Timidly, you listen. Really, all you want to do is run back into your room and lock the door but—well, she’s scary and you think she might bust down your door right off its hinges if you do that.

“S-So…” You stammer awkwardly. “What’s up?”

You wince right as the words leave your mouth. Why are you like this? It’s like recently, you can’t do anything right. With school, with your friends… With Jisung.

She stares at you pointedly.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing up with me,” you say, trying to keep your face blank as your head turns downward and you pick at the loose thread hanging from the hem of your shirt.

“Really?” Yuna asks, an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t sound convinced at all, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Nope,” you respond again. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah, actually,” she says calmly. “It’s just that there is this girl I know who seems to be avoiding all her friends and her boyfriend without any explanation, and nobody can figure out what’s wrong.”

“Oh? Well, maybe she’s fine and doesn’t need anyone to worry about her. She could be just a little tired after a long week, don’t you think?”

“Tired doesn’t mean ignoring everyone she knows,” Yuna points out.

You look down, examining your fingernails. They are short, bitten stubs—a product of your recent spike in anxiety. You pick at a hangnail on your thumb before you answer.

“Maybe tired to her means socializing less to conserve energy.”

A moment passes, and you can feel her glare burning into the side of your head, but you don’t look up.

“Y/N.” She says finally, breaking the silence. “Please. Talk to me.”

“I am talking,” you say shortly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Yuna emphasizes firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is,” you repeat. “Everything is fine and dandy. I’m doing great. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

She sighs heavily.

“What happened with you and Jisung?”

You still.

“Jisung?” Your voice wobbles—barely, but you know it’s enough for Yuna to notice. “Why would you think something happened with Jisung?”

“Because he’s been a wreck since his birthday, and you’ve been avoiding everyone, and there is something weird about it all.”

Your breath catches in your throat when she says that. The first thought that pops into your head is, is he okay?

It’s followed quickly by why is he a wreck? and did I fuck up so badly that I broke him?

“Hasn’t he said what’s wrong with him?” You ask, trying to be nonchalant even as you can feel the panic rising in your throat. “Because I think he’s the only one with an issue right now. Not me. Definitely not me.”

“Y/N,” Yuna sighs again. “He’s your boyfriend, and there’s something up with both of you. Did he do something? Please, tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

Boyfriend. The word echoes in your head, bouncing around until it threatens to engulf you completely. It’s parasitic, the way it burns through you.

A moment passes, and you’re frozen.

Then,

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Your voice is heartbreakingly soft, and Yuna is surprised to find that when you look up and your eyes finally meet hers, they are glassy with unshed tears.

“What?”

“I said,” you choke out. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

And then you’re crying.

“Oh, Y/N,” Yuna says soothingly, pulling you closer and wrapping her arms around you.

You turn, burying your face into her shoulder as hot, scalding tears run down your face. She runs a hand down your head, smoothing your hair in a calming and repetitive movement, and you let go of the emotions you have been holding back for the past 7 days.

You cry and you cry and you cry until you feel like you have nothing left to give, and then you just let Yuna hold you for a moment.

And then, you pull back after what seems like forever, and tell her about everything.

Okay, so—not everything. You definitely don’t tell her about Jisung and 3racha, but you tell her everything else. How you’ve had a crush on him for forever, and how you both ended up somehow faking a relationship, and how you’re feelings for him only continued to grow throughout it, and then you tell her about the party, and how you kissed him and fucked everything up, because there is no way he feels anything for you—especially because he’s been avoiding you the same way you have been avoiding him.

Yuna listens attentively and doesn’t interrupt once, and when you finish speaking finally, your tears have mostly dried.

“You don’t hate me… Do you?” Your voice is small and vulnerable.

“No,” she says decidedly. “I could never hate you for something like this.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, a watery smile barely present on your face as she hugs you again.

“Do you… Do you think I fucked it all up?”

Yuna shakes her head firmly. “No. I know you didn’t.”

You aren’t too sure if you believe her, but the words are comforting either way.

“You know what?” Yuna says determinedly after a moment. “I think you need something to get your mind off of this all. To clear your head, you know? It’ll make you feel better.”

You look at her skeptically, your eyes already beginning to puff up.

“Yes,” she nods excitedly to herself. “Tomorrow, I’m taking you on a date so you can stop thinking about him!”

“Oh, Yuna, I don’t—“ You sniffle but she cuts you off.

“Nope! I’ve decided already! You’re heartsick, and this is just what the doctor ordered.”

“…Okay?”

“Great!” She grins at you. “Now, why don’t you take a shower and go to sleep? You look like you’re about to pass out any minute.”

“Yeah,” you say faintly as she drags you up from the couch and pushes you in the direction of your bedroom. “Okay.”

After a quick, scalding shower, you lay in bed and fall asleep quickly. You sleep fitfully and contently the entire night through, and when you wake up the next morning, it is to Yuna packing up a wicker basket in the kitchen.

“You’re awake!” She exclaims when she notices you come out of your room.

“Get dressed,” Yuna singsongs, folding a giant gingham sheet. “We’re going on a picnic! I put a lot of effort into this so you better put on something cute or I’ll murder you.”

You find that, against all odds, you somehow feel better than you did last night, even if only marginally.

Crying it out of your system will do that to you, you suppose as you head back into your room to pick out an outfit that will pass Yuna’s inspection.

It doesn’t take long for you to settle in a simple white cotton dress. You tie your hair back with a matching ribbon, and put on a bit of concealer under your eyes to hide any evidence of what happened last night.

When you emerge from your room, you find Yuna waiting eagerly at the door, a giant floppy straw hat on her head.

“Let’s go!” She says excitedly. Despite yourself, you find a small smile creeping onto your face. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, after all.

You don’t really know where you are going, because Yuna has planned it all out to the tee, but she chats the whole bus ride there, and for the first time all week, you feel like you can breathe.

30 minutes later, the two of you find yourselves on the banks of the Han river, spreading out a blanket to sit upon.

Then, you’re reaching into the wicker basket Yuna has brought along, pulling out small boxes full of comfort food—rice cakes, fried rice, noodles… Your heart warms as you think of her in the kitchen, cooking all of this food for you.

You really love your friends.

“Rice, japchae, beef…” Yuna mutters to herself, doing a tally of everything that has been laid out.

“Is there nothing else in the basket?” She turns to you, hopeful. You look inside, and then shake your head.

“No, it’s empty.”

“Fuck, I forgot water…”

Then, her eyes light up.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to the convenience store to get something to drink.”

“Okay,” you nod to her.

And then she’s running off, her hat wobbling in a hilarious way as she goes.

You pull your knees into your chest and observe around you as you wait for her to come back. A small toddler runs past you, with his mother close behind, begging him to slow down. A few feet away, 3 middle school boys are riding their bikes and eating ice pops as they go. An elderly couple are resting on a bench that overlooks the river.

Then, your eyes fall onto the ducks. You light up immediately, searching the wide picnic spread until you find what you were looking for—bread.

You’re overly excited as you grab the bag of bread and practically skip over to the ducks. They watch you curiously as you bend down a few feet away from them. You start to break off small pieces of the bread and throw them down in between you and the ducks, and they happily swarm the food you offer.

You giggle as you watch a mother duck push her chick towards a small piece of bread that you have thrown out. The baby ducks are always the cutest, you can’t help but think.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” A familiar voice says from behind you, and you freeze. Your blood turns ice cold, and your head snaps around.

And there he is, in the flesh—Han Jisung, standing awkwardly only a few feet away from you.

You stare. He’s dressed casually, in a loose white shirt and black jeans, and it’s crazy how he looks the same as you’ve always seem him, and yet so different at the same time. His hair is brushed back, and to your surprise—a deep, berry blue, but what shocks you the most is the timid, almost unsure expression on his face.

A moment passes, and then—you’re pushing yourself up and briskly walking past him without a word, trying to get as far away as possible.

“Wait, Y/N—wait!” He calls out, but you ignore him.

“Y/N,” he jogs, and it doesn’t take long before he’s in front of you, effectively cutting off your escape route.

You stop in your tracks, but continue to stare off behind his head, as if you can’t see him at all.

“Can we talk?” He asks.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you say stiffly.

“Um, I think we have a lot to talk about,” he disagrees, his brow furrowing.

You think it’s cute—at least, you would, if you were looking at him. But you’re not, and so you don’t.

“Well I don’t have anything to talk to you about,” you say, tone short and sharp.

“That’s fine,” Jisung sighs. “That’s fine, because I can do the talking. But will you listen?”

You stare off in the direction Yuna had run off in, desperately hoping for her to appear. Predictably, she doesn’t, and so instead of answering, you continue to stare pointedly at anything but the boy in front of you.

He takes that as a yes.

“Look,” he looks a little exasperated as he runs a hand through his hair. “I know that we started this whole thing so we could, I dunno, keep up a lie that I got us wrapped up into. And I know you got all freaked out last week when—well, when that thing happened, which is why I’ve been giving you space…”

You still refuse to look at him, but your eyes trail from a giant light pole behind him to where a family of four are sitting under the shade of a giant tree.

“I mean,” Jisung continues on. “I thought space is what you needed, for a bit. But you’re still ignoring me and freaking out, which is why I’m here to tell you that—well, to tell you that I like you.”

He says it so sincerely that it’s enough for you to finally look at him.

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically, finally speaking. “That’s funny. Now, are you done? I’m kind of busy right now.”

“What?” His nose scrunches in confusion, and your heart skips a beat, which you promptly ignore.

“No, Y/N. I like you. A lot.”

The familiar feeling of panic starts to well up in your stomach, and your gaze hardens.

“You like me?” You say, your face twisting cruelly as you look at his earnest, pleading eyes.

“Yes,” he says solemnly. “I do. I have for a long time, actually…”

Your throat burns. “Jisung, stop it.”

“Why?” He asks, bewildered.

“Because!” You hiss. “I know you’re doing this for 3racha and to keep it a secret, which is fine, I know you are. It’s what we’ve been doing since the beginning, of course I know you are, but… But you’re being mean right now.”

“How?” His frustration bleeds into his words. “Y/N, I’m telling you that I like you! This has nothing to do with 3racha.”

You scoff.

“You don’t believe me?” Jisung demands. “I’m serious. I’ve already told Yuna everything! I literally have nothing to lose,” he laughs, and it borders on maniacal.

“Except you, of course, because my feelings for you are so real it’s kind of starting to hurt!”

“What did you say?” You whisper faintly.

He sighs. “On Monday, when it became obvious you were avoiding me, I went to Yuna, and—well I told her about 3racha, and what you were doing to help me keep that secret, because I wanted her advice on how to…”

He trails off, suddenly nervous. You stare foggily at him, half unsure if you’re breathing still.

“How to what?” You ask after a moment.

“How to ask you out, for real.”

“You told Yuna?”

He nods. “That’s why I’m here... I asked her to set this up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Oh.”

A moment passes. You feel warm all over. He told Yuna the truth… Does that mean…? He’s telling the truth?

“So,” you start. “Let me get this straight. You told Yuna the truth about your biggest secret, and… You like me?”

“I do, like you. A lot. A lot a lot.”

His eyes bore into yours.

“Okay,” you say weakly.

“Okay?” He asks. “I was… Kind of hoping for something more than okay.”

Instead of responding to that, you find yourself staring at his hair.

“It’s very blue,” you tell him, reaching out to touch it.

“What?” Jisung says, as if he’s forgotten. “Oh, yeah. It is.”

“You look like a blueberry,” you murmur, still entranced by how soft his hair is. “Why did you dye it?”

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he looks away quickly as he murmurs something inaudibly.

“What? I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Well,” he begins bashfully, his entire face red at this point. “You had said… The day you date me is the day I dye my hair blue, so…”

You retract your hand, your mind going back to that Thursday in the closet, when the two of you had been hiding from Yuna.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” You muse.

He nods.

“So?” You ask, expectantly.

“What?” Jisung is quick to get defensive.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out?”

“B-But,” he begins cluelessly. “You don’t… Like me back, do you?”

It takes a moment to process the words, and your jaw drops open slightly. You don’t know how to react to that—you don’t know what to do, or what to say. A flurry of emotions overcome you, but it’s easiest to pick out anger, and so you do the first thing that comes to mind.

You punch him.

“Ow!” Jisung yelps, pouting as he rubs his shoulder.

“You absolute buffoon!” You explode in anger. “Who initiated that kiss on your birthday? Was it you? No, I don’t think it was. Of course I like you! I’ve liked you since I met you, you fucking idiot! Why would you think I don’t like you? You are quite possibly the stupidest person to exist. It takes a special kind of person to be so oblivious you don't notice someone crushing on you for two years! I was so obvious too!”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

Now it’s his turn to parrot you. “You like… me?”

You glare at him.

“Ask me,” you demand.

“Do you like me?” He repeats, and your eyes narrow.

“Wrong question,” you grit out.

His eyes widen as his mouth forms a silent ‘o.’’

“Do you…” He begins.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jisung asks finally, voice soft as he stares at you in wonder.

“Yes, you dummy!” You yell.

You want to smack him for being stupid, but you decide to kiss him instead—and this time, you find it’s everything you remember it to be and so much more.

“For the record,” Jisung says when the two of you break away, a stupid grin on his face as he slips his hand into yours. “I’ve liked you since I met you, too.”

“Really?” You look at him weirdly. “I threatened you with a frying pan.”

“Yeah, you looked kind of crazy,” he nods. “But it was hot, like, in a psycho kind of way.”

A look of disgust passes over your face, and you push him away.

“You’re disturbed,” you tell him. “I don’t think I want to date you anymore.”

“Hey!” He protests. “It hasn’t even been five minutes!”

“I didn’t know you were so weird, though,” you mimic vomiting, but don’t resist when he grabs your hand again.

The two of you head back to the picnic blanket you had been at before, only to find Yuna sitting there with at least ten water bottles surrounding her.

Her eyes flit to your linked hands as the two of you approach.

“So,” she says mischievously. “What did I miss?”

“Jisung,” you sigh. “Just show me the picture. I’ll see it sooner or later!”

He pouts as he holds his phone away from you. “No, I look bad.”

It’s currently a Saturday afternoon, with winter break just around the corner, and you and your friends are hanging out at Jisung and Hyunjin’s apartment.

“Babe,” you soothe him. “I promise, you don’t look bad.”

“Yes I do.”

“Han Jisung, give me the phone.” You frown.

“No,” he says stubbornly, shaking his head, and you grab his ear.

“Ow, ow!” He yelps, but you just twist ruthlessly.

“You’ve seen my ugly baby pictures,” you tell him, “so show me yours.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” He relents, and you let go of his ear, satisfied.

“But… You have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise,” you say solemnly, and a moment later, he’s handing his phone to you hesitantly.

Excited, you snatch it from his hand, and he buries his face in your shoulder, embarrassed.

You’ve barely even glanced at the photo before you have to resist the urge to snort, but Jisung feels the vibration in your chest, and he lifts his head up to glare at you.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

“And I didn’t,” you clear your throat, pressing your lips together to suppress the smile from creeping onto your face.

“I told you I look bad, I shouldn’t have even let you see,” he whines and tries to snatch his phone back from you, but you hold it away from him.

“No!” You tell him. “I think it’s… cute.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, and you can’t resist cupping his cheek with your free hand. He always looks so cute when he pouts.

“Well…” You say slyly. “I’ve always had a think for you in glasses.”

He groans, flopping backwards onto the couch, and you finally let out a laugh.

“It’s not that bad, Jisung, I promise!” You coo. “I think you’re adorable, even as an awkward preteen with a really bad haircut.”

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbles, his words muffled as a result of being smushed face-first into the couch, and you continue to fawn over him.

Opposite to the two of you, Hyunjin and Yuna watch on in a sort of disgusted fascination, absolutely appalled by the romantic display and yet wholly unable to look away as you give Jisung a smooch on the cheek.

“This is so gross…” Hyunjin whispers to Yuna.

“Maybe it was better when they weren’t dating…” Yuna mutters back.

You’re now scrolling through Jisung’s camera roll as he tries to take his phone back from you, and Hyunjin can’t help but nod in agreement.

“You know… If you think about it, this is all kind of thanks to you,” he says to Yuna, and she snorts.

“Kind of?” She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m definitely taking credit for this.”

“What?”

“You think all of this just happened by chance?” She gestures to you and Jisung. “I mean, I didn’t think Jisung would take it this far, but… Well, let’s just say he’s never been good at hiding things.”

She smirks. “His feelings for Y/N… Or his identity as J.One.”

Hyunjin gapes.

“Jisung has a habit of leaving his SoundCloud logged in when he lends me his laptop,” she explains.

“…Please, remind me to never keep secrets from you,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, only slightly terrified.

On the couch across from them, Jisung has finally managed to take his phone back from you. You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest as you let out a sigh.

Lazily, his arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer, his nose in your hair.

“What?” He mumbles, the words muffled by your head.

“Mm, s’nothing,” you say.

A moment of silence passes, and muted voices from the TV echo. Your face warms, and impulsively, your arms tighten around his torso as if trying to snuggle further into him.

“What is it?” He asks again, his tone playful.

There’s a beat of silence. You turn your face away from his so he can’t see you, and then:

“You’re so skinny.”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically back. “I know. You’re always calling me a noodle boy, after all.”

You grin.

“Yeah, but you’re my noodle boy,” you say affectionately, and Yuna almost gags.

“Okay,” Hyunjin announces, horrified. “That’s enough PDA for one day!”

You stick out your tongue at him, and Jisung shows him his middle finger.

“You’re just jealous,” you tease.

“It’s okay, Hyunjin,” Jisung says solemnly. “Maybe one day someone will get past your annoying personality and catch feelings for you, too.”

Hyunjin lets out a strangled groan.

“Can we leave? Please?” He begs Yuna.

“Already two steps ahead of you,” she mutters, slinging her bag over her shoulder before waving to you and Jisung.

“Bye!”

And then she’s walking out the door.

“Yuna!” Hyunjin scrambles after her desperately. “Wait for me!”

(in case you were wondering what the picture of jisung looks like: see below)

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goyuuficrecs · 2 years

Text

i am standing in the middle of alexandria

Summary:

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking at somebody else."

Satoru emerges from the Prison Realm, and everything falls apart.

Author: rollingeuthunda

Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: Underage

WC: 23.9k

Additional tags: Temporary Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Secret Relationship, Post-Shibuya Incident Arc, Reunion Sex, Time Skips, Getting Back Together (more tags on ao3!)

ao3 link

Thoughts

Amnesia is a guilty pleasure trope of mine, and paired with a secret relationship? I was crazy excited to read this and despite feeling like my heart got stabbed repeatedly through out I loved this story. I was hanging by a thread with only that happy ending tag as my lifeline for most of it. The prose and style did such a good work at creating an atmosphere of... wistfulness? that perfectly carried the emotional experience.

Many aspects of this fic made me emotional, but what stands out the most after rereading several times is how good Yuuji and Gojo are for each other. There's all these little moments where I couldn't help but think "ah, so this is why they love each other". They fit like puzzle pieces and nothing shows it better than the casual touches, the out of hand comments, the easy chemistry. It almost serves as a relationship study too, which is amazing.

#goyuu #goyuu ficrecs #jjk ficrecs #r:explicit #wc:20k-50k #s:complete #cw:underage #canon divergent #g:angst #g:hurt/comfort #getting back together #secret relationship #amnesia #top!gojo bottom!yuuji

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hellreads · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 3/4 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS, K-pop Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Kim Taehyung | V/Reader Characters: Kim Taehyung | V, Reader, Yandere!Kim Taehyung, Yandere Taehyung - Character Additional Tags: kpopyandere, Smut, Yandere Bangtan Boys, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Drunk Sex, Somnophilia, Twins, Obsession, Yandere Bangtan Boys | BTS, Yandere BTS, Stalking, Photography, Reader-Insert, Emotional Manipulation, Abortion mention, pregnancy mention, unhealthy relationship, bts smut, Taehyung smut, kim taehyung smut, Yandere, Yandere Smut, Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Emotional Infidelity, Dom Kim Taehyung | V, Dom/sub, Love Triangles, Infidelity, Established Relationship, Victim Blaming, yn has low self-esteem, obsessive taehyung, Stalker Taehyung, Missionary Position, Woman on Top

Summary:

Your relationship with your boyfriend hasn't been going well lately. His twin, Kim Taehyung, decides to take advantage of this.

“I know this is wrong of me and I know you probably think of me as some kind of crazy bitch who keeps fucking with you, but I’m telling you now. This is what I want.”

and yes you are a crazy one MC, if you’ve been reading this series since day one you’d know our girl here is in a very uncomfortable and unfortunate situation trying to save her long-term relationship with her boyfriend Minho while having the devil incarnate Taehyung around her testing her loyalty and resolve through and through.

[ SPOILERS AHEAD ]

I don’t think I wrote something for chapter two but that part of the story was crucial for you to see the side of Minho, the side that MC failed to see/acknowledge because she was blindly in love with him, as mentioned before he was master manipulator he knows how to play his cards well in order for people around him to bend to his will and give him what he wants and that was proven when MC decided to make things right by talking to him, ask him what’s going on and prove that what Taehyung told her wasn’t true, that he wasn’t cheating on her and I honestly believe he wouldn’t do that, it’s just Tae shamelessly feeding the two poisonous thoughts so they’d end up separating so he could pursue MC because he always knew that they’re the ones meant to be together. she was made for him as he was made for her.

so long story short Minho spilled the truth and told her he knew everything about the abortion and asked her a lot of whys? actually i’d do the same if I was him, even if she’s not ready it’s just right to let your partner know that you’re having a child together, then you make a decision and let them know that this is what you want to do, what you think is best for you, hiding things like this only feed minds with unpleasant thoughts which made it very easy for Taehyung to plant seeds of doubt by telling the kid might not be Minho’s that’s why she didn’t have the heart to tell him of her plans. but surprise surprise if you thought it was such a sweet moment that the lovers reconciled I viewed it as Minho using the opportunity to pin her down and clip her wings, I truly pity her for not having the voice to tell what she truly feels because Minho was comfortable, they’ve been together for so long it only made sense that they marry eventually even if it wasn’t what she wanted, it was so painful to watch her slowly die on the inside, but also frustrating to know that she was also falling for the wrong guy.

she wanted Taehyung probably because he was similar but also different from his twin, he gave her the attention she wanted, he made her feel things she can’t remember getting from her lover, things were wild when they all got together under one roof, everything escalated quickly and the next thing that happened Minho and MC got engaged and it only put more sinister thoughts in Taehyung’s head he didn’t act out immediately but he had plans, MC added fuel to the fire by wanting to know directly from Tae whether he had feelings for her and then everything just went downhill and he was gone the next day (scenario was wild because MC what are you doing honey?? you okay? please stop playing with fire).

if you’ll re-read from the start you’ll know that MC here is equally manipulative in a way because of what she’s done to Taehyung, sigh everyone’s just wicked in a sense so here they are MC and Minho back together and planning their wedding and Taehyung found someone new to plaster his broken heart, poor new girl for being dragged into this mess, Tae exactly knew how to push MC’s buttons, time may seem like it wasn’t on his side but it only proved him that his patience even though it was testing him was what he needed and true enough it brought MC to his studio way too many times and waiting for her to go away made her yearn for him more and then they meet again and here goes our MC falling into another trap by Taehyung, she really needs someone to guide her jghaksjdgdfhgkd I was kinda happy that she’s finally being true to herself and accepting it’s Taehyung she wants and she will get him no matter what even if it means breaking Minho and Yumi’s hearts, but just when you thought everything would go smoothly MC wandered around and saw the photos that proved she’s been stalked and put two and two together that Taehyung’s feeling were true but also creepy and she needed to get away from him before all hell breaks lose, but unfortunately for her she ran out of time and who know what’ll happen next, idk if she’ll be kept hidden somewhere or if Taehyung would go to Minho and ruin MC then they’ll be together idk there are so many possible scenarios in my head rn but all I know is MC is regretting everything at the moment and if she could go back she would probably never ask for Minho’s number when he saved her.

ahhhh MC you poor child, I hope you learned from this experience and if you ever manage to run away and save yourself don’t look back. | 🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

#a:kpopyandere #t:snapped #m:kth #g:angst #g:dark #g:infidelity #g:smut #g:taboo #series #ao3 #🍒💣#k:daddy #k:spanking #k:marking #k:pos #k:deg #tw:non-con #read all warnings before proceeding

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qobiin · 3 years

Text

to live for us

pairing: gratsu (gray x natsu)

genre: angst, fluff | established relationship, canon-compliant

warnings: mentioned suicide attempt, post-galuna island arc, hurt/comfort, gray needs therapy

word count: 1684

summary: Natsu and Gray finally sit down and talk about Gray's Iced Shell attempt on Galuna Island.

“We need to talk.”

Natsu looks up from the drink Mirajane set down on the table before him a few minutes ago. Gray is standing in front of him, arms crossed against his chest in an attempt to stop his hands from subconsciously removing his clothes.

It never works, but Gray is of the mind that it makes him appear more intimidating than he actually is. Of course, Natsu isn’t sure he could ever find someone who wears underwear with hearts on them intimidating.

“Finally!” Natsu cheers, forcing a smile onto his face even when it’s the last thing he wishes to do. “Back home then?”

Gray nods even as he scowls, but he turns on his heel and immediately makes his way towards Fairy Tail’s doors anyway. Natsu jumps up from his seat and waves goodbye to Lucy who is sitting at the bar with Erza.

Happy looks up at him as he stands, but Natsu only has to wave wordlessly at him before the blue cat returns to focusing on his food. Gray is already halfway across the room, not one to wait or beat around the bush for important conversations like the one they are going to have. Natsu follows after him with his signature smile stuck in place, making sure to not have anything appear out of the ordinary about this situation.

He catches a few Fairy Tail members giving them odd glances, probably due to his and Gray’s lack of fighting and loud taunting. Natsu only waves pointedly at them before they avert their gazes and return back to what they were doing beforehand.

Natsu does not try to be subtle as he sniffs the air, taking in the familiar mix of scents in the guild. Everyone in the guild has known him long enough to know about the extent of the abilities he gained through the Dragon Slayer Magic that Igneel taught him as a child. There’s no need to be secretive around his hoard anyway.

Out in the streets, trailing after Gray as he leads them home, Natsu tones down on his sniffing as best as he can. If he garners a few strange or confused looks though, he doesn’t beat himself up about it. Most of these people will write off his behavior as a weird wizard thing and continue on with their day as they give him a wide berth. There is no need to worry.

His attention is drawn back to the moment when the scents start to signal his proximity to their home. Gray reaches the front door first and unlocks it, leaving it open for Natsu behind him.

The smell of home almost knocks him off his feet as he crosses the threshold. It’s just his, Happy, and Gray’s scents here, with hints of Erza scattered all around. Albeit, Gray’s scent is a bit stale considering the fact this is his first time returning home since they came back from Galuna Island.

They escaped punishment for breaking guild rules because the master wasn’t there but Natsu would like to not switch bodies with anyone ever again. It has been a few days at this point and still, Gray has not returned home. Natsu has been waiting patiently for this moment when they will sit down and discuss what is wrong.

Gray is sitting on their bed, shoes off and hands gripping the bottom of his shirt. Natsu reaches out and stops him from stripping, eyes on Gray’s face as the man focuses back in on the moment at present.

“Thanks,” Gray mumbles sullenly, his gaze downcast.

Natsu doesn’t say anything. He merely waits.

“I know you’re mad at me, but if you could tell me why you’re mad at me, it would make my apologizing to you much easier,” Gray scrambles to say after a moment of silence has passed between them.

Natsu tilts his head to the side and inhales, tasting the nerves and fright swirling around the edges of Gray’s scent. He exhales heavily, sitting down slowly on the bed beside Gray.

He leans back and lies down, keeping his eyes on the ceiling and not the man who should have been home with him these past few days. “I’m not mad.”

Gray twists at the waist to stare at him, his shoulders a stiff line that Natsu isn’t sure he has permission to soothe just yet. “Lying won’t help.”

“I’m not mad,” Natsu repeats, relaxing as their scents begin to blend together. “I’m worried about you. You scared me back there when you were going to sacrifice yourself to restrain Lyon. You knew by doing it your way you were going to end your life and yet you tried anyway.”

The silence that befalls them then is deafening. It goes on long enough that Natsu wonders if he should be angry after all. After a few seconds of contemplation though, he decides that anger would not help him right now and waits patiently for Gray to say something.

However, the longer the silence continues, the less likely Natsu believes that to be. Gray isn’t known for talking about feelings. Not just his own, but discussing feelings in general always gives his face a pinched quality that Natsu can’t help but laugh at sometimes.

He isn’t laughing now.

“You remember what I said when I asked you if we could find a place together, right?” Natsu asks once he is certain Gray won’t say anything without more prompting.

Natsu sees Gray’s nod in the corner of his eye and grins up at the ceiling as he thinks of the memory. Gray’s eyes had gone wide with surprise, his scent expanding with the force of it and appealing to Natsu so much he barely realized how close he had been getting until Gray pushed him back with a hand on his bare chest. Natsu had leaned in again to bury his nose in Gray’s neck anyway and gulp down lungfuls of his scent, smiling as Gray threaded his fingers through his hair and asked him why.

“I told you that you were the first in the guild to be added to my hoard when we were children. That I would want you near almost always and would despise every moment that we were apart,” Natsu recalls, his smile softer at the edges now. “I told you I fell in love with you when we were teenagers and that I would like to make you my mate in the future and you accepted.”

Natsu waits again, just to see if Gray will say anything at all before he uses his last-ditch effort. “How am I going to make you my mate if you’re not there for the future?”

Gray makes a sound as if Natsu has just kicked all the air out of his chest. They have fought and sparred enough times for Natsu to know what that actually sounds like so when Gray wheezes, he sits up quickly. He reaches out and takes Gray’s hands, biting his lip as the man who is his opposite in almost everything finally begins to cry.

Natsu moves closer until he can wrap his arms around Gray, tucking his head under Natsu’s chin as he shakes. His breath hitches but Natsu only clutches him tighter, holding him securely in his arms even as Gray somehow migrates to his lap. Natsu doesn’t mind that, he just holds on and waits.

Eventually, Gray’s sobs begin to make sense. Most of what he is saying is a mantra of “I’m sorry”s and half-aborted “I didn’t mean to do that”s, but Natsu gets the gist. He shushes and rocks Gray in his arms, focusing on their scents instead of the urge to cry with his mate.

When the worst of Gray’s tears have dried up, Natsu kisses the side of his head and pulls back far enough for their gazes to meet. Gray’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy but he isn’t avoiding Natsu’s gaze anymore and that’s definitely a start.

“I think what happened with Ur was only dragged back up at Galuna Island and you never really healed from it,” Natsu ponders aloud, tilting his head in silent question and continuing when Gray nods tiredly. “She raised you like Igneel raised me and we’ve never gotten over suddenly losing them. Have we?”

Gray has to clear his throat twice before he says, “I don’t think we’ll ever be over that.”

“No,” Natsu agrees. “We won’t.”

“I should talk to someone,” Gray murmurs, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement when Natsu raises an unimpressed brow at him. “A professional. Mirajane has been saying I should talk to the Good Doctor who helped Elfman after…”

Natsu smiles bitterly in response. Elfman was not the only one who had to talk to the Good Doctor after Lisanna died after all. Gray knows about this, of course, but Natsu had never strived to convince him of talking to the Good Doctor until now.

“I can let them know at my next session to expect an inquiry from you?” Natsu suggests.

Gray nods, leaning in quickly to press a kiss to Natsu’s cheek. “I’m still sorry. I just didn’t know how to fix things back on Galuna Island.”

Natsu nods but knows without seeing that his smile is not as bright anymore. “I think you just have to remember that you’re not alone anymore. Neither of us is and I’ll always have your back. We’re Fairy Tail members and you’re the one who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want us both to have long futures ahead of us.”

Gray’s cheeks flush a light pink, his scent curling with both embarrassment and quiet joy. “It will be hard, but I’ll try. If not for me or for you, then for Ur. For the life she gave me by giving up her own.”

“For Ur and Igneel,” Natsu agrees. “May they look upon us and see us happy. Together.”

“Together,” Gray assures him before he leans in and their lips meet in a soft kiss.

a/n: i forgot to post this when i first posted it on ao3, but i hope you all like this! this was written for icewhisper as part of the secret snipers exchange 2020!

#gratsu #gray x natsu #natsu x gray #fairy tail #ft #oneshot #f:ft #g:angst #g:fluff #t:oneshot #p:gray/natsu #tlfu #m: fic

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dimplereads · 2 years

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𖦹 jungxk -> crush ʚїɞ 5.1k . jeon jungkook . the first thing jungkook thinks when he sees you is wow. he hasn’t been up for very long,and you don’t even know he’s looking at you through the window. yoongi-hyung has wrapped you up in his arms as you sob and sob, muted behind the protective hospital glass. even with messy hair and wet eyes he’s starstruck. it’s why he recoils slightly when jimin and namjoon explain to him that you’re his wife.

“i’m your husband. let me be your husband.”

🌷 when gguk said this.. good stuff right there omg. this was really sweet with a twinge of melancholy. i really want to squish eunmi’s cheek pls!! omg also forgot to add that i’m usually an avid memory loss/amnesia fic hater but ! i really liked this one since it started off with this premise, instead of just out of the blue 20k+ words in, where basically all the good things experienced were just gone, don’t like that feeling :( but this beautiful piece of writing gets a pass!

#gr:bts #m:jjk #g:fluff #g:angst #g:hurt/comfort #l:oneshot #5kto10k #au:memoryloss #r:married #rating:nsfw

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kakagaifanfiction · 4 years

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temporal illusions

title: temporal illusions

author: cloudynebula, Lapifors

pairing: Kakashi/Gai

word count: 30,995

rating: teen and up audiences

genre: angst, romance

warnings: none

status: complete

summary: Kakashi asks Gai to consent to a genjutsu to explore different events in their shared lives.

impressions:

One of the most amazing retrospectives on Kakashi and Gai’s relationships I have ever seen. After the war, Kakashi and Gai look back through their entire lives, genjutsu style, and a lot of confessions come to light. The ending is perfect. I can’t recommend this one enough. Long, detailed, touches on every single stage of kakagai, even has some Icha Icha exerts in it.

#kakagai #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #l:twoshot #r:t #g:Romance #g:angst

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bangtanfancamp · 4 years

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of Dusk and Summer

✨ Teaser 2✨

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

∴one shot

∴masterlist

∴playlist/soundtrack

∴pairing: Park Jimin x artist reader

∴teaser length: 1.2k

∴word count: approx 30k +

∴rating: mature

∴genre: coming of age, high school au, bf2l (best friends to lovers), romance, angst, fluff

∴warnings: mentions of abusive behavior and dysfunctional family dynamics, loss, light smut- sort of? (Intense makeout- still SFW)

∴summary: Graduation and academic excellence is all Jimin has had his eyes fixed on for as long as he can remember. Today, it finally happens. Today, he finally walks the stage and graduates. Today, his goals finally become reality. Or at least, that’s what he thought-until the best friend he thought he knew inside and out shows up in his window while he’s getting ready, and his life is never quite the same.

Alt: Park Jimin and his best friend have one incredible night that changes what they are to each other forever.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝟷 ∴ 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝟸

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Ten minutes later, and against his better judgment, Jimin is lowering himself down the godforsaken trellis behind you and into his front yard with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His perfectly pressed and creased dress clothes have been replaced with his favorite blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a too wide collar that he snatched from his closet in haste. He grumbles as his timberland boots catch on the lattice and send a chunky piece of wood careening off the edge of the trellis. Another thing to add to today’s list of sins, he supposes. His mother really is going to throttle him when she gets her hands on him. He can’t help but sigh at the thought. At least if he dies, he dies in his favorite outfit.

As he slides into the passenger seat, he wonders if he should text her. He heard the commotion of his parents leaving ages ago, his mother adamant about finding good parking as she stuffed her precious yapping Pekingese in her too big purse and slammed the back door shut. The idea of them sitting there waiting for a son who never shows up makes his heart feel a little sick. So he sends something non-committal to his father, the calmer of the two- an emergency came up with a friend. I’m safe but i can’t make graduation. I’m sorry- mutes it, and shoves it in his pocket.

As you turn the engine over and begin to pull away, Jimin looks back over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of his cat’s warm terra cotta fur sitting in his windowsill. If it’s even possible, her sweet face looks confused to watch him go. Like she knows something is wrong about today. Jimin knows he’s projecting, but still, he swears he can almost hear her solemn meow as you turn the corner and he loses sight of both her and the way this day was supposed to go.

─────────────────────

An hour in, neither of you has said a word.

Not really. It feels strange. At some point, you’d begun playing a soft acoustic playlist in the background just to fill the air with something other than this sterile silence. Yet it remained suffocatingly still between you otherwise. Neither of you were even humming along or tapping your fingers- nothing.

The engine’s steady rumble and shaky, finger picked guitar strings remain the only sounds in the cabin as Jimin’s gaze stays pointedly focused out the passenger window. His fingertips make an absent minded profession of picking at the unraveling threads of his ripped jeans, and you try to pretend this doesnt hurt. The silence between you feels weighty, heavy- wrong. Full of all the questions he won’t ask and the answers you won’t offer.

You wish it wasn’t like this.

You wish you hadn’t had to come find him today. That things were different. That everything was different. You’re grateful that he’s here- truly, you are. It’s just that you wish you had been strong enough to do it alone. That you could’ve been braver.

That you weren’t such a coward.

That’s the one that stings the most. No matter how hard you try to push your troubled thoughts away, that’s the one that always ricochets back the fastest. You hate it. You should’ve figured out how to face this alone- but you’d been scared, and it made you selfish. You can’t help but feel guilty about the rite of passage you’d stolen from him today. You hope one day he’ll understand.

You hope one day he can forgive you.

─────────────────────

An hour and a half later, you find yourself on a patch of winding, interconnecting backroads so old they’re still just gravel. Tree boughs sweep low overhead in this forgotten area so far outside the city. You and Jimin had picked up some fast food at the last place you’d seen for miles not too long ago, but your bag remains folded over on the bench seat between you. You’ll eat when you get there, you think. And if your memory serves you right, it shouldn’t be too long now.

Jimin, to his credit, still hasn’t asked where you’re going as he munches unenthusiastically on his cardboard French fry. You miss the melodic sound of his voice. Especially now. It would’ve been a nice companion these last few hours. But you understand. You know him. Honestly, at this point, you’ve realized his silence is actually a gift. Jimin holds his tongue for no one, so the fact that he’s stayed beside you with little to no resistance this entire drive says a lot about how seriously he’s taking this, how important to him you are, and you’re grateful.

You know he’s upset and confused right now, and Jimin doesn’t handle feeling lost very well. It’s why he always pushed so hard in school all these years. He never could stand not knowing the why behind things. And he never handled irrationality well. So you’re sure spontaneously dragging him out of his bedroom on the biggest day of his high school career has set off more than a few alarm bells for him- yet he remains silent for your sake.

Jimin was usually a force to reckoned with in his own domain- every teacher at school knew it too. They all dreaded his inevitable irreverence and pushback when they required anything of him that he might deem unreasonable or poorly thought out. They knew good and well what a spitfire he was. He was passionate and loud about needing to understand, to be ahead of the game. It’s why he was such a brilliant student.

It’s why he should’ve been valedictorian.

That nauseous twinge is back in your gut, but you push it down as you turn down a particularly neglected road and something else swirls in your chest. Ivy and brambled blackberry plants have twined themselves around the rusted iron gate at the end of the lane in front you. The trees dip low and wild as you hop wordlessly out of the truck to undo the padlock chaining the ancient gate to the sunken wooden fence line.

The air here is so much lighter, so much cleaner than in the city, and a wave of nostalgia grips you so tightly you fear you may collapse. Eyes fluttering shutas your shoulders dip, you let the old memories overtake you as you still in the high grass by the gate.

You can’t remember the last time you were here, and the thought makes tears that you refuse to shed prick the corners of your eyes. Things should never have gotten this bad, you think- but here you are. Breathing deeply, you turn the numbers on the lock through sheer muscle memory and trudge bare legged through the high summer hay to push the gate wide open, your graduation robes abandoned hours ago.

Hopping back into the truck, you direct it through the gate like slipping through a portal into another world- a gentler world. A sweeter time in a simple place that was always kind to you, even when the rest of the world was harsh. You hope it will be gracious enough to accept you again now as you slip out yonce again to push the gate shut before driving you and Jimin a mile deep out into the center of the beautiful, wild, undisturbed hay field.

Shifting into park, you take a deep, trembling breath and turn off the engine.

“We’re here.” You whisper in the stillness.

─────────────────────

✨full fic coming soon! ✨

Are you guys getting curious yet? 👀 I certainly hope so . Also! Thank you to @itshardcandy for your sweet comment on the first teaser!!!! it was so encouraging to see. Thank you for sharing a little kindness ☺️💕💖✨

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bangtanxm · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi | Suga, Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V Characters: Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook Additional Tags: bts - Freeform, taekook, Horror, Body Horror, Dark, Darkfic, Murder, Blood, Mild Language, Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Character Death, Death, Grief/Mourning, Plot Twists, Guilt, Choking, Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Past Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Cheating, Cheating, Short One Shot, One Shot, Dead Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Taehyung can't get over his dead boyfriend.

#taekook #g:angst #au:horror #tw:death #tw:major character death #tw:violence #tw:grief #tw:alcohol #tw:blood #tw:murder #one-shot

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thomasparker · 3 years

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mobile fic rec tags; (to be updated)

tap on any of the tags on what you feel like you want to read. <3 (mobile for now)

minors do not interact with g:smut or s:(wtv starts with an "s:") !!

people:

tomrecs ; peteyrecs ; hazrecs (more soon?)

author: u:url (blog rec tag (coming soon))

by genre:

g:fluff ; g:smut ; g:angst ; g:suggestive ; g:crack

by length:

l:fic ; l:blurb ; l:hc ; l:drabble ; l:series

by au: (a lot to unpack here so will be updated soon)

au:e2l ; au:er ; au:onebed ; au:bf2l

t:boxertom ; t:dadtom

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enhypenwriters · 2 years

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Truth or Dare

☆Pairing: Sunoo X Reader

☆Genre: Fluff

☆Warnings: Mentions of blood and chainsaw

☆Word Count: 436

☆Synopsis: What happens when you get dared to go into a haunted house?

••••••••••••••

“Do I have too?” You groaned. “You could have chosen truth.” Your friend said smiling. For Halloween, you decided to go to the amusement park because they had a Halloween event. You and your friend played truth or dare and you stupidly picked dare. She dared you to go into the haunted house. You disliked anything super scary. You could handle Halloween and the costumes but scary movies and hunted houses were not your cup of tea.

“Fine…” You groaned. You walked in line. “I’ll be fine.” You told yourself. You could feel the nerves growing. When it was your groups turn to go in, the worker said, “Alright, no flash photograph, no flashlights, do not stop suddenly, keep moving, do not touch the characters, and enjoy.” You were in the middle of the line. You were glad that you had people behind and in front of you.

In the first two minutes were fine but suddenly a guy with a bloody face and a chain saw popped out. “AHHAHHAHHHHH” you screamed. Luckily you weren’t the only one who screamed. You grasped onto the person in front of you. “Hey, is it okay if I hold your arm?” You whispered. “Go for it.” A guy responded. You linked your arm with his and surprisingly he held you hand. As you went through, every time something jumped out you held onto the guy tighter.

The guy you were holding on to didn’t seem to jump or be scared. At some points you even heard him laughing. “Are you not scared?” You asked him. “Nah, this fun.” “Wha-..AHAHHAH!” A clown popped out as you started. “I hate this.” You whispered. “Then why are you doing this?” The guy asked. “It was a dare.” You sighed.

When you finally saw the exit sign, you ran out as fast as you could. You saw your friend smiling. She walked up to you, “So…how was it?” You glared at her, “So fun.” You sarcastically. “Hey.” You heard the guys voice. You turned around and saw a really cute guy. “I’m the guy from the haunted house, Sunoo.” He said. “Y/N, thank you for letting me hold on to you.” Sunoo blushed, “No problem, I kinda enjoyed it.” You were absolutely melting in the inside. You and Sunoo stared at each other until your friend cough. “Oh, Sunoo this is my friend.” “Hi.” She greeted. Sunoo waved. “So umm…do you wanna…-“ Sunoo started. “She would love too.” Your friend responded. She pushed you forward. You looked back at her. She gave you a thumbs up. Maybe Haunted Housed weren’t so bad.

#festivaloffrights #enhypenwriters #enhypen sunoo #enhypen scenarios #m:sunoo #g:humor #g:angst #t:drabble

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chilligyu · 3 years

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info: yoon jeonghan/reader, pg, post-breakup au genre: angst | word ct: 1k warnings: none summary: when it comes to a broken heart, sometimes even the best memories are better left forgotten.

It’s just a dinner. You found yourself telling your reflection. It’s just a couple of hours, I can handle that.

Usually you didn’t need to give yourself a pep talk to get out the door, but that day was different. That day was going to be difficult to say the least. It was the first family event you’d been to since you—since he broke up with you. Since he took your heart in his hand and crushed it. What made it even worse, was that your family loved him, he was the life of the party, kind and considerate. They were hoping you would marry him. And, well, as much as you shared their sentiments, he evidently had different plans for his life.

“I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.”

Those were the exact words out of his mouth, and you’re pretty sure they’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. But, you had to move on. Your life couldn’t come to a complete halt because of one heartbreak. Even if it made it hard for you to get up in the morning. So you sucked it up, you put on your big girl pants and went to that dinner with your chin held high. When in actuality you really wish you’d stayed home.

You weren’t even two steps in the door when you were bombarded with questions. How’s work? How’s school going? Did you get that promotion? Is that a tattoo? The list went on and on and on. Obviously they didn’t ask questions about him, that would be too brash, but the way they were pointedly asking about everything else made it painfully clear. They all wanted to ask, just didn’t have the balls to. Somehow that was worse.

So you answered their questions with a smile, told them what they wanted to hear, you built that wall up three months ago and you’d be damned if you let them break through. Once they exhausted their false interest in your personal life, you headed over to the bar to grab yourself a much needed drink. Braving the rest of the evening was far less daunting with a bit of liquid courage coursing through you.

As it got closer to a socially acceptable time where you could make your escape, you thought you were in the clear. Even your nosey mother didn’t go prying into what happened with him, something you deeply appreciated. For all intents and purposes, you were off the hook. Of course, you’ve never been that lucky, that would’ve been far too easy.

“Aunty?” You heard a very familiar voice call up to you.

“Hani!” You exclaimed when you looked down to see your most favorite niece in the whole world. “Where have you been hiding?”

She stuck her thumb in her mouth and pointed at her brothers. “I was playing with Daesun and Daeyong. They got new dinosaurs.”

“Whoa!” You said enthusiastically. “New dinosaurs! That’s amazing! I wish I had new dinosaurs.”

“Mm.” She hummed, her wide eyes looking up at you expectantly. “Where’s Jeonghan?”

Gone.

Not even meaning to, you suddenly remembered him packing his bags, you remembered begging him to stay. You desperately wanted to talk, to figure it all out, but he made it clear that he only wanted to leave. He didn’t love you anymore. Forcing him to keep dating someone he wasn’t interested in was torture.

“Jeonghan,” You said, choking on each syllable, “please, please, don’t do this. Let’s sit down, let’s talk about this—”

“Why?” He practically spat. “It’s over, nothing you say is going to change that.”

His cold tone stopped you in your tracks. “Why—why are you acting like this? Like—like you don’t care...”

“Maybe I don’t.” He returned vehemently. “Ever think of that?”

One thing you were grateful of, was that his words didn’t leave any room to question. You’ve broken up with a handful of other guys, but you always cushioned the blow, broke their hearts instead of shattering them. Maybe Jeonghan learned from your mistakes, because you didn’t doubt him at all. It was over in an instant. It was over and you were painfully alone.

You plastered a forced smile on your face as you kneeled down beside her. “He’s not living with me anymore, I’m sorry Hani.”

“Why not?” Hani asked innocently.

Please don’t. “We’re not together anymore.”

“But you love him.” She persisted, her words cutting deep.

“Why are you acting like this? Like you don’t care?”

“Maybe I don’t. Ever think of that?”

Fighting back tears, you nodded. “That’s right. I do.”

She cocked her head in confusion. “Then why?”

Feeling your resolve break, you offered her a sad smile as you stroked her hair. “Because, love isn’t always enough.”

Before you had an emotional breakdown in front of the entire family, you ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind you. For months you’d been telling myself that you were fine, that if he didn’t want to be with you anymore then you would let him go. You’d let him be happy. He didn’t love you and that was okay. You were okay. Those were lies, all lies, and as you dropped to the floor, your body shaking, you sobbed harder than you ever had before.

Why? You asked yourself for the hundredth time. Why did he leave? We were happy, we were going to start a life together. He told me that he loved me, was it—was it all a lie?

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you tried your hardest to bury yourself in your regret. You thought you were okay. I was okay. As your vision started to get blurry, you could only think of all the times you were happy together. You were happy for three years, you were perfect for three years.

Wiping at your persistent tears, you pulled out your phone. Opening Instagram, you immediately let out a quiet laugh. You hadn’t changed your profile picture yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to. It was a picture of the gigantic Kumamon plushie he won for you at the fair standing upright beside you, making you look comically small in comparison.

Hesitantly, you scrolled through your account, a sad smile creasing your face as you remembered the memories behind the pictures. The two of you were happy, that much was clear. The three years you spent together wasn’t a lie. His brilliant smile was the brightest part of your life. You had laughed together about everything, shared a love of music, a desire to create a life together, it was hard to think that it was all over in one evening. How he said only a few words to you and left forever.

I miss him. You finally admitted to yourself. I miss him so much.

Tears still rolling down your cheeks, you couldn’t help but smile. Even though he left, even though you weren’t sure if you’d ever see him again, you still had a piece of him that he left with you. And it wasn’t on your phone. It wasn’t the pictures, it wasn’t the posts on facebook or the late night talks on Kakao, it was the memories. Because, no matter how often you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you were in love, and you were happy. And that would never leave you.

Would you like to delete your account?

You hesitated only slightly, your finger hovering over your phone. With one last look at the physical proof of your happiness with Jeonghan and your life together, you made your decision.

YES.

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jeonginify · 4 years

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jackfruit stars & mango moons — yang jeongin. ·˚ ༘♡

↝ pairing: yang jeongin x reader ↝ genre: angst, break up au ↝ word count: 2.3k ↝ warnings: alcohol consumption, and thats really it. this is just an existential blab, you really broke jeongin’s heart and he’s still not over you, basically an ode to break ups and moving on (note: this is a repost because me being the dummy i am, i accidentally deleted it ;;; so if it seems familiar, that’s why!)

↝ description: you were jeongin’s sun and moon, his sky and sea, his beginning and end… until you weren’t. you’re the question he spends seven months pondering, only to find that the answer was in front of him the entire time.

Ever since your breakup, Jeongin has noticed that everyone seems to refer to you in the past tense.

“Oh yeah, that used to be Y/N’s favorite coffee shop,” Seungmin whispers, hushed, to Minho one day when the three of them are walking down the street.

“I have an essay due tomorrow... Y/N was always the best when it came to writing,” Jisung moans under his breath one Monday as he slides into the seat next to Jeongin in the library.

“Would you listen to this song for me? Y/N used to help me figure out what was wrong, but, well...” Changbin please one night when Jeongin is waiting for Chan to come home.

He doesn’t know why—it’s just a break up. It’s not like you’re dead, and it drives him crazy how easily you managed to disappear from his life. As if the past year with him meant nothing. As if his friends, who quickly became your friends, meant nothing. You cut him off as if it wasn’t anything to worry about, you moved on as if he was nothing more than a little fling, and here he is, a month and a half later and still not over you.

It’s like ever since it all happened, there’s a gaping you-shaped hole where his heart should be. When you left, you took a piece of him, and he hasn’t felt complete in—well, in a long time.

He tries not to let it show, because he knows his friends are worried about him and god, he doesn’t want to feel weak anymore, but sometimes, it’s just so hard to hide. Jeongin hates it, the way you still have power over him and that you’re not even here for him to be mad at you.

And boy, was he mad at you—in the beginning. Because who were you to come along and make him fall in love with you, to give him the best memories he’s ever had, to make him feel special and worth and loved, and then turn around and just leave?

That’s what he was most mad about, when he really thinks about it. Not that you hurt him, or that you ended things with him, or even that it came out of nowhere.

He was the most angry that after it all happened, you just disappeared.

You told him he would always have a special place in your heart, that you would always love him, that he was the only one for you, and then you walked out the door and never came back.

He’s not angry anymore.

That’s the thing about his anger—it burns, bright and hot, but just as quickly as it ignites, it fizzles out, leaving nothing but emptiness in his wake.

Now all Jeongin feels is hollow inside. He’s sad, he’s so sad, and despite it all—despite knowing that he shouldn’t—he misses you.

He misses the soft smile you reserved only for him, the one who was sure would be the last thing he saw every night he fell asleep forever.

He misses walking back from campus at midnight with you, a little drunk after a party that you both probably shouldn’t have gone to in the first place, and the way you always glowed in the moonlight.

He misses the random, spontaneous plans you would make, and he misses your fascination with the simple things in life—things he never truly was able to appreciate until you.

Most of all, he misses having someone who knows him so completely and wholly that he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know—if something is off, or if he’s angry or tired or excited... To know that he loves you, completely and truly.

Jeongin misses loving you, and he’s not sure there’s a time he won’t.

A day after your break up, he can’t sleep. His head hurts, his heart hurts, and he’s only 70% sure this isn’t a dream.

A week after your break up, the tears won’t stop falling. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. Why are you gone? The question is a mantra, stuck in his head, and he’s stuck in a pit of pain and despair. There is no hope now that he doesn’t have you.

A month after your break up, he feels like a coward. By now, he knows you are gone and you aren’t coming back. Jeongin misses you. Any time his friends ask, he lies to them—”yeah, of course I’m fine!”... He can’t count how many times he’s said it. He misses you like he would miss breathing if he went too long without it, and he’s ashamed—he can’t say it out loud, which makes it all the more worse.

Two months after your break up, Hyunjin forces him on a date with one of his friends, and Jeongin can’t help but feel like he’s betraying you. The pain has faded from a sharp sting into a dull and inescapable ache, and he still can’t go a day without thoughts of you. The date is at your favorite restaurant, and when a sappy love song starts playing on the overhead speakers, he feels like he might suffocate.

Three months after your break up, Jeongin lands an internship with a nearby accounting firm. He dives headfirst into it, working himself to the point that between his course load and his internship, he doesn’t have time to think about you. That’s the hope, at least, but late at night as he lies awake, unable to fall asleep, his mind still drifts to you. He’s trying to forget you—slowly—but you won’t let him.

He cries again.

Four months after your break up and finally thinks maybe, just maybe, he can see life without you. It’s nothing big—he still thinks about you, he still misses you, but much less now. He goes out with his friends and finds himself not having to fake a smile anymore. He can walk by all your favorite places without wanting to cry. Hyunjin tries to set him up on another date—he’s not ready for that, but it’s not only because of you. One night, he gets drunk and kisses a girl he meets at a party, and he only thinks about you a little bit. The sun shines brighter, the air feels crisper and Jeongin feels—even if only slightly—better.

Five months after your break up, Hyunjin tells him he looks better now. The semester is about to end, and in celebration, Chan decides to throw a party. They are four shots in and Hyunjin, the lightest of lightweights, is already substantially drunk when he lets it slip.

“What do you mean?” Jeongin asks skeptically, having to yell a little to be heard over Hyunjin’s alcohol-addled mind and the booming bass of whatever music is echoing through the apartment.

“Well,” Hyunjin shouts back, his words slurring together slightly. “You’ve been so sad! You know, since...”

He nods, but Hyunjin still yells, “Your breakup!”

Jeongin cringes, almost certain the older boy thinks he’s being discreet.

“Okay...” He says cautiously, and Hyunjin continues.

“We were all really, really, really, really—“ his eyebrows furrow together, as if he’s trying to sound serious, and then he cuts off.

“Yes?”

“Did I mention, really, really, really,” Hyunjin continues, “really worried about you.”

Jeongin’s cheeks heat up. “What—?”

“Chan hyung told us not to say anything, but you aren’t that good at hiding it,” Hyunjin nods seriously, and if they weren’t having a conversation about you, Jeongin might have found it amusing.

He looks at his friend, not sure exactly what the correct thing to say is. Was he really that bad at hiding it? The thought makes him frown—he hates people worrying about him, he hates looking weak, and he feels bad at the idea that his friends spent the last five months fretting over him.

“Y-You really aren’t,” Hyunjin blabbers on.

“Good at hiding it. I mean, s-sometimes I would believe that you were re-really fine. But then...” He hiccups. “Well, y-your guard is down the most at night, when you think nobody notices and you’re looking up at the sky. Like someone has gone and stolen all the stars, you know?”

Jeongin does know. It’s something he would always say to you—that before you, the stars never burned, the sun never shined, the moon never rose. Now he knows that was just the lovesick in him talking, but... The stars were your thing. He looks up at them and he sees you.

Jeongin waits a moment with bated breath, not sure of whether or not he wants him to go on. But by now, Hyunjin has moved on to the next pressing matter—which, apparently is complaining about how all his online friends think he’s an e-girl when he plays League of Legends because he always plays support with Yuumi.

“I’m too sober for this,” Jeongin mutters to himself, stalking towards the kitchen where he proceeds to pour himself a generous cup of whatever jungle juice Minho has mixed up tonight, before downing it quickly in hopes of forgetting what Hyunjin has just said.

(He doesn’t forget, but he does wind up with a killer hangover the next day.)

Six months after your break up is when Jeongin finally runs into you. Break has just ended and the semester has finally begun, and when he walks into his 8am sociology lecture, you are the last person he expects to see.

The next hour is spent with his heart beating a mile a minute, and he can’t seem to hear anything the professor says. He’s painfully aware of you, sitting exactly two rows in front and three seats to the left of him.

He’s also painfully aware of how you are blissfully unaware of the holes he is drilling into the back of your head with his eyes.

You look as beautiful as he remembers, even though your hair is messy, like you just rolled out of bed, and you are wearing sweatpants he knows you sleep in. You’re dozing off, half asleep with your head slumped on top of your unopened notebook, and it hurts him to see how some things don’t change.

Like how you can’t function before 10am, or how you still have that old purple sweatshirt that he vividly remembers spilling coffee on.

Like how his heart still seems to skip a beat when he sees you.

Class ends, and even as people stream out of the hall, you lag behind, sleepily taking your time to gather your stuff before you drag yourself up and out of your seat. Jeongin slumps down in his chair as you get up, attempting to make himself look tiny, like he might not even be there at all.

It turns out that it doesn’t matter, because you don’t even look behind you as you exit the lecture hall. After you leave, he’s not sure whether he wanted you to see him or not.

Seeing you dredges up all the old feelings that he thought he had gotten over. He’s surprised to find that, although the thought of you still hurts, it hurts a little bit less than it used to.

But it still hurts, which is why that night, he drops sociology and enrolls in the first psychology class he finds open.

Seven months after your break up, he decides he’s tired of letting you rule his life when you aren’t even in it anymore.

It’s as he’s out at dinner with his friends that it dawns on him.

Jisung has shoved his chopsticks into his mouth like walrus tusks and is trying to get an unimpressed Minho to laugh. Chan and Changbin are deep in conversation about the most recent song they’ve been working on together, excited because they’ve figured out how they want to remaster the ending. Felix and Hyunjin are locked in a heated discussion about who they think Katara should have ended up with, and Seungmin is watching them, amused because he knows they’ll never agree.

The past months without you have been hard on Jeongin, but as he watches his friends, he realizes it would have been much worse without them.

Every late night in the library, spent throwing himself into his studies to avoid thinking about you, Felix was there with coffee in his hand and a smile on his face.

Every party that he forced himself to go to in hopes of distracting himself, Jisung was by his side, chatting Jeongin’s ear off about the latest episode of his favorite drama or the newest game he’s been playing, just to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.

Every night when he was too exhausted to do anything more than lay in bed and stare at the ceiling , Chan was there, ready to simply listen to whatever was bothering Jeongin at the time (most times, it was you.)

His friends were his life line through it all, the bright light in the darkness that you abandoned him in. For a long time after you left, Jeongin was so sure he would never be able to escape it—the pain. Sometimes, he didn’t even know if he wanted to.

Sometimes, he felt like giving in to it all. Like if he kept reliving it, kept feeling it, you would see how much he needed you and you would come back.

It sounds silly now, but he was so sure that he did need you.

“Jeongin?” Chan calls. “You okay?”

He looks up from his fries to find that Changbin, Minho, and Jisung have joined Felix and Hyunjin’s conversation. His friends are distracted, arguing amongst themselves, but Chan is looking at him, concerned.

A moment passes, then another.

“Yeah,” Jeongin says. “I am.”

#skzwritersclub #inkidz #yang jeongin #yang jeongin scenarios #jeongin scenarios #yang jeongin fanfic #jeongin fanfic #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenario #angst #break up au #stray kids imagine #jeongin imagine #g:angst #m:jeongin #w:jackfruit stars & mango moons #jeonginify.txt

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goyuuficrecs · 2 years

Text

small deaths

Summary:

A seemingly routine mission sees Gojo Satoru and his student Itadori Yuji stumbling into a binding vow with one very simple, very cruel term: either Gojo fucks Yuji before the time limit runs out, or they both die.

Author: lainebee

Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: Underage, Graphic Violence

WC: 13.5k

Additional tags: Fuck Or Die, Teacher-Student Relationship, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Anal Sex, Porn with Feelings, Internal Conflict, Violence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con (more tags on ao3!)

ao3 link

Thoughts

I didn't know this was something I wanted until I read it: a crack-y premise like fuck or die taken seriously in all it's complex emotional glory. Really, pre-relationship goyuu crossing the line in the worst possible way and then having to grapple with the fallout is just genius.

I loved the pacing and the tension throughout, but what I'm particularly charmed by is Gojo's characterization. I like him morally grey and shameless the best, but there is something about good adult Gojo being put in situations where he is powerless that really resonates with me. And, unsurprisingly, the moment where his resolves breaks and both of them just enjoy themselves despite everything was incredibly emotionally compelling, and also just very sexy.

Currently there is a sequel being updated that is also incredible, highly recommend that as well! I'm debating if I should post about unfinished fics here or not, since there are some true gems in the goyuu tag I've been following for a while, but I'm not sure. We'll see?

#goyuu #goyuu ficrecs #jjk ficrecs #r:explicit #wc:10k-20k #s:complete #cw:underage #cw:violence #canon divergent #g:angst #g:pwfeelings #pre relationship #dub/con #fuckordie #top!gojo bottom!yuuji

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qobiin · 4 years

Text

(he doesn’t exist now) survived by his son

pairings: lan wangji & lan sizhui, background wangxian

genre: angst, fluff | canon-compliant, post-wei wuxian’s death

warnings: grief/mourning, canon-typical mentions of violence, lwj’s punishment, the inherent agony of living without the other half of your soul

a/n #1: this is for eri, the one who got me to watch cql in the first place. happy birthday, i hope today is amazing! have 9k of dad!lwj as a treat <3 title is taken from steven universe’s “drift away” btw (:

words: 9398

summary: When Wei Wuxian falls, Lan Wangji does not throw himself after him.

part one of always come back to you

When Wei Wuxian falls, Lan Wangji does not throw himself after him.

He has no idea why at the time.

His heart and will are in shambles. His grip on Bichen’s sheath is hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His ribbon burns against his forehead. He is unsure that he is even breathing, all his air having left him when he screamed the moment Wei Wuxian pulled away.

Still, he remains standing, horror engulfing him whole. Sect Leader Jiang is standing beside him, just as frozen as he is but he does not dare look at his soulmate’s brother. His soulmate’s murderer because Wei Wuxian only pulled out of Lan Wangji’s grasp after Sect Leader Jiang’s sword struck the cliff face. Sect Leader Jiang may have pulled the blow Lan Wangji knew was aimed for their arms, but it does not change the fact that Wei Wuxian let go.

Something urges him to not follow after Wei Wuxian and he is uncertain of what it could be at first. It feels familiar, like a sensation Lan Wangji should recognize but cannot remember anymore. Almost like the notes of a song Lan Wangji memorized when he was first starting on the guqin but is unable to pinpoint where he learned it from.

(Later, he will think it felt too much like a warm hand on his chest pushing him away from the edge, pushing him away from the place his heart broke for good.

All he knows for certain is that he also died the moment Wei Wuxian took his last breath.)

He drifts - for lack of a better word - after that. Lan Wangji only recalls Brother pulling him away from the cliff, from Nightless City and the many eyes of the cultivators he just clashed swords with. He returns to Cloud Recesses with Brother and secludes himself in the Jingshi.

For the first night, Lan Wangji does not sleep. When he closes his eyes, all he sees is Wei Wuxian letting go again.

He is unsure of how much time passes but at some point Brother comes to him with the news that the Lanling Jin Sect are going to lead a siege on the Burial Mounds. Wei Wuxian’s corpse had not been recovered after the battle at Nightless City and Jin Guangshan is still vying for the Stygian Tiger Amulet so their logical next step is to invade the resentful land where Wei Wuxian had tried in vain to start a family all on his own.

Lan Wangji leaves on foot after curfew but that is the last thing on his mind as his body moves almost against his will. For a while, it feels as if he is wandering without a purpose.

Confusion, pain, and grief wrack his frame every second of the day but there is still a familiar sensation tugging him along. Pulling him in a direction that he is certain he should recognize but can’t.

It is not until the sun rises above the horizon that he realizes where exactly his body is trying to go.

Yiling.

Lan Wangji rides his sword the rest of the way there.

It is not as quiet as Lan Wangji expected it to be.

That bothers him. A graveyard should only be filled with the sounds of the living giving tribute, but there is only the dead around him. The dead are quiet. The Burial Mounds aren’t.

He walks anyway, ignoring the pain in his body. The familiar sensation is tugging him along again. Lan Wangji is too tired to wonder about where it may be leading him because he gave up control as soon as it had gripped onto him. It pulls and he follows. It would not have led him here without a purpose, he is certain of that at least.

In the cave Wei Wuxian used to call his home, there is nothing left of him except his notes, hand-made furniture that will no longer see any use, and a dirty red ribbon Lan Wangji falls to his knees at the sight of. He loses himself in grief for who knows how long but soon realizes that his gasping breaths are not the only ones echoing around him. He stands, ribbon tied around his wrist, and walks desperately in search of the source of those raspy breaths.

He stops in front of a broken, hollow tree trunk not far from the entrance of the cave. Something is lying in it, barely hidden from view. For a moment, Lan Wangji ponders whether he will be stumbling upon the corpse of someone he should know but can’t quite recall. He only visited the Burial Mounds once while his soulmate was still alive, after all, and he had never learned everyone’s names.

Lan Wangji glances inside and knows now why it is not as quiet as it should in the Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji suddenly understands why he did not follow Wei Wuxian in death.

Wen Yuan lives.

Wei Wuxian’s son lives.

Their son lives.

Lan Wangji does not wish to, but he turns his back on Wen Yuan’s prone form and returns to the cave.

Cultivators are gathering there, all of them from different sects.

There is no Jiang purple among them. Lan Wangji counts that as the blessing it is meant to be. He does not wish to hurt those his soulmate cared so much for.

It does not stop him from confronting the crowd by himself. Jin Guangyao appears, telling him his uncle has arrived but Lan Wangji is unafraid.

He knows what he stands for and it is not this. It is not this inane scramble for power the rest of the cultivation world is allowing to cloud their minds and judgment. It is standing between the power-hungry and the weak, unwilling to move aside and let this madness continue.

Lan Wangji is late in his decision, much too late to make things up to Wei Wuxian, but Wen Yuan is alive. A piece of his soulmate’s heart lives on and Lan Wangji is not going to allow harm to befall that little boy anymore.

So he fights those from his own sect, raising his sword to block blows from disciples of all ages. The Sect Elders themselves have shown up for the occasion but Lan Wangji cuts them down as well. He fights until there is no one to fight anymore, staggering and using Bichen as a crutch while cultivators lay around him on the ground in various stages of unconsciousness.

Uncle had only stayed long enough to command their sect in subduing him and bringing him back to Cloud Recesses for punishment. Lan Wangji does not wish to be punished, not when he now knows he is being righteous, but he walks back to the tree trunk hiding Wen Yuan and decides he will take them both back.

Wen Yuan needs medical attention, needs Lan Wangji’s protection from the rest of the world. Lan Wangji needs to keep him safe.

Wen Yuan is hot to the touch but he fits easily hidden under the folds of Lan Wangji’s robes. His head lies against his chest, his hair tickling Lan Wangji’s skin even through two layers of cloth.

It isn’t uncomfortable in the way that certain fabrics tend to be for him. Lace and silk are two of the few fabrics Lan Wangji can stand to have wrapped around him in six layers of robes without feeling like he is about to crawl out of his skin. Wen Yuan’s hair is neither of those but having it against him does not do anything more than cause his veins to break into song and make his heart feel like it is going to beat right out of his chest trying to follow the melody racing in his blood.

(It feels like Wei Wuxian’s hair against his neck, Wei Wuxian’s teasing grin directed at him in the face of his newest prank. Like Wei Wuxian laid across his lap in the darkness of a cave, delirious with fever, and asking Lan Wangji to play some music. Feels like Wei Wuxian meeting his gaze under the heavy downpour of rain, telling Lan Wangji that if he believes the rest of the cultivation world as right then Wei Wuxian will do everything their way instead and Lan Wangji being unable to say anything while he watches his soulmate lead the Wen remnants away.)

Lan Wangji’s eyes itch but he ignores his tears, his pain, his grief. He focuses on holding Wen Yuan securely in his embrace as he rides his sword back to Cloud Recesses, finding the strength to dredge up more spiritual power than he thought he originally had.

He remembers the little boy with a thin, dirty face who burst into tears after he settled his weight on Lan Wangji’s foot. After Wen Yuan gripped his ankle, and then looked up at him with a confused look in his almond-shaped eyes. After those villagers mistook him as Wen Yuan’s father and criticized him loudly enough to evoke shame within him since Lan Wangji had no idea what to do with a crying child suddenly invading his space. After Wei Wuxian swept in like a long-awaited dream and cleared the area of onlookers. After Wei Wuxian picked up the child and smiled up at Lan Wangji as if his heart was not doing its utmost best to beat right out of his chest and into the hands of the man he loved most.

After the boy smiled up at him and called him Rich-gege when he bought him as many toys as he wanted. After he paid for a large meal that fed both him and Wei Wuxian because their collarbones were prominent enough to tell Lan Wangji all he needed to know about their financial situation and just looking at them caused his breath to stutter in his chest. And after Wei Wuxian up and left again, taking the child and Lan Wangji’s weak heart with him, only leaving Lan Wangji himself bereft and more confused than he had ever felt before.

(“The child.” Lan Wangji remembers asking when Wei Wuxian first pulled the boy from Lan Wangji’s leg.

“He’s mine. I birthed him,” Wei Wuxian had said half-jokingly and half not at the same time.

It was obvious that the boy was Wei Wuxian’s in everything but blood. That made him Lan Wangji’s by extension. Wei Wuxian had been the one to proclaim them soulmates, more than brave enough to speak the words Lan Wangji had been holding back for years by then. Even if they would never marry or become partners in the manner that Lan Wangji desperately wished for, Wei Wuxian still looked upon him and saw Lan Wangji for who he really was.

When the time came for Wei Wuxian to have children, Lan Wangji would treat them well and spoil them in Wei Wuxian’s steed. Something he was more than able to do when he met Wen Yuan, Wei Wuxian’s son.

After all, any child of Wei Wuxian’s was also a child of Lan Wangji as well.)

When Lan Wangji first reached into the tree trunk and pulled him out, Wen Yuan’s face was still dirty, thinner than before, and flushed bright red. His little body was swathed in what Lan Wangji could only call rags and he shivered even as he sweated.

Wen Yuan still feels feverishly hot against Lan Wangji’s chest but he pushes down his panic and rides. He does not stop until he has reached the entrance of Cloud Recesses and walks briskly towards the closest healer he can find.

There he watches as Wen Yuan is washed up, dressed in a clean white robe, and given enough medicine to help ease him into a peaceful sleep. Lan Wangji’s arm pulses where his wound has reopened but his pain can wait, ensuring that the child is well and can be healed is more important. Only once Wen Yuan’s breathing has returned to normal does Lan Wangji seek out Uncle.

Fortunately, he finds Brother with their uncle in the Jingshi. They have been expecting him and finding them together makes this next part easier.

He sidesteps their questions of what he had been doing at the Burial Mounds and inhales deeply before he says, “I accept punishment. I brought a child. He is my son and innocent.”

Uncle looks like he is going to explode at the seams, fury and worry shadowing every plane of his face. Lan Wangji grips onto Bichen’s sheath, the familiar pattern and texture calming him.

It would be easy to claim the boy as his ward and adoptive son at best, but Lan Wangji needs to hide Wen Yuan’s origins or the last piece of his soulmate’s heart will be destroyed as violently as the rest of Wei Wuxian was. Lan Wangji will allow no harm to come to their son. If all that is required to keep Wen Yuan safe is the last of Lan Wangji’s credibility to be thrown away, then Lan Wangji is prepared to claim him as his bastard son.

“His name is Lan Yuan and he is ill. I will return to his bedside and await word of my punishment.” Lan Wangji bows to both men present and leaves as quickly as he appeared, not waiting to listen to whatever protests they may have.

Wen Yuan is still asleep when Lan Wangji returns and asleep still when Lan Wangji receives his punishment. Brother stays with Wen Yuan while the punishment is dealt out. Lan Wangji did not wish to leave his son alone but knowing that Brother is with him eases him.

Brother cannot interfere with his punishment after his initial attempts were drowned under the maliciousness of the Sect Elders and Uncle’s unmoving gaze. Brother would lose a lot more than just face within the Gusu Lan Sect if he denied Lan Wangji punishment altogether. As Sect Leader, Brother must be fair and unbiased, even when confronted with familial matters. Lan Wangji refuses to be the reason his brother loses all credibility in the cultivation world. Whatever others want to say or do to Lan Wangji is his business alone.

The pain of the whip is welcoming to him. Uncle appears furious throughout it all, but even through the haze, Lan Wangji knows it is not just him Uncle is angry with. Both the whip and Uncle’s disappointment are excruciating to bear and yet Lan Wangji does not find himself regretting his actions.

He knew what would happen at Nightless City when he decided he would protect Wei Wuxian despite how out of favor he was with the rest of the cultivation world. When he fought any cultivator that decided they wanted to harm Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji thought Wei Wuxian was finally going to be safe. He believed himself capable of protecting what little remained of his soulmate’s efforts. Even after he failed in protecting Wei Wuxian, he found Wen Yuan and fought his own sect to keep this last speck of his soulmate’s presence safe. Despite the chaos, the grief, and the complete ruin of Wei Wuxian’s reputation, Lan Wangji knew whose side he would be on when push finally came to shove. He has known ever since he was first confronted with that mischievous smile at age fifteen.

He had hoped that Wei Wuxian was aware of this as well but now he will never know for certain.

When the punishment is over, Brother is summoned and between him and Uncle, Lan Wangji finds himself being dragged first to the Cold Springs then back to the Jingshi between them, their gaits and grips unsteady alike. They dress his wounds as best as they can and stay with him the entire first night. Lan Wangji lies face down on his bed, sleep evading him for a long, long time while Brother and Uncle sleep propped against his bed frame and table respectfully.

Lan Wangji withdraws from the eyes of the rest of the sect as he starts the slow healing process the healers are being forbidden from helping him with. His silence, which used to be something he took solace in, only grows as the days slowly tick by with Brother and Uncle by his side during the day. Only in the dark of night does he allow himself to hope in vain for a familiar, obnoxious voice to draw his attention away from the pain covering the expanse of his back and nestled deep within his heart.

Nothing comes except a heavy grief Lan Wangji is not prepared to handle.

Moments before Wen Yuan wakes four days later, Lan Xichen adds him to the clan registry and proclaims him as Lan Yuan, Lan Wangji’s son.

Lan Wangji is joyous even as his chest burns with the new Wen brand marring his skin and his mind struggles not to crumble under the guilt of what he revealed to his Brother the night before when he was intoxicated.

Lan Yuan doesn’t seem to notice either way as he begins to sob for his Xian-gege before his fever burns all his memories of a smiling man in black and red away.

Lan Yuan is a quiet child.

He is respectful, intelligent, and curious. He smiles more often than Lan Wangji does, but less often than Lan Wangji had expected. He does not remember anything from the time before he came to live at Cloud Recesses, only that he was hungry often and had met Lan Wangji once.

He studies diligently and accepts any praise or criticism his peers and teachers give to him. He becomes close friends with Lan Jingyi and develops a mischievous streak that none of the teachers could ever possibly trace back to Lan Yuan. Lan Wangji finds he isn’t concerned about this in the least. His son is still a child and children are allowed to have mindless fun now and again.

When Lan Yuan calls him Father for the first time, it is seven months after he has been brought to Cloud Recesses. Nevertheless, Lan Wangji feels that same sensation that led him to his son stroke the dying embers in his heart until a new flame of fierce parental love begins to burn within him. He holds his son close and cries freely. Lan Wangji is not ashamed of loving his son so severely that being called Father for the first time brings him to tears.

It is an honor to be Lan Yuan’s father.

Despite that, whispered rumors begin to reach his ears in seclusion.

At the next Discussion Conference that just so happens to be held by the Gusu Lan Sect, Lan Wangji comes out of seclusion briefly. Brother helps prop him up at various tables and leads him from event to event with the ever-present eyes of the cultivation world trailing after them. It is incredibly painful to do even this much, but Lan Wangji perseveres. He is the same stoic and cold Hanguang-Jun that he has always been but that does not seem to stop Sect Leader Jiang from glaring at him.

He says nothing to Lan Wangji, but when a fussy Jin Rulan is handed to him as they are overseeing the archery competition, Sect Leader Jiang’s glare increases in intensity. It only becomes worse when the caretaker in charge of Lan Yuan for the day appears by Lan Wangji’s side with his teary son close behind her. She quickly explains that Lan Yuan would not stop crying for him and, not knowing what to do, brought him there in the hopes that Lan Wangji would be able to calm him down. Lan Wangji gives her his thanks and nods his head as she excuses herself, holding Lan Yuan close as the boy quiets. He falls asleep not long after that in Lan Wangji’s lap, tired now that he has finished crying himself out.

Lan Wangji ignores all the eyes trained on him and merely brushes his son’s hair back absentmindedly as he looks to the archers once more. Sect Leader Jiang scoffs not far from him and Lan Wangji spares him a glance to see the annoyance and rage clear as day on his face before ignoring him for the rest of the Discussion Conference.

What Lan Wangji knows from that moment onwards is that no one would have the gall to openly say what they mean when he is near, yet still, he listens closely when he can.

They speak of Lan Yuan’s already apparent beauty and intelligence. They speak of his polite manners and soft-spoken words. They speak of how quickly he developed his golden core and how unsurprising this news was considering who his father is. They speak of his parentage and wonder who his mother could be and how beautiful she must have been to have such an attractive child with Hanguang-jun.

(They always wonder why Lan Wangji never married Lan Yuan’s other parent back when they were still alive.)

No one ever learns of Lan Yuan’s true origins in any case so Lan Wangji allows the rumors and speculations. He does, however, make a point of asking Brother to hand out mild punishments to those who have not learned how to keep their heads and voices low when he is home.

After all, gossiping is not permitted in Cloud Recesses.

A year after Lan Yuan’s arrival in Cloud Recesses, Brother becomes his Uncle.

“A-Yuan, if you continue to practice diligently with the guqin, perhaps we can acquire one for your own personal use?” Brother asks in a somewhat offhand manner that tells Lan Wangji enough of the plans his brother already has in mind for Lan Yuan’s future guqin.

Lan Yuan has been learning how to play using Wangji under the tutelage of Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji. Many of the caretakers that watch over the younger children during the day praise him and mention his talent in passing with their Sect Leader seeing as Lan Yuan’s father is still in seclusion. Lan Wangji doesn’t mind hearing this from his brother. He is rather relieved to not have to think about the rest of the Gusu Lan Sect at the moment.

Teaching his son music and healing slowly is enough.

Raising his hands from the strings, the last notes still hanging in the air, Lan Yuan nods and smiles amiably up at Brother in response to his question.

“Yes, Uncle,” he chimes, his young, bright voice giving nothing away.

Lan Wangji politely averts his gaze when Brother begins to cry but offers him a handkerchief and presses his arm against his, silently showing him support as he has always done since they were children. He wants to do more but he is still healing and does not know how to go about it properly so he decides that this will have to be enough instead.

Lan Yuan simply stares between them, his smile falling under the weight of his confusion until his lips curve upwards again and he asks if they can go visit the rabbits.

Brother takes him every day for two and a half weeks after that.

Two years after Lan Wangji brings his son home, Lan Yuan calls Uncle his Grandfather because that is what he is and always will be.

Maybe Uncle has never been Lan Wangji’s father by blood or name, but Lan Wangji has been under the impression for a very long time that no one has to say what is already known. Lan Qiren is not the parent his nephews needed as children, but he is the parent they had and he always did his best by them. Though strict and stubborn, he taught and raised them to the best of his abilities.

Uncle oversaw his punishment but Uncle was also the one to stamp out any complaints the Sect Elders had about Lan Wangji claiming a bastard son. Uncle was the one who ordered their sect to contain Lan Wangji and Uncle was the one who demanded alongside the Sect Elders that he be punished. Uncle dressed his wounds and changed his bandages afterward, held Lan Wangji up and helped him go where he needed to go as he healed. And Uncle was the first one to arrange Lan Yuan’s fingers over the strings of a guqin.

Most would consider Uncle cruel for less than half of the things he has done to Lan Wangji in particular and Lan Wangji does, in a sense, think the same. However, Lan Wangji still considers Uncle as the father he was never allowed to meet.

Parents are not perfect and Lan Qiren is no exception to this rule, no matter how hard he tried to emulate it for himself and for Lan Wangji and his brother when they were children. Lan Wangji knows this to be true after two years of fatherhood himself.

In the beginning, Uncle did not approve of Lan Wangji’s sudden fatherhood and knew without a doubt that Lan Yuan was not biologically his. He shared this knowledge with no one though, not even Lan Yuan himself. Lan Wangji does not know if he has truly forgiven Uncle but he does know he need not worry himself about Uncle’s behavior around Lan Yuan. After all, Lan Wangji can very well see how his son softens his uncle’s heart with the mere appearance of his smile and quiet laugh.

By blood or not, Lan Yuan is Uncle’s grandson just as Lan Wangji and Brother are Uncle’s sons.

So when Lan Yuan says, “Yes, Grandfather,” Lan Wangji is not surprised.

Uncle sniffs in mock disdain, still caught up in the apparent scolding he was giving before about Lan Yuan climbing into Lan Wangji’s lap. After a moment, he realizes what Lan Yuan has said and immediately, his eyes water. Uncle cups Lan Yuan’s face gently, smiling in such a way that Lan Wangji thought was lost.

He remembers that the last time he saw that smile, he was still the child that crawled into his older brother’s bed at night to sleep comfortably beside someone who would never leave him as their mother had left them. Now he is a man with a son and scars on his body, heart, and soul for the love he lost.

It is good to see Uncle smile again.

“Stop worrying your Grandfather so much, A-Yuan. Be a good boy for your Father, Uncle, and I,” Uncle tells Lan Wangji’s son.

Lan Yuan hums and nods, smiling a grin that always knocks the breath out of Lan Wangji’s lungs when he catches a glimpse of it. Both Brother and Uncle see it but only Brother looks to Lan Wangji in sympathy as he reaches out to grasp his shoulder briefly before letting go again.

Despite the near-constant ache in his heart and soul, Lan Wangji is glad to know that those who matter are also able to see Lan Yuan’s other father in him as well.

And if later Lan Wangji realizes Lan Yuan pulled the Grandfather card simply to distract Uncle from continuing his lecture, he holds that knowledge close to his chest. Lan Yuan is his father’s son after all.

Both of them.

When the third anniversary of Lan Yuan’s appearance in Cloud Recesses is approaching, the Sect Elders pull Lan Wangji into a meeting where they ask for permission to raise Lan Yuan for him instead so he can become a “proper” Sect Heir.

Lan Wangji says no and storms out of the meeting he recognizes as another form of punishment from the Sect Elders without listening to whatever other nonsense they want to ply him with.

They do not take the hint.

What ensues is a month-long battle of wills that leaves Lan Wangji angrier and more smug each time the Sect Elders attempt to speak with him. They argue that Lan Wangji is still healing and need not concern himself with child-rearing on top of his injuries. Lan Wangji levels them with a flat look, pointedly not mentioning who gave Lan Wangji his injuries, to begin with. Brother claims their concerns are unnecessary and rather late considering how long Lan Yuan has been with Lan Wangji at Cloud Recesses already and how Lan Wangji’s injuries are mostly healed by now anyway. The Sect Elders step around their Sect Leader’s arguments with condescending ease, however, something that Lan Wangji detests to his very core.

They also claim that his grief is affecting Lan Yuan’s development. That his son could flourish under their care with no sadness for a mother he will never meet shadowing him at all hours of the day. Lan Wangji’s brows twitch at their implications, silently daring anyone to say what they actually mean before he refuses once again and strides away. Only Brother stays behind to offer the niceties Lan Wangji is certain none of the Sect Elders rightfully deserve anymore.

It does nothing to stop them from calling Lan Yuan nothing but a bastard child that could ruin their sect if he continues to remain under Lan Wangji’s care the next day. A child born out of wedlock that Lan Wangji was too ashamed to claim until he had no other choice. An unwanted child whose only redeemable qualities are the strength of his golden core, his already apparent cold beauty, and the sharp intelligence he must have inherited from Lan Wangji instead of his beggar of a mother.

Lan Wangji nearly draws Bichen, his fury so great that he regrets not hurting more of the Sect Elders, not standing by Wei Wuxian’s side, and following him until the bitter end so he would not have to deal with any of this when he had the chance.

But then he thinks of Lan Yuan, of his bright smile, and his twinkling eyes. Thinks of what would have happened to his son if Lan Wangji had not found him and pushes down the incessant ache to be with his soulmate deep down under again.

By the time Lan Wangji has released the hold he has on the hilt of his sword, Brother stands defiantly in the middle of the hall with a vivid look of disgust on his face. He loudly and firmly proclaims that as Sect Leader, they have no authority to overrule his decision of allowing Lan Yuan to remain with his father. Familial matters such as these fall under his domain, even when concerning the Sect Heir as written in their principles. That they have broken many of the rules they adhere so much to in their persistence to remove Lan Yuan from his family. That they have disgraced both the Clan and the Gusu Lan Sect as a whole.

Whatever Brother says after that, Lan Wangji does not know because he leaves as soon as his brother has begun to speak and goes in search of his son. He finds Lan Yuan with the rabbits, burying Lan Jingyi under their fur in the same way that Lan Wangji often does to him when they come by themselves. Uncle is standing nearby, watching the children play and trying not to show his displeasure over the mere presence of the animals since they remain here in the back slopes of Cloud Recesses due to nothing but a technicality.

Lan Wangji’s stride does not falter as he approaches his son and picks him up in his arms, holding him carefully to his chest. He buries his face in Lan Yuan’s hair to ignore the questions Uncle throws at him and the startled yelp Lan Jingyi makes once he notices Lan Wangji’s presence. He focuses on his breathing as the cloud ornament adorning Lan Yuan's forehead ribbon presses into the curve of his neck and his son's soft, natural scent of ash and snow invades his senses slowly.

He stands there for however long, holding his son tight and breathing him in as he wills himself to calm. He reassures himself that A-Yuan will not be going anywhere he doesn’t want to go and slowly comes back to himself. Lan Yuan, for his part, clutches the front of Lan Wangji’s robes and grips onto his father just as tightly without asking any questions.

They do not part from one another for the rest of the night. If Lan Yuan is not in his father's lap, then he is sitting close enough for Lan Wangji to keep a firm hand on his son no matter what they may be doing. During dinner, Lan Wangji takes their food in the Jingshi instead of the dining hall and plops Lan Yuan firmly in his lap as they eat quickly and quietly.

Lan Yuan does not complain once that entire night, only speaking to ask for things like a hug, his favorite lullaby, and Lan Wangji's fingers running through his hair. Lan Wangji sings to his son as he bathes him, firmly instructing Lan Yuan to change into his sleeping robes while he bathes quickly himself. Lan Yuan is sitting on the edge of Lan Wangji's bed when he returns, dressed in his sleeping robes and kicking his feet as he holds out a comb then turning around silently after Lan Wangji has taken it.

By the time nine rolls around, Lan Wangji has successfully braided his son's hair and brushed through his own before he lies them down to sleep. Lan Yuan usually sleeps in the daybed but for tonight, Lan Wangji holds him close to his chest and hums his lullaby to him again even as they both slip into the comfort of their dreams.

The day after, Lan Wangji remains within arm's distance of his son, secluding them in the Jingshi for the day. The itchy desperation he felt the day before has not completely made its way through his system but Lan Wangji is certain it will release its hold on him soon enough. Lan Yuan doesn't complain, even though he does stare at his father in wordless observation while looking much too serious for his young face that Lan Wangji anxiously reassures himself he is not turning his son into a copy of himself.

His son's smile is like the sun breaking through the last of the reluctant clouds that follow after a storm, his laugh so content that Lan Wangji feels inexplicably warm whenever he happens to hear it. Lan Yuan is happy. His son is by his side, safe and sound. The Sect Elders cannot take Lan Yuan from him. Brother and Uncle would never allow it and it is Brother's decision whether Lan Yuan continues to stay with him or not.

For the most part, Lan Wangji is certain that he has won this round with the Sect Elders until almost a month later when Lan Yuan asks to move out of the Jingshi and into the junior disciple dorms instead.

Lan Wangji hides his sadness as best as he can and allows his son to join the other disciples for the beginning of his more serious training, a multitude of feelings he cannot quite sparse through circling within him. Education is important. His son loves learning, he excels in all of his studies and he is happy. Lan Yuan is not leaving him. Lan Yuan is going to continue with his studies, strengthen his golden core, and grow up with Lan Jingyi by his side. Lan Jingyi would never allow Lan Yuan to be harmed. They are very close friends and Lan Wangji is glad that his son has someone who he can share whatever troubles he will not bring to Lan Wangji himself.

This is good. This is what is healthy for his son's development. Even if it hurts him, this is necessary for Lan Yuan to continue being happy as he grows up.

So Lan Wangji helps his son pack up a few of the belongings he wants to take with him, reassuring him that anything he leaves behind will be kept safe for him. That Lan Yuan can return to the Jingshi whenever he needs to. He escorts his son personally to the dorms, stopping at the door to kneel and pull his son in close for another hug.

Physical contact is still an issue for Lan Wangji but he made an effort for his son. Lan Yuan needed physical comfort when he first came to Cloud Recesses considering the fact that he was still recovering from his fever and malnutrition. Lan Wangji pushed his boundaries so he could hold his son close and rock him through his nightmares, imaging just how much better Wei Wuxian might have been at all of this until that hurt too much to think about. Now Lan Wangji has gotten so used to holding his son close that he tends to crave the simple intimacy of Lan Yuan’s small form curled against his chest more often than not.

Lan Yuan pulls back enough to kiss his forehead ribbon before he steps out of the embrace entirely. "I love you, Father."

Despite his mixed emotions, Lan Wangji smiles back at his son as well as he can manage to and leans forward to kiss his forehead ribbon in return. "I love you, A-Yuan."

After that, Lan Wangji spends most of his free time with Lan Yuan by burying his son under the soft fur of rabbits that Lan Yuan’s first father gifted to him as a teenager.

He cannot guess whether Lan Yuan now remembers the man in black and red that he used to call Xian-gege, but oftentimes Lan Wangji will see Wei Wuxian in the curve of Lan Yuan’s smile, in the sound of his laughter, in the steady grip of his sword. In the softness of his hair, the pout he rarely ever allows to grace his face when he is concentrating, the warmth in his eyes when he meets Lan Wangji’s gaze.

His grief has never left him and neither has his love for Lan Yuan’s first father but he hopes that he is doing well enough being Lan Yuan’s second father. He hopes that if Wei Wuxian were to ever come looking for his son, he would be proud of Lan Wangji for taking such good care of him and raising him as well as he ever could.

Lan Wangji had never originally planned to have children and he became certain of its improbability when he met Wei Wuxian. But then A-Yuan came into his life and the rest was decided from that point on.

It surprises no one when Lan Yuan’s courtesy name becomes Lan Sizhui.

Lan Wangji wonders if that says more about him than he has ever wanted to publicly share. After a brief stint of contemplation, he decides he does not care. He isn’t ashamed. He knows the Sect Elders are still looking for any excuse they can reasonably use to take Lan Wangji's parental rights over his son away from him. He also knows that others speak of how he behaves and looks as if he has lost a wife, how painful it must have been to lose Lan Sizhui’s mother so soon, how only his son has the power to draw him out of his heavy grief. They are wrong, of course, but they are also not.

Lan Wangji lost his soulmate, not a wife or his son’s mother.

At some point though, he ponders over what kind of impact his grief is having on Lan Sizhui.

“Do you want a mother, A-Yuan?” Lan Wangji asks one summer afternoon when Lan Sizhui is almost nine and they have just finished their noon meal in the Jingshi.

Lan Sizhui is of the mind that he is much too big to be called A-Yuan anymore but he allows Lan Wangji to call him that when they are alone. Lan Wangji uses it any time he can get away with it because his son’s first father would have and that is enough reason for him.

Lan Sizhui blinks up at him, confused. “I have a mother?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says because it is technically true, but then thinks better of it. “No, but you can if you want one.”

After all, Lan Wangji would set aside his vow of never marrying if it meant his son could know a mother’s love. He has never been interested in women before, especially not after he met Wei Wuxian, but he would marry one to give Lan Sizhui a mother.

He will always do whatever he has to for his son, even when it is difficult for him - especially when it is difficult for him. There are very few things Lan Wangji will not do for his son and marrying out of obligation isn't one of them.

“No. I have Father, I do not need a mother,” Lan Sizhui finally replies.

Lan Wangji smiles and reaches out to pat his son’s head, his veins burning with the force of his love and adoration when Lan Sizhui smiles back up at him. “A-Yuan is a good boy.”

Lan Sizhui leans into his touch, his smile growing until Lan Wangji feels like he is looking at a mirror image of his son’s first father in the brightness of his grin.

Lan Sizhui is eleven when he learns Inquiry on the guqin.

Lan Wangji listens to him play, correcting him when he strikes a wrong chord and does not allow his son to imbue any of the notes with spiritual power. He has played Inquiry a handful of times himself these past few years. No one has ever answered him before when he did.

Or to be simply put, Wei Wuxian has never answered him before.

Maybe Lan Sizhui honestly does not recall his Xian-gege anymore, but Lan Wangji isn't sure what he would do if Wei Wuxian were to ignore their son's questions as easily as he has ignored Lan Wangji's desperate and heartbroken ones.

No, simply playing the notes together like this is enough.

Some three years after that, Lan Wangji returns to the Jingshi after feeding the rabbits to find Lan Sizhui waiting for him on the steps.

Earlier that morning he had returned from another night hunt, his report already in Brother's hands by this point. He brought back a gift for Lan Sizhui, a new writing set since his current one was beginning to look worn and Lan Jingyi had told him that Lan Sizhui had mentioned wanting a new one. Lan Wangji had wanted to see his son immediately after arriving but Lan Sizhui was in the middle of his morning meditation at the time and would then have his lectures and sword training lessons to attend afterward. He was content with waiting until his son was free to give him his gift and kiss his forehead ribbon before returning to their regular schedules.

But as Lan Wangji approaches, he wishes he had gone to see his son earlier after all.

It takes him a moment to realize that Lan Sizhui is crying and has probably been crying for a while now if his swollen eyelids are anything to go by. The sight of this evidence alone is enough for anger to spark within Lan Wangji.

No one hurts his son.

"What happened." Lan Wangji demands, his voice searingly cold even as he tries in vain to keep it gentle for his son.

Lan Sizhui wipes the back of his hand under his eyes and stares down at his feet as he murmurs, "Hanguang-Jun."

Immediately, Lan Wangji freezes. Lan Sizhui calls him Father when they are alone or with family. He has never referred to Lan Wangji as Hanguang-Jun in private like this. His son has made it clear on multiple occasions that he heavily dislikes not being allowed to call him Father in public anymore. From time to time, he will slip up and then punish himself for it even though Lan Wangji would never try to enforce a punishment for Lan Sizhui calling him exactly what he is: his father.

Something must be terribly wrong.

"What happened." Lan Wangji repeats, even less gentle this time.

His son winces at his tone but continues to keep his gaze on his feet. Lan Wangji sighs under his breath and reaches down to pick up Lan Sizhui like he used to when he was much smaller. His son is substantially bigger at fourteen than he was as a toddler, but Lan Wangji barely acknowledges his weight while he stands back up. Lan Sizhui goes still in his embrace and remains stiff even when Lan Wangji walks into the Jingshi proper and sets his son down on the daybed he never got rid of after Lan Sizhui moved into the junior disciple dorms.

Lan Sizhui still has not met his gaze. Lan Wangji feels a terrible sensation grip his heart as his son stares dejectedly at the floor in a clear and complete silence that is too defined for Lan Wangji's taste.

"Tea?" Lan Wangji asks properly this time.

A tense moment passes before Lan Sizhui shakes his head.

"A-Yuan," Lan Wangji begins, pausing when Lan Sizhui winces. "Tell me what is wrong. Why are you crying?"

"I heard that you had returned this morning," Lan Sizhui says and it becomes Lan Wangji's turn to wince. His voice is hoarse, his pain undeniable. It hurts Lan Wangji something awful just listening to his son speak. "I was talking to Lan Jingyi about when I should come to see you and-"

Lan Wangji kneels in front of his son, his hands immediately finding Lan Sizhui's. "What happened, A-Yuan?"

Lan Sizhui winces again but attempts to speak anyway. "One of the Sect Elders... He said..."

Even though it feels as if a sword has run clear through him, Lan Wangji waits patiently for his son to continue. He has never been very patient, not exactly, but he learned how to be for Lan Sizhui. He learned a lot for the sake of his son.

"I think he thought we couldn't hear him, but he said... I-" Lan Sizhui tries again, cutting himself off with a hiccup.

Lan Wangji unfurls his son's clenched hands in his lap and looks directly into his face, relieved when Lan Sizhui finally meets his gaze. "A-Yuan."

Tears well up in the corners of his son's eyes, silently making their way down his face. The sight alone makes Lan Wangji lean in closer, holding his son's hands tight. Lan Sizhui's lips wobble, his expression on the verge of crumbling.

"You're not my father, are you?" Lan Sizhui asks, his voice as broken as Lan Wangji's heart feels.

Lan Wangji does not lie. He is incapable of lying directly. He can avoid and sidestep a question artfully, but he has never spoken an untruth. If people misunderstand his answers, that is through every fault of their own for not listening to the meaning behind his words.

"I am," Lan Wangji says simply.

If anything, this seems to make Lan Sizhui's tears increase in frequency. "No. You know what I mean. Please, tell me the truth."

Doesn't his son understand that Lan Wangji has already?

"I am your father," Lan Wangji repeats. "I am your father in everything but blood. You are my son. You are the boy I raised and love as my own because you are my own."

Lan Wangji is not good at speaking. Wei Wuxian was the one who rambled on and squeezed as many words as he could into a conversation. Wei Wuxian spoke as if he was running out of time and needed to say everything he had to say before his time was up. Lan Wangji still to this day does not know if Wei Wuxian somehow knew that he would die young, but regardless, Lan Wangji does his best to channel both what he means and what he says as he continues. Even if words are not one of his strengths, that won’t stop him from explaining everything to his son.

"Your birth parents had been dead for some time when I found you, but you were already mine, A-Yuan. I have never met either of them and yet I thank them both every day for bringing you into the world. You are not my son by blood, but you are my son in heart, soul, and everything else that truly matters. You are the shining light within your grandfather's eye and the warmth in your uncle's heart. And you are the single most important person in your father's life, A-Yuan," Lan Wangji confesses, feeling a weight he was previously unaware of lift from his shoulders as he speaks. "I love you, A-Yuan. I have always loved you. Your origins have never once conflicted with my love for you. You are my son and I will always be your father."

Lan Sizhui tips into his embrace as soon as he has finished speaking and sobs into his chest, no doubt rubbing tears and snot alike into Lan Wangji's robes. Lan Wangji doesn't mind. He kisses Lan Sizhui’s forehead ribbon and rocks him gently in his arms.

(Later, Brother will come into the Jingshi without knocking and will drop kisses across Lan Sizhui’s face. He will avoid Lan Sizhui’s forehead ribbon because only Lan Wangji has the right to touch it but Brother will silently and loudly reassure his son that he is the best nephew in the world and he loves him without fault as well. Lan Wangji will look upon this and smile in that way he only ever does with those he loves and kiss Lan Sizhui’s forehead again before Uncle sweeps into the Jingshi and joins their huddled forms right there on the floor.

But this will come later.)

For now, Lan Wangji simply holds his son close for as long as is needed and then some.

Lan Sizhui is almost sixteen when Brother orders Lan Wangji to take the junior disciples with him on his night hunt.

It is not the junior disciples’ first night hunt by far but it is their first night hunt with Hanguang-Jun. It is also Lan Wangji’s first night hunt with his son.

The night hunt is very simple. Some low-level corpses have been appearing in the woods around a small farming village not very far away from Caiyi Town. The corpses have been dragging unsuspecting villagers into the woods never to be seen again. A night hunt such as this should be relatively educating and safe enough to expose the junior disciples to.

Lan Wangji can understand why Brother wanted the disciples to accompany him, but it does nothing to dissuade the vague fear he holds for Lan Sizhui somehow being harmed.

He leads the way to the village on his sword, standing tall and stiff. Lan Sizhui is behind him to his right, Lan Jingyi mirroring his position on Lan Wangji’s left. The other juniors fan out behind them, expressions varying from excitement to deep concentration. Lan Sizhui appears calm, the corners of his mouth barely lifted upwards as they ride. Lan Jingyi is all smiles and laughter, joking around with Lan Sizhui and the other disciples alike.

(In a way, Lan Jingyi reminds Lan Wangji greatly of Wei Wuxian but now is not the time to focus on that.)

They arrive in the village quickly and discuss the situation with many of the villagers teeming about in what constitutes as their marketplace. Lan Wangji watches as Lan Sizhui suggests they make camp seeing as the village has no inn and none of the disciples object.

Cultivators from the Gusu Lan Sect are considered to be well-mannered and too overly polite to whine and complain as any other cultivator would. However, these are junior disciples and Lan Wangji knows how too often the young tend to forget themselves.

After all, Lan Wangji forgot himself and his place often enough once he met Wei Wuxian.

Still, the lack of protest surprises him but he does not allow it to show on his face. He quietly observes as Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi divide up the tasks between the disciples present and quickly have camp set up not too far into the woods where the villagers claim the corpses frequently emerge from.

By the end of the night, Lan Wangji is pleased to see his son and his son’s closest friend take charge and act as joint leaders while they successfully subdue the corpses.

It seems Lan Wangji has much to disclose in his report when they return to Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji fixes his son’s forehead ribbon and leans down to press a kiss on it.

“Remember to not wander,” Lan Wangji says as he pulls back.

Lan Sizhui’s face is flushed pink with mild embarrassment, less round than it was as a child but he is nineteen now and his smile is easy, remaining the same as it ever has been. “Yes, Father.”

The other juniors are watching, probably planning to poke fun at Lan Sizhui later when the revered Hanguang-jun is out of earshot. Lan Wangji isn’t worried about this, he knows that none of the juniors do this to hurt his son. If they did, Lan Jingyi would have done something about it already or come to Lan Wangji himself if he could not.

(No one would dare harm Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s son anyway for fear of torture, death, and then possession. Lan Wangji could not protect Lan Sizhui’s first father, but he will not fail in protecting their son.)

Everyone knows Lan Wangji loves his son more than life itself. There is no shame in showing what is already a proven fact. There is no rule against speaking truths when others are not present.

So he allows the corners of his mouth to hint at lifting upwards before his expression returns to blank calm. “I will be nearby. Use the flares only for emergencies.”

“Yes, Father,” Lan Sizhui repeats.

Lan Wangji holds his hand out and Lan Sizhui drops his qiankun pouch wordlessly into it. Another moment passes as Lan Wangji looks through the pouch and assures himself that his son will have everything he needs for the first night hunt he will lead without a senior disciple accompanying them. He nods in approval once he is done and returns the qiankun pouch to his son, patting Lan Sizhui’s head once.

“I await your report,” Lan Wangji murmurs before he steps back so his son may rejoin the other juniors behind him.

“Thank you, Father,” Lan Sizhui says with a bow, smiling as he straightens and walks until he is alongside Lan Jingyi.

When they first left Cloud Recesses that morning, Lan Wangji felt anxious for some reason. No matter what set of robes he put on or how hard he held Bichen’s sheath, he could not resolve the shaky feeling in his chest that gripped his heart painfully when he thought of Lan Sizhui. He had packed quickly once something tried to push him towards the door, relief fluttering through him when that same sensation led him straight to Cloud Recesses’ entrance where the juniors were readying to depart.

During the sword ride here, that feeling would not allow him to keep his gaze away from Lan Sizhui for too long. His son was flying calmly by his side, expression serene as the sun began to rise and they passed towns and forests alike under them. He was bright, filled with the gentle happiness of his life and quiet excitement to be in charge of a night hunt for the very first time. If Lan Wangji happened to glance at him from the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that he was seeing Lan Sizhui’s first father in his place instead.

Now they are here, on the edges of Mo Village, and Lan Wangji feels calm. Calmer than he has felt in a long time. Lan Sizhui looks back at him once, smiling and waving before the disciples round the bend in the path.

Lan Wangji watches them disappear from sight, feeling an all-too-familiar sensation caress his cheek gently before it leaves him be for the very last time.

Deep within Mo Village, someone wakes up in a shed.

a/n #2: thanks for reading! i have more mdzs content in the works, but in the meantime, feel free to send requests or headcanons to my inbox!

#dad lan wangji #dad!lan wangji #dad lwj #dad!lwj #wangxian #lan wangji #lan sizhui #mdzs #cql #the untamed #series #f:mdzs #g:angst #g:fluff #t:oneshot #p:lan wangji&wen yuan #p:lan wangji/wei wuxian #s:acbty #m: fic

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