Soaring High | Kth (m)

bittersweet | jeon wonwoo (masterlist)

☆.*+ seventeen social media au

★ synopsis: in which y/n and wonwoo are forced to share an apartment in secret.

★ taglist: to join the taglist, sign up with the google form!

★ genre: good morning call!au, college!au, roommate!au, enemies to lovers, fake dating, angst, fluff, comedy

★ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader

★ start: june 18th, 2021     ★ end: july 23, 2021

☆.*+ profiles

★ profiles 1

★ profiles 2

★ profiles 3

☆.*+ chapters

★ prologue pt. 1

★ prologue pt. 2

★ one. our love is real

★ two. spice tolerance

★ three. broken

★ four. photo frame

★ five. iced americano

★ six. chefs kiss

★ seven. the rules

★ eight. national treasure

★ nine. if you're happy

★ ten. dilf

★ eleven. you can be my teacher

★ twelve. 71%

★ thirteen. healed

★ fourteen. hot girl summer

★ fifteen. photosynthesizing

★ sixteen. love u forever

★ seventeen. under the moonlight

★ eighteen. anything for you

★ nineteen. is your boyfriend single

★ twenty. exposed

★ twenty one. for the better

★ twenty two. i'll make it up to you

★ twenty three. new addition

★ bonus! binki

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ෆ

ෆ synopsis: kwon soonyoung loves too hard and falls in love too quickly, accidentally building a (very false!!!) fuckboy image that he can’t seem to get rid of. when his friends talk him out of proposing to a girl he went on 2 dates with, he finally realizes he has a big problem with love. signing up to appear on his university’s most popular youtube talk show to unload his baggage and fix his image? what could possibly go wrong?

ෆ pairing: college student! ksy x reader (gn)

ෆ genre: fluff, humor, romance

ෆ series warnings: anxiety/insecurities, cursing, food/drinks, ksy’s character is extremely 🥺🤧

ෆ status: completed

ෆ started: feb 1st - may 23rd, 2022

ෆ a/n: I noticed that i tend to write a lot along the lines of angst or serious/mature themes so i'm really excited to switch to something more relaxed, fluffy, and feel-good. this is 100% a comfort fic. please let me know if I missed any warnings!

wondernus main masterlist

profiles: [X], [X], [X]

chapters:

0. prologue

1. bag

2. wallet

3. keys

4. phone

5. earphones

6. water bottle

7. glasses

8. reusable straw

9. pens

10. notebook

11. planner

12. receipts

13. lip balm

14. snacks

15. trash

16. textbooks

17. hat

18. umbrella

19. reusable bag

20. watch

21. small pouch

22. vitamins

23. bandages

24. painkillers

25. perfume

26. hand sanitizer

27. hand wipes

28. tissues

29. ear plugs

30. toothpicks

31. cough drops

32. masks

33. spf

34. breath mints

35. folders

36. laptop

37. portable charger

38. calculator

39. charm

40. utensils

41. cushion

42. polaroid

43. dog treats

44. end

bonus chapters:

josh in vegas

himbos

them

BTS as k-dramas 𖡄̽ݴ᭄ᭂ ⠀

jungkook: dream high

this drama got me into Korea in its all and into Kpop as well. it's so close to my heart I can't help but put it with my favorite Korean boy. the Kirin art school's students have a dream, and they grow up learning to become stars, ultimately succeeding, just like jungkook did.

jin: business proposal

the main character is exactly how I imagine jin in a relationship to be like. a stoic, successful, kinda naive man who warms up and becomes devoted as soon as he sets his eyes on someone. and the rest his history.

taehyung: nevertheless

i imagine taehyung loving this drama. its complicated explanation on love reflects all the flaws of the human spirit and portraits love as chaos in a life full of art.

jimin: true beauty

jimin's just like Lee Soo Ho would like someone regardless of his flaws. I always imagines jimin as a kind and careful soul who cares about people's feelings and emphatazies with them. I imagine jimin to like light, fun and cute dramas and this is it.

namjoon: what's wrong with secretary Kim?

namjoon gives me the impression of being a controlled and calm person, but just like young-joon he loses his composure when he likes someone and gets tested by a potential lover. I feel like he'd be as funny as the main character when he finds a partner who challenges him and, frequently, beats him at his own game.

yoongi: descendants of the sun

if I ever imagine yoongi liking someone, I imagine him playing it cool. no drama, no embarassment, simply a cool strong man who admits he fell in love. in descendants of the sun life gets in the way of love one too many time and I imagine for yoongi too life sometimes is pretty heavy to carry around without getting crushed.

hosoek: strong woman do bong soon

I thought hoseok belonged in an historical drama, but I see him as well as the ceo of a company who meets a strange girl who ends up being his bodyguard and lover. he's as funny as MinMin and he gives me Labrador boyfriend vibes.

Mia

© 2023 of Mia (arosesstorm). All Rights Reserved.

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

throw me now your arms.

summary: Falling in love with a prince should be easy, like the stars are aligning. But what happens when the son to a now deposed king returns after his studies abroad? As princess, birthed into royalty and every move guarded, you will find out the perils of love much to the demise of those around you.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | min yoongi x reader genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff word count: 19.7k tags/warnings: princess!Reader, prince!Jungkook, commoner!Yoongi, overall angst through out, vague descriptions of loneliness, belittling one’s character [from outside character], undetailed hints of marital misconduct [from outside character], swimming in the nude but not nsfw/explicit, light physical altercation. I promise there are enough fluffy moments to balance out the angst, enough to have made me shamelessly giggle in the confines of my personal, writing space~

pictures are from Pinterest, I made the banner myself.

a/n: here it is, guys! this may be the closest attachment I will feel to motherly love [with respect to all parents out there.] writing is my escape and my haven. I hope you love and care about this piece as much as I do. even so, I am so proud of this, it has been sometime since I could say that from my heart. I welcome feedback as it helps me improve, I also simply love to read what you have to say; the potential butterflies~ thank you for the support on the preview post alone! ok, les get it~

Twigs and stickers adorn the hem of your dress but you could care less. Prince Jeon keeps you in his safekeeping, his eyes on your back, warning you of snake holes and hidden dips on the cliffside as you trek through forest terrain to get to this secret spot of his.

“Ah,” he gasps with a newfound excitement, “do you hear it?” He waits with his mouth agape, the corners of his lips curled into a boyish smile. You giggle at him before making a concerted effort to hear the same sound.

Rushing water dances into your ears; plops of water popping over rocks only to drop back down into the river. The adventurous man leads you this time, holding your hand in his, ducking underneath near-broken branches, and brushing long stems away so you can pass by safely.

You watch him when he removes his sandals, rolling up his pants before stepping into the water without hesitation. It only takes him a moment to adjust to the water while you sit next to a large boulder, uncaring to the creepy-crawlies and dirt ground beneath you.

The prince wades in the water before floating on his back, a pool of water collecting in the dip of his chest only to make the ivory material of his shirt see-through, marking it useless for its intended purpose. You blush, never having seen beneath another man’s clothing. The blouse sticks to his broad muscles but he is not phased, allowing the crystal-clear water to carry him.

The humid weather finds you even in the dense forest, sticking to your skin as you fan yourself. He notices and swims across to the river’s edge.

You spot his hand stretched towards you and you arch an eyebrow, “need a hand?”

Keep reading

Hii! Its me again! The anon who requested the Jihoon x perfect reader. I perfectly understand and I don't blame u at all! It's ok if u don't want to write it anymore. But if u ever decide to finish writing it, here are some of the parts I requested (Tbh, I don't remember much of what I requested):

- Jihoon and the reader are academic rivals

- They get paired up for a project (because they are the top of the class)

- The project makes them closer. Close enough for Jihoon to crush on the reader

- Because he saw her (or them. Depends if u want to write it in a gender neutral pov) with another classmate, he sorta gets jealous

- This leads to him exposing his crush hehe

Tysm for taking the time to read this! <33

Green Tea Latte

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader (ft. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, mentions of the rest of Seventeen, mentions of Red Velvet's Joy aka Park Sooyoung :))

Synopsis: Jihoon is not the jealous type, but you make him green in more ways than he can handle.

Genre: Fluff, crack, more angst than I was intending, jealous!jihoon, perfectionist!jihoon, hardworking!reader, kind of E2L?, high school!au, FACS class, mild baseball!au

Warning: Use of profanity, mentions of parents passing away 😕 (reader lives with her older brother), food, one joke about polyamory, improper childcare of a doll, jealousy, insecurities, unedited (I apologize . . . I couldn't find a beta reader and I wasn't gonna go back and read all of this because my own work makes me cringe - I'll fix it some day T^T), inaccurate portrayal of high school, jihoon is quite crass at the beginning - I think that's it? Please lmk if there's more!

WC: 9.7K

Permanent taglist: @nanamioo @bibinnieposts

A/N: Anon who requested this 😭😭😭 My sincerest apologies for finishing this so dang late! Thank you for requesting Jihoon btw! Initially, this plot was set out for Jeonghan, but I figured. just maybe I could spin it for Jihoon :) I've struggled for a long time to find a good concept for him, but alas, here we are! I hope it lives up to your expectations 💙 I also apologize in advance - I'm a tad of a masochist, so if the ending isn't what you were expecting, I'm sorry 😅

“And last, but not least, we’ll have one group of three: Y/N, Jihoon, and Wonwoo,” Ms. Choi announced, quickly slapping his roster shut with one hand. His eyes scanned the classroom for any signs of confusion. “If there are no other questions, please find your partners and come check out one of the infant dolls. I’ll also give you the packet that contains all the instructions and worksheets for this final project – please review it tonight and have questions ready for class tomorrow.”

With the clap of her hand, students all around you started shuffling around the room to make way to their partners. You, on the other hand, remained seated in your desk in the third row by the open windows, eyes trained on your hands clasped in front of you. The spring humidity seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable and no amount of fan or breeze could stifle the sweat sticking your hair to your forehead. Was your uniform jacket always this itchy and heavy?

Slowly, you craned your neck to look to the other side of the room to see if he was making his way over. When you caught a glimpse of him, Jihoon was sitting sideways in his seat, one arm resting on his desk and the other slung over the head of his chair. His facial expression, his eyes narrowed at you with the slightest crinkle in between his brows as if he was glaring at you. 

His backpack slung loosely over his shoulder, Wonwoo collapsed lazily into the seat in front of you. Despite the loud scraping of the chair against the white tiled floor, you paid no mind to him. A heavy sigh left Wonwoo’s lips as he leaned back against the window and glanced over, pushing up his black-rimmed glasses to better follow your line of sight. 

Wonwoo already knew: The final project for Family and Consumer Science was going to be interesting. 

Lee Jihoon hated you and he never tried to hide it. The whole senior class, even some of the teachers, knew that he had a strong distaste for you. Jihoon was never really a people person; he was stoic and kept to himself. If not in school, most of his hours were spent on three things: studying, baseball, and music. His only true friend was Soonyoung; everyone else, he was either acquaintances with or good teammates at best. Even then, Jihoon and Soonyoung’s friendship was questionable as the former seemed annoyed half the time they’re spotted together. 

You were special, however – to put it nicely. Ever since you skipped the latter half of your first year of high school and joined their class, their second year of high school, Wonwoo had never seen Jihoon so peeved by someone before. Wonwoo had an inkling it had to with the fact that you persistently knocked him off the podium as the number one student in all the courses you shared. 

Calculus? If Jihoon got a 98%, you got a 99%. 

The competition for Mr. Jung’s creative writing class? If Jihoon got second, you got first for best story – granted, only the two of you and Joshua had entered for extra credit. 

Ms. Park’s impossible biology lab practical? Jihoon was happy with his A, until he heard you aced it. 

To put it simply, the two of you were academic rivals and never had to work together on group projects until now – with Wonwoo, of course. 

“Hi,” Wonwoo cleared his throat. This was his first time interacting with you. He had always seen you around in classes the two of you shared, but never made an effort to befriend you either. It wasn’t that you were cold, most of their classmates got along with you well – similarly to Jihoon, Wonwoo preferred keeping to himself as well. People watching high school students was a rather fun pass time. 

“So,” Wonwoo awkwardly tried again when you didn’t respond. He glanced over to see if you were paying any attention to him yet. He frowned and nudged your hand when he noticed your eyes were still lingering on Jihoon. You perked at the brush of his finger against your knuckles. 

“Hi,” Wonwoo greeted you again. 

“Hey,” you said softly. 

Wonwoo scratched the back of his head, “Class is going to end soon – should we go talk to him?”

“Uh, y-yeah, sure,” you muttered. Robotically, you slipped out of your desk and began walking down the aisle, weaving in between desks to get to Jihoon. Wonwoo followed in suit, though not as gracefully, jutting his hip into the edge of a few brown desks every now and then. 

You didn’t even have a chance to greet Jihoon, however.

“I’m going to ask Ms. Choi if I can do this assignment individually,” Jihoon deadpanned. Shoving his hands into his pants pocket, he stood up in front of you. His eyes flitted between Wonwoo and you. “You guys can be parents to your own stupid doll – I don’t have a problem being a single dad.”

. . . .

“This is stupid,” Jihoon spat, tossing the packet across the table. Wonwoo slowed the chewing, nervously lowering his red bean bread bun into his lap. He shared a knowing glance with you. 

“It is,” you sighed, nodding once. You reached over to the packet and flipped it open a couple pages. “But we have to do it to graduate.”

Jihoon paid no mind to your comment, still clearly upset that Ms. Choi wouldn’t let him do this final FACS project on his own. 

“The purpose of this assignment is to introduce you to the challenges and collaboration of parenthood and raising children,” Ms. Choi insisted sternly. 

“There are single parents out there, you know?” Jihoon had shot back.

“Lee Jihoon,” Ms. Choi warned. 

He lowered his guard and cleared his throat. 

“I well-aware that there are single parents out there, but there are not enough infants–”

“They are dolls,” Jihoon interrupted. 

“There are not enough infants for students to do this assignment individually,” Ms. Choi continued, ignoring the teenage boy’s snark comment. 

“Can I at least trade partners then?” Jihoon asked. 

“It’s important for you to learn how to work with others,” Ms. Choi straightened a stack of papers, clacking the short edge against her desk. “Even if you don’t get along with them. You do not exist in a void, Mr. Lee. Wonwoo and Y/N are good students – give them a chance, you might be surprised.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes when Ms. Choi turned back around. 

“Is there anything else you want to clarify about this assignment, Jihoon?” Ms. Choi asked, a stern hand on her hip when she turned around. 

“No,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then,” she dismissed him. Her eyes flitted to the awkward pair of students standing in the doorway behind Jihoon. “I believe your partners are waiting for you.”

And that’s how Jihoon found himself here: Sitting at a cramped table in the dinky convenience store down the street from school that is always out of Diet Coke because the three of you didn’t get time in class to discuss the project. 

“Essentially, we just have to take care of this baby for a month,” Wonwoo fingered through the packet, his eyes skimming over the thick of words, “Do the things on this checklist, discuss our experience as a group, and then turn-in a paper or diagram of our choice documenting our experience?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You twiddle your thumbs, your eyes occasionally flitting to Jihoon sitting kitty corner to you. You were well aware he didn’t like you and that made you nervous. 

“Our experience should be interesting,” Wonwoo commented. He reached for his banana milk and took a long sip.

You furrowed your brows together in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it’s a polyamorous parenthood, duh,” Jihoon answered for Wonwoo. The former choked on his banana milk, coughing up a fit. 

You blushed, shrinking back into your seet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable between the boys. Wonwoo eyed you nervously, noticing the way you clasped your thighs together, sticking your hand underneath your thighs, and shifted nervously in your seat. 

“Dude,” Wonwoo warned.

Jihoon shrugged. “Am I lying?”

Wonwoo sighed. Indeed Jihoon disliked you, but did he have to be borderline harassing you like this?

“Don’t say shit like that – It makes it uncomfortable for all of us,” Wonwoo chastised him, not trying to single you out. His gaze flickered to you briefly. You gave him a small smile in thanks for trying with Jihoon. “It’s just a group project – let’s get this done, graduate, and get out of here.”

“How do you want to split up the work?” Jihoon ignored Wonwoo, asking the group instead. His eyes flashed down to his phone. “I gotta get to baseball practice soon, so hurry.”

“We can just switch every day in a pattern? Me for one night, Wonwoo for the next, then Jihoon?” you offered. “We don’t have to worry about the baby during the school day since Ms. Choi said we can return them to her room.”

It was a reasonable suggestion, but it still bothered Jihoon. 

“First of all,” Jihoon started, “It’s a doll, not a baby. Second, that’s dumb and inconvenient.”

You winced. Your patience was suddenly running thin. He didn’t like you, but did he have to be so crude? What the hell was his problem?

“I don’t think so,” Wonwoo frowned, also starting to get annoyed with how stubborn Jihoon was. 

Jihoon glared at Wonwoo – why was he suddenly siding with you? Did the shy anime-like boy have a crush on you?

“I’m busy,” Jihoon said as if it was obvious. “I have baseball practice nearly every day after school as we’re getting closer to the end of the season, which means sections? Competition is hot – I can’t be hauling that thing around the field.”

“Then you take it during the weekend,” you blurted, finally having enough of his crap. He was the one being unreasonable – as if you and Wonwoo weren’t busy either. 

“That’s not –”

“Isn’t it though?” you challenged. “If you’re too busy to do your part during the weekday, the weekend is the least you can do? Wonwoo and I can split the work during the week.”

“We have to spend time together too – as parents with the baby,” Wonwoo piped up, reminding the two of you about the other requirement he spotted. “At least once a week.”

Jihoon groaned, muttering a few curses underneath his breath. 

“Let’s just meet on Fridays then and use that time to discuss and gather info and do the reflection,” you suggested. 

“Why are you making all the scheduling decisions here?” Jihoon asked accusingly. “You’re not the only one here, Y/N. We have lives outside of school, you know? Fridays are usually baseball games for me.”

“Fine,” you relented, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you propose?”

Jihoon mirrored your posture, leaning back into his seat. “There’s three of us and seven days of the week. One day, we’ll meet together, so that leaves six. You take the stupid doll for first two days, I’ll take him for next two days, and Wonwoo the other two.”

Your phone buzzed in your lap. 

Sooyoung: Where are you?

Sooyoung: Hyun is starting to wonder where you are – hurry!

You quickly shot your co-worker a text that you would be there soon and glanced up at Jihoon and Wonwoo who were still in discussion – though it was more of Jihoon talking at Wonwoo. 

“Two days for each person with a third for us to meet together sounds fine to me,” you announced when the chatter died down. You pointed towards the door, rising out of your seat. Your hand wrapped around the navy blue and yellow carseat, holding the infant. “I need to go – I’ll take the baby today and tomorrow, and hand it off to Wonwoo on Wednesday. Text me if you need anything.”

“‘I need to go’,” Jihoon mocked you. He scoffed and sank down into his seat. 

Wonwoo frowned. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

Through the convenience store's glass window, he watched you cross the empty street. Your ponytail swung back and forth behind you like a horse’s tail, the keychain of the white character with the glistening eyes and pink cap clipped to your black backpack mimicking the same motion. 

“I . . . don’t know,” Jihoon muttered. 

. . . .

“What if it’s because you’re jealous, my friend?” Soonyoung pointed his dripping cherry red popsicle at Jihoon. The sun was already setting after a long three hours of baseball practice. Rather than going home right away, Soonyoung somehow convinced Jihoon to go hang out at the park, where the latter ended up venting and recounting his day, updating his best friend on the situation with the FACS final project, finally ending with Wonwoo’s incredibly stupid question. 

“What? Am not,” Jihoon protested.

Soonyoung smirked, his tongue, a matching shade of red, flicking out to lip the droplet that was about to drip onto the pavement underneath the swings they were sitting on. “Are too – literally, you were top of the class since middle school until she came along and stole your thunder.”

“Impossible,” Jihoon refused to believe his best friend. 

“Justin Bieber said, ‘never say never,’” Soonyoung glanced over at Jihoon and nodded, knowingly. 

Jihoon refused to believe though – he knew himself best, right? And he knew he wasn’t the jealous type. He never cared about competition and winning. He was the type to just do his own thing, worked hard, and ended up at the top – until you, obviously. 

“Well, why else would you dislike her so much then?” Soonyoung probed. The last small chunk of cherry popsicle slipped off the stick and splattered on the blacktop underneath him. It melted quickly into a puddle on the hot surface.

“What if I don’t dislike her?” Jihoon proposed. 

Soonyoung gasped – Jihoon assumed it was just a delayed reaction from dropping the last of his frozen treat, but his next words took Jihoon by surprise. 

“Does this mean you like her?” Soonyoung asked, eyes wide. “You’re pulling a tsundere – like, like . . . Kyo Sohma from Fruit Basket or Tsukishima from Haikyuu!”

“What the – no!” Jihoon exclaimed. In his swing, he pulled away from his friend trying to loosen his grip on his arm. “That’s not what I meant, Soonyoung. I don’t like her, but I don’t dislike her – she’s just a person . . . who I find annoying.”

Soonyoung sat back down into his swing, letting out a brisk ‘tsk.’ He slumped his shoulders forward, his hands wrapping around the rusted chains. His lips placed in a pout, his eyes flickered quickly to Jihoon before they turned back to focus on the black top underneath them. “She’s not really though . . .?”

Jihoon’s face hardened, furrowing his brows together, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. What did Soonyoung know about you that Jihoon didn’t know?

Shifting uncomfortably under Jihoon’s intense glare, Soonyoung started pushing himself back and forth on the swing with the toe of his sneaker. “Y/N’s . . . She’s actually . . . uh, really nice? And helpful.” Soonyoung nodded, content with his description. 

“And I’m not?” Jihoon asked bluntly. 

Soonyoung pointed a finger at his friend. “I didn’t say that – see, you’re being jealous right now.”

Jihoon shook his head. “No, please – just enlighten me. What’s so nice and helpful about her?”

“One time, walking into school, I tripped and spilled my papers everywhere,” Soonyoung straightened his shoulders. “No one helped me pick up my stuff, but Y/N saw and helped, and asked if I was okay.”

How pathetic, Jihoon thought to himself. Soonyoung was such a soft person – so easy to please. 

“Soonyoung, that could’ve literally been anyone –”

“But no one helped me, did they?”

“It’s one incident.”

“She had chemistry with me that semester,” Soonyoung continued to explain, hoping Jihoon could see the better side of you. “I messed up my experiment and she stayed behind to help me.”

“Okay,” Jihoon tilted his head, “I guess that’s kind of nice.”

Soonyoung let a beat pass, carefully observing Jihoon’s reaction. 

“If you weren’t so peeved by her, I might’ve . . . tried to be her friend more,” Soonyoung sulked. 

“Are you blaming me, right now?” Jihoon asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah – a little bit. She’s cute.”

“Cute?” 

Soonyoung straightened his spine in the swing, refusing to look at Jihoon out of embarrassment – And Jihoon knew. Jihoon knew that sulking, childish look better than anyone. It was that look Soonyoung gave him when Jihoon made fun of him for being a SHINee fanboy when they first met. It was that look that Soonyoung gaven when Jihoon came to pick him up from detention their third year of high school and didn’t talk to him the whole bike ride home. It was that look Soonyoung gave when Jihoon didn’t pay enough attention to him and ignored Jihoon for a whole week. 

He was annoying, but Jihoon couldn’t help but cave in because that damned look made his heart ache a little. And as much as he hated to admit, high school was a little lonely when Soonyoung wasn’t around. Jihoon didn’t have that many friends, frankly. Taking in a deep breath with his eyes closed, knowing he had to calm down and approach this carefully before Soonyoung threw another fit. 

“D-do you . . . did you . . . like her?” Jihoon finally choked up. He side-eyed his best friend who was hiding his face in the shadow of his baseball cap. 

Eventually, Soonyoung gave a small nod that if Jihoon wasn’t watching him like a hawk, he would’ve missed it. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon whispered under his breath. “Do you still like her?”

“I dunno,” Soonyoung shrugged in defeat, “She’s cute and she was really nice, but I haven’t talked to her long enough to know.”

Pressing his lips into a tight line, Jihoon got up from his swing and awkwardly made his way over to Soonyoung. His hand hovering over his best friend’s shoulder, he hesitated for a moment, eventually clamping down. 

“There, there,” Jihoon muttered. 

“Give her a chance,” Soonyoung said after a moment, “For me?”

He peered up at Jihoon again – those damn shining eyes. 

“Fine.”

. . . .

So . . .

Maybe Soonyoung was right. 

You weren’t that bad. 

Most importantly, you did your part of the project and you did it well. Unlike most of his peers he had been in groups for projects, not only were you diligent, but you were thorough – even if it was just FACS class. You paid attention in class and took notes on how to care for infants. You studied them after class and put the skills you learned into use. He watched you swaddle Haeyoung, the name the three of you, mostly Wonwoo, decided to name the doll, with care and feed it the plastic bottle with white-colored fluid that didn’t come out of the rubber nipple as if it was your own child. You didn’t even grimace when you had to change its brown diaper (yes, this doll was programmed to poop – wild). When Wonwoo almost dropped it on its head, it was you who saved it and placed it properly back in his arms. You didn’t even get mad at Wonwoo as Jihoon almost did – you just . . . laughed and told him it was okay. 

You were never friendly with Jihoon as you were with Wonwoo, but at the very least, you were courteous and professional. That was enough for Jihoon. He wasn’t expecting the three of you to be best friends at the end of this project anyhow. The things the three of you decided to do was starting to become . . . fun – kind of. Jihoon wasn’t big on ‘going out,’ but morning walks in the park, afternoon coffee shop hangouts, and dinner at Wonwoo’s house were becoming bearable. Jihoon had always chalked this up to Wonwoo being present and serving as a buffer between you and Jihoon. However, one particular afternoon in which your third member couldn’t join the two of you, made Jihoon question the reality of your situation. 

Sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair of the coffee shop, Jihoon played with the straw of his iced coffee, waiting for your arrival. He peered at his watch wondering where you were. It was almost 5PM – you had agreed to meet up half an hour ago. 

The bell hanging above the entrance of the cafe clanged as a new customer walked it. Shortly after your voice, a little breathless, called out to Jihoon from afar, “Hey!”

Jihoon looked up, tilting his chin in your direction as you made your way over to his table. You looked rather frazzled. Your hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and you sported a white t-shirt with faint, but questionable splotches of yellow and brown. 

“Took you long enough,” Jihoon muttered. 

“Sorry for being late,” you cleared your throat, not hearing Jihoon’s snarky remark. You adjusted Haeyoung’s car seat in the chair next to you. “Um . . . family stuff came up.”

“Sure,” Jihoon replied. He leaned over, setting his elbows on the table. He watched you unzip your bag and pull out a red spiral notebook. Fringes from paper being ripped out of it stuck out on the edges. “Did you want anything to drink before we start?”

You stared at Jihoon blankly. You were thirsty admittedly, but you also knew you probably couldn’t afford anything here. Knowing your situation, Wonwoo had usually offered to buy you something, even if you refused. 

“No,” you shook your head and flipped open to a fresh page. 

“You sure? You don’t want to get your usual green tea latte?” He pointed at the cashier counter.

You froze in the middle of uncapping your blue pen. “H-how . . . how did you know that was my go-to order?”

Jihoon shrugged like it was no big-deal. “Wonwoo always buys it for you when we come here – and I remember you said once you don’t like caffeine.”

“Uh . . . I’m good – I don’t need any today,” you cleared your throat, positioning your pen over the blank piece of paper. “Let’s just get this over with and go.”

“Okay,” Jihoon replied, repositioning himself in his seat. No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn’t shake off the weird turbulence swarming in his chest. 

. . . .

With some time before dinner, the two of you opted to walk around town with Haeyoung to make up for “family time” that your group didn’t spend last week. Indeed it was awkward, you were two enemies walking around with a fucking doll for heaven’s sake. However, it was oddly comforting walking around mindlessly without feeling the pressure to talk or listen constantly.

Unfortunately, his peace was interrupted sooner than expected. 

“So,” you started slowly, “What were you doing before the meeting today?”

Give her a chance.

Soonyoung’s word echoed in Jihoon’s head as he walked with you shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Just . . . some conditioning,” Jihoon grunted. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “For baseball?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon replied. He cleared his throat. 

“That’s . . . some intense training – no rest,” you commented. 

“If you want to be good, it’s what you gotta do.”

The conversation fizzled out pretty fast afterwards as neither of you were sure where to go from there. 

“How about you?” Jihoon managed to croak as the two of you crossed the street. He shoved his hands into his black joggers. 

“Hm?” you hummed in confusion. 

“W-what . . . where were you before the meeting,” Jihoon clarified, “You were . . . uh, late, you know?”

Annoyed that he had to bring that up, you side glanced at him before answering. “I was at work.”

Jihoon raised his brows in surprise. “Oh? You work.”

“Yeah,” you replied curtly. 

“Where at?” 

“M-my . . . older brother’s restaurant.”

“Your family owns a restaurant?”

You shook your head, swallowing your saliva nervously. “J-just . . . my brother.”

“Do your parents work there too?” Jihoon asked bluntly. Genuinely, he was confused. Assuming your older brother wasn’t that much older than you, most young adults didn’t have enough money to own a restaurant at this age. 

You stopped walking altogether, your chin dipping into your chest as your gaze fell onto the pavement before you. 

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asked curiously, dragging out each word. 

“I . . . don’t . . . my parents aren’t around anymore,” you finally answered him. 

Shit. 

“Oh,” Jihoon scratched the back of his head, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered immediately, “Don’t feel bad . . . they’ve been gone for a while – it’s w-whatever. I just . . . try to help out my brother when I can and he pays me some so I can . . . have money . . . for stuff.”

Jihoon let out a soft hum. His stomach flipped out of guilt. The two of you continued to walk in silence a little longer, the afternoon sun casting a shadow across town. It was almost supper time, most of the streets empty as people have lingered into nearby restaurants or driving home. The soft hum of engines sounded in the distance. Did Jihoon try to make conversation with you? Does he just keep walking in silence? If he talks to you, what does he talk about? Certainly not your parents. 

Thankfully, however, you seemed to answer his questions for him. 

“So . . . um, baseball,” you started, your grip tightened on the stroller. It was now Jihoon’s turn to side glance at you. “H-how’s the season going?”

“Good,” Jihoon replied simply, “Ish.”

“Ish?”

“I mean, it could be going better, but we’re working through it and nothing is set in stone yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a fair amount of wins, but also losses,” Jihoon explained, “I’m . . . not sure if we’re going to make it to sections.”

“Um . . . what are . . . sections?” you asked stupidly. You didn’t play sports – not competitively at least. You didn’t have the time nor money for it. 

“They’re like . . . when you play against teams from different cities, not just other schools in your district,” Jihoon nodded, satisfied with his explanation, “So like . . . we played Bangtan High, but in sections, we might play a team from Anyang.”

“Oh,” you hummed, the pieces starting to come together. 

“You don’t play much sports, do you?” Jihoon found himself chuckling. 

You shook your head. 

Give her a chance. 

Soonyoung’s voice echoed in the back of his mind again. An idea started to form in Jihoon’s mind. You were making an effort to talk to Jihoon, perhaps not as friends, but . . . acquaintances – and perhaps this was a good chance for Soonyoung. Admittedly, Jihoon did feel bad for preventing him from being friends with people he wanted to be friends with. 

“You should come to one of my baseball games,” Jihoon suddenly offered. 

Heat traveled up your back and colored the tips of your ears. You felt warmth spread across your cheeks, immediately, tearing your gaze away from Jihoon. You thought he hated you; now, he was suddenly offering you to come to one of his games? 

He didn’t seem to notice, however, his mind still lingering on Soonyoung. 

“You should come,” Jihoon repeated himself, “The next one’s on Tuesday – I can get you a ticket. First experience on me.”

Jihoon turned to you, the corner of his lips twitching up ever so slightly. 

Jihoon was smiling at you. 

Lee Jihoon, your unintentional rival, your arch nemesis, was smiling. At. You.

When his single dimple on his left cheek peeked through, it sent your heart in a flutter. 

What the actual fuck was happening. 

. . . .

Soonyoung was ecstatic to see you. 

He was nearly bouncing off the walls of the dugout when he saw you in your bright blue t-shirt, sitting in the front stands. Typically, the boys weren’t allowed to leave the dugout before the game started, but a few members have already stalked off to the audience to greet their significant others. Since it was your first game and Soonyoung would not stop gushing about your presence, Jihoon decided to go greet you, indeed raising a few eyebrows. 

“Hey,” Jihoon called, catching your attention. He raised a hand to wave at you, Soonyoung trailing not too far behind. “You made it.”

You got up from your spot on the bleachers to meet him at the fence. With a nervous chuckle, you replied, “I did – didn’t want a free ticket to go to waste.”

“Where’s Haeyoung?” Jihoon asked. Typically, you took the doll on Mondays and Tuesdays. 

“I handed her off to Wonwoo,” you told him, “We traded days – figured a baseball game wasn’t quite the place for an infant.”

“Plastic infant,” Jihoon corrected. 

Surprisingly, a soft chortle escaped your lips. Prior, these kinds of comments annoyed you whenever Jihoon referred to Haeyoung as fake. 

“Hi Y/N!” Soonyoung interrupted. 

You turned to the excited and lanky boy. You smiled, “Soonyoung, right?”

“You remember!” the said man exclaimed. 

“Long time, no see,” you greeted him, “How have you been? You play?”

“I do,” Soonyoung replied, “And I’ve been doing pretty good.” He eyed Jihoon for a moment. “I heard you and Jihoon are working on a project together – I hope he’s not giving you too hard of a time.”

“Hey!” Jihoon protested. 

Your smile transformed into a grin as your gaze traveled down to your shoes. “He’s . . . quite alright actually.” You nodded. “He does his part.”

“I’m glad,” Soonyoung smiled. He stared at you a while longer. Though you didn’t seem to notice, Jihoon could’ve sworn there were stars shining in his eyes. 

“This is . . . my first baseball game,” you told the both of them shyly. 

“Oh?” Soonyoung replied in surprise. “Jihoon didn’t tell me that.”

Said boy grit his teeth and elbowed his friend in the ribs. “I . . . got her the ticket.”

“Oh?” Soonyoung said a little louder this time, surprise lacing his voice.  

“He did,” you confirmed nervously. You gripped the canvas strap of your satchel. 

“Boys!” their coach called. Jihoon looked back to see him gesturing for the ones at the stands to return. 

“Well,” Soonyoung shrugged, “Enjoy the game, Y/N – I’ll . . . see you later?”

Jihoon tugged at his elbow, carefully watching your reaction. Eyes wide, you blinked twice, a look of surprise gracing your face. He wasn’t sure if it was just the sun or if you were blushing at Soonyoung’s request.

“Uh . . . yeah,” you replied softly, “See you later.”

Soonyoung’s face immediately lit up, his lips curling into a pleased smile – the kind that caused his eyes to disappear. Jihoon and him jogged back to the dugout, though it was only Soonyoung who excitedly waved back at you. 

. . . .

“It’s a homerun! Kim Mingyu saved Sebong High with a winning homerun in the last minute!” the sports announcer exclaimed. The crowd around you erupted into a loud cheer as the ball soared out of the field. Boys dressed in white and blue streamed out of the dugout onto the fields, hugging the tall batter.

Never been at a baseball game before, you assumed it was a good thing. Awkwardly, you got up from your spot in the front and joined the crowd in standing, though you weren’t cheering – you weren’t the type to celebrate loudly.  Your eyes flickered at your classmates and a few parents hugging one another and jumping up and down, hard enough you could feel the vibrations through the metal bleachers. You were so lost, you failed to notice the enthusiastic player running in your direction. 

“Kwon Soonyoung!” you heard some girls nearby squeal. They rushed to the fence, grabbing on tightly to the black railing, waving at him. 

He didn’t pay any mind to them, however – his eyes were trained on you. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Hey!” he called, jumping up and down. The girls threw you a dirty look as you carefully made your down closer to him. 

“Congratulations,” you greeted him. 

“We won! We won!” he cried cheerfully. 

You let out a hearty laugh at his child-like excitement and nodded. 

When he calmed down, he smiled shyly and let out a sigh of relief. He took off his cap and placed it back on his head so it was backwards. “Hey, if you aren’t busy,” he looked back at the team, now throwing Mingyu up in the air, “We’re going out to pizza after if you want to join.”

The smile on your face fell. 

“Only if you’re comfortable though,” Sooyoung added, noticing your nervous expression. 

“I . . . uh, that’s sweet, Soonyoung, but I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you replied softly. 

“You won’t be!” Soonyoung protested, “The team members bring their significant others all the time.”

Your cheeks grew aflame immediately. 

“Not that we’re dating or I’m interested in you in that way or – err, I mean!” Soonyoung ran a frustrated hand over his face, “Uh . . . I mean, I am, but also . . . I just want to . . . it’s your first game and I wanted to invite you along – as a friend.”

“I . . . are you sure?” was all you could croak out at this time. 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung replied in a small voice. He pointed at a black-haired beauty in the crowd. “Jeonghan is Seungcheol’s friend and he tags along all the time – albeit, I’m not sure if it’s because he actually wants to hang out or he just wants free food.”

Being the weirdo who skipped a grade, you never quite fit in anywhere. You hardly had any friends your age because you didn’t have classes with them. The older kids you did have class with didn’t quite welcome you either. It was the first time anyone from school was asking you to hangout for fun and you did take the evening off from work to come to this – and Soonyoung mentioned free food?

“Please?” Soonyoung begged. “It’ll be fun.”

With your hands clasped in front of you, you sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. “Sure,” a nervous chortle escaped your lips, “Why not?”

. . . .

And that was how you found yourself wedged in between Jihoon and Soonyoung in a tight booth at the local pizza parlor. Nibbling on the tip of a slice of sausage pizza and your cheeks puffed and full, you while carefully the rest of the baseball team run loose. The boy that Soonyoung had pointed out to you earlier, Jeonghan, had challenged Mingyu to a pizza eating contest, the two disgustingly stuffing their faces. Seungcheol, the team captain, sat at the edge of the booth opposite to you, watching the two with an uncomfortable expression on his face – somewhere between a grimace and a grin. In the booth behind you, you could hear the younger members of the team, Chan and Seungkwan, bickering about whether or not frozen yogurt was the same thing as ice cream. 

“Sorry,” Jihoon grumbled next to you.

You gulped down the remnants of pizza in your mouth. “It’s fine.”

He slumped over, resting his head on his hands. “They’re . . . usually this loud. You get used to it.”

“Yeah?” you asked, dabbing the corner of your lips with a napkin. 

“But . . . it’s kind of fun, you know? To watch,” Jihoon continued to explain. “Are . . . you doing okay?”

You nodded while taking a sip of your Coke. Shyly, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Jihoon ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the small gesture. “I’ve never been out like this before,” you admitted in a small voice. 

“Huh?” Jihoon got up from his position on the table, supporting his chin with his fist. 

“Yeah,” you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I don’t really . . . ‘hang out’ with people from school.”

“Oh,” Jihoon frowned. “That sounds a little lonely.”

You shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “You get used to it.”

“What do you like to do for fun then?” Jihoon inquired further.

You opened your mouth as if you were going to say something, but then closed it right away again. Peering down your half-eaten pizza, you curled your shoulders forward and trapped your hands in between your thighs, and muttered, “I don’t really do much outside of school and work to be honest.”

Jihoon remained silent for a moment. Before he could register the words that were coming out of his mouth, he asked, “You wanna watch a movie with Soonyoung and me this weekend?”

. . . .

For the next few weeks, you find yourself spending more time with Jihoon outside of your group project – the movie was just one of many hangouts to come. Typically, you spent your lunch hour by yourself, doing work in the library rather than in the crowded cafeteria with the few acquaintances you knew. It was quieter and it gave you a little extra time to study. It was also less claustrophobic, giving you more room to breathe and be comfortable, not always on guard. Before you knew it, however, according to Jihoon at least, upon Soonyoung’s insistence, the pair of friends started joining you in the library for lunch. It was certainly weird at first because you weren’t used to someone talking to you so much, but you grew accustomed to their company. Listening to Soonyoung babble was fun and admittedly, his banter with Jihoon every now and then was entertaining. Through these talks, you found out Soonyoung lived only a block away from you, and Jihoon a few blocks away from Soonyoung. You never thought you would be one of those girls, but you found yourself bathing underneath the spring afternoon sun on the white bleachers at the baseball field, waiting for them to finish practice to walk home together. Indeed, the many admirers who came to watch them regularly eyed you curiously, but you pretended not to mind, opting to read your textbooks or work on the calculus homework instead, while they did their thing. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite understand the game despite the number of times Jihoon tried to explain it to you. 

Sitting in the library in the early morning, earbuds plugged into your MP3 (yes, you still had one of those), trying (key word, trying), to revise your final paper for your modern literature class, you wondered how the last few weeks of high school came down to this: Hanging out with your high school rival and his best friend. At this point, were the three of you acquaintances? Friends? Gripping the red pen in your hand, you shook your head of such thoughts, reminding yourself to focus on the missing commas in the paper in your hands. Suddenly, sweet guitar strings started playing through your earbuds, Justin Bieber’s voice coming through, “One touch and you got me stoned, higher than I’ve known . . .” 

You smiled softly to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek at the sound of the song. It was yet another change you weren’t expecting: You actually liked Justin Bieber’s music now because of Jihoon. Had it been just a month from now, you would’ve rather eaten bricks than listen to his music. The memories of the walk home when Jihoon introduced you to the artist trickled into your mind. 

“What do you mean you don’t like Justin Bieber?!” Jihoon exclaimed. Immediately, his hand already flew to his back pocket, searching for his phone. 

“Here he goes again,” Soonyoung chuckled. 

“C’mon,” you rolled your eyes, “The last time I listened to him, the lyrics of Baby weren’t that deep.”

“He’s evolved – grown,” Jihoon defended childishly. His eyes were glued to his phone, scrolling through his Dotify playlist. “And admit, as terrible as the lyrics were, Baby was legendary.”

“He’s a big fan,” Soonyoung leaned over and whispered. You nodded in acknowledgement. 

Jihoon paused in his stride and unzipped a side pocket of his bag, digging for his earbuds. Pulling out a tangle of white wires, he ran his hand through a loop and straightened it, plugging one end into the audio port of his phone. Placing one bud in his ear, he offered you the other side. 

“Here,” Jihoon insisted. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna–”

“Just listen!” he protested, already trying to shove the piece in your ear. 

“Okay! Okay!” you giggled. You adjusted it and crossed your arms, waiting for him to hit play. 

The look on your face was priceless. You winced back in surprise, the devilish grin wiped off your face. You had stopped walking altogether, Jihoon and Soonyoung watching you curiously. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jihoon sniggered. 

You nodded slowly. “He’s definitely . . . grown since Baby.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Admit it! It’s good!”

You shrugged and handed the earbud back to Jihoon. “It’s not what I expected from Justin Bieber, but yeah –”

“Sucker!” Jihoon screeched gleefully. 

The memory was interrupted with the loud plop of a plastic cup in front of you. Green liquid filled the clear container, condensation forming droplets on the outside,  the clinking of ice sloshing against one another seeping through your headphones. You looked up to see Jihoon waving at you. 

“Ice green tea latte with oatmilk because you’re lactose intolerant – just like you like it,” Jihoon announced when you pulled out your earpiece. 

Hesitantly, you reached for the cold drink and brought the straw to your lips. You peered up at him through your lashes. “T-thanks.”

He pulled out the wooden chair across from you and collapsed into it with a loud groan. “You’re welcome. I figured you might need it,” he pointed at the paper, “You said you were still working on the paper when I texted you last night at 11.”

The heat that creeped up your spine came faster than you could register. Had it been anyone else, you might have not thought much of it, but this was coming from Jihoon. He remembered you were working on your paper, remembered your drink of choice, and bought it for you knowing you would be tired. It was Jihoon. You shouldn’t be this flustered. 

“Thanks,” was all you could muster to say again. 

Jihoon nodded and reached for your MP3. Eyes wide, you lunged for it, but he snatched it before you could get to it. A smirk spread across his lips. 

“Justin Bieber, I see?” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, ripping the device out of his hands. 

“I’m culturing you, Y/N,” he sang. 

“It’s one good song,” you retorted, “Does not mean I like Justin Bieber as a person.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Jihoon shrugged, “He just has nice music.”

“You just like sad boy music,” you shot back. 

“And if I do?”

“What are you doing here, Jihoon?” you asked, starting to get annoyed by his presence. 

“Oh right,” Jihoon sat up in his chair, “Soonyoung was wondering if you wanted to come to the baseball game on Friday.”

“Oh?” you perked up, setting your drink on the table, “I was planning on it anyhow.”

Jihoon held up his finger. He ignored the nagging voice at the back of his head telling him to do something different than Soonyoung asked. “It’s the last game before sections.”

“Sections . . . playing other cities?”

Jihoon nodded. “Which means it’s an important game.”

“Okay,” you dragged out the last syllable, not sure what he was getting at. 

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s tradition to ask someone special to wear their jersey to the last game.”

Your mouth fell agape slightly, the heat returning to your face. 

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon continued slowly, carefully observing your reaction, “S-soonyoung wants you to wear his jersey.”

When you awkwardly agreed, Jihoon couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to the pits of stomach. 

He was supposed to dislike you, not feel like this. 

. . . .

And that was how you found yourself standing at the front of the bleachers wearing Soonyoung’s jersey, his last name printed in large white block letters, ‘KWON’ and the number ‘05’, on the back. You tucked it into a pair of jean shorts, a matching blue cap covering your face upon your co-worker and friend, Sooyoung’s insistence. She had also tagged along for today’s game. 

“You look cute,” Sooyoung commented, holding onto the railing. 

You tugged at the front of the jersey. “Thank you.”

She linked arms with you. “Don’t be so nervous.”

You couldn’t help but be with all the fans staring holes into the back of your head sitting behind you. “I-I’m just . . . not used to this.”

“Soonyoung asked you to wear it for a reason,” she reassured you, “Wear it proudly.”

“Sooyoung,” you started slowly, “W-why did he ask me to wear it though? And . . . not Jihoon.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “Wait –”

“Y/N!” Soonyoung’s cheerful voice cut off your friend. 

You both turned your attention to the tall boy running and waving your way, this time Jihoon trailing behind him. You and Sooyoung clambered down to the black railing. 

“Soonyoung,” greeted him softly. You gestured to your friend next to you, “This is my friend Sooyoung – she goes to a different high school, but wanted to tag along today.”

Sooyoung waved cheerfully at the pair of friends who returned the gesture. Soonyoung let out a small chuckle. “Wah, our names are almost the same – different by one letter.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jihoon snorted. 

Sooyoung frowned at the shorter boy. 

Nevertheless, A satisfied smile graced Soonyoung’s face. “You look nice.” He was looking at you.

“Thank you for letting me wear your jersey,” you told him. Your eyes flickered momentarily to Jihoon who was standing silently behind Soonyoung. He paid no mind to you whatsoever, looking off in the distance, perhaps at the score sign. 

“Thank you for wearing it,” Soonyoung replied. “To be honest? I was kind of worried you wouldn’t.”

You knitted your brows together. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Soonyoung let out a nervous chortle and looked away. “Y/N . . .”

“Let’s go back,” Jihoon grumbled, tugging at Soonyoung’s arm. The latter frowned, but Jihoon returned it with a stern look. “Focus on the game, Kwon.”

Soonyoung turned back to you momentarily. “I’ll see you – y-you guys after the game?”

You nodded. 

“Win or lose, pizzas on us,” Soonyoung smiled. 

“Good luck,” you told them, though Jihoon didn’t seem to acknowledge you. 

When they stalked off, your friend turned to you, her eyes wide as if she was about to explode. 

“What?” you asked dumbly. 

“You seriously don’t know why he asked you to wear his jersey?” Sooyoung deadpanned. 

You shook your head slowly. 

Sooyoung collapsed into your side, burying her face into your chest. “Oh you, sweet summer’s child.”

. . . .

It had been a week since the baseball game and a week before graduation. 

Since then, Jihoon has been extra bitter around you. He was curt and short with answers. When you asked him to study together for other classes, he was quick to turn you down, explaining that he had to practice even more for sections. You had chalked it up to him just being stressed with baseball and the end of the year coming up, but you couldn’t help but he was avoiding you. Thus, you did what any rational, young adult would do: you confronted him. 

Jihoon had invited you and Wonwoo over to finish up the reflection for FACS class. Wonwoo had curfew and headed home early. He had left Haeyoung behind with the two of you since it was Jihoon’s to take the doll anyhow. Seated at his desk, Jihoon was bent over his phone tapping away at a game of SUPERSTAR Pledis. 

“Hey,” you called, pushing yourself from your lying position on his bed. 

Jihoon let out a nonchalant hum. 

“Are you . . . mad at me?” you asked. 

Jihoon paused his game and let out a scoff. He spun around in his desk chair, irritated. “Not everything’s about you, Y/N.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jihoon continued with a roll of his eyes, “Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “You’ve just . . . been kind of distant.”

“Maybe because I have other things to do that don’t involve you?” 

That’s when the mechanical cry of Haeyoung started to sound. 

“Look what you did,” Jihoon grumbled. Using the toe of his sock-covered foot, he reached over and began rocking the car seat. 

You couldn’t give a damn about the doll at this moment, absolutely taken aback by Jihoon’s rudeness. “That was uncalled for . . . Look, I don’t know what happened or what I did, but if you could just, I don’t know, be mature, and tell me, maybe we can talk it out and work it out? You’ve been upset since the baseball game and I’m just trying to understand why. I thought maybe it was the end of the year coming up, but that clearly doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Despite the doll’s cries, Jihoon stopped rocking the car seat and turned to you. “Mature? I’m older than you, Y/N. What do you even know about me?”

“Does that matter when you’re acting like a child?” you exclaimed. 

“Do you always have to be better than me?” Jihoon exploded. He stood up from his chair, unable to contain his discontent anymore. Truthfully, he knew you were right about him being cold towards you, but it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. 

He didn’t realize it then, but the more he dwelled on it, Jihoon was jealous. And what made it worse was that he wasn’t just jealous of you this time, but he was jealous of his best friend, Soonyoung, when that should’ve never been the case. As much as he wanted to deny it, Jihoon had feelings for you and he was sure Soonyoung did too – he wouldn’t have just thoughtlessly asked you to wear his jersey at the last game. It was a tradition reserved for couples, or couples who were to be. Unlike Soonyoung, Jihoon didn’t have the guts to ask you to wear his jersey, and when he finally did, it was already too late. He was always like this: one step behind in everything he wanted, you included. 

“Y/N wins this, Y/N got the highest score that,” Jihoon mocked, continuing out of fury, “You’re so irritating, you know that? Ever since you joined our class, you know how annoying it has been trying to compete with you? I tried to keep my distance, but you slowly started seeping into my life with this project – fuck, even my best friend is whipped about youn now. What’s so great about you, anyways?”

You shrank back in his bed as each and every word pierced you. You had thought just maybe high school wouldn’t end so terribly after all. These past few weeks with Jihoon and Soonyoung were fun. Even if it was fleeting, for once, you had friends: People who get you and enjoy your company. But alas, you were wrong; everyone was the same. Like you feared, you got too attached to what was a façade, trusted too much, and got hurt. 

“Do you really think I enjoy being in this . . . this made-up competition with you?” you started. Standing in the middle of his room, you clenched and unclenched your fist, boring holes into Jihoon’s forehead as he leaned awkwardly against his wooden desk with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand clutching the elbow. His narrow eyes watched you carefully, his expression was blank and unreadable, as it always has been. 

Only then did Jihoon finally notice that Haeyoung had finally quieted. It was quite ironic. The silence was all the two of you desired after hours of the stupid doll child crying, yet it made the air thick and suffocating.   There was no hint of relief or relaxation like he had imagined - the tension was like a rubber band pulled taught on the verge of snapping to its separate ends. All the words he wanted to tell you at the tip of his tongue had evaporated into thin air. He didn’t have to be told to know he really went too far this time. 

Your lips crumpled into a bunch, your chin wrinkling in the process. Jihoon was truly frustrating. A man of few words, holder of the best poker face you’ve seen, he hid his heart hidden in the depths of school uniform. You tried to be understanding - not everyone was as honest about their feelings as you. It didn’t mean he made you any less upset, however. All you wanted was him to communicate with you clearly. You just wanted one word from him. You just wanted him to answer your question. One minute his actions were pulling at your heartstrings, the next he was throwing you under the bus to be rolled over. Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as he had led on. 

One flutter of your lashes and the first tear escaped your lower lid and rolled down your cheek. You let out a small cough to hide the whimper in your throat. You’ve had enough. You couldn’t do this anymore.  

“I’m done, Jihoon,” you relented, your voice barely above a whisper. “When this assignment is over tomorrow and after we graduate this weekend,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “I hope we never meet again.”

Jihoon had half-expected you to storm out of his room in a dramatic fashion. Instead, you silently dug into your bookbag and fished out a clear plastic case covered in blue and pink stickers, ‘Jihoon’s Sad Boy Mixtape’ written in bold black marker across the front. His heart sank as you dropped the cassette onto his navy blue sheets and turned your back to him.

Your hand rested on the cool stainless steel door. You pulled it open a crack before you paused. You knew it was unrealistic, but you had a sliver of hope he would come after you. Yet Jihoon stayed put by his desk. Alas, it was only a moment for the films. 

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you said. 

The shake in your voice was the last straw for him, but Jihoon was too late. As he lunged after you, hand outreached, you stepped out of his room. He could hear your footsteps rushing down the hall, then slapping down the stairs of his home. 

Jihoon was always one step behind you. 

Today, he was one hundred steps behind. 

. . . .

Graduation was anything but fun. 

Standing out in the overgrown grass of the football field, the blades tinkling their ankles, with the sun beating down on them in their black gowns absorbing every ounce of heat – it was unbearable. Yet, for Jihoon, it was worse with you sitting next to him throughout the whole ceremony, not a single word falling from your lips. Your expression was unreadable: From the principal’s introduction to the class president’s fruity speech to tossing your caps in the air. At the end of it all, you silently left in search of your brother while all your classmates cheered and hugged. 

Jihoon knew better than to chase after you today, but he did anyway. He wanted to make things right – he couldn’t bear the thought of you having a grudge against him moving into the next chapter of your lives. His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist just as you neared the parking lot, Jihoon jerked your back. 

“Hey,” he greeted you. 

Your gaze only hardened, though you didn’t fight back. 

“C-can we talk?” Jihoon asked.  

“I can’t imagine what you have to say to me, Jihoon,” you said coldly. 

He didn’t either. He didn’t prepare for this, but here he was. 

“I’m . . . sorry,” Jihoon muttered. His eyes dropped to the asphalt burning under his leather shoes. “I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things to you – y-you’re . . . my friend, b-but . . .” He let out a frustrated sigh, unable to say what was on the tip of his tongue.

I like you.

It wouldn't make sense to tell you - at least not now after he told you you were annoying.

Your heart sank. As much as you wanted to forgive him then and there, your desire to save yourself from the pain of disappointment was greater. You cleared your throat and pulled your hand from his grasp. Jihoon peered up at you, melancholy clouding his eyes. 

“Congratulations, Jihoon,” you said, you pressed your lips into a tightline and looked away briefly. You saw Sooyoung and your older brother searching for you in the distance. “Good luck in college – I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Those were your last words before you walked out of Jihoon’s life. 

. . . .

Or so he thought. 

College was never a topic that either of you discussed, choosing to talk about lighter things from complaining about your math teacher to the kind of music you liked to listen to. Jihoon did not expect to see you here in the flesh, standing in front of the university student union, let alone holding hands with Wonwoo. 

“W-what are you guys doing here?” Jihoon stuttered, unable to keep his eyes off your intertwined fingers. He noticed the way you adjusted your hand to hold Wonwoo tighter. When did this happen? You and Wonwoo didn't even seem close when you did the project together. Were you friends with benefits? Dating? For how long? So many questions ran through Jihoon's mind.

“Jihoon - hey,” Wonwoo started. He tucked his free hand into the pockets of his jeans. Briefly, Wonwoo’s eyes flickered to you as if to silently ask if you were doing okay. “You go here too?”

Jihoon nodded, his eyes traveling up to your face. Though, you refused to meet his gaze, opting to stare at the pavement instead. “I do . . . uh, aerospace engineering major . . .”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise. He pointed at you. “Y/N is too.”

You already knew. You just decided to keep your distance, in hopes you could go through college without having to interact with him. That would not be the case as fate would have it. 

“Hi,” Jihoon raised his hand slowly to greet you. The corner of his lips twitched up into an awkward smile – that damned dimple on his left cheek that made your heart flutter all those months ago made an appearance, still sending your heart surging through your chest. “It’s been a while.”

Instinctively, you inched closer to Wonwoo before replying to him. “Yeah – long time, no see.”

Silence, then a beat. 

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Uh, well, we’ll see you around then, Jihoon? We have a class soon.”

“Course,” Jihoon replied softly. Wonwoo waved 'goodbye,' while you quickly jogged to his side. A pang shot through his chest as he let out a heavy sigh.

“See you around . . . Y/N.”

Want This To Be Real

pairing - james potter x fem!reader

summary - not being able to find your best friend remus, you rely on james to help you out of an uncomfortable situation.

warnings - female reader, slut-shaming, confrontation, fake dating trope

posted - 10/16/23

wordcount - 3080

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The loud music was deafening, your heartrate picking up as you pushed your way through the dancing students in the Gryffindor common room. “Where is he?” you muttered to yourself, ducking under someone’s arm that was thrown out as the boy belted out the abba lyrics.

You wondered why you had even agreed to come tonight. Damn Marlene and her ability to talk you into anything. The blonde had promised to stick by your side but only moments after having her first drink, she was off following some Slytherin girl around in hopes of getting her to dance with her.

To be fair, Marlene had seen Remus Lupin’s messy head of hair through the crowd and assumed you would just go and sit on the sidelines with him like you usually did. That had been your plan after she left you standing near the drinks table, but unfortunately being a good bit shorter than most of the people surrounding you made the task of finding him quite difficult.

You had given up on your search and went to get yourself a drink when you felt a presence intruding on your personal space. Finishing up your drink first, you turned to see who wanted to talk to you and you had to supress the groan threatening to spill from your lips.

Steven Teller had been getting on your nerves for the better part of the year, following you around after classes and during Hogsmeade trips and seemingly unable to take a hint. Even though one of those hints had been you telling him straight up that you were not interested and that you wished for him to just bugger off.

When he first started talking to you when you got partnered up for a Transfiguration assignment, you had thought he was a nice enough guy. The assignment went great, Professor McGonagall praising you two on your good work, and he appeared to be well liked among his Ravenclaw housemates.

You had been over the moon excited when he asked you out on a date, him being the first guy to ever show any amount of interest in you. But it did not take long after the two of you sat down for some butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks for you to figure out you were not into him like that.

On the way back to the castle you had explained to him how you would love to remain friends but that was as far as your feelings went. He apparently, had made it his sole mission in life to prove you wrong. But the way he was going about it only made you like him less and less.

You had tried to excuse yourself the moment you noticed it was him, but he had managed to corner you multiple times since then. Sure he was still hot on your heels, you pushed past a couple making out in your search for your lycanthrope friend.

Relieve flooded over you when you saw the back of James Potter’s head. Wherever Sirius and James were, Remus could not be far away. Your face fell when you came to a stop next to the Potter boy and Remus was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Rem?” you asked as James looked down at you, taking a sip of his drink.

“Went up to the dorm already. I think he said something about a headache,” he replied, seemingly able to see the slight panic in your eyes as his brows knitted in worry and his body stopped swaying along to the music. “You alright?”

“Shit,” you let out, looking over your shoulder to check for Steven. He was stumbling through the crowd, head spinning around, probably looking for you.

You were about to take off again, trying to think of a good hiding space until you could find Marlene again. But James gently took a hold of your wrist to keep you by his side, still waiting for an answer. “Hey, what’s up?”

You did not necessarily want to tell him about your problem, but an idea made its way into your mind. You were not close to any of Remus’ friends, the two of you mostly hanging out by yourself in the library or by the lake. But you knew Remus thought very highly of them and they were always kind to you, never making you feel like the weird one out whenever a rare group hangout occurred.

“Can you do me a favour?” you finally decided that getting his help would be your best bet.

James let go of your wrist, sure you would not try to bolt again. “Sure. What do you need?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” you rushed out, making his eyes widen in surprise. “Not for long. It’ll only take a couple of minutes tops.”

James was about to respond, the corner of his lips pulled into a small smirk and an amused glint in his eyes, when a hand fell onto your shoulder. The contact made you whirl around with a jump, taking a step back to put some distance between the Ravenclaw and yourself, your back bumping into James’ chest in the process.

“There you are! I’m getting the feeling you’re trying to avoid me,” the boy laughed, and you could tell he had already been drinking a lot tonight.

“I am avoiding you, Steven!” you told him with a roll of your eyes, but he only let out another laugh as if you were joking.

You felt James put an arm around your chest, pulling you back into him as he fixed the Ravenclaw with a glare. “Can we help you?”

James’s voice made Steven pause as he moved to step closer to you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. He quickly caught himself, eyes drifting back to you.

“Can we talk privately for a second, y/n? I want to ask you something,” Steven addressed you once more.

“Whatever you want to ask my girl, you can do it in front of me.” James’s chin came down to rest on the top of your head and your cheeks warmed up at what he called you.

“Your girl?” Steven seemed confused, gaze flitting between you and the boy behind you with suspicious eyes. “Since when is this a thing?”

His face pulled into a grimace when he finally took notice of James’s arm around you, the Gryffindors grip on you tightening slightly.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” James said. “Now ask your question or leave us alone, yeah?”

Steven glared at you for a moment, mumbling something underneath his breath, before turning and stumbling back into the crowd of dancing teenagers.

You turned to face James, his arm now resting across your shoulders as he watched Steven walk away. “Thank you so much. I hope he finally got the hint.”

“No need to thank me,” he told you and the glace left his face, a charming smile spreading across his lips instead. “If he keeps being a creep you come and find me, yeah?”

You nodded up at him, already missing the warmth of his touch when he released his hold on you. Quickly thanking him one more time and trying really hard to control the blush threatening to take over your face, you sent him a wave as you walked away. You needed to find Marlene and tell her about what just happened.

⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟

Steven left you alone for almost three full weeks. You had really started to believe James had scared him off for good, especially since James and you still tried to keep up the act.

Since that party, James had insisted on you sitting with him and his friends during meals and walking you to most of your classes while carrying your books. You constantly had to remind yourself that he was only doing you a favour and that he was not actually interested in you like that. He was just being a good friend.

You were dreading the day the two of you would drop the charade, but you knew it would better have to happen sooner than later. Your heart jumped every time his skin brushed up against yours as he animatedly told you about a prank the group was planning on.

The look of admiration on his face after you suggested a potion that would force Snape to sing each time he talked, even offering to brew it for them as you had all the needed ingredients and were quite talented in the subject, went completely over your head. The kiss he pressed to your cheek after caused you to forget how to breathe for a moment, Sirius and Remus exchanging amused looks with a shake of their heads.

You were currently walking to your next class by yourself, as the other’s had been asked to stay behind to have a word with Professor McGonagall. They had told you not to bother to wait up and that they would catch up to you, so you had shouldered your bag and went on alone.

You had almost reached the charms classroom when you heard footsteps coming up behind you. Assuming it was James, you slowed your walk and turned with a smile on your face. The smile quickly fell at the sight of Steven storming up to you.

He grabbed your arm as you tried to bolt into the direction of your next class, holding you in place. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think we do,” you spat back at him, trying to pull your arm free, only for his grip to tighten.

“Potter doesn’t want you, you have to know that,” he chuckled, his face close to your own. “You’re not that stupid right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just let me go please, you’re hurting me,” you mumbled, still trying to pull away from him.

“How dumb can you be?” Steven barked, pushing your back against the wall, his hand not gripping your arm resting on the stone next to your head. “He’s clearly just trying to get into your pants. Come on, y/n. Why would James Potter of all people actually be into you? Think about it.”

No matter how much you tried to ignore his words, you could not. Of course, you had thought about it. James was popular, smart, a star at Quidditch and most of all way out of your league. You had tried to keep your feelings in check, knowing what he was doing was just pretend and nothing real would come out of it. But you had not been successful at pushing down the crush that had made itself noticeable over the past weeks.

“Lupin probably told him what a slut you really are. Trying to fuck your way through the whole Gryffindor team now, huh?” Tears started filling the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You knew what he was saying was not true, but the words still stung.

“You better take your hands off my girlfriend right now, Teller,” someone called from a little way down the hall, and you let out a breath of relieve. James was making his way towards you, hands clenched into fists at his sides and jaw set tightly.

Steven jumped back at the yell from your pretend boyfriend, his hand leaving your aching arm, his grip sure to be leaving a bruise.

James reached out his arm to you when he finally got close enough and you immediately rushed into his side, your hands clutching onto his robes. His hand came to the back of your head, pushing you closer to his chest.

The Ravenclaw was still standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at you with a nervous expression on his face. James scowled at him.

“You have about three seconds to scram before I change my mind about letting you go,” James growled at him and watched as the shorter boy took off down the hallway.

He waited until Steven had disappeared around the corner before his hand came to your cheek, gently pushing you back from his chest to look at your face. Some of the tears had managed to escape and he wiped them away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide your crying.

“What are you apologizing for, love?” James pulled you into a hug, running a hand through your hair. “You did nothing wrong.”

You stayed in James’ arms for a little longer, until you managed to calm down. Slowly, you backed away, wiping at your eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” James questioned, hesitant to let you go. You shook your head at him.

“We should get to class,” you told him before picking up the bag you had dropped.

“Okay, love,” he said and took one of your hands in his, leading you down the hallway.

⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟

“Did I do something?” James wondered out loud from where he was sat with his friends, watching you push the food around your plate at the other end of the table. Remus’ face was scrunched up with worry as well. You had gone out of your way to avoid both of them for the last couple of days.

Your best friend had tried to talk to you the second James had told him about what happened. But you had just told him you were fine before excusing yourself and running up to your dorm. Since then you seemed to find an excuse to run whenever they tried to approach you.

James already missed your presence next to him. He missed the sound of your laugh when he made a joke and the way your cheeks turned red when his arm nudged into yours. Maybe he had gotten it all wrong. But after you first came up to him asking for a favour at that party, he had gotten his hopes up that maybe you felt the same way he did.

Ever since you had started hanging out with Remus in your third year you had managed to worm your way into his heart. At first he had been kind of jealous of his scarred friend, but Remus had quickly reassured him that the two of you were just friends.

“I think she might just be embarrassed,” Remus told him. “We should probably give her some time.”

Ignoring his friend, James jumped to his feet the moment he saw you get up to leave the great hall. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Remus sighed as Sirius wished him good luck. James caught up to you halfway to the Gryffindor tower as you waited for the moving staircase to come to a stop in front of you.

He kept some distance between the two of you when he came to a stop beside you. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Maybe later, James. I’m kind of tired.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he bent down trying to catch your eyes. You felt bad when you realized how frustrated he sounded.

“No, you didn’t.” You hesitated. Sooner or later you would have to get this over with, so why not just do it now? “But we need to stop doing this.”

James blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said and mentioned between you two. “Us pretending to be together. We need to stop.”

He just stared at you, speechless for a moment. You let out a sigh before continuing. “You already helped me out enough. I’m not going to keep bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me, love. Where’s this coming from?” He thought you were both having fun with it, and after what had just happened with Teller he wanted to be by your side now more than ever.

“I just can’t keep pretending, okay? It’s messing with my head!” you exclaimed, and he was caught of guard by the anger in your voice. “Steven was right. I’m so stupid. I should have never let it go on this long.”

James hands found your shoulders, gently rubbing up and down in an attempt to calm you. “Hey now, you’re not stupid. And that dickhead is full of shit, don’t listen to anything he says. Can you please tell me what’s really going on?”

You had to resist the urge to step into James arms, still refusing to meet his eyes. Maybe you should be honest with him. He was obviously a good guy and there was a chance that he would be fine with still being friends, even if he knew about your silly little crush on him.

“I keep-,“ you started, hesitating as your face flushed red. James mentioned for you to keep going, his full attention on you. “I keep forgetting this isn’t real. And I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but I started wishing it was.”

James’ eyes widened at your confession, his heartbeat speeding up to the point he wondered if you could hear it.

“I know you don’t feel the same and you really don’t have to say anything-“

You were cut off by James pressing his lips to yours. The kiss only lasted for few seconds before he pulled back, realizing you were not kissing him back. His gaze wandered from your parted lips up to your eyes, afraid that he might have understood you wrong.

Before he could say anything however, you reached for the collar of his shirt, pulling his mouth back down to yours. Your other hand slid up the back of his neck and he smiled against your lips. His arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. This time, he waited for you to pull away first.

When you finally did, only because you were starting to feel lightheaded and needed to take a beath of air, he still had a goofy smile on his face. One of his hands had slid under your shirt and was now moving in small circles just above your hip.

“I want this to be real too,” he admitted, forehead resting against yours. “And you I want you to tell me exactly what Teller said to you, so I can prove just how wrong he was.”

“Okay,” you said, letting James take your hand as he led you to the common room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

masterlist

james potter masterlist

souvenir

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

alternatively, yoongi thinks you hate him because you don’t coddle him after a fight.

[ So Much Pining but they’re already in a relationship lol, some angst from a lil fight, yoongi likes being chased but u don’t indulge him this time, 10/10 wholesome ]

notes: a little something as i come back to writing <3 this is a new fic universe altogether and may be a slice of life series :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Yoongi relishes in being difficult.

He’s difficult in the way that he’s stubborn for whatever it is, no matter how low he could stoop. It’s definitely a working progress, but your boyfriend just stillhasn’t shaken the urge to always have the last say.

It wasn’t a deep control thing, honestly — Yoongi just really loves pushing your buttons. 

If Yoongi could find a route to piss you off, he’d take a million little detours in the process just for you to take the cake by the end of it. When you present to him a simple yes or no question, he’d find a way to shift the topic altogether for your conversation to go absolutely nowhere.

He’s annoying, there’s really no doubt about it. It was a learning curve at first because seeing your then-boyfriend (now your husband) become snarky at you for surprisingly no reason at all wasn’t exactly the best feeling. All it took was a simple call to Jin, Yoongi’s closest friend, to make you realize that he was just being playful. Your boyfriend being a brat to you, simply put into words, is his love language.

It’s the tiny accumulative moments where he purposely irritates you that in hindsight, it’s become oddly endearing. 

When you pick where to order take-out because Yoongi keeps saying whatever, he whines to no end once the food arrives because apparently, it’s not what he had in mind. You used to be so pissed about it that you’ll order what he wants, but nowadays, you just tell him to suck it up and put more food on his plate.

When you do all the laundry in one go (no, the colors don’t bleed together) and Yoongi insists that you do separate batches for each color that he could enumerate, you would try and appease him by pretending to separate each one. Now, all that Yoongi gets is a high-pitched sarcastic compliment for knowing all his colors.

Whatever Yoongi purposely gave you to incite a reaction, it all melted into your understanding that this was just him. You’re no longer affected by the tiny little things because weirdly enough, they no longer serve its purpose of annoying you. 

It’s just like taking care of Ginger, the spoiled little family cat you grew to take care of back in your childhood home. When she was still a kitten, she’d purposely go up your shelves, look at you in the eye before dropping an item, and you’re leaping after the orange devil to reprimand her. When she became an adult, she still had the same annoying tendencies, and yet you evolved enough not to even bat an eye when she does it now.

Yoongi being annoying to you now isn’t the same thing of him being annoying to you back then. What you used to hate, you now tolerate. What used to piss you off, now makes you endeared. When your husband pushes your buttons now, you’re reminded of how much more mischievous he used to be and the memories that came with it.

This is now your peak — there’s really nothing Yoongi could do that make you fazed anymore.

In a great bout of karma, this is Yoongi’s trough. 

You barely give him an adverse reaction nowadays and that scares him right to his core because you used to be soenthusiastic over him. There’d be days where he picks fights intentionally and you’d spend the whole night trying to make it up to him, even if he necessarily wasn’t in the right.

Yoongi thinks that he’s witnessing himself being old news right in front of you and it scares him. 

You’re more well-versed when it comes to this. You’re the more attentive, more vocal lover between the two of you. You’re the one who can read minds and interpret actions. You’re the one who tends to be more confrontational and he’s the passive one. You’re the one who makes sure that a night wouldn’t pass without the two of you making up.

Yoongi, who thought this was the best thing he’s ever thought of until twenty minutes ago, decides to rekindle your romance by picking a fight with you.

Twenty minutes later, he’s never regretted a decision more in his life.

“I’m going out.” 

He announces as the last resort, head pounding because the fight became bigger than necessary. It’s 9 in the evening and he isn’t even dressed to be going out, his matching pajamas with you too soft and too worn to be even seen wearing while driving in the comfort of his own car.

Yoongi feels tears pricking in his eyes because clearly you laid onto him just as much as he made digs at you tonight, but what’s even more hurtful is that looking at you now, you don’t even look as startled as he is.

Maybe it’s just his mind. His silly, smooth, little mind that thinks the fight was bigger than it actually was. It was just a tiny argument about him baselessly accusing you of not putting in any effort that went off-topic for a brief second. In reality, it really was just a casual fight that most married couples have on a rare weekend but to Yoongi, it was explosive.

It was far more hurtful than he anticipated because in his eyes now, you don’t love him that much anymore.

“Okay. Go ahead,” you mumble for him to hear, putting away leftovers like any other night. You meticulously wrap the plates with cling wrap, your back turned to him when you mutter. “I hope the door hits your ass on the way out.”

“O-oh?” Yoongi backtracks when he hears your go-ahead, literally shell-shocked to see that you’re not stopping him. He wipes away his tears before you turn your neutral gaze back to him, swallowing the lump on his throat. “I’m going now. To get some air.”

“Okay, Yoongi.”

He’s done this before. There’s been fights where you tell him not to walk out on you and he complies. There’s also been fights where he walks out anyways, but you’d always tell him I love you and not to stay out too late.

He’s attempting the second option because clearly, you’re not pleading for him to talk this out and later on could the two of you get some air together.

“I’m really, really going now.”

He looks at you with shaky eyes, clearly pleading for you to indulge him by making him stay. 

You see right through him. You see right through your husband and in any other day would you just laugh this off, but tonight isn’t working for you. You were tired from work, Yoongi picked a fight with you for no reason, and you neither have the energy to tolerate nor chase him.

Every now and then, you should stop coddling Yoongi and give him exactly what he claims to want.

“Okay. Bye.”

You leave no room for any more replies, sauntering over the stairs without looking back.

Yoongi doesn’t want to look like a coward for not following through what he said so he audibly opens the door with the creak being heard all the way up the stairs. He’s not even a fourth out of the door but his bottom lip already blubbers, legs trembling from another type of chill that his pajamas can’t protect him from.

Shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

( ♡ )

It’s 9:30 on a Saturday, Yoongi’s at a friend’s club wearing his sleeping pajamas on, drinking Pocari Sweat because crying on the way here really dehydrated him.

Yoongi is not doing well.

Jin’s originally here to survey his club at a peak night, but that plan went downhill as soon as Yoongi spotted him and immediately clung to his back asking for electrolyte water.

“Call Y/N using my phone.”

Yoongi mumbles when the two of them are settled at a secluded booth, all the noise being significantly decreased but not enough for it to be unrecognizable that he’s at a club through a phone call.

“And why exactly would I do that?” Jin snorts, already having an inkling to know where this is going from having a quick run-down from your husband himself.

He’s just about to lecture him with the words he’s always been wanting to say; something along the words that Yoongi’s bratty tendencies were eventually gonna bite him in the ass hard.

Seokjin doesn’t get to do that though because a phone is thrust to his face that it almost punches him, making him faux spit into nothing and wave off his bodyguards standing at a distance from him.

“Quick. She’s probably worried sick about me!” Yoongi convinces Jin, or atleast tries to because he’s the one that needs it. You’re probably wondering where he is, right? There may be no texts in his inbox, but who’s to say that you’re telepathically texting him to ask what time he’s coming home… right?

“No she’s not,” he sing-songs. He plans to annoy his friend for about 98% the time he’s going to be here (he’s gonna send him home to you anyway before 10:30) and the other 2% for semi-sincere consoling.

Then an idea pops into Jin’s head.

“What should I say?” he suddenly and eagerly takes up Yoongi on his request, not waiting for an answer before the perfect scenario pops in his head. “Ah wait, let me be in charge of that.”

Jin’s already pressing to call you much faster to Yoongi’s expectations because he really thought that it would take more amounts of convincing to do this. The phone’s put on speaker and as soon as it rings, Yoongi feels the urge to duck. He’s steadily about to snatch his phone back but you answer your phone even faster than he could do that.

“Hi Y/N!” Seokjin beams and it makes you smile from the other end, a clue already being filled in your head where exactly your husband went to. “Whatcha doing?” 

Jin makes conversation with you on Yoongi’s phone, sleazily smiling as he takes it off of speaker as soon as his friend hears your voice. Yoongi clearly takes an outrage with that but he contains it when Jin fully extends his arm out, holding him back by the face.

“Ugh, did you make popcorn? No way, not one burnt kernel? I knew it-!” Jin yelps when Yoongi bites his palm, quickly standing up from his seat in the booth so Yoongi couldn’t catch up with him. “I told you- I told you that brand’s way better!” 

“She’s not asking why you’re using my phone?” Yoongi whisper-yells as he circles around Seokjin, hands anxiously attempting to grab his phone back. “She’s not asking about me?”

Jin hears him loud and clear but he pretends not to, only sparing a glance. “Did you use the microwave preset? Personally I recommend only popping it in for two minutes and fifteen seconds because- motherfucker!”

Yoongi pinches him by the nape quite harshly like how you’d do with a kitten and it makes Jin freeze for a brief second, stealing his phone back with the call on-going.

“Y/N!” he almost yells to the phone, the momentary silence making it sink to him that he’s finally talking to you after so long. 

Read: it has only been forty minutes.

“What?” you groan into the phone, pushing your voice to be further disinterested. You’re no longer mad at him anymore — you’re just having some bit of fun at this point.

“I-I...” the words dissolve quickly on his tongue, the taste being bitter once again even when he was certain that the Pocari washed it out earlier. Yoongi says the next best thing he could that first pops up into his head, the random blurting of words being amusing even for Jin’s bodyguards.

“I uhm, I have a splinter.”

“Then take it out.”

“It hurts,” he whines at another attempt, screwing his eyes shut at the secondhand embarrassment because from the corner of his eye, one of the three bodyguards is actually clutching at his stomach from laughing. 

“Have Jin do it for you then.”

“Jin and I are in the club, by the way!” he reminds you, perking up slightly now that you indirectly acknowledged where he is and who he’s with.

“Mhmm.”

Just one last pathetic attempt of skirting around and if it doesn’t work, Yoongi will immediately come home to you.

“Is the popcorn good?” 

Read: it doesn’t work.

Jin steals his phone back before he could even hear your response to his dumb-witted question, getting a painful run-down from his friend instead. “You’re painful to watch, y’know that?”

He sighs disappointedly at Yoongi, rolling his eyes before pressing the phone to his ear. “So? What’s it taste like? It’s not really oily, I told you already. The cheese doesn’t smell obnoxious either. Because actually — exactly! It doesn’t stain your fingers!”

Yoongi… will lose it. But before he loses it completely, he gathers all his remaining sanity to continue your tradition while Jin keeps you preoccupied. He spots two things quickly and puts it into his arms with no semblance of shame, even if Jin’s bodyguards saw him technically shoplifting. Yoongi thinks it doesn’t count as such because Jin already knows about the tradition between the two of you, and as predicted, his friend just waves him off in acknowledgement.

It’s a tiny tradition.

Whenever one of you goes somewhere without the other, it’s a rule to bring back a souvenir. There’s no specifications to it, just whatever item you could bring back as proof that you thought about the other while you were out.

Some of the souvenirs you brought home to Yoongi: a pretty rock, a duvet cover, a liter of hand sanitizer, a designer card wallet, and a scrunchie with his name embroidered on it.

Some of the souvenirs Yoongi brought home to you: a fancy teaspoon, a hotel pillow, ten perfume testers at the same time, a remote holder, and a teddy bear with his voice as its squeezable heart.

Yoongi thinks that he doesn’t have shoplifting tendencies but in hindsight of some of the souvenirs he’s gotten you, there may be a pattern to it.

“You brought home... a shot glass.”

You look at the tiny glass, the remnants of electrolyte water still swishing around it.

“Wrong,” he sternly replies, bringing an item from behind his back that couldn’t be anymore obvious even if he tried. “I brought home a shot glass and a tiny potted plant.”

“Since when did bars have potted plants?” you mutter in disbelief, taking the miniature bonsai from him and looking at it in wonder.

“Since tonight! Jin’s, I don’t know, entrepreneurial like that. I wanted to show it to you so I brought it home.”

Your husband says it’s like the most obvious thing to do; his desire for you to know that he indeed thought about you while he was gone manifesting into bringing home one shot glass, and one tiny bonsai to prove it.

“You stole it, Yoongs.”

The amusement lilts in your voice and Yoongi catches on to it, but he just can’t seem to let it go, a little upset that you’re focused on him “stealing” it instead of the fact that he’d go through whatever lengths for you.

“Again, I brought it home because I wanted you to see it!”

“You could’ve just sent me a picture,” you giggle, setting down the pot on your side table. You peel back the covers you momentarily left, patting the spot beside you and Yoongi clearly could not have went to bed any more eager than this.

“How was I supposed to know?” he mumbles in defeat, a frown on his face. “You probably would’ve iced me out.”

“You didn’t even ask me what time I’d get home.” 

Yoongi sighs and even if the moment’s already been significantly lightened with the souvenirs, it brings you a greater relief now that your husband’s choosing to say what’s exactly bothering him instead of pissing you off.

“You didn’t even chase me through the door! I didn’t even want to go!” he’s almost one step into a tantrum and you have to hold him by the arm to not get too carried away by reminiscing, rolling your eyes when you hold him closer.

“You went out because you thought I’d chase you.”

“Exactly,” he affirms, albeit a little upset now that he’s confirmed you knew all along. “Can’t you just chase after me?” Yoongi asks innocently, soft eyes staring you down.

The moment’s too tender that it makes your shoulders hunch, hand automatically moving to the side of his face to guide him into nuzzling into the crook of your neck — a move he looks forward to especially after tonight.

“I’m not always gonna chase after you, Yoongi,” you confide, lips brushing on his temple. “You’re just so damn stubborn sometimes. Like, makes-my-jaw-clench type of stubborn.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes, his face still buried to your neck with his arms clinging around your middle. “I guess I’m just so used to you making amends with me that it makes me act out on purpose.”

Yoongi faults himself at the end of the night this time, without your prompting, and you can’t deny that it makes your heart full.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

He lifts his head up to look at you directly, lips puffed into a pout with his eyes in slow blinks. “Yoongi’s very sorry.”

Maybe you spoke too soon. Maybe Yoongi’s just always gonna be slightly annoying.

“Did you just talk about yourself in third-person?” you mumble, eyes suddenly snapping open when it sinks into you.

“Isn’t it cuter that way? Is it working?” your husband heartily laughs, stretching his arms out to put around you and invade your personal space even more. “Why, do you feel it working?”

“I don’t know what to feel about it, that’s for sure,” you chuckle, the atmosphere completely lightened at this point.

“I promise I’ll try not to be difficult anymore. Won’t piss you off either.”

“That doesn’t happen overnight, Yoonie.” 

Yoongi’s just… mischievous. His love language was to pull stuff with you and although it keeps you on your toes more often than necessary, you wouldn’t be tired of him.

“Tell you what, promise me this instead,” you turn right when Yoongi was about to do it himself so he could bury his face to the crook of your neck again, blinking owlishly to listen at what you have to say.

“Try to chase after me too. Let me be the difficult one sometimes.” 

Yoongi smiles, the switch being more than intriguing. “M’kay. That’s not as hard to promise doing.”

The concept of it makes him happy too much that it lingers there, reverting back to calling you his term of endearment for you and that’s when you know that there’s nothing left unresolved between the two of you now.

“I like that, bear. You should try picking fights with me too. It’s fun sometimes, trust me!”

“I can tell,” you hum, blindly reaching out your arm to turn off the nightlight at your side.

“Yoongi likes that.”

“Stop talking about yourself in third person.”

“I think it’s already growing on me,” Yoongi admits, tilting his head and knowing for a fact that it would take more than fifteen minutes to sleep tonight while in thought.

“Is it gonna stick?” 

The groan leaves you automatically and by the lack of response, you already know your answer.

“Bear,” you hum. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna pick a fight with you tomorrow, alright?”

“M’kay! Remind me tomorrow what time you’re gonna start pissing me off, yeah?” he grins from ear to ear, not requiring a nightlight to see that your husband looks at you so fondly.

“Good night, baby,” Yoongi finally bids you, pressing a tender kiss right to your lips before tucking you with the comforter exactly how you liked it. “Loving you is my favorite part of the chase.”

sooooo… am i the only one who prefers john ambrose over peter?

boyfriend things OT7

first edition - middle of the night

second edition - love at home

third edition - post break up

fourth edition - dancing

fifth edition - there’s nobody else

sixth edition - love in primary colors

seventh edition - one day at a time

eighth edition - kisses

ninth edition - dreams in reality

tenth edition - hugs

eleventh edition - when you lay in between my legs it doesn’t matter

twelfth edition - human and love sound similar don’t you think so?

thirteenth edition - heavier ground

fourteenth edition - you should have turned the page

fifteenth edition - what if your love radiates his name through your gaze

sixteenth edition - peace is closer than you realize

seventeenth edition - coming soon!