Bang Chan (S-Class)

Bang Chan ✧ 특(S-Class)

Seungmin x Quality time for the weekend❤

This is actually one of my comfort fics. His character is so healing.

what i’m looking for

you, quite literally, run into kim seungmin on your escape from an arranged marriage.

tags: strangers to lovers, hidden identity, she/her!reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.4k

you never thought you would be in a situation like this, running through the woods in poorly fitting clothes and shoes, branches snagging at your hair and arms as you wind your way through the forest searching for something, anything. and yet, here you are. cursed engagement ring hidden away in your satchel along with a pocket of gold coins and whatever stale pieces of food your handmaid was able to steal for you before you took your leave.

you’re surprised it took you until a week before your wedding to run away, but you were never one to back down from a challenge; you tried everything you could think of to call it off, but your parents wouldn’t budge. something about it being the best decision for the kingdom, or whatever - nevermind what you want. nevermind that your brother would become king and therefore you were simply a bargaining chip to be used for political power. nevermind the reputation of your betrothed, the reputation of his kingdom and how they treat women like you. nevermind that they’re sending you into a life of despair and discomfort. 

the cool dusk breeze beating against your face feels almost euphoric as you sprint, cautiously looking behind you to make sure you’re not being followed. surely someone had noticed your departure? but you made sure to cover your tracks well; the boots you’re wearing are several sizes too big, stuffed with cloth to ease the fit, and any tracker would dismiss them on their hunt for you. 

you’re abruptly sent down to the forest floor when a boy appears almost out of nowhere, tripping you and making you lose your footing. he tumbles down with you, taking the brunt of your fall, and annoyance pings within you when he groans at the impact. you’re scrambling off his lap as fast as you can, hands scrabbling at dried leaves on the ground that stick to your palms. 

“where did you come from?” you demand, watching him stand up with an indignant look on his face. his pouty lips are twisted into a frown and his hair is fluffed up from his fall. in any other situation you might think he was cute. “do you not watch where you’re going?”

“oh sorry, i’m not really used to people running through my property,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and a reprimand that you have to tamp down sits at the tip of your tongue. for all he knows, you’re a commoner; announcing that he should be aware of your royal status and that technically, you own this property probably isn’t the best move. he would turn you in faster than you can speak your own name, collecting whatever reward your father most likely posted in return for your safe delivery back to the palace. 

“your property?” you land on, feeling it a safe question. you look past his head and notice a tiny cottage a few yards away, ivy lining the bricks and a soft puff of smoke escaping from the chimney. 

“yes,” he drawls out, as if talking to a child. “the place where i reside. you know, sleep and eat. surely you know what that is?”

“of course i do,” you huff, crossing your arms. did you look homeless to him, or something? a terrible idea sparks in the back of your mind as he looks away from you and you notice the rapidly setting sun. it hits you that you had no plan, nowhere to go, nothing to eat and no shelter for the night.

“anyways. enjoy the rest of your. jog?” he says, voice lilting up at the end like he’s not sure whether or not to be suspicious of you. he turns to walk away and a flash of panic takes over your body.

“wait!” you lunge to grip at his sleeve, a display of impropriety that you usually wouldn’t let yourself indulge in with anyone other than your closest advisors. the material feels rough under your skin, as do the borrowed clothes hanging off of your shoulders. “do you have an extra room? or a mat on the floor? i can pay you, i just need somewhere to stay.”

“what, are you on the run or something?” a spark lights in his eyes, and your hair stands on end when you realize that he’s amused. as if he knows anything about you.

“or something,” you grit out, knowing that whatever sarcastic comment that you want to make probably won’t end up with him agreeing to let you in. despite his inarguably annoying personality, he has a house, and you need him right now. you can’t imagine that you’ll run into anyone else tonight, and sleeping on the forest floor does not seem safe. 

“how much?” he says, quirking an eyebrow up. you mentally cringe at the amount of money you have hidden away in your bag, 

“enough,” you squint your eyes at him, gauging him. he meets your gaze for an impressive amount of time before nodding his head towards the small building and starting his trek. 

“what’s your name?” you ask, following behind him, knowing but not caring that not offering yours first was rude. he looks back at you for a beat of time before shrugging. 

“kim seungmin. and you?”

you give him your name, grateful to your parents for the first time in a while. they kept your true name hidden from anyone outside of the palace, and their secrecy was annoying until this very moment. it would be nice to be called something other than princess for a while, you’re sure. 

he mouths your name, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before grinning. 

“well then, welcome to my home. i’ll make up a cot for you in the living room, are you hungry?” he rambles as he lets you in, closing and locking the door behind you. the skeptic sarcastic you met outside seems to melt away to reveal slumped shoulders and tired eyes, unmasked by the comfort of his space. it warms you up along with the shelter of a roof, a reprieve from the biting cold of the outside. 

he doesn’t wait for your answer before walking off, leaving you to stand between the small kitchen and cozy looking living room. there’s small trinkets strewn around, soft mismatched couches with worn blankets and a rickety looking kitchen table surrounded by stools. he returns with a thin padded mattress and a pillow and he sets it down by the burning fireplace. it’s not the luxurious four post bed that you’re used to, but it’ll do.

“let me treat that for you,” he gestures at your knees, where small dots of blood seep through a tear in your trousers. there’s a small scrape you didn’t notice until now, the sting making itself known when you bend your leg just a bit to get a better look. 

“it’s just a scratch,” you protest, not wanting to bite off more than you can chew with him. you already owe him for letting you in, you don’t want to think about how fast your reserves will dwindle down if he does you any more favors.

“please, i insist,” he guides you to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen table before reaching into the cabinet next to him. “i’m an apothecary, and i know my way around basic medicine. it’s not a big deal.”

you nod stiffly and let him inspect the small wound, the breath leaving you when he drops to his knees in front of you to get a better look. he rolls up your pant leg and he cleans it with rapt attention, making sure not to press too hard, and applies a greenish looking salve onto it.

“there, all done,” he says, patting the bandage he had wrapped around it before letting the cloth of your trousers back down. 

“thank you,” you say, genuine in the way his returning smile is. you reach into your bag, fishing for the small bag of coins. “how much? i can pay you in advance for letting me stay, and for this.”

“keep it,” he says, voice even softer than it was before. “you can help me around the house. the weeding, or gathering wood for the fire. i don’t want your money, not when you probably need it more than i do. i make enough to get by.”

so you do. the first morning you stumble through the garden, side by side with him as he shows you which plants in his garden were herbs he could use for his medicines and which were leeching weeds that needed to be plucked before they took over the entire space. he disappears to town in the afternoon, delivering medicines and coming back with a pocket jingling with coins and a bag full of fresh pastries for the both of you. they taste better than anything you’ve eaten from the palace cooks, and you can’t help the way you moan around the cherry hand pie. you catch his eye and he meets it before you both dissolve into giggles, leaning into each other’s space on the same side of the table. 

he helps you wash your clothes that night, tutting at how you only have one pair. he lends you a pair of his, an old set that he doesn’t wear anymore. you lay at night and swipe the fabric between your fingers, smiling at the gesture even though he isn’t there to receive it.

his kindness shocks you, you’re not used to people doing things for you without the authority of the crown making them or them demanding something in return. it’s nice, knowing that there’s people in your kingdom that contain such compassion, especially for strangers. 

the next day he takes you deeper into the forest to pick berries, and the red and purple bursted splotches staining your fingertips for hours after. he feeds you some with his bare hand, swiping his thumb against the corner of your mouth when sweet juice escapes it. you bristle at the action and he laughs, and you have to hide your smile in your sleeve as you wipe the rest off yourself. you stay out until the sun begins to set, him busy teaching you about every type of plant the two of you come across on your stroll and you listening with rapt attention. his voice is soothing, words speeding up and slurring together a bit when he finds something particularly interesting that he wants to show you. he makes you feel almost like when you were a child studying with your tutors, quizzing you every now and then to test your retention, but the smile he rewards you with is better than anything they ever gave you. 

on the third day, he’s gone before you wake. he left a note on the table for you stating that he had to go to town for a medical emergency, and that there was bread and cheese in one of the cupboards for you to eat while he was away. you busy yourself with two knitting needles and a ball of thread you find in the living room, trying and failing to create a pattern of knots. he comes home as the sun is setting, the last rays making his hair a honeyed brown and his skin glow. your stomach clenches at the sight of him, the relief you’re feeling foreign to your body. 

he grins at the sight of you surrounded by unraveled strings and gently pries your hands from the needles where they had become clenched. he wordlessly shows you how to create simple weaves with the needles, and you have to ask him to show you twice because you’re too busy staring at his tongue poking from his lips to focus the first time around. you end up with a wobbly looking hat, some knots too bit and some too tight that create gaping holes in weird places, but he places it on his head and thanks you for it anyways.

“you have a lot of secrets,” he muses the next night, sipping tea with you by the fireplace. you almost lose your grip on the mug from his abruptness.

“i do?” you ask, not willing to give away information that he doesn’t already have. you had spent the day in companionship, trading back quips and sarcastic comments between meals. he taught you about the medicines he was making that day, explaining each ingredient and its properties as he cut them up and beat them into a paste. his comment was out of place, but it’s something you’ve come to expect from him; there’s no predictability to him past the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles and the way his face goes soft when he looks at you. 

“you pretend you’re a commoner, but your hands are free of callouses. your hair is full and healthy, you speak formally, you’re clearly well off. or at least, you were. what i don’t understand is why you decided to leave that behind.” his bottom lip is twisting between his teeth, not knowing whether he’s crossed a line with you.

“true,” you admit, wrapping your hands further around your tea and letting the warmth seep into your hands. it grounds you. “i didn’t think i had a choice. i wanted to make my own decisions, wanted to decide my own fate, not have someone do it for me. i felt suffocated, so i just. left. i don’t know what i was looking for, but i needed to get out.”

“have you found it?” he says, peering at you from above his mug as he takes a long sip. “what you’re looking for?”

“maybe,” you pause, looking into his eyes. they’re cocoa-dusted brown, the fire dancing across his pupils. he looks away after a moment, and you’re grateful for it. you wouldn’t want him to see the flush thats traveled up to your cheeks and ears. 

by the fifth day, you’re able to identify the uncomfortable feeling in your gut whenever he walks into a room. or looks at you. or breathes, really. 

you’re falling for him. 

you’re not in love with him, you’re not so deluded by his puppy-like charm and stupid smile and cute teeth and sparkly eyes that you’re calling it love. you can simply identify the feeling of free falling as clearly as it was laid out in the novels you used to sneak into your room to read by the candlelight before bed. 

it isn’t as difficult to look him in the eyes after you’ve identified it as you thought it would be. if anything, you’re even more drawn to his magnetism, your body moving towards his without your permission at any given time. while he’s preparing lunch, or chopping herbs, or telling you about his trip to town, you’re in his space. and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seems to gravitate towards you with the same intensity, or you hope so at least; it isn’t unrealistic that it’s your rose-colored vision making you see things that aren’t there. 

regardless, it brings something more dangerous to your attention: hope. the hope that maybe, this could be a life for you. that this temporary stop in your journey might become permanent. that you’re far enough from your home that no one will recognize you if you step into town, that you could spend the rest of your days with him in this cottage, eating pastries and knitting and picking berries. 

there was no need to tell him that now. you were fine with the way things were, you were still technically engaged, and you didn’t even know if you were ready for something like that. for the infinite time since you can remember, you’re cursing your sheltered upbringing for not teaching you how to live.

it’s on the sixth day that things go crumbling down.

he’s gone again, leaving you in comfortable silence broken up by birds chirping outside and the sound of leaves rustling past the windows. it’s domestic, the way he works during the morning and comes home a few hours later to you twiddling the knitting needles between your hands, a ball of yarn by your feet and a haphazard scarf forming under them. 

“your highness?” he says, and you hear a rustle of paper, him putting his mail down most likely.

“hmm?” you sound absentmindedly, still focused on the knitting you’re trying to painstakingly learn. it hits you a moment later what he said, and you drop the scarf and needles with a gasp. you look up to see your worst nightmare in the form of him holding up a missing persons poster, a drawn image of your face adorning the middle and your name plastered underneath. missing princess, it reads, complete with a reward for your safe return. you knew this would happen, you just didn’t think it would happen so soon. a day before your wedding. you thought you had more time. you were so close to your freedom, and you could feel it slipping through your fingers.

“shit,” you curse, hiding your face in your hands so you don’t have to take in the shocked look on his face. you feel all the blood in your head rushing south, leaving you lightheaded and overwhelmed.

“you’re the princess?” he clearly has no care for your distress in this moment as he stalks towards you, the poster crumpling in his hand when it curls into a fist. “i’ve been harboring the missing princess in my home?”

“yes?” you mumble into your fingers, letting the despair settle in your traitorous stomach. he lets out a sharp breath through his teeth and you flinch, thoughts swirling.

“do you know what would happen to me if anyone finds out i’ve been keeping you here? prison would be a paradise.” you hear his feet bringing him closer to you, each drop synchronizing with your heart beating in your throat.

“please,” you remove your hands, sniffling when a traitorous tear traces down your face. “don’t send me back. i’ll give you all the money i have, just don’t send me back there.”

“hey,” he soothes, anger melting into concern as he folds to his knees in front of you. “i won’t. i wouldn’t. i just- why didn’t you tell me?”

“i didn’t know if i could trust you, at first,” you stutter out, ignoring the way your heart clenches when his face falls. “and after…there wasn’t a good time.”

“why would you give all that up? a life of luxury, never needing to ask for anything, why would you leave that to spend your days here? don’t you want to marry some prince and live in your castle?”

“i don’t want some prince. i want you,” your voice is wobbly, vision clouded by the tears you won’t let fall, but your intention is clear.

“you can’t just-” he cuts himself off, taking in a sharp breath through his nose. “you can’t want me. i’m nobody.”

“you’re not,” you press, standing until you’re level with him. “don’t you understand? it’s you. you were what i was looking for all this time.”

“but,” he protests, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up from its careful placement. “why me?”

“you’re my home, seungmin. i’ve never felt more safe or more comfortable than i have within these walls.” desperate tears continue to sting at your eyes, and he reaches to wipe them away before he can help himself. your palms move to cup his hands to your face, keeping his warmth there. “you’re the only one who sees me as more than just something they can use, you see me. please don’t send me away.”

“would you be happy here?” he asks, voice trembling. he wants you to stay.

“i’ve been happier these past six days than i’ve been my entire life.”

he surges to kiss you, finally letting your lips touch after days of lingering glances, and it feels like coming home.

you didn’t know if you would go back to the palace, but you knew you had responsibilities that you couldn’t just ignore and that you had to deal with them soon. what you were completely sure of was that, despite the wishes of your family, you won’t marry at all if you aren’t marrying him. 

ARI’S 2000 FOLLOWER EVENT!!!

welcome to my 2K follower event! With the help of my lovely @astralis-is-typing here is my event! Thank you all so so much for the love and support! I’m so happy that 2000 of you enjoy my work and I’ll continue to make pieces you all love!

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We lost the Summer

⚝fic type: Y/A (coming-of-age)

⚝genre/contains: huening kai x reader, fluff, angst, gn!reader, non-idol!au, friends2lovers if you wish on your lucky stars haha

⚝warnings: quite a few mentions of food (mostly ice-cream), one mention of alcohol (beer), brief mention of bullying (unspecified)

⚝word count: 2.5k, pt 1/2 (part 2)

⚝A/N: To help combat the lack of stand-alone hyuka fics on here ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ As the title suggests, this is inspired by the song of the same name by txt! Hope that helps explain why I'm posting a winter-themed fic on the onset of summer lol.

You always seemed to be missing a piece of stationery in 5th grade. Every time a lost pencil was replaced by your exasperated mother, there went your ruler the following week. It wasn’t until halfway into the term that you realized it was your plushie-loving deskmate, Kai. His speciality was pickpocketing your array of coloured glitter pens. Those were his favourite. It boiled your blood immensely but your teacher refused to change the seating plan, no matter how much you pleaded.

Between this and his penchant for tearing up pieces of paper to bits, you don’t even know how you and Huening Kai became friends.

It perhaps started as a result of one of his hushed comments about another classmate. He reminded you a lot of one of your aunts who loved to gossip. He even eagerly leaned in just like she did whenever you quickly whispered the latest playground drama into his awaiting ear. Kai would be stifling snorts as you exchanged notes under your shared table while your unsuspecting teacher jotted endless notes onto the whiteboard.

Sometimes, you thought he did this to make you feel better about the bullying you went through. If Kai ever found you sitting alone in class, sad after someone taunted you, he’d immediately crack a joke to make you feel better. All the kids were a little mean to each other, you’d try reason to yourself that way in a bid to keep what you thought was self-pity at bay. You just never really learned the art of sticking up for yourself. Kai took your mind off it. It was the best he could do as he hated confrontations of any kind.

Eventually, your friendship grew firm enough to bloom outside the confines of your school’s walls. It was a surprise to find out you lived on the same street. You’d never seen him while playing outside, but he explained his family would go visit his grandparents in another part of town on most weekends.

To add to that, Kai was quite the homebody and preferred to hole up in his room playing video games (while being surrounded by a hoard of stuffed animals) during his down time. This gradually changed the longer you two were friends. You lured him out of his den to be your dance buddy with promises of mint-chocolate ice cream and skittles as a reward.

You’d spend your weekends in each other’s company, bouncing between each other’s houses. You had been formally introduced to all his plushies, and your mom always served Kai extra helpings of whatever she was cooking when he came over.

The memory makes you sigh as you stand outside an ice-cream shop deciding what to order. The cool November breeze feels delicious as you stretch your legs after a long morning of studying in your university’s stuffy library. Your habit of eating ice-cream no matter the season had extended to your adult life. Other customers– bundled in their winter coats– eye you weirdly as you determinedly go over the shop’s ice-cream menu. Exam season was around the corner and the hours you had been putting in were starting to catch up with you. It showed through the eye bags sagging underneath your tired eyes and the yawns you barely manage to stifle under a gloved palm.

You’d moved to a different city after high school following your acceptance into a university there. The institution had been your second option– you’d narrowly missed your first and that fact had left you sour for months. Nevertheless, the classes were going good and the people you had met so far were nice enough… but when it came to finding a place that suited your niche for some much needed ‘me time’, you weren’t in luck. You missed your happy place, the record shop back home. No place in the city had offered you that comforting familiarity so far. It was quite a daunting experience to have to find new spots outside of your dorm to unwind.

You’d sometimes pop into that corner store even when you didn’t have the money to buy new music– just to look at what albums were up. The owner who’d come to know you well had gifted you an album when you graduated. You’d been saving up for the vinyl version so you could listen to it on the record player Kai got you for your thirteenth birthday.

He bought it for himself, really– because within a few months your shelves were filled with more of his albums than your own. He claimed he was tired of using the old gramophone his grandmother had given them, and would stumble into your room on a Saturday afternoon with his arms stacked with albums.

Sometimes, they were so many he’d have to cage the top of the hoard in with his chin. He’d be leaning back from the weight, his long black bangs obscuring his eyesight, and by the time he got to your doorstep the stack was teetering so precariously your mother had to relieve him of nearly half the collection as the two of them lugged the heap into the house.

Almost all your childhood memories contained Kai.

It made you dimly think that it wasn’t the places back home you missed. Rather, the memories they held. And if so many of these memories were about Kai then you should probably stop beating around the bush, and admit that you indeed missed him. You'd catch yourself checking your calendar more often than you cared to admit, having randomly remembered a date that was important to the two of you.

Every lunar eclipse, the Wednesday specials at your favourite restaurant, all his plushies’ birthdays, rock collectors’ day… all these silly little events that brought you two joy in between your harrowing school life. At the end of a long week- no matter what any of your classmates had said or the tests Kai had flunked– the two of you would still be able to scramble to his or your dining table with smiles, eagerly waiting for dinner.

You and Kai had unfortunately drifted apart towards the end of high school and over the course of the months spent in a new city you’d been convincing yourself that it didn’t bother you as much as you knew it did– deep down. You reckoned that even when you went back home at the end of the semester, the two of you wouldn’t have much in common. You had matured over time and you were sure Kai had too.

A big part of your moving away was about becoming a better version of yourself– away from the influences you grew up with. Initially, it had been a real struggle to find your footing; you subconsciously felt that you had something to prove to the kids you went to school with. They were always putting you down and you had ended up changing so many aspects of yourself at the time and sucking up to them to be more likeable.

You’d started hanging out with a different crowd around your senior year, ironically containing some of the people who would bully you. It was easier to ignore that fact than the spurts of serotonin you got every time you said something witty enough to make them laugh. Your school didn’t have much of a social hierarchy, so you wouldn’t necessarily call them the ‘cool kids’. That was far too cliché. They were just… different. Wholly unlike your small group of friends that you’d had previously.

It irked Kai, seeing you put up some type of façade. Granted, he had begun to change too, becoming more temperamental in his late teenage years. To you, he was far too moody and snapped too often. So many of your little arguments turned into big fights and eventually there was an ice wall between the two of you.

The tension had really stressed you out at first, but your mother had told you to give things time to cool down. Your family was still wholesomely pleasant to Kai, even though his visits became few and far in between. She’d said that the two of you would still be friends in the end, that if it was ‘meant to be’ it would work itself out. You had been sceptical about that take, and even more so when her advice didn’t work.

He stopped coming over, the few albums he’d left on your shelf abandoned and gradually gathering dust as you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to them without him. The two of you were exchanging nothing more than rushed pleasantries in the hallways by that point.

Wandering through the city alone reminded you strongly of those lonely lunch time hours following your fallout with Kai. You would usually run all your plans through him and the two of you would figure out what to do together. Nevertheless, the loneliness taught you to have some individuality, and there were no ‘if’s or ‘but’s about that. It was the trait you admired most in Kai. His ability to block out all the noise and do whatever the heck he wanted.

Kai never succumbed to peer pressure, even at a young age. More so during the onslaught of crush culture, when he simply laughed (unnecessarily loud) at the antics your classmates pulled to impress their desired guy or girl. Huening Kai would be caught dead sacrificing his lunch money to woo someone with a gift he bought instead. When he was on the receiving end of such bestowals, however, his boisterous laughter would be replaced with a bashful giggle as he amicably thanked whoever gifted him.

You’d caught yourself gazing at him rather too fondly yourself… noticing little attributes that endeared him to you in a way that sparked a foreign sensation in your gut. The way his lips puckered when he had his cheeks stuffed with a cupcake, the faint smell of his mother’s favourite detergent that lingered on your pillow long after a sleepover had ended… the teasing lilt his voice would adopt as he called out your name while messily tying his soccer cleats’ laces...

Some days you would run ahead of him just to hear it, leaving him to struggle as he hunkered down in a corner of the grassy soccer pitch. However, your older sister had advised you against making any kind of move. Having been the victim of unsuccessful confessions herself, she’d warned that you would be ruining a good friendship. And so your budding infatuation simmered to an eventual halt.

—

Walking the familiar path back to the university, you were drawn out of your reverie by a dog running up to you and wagging its tail at your feet. The poor thing barely reached your shin and your heart swelled at the sight of its tiny brown frame. Its owner smiled at you cordially as you reached down to pat it, its fluffy fur comforting you even through your gloves as you hold your ice-cream at arm’s length with your other hand. The best part about winter-time ice-cream sprees was that you didn’t need to worry much about it melting and dripping onto the pup.

As it merrily trotted back to its owner you took a short lick of your treat with a smile on your face, marvelling at how such a small encounter could change the course of your day for the better. It was these little excitements that reminded you of why you’d taken the chance and moved.

The city isn't all bad, you muse, looking into the buildings you pass that are buzzing with activity as the day wears on. As you’d previously established, the people around here were nice. You’d made at least one good friend this semester. A lanky, fluffy haired boy named Soobin. Oh, how you wish you could stuff him in your pocket! Sure, you had to crane your neck up to look him in the eye and his hands were so big that your face could fit in one alone, but his soft disposition absolved your initial intimidation.

Soobin was in your economics class and had approached you in the cafeteria two weeks into the term, offering you a seat at his lunch table with a few of his friends. The space was so huge and it was jarring trying to find a place to sit. You remember shyly agreeing; silently kicking yourself for managing to give off a ‘lost puppy’ kind of vibe when you were supposed to be making a shot at being independent. By now, however, you had gotten sufficient time to practice– there were so many decisions you had to make for yourself now... socially, mentally and especially financially.

Hacking this new chapter of your life solo had been a tempting plan, but Soobin was fun to be around. Between your shared love for gaming and his seemingly aloof personality that complemented your over-analysing one, the two of you made quite the pair. On top of that he was a great wingman on the rare occasion you met someone you found cute at a fair or convention.

You hadn’t yet been swept up by the notorious college night life (not with the workload your major came with), but Soobin was still with you the few times you’d actually attend a party. He’s the one who would get you invited anyway; you didn’t know how he did it since he was such a homebody. Him sticking with you had more to do with keeping you from escaping than anything else, though.

“You really need to enjoy this time while you’re at it,” he had tried persuading you on one such occasion, switching your mocktail for a beer. You’d been quick to shove it back in his retreating hand, spilling a little of your drink on your shorts in the process. He’d laughed at you rumbustiously for what felt like forever until you nagged him, calling him by his full name and ordering him to go get you a napkin.

“You’ll miss these opportunities sorely when you’re like, forty and have kids to feed.” He’d called back ominously as he disappeared into the crowd. He was still rambling on about how these were the ‘prime years’ of your life while being swept up into the sea of swaying bodies and you struggled to hear him over the bass of the pop song blaring through the speakers. You vaguely recalled that it was your sister’s favourite and raised a glass in her honour. Somehow, you managed to spill even more of your drink in the process. Soobin just happened to return at that moment, and your dimpled friend could barely contain his amusement even when shot with the deadliest glare you could muster.

The pleasure Soobin derived from your misfortunes strongly reminded you of Kai, who’s favourite misgiving of yours was your clumsiness. You vividly remember a day when you were rushing from math to P.E., attempting to tie your shoelaces while standing. As you tumbled to the ground in a hazardous heap, his laugh echoed down the hallways, causing teachers in the nearby classrooms to peep through their respective doors and glare at you two disapprovingly.

⚝A/N: I've been working on this story for quite a while and I'm happy with the way it's turning out :) I'd love to hear your thoughts xx

So excited to be participating 🥰

May/June 2023 event participation

Hello everyone & thank you to those who have expressed interest in our first event, blossoming love!

As the deadline to submit an entry (June 20th) approaches, we'd like to check with authors if they still would like to participate!

In other words, please confirm your participation to the event by reblogging this post (if impossible, please send an ask!) if you intend on submitting an entry!

I will be tagging everyone who has previously expressed interest on the event's post, but not as an obligation. Feel free to ignore, but if you intend on submitting, we'd love a confirmation! If you hadn't commented on previous posts, you are still VERY MUCH welcome to join, simply reblog this post to confirm your participation!

Have a nice weekend! 🌸

@writerastray ~ @j-0ne25 ~ @candlewaxandp0lar0ids ~ @leebitsimpracha ~ @yoongihan ~ @cb97percent ~ @straywrds

(thank you for your interest in our event!)