Mxrcayong-main - Gracie - Tumblr Blog

Resources for Writing Injuries

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Head Injuries

General Information | More

Hematoma

Hemorrhage

Concussion

Edema

Skull Fracture

Diffuse Axonal Injury

Neck

General Information

Neck sprain

Herniated Disk

Pinched Nerve

Cervical Fracture

Broken Neck

Chest (Thoracic)

General Information

Aortic disruption

Blunt cardiac injury

Cardiac tamponade

Flail chest

Hemothorax

Pneumothorax (traumatic pneumothorax, open pneumothorax, and tension pneumothorax)

Pulmonary contusion

Broken Ribs

Broken Collarbone

Abdominal

General Information

Blunt trauma

Penetrating injuries (see also, gunshot wound & stab wound sections)

Broken Spine

Lung Trauma

Heart (Blunt Cardiac Injury)

Bladder Trauma

Spleen Trauma

Intestinal Trauma

Liver Trauma

Pancreas Trauma

Kidney Trauma

Arms/Hands/Legs/Feet

General Information | More

Fractures

Dislocations

Sprains

Strains

Muscle Overuse

Muscle Bruise

Bone Bruise

Carpal tunnel syndrome

Tendon pain

Bruises

Injuries to ligaments

Injuries to tendons

Crushed Hand

Crushed Foot

Broken Hand

Broken Foot

Broken Ankle

Broken Wrist

Broken Arm

Shoulder Trauma

Broken elbow

Broken Knee

Broken Finger

Broken Toe

Face

General Information

Broken Nose

Corneal Abrasion

Chemical Eye Burns

Subconjunctival Hemorrhages (Eye Bleeding)

Facial Trauma

Broken/Dislocated jaw

Fractured Cheekbone

Skin & Bleeding

General Information (Skin Injuries) | More (Arteries)

femoral artery (inner thigh)

thoracic aorta (chest & heart)

abdominal aorta (abdomen)

brachial artery (upper arm)

radial artery (hand & forearm)

common carotid artery (neck)

aorta (heart & abdomen)

axillary artery (underarm)

popliteal artery (knee & outer thigh)

anterior tibial artery (shin & ankle)

posterior tibial artery (calf & heel)

arteria dorsalis pedis (foot)

Cuts/Lacerations

Scrapes

Abrasions (Floor burns)

Bruises

Gunshot Wounds

General Information

In the Head

In the Neck

In the Shoulders

In the Chest

In the Abdomen

In the Legs/Arms

In the Hands

In The Feet

Stab Wounds

General Information

In the Head

In the Neck

In the Chest

In the Abdomen

In the Legs/Arms

General Resources

Guide to Story Researching

A Writer’s Thesaurus

Words To Describe Body Types and How They Move

Words To Describe…

Writing Intense Scenes

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

If you enjoy my blog and wish for it to continue being updated frequently and for me to continue putting my energy toward answering your questions, please consider Buying Me A Coffee, or pledging your support on Patreon, where I offer early access and exclusive benefits for only $5/month.

Shoutout to my $15+ patrons, Jade Ashley and Douglas S.!

Is English your first language? I’ve noticed how bad your grammar is while reading your writing and I just wanted to know.

No. English is not my first language. I'm working hard to improve my writing skills so...

i dont usually read stuff with smut due to what this piece describes as virginal eyes through this piece of work  (explanation below, i dont hate smut im just dumb)  but holy fuck this is amazing and i aspire to write like this

like the time jumps were so well done?? like i used to do film stuff so like i like reading and being able to picture stuff in a film /visual format bc thats how i best understand plots and i could really see this in like a deep HIMYM moments

also the advice?? i was touched?? and it low key motivated me??? i fucking screenshotted it to look back on because i always like to control things and maybe i should jsut focus on controlling my reactions idk (y’all seen my rant and uncontrolled and unfiltered and angry-mood writing abt nct-hollywood, full of spelling errors)

and then how the beginning is added again and referenced? im a fucking sucker for foreshadowing

also i love college au’s bc y’know college life is shit so i like to read about these college lives and then this made me realise how much i love the fake dating tropes

OMG and hte hamilton reference killed me and i had a ton more teasing in my head for the my shot thing 

this is high key what i aspire to write bc i bet you, this fic wont get out of my head for the next year and its gonna just come into my mind when i least expect it

this is like *mwah* like i teared up, i laughed a lot (the ending killed me) and.like i left it wanting to have the same experiences written in this story (like in terms of the beer talks, and the calling sl*t, and the teasing and the kahoot game and omg) 

basically im obsessed w this fic and so happy this came up on my feed 

explanation for the smut bc i know ive heard a lot of people hate on the smut community (and this hate is bullshit) its purely bc im inexperienced w that stuff and get uncomfy reading it bc i cant properly envision/picture it + ngl sex sounds scary to me so again, i believe smut writing is an art but its an art i cannot appreciate fully bc of my virginal eyes and virginal experiences where i cannot fully appreciate wahts being written bc im kunfused

ploys and plays / jjh

pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

When you signed up for theatre club in your second year of college, you thought you'd be writing scripts and painting sets. Instead you're constantly fighting your costar, and the feelings you have for him, too.

word count: 17.4k

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, fluff, angst (a little bit), smut, handjob (f receiving), overuse of pet names, kissing, drinking, cliche truth or dare scene, very strong bond between reader and her group of friends that i enjoyed writing very much

notes: reader's gang is composed of renjun, hyuck, and ryujin!

hi!!! this is something I genuinely enjoyed writing. I hope you enjoy reading the dynamic between the reader and jaehyun, and the reader and her friends :)

—

“The truth is, I think I’m starting to love you.”

You stare into his eyes, full of curiosity and amusement. Despite the serious moment, where everything and you mean everything around you is silent, he smiles, as if to tell you that it’s okay. That it’ll all be okay. As long as he loves you. That’s how he is—damn him and that killawatt smile. It has the same effect, even if it’s just playing at his lips as he stares at you, his eyes twinkling. Mentally, you slap yourself out of your reverie. It’s all in your head. Deeming the tense silence long enough, you pry your mouth open to respond.

Across you, he scoffs and his face falls flat. “Cut it, hold on. She took too long, Doie.”

You stare down at your script, where, in typewritten letters, you read: allow a tense, long silence. Prepped with your evidence, you open your mouth again, but your director, Doyoung, ushers himself by your side with, no doubt, another prepared speech about arts and sportsmanship and preparedness.

“I didn’t take too long,” you say, frustrated. Your gaze travels upward again, landing on your costar’s amused face, fanning himself with his own script. Nice one, he mouths before averting his attention to his upcoming lines.

Onstage, after the scene is called, Jaehyun Jung is a saint. He’s charming, deadly handsome, and an extremely talented actor. One could even argue he was born to be onstage, wowing audiences with his booming voice and intimidating aura. Despite yourself, even you could begrudgingly attest to that.

Yet for some absurd reason, once you volunteered to join for one musical—one!—to boost your extracurriculars after winter break, every good thing you had picked up about Jaehyun rotted instantly. He wasn’t rude to anybody else, but he’d take the latte you ordered, tease you onstage, and rat out your clock-in forgeries to your director, Doyoung.

When you fade back into your current moment, Doie is just finishing up his speech about equity and justice. You nod blankly, having just tuned out everything else that left his mouth. “Trust me, you two, one more round of this scene and you can get to your homes. You”—he points to you, startling you slightly—“shorter silence. Jae, less teasing.”

Jaehyun nods with a chuckle, and then Doyoung calls go. All of a sudden, Jaehyun turns into the protagonist with soft eyes and an even softer smile, the rockstar bad boy with a change of heart (you honestly didn’t know and didn’t care less which hopeless romantic freshman wrote this.)

Routinely, you go first. “You’re insane. This is pure—it’s pure lunacy, goddamn it.” Mentally, you note that really, it is. You had joined the theatre club knowing it brought extracurriculars up rapidly and brought you exposure. Really, your passion lay in writing, but you figured theatre was a stone’s throw away. Now, reciting cheesy lines in front of someone you just want to punch, you realize how wrong you were.

—

“I don’t know how long I’m going to put up with this inane problem of yours,” your friend Renjun says across you, popping a fry into his mouth.

Beside you, another voice pipes up. “Agreed. Hate him, fuck him. Like him, fuck him. The key to feelings is venting them out through copulation. My quote. Patented—Ryujin Shin.”

“Haechan would agree, too,” Renjun adds, “though I myself don’t support the copulation bit.”

You roll your eyes at your two friends, shaking your head. “You don’t get it. You’re outsiders. You’re seeing this from a very convenient point of view. It’s—he’s different. He’s deliberately trying to get under my skin for whatever reason.” You take a swig of beer, leaving the table open for feedback.

Ryujin shrugs beside you, taking a bite of her hamburger. “Well…I call slut.”

Renjun bursts into laughter and you allow your jaw to drop open incredulously. Like a miracle, Haechan decides it’s the perfect time to arrive late post-soccer practice and he catches on instantly. “My, my,” he says once he’s seated beside Renjun, “calling slut, Ryu? Something dire has happened. Something unforgivable.”

“We never call slut unless—” you’re cut off by Haechan tutting you into silence, coercing Ryujin into a sheepish explanation.

“Look,” she begins, holding her arms up in surrender. “It’s true. I never call slut. Each of us has three call slut opportunities, and this is my first. We’ve been friends for two years now, so I think it’s perfectly justified. I’m sorry, but the problem you’ve been droning on and on to us for the past month and a half is easily solvable. You, my darling”—she jabs a finger into your arm—“are just waiting for us to greenlight your silent sex plea.”

A loud passing of agreement translates throughout your booth. “Silent sex plea—you’ve really made something of yourself, Shin,” Haechan comments, marveled.

“You’re all a bunch of losers,” you say pointedly. “I can’t believe you wasted your first I call slut card on me when Haechan quite literally whores himself out to every girl on and off campus.”

“It’s actually a bit amazing. Haechan sees no age”—Haechan corrects it to except minors—“no race, no social class, no hobby. Anyone and everyone,” Renjun comments, “which is why if we all decided to use the slut card on him, we’d have run out within the first month. You’re a special case.”

“Special case?! I barely even know the guy in my dilemma.”

“And yet,” drones Ryujin, “you have the nerve to talk about him for an hour minimum every time we meet up at this bar. Dude, NYU is huge. You fixating on one guy for more than a week is beneath you. Therefore, I endearingly call slut.” Ignoring the expression of rancid disgust on your face, she persists. “It’s an I feel for you slut call. I’m here for you. If you’re that sex deprived, I’ll even let you sleep with Haechan.”

“Yes!” he exclaims jokingly, getting up and dancing (poorly.)

“Okay, huge no to that, and also, I am not sex deprived,” you say lightly, laughing.

You’re met with disagreeable silence. Your jaw drops for the second time as you exclaim, “You guys think I’m sex deprived?!”

Haechan comes to your aid first with a gross patter about how he would smell a sex deprived person from a mile away (“it comes naturally,” he’d said, much to your disgust, and evidently, Ryujin and Renjun’s too.) Renjun covers it up with a sympathetic fib about how they’re all noticing how you never bring guys home from parties anymore.

“Guys, we’re busy being sophomores in college. Not everyone is Haechan. Some people have other duties to attend to,” you say, steadfast in your opinion that your celibacy is a choice. Haechan protests for a second before shrugging in half-hearted agreement.

“Dude, you balance all your extra curriculars and you have time to come here and have a beer, plus the occasional weekend party. What’s the harm in a one night stand? None. Morality isn’t the problem—you just have no boy toys,” Renjun says. You fumble for a response.

“Morality is the problem,” you say instead. “I’d be fucking someone 24/7, 365 if I loved him.”

“Gross,” Ryujin says. “And we all know that’s a lie. You hate commitment. That’s okay. We all do! But just admit it. And when you do, that’s when you’ll have the balls to fuck that junior in theatre club. Case closed.”

She says the words with so much finality that you find yourself believing her, but you shake your head quickly and grumble in disagreement before chugging the rest of your beer. Damn your friends.

—

“Channel your trauma into this. Bring all that forth. You want to see good results? I want to see raw emotion. Take your sadness and bring it up your esophagus into your mouth, out your lips. That is the essence of the line. Channeling. Manifesting. Emotions.”

Dryly, you respond. “To be clear, Doyoung, all this feedback is because I ‘said Hello too flatly’? Verbatim.”

He looks exasperated with you, and if you’re honest, it’s kind of entertaining. You’d never even truly wanted this stint, anyway. You’d expected to be working backstage, maybe proofreading scripts or painting sets. Instead Doyoung had whisked you off as a fresh face for the spring play, which approximately 70 people watched. (Compared to the entire student body, it was a grain.)

“Doie, I understand you,” comes a voice from behind you, and your entire body tenses up. You have barely any time to react before it continues. “I’m sorry I’m an hour late. But back to the real problem at hand. I totally get how we’re supposed to master our emotional control.”

Doyoung sighs dreamily. “Jaehyun, you’re my apprentice. Of course you would get it. You know your stuff!” Jaehyun smiles, walks over in front of you and takes the script out of his bag, winking at you while Doyoung’s attention is elsewhere.

Fuck you, you mouth back, making sure it’s enunciated so he sees it.

“Okay, I need a coffee. You two, rehearse. Five minutes tops,” Doyoung says, rushing out of the auditorium. “Channel the trauma!”

“Into my ‘hello’,” you murmur, annoyed. “Okay, big guy. Let’s go.” You look up to find Jaehyun already staring at you, amused.

“Let’s go,” you repeat. “I really can’t afford to digest another hipster speech about sexism and trauma because I fucked up a line.”

“Why should I? Not to toot my own horn”—your face twists into one of confusion and disgust at these words—“but I’d say I’m pretty good already. I don’t, well…need you.”

“You’re an entitled prick,” you shoot back. “Ever heard of doing something out of kindness? Let’s go, come on. Hit me with your best shot.”

“I could hit you with something else, somewhere else,” he says, nearing you. Your heartbeat quickens, but you conceal your nerves with a squeak. “Please. Not only are you egotistical, but you’re also a freaky nympho!”

He throws his head back in deep, raucous laughter. You catch yourself liking the sound for a bit. “Listen,” he says when he’s done laughing, and he nears you again. “I don’t know if you’ve caught on, but I don’t like you.”

“Oh, I have,” you sneer, “and don’t worry. It’s mutual. Very.”

“Good, because I can’t stand you as a costar. You’re not even passionate about it, but you’re…good. And despite Doyoung hating you, I can tell he sees potential and he’s going to try to keep you here. I’m serious about this. I want to pursue it one day. And I can’t stand watching you treat it like it’s some lame hobby.”

“I’m not one to disrespect the arts,” you retort, “but if you’re going to be a competitive piece of shit, maybe I’ll give it my all. Doyoung will love me, keep me here, and I will stay and become a theatre major out of spite.” It’s all a bluff, but the malice in your voice makes it sound real.

His face falters, then he laughs humorlessly. “Okay. I’d like to see you try. You’re all talk…” he lets his hand ghost over your waist, “I wonder what’ll get you to be at least a little obedient.”

You clear your throat and part from him. “Nothing, you sicko.”

—

“Slut!” Haechan calls, garnering a few dirty looks from neighboring tables. You smile and shake your head towards them meekly before glaring in his direction, though your awful eyesight and forgotten eyeglasses don’t do you justice.

He sits across you, a sandwich half unwrapped in his grip. “I don’t know if you’re glaring at me or if you’re squinting at the sunlight from the window five feet away.”

“Oh, shut up. I forgot my glasses, it’s a human mistake.”

“A rookie mistake,” he corrects you, chewing on his sandwich. “Listen, I need your help. Your spring musical? There’s an afterparty being organized, I hear. And it’s going to be lit! Up top,” he says, raising his hand in a silent high five invitation.

“I am not high fiving you for saying the word lit. Go on.”

“You suck,” he says, but lowers his hand anyway. “I was saying, your costar, Jaehyun’s friend—the senior, in Doyoung’s year—you know him. Johnny. Yeah, he and his friend, Kun, and their friend, Ten, are organizing this huge spring party—it’s one of many to celebrate their last year here. Thing is, because Jaehyun is so horny for theatre, they’re making sure the spring musical is a prerequisite for the party.”

You scoff. “So, what? They’ll be quizzing all the partygoers on the plot of the play? The play, by the way, it’s not a musical.”

Haechan shrugs. “I don’t know, but that’s what Johnny says, which means that even if people get in by cheating or whatever, your viewership is still going to go up by a lot. And that’s why I need your help. On the day of the play, if Johnny asks, say I went.”

“You could just go to the play and avoid all the dishonesty, Haech,” you say, taking a sip from your Caprisun.

“That’s not fun! I would want to get buzzed before it. Please? For me?”

“Try to watch, Haech,” you half plead. “Please? For me.”

“God,” he grumbles. “Okay, fine, I’ll try. I’d love to see your sluttiness in action. For all I know, the sluttiness is warrant—”

Before Haechan can finish making his sardonic remark, an arm slides across your shoulder and you jump a little, turning to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, amused and teasing as ever. “Hey,” he says, nodding in Haechan’s direction. He turns back to you. “Listen, I was thinking we could practice tonight. Or tomorrow night. In my apartment.”

“We get enough practice in the auditorium,” you insist. “I’d hate to burden you. Also, I’d hate to be alone with you.” You say it sweetly, and Jaehyun smiles, his face nearing yours.

“It’s no burden, baby. Just text me if you’re up for it.”

He walks away, and your face burns, your eyes following him move through the room before finally exiting.

When you see Haechan’s face again, it’s the textbook definition of smug. “The gang does not hear about this,” you press.

“Buy me a coffee and it’s a deal,” he says, but it’s overpowered by his laughter.

—

“The sluttiness is warranted!” Haechan spills immediately when Ryujin finally sits down beside Renjun, beer in hand. You swat him, and hide your warming face in your hands, attempting to avoid the inevitable questioning that would follow.

“Of course it is. I have a sixth sense for sluts. It’s because I’m around one so much,” says Ryujin, her gaze lingering on Haechan’s laughing figure. “But do tell. I’m curious about the tales of the slut of the group.”

You raise your middle finger in silent protest. Haechan tsks. “In all fairness, it seems as though the man she’s slutting herself out to is a bit of a slut himself. He basically eyefucked her earlier during lunch, at the table. In front of my virginal gaze.”

“Your gaze is anything but virginal,” Renjun says with an eyeroll. “But really? Jaehyun flirted? You know you’d never have been called a slut if you just slept with him already. Your provoking him is the sluttiness of it all.”

You protest instantly. “No! He’s just provoking me, trying to get me under my skin so I’m not in a good headspace for rehearsals. He revealed everything to me, you dumbasses. He hates me because he’s envious of my talent.”

Silence. Eerily, the same silence you had received after remarking you weren’t sex deprived.

“You think I’m bad at acting,” you gasp. “Guys! I’m not the best, but Jaehyun said he thinks of me as competition—I’m not lying, I swear.”

Haechan hugs you close as if to reassure you, and you thrash in his grip so you can kick him in the shin. “Watch me, guys,” you say. “I will go practice with him and prove to you there is no air of sexual tension between us. I am vying to prove the slut card wrong. I am not a slut. Nothing wrong with sluts, but it’s not me. Also, I will prove that I can act!”

“Okay,” whistles Ryujin, “if you want to go to Jaehyun’s apartment, just say that.”

“Shut—no, it’s not like that.You guys are so insistent on the slut card, but I’ll prove you wrong. Jaehyun and I are not at all interested in each other that way, which revokes the slut card in itself. You need proof? You’ll get it. Challenge accepted.”

“Nobody challenged you. Now you sound lame, like Haechan,” drones Renjun.

—

You have a plan.

The main point of it was to prove your friends wrong with the whole slut card fiasco. The steps involved coolly accepting Jaehyun’s offer, withholding sex, and acing the practice. Thing is, that was two weeks ago, and each time you had tried to begin accepting the offer, the conversation instead tapered off into a nasty argument about line distribution and competition and talent between the two of you. The day would commence in an admission of defeat to your friends before you had renewed vigor and tried again.

So, no. Scratch that. You had a plan. It’s long gone now. Failed. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

“You hate theatre! I don’t know why you’re going to such great lengths to spite me!”

“Such great lengths,” you mock. “I don’t know why you talk like a hipster 26-year-old!”

“It’s called being intelligent.”

“No—it’s called being a kiss-ass, you two faced so—”

A tangible piece of evidence that it had failed is currently entering the auditorium. For a college senior, Doyoung Kim dresses like Sikowitz from Victorious, save for the coconut (replaced instead with a cup of iced matcha from that obnoxiously pricey cafe on 79th.) For the two weeks you and Jaehyun had been arguing your butts off, he had been awfully (suspiciously) patient with the two of you, mostly Jaehyun, but your point remained.

He’s quiet, walking into the room and effectively shutting up the ongoing argument between the both of you. You note, absently, that there’s a pair of two other students—freshmen, by the looks of it—in tow. They look awfully shy.

“Doie,” you say, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Hear you calling Jaehyun a two faced son of a bitch, yes.

He tuts dismissively, smiling. “Ah, it’s okay. Actually, Yuna and Kai are here, anyway. Two recruits!” He gestures to the two (freakishly tall) freshmen behind him, who wave awkwardly at you and Jaehyun.

“Freshmen are getting taller,” comments Jaehyun. “These are our understudies?”

“Your replacements, actually.”

A wave of shock pulses through you as you gape at Doyoung’s blank expression, his weird mesh cardigan hanging off his body. Jaehyun beats you to it: “Replacements? For the play?”

“Yep. I figured a week and a half ago I needed actors who didn’t spend half the rehearsal trying to bite each other’s heads off. Your acting won’t matter if your real feelings for each other shine through. And I’m sorry, but it’s really obvious that you hate each other. You have a scene where you’re madly in love, but the gaze is cold and unforgiving. A scene where you’re fighting is where you’re at your best. Unfortunately, this play has none of that nature. No hard feelings, but just…no more play. You”—he points to you—“find another extracurricular. Jaehyun, I’m demoting you to set painter. Third year in a row!”

You scoff. “So instead of encouraging conflict resolution, you bring two trees to the auditorium to replace us? Plus giving me barely enough time to build up a rapport with a new extracurricular?!”

“It’s not my job to make you guys best friends. It’s called duty, responsibility. It was your duty to make sure you could set aside the feelings of spite for a scene. Instead, you were bothering everyone else in this artistic space.”

Filled with contempt at the senior in front of you, you mumble a suit yourself under your breath and pick up your bag, leaving immediately, not even paying a lick of attention to anybody else in the room.

—

“And that’s why you saw me signing up for film club earlier,” you finish, chugging your beer to down the sorrow in your body. You weren’t sad, per se—you were just, well, undeniably bummed that the opportunity was taken so brazenly from you earlier today.

Deep down, you were worried for Jaehyun, too, but you spoke nothing of it.

“It’s okay,” Renjun says, “we’ll have a lot of fun. You’ll get to exercise your writing skills, and on the plus side, since I’m one of the secretaries, I can make you look even better on paper.”

“Nepotism,” remarks Ryujin, “but I guess you’re right, Jun. Getting kicked out sucked, but this is your silver lining!”

“I know,” you grumble. “I guess it happened so suddenly that I didn’t have the chance to savor it. Not gonna lie, minus Jaehyun, the whole thing wasn’t so bad.”

“Minus Jaehyun, minus Jaehyun,” Haechan muses, sliding into the booth with two beers. He slides one over to you. “We all know you’re going to miss him, too. No more lust-filled stares, sexual tension…”

“You’re disgusting,” Renjun says. “I’m alarmed we still hang out with you, honestly. And this is a serious moment. Don’t ruin it.”

“Didn’t you say Jaehyun is a theatre kid, though?” Ryujin asks. “He must be taking this pretty hard, then.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way before. Mainly, you just hadn’t thought of how Jaehyun would be taking the whole situation. “You’re actually right,” you mumble. “This was his first stint as a lead, too.”

“A love story brews,” Haechan says melodramatically, earning him a tossed fry from Ryujin.

The conversation flows into how everyone else’s day went, and although you contribute to the ribbing and the general talking, your mind finds itself stuck on Jaehyun. You do not like him, and you’re so sure the feeling is mutual, but a part of you still feels for the guy. You’d known about him and his passion for theatre since your first year, and witnessing it first hand would’ve been amazing, if not for his rancid attitude towards you. You couldn’t help but admit that you feel bad for him.

But it’s none of your business.

“You should text him,” suggests Renjun. His eyes are on you, so you snap out of your thoughts and hum.

“What?”

“Text Jaehyun. You’re staring into the beer bottle like it holds the secrets of the universe—you’re obviously thinking of Jaehyun.”

“Wh—I am not!”

Ryujin speaks next. “It’s okay if you are—”

“—slut!” coughs Haechan.

“Ignore him. Listen, it’d be no surprise if Jaehyun is all emo over this. It’s human decency to check up on someone.”

“It comes off as hey are you okay, no?, okay let’s get laid,” Haechan interjects. “Let the man grieve.”

“Grieve? It’s Friday night, he’s probably partying and forgetting all this,” Renjun says, “if you text him, it’ll just be a passing thought.”

“Are you kidding? Checking up on someone you hate is just a glorified booty call. Take it from me,” Haechan says coolly.

“Er, no one is taking anything from you, not even solicited advice,” Ryujin asserts with a roll of her eyes. She turns to you. “Do what you want, but remember your two smarter friends at this table are telling you it’s okay to text and your idiotic man whore of a friend is saying don’t.”

“Man whore?! Idiotic? Ryujin Shin, I—”

“Haechan, don’t be so lou—”

“C’mon, try me.” spits Ryujin with a smile. “Try me right now!”

“Can you guys shut up?! Jaehyun—he texted me!”

The effect is instantaneous. Haechan and Ryujin shut up and join Renjun in turning their heads curiously in your direction as you read over the text for what feels like the hundredth time.

It’s Jae. Can we talk? U know where my apartment is.

“He wants to talk,” you say quietly, turning your phone to show them the text. “I guess I should. No protests. I think this is actually important.” Slowly, they all nod, giving their own shares of advice and the usual condom-thrown-into-your-bag from Haechan. You depart just as a new debate sparks between them about the best brand of beer.

Ok, you type before pocketing your phone and heading out the door.

—

You get to Jaehyun’s off-campus apartment in ten minutes. You offhandedly wonder how he can afford such a place—off campus near university. Despite the old building, you’re aware a place like this sells out fast, and for a lot. You sigh and take the stairs up anyway, having attended a party here before.

Before long, you’re fumbling for a greeting as you stare at his door number, which, after just five seconds, is pulled open by Jaehyun himself.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he says, ushering you in. “It’s about theatre.”

“When is it not?” you remark dryly, seating yourself on his ratty couch. “Do you live alone?”

“Never. And I have two roommates, Johnny and Jungwoo.” He takes a seat on the peculiarly shaped loveseat.

You nod in understanding, silently giving him the go to start talking again. “I talked to Doyoung after you left. He said he’s not that confident in the freshmen’s abilities, so he’s giving us a second chance.”

The news is shocking. You’d left the auditorium earlier today thinking it was pointless to even try again. You’d completely resigned yourself to the idea of having to join the dreaded film club, full of ostentatious indie movie connoisseurs (excluding, thankfully, Renjun.) So now, hearing Jaehyun tell you that the chance of trying again is wholly feasible, you get your hopes up.

“You’re serious?” you ask, anticipation in your voice.

“Yeah, um, there’s a little catch, though.”

You’re fully intrigued now, sitting up a little. “What is it?” A nude scene? More than one kissing scene? Nothing I can’t do…nude scenes are a little out of pocket, but… you trail your thoughts off, focusing again on Jaehyun.

He looks apprehensive and jittery. “What’s the catch?” You repeat, raising a brow.

“I might have just… I told Doyoung we’re dating.”

You act fast, standing up immediately, an expression of fury on your face.

“What?!” you cry, “are you fucking kidding me, Jaehyun?! You lied to keep—no, no, you lied in general and you involved me in your lie too? Now I have to prance around pretending to enjoy your company? No, scratch that. I can’t even pretend to enjoy your company. You’re a lowlife and a liar, and a competitive asshole, and you were willing to drag me into your nonsensical—ugh! You’re insane!”

“I know,” he begins, but you don’t let him have it.

“I will support anybody with a passion, is the thing. And I know you have a knack for this thing. But you’re so threatened by me, it’s funny how you feel so entitled to think that you can just drag me into your lies just so you can secure a role. Where are your morals?! You’re so annoying!”

“I know, okay?” He gets up and places his hands on your shoulders. “I know. It was a mistake. And that’s why I’m telling you now. I did it…all of that, on a whim. I didn’t know Doyoung would actually believe me, but you know he has a soft spot for weird romance. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. But I know you know you’re getting something out of this. No need to go sign up for a new club. You’ll be good in theatre. And…I really want this. Need this. It’s my third year as a fucking set painter when you know I can do well onstage. I just…I can’t let this slip.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m sticking to your plan,” you snap.

“I know. But we only need to fake it for Doyoung and the people in theatre. No need to tell your friends, and I won’t tell mine. It’ll only be for theatre people. And for the play. Doyoung will think our fights are just lovers’ problems. Listen. I’ve thought this through, and it’s low risk, high reward.”

“No,” you say. “I am not doing anything to make you happy.”

“This isn’t even about me! I wouldn’t have lied if I knew it wouldn’t benefit you, too!”

“Oh, please. I was definitely the last thing on your mind.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want something else out of this? You can hate me as much as you want. Don’t worry, I still hate you.”

“You’re real confident, rolling your eyes and saying all that to your lifeline to theatre.”

“Okay,” he purses his lips, breathing steadily, “just…think about it, and get back to me.”

You near him and jab a finger into his chest. “Don’t even try to expect anything remotely affirmative.”

—

“We’re dating!” You say with a smile, holding up your hand, interlocked with Jaehyun’s.

Renjun, Haechan, and Ryujin are huddled across you, their faces displaying all kinds of embittered confusion. It’s silent for a while, and then Ryujin takes a swig of her beer before saying it. “If you cared this much about being branded a slut, I’ll withdraw it. No longer calling slut.”

“Wait, what?” Jaehyun asks, and you shush him with a laugh. “Guys, we’re really…a thing! We went over it over the week and we want to see where this goes.”

“So this”—Haechan points at the two of you—“all started when he texted you to come over last week?”

At your nod, he continues. “So you’re knocked up, huh?”

“Wait, what?” Jaehyun asks, and you profusely say it’s his humor before Renjun, ever so sensibly, swoops in to shut him up.

“We’re so…we’re so happy for you both,” he says slowly. “But if this is all a ploy, I assure you, we’ll churn through the lie in ten seconds. You can tell us.”

You clench Jaehyun’s hand. “It’s no lie,” you say sweetly. “I like Jaehyun, and I want you guys to like him, too.”

“Right. Uh, Jaehyun,” Ryujin begins with a smile, “what’s she majoring in?”

“Who?” he asks dumbly.

“Your girlfriend,” she responds, an edge in her voice.

“Oh. Journalism.”

She seems fairly impressed with his answer and the table’s open again to interrogation. It’s Haechan who goes next, a teasing smile on his features. “Jaehyun, Jaehyun. Where did your girlfriend grow up?”

“New York, born and raised,” he says simply.

“And he was born and raised in Korea,” you tack on for compensation. The rest of the table nods, a murmur of agreement passing throughout, and you sigh in relief at the possibility that somehow, your friends saw through your fabricated story.

“So, beer, anyone?” Jaehyun asks warmly.

“Oh m—just admit it’s fake,” Renjun says loudly. “Do it! I can’t stand here trying to decide. We won’t judge you either way! Just admit it!”

“Renjun!” you whisper-shout, at the same time Jaehyun says, “Yes, it’s fake.”

A chorus of cheers break out across the three of them and you spot bills being passed around. Jaehyun laughs a little before getting up to order beer. “You guys bet on this?!” you exclaim, snatching the ten dollar bill Ryujin had just received from Haechan. They all shrug nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal,” Ryujin says, “I mean, unless you two have real feelings, which…”

“We don’t,” you say scornfully, burying your face in your hands. “We were practicing the lie so we don’t mess up in front of Doyoung next time we see him. I can’t believe you turned this into some way to make money. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Oh, shut up,” Haechan says. “You’d do it, too. Now, back to the problem at hand. Are you and Jaehyun seriously doing this?”

“Right—are you?” Renjun asks, a hint of judgement in his voice. “Nothing against the whole fake dating thing, but I’m getting romcom vibes, and this never ends well. You’re going to fall in love and get hurt.”

“Why are you guys taking this so seriously?” you ask, just as Jaehyun sits himself beside you again. This time, there’s considerable space between the both of you, which goes relatively unnoticed by your friends.

“Agreed,” Jaehyun says. “I don’t know you guys well, but I assure you I have no interest in falling in love with her.” He says the last word disdainfully, which elicits a scoff out of you.

“I invite you here to my bar to meet my friends and you still find the audacity to ridicule me in front of them?! Get out.”

“I am not getting ou—”

“Out, I said out—!”

“Yeah, you guys can’t keep this up,” says Ryujin deliberately. “Renjun, no need to worry about them falling in love. They can’t sustain a conversation without arguing.”

“Like an old married couple,” swoons Haechan, his tone wistful.

You turn to them swiftly. “Shut up. And this is why we needed practice,” you say, fed up. “But Jaehyun is the worst fake boyfriend. Ever.”

“Oh, and you’re so perfect, baby,” Jaehyun fake coos, which you take as an open invitation for you to slap his face lightly. “Hey, ow! That hurt!”

“Boohoo,” you mock before turning to your beer and taking deep swallows. “Now get out.”

—

Had you told yourself a year before, two months before, or even a week before tonight that you would be on a FaceTime call with Jaehyun Jung, you would have laughed and brushed it off as a silly lie. Yet here you are, sprawled on your bed, taking advantage of your roommate’s absence and having your fourth round of Kahoot with Jaehyun. “You have three dogs?!” He asks with a laugh, and you nod, reviewing his wrong answers.

“I made this Kahoot so you could ace it, not get the same question wrong thrice,” you grumble. “I aced yours on the first try, because I actually studied the reviewer. Also, yes, three dogs, in my parents’ house.”

Needless to say, your study session is a little unconventional: you two had suffered endless teasing from your friends, and you had gotten ribbed by Jaehyun’s roommates too. All because you knew nothing about each other. Ever since finally agreeing to his offer, you had made little to no effort to get to know him, and he had made the same mistake, thus subjecting the both of you to bouts of perpetual teasing. The only plausible solution to this was to make sure you knew nearly everything about the other.

Instead of getting to know each other, like any sane pair would, you instead made Kahoots.

“Score!” Jaehyun yowls. “I knew you were a One Direction stan.”

“Were, to be clear,” you say. “Also, if you read the reviewer and didn’t just wing it, you’d have gone through this Kahoot once.”

“You’re a debate champ?!” he asks inquisitively, to which you just grumble a if you read the fucking reviewer you would know, asshat. “In high school,” you add.

“And you can play piano?!”

“Jaehyun, shut up and fucking answer, please. Your lack of knowledge is embarrassing.”

“Would you play me a song, baby?” He coos again. It’s becoming a running joke that you don’t find funny at all, him calling you endearing pet names despite the spite in his gaze.

If you were in a movie, it would’ve been hot. But you’re not. It’s just plain annoying.

“You’re disgusting. Now please answer it. Three questions left and you’re going again.”

“Again?!”

“Only when you get it perfectly will we stop. Next question. What are my dogs’ names?”

“Elton, John, and Stevie…Stevie, Elton, Nicks…Fleetwood, Elton—these names are so weird!”

“Elton John, Stevie Wonder, and Stevie Nicks are anything but weird,” you retaliate sharply. “Can you please just try to answer already?”

“Okay, okay,” he says, “I’ll give it a shot and say”—he clicks on the fourth option, which you had put for the hell of it—“RIP, That, and Pussy.”

You can’t help but laugh, peals of giggles escaping your mouth at the way Jaehyun says the words so formally. “I hate you,” you say in between laughs, “you can never take shit seriously!”

He’s laughing, too, and you hide your face from view, watching his smile stretch slowly over his face, deep laughter escaping him. His hoodie is thrown over his head, and you beam a little at the way he laughs, but you clear your throat.

“‘Kay, finish it,” you grumble. “If we’re gonna ace this dating thing, we can’t fuck anything up.”

—

“You’re fucking everything up,” grumbles Jaehyun, running a hand through his hair.

From your place seated on his kitchen counter, you sigh. “I’m sorry,” you bite, “it’s just…it’s a weird scene. I’m getting jitters.” You flip through the script again, biting your lip anxiously.

Your practice had gone off without a hitch—not even an argument began since you stepped foot, for the second time, into Jaehyun’s apartment. You had successfully exhausted through the first half of the play, reciting both your lines so well you were sure Doyoung would’ve teared up.

Now, nearing the climax of the play, your scenes are getting more and more intimate. You’re beginning to notice that the dreaded kiss scene is just a three page flips away, and that if you and Jaehyun were going to work at this pace, you’d arrive there by tonight. In approximately five minutes.

“Are you stalling?” He asks, a hint of a smile rippling on his lips. He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“No,” you say tartly, shaking your head. “God, let’s just…let’s take it from this line.” You point at an earlier line to buy yourself more time.

“Alright, uh…” his voice changes as he slips into character. “Lucy, are you that clueless?”

“I’m not,” you say, making sure to follow Doyoung’s notes that read SAY MEEKLY. You absentmindedly think of how Lucy sounds like a total dumbass.

“Are you sure? Because right now, there’s only one thing I want to do.” You simultaneously flip the page, and your heart races.

“What is it, Matt? Tell me. Tell me, now. Because I’ve loved you since I first met you. I know you inside out. But you’re breaking my heart.”

“I’d hate to do that, Luce. You mean so much to me. And what I want to do…”

“Nevermind. Don’t. You might just end up hurting me.” God, this Lucy is a total lady boner killer. Boner killer in general.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Look at me.”

You glance up at him, and he’s looking at you. He takes another glimpse at his script and picks up where he left off. “Lucy, I…you’re so beautiful.”

“Matt…”

“Let me…please, Luce. Let me kiss you.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you say quietly, and then it’s silent.

KISS HERE is written in Doyoung’s penmanship. You gaze at it a little too long, fumbling with the corner of your script. “So, I guess we’re supposed to—”

“—kiss,” he says. He takes a step closer to you, his hand landing beside your thigh. “Better now than never.”

“It’s better late, actually,” you breathe. “Better late than never.”

“You never shut up, do you?” he chuckles, his face inches apart from yours. His gaze drops to your lips and a chorus of butterflies shoot up your stomach.

“No,” you say, and the air in the room is so quiet you swear you could just kiss him and nobody would ever know. You kind of want to…test it out. You want to test it out, not kiss him.

“I’ll shut you up just fine,” he says in a low voice. He’s so close now, and you’re beginning to observe his face from this angle—his nice, growing black hair, his thick eyebrows, the crinkle in his eyes. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, his stare unrelenting as you fumble for an additional response. The way he looks at you elicits no coherent thought from you and you find yourself nodding, lost in the moment. He nods back before leaning forward, and then

“No!” You yelp, placing your hands on his shoulders. It happens so fast. “Stop, just—ah, I can’t, um.”

The moment essentially gone, Jaehyun sighs. He shakes his head with a laugh, pulling away. “Oh, my God. Why are you so worked up? W—oh, my god. Was that going to be your first kiss?”

“Jaehyun, no! It’s possible that I just don’t want to kiss you, you know.” Your cheeks are warm despite the words that leave your mouth

“You’re going to have to kiss me, you know that, right?”

“I know, let’s…can we just skip it?” You grumble, pushing him even further and skipping past the kiss scene.

—

“Dating…” Doyoung says, a hint of suspicion in his tone. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on how you broke this news to me right after I stripped you of your creative suits and bodies.”

What the fuck? you mouth to Jaehyun, who hides a laugh behind his fist. He clears his throat and replies. “Doie, it was news we were nervous to talk about, y’know? We’re both really happy. A few squabbles shouldn’t get in the way of that.” Dramatically, he takes your hand and you interlock your fingers.

“I’ve seen Jaehyun work onstage,” you say, and you distractedly note how there’s a hint of honesty in what you’re saying, “and he’s immensely talented. He wows me. And seeing him get…what was it? Yes, stripped of his creative suit and body brought me pain. So I’m here pleading for a second chance for him. For us.”

You’ve luckily appealed to Doyoung’s romantic heart, judging by the way he swoons at your words and leans in towards both of you to wrap you in a makeshift group hug. “I love this. Vivacious energy! Seriously! Rehearse, five minutes tops.”

“A college senior possessed by middle aged drama teacher,” you comment, and Jaehyun laughs as he pulls out his script, untangling your hands. Gulping air, you reach for yours and take a seat beside him on the floor as you begin to rehearse again.

Midway through the practice, Jaehyun’s phone dings, and he whips it out.

“Doie texted, said he’s gonna be late. Also sent me a scanned flyer for this soiree the Columbia theatre organization is holding in two weeks.” He angles his phone so you can see the decked out poster and the details, nodding in understanding.

“We should go,” he says.

“You should, yeah, I’m sure lots of theatre execs are going to show up.”

“I said we,” he repeats. “We should go, together.”

Your heart begins to race, your mouth opening to form a coherent response. “I, um, theatre.”

“Huh?” He looks up at you, his brow quirked.

“I—why, I mean. I’ll see if I can, I guess.” Nice save, you say to yourself.

She looks like a fool, Jaehyun thinks, getting up to stretch. “Let’s start practicing standing up, yeah?”

“Cool, cool,” you nod, following suit, still reeling over your awesome save.

—

“Oh, my God, just fuck him!” whisper-yells Ryujin. “You sound like a desperate animal. I hear enough of this from Haech. Honestly.”

“Enough of what?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, the mindless, nonsensical whining about how you hate him so bad but are terribly aroused by him,” spouts Renjun as he takes a seat beside you, sliding three beers across the table. “Come on, have we really lapsed all the way back to square one? Just fuck the guy, damn.”

“Okay, no. Also, I—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you my input,” Haechan says proudly, evoking groans out of everyone else, “and my input, which is always superior, actually…agrees. Just hit it and leave. I do that a lot and trust me, it saves you all the gooey feelings. Plus, sex is awesome!”

“Haechan, stop before I projectile vomit all over our booth,” you counter.

“At this point, I’m going to puke all over this booth from how dense you sound. Idiot,” Ryujin mutters. “I mean, I’m serious when I say your problem, which has been clouding your brain for weeks now, is so easy, and it’s just getting easier to solve. Now, you’re fake dating. You’re going to have a kiss scene. I mean, is it really that hard?”

“Hard,” snickers Haechan, earning him a slap from Renjun.

“Why do you guys think I want to fuck him so bad?” You take a swig of your beer. “He’s hot, I’ll give you that, and funny. Cute, and talented. But no to fucking him. Haven’t you guys witnessed the bullying I go through?”

“Okay, bullying is a stretch,” Renjun retorts, “and also, it’s very clear in your nonverbal actions that you want to hit it. Real good.”

“Hit it and quit it,” Ryujin adds.

“Oh, sure,” you quip, nodding mockingly. “Sure! I’ll totally fuck him because that’s what sane people do. Fuck people they’re awfully annoyed by.”

“Okay, case closed!” Haechan yells, “Now can we focus on my problem?”

“We talked about that for a solid 45 minut—”

He cuts Renjun off with a melodramatic sigh. “Why won’t Aria sleep with me? I’m not being creepy, and I’ve hit on her just once. Y’know, there’s this guy I know from class who had this Psychology paper and fell in love with his partner. It was so sweet, you guys. It makes me think about how deserving I am of love. Right?”

“I have so many questions,” says Ryujin, tongue-tied.

“Then ask away, amigos!”

—

“And that’s a wrap, lovebirds. In two days I’ll hope to see the wondrous kiss scene, and the soiree is coming up soon, too! Have a good three day break, you guys.” Doyoung remarks with a smile, ushering you and Jaehyun out of the auditorium. “Now get out of my sight.”

The door shuts heavily behind you, leaving you alone with Jaehyun for what seems like the millionth time. “Ended rehearsals early again today,” he whistles lowly. “Wanna practice at my place?”

Glorified booty call… Haechan’s voice rings in your head. You’ve already accepted too much of these offers. You probably look like a fool.

“No, I’m, uh, I gotta go do stuff. Errands. I’m glad it ended early, so.” A forced chuckle escapes your lips.

“Right, okay. I’ll see you.”

He’s curt and polite and sharp when he wants to be, a jarring contrast to the flirt you’d spent so much time having to tolerate. He walks away quickly, leaving you all alone. Sighing, you figure you haven’t had much time to yourself anyway and begin the walk to your dorm. On the way, you decide it doesn’t hurt to get coffee and enter a cafe you haven’t tried out yet.

“I’m Chan, how may I serve you today,” the Aussie barista says, his tone awfully bored despite his smile. “Could I interest you in our newest pastries?”

“Just, uh, give me whatever. And a cold brew.”

“A cold brew and whatever, coming right up.”

“Thanks. I’ve had a shit day. Sorry.”

“Let me guess, you’ve got a huge crush on your enemy,” he jokes, and your heart freezes at the slight (not slight at all) accuracy of his comment. When he notices the lack of response, he quirks a brow. “I was kidding.”

“I know, but it’s a little accurate,” you say offhandedly. Half true.

“Really? ‘Cause a couple months ago, a girl here would always tell me about how much she hated this guy, and…well, they’re dating.” He slides your order in front of you casually and beeps on the register. “But, eh. That’ll be $15.99.”

“$15.99 for this tiny croissant,” you say dryly.

“Capitalism rules,” he says. “Tip jar?”

You drop a wad of dollars and leave, walking back in the direction of your dorm and letting your thoughts run loose. There are definitely things to get straight in your head, but you save them for a time where you’re actually capable of dealing with them. Still, thoughts concerning Jaehyun race through your mind.

You’re so engrossed in the series of thoughts that you don’t think twice to swing your door open and

“—oh my God, we agreed the dorm’s off limits on Tuesdays for me and Fridays for you!” Your very obviously busy roommate yells and you shut the door immediately. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, Karina! I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry!”

“It’s—it’s fine,” she mutters loudly from inside. “I was—hold on.” There’s shuffling and then she opens the door herself, wrapped in a blanket. “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”

You rack your head. Ryujin, in New Jersey visiting her dad. Haechan, big Econ presentation. Renjun, at his girlfriend’s place. Not close enough to Yangyang or Mark. Too much weird tension with Giselle. Lucas?…is my literal ex. Motel? Too shady. Hotel? Too pricey. Ask the rich freshman Chenle? No, we shared a blunt one time, not close enough.

“Yes! Totally! I just needed…my cute bra.”

Karina’s face morphs into one of giddy understanding. “You’re getting laid. Finally!”

You ignore the finally and smile sheepishly as she lets you in, trying to ignore the sentient huddle of blanket on what is very obviously your bed. You fish out the first bra you find, your black lace, and Karina digs into her drawers and pushes a bundle of cloth into your grip. “Works like a charm,” she winks. “Good luck. Tell me all about it!”

You let yourself out with a feeble smile, stuffing the useless clothing into your bag. You call up the most dreaded person on your contact list, having already considered every other option. It’s either a hotel (bad), a public place (worse), or your parents’ house (not even a question.)

“Jaehyun,” you mutter when the line clicks open, “listen, can you do me a favor?”

—

“You’re lucky Johnny and Jungwoo are out,” is the first thing you hear when the door opens. Behind Jaehyun is an obvious setup of a makeshift bed on his sofa and a beer bottle on the coffee table.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, frustrated. “I walked in on intercourse today and I can’t get the image out of my head. All I need to do is just crash and leave in the morning.”

“Ouch,” he says, mocking hurt and cupping his chest. “I open my humble lodgings to a pretty girl I hate and all I get is oh, shut up.”

A flutter of nerves surge through you at his nonchalant remark, but you groan and shake your head anyway, picking up the beer. “Thank you for the free beer, but I’m really just interested in kicking the two days off I have from school. Not to say that this is an ideal way to spend it, in your apartment, but…”

“It suffices,” he says. “I get it. Get some sleep.”

“Woah, what? It’s 7PM, dude. I sleep at midnight the earliest.”

“And I’m supposed to, what…? Entertain you before that?”

“Well,” you stumble over your words, “no, but at least, I dunno—cook me popcorn?”

He laughs mirthlessly. “Good luck. The popcorn timer on our microwave is broken.”

“How can a button be broken? And why can’t you just do it manually?”

“Why don’t you shut up and try,” he grumbles, walking over the few steps to the small kitchen, pulling a cabinet open and tossing a packet of buttered popcorn to you.

“Okay,” you say confidently, walking to the elevated microwave and plugging it in. Ripping the plastic off, you pop the packet in and press the Popcorn button once before waiting.

“Are you—” Jaehyun cuts himself off and begins to double over in laughter, much to your confusion. “Are you kidding?! What kind of dweeb forgets to double press the timer button?!”

“What.” You deadpan.

“You press it twice,” he says. “Duh.”

“You press it once,” you say sharply. “You’ve been cooking your popcorn for six minutes. Duh.”

“That’s exactly how long it should be,” he says, confused.

“Have you never made popcorn before, little Jaehyun? Do you need written instructions? Or are you just a natural at burning popcorn?”

“Shut up,” he protests. “I…Johnny told me it works that way.”

“Idiot. So agreed—never listen to Johnny again?” The popcorn timer dings and a delicious bag is extracted and torn open by you.

He nods with a raucous laugh. “Yeah, that checks. Let me get a beer.”

In just fifteen minutes you find yourself sprawled cross-legged on the floor, a bowl of popcorn and not just beer, but the bottle of vodka Jaehyun had set between the two of you. “I am not drinking, especially not that kind of alcohol, and especially not around you,” you say in between chews of popcorn.

“Mm, suit yourself. I’m just glad I can finally sleep in tomorrow.”

“Eh, you seem like the type to oversleep everyday,” you say with a small smile.

“I’ll have you know I get up at 7 to go to the gym. Is this you trying to get a peek at my flaming hot bod?”

“Please, never say the words flaming hot bod in my presence ever again,” you say contemptuously, taking a swig and then opening your phone. “Aw, shit, it’s just 7:20? Yeah, definitely not drinking vodka.”

“Just drink,” he grumbles, pouring himself a shot. “And let’s play a game, baby.”

Baby baby baby baby pretty girl pretty girl pre “You need to learn how to shut up.”

And yet, by some twist of fate, you end up taking a few shots yourself—four, to be exact, while the amused guy across you opts to just take two. And by an even weirder twist of fate, you’re finding yourself smack dab in the middle of a truth or dare game that involves a plethora of giggling, groaning, and Jaehyun, shut ups—more than you can handle tonight. But, and maybe you would only admit this to yourself when 100% sober, you were having a lot of fun.

“It’s quiet,” you say suddenly, “Jaehyun, play music.” He nods in agreement and heaves himself up to connect his phone to his Alexa, and in a matter of minutes the living room is filling with the sounds of

“Do not play Hamilton, Jaehyun! Seriously, who even plays Hamilton? Are you white?”

“It’s a good play with good songs with good bars,” he argues, starting to sing along. “How does a ragtag volunteer army in need of a shower, somehow defeat a global superpow..”

“Please, for the love of God, change the song, Jae,” you groan, “after the wave of Lin Manuel Miranda memes that surfaced last year, this is the last thing I need.”

He mutters disagreeably but a few seconds pass before you hear something you can’t quite recognize flow through the speaker, and you deem it good enough. (As long as it doesn’t have a collection of raps about founding fathers, you’re good.) He takes a seat across you again, reaching over to pour his third shot.

“Oh, I know this song,” you say begrudgingly. “This was playing in the background when I fought with Jaemin Na over a blunt. The party ceased the entire truth or dare game just because we were getting loud.”

“Trauma to 2 Chainz much,” Jaehyun teases. “And speaking of truth or dare, it’s your turn. Truth or dare, go.”

“Dare,” you say, “for America!”

“Okay, miss patriotic. Bag raid!” he jeers, stretching his arm out to claim your tote bag, which lay haphazardly on the floor next to you. Three rounds prior, you had raided his bag, which he fetched from his room, and your haul was extensive. You had fished out gym clothes, cologne, pens, a Biology textbook (“you’re a business major, Jaehyun.” “I like branching out.”) and, most notably of all, three XL condoms.

(“Aww, three XL condoms, little Jaehyun, wrong size?”

“Er…yeah, totally.”

“It’s okay.”)

“Hit me. There’s nothing at all incriminating in there. Study stuff. My script. My glasses case, and my spare clip,” you rack your head for your inventory, knowing one of your greatest prides is your organized bag that is full of the same things, always.

“Oh, and my eye contact solution. My AirPods, my phone charger, I didn’t bring my Mac today, so—”

“So you could make space for these, huh?”

Your gaze snaps up fast, and already your body is welling up with anticipation. It quickly sizzles out into humiliation and dread when you see him holding, in one hand, your black lace bra, and on the other, a mortifyingly short plaid skirt, that you now realize was handed to you by Karina. The skirt is so short, it leaves essentially nothing to the imagination, and you’re getting flustered yourself just looking at the articles of clothing.

Very incriminating clothing.

“Give those back,” you say once your thoughts are done running their course. “Those aren’t mine!”

“Aww, is someone shy?” Jaehyun laughs, examining them in further detail. “A Victoria’s Secret tag—did you get this on sale? Are you a regular?”

“Jaehyun,” you whine, before gaining resolve and concocting a plan. You sit up straighter. “Fine. Hold onto those all you want. Truth or dare?”

“I feel like I should be saying truth…so dare!”

“Great. Easy as pie. Put on the bra.”

His face following your words is one you wish you could take a snapshot of and cherish forever. The horror, the shock—you’re not ashamed to admit you take pleasure in it. A smile spreads across your face as he splutters over a possible response.

“Go ahead, go,” you say. “Scared you won’t look good? Scared you’ll lose your macho?”

“Wait, what—no! I look damn good in skimpy clothing,” he says. “I’m scared it’s going to break. Or worse, you’re going to make me go out in nothing but the bra. And bottoms.”

“It won’t break,” you say, “you’re a twig, kind of.”

“Well, yeah, but, no.” he mutters. “Well, here goes nothing.” He plants his hands on the back of his shirt and he tugs it forward before you can even protest. Your mouth opens to form your dissent, but your words catch in your throat, your eyes fixated on his bare torso, him in nothing but his gray sweatpants, his chain dangling as he moves to get the bra.

He is no twig, kind of.

“Stupid clasp,” he says, pulling the bra on and poorly attempting to clasp it at the back.

“Clasp in fr—um, you can clasp it in front and then, um, bring it back,” you stammer, ripping your gaze away from his body.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases, and looks away instantly to follow your tip, thankfully saving him the sight of your flustered face. You witness his struggle to clasp the loosest hook (“I can barely see these damn hooks”) but eventually you have at least thirty demeaning pictures of him on your phone and he takes the bra off, though not without at least fifteen exclamations of Be careful, Jaehyun!

He does not put his shirt back on, instead choosing to pour himself another shot. You feel like downing at least ten more.

“Truth or dare,” he says after he swallows the shot, raising a brow at you. You suddenly feel small, a little more bashful in his presence, so you try to let go of your anxieties and inhibitions and shake your head to get it straight.

“Er, dare, I guess.”

“We haven’t picked truth since the first round,” laments Jaehyun.

“Because when I picked truth you asked me a super weird hypothetical question and I’m traumatized! Also, people who pick truth all the time are boring.”

“Touche,” he muses. “Skirt.”

“Hmm?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from his torso for the millionth time. “What?”

“Skirt. Wear it. That’s your dare.” He picks up the tiny piece of clothing and tosses it, making sure it hits you right in the face. Your body floods with embarrassment at the possibility of him seeing you in such a compromised outfit, but you deem your sweater large enough to make it lean more towards cute on the cute/slutty scale.

“Okay,” you whistle, taking a shot. “Can I at least change somewhere else?”

“Bathroom’s over there,” Jaehyun says smugly, pointing to a corner in between the living room and the kitchen. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I’d love to do just that,” you retort bitingly before walking over to the bathroom, swinging it open and leaning yourself against it.

You barely know what time it is—probably still early, maybe 9 or 10—but you’re pleasantly buzzed, and the fact that Jaehyun never bothered to turn all the lights on is making you all hot and bothered.

“Fuck,” you mumble, pulling your jeans down, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumble the incoherent blasphemy all the way until you’re finally zipping up the back of the skirt. There’s no full length mirror, and you really can’t be bothered to climb onto the toilet and try to get a good view of your ass, so you leave it to fate to decide if you look a.) cute, b.) slutty, or c.) just weird.

You’re answered immediately when you step outside and Jaehyun turns to you, his mouth open, probably readily forming a witty observation. His eyes rake over you slowly and you try your best to come up with a sarcastic remark before he can. Your mouth is suddenly dry just looking at him looking at you.

“You look cute,” is what he manages to come up with, standing up and nearing you.

“Cute? I look like a fool,” you groan. “You asked me to put this on. Probably to satiate your freaky nympho fantasies.”

You’re confident in your derisive comments, but he weakens you immediately.

“You want me to fantasize about you so bad,” he teases, and it’s sarcastic but you can’t help the throb of arousal that courses through you.

“Shut up, Jaehyun,” you breathe instead, letting him walk over to you several steps until your back collides with the kitchen counter.

“I’m just having fun, baby,” he says, his face inches apart from yours. “You’re having fun, right? You want this?”

“S—so bad,” you whisper. What? What the fuck? Was that the best you could come up with?

“You’re so cute,” he murmurs, his breath sending heatwaves across your skin. His hand appears on your waist, hiking up your sweater. “You’re so quiet now, hmm?”

“Jaehyun,” you murmur, trailing your hand up to grasp his chain, “please.”

“Thought you loved riling me up,” he chuckles, leaning in until his lips are pressed against your neck, pulling your sweater down to expose more of it. “Where’d all that fight go?” You whimper at the kisses on your neck, your hands going from his chain to his hair. You tug at it until his attention is on you.

“‘M…I want a kiss,” you whine, and God if you don’t sound like an absolute weirdo.

“A kiss?” He coos, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You want a kiss?” You nod feverishly, tugging on his hair again and making him hiss. He leans in again, closer this time, and impatient as ever, you’re the one who closes the gap, kissing him softly. He deepens it, though, his hand hiking up your sweater fully so he can touch you all over underneath it.

He brings it back down to lift you up and sit you fully on the counter, trailing his touch lower.

A choked whimper escapes you and you break the kiss, meeting Jaehyun’s amused gaze with your pleading one. “Do you like this?” He asks, his thumb grazing over your clothed core. “I know you do. ‘M sorry. I couldn’t help myself, you’re so cute, this little number is driving me crazy.”

“I—” you take in a sharp breath, letting your actions speak for themselves. The strained mewl that leaves your mouth and your incessant, slow nodding is enough to let Jaehyun know that yes, you like it. He trails his touch higher, and you part your thighs, emitting a laugh from him. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs quietly.

The anticipation in your body crackles as he pushes your underwear aside and swipes up your entrance, your hands moving from his hair to his broad shoulders in a feeble attempt to gain leverage. And sanity.

“Ah, ah,” you choke out at the teasing, the slow, drawn-out mocking of your state of arousal. He abruptly pushes two fingers into you, eliciting a whimper from your lips as you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

Your mouth hung open, your sweater too hot, you try clawing it off to get some cool air. You’re cut off by him pushing his fingers in and out, chuckling at your predicament.

“Come on, provoke me,” he quips. “Pretty girl can’t fight back now that she’s got some fingers stuffed up her pussy, hmm?”

“J—Jaehyun!” you wail, gripping his arm.

“What do you want? Greedy little girl,” he muses against your hair. You let out a splutter and fumble for a new place to grip, finding his arm and holding it tightly to keep yourself grounded. “F—faster, Jaehyun, please.”

At your plea, Jaehyun doesn’t hold back in fucking you, quickening his pace until your toes are curling, your thighs trembling at the force of his ministrations. Gasps leave you intermittently as you scramble for a way to voice your pleasure, pulling him close to kiss him again only to moan brokenly against his lips. You let out a broken whimper, your head rolling forward to lean against his shoulder. “Come on, I know you like this, angel,” he grins wickedly, “come for me, I know you want to. You look so cute falling apart on my fingers, makes me want to split you open.”

“Do it,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he nods, “Wanna get split open on my cock, don’t you?” That does it for you, your entire body seizing up as your grip returns to the back of his neck, pulling at the hair there and drawing a hiss out of Jaehyun. Your body experiences an entire overload of senses as you twitch, coming down from your high and back to reality. You feebly register Jaehyun slipping his fingers into your mouth and you suck instantly, tasting your own arousal; your cheeks heat up in shame of how wet they are.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod once, breathing slowly. You suddenly feel stuffy, like you did something incredibly insanely stupid. And then—oh God. You just did something incredibly insanely stupid.

“No need to return the favor,” he chuckles, “I…let me get you a pair of, um. Sweats, okay?”

“O—okay,” you pant, “I want to, though.”

“Really? I—”

Your already short-lived conversation is cut off by the abrupt ringing of Jaehyun’s phone, startling you both. He jogs over to where it rests on his couch and you hop off the counter, hissing at the numbness in your legs and tugging your sweater back down to regain a semblance of dignity.

“Yeah, I’m—what?” Jaehyun’s expression morphs into one of confusion, and then mild panic. “Jungwoo, you okay? Hello? Oh. I thought you were sleeping at Giselle’s tonight. Yeah, no, I…fuck. I’m home, yeah. Okay. I’ll see you both.” He hangs up, pocketing his phone and looking back at you. “Listen, um, Johnny and Jungwoo are going to sleep here, I dunno why they abandoned their original plan. But it’s okay! You can sleep here still, on the couch. I’m going to go get your sweats and I’ll be back.”

He leaves you there for a moment, and you take a minute to drink it in: your disheveled hair, flimsy skirt and uncomfortably damp underwear, shaky legs, bleary head, and the fact on top of it all that you had allowed Jaehyun Jung, annoying guy/fake boyfriend, to finger-fuck you on his kitchen counter.

Like clockwork, the playlist switches and as an accompaniment to your embarrassed, aroused feeling, My Shot from the Hamilton soundtrack begins to play.

—

“Hamilton? Hamilton was your moment of shame background music? This is gold!” Haechan’s flippant voice rings throughout your ears, snapping you out of your reverie. You roll your eyes and take a shameful swig of beer. “Let me guess the song. Was it Schuyler Sisters?”

“It was M—”

“Let me guess!” He persists. “It was Guns and Ships, wasn’t it? It was a rap song. More than one person sang on it. I know far too much about Hamilton,” he sighs. “Was it…Ten Duel Commandm—”

“Haechan, it was My Shot,” you groan. At that, both Ryujin and Renjun, who had previously attempted to hold in their own laughs to the point of being redfaced, join Haechan and let out guffaws of laughter, much to your disappointment. “A solo song?!” Renjun jeers, “imagine that! Oh wait—you don’t have to!”

“Oh, ha ha,” you snap. “You’re acting like this is way funnier than it is.”

“Because it is,” Ryujin says, her voice overridden by laughter. “But, okay, pause on that. What are you now? Like—with you and Jaehyun. I mean, there was that fake relationship, right? But you dislike his guts, right…?”

“Right,” you say, way too quickly. “But nothing’s awkward between us. So I couldn’t return the favor. It’s fine! It’s just…we’re just—no. We’re not even pretending like nothing happened. Only lame people do that, haha. We’re just going back into the normal swing of things—practice, et cetera, fake it in front of people from theatre club, blah, blah. It’s all very standard, really.”

“You’re leaving him with blue balls,” Haechan protests. “I feel for the guy.”

“You’re totally pretending nothing happened,” Ryujin says, swatting Haechan in the arm. “I mean, this whole handjob thing happened last week when I was up at NJ and every time you meet us at the bar, you never mention that you guys ever talked about it. Pretending, pretending.”

“I prefer the term actively choosing to move on,” you say smartly.

“Yeah, total bullshit, dude,” Renjun says over a swig. “I’m sorry, but Ryu’s right. You’re stalling, both of you, because it’ll add too much awkwardness to your already complicated relationship. Acknowledging the handjob means you’re inviting feelings to be felt. So you’re leaving it in the air so you can just pretend it never happened.”

“That is so not true! Very fake,” you complain, knowing it’s very true and not at all fake.

Thing is, you were very aware that you were actively ignoring what happened. You had instigated the ignoring. The morning after the whole skirt fiasco, you had woken up at 8:30 to Johnny and Jungwoo having a dance battle in front of you and scarring you for life—before Jaehyun quickly pulled you away to give you an Advil and a “talk.” It was obvious that he wanted to converse about what would become of the two of you after what you both pulled last night, but in your bleary stupor, you were scared and shut him up by saying “It’s all good, I don’t think we should talk about it yet.”

Stupid.

“You know we trust you to talk to him about it before someone gets hurt,” Ryujin says calmly, and you roll your eyes dismissively.

“Gets hurt? What is this, a committed relationship?” You scoff. “Jaehyun and I knew what we were getting into. A simple setback isn’t going to affect us in any way. It’s just a setback. Simple, minor setback. No need to talk.”

“Just a need to fuck. A need to fuck, a need to fuck,” Haechan attempts to begin a chant, but Renjun only hurls the cap of his beer bottle toward him and Ryujin chucks half an onion ring.

“Okay, okay, shut up. Guys, the soiree thing is tomorrow, so Ryu, I need your help to prepare an outfit. Jaehyun is picking me up, and we are going to have a great time.”

“Where is this mysterious, enigmatic creature now?” Haechan questions, adapting an awfully botched British accent for literally no reason at all. You roll your eyes before quietly telling them the answer.

“Where?” Renjun asks, brows furrowing. “You’re being so damn quiet.”

“Um, he’s going to come here.”

“Here, here?” Ryujin asks.

“Yes. Like, now.”

“Now, now?” Haechan asks, a giddy grin forming on his face. “I’m going to get to meet my fellow Hamilton-natic! Jaehyun is joining this gang! I wonder who gets his call slut card first. My bet, Renjun.”

“Woah, woah,” Ryujin coughs, “absolutely n—wait, why is he coming here?”

“He wanted to come see me”—you fumble for a save, knowing it sounds too sweet—“interact with you guys. He wanted to come see me interact with you guys. Yup. He thinks you guys are a real hoot, so he wanted to, um, buy us all beers and fries and play around—joke around with us. With you. With me—with us. With you.”

Silence.

“He misses you, doesn’t he?” Haechan teases, his eyebrows wiggling. “Well, I don’t mind. Free booze, huh? Am I right? Up top. Down low. Anybody?”

“Nobody is high fiving you,” deadpans Ryujin before turning to you. “He’s coming here now because he wants to see you, doesn’t he?”

You shake your head feverishly, making up some fib about how Jaehyun is enamored by your group of friends, but before you can delve in any further, you spot him at the entrance and wave him over. “Be good. Ryujin, turn down the bitch notch. Renjun, you’re cool already. Haechan…don’t talk.”

“I won’t talk, I’ll hurrah,” he says quickly before shutting himself up, politely shaking Jaehyun’s hand. “Jaehyun, Jae, Hyun—what’s your preferred nickname?”

A flood of embarrassment courses through you as you attempt to subtly kick Haechan’s shin. When Renjun doubles over in pain, you apologize quietly and try again, tuning out the inane conversation the entire time. “You can call me Jae, if you’d like,” the elder says with a forced laugh, which Haechan takes as an open admission of bro-ship.

“Jae. You can call me Haech. Hell, you can call me bro.”

“Okay, bro,” Jaehyun says, sliding next to you. Haechan takes a spare chair and positions it at the middle of the table, his full attention on your fake boyfriend. “I heard from a little birdie that you are a Hamilfan, and hell, so am I! I love the thing! Could I get you a beer?”

“Actually, the next round’s on me,” offers Jaehyun with a small smile. Haechan nearly tears up, stumbling over his words of thanks and taking the bills from Jaehyun’s grip before jogging to the counter to order. Jaehyun turns to you again after a second, pulling something out of his bag that you quickly register as—

“Oh my God, you actually went and bought it? The White Album by Joan Didion. I love this book.” You place your hands on the book and in your mild excitement, you can’t register that your hands are atop his: lately, you guys have been partaking in a lot of physical affection.

“I know, that’s why I got it,” he quips excitedly. “It’s really good so far. You owe me a list of recommendations.”

“Okay, fine,” you grumble half-heartedly, a small smile playing on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d actually go and read it.”

“You seemed really giddy about it, so I gave it a try.”

“Okay. Idiot.”

“Ehem, lovebirds!” Comes a choked cry from across you. Quickly, you rip your hands away and clear your throat to face the cunning faces of your sensible friends. “Ryujin Shin,” she says, stretching her hand for shaking, which Jaehyun gingerly accepts. “I’m studying to become a criminal defense attorney. Which means that I am a glorified cop. That’s supposed to instil fear in you.”

“Fear instilled,” Jaehyun says with a forced laugh that actually sounds scared. Renjun goes next, introducing himself quietly. “I’m a film major, which means I’m going to go broke unless I decide to take a life-draining corporate route or work at somewhere like BuzzFeed, which, when you think about it, is the same thing.”

“I’m new to this, but I’m guessing your dynamic is sensible”—he points to the three of you—“and deranged?” He finishes by pointing to Haechan, to which all of you nod quickly. “Haechan is a great friend, don’t get me wrong. Don’t get us wrong. But he can be a little…”

“He’s an elusive man-whore,” you comment. “But if you’re sad, he’s the first one at your door.”

“A loud bully,” Renjun adds, “but buys the most thoughtful Christmas presents.”

“An airhead,” Ryujin muses. “But is always at the top of his Econ classes.”

Jaehyun nods, clearly impacted by your brief soliloquy. “So he’s everything and nothing? Woah, that got deep.”

“And yet, you’re right. Hey, how about get the right beer next time, you nympho?!” Ryujin hollers when Haechan finally shows up brandishing five bottles of beer. He merely rolls his eyes and Ryujin allows it, scoffing while she takes a swig. “So, the big soiree tomorrow,” she asks with a suggestively raised brow.

“Yep, and that’s where we’re leaving that subject,” you say with a stuffy giggle, knowing that if it continues, it might—worst case scenario—spiral into a conversation about the dreaded skirt-handjob catastrophe that happened a week earlier. Ryujin waves you off and begins talking about theatre, after which Jaehyun perks up.

“I’m a business major, so theatre wasn’t necessarily in my plan. I knew I wanted to make something out of myself in the business world like my dad did, which meant joining his company.” Daddy issues much, Haechan mouths in your direction. “I know it sounds really convenient, but I felt stuck in my first year, and that’s when I started becoming a set painter. I’m no good at art, but I can sing pretty well, so I started getting understudy roles and building myself up until I got minor roles and then a lead in an off-Broadway indie play that got no viewers. This spring play is my biggest stint yet, and if it goes well, I might actually start making a career out of this. Which, and, well—not to say that business is, like, sucking the life out of me. If I’ll have to, I will join my dad’s co…”

And then a weird thing happens. Something so weird but something you know all too well as you tune out everyone else in the room and focus only on him. You barely know him. But the fake dating thing wasn’t such a bust. But it’s just a crush. Well, nobody’s calling it that yet. But he’s so handsome when he’s talking about his passion. Well, it’s not a goddamn crush.

“Right?” Jaehyun asks. You blink, and suddenly everyone’s looking at you expectantly for some type of response.

“Um, yes.” You stammer dumbly, and they all nod knowingly, a murmur of agreement passing through the table. You smile to support your “yes”, although you don’t know jackshit about what you’re supposed to be supporting. (Later, Ryujin tells you Jaehyun said something dumb about semantics. You were half sure we was just testing out if you were distracted or not. Which, well. You were.)

—

“Ahhh, my hair, Renjun—please, stay at least a meter away from me.”

“A meter? Sorry, I’ve been conditioned to the non-metric system.”

“Ugh, and I don’t know anything about it! Just. Stay far,” you grumble, shooing him away and paying attention to your hair again. All around you, your room is in a chaotic mess: your six dress choices, three shoe choices, your flat iron, your vast array of makeup, and your three best friends, who all happen to be tipsy despite it being a literal Wednesday night. Originally, the plan was for Karina and Ryujin to help you, but when Karina texted a sheepish Overtime at the chem lab!! :P I’m so sorry! you had only Ryujin. Said Ryujin then made a lame excuse about “needing reinforcements and booze” and then proceeded to invite Haechan and Renjun into your dorm room to get sloshed.

“You’re all useless,” you groan, clasping your earring on. “It’s 7:30. Jaehyun’s due to pick me up soon, and I can’t have him showing up to this mother of messes.”

“Don’t vorry,” Haechan says, now using a nonsensical Russian accent. “I gauht it,” he continues, picking up clothes around the room (surprisingly) efficiently while Renjun and Ryujin stand idly behind you, throwing weird compliments at your face.

“Nice shoe strap,” Ryujin slurs. “I will sit down, now.” Both her and Renjun flop onto Karina’s bed.

“Ugh, Karina’s getting home soon, too. Fuck, drunk Ryujin is a mess,” you grumble, “actually, drunk three of you is a mess. Please get yourselves together.” You hike up your dark green dress, hissing in frustration as you jab your heeled foot into Renjun’s shin. “Jun, my most sensible friend, please sober up and help Haechan clean up.”

“Mmmmffffff,” he responds.

“Renjun!” You retort, kicking him repeatedly until he finally groans inwardly and gets up, nodding. “Okay, okay, I got it, I got it, Ryujin, get up, we have to be decent friends.” He heaves himself up. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Aww, thanks, drunkard,” you muse faux-sweetly, ready to combat him again but cut off by the knock on the door.

“Shit, that’s Jaehyun,” you cuss, having a very mild, not at all melodramatic panic attack in the mirror. Ryujin gets up from her tipsy daze to help fix your dress and hair, and by the time Haechan pulls the door open, your dorm room is thankfully relatively clean. And of course, on the other side waiting for you is—

“You look gorgeous,” Jaehyun murmurs, his eyes on you. You absently notice that the way his gaze is trained on you isn’t the same one from the skirt fiasco, but instead something a little more real, and you gulp, refusing to look him in the eye. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say quietly, taking his hand and not looking back in fear that you’ll witness what seems like, from your peripheral vision, Haechan and Renjun imitating an explicit sexual position.

Once you’re seated in Jaehyun’s car (which he claimed was his for a solid ten minutes before caving and admitting he borrowed it from his friend’s roommate’s friend), a comfortable yet awkward silence settles over the two of you. “Where is this thing?” You ask, fiddling with the strap of your dress. Anything to distract yourself from looking at him driving.

“Er, Columbia. I was—I thought we’d take the subway, but I thought, might as well go all out for this fancy-ass soiree.”

“Who even calls things soirees anymore? Gala would’ve sounded better.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he says, laughing, and you smile for a bit, pursing your lips before he can catch you laughing, too. “Let’s have some fun, yeah?”

You nod, watching New York traffic whiz by (slowly) and passing time by asking each other about your days. “Oh, by the way, I was thinking,” you begin, “I guess we’ll have to be faking us the entire time, right? Because a lot of people know Doie there, and…yeah, I don’t know. We can’t really jeopardize this. There’s a couple weeks-ish before opening night, so.”

“I agree, baby,” he says, and then the air is excruciating again. Evidently, both of you are remembering what happened a week ago. “Anyway, are you excited about anything in particular?” You cough out, fumbling for something else to say.

He hums. “Mini quiches?”

“Right. Champagne for me.”

“You’re a borderline alcoholic,” he jokes. “Fancy shmancy pretentious snooty dinner parties are just your turf. Which is good, because we’re here.” The awkwardness sizzles out as the valet knocks on the car window, and you watch Jaehyun get out before opening your car door. A beat of warmth courses through you at his actions, allowing yourself to smile before taking his arm and walking the steps up to the entrance.

Inside, the large ballroom is chock-full of the city’s finest theatre majors and executives, making it increasingly clear to you that Columbia doesn’t pull punches when it comes to events. Well-lit and flowing with good music, you find yourself basking in the company of other creatives, even spotting your longtime idol, the New York Times crossword editor, Will Shortz.

“OMG. Jaehyun, it’s WillShortztheNewYorkTimescrosswordeditor!”

“You’re freaking out over a crossword editor…?”

You grip his arm tightly, to the point where he sucks in a sharp breath of pain. “Do you want a picture with him?” He says, strained, and you shake your head. “No, I can’t. Never meet your heroes, they say.” He snorts at your remark and the both of you move inward, searching the place for any other familiar face. You’re in no way part of the theatre community, but you can tell—solely by the way his eyes are twinkling and his mouth is spread into a perpetual smile—that Jaehyun is.

“Doie!” You wail quietly when you see him, and he quickly excuses himself from his current conversation to jog over to the two of you. “Really decked out,” you comment, eliciting a flattered laugh from him. And really, he is: for once, he’s not in a big tee and cardigan, but instead in a form-fitting suit.

“How are you lovebirds finding the soiree?”

“Just amazing,” Jaehyun hums, moving his arm from around yours to circling your waist, causing shivers to go up your spine. He pulls you close and you smile to go along with it, much to Doyoung’s pleasure. “You two are so cute. You must be shitting me with how cute you both are. But how about you”—he points to you—“get some mini quiches while I whisk Jaehyun off to meet some high ranking theatre people.”

“Gladly,” you assert, letting Jaehyun loosen his grip around your waist. What you don’t expect, though, is for him to grip your hand and squeeze it once. “See you,” he says with a smile, and Doyoung swoons. (So do you, but.) You quickly excuse yourself to explore the rest of the room, which isn’t hard given its sheer size and all the obscure decorations on the walls. You take a champagne from a walking tray—something you’ve always wanted to do, admittedly—and walk slowly to the large, wide windows and stare out into the city.

The time alone—as alone as you can get, surrounded by people but relatively alone—gives you ample opportunity to think about everything that’s been going on in your life lately. Not just with school, but your internships and your friends, and above all, your entire plight with Jaehyun. Not only had you partaken in a fake relationship with somebody who you annoyed, but you also received a handjob from him and you were pretty sure your stupid heart was turning it into something serious.

Definitely food for thought. Food for thought that requires a lot of champagne to digest. “Ah, fuck,” you mumble. “Bastard.”

“Who, me?” A sly voice asks behind you, a pair of hands creeping around your waist. At the back of your head, you make a grating realization that Jaehyun is acting like this despite the lack of people around you. You lean into his touch anyway, indulging in it while you can, before you retrieve your sane thoughts and pull away, which happens two embarrassingly long minutes later. You turn, champagne glass empty, and offer a smile. “How was the whole meeting Doyoung’s friends thing?”

“I learned that high-class snooty rich people in theatre are no different from high-class snooty rich people in business.”

“You’re talking like your dad isn’t fairly wealthy,” you protest weakly, to which he nods with a laugh. “I know, it’s ironic, blah, blah. Can we sit down?” He gestures to the bench in front of the window, and you nod, letting him lead you there and taking a seat shortly after. “I’m having fun,” you say, “I mean, for somebody who’s not at all involved in this community, it’s not half bad.”

“Agreed,” he says, his eyes perusing the room before stopping on the far left, just a few feet away from you. From where you sit beside him, you can see the nature of his gaze change—from curious and inviting, to one that’s flooded with something unreadable, a little worried. It happens fast after that: his arm goes from slung casually over your shoulder to around your waist again, his movements a little more frantic and overwrought.

“Are you okay?” You ask, but before you can answer, somebody steps in front of you. You look up to see a beautiful girl, blonde hair tied up into a bun and black dress complimenting her figure. She looks stunning, and part of you wishes you’d never seen her tonight. Her gaze is warm and a little unsettling (intimidating, really) but you suck it up and offer a friendly smile, anyway.

She’s standing a bit awkwardly, her left hand curled around her silver clutch. “Um, hi,” she starts, “I’m Stella. Stella Davis. Really weird, stereotypical name, I know,” she laughs, forced. You reach your hand our politely, and she shakes it. “Hello,” you chirp, introducing yourself, “do you and Jaehyun…know each other?”

“Oh, yes. We go way back,” she giggles. “We’re actually…well, we…” Her eyes land on Jaehyun, and you watch him smile, and then he presses an artificial kiss on your forehead.

Oh, no. God, it can’t be.

“…used to…”

It probably is. Judging by the way Jaehyun’s grin gets faker and his grip tighter—the gears click. Oh, God no.

“…date, for a year.”

You freeze in place, your entire body tensing up, your senses and emotions at an ugly war with each other. Suddenly Jaehyun’s grip is more suffocating than comforting, his smile fostering an ugly feeling and not happiness. Suddenly Stella’s gaze is colder, and suddenly, you just want to rip your dress off and chug the entire tray of champagne.

Champagne. Jaehyun, Stella. This entire fucking plan only went on because Jaehyun wanted this girl jealous. This beautiful girl who, for the life of you, wouldn’t ever be jealous because she looks so kind, but you’re fed up and stuffy and you need to rid yourself of every memory you’ve had with Jaehyun Jung before you explode.

“I need to go, to the ladies’ voom. Room,” you stutter, getting up. Hell, you don’t even know where the ladies’ room is. All you know is that you had somehow fooled yourself into thinking something nice was developing between the two of you, but the way he had seized up and acted like a saint when Stella showed up told you essentially all you needed to know. That this was a ploy to make her jealous, take him back, maybe. Who knows? Who knew? You weren’t even sure if it reached that extent. But you knew Jaehyun lied to you.

You get to the balcony, and thankfully this one has steps leading to the entrance, which will eventually lead you back to the safety of your dorm. You don’t need anything right now, and you especially don’t need any tangible reminders of what happened tonight. What you need is to, goddamn it, get out of this fucking dress, and get rid of your hairstyle, and get rid of your heels and your clutch and anything that will remind you of anything remotely related to—

“Don’t go,” Jaehyun says, surfacing behind you. You spare him no glance, taking this as a cue from the universe to turn around and leave. You find the nearest dingy cab, get yourself into the filthy backseat, and mutter the first address in your head to the driver.

When you get home two hours later, post-ranting to your best friends in Renjun’s apartment, stumbling into your room and waking Karina, you will yourself to not cry, attempting to untie the strappy twirls of your dress. There’s only one thing on your mind, and you’re wondering where he is.

—

“Don’t go,” pleads Jaehyun, but he watches you turn anyway. He can’t even catch a slight glimpse of your face, and his heart falls a little, watching you leave. God, he feels like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. (He hates that that’s what he compares it to in his head, but alas.) He’s still watching when you get into a cab, and he’s still watching when the cab speeds off. He takes a seat on the first step, loosening his tie and letting out a deep sigh.

“You weren’t dating at all, weren’t you,” comes an impassive voice from behind him, and Jaehyun braces himself for the incoming scolding when he nods. Instead, the voice takes a seat beside him, sighs, and then speaks again. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was—it was this plan to get our roles back after we got them taken. And then it just escalated, because we couldn’t just break up, hypothetically, at least. And then we got to know each other.

Do you know, she’s got three dogs—Elton, John, and Stevie—and that she was born and raised just in the city? I mean, she’s really…she’s a really interesting person. And I loved getting to know her, becoming her friend, ah, that whole thing. I even bought a book that she told me she liked, one time—anyway. And then I bring her to this gala thing. Soiree, sorry. And then all of a sudden, I see Stella, this girl I dated in my first year, who…well, she…it just ended. Not so amicably.”

“So. You still love Stella?”

“No, absolutely not, no question about it. But I wanted to make her…feel how I felt when we broke up, when she…yeah. It’s…I don’t wanna…she cheated on me. Oh well. And you know, you’ll always get that urge to make a nasty ex jealous.”

“No, actually. You sound like an asshole. Not even getting cheated on can justify how you treated your, well, fake girlfriend. You sounded like you really liked her, and if you did, she probably really liked you, too. Be honest. Was this deal based off making Stella jealous?”

“No—it was just a good opportunity to take, y’know?”

“If you think your fake girlfriend is going to be just some opportunity, you need to reevaluate that. And apologize.”

“Yeah? Well, fuck you too, Doie.”

Doyoung laughs and claps him on the back, nodding. “You know I’m right, yeah? Well, go do what you have to do. As soon as possible. Because right now, you’re on the verge of fucking everything up.”

—

The party is packed when you get there, as it always is with Johnny-thrown parties. Although you’d agreed to let Haechan drag you here, you still found yourself nervous all over at the possibility of meeting Jaehyun again. You hadn’t seen him since the dreaded soiree just two nights ago, and putting your hindsight glasses on didn’t make it any better. Sure, he acted like an ass, but in hindsight, you kind of overreacted. In hindsight, you should’ve talked to him.

In hindsight, you think as you accept a blunt from Chenle, you shouldn’t have let yourself get so affected.

The only reason you were was because you liked him so much. Here again, in the place where your feelings culminated in a frenzied, heated makeout session, you feel a vile deja vu course through you, clawing desperately at your insides until you can’t handle it. Haechan is off doing God knows what, so you’re basically left to your own devices.

You wait until Chenle’s not looking and then you take the blunt, duck out of the couch, and shimmy into the fire escape at the end of the hall. It’s drizzling outside, a weird moment for spring, but you find a shadier spot that manages to get just your feet and the hem of your jeans wet. You take a long drag.

You feel weird. The only person you want to talk to this about, save for your three best friends who have honestly heard the story too much in just two days, is Jaehyun.

He’d probably laugh and say this Jaehyun guy sounds like a real Jaeckass.

“I’m sorry I was a jackass,” comes a voice from just next to you, eliciting a shriek from your lips. You face him fully, nearly dropping your blunt, your eyes trained fully on him. He’s wearing a black shirt and black jeans, and it sucks because really, you just want to kiss him.

He speaks before you can. “It’s—please listen to me. I…I’m not going to be even more of an ass and tell you it wasn’t like that. It was like that. That night, I was thinking—I’m completely over Stella, but what’s the harm in provoking her a little? I hate her, you should know that. Absolutely, I do. It didn’t even matter to me that she was there. I’m sorry,” he says in one go, before breathing and continuing again.

“I didn’t like you when I met you, and it extended for a while. I’m sure you know that, because it was a mutual feeling. And I’m sorry—I’m so sorry for all the emotional up and down—but I like you. God, I like you. And if I stay too close to you, I feel like kissing you, because I like you. I used to dislike you, yeah. But now, I…God, if you only knew how much I turn myself inside out liking you. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to show you I am. You’re…so cool, and you make me want to get to know you more.”

You stare at him for a while. “Anything?”

“Anything, I swear.”

“If it’s anything, then Jae, please. Leave me alone. I need to think.” You sit up, climbing back inside and leaving him leaning against the fire escape, a sorrowful sigh escaping his lips.

—

It’s dress rehearsal night, and you feel out of place. It’s your first time in theatre, and while it was fun, you don’t really think of doing this long term. The only reason you got this role was because all the other female members of the club were absent that day, anyway. You’ve felt out of place for the past weeks, because now, you have no friend to rely on.

Friend. Jaehyun Jung had really made a friend of himself in your life, and you were surprised your brain automatically referred to him as that. Ever since you’d left him on the fire escape, you’d had a lot of time to yourself to take a step back and think about it.

Too much time, you think bitterly. You’d wanted him to come talk to you for a while now, but he had maintained a professional, polite exterior during rehearsals, mirroring yours.

“Nervous? Couple big school officers are in the crowd, plus spectators,” one of the set painters says to you, taking a seat. “But you’re a natural. I know you’re not planning on trying theatre, but it’s always open to you.”

“Oh, thanks,” you sigh, “but I’m really…well, it was a good experience, but frankly, I’m ready to get out of it. It was hellish, if I’m being totally honest.”

“Yeah, I can tell. First week, I couldn’t build a set without hearing you two bicker, then all of a sudden you were dating, and now you’re not. He must’ve done something bad, and I hope he got what he deserved. But y’know, we can’t control what happens to us. We can only control how we react to them, and if we’ll let them eat us up.”

“Are you a Psych major?” You ask dumbly.

“Hah, no. I’m just…trying to talk some sense into the leading lady.”

“Well, you did. Thanks…?”

“Don’t mention it. I’m Jennie.”

She gets up then, a warm smile on her face, and you sigh, leaning back onto your chair. Damn these weird seniors and their unsolicited advice, you think, trying to ignore the fact that what Jennie told you was right. You’ve got a crowd to impress, and you can’t lapse into a train of thought now. Maybe later.

An hour and five false “full runs” later, you find yourself onstage, opposite Jaehyun, who’s clad in a leather jacket and tight jeans. He’s got a fake tattoo scribbled onto his neck and he’s been having this same scripted monologue for thirty uninterrupted seconds. You lose yourself in his gaze, trying to decipher it under the fluorescent lights. And that’s when you notice it: his going off-script.

“—and I don’t know if you’ll ever know how sorry I am, so isn’t now a good time to tell you? I’m, well. I’m sorry. I hurt you. I don’t want you to feel like you didn’t mean anything to me. You do. I’ve given you some space, and I hope when you can, you can tell me how you feel. Because truly, you mean so much to me. We’ve only known each other, what? Four months. And I hated you at first. But after our fake dating stint”—he goes way off plot here, and you can hear a confused mumbling in the audience—“I don’t know, I’ve just always wanted to sit down with you and read Didion all the time. Engage in debates with you. Read history books with you, watch Europe travel guides with you, dogsit random pets with you. Because God…”

You take a step closer, nodding slightly, signaling him to keep going.

“The truth is, I think I’m starting to love you.”

A LITTLE WAYS DOWN THE ROAD.

“Okay, okay, listen. We’re seniors now, and this guy’s basically an adult,” Ryujin says, pointing towards Jaehyun. “We’re all mature. And we’re all going to understand if Jaehyun decides to do it, right?” Haechan nods feverishly in agreement, slapping Jaehyun’s arm.

Your fingers interlocked, you give your boyfriend’s hand a squeeze.

“I’ll understand,” you say pensively. The air at the table is tense, building thickly with anticipation as you all lean closer to gauge Jaehyun’s solemn expression. He nods once, raptly. “I’m an adult. I’m working now, and I have to do what’s responsible. For me. For you and me,” he proclaims, looking at you.

“I support you, Jae,” you say, smiling. “We all have your back.”

“I don’t merely support you, bro,” Haechan says poignantly. “I want this to happen, 100%. I’d be lying if I said I’d be okay if you didn’t go through with this.”

“Haech,” snaps Ryujin. “Let him decide. He’s a mature man.”

“I feel like what’s a better time to do this than now, right? Call me crazy, but tonight, yes: this very November night, I feel like I was planted here to do just this. I’ve had this privilege for a year now, and I feel like it’s finally time to put it to use. I can’t keep being a prude about it. Who knows what the future holds?”

“Exactly,” whispers Ryujin. “You’re doing so great. This whole monologue, working wonders.”

“Agreed. Go for it, Jae,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“And I will. Tonight, I’ll do it. Tonight, I, Jaehyun Jung…” He turns to Renjun, the subject of scrutiny for the entire night. Jaehyun has a pragmatic look on his face, like he’s the wisest at the table; a stark contrast from Renjun’s relatively panic-stricken features. The rest of you lean in, expectations raising bit by bit at finally witnessing Jaehyun’s unofficial official initiation into your gang.

“…call slut.”

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback

Renjun’s message to Haechan

Since SM opened a LA Building, they should focus on creating and advocating for a space for Asian american/immigrant artists to shine in the West rather than wasting their money with this survival show.

They should focus on their current artists with diversity in mind in the future if longevity and influence is their goal instead of random cash grabs.

It’s frustrating because they have the potential to do better but it’s a corporation so... :/

Words to replace said, except this actually helps

I got pretty fed up with looking for words to replace said because they weren’t sorted in a way I could easily use/find them for the right time. So I did some myself.

IN RESPONSE TO Acknowledged Answered Protested

INPUT/JOIN CONVERSATION/ASK Added Implored Inquired Insisted Proposed Queried Questioned Recommended Testified

GUILTY/RELUCTANCE/SORRY Admitted Apologized Conceded Confessed Professed

FOR SOMEONE ELSE Advised Criticized Suggested

JUST CHECKING Affirmed Agreed Alleged Confirmed

LOUD Announced Chanted Crowed

LEWD/CUTE/SECRET SPY FEEL Appealed Disclosed Moaned

ANGRY FUCK OFF MATE WANNA FIGHT Argued Barked Challenged Cursed Fumed Growled Hissed Roared Swore

SMARTASS Articulated Asserted Assured Avowed Claimed Commanded Cross-examined Demanded Digressed Directed Foretold Instructed Interrupted Predicted Proclaimed Quoted Theorized

ASSHOLE Bellowed Boasted Bragged

NERVOUS TRAINWRECK Babbled Bawled Mumbled Sputtered Stammered Stuttered

SUAVE MOTHERFUCKER Bargained Divulged Disclosed Exhorted

FIRST OFF Began

LASTLY Concluded Concurred

WEAK PUSY Begged Blurted Complained Cried Faltered Fretted

HAPPY/LOL Cajoled Exclaimed Gushed Jested Joked Laughed

WEIRDLY HAPPY/EXCITED Extolled Jabbered Raved

BRUH, CHILL Cautioned Warned

ACTUALLY, YOU’RE WRONG Chided Contended Corrected Countered Debated Elaborated Objected Ranted Retorted

CHILL SAVAGE Commented Continued Observed Surmised

LISTEN BUDDY Enunciated Explained Elaborated Hinted Implied Lectured Reiterated Recited Reminded Stressed

BRUH I NEED U AND U NEED ME Confided Offered Urged

FINE Consented Decided

TOO EMO FULL OF EMOTIONS Croaked Lamented Pledged Sobbed Sympathized Wailed Whimpered

JUST SAYING Declared Decreed Mentioned Noted Pointed out Postulated Speculated Stated Told Vouched

WASN’T ME Denied Lied

EVIL SMARTASS Dictated Equivocated Ordered Reprimanded Threatened

BORED Droned Sighed

SHHHH IT’S QUIET TIME Echoed Mumbled Murmured Muttered Uttered Whispered

DRAMA QUEEN Exaggerated Panted Pleaded Prayed Preached

OH SHIT Gasped Marveled Screamed Screeched Shouted Shrieked Yelped Yelled

ANNOYED Grumbled Grunted Jeered Quipped Scolded Snapped Snarled Sneered

ANNOYING Nagged

I DON’T REALLY CARE BUT WHATEVER Guessed Ventured

I’M DRUNK OR JUST BEING WEIRDLY EXPRESSIVE FOR A POINT/SARCASM Hooted Howled Yowled

I WONDER Pondered Voiced Wondered

OH, YEAH, WHOOPS Recalled Recited Remembered

SURPRISE BITCH Revealed

IT SEEMS FAKE BUT OKAY/HA ACTUALLY FUNNY BUT I DON’T WANT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD Scoffed Snickered Snorted

BITCHY Tattled Taunted Teased

20210502 Jaemin Instagram update

HAECHAN — The 1st Album “맛 (Hot Sauce)” Teaser Images #3

a rant bc im stressed and emotional and can’t really confide in the people i know in person rn

i’m stuck...

tw: abuse & sexual assault accusations & depression & abandonment issues & ugh

i. got into a huge fight with my brother a month ago and its his birthday today. we blocked each other on all social media and i’m unsure if i should reach out. 

the fight was big. it was about how he wasn’t taking responsibility for his tax forms and making me and my dad do it. when i asked if he called the people to find out why his stuff was rejected, and he said some obvious bs that i know isnt true because i called the people the day prior and they were super careful about the information they gave out. 

i think he knew i caught him in the lie because he then started accusing my dad of abuse and of lying and turning our family against us. which isn’t true? because my dad may have slapped us with a belt once or twice to make us eat our vegetables, but he never was abused by him. he was saying stuff like “he locked me to a furnace” when we didn’t even own a furnace growing up, and saying the stretch marks are “abuse scars”. when i told him “listen, i get thats how you feel, but we still need to talk to him” and when i told him “i get thats your narrative..” (which i know is bad wording now, but it was a narrative as everyone in my family knew was fake except him

he then called me a rapist and called me “someone just as bad as brock turner”. he then threatened to post it all online, and knowing him, he’ll edit out the bits where i make sense. i showed the screenshots to my friends and my other brother, and they all agree he’s being ridiculous. but im just stuck because i do want to say happy birthday - we were really close, but at the same time, he isolated me. 

my dad, not knowing these claims, is trying to make me say happy birthday and act like i love him like i do before but i really don’t want to. i’m tired of being around family that makes me have to explain my every action, my words, and have to pick a side. i hate being around all these toxic family members. 

i cant tell my dad these claims because if i do, my mom and brother will yell at me and hit me. both my brothers have hit me and hurt me for less. one of them strangled me when i was 8 because i said “thats stupid” 

on top of all this, the only person in the house who i feels care about me is my guardian - who had left us to go take care of her dad who just finished his surgery. its really serious and they are scared he might be in trouble. the dad is so lovely and i hope he’s okay

and on top of that, my dog got sick again and was acting weird. 

and on top of that, my boss promoted me and the other supervisors are expecting me to do soooo much that i can’t do because of university obligations and its like they want me to prioritize less than minimum wage work over expensive college obligations. 

and on top of that, my ex-step dad is posting stuff everyday and its hard to remember that he’s no longer in my life. i really saw him as a father and he really took care of me like a daughter, but there was language barrier that prevents me from talking to him and when i last reached out, he didn’t respond and i really miss him. he really cared about me. and it reminded me of when my dad left. and how everyone fucking leaves and i get it. if i were someone who knew me, i’d leave too. 

and on top of that, i’m just borderline entering a depressive episode. 

and on top of that, i think this dude is kind of flirting with me and i really can’t be like “im not interested in you” or “i’m not relaly interested in relationships right now” because like??? im unlovable lol???? like what if this is my only shot but simultaneously, i’m trying to just respond friendly so he knows but idk like im just constantly stuck

and i miss my friends...

before i went for uni, imy friends and i dropped contact because this dude spread a rumor that theyw ere talking shit about me behind my back. they;re the type of people who’d talk shit behind ppl’s back too that like...it didnt surprise me. especially that year, when i was trying to get them to stop talking shit about someone and they’d get mad at me. and like we sorted it out and we’r ekinda back to normal now but like...we did that dumb “what warnings would you give someone about this person” and i got the most personal attack of them all? and i feel like i can’t talk to them about stuff anymore because of that. 

and all my friends from uni are busy with work or use social media sites i dont use. and i lost one of my closest friends from uni due to fucking misunderstandings. and again... i get it...if i were them, i’d leave me too. 

and i don’t want to leave home to go to uni / my home country where i actually get citizen benefits

but there -- i guess i can merge into the background...not make connections...i’m just tired of this. 

and honestly, i’m not okay... i’m really not. 

im 🥺 

chipped varnish

09:34PM ➴ drummer!jeno x gn!reader

:: | check out vivian's drummer!jeno moodboard!

word count: 387 words

Jeno’s nails are stained charcoal by lacquer. The edges are jagged, because he finds solace in chipping at the varnish, watching it flake off and gum the underside of the nail he scuffs with. It’s like picking a scab–minus the pain–something he never did as a kid, not because his mother didn’t allow it, but because he was too scared to find out how painful it’d be.

His left index finger’s mostly sparse of paint, baring the ecru of keratin beneath it. Jeno grates off whatever’s left with verve.

“Are you picking at your nails again, Jeno?” Your inflection is baritone, irked.

“Sorry. It’s a habit,” he says, flippant. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

“Well, stop it. You’ve got a gig tonight.” You steer his palms towards you. “Come here, I’ll repaint them.”

Jeno tries to draw them away, but you’re unyielding. “You don’t have to. It doesn’t matter how my nails look. I doubt anyone’s looking at them when I’m performing.”

“I’m looking at them.”

“You’re probably the only person in the crowd scrutinising a drummer’s nails.”

You scoff, clearly aggravated, but gingerly rest his hands on the glass table beside you regardless. Outfits, makeup, and a set of headphones are strewn across the surface. “Just let me paint your nails.”

“Fine,” groans Jeno, as if he’s unwilling.

You always do his nails for him. He’s fully capable, but he doubts you do it purely out of professional obligation. At least, he hopes that isn’t your sole objective. It would be embarrassing if he’s the only one basking in these moments, in the graze of skin against skin; the warmth, the benevolence. The first few times you did this, his hands trembled from the adrenaline of an all-consuming infatuation. Now they lay still, not because his feelings for you have dissipated, but because they–unlike a flame which burns bright, only to die and crumble into ash–persist, always; a subdued and steady thrum, like the reverberations of a cymbal in the air. Jeno stares when you’re too engrossed in your task to notice, and looks away when you lift your head.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he mumbles.

"What?"

“There’s no guarantee I won’t start peeling this off the moment it dries.”

Frankly, succumbing to an old habit isn’t the only reason Jeno peels his nails.

{☆} please don't flame me if there were any inaccuracies with band logistics in here HHDSH i've never been in one before and know absolutely nothing about music outside of just listening to it, and school's been hectic so i couldn't do extensive research about the subject. i hope you managed to look past the mistakes (if there were any) and enjoyed this blurb though! 🍉🍋

The way that most of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories’ most horrible villains are rich dudes that are abusive to women, in a time such as the 1880’s, compels me.

arin 🥺 im in my feels

(Don't) Tell Me More༄ m.taeil

↳ Taeil's loaded, and that's a severe understatement. So, what on earth is this rich kid doing cleaning pools every Sunday? Looking for love, of course, and a little help with rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ultraviolet protection's a must; it's getting real hot in here.

pairing: (secret rich kid) pool boy!taeil x gn rich kid!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning(s): the suggestive bit is the unaddressed tension, and the one joke about bad porn taeil makes. overall, just the ~vibes~ haha

word count: 2153 words

author's note: i got... carried away. no worries, the starved taeil fans deserve a meal. idk how many years it'll take for the next one. also, please notify me if i accidentally used any gendered language. i’ve checked multiple times, but i’m human, and would sincerely appreciate if you pointed out any of my mistakes or even offered feedback ♡

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: do i wanna know (arctic monkeys) ✧ head over heels (loveleo) ✧ honey (moxie) ✧ dance with me (sir, please) ✧ doubt (hippo campus) ✧ heat waves (glass animals)

← BACK TO NAVI.

Labour isn’t Taeil’s forte. Born with a gold spoon between his lips, and six digits in his bank account at five, he’s lived a life beyond lavish.

Fridays are reserved for piano lessons and tennis, Saturdays for buttering up his father’s potential clients in country clubs, and Sundays for swimming in the five meter deep pool in his backyard. Well, at least, Sundays used to be.

Taeil’s plenty passionate about swimming–freestyle, backstroke, butterfly–but about cleaning swimming pools? Not so much.

So, why is he spending every Sunday afternoon sweaty, swathed in sunscreen, and despairing over chemical imbalances? The answer is simple, and lazing on a deck chair at this very moment: you.

You’re new–courtesy of the raise in your father’s already outrageous salary–and when Taeil first lay his eyes upon you at the park, he was enamoured. He’d actually tripped on a root in his trance, and you’d crouched beside him to ask whether he was alright. Humiliated, he’d silently hobbled after as you lead him to a bench. You’d nursed the wound he hadn’t realised he’d sustained as best you could: rinsing and dabbing it dry.

“I’ll walk you home,” he’d said. “A token of appreciation, if you will.”

You’d accepted his token. The walk wasn’t far, but it was likely because you made for such good company. Taeil would be engrossed even if you droned on about cheese for an hour, which coincidentally, is exactly what Mr. Liu’s monologue had entailed the month before. That conversation had bored him half to death however.

It felt too quick; your estate was already looming over him, auguring the end of your encounter when he’d finally recovered from his ignominy. Desperate for more, Taeil had blurted out the first thing in sight: your pool. That’s why you’d mentioned your dad needing a pool cleaner every weekend, and how, despite being clueless in the department, Taeil had wholeheartedly offered himself. You’d been elated, beaming, over the moon. How could he say no?

It had seemed appealing in the moment, but his train of thought had been superficial. Turns out, those mass-produced specially-targeted summer chick-flicks were lying! Who would’ve guessed? Pool boying was not just flaunting your washboard abs and bulging biceps as you netted a few leaves. Oh no. The first few test cleans Taeil had done with his pool… well, it became off limits for a week. And an actual expert had to be hired. Those gritty aspects aren’t the most marketable, or inherently sexy, so Taeil supposes the chick-flick deceits are partially excused.

But back to what matters: you. Your–how should he put it?–spunk, hadn’t been anticipated. Not an ounce of that pretentious reticence the local wealthy feel entitled to prevails in you. It’s refreshing. You’re adrenaline personified. Just your presence has Taeil’s heart palpitating. Since he’d been hired, every week has been more fleeting glances, yearning touches, puckish banter. And last week… well, there’s no time for that, because now you’re beckoning him over, your hand wrapped around a tube of sunscreen. Taeil prances to you, complaisant.

“Sit,” you urge, dragging a wicker stool in front of you. “You’re done for today, right?”

“Yeah, water didn’t need treatment this week. Just skimmed the surface for debris.” Taeil hesitates. He feels awkward after last week, when he’d kissed you. Yes, kissed you. You haven’t said a word about it since, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing it first. “But, it’s okay. I’m gonna go soon.”

“Aww, please, Taeil? Sit?” You pat the chair and smile, eyelashes glinting in the sun. That’s all it takes for Taeil to succumb, the rattan crackling beneath his weight. Your fingers graze his arm. “It’s a hot day, huh? A swim would be nice.”

His eyebrows crease. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

“No, no, it’s fine.” You tilt your head. “But…”

“What?”

“Do you want to go swimming with me?”

Taeil fists the material of his swim shorts, spine erect. The fabric crinkles. Whether he wants to what? “Oh, uh, well, I don’t wanna intrude. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about me swimming in their pool.”

The heat of your body seeps into his skin as your arms coil around his. “They don’t mind, and if they did, they’re not home to say so.”

This feels like the start of a trashy porn. Taeil flushes. “Oh.”

“So? What do you say?”

His adam’s apple buoys. “Sure. Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Exactly.” The sunscreen’s cap clacks open. “Here, you gotta reapply more.” Taeil extends his palm, and you squeeze some into it.

He deliberates his next move. It’s difficult to think when you’re gazing at him like that, lashes batting and lips curled into a demure smile. “You don’t mind if I”–he rubs his nape with a free hand–“uh, take off my shirt, right? I don’t wanna dirty your pool.”

“Sure! I definitely wouldn’t mind, so long as you’re okay with it.” You tuck your knees to your chest. “Why? Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” Taeil’s going to pass out, he’s betting money on it.

He doesn’t, but he does glow incandescent when he strips himself of his clammy shirt. The humid air only exacerbates his feverish blush.

Growing up, Taeil’s parents always emphasised presentability, and he’s nothing if not presentable. He’s proud of his physique, diligently maintaining it with rigorous exercise, and sure, he’s had a few self-conscious blips, but they’re transient. Taeil knows he’s attractive, yet under your keen eye, he rubs sunscreen–on his neck, chest, and abdomen–hunched forward.

“Do you need help?” You peer over his shoulder, wagging the aquamarine bottle like bait. “With your back. You know, for the spots you can’t reach?”

You’ll be the death of him. You’re going to kill him, but he honestly wouldn’t mind that. Taeil’s never had any ‘spots he can’t reach’, but, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Your fingers are ridiculously delicate, like you’re weaving gossamer across his back–sunscreen webs, if that’s a thing. Taeil’s sure someone would pay grotesquely for that. Mr. Liu would.

Neither of you speak, only the sound of skin against skin drifting alongside the scent of coconut oil and cocoa butter. At one point, your nails unintentionally trail his back, and Taeil shivers.

His body tingles with the vestige of your touch, and when he assumes you’re done, you stun him with a good, hard, satisfying squeeze to his shoulders; the ones twined rigid from graft. Taeil actually groans in relief, which had probably stunned you. Or maybe that’s what you were hoping for.

Internally, he’s broiling in mortification, but externally, his shoulders slacken, his head hangs forward, and his exhales are long and grateful. It’s embarrassing. For crying out loud, he has his own professional masseuse, yet when it’s you doing it–yeah, he needn’t elaborate further. He’s gushed about you enough.

“Feels nice, right?”

“God, yeah, it feels”–a particularly forceful squeeze elicits another groan from him–“good. Do you have any experience? You’re amazing at this.”

“Just my dad. When I was younger he used to pay me to massage his shoulders after work,” you say, fingers miraculously knowing exactly which muscle to knead at what intensity. Is this what heaven feels like? “Well, there was also the massage course I signed up for a few years ago.”

“Well”–another sigh–“it definitely paid off.”

“It better have, given how pricey it was.” Your lilt is roguish, and it sounds like you’re enjoying this as much as Taeil is.

He wants to die like this, but you’re already standing, and stretching your arms overhead before he can really soak the sensation in.

“Let’s go for that swim, huh?”

“Uh,” Taeil blinks, dazed, “yeah.”

He trails after you, facing away when you lower yourself into the water without qualms. Duh, it’s your pool. Why would you have scruples about swimming in your pool? Taeil, on the other hand, dithers, because it’s not his pool, and he can’t help but fret that your parents could walk in on you swimming with the pool boy.

“Hurry up! A little water’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he says, staring pointedly at you. He’s never felt so vehemently for someone before, and you’re so… unpredictable. It’s invigorating. It’s terrifying. Do you like him, or are you just bored?

He ventures as far as sitting on the edge of the pool’s deck, where water kisses concrete. His legs dangle, acclimating to both the temperature, and the reality that he really is about to jump into his employer’s pool. The water is cold, caressing his leg as you wade closer to stand between his knees. Your eyes sweep over him. Taeil’s stomach coils. He hopes you like what you see.

“You okay?” you ask, hand over his right knee. It’s freezing. “You look a little flushed.”

Your hand crawls further up his leg. “Yeah,” he scoffs, “I wonder why.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” you grin, upturning your palms and offering them to him. “Come on.”

Taeil should’ve thought your motives through, but how could he have denied your invitation? He’s still a guy, and well, it’s you. Regardless, he should’ve scrounged up some semblance of prudence because it was blatant what you’d needed his hands for. To pull him under. Literally.

The tug is harsh and efficient, jolting him forward into the polar depths before he can object. Taeil’s not thinking straight–the stark contrast in temperatures pummel his rationality–so he grabs the closest thing he can: you. It’s reckless of him, given the two of you are in the deep end and he could drown you. But risks evade his psyche as he loops his arms around your waist, your body pressing into his. Fortunately, he won’t be facing charges anytime soon because you do resurface, still in his arms, and strangely, you’re not pissed, you’re laughing. Laughing so hard your head’s thrown back, and your body trembles. It’s not funny–you could’ve died for God’s sake–but Taeil feels a rumble course through him; a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh. Now, he’s laughing too, though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s laughing because you’re laughing, and that’s enough of a reason for him.

“Are you okay?” you finally say, titters dissolving into a faint smile. “That was mean of me, sorry.”

Your face is inches from his, so Taeil’s voice shrinks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I grabbed onto you though. And, oh, uh”–he starts loosening his grip of you–“sorry I–”

"No, wait.” This time, it’s your arms curling around him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind this. It feels… nice.”

“Yeah… it - it does.”

The water laps at his sternum, and Taeil takes his chances by nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You let him, though neither of you know each other enough for this kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled by you. Hell, you don’t even know he’s the son of some rich socialite. To you, he’s just the pool boy. Maybe that’s why you’re playing along with him. Because there’s something exhilarating about chasing something you shouldn’t when you’ve never had to run before. Because there’s a thrill in pain when you’re unscathed. Because when you’re someone like you and Taeil, mistakes can be afforded. Anyway, what does Taeil know of pain? In fact, what does he know of you to think this? It isn’t like he knows what your intentions are with him. You’re unpredictable. That’s your whole schtick. It’s funny, because Taeil knows your pool’s pH levels better than you.

Your fingers scrape into his sopping hair.

Or maybe he likes you for you. Maybe he likes what little of you he does know. So, does he want to know more?

“What do you think of me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“You’re fun.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, then, what do you think of me?”

Taeil lifts his head from your shoulder, the strength of his embrace withering. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

You grin. “See? It’s hard to put into words, right?”

“I guess,” he smiles. You make it sound nice that you don’t know him. You make it sound like there’s just too much that you can’t express it. Maybe that’s what’s happening right now. Maybe there’s just too much Taeil likes about you to comprehend, so he thinks there’s nothing he really likes about you at all.

“You’re funny, Taeil.”

He isn’t. “Thanks.”

Taeil’s unsure how much time passes; long enough that the water’s gone tepid at least.

“Do you… like me?” he asks. Maybe if he hears you say yes, he’ll know what all the things he adores about you are.

There’s a pause.

“You’re fun, right?” you ask, thumbing a rivulet from his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I am.”

“Then, yes.” Your lips brush his. “I like you, Taeil.”

lets see if yangyang sees my submissions

- mutuals game

rules tag four mutuals, answer the question given by the one who tagged you, then ask one question.

tagged by @kopikokun i love ya <3 

question: what’s a song you want everybody in the world to know, and why? or, alternatively, what song would be your theme song if your life were to be a show?

honestly, this question was so difficult for me to even think of and the answer will be LONG. regarding song i want everyone to know, i don’t think i have one because everyone has different genre tastes and tbf, i go through genres frequently. for example, if you were to ask me a year ago this question - i’d say ‘thor’ by push baby but if you asked me two years ago, it’d be something by AJR. right now, i probably have to say something like  “say it over” by ruel but i don’t have much reasoning behind it, so here’s others where i have proper reasoning for; 

“will he” or ‘modus’ by joji, 

honestly anything by joji is amazing. but for me, something about the lines “i’m not strong enough for you” and “i just want to make sure you’re okay” lyrics really get to me. like i take it as a reminder for people that sometimes, you have to let go.

can i call you back? by shy martin

this song is purely because this is genuinely how i am. and although i make fun of my flakiness - it’s really not something i can control and a lot of people with mental health issues can control if they experience this too. so i just want everyone to know this to maybe better understand that im never ignoring you on purpose, it’s just…like… ugh i cant describe it

‘50 proof” by eaj

again, anything by Eaj is amazing in my opinion. my favorite k-pop band song wise has to be day6 because i love their lyrics and their melodies, even though nct and exo are my bias groups. but something about his songs just sound so raw? like the lyrics could be so simple but its pouring with emotion and so much meaning. 50 proof has to be my favorite from his though as i think it beautifully captures missing someone and losing someone. and not going to lie, i’ve lost a lot of people. and i know a lot of them probably have moved on or have forgotten about me, but i have a hard time forgetting people and i still hope that they’re doing okay and they’re happy. 

 ‘anaheim’  by NIKI, ‘

again, not any particular reason except that i think niki perfectly encapsulates young love, losing someone due to time despite still loving them, and being in a relationship with an ultimatum. particularly the lines of “i’d give anything to stop anytime to drive around anaheim at sundown and teach my mind to put you first”,  “cause i am lost and not in you”, “you can try to unearth my soul i swear you’d hate what you’d find” and “i have yet to know how to be mine” –> these lyrics are purely because as someone with major abandonment issues and still have no clue about who i am, i don’t want to risk being with someone while i don’t know myself and therefore give them a false promise of who i am. i guess i want everyone to know this song as a reminder its okay to be lost and it’s okay to reject relationships to find yourself. you don’t need a relationship to be someone, you don’t need to be ____’s person. idk…my whole life has been “when will you be in a relationship” and its something that now makes me sad haha 

worlds smallest violin by ajr

your problems may be not as big as others, but it still impacts you. and therefore, its okay to be sad. its okay to be hurt by this. it’s okay. your feelings are forever valid. 

day147′ by curtissmith

this song was just a really nice break during covid and it mentioned a lot of political things happening in the philippines, so it had nice and chill vibes WHILE commenting on politics and i appreciated it. 

regarding the song for my theme song, i’d say maybe…”great one” by jessi reyez? 

lol i had more songs tied but it just highlighted my abandonment issues 💀  

my question for you: who is your ultimate role model? and why? 

tagging (no pressure!!): @pastelsicheng @kopikokun (tagging you back haha) @urlocalnctstan @lucas-wongs 

welcome!

welcome to @mxrcayong’s main account! that is where you’ll see my writing and my interactions (+ i’m more interactive on there) x

this is my first blog where i basically use it as a random photo dump where repost gifs i like/photos i like.

nct dream cafe rlly be making me simp over my ults even harder 

through this, it made me realise who my ults are lol

CAFE 7 DREAM : Baristas Jeno & Jaemin

- mutuals game

rules tag four mutuals, answer the question given by the one who tagged you, then ask one question.

tagged by @kopikokun i love ya <3 

question: what’s a song you want everybody in the world to know, and why? or, alternatively, what song would be your theme song if your life were to be a show?

honestly, this question was so difficult for me to even think of and the answer will be LONG. regarding song i want everyone to know, i don’t think i have one because everyone has different genre tastes and tbf, i go through genres frequently. for example, if you were to ask me a year ago this question - i’d say ‘thor’ by push baby but if you asked me two years ago, it’d be something by AJR. right now, i probably have to say something like  “say it over” by ruel but i don’t have much reasoning behind it, so here’s others where i have proper reasoning for; 

“will he” or ‘modus’ by joji, 

honestly anything by joji is amazing. but for me, something about the lines “i’m not strong enough for you” and “i just want to make sure you’re okay” lyrics really get to me. like i take it as a reminder for people that sometimes, you have to let go.

can i call you back? by shy martin

this song is purely because this is genuinely how i am. and although i make fun of my flakiness - it’s really not something i can control and a lot of people with mental health issues can control if they experience this too. so i just want everyone to know this to maybe better understand that im never ignoring you on purpose, it’s just...like... ugh i cant describe it

‘50 proof” by eaj

again, anything by Eaj is amazing in my opinion. my favorite k-pop band song wise has to be day6 because i love their lyrics and their melodies, even though nct and exo are my bias groups. but something about his songs just sound so raw? like the lyrics could be so simple but its pouring with emotion and so much meaning. 50 proof has to be my favorite from his though as i think it beautifully captures missing someone and losing someone. and not going to lie, i’ve lost a lot of people. and i know a lot of them probably have moved on or have forgotten about me, but i have a hard time forgetting people and i still hope that they’re doing okay and they’re happy. 

 ‘anaheim’  by NIKI, ‘

again, not any particular reason except that i think niki perfectly encapsulates young love, losing someone due to time despite still loving them, and being in a relationship with an ultimatum. particularly the lines of “i’d give anything to stop anytime to drive around anaheim at sundown and teach my mind to put you first”,  “cause i am lost and not in you”, “you can try to unearth my soul i swear you’d hate what you’d find” and “i have yet to know how to be mine” --> these lyrics are purely because as someone with major abandonment issues and still have no clue about who i am, i don’t want to risk being with someone while i don’t know myself and therefore give them a false promise of who i am. i guess i want everyone to know this song as a reminder its okay to be lost and it’s okay to reject relationships to find yourself. you don’t need a relationship to be someone, you don’t need to be ____’s person. idk...my whole life has been “when will you be in a relationship” and its something that now makes me sad haha 

worlds smallest violin by ajr

your problems may be not as big as others, but it still impacts you. and therefore, its okay to be sad. its okay to be hurt by this. it’s okay. your feelings are forever valid. 

day147′ by curtissmith

this song was just a really nice break during covid and it mentioned a lot of political things happening in the philippines, so it had nice and chill vibes WHILE commenting on politics and i appreciated it. 

regarding the song for my theme song, i’d say maybe...”great one” by jessi reyez? 

lol i had more songs tied but it just highlighted my abandonment issues 💀  

my question for you: who is your ultimate role model? and why? 

tagging (no pressure!!): @pastelsicheng @kopikokun (tagging you back haha) @urlocalnctstan @lucas-wongs 

Still looking for a Shotaro writer!!

collab call: 1 spot left

hiya! 

the shotaro spot on the greek mythology au is still available, if anyone is interested!

the basic concept is that you, as the writer, will have the ability to take a greek myth and modernize it in a university setting. you have free reign over the myth, as long as you keep the bones of it. the full collab call is available here

please message me on tumblr if interested!

if you cannot find a greek myth, i have done plenty of research the last few weeks and would love to help. 

some unclaimed myths include; 

Keep reading

rules: put your favorite playlist on shuffle and put the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people

tagged by: @kopikokun (hehe i love you girlie)

playlist chosen: “chill” a playlist I play when im just wanting to have a chill moment (this playlist has 1140 songs —> I have a total of 8000 songs on my iTunes pls dont judge me + this playlist isn’t finished yet as I’m making my playlists by going through each artist I have on my laptop and deleting songs I no longer like)

Afterthought by Joji (ft. Benee)

Pacman by Eaj (Jae of Day6)

Cardigan by Taylor swift

Hurt Me by Låpsley

Graveyard by Halsey

Budapest by George Ezra

Sinner’s Prayer by Lady Gaga

Vanilla by Holly Humberstone

Hesitate by Jonas Brothers

Pretty Head by Transviolet

tagging: @pastelsicheng @lucas-wongs @urlocalnctstan @127-mile @moondustaeil @chiffonymark @stayinzencity @heejinnien @itsapapisongo @lamaiejeno + anyone who wants to do it!

lets see if yangyang sees my submissions

color tag!!

you can take the quiz at this link and share your results!

ngl, i dont think this is very accurate HAHA some bits i guess are right? like  mostly hating bothering people and i think i am good at emotional connections? but my personality is not like this haha 

tagged by: @kopikokun & @stayinzencity (thank you lovelies <3) 

tagging: @pastelsicheng @urlocalnctstan @heejinnien @lucas-wongs​  and anyone who wants to do it 🥰

picrew tag!

rule: make yourself with this picrew

first pic is me and second one is me with long hair, blue eyes, and a better style haha

tagged by: @kopikokun 

tagging: @pastelsicheng  @urlocalnctstan  @stayinzencity  @127-mile @chiffonymark @lucas-wongs @moondustaeil @heejinnien and at anyone else whose interested!! 💖

Shotaro is still available!! 

the myths and legends of neo-city university; collab call

neo-city university is a place of myths and legends; stories that seem to survive the grips of time. with myths of tragedy, adoration, heartbreak, and sacrifice - neo-city university tells timeless tales of the chaos of love, the pains of growing, and the uncertainty of life.  

Keep reading

we've got differences and impulses...