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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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I Didn't Think You Had It In You

(part one - "devil by the whiteboard") wc: 5k (i'm so sorry, longest one yet i've gotta chill but it's WORTH IT I PROMISE) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, some mean!hanbin and some infatuated!hanbin :) also this one's funnier than the last one warnings for alternate ending: suggestive/mature content - minors dni!! (link to it is *in* the fic for proprer conext/placement) summary: studentbodypresident!hanbin is majorly regretting the grief he's put introvertedrival!reader through for their entire academic career. i wonder how he'll try to make it up them... ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ *edited to say that... i edited this haha and it should be free of errors now* FINALLY DONE. PART TWO OF MY MASTERPIECE. lmaoooo. omg super secret surprise ending; my first attempt at such. hope you read both endings tho bc i really like them both :) love y'alllllll gonna go to bed now that i've marathon wrote this for 5 hours!

“WHAT!?” You shout, the shock of the words that just echoed through the hallway nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as you whip around to face the boy who uttered them.

You expect to see him smirking back at you, eyes taunting and mean. But what you find instead appears to be a look of surprise somewhat mirroring your own.

"You heard me that time, too," Hanbin responds quietly, averting your gaze.

You stare at the boy in front of you for a while, desperately trying to fill your lungs back up with the air you had lost. But the more oxygen you take in, the more anger you feel brewing in your blood. Abruptly, you start to walk back to where Hanbin stands in the middle of the hallway and the closer you get, the wider his eyes grow.

Only a few inches away from him now, Hanbin is staring back at you unblinkingly and you swear his cheeks are redder than they normally are. Without thinking, your hands reach up and connect with his chest--

Hanbin stumbles back as you push him, lips parting in surprise despite the lack of force behind your shove. Your hands remain on his chest as shock at your own actions suddenly renders you immobile.

Your face is mere centimeters from his for the second time tonight, both of you staring at each other; unsure what to do next. Hanbin coughs first, the tips of his ears now matching the scarlet of his cheeks. He places his hands on top of yours and removes them from his chest wordlessly.

You're positive that your cheeks are heating up now, too. You take a shaky breath before managing to clumsily demand, “What’s... What's wrong with you!? Why would I ever go out with you!?”

You watch as Hanbin's expression suddenly shifts, the condescending look returning to his eyes. “Maybe so you’d finally have someone to eat lunch with other than the collector’s edition of Jane Eyre.”

You frown, suddenly uneasy that Hanbin must have seen you alone in the library during lunch before. You wondered what other observations he was sitting on until it was the right time to shame you with them. Quietly, you lie, "I have people to eat lunch with."

"The Bronte Sisters don't count," he says with a smirk.

You swallow the lump in your throat that's starting to build. "I don't need anyone to eat lunch with."

"Hey, it's okay," he coos mockingly. "No need to cry. You cry enough during lunch as it is."

"You are such a bastard," you spit, watching as Hanbin's eyes seem to light up at the fire igniting in you once more. "Even if I wanted someone to eat lunch with, what gives you the audacity to suggest that that someone should be you!?"

He's just staring at you again, but his expression now seems to be one of awe rather than blank shock— though it's unrecognizable to you with white hot rage clouding your vision.

"You are a despicable human being, Hanbin. You're a liar; you're a phony. And now you've even become a cheat! You have never caused me to feel anything other than annoyance, anger and, tonight, disdain. But now..."

Hanbin's eyebrows raise slightly as he waits for you to continue.

"Now I can't help but pity you, too. Would it really have been so bad if my team won the Decathlon? Is your ego that fragile that you'd rather sabotage all of your integrity than to fail publicly? I feel so bad for you that you'd risk ruining your entire reputation in some misguided attempt to save it."

"I wasn't--," he says quietly, but you cut him off and he doesn't protest.

"I let you push me around, because I thought it was in everybody's best interest. But now that I've watched you stoop so low, I'm not making excuses anymore," you say, determinedly. "So, after I've said all this, I'll ask again: why would I ever want to go out with you, Sung Hanbin?"

It takes awhile for a response to appear on Hanbin's face and, once it does, you're a bit shaken at how unrecognizable it is. He seems to notice how you're looking at him and clears his throat before forcing himself to laugh in offense.

“I was just joking! No need to be so—… Why would I ever want to go out with you? Like I'm not way out of your league," he rambles haughtily, shaking his head in disbelief. "I just thought it might make joining my team seem like a better idea by comparison.”

"Well, it didn't," you declare, knowing there had to have been a motive behind Hanbin's words but still feeling a bit foolish for having almost considered believing them. "I'm not joining Blue Team next year. And now I don't think I'll be joining any team next year."

"What!?" Hanbin exclaims, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean you're not joining a team next year? You love Decathlon!"

You smile sadly. "I do. It's too bad you had to go and ruin it."

"I didn't know that you wouldn't--," he starts, fumbling his sentence and starting again as if he's panicking. "I didn't want you to quit! (Y/N), that's not--."

"I really hope you're happy now that you got what you wanted, Hanbin," you cut him off, making your way back to the exit doors and throwing them open. Over your shoulder, you call:

"You win!"

“If I had a penny for every time I caught you reading this book…”

The sudden voice startles you, your collector’s edition of Jane Eyre falling from your hands and onto the table. The book shuts closed before you have a chance to mark the page you’re on.

“Oh,” Hanbin mumbles awkwardly. “Sorry.”

You open the book back up, quickly flipping to the page and placing your bookmark in it before setting it back down.

“I guess you would have every page memorized by now,” Hanbin says with a laugh.

You frown at him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything except to have lunch with you,” he says smiling ear-to-ear, before glancing at your book. “And Miss Bronte, of course.”

You roll your eyes, picking up your sandwich for the first time since you sat down. “Well we both would rather gauge our eyes out than make small talk with you.”

“Oh, ouch,” Hanbin says as he bites his lip in a smirk. “Should I call your bluff?”

You pick up the spoon for your yogurt, immediately raising it to your eye before Hanbin reaches out in a panic and wraps his hand around yours. He lowers your hand that’s holding the spoon back down to the table with a nervous laugh.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” Hanbin asks rhetorically, nodding as he pops off the lid to his soup and spoons it into his mouth. “This is nice! Why haven’t we done this before?”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Because I hate you.”

“No, we hate each other,” he corrects, eating another spoonful of soup. “Friendship is a two-way street.”

You choke a bit on your sandwich, coughing to clear your throat before exclaiming, “We are NOT friends!”

“But we could be,” Hanbin muses far-too happily. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

“No,” you answer plainly.

“It would be better than what we are now, right? Think about it: we would be a pretty unstoppable duo!”

“I wouldn't be your friend even if you paid me,” you spit. “And I know you’re really into paying people to get what you want lately.”

“Oh please, that was so three days ago,” Hanbin sighs exasperatedly. “Things were so much easier when you didn’t have a backbone. I pay to win one competition and you’re suddenly acting like you didn’t used to do everything I told you to?”

“I told you I’m not letting you push me around anymore,” you say definitively.

He smirks. “I just don’t really believe you…”

Your hand wraps around your spoon again, hurtling toward your right eyeball as Hanbin’s eyes widen in sudden fear. His hand reaches out to grab yours again, bringing it back down to the table in awkward silence.

“Please stop trying to impale yourself at the lunch table,” Hanbin requests quietly, attempting to steady his breathing. "I'll do anything you want, just do not make me have to carry your eyeball in my soup cup to the nurse's office."

You blink back at him. "Anything?"

"Oh, uh..." Hanbin says, clearly surprised that you clung onto his plea. "Did you want something... from me?"

You sigh, eating another spoonful of yogurt. "I have a proposal for Student Government."

"Oh sure, if you send it to me I can put my name on it and sign it," he says with a nod.

"No," you respond quickly.

"No? What do you--?"

"It's mine," you announce, placing your spoon down. "It's my proposal and it really means a lot to me and... I want everyone to know it's mine."

Hanbin looks at you curiously for a moment before a small smile graces his lips. He blinks at you as he whispers, "Cute."

"What?" You ask, one eyebrow raising in confused shock.

The boy in front of you's eyes widen for a moment before he shakes his head nonchalantly and looks down into his soup. "I meant, it's cute you think you'll be able to pitch it without puking..."

"I want you to pitch it," you respond, glaring back at him. "I know I can't make a speech to save my life. But people always like my words best when they come out of your mouth anyway."

Hanbin's eyes are doe-like as his lips form into a little surprised pout.

"So, could you pitch my proposal to the Student Council for me?" You ask, chewing your cheek. "All I want this time is the credit. It's really important to me so... I just..."

"Okay," he agrees, nodding gently. "I can do that."

You blink back at him. "Really?"

"Sure, I can help you," Hanbin says, before adding with a smirk:

"We're friends now, after all."

You take your seat at the far right of the Officers’ Table, adjusting your name plaque after neatly tucking your bag under your chair. It’s been two weeks since the last Student Government meeting and you are incredibly excited about the new proposal you’ve drawn up in support of increased mental health services on campus. You have to admit you’re glad that Hanbin had agreed to make the pitch speech for you.

“I’m excited to hear your proposal!” Stephanie, the Student Council Treasurer, says as she sits down next to you. “Are you nervous to pitch it? I know that public speaking is not your strong suit.”

Your eyebrows furrow confusedly at her question. “What do you mean? I’m not pitching it. Hanbin is.”

“Oh, um…” She smiles at you awkwardly. “Proposals can only be pitched by the member that created them! Those are the rules. I thought you knew that.”

“But I write Hanbin’s—…” You cut yourself off before you expose the Student Body President to the Treasurer. Your proposal is something you are terribly proud of and you want everyone to know it’s yours! But to find out now, only minutes away from the beginning of the meeting, that you’d have to be the one to present it to the entirety of the Student Government… Your vision is already burring with anxiety. All you can muster in response to Stephanie is, “Oh, okay.”

Completely frozen in fear, you’re only pulled out of your dissociative state when Stephanie taps you on the shoulder. She nods at you, gesturing with her hands for you to stand up. You scan the room, surprised when you realize it’s filled with the members of Student Government and that you must’ve zoned out for the entire first half of the meeting.

“Wait—,” Hanbin interjects from where he sits on the other side of Stephanie. He frowns at you confusedly, continuing, “I thought I was reading (Y/N)’s proposal…”

Hyungjun, the Vice President, laughs on Hanbin’s left. “Pretending he doesn’t know the rules. This guy!”

Hanbin’s eyes widen as he glances at the other Officers, unsure of how to react.

“It’s (Y/N)’s proposal,” Stephanie thankfully elaborates. “So, obviously, (Y/N) has to pitch it. And breaking that rule is immediate grounds for a dismissal vote.”

“Oh,” Hanbin mumbles, slowly nodding as he must be considering— just as you had— how many times he should’ve had a dismissal vote called on him by now. “Obviously.”

“So, (Y/N), if you’ll please,” Hyungjun prompts, nodding his head for you to stand up and recite your proposal. You're positive that all the oxygen has left the classroom as you shakily rise to your feet.

Gathering your proposal paper in your hand, you stare at the words on the page-- suddenly rendered illiterate by the amount of fear coursing through your body. Your breathing is shallow and thin and you wonder how long it will take before you've fainted from the anxiety.

"Um, the--... the, um, proposal I am sharing today," you begin; the nervous stammering you always developed when forced to address a crowd rearing it's ugly and reliable head. "Is about--... Or, well, it's to address... It's to help fix the campus's lack of rental mealth hesources."

"Oh god," you hear Hanbin whisper under his breath as you completely flub your words. All of the Student Council members are now chuckling at your mistake as you shake your head quickly, trying to refocus yourself so you can continue.

"There's--... Um, there's plenty of evidence that," you say, eyes locked on your paper as you attempt to make sense of the proposal you'd written which now appears as nothing more to you than a page full of gibberish. "That... That this school... That it's--..."

"Is this a joke?" A Student Council member shouts from the back of the classroom, as you resign yourself to a mere dear in headlights. "Aren't you embarrassed? You're the Student Government Secretary and you can't even form a coherent sentence?"

"HEY!" An angry voice booms to your left as you try to force down the bile that's currently stinging your esophagus. The sudden shout jolts you back to awareness as you look to see who it came from.

"Do you want to leave?" Hanbin threatens, jaw set in an uncharacteristic public display of fury. "Would you care to explain how bullying a Student Government Officer is at all in line with your duty as a Council Member?"

The student's eyes widen as he stares back at the Student Body President in shock. "I--... I--..."

"Look who can't form a coherent sentence now," Hanbin says with a smirk. A few moments pass before Hyungjun clears his throat, causing Hanbin to remember where he is. He looks around at the room apprehensively before standing and bowing sheepishly to the rest of the Student Council.

"I'm so sorry for the disrespectful outburst," he apologizes, voice returning to its usual "perfect" tone and the dimples beneath his eyes cratering as he smiles embarrassedly. "But as Student Body President, I simply can't condone bullying. Especially of one of our Officers, who is..."

Hanbin finally looks at you, his eyes suspiciously genuine. He averts your gaze awkwardly after just a moment, turning back to address the rest of the Student Council members. "Who is the best Student Government Secretary I could've ever asked for. And whom unfortunately, has a terrible fear of public speaking."

You watch as the crowd of students begin to look down at their hands and their laps guiltily.

"(Y/N) has had incredible ideas for this school," Hanbin starts, his eyebrows raising when he remembers he can't actually mention all of the ideas you've had for this school-- as he had always been the one to pitch them and, in turn, pass them off for his own. He recovers, "That have never been heard by us before due to (Y/N)'s fear of public speaking! And it's a shame that on (Y/N)'s first attempt to show them to us, you responded with bullying and ridicule."

The students in the classroom are now all doe-eyed as they take in Hanbin's words and, as you realize what's going on, you have to suppress a laugh.

"Incredible," you whisper, shaking your head in disbelief at the boy that is Sung Hanbin.

"I think we should all treat each other with the utmost respect and kindness-- especially as members of the Student Government. And this, coincidentally, plays into (Y/N)'s proposal about mental health resources at our school," Hanbin continues, doing what he does best. "I think we should move to vote on this proposal immediately."

"You're right, Sunbaenim!" The same student that had hurled insults at you earlier agrees enthusiastically as he stands up from his seat, eyes practically turning to hearts as they gaze upon Hanbin. "We need to provide more anti-bullying and mental health resources for our students. I'm so glad you came up with this brilliant proposal!"

"Oh, I didn't! I--," Hanbin starts to correct, but you already know how this ends as you sit back down in your seat with a heavy sigh.

"What would we do without our shining Student Body President?" Another student calls, starting a round of applause for Hanbin.

You observe him quietly, watching as any signs of protest slowly leave his face. He smiles resignedly back at his peers, clasping his hands together to nod graciously at them as the other Officers join in on the applause as well.

Even when Sung Hanbin tried to help you, it all ended up falling perfectly back into his lap anyway.

"What page are we on now?"

You groan, slamming your book down on the table. "Is this going to be a pattern? Do I have to eat lunch in the bathroom from now on?"

"Not my ideal place to eat lunch, but," he pauses, placing his hands down flat on the table with a smile. "I'll brave it for you."

You pick up your collector's edition of Jane Eyre and drop it on his right hand.

He presses his lips together firmly, looking up to the corner of the room as he tries to ignore the pain. "Okay, I know yesterday didn't go like we'd hoped, but--."

"Like I hoped," you correct, shaking your head in disgust. "I asked you to read my proposal for me. And everyone just ended up pretending like it was yours anyway. And you went along with it!"

"Well--."

"Where is the 'we' in any of that?" You cut him off quickly, watching as his brow furrows. "There is no we. You stole my proposal; just like you stole the Decathlon."

Hanbin stares at you silently for a moment, before responding softly, "I'm sorry."

"Sure you are."

"I am!" He pleads and you hate to admit that he appears earnest. "Really, I didn't mean for that to happen. I stuck up for you when that asshole made fun of you! It's not like I didn't do anything at all."

You stare back at Hanbin wordlessly. He had stood up in front of the entire Student Council to scold that stupid kid in your defense. You'd never seen him get angry in front of people like that before. He'd always cared too much about his perfect, clean image.

"I want to make it up to you," he says with a nod. "So I have a proposal for you."

"Is it the one you stole from me?" You deadpan.

He sighs exasperatedly. "Shut up and let me tell you I have a spot for you on the Blue Team for the rest of this semester!"

You blink back at him in surprise. "What?"

"You deserve to win Scholastic Decathlon at least once, (Y/N)," Hanbin says with a smile. "And if you're really not gonna compete again next year then let me make it happen this season."

"Hanbin..." You falter, brow furrowing suspiciously. "Y-... your team is full."

"I told you there's always a spot for you," he rebuts quickly. "Ilsung's been pretty annoying recently anyway. Didn't you hear what he said about you at Regionals?"

Sighing annoyedly, you take a sip of your iced tea. "Hanbin, I can't join your team."

"Why not?" He whines, folding his hands on the table and resting his chin on them. "You'd be doing me a really big favor!"

"Aren't you the one whose supposed to be doing me a favor?"

Hanbin blinks up at you, pouting in a sickening display of cuteness. "Pleeeeaaase..."

"If you don't stop that right now, I will shove this entire bottle of tea UP your--."

"I'd like to see you try."

It's been a week since Hanbin had asked you to join the Blue Team for the remainder of the season. Since then, "Hanbin's" Student Government proposal regarding mental health resources on campus has passed three student votes and, today, a school-wide assembly is taking place to celebrate the proposal and the Student Body President's exceptional efforts.

Your moral obligation to your Secretary duties coming before your feelings, you had written Hanbin's speech for this afternoon just like you always did.

It has also been a week and a day since Hanbin started eating lunch with you in the library. No matter how hard you tried to bully him into leaving you alone to your collector's edition of Jane Eyre (or how hard you smacked him with various items from your lunchbox), your efforts were in vain.

Hanbin had no intentions of ceasing your "lunch dates", as he called them (always prompting you to hit him once more). He'd flinched at first when Hyungjun and Stephanie walked up to the both of you last Friday, face flushing when they asked him what he was doing eating lunch with you.

But just as soon as that fear of being perceived as imperfect appeared, it subsequently faded away.

"A President and his Secretary notoriously make a pretty good duo, don't you think?" He'd said with an innocent smile.

Hyungjun and Stephanie looked at each other confusedly, of course interpreting Hanbin's words to imply something different than he'd meant.

"Oh! Oh no," Hanbin had clarified quickly, raising his hands in defense. "I meant, as... I meant as friends!"

Hyungjun and Stephanie had nodded quickly before excusing themselves and running out of the library.

"This is why I have to curate all of your words for you," you had said, rolling your eyes at him.

But no matter how much you outwardly displayed your dislike of Hanbin's presence during your lunch period... you'd be lying if you said you hadn't started to get used to him bothering you with his company.

Perhaps you'd even started to like it.

So now, as Hanbin stands behind the tall, wooden podium in the center of the gymnasium delivering the speech you wrote for him, you stand at the back of the gym and observe him carefully. He really is a great public speaker-- every word you've written for him coming to life on his tongue.

But there's a sentence he utters that suddenly catches your attention as you realize he's no longer referencing the paper in front of him.

“The truth is… I didn’t write this proposal,” Hanbin confesses, a wave of confused and shocked whispers sounding across the room. Your stomach churns as you hang onto his every word.

He swallows nervously, before continuing, “And, furthermore, I also haven’t written any of the proposals or speeches that I’ve given during my time as Student Body President. Secretary (Y/N) has written all of them.”

Horrified, you look around the room as everyone’s eyes come to rest on you. Desperately resisting the urge to curl up into a ball and die, your focus remains locked on Hanbin.

“I'm so sorry to disappoint all of my peers and teachers, but I needed to tell the truth as it's the right thing to finally do,” he continues, nodding affirmatively. “And I also have something to say about the Scholastic Decathlon. The only reason the Blue Team won Regionals this year is because—.”

“Because you’re such an incredible team!” You shout, standing up suddenly and instantly regretting it. Hanbin’s eyes meet yours immediately, his eyebrows raised in shock at your sudden outburst. But there’s no going back now.

Walking up to the stage quickly as you do your best to dissociate, you push Hanbin aside when you reach the podium. “Hi, everyone. I’m so sorry for the confusion, but Hanbin is actually quite under-the-weather. He’s so dedicated to his role as Student Body President that he still wanted to deliver his speech today even with a fever. We pumped him full of ibuprofen, but…”

You turn to Hanbin, who is staring at you as if you have two heads. You touch the back of your hand to his forehead and put on the performance of your lifetime as you dote over him. “Oh my gosh, he’s burning up! You poor thing.”

“What are you doing? I was gonna—,” Hanbin protests, but you cut him off by stepping on his foot behind the podium. He seethes at the pain, glaring at you as you continue to save his ass.

“Unfortunately Hanbin is very sick, so he’s not really making much sense. I’m sure he will apologize for the confusion when he’s feeling better,” you conclude, grabbing Hanbin by the arm. “I’ll bring him to the nurse’s office now.”

As you drag a flabbergasted Hanbin through the crowd and out the gymnasium doors, you march down the hallway and into an empty classroom. Pulling him inside, you lock the door behind him quickly and shove him up against it a bit more aggressively than you’d intended.

“Are you CRAZY!?” You shout, hands balled up in his dress shirt as he gawks back at you wordlessly.

“Are YOU!?” He shouts back, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “(Y/N), what are you doing? I was trying to tell everybody the truth!”

“WELL, STOP IT!!”

Hanbin’s cheeks flush pink as he looks at your hands fisted up in his white-button down. He’s entirely flustered by your uncharacteristic display of force. “W—… What?”

Dropping your hands to your sides, you repeat, “Stop it before you ruin your fucking life, you absolute moron!”

“I—… Isn’t that what you want?" He asks confusedly. "I was terrible to you. Don’t you want me to pay for what I did?”

“What I wanted was to finally win Decathlon fair and square. And to have my name on my own stupid proposals and speeches for once.”

“But… I’m the one who made sure none of that happened. You even said you were gonna quit Decathlon next year because of me," Hanbin protests. "Come on, you have to want me to face some sort of serious consequence!”

“Hanbin! What’s… Why are you doing this!?" You exclaim, stepping back from the boy. "Do you want me to join the Blue Team that bad? You won't even be allowed back on it if you tell everybody the truth.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, of course not!”

“Then what’s the deal, huh? I know it’s something. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you really just feel sorry for everything that's ever happened between us all of a sudden?”

“It’s not… It’s not all of a sudden. I—…” Now Hanbin is giving you a run for your money as the worst stammering mess. “I’ve been sorry ever since you said that you…”

Growing impatient, you demand, “Since I said that I what!?”

“That you were disappointed in me!” He shouts under pressure— his lips parting slightly as he sharply inhales at his own words.

You blink back at him, eyes just as wide as his. “I said that?”

He nods slowly. “You—… you leaned towards me and with all of this fire in your eyes, you told me that you were disappointed in me. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

"I don't remember," you say as you swallow nervously-- the tone of Hanbin's voice almost daring you to think he might’ve meant something more. “To be honest, I was so mad that I… I sort of blacked out.”

He smiles now, genuinely and the cute under-eye dimples that are reserved for public events are now on display only for you. You’d be lying if you said they didn’t make you feel some type of way in this unexpectedly intimate moment. “I’m not surprised. You also called me a ‘cheating asshole’ and a ‘self-righteous prick’.”

You press your lips together, slightly embarrassed before mumbling, “You deserved it.”

“I did!” He agrees a little too enthusiastically. “I deserve worse, actually.”

“Hanbin…”

(super secret spicy alternate ending 🌶️ HERE 🌶️-- minors do not view/interact; just continue reading below!! also pls read bothhhhh if you are of age hahaha if you want no pressure but pressure)

“Come on, (Y/N)— I’m everything you said I am and more,” he says, biting his lip. “So why shouldn’t everybody know what you know?”

“Because I already forgave you, you dumbass!”

Hanbin’s mouth is already open to protest, but when he actually hears your words it shuts tightly. His head tilts to the side innocently in a questioning gaze. "You did?"

You sigh. "Yes. I mean, you've done a lot to try to make everything up to me. And I let you keep eating lunch with me, didn't I?"

The boy in front of you's lips part in surprise before he finally grins. "I knew you liked eating lunch with me more than Jane Eyre!"

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to hold back a grin of your own. "Any more unkind words towards Jane and we're kicking you out of the lunch club."

He laughs and you notice for the first time how beautifully joy manifests on his face. But his expression quickly becomes more serious once again. "I really am sorry, (Y/N). For everything. I've been awful to you for way too long and... I can't tell you how much I regret it. It turns out I actually really like you!"

Your jaw drops at his sudden confession and... so does his.

"As a person!" He exclaims, holding both hands up in defense as he laughs awkwardly. "I meant, as a person. You know phrasing's not my strong suit."

Cheeks heating up, you nod understandingly though you hate to admit his words had your heart racing.

Hanbin's lips press together in a dimpled smile. "So... does this mean you'll join the Blue Team for the rest of the year?"

You pucker your lips for a moment as you think, before answering definitively, "No. I could never betray my Pink Team like that."

He bites his lip, nodding sadly in agreement at your sentiment. Reaching for the door handle and unlocking it, your eyes reconnect with Hanbin's. In the end, he'd gone through all this effort just to make things right-- more than you'd ever expected him to do for you.

And the tiny frown on his face isn't helping to convince you to leave him empty-handed.

"But if I remember correctly," you add, your hand falling from the door knob to your side as you muster up all of the courage hiding deep within you. "You also pitched me an alternative."

Hanbin's eyes narrow in confusion before they suddenly light up, lips parted in shock.

"So maybe we can graduate from 'lunch dates' to a real date some time," you say, and it's not a question. Hanbin just stands there, grinning like an absolute idiot. "How does that sound?"

"Good," he says, nodding rapidly. "It sounds good."

"Good," you affirm, opening the door of the classroom. "Now let's get out of here..."

Hanbin follows you into the hallway, still smiling like he just won the lottery.

"Stop looking so happy," you say, smacking his shoulder playfully. "You're about to have to go to the nurse's office and fake the worst flu of your fucking life."

414 notes · View notes

skzooe · 1 year

Note

filming the lipstick stain trend with some bp trainees?

lipstick stain trend,,💄

BOYS PLANET

p.1 p.2 p.3

with; gunwook, s.hanbin, jeonghyeon, ricky

[for those who don't know ➡ 💋 ]

gunwook;

would do anything to get kisses from you

clingy king💯💯

when you show him the video he will literally start giggling and kicking his feet

stares at you with heart eyes when you apply the lipstick

gets so shy when you sit on his lap and cup his face

asks for more kisses because he just cant get enough

you keep having to re-film it because of how many times he keeps messing up just for more kisses

"can we do it one more time"

but every time you pan the camera to show him he will start laughing uncontrollably

brags to ALL of his friends

s.hanbin;

is the one who asked to film it

PINK CHEEKS

he would be so serious about it

"you forgot a spot" "do one more here"

literally the sweetest

is so whipped for you that he can't stop smiling while recording

gazing at you with eyes full of love

it turns into a full on cuddle sesh with him talking about how much he loves you

jeonghyeon;

poker face

"kisses?? say less"

he had that video saved already, however he didn't have the courage to ask

when you crawl on his lap, you could feel his heart pounding

when you kiss him he would smudge the stain as an excuse

"um, this one is smudged. do it again"

acts SO unbothered

but we all know he loved every second of it

saves the video and goes back to watch it EVERY DAY

ricky;

literally refuses

"i'm not doing that"

after a while of convincing and whining, he finally gives in

"fine but make it quick.."

you put on the lipstick as he's just admiring your beauty

you go to sit on his lap with a smirk thinking you could make him shy

BUT NO

he's SO UNFAZED

he laughs at your attempt

"nice try"

he picks you up and pins you to the ground with his hands on both sides of your head

turns into a heated makeout session

totally forgot about the tiktok

part 2 here

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wonbokkies · 1 year

Text

9:14 pm han yujin. ☆ ͏

word count: 0.4k

syn: a typical late night w/ han yujin.

wrote this bc i was feeling delusional and im in love w my (real) bf yujin 😊😊

“you didn’t have to wait for me, you know,” the boy next to you mumbled softly, his slim fingers gripping the strap of his bag while eyeing your figure that was currently leaning against the cold wall. now aware of his presence, you looked up at him, mindlessly shrugging while removing yourself from the hard surface and making your way to stand next to him, the streetlamp immediately illuminating your features. “practice ended much later than i thought.”

“but i wanted to.” you said.

“but it's late.” yujin replied. looking at the imaginary watch on your wrist, you faked a thinking expression before sending him a lopsided smile.

“not that late.” you retorted.

“it's almost 10.”

“and? the ice cream shop closes at 10:30, we have time.” you said, causing the taller boy to look at you skeptically.

“ice cream? this late?” you grinned up at him and nodded beamingly.

“what? don’t wanna get ice cream with me?” his glazed face then broke out into a panicked expression, causing you to stifle a laugh. intertwining your hand with his much larger one, you gently placed them into the right pocket of your puffer jacket, cold fingers still interlocked. the small action ignited an indescribable emotion in the boy, the apples of his cheeks hueing pink and the tips of his ears turning peachy. unconsciously rubbing the top of his hand with your thumb to create warmth, you stared up at the shy 5’9 boy beside you.

his messy, slightly sweaty locks fell around his face, allowing him to look even prettier than usual. he always looked pretty in your eyes.

tightening his grip on the sports bag slung around his shoulders, he inhaled when you slowly removed your intertwined hands from your pocket and placed a light, feathery kiss on it, your strawberry chapstick leaving a very slight print. a shy smile instantly formed in the corner of his heart shaped lips, his pretty bunny teeth peeking out.

“doesn’t matter because you’re coming anyways.” you mumbled and his smile only grew.

yujin deeply appreciated it when you waited for him after his inconsistently late soccer practices. knowing the fact that you were willing to wait alone in the cold weather just for him made a familiar feeling bloom in the pit of his chest. but he wasn’t gonna let you know that. too bad- you already did.

“what flavor are you getting?” you asked.

“strawberry.” he replied.

“again?” he smiled.

“it reminds me of you.”

send an ask if you'd like to be added to our permanent taglist!

perm. tl: @nyangified

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jaetyun · 1 year

Text

Boys plamet trainees making you blush; a thread!

seowon, hiroto, jiwoong, matthew & jongwoo x gn!reader

wc: 2.1k

fluff

a/n: ty to the amon who requested and waited patiently AND to the anon that put me on seowon. i owe you big time

trainees after the cut!

Seowon

"is that a challenge?"

you and seowon both has your arms crossed, glaring daggers into each others eyes. you were always known as an unreactive person, and seowon was fine with that! he appreciated you for the way you were, even if it meant your biggest laugh was a slight chuckle.

he thought he could handle it, that it wouldnt be an issue! but you were far from the down bad partner he had always dreamed of. he would never ask you to change who you are for him, he loved you as his stone faced lover! after a certain point though, his need for affection became overwhelming.

"cmonnn~ there has to be something i do that gets you flustered" he whined, yanking on your arm. you became limp, letting your limb flail as your boyfriend commanded. you shrugged. "i like you when youre just being you"

he frowns

"thats not what i mean."

you lifted your arm our of his reach, pecking his cheek softly. "ive never felt it before, i doubt you'll change it."

"is that a challenge?" you both glared at one another. without saying a single word, your eyes told him it. was. on.

"baby~~~"

you turned around, remaining straight faced even when your boyfriend began twirling to show off how your hoodie looked on him.

"what do you think?"

you quickly gave him a thumbs up

"i think it looks great!"

he frowned, wrapping his arms around you and sitting on your lap with batted eyelashes.

"do you think im pretty?"

"youre always pretty to me" you placed your hands on his hips calmly, making his scowl only deepen. his hand suddenly went to check your pulse, and he clicked his tongue upon feeling that it was perfectly regulated.

"baby, do you like it when i act cute??"

"of course i do"

"then why arent you flustered" he gently hit your chest, climbing off you. you were left blinking in confusion. what? suddenly your eyes widened "is this about *that* again?"

he huffed out cutely, making a pouty face. "i tried everything love!"

you shrugged. "try harder."

"what did your heart seriously not skip a beat when i pushed you on the bed?" you softly smiled. "you were very sexy baby." you added with a unconvincing hum.

hs tilted his head condescendingly. suddenly seowon gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him from your seat. he leaned closer and softly examined your facial expressions. when seowon ultimately ended up unsatisfied, he huffed our cutely, drooping onto your lap again with disappointment.

just says before he tried surprising you with gifts, but even that didn't work. maybe it was an impossible task...

"was i asking too much of you?" he asked, looking up at you with unintentional puppy eyes. god, if you could take a picture of his face right now you'd sell it for mullions. his lips were ever so softly pouting, jutted out *just* right. his eyes seemed as if he was a kicked puppy. seowon was... utterly adorable right now.

the way his fringe fell on his face angelically framing it. your face began to burn with pink as you avoided eye contact.

"dont.. dont look at me like that." you muttered, covering your mouth in a fit of embarrassment. he tilted his head, pupils sparkling with wonder. "like what?"

this wasnt intentional? you lurched forward subtly at the overwhelming twinge in your heart. you really werent gonna survive at this rate..

seowons smug grin began forming in amusement.

"is that.. blush?"

"yeah yeah! whatever" you waved him off, but seowon was too excited to notice.

his excited dance of joy was something you couldnt say no to, no matter how hard you tried to deny it the moment seowon is happy you gave up.

"proud of yourself?"

"very!"

Hiroto

your boyfriend was super cute, and you both knew it! his aegyo was basically a lethal weapon to you. theres been times thats resulted in you closing your eyes to not be subject to it.

hiroto found it utterly *hilarious*

his eyes would go big, his eyebrows furrowing innocently.

"please... for me?" your mind goes numb, your ears begin burning. he has you wrapped around his finger at this point.

hiroto pokes you a couple of times, the last one leaving his finger lingering on your chest, drawing circles slowly. you exhaled out, already know

ing you lost.

"okay, fine." you said weakly, watching his lips curl into a satisfied smile. he pecks your cheek softly, humming in satisfaction.

"thank you baby, hiro loves you" he hums out, not that it mattered. you brain was pretty much melted, nothing but the cute expression of you boyfriend left. he gives you a giggle, one you cant possibly be mad at.

you wanted so badly to scold him but you knew you couldn't. even if he used his weapon on purpose, you cant deny you enjoy his cute nature no matter the circumstances.

“love you too!”

Jiwoong

jiwoong making you blush takes minimal effort. just laying your eyes in him had your insides screaming. just a simple kiss had you folded in half on the floor.

he didn’t mind, mostly because he’s used to it. pretty boy with pretty privilege! although sometimes his urge to tease you about it became stronger than normal, usually leading to you snapping out of it.

sure, you loved your gorgeous boyfriend. but the only thing you disliked about him was the way he would tease you. see, unlike normal people, jiwoong does it with a straight face. as if he’s genuinely annoyed with you, and though you know he’s not it’s *far* more irritating.

“sweetheart, what do you want for dinner?” jiwoong asked, stepping into your shared bedroom phone in hand. and my oh my, he looks delectable. you guessed he had bought a new shirt recently. one of those tight fits trending on tiktok.

your jaw fell agape, blatantly gawking at his build. he looks up at you, a poker face as he repeats the question. “dinner? you not hungry?”

“no! i am! i just…” you audibly gulped, still completely intoxicated with the way the shirt frames him.

“i’m hungry for something else now…” you muttered under your breath. he looked up, not able to catch what you had just said. jiwoong eyes furrowed in confusion. “what was that?”

you began stammering more, trying to clear your throat and form a coherent thought.

“well! i.. you.. me.. i was.. ummm” you sighed in defeat, now realizing there was no way in hell you were going to say anything that made sense.

“well i you me i was um?” he repeated, head still tilted. and there it was. the pocker face he always had. the completely unfazed expression. no hint of mischief, not smug grin, no condescending look in his eyes. as if he had asked you a regular question. you huffed out, the rotting in your brain seemingly getting resurrected.

“i’m ordering without you! we can eat something different tonight.” you stood up from the bed, flipping him off to walk out the room.

he laughed finally, *finally* showing emotion. on your way out he gripped your wrist, turning you to face him. “don’t be like that~ you know i like seeing you embarrassed” he says between laughs.

and with a smile like that, you couldn’t stay mad at him. you exhaled out, but he’s already won. he always wins against you it seems.

“whatever. we still haven’t decided dinner.”

Matthew

you guys had very different love languages, and that was okay in your book. matthew loved physical touch and quality time. while you ranted about how much you loved him, he sat there holding your hand, drawing shapes onto the back of your palm. that's just how it worked! he never *told* you how much he loved you, he showed it.

so it took you by surprise when you walked into the kitchen and overheard him talking with his friends in the couch. they were in the middle of a game, his headset on and his hands at work on the controller.

"they're perfect, dude. like.. just wahhh" he spoke casually. as if this was something he did commonly. who was this they he was talking about? you walked closer to the fridge to get a better listen.

"yeah yeah, it's cheesy! but so what? it's not my fault i found the love of my life" he continued. your ears began ringing, and time seemed to stop. you couldn't believe your ears... matthew seok? talking about how much he loved you? the man whose only compliment has been a thumbs up?? you couldn't believe your ears.

"i really scored the package deal. why someone so amazing settled for me i dunno, but i'm not complaining!"

you had to grab onto the counter to steady your ragged breath.

your head was spinning, your face was completely red.

you couldn't listen to this anymore, you absolutely *couldnt* for you might explode on the spot. you walked out from the room, casually walking in the living room with a snack in hand.

"baby! won anything?" you hum, leaning against the couch. matthew seemed to short circuit, sheepishly laughing.

"oh.. my love! hey!" the panicked in his voice had you internally licking your feet like a middle schooler. he's seriously so cute, what were you gonna do with him? "i've won a couple rounds, but i've kinda been getting carried" he nervously scratched the back of his neck, leaving you laughing softly.

"i'm glad you're having fun! you're smile is always so pretty" you kiss his cheek softly. he giggles shyly, face quickly contorting as he eyes his headset. he clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes at his friends comment.

you patted his shoulder, giving him one last kiss before letting him carry on with his hand. matthew was seriously such an angel, you're a loss for how sweet and cute he was.

your next destination was your bedroom, where you could properly freak out about what you overheard.

Jongwoo

jongwoo by nature was quite shy. he rarely spoke when he didn't need to. maybe that's why he attracted you, someone who hardly has your mouth closed.

he loves how talkative you are, and the two of you balanced each other well. it's just well... sometimes jongwoo has to admit he's in fact not as interest in your ramblings as you had hoped. it's not his fault! he couldn't help the way his gaze fell on your pretty lips, his heart skipping a beat when it curves into a smile.

he couldn't help the way he watched as you scrunched your nose at the part of the story you didnt like. he couldn't help the way- and now jongwoo realized he hadn't been listening for the past couple of minutes. he faked an understanding, nodding and making small 'mhms' when the time felt right.

you, being completely obviously to it, continued your big hand gestures and dramatic story telling. he softly laughed. even if he had no idea what you were talking about, it was cute watching!

suddenly before he had time to process it jongwoo had it hand resting on your cheek, catching you completely off guard.

you frowned at him. "whatre you doing?"

"sorry i just got distracted from your story"

"by what? my beauty" you gave out a boisterous laugh, the color draining from your face when he nodded along.

"yeah. not my fault you're really pretty."

flustered was an understatement. you were completely whiplashed. you gave a couple of hard blinks, not sure how to react. your fight or flight kicked in from the overdrive he sent you into.

jongwoo laughed as he watched the wat you smacked his hand off, covering your burning cheeks. “what are you talking about..?”

“i’m sorry dear, finish what you were saying”

your eyes widened, the story you had long forgotten by now.

“no way! this is your fault.”

“please~ i wanna hear the rest.” he was obviously teasing you, batting his eyelashes innocently. you flipped your boyfriend off, even if you were blushing like crazy you still had it left in you to tell him off

“you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

“guilty…”

#apollosdiary #boys planet #boys planet drabbles #boys planet imagines #kpop imagines #boys planet x reader #boys planet scenarios #boys planet fluff #boys planet jiwoong #seok matthew #bp999 #seowon

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genjv4rse · 1 year

Text

IM GOING ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT CRAZY OVER HOT SUMMER RICKY OMLLL THE SMIRK ON THE FIRST PIC JSJSJSJ THAT B&W PIC 😃😃😃 THAT BODY SHOT WHAT HELP HE GIVES OFF THIS DARK VILLAIN AURA 🛐🛐🛐

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seokmthw · 11 months

Text

take a break | kim gyuvin

⇢ pairing: gyuvin x reader

⇢ warnings: fluff

⇢ word count: 676

⇢ note: sorry for being a little ia as of late, i promise i'm trying my best to get some stuff written! i started my full time job last week and have been super tired, so please bear with me!

you huffed in annoyance, tugging at the roots of your own hair at the dreaded powerpoint that was displayed in front of you on your all too bright laptop screen, your mind reeling with all the possible things that could go wrong while you were presenting it in class the next day.

you’d been working tirelessly at it for hours, the only thing keeping you going being a coffee and chinese takeout your boyfriend had brought you for dinner hours earlier.

said boyfriend wouldn’t stop trying to get you to call it quits for the night, either.

“y/n~” gyuvin whined, his voice slightly muffled from the comforter he was currently burying his face in, “come on, love, you’ve been working yourself to death. at least take a ten minute break.”

“i can’t, i need to make sure everything is included in this so i can minimize the chances of me screwing everything up tomorrow,” you passively dismissed, waving your hand lazily at him while you were reaching for your coffee, which by now was watered down, but you didn’t care.

after a few more minutes of typing and reviewing your notecards, gyuvin was talking again, “if you don’t stop for the night, i’m gonna start crying. is that something you really want?”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, “whatever you say, gyu.”

“babe,” gyuvin defeatedly sighed, “i know this is something yourself stressed out over, but i seriously think you’ll do just fine. besides, if you keep cramming stuff in for hours on end, it doesn’t really help you retain much anyway.”

you stopped reading your notecard halfway through, absorbing every word he just spoke and realized that maybe, just maybe, he was right. and as if on cue, he was speaking again.

“also, i really, really wanna cuddle with you right now. i’ve been waiting for hours and i feel like i’m gonna die.”

you chuckled, swiveling in your chair to face the boy who sprawled out on your bed. his hair was in messy tufts in top of his head, his t-shirt was bunched up enough to reveal a small sliver of his tummy and his sweatpants were sloppily tied up. the comforter was barely covering him as well, just enough to give him the warmth and safety he needed.

you had to admit, his arms looked beyond welcoming.

you sighed, taking one last look at your powerpoint before finally closing your laptop and putting your notes away in your bag, finally admitting, “i guess you’re right.”

“oh sweetheart, come here,” you rose from your chair and crawled into bed, where gyuvin was laying with his arms wide open, and melted into his embrace like your life depended on it.

you could feel a soft laugh rumble in his chest, his voice quiet as he spoke now, “i can tell you’re tired.”

“i really am,” you agreed sleepily, your eyes growing heavy after only moments of being wrapped up with him, “thank you, gyu. i mean it. i don’t know what i would do without you.”

he pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, pulling the comforter over your bodies and somehow managing to bring you even closer to him. within mere minutes, he could hear your breath even out and small sounds erupting from your lungs to let him know that you were sound asleep.

the boy smiled to himself, somehow managing to shut the lamp off behind him without waking you. while it was almost a chore for him to get you to take even a five minute break, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. there was always something about the way you would laugh at his corny jokes and whining that always made him want to keep pestering you.

he brushed the loose strands of hair from your face and kissed your forehead once more, mumbling, “i love you, stubborn ass. you’re gonna knock that presentation out of the park tomorrow.”

slowly but surely, he fell asleep too, content by the mere fact that he had you by his side.

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rickyschicky · 10 months

Text

Okay so im def gonna write something containing something super cute like a drabble with Ricky x f!reader and Hao x f!reader (It's easier to write for Fem readers since I am one myself, so it will be my default but i will write for any preferred pronoun) BUT It will be after or during watching BP999 with my friend who never got to see it broadcasted live.

#chick thinks #kpop #kpop bg #fluff #shen ricky #zhang hao #zb1 #zb1 ricky #zb1 hao

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http-mianhae · 9 months

Text

13 ➛ never have you ever got spat in the face

previous | masterlist | next

please comment or lmk in any way for the taglist!

TAGLIST ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ @tocupid @cyberpunksunwoo @aerivrs @minhui896

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

Good Luck, Mickey!

wc: 1k warnings: a pretty flirtatious little joke made by ricky... do you need to be warned of that? maybe if you have a weak heart. otherwise very very light angst and fluff. pronouns: none used; n/a summary: planetmaster/idol!reader and their boyfriend ricky have to pretend they don't know each other while the cameras are on ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ this was a request! it's short and sweet but fun. i might want to expand more on this one eventually. spending tonight rewatching bp after work :,)

Positioning yourself in the wing of the stage strategically, you lean forward just a bit so you can take a look from behind the curtain at the crowd of unsuspecting trainees lined up after completing their second mission.

You spot a head of perfectly styled blonde hair sticking out from the group almost immediately due to the height of its owner. Smiling to yourself, you hop up and down a bit to pump yourself up. You can't wait to see the look on your boyfriend's face when you step out onto the stage.

The lights dim quickly, then flash dramatically back on as a producer gives you the go ahead. You nod respectfully and steady yourself as you begin to make your way out from behind the curtain and to the center of the stage. The boys gathered in front of you in neat formations begin to scramble excitedly; shouting and jumping with enthusiasm as you step towards the front of the stage.

Your eyes find Ricky, who is standing completely still as he stares up at you in shock-- not knowing how to react properly to your presence. Some of his teammates are poking him and laughing, teasing him about your unexpected appearance as a Planet Master.

You had met Ricky a while ago when he joined your company as a trainee. You would run into each other in the hallways at night, as you were always in a practice room trying to improve even after your debut. He could be uncharacteristically shy around you, since you were his senior (and he was secretly such a big fan). Needless to say, Ricky was incredibly surprised when you were the one who eventually asked him out.

"Hello Boys Planet trainees! I'm leader and main vocalist (Y/N) from Virtual Reality," you announce confidently. "I know you've only just finished your Second Mission, but time is limited when you're forming the next big K-Pop boy group!"

Most of the trainees begin another uproar, some complaining that they're exhausted and some shouting for you to hurry up and announce the next mission already. You sympathize with both sets of emotions.

You glance at Ricky, who is now smirking at you from the crowd-- eyebrows raised as he chews his cheek. Fighting the urge to grin back at him winningly, your eyes return to your script card in your hand.

"The Third Mission is..." You look back at the screen behind you and gesture towards it as a new pair of words appear. “Artist Battle!"

Yet another commotion ensues and you suddenly understand why the boys kept losing their voices in the first two missions. As you finish your script, announcing that teams will be formed and then re-formed after eliminations, you're instructed to meet and greet the trainees and give them your well wishes.

After a half hour of greeting all of the contestants and having to pretend like you'd never met any of them before in your life, an especially familiar contestant strolls up to you.

"Hello, how are you?" Ricky greets formally as a few of the trainees he is closest with giggle behind him. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Hi, how are you?" You return, extending your hand for him to shake as you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing in front of the staff. "What did you say your name was?"

"Ricky," he replies, taking your hand in his and shaking it firmly. "And your name is?"

You squeeze his hand hard, raising your eyebrows in a stern warning. Too far, you mouth.

"Ow!" He whines before looking around to smile nervously at the closely observing staff. "I mean, WOW that joke did not land! Of course I know who you are. I love you."

You pinch his hand harder.

"--R WORK! I love your work," Ricky corrects after your warning, but the mischievous glint is still in his eyes. "I'm a big fan of your entire body of work."

Zhang Hao and Kuan Jui have to excuse themselves as they burst into laughter, running out into the hall to (most likely) tell everyone what Ricky just said with cameras rolling.

Ricky smiles at you smugly and you finally drop his hand. A producer frowns at you both confusedly. "Do you two... know each other or something?"

Ricky shakes his head. "Where would I have met the leader and main vocalist of Virtual Reality before?"

The producer nods, shrugging in agreement. "Huh. You just have good chemistry is all."

"He's not my type," you reply coolly, eyes narrowing as you glare at your boyfriend.

"Hey," Ricky pouts softly; a little frown forming on his lips.

You fight the urge to lift up on your toes and give your tall, handsome boyfriend a peck, opting instead to pat him on the shoulder and give him a boastful grin. "It was nice to meet you, Nicky!"

His eyebrows furrow now, the adorable pout growing deeper (and more powerful). "It's Ricky."

"Good luck, Mickey!" You call over your shoulder with a wave, following two staff members out the door.

Walking through the empty hall to the back parking lot after you've finished removing your wardrobe and makeup in your dressing room, you see your favorite trainee (okay-- your second favorite trainee. Red House Mingyu is actually your favorite but you can NOT tell Ricky that) waiting for you in the doorway.

"Hey Nicky," you greet with a laugh as Ricky looks up from his phone.

"Stoooooop," he whines, basically collapsing in your arms as you hug him. Into your shoulder, he mumbles, "I am your type."

You kiss his cheek, rubbing his back comfortingly. "You totally are my type.”

"I can't believe you're hosting the show I'm on," he says, pulling back from the hug to look at you. "You told me you were getting the cats bathed today."

You throw your head back in a laugh. "Cats don't get bathed, lovey."

He laughs awkwardly. “Oh."

"I thought that was such an obvious lie that you'd catch on!" You exclaim, grabbing his hand in yours and swinging them back and forth playfully.

Ricky looks around, checking if any staff are lingering in the hallway before swinging open the door and pulling you through.

"Where do you think you're going?" You ask with a giggle as Ricky pulls you towards your car.

"To get ramen with you," he replies with a smile, raising your hand in his above your head so he can twirl you around.

You spin around with a grin, bowing after the impromptu dance move before he continues to pull you along. You watch as his pretty, dangly earring jingles while he runs.

"Fine," you relent with a grin. "But you're gonna have to buy me a lot of ramen to make up for that body joke."

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skzooe · 1 year

Note

Hi there!!! I've read your lipstick stain reaction and it was so cuteeee, I really loved it :))

Could you do another part with haruto, seunghwan, and zhang hao (and any one you'd like to add) please?

And if you don't want to do the same kind you could do it of you smothering them with kisses as well :))

Thanks in advance, I hope you have a nice day!!

lipstick stain trend,,🎀 p.2

BOYS PLANET

p.1 p.2 p.3

with; seunghwan, jiwoong, zhanghao, haruto, p.hanbin

[note to anon; thank you so much! this has made my night 💕 i hope you enjoy this one]

seunghwan;

so down bad for you

"do you wanna film this kiss-"

"yes"

soooo many compliments

"that colour looks really nice on you"

finds a way to rizz you up any opportunity he has

"it would look better if it was on my lips🤷‍♂️"

you sit on his lap with his hands immediately going to your waist, which made your heart skip a beat

when you start filming he cannot keep a straight face

you think he looks cute with kiss stains on his face so you decide to kiss him on the lips once

HE GETS SO EXCITED

BEGS for more

jiwoong;

RIZZLER NO.2

when you show him the video he's so unbothered about it

literally pats his lap signalling you to sit which makes you so AKJSFHJDFHK

"sit on my lap then"

when you start recording he just gazing at you with his "bedroom" eyes (ifyk)

stares at your lips up and down likee

the tiktok comments go so crazy over him

💬: WHAT IS HIS INSTA

💬: THIS MAN IS SO FINEEEE

which makes you hella jealous

however he does not give af and just finds it funny 💀

zhanghao;

would literally do anything for you so how could he say no

the sweetest & caring ever

he finds it cute when you're struggling to apply the lipstick so he does it for you

"do you need help? come here"

he holds your chin which gives you instant butterflies

fights the urge to kiss you bc he thinks you look so pretty 😕

cannot stop staring at your lips while filming

the comments find it so cute fr

💬: hes SO whipped for her

haruto;

he is on tiktok 24/7 so he defo knows about it

"i thought you would never ask😋"

is SO giggly

finds it ticklish so when you kiss him he starts laughing and throws you off the bed

the kiss stains get so smudged that he ends up looking like a tomato

you both forget about the tiktok because you spent all your time trying to wash it off 😭

p.hanbin;

absolutely LOVES the idea

however he takes it so seriously that you fight over what colour the lipstick should be 😭

"nonono, this one looks WAY better"

"nooo, this one suits you more"

turns into a compliment game??? (throwback to that hanbin vs woonggi battle💀)

"this colour makes me look prettier"

"you're pretty anyway"

"no you are"

"you're the most beautiful person i've ever met"

"no-"

he ends up crashing his lips onto yours before you could finish your sentence, leading to a makeout seshhhh

what tiktok????????

part 3 here

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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Charisma Boss Employee

wc: 3.5k (oh no guys, i'm only getting worse) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: some angst; some fluff! this is a powerful one. some swears, mention of an ill mother, ricky's dad is mean :( but it's just a story! i'm sure ricky's real dad is very nice lol summary: when richboy!ricky crashes his car, his dad takes away his credit card and forces him to get a part time job at the diner-- and reader is the unlucky employee tasked with training him ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ CELEBRATORY FIC FOR RICKY TOP 9! This is an epic you guys. I think you'll really love it! For some reason, Ricky inspires some great plot lines for me. And I just love richboy!Ricky he's such a doll.

Ricky was not having a good day. In fact, Ricky was having a no good, very bad day and he was not about to be pleasant to the worker training him to make a vanilla milkshake.

“So you’ll pour the milk in with the ice, screw the lid on and shake the container,” you explain, handing the tall blonde boy next to you the carton of milk.

He takes it reluctantly, measuring the 10 oz. without much care and screwing the lid on.

“Make sure that it’s—,” you start to warn, but he’s already shaking the container…

And it’s contents has already flown out from the loose lid and drenched the both of you.

He winces, an exhale of an embarrassed laugh escaping his lips.

“Maybe if you took the sunglasses off, you would’ve been able to see that you hadn’t tightened the lid all the way,” you say annoyedly.

He shakes his head quickly. “I can’t take them off.”

But being covered in a mess that this stupid rich kid made has not positively impacted your level of patience for his ridiculousness, so you reach up and snatch the sunglasses off of his face.

“Hey! Give them back!” He protests as you run around to the other side of the counter with them, quickly closing the bar top on the counter so he can’t follow you. You watch as he attempts to open the passageway in the counter, but lucky for you he wasn't paying attention when you had shown him where the latch is.

"Please," he begs now, looking around frantically as he places his large hand above his eyes to seemingly block the view of his face. "Please, I don't want anyone to see me here."

You snort. "People see me here every day and I have yet to die of embarrassment."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like you," Ricky remarks snidely, sinking down below the counter to hide from customers.

How had this happened to you? You clocked in this afternoon with a pretty good attitude: this was the eighth-to-last shift you'd have to work before finally having saved enough money to buy the little red Kia Rio from the used car dealership down the road.

But that good attitude was suddenly shattered when you saw your boss standing in the kitchen with an older, professional-looking man in a suit and a tall, blonde boy wearing Prada sunglasses indoors. You weren't quite sure what was happening yet, but you felt a sinking feeling in your gut nevertheless.

"(Y/N), you're late," your boss said as you walked towards the little gathering in the kitchen.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What? No, I'm not; my shift doesn't start until--."

"This is the building owner, Mr. Shen," your boss introduced, cutting you off. "And this is his son, Ricky."

Your eyes widened, nodding out of respect and smiling politely at Mr. Shen. "It's nice to meet you."

"Sure," Mr. Shen replied flippantly. "Quanrui, say hello."

"Hello," Ricky greeted reluctantly, looking back down at his phone screen. You studied him for a moment, taking note of the dyed blonde hair, the Rolex on his lithe wrist, and the thin, delicate tattoo running down his neck behind one ear. The best way you could think to describe him was... punchable.

"You're going to be training Mr. Shen's son for the next few days," your boss announced. "Like I told you about last week."

"What!? You didn't tell me that--."

Mr. Shen cut you off abruptly. "As Tom here probably told you--."

"It's Tim," your boss corrected quietly.

"My son crashed his car last week on a midnight joyride around the city," Mr. Shen continued, glaring at Ricky, whose eyes were still glued to his phone. "So, as punishment, I've taken away all his credit cards and I've asked Tom if he could give him a little job here for a bit until he's learned his lesson."

"It's actually...," your boss laughed much too cheerily before he continued, "It's actually Tim, sir, but whatever you prefer is fine. Our shift manager, (Y/N) here, is so grateful to get the opportunity to train your very capable, and might I add handsome, son. Isn't that right, (Y/N)?"

"Well--."

"Exactly! Go grab an apron and a pair of ears for Ricky," Tim ordered you, as you ran to the corner of the room to grab the supplies.

"Ears?" Ricky asked suddenly, finally looking up from his phone.

"Oh... Yes, ears! The Hungry Dog Diner-- all of the waitstaff wear dog-eared headbands," Tim explained enthusiastically as you walked back over and handed Ricky the uniform pieces.

"Why did I invest in this business again?" Mr. Shen asked in an alarmingly genuine tone.

You watched as Ricky flipped the ears over in his hands, horrified. "Dad, do I really have to wear this?"

"Son... You are a terrible student, you can't take direction, and you have no work ethic. I'm not sure if you possess any skills at all," Mr. Shen announced harshly. "No other business is going to hire you except the ones that I own, so just make it easy on us all and put the ears on, Quanrui."

You had to work quite hard to keep your eyes from widening at Mr. Shen's rather stiff criticism of his son, especially in front of strangers. You couldn't help but wonder what he said when no one else was present. Ricky solemnly placed the dog ears over his perfectly-coiffed blonde hair, the loop of the apron finding its way around his neck.

In that moment, if he wasn't so positively punchable-looking, you might've almost felt sorry for him.

"Excellent!" Tim exclaimed, clapping his hands together in the midst of the looming awkward silence. "(Y/N), why don't you show Ricky the milkshake machine? That would be a great spot for that handsome face to be seen by customers!"

Ricky audibly groaned as you led him out of the kitchen to the front countertop area.

And now, here you are. Covered in ice and milk, holding Ricky's sunglasses and allowing the implications of the sentence, "Well, I'm not like you," to sink in.

"Bastard," you say.

Ricky's wide eyes appear from behind the counter as he sits up on his knees to peak out at you. "What did you just say?"

"You rat bastard," you repeat, staring him directly in the eye. "You're not like me? Then why are we both wearing this stupid apron and these ridiculous dog ears, huh? Why are we both working this annoying ass part-time job? Why are we both covered in milkshake ingredients?"

You're surprised when Ricky doesn't retaliate, just stares back at you in shock.

"I actually think we have a lot in common right now. The only difference being that, for the next six hours, I'm in charge. So you're gonna take off these sunglasses and make every flavor of milkshake absolutely perfectly, or I am going to fire you!"

Ricky blinks, tilting his head to one side curiously. "Would you really fire me?"

You stare back at him wordlessly, confused by his lack of anger.

"Even though my dad would probably sue you or frame you for some petty crime or something?"

Ricky stands up from behind the counter, nodding appreciatively. "That's kind of badass."

He takes your apparent inability to speak or move as an opportunity to grab his sunglasses from your hand. "I'm gonna get all of this milk off of me. I'll be right back-- and I'll put these away in my bag."

After another moment of temporary paralysis, you run to the customers' bathrooms and clean yourself up. When you make your way back to the counter, you watch as Ricky very diligently measures 10 oz. of milk into the shaker cup.

"Okay! Time to head out, Ricky," you call from the kitchen, panicking slightly when you're met with silence. "Ricky?"

You run from the kitchen to the countertop area quickly, just in time to see Ricky holding all of the quarters from the cash register in his hand and counting them with his fingers (and then recounting them when he loses track of the total).

You have to admit... He looks pretty cute like this.

Ricky had been a pretty decent employee for the rest of the day. He mastered a few milkshake flavors, he seated customers in booths, and you'd even let him close the register after proper demonstration. Quite honestly, he was nowhere near as incompetent as his father had made him out to be.

Not only that, but you'd found he was fairly easy to get along with when he wasn't being a spoiled brat.

Tip-toeing your way over to him, you lightly smack his upper arm. "Boo!"

"NO!" He shouts in defeat. "I ALMOST HAD IT THAT TIME!"

You can't help but laugh, holding out your hand for him to pour the quarters into. You count them in less than ten seconds and drop them back in the drawer.

"Whoah," Ricky says, shaking his head as you finish counting the rest of the coins. "I really don't have any skills, do I?"

"Stop that," you say, entering the final totals into the register and closing it down. "It's not easy. You'll get better with practice. Besides, I watched you do a bunch of things today that I would say required skills."

"Oh," he replies, clearly not expecting your kindness. "Thanks."

You smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

"TOMORROW!?" He exclaims, hanging his head sadly. "But we were just here today."

You chuckle. "Welcome to the working world, Ricky."

"Here you go, one strawberry and one cookie dough milkshake for the two runway models on lunch break," Ricky says, placing the drinks on the counter. The two girls giggle, cheersing and placing the paper straws in their mouths.

This week had gone quite differently than you'd expected. It seemed as if word had gotten out that a rich, handsome young man had started working the counter at Hungry Dog's and groups of girls had flocked to the diner the past few days to get a milkshake from Ricky.

Though very wary of being seen on his first day, Ricky was now eating up the positive attention. He didn't even seem to mind wearing the dog ears. He conversed easily with the customers, tastefully flirting even with the regular group of elderly women that came in for lunch every Thursday. He was a natural.

And you hate to admit it, but... it's irking you a bit. You'd been Ricky's go-to pal the first few days and you enjoyed joking back and forth with him. He'd shared a lot about his life with you, in the way that coworkers often do. He'd talked about school, his friends, and even his dad and you liked having these conversations with him. Everyone else that worked here before him had been so boring. But now every girl in the city was coming to the diner for a milkshake and vying for his attention.

Maybe you should have let him keep his sunglasses on after all...

"(Y/N)!" He calls, grinning. You put your rag down on the table you're cleaning and make your way over to the counter. "I'm sorry, I don't remember the recipe for the peanut butter chocolate milkshake."

"That's okay," you say, grabbing a glass and opening the cooler. You point to the peanut butter sauce, chocolate chips, and the peanut butter cups. "Three tablespoons of this, a quarter cup of these, and a good handful of these, too."

"He has such big hands though," the girl at the counter admires.

"Uh..." You look down at Ricky's hands by his sides. "Yeah, I guess. I hope you really like peanut butter cups."

He frowns when you meet his gaze. You start to walk back to the table you were cleaning when you hear Ricky again. "(Y/N)?"

You turn to face him, noticing he still looks kind of upset.

"Chocolate ice cream?" He asks quietly.

"Chocolate ice cream," you confirm, giving him a half-hearted smile as you resume your buswork.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Your eyes dart to find the origin of the sound, spotting Mr. Shen standing angrily in the doorway with your boss on his heels. "Quanrui, what on Earth is going on?"

Ricky blinks back anxiously at his father. "I'm--... I'm working?"

"No you're not! You're surrounded by girls," Mr. Shen replies, walking towards his son.

"Well, they are paying customers," Tim responds softly, scurrying behind Mr. Shen as the girls on the barstools at the counter get up and leave hurriedly. You walk over to the countertop area cautiously.

"This is supposed to be a punishment. Where is that worker who trained you?" Ricky's father demands.

You clear your throat and step out from behind him. "I'm here."

"What exactly have you been doing? He's supposed to be miserable! I mean, for god's sake, he's making a milkshake and he's smiling. Smiling!" Mr. Shen exclaims, a stern finger pointing at you. "That's not right."

You swallow, maintaining an even temper. "Is a frown more suited for milkshake-making?"

From the corner of your eye, you see Ricky's eyes widen a concerned amount.

"On Sunday, you said Ricky had no skills. You basically called him useless in front of people he'd never met before. And I thought, at first, that maybe you were right; an irresponsible rich kid cruising through life and he'd be a pain in my ass. But, honestly... He's been great. He can take direction, follow a recipe, clean a table-- hell, he can almost count change!"

"Well, I can count change, I just--."

"And his most notable skill: charisma. I mean, we haven't made money like this in years! There's been people flying in and out of here all week just to look at Ricky. I've overheard him talking to customers for the past few days and he's just really great with people," you say, not backing down.

"That doesn't make any sense! He barely says two words to me," Mr. Shen rebuts.

You want to hold your tongue, but, with everything going on in your life... you just can't. "Maybe you should think about why that is."

If people could explode from anger, Mr. Shen would be in pieces by now. "Is this true, Ricky?"

You look up at Ricky, hoping that maybe he could find it in him to stand up for himself-- especially after you'd just done the heavy-lifting for him.

But he's not looking at you. He's not looking at anyone. He's just staring at the floor.

Mr. Shen is frightening now as his voice comes out so coolly, "Tom, fire this worker at once."

Tim looks at you uncertainly. You're his best employee. But you know the chances of Tim sticking up for you are slim to none. You've fought this battle alone-- and for what?

"Just go," Tim says, mouthing an I'm sorry after.

So you go. You're running back into the kitchen, taking off your apron and throwing your stupid dog ears onto the floor. You're so upset that you don't hear footsteps approaching behind you as you walk towards the back door.

"(Y/N)!" Ricky calls, hand finding your shoulder. You turn around on your heels to face him.

"What?" You spit. "What could you possibly want? Huh?"

"I--... I wanted to see if you're okay."

"Okay? I just lost my job... for defending you, of all people! I must be crazy," you say, shaking your head in disbelief at your own actions.

Ricky's brows furrow in defense, his eyes a bit sad like they had been earlier. "Well, it's not like I made you do that."

"No, you didn't," you say, nodding as you understand the error in judgment you've made. "So, I guess I'll just get going."

"Oh, come on!" Ricky exclaims, not letting go of your shoulder. "You're telling me you liked working here all this time? You're way smarter than me-- shouldn't you be trying to go back to school?"

"My mom is sick." The words escape your mouth before you can swallow them back down as you watch the shock contort Ricky's face. "I was working here to save up money for a car so I could stay at the hospital even after the buses stop running."

He stares back at you; the silence, deafening.

"Good luck, Ricky," you say finally, pushing the back door open and stepping out into the warm, afternoon air.

Come to the diner, I need you to calculate our expenses for the month

You fired me.

I knowwwwww. I said I was sorry! But I really need your help. And I know you'd hate for this diner you've spent so many pathetic years of your life working at to close down :(

You are not helping your case.

I'm sorry, please just come as soon as you can

Fine.

So, here you are again thanks to Tim's text. Walking through the back door of Hungry Dog's Diner like you do every day. But something's off when you step inside. When you realize you can't hear any noise, you look around concernedly for a body-- any body would do to ease your anxiety.

Just then, Ricky walks into the kitchen. He smiles timidly.

"Hi," he greets, a little awkward wave accompanying the word.

"Hi," you return, unamusedly.

"Tim's out here," he says, walking out of the kitchen as you reluctantly follow. You walk past the counter and out towards the booths, Tim waving at you from one in the back.

But as you walk past the glass doors, you see something in the parking lot that has you frozen in your tracks.

There, in the parking lot of Hungry Dog's Diner, is the little red Kia Rio from the used car dealership down the road.

"Go look at it," Ricky says behind you, gently pushing you forward.

You run out through the doors and stare at it in awe before remembering who brought you out here to see it in the first place.

Turning around slowly, your eyes meet Ricky's. His bottom lip is between his teeth as he chews it in nervous anticipation. You step up to him, silent before smacking his chest with your hand, hard.

"Ow!" He yelps, rubbing the spot that you hit.

"What's wrong with you?"

"You hit me," he complains with a pout.

"Your dad gave you your credit card back, huh? You think you can just buy something for me and your dad can pay it off and all will be forgiven?" You accuse, tears quickly welling up in your eyes from frustration.

“No! No, no, it’s—… it’s not like that! I swear,” he claims, sincere eyes boring into yours. “I bought it with my own savings. It was... It was almost everything I had.”

You stare back at him wide-eyed for a few moments and then hit him again. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?”

“OW!” He yelps louder, rubbing his chest once more.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you say, a mixture of emotions now flooding your senses. “That’s—… It’s—… You didn’t have to do that.”

It hits you now— a wave of immense, conflicting gratitude and embarrassment. You’re suddenly wailing quite cartoonishly, tears running out of you so quickly you’re afraid you might form a puddle.

"I'm just really sorry. I should have defended you... and I should've stood up for myself, too. You've been really nice to me this whole week and I can't imagine I was always particularly easy to deal with," Ricky apologizes, swallowing hard before continuing. "You really need this and it's my fault you weren't able to get it on your own. I was actually gonna by myself a new car with the money, but... what would I have been using it for?"

"How did you know this is the one I wanted?"

He laughs. "Tim said you showed everyone that walked through the doors a picture of it at least once."

You smile sheepishly, before uncertainty causes you to sigh. "Still, Ricky, this--."

"Maybe you can just drive me to work from now on," he suggests, a shy smile now gracing his lips. "And we'll call it even."

"To work?" You ask, tilting your head.

He smiles. "Yeah. You're rehired. Duh. I, uh... I finally talked to my dad about everything. And I told him I would be really lost at Hungry Dog's Diner without you."

You smile, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "I'll repay you for this. I promise."

"Go ahead, get in!" Ricky says with a laugh, reaching in his back pocket and tossing you the key. You run to the driver's side and fling open the door, hopping inside and turning on the car. Ricky gets in the passenger side and looks around appreciatively.

"Not a McLaren, but it's got charm," he says, nodding.

"I love it," you reply, grinning at him. "I really love it. Thank you."

"You know, I might need a ride other places once in a while, too, like... out to dinner?"

"Why would I drive you to go out to dinner?" You ask, obliviously.

He blinks back at you, waiting for you to comprehend.

"Oh!" You gasp, ears burning as you bask in the heat of his gaze. "Oh, um... I guess, yeah. Yeah, I could probably... I could probably drive you to dinner. And then eat dinner with you."

"Good," he says happily, grinning at you as he leans back in the car seat, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes. "But since I'm actually broke now, you're paying."

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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Young and Rich, Tall and Just Ask Me Out Already

wc: 2.1k pronouns: n/a; none used warnings: none really? maybe the tiniest bit of angst... fluff... and i used the word d*ck once, my bad also you can pretend they're in college or high school, doesn't really matter summary: prepschool!ricky/richboy!ricky just can't get scholarshipkid!reader to go out with him no matter how many helicopters he lands in the school courtyard ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys... whoah... rich-boy-with-a-soft-side ricky just kind of hits different? i must say i outdid myself with this one so please, please, please enjoy :)

Ricky has been trying to convince you to go on a date with him for two weeks now.

The first time he asked you was after Chemistry one afternoon. You had been assigned as lab partners at the beginning of the semester and shared a desk during class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 1:10 to 2:40 P.M.

At first, you'd found it kind of difficult to relate to Ricky. His dad was a CEO at some big tech company and he didn't really let anyone forget it. Always flaunting his designer watch with the newest phone model in hand, entire classes full of students couldn't help but fall for him as he draped his Louis Vuitton jacket casually over one shoulder.

But you were just "the scholarship kid". A humble upbringing and a borderline genius IQ, attending this prep academy was an opportunity you and your family could never have turned down.

Working on labs with Ricky wasn't difficult-- mainly because he let you do all the work while he listened to music and played on his phone. But if you were being honest, you didn't really mind. You enjoyed working on the labs at your own (fast) pace and you didn't have to worry about a lab partner messing up your data.

You never disliked Ricky. But you also could never really figure out what to say to him when he talked so expensive and acted so expensive...

And looked so expensive.

But after a few weeks of silent lab work together (and a handful of flunked quizzes returned to Ricky's desk), the tall blonde suddenly turned to you with his latest graded test in hand.

"What did you get?" He asked, eyes peering over to try to get a glimpse at your paper.

"Oh, um..." You placed it flat on the table.

His eyes widened in surprise. "105? Again!?"

"What do you mean 'again'? How do you know that?" You questioned, looking back at him suspiciously.

He completely ignored your question. "There wasn't even a bonus question on this one! Where did the extra points come from?"

"The mini-essay I submitted last night on chemical kinetics."

He stared at you for a moment. "You're kind of weird, you know that?"

You nodded. "I guess you would think that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questioned, dark eyebrows furrowing.

"Do you want me to help you or not? I would think calling me weird wouldn't really help persuade me," you quipped, snatching his test from his hand and reading the grade circled in red pen: 63.

"Hey! Don't--," he protested, trying to steal the paper back to no avail as you slid it into your bag and zipped it closed. "I didn't even ask you for help yet."

"You were obviously going to. You've barely said one word to me in four weeks, so. I'm pretty sure you weren't just making friendly conversation."

Ricky blinked back at you silently for a moment. "It's not like you've said anything to me either."

"I'll look over your test to see what you need to improve on. Do you have the rest of the quizzes from this month with you?" You asked quickly, standing up from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder as the bell rang.

"Uh, no I don't," he admitted, not making any move to get up now that class had ended.

"Okay, well--."

"But I'll bring them tonight. To the library," he interrupted.

You stood there silently, not really sure what to say.

"Be there at 9," he said definitively, a grin suddenly spreading across his face as he stood up, grabbed his bag, and started walking towards the door.

"You--... Do you think I don't have a life or something? I... What if I had plans!?"

"You did not have plans," he said with a laugh. Just before he walked out the door, he turned over his shoulder to add, "But now you do. With me."

It was like that, how you started tutoring Ricky late nights at the library. You met after 9 P.M. the days that you had class together, going over the material you'd covered that afternoon. He was a surprisingly passable student and you started to wonder if failing his classes was somehow intentional. He started offering to help you with lab work as the weeks went on, messing up detrimentally only a handful of times but you did appreciate his effort if nothing else.

Your tutoring was definitely helping; Ricky's quizzes came back now with passing grades that had even once reached the height of a 91. But what you didn't want Ricky to know was that he was helping you, too.

He had been right that day: you hadn't had any plans that night. And you rarely did. It was hard to fit in with the other students at your school when they had all led such different lives than you. You could have never guessed in a million years that Ricky would eventually become something like your friend.

Ricky made you laugh. He sharpened your pencils for you. He brought you snacks you liked. He'd let you borrow his Nintendo Switch for the day, as long as you promised to give it back to him in class. You hated to admit it, but a few weeks into your tutoring sessions and there was much less studying going on than was originally intended.

And another thing you hated (not really) to admit: you liked Ricky.

Sure, he could be a little overconfident. A little braggadocios. A little too reliant on his daddy's money.

But late at night in the library, you both grew tired together and the sleep deprivation gave way to a much more vulnerable Ricky. He'd tell you about his family, his childhood, his favorite things, his troubles, his dreams... and he'd listen carefully to you when you shared yours, too.

One time, after sharing a surprisingly upsetting childhood memory involving his father, you could see Ricky's eyes start to water. He tried to brush it off, adjusting his watch as the walls of the persona began to build back up in defense. But before you could stop yourself, your hand had reached across the table and landed on top of his.

He stared at it for awhile before looking up to meet your eyes. "Thanks," he said quietly, swallowing with uncertainty.

You removed your hand and placed it back in your lap. "Sorry," you replied awkwardly.

"No, no, you're cute," he said quickly, a hand flying to cover his mouth when he saw the expression on your face and realized what he had said. "I--I--... I meant 'cool'. Like... Like I meant to say 'you're cool', as in, like, 'don't worry about it'."

His babbling just made you smile. "Freudian slip?"

"Exactly," he agreed hastily. "Wait, no!"

"Too late, no take backs," you blurt, flipping your textbook to the next page to continue with your notes. Your heart absolutely raced inside your chest when you heard Ricky lightly breathe out a laugh before following your lead and resuming his note-taking.

Ricky certainly had a public image he wanted to portray, but whenever he gave you a glimpse underneath the facade... that was when you couldn't help but fall.

So when he asked you out for the first time, sun shining as you walked together from Chemistry to the student lounge on a Friday afternoon, your stomach absolutely flipped with excitement.

"I'm gonna take you to dinner," Ricky said, hand combing through his blonde, coiffed hair.

"Like--... Like on a date?" You clarified, looking up at him to try to read his expression. But much to your dismay, he was looking straight ahead, not at you.

"Yeah," he responded flippantly, hands finding his pockets. "There's this new place that opened downtown that's, like, mega exclusive. Figured you can't say no to that."

"No."

"Exactly... Wait, what?" Ricky stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"No thanks," you repeated. Looking at him now, you could tell exactly who was standing in front of you. No matter how much you liked Ricky, you didn't want to go on a date with this persona of his.

You wanted to go on a date with Ricky.

"Oh..." He replied, shock written all over his face. He swallowed hard and you swore you could see his cheeks start to redden with embarrassment.

"I really like you, Ricky," you clarified with a smile as you watched his eyebrows shoot up at the confession. "But no thank you."

You didn't wait around to field any possible questions. Turning on your heels, you headed off in the direction of your dorm leaving Ricky absolutely dumbfounded in the campus courtyard.

The next time he asked you out, it was in the hallway before class the following Monday. He handed you a small, light blue gift box, his eyes looking everywhere except at you.

You suppressed a smile, opening the box to find a dainty, rose gold bangle with the signature Tiffany T-shaped cuff ends. After having a mini heart attack over how much the bracelet in your hands must've cost, you took a deep breath to maintain your composure.

"I can't accept this," you managed, though you had to admit you were a bit sad to refuse it (and to refuse him a second time).

Ricky stared back at you, absolutely astonished. "Why... Why not?"

"I really like you, Ricky," you confessed again. "But I'll have to say no thank you."

As your professor called for everyone to take their seats, you hurried inside the classroom and left Ricky to trail in behind you completely stunned once more.

Ricky has asked you out about eight more times since that day. Each time, the simple question is skirted around and instead replaced with more and more elaborate and expensive gestures.

Now, it's 9:30 on a Friday night and you're typing away on your laptop, working on a paper that isn't due until the end of the semester when Ricky bursts through the doors of the library and darts straight towards your usual table.

"Are you seeing someone else?" He blurts out, catching his breath as he stands in front of you waiting for an answer. His hair falls boyishly across his forehead and he's dressed in a a hoodie and black joggers. You get the impression he had rushed here suddenly without any preparation and he looks so stupid cute.

"No," you reply, chewing on your cheeks to keep from smiling.

"Are you interested in men?"

"Unfortunately."

"You keep saying you like me and then you refuse to go out with me. Do you like me?" He asks, a little too loud for a library, but you're both lucky there's no one else that would be studying on a Friday night.

"I do," you confirm, watching as his eyes grow a bit more pleading as he wrestles with his own confusion.

"Then... Please... Will you please go out with me? I like spending time with you so much. I like talking to you so much. I really, really like you, (Y/N). Will you please just give me a chance?"

"Of course," you answer immediately.

"Yeah, I get it, I get--." Ricky's eyes suddenly light up as he realizes what you said. "REALLY?"

You nod, biting your lip in a satisfied smile and throwing your laptop into your backpack. "Let's go right now!"

He blinks quickly, following you as you stand up and walk towards the door. "Right now? But you--."

"Ricky, I don't really have any time to waste. I've been waiting for you to ask me out for two weeks now! Can you blame me for being a bit eager?"

"What... what do you mean? I've asked you out, like, a dozen times," he says as you step outside into the cool evening air, grabbing your wrist to stop you in your tracks.

You smile up at him. "No, you haven't."

"Yes, I--," he starts to protest, but you cut him off.

"You've told me you're taking me to an exclusive restaurant. You've bought me designer jewelry. You've given me an autographed poster from WayV. You've hired the Vienna Philharmonic to play at the student lounge. You've landed a helicopter in the middle of the courtyard..."

You watch as realization begins to wash over his face. His mouth hangs open a bit as he processes his numerous missteps. Then, a hand finds its way to the back of his neck as he smiles at you sheepishly. "Oh."

"So I've been waiting very patiently, you see."

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he says with a smile, and then more solemnly he adds, "And I'm really sorry for being a total dick."

"Well, you're in luck. The only way to make it up to me is to get late night pancakes with me. And it just so happens, that I am incredibly hungry right now," you say, taking his hand and starting to pull him in the direction of the parking lot.

Ricky laces your fingers together as he falls in step with you. "Oh! I know the best place for pancakes, it's--."

You clear your throat and he stops his thought in its tracks.

"The diner?" He asks, looking to you for approval.

You nod, giggling back at him. "The diner."

516 notes · View notes

jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

Hao You Like That?

wc: 2.6k (guys i can't stop writing 2.6k words pls send help and love) pronouns: none used; n/a (if u find any that i wrote by mistake, pls let me know) warnings: none? a bit angsty, a bit fluffy... a mention of drinking, bullying/jealousy, food... maybe a swear or two? ricky pops up at the end, but that's not a warning it's a very pleasant surprise summary: oh no, you guys. trainee!reader is zhang hao's arch nemesis... i hope they aren't secretly harboring romantic feelings for eachother! ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ Not ready for eliminations guys. I think all of my top picks are safe (I'm getting so worried about Jay though), but I truly love ALL of those boys so much. I can't wait to see what they all do next. Can't believe we'll have Bep1er in like two weeks...

"(Y/N)!"

You chew your cheeks silently as your dance teacher shouts your name, bracing yourself for the inevitable criticism.

He glares at you a moment, before snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the formation. “Stand there.”

You glance at Zhang Hao, the trainee that is currently standing at center and who also happens to be your arch nemesis. Zhang Hao had always been the darling of your company, an extremely talented dancer, vocalist and notable visual. But the first day you walked through your company’s doors as a fresh-faced trainee with an enviable skillset, Zhang Hao had suddenly found himself faced with real competition for the first time since he started training.

So for the past year it’s been a constant professional battle between the two of you, but on more than one occasion things had felt quite personal. When you were awarded center and main vocalist in your training group’s number for the company showcase in the spring, you woke up the morning of the performance to a large rash around your collarbone and running up both of your arms. Come to find out, Zhang Hao had exploited your well-known allergy to nickel and switched your costume jewelry for the performance with his.

This offense, of course, called for payback of equal or higher severity. When Zhang Hao was selected to perform solo for investors last fall, you spread a rumor around the company that he still wet the bed. The rumor spread so far that when Zhang Hao took center stage, one of the investors asked the CEO loudly, "Oh, this is the bed-wetter boy you were talking about?"

Hao is absolutely fuming right now and you can tell by the lack of expression on his face. No visible reaction from him always meant you'd be paying for whatever you earned later.

He steps aside as you take center, moving to your previous spot as you run the dance this way for your teacher. You give it your all, but you're admittedly a bit surprised to be considered for center for "How You Like That". You had been up all night for a week trying to finish an essay for your Sociology class and you hadn't stayed at the company past nine for the last three days. Practicing this dance had been low on your list of priorities.

As you hit your final pose, your teacher nods thoughtfully. He always looks so angry that you can never tell what he's really thinking until he says it out loud.

"I think we should put it up to a vote," he says decidedly.

Your eyes find Hao's quickly, a look of surprise on his face mirroring yours. "A vote?"

Your teacher claps his hands together. "A vote. You can practice for 24 hours. And tomorrow at this time, you'll both battle it out and the whole company will vote on it."

You swallow hard. "This is a terrible idea."

"What? Afraid you can't beat me?" Hao challenges with a smirk.

You study him for a second: his stupid (perfect) hair, his stupid (fashionable) outfit, his stupid (handsome) face. You know very well that he hates this idea as much as you do, if not more.

Your status as the top two trainees at the company made you both targets of jealousy and bullying, often leaving you feeling ostracized from much of the group. Funnily enough, Zhang Hao was probably the only person who could really understand how you feel most days, so it was both ironic and a real shame that he hated you most of all.

"No. I'm afraid of what will happen to me when I do," you reply, folding your arms as you turn your attention back to the front of the room.

Your teacher sighs in disbelief. "You two are the most annoying students I've ever had. Talented... But so irritating."

Some trainees behind you laugh while your teacher dismisses the group practice and you quickly gather your things and run out the door to an individual practice room.

You practice for a few more hours, not really wanting to lose to Hao now that you'd challenged him in front of your whole group. Crashing into your dorm around midnight, you work on your essay for another four hours before finally falling asleep. By 5:45 A.M., you're up and ready to walk through company doors at 6.

The day moves so slowly as you phone it in for every practice session and spend your lunch and dinner breaks alone in a practice room, thinking only about the choreography for the showcase number. You will never be able to listen to "How You Like That" the same way after this.

Finally, you reach your last practice session of the day at 8 P.M. and as you make your way to the studio room, you're surprised when you see Zhang Hao sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall.

Approaching the door, you look over at him. "What are you doing?"

He looks up at you and you can swear his eyes are watery. "Nothing."

"Are you crying?" You ask in a less than caring manner.

He looks away and sniffles. "Allergies."

"Did someone... say something?" You prompt reluctantly, knowing that it was a common occurrence for one or the both of you to end your days in tears from a nasty comment from your peers. "I don't know why you'd listen to them anyway. They're just jealous of you. Why wouldn't they be? You're better than them."

You're not really sure why you're offering even an attempt at words of comfort right now. Maybe it's because of your sleep deprivation. Maybe it's because his handsome face looks extra pathetic right now. Or maybe it's because you can't help but sympathize with him.

His wide eyes meet yours in a way you can't remember having seen before, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'd also be happy to say something even worse to take your mind off it?" You offer facetiously as you take into account his non-response.

He checks his watch suddenly and stands up, dusting himself off a bit as he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. "I think beating you should help just fine, actually."

Hao goes first, performing the center choreography and vocals for "How You Like That" to an audience of about fifty trainees that your teacher could muster up. Hardly the whole company, but you were surprised even that many of your peers wanted to watch either of you.

You can't help but notice that Zhang Hao seems a little distracted. Moves he would normally punch perfectly on an accented beat are lagging slightly and his expression is less than enthused. Nevertheless he does well and after he finishes, you hop up to take your turn. Fighting the exhaustion that is consuming your body, you battle to the best of your ability. Your voice has sounded extra good today, maybe because you hadn't let it cool down for over twenty-four hours. Hitting your final pose, you know you've out-performed Hao by at least a noticeable margin.

And from the look in his eyes, you know he knows it, too.

Your teacher stands up and calls for the vote. The trainees all hand in small slips of paper with either your name or Zhang Hao's on them and your teacher counts them quickly.

"Zhang Hao is the winner with... 43 votes," he says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Huh."

You feel your cheeks start to heat up at the embarrassingly large defeat, swallowing the lump in your throat quickly. Your group practice session resumes without fanfare and you work on ironing out your original sub-vocal one and main rapper part for the rest of the hour, scurrying quickly from the practice studio and out company doors as fast as humanly possible.

You hit 'submit' on your essay at 11:37 P.M. exactly, just making the midnight deadline. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you start to get ready for a good night's sleep after a restless week of practice and schoolwork. Your toothbrush is in your mouth when a knock sounds on your door. Your roommates had gone out to drink tonight and said they wouldn't be back until early morning, so you wonder who the mysterious guest could be.

Spitting into the sink and wiping your mouth, you run to the door and open it cautiously to find Ricky, Zhang Hao's roommate, smiling politely back at you.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)... I think this got delivered to our room by mistake. I flipped it open quickly since there was no name on it and it's addressed to you, so I figured it just got mixed in with our mail by accident," Ricky explains, handing you a delicately folded piece of white paper.

"Oh," you say, turning it over in your hands. "Thanks, Ricky."

"No worries," he says with a nod, starting to walk away before adding, "Hey, uh, don't feel too bad about today either. Hao is really good, of course, but he only won by such a big margin because he bought everyone ramen for dinner tonight in exchange for their vote."

You can't help but laugh at the information you should've probably deduced for yourself. "Typical."

"If it makes you feel any better-- I'm upset about it, too. He used my credit card," the tall boy relays with a sigh, turning around and making his way back to his dorm.

You close the door to your room, sitting down on your bed and staring at the strange letter in your hands. You carefully open the folded piece of white paper and read the neat handwriting on the page:

"(Y/N),

Why are you like this? So perfect, I mean. You didn't practice the dance nearly as much as I did, but you were so much better. Why do you have to be a trainee at my company? Wouldn't it be better if we had both signed with different companies? Then maybe you wouldn't hate me so much. Then maybe I wouldn't have to pretend to hate you at all. Then maybe I wouldn't have been staring at you so much during practice today that I had my position as center questioned.

Ugh, this is so stupid. I don't know why my therapist told me to do this. So what if it's not healthy to have an "arch nemesis"? So what if it's even less healthy to have a crush on my so-called arch nemesis? What does she know?

I know I can't ever say any of this to you, but I just feel like you might be the one person who really gets me. How else would we be able to ruin each other's lives so effectively? Is it so wrong to want to turn things around? And it's not like we really have anyone else to talk to. I guess I just don't know how to tell you that I--..."

The letter ends there; a pen mark after the letter 'I' indicating the writer was pulled away from it in a hurry. It isn't signed, of course, but you know there's only one person who could've written it.

Jumping off of your bed, slipping on your shoes and racing down the hall, you knock on the door to his room. Ricky opens the door, smiling at first and then eyes widening in fear as he sees the look on your face.

"Is Hao there?" You ask frantically.

He shakes his head quickly. "No, he's still at the company, why--."

"Thanks," you say, starting down the hall as the blonde boy stares after you. "You should be running too, Ricky!"

"Why?" He asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

Opening the doors of your dorm building, you yell back over your shoulder, "Because Hao is going to kill you!"

Bursting through the company's doors at 12:06 A.M., you drop your phone in the basket in the hallway. A staff member greets you very cautiously.

"(Y/N), are you here to practice? All the individual rooms are currently in use," she says, looking at her watch to see what time it is.

"Great. Where's Zhang Hao?" You quietly demand, walking past her down the corridor to the individual practice rooms.

"Oh, um... Number three," she calls after you've already turned the corner. You're shaking slightly by the time you reach the door to practice room number three, entirely out of breath and sopping wet from running half a mile in the rain to get there in a fit of anxiety and rage.

You spot him now through the small window in the practice room door, perfecting some choreography for the investors' evaluation this weekend. His eyes are closed and his headphones are on as you prepare for a sneak attack, opening the door and stepping inside.

But Hao's eyes suddenly locking on yours through the mirror sends a panic through your system. You're breathing even harder than you were before as he turns around to face you. Taking off his headphones, he gives you a look of concern (or disgust) as he takes in your haggard state.

"What's--... What's wrong? Why are you all wet and gross?" He asks in a very Hao-like way, making it hard to believe he was really the one who wrote you some sort of quasi-love letter.

You stand there for a second, staring back at him as fear temporarily paralyzes you. What in the world are you thinking? What even is the goal of bringing this letter to him? To make fun of him? To break his heart?

... To make a confession of your own?

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" He asks then, his voice noticeably softening slightly. "Did someone... say something?"

You nod slowly, pulling out the folded letter from your hoodie pocket; now dampened from the rain.

"What's that?" Zhang Hao asks, brows furrowed as we walks up to you and snatches the paper out of your hand. He unfolds it quickly, the corner of it tearing off in the process.

You watch his face completely drop as he realizes what it is. If you were questioning it before, you now had no doubt that Hao had in fact written the letter. He stares at it silently, clearly unsure of what to do or say.

"Is it true?" You ask softly.

"Is what true? There's not even a signature on it," he denies half-heartedly, bottom lip finding its way between his teeth.

"Is it true?" You ask again. Did you want it to be true?

His eyes meet yours timidly now, as he seemingly finds himself unable to speak. He shakes his head slowly. Has he always been this cute?

"That's too bad," you concede, stepping backwards. "I might've considered it... All of it."

You raise your eyebrows expectantly, turning towards the door when you feel Zhang Hao's hand close around your wrist. You look at him, his cheeks flushed a perfect rose.

"This is so embarrassing," he squeaks out, looking anywhere but into your eyes.

You nod. "It really is."

"Well, you're the one who ran here in the rain at midnight to see me," he quips.

"Well, you're the one so hung up on me that your therapist made you write a fake letter to address your feelings," you rebuttal.

"Well, you're the one who--," Hao starts to argue, and before you're even fully aware of what you're about to do, you find yourself cutting him off with a kiss. When you pull back, his mouth hangs agape slightly in shock. "… Kissed me."

"Honestly, Hao, you are pretty cute, but you're so annoying when you talk," you explain.

He nods slowly. "And so are you... But you know what I still can't figure out?"

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. "What?"

"How did you get this letter in the first place? It was in my r--..."

Zhang Hao's eyes narrow menacingly as realization hits him:

"Ricky."

386 notes · View notes

jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

Mentor? I Hardly Know Her!

wc: 2.6k pronouns: none used; reader belongs to a mixed gender idol group warnings: a couple swears; fluffy fluff; the last sentence is very flirtatious but its just meant to be a joke and obviously so is the title summary: kum junhyeon is totally smitten with planetmaster/idol!reader in this semi-accurate fictional retelling of boys planet episodes 6 and 7 ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ i literally adore little kum junhyeon

Standing in the hallway in front of an intimidatingly large set of doors, you wring your hands nervously as you wait for further instructions.

This week, you had been asked to participate as something called a "Planet Master" on a new Mnet talent survival show called Boys Planet. Having been an idol for over five years now, you had been asked to make dozens of appearances at award shows, promotional events, concert tours, and fansigns with your group...

But this was your first time being asked to head a solo appearance. Being the leader of your group, as well as the main vocalist and the choreographer, you were used to playing a role similar to that of mentor. At the very least, you had experience providing your members with help, guidance, and oftentimes comfort throughout the past five years.

Waiting inside the set of giant doors was a room full of 51 ambitious boys that wished to shed the label "trainee" and finally debut as an idol.

You remember it like it was yesterday: your life as a hopeful and terribly sleep deprived trainee. It was admittedly unpleasant a good portion of the time, but it ultimately led you to be able to achieve your life's dream.

"We're ready for you in three..." A producer says now, forcing you out of your thought spiral. As he counts two, one, and cue on his fingers, the giant doors begin to open for you to walk through and onto the set.

Planting each lug-sole boot-adorned foot carefully on the ground as you walk forward, you make your best effort to appear as cool as possible as you make your entrance.

You figure eating shit in front of fifty boys on international television is not the best move for your career or your self esteem.

The lights brighten and then dim slightly on the stage to signify your entrance as you finally set your eyes on the group of trainees standing in lines on a set of risers. You watch as the first one spots you, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he points and stares at you in awe.

"Really... REALLY!?" The petite boy shouts, prompting the rest of them to look at you and begin reacting similarly. You stand there a bit awkwardly, mic in one hand and script card in the other. Unable to contain your laughter at the trainees' over-the-top reactions, you bring the script card up to cover your smile.

You clear your throat lightly into the microphone to get the rowdy boys' attention. After a few seconds, the noise finally dies down as the trainees look up at you expectantly with the widest of eyes.

"Hi Boys Planet trainees! I'm leader and main vocalist (Y/N) from Virtual Reality."

"WE KNOW!" One of the boys shouts.

You giggle and continue with your lines. "Today I'm here as a Planet Master to announce your Second Mission and to let you know I'll be helping to evaluate your progress this week. The Second Mission is: Dual Position Battle."

You finish your appearance with care and diligence and are asked to stick around to greet each trainee that wishes to meet you. Apparently, every single one of them wishes to meet you and their undying enthusiasm makes it easy for you to happily oblige.

You've seen a few familiar faces so far and wished many boys luck on their journeys, conveying sincerely that you look forward to working with them later this week.

"Congratulations on the win," you say to your old friend Kim Jiwoong. "I look forward to your debut. What is it they say? Third time's the charm?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you in for a hug. "I'll make it come true."

As he pulls back, he points behind him to another member of his team this week.

"This is Kum Junhyeon," Jiwoong says, pushing the boy forward. You recognize him now, the silly, but very talented trainee that was always shouting in the first few episodes. A bit of concern seeps onto your face as this usually outgoing boy stares back at you in what appears to be immense fear.

"I'm so scared of you," Kum Junhyeon confirms quite earnestly, causing you to laugh.

"Oh? What's so scary about me, huh?" You tease.

He sighs. "It can be terrifying for a man to unexpectedly come face to face with perfection in his lifetime."

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your breath hitch in your throat. Now you're the one staring with wide eyes.

"This kid," Kim Jiwoong scolds, patting his back. "But can you really blame him?"

"Sorry," Junhyeon apologizes, but there's a look in his eye-- a look that is much more like what you're used to seeing on Junhyeon-- that suggests he doesn't really regret his words.

You smile slowly. "Sure you are."

The brightest grin spreads across his face now, clutching his heart a bit in a humorously dramatic display. You laugh as Jiwoong starts to drag him away.

"Why'd you do that, huh? Now we'll never get him to shut up," the older boy whines as he shoots you a death glare. You just wave as you watch Jiwoong and another trainee push a babbling Junhyeon out the door.

You've seen eight teams already from the Vocal & Dance and the Vocal & Rap categories. You stuff a granola bar into your mouth as pH-1, Lee Seok-hoon and Choi Young-joon finish filling out notes for the last team.

In the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder why you haven't seen that kid from the other day yet. Isn't he a singer?

The Rap & Dance teams start to shuffle in through the door now as you stuff the wrapper of your granola bar into your bag. The last person to enter is Kum Junhyeon.

He doesn't look fearful today. He looks kind of sad.

"Ggang team, let's go," Young-joon announces, prompting five boys including Junhyeon to stand up.

They line up in front of your little panel, Seok-hoon asking to hear a run-through of their rap and vocals first. As the team performs, all except Junhyeon sing and rap with enthusiasm. His eyes stay locked on his paper as he seems to do only the bare minimum.

When they finish, the Star Masters in the room nod as they think. As they're checking their notes, you turn to Seok-hoon.

"May I say something?" You ask politely, to which Seok-hoon nods enthusiastically.

"Please do," he allows.

You nod, chewing on both cheeks as you look down at your paper. "Kum Junhyeon."

The silence in the room is deafening before Junhyeon finally responds, "Y-... Yes?"

You look up, meeting his eyes now with a completely unamused expression. It takes everything in you to hold it when Junhyeon suddenly returns to looking like Bambi.

"Was this supposed to impress me?"

Junhyeon's mouth falls open slightly and so does everyone else's in the room as they take in your rhetorical question.

"I've been waiting for your performance all day and that was all you've left me to sit with. Am I supposed to feel this insulted? Was that the intention?" You ask, not letting up.

"No, no! Of course not. I'm sorry, sunbaenim," he apologizes and you're sure he's never looked so sad in his life.

"The only form of apology I'll accept is a good performance," you say, now all of your effort going towards suppressing a smile.

He nods vigorously.

"Well, I don't have any other notes," Seok-hoon confirms, nodding at pH-1 in agreement. "Young-joon, are you ready for the dance?"

But Young-joon is staring at you. "Wow... I will pray for your members daily from now on."

You can hear the boys sitting on the left side of the room chuckle. "I think it's important to make sure the most talented people are performing to their potential," you say with a smile, the whole panel turning back to watch the Ggang team's full performance.

As you expected, Junhyeon performs flawlessly-- an energy radiating out of him that is utterly infectious.

"So..." Young-joon starts. "Will you forgive him?"

"Oh, um..."

Looking up, you see Junhyeon biting his lip so hard in anticipation that you're afraid he'll start bleeding.

"Yes," you answer simply with a smile.

Junhyeon suddenly falls to the floor in a full bow. "Thank you, sunbaenim!!"

Everyone bursts into laughter as he sits up, absolutely beaming at you.

You click your tongue, looking around disbelievingly as you can't help but smile back at him. "Just don't do it again, yeah?"

He nods furiously.

"Good job," you praise softly, sinking back into your seat as the Ggang team's evaluation concludes.

"Open wide," Kel-C says, popping a piece of caramel popcorn into your mouth lovingly.

On the screen of your dorm's giant television, this week's episode of Boys Planet is coming to an end. This means, your appearance is soon to be aired any second now.

"I can't believe you went without us," Eunwoo whines with a pout. "Do you not need us anymore?"

You laugh, ruffling up the hair of your maknae. "I'll need you for as long as you need me. And maybe then some."

"Yet you're out here getting caught in dating scandals left and right," Mari accuses, scrolling through her phone disinterestedly as she stirs the metaphorical pot.

"What? Left and right!? That's--," you stutter, caught off guard by her statement. "That's hardly true."

"OH MY GOD!" Eunwoo cries, taking both of your hands in his. "You met someone while you were filming!? Who!?"

"Ssh! Look, it's happening!" Kel-C shouts, directing everyone's attention back to the television as music signals the appearance of someone on the stage.

You cover your eyes as past-you comes onto the screen, the elements of the set becoming so hilariously dramatic for your silly little entrance. Mari bursts into laughter and you groan in response.

You watch through your fingers as the camera pans to capture the reactions of the boys. Most of them are appropriately excited to see you, jumping around and shouting with their friends.

But one reaction in particular has you suddenly ripping the remote from Eunwoo's hand, rewinding the show and crawling towards the television to make sure you're hearing and seeing properly.

"Seriously..." Kum Junhyeon stands uncharacteristically still with Taerae and Jongwoo on either side of him. "How am I ever supposed to perform in front of the love of my life?"

Taerae laughs, comfortingly patting Junhyeon's back. "It'll be okay."

The screen cuts to a confessional of Junhyeon. He's biting his lip, almost shy as he speaks to the camera. "(Y/N)-nim has been my crush since Virtual Reality debuted. There's nobody else like (Y/N)."

A producer off camera says, "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Junhyeon laughs lightly and then nods. "Unfortunately I couldn't react with proper excitement, because I was so nervous. I hope I can be forgiven for this."

The producer off screen speaks again. "Maybe aegyo will help?"

Junhyeon grins now, his voice becoming child-like and his hands producing two finger hearts. "I'm sorry, sunbaenim! Saranghae!"

You hit the pause button, hugging your knees to your chest tightly as you failingly try to suppress a squeal. What was wrong with him? How could he be so careless? And how could he be so damn cute?

As your members suddenly yank you back towards them, shrieking their simultaneous approvals and disapprovals, all you can hear is that absolutely crazy boy confessing his love for you on international television.

"ARE YOU INSANE!?" You yell, smacking Junhyeon's shoulder in the hallway behind the stage.

The mission two show has already begun and any minute now, you are supposed to make your way backstage to introduce the first team: Junhyeon's team.

"Yes," he answers seriously. "Please hit me again."

Your eyes widen, guffawing at the absolute nerve of the kid in front of you. "Junhyeon! Are you really going to be this reckless? Don't you want to debut? You know that people won't vote for you if you keep acting like this."

He nods. "You watched the episode this week."

Unsure of what to say, you just sigh.

"I meant it," he says simply, eyes staring back at you sincerely.

"It doesn't matter if you meant it. You're... Junhyeon, you're so talented. You really have a shot here. Please don't waste it on saying cute things to me."

He smiles. "You think the things I'm saying are cute?"

You can't help but laugh now. "I can't stop you, can I?"

"No," he confirms. "Unless you really want me to. I don't know if you've noticed, but... you haven't actually told me to stop yet."

An exasperated sigh escapes you as you seriously consider hitting him again. "No. I guess I haven't."

He grins. "Do you have your phone on you?"

"Yeah," you say, pulling it out of your pocket. "Why?"

Before you can even react, Junhyeon gently snatches your phone from your hands. He holds it in front of your face for a second to unlock it.

"Hey, what are you--?" As you begin to protest, he finishes typing something and hands it back to you. You look at the screen to see a new contact by the name of Hyeonni.

"You can delete it if you want. But I had to try, right?" He smiles so sweetly that all you can respond with as he walks toward the stage door is:

"Right."

With the Ggang team all lined up on stage, the boys make their individual introductions.

Reading your line from the teleprompter, you direct your attention towards Junhyeon to speak. "Trainee Kum Junhyeon, I heard that the atmosphere was not good when this team was formed. What happened?"

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his face. "When we got Ggang, I was perplexed," he begins, using his whole body to speak in that classic Junhyeon way. "I thought of the opportunity as a crisis."

You expertly suppress the urge to facepalm.

As the Ggang performance begins, you watch from offstage as the team shows off their talents. Junhyeon's choreography and all of the members' raps are absolutely killing with the audience. But you're ripped out of your spell of admiration when you hear someone suddenly shout:

"SUNBAENIM!" Junhyeon yells, pulling up his shirt to reveal a t-shirt underneath with a set of washboard abs printed on it. A camera is on you immediately, trying its best to caption your reaction and you're absolutely sure it's TV-worthy.

"Do you think this is too reckless!?" Junhyeon sticks the hem of his over shirt in his mouth as he proceeds to "seductively" gyrate his hips.

Both of your hands are covering your gaping mouth, eyes wide as you're unable to look away from the absolute maniac of a man on stage. Junhyeon turns around, humorously sticking his butt out and wiggling it around.

You find yourself unable to contain your laughter now, shaking your head in disbelief at the boy's impossible antics. Yet, in an instant, Junhyeon returns to his professional self, completely annihilating a dance break and singing perfectly the funny new lyrics he wrote.

In the confessional from the episode you'd watched this week, Junhyeon had said there was no one else like you. You wonder now if he knows the same is true about him.

After the performance is finished, you run out the backstage doors into the hallway. You only have a minute or so to pull out your phone before you have to go back inside to introduce the next group of contestants. But its enough time to send your new contact a text:

You're a fucking enigma.

Smiling like an absolute idiot, you send a follow-up:

Dinner's on me if you show me what's really under the shirt.

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jebewonmorelike · 11 months

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Chocolate Milk

wc: 4.8k pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader has femme best friend warnings: angstttt, fluffy ending, matthew being mean, swearing, mention of alcohol, matthew is a stranger and reader has to live with him, financial struggle/unemployment, a few inappropriate jokes but nothing explicit (think pg-13), consumption of a concerning amount of chocolate milk over a 6 week period warnings for spicy cut-scene: suggestive/mature themes; minors dni (link is here and will also be in the fic for the appropriate context and placement; fic makes perfect sense without cut scene as well it's just for funsies) summary: a down-on-their-luck reader has to crash on bandmemberandgymrat!matthew's couch for the foreseeable future. a couple problems with this: matthew is incredibly hot and also a major asshole ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ OH MY GOD. IT'S DONE. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO. I DID IT. THIS ONE NEARLY ENDED ME WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED IT. i hope you LOVE it; matthew is for sure more like woohyun in this and he is hot and so mean and cocky and... enjoy this, please i'm begging you. <3

Why me?

You had been screaming this question over and over again in your head for the past twenty minutes. Your friend had texted you this afternoon that she'd finally found a contact who had a place for you to crash for awhile. The address she sent you had been a bit far away from the place you were currently crashing and you didn't have enough money for an Uber, so after an hour on the subway this evening and a thirty minute walk after that, you had finally knocked on the door of the apartment your friend had sent you to.

The boy that had opened the door, though shorter in height was muscular and sported several tattoos-- and you knew this because he had greeted you in a black, fitted tank top and boxers. Albeit, you had been quite a bit later than you said you would be, but the fact that he hadn't said more than ten words to you since you'd arrived with your suitcase in hand wasn't helping you to forgive his too-comfortable appearance.

Standing a few feet behind him in the kitchen area, you watch as the boy opens the refrigerator door. Fishing into one of the drawers, he pulls out a water bottle and tosses it to you.

He fails to warn you of the incoming object, however, and before you can scramble to catch it, it connects with your face.

You stare at each other for a long moment until you feel something tickling the skin beneath your nose.

"You're bleeding," the boy says, still expressionless as he continues to stare at you. "And you suck at catching things."

Bringing your hand up to your face, you run your fingers across the skin that is tingling under your nose. He was right: bright, red blood is coating your fingertips.

"Oh, um," you mumble, looking around for something to wipe your nose with. "Is--... Do you have a--?"

A tissue box hurtling towards your face shuts you up as your hands reach up in a panic to catch it.

"Better that time," the boy says, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in amusement.

Pulling a tissue from the tissue box, you dab it around your nose to remove the blood that is still flowing from it. You swallow nervously, glaring at the boy who has been nothing but rude to you this entire time.

He takes a sip from the glass of chocolate milk sitting beside him before placing it on the island counter that he's leaning against. "Is it broken?"

"What?" You ask, brow furrowing softly.

"Your nose," he responds, meeting your gaze again. "Is it broken?"

You frown. "I doubt it. It doesn't even hurt really."

"Damn," he says, shaking his head. "Disappointing."

Your eyebrows raise incredulously at the boy's words. "Were you trying to break my nose!?"

"Nah, of course not," he denies, turning to look at his right bicep. He prods the muscle before adding, "Just kind of pathetic that I couldn't, you know? Guess I've gotta up my reps from now on."

You're not sure when your jaw started dropping, but it clearly had no intention of stopping any time soon. "You--... You--."

Before you can say anything else, the boy places his empty glass in the sink and walks out of the kitchen area and towards his bedroom-- leaving you entirely speechless. After a moment of internally screaming 'wtf', you turn around to yell at him.

"HEY!" You shout, catching the boy just as he's about to shut the door to his bedroom. "What are you doing!?"

"Closing the door," he answers simply, starting to close the door again.

"Closing the--," you say, tongue pressed to your cheek as you look up to the ceiling and shake your head in disbelief. "This was a terrible mistake. I’m leaving.”

Walking towards the apartment door, you wrap your hand around the handle of your suitcase and pull it behind you. As you reach the door, you turn the knob and throw it open in a huff…

Only to suddenly feel your suitcase gain 100 pounds.

You tug at it uselessly to try to get it to budge, but eventually you are forced to give up and turn back around to see what the problem is.

Finding the suitcase handle, your breath hitches when you see a hand gripping the blue plastic next to yours. You follow that veiny hand up past the arm its connected to until you’re finally looking its owner in the eye.

You swallow hard, not knowing how to properly react as you pull the suitcase harder. “Let go.”

He does, but the sudden lack of equal and opposite force on the suitcase sends you flying back against the door— shutting it closed behind you in the process.

The boy steps towards you, your heart racing in response as your mind runs through all the possible ways he could kill you and dispose of your body.

Click.

His fingers turn the lock on the doorknob.

Clank.

He locks the deadbolt above it.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” You shout suddenly, no longer able to contain your fear.

He stares at you for a moment, face less than a foot away from yours. Then, he snorts. “I was actually trying to keep you from getting killed. I don’t know if you noticed, but this building isn’t in that great of an area. The guy down the hall got murdered at the vending machine at 10 P.M. just last week actually.”

You blink back at him, wide eyed.

“But if you'd prefer to go out there, I’ll just go ahead and open this door up for you and you can—.”

You turn around, pressing your hands against the door to keep him from opening it. “I’ll just… stay here. But only for tonight.”

“Sure you will.”

You frown, turning back around to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you have nowhere else to go, so,” the boy says, face expressionless. “You wouldn’t be trying to shack up on some rando’s couch for the foreseeable future if you weren’t.”

You sigh. The asshole is unfortunately right.

“I go to the gym early every morning and I have band practice until late at night-- which I missed tonight for you; who decided it was polite and reasonable to be two hours late without even sending a text," he says, walking back towards his room. “But what I'm getting at is: you won't see me unless you're trying to. So I'll know if you're trying to."

Scoffing, you stand there with your suitcase in this bastard of a man’s apartment-- completely helpless to the situation at hand.

“But if I hear so much as a peep out of you while I’m sleeping, you’re out on the street-- do you hear me?”

He doesn't wait for you to answer. Instead, he shuts the door to his room closed; leaving you alone in the combined kitchen and living area in the small one bedroom apartment. Resignedly, you slink towards the couch and sit down; finally pulling out your phone to text your friend after experiencing this utter disaster that she had set you up for.

BITCH WTF

???

this man is the rudest, most insufferable human being in the world. why did u tell me to go live with him

Matthew? Insufferable? Maybe a bit abrasive but...

he threw a water bottle at my face so hard my nose bled and then got upset when he found out it wasn't broken

Awww... I think he likes you :)

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? he's a fucking crazy person

You just don't know each other yet. Don't worry too much about it. You needed a place to stay and you got one... Beggars can't be choosers

watch it

Gn xx

You throw your phone down beside you onto the couch, lying down on your back as you curse your friend.

Matthew...

He hadn't even had the common courtesy to introduce himself. In fact, you would've gone on not knowing his name if it wasn't for your friend having told you just now.

Luckily, even in the strange new environment, exhaustion begins to take over after the long train ride and walk you'd been on all evening. Sinking into the old, leather couch and pulling the navy blue throw blanket draped on its arm over your body, you eventually drift off while scrolling through TikTok as the hum of the refrigerator lulls you to sleep.

A few days pass quietly in this way. Though Matthew had claimed you'd never see him unless you tried, you'd found it easy at first to get a glimpse of him when he came in through the apartment door around 2 A.M. every night. The click of the doorknob and clank of the deadbolt always stirred you from your sleep, though you'd keep your eyes closed as he walked past where you laid on the couch.

But one night, just as you were falling back to sleep after Matthew had come home about a half hour prior, you hear his bedroom door click open.

Curiously, you watch as Matthew walks to the fridge, opening the door and peering inside. In the refrigerator light, you can’t help but notice that his features are much softer and sleepier than usual.

“Stop staring,” he says suddenly, jolting you upright on the couch.

You stare at him wide-eyed in the dim light, not sure whether to deny his claim or not. “I wasn’t staring. I—.”

“So why were you pretending to be asleep, huh?” He challenges, eyes boring into you. When you fail to answer, he concludes, “That’s what I thought.”

Matthew sticks his head back in the fridge for a moment before resurfacing— a puzzled look on his face. “Huh.”

“What?”

He closes the refrigerator door, holding up the new carton of chocolate milk you had picked up from the corner store down the street that afternoon. “Where did this come from?”

“I got it today,” you answer with a shrug. “I saw you were out so I grabbed some on my way back here.”

Matthew blinks back at you for several seconds, the puzzled look on his face unfading even after your explanation. He walks to the cupboard and pulls out a glass, setting it on the table as he unscrews the cap of the carton and pours. "I didn't ask you to do that."

Your eyebrows raise in shock at his condemnation of the favor you'd attempted to do for him. "Bastard," you mumble under your breath.

"Don't waste your money," he says, bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the liquid in less than three seconds. "You're supposed to be saving it," he scolds as he sets the glass in the sink, walking out of the kitchen and back to his room.

"And go to bed."

That's all Matthew says before the door to his bedroom slams shut once more.

~super spicy cut scene 🌶️ HERE 🌶️... minors dni ... continue reading below ... rest of story makes full sense without additional scene so return here after reading or SKIP IF YOU ARE A MINOR~

You don't see Matthew again for another week. You've been exercising again, tiring your body out so you can sleep well on the old leather couch that you now call your bed. You wake up each morning and its as if the boy had never come home at all.

The only sign of his existence is another empty glass in the sink, which had undoubtedly been filled with chocolate milk the night before while you were sleeping just a few feet away.

You wash each new empty glass every morning. He must notice, but he never says anything.

You've applied to several music teaching jobs, but haven't made it past the interview stage for any of them so far. Most of them say they're looking for someone with more recent experience at this point. You're now considering branching out to any field that will hire you.

You're asleep by 10 P.M. tonight, a long walk that accidentally ended up being mostly uphill turning your legs to jelly as they melted into the beat-up couch. It's one of the soundest sleeps you've ever had, until a soft melody begins to wake you...

Eyes fluttering awake much to your chagrin, you look around the room expecting to see light flooding through the windows. You're surprised instead when the only light you see is leaking through a crack in Matthew's bedroom door.

The strumming of an acoustic guitar, accompanied by a gentle male voice is what must have woken you. You sit upright, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you grab your phone from the end table and check the time.

2:34 A.M. He must've just gotten home from band practice, you think. Why is he still playing?

Curiously, you stand up and tiptoe to Matthew's bedroom door. He hadn't shut it all the way and you can see him in the reflection of his standing mirror. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black, fitted tank top as he works the guitar-- eyes closed and brows furrowed tensely as he sings with it.

He looks hot.

You shake your head quickly, expelling the troubling thought as soon as it pops into your head and correcting it:

He looks frustrated.

You listen closer, trying to catch the lyrics or the tone of the song. Matthew's voice is a lot better than you thought it would be. You had secretly been hoping he sucked so that you could hold it over the asshole's head forever. But he doesn't suck. And far from it...

But there is something slightly off. You place your ear closer to the door, trying to figure out what the problem is. As he holds out the last note of a particular phrase, it hits you.

And you accidentally hit the door, sending it flying open as Matthew's eyes meet yours through the mirror. You grimace awkwardly as he stares back at you unamusedly.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

You step into Matthew's bedroom, looking around through sleepy eyes at each corner. You were surprised to find he had a bed frame and not an old, messy mattress on the floor. He had seemed like the type.

"You woke me up," you say with a frown. "Why are you allowed to make noise while I'm sleeping?"

"Because I'm the only one paying rent," he says simply, raising a small glass of what looks to be whiskey to his lips.

Your brows furrow defensively. "I was going to help with rent."

"With what money?" He asks rhetorically, setting the glass back down on his desk. "Have you found a job yet?"

Chewing your cheek in defeat, you answer softly, "No."

"Mm," he hums in response, returning his attention to his guitar.

"But I've been trying," you add, folding your arms across your chest. "Really hard. It's just that my field is... saturated."

"Mmhm," he mumbles dismissively. You shake your head, rolling your eyes at the boy who you were now forced to coexist with.

"Whatever. I was actually gonna tell you you sounded nice," you say, walking back towards the door. "But you actually sounded pretty flat so. Choke on a dick."

You're just about to step back into the living area when Matthew calls softly behind you, "Did I actually sound flat?"

You turn around and nod at him, taking in his curious expression for a moment. "It's most noticeable on the ending pitches."

"I knew it," he says, sighing in defeat.

This is the first time you've ever seen real emotion from Matthew. He's definitely upset that he's not sounding the way he wants to. It's refreshing to see him give a shit about something for once.

"It's because you're lingering on your consonants too long," you advise calmly as his eyes meet yours. "You need to get to your vowels faster or you're gonna stay under the pitch."

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "How do you know that? What are you-- some sort of vocal coach?"

"Uh," you stumble, smiling awkwardly back at him. "Yeah, actually."

"No you're not," he accuses with a frown. "I've never heard you sing before. Not even once."

"Obviously. I'm not allowed to make a peep while you're here or you'll kick me out, remember?"

Matthew leans back in his desk chair. "You're being for real? You're really a trained vocal coach?"

You nod, pressing your lips together. "I'm also a jazz saxophonist. Turns out neither are very lucrative professions."

He's silent-- just staring back at you as if he's lost in thought.

"You have a good voice, though," you say, walking towards the door once more when it seems like he's not going to respond to you again tonight. "And I liked the song. But I think it could use some work."

You take one last look at him, his face soft and sleepy like it had been that night a few days after you'd just moved in. He's gazing down at his guitar, tapping his fingers against the body lightly before you finally close the door.

"Well I've been afraid of changing, 'cause I built my life around you..."

The lyrics flow out of you as the hot water hits your body and falls down to the floor of the shower beneath you. Matthew might live in a shitty apartment building, but one thing they did have...

Good water pressure.

"But time makes you bolder; even children get older and I'm feeling older, too..."

Thud.

You freeze as you hear a loud noise come from the other side of the bathroom door. A million thoughts race through your head, but one sticks out most of all: is someone else in the apartment?

Matthew wouldn't be home for hours. And you'd deadbolted the door to the apartment...

Hadn't you?

Fight response kicking in, you shut off the water and fling open the shower curtain. Wrapping a large towel around you, you open the bathroom door and step into the living area cautiously. Walking around, you look for any signs of an intruder but, after a thorough search... you don't find any.

What you do find is your phone on the ground next to the couch, when you were sure you'd placed it on the end table. But with the windows open and the summer evening breeze blowing into the apartment, you try to convince yourself as best you can that your phone has simply fallen off its perch.

Changing into your pajamas, you watch TV for a while before falling asleep for the night on your makeshift bed.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

The light buzzing against your chest wakes you up, looking around in a daze for the culprit. Finally, you locate your phone and bring it up to your face; blinking the sleep away as you read the screen as best as you can.

3:57 A.M.

Mom

Decline Accept

You decline the call quickly after reading the time, instead texting your mother:

i can't talk. what's wrong?

Your mom types back fast, as expected:

Nothing's wrong honey! Just wanted to give you a head's up that we had to put your dad's gambling debt on your debit card this month. Luv u x

Your heart jumps to your throat. "No, no, no, no, no," you whisper as your fingers frantically find your mobile banking app. You tap it open, clicking through to your account total which now reads:

-$3,367

Suddenly, you're nauseous and scared and devastated all at once. You had saved $300 in the time since you'd gotten your part-time job at the Italian restaurant around the corner from you two weeks ago. And just like that, you were in serious debt once more.

Would this nightmare ever end?

You're not sure when you started sobbing, but the tears are flowing and they're now a completely unstoppable force. Covering your mouth with your hand, you attempt to stifle the sound of your crying as much as you feasibly can.

But it's all in vain.

The door to Matthew's room flies open, anger radiating off of him. But then he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, reopening them after a moment to stare blankly back at you. He's unmoving as you continue to sob until he finally walks past you to the kitchen area.

Matthew opens the refrigerator door, pulling out a fresh carton of chocolate milk. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a glass before filling it up halfway. He returns to the carton to the fridge and walks over to where you're sitting on the couch, glass in hand.

"Because you're crying like a giant baby, I figured you might need some milk," the boy says, hand with the glass extending out to you.

His words are harsh and sarcastic, but his expression is surprisingly soft. You notice his hair is slightly messy from sleep and his cheeks are puffier than usual. He looks almost innocent...

"Do I have to beat someone up?" He asks quietly.

Suddenly, you realize: this glass of chocolate milk could be Matthew's version of an olive branch.

You take the glass from his hand, slowly bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. You hold the glass in your lap as you meet his gaze.

"I hope not," you say softly. "Considering you wouldn't even be able to break their nose..."

Matthew blinks at you for a few seconds before a sudden grin lights up his face. His smile is broad and happy and if you weren't already sitting down, it would've knocked you off your feet.

The crinkles in the corner of his eyes are youthful and endearing and the laugh that comes out of him is enough to light the entire apartment in the dark.

What the fuck is going on?

When he sees you staring back at him confused, he coughs lightly in what seems to be embarrassment as he averts your gaze. "Go to sleep," he says, walking back to his room quickly. "You can keep crying in the morning."

Though Matthew's words themselves aren't overly comforting, there's something behind them-- something in his voice or maybe the way he glances at back at you before closing the door-- that makes you think that the boy who had once been disappointed he didn't break your nose... might actually give a shit about you after all.

"HOLY FUCK!" You scream, bolting upright from your sleep the next morning when you open your eyes to Matthew staring back at you.

He smirks. "A good face to wake up to, right?"

"No," you say, gripping your heart with your hand. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I hope I didn't," he says, standing up from where he's sitting on the floor in front of you. "You're not getting a new couch no matter how much you shit on it."

"You're more chipper than usual this morning," you say, stretching your arms above your head before dropping them to your lap in sudden realization. "Wait... It's the morning! You're not supposed to be here!"

Matthew laughs, walking over to the kitchen island and grabbing his keys. "Come on. We're going."

"What?" You ask confusedly. "Going where?"

"To breakfast," he answers simply.

"Why would we--?"

"Because there's no food in the house," he answers plainly again.

You frown. "I was gonna go pick up some groceries yesterday, but--."

"But you didn't," he cuts you off again quickly. "So you have 100 seconds to get ready and then we're going."

You blink at him, wondering what on earth had gotten into this man.

"100... 99... 98..." Matthew begins counting down; the sudden pressure causing you to jump to your feet, grab some clothes from your suitcase next to the couch and run to the bathroom.

Panicking, you brush your teeth and wash the sleep from your eyes before changing into the jeans and shirt you had haphazardly plucked from your suitcase. Fixing your hair, you can hear Matthew still counting faintly from outside the bathroom door.

You fling it open just as he's about to say "seven"; brushing past him to grab your phone from the couch.

"Oh look at you," he says, a smug little smile on his lips. "So efficient with your time."

"Let's just go," you mumble, unlocking the door to the apartment and stepping outside in a huff as you watch the smile on Matthew's face only grow wider.

"Can I have your cream?"

Your eyes widen in shock. "My--... my cream?"

"Yeah, your coffee cream," he says, pointing to the tiny containers of milk creamer that you've left untouched next to your coffee cup. "If you're not gonna use it."

"I--... I am gonna use it actually, thank you very much," you huff out, trying to shake the image that Matthew had unknowingly created from your mind as you pick up one of the creamer packets and dump it into your coffee.

You look up at Matthew as you place the empty container down to find the infuriatingly attractive boy smirking at you-- teeth lightly biting down on the left side of his bottom lip.

"Did you think I meant something else?" He asks with a cocky chuckle.

You pour the second packet of creamer into your coffee, exhaling deeply as you chew your cheeks to keep yourself from screaming. "If you had, I would've poured this hot coffee down your shirt."

"I'll admit that's a very creative way to get a glimpse under my shirt," Matthew counters, leaning back in the booth seat and folding his arms across his chest. He positions his forearms just under where his pectoral muscles end, humorously trying to emphasize them for you.

It is unfortunately having its desired affect on you.

"If I had known that you stopping being so rude to me would lead to you amping up the inappropriate flirting I would've--."

"Tried to make it happen sooner?" Matthew says, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

You pick up your spoon and dunk it in your coffee cup, stirring a little too aggressively as some of the hot liquid splashes onto the table. You're about to grab a napkin to wipe up the small spill, but a veiny, slightly-calloused hand beats you to it.

He dabs up the spill with his napkin and retracts his hand before meeting your gaze again. "I know you're in serious debt."

You stare back at him, not sure whether or not to deny his accusation. Ultimately, you're too curious to fight back. "How do you know?"

"You left your phone open," he says nonchalantly. "When I was getting ready to go to the gym this morning, your bank info was just lying there."

You laugh sadly. "Good thing I have nothing to steal."

"I thought you were working at that restaurant on 5th Street," he says, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "What happened to that?"

"Nothing happened," you say, staring into your own cup of coffee. "I'm still working there."

"And you haven't managed to save anything?" He asks, eyes free of their usual judgment. "Is that why you were upset?"

Slowly, you shake your head. Why you were about to divulge your personal information to a virtual stranger (albeit a virtual stranger that you live with) was beyond you. But you answer honestly anyway, "My parents charged their own debt to my account this month. It's not the first time they've done it. It won't be the last."

Matthew studies you for a second. "Does that have anything to do with why you had nowhere to live in the first place?"

"I was fine paying it off for a while, each time they'd add a new charge. I'd just spend a little less that month. A lotta less, actually. But I was fine," you explain slowly. "But when the pandemic hit, the arts school I was teaching at closed down. And so did a lot of other arts and music programs across the country. And I just haven't been able to find a job or recover financially since."

The boy sitting across from you is quiet for a few moments, taking a sip of his coffee and placing the cup back down on its saucer. You think maybe he's reached his talking quota for the day, when he suddenly says, "I know someone who needs a vocal coach."

You tilt your head curiously to the side. "Who?"

"Me."

Unfortunately you'd taken a sip of your coffee just before Matthew had given his answer. You choke slightly as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe from the shock; clearing your throat before responding, "WHAT!?"

"Someone whose band just got signed to a local record label is gonna need a good vocal coach, don't you think?"

You watch as a smile grows on his face; the sun suddenly making an appearance smack-dab in the middle of Joe's City Diner. It's impossible to keep the corners of your lips from also turning up when your roommate has suddenly decided to start being the cutest person you've ever seen before.

"That's--... That's amazing," you congratulate him. "Breakfast is on m--."

"Me," he says with a laugh. "It's on me. Unless we're dining and ditching. But I wanna be able to keep coming back here, so let's just let me pay, yeah?"

A little embarrassed, you nod in agreement. "Right."

"Plus, it's my way to convince you to be my vocal coach," he says with a smirk. "Is it working?"

You sigh, a small smile forming on your lips, too. "I dunno. I'm kind of out of practice at this point..."

"I'll pay you $75/hour for two lessons a week."

"Deal," you say quickly, hand extending across the table before you can even think it through properly.

He grins, taking your hand in his and shaking it. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"You as well," you say quietly, blushing as you retract your hand. “But… can I ask why? If you have $150 to spare, you could hire anyone. And, honestly, I thought that you hated me until... Until right now, actually. Why are you helping me?”

Matthew chews his lip for a second, folding his hands in his lap. “Because you bought me chocolate milk.”

A little pout forms on your lip as you try to figure out what he’s talking about. “What?”

“When I ran out,” he says, nodding simply. “You went to the corner store and got me a new carton. When you first moved in.”

You frown. “You told me never to do that again!”

“I told you not to waste your money again,” he says shrugging. “But it was thoughtful of you… and I appreciated it.”

You blink back at him, not sure what to say to his after-the-fact thank you. After a moment, you nod-- a small smile on your lips.

He takes another sip of his coffee. "And you're not out of practice by the way."

Your eyebrows furrow, wondering what Matthew means by this.

"I heard you singing last night in the shower," he says, smiling. "I knew for sure you weren't lying when I heard you."

Suddenly, you remember the thud you had heard while showering the night before. "YOU WERE LISTENING TO ME SHOWER!?"

Matthew laughs. "I forgot my capo at home and I needed it for band practice and--..." The smile drops from his face when he realizes what you had meant. "NO! No, oh my god, no. No, no, no-- not like that I--."

"Why so defensive?" You ask with a smirk, one eyebrow cocking playfully. "Just wanted to show you I can play that game, too."

You watch relief floods his face as he grins. "I'd ask you to put your money where your mouth is, but..."

"Asshole."

His smile exudes a bit of fondness now, much different from his smirk or his sunshine-filled grin. It's soft; warm. "You have a beautiful voice."

You look down int your coffee cup, bottom lip tucking between your teeth awkwardly. "Thanks."

"And if you sing while I'm home, I won't kick you out. In fact, that can be your rent payment."

You start to shake your head in protest, but he just laughs.

"That way I don't have to eavesdrop while you shower," Matthew jokes. "Unless you want me to."

"You've got to be kidding--."

"And maybe we can get breakfast like this more often."

There's a flutter in your heart again. Just like when he'd told you to go to bed earlier this morning. His words weren't flowery or overly emotional or caring in themselves...

But it's that look in his eyes; the tone in his voice.

"Breakfast and vocal lessons it is," you agree softly. "But I get to add something to the deal too..."

He smiles at you, brows raised in anticipation.

"You share your chocolate milk with me more often."

Matthew's eyes narrow as he studies you for a moment. You think for a second that his love for chocolate milk might be too strong...

But then he nods.

"Deal."

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