#oh Americans are uncultured and don’t travel enough
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bts reacts; you fall asleep on facetime
au:// requested by @bitesizedwizard , sorry it took so long i was on a temporary hiatus when you requested <3
kim seokjin
you both had a rather busy past few weeks and communication was at an all time low. jin and the boys had just started their north american tour and your boss had been keeping you after hours at work to finish a business portfolio for the new ads the company was about to release. today was a rather stressful day for you, as your boss was even more up your ass to get all the ideas and projects recorded.
jin had finished off dinner with the boys and successfully recorded a rather long and enjoyable vlive with jungkook and jimin, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming need to a least have a short conversation with you. so as soon as he was locked into the safety of his hotel room, he pulled out his phone to facetime you, whilst completely forgetting about the time difference between LA and seoul.
you answered the phone on the brink of sleep and completely folded into all the blankets on your bed. “hi baby, i just finished watching your vlive.” you smiled, yawning immediately after the words left your lips.
“oh sorry jagi, i forgot about the time zone. you must be so tired.” he apologized quickly, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips.
“no, no.” you dismissed, rolling your eyes at his concern. “it’s worth it to get to talk to you. it’s been awhile. tell me about what’s been going on.” he went on about how everything’s been going, only hesitating to continue when he heard your soft snores.
in the end, he opted to just whispering everything to you so that you wouldn’t wake up and waste sleep on him.
min yoongi
you had been at his studio with him only an hour ago, where you two had eaten the thai food you bought together. you had ranted to him about the unfairness of treatment among individuals at your work and he told you all about the progress of the song that him and hoseok had been working on together. so really, there was no reason for him to facetime you an hour later once you were tucked into the warmth of your bed comforter.
“yes, baby?” you grunted once you hit the green accept button. you sat up slightly to lean on your elbow while you spoke to him.
he sighed lowly as he shut the door to his studio. “sorry doll, did i wake you up?”
you smiled softly and fell back once more to lean into your pillows. “nope, just laid down. why’d you call?”
“just wanted to know if i could spend the night at your apartment, i don’t want to call manager sejin to come get me and bring me to the dorms.” he mumbled, as a particular gust of wind blew the hair out of his eyes once he stepped out of the management building.
“of course, you know that the door’s always unlocked for you.” you mumbled quietly as sleep started to take over for you. actually, the door was currently unlocked for anyone considered you were too tired to actually lock it when you came inside. when he heard your light snores coming through the microphone, he rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face.
“i’ll be there soon then, jagi.” he mumbled, but still kept you on the line anyway because, why not?
jung hoseok
does this even really count?
so here’s the thing, you wanted to play overwatch with jungkook and jimin but he wanted to watch the new ninja turtles movie with the rest of the boys. so what do you both do to be able to still spend time with eachother? you guys facetimed eachother, even if you both were only a few rooms apart. and even though you weren’t talking to each-other, as to not break jungkook’s concentration or disturb the movie, it was enough to know that if anything needed to be said you guys were on the phone already.
no offence towards kookie, he was a great overwatch player, very skilled if you do say so yourself. but you were quite bored with the outcome of your decision to stay with jimin and jungkook instead of watching the movie with your boyfriend.
you turned to look at your phone screen, hoping to see the boys cleaning up the living room so that you could just call your boyfriend into his bedroom and cuddle for the rest of the night. unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the movie was even halfway over and you let out a quiet breath of air before standing from the floor to flop on jungkook’s bed.
the movie was over quite quickly in hoseok’s opinion so when he turned to his phone and saw the facetime had been over for about 40 minutes now, he couldn’t help but frown. but he immediately understood why when he entered the maknae’s room and saw you fast asleep, with your dead phone next to you. “how long has she been asleep?” he turned to his dongsaengs.
jungkook shrugged but turned to smile at him. “she talks a lot in her sleep though.”
kim namjoon
you were stuck in traffic on the way to your hotel. you had decided that it would be nice to travel to canada for a week or so, and you had just gotten out of all the traffic around the airport. it was a rather long uber drive to the hotel you were staying at, so you facetimed your boyfriend figuring there was nothing else you could do. “hey jagiya, how was the flight?” he asked almost immediately after he picked up the phone.
you giggled softly and smiled out the window as you admired the scenery. “pretty good, nothing major worth telling. how was practice today? jimin was telling me yesterday that you guys were beginning to learn a new choreography?”
“yeah! about that, jin completely tripped and laid himself out on the floor.” namjoon let out a rather loud laugh that you grinned uncontrollably at. “man, it was really funny, you should have been there.” you chuckled and shook your head at their antics, before glancing up at the gps.
“joonie, i have 45 minutes left of this ride. you wanna like, i don’t know, rap for me or something?” your voice came out gentle, already on the brink of sleep yet you didn’t want to tell him that. when his voice began flowing through the speaker, you leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes. when he heard your soft snores, he stopped and raised his voice a little to talk to the driver.
“excuse me, uber driver?” he spoke in clear english.
“yes, sir on the phone?” a woman’s voice called back jokingly.
“make sure she gets there safely, alright?” he grinned just thinking about you.
“of course, sir. it’s my job, after all.”
park jimin
please ignore the fact that saipan and korea are only an hour apart oops
the boys were filming in saipan and he called you to show you how pretty the beach was there, forgetting that with the time zones you were most likely already asleep. when you answered with a groggy hello and were rubbing your eyes in front of the camera and frowned and felt regret fill his stomach. “i’m sorry babe, did i wake you up? i just wanted to show you the beach we’re filming at right now, but if you want to go back to sleep i can just take some pictures and send them to you later.”
“um, no! you know how much i love the beach, show me jagi!” you grinned, sitting up on your elbow to see more clearly. he grinned happily into the camera before turning it around to show you the crystal blue water and clean sand lining the beach. “oh my god! it’s so beautiful there, i wish i could’ve gone with you guys.”
“it’s not as beautiful as you, my love.” he grinned cheekily once he turned the camera back around to face him. “do you want me to stay on until you fall asleep again?”
“please do.” you yawned covered your mouth with the back of your hand. “i’ll put the phone next to my pillow so it’s like your here with me.” he laughed wholeheartedly into the microphone and leaned up against one of the chairs namjoon had set up for them.
and he did stay on with you until you fell asleep and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but maybe he stayed on after you fell asleep too just to hear your slow breathing and pretend he was there with you.
kim taehyung
he and the boys were on the plane ride back to korea after finishing all their uk tour stops. the plane ride honestly felt like it had been going on forever now but they had only been off the ground for not even 15 minutes. “hyung are we there yet?” he whined shoving himself into namjoon’s side to pout up at him. he had done this multiple times already and each time he repeated the action his hyung became more and more agitated.
“would you just call y/n and leave me alone before i punch you in the neck?” joon hissed, shoving taehyung’s body away from his own.
taehyung pouted once more and shuffled farther away from him to tuck his knees to his chest and pull out his phone. “jeez hyungie, no need to be so sour.” he quickly dialed your number and patiently waited for the facetime to connect. after a few rings you picked up and smiled into the camera. “y/n! thank goodness you picked up! namjoon-hyung is getting pretty salty and i can’t seem to figure out why.”
“maybe it’s because you shoved your porky little body into my six times and we haven’t even been flying for 20 minutes you inconsiderate, uncultured swine-” before namjoon could continue his rant for any longer, seokjin cut in with an apologetic smile towards their manager who was asleep next to him. “alright joonie, i think that’s enough for right now.”
“wow so you really managed to piss him off, huh? you must get pretty annoying.” you chuckled softly, rolling up in a fluffy blanket on your couch.
“damn right he does.” namjoon muttered behind taehyung causing the younger to gasp dramatically. “why don’t you just sing me to sleep baby? at least your voice isn’t annoying.” you joked, only calming down when his voice finally echoed through the speaker on your phone.
jeon jungkook
the boys were in the company van on the way back to the dorms from an award show. jimin was extremely happy as he had won an award specifically because of a traditional dance he had done, and that had automatically put all the other boys in a wicked good mood. kook knew you were at the dorms waiting for him so he pulled out his phone to facetime you. “are you calling y/n?” hoseok shouted out happily from the first row of seats. he nodded and pressed on your contact button before sitting back to wait for your answer.
the facetime made a noise and almost immediately your excited face popped up on his phone screen. he grinned happily, flashing his bunny teeth before opening his eyes to speak. “hey jagi-”
“CONGRATULATIONS JIMIN!” you screamed over him happily. “i always knew you were the most talented one!” as jimin grinned proudly with his eyes almost disappearing, sounds of complaints from all the other boys echoed through the car. jungkook shook his head jokingly with a roll of his eyes before speaking up once more.
“are you already in bed jagiya?” he smiled seeing the blanket wrapped almost completely around your face. you nodded happily before covering your mouth with the back of your hand as a yawn escaped your mouth. “go to sleep baby, me and the boys will be there soon.”
you nodded once more before smiling softly at him. “i love you kookie.”
and ignoring the huge grins from all his hyungs around him, he smiled back at you with just as much love. “i love you so much more than you’ll ever know.”
#jeon jungkook#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#park jimin#jung hoseok#bts#bangtan boys#bts reactions#bts imagines#bts masterlist#bts reacts#bts requests#jhope#suga#rm#jin#v
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On-Air | Vernon/Hansol (V)
genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, college au | vernon x radio personality!reader
summary: under the pseudonym Honey, you are the host of the most popular radio show in the city called Honey Time Radio where you give advice about relationships, school, and life in general. when it comes to your own love-life, however, you don’t have the best luck, and you don’t even follow your own advice! so what happens when you get a call from a listener who’s asking you advice on how to get to your heart?
word count: 3468
a/n: thank you all for the support thus far! it’s 4:30 am good night i need sleep lol. several warnings: swearing, alcohol, lots of platonic wonwoo x reader, and american fraternity life. as seen on my ao3
part iv, vi
“A party tonight, huh?” Wonwoo said, swinging around in his chair. “What kind of party?”
“What do you mean what kind of party, it’s a college party,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.
“The type of college party that Hansol invited you to is just as important as the invite itself!”
“How?”
“If it’s a birthday party, he’s trying to claim you. Well, claim is such a terrible word, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Assuming the birthday party is most likely hosted by someone he’s close to, he wants to show you off to his friends and show you how serious he is. A fraternity party, on the other hand, is way different.”
“So what if he’s taking me to a frat party?”
“Fraternity, you uncultured swine, not frat,” Wonwoo scolded. “And I’ll kill him.”
“What, why!?”
“The sole purpose of a fraternity hosting a party that isn’t the afterset to one of their cancer-saving bullshit philanthropy events is to get the entire house laid. Lots of drunk, sexy people in one room gets things going, you know? Trust me on this one, I know from hands-on experience and it works every time, so if he’s trying to take you to a damn Sigma Tau party, I’ll kill him. Their parties always suck, anyways.”
“I always forget that you’re in a fraternity,” you snorted.
“Why? I’m hot enough to be in one.”
“It’s because you’re such a fuckin’ nerd.”
“Nerds can wear letters, too, you independent,” he pouted. “So what kind of party is it?”
“It’s Soonyoung’s birthday party.”
“Oh, cool! I’ll see you there then.”
“You’re going!? Thanks for the invite!” you scolded.
“I swear I was going to invite you literally right after this discussion. But hey, Hansol beat me to it, so good for him.”
“I’m not cool enough to be invited to parties, ok, that’s why I rely on you to tell me once you get the invite!”
“It slipped my mind, I’m sorry! I’ll remember next time!”
“Can I go with you tonight?”
“Why? Hansol’s not picking you up?”
“He’s helping set up, so he’ll be there already.”
“I mean, I guess we could go together,” he said sarcastically. “Just don’t, you know, do what you always do and look awkward.”
“I might as well not go at all.”
“I’m kidding! But you have to take a shot with me once we walk in, no chaser.”
“Of what…”
“Silver tequila ~”
“You’re the devil incarnate,” you groaned, feeling yourself gagging already. “Fine.”
“Hurray! HonWoo ‘bouta turn up!”
“Never say that again. Hurry and press the button,” you sighed, slumping in your seat. Tonight was going to be a long night and you had no idea what to expect. But now wasn’t the time to worry.
“On-air in three… two… one…”
“What’s up, everyone!?” you greeted. “You’re on-air with Honey Time Radio, with Honey at the mic and Dj Wonwoo on the beat. It is a warm, thirsty Thursday evening, which means $10 bottles of soju at Ahjooma’s Corner! Make sure you stop on by and grab a bottle of soju while you’re eating with your friends, your significant other, or even your employer whom you’re trying to get drunk so you can get that raise! Mine and Wonwoo’s favorite flavor is the green apple soju. This is definitely sponsored content, but I was not paid to say that Ahjooma’s Corner has the best soondubu-jjigae ever, besides my mother’s. Love you, mom!
“For our first segment of the show tonight, we have a submission sent in by an anonymous listener. ‘Hey, Honey & Wonwoo! I’m a returning listener who has called for advice before, but I’m too nervous to call again because my identity might be found out! So here’s the thing; there’s this guy that I have been trying to get his attention, but every time I try, I either chicken out or he leaves right away to talk to someone else! I tried your advice last time, like small conversation starters, but I don’t think he’s that kind of person. There’s a party tonight and he’s going to be there. If he’s not into small talk, what do you think I should do?’”
You squinted at the submission on your laptop screen. Why did this scenario sound so familiar?
“Sounds like you’re in quite the pickle, anonymous,” you commented, a bit discouraged that your advice didn’t work, but glad they came back to ask. “You must really like him, huh? Well, if my advice didn’t work last time, I’d hate to ruin it a second time. Maybe Wonwoo can help?”
“Really!? Ah, it’s my time to shine!” he said while cracking his knuckles. “My advice is coming from my perspective - a guy’s perspective. I’m a lot like your guy in the sense that I hate small talk, too. I feel like the party scene is a lot easier to work with because you have a lot more leeway to break the ice. Does your guy like to drink? Ask him if he wants you to get a drink and start talking that way. Does he like drinking games? Ask him to be your partner. Does he like to dance? This one’s a bit more daring, but if you know how to bump n’ grind on the dance floor, that’ll really get his attention, if you know what I mean ~” Wonwoo chuckled at your gross expression. “It seems like he doesn’t like his time being wasted, so get straight to the point right away. Hope that helps.”
“You know, usually I would rather eat the cafeteria food than listen to Wonwoo’s advice, but that was actually pretty good…” you mused. “We should switch roles for a night.”
“I would never let you touch my soundboard. Only my fingers can make such magical sounds.”
“Why do you say things like that, it’s so weird… Anyways, we wish you all the best, Anonymous! Let us know how it went. Let’s take our first caller!”
“And that’s all for tonight, everyone. Tomorrow rings in a new day, so make sure you take the bull by the horns and seize it. Or something along those lines. You understand, what I mean, right? I’d like to give a special shoutout to a special listener by the name of Soonyoung. Happy birthday, Soonyoung! Stay safe at your party tonight. And as always, everyone else stay safe tonight, too. Use our Lyft code aka our official ship name, #HonWoo, for 20% off your ride. Thanks for listening, everyone. This is Honey signing off.”
“How did you manage to get us an Ahjooma’s Corner ad and a Lyft code?” Wonwoo asked after pressing the offline button. “The step team has been trying to get sponsors from both of them since forever!”
“Jeonghan’s like, the head chef or whatever at Ahjooma’s Corner and Seungkwan’s the brand ambassador for Lyft.”
“Seungkwan, that pink bastard,” Wonwoo cursed. “Are you going back to your apartment to change?”
“Yeah, I can’t go there looking like this.”
“Good, ‘cuz you look like trash.”
“You’re a great friend.”
When you got back to your apartment, it was already 10:30 which was thirty minutes after the party started but thirty minutes before the party started. In those remaining thirty minutes, you spent twenty-five of those throwing out every outfit you tried on, unsatisfied with the results.
“Yah, what’s taking you so long!?” Wonwoo yelled from your couch. “All the jungle juice is gonna be gone!”
“I don’t know what to wear!”
“It’s a fucking party, not the Yule Ball!”
“Can you shut up!? I’m done, for Christ’s sake!”
“If you take any longer, I’m gonna get you so drunk that Hansol’s gonna be the one carrying your ass back here -”
Wonwoo’s blabbering mouth fell silent when you left your room all ready to go. He didn’t know how you did it, but you managed to fix your hair, face, and get dressed in such a short amount of time and still look decent. Tonight, you didn’t look like _____. Tonight, you looked like Honey.
“Damn,” he said. “You look… put together for once. Tryna shake up Hansol?”
“Ugh, you complimenting me makes me feel uglier somehow.”
“I try to be nice one time…”
The walk to Soonyoung’s didn’t more than ten minutes. When you were a block away from the house, you could already hear the bumping music, loud cheers, and see the bright, colorful strobe lights. This party looked like it was straight out of an American college party movie, making Mingyu’s party look like the seventh grade sock hop.
“Jisoo Christ,” Wonwoo whistled. “Soonyoung really meant it when he said he was going to outdo his twenty-first…”
“Someone’s gotta clean all of that up eventually…”
“That’s what pledges are for,” he smirked. “C’mon, you promised me a tequila shot.”
The inside of the house was moist - it wreaked of booze, sweat, and lots of sugar. You and Wonwoo squeezed your way through the crowd to the kitchen, exchanging hellos to familiar faces and quick kisses on the cheek from drunk friends (who knew Minghao was so affectionate when drunk?)
A tall, double shot of clear poison glared at you, accompanied by its groupies lime and salt. The more you smelled the ethanol-like stench of tequila, the more you felt yourself gag.
“Cheers to a good night, _____,” Wonwoo said as you both raised your glasses. “May the alcohol be ever in our favor.”
With the cling of the glass, you licked the mound of salt, downed the juice, and sucked on a lime wedge. No amount of limes and salt could ease the burn of liquor travelling down your throat. One double shot in and you already felt like dying.
“Ha,” Wonwoo giggled. “Look at your face.”
“Taking a shot without the birthday boy!?” A familiar voice yelled, swinging his bare arm around your shoulder. A sweaty Soonyoung hugged you tightly as he grabbed a shot glass of his own. “Pour me one, Wonwoo.”
“Ugh, can’t we take something else?” you groaned, still not over the taste.
“Does Hennessey suit your needs, Princess _____?”
“Can I get a chaser?”
“Nuh uh, shorty,” Soonyoung grinned. “House rules - any shot with the birthday boy is straight.”
“God, you’re such a bro.” The gold liquid didn’t sting as much as tequila, but didn’t really taste any better. You felt the intoxication take over your body, hazing your vision, but you didn’t mind at all, although you probably should have ate before coming… Soonyoung squeezed your shoulder as a thank you for taking a shot with him.
“Have you seen Hansol?” you yelled over the music.
“You’re like the third girl that’s asked me tonight. Is it his birthday, too, or something!?” he pouted.
“Well, he’s the one that invited me -”
“He probably invited every fucking girl here,” he snorted. “He’s probably on the dance floor.”
“I’ll be heading there, then.”
“Wait, me too!”
Soonyoung had his hands over your shoulders, guiding you through the house to the living room, where the real party was happening. A sober Mingyu was the Dj for tonight, who apparently claimed that after his birthday, he was never going to drink again, or at least until after midterms. The entire room was packed with people, bodies swaying and grinding to the music, that you couldn’t even distinguish faces.
“Do you see him?” you asked Soonyoung, who clung to you closer in his drunk state.
“Yeah, but he seems a bit preoccupied…”
Your eyes followed to where Soonyoung pointed. Right in the middle of the dance floor was a flushed Hansol, grinding behind some poor soul who got caught in the same trap you were in. Even in your tipsy state, you recognized her - she was the same girl who Hansol said was bland at Mingyu’s party, the same girl who called that night to ask for advice on how to get his attention, and the same girl who anonymously sent you a submission a few hours ago on how to actually get his attention.
God, how could you be so stupid and not put the pieces together?
“Hyejin actually did it,” Soonyoung cheered behind you. “She’s been trying to talk to Hansol since their freshman year. About fuckin’ time. Who knew Wonwoo gave great advice.”
Oh, that’s right. Wonwoo was the one who advised her.
Do all guys think the fucking same?
Hyejin turned around, now facing Hansol as he kept his arms tightly wrapped around her tiny waist. Their faces were so close, any closer they would be making out and it made you want to throw up. In a room full of sweaty, sexually-driven drunk adults, the spotlight was on them, at least to you it was. The alcohol was really starting to kick in as your mind flashed through every smile, every laugh, and every form of affection that Hansol ever gave you.
In those moments, in such a short amount of time, you felt like you could fly.
But now, you felt like just another check off his list. And he was another one off of yours.
Six. That made six total guys who fucked you over.
Should you even be surprised at this point? But maybe you were overreacting… It’s not like you were even officially together. But why did it still hurt?
“Are you ok?” Soonyoung asked, shaking your shoulders. “You’re not going to throw up, are you? ‘Cuz that would suck.”
You snatched a cup of mystery drink from someone’s hand and chugged it down, ignoring the taste of cheap cinnamon liquer.
“Wanna dance?” you asked bitterly.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that?” he slurred. “Years, _____, years. Fucking finally, let’s go.”
You were shocked when Soonyoung gently took your hand and led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You were even more shocked that you were having a lot of fun using him as a distraction to get your mind off of Hansol for the night.
But you were most shocked when you locked eyes with a Hansol after the fifth song with Soonyoung.
You weren’t even dancing that risque with him. Dancing with Soonyoung was filled with laughs and smiles from the goofiness that you shared together. Hansol watched you hunch over from laughing so hard too many times for him to count. You may not have had your ass grinding up against Soonyoung crotch, but not once did you let go of his hand. He twirled you, dipped you, swung you around like a boyfriend would.
Somehow imagining you grinding up against Soonyoung seemed less painful than the scene before him.
When you saw Hansol looking at you, you might have felt guilty from seeing how pale his face was if he wasn’t still glued to Hyejin. But since that was the case, you broke the chilling eye contact quickly and put all your attention to Soonyoung. It was satisfying knowing that you could finally get payback for all the shit you fell for.
“_____ ~!” Soonyoung groaned, tired from all the dancing. “I need to rehydrate!”
“Jungle juice?” you challenged.
“Jungle juice!”
“Wonwoo ~!” you screeched, stumbling into the kitchen. After the whole dance floor incident, you spent the rest of the night drinking whatever was in front of you to numb your entire body, Now it was almost three in the morning and you were drunk off your ass and achieved the optimal amount of numbness. Most of the guests left the house with the exception of Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s friends and a couple of girls that wanted to stay. This included Hansol and Hyejin, who stood next to each other with at least one inch of space between them for once.
You let out an obnoxious groan at the sight.
“What, you alcoholic?” he teased.
“Take me home.”
“Why don’t you ask Han -”
“HONEY TIME RADIO,” you interrupted loudly, causing Wonwoo’s eyes to widen. You didn’t even want to hear his name. “Is… A great show…!”
“Oh, I love Honey Time!” Soonyoung chimed, wrapping his arm around you again.
“Ew, since when were you two this close?” Wonwoo asked.
“Since… Today! Happy birthday!” you cheered. “Please, can you take me home…?”
“You can stay the night if you want,” Soonyoung offered.
“Nope, nuh-uh, I won’t allow it. Hansol, walk her home -”
“Ugh, shut up for once, Wonwoo!” you scolded. The whole room was silent at your outburst, but you didn’t care. You certainly didn’t care for Hansol’s hurt expression, either. “Forget it, I’ll go by myself.”
“Yah, _____ -!”
You stormed off into the dark streets. The beginning of the night was a lot warmer, but now you could feel every goosebump on your exposed skin. It felt numbing, but you didn’t care anymore. You were drunk, exhausted, and over it.
You knew someone was following behind you. You hoped it was either Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and even Mingyu, but you prayed to God it wasn’t Hansol - he was the last person you wanted to see. But normally, Wonwoo would be nagging you for being such a brat just now, Soonyoung would have walked really close to you, and Mingyu would have pulled you into a headlock. But the person behind you did neither of those things.
Hansol watched the way you walked in front of him. At first, your stride was angry - you stomped the concrete like you hate it. To be honest, it was really cute. But then you progressively got slower, dragging your feet and hanging your head low. You looked tired - no, exhausted - mentally, physically, emotionally, and it was all his fault.
You felt a heavy jacket get thrown over you shoulders before you fell face-first on the grass in front of you.
“Oh, shit,” Hansol said, kneeling beside you. “My bad. Are you ok?”
“Don’t touch me,” you muttered into the ground. “I’ll just lay here.”
“Then I’ll lay with you.”
“No, I don’t want you to.”
“Unless you can get up, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?”
“I can just feel your smug smirk piercing through me. I want to smack that smirk off of your dumb, beautiful face,” you threatened.
Hansol gently helped you up from the ground and held you at arms length. One hand plucked pieces of grass from your hair while the other kept you from swaying side-to-side. He couldn’t hold in his growing grin when you pouted at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes.
“I said don’t touch me…”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not Hyejin.”
“And I’m not Soonyoung.”
“Obviously not by the way you danced with Hyejin tonight. Soonyoung can dance way better than you ever could! And it was the best time of my life!”
Hansol knows the intention behind your words was meant to hurt him, and to be honest, it did, but the way that you were acting was so cute that he ignored the slight sting in his chest.
“Do you want me to call him to walk you home instead?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes.”
“Ah, you were supposed to say no.”
You ignored his comment as you stumbled passed him, making your way home once more. Hansol continued to follow behind you, catching you at least three more times when you tripped on the uneven sidewalk, earning himself another three snarky remarks about how you weren’t Hyejin and to keep his hands off of you.
When you stood in front of you apartment, you chucked the jacket harshly in his face.
“I deserve that,” he said.
“Go home.”
“Are you jealous of Hyejin?”
“Are you jealous of Soonyoung?”
“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation, catching you off guard. “And Wonwoo. And Mingyu. And any guy who comes even close to you.”
“Why?” you scoffed.
“Are you jealous of Hyejin?” he repeated. The small smirk on his face told you he already knew the answer.
“… Yes.”
“Ok,” his smirk widened. “Good night, _____.”
“Wait, what? You can’t just leave! Now I have questions!” you cried.
“I’ll answer them when I see you tomorrow.”
“That’s funny, because I definitely don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“It’s my way of saying I want to see you tomorrow.” And before you realized it, Hansol started to back away, making him the winner of this sad argument. He winked, smiling at the charming way you blushed so easily. “Sweet dreams, _____.”
You slept two whole hours that night.
#svtwriters#sfwseventeen#hansol#vernon#seventeen#svt#seventeen vernon#seventeen hansol#svt hansol#svt vernon#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#svt scenarios#kpop#k-pop#this is all over the place bYE
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All Good Things… Would You Rather…?
#Blog #Bloggerstribe #AllGoodThings…
8th July 2020
Hello, Chaps and Chapettes,
Okay, so I wanted to do a “write and react” blog here, and to help me do that I’m going to enlist the use of YAGPDB.xyz bot (other bots are available) from Discord. I instantly regretted this when it posed it’s first question to me:
“Would you rather be racist or sexist?”
… Err… Neither.
Oh, so I should explain, to get this function to work you type “-WYR” in the chat, and it generates a random “would you rather…?” question. My Discord server fellowship could see, read and respond to this as well, with an easy A or B voting system. So, here we go, question number one, eyes down looking…
“Would you rather be A) telekinetic or B) telepathic?”
Most went for A on this one. Arguably, I would too. I already feel telepathic sometimes, the closest I get to the truth sometimes, or figuring something out before it is fully announced is scary. Telekinesis powers would be much fun to have, you could play about like a Jedi grabbing things from across the room without taking a step! Then again, you might end up like the people from Wall-E… I’ll take the risk. Next!
“Would you rather A) eat a five-course meal in front of ten starving children or B) steal the bucket from five salvation army Santa?”
… What is up with these questions? Okay, shoot. What would you do? I mean… I clicked A for a laugh, however, it would, OF COURSE, be the Santas. Or would it? AGGGH! Now I’m second-guessing myself!!!! Because if the Santas had a lot of money, that could feed more than ten children… RIGHT! I’m overriding this. I would eat the meal in front of the children BECAUSE I would then share it with them. I wouldn’t be a dick, I would find a mutha fuggin’ loophole, baby!
Most of my friends felt the Santa thing was less douchy, one pointing out that if the kids saw Santa then kick their ass in front of the kids, it would mean bonus points.
NEXT!
“Would you rather be A) telekinetic or--”
No, we’ve had that one.
“Would you rather be A) an Olympic tennis player or B) Olympic table tennis player?”
One friend immediately said tennis properly, because that would make them fit as fluff. This seemed to be the consensus with the group, so of course, I went against the grain once again, of course, I did. I said table tennis because, and I quote, “who wouldn't want to be Forrest Gump though.” Getting to meet that particular president, or Elvis, or Bubba… Ok, yes, we lost Bubba, but knowing him was worth the sorrow of losing him. One asked if I meant the movie or the book version - I meant the movie version. I have been too lazy to read the book version (my apologies, Winston Green).
Oh gosh, we’re in the big boy pants now, ladies and gents…
“Would you rather know A) when you will die or B) how you will die?”
Um… Neither? No, I’d rather know ho-- no… whe-- n-no… Agh! Too big a question! Okay, so, if I have to answer this, I’m going to say when. KNOWING that I’ll probably be late for my own death, I think it would be the more productive of the two. If I knew how I was going to die, I would spend my life wondering if this is the moment, I would fear it and would get nothing done. If I spent my life knowing when then I would at least try to fulfill as much as I could in the time that I had. Just like when you’re on holiday for two weeks and you cram in what you can before the flight home.
“Would you rather A) wear a dress or B) wear heels?”
Hahaha… Dress. I’ve worn a dress, I get it girls and Scots and everyone else who wears a dress, the air on you… thighs (gutter minds...) is actually very comfortable, more so than a pair of jeans strangling you every time you sit down. Dresses are going to become the fashion for men, more so than they are already, I am sure of it. HOWEVER, I will not rule out the other side. I get why some guys and gals like the height of a heel but, I am already six foot two, I don’t like low ceilings as is, I don’t need to get closer to them.
“Would you rather A) win the World Series or B) win the Superbowl?”
I am not up on my American sports as I should be so um… which one is which? I think World Series is the hittie-ball-with-batty and Superbowl is fake-rugby, right? I am a dumb English person with my tea, crumpets, and feather dusters. I’m gonna say World Series because if I am right about what I assume it is then baseball seems much cooler and more achievable to my limited skill range than American Foosball is.
I just checked with Alexa, I was right. Whoo! Go me.
Hold on to your butts, men, and women. This next one is the mother of all questions…
“Would you rather get A) an atomic wedgie or B) a swirly?”
Again, I had NO IDEA what a swirly was. I asked Alexa, she was no help. I asked a friend and they were not sure so we googled it;
“The Swirlie is a prank in which one's head is dunked into the toilet bowl and flushed. It was rather prevalent in the '90s, and is little more than a dare nowadays.”
(https://pranks.fandom.com/wiki/Swirlie#:~:text=Back-,Swirlie,more%20than%20a%20dare%20nowadays.)
… Wedgie. WHO WOULD AGREE TO HAVE THEIR FACE IN A TOILET BOWL? No, ew, yuck, blech! At least with a wedgie, it sucks for a bit and then you recover from it. Gathering all of the germs from the poop shoot is a Scaramouche-no-no, thank you very much. Plus, far more dangerous. What happens if you drown? Okay, we all know what happens if you drown…
I think this will be the last one.
“Would you rather A) watch your favorite movie on repeat for a full day, or B) watch Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist once.
I have not watched Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist ever (what an uncultured swine I am!) so I think I will hit that up. I already watched Back to the Future Part III for a full day as a kid while I was trying to figure out how to build my own time traveling steam train, so I can tick that off the bucket list. Let’s live a little and try something new, eh?
Alright, that one was a little dull, so I’m going overtime to do one more, just to see if it’s any good…
“Would you rather...”
“A) Be the guy from Momento,”
“OR,”
“B) Be the guy from Groundhog Day?”
… I already feel like both of those guys. I forget who I am and I feel like I am living the same day over and over, never moving forwards or backward, trying to crash the Matrix and getting close but not close enough.
I think I’ll go with the guy from Groundhog Day though, because they learn that kindness and compassion have more impact on the world than you can possibly know, after a few selfish deeds and mistakes first. That’s the path to all good things, folks, learn from your fluff ups!
All good things,
Lots of hugs,
Scara x
Link to Luna Switched: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/174616/luna-switched
Link to Discord Server: https://discord.gg/9GEhvhf
#would you rather#Vlog blog blogger bloggerstribe All good things Scaramouche silly hope fail cat computer thirty minutes try#blog
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A Table at Dante’s
It smells absolutely wonderful in here! My stomach let out a grumble simulating that of a whale’s call. It was my fourth time at my favorite restaurant in all of Florence… perhaps even in all of Italy! Dante’s was the go-to dinner spot for me, my summer classmates, and professors. As a large group of fifteen people from all sorts of different hometowns, backgrounds, tastes, and personalities, we didn’t agree on much—but one thing we always agreed upon was Dante’s. The pizza and seafood pasta had captured each and every one of our foreign hearts in a unique way. It was a unanimous vote, every single time. The caprese salad and cheese plate antipasti were delivered from hand to hand, making their way to the head of the table. My mouth watered as I swiftly reached for the largest piece of mozzarella on the wooden board. Every man for himself. We had all gotten used to each other by this point, and the whole; “wait until everyone else at the table has served themselves” business was out the window. It was week six of six—appetites were high, and table etiquette was low.
Thinking back to our first ‘Italian restaurant’ meal together makes me wonder if I was with an entirely different group of college students than the ones that I share a table with tonight. Five weeks ago, ‘dinner talk’ consisted of scholastic aspirations, what it’s like growing up with “x” number of siblings, and other incessantly monotonous small talk that would make any businessman at a cocktail party envious. Occasionally, the chatter would be broken by an ever-so-polite; “please pass the natural water,” followed up with an even more polite; “I’m sorry, there’s only sparkling,” and ending with an; “oh, that’s okay! I’ll take sparkling, thanks!” Tonight, the table has been broken up into two teams—team ‘acqua frizzante’ and team ‘acqua naturale,’ both assuming superiority—each fighting for dominance.
During our very first meal at Dante’s, we were all on our best behaviors. We sat in our seats next to those with whom we were most familiar, observing each other surreptitiously, still unsure of how living with one another for the next five weeks would work out. I distinctly remember my first impression of each person at the table. I could tell by the way most of the students carried themselves that we would never become close friends. How could we? We were all so different, after all.
Tonight, you can barely hear anything over our boisterous laughter—the waiter has already asked us to quiet down twice. No one has a seat that is distinctly their own. We all sit, walk around, mingle, and float from conversation to conversation. It’s like a less competitive form of musical chairs. I examine those around me. Some students are hovered over a cellphone, laughing hysterically as they watch videos of themselves over the past few weeks. Others are building a giant tower made of cups, dishes, table utensils, and bread rolls. A few, (the more mature ones) discuss the approximate caloric intake of the native Italian people, and whether or not they appreciate gelato as they should. I really love these people. I can’t believe how much I’ve come to love these people.
The waiter finally rounds the corner. Although in the past five-plus weeks I had seen the Duomo, the David, the Sistine Chapel, the Birth of Venus, the Coliseum, the Roman ruins, the Trevi Fountain, Venice, Cinque Terre, and the Mediterranean Sea… in this moment, what the waiter has in his hands is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life—a large, meat-loaded, cheese covered pizza. He sets it before me, just as my stomach releases another whale call. It takes no time for the pizza to make its way from my plate, and into my mouth. This is the best pizza I’ve ever had.
Dishes come and go as everyone offers each other a bite of their food. It was an unspoken rule among the group, that whoever ordered a meal must share with the entire table, otherwise one of us might be robbed the full experience. You were under no obligation to accept the food offered to you, but if the bite was denied, you would receive a look of confusion from your fellow classmates who understood the depth of what you had just done—that you had just cheated yourself out of what could’ve very well been the best escapade of your poor, uncultured, American, taste-bud’s lives. It was best for everyone if you accepted the bite.
After taking one too many bites of God knows whose fettuccini alfredo, I lean back on my chair and, in complete contentment, let out a ferocious yawn accompanied by a cat-like stretch. “I’m really going to miss this.” My peaceful state is disrupted by the unsolicited smack into reality. The table becomes quiet. It’s as if, all at once, we woke up from the same, wonderful dream that was the past six weeks. All of a sudden, I felt my stomach begin to knot up, and a lump came to my throat. It was a familiar feeling, and it was not the overindulgence of fettuccini alfredo. It was the same feeling I got when I was nine years old, when my father told me that he was, in fact, Santa Clause. It was the same feeling I got when I spent my first night away from my family in my college dorm room three years ago. It was the same feeling I get when I wake up from the most magical dreams that I was convinced were reality. It’s the stomach pain that accompanies the type of sadness that is brought on by something marvelous coming to an end.
I can’t believe this is coming to an end. It was a hard truth to swallow: that waking up to these people every day, traveling the world with these people, sharing meals with these people, sharing moments, and laughs, and memories with these people, and sharing this table at Dante’s with these people would all come to an end—tomorrow morning, in fact. This was our last night together, our last meal in Italy together, and our very last meal at Dante’s together.
Traveling brings people together in a unique way. It requires everyone involved to lay aside their routine and the things familiar to them, and to be ever-present in the here and now. It connects people from all different races, ages, regions, backgrounds and interests, and causes them to connect over the opportunity they’ve each been given—this moment.
I nostalgically examine everyone’s face. We’re all silent, but I know we’re thinking the same thing. We’re all excited to go home; to tell our families about the semester, to see our friends, to sleep in our own bedrooms, to have an In-And-Out burger… but we all know that this moment will be over soon—that this dinner will be over soon. We will board the plane home, and once we’ve landed, it will feel as though the past six weeks were just a dream. As time goes on, the concrete details of the past six weeks will become dim, and we will struggle to remember in depth, the sights and smells and sounds of Italy. As the waiter we’ve befriended comes to clear our table, I begin to question whether or not he will remember us. Next year, the students who come will sit in these exact seats, and order the same food. Will he forget us by the time they come around?
The group that takes our place next year will have to learn to get used to the things we’ve become accustomed to. They will have to learn how to focus in Professor Chua’s detective fiction class when there’s a thunderstorm in Venice and all they want to do is run barefoot alongside the canals. They will have to learn how to keep up with Dr. Horner by following his hat through the train station in a full-on sprint while carrying all of their luggage in hopes that they don’t miss their train to Rome. They will have to learn how to be respectful and remain silent inside a cathedral when Mrs. Horner is imitating ‘Gant’ in an effort to make everyone laugh until they cry. They will have to learn how to save room in their stomachs for two gelato stops a day. And most importantly, they will have to learn to order a pizza at Dante’s that is big enough to share.
My group and I began the trip as complete strangers—people from different places, living very different lives. We’ll all go home as different people, continuing our lives and each going our separate ways. Some of us will be married soon, others will graduate and begin their careers. But this study abroad program will always be a part of each of us. Italy will always be a part of each of us. This meal will always be a part of each of us. No matter where the Lord takes us, and no matter who we all become five, ten, or twenty years from now, we will always be a part of each other, because it was at a table at Dante’s that fifteen strangers became family.
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