[personal profile] maayacolabackup
gri, r, 475 words, au (for moresparkles, gri highschool au)

"Today sucks," Seungri says to Youngbae, who hums thoughtfully and continues slowly and methodically tearing the crust off of his sandwich. "A lot."

"I told you," Youngbae says, as his eyes follow Choi Seunghyun, who is picking at Daesung's lunch like he always does, like a hungry vulture, "not to let her take pictures. It's like the first rule of dating mean girls, Seungri." Youngbae sighs, and sets down his sandwich so he can press his hands flat on his desk. "You don't let them take pictures. Especially if you're going to reveal you're into--"

"Shut up, hyung," Seungri hisses, looking around furtively. Everyone's already seen me naked on Facebook; the last thing they need to know is why."

"You're hopeless." Youngbae picks up his sandwich, and takes a bite. Seungri pouts, sitting back in his chair, and when his legs spread apart, Hyunseung, who sits in the front of the classroom and has hated Seungri ever since Seungri had gotten the final spot in the student council, whistles inappropriately, which makes Seungri blush a furious red. 

"I hate him," Seungri mutters, and Youngbae rolls his eyes.

The door to the classroom slides open, and it's Kwon Jiyong. 

Seungri recognizes Kwon Jiyong. Of course he does-- he's in class 3D, with the rest of the delinquents, and Seungri knows better than to steal glances at the peeks of tattoo'd skin that peeks out of his non-standard uniform, but he can never seem to help it. 

Jiyong's forgone even his tie today, school shirt unbuttoned half way down his chest, and Seungri catches a peek of the word 'wreckless' in jagged black letters scrawled in ink across his chest. 

That's a new one, Seungri thinks, and he hates himself for knowing that. 

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't question why Kwon Jiyong is in classroom 3A until he's sitting on the edge of Seungri's desk, the peek of his bright pink underwear level with Seungri's gaze. 

"Hey," Jiyong says, and Seungri gapes. "I saw your pics on facebook."

Youngbae snickers, and Seungri wonders if it's possible to actually just disappear off the face of the planet out of shame. 


Jiyong leans closer, and he smells like women's perfume and marijuana. "I also heard why they got posted." He winks, and now he close enough that only Seungri can hear. "I might be into that too." Seungri watches his throat as he speak. The slow bob of Jiyong's adam's apple. He wonders what it might feel like under his fingers as they tighten.

Seungri watches Jiyong pull back and leave with his mouth wide open. When he recovers himself, Youngbae is still laughing, and there's a post-it-note with a phone number sitting on top of his desk. 

Seungri waits until no one's looking, and slides it surreptitiously into his navy trouser pocket.

krisyeol, r?, 1411 words (for nav, genderswap krisyeol) #f_b

Wu Fan wakes to warm, thin thighs on either side of his hips and Chanyeol's trembling hands on his shoulders.

At first, he's not really sure he's actually awake. Wu Fan’s the sort that falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, and he prefers it that way; no wandering thoughts about weighty expectations or feelings of inadequacy or homesickness for a place he never actually quite thought of as home. But Wu Fan’s also a man in his early twenties with an unrequited, unspoken crush on his bandmate, so he's had… dreams before. They usually start sort of like this, if a lot more naked.

But then Wu Fan realizes that in his dreams, he doesn't have unfortunately stale morning breath, and Chanyeol's hair is brushed, not matted with yesterday's curls-turned-knots, and Wu Fan's shoulders don't hurt where Chanyeol is gripping them too hard. In his dreams, Chanyeol doesn't look so panicked, eyes wider and rounder than usual and lower lip swollen from worrying teeth and not Wu Fan's kisses. 

But a dream, Wu Fan thinks, is pretty much the only thing that can explain the fact that Chanyeol has breasts. 

His eyes fix on them, almost against his will, taking in the shape. They're not porn star breasts, (like the ones the women in the kinds of films Chanyeol used to download on other people’s laptops when he was seventeen and left unsupervised used to have), but they're big enough that they'd comfortably fit in Wu Fan's hands, if he were to reach up and cup them. Wu Fan licks his lips, and tries to figure out what he thinks of this situation.

"Well," Wu Fan says, and brings his hands up to rest on Chanyeol's thighs, fingertips landing on the legs of his red boxers and palms against skin, "this is the best of both worlds."

"What?" Chanyeol leans closer, and Wu Fan realizes he's spoken in English. "What did you just say?" There's an edge of hysteria in his voice that makes his usually deep tone a little higher. It cracks a bit, like Chanyeol is trying not to give away too much but can’t contain himself. That never happens in Wu Fan's dreams, either; at least not until a lot later on, when he’s got Chanyeol on hands and knees and pressing back against Wu Fan’s curling fingers as he begs for just one more--

Still, Chanyeol is sitting on top of him, and he has boobs, and Wu Fan's lived a lot of his life not knowing what's going to happen next, so he can handle a dream that echoes that chronic uncertainty.

He lets himself take in the pretty color of Chanyeol’s nipples. A dusky pink color, blushing and soft and…

Chanyeol seems to notice, all of a sudden, that Wu Fan is staring at his chest, and he squawks, crossing his arms over his... his breasts, and as he does, one of his bony knees comes in and jabs Wu Fan in the side, and it hurts.

It hurts and Wu Fan is slowly coming to accept that he is actually awake, and Chanyeol… Chanyeol has breasts.

"Chanyeol," Wu Fan says, deceptively calm. "Why are you in my room?" That’s not the question Wu Fan wants to ask. It’s not even in the top three, but it seems the easiest right now. The skin of Chanyeol’s thighs is smooth against his palms.

"Isn't it obvious?!" Chanyeol says, and he's whispering but it sounds like he's screaming. There's a quiet groan, and Wu Fan remembers he has a roommate. Jongdae is still asleep, but he rolls over so his back is toward them. But Jongdae is not a heavy sleeper, and Chanyeol is sitting on his crotch with a pair of breasts looking like he's going to pass out any moment. "Something happened to me last night!"

"Um." Wu Fan blinks, slowly, before he tries to sit up. He sends Chanyeol sprawling back, bouncing bosoms and flailing hands, and Chanyeol looks up to glare until he realizes Wu Fan is taking off his shirt. 

Chanyeol’s lips are parted, when Wu Fan has the shirt in his hand, and his face is a little pink, eyes averted.

Wu Fan hands the shirt to Chanyeol, and Chanyeol straightens, balancing himself on Wu Fan's lower thighs and reaching out to take it. Their fingertips brush, and Wu Fan should be used to the way his heart jumps every time he and Chanyeol touch, but he isn’t. He isn’t sure he ever will be.

Chanyeol pulls the shirt over his head, long arms stretching skyward. Wu Fan studiously looks away, not letting his eyes catch more than the briefest glimpse of the pale undersides of Chanyeol's most recent anatomical acquisition.

"Thanks," Chanyeol says, and now, in the quiet, Wu Fan can see that Chanyeol's shaking, his eyes glassy as he looks pleadingly at Wu Fan, like Wu Fan has any idea what to do. He remembers waking up to Chanyeol's trembling hands, too, and Wu Fan wonders what he'd do if he woke up in a body that didn't feel anything like his own. He’d be scared. Chanyeol’s probably scared, and here Wu Fan is, too busy staring to be a good leader and comfort him.

Wu Fan swallows, harshly, and tries to focus.

"Hey," Wu Fan says, "come here." And like he always does, Chanyeol listens, crawling off of Wu Fan’s outstretched legs to sit next to him on the bed, slipping under the covers as Wu Fan lies down, and curling into Wu Fan's side. Wu Fan pulls him closer, and Chanyeol is warm and soft, and his hair still smells exactly like it always does. "You're supposed to wash the hairspray out before you sleep."

"Too lazy," Chanyeol says, and his voice sounds a little steadier, now that he can wrap one arm around Wu Fan's waist like he used to when they were still trainees and he thought Wu Fan looked a little lonely. Now it’s Chanyeol who needs the reassurance, and Wu Fan still thinks this is one of the strangest things he’s ever woken up to. “What am I supposed to do?”

Wu Fan rests his chin on top of Chanyeol’s head and wishes he had an answer. Chanyeol shifts, and there’s the press of those breasts against his side again.

“I don’t know how you even got them,” Wu Fan says. “Let alone how to make them go away.”

Chanyeol’s arm tightens, and Wu Fan can feel his muscles stiffen. One of Chanyeol’s legs, thrown over both of Wu Fan’s own, shifts, and the drag of skin against skin is a little too distracting. “Maybe it’s my fault,” Chanyeol murmurs into the skin of Wu Fan’s neck.

“Why would it be your fault?” And Wu Fan’s imagining any number of stupid things Chanyeol and Baekhyun could have gotten into next door in the course of their horrible game of one-upmanship that has resulted in a lot of years shaved off of Junmyeon’s life.

“Because,” Chanyeol says, and his lips are soft and a little slick against Wu Fan’s neck, and it’s not fair that Wu Fan is thinking more bout how much he’d like to kiss Chanyeol’s pretty, plump lips than the fact that one of his best friends has grown boobs. It’s not fair, and Wu Fan hates that there isn’t a cure for impossible crushes more than he hates most things. “Because I wished that I were someone you might like.”

Wu Fan stills, the hand that had casually, without his volition, come up to run soothingly back and forth down Chanyeol’s outside arm coming to a stop on his shoulder. The way Chanyeol has said ‘like’ sounds… it sounds sort of like the way Wu Fan says ‘like’ in his head when he’s thinking about Chanyeol; when he’s washing his face or eating his breakfast or sitting next to Chanyeol on the sofa while Chanyeol tries and fails to sit still through a movie. That kind of ‘like’, and Wu Fan’s stomach flops completely over in his belly before he figures out the words he wants to say.

Chanyeol thinks he has to be a girl to get Wu Fan’s attention. Chanyeol’s always been a little dumb, but Wu Fan’s always loved him anyway.

“If that were the case,” Wu Fan says carefully, letting his hand resume motion, “you would have stayed exactly as you were.”

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