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love letters

Summary:

“It’s so fucking hot, holy shit,” Yuna complains for the umpteenth time that day. She’s sprawled out on the carpet, starfished and lying on her stomach in front of the air conditioning unit that’s struggling to pump out enough cool air to dispel the stifling heat and humidity. With a loud groan, she flips the unit off, growling, “Come on, bitch, I’m melting over here. You were working just fine earlier; don’t cheap out on me now.”

Us,” Sangwoo corrects, and he’s also glaring at the AC unit, spread out on the floor to Yuna’s right. (ch. 23)

A personal challenge where I write a drabble every day for the entire month of April.

Notes:

I tried this with my first offering to the Semantic Error fandom, writing for a prompt every day, but that ultimately took about three months to finish due to frequent writer's blocks and general mental lows, so I'm trying again. Round two. Thirty prompts, thirty days, and I'm going to stick with it even when the going gets tough. At least, that's what I've been telling myself. We'll see how well that actually goes.

Using a select few prompts from this prompt list. Let's see how this goes!

Chapter 1: urgh. definitely not.

Summary:

[ from prompt two ]
chapter tags—canon compliant; post-canon

Chapter Text

“Counsel of esteemed peers,” Yuna announces as she swaggers out of her walk-in closet, “what do we think? Is this good enough for a date or what?”

She felt pretty confident about this ensemble. It consists of a cute cropped button-down in the prettiest shade of purple that matches the color of the streaks in her hair, a black tank top underneath, and a black mini skirt she does not remember ever buying. It’s edgy and stylish, dressy but not too dressy, and it highlights her sturdy thighs. The skirt is a little tight and shorter than she’d like it to be, and she still is debating whether or not she should change it, but she could suck it up if her friends agreed that it was a damn good outfit for a date. With a self-satisfied grin, she strikes a pose in the doorway, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Urgh. Definitely not.” The distaste in Jaeyoung’s voice alone is enough to kill whatever confidence she had in the ensemble. “Don’t get me wrong, you look good. You look hot. But you’re going to be adjusting that skirt all fucking day if you plan to do a lot of walking and sitting in public spaces.”

“I need her to swoon for me, Jae.” Yuna pats the strong muscle of her thigh proudly. “I need to show her what I’m packing, and what better way to do that than by showing off the goods?”

“Sooyeong-ah is already very, very well aware of your sex appeal, trust me. Put those things away.”

Hyeongtak peers at them from above the screen of his laptop. “I agree with Jaeyoung-hyung,” he adds unhelpfully. He shifts a little in the plush armchair Yuna keeps in the corner of her bedroom. “Are you even comfortable in that, noona? It looks a little tight, and you’ve always hated short skirts.”

“I should’ve asked Sangwoo and Jihye for advice instead. They don’t know me well enough yet to talk me out of wearing this.”

“Yeah, what were you thinking, asking your best friends of twelve years to help you figure out what to wear?” Jaeyoung snarks, smirking as she flips him off. His smile drops as he adds, “You’re not going to be comfortable in that, and we all know it. Go change.”

Yuna glances at her reflection in the mirror and wrinkles her nose, suddenly acutely aware of just how short the skirt really is. “Yeah, you’re right. Where’d I even get this stupid thing?”

“It’s definitely not something you’d usually buy,” Jaeyoung notes, stretching out languidly across her bed and settling against the pillows. His lips quirk. “Did you steal it from a fling or something?”

Warmth rushes to Yuna’s cheeks. “Shit, I might have,” she realizes belatedly, and Hyeongtak giggles at her.

“How’d you do that? Send her on her way in only her underwear or something?” he asks. Jaeyoung cackles as Yuna blushes a shade of red she didn’t know she was capable of. She’s going to kill both of them. She’s agonizing over what to wear to her date, which is in less than an hour, and they’re sitting here and laughing at her expense.

Yeah, they’re dead meat, both of them.

“How about we stop talking about this and start talking about what I should wear instead?”