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casualreader1234 · 3 years

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Reunion

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

An: Part two of the random story idea I had. I think I'm just going to keep the same summary each time because I'm too bad at writing them. I tried to make this gender-neutral, and I don't think I wrote anything that would imply a particular sex, but let me know.

Summary: What if you weren't the hero of the story? What if you were the villain meant to burn the world down?

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Morally gray protagonist, violence

Word Count: 2k

[Part 1], [Part 2]

This gif is so funny to me.

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When you had first arrived in the U.S, you had been intrigued by tales of the infamous Black Widow, a former Russian assassin turned good, that was enough to catch anyone's attention. To satisfy your curiosity, you had tracked her down, wanting to see her for yourself. Watching her from afar, you understood why she was considered one of the best in her field: her movements always flowed into the next like she was performing a dance.

She easily disposed of her targets, strapping her weapons back onto herself. Seeing the completion of her job, you left the ledge of the building you had been standing of before she could see you. Slipping into the shadow, you had to admit that your interests had been piqued by the assassin.

///

You had always known that your girlfriend had been hiding secrets, but this one was far more exciting than you had thought. Never had it crossed your mind that Natasha might also be involve in the assassin industry. For such a planet, what were the chances of two assassins meeting and starting a relationship without either being the wiser. You weren't sure if that made her exceptionally good at her job, or you exceptionally bad at yours.

Asking around to some of your other contacts, you learned more about the KGB and the Red Room program that had trained Natasha, wanting a glimpse into her childhood. Disgust and rage filled you when you learned about the operation. They had hurt her, so you had made sure they all suffered for their crimes. Then, you returned back to America.

It was the reason you had stayed all these years. She was the reason. Though you've known where she's been all this time, you never revealed yourself. Maybe it was out of fear. Maybe it was out of shame.

It hadn't surprised you that Natasha decided to work for SHIELD. You've also known that she had a good heart, but it did make things more complicated.

She was one of the good guys now. If she ever crossed paths with you, she would be forced to face you as an enemy. So, for both of your sakes, you avoided doing things that would get SHIELD attention, carefully selecting jobs that would run under the radar. You had been careful, erasing most of your tracks, yet here you were, chained down to a table in a SHIELD facility.

Natalia-no-Natasha stared down at you. You unconsciously cringed under her intense gaze.

" How are you darling?" You asked, breaking the thick silence and giving her a small smile. "I must say, you look as stunning as always. Did you do something to your hair? It seems to be shorter."

Natasha didn't reply, instead shaking her head angrily. " What the hell, (Y/n). What are you doing in the U.S?"

Her harsh tone almost made you flinch. “ Here to visit my beautiful girlfriend? I've really missed you.” You tried, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your neck. Natasha may not have any powers but damn was this woman scary when she was mad. Flattery wasn't going to work on Nat though, her face stone cold as she looked down at you.

"That doesn't answer the question, milyy (darling)." She replied with a strained smile.

Tony watched the exchange with a slack jaw, eyes looking like they were going to pop out of his sockets from shock. “ I’m sorry? You know this criminal Nat?”

Your head snapped to the man, jaw clenching. “ Nat?" You sputtered at the intimate nickname. "Who gave you permission to call her Nat?” You swiveled back to look at Natasha. “What is your relationship with him?” You asked accusingly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Tony. “ Don’t call me Nat, Stark. And this idiot here is (Y/N).”

"Yeah, her [girlfriend/boyfriend] ! " You added helpfully.

The look Natasha gave you was deadly enough to silence you again. She turned her attention back to Tony, " Do you want to fill me on what's happening Stark? I return from a mission and hear from Steve that we had caught a mutant, but I wasn't even aware that we were after one." You frowned at the fact that had she referred to you as a mutant, but chose to ignore it.

Tony shrugged, acting like a bratty overgrown child," No, I don't want to." Natasha's jaw clenched and you decided to lend a helping hand.

Tendrils of black suddenly snaked around Tony, pining him hard against the wall behind him. His eyes widened, shooting to the origin of the magic, seeing you now unbounded and smiling widely at him, the handcuff hanging loosely off the table. Standing up, you rubbed at the red marks on your wrist left by the binds.

"Better answer her, Mr. Stark, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side." You threatened, eyes turning pure black for a split second.

Tony desperately looked at Natasha for help, but she stayed steadfast, unmoved and patiently waiting for him to answer. Realizing that no help was coming, he relented. "Fury got tipped off about some assassin that had been piling up bodies all across the U.S and North America. At first we dismissed them as the work of sporadic killers, not linking the deaths together until we got another tip about them being a mutant. We had Wanda examine a few of the bodies and she confirmed that magic was the cause of death. Since then, we've had our eye set on a contracted killer who went by the alias Reaper. A few weeks ago, we got a hit on their last location, and from there, we planned our trap."

Realization dawned onto you, " You put a bounty over yourself!" You exclaimed with a chuckle, thoroughly impressed by their commitment. It was a good plan, one that you hadn't even considered. Of course, if it had been any other week, the plan would've failed.

Every time you used magic, there was a backlash. The magic was deep inside you, a part of your very being, but it didn't stay that way willingly. The black flames were a dark and ancient form of magic, one that could only be wielded by a select few. Long ago, many groups had tried to master the arts, but most failed. The magic was powerful, more than anyone really knew, and only grew more so as it consumed more energy. Magicians didn't as much wield the magic, as they did subjugate it.

Candidates trained for years in preparation for the infusion, getting their body ready to handle massive amount of energy. When they were deemed ready, they would be exposed to a pure form of the magic. The flames would consume them and their screams could be heard for miles. Most people who entered the last trial end up dead, completely consumed by the magic. A few though, came out stronger. Instead of being consumed by the flames, they had somehow consumed the flames, magic now flowing through their veins.

Even then, the magic inside of wielders fought against their vessels, constantly trying to escape. The ring you wore helped you control the magic inside, absorbing some of the power and trapping the rest of the flames within you, where it couldn't escape and grow any stronger. But every time you took off the ring, you unintentionally let the magic grow, and when it finally returns back to you, the fight inside gets a little tougher.

Normally, it didn't affect you much. You had been trained since childhood to control the magic, so you could go hours with continuous magic use without any major repercussion. But the past month, you had really tested your bounds, toeing the limits of your control. This inevitably degraded your mental state, leaving your mind a little hazy. This meant you were a lot more impulsive and less observant, something that played in favor to SHIELD's trap. You knew you shouldn't have taken the hit on Tony, especially due to your exhaustion, but you had let your excitement of possibly seeing Natasha blind you. Nevertheless, the current situation didn't really worry you anyways, although you made a note to deal with a problem later.

"And why wasn't I informed of this?" Natasha pressed on.

"Don't take it personally. You're area of skills weren't required for the job, so you weren't informed. Simple as that." Tony plainly stated, clearly sensing the Russian's agitation.

You had to stifle your laughter at the irony. If Natasha had been assigned to the case earlier, you probably would've been captured much sooner.

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, obviously deep in thought as well. " Release him, (Y/N)." She finally said and you happily obliged, but not sliding you ring back on, letting the flames surround you in a hazy aura incase you needed to react to any threats. Tony let out of breathe of relief as your magic retreated, but you could see that he was still a bit shaken up, the effects not fully wearing off.

"Hey are you alright darling?" You asked concernedly, ignoring the wobbling man when you caught Natasha looking a little pale. Walking over to where she was, you reached out a hand to lightly caress her cheek, the flames retreating as it reached her. You hesitated for a split second, unsure of how she would react, but Natasha leaned into your touch. Her eyes met yours. It was the same bright green that you dreamt about, and they looked even more dazzling up close. She smiled up at you and it was like all the years you've spent apart hadn't happened.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She whispered reassuringly and you smiled too in relief. “ What does Fury want with the (Y/N)?” She asked Tony, but her eyes didn't leave you.

“ The same thing we do to all threats. We either eliminate or imprison them .” He answered, voice indifferent.

Natasha turned to him, much to your dismay, “Why can’t we accept them into SHIELD?” she offered instead.

Tony, who had thought your weird relationship with Natasha was the strangest thing that could happen, couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You want to let an assassin into our ranks? Are you crazy?! Did you already get your hands on the vodka shelf?” He stammered.

Natasha gave him a dark look, one that sent a chill of excitement down your spine, “I was an assassin too Tony.”

Tony didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, but he didn’t need to. The door to the room swung opened again, this time a larger blonde man marching in. You recognized him from your intel: Steve Rogers-Captain America. Behind him, you saw several heavily armed agents behind him, their guns trained on you.

Natasha whipped around at the sudden intrusion, surprise flashing across her face. " Steve." She said warningly, noticing the same things you did, but Steve didn't let her finish, already throwing out his shield in attack. The metal was launched at you, cutting through the air faster than the eyes could follow.

You easily caught it, magic stopping it mid-flight.

You sighed at his pathetic attempt, " Mr. Rogers, don't you know it's rude to interrupt? You can't just come in here, guns blazing, and shield flying." You reprimanded, lazily throwing the shield back to the man. Steve tried to catch the shield, but was knocked back by the sheer force of your throw. The men immediately behind him stumbled back in shock as the 6'1 super solider crashed into them. Those who were left standing quickly recovered and upon realizing that their first line of attack had been beaten, prepared to shoot. They found themselves unable to. Fear had crept up on them during the ruckus and now they were unable to move as your magic seeped through them. With a simple wave of your hand, the black flames around you attacked and within seconds, all the agents, including Cap, dropped to the floor.

"What?" Tony gasped in horror, and for the first time, he seemed to truly understand the extent of your power.

"Relax, they're not dead. I just knocked them out for-" You pretended to check your wrist for a watch, " -a while. I don't know, I usually don't wait around for the people I knock out to wake back up."

Natasha was staring in shock at the pile of bodies by the door and you saw something indistinguishable in her eyes. A distinct chime echoed off the walls of the room, drawing your attention to your phone in the corner. You walked over to it, Tony looking like he wanted to stop you but was too terrified to. Picking it up, you read the message silently. Shouting could be heard getting louder, footsteps pounding towards you as alarms blared.

"Looks like that's my cue to leave." You announced to Natasha and Tony. " Sorry to cut our reunion short Talia."

Natasha stepped forward, blinking out of her shock. "(Y/N) wait-!" She began.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be staying a little bit longer in New York. We'll see each other soon my love." You promised, picking up one of the fallen agent's guns and shooting out the lights until you were enveloped in pitch darkness. Then, before the backup agents could arrive, you melted away into the shadows.

///

You emerged from a dark alleyway in some shifty part of the Bronx. Pulling out your phone, you replied to Matt, your associate, declining the new job he had sent over, informing him that you would be taking a vacation for a while.

Seeing Natasha had reminded you of how much you actually missed her, and you didn't want to just leave New York yet, not when you barely had the chance to catch up with your lover.

But first, you had a snitch to catch. Someone had tipped off SHIELD about you. Someone who knew you about your power at that. You couldn't let someone so dangerous live.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Powers of Reader [Will be updated as more information is learned about Reader]

-Ability to set fear in opponents

-Ability to melt into shadows (teleportation like: goes into one shadow, pops up somewhere else)

-Magic flames that kill people(?) and knocks them out(?)

-Major simp for Natasha (special skill)

#natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfic series

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

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For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

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d-noona · 4 years

Text

MAKE OVER

Chapter 4: Mister X

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

When his attention returned to the ongoing traffic, her eyes continued to secretly caress him for several moments.

How could I not love it? It's from you my darling. I will treasure it for the rest of my life...

This was the heart-catching reality for Hyeonji. Hoseok frowning "I hope you're not just saying that."

Hyeonji found everything about the situation rather ironic. What would happen if she truly told him how she felt about him? Knowing Hobi, he would terribly be embarrassed. He hated complications in his life. He was a simple man at heart.

"Would I lie to you?" she quipped, though unable to keep the sardonic edge of her voice. He slanted her a rather bewildered look as though he'd never associated her with sarcasm before.

"I hope not. You were always a brutally honest kid. But right on the ball. Why else do you think I used to ask for your opinion on things? Mother just said whatever I do is great. I needed someone who told me as it really was. Which you did. You were always able to make me see what was worth working on, Hyeonji; what would last."

A pity you never asked my opinion on your lady friends. Hyeonji thought wryly, I could've told you all those females loved themselves too much to have much left over for anyone else. But then, it wasn't love you wanted from them, was it Hoseok? Still old habits die hard. What's going to happen when you want a girl to love you, and whom you can truly love in return? You'll never find the right wife, gravitating towards the wrong type of girl. The Tinashe's of this world are only out for what they can get.

Whereas I, I would love you as no other woman could ever love you, my darling. Look at me, Hoseok. Hyeonji's thoughts were running wild when Hoseok cuts her "Anyway, Hyeonji" Hoseok went on, oblivious of Hyeonji's thoughts and feelings. "I hope that necklace goes some small way to making up for my thoughtlessness in the past. I know I'm a selfish bastard. But your friendship means a lot to me and I wouldn't want you to think I never give you a moment's thought because I do."

"Trouble is..." he threw her a wry smile. "It's usually only when I need your help. Or your advice. Or your opinion on a new car." She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, at that point. Anger however came to the rescue. "And is that all tonight is Hobi?" she snapped "A test drive?" Are you taking me out just to get your opinion on your new car?"

"God, no!" He looked and sounded appalled. "No, that's not it at all! Far from it. The thing is, I realized today down the library that I never ask you about you. It added to my guilt, I can tell you. All these years and all we ever talk about is me. So tonight I want to hear all about you....Hyeonji."

"Me?" she echoed weakly.

"Yes. You. I want to know what'd going on in your life these days. You could've knocked me over with a feather when that woman said you were twenty-three. It suddenly came to me that a girl as great as you should have a boyfriend or married. I began to wonder. I wanted to ask you then and there but it was hardly appropriate. So I'm asking you now, Hyeonji. Why haven't you got a boyfriend?"

Hyeonji was really stumped. What to say? What to tell him? She busied herself putting the gold chain tidily into its case and slipping it into her purse, all the while trying to find the right lie to tell. The awkward silence grew till finally Hoseok shot her a shocked look. "Good God Hyeonji, you're not, are you?"

"Not what?" she asked.

"Not...gay?"

Hyeonji's eyes rounded. And then she laughed. That was one excuse she'd never thought of. "No I am not gay."

"So what's the problem?" Hoseok continues looking a bit relieved. "The problem..." She considered her answer at some length, then decided excuse three carried a perverse kind of truth. "The problem is...that I am in love with a man. But he just doesn't love me back. In fact, he doesn't know I'm even alive in a sexual sense."

"Why not?" Hoseok demanded to know, apparently affronted by this mystery man's lack of passion for his best friend. Hyeonji almost felt soothed by Hoseok's chagrin on her behalf. "I guess I'm not his type, physically speaking. I'm not pretty enough."

"What stupid shit! You are very pretty."

"No, I'm not, Hobi. But it's nice of you to say so" Hyeonji was grateful that Hoseok dropped the subject of her beauty. He scowled all through the drive, not opening his mouth until there were on the entrance and approaching the coffee shop.

"So who is this idiot?" he flung at her. "Is he a local?"

"Yes, of course" Hyeonji answers trying not to look at Hoseok. "Did he go to our school?" as he continues to interrogate her. "Yes. But that's as much as I'm going to say."

"Our school..." he frowned as he scoured his memory. "I can't think of who it could be. Still there are over eight hundred kids in our school." He shook his head in frustration. "I've no idea. Look, just tell me who he is. Don't keep me in suspense!"

"Sorry, I am not telling you, or anyone else for that matter. I would find it terribly embarrassing. Besides it's quite pointless my telling you who he is. I've pretty well accepted he's not interested. Shortly, I aim to get on with my life, so you don't have to worry, Hobi. I don't intend to suffer indefinitely."

Hoseok mumbled and muttered all through swinging the car around before he launched into another verbal attack against her mystery man. Hyeonji found it amusing that he was railing himself. "So! Does this splendid advertisement for feminine taste have a girlfriend?"

"Actually he's between women at the moment." She answers. "Had a lot of them, has he?" Hoseok continues. "Oodles." As Hyeonji giggles, amused by Hoseok's predicament. "And you love this inveterate ladies' man?

"He takes my breath away" as Hyeonji confirms.

Hoseok pulled a face. "What is it about women that they always fall for the bad guys? He sounds positively awful!"

"I don't think he is at all awful. And he'd been very successful businesswise" Hyeonji tries to cover for Hoseok a bit. Hobi's top lip curled into a sneer. "I suppose he's good-looking."

"Drop-dead gorgeous," she agreed.

"Handsome is a handsome does, you know," he growled, then muttered some more under his breath all the way to the parking. Hyeonji sat next to him in a self-satisfied silence. She hadn't enjoyed herself so much in years. Perhaps she was playing with a double-edge sword, but if so it was worth the risk. She didn't think the penny would drop for Hoseok. Meanwhile, she was experiencing a heady exhilaration in toying with the truth in this manner.

They came round the parking hillside corner near the coffee shop and beach front coming into view and Hyeonji sighed her pleasure at the sight. It was a pretty place during the day, but even more so at night, especially when it was cloudless, and the moon sent ribbons of silver rippling across the dark waters.

Tonight, the moonlight was strong, the waves extra gentle as they lapped onto the golden curve of the sand. Some people were still swimming in the peaceful water. Many couples were sitting on the warm sand, arms around each other, or strolling along the beach hand in hand. As Hyeonji had thought earlier, it was night for lovers. Hoseok drove past the public car park at the bottom of the hill and along the narrow main street which flanked the beach, tall pines on the sea side, shops on the other. He eased into a space under a pine at the far end.

He snapped off his engine and swiveled in his seat to face Hyeonji, a scowl on his handsome face "It's not Jeon Jungkook, is it?"

Jeon Jungkook was the only boy in Hoseok's class who could rival him for his looks and subsequent business acumen. As dark as Hoseok was fair, he had thick black hair, heavy lidded dark doe eyes and a body of God, packing some major muscles. He didn't have Hoseok's super intelligence but he had a creative flair, he was born to hold a camera in his hands. Producing and editing music videos under his own company called Golden Closet Productions. His company started a few years back and had recently expanded. Unmarried, he was a swinging bachelor type who played the field without mercy. He'd recently bought a place at Gangnam and built an orgy palace of a house, the rumored activities therein supplying plenty of fuel for the local gossips.

Hyeonji only knew Jungkook as well as she did because his folks lives two doors up. He came to visit them quite often, and, Jungkook being Jungkook, he always waved at Hyeonji if she was out the front watering or weeding the garden.

A couple of months back, he'd also knocked on the door and asked if she and her mother wanted to sell the house to him, since he was wanting to have a place for himself near his parents. Even after they said no, he'd left his business card then stayed talking to Hyeonji for ages. He was one of those males who could not go past a female without proving he was God's gift to women. His charm operated on auto pilot.

Hyeonji found him likeable enough, but shallow in her opinion. It irked her that Hoseok should think she could be madly in love with him. "Well?" he probed. "Is it?"

"I'm sorry but I refuse to answer any such questions on the grounds they might incriminate me" she says. Hoseok glowered at her. "You're being damned difficult."

"I don't think so. You might be my friend but there's a limit to what I will tell you. And I think my love life is my own private business, don't you? After all, when I asked you about Tinashe, you wouldn't tell me." Hyeonji tries to fend off Hoseok's question.

"Fair enough. But if it is Jungkook," he growled, "then I hope to tell you never get your heart's desire. His reputation with women is appalling." Hyeonji rolled her eyes. As if Jeon Jungkook would take any serious notice of her anyway. That was as far-fetched as Hoseok doing so. Suddenly, she felt tired of this game. "If it will make you feel any better it's not Jungkook. But please don't come up with anymore candidates. I am not going to tell you and that's that."

"I had no idea you could be this stubborn." Hoseok looks at Hyeonji as she crossed her arms with finality over her chest. Her sideways glance carried a sardonic flavor. "There are a lot of things you don't know, Hobi."

"I'm beginning to see that's the case. And there I've been all these years, telling people what a sweet little thing you are. It seems Tinashe might not have been altogether wrong." He says. Hyeonji bristled. "Oh? And what, pray tell, did dear Tinashe say about me?"

"She said you were a sly piece and she wouldn't trust you as far as she could throw you" Hoseok answers. Hyeonji's blood pressure rose a few notches. "Humph! That's the pot calling the kettle black!"

"I take it you don't like Tinashe?" he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You take it correctly" she says nodding her head in full approval and conviction. "Why?"

Hyeonji almost launched into a tirade about vanity, superficiality and naked ambition, but pulled herself up just in time. There was little point in being vicious, now that the girl was possibly on the way out. Besides, the truth might sound too much like jealousy.

She managed to shrug. "You can't like everyone in this world. Some people just rub you up the wrong way right from the start."

"True. Okay. I won't be a pain and press for more. Neither will I ask you anymore embarrassing questions about Mr. X. I'm just relived it's not Jungkook. Come on, let's go for a walk." He was out of the car before she could say Jack Robinson, bounding around the front to her side where he wrenched open the passenger door.

"Do...do you think we could have our coffee first?" she asked a little shakily when Hoseok took her hand and drew her upright out of the rather low-slung vehicle. Whilst she told herself it was sheer hunger causing her stomach to cramp suddenly, she rather suspected there was another cause, and extracted her hand from Hoseok's as soon as she could.

"I guess so," he returned with a casual shrug. "If you're dying for some."

"It's not the coffee I'm dying for so much as something to eat." She sighed. Hoseok frowned. "Haven't you had dinner? You told me your mother was cooking dinner for you tonight."

"She did, but dinner these days wouldn't feed a flea. Some nights I could just scream!" Hoseok just laughed. "Don't complain. You're looking darned good on what your mother's been feeding you." Hyeonji could not stop the flush of pleasure "You...you really think so?"

"I really do." And his eyes were close to admiring as they swept over her new slender figure for the second time that night. After that, Hyeonji knew she would not eat a morsel. Fifteen minutes later she was sitting opposite Hobi in a booth in one of the cafés along the esplanade and had been fiddling with a large slice of chocolate cake for a full ten minutes when he finally burst forth.

"I though you said you were hungry!" Hyeonji bit her bottom lip and put down the fork. "I thought I was too. Do you want it?" he sighed. "Women! Here, give it to me." As she sheepishly handed it over, his exasperation dissolved into a cheeky grin. Hyeonji grinned back, then sat in contented silence to watch Hoseok eat.

It wasn't long before his innocent enough activity had a less than innocent effect on Hyeonji. Hoseok's mouth, unfortunately, was incredibly sexy, wide and curving, his mole on his upper lip, his lips saved from outright femininity by the masculine set of his jawline below, and strong straight nose above. It was also a very mobile mouth, with a very mobile tongue.

Hyeonji's concentration was soon totally on that tongue, and the way its moist pink tip snaked out after every forkful of cake to sweep any crumbs back into his mouth, showing his dimples, leaving Hoseok's lips wet and glistening. Her stomach twisted at the thought of having that tongue-tip do the same to her lips, or having it dart between those same lips and slide deep into her waiting, wanting mouth. Hyeonji smothered a tortured groan and pressed her parched lips firmly together. What she would not give to have that experience...just once.

Regret that she hadn't taken Choon Hee and Han Byeol's advice and gone broke tonight with her appearance rose up to haunt her. Maybe, if she'd left her hair down and worn that perfume, Hoseok might have found more to admire than her slimmer body. Maybe, if she'd used make-up and worn a sexy scarlet lipstick, he might've been tempted to give her a goodnight kiss.

"What's the matter?" Hoseok asked as he placed his fork across the now an empty plate. Hyeonji was beyond pretending. The eyes she lifted to him were sad eyes. Eyes without hope. She was seeing the end of her dream here. Hoseok reached across the table and picked up her left hand. "Loving this Mr. X is making you terribly unhappy, Hyeonji, isn't it?"

Not till today, she accepted with a degree of surprise. Before today, it had been quite a lovely dream. And she had had his friendship to sustain her. How many girls did she know who loved lesser men? Unworthy individuals. Creeps, even. Hoseok was a man amongst men. He was handsome and clever and essentially good. He loved life, and his mother, and he loved her, in a lukewarm brotherly kind of way. Hyeonji could see that now. "Is there anything I could do to help?" he asked gently, stroking his thumb along the top of her hand all the while.

Hyeonji stiffened under the tingly electric feelings it was sending through her. "I don't think so," she said tautly. "It's my problem, and as I've said I decided to move on soon."

"I think that would be the best Hyeonji, forget this idiot. He doesn't know a good thing when he sees it." Hyeonji merely smiled and finally extracted her hand from under his. Hoseok straightened and studied her with still worried eyes. "Why don't you do what my mother does when she's down and wants a lift? Go get yourself a new hairstyle. New clothes. New look altogether."

A bit late for that, she thought, even if I had the money. But Hoseok's words piqued her curiosity. "What would you suggest?" she asked him. "I mean, what do you think would suit me?"

Hoseok laughed "Good God, don't go asking me. I have no idea"

"Hobi, you just asked me if you could help, but as soon as I ask something of you, you opt out. Look, you're a trained artist, with an eye for design, shape and color. Think of me as one of your graphic design projects. Pretend you have me up on the screen of your computer, and then make me over to your personal taste and liking."

"My personal taste and liking? Wouldn't it be better if I made you over to Mr. X's personal taste and liking?" he asked. "You and him are similar types," she invented, warming to the game again with each passing moment. Not only that, she was going to take his advice. Whatever Hoseok suggested she would do, and to hell with the money. She would beg, borrow or steal some if she had to.

His smile was wry. "I thought you just said you were moving on."

"It's a woman's privilege to change her mind." Hoseok shook his head, his eyes wry. "Somehow I pity this Mr. X. he might not know it yet but he's not going to get a way easily, is he?"

"Do stop quibbling, Hobi. Just give me the once over and tell me what to change." She sat up straight and smiled encouragingly at him. Hoseok frowned as he looked over, then shook his head. "Honestly, I don't feel comfortable with this. You're not a graphic design project. You're a female...with feelings."

Hyeonji's eyebrows arched. "Goodness, Hobi, that's observant of you. But I shall bravely put aside my feminine sensitivity long enough to hear your unqualified opinion. You said you always admired my honesty when I gave you my opinion. Now I'm asking for yours."

He stared at her, still frowning, then shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Hyeonji, I really must decline. I suggest you get an experts opinion."

"I don't want an expert's opinion. I want yours. Okay. If you don't tell me straight out, how about we play tick on of the boxes?" as she attempts to push out answers from Hoseok. "Tick one of the boxes?" he said with a confused look in his face.

"Yes, I will suggest a change, then give three possible courses of action. You tell me which one you think will suit me best." Hoseok shrugged "If you must. But I won't give any promises of guarantees." Hyeonji smiled. "All care and no responsibility?"

He smiled back "Something like that."

"Fair enough. First thing on our agenda is my hair. I'm going to have it cut, normally it's always just an inch or two off from my waist, should I go shoulder-length, jaw-length or really short?" he tipped his head on one side to consider his answer "Shoulder-length" he said at last. "You have an elegant neck. It's a shame to ever hide it, plus you can style it still."

Hyeonji's hand automatically fluttered up to her throat, her stomach curling over at the compliment. She would have to have a good look at her neck when she got home. "What...what about color?" she finally went on, hoping she wasn't blushing. "What do you think would suit me best? Blonde, brunette or redhead?"

"Why don't you just leave it the color it is?" he asks. "No way! I've lived with this color long enough, thank you very much. There's going to be nothing mousy about me from now on. I can tell you! Now choose!"

Hoseok sighed. "Okay, but be it on your hear."

"Well, it will be won't it?" He shook his head at her. "First sarcasm. Now a savage wit. What next?" Hyeonji crossed her arms on the table. "Blonde? Brunette? Or Redhead?"

"Hmmm. Well, you have a fair delicate skin usually associated with redheads, but please, not one of those harsh reds. A rich copper color would be nice." He says nodding in approval. "A rich copper color," she repeated, swallowing nervously. Somehow she just couldn't see herself with a shorter red hair. Good God, this was going to take some courage, but she was determined.

Hyeonji opened her mouth to ask Hoseok about make-up, then she shut it again. A man wouldn't know much about that. She would have to consult an expert, maybe in the cosmetics section of a department store. She began totting-up the cost so far. A top hair-dresser. A dye job, which would need retouching every six to eight weeks. New make-up. Not to mention a new wardrobe. Goodness, the mind boggled.

"What about clothes?" she continued. "I mean...what kind of clothes do you like a girl to wear? Of course I realize I don't have a spectacular figure like Tinashe, but I'm not too bad these days."

"Don't underestimate yourself Hyeonjj" he said brusquely. "I've been noticing tonight what a good little figure you have –one which you seem to have hidden successfully for years. You have more than adequate bust, a very shapely bottom and a nice little waist. You also have remarkably good legs for such a short girl."

A shocked of delight rippled through Hyeonji. The girls had said that she had a good figure, but hearing Hoseok say so was wonderful! And to think all he could find to criticize was her height. "Unfortunately Hobi" she said, "there's nothing I can do about being short. I would dearly love to be taller, believe me."

"Your Mr. X is tall, then?"

"Fairly. And he likes tall girls" she answers back.

"Stupid man. Doesn't he know good things come in small packages?" he sounded decidedly irritable. "I suppose you could always wear higher heels than what you have on. You could also give the illusion of further height by shortening your skirts. Though I prefer girls in flats and short skirts."

"I have no intention of going to work every day in five-inch heels and minis!" Hyeonji says appalled at the idea. Hoseok gave her a long and hard look. "You see this Mr. X at work, do you?"

"Er...not very often." She replied. "Then what you wear to work is irrelevant. What you wear when he's around is another thing entirely."

"If I go to the trouble and expense of all these changes, Hobi," she said firmly, "then it won't be for Mr. X. it will be for me." She smiled.

"Sure, Hyeonji, sure. By the way, I don't like stripes, checks or floral prints. I like my women in figure-hugging clothes in strong block colors." When Hyeonji gave him a blank look, he smiled a drily amused smile. "You said Mr. X would have similar tastes to me. Please don't go on pretending this isn't for him. It insults my intelligence."

Hyeonji laughs at Hoseok "All right. I won't insult your intelligence. Go on. What else do you like?"

"I don't like girls to wear pants."

Hyeonji gaped at him. "If you think I'm going to swan around without my underwear on, then you have another thing coming!" His expression was droll. "Pants, Kang Hyeonji. Not panties. I'm talking about slack suits, or trousers, if you will."

"Oh..."

"I don't mind tights. Or jeans, provided they fit well, really well. Men are attracted to a woman's shape. They like to see it" then he gives her a smirk.

"You're a sexist, do you know that?" with an eyebrow quirked. The corner of his mouth lifted in a wickedly attractive smile. "Yes. I like sex. Very much. Is that what you mean by sexist?"

"No and you darned well know it!" Hyeonjj gawks at Hoseok. He looked at her for a long time before speaking. "Do you like sex, Hyeonji?"

She went bright red. "I think that's a very personal question."

"Not really. It was a general one. I'm not asking for a blow-by-blow description of every sexual experience you've had." He says laughing at her.

"Well, if you did, it would be a mighty short conversation," she snapped. "In fact, I wouldn't have to say a word."

He just stared at her. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked at last in hushed tones. His obvious shock infuriated her, as did her having blurted out the truth. But she wasn't about to go shy and embarrassed on him. Pride demanded she hold her head high.

"Really, Hoseok. There's no need to whisper," she said coolly. "I am not ashamed of my virginity."

"But you're twenty-three, Hyeonji!" he says.

"So what? Is there a prescribed date for such dubious milestones? Where is it written in stone that a girl must lose her virginity before such and such a date? I happen to be waiting for someone special. I didn't want to throw it away on some fumbling boy down behind the school gym, or in the back of a car after a party. And don't think I haven't had any offers," she lied. "Because I have!"

Hoseok's brown eyes darkened. "You're waiting for this Mr. X, aren't you?"

"And if I am? What's it to you?" she says defensively.

He seemed taken back, then almost outraged. "You're my best friend, damn it! I don't want to see you hurt." Hyeonji was touched, and terribly close to tears. It was a struggle to retain her composure and sense of proportion. If nothing else, she'd made up her mind tonight to do something about changing her dreary appearance. On top of that, her friendship with Hoseok had subtly shifted into a deeper plane, more like that of true best friends. There was something very intimate and bonding about sharing confidences.

So now he knew she was a virgin. It was not such a disaster. How could the truth hurt? "I'll be all right, Hobi," she said, and actually reached out to touch his hand in a comforting gesture. "Please don't worry about me and Mr. X. Just promise me you'll be there...when and if I need you."

She looked deep into his eyes and was moved by the sincerity of the affection for her she saw there. "I think you better take me home now," she said softly. "Tomorrow's a working day."

Chapter 05

Masterlist

#BTS #BANGTANSONYEONDAN #JUNGHOSEOK #JHOPE #BTSJHOPE #MYHOPE #YOURANGEL #BTSJHOPEXREADER #BTSFANFIC #ROMATICFANFIC #MAKEOVER

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