first choice (part 2) - noah harris x mc (mtfl)

author’s note: part 2 for “first choice.” there are mentions of characters from the freshman series (emily day, zig ortega, chris powell) – enjoy!

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. moodboard created by me. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) rating/warnings: 18+; smut between the 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons word count: 4.9k based on/prompt: moodboard aesthetic / prom theme inspired by the royal masquerade choices book. summary: emma and noah’s relationship continues to blossom and hit a few major milestones as they finish out their senior year of high school.

read part 1 if you haven’t. read the follow-up fic, the perfect gift if you’d like.

first choice (part 2)

2 weeks later

emma blew on her gloved hands to try to warm them up. she was wearing at least three layers, a scarf, boots, and she still felt the freezing cold in her bones. noah looked over at his shivering girlfriend and chuckled, putting his arm around her and rubbing her shoulders.

“how are you not cold?” emma whined, turning her body toward him to get as close to his body heat as possible.

“i’m always warm and it’s technically above freezing,” noah said, bending down to kiss her forehead.

berry high and eastridge had a partnership with a local community program that helped coordinate and fund group college visits. emma had volunteered to help coordinate schedules across schools. it took a little bit of convincing, and promising a lot of kisses, but noah agreed to come on the trip. even though the NAUA scholarship didn’t pan out, emma was hoping that hartfeld’s second chance scholarship might still be an option for him.

“we’ll take a 15-minute break everyone, feel free to grab some coffee!” the tour guide announced as they approached the campus coffee shop.

“oh, thank god!” emma muttered, half-dragging noah with her as she raced to stand in line.

“hot chocolate or coffee?” noah asked, wrapping his arms around her waist once they got in line.

they approached the front as emma still debated her order. “vanilla latte, please!” she said, kissing him on the cheek before going to find a table.

she sat down next to the red-headed tour guide. “hey emily, how easy is it to find flexible part-time jobs on campus? my boyfriend’s a little worried about balancing everything.”

emily smiled. “first of all, you guys are such a cute couple. second, it’s pretty easy to find a job on campus or close to campus. but how to balance it all might be a better question for my boyfriend, zig, who took a full course load while playing football and working to support his family. i’ll see if he can take his break now.”

emily walked to the counter as noah came back with their drinks. emma accepted the warm mug gratefully and sighed as the latte warmed her cold fingers. noah slid in next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her shoulders.

the tall, tanned brunette barista sauntered over with emily, who quickly introduced everyone. emma shook zig’s hand and was surprised that he and noah went in for a fist bump.

“have you guys met?” emily asked, also seeming surprised.

zig nodded. “i helped prep noah for his interview with dean stafford for the second chance scholarship.”

emma’s eyes widened with recognition. “oh, you’re the one chris mentioned when i spoke to him about the scholarship!”

“chris powell? yeah, he’s one of our best friends and team captain. he showed me your film, noah, and we made sure to pass it on to coach with our recommendations. it was a no brainer, especially hearing about your story from emma,” zig said warmly as emily cuddled in close to his side.

emma tensed and looked down. a couple of weeks ago, the hartfeld football coach reached out to noah “out of the blue” and recommended he apply to hartfeld formally. that noah would be a top candidate for the second chance scholarship, so long as he was willing to play football for hartfeld and kept his grades up. the captain of the team then reached out and walked noah through the application process and connected him with zig to prep for the interviews, which not-so-coincidentally aligned with the trip’s scheduled visit to hartfeld. of course, all of that happened after emma found chris’ contact information on the scholarship website and spoke to him about noah.

zig kept talking about how the scholarship changed his life and made it so he could finally pursue the college education he wanted and was able to put the stigma of his past behind him. noah asked zig if he could have a moment alone with him. emma bit her lip nervously as she walked away with emily to give them some privacy.

“is everything okay?” emily asked.

“um, well, he may or may not be mad at me for going behind his back and submitting his football film to chris. i came across the second chance scholarship during my research and thought it would be perfect for noah. i didn’t tell him about it because i didn’t want to get his hopes up,” emma said quickly, a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach.

“well, it sounds to me like he’s very lucky to have someone in his life who cares so much about him and his future. zig and chris also wouldn’t be here if someone didn’t give them a second chance. it inspired chris to create the scholarship, and i really hope things work out for you guys,” emily said reassuringly as zig and noah fist bumped. she walked over to give zig a kiss and emma watched apprehensively as noah approached her, his face thoughtful.

“i’m sorry for going behind your back, babe. you were just so upset about losing the NAUA scholarship, i didn’t want to get your hopes up but i did a lot of research and thought the second chance scholarship would be perfect, since it covers tuition, room and board, and books, with football and boxing fulfilling the activity requirement, so any extra money you make can be sent to your mom. i had to convince ava to help me sneak into the A/V office, and i owe michael a big favor since he put the highlight reel together quickly to make the deadline, so i didn’t have time to explain, and…” emma blurted out. “are you mad?”

noah gave her such a tender look that the tension in her body disappeared. “how could i be mad at my gorgeous, selfless girlfriend who found a way that i could go to college while dealing with her own applications? but i don’t like that you felt as though you needed to keep this a secret. i want us to be a team, okay?”

emma tilted her head up and leaned in to give him a soft kiss. “okay. and i couldn’t just not help you. i care about you, babe. you mean a lot to me.”

noah lowered his head until his forehead was touching hers and closed his eyes. “what did i do to deserve you?”

she laughed. “you chose me, remember?”

“and you chose me,” noah said softly, leaving a kiss on her nose and lacing his fingers with hers as they left the coffee shop to rejoin the tour.

4 weeks later

emma was in front of her house at 7am, waiting for mason. she had texted him a few days ago asking if she could join him for a run. she was pleasantly surprised when he replied but she still wasn’t sure what to expect. she looked carefully at mason’s face as he jogged up to her house, trying to gauge his mood. he gave her a nod and she fell into place jogging beside him. when they finally reached the park and took a break, emma turned to face mason.

“thanks for hanging out with me again, i’ve missed you,” she said, her voice hopeful.

mason gave her a longing look before a small smile appeared on his face. “i’ve missed you too, em. i wish things could go back to normal with us, but i don’t think my feelings for you are going to go away anytime soon. and it hurts to think about you with noah.”

“i felt the same when you were with ava and i’m sorry if i hurt you. mason, you’ll always have a special place in my heart but i also really want my best friend back. i think we just maybe outgrew the old way we used to be friends with all the changes that happened this year, and with us going to different colleges and experiencing different things, maybe we just need to find a new way to be there for each other,” emma said slowly. she had given this a lot of thought over the last couple of months.

mason nodded thoughtfully, seeming to agree. “yeah, maybe we can talk over a milkshake?”

they spent the rest of the morning sharing a malted peanut butter milkshake and catching up on everything and anything. as the sun rose high in the sky, they decided to order food and continue talking like they used to, and emma was hopeful that they would be able to keep finding moments like this to reconnect even when school and life kept them miles apart.

* * * * * emma kept hitting the refresh button on her phone mail app for the results of the photo contest she was expecting to hear about. she was sitting in the park with noah, who was attempting to study for midterms but kept looking over at emma with amusement.

“staring at your phone isn’t going to make the results appear magically,” he teased.

emma put her phone down and sighed. “i know, i’m just really anxious.”

“come here,” noah said, putting his book aside and pulling emma on to his lap. he wrapped one arm around her waist and used the other to draw her face closer to his. he left a line of kisses starting at her neck, working his way across her jaw, and up to her cheek. emma closed her eyes, tilting her chin toward noah so their lips could meet in a sweet kiss. she brought a hand up to the back of his neck and shifted so she could deepen the kiss when she heard the ping! from her phone. she quickly climbed off noah’s lap to grab her phone and read the new email that had arrived.

“oh my god, i won! i can’t believe it!” emma shoved her phone in front of her boyfriend’s face, who quickly scanned the congratulatory email and broke out into a wide grin.

he stood up, pulling emma up with him so he could wrap his arms around her and swing her around. “congratulations, babe. i knew you could do it! remember what i said when we picked that one?” noah asked, setting her back down on the ground and peppering her face with kisses.

after an hour of reading her write-ups for both photo options and looking at each photo carefully, noah grabbed the first one and handed it back to emma. “you should use this one. your write-up definitely brings the viewer into the moment and make it seem like so much more happened than the moment itself. and personally, it means the most to me since i was thinking of you when i scored that touchdown. i was so happy you were finally mine, the adrenaline made me feel like i could do anything,” he said, smiling fondly.

“how could i forget? i made sure to include it in my college applications because of that,” emma said, smiling.

6 weeks later

emma smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in her navy fit-and-flare dress outside of the neighborhood restaurant noah first took her to when he asked her to homecoming. it quickly became a fixture for them as a date night spot, but tonight was going to be the first time she met his mom and sister. to say she was nervous was a huge understatement.

noah took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “there’s no need to be nervous, i promise,” he said gently, giving her a kiss on the cheek before leading her toward a booth in the back of the restaurant.

emma waved shyly as they approached the booth. “hi, mrs. harris; hazel. it’s really nice to meet you,” she greeted tentatively. she was surprised when mrs. harris stepped out of the booth and wrapped her up in a big hug.

“it’s so good to finally meet you, dear. i’m so glad you could join us to celebrate!”

the rest of the evening was pleasant as they recounted how noah got selected for the second chance scholarship. emma and noah held hands under the table throughout dinner, giving each other side glances and small smiles when they thought his family wouldn’t notice. noah looked pointedly in the other direction when they started sharing embarrassing childhood stories, and emma just laughed along until the conversation eventually transitioned to emma’s future.

“so, emma, what are your college plans?” mrs. harris asked.

she saw noah shift in his seat and avoid her gaze. she hadn’t made any decisions yet but they also hadn’t really talked about their relationship long-term.

“um, well, i plan on focusing on fine arts so i’m deciding between the california institute of design and columbia university in new york,” she replied quietly.

mrs. harris clapped her hands. “oh my, those sound prestigious! i’m sure your family would want you to stay close.”

emma smiled half-heartedly and nodded. “yeah, california would be much closer to home.” but on the complete opposite side of the country from hartfeld, she thought glumly to herself.

dinner wrapped up shortly and after saying goodbye and promising to have dinner with them again soon, emma sat quietly in the drivers’ seat of her used SUV. her dad finally caved and bought her a car as an 18th birthday and congratulatory present after her acceptances came in. it was a safe, reliable car, perfect for the eventual long drives to and from college but emma was just glad to finally have a car of her own. emma looked over at noah with a twinge of sadness as she drove silently back to his house, stopping a couple blocks away so they could have some privacy.

“we should probably talk about what’s next for us, right?” she asked hesitantly.

noah shrugged. “we still have time before you have to decide. but honestly emma, i want you to make the decision that’s best for you. promise me you won’t factor me or our relationship into your decision.”

emma looked helplessly at how the moonlight seemed to sharpen the contours of noah’s face in the most romantic way; his eyes shining sincerely with every word he said. how could this kind, sensitive, gorgeous guy not factor into her decision? she sighed and nodded, “i’ll try.”

🔥⚡🔥⚡

he gave her a sympathetic but understanding look before taking off his seatbelt and reaching toward her. emma obliged, turning the engine off and climbing over the center console to straddle his lap. noah lowered his seat back, wrapping one arm around emma’s waist and the other around her neck, bringing her in for a kiss. emma sighed contentedly at the soft, sweet kisses that quickly grew heated. she ground her hips into his, trying to get her body as close to his as possible, as her hands tangled themselves in his hair. she moaned as he started kissing down her neck to suck gently on the soft patch of skin near her collarbone, one hand moving to palm her breast and the other trailing up the inside of her thigh.

they had agreed over winter break to go slow and that sex would be off the table for now, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still have fun. emma was starting to get addicted to his touch and wanted to speed up her readiness for him even though logically she knew they needed to take their time; noah had more experience from his time in juvie but understood more than she did that he needed to go slow with her. they ended up meeting somewhere in the middle. emma let out a soft hiss as his fingers started stroking the fabric of her underwear and she ached to feel him inside. he pulled back to look in her eyes for permission and when she nodded, her lips swollen and eyes lidded, his finger dove underneath the fabric.

she could sense the smirk on noah’s face before it appeared as her hips started grinding against his fingers of their own accord and crashed her lips into his. he quickly added a second finger and emma moaned against his mouth; she wanted more. as his fingers continued their steady strokes, she unzipped his jeans as fast as she could, cupping him in her hands through the fabric of his underwear before diving her hand beneath his waistband. she felt him stiffen even more once she freed his cock from his pants and started stroking him; knowing that she caused this reaction sent a thrill down her spine.

“noah, please, i need more,” emma whimpered, rocking hard against his hand while trying to match him stroke for stroke.

“since you asked so nicely,” he murmured against her lips, pressing his thumb down on her clit and moving it in slow circles while maintaining his finger ministrations.

emma buried her face in his neck as she felt the pressure build below her hips; her body felt like it was on fire and she came apart shortly after, biting down gently on the patch of skin that connected noah’s neck to his shoulder to keep herself from screaming. panting slightly, she pulled back to look at him as he brought his fingers to his lips and began licking them. emma picked up the pace of her strokes and gave him a mischievous grin, leaning forward to capture one of his fingers in her mouth, tasting herself. noah’s eyes widened with surprise and she felt his cock twitch underneath her hand as she swirled her tongue around his finger. she moved back to lower her head to his cock.

he tried to pull her back up. “you don’t have to do that—” but she waved him off.

“just tell me what you want,” she winked, continuing her strokes as she started licking him playfully.

noah’s hips rose slightly. “you’re not going to have to do much, i’m close, babe. just keep doing— that, yes, god!” true to his word, after a few measured tongue swirls in sync with her hand strokes, emma felt noah clench and release but not without moaning her name. she swallowed as much as she could and grabbed a tissue from the center console to clean up the rest, grinning wickedly at noah.

“you are definitely full of surprises,” he murmured, bringing her up so he could give her a kiss.

❄💧❄💧

8 weeks later

emma stood in front of the refreshments table, trying to avoid constantly looking over to see if anyone was looking at her photos. but of course, she couldn’t help it and was glancing over every 15 seconds. she stopped when a pair of large, warm hands covered her eyes.

“guess who?”

she squealed and turned around to wrap her arms around noah’s neck. he had to take a step back to keep from falling over, and let his arms wrap naturally around her back. he leaned down to give her a quick kiss before she pulled away.

“thanks for coming, babe. let me walk you through it,” she said excitedly, grabbing his hand and whirling around quickly to lead him toward the wall where her photographs were on display at berry high’s end-of-year art show.

noah smiled and listened attentively as emma explained the themes she was going for and why she chose each photo and placed it where she did. he glanced over at the photos as she was explaining, but he cared more about observing the way her eyes lit up as she talked about something particularly moving, the way she tapped her chin when she was gathering her thoughts, or when a light pink blush appeared on her cheeks when she glanced over and caught him looking at her.

it wasn’t long before her family, ava, mason, and berry high friends arrived and she moved to greet them, giving them a similar rundown of her photos. noah took a couple steps back to observe the photos from a distance; he wasn’t that into art but could tell that emma had a real talent. of course, someone might say he was biased since her award-winning photo, which happened to feature him, was front-and-center.

“hey noah, how’s it going?” noah turned to his right to find mason standing next to him, looking up at emma’s photos.

“jennings. i’m good.” he really wasn’t one for small talk. “i’m glad you made it; emma’s been looking forward to seeing your reaction since you’ve always supported her photography hobby.”

mason turned to him, eyebrow raised. “thanks, i appreciate that. she used to always carry her mom’s camera with her everywhere.” he paused and noah, who always found a way to extract himself from conversations when the predictable lull approached, took a sip of his drink.

“i know we’ve had our differences but i just wanted to thank you for being there for emma. she means a lot to me, and she seems happy with you. just don’t hurt her,” mason said, putting a hand on noah’s shoulder as he turned away.

noah held mason’s gaze for a brief moment and nodded. mason gave him a nod in return and walked away. noah wasn’t sure if they would ever be friends, but he knew mason was always going to be in emma’s life, and at least now the two of them had an understanding.

the crowd was starting to thin out as the evening wore on, and soon it was just him and emma. he put an arm around her waist and brought her closer. “i’m really proud of you. your photos are amazing,” he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss on the forehead. emma felt herself flush from the compliment.

“wait, i have one more thing i want to show you,” she ducked below the refreshments table to pull out a horizontal picture frame. she tucked it behind her back. “turn around and close your eyes!”

noah chuckled but obeyed; even though he was tempted to peek, he preferred seeing emma’s eager expression when she was waiting for his reaction to something. “okay, you can open them now!”

where her photos were before now hung a series of five photos, individually framed, but connected in a large horizontal design. noah stepped closer to look at the photos, there was the goofy one of them from homecoming, the selfie they took under the stars after emma agreed to be his girlfriend, and a few others. he looked over at emma, who looked giddy, prompting his eyebrow to quirk up in interest.

emma leaned forward to flip a switch hidden on the side. it was then that noah noticed a cord from the frame that was plugged in to the outlet below. when he looked back up, a soft light came from each individual photo, lighting up the letters P R O M ? in script.

noah stood there with his jaw open slightly, stunned. “wha-? aren’t i supposed to ask you to prom?”

emma shifted her weight nervously. “well, i wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to eastridge prom and since i’m at berry high, i figured i should do the asking. and i wanted to surprise you since, you know…” she trailed off and noah raised his eyebrow at her expectantly. emma blushed and looked down at her feet. “you said before that you liked that i could surprise you. i just want to make sure i keep you interested.”

he wrapped his arms around her to pull her in for a kiss. “you just keep being you, there’s plenty to like.”

“wait, is that a yes?” emma pulled back to look up at him.

noah just chuckled. “like i could ever say no to you.”

* * * * * emma couldn’t have imagined a more magical night, as stereotypical and cliché as that sounded. berry high had outdone itself with their prom theme, “the royal masquerade,” and the sparkly gold and silver décor. she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she took in the balloon archway and the gold and silver painted vase centerpieces filled with red and yellow roses on each table. masks and crowns surrounded the vases, along with disposable cameras and costume jewelry, easily serving double duty as décor and photo props.

she turned her head to look at her absolutely handsome boyfriend. he wore a fitted black suit and bowtie with a boutonniere that matched the deep red of her dress and corsage. even though they had coordinated their outfits, she was still stunned when he came to pick her up. she had forgotten how good he looked in a suit. she kept sneaking glances at his profile the entire ride over (he drove them in her car after she made it clear she was not going to ruin her hair and makeup by riding on his motorcycle to prom), wondering how she got so lucky with noah.

“you’ve been staring at me all night, you okay?” he asked, holding out his arm for her as they stepped through the doors of the ballroom.

emma looped her hand in the crook of his elbow, hoping he didn’t notice how she lingered on his bicep. “you just look so handsome tonight,” she said, sighing happily.

noah smirked. “i think you’re the one who steals the show. you are absolutely gorgeous tonight, baby. dance with me?” he grabbed her hand and extended his arm, inviting her to twirl under it. emma giggled as she let him spin her around, the long skirt of her dress billowing out elegantly, before he put his arm around her waist and led her to the dance floor.

after taking their prom photos, dancing with her berry high friends, and enjoying the evening overall, noah quietly led emma toward one of the ballroom balconies. they stepped outside and let the night breeze cool them down.

“did you want to take a break?” emma asked, feeling grateful that she could lean against the railing and take some of the pressure off her stilettos.

noah didn’t answer but just looked at her softly as he rested his arms on the railing on either side of her, enveloping her in his arms. “i just wanted a little bit of quiet to admire my amazing girlfriend. i can’t believe we’ve been together six months already. it seems like not that long ago that we were dancing at homecoming.”

emma felt herself blush. “you are being really romantic tonight, you know that?” she said softly, placing her hand on his cheek and gently stroking it with her thumb. noah leaned down until their foreheads touched and emma felt an overwhelming warmth bloom from her heart and spread across her chest. in that moment, wrapped up in the tender way noah was holding her, she couldn’t help but feel safe and loved. she knew her feelings had progressed for a while now but wasn’t sure if she should wait for noah to say it first. her heart told her that she needed to seize this moment.

“i love you.”

noah’s eyes widened slightly. did she just say—? he blinked a couple times before a wide grin broke out on his face, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “you mean it?” emma nodded, smiling shyly. “i love you too. i’ve wanted to say it for a while now but you beat me to it,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and leaning down to give her a deep, loving kiss.

emma beamed and knew she was never going to forget this night for the rest of her life.

* * * * * summer came and went, filled with graduations (lots of tears all around as noah walked across the stage, with mrs. harris squeezing emma’s hand tightly) and grad parties, working part-time to have spending money for college, registering for classes, and planning out the road trip to school. but emma’s favorite part of the summer was how she finally got to spend it hanging out with ava at the mall like old times, reminiscing with mason at his treehouse or at the beach, helping mack find ways to express her art more productively, and going on lots of dates with noah. despite the memories she made that more than made up for missing out last summer, emma was ready to step forward into her future.

noah secured his motorcycle to the tow dolly attached to the back of emma’s car as she crammed in another box in the backseat. “that’s the last box, right?”

emma nodded, glad her dad got her a car that was big enough for both of their stuff but small enough that she shouldn’t have issues finding parking in the city. she watched as noah went back into the house to say his goodbyes and sent her dad a quick text update that they were getting on the road. their goodbye earlier that morning had been brief; he wasn’t thrilled that she was driving cross-country with noah, but agreed to trust her as long as she sent him updates every couple of hours and called him once she arrived at their scheduled stops.

she climbed into the car and put on her seatbelt, waving goodbye to noah’s mom who was waiting in the doorway. noah gave his mom a kiss on the cheek and climbed into the passenger seat. emma turned the key in the ignition and looked over at noah. “ready?”

“wait, not yet.” he leaned over and cupped her face in his hands before giving her a long, deep kiss. “i love you. now i’m ready.”

emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “i love you, too.”

she carefully pulled the car out of the driveway, following her phone’s gps toward the highway. she couldn’t help but glance over at noah’s profile next to her, wondering how she got so lucky. noah held out his hand and emma laced her fingers with his over the center console. he pulled their intertwined hands together to leave a soft kiss on the back of her hand, and when he looked back up at her, he was beaming. emma felt a feeling of gratitude and love swell within her for this wonderful man who chose her first.

* * * * * mentions: @khoicesbyk; @nyastarlight; @chetachisblog​; @robintora​;​ @shows-simp-card​; @brycesgirl​;

A Wilting Rose╰ Part 1 ╮

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

➺ Genre: Angst & Fluff

↳ (2.6k) Actor and Actress AU

➺ Summary: The world of acting can be best described with three words - dark, invasive and inhumane. Talent, although heavily required, isn’t focused upon in comparison to the juicy gossip and various rumors that can be spread. This is why even you - an extremely talented actress - fall prey to the chops of the acting world and find yourself in a down whirling spiral with no escape. Desperately needing to get back up on your two feet once again, it seems like your best bet is a newcomer to the industry, who has yet to understand the ways of your fallen world.

➺ Warnings: spoilers of my other works (read them first before starting this series)

➺ Moodboard Prologue Part 1 Part 2

Sunlight seeps through the expensive beige curtains as a small bird hums sweetly against the balcony, the loud roar of traffic beneath it not disencouraging the bird enough to stop. More birds begin to notice the lone bird singing by itself and soar over with their broad wings, huddling together for warmth and letting the bird’s tune grow stronger with every minute’s passing. 

They begin to slowly inch over to the curtains, one of them innocently becoming curious and tugging on a single loose strand with its beak. The action causes the curtains to immediatey unravel, pushing them back to reveal the grand apartment in view hidden behind them, where a sweet princess lies and snores to her own content. 

The bird’s curiosity only grows as it keeps inching closer to the princess, singing to the top of its vocal chords in an attempt to allow the fine slumbering royalty listen in to their soothing tunes. 

However, the bird does not realize that its song is not reaching what one would assume to be a typical naive and sweet princess. 

A pillow is thrown in its direction. 

“Oh my god will you please shut up?!” The words are wrangled in annoyance and lined with detestment, the bird having to hurriedly flap its wings to avoid the blow. It turns to the group of friends it has gathered, squeaking in angry chirps until suddenly the whole flock of birds are flying away, seeking a more grateful contender to listen to their songs. 

You flop back onto your pillow, raising the sheets to cover your entire existence as you shut your lids tight and attempt to somehow salvage the sleep that was snatched away from you.

It takes its sweet time in coming to you, resulting in you having to twist and turn multiple times until you finally get that awkward spot that's enough to throw you back into a pool of unconsciousness. Time plays its own illusion on you, making long hours feel like mere seconds when a voice tugs you out of it again. 

“Y-Y/N…?” 

Your very first assumption is that you’re hallucinating, conjugating this voice into your dream and that there was no way in reality someone was actually talking to you. 

But then it speaks again. 

“Um...Y/N…?” 

A groan escapes you, shifting your burrito wrapped body as far away as you can from the source of the voice. However, a firm hand is placed on you and you just know there was no escaping now. 

“Y/N, you need to get up...Hyung says there’s an important schedule for you.” 

Of course there’s an important schedule, there’s always one in the morning. 

“I’m not getting up.” You state, liking the softness of your blanket and the warmth radiating against your pillow too much. 

“I-I’m sorry for this Y/N…” You widen your eyes, about to retort when suddenly you’re being lifted up while still being wrapped up in your blanket by two strong arms. You get plopped down onto a nearby couch as if you weighed absoutely close to nothing. “I’ll be waiting outside, please hurry.” 

You hear the door gently close and you pull the blanket away from your face, grumbling when your eyes land on the sun still early rising outside. 

***

Wearing a flashy black dress and a pair of dark sunglasses, you step outside in long heels and dart your eyes in both directions. You know they’re hiding somewhere, wanting to get a glimpse of your perfect woken face so that they can print it out and paste onto some juicy column of theirs much to your own detest. 

Sure enough, you take one step and suddenly an uproar of flashes are going off, exclaimed screams and questions being thrown into your face as you head towards the fancy red car with a mouth that only remains shut. 

Slamming the door behind you, you press a hand against your face and turn in the other direction with a sigh when an abundance of reporters are soon clouding your window. “Step on it.” You state, shoulders relaxing when the black-haired man seated in the driver’s seat doesn’t hesitate to obey your words. 

Soon your view is full of the broad city and its residents instead of wide engaged eyes and giant declaring mikes. Pulling out your bag, you take out some of your makeup, a hair comb and a mirror, being extremely aware that your job was to look aesthetically pleasing at all times and currently you were far too behind on that with your morning sleepy look.

“You look like you had a good night’s rest.” The man remarks, eyes flickering over to the front mirror to look behind at you in the midst of driving. 

You smirk, “Of course I did, a little birdy decided it would be better to drag me out of bed himself.” 

“Y/N…” He says exasperated, “Hyung said he needed to see you urgently.” 

You roll your eyes, “I have yet to understand why Namjoon likes mornings so much.” You smack your lips to evenly coat them with red lipstick, “And you could have given me a warning before you decided to haul me up!” 

“I did try to wake you up first and then you gave me no choice…” 

“Yeah, yeah…” You remark, staring outside your window at the now fully risen sun. However, it’s rays aren’t only reflecting just on you, but also on the shiny car that almost seems glued to your tail. 

“Jungkook.” You state, eyes suddenly flickering, “Take the back roads.” 

“Again?” He questions, looking at his rear mirror to confirm your suspicions when he suddenly pushes against the accelerator and tightens his hold on the steering wheel. 

“Can you lose them?” Desperation begins to leak in your voice when the car doesn’t seem to have the desire of making any other turns. 

Jungkook laughs, “Don’t underestimate me Y/N.” He instantly takes a sharp turn that has you sinking your fingers into your car seat. 

The car practically flies through multiple roads with Jungkook’s eyes being stuck on the road and expertly maneuvering through traffic. However the car behind you is incredibly determined, something that is all too well known to you when it’s right behind you at every step of the way. 

“Y/N, hold on.” Jungkook suddenly says, whipping around to look at the back of the car as he presses his hand against the opposite car seat. You furrow your brows when he suddenly pushes the car back into reverse and your hands instantly curl around your seat belt. 

The car behind you immediately slams on its brakes, skidding until it stops only millimeters behind you and Jungkook is soon turning around, jamming his foot against the accelerator again and then making a sharp turn. 

“Are you alright Y/N?” Jungkook glances at the head mirror and you nod, relaxing back into your seat. 

“I’m fine.” You state, crossing your arms and staring out the window normally despite the terrfied racing thumps of your heartbeat. 

***

“I’ll wait for you here until you get back.” Jungkook says, listening in on his headpiece, “I’ve informed Namjoon you’ve arrived, he’s waiting for you upstairs.” He points to the elevator and scans arounds you carefully, making sure the area was safe. 

You nod, heading over to the elevator and waiting as the numbers rapidly blink above you until they land on the top floor - where Namjoon’s office was located. Walking to the familiar oak door, you deliver a hard knock two times before crossing your arms and tapping the side of your heel against the carpeted door. 

The door opens to reveal an excited Namjoon, dressed in his typical glasses and tucked back brown hair, “Ah Y/N!” He gestures you inside and you plop down on the comfy chair he keeps behind his desk as he sits on top of it. 

A freshly brewed cup of coffee is sent in your direction alongside some other snacks and Namjoon chuckles, “You probably didn’t eat breakfast.” 

“What was the urgent schedule Namjoon? Why did you call me here?” You lean back in the chair, making no moves for the array of food before you as your eyes remain on trained on him. Truthfully, you're still wondering if being here with an actual schedule was something that you would be lucky enough to have after the disaster that was last night. 

“Well…” He turns around to his desk and grabs a stack of papers, dropping them on the table and they spread out to cover its entirety. “I need you to pick one.” 

You stare at the pile and frown, looking at Namjoon like he’s grown a third head, “Scripts? You want me to do a movie?”

Namjoon shakes his head and grins, “Y/N its not over yet, you can still come back twice as strong.” 

You break out into a fit of laughter, “Come back?” You walk closer to him, “Please do tell me then, who is going to want to cast the finished Y/N L/N and do business by racking in those high box office numbers?” Your last words come off in a whisper, “Because of course, everyone wants to see me on the big screen now.” 

“But that’s exactly it!” Namjoon stands up from his desk, “Y/N what happened was unfortunate, but all these reporters and journalists...they’re waiting for your next move. They want to see what you’ll do next.” 

A sharp glare is sent in his direction, “So they can have more horrible words to write about me?” 

“So you can prove them wrong.” Namjoon says in a gentler tone, “So you can prove that you’re still the Y/N L/N - a movie star that can act and is here to stay.” 

You just stare at him, trying to get his words to do something in you, spark any remains of hope that have long fizzled out.

You let out a long sigh, “You want me to pick a script?” 

Namjoon nods and you stare at the pile, flipping through the large packages and observing each and every title. After scanning through their summaries, you scoff. “Namjoon, these sound awful.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You pick one script up, “A girl falls in love with an immortal vampire but is then killed by the villain only to be reincarnated back to find her lover again?” You scrunch up your features, “What kind of messed up story is that?” 

“It could be good, you could portray the sadness in the emotions of the charac-” 

“Next.” You sigh, picking up another script, “I’m not interested in tragic romance.” Your eyes flicker over the summary, “A girl falls in love with a CEO and changes his life for the better, until she tragically dies after they get married and returns to him in the form of a ghost?” 

You turn to Namjoon and scoff, “Is there a single story in here where I don’t die?” 

Namjoon hands you another one, “Try this. It’s suppose to be in the comedy genre.” 

“Two doctors that start off as enemies and fall in love, discovering they were once separated childhood friends….” You look over the sheer amount of humour scenes and shake your head, “You seriously lost me at the comedy.” 

The script lands into the pile of discarded ones and you pluck up another, “A powerful CEO is set up with a man for an arranged marriage but then falsely believes he has conned her until he proves his innocence years later…” The summary seemed confusing at first but then your eyes land onto the character you are portraying. 

A ruthless and intimidating CEO. 

“Namjoon, I want to do this one.” You hand him the script and he looks over it. 

“I don’t know Y/N...this one seems on par with your own personality.” You raise an eyebrow at that, “You need to do something outside of your comfort zone, something that audiences wouldn’t expect you to do.” 

He shuffles through the abundance of scripts until he lands on the specific one, “Here! I think you should do this one.” 

“Scarlet Lovers?” You say out in a disinterested tone, “What is it about?” 

“It’s a story between a war general and a princess. They fall in love, get separated from each other and then killed.” You widen your eyes. 

“Namjoon I said I don’t want to do tragic romance!” 

“Read the role of the princess.” 

You sigh, looking back at the script and mumbling in a monotone voice, “The princess is quiet and kind, her sincerity is what draws the general closer to her and her pride for ruling her kingdom is what calls others to admire her so much.” You chuckle, “She sounds like a wuss.” 

“She sounds like the complete opposite of you.” Namjoon retorts, “The perfect character for you to challenge yourself with.”

You frown, “Who is going to play the role of the knight?” 

“A newcomer.” Namjoon smiles but your jaw drops down. 

“You want me to make a comeback with a newbie? While playing as a stupid princess?!” 

“He’s dedicated with his work and has agreed to be cast with you with any script Y/N.” He places a hand on your shoulder, “It’ll be the perfect launching pad for him and the best way for you to reclaim your spot in the industry.” 

“It still sounds risky to me. And why does this newbie want to act with me? Does he want his career to end before it even starts?!” You slam the script back down on the table and cross your arms, scoffing. 

“Y/N…” Namjoon says, picking up the script and handing it back to you, “Go home and read it over once. I’m going to talk to the director and see if I can get you casted in the meantime.” 

Before you can even protest, Namjoon is soon gently pushing you out of the room and the door shuts close without any words managing to escape from you. With a huff, you raise your hand and stare at the script for a split second, the mechanisms of your mind still not working in motion to it. 

“Me? A quiet kind princess?” 

A chuckle escapes you and you place the script in your bag before lazily walking off. 

“Yeah right.”

Sangria Wine

⊸Pairing: BTS Yoongi ⇆ Reader

⊸Genre: Vampire| CEO| Medical| Fluff| Angst| Slight Horror

⊸Summary: When rent is cutting short and you’re at your last resort. Your job has been cutting your hours slowly, and bills were stacking up. You walk into a donation center, blood donating center for the undead to earn some quick cash, but…the thing is…you’re afraid of needles.

⊸Word: 6.1K 

⊸Rating: teen; mentions of blood and phobia of needles/blood, fainting, vampiric activity, and mentions of mating.

⊸ A/N: Based on my experience with needles and how I’m a wimp and pass out. This Yoongi is pretty cliche, but I mean who doesn’t love a good angsty Yoongi. Thanks for reading! Gif source unknown, but I don’t take credit for it.

→ Masterlist | Moodboard | Next

The nurse takes the earpieces of her stethoscope out of her ears and tilts her head, “Your blood pressure is still high.”

You shy away from her look of concern, this is embarrassing. After waiting ten minutes for it to go down, the results are still the same. It won’t go down from a static 140/80, you know that, “Doctor offices just make me nervous, I’m fine.”

She hums and writes down a note on your chart. Finally she puts two and two together, “White Coat Syndrome,” clicking her pen on her clipboard, “it’s when patients, much like yourself, are anxious because of the people walking around in white coats.”

You halfheartedly chuckle, “Yeah, haha, that’s the one.” You hear it every time you come in to a doctor’s office. You tried explaining it to her earlier, but she put her stethoscope in her ears instead determined it was just a mechanical error.

The hypertension is never because of the doctors, but the needles—bloodwork specifically. Your mind and body are disconnected. You know it isn’t a big deal, it’s a split-second ordeal, boom, bam, done! It’s not even that painful, it’s a mere pinch at most, but for as long as you could remember you’ve had this issue. Although the fainting didn’t start until your teen years, mostly because the nurses offering you candy wasn’t enough to distract you anymore. You even know the symptoms of an oncoming episode by heart now: hearing dulls to a high pitch ring, sudden rise in body temperature, blurry vision then timber you’re out like a light!

Even though you’re aware of the rational side of it, the anxiety is still there.

Your hands feel clammy, as you repeat the words to yourself with a sigh: White Coat Syndrome.

This is your first time at this clinic, so they don’t have that special, little note on record. Which ironically is a good thing, you couldn’t be honest with her and tell her it was because of the needles that perturb you…and that you are likely to faint. You need to be here today.

The nurse wraps her stethoscope around her neck, “Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, everything checks out. I’m going to ready a room and I’ll be back in a moment your receiver should be here soon.”

You nod and she is gone with a click of the door. “He should be here soon,” those words echo in the back of your mind. You busy your mind on something else by reading the posters around the room. They are typical ones the importance of getting the annual flu shot, hygiene and information on human diseases that can affect vampires and other supernatural. You let out a heavy sigh as you read over them three then four times for the sake of not driving yourself crazy. It occurs to you that not only do humans have a huge effect on the environment, but now we’ve effected supernatural beings. Way to go humans.

Three knocks on the door interrupts your reading and the nurse peeks back in, “Are you ready Ms. Y/L/N?”

You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans and slip off the examination table. You stand still for a few seconds to stabilize your feet. You grab your coat and squeeze it as you respond through a fake smile, “Ready.”

Your feet were leading you down the endless white hallways instead of your overactive mind. The mild ringing in your ears were dulling the noises around you, so you follow the nurse like a lost puppy. Suspiciously this place smells overtly sterile, even to your non-supernatural nose. It’s probably because of all the…blood. You hold your coat tighter to you, “Shut your mind off, shut it off, positive thoughts only.” You could already feel your face flushing from the self-induced anxiety. You keep repeating to yourself like a mantra, “It’s going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen, why do you do this to yourself? You know you’re going to be alright.”

You don’t realize you’ve made it to the phlebotomy ward until the nurse you are following opens a room for you. You thank her, and walk into the room rapidly. You take in the new, small room and it was far from what you were expecting. It’s nice…it lacks the same clinical posters from the checkup room and instead it’s replaced with minimal décor. It still smells very sterile though. The nurse speaks from the doorway, “Your receiver will be with you shortly and when the session is over I will come back to check up on you before you leave.”

She closes the door behind her with an eerie click. You heavily sigh as you slump into the first seat you see when your legs give out. Your head is chaotically buzzing, and your heart is beating so hard you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears. This was probably a bad idea—this is a bad idea. You shook your head clearing your thoughts again, no, this was a good idea. You could do this. You could do this! You straighten yourself out and sit near the edge of the seat, tuck your feet together and set your spine rigid. If your receiver will come in here any minute you need to be a bit more put together. If you put it out in the universe it will come true kind of mindset.

The supernatural are apart of normal society, they live amongst humans. They work, live and function alongside humans. You’ve never been nervous about vampires, or any supernatural being, but today those fangs hold a different emotion.

You breathe in slowly and deeply to make sure you are still breathing. If you aren’t actively thinking about it you would probably be turning blue by now. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Inha—three, soft knocks rasped against the door. If I hadn’t been so hyperaware of my breathing I probably wouldn’t have caught it. I jump in my seat then stutter out, “C-C-Come in.” Wonderful, just a wonderful first impression.

A tall, lean figure slips into the room with his back turned to me with his head down. He is dressed professionally with a navy-blue button down and black slacks. Your eye follows his silhouette to his hand strangling the handle of his brown leather briefcase. His briefcase isn’t fully close and a few documents are sticking out of it front pockets. Is the vampire nervous or just…really hungry?

When he turns around, lifting his head, his expression is stoic, lips thin like a line giving away no hint of reaction. You hold your breath when he flicks his half-lidded eyes up meeting yours. His deep, brown predatorial eyes watch yours, observing you from head to toe. It is as if he is waiting for you to break contact first. You feel your saliva thicken in the back of your throat as you struggle to say a greeting. Never before had the mere presence of someone take your breath away. His dark eyes convey his prowess as a vampire, establishing his role in this transaction right away. His naturally dominant aura penetrates the room replacing the ethanol out until all you could smell is his earthen cologne.

Even though you feel insecure under his gaze, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes lock with his. There is an unexplainable pull that keeps you in those two orb’s gravities. He is very attractive to say the least. You swallow hard. Did he have to be good looking? It made your phobia infinity more embarrassing. He had a face that would haunt your dreams and nightmares.

Your eyes broke contact when he watched my throat bob and he knew I had swallowed. I turned away from his gaze and tried wiping away at the blush staining my cheeks.

Just your luck.

After four hundred years you would think he’d learn his lesson by now. He should have perfected the way to living, however, he always forgets that there’s a chaotic variable that ruins perfection: humans. They’re creatures that put too many factors into the pot and it spoils the broth. Things should be simple, but they never are. Things always ends up being troublesome on his part.

He’s spent the last few weeks stowed away in the boardrooms and his office working on a big project. Today, he closed the deal with the international broker and will start importing overseas. Everyone wanted to celebrate the billion dollar deal but he ditched the investors and other executives in order to make this appointment. He didn’t care if ditching them only deepened the rumors about him, he owns the company. He knew his reputation, he even knew the vicious nickname the employees whispered. They called him the red shadow. He was infamously known to be cold, calculated, and a perfectionist. When the red shadow walked to and from meeting rooms, the employees would stop what they’re doing and tremble in fright. Not always literally, but he’d hear it in their frantic heartbeat or the sudden pungent smell of ammonia from stress. They worried that they were going to be scrutinized or that they would be the next on his list. His eyes would hauntingly burn crimson when he was stressed. Despite supernaturals being amongst the normal, prejudice still ran deep. A vampire’s reputation ran deep and was naturally synonyms with fear itself.

In the past two weeks he had reaped the nickname dry. He hadn’t feed properly, and the iron pills weren’t keeping the hunger at bay for more than a few hours at a time. Synthetic Blood bags wasn’t able to truly fill that want for fresh blood either. Normally he liked to feed from a live source every two week, but that didn’t fit his schedule.

As soon as he knew the deal was closing, he made his secretary set up an appointment at the clinic for today. He couldn’t have felt more relieved when he got confirmation email a few days ago, and it’s been the only thing he’s looking forward to. He could’ve brought a donator to his office, but he doesn’t eat and work in the same room and well…it was against the law. Congress forty years ago drew up legislation for stricter guidelines on blood donating and receiving. This was all because too many individuals were found dead as a result of careless feeding. This also forced the supernatural to come to light from the underground. Under the law he was required to feed at a clinic or contract a donator through the government. Humans, he mentally scoffs. The idea of contracting someone revolted him. Although his clients were never usually unpleasant, but something was always off with their scents, too talkative, or just…creepy. He’s never wanted to rely on anyone for anything, especially concerning sustaining his life.

He walks up to the front desk and signs in and takes the typical swab test from the nurse. He swabs the inside of his cheeks quickly and tucked the swab back in its sanitary wrap it came in. He hands it back to the lab tech waiting behind the receptionist. His head is pounding furiously. He runs his free hand through his hair trying to feel for a source. It isn’t painful, but an annoying hard and fast thrumming…almost like a heartbeat.

He is brought back to his senses when the receptionist sweetly smiles at him, “Thank you Mr. Min, please wait a moment and we will begin shortly.” He harshly blinks and picks up his blazer and briefcase finding a seat in the empty waiting room without further word. He deduces that it isn’t another supernatural creature influencing him. Why is his head pounding then? He sits back in his chair and laces his hands together in his lap and takes a deep breath. He rolls his neck as he lets the feeling take over.

Throb, throb, throb, throb.

In the silence of the waiting room he hears it. It’s faint but it’s there. He tunes into the erratic heartbeat that’s somewhere in this building. He holds his breath for a moment to see if the delicious rate matches up with his pounding head.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

He groans under his breath and licks his lips. The animalistic side to his supernatural tendency is creeping up his throat. He’s never felt so connected to a heartbeat before. His body feels like its crawling with jitters for not seeking it out. His leg begins shaking, he slaps a hand on his tight forcing it to stop fidgeting. He suppresses his instincts to follow the pulse to its owner with all his might. The walls are well insulated for the sake of privacy, but he could feel it so viscerally.

He is about to groan under his breath again when he heard his name being called. He takes a deep breath in and lets his expression fall neutral again, except the bags under his eyes gave away that he is a starved man. He gets up as calmly and follows the petite woman who has similar bags under her eyes as much as she tries smiling through it. That’s what happens naturally when humans force switches their biological clock to nocturnal. “Hello, Mr. Min, please follow me over to the oral cleaning station.”

He follows routine, but as he is cleaning his teeth with the sanitation elixir he feels the pulse beating in harshly his fingertips. He nearly spits out his mouth wash as he feels his fingertips tingle like when they go numb, but you try using them again. The thrumming of energy in his veins makes him lowly moan but he wills it away as by gargling the disgusting mouth wash.

He is clean, but he knows this procedure is also a part of the new act. Human to vampire disease is on the rise, but so is vampire to human. Today following routine is agitating him. He wants to feed, no needs, so that he wasn’t hyperaware of a heartbeat. In order to save his pride he concludes that he is just aware of it because he is starved. He was stuck in the office so long that he must be hallucinating. His senses were overreacting because all he’s had was fake plasma and he wants the organic supply. He is in control, not the salacious pulse. He knows himself better.

He spit out the mouthwash into the sink with disgust and rinses his mouth out with water fast. He wants this done and over with as soon as possible. Sleep, sleep would do him so well after this.

“Follow me Mr. Min, your donor is waiting for you,” he grunts then follows the nurse down the familiar hall to one of the many donating room. The white walls he had seen for years now feels unfamiliar, just as new as the sensation running through his veins. It irked his ego that this is throwing off every one of his senses. He isn’t sure he is following the nurse or his instincts anymore. He unexpectedly groans when he feels a strong beat in his own chest. The nurse turns around with an eyebrow raised. He finishes that groan off with a cough, bring a hand up to his mouth to conceal it politely. The nurse smirks thinking the insinuation is for her. He rolls his eyes as she turns back around.

They walk past rooms and the harder the pulse feels in his veins, chest, and fingers. Its engulfed him and its all he can feel. The nurse stands outside a door and slips a chart into the folder. He stares at the door because itself seemed to pulse. He knows whomever the owner is of the bothersome heartbeat is inside this room. The nurse knocks softly and she steps back, “You have fifteen minutes Mr. Min.” He didn’t respond to her and she tried waving a hand in front of his face, but he didn’t blink or acknowledge her. She takes it as he understood and leaves. He grabs the handle and depresses it when he heard a response, “C-Come in.”

The being behind this door was supernatural he was sure of it, only a voice so enchanting voice could belong to a siren. Why else would he feel such a pull? He pushes the door open like any sailor would. When the door cracks open just an inch, the sweet scent from the room floods into the hallway. His eyes fall hooded as the sweet scent fill his frozen lungs. It put him in a catatonic state that fully wakes his instinctual half. It’s oddly addictive yet bothersome to his core. He isn’t weak to his instincts. He wasn’t.

He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He slowly looks up from the ground and finally gets a look at the siren. He clenches his jaw as his whole body pulses like an earthquake as you make eye contact. The source of the erratic heartbeat is seated in front of him.

You aren’t a siren…but a human. Human. You’re beautiful like a siren though, but you’re trembling like a leaf. He knows he shouldn’t feel primal about a simple donation, but you are like a frightened bunny under the watchful gaze of a hungry wolf. Yet, he wasn’t one of those dogs, he was a prideful vampire.

His earlier irritation mellows out when he senses your distress. The way your eyes are glossy make him choke back, honestly, he can’t help how endearing you are. His starvation subsides and all he wants to do is take me into his arms and rest the tremors. He wants to feel that heartbeat against his chest.

He shouldn’t do that though, this is a simple transaction. He is a receiver you are a donor. He rolls his neck trying to bring himself back to neutral, he isn’t himself today.

He takes in a deep breath that was unnecessary since he doesn’t breathe. He practically glides over to the seat across from you and sits down gracefully. He cautiously takes your hands away from my cheeks. His touch is gentle and…icy cold, his hands are so cold. You didn’t realize you raised your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool yourself down. His touch is the instant relief your burning body is looking for.

It’s electrical, he squeezes your hand feeling the shock light up his nerves. It felt like being jolted by a defibrillator. You were so warm. Warmth, it’s amazing, he hasn’t felt warmth for a very long time, it’s always a numb feeling whenever he touches anyone. Four hundred years is a long time to miss something. He gets a new wave of your scent as your breath hitches in your throat. You must’ve felt it as well. He closes his eyes for a moment holding back the red threatening to heavily bleed into his eyes. He didn’t want to scare away the bunny.

He peels his eyes open slowly, but he didn’t realize he is only inches away from your face. You didn’t move away from him though or back down like he expects. Your eyes are staring directly into his pitch-black feline like eyes and he can’t tear his eyes away from the intense gaze. The dilation then contraction of your pupils signal that you were searching for something in his. What is going on?

His voice comes out low and soft, almost like a breathy whisper, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He offers me a soft smile and it feels like a different person is in front of you. The stoic individual can actually be…warm. His harsh features suddenly feel more inviting and you can believe his words. You gulp and lick your lips, finally greeted him, “Hello.”

His eyes follow the movement and cracks a bigger smile; his duality takes you back yet again. He whips his eyes back up meeting yours. He releases your hand, all be it reluctantly, but he knows to keep to himself for the sake of professionalism. But God, does it feel almost painful to let go. He is never like this, he’s never felt the need to be close to someone. He needs to keep it together. Why is a mere human having this much of an effect over him? He links his fingers together to keep the urge from holding your hand again, “Hello.”

You feel the need to disclose, “It’s-It’s my first time…doing this.”

He smirks. God, so endearing, “I could tell.”

You want to whine to physically dispel the cringing embarrassment. You had forgotten that they could hear your heart beat and you’re sure much more. Could he smell your sweat too? What else could he sense! Jesus, you’re a mess and nothing has even happened yet.

He licks his lips, he is having a hard time not focusing on the pulse in my neck. It’s like the beckoning call of a mistress at the door of a brothel in the red-light district. And that scent! That sweet scent of fruits with a hint of acidity from stress is drowning him, it’s like fresh sangria wine. Sangria. Sangre. He off handedly wonders if your lips taste like a mix of the two from the way you are biting down on your lower lip hard enough to bleed. He grunts down a groan that was arising in his throat. This siren.

“What’s your name?” He asks in a husky voice, a byproduct from suppressing his noises. He needs to change the subject and loosen the tension in the atmosphere.

You look up, “Y/n, and you?”

“Yoongi, it’s nice to meet you Y/N.” He tests your name on his tongue and it rolls off salaciously. He offers a hand, breaking his self-promise giving him an excuse to touch you again under the disguise of politeness. You took it willingly. He feels how sweaty your hand had become and then he notices a single tear of sweat dripping down your temple. Were you nervous? Was he scaring you that bad? Its kind of expected for a first timer to be nervous, but sweating? He mulls over it for a second, of course you’d be afraid of him, everyone was, he is a vampire. The red shadow.

However, he didn’t want you to be though. It makes the phantom heartbeat in his chest skip a beat at the thought of you disliking him. The rejection hit him viscerally. He didn’t even know you, yet it really matters. He would never hurt the bunny.

He decides to keep the short conversation going. He never usually offers his donors a bit of conversation prior to a transaction, afterall, they’re a meal. This is business, but here he is breaking his own rules for you. “So, Y/N, what brought you here?”

You pull your hands away this time and squint when you believe you hear a whine from Yoongi. You answer honestly, “Work…has been cutting hours and I need the money to make ends meet.”

He raises a brow, a bit surprised at the honesty. A lot of the clients that come in are here for the gimmick or to satisfy some sort of fetish they have. It doesn’t bother Yoongi, as long as he feed at the end of the day he really didn’t care.

He keeps with his curiosity, “Where do you work?”

You habitually lick your chapping lips tasting the minimal Chapstick left, “MYG Technological Corps.”

He licks his lips as you did, he didn’t realize he was copying your demeanor. When he hears the name of the company his eyebrows raise, that was his company. How had he not known about you? Did you know that he was the owner? Was that why you were so shy and nervous?

He fishes for answers nonchalantly, “Really? What kind of work do you do?”

“Marketing,” you relax a bit in your chair. You find yourself rambling, “I enjoy working there. I’ve just started working about two months ago, so I didn’t know much, but it’s a great place. Except…my team manager, he is…a bit of a fuck up. He piles work on everyone else and when he got reprimand for it by his superior he fires people in rage only to realize his mistake when the persons are gone. Then we, meaning me and two other people, have to take on triple the work. “

He’d been gone these past two months on an international business trip to survey the factories that would be dealing with his products. As soon as his flight landed two weeks ago he locked himself in his office, the twentieth floor and top floor. The marketing department was on the third floor; no wonder he never sensed my presence before. Even though he has never sensed me directly, but maybe…that’s why he was more agitated at work. Why he was more sensitive, and why the pills and synthetic blood weren’t working because you were nearby but never near enough to feel that wild pulse.

You heavily sigh realizing you didn’t breathe during that whole venting. “Sorry to vent, you’re just wearing business type of wear, so I assumed you’d relate.”

Ah, so you didn’t know who he was.

He nods in understanding, a bitter smile lifting his lips, “I do, I do understand.” He crosses his legs to hide the fact that anger is boiling in his gut. Someone is working in his company, representing his name and is treating employees, you, like that. He thrums his nails against the arm of his chair as he pictured different ways to punish that manager. The thought of someone mistreating you made the hair on the  back of his neck rise. He let his black eyes dye burgundy not caring to conceal it any longer. Maybe next time he feeds it’ll be ruthlessly from that guy.

He ask, squeezing the arm of the chair digging his nails into the plastic, “Then why here of all places, couldn’t you take up another part time?” Why would you let someone feed off you…someone that wasn’t him?

You took in his nails and a hint of interest filtered through your veins. He easily could sink those nails into you, easily sink his fangs into you no problem. Your strength will never compare to his, even a flick of his wrist is surely impressive. Every time he smiles his knifelike canines’ peek through, but they didn’t seem as daunting as a needle because of the being it was attached to. Even the red in his eyes…made me feel safe in his presence. Maybe this time around you won’t faint.

You tilt your head while staring at your clasped hands, “I could have found a job somewhere, but if I took up another job on my already overworked and underpaid budget, would there be a different?” You unclasp your hands, ”I would be doing it all over at some other place. I wouldn’t have time to sleep, eat or let alone breathe if I did. This,” you casually point between the both of you, “lets me do the part time gig but I get all that work done at once and I get free orange juice.”

You slightly laugh, but no humor was behind it. You fiddle with your hangnail on your thumb. You press down on the piece hoping for it to mend by magic, but it just acutely hurt. No matter how comfortable he makes you feel, the pain reminds you that this is very real. You are sitting in front of a vampire, a stranger, and you were here to donate your blood to him in return for a few hundred dollars.

You are here to challenge yourself, “Also…I’m challenging myself.” You whisper out, “I hate needles. I usually pass out when I get my blood drawn. I’m healthy, but it’s just this weird psychological thing that I have to get over. I want to overcome it and getting paid in the meanwhile kills two birds with one stone. I think that the ‘needle’ being a person instead of sharp metal of piece will help me overcome the fear.”

He laughs, fangs on full display, “So I’m just a talking needle?”

You laugh along with him, although not with the same degree of delight, “I didn’t mean to offend, it just makes it easier to think that way.” You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans again, but it doesn’t seem to clear the moisture.

The nurse knocks on the door and comes in, she bats her eyelashes at Yoongi, “Have you taken the donation yet Mr. Min?”

You feel your fingers beginning to tremble as you picture his fangs puncturing your neck or wrist. I feel the phantom stab and picture blood gushing out into his mouth. Your brutal and sick imaginations continue on in your childish imagination. The edges of your eyes dampen along with the onset feeling stomach cramps from the sudden nausea.

It’s just a pinch. It’ just a pinch, why were you making this a big deal?

He shakes his head, a bit perturbed that his time with you is being disturbed, “Give us more time.”

She looks at him with a simpering smile and looks at her watch, “I can give you twenty more minutes since you’re the last patients for the night.” Yoongi nods curtly and she steps back out of the room.

He turns and looks back to you. He hears it first, the furious heartbeat, then notices your closed off body language. In a split second when he wasn’t looking, you are back to where you had started. You are picking at your nail, but your eyes are glazed over, lost in your thoughts. He stands up then crouches down in front of you so he could get your full attention. He puts both hands on each side of your chair’s arm rest, forget boundaries he needs to be by your side. “Hey, hey, Y/n, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel comfortable. Y/n? Y/n? Can you hear me?”

The delusions fade as his voice cuts through your thoughts when you hear your name. Your eyes shot up and look directly in his red eyes. You want to do this, no, that’s not true, you need to do this. You need the extra hundred dollars to make rent. You need to do this!

“I know.” You blink away the tears, clear your throat and lift a shaky hand to brush your loose hair away from your shoulder. With pseudoconfidence you expose the unmarred flesh of your neck to Yoongi and tilt your head to the side, “…but let’s do this.” Your hands were shaking as you lower them down waiting patiently for him to act.

“Y/n, we don’t…,” he whispers your name, but he couldn’t help stare at the pulse under your flesh. He could feel the bags under his eyes lifting. In hindsight he know this may be a wrong idea, but he didn’t want to push you away. You were being brave, and he wanted to respect that. He could smell the fear and anxiety tainting your sweet scent, spoiling the sangre wine. It’s been hard to control himself so far, but miraculously he repressed the monster within. He wants a taste of your sweetness. He needs to answer that pull he feels towards you.

He gets up and moves you to the couch, so you are more comfortable. You readjust yourself and offer your neck again without meeting his eyes.

It’s just a pinch, then it’ll be over soon.

He touches your neck as a test, running the back of his knuckles over the soft flesh. He wants to see if you are okay in small steps. He could feel the spike in your heart rate when he touched you. His instincts enjoy that reaction, his primal half wanted to pounce. He wouldn’t do that though, with you he’d treat you right. He declares as his voice drops a few octaves, “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“I-I trust you.” You nod, and you scoot closer to him proving your point.

A small smirk took over his lips as you lean into him. His eyes soften as he watches you, “I promise to make it quick and painless. I won’t hurt you but tell me to stop if want this to stop.”

You clutch at his shoulders wrinkling his crisp, white shirt and nod, “Okay.”

He cautiously wraps his hand around the small of your back. He brushes away the lingering pieces of your hair from your neck. He watches the pulse under your skin and he could hear the beautiful melody along with it. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, or pass it off as hunger, he wants you and only you. No one else can do this, no one else could touch you like this, or taste you. That is his song.

He tangles his hand into my hair and the other tightens around your waist, his body shakes with your overwhelming warmth. He pulls you closer to feel it against his chest like he wants. Your pheromones are so enticing, it’s fine dining at his clutches. His mouth is watering and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.He ran his tongue over his centers and pricked his tongue on his sharp fangs and leans into your neck. His soft hair tickles your skin as he inches deeper into the crevice of your neck. He flicks his tongue over the shallow dent of your neck and shoulder. He shivers, eyes half-lidded and crimson red your skin taste more delicious than he imagined.

“Yoongi,” you faintly whisper. You could feel your hearing ring in your ears as your vision was blurring. You know what is coming, so you clutch onto him tighter repeating to yourself: It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay. You try fighting it off by focusing on your breathing instead of the ringing, but his breath against your neck was too much to ignore. The fangs, those pearly white fangs that are going to sink into my neck!

He responds with a noncommittal hum waiting for you to say something. He kissed his way up your neck feeling for the strongest pulse and when he found it he licked it, his saliva partially numbing the area temporarily. When you didn’t tell him to stop, he sunk his fangs in to a vein. The next second blood flowed into his mouth in a steady stream. The taste was euphoric answering his primal desires. “Fuck,” he moans to himself. He’s never tasted such a delicacy; no other blood had ever been sweeter or smoother on his tongue.

He hears your whine at the prick and he pulls you closer to him for support. He runs a hand up and down your spine to ease your tension. He sucks blood from the wound tasting the fine sangria wine. He wants to keep tasting, but he knows that would be dangerous for the both of you. He takes his fangs out cleanly, something that came with practice. He twirls his tongue around the wound to clean up the puncture, the enticing red lines running down your neck weren’t going to be wasted. “My mate,” he growls out as he gingerly licks the wound close. He was so lost in his high the words slip past his lips.

When he comes down from his high he quietly asks, “Are you okay?” Affection firmly is anchored in his chest as he cups his palm over the mark. He had not realized that you are clutching at his shirt tightly, but when he fully pulls back your body keeps moving with the momentum. Your eyes roll back and you slump against the couch passed out. “Y/N! Fuck! Y/n!” He was so lost in the euphoric taste he didn’t feel the jump in your pulse or the slumping of your body against his. You are too addicting, too sweet, too delicious. You are the dangerous one.

He wants this to work, he wants you and only you. If it meant he had to help you overcome this fear, he was willing to do it…because you’re his mate. His own words finally hit him as he stares at your paling face, you are his mate.

He turns to the door and screams, “Nurse!”

Copyright 2018 © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved. 

may i have a user moodboard? 🥺❤️

Hi friend if you’ll reblog this for me I can make you one!! I just dunno how soon it’ll be posted bc I’m assuming I’ll go back to normal schedule on monday so if you don’t care to wait a bit I’ll add ya to my list :D

- 𝐁𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 -

bib·li·o·phile- noun; a person who has a great love reading and/or collecting books for their content, appearance, quality, format, etc.

➳ Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

➳ Summary: The library was a place dedicated to knowledge, studying, and peace and quiet—so why was it that when Jimin came to pick up a book, it just so happened to be checked out by the same person each and every single time?

➳ Genre: AU! Fluff, barely a soulmate AU

➳ Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: first time making a moodboard! i hope it’s alright ^^

“So I should come back again next week?” Without giving a vocal response, the librarian simply nodded curtly. Sighing in defeat, Jimin ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Today was the third time this month he had tried checking out one of his favorite books, but all his efforts were in vain. It had already been checked out the day before.

“And you can’t tell me the name of the person who checked out the only version you had available?” he pried desperately. Huffing at his insistent nature, the woman stapled the corner of a page a little too aggressively before looking up at him with a fiery glare.

“I told you, Jimin,” she whispered through clenched teeth, trying to hold back her temper. “I’m not allowed to give out any further information other than the date the book gets checked out and its scheduled due date. Any personal information and I’d lose my job.”

He could only whine and kick his legs in annoyance. “But, Ninnie! You’re supposed to be my cousin! Help me out!”

“Zip it!” she hushed. “I’m your cousin but I also have a job that I enjoy and respect, so unless you want me to confiscate your library card, do as I say and come back next week. I’ll text you as soon as I get it back and you can rent it then.”

To others, it was evident that she seemed to hate Jimin’s very existence, but outside of the work environment, they were as thick as thieves. Since childhood, holidays and family dinners always revolved around organizing seating arrangements so that Jimin and his favorite cousin were sat at least across from each other. All times when Jimin was sat next to any other cousin? Pure chaos ensued.

“Promise?” he pouted at his sibling of a cousin. Shaking her head. she gave him a thumbs up before waving him off to resume her paperwork. With a smile that spread ear to ear, Jimin’s disappointment faded into joy in an instant. It was times like these that he was grateful for his cheery ability to brush off negative occurrences like these. Waving goodbye to his older cousin, he returned back to the main view of the building he had grown fond of through the years at university. 

Throughout the years of attending university, Jimin was grateful to have access to his favorite place to enable his obsession with books. From near-ancient almanacs, dusty textbooks, worn out novels, and outdated newspapers, the campus library was a central hub of overflowing information. With rows upon rows of books that seemed to stretch for miles, it was a historical museum in and of itself. The essence of torn paper, feathering ink, ragged covers, and disorganized array of what had once been in alphabetical order made Jimin’s heart race in excitement each time he came to visit, and he even opted for weekend visits to the aged building rather than go out to parties with his friends.

In a shorter summary, reading composed the essence of Jimin’s very existence. Although his passion for literature and hunger for the discovery of new books was constantly growing, his patience began wearing thin ever since that fated Monday so many months ago.

Over the past few months of falling back into the habit of re-reading his favorite books, he never expected in a million years that every single one he’d want to read would always somehow be checked out by a mysterious benefactor. The Little Prince? Checked out last week. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? Currently unavailable. Frankenstein? Scheduled to be returned next week. You’d think that with an inventory nearly the size of a national library, there’d be at least two copies in stock—unfortunately, the odds were never in Jimin’s favor.

Sure, he could always go down to the bookstore two blocks down from his flat or to the bookstore Downtown, but it wasn’t just the book he was after; it was the environment. The background hum of hushed voices, the light rustling of pages from nearby readers, and right down the faint scent of aged wood and antique paper pages that laced the air, everything about the atmosphere was all-too inviting for to Jimin to resist.

As two books turned into five and five turned into eleven, the former excitement of re-reading his old faithful works of literature had slowly grown into anticipation of whether or not they’d actually be on the shelves. Each time he left the library after hearing the repeated melody of, “Come back next week when the book gets returned,” a strange feeling began consuming him. At first, it seemed like a coincidence.

To be fair, most of the books he was interested in checking out were fairly popular, so it’d make sense that Alice In Wonderland was unavailable. However, in his mind, it all seemed too incidental. Since then, a theory began to develop in the back of his mind, and the chances of it being true were almost little to none, but that didn’t stop him from pondering over it.

Jogging up the creaky stairs to the second floor, Jimin was determined to find another book to keep him occupied, at least until he got his hands on The Shining next week.

There were a handful of possible answers to the dilemma. One revolved around the plausible theory that since his favorite books were iconic pieces of literature, it only made sense that they would be rented out. The second involved around the much less plausible theory that Jimin had an equally book-obsessed stalker who was hell-bent on making his enjoyable weekends at the library a living hell—but as stated earlier, that was much less plausible.

After a couple minutes of carefully walking past tables of stone-faced and deadly silent students, Jimin found himself in a familiar aisle; the historical fiction section. Tracing his fingers over the edges of the neatly aligned book spines, he settled his fingertips on another novel he held near and dear to his heart; The Great Gatsby, by the one and only F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Letting out a sigh of relief that it was on hand, he slid it out of the shelf and clutched it close to his chest, smiling sweetly at the satisfying feeling of the hardcover pressing assuringly against his chest. Guarding it close, he turned a corner to a hideaway he had made for himself as a regular here. The secluded area was nothing more than a cozy hidden spot that virtually no one knew about. Except for Jimin, of course.

The reason it was rarely occupied by anyone was due to the fact it was the only corner of the floor that didn’t have a specifically organized genre shelf or pre-set-up seating area. All that decorated the remote nook were a couple plush comforters and detached seat cushions, courtesy of Jimin’s cousin. With hundreds of available seats and paired wooden tables, no one really paid attention to the solitary corner of the library, and Jimin didn’t want it any other way.

Settling himself on the cushion, he stretched out his legs and pulled a pillow close to his side and relaxed into the plush texture. Before he began reading, he had formed an almost ritualistic habit of admiring the antique condition of the texts. Trailing his fingertips over the now-flat metallic engravings and skimming the frayed edges of the pages, a warm grin spread to the edges of his lips.

He could never explain the feeling of what it was like to have a book in his hands. It was daunting to him how ink could paint such a magnificent picture. The endless combinations that words and thoughts could compose when paired together and the possibilities that presented themselves in the form of bound paper?

Indescribable.

When he placed the book onto his lap, it opened itself to a random page. At least, it appeared that way. Embedded in the block of the page was a laminated red maple leaf. Eyeing it carefully, Jimin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

‘It seems too valuable for someone to just forget and leave it here...’ he thought.

Grasping the delicate film in between his fingers, he couldn’t help but observe and admire the details of the immaculately intact leaf. The main stem of the leaf was smoothed out, probably due to the period of time it was kept in the plastic encasing, and the blades of each extended leaf remained crisp like a freshly fallen flower petal. Examining it further, he noticed that the veins were not only near-transparent and paper thin, but they that were also outlined and handpainted a deep gold color.

Another heartfelt smile began to form on his face at the beauty of what would normally be considered a seemingly insignificant bookmark. Scanning his eyes at the spot the bookmark was placed in, he let out a huff of surprise at the line he had known by heart.

“I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.”

An iconic quote from page 57, the words made old memories arise from when he first came across the book. Months went by as he tried to analyze and dissect the quote, but it wasn’t until his first crush came along and made him understand the true meaning of the words themselves. Reading over the words once more, he directed his gaze back to the red maple leaf in his hand.

‘You’re quite the peculiar thing, aren’t you?’ he couldn’t help but speculate.

Smiling to himself once more, he tucked the bookmark safely inside his wallet, making sure to mind the delicate edges of the blades. Jimin rose from his cozy spot and almost tumbled down the stairs in a hurry, unable to contain the excitement that began brewing at the premeditated lazy Sunday he’d have all to himself. 

The three-day weekend passed by in a blur of spilled coffee, procrastinated study guides, and feeble attempts at being social. The great thing about having a library card, however, was the fact that Jimin’s 675 word-per-minute reading skills never went to waste.

Skipping to the front desk, he earned a few confused glares from the students sat at the tables around him. No one except Jimin could be in such a good mood on a Monday.

“Any updates, Noonie?” he grinned brightly, eyes forming into half moons when he flashed his pearly white smile. Standing on his toes, he raised his eyebrows in an attempt to peep at his cousin’s workspace, hopeful that at least one of the books he tried checking out last week was returned.

Flicking him on the forehead and muttering something that sounded like a vague, “Calm down,” she opened one of the creaky wooden drawers and stood up to hand him a black hardcover book. Before Jimin could jump around like a giddy preschool child, she pressed her lips into a thin line and widened her eyes at him; a silent warning to not do exactly what he was about to do. 

Scrunching his lips sheepishly to hold back the string of thanks that threatened to spill, he swiftly reached over the desk and gave her a tight hug. 

“Let go of me if you want to live another day to read,” she whispered through clenched teeth. Her tone was tense, but Jimin knew better than anyone how it was as harmless as when two children were arguing over the last cookie in the cookie jar. 

“Thank you, Noonie,” he beamed gleefully. With the book held tightly in hand, he quickly tread up the stairs to his usual hideout. Focusing on the detailed pattern on the cover, his feet quickly carried him to the hidden corner he knew like the back of his hand.

As he exhaled at the familiarity of the serene corner once again, his body melted into the pillowy cushions. Opening the book to the first page, the edges of his lips lifted into a trace of a smile as his eyes grazed the italicized title. 

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

Just as his mind was about to note how it was another one of his favorites, he realized that there really was no such thing as a “bad” book—just ones that didn’t particularly suit people’s tastes at the time they read them.  

In a matter of minutes, he was already done with the beginning introductory chapters. Words translated into images that whizzed past his mind faster than a vintage film roll, and the lines of ink were slowly beginning to envelop his mind in a world of vivid imagination. 

Turning onto the next page, his intense gaze wasn’t met by black printed font, but rather by a bookmark. Not just any bookmark—the exact same style laminated maple leaf he saw last week. The only difference this time was that the encased leaf was bright yellow and a bit smaller. His mouth parted in awe. 

His eyes refused to further down the page. Once is an accident, but twice makes it a coincidence—right? 

“Life, too, is senseless unless you know who you are, what you want, and which way the wind blows.”

Swaying to the logical side of his brain, Jimin considered the realistic possibilities. In his mind, this bookmark seemed too intricate to be a mass-produced product from Barnes and Noble, but it also seemed entirely too cliché for it to belong to the exact same person from last week. Book cult signature insignia? A silent protest against the greatest minds in literature? Or maybe it was just another bookworm who enjoyed tagging the pages with the best quotes in them for future reference. 

Hundreds of people probably read this edition before he did. Within those hundreds of people, it just so might have been possible that the same person who checked out The Great Gatsby also enjoyed a few Ellen Raskin works as well. Who was he to judge?

Now it was time for the illogical side of Jimin’s brain to kick in. In the simplest of terms, it mimicked that of a cheesy romantic movie trope that got tossed about two minutes into the plot meeting. Was there some kind of “maple leaf bookmark month” holiday he wasn’t aware of? Who had the time or patience to laminate anything nowadays anyway? Did he have a stalker? 

He let out an audible cough to hide a snort. The only person that would ever be interested in stalking a hermit such as Jimin would be people sentenced to. They’d probably die of boredom within the first few hours.

Pulling the encased leaf from it’s wedged position, his stare tried to search for any clues; initials, writing, markings, or even fingerprints in an effort to try and see if his inner Sherlock would be of any use to him. As if he actually expected anything to present itself, the results were nonexistent. 

He snapped the book shut and exhaled through his nose. Why was he thinking so much about it? So what if someone else had the same tastes as him? What difference did it make if their favorite quotes from their favorite books mirrored that of his? Wagging his head back and forth rapidly to snap himself out of his daze, Jimin reluctantly decided to call it an early day. 

There are two types of people in the world; thinkers and feelers, talkers and doers, skeptics and believers, and those who don’t deem any of the above to be of any importance in any given situation regarding life. Ironically, as hard as Jimin tried to make himself out to be a hardheaded stone-cold logical analyst, it was clear to anyone that he was, in fact, the exact opposite. 

The book thief predicament continued on for weeks and didn’t show any signs of stopping or slowing down. Page by page and book after book, the sight of a single plastic-enveloped maple leaf became an everyday sight. At this point, the longer he denied the occurrence, the fear of going genuinely insane began to grow. Often times, he found himself sitting in his once relaxing spot questioning his own sanity. Was he just imagining the stupid thing? 

Distracted by his own thoughts, Jimin didn’t bother keeping his eyes focused on where he was walking. Apparently, the oncoming passerby didn’t either. 

Contrary to being conditioned into forming a habit of whispering in the building, Jimin gasped out loud when his forehead came into contact with a hooded figure, causing the two to collapse onto their knees from the impact. Emitting a muted groan, Jimin looked up with a scrunched expression as he rubbed his temple and attempted to form words. Rather than seeing a mirror image of someone also rubbing their forehead, the stranger was kneeled in child’s pose, presumably in great pain. How fast were the two of them walking?

“I’m sorry!” he apologized while holding back a pained whimper. “Are you alright?” Unable to see the person’s face from the angle and the fact that their hoodie was incredibly oversized, Jimin started to worry when they didn’t respond. Reaching down with one hand, the figure peeked up ever-so-slightly and immediately recoiled in—fear? It looked as if they recognized him instantly, but Jimin hadn’t even gotten a visible view of their face.

Standing up with their head tucked down, the figure apologized wordlessly by ducking their head, grabbing the book they dropped, and ran off, disappearing almost as quickly as they had appeared.

Left in a state of shock, pain, utter confusion and slight offense, his eyebrows furrowed. What was their problem? Trying to brush it off, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed that they didn’t even apologize or ask if he was alright, but it was Monday after all. Ushering himself to forget the rude occurrence, Jimin stood up with one hand still pressed on his forehead and the other holding his book—the only thing keeping him sane today—and continued his way to his quiet spot.  

“Stop frowning; you’re gonna get wrinkles,” Noonie reminded for the third time today. Pressing a finger to the purple spot on his temple, Jimin growled at her. The only other sound besides the shuffling of papers in the empty space was the occasional scold Jimin received from his cousin and the gentle whirring of the computer fan.  

It was a mellow Saturday and the library was closed for the weekend. Jimin, having nothing better to do on a Saturday, decided it was a good idea to invite himself over to his cousin’s place of work to help her sort through some files. She was also aboard the “solitary social life yacht,” making the two of them wonder if introversion ran in their family.  

Grumbling under his breath, his cousin frowned. “Is something going on with you these days?” Her tone switched from badgering aunt to caring sibling like the flip a light switch. Jimin was acting weird. 

Jimin pressed his lips together, mindlessly repeating the action of tucking another fill-out form into the cover of a textbook. “I’m fine.”

Prying the book from his hands and slamming her hand on the cover, the action forced him to look up from his robotic state and form a bewildered face. 

“You’re acting like you just lost the ability to read for the rest of your life,” she phrased. “Why have you been so miserable for the past few weeks? Did someone break up with you? Concussion from the bruise you got two days ago? Identity crisis? Who do I need to beat up?” 

“Noonie!” he whined, burying his face into his hands. The last thing he needed was for his cousin to assume he was reasonably upset, let alone that he had a girlfriend. The word itself made goosebumps prickle his skin. 

“I’m just—it’s—” he stuttered. “It’s just this—stupid thing.” Sighing at how pathetic he sounded in his own head, Jimin groaned in sheer frustration. The next time he saw a leaf, he’d make sure the ending result would involve it being crushed under his feet or torn into shreds by his hands.  

“I’m a librarian, not a mind reader,” she sighed. “Help me out here?” 

“It’s these!” Bursting into a fit of restrained emotions, he gestured to the mountains of books around him. “These things. Every single time I come here to try and relax with the books I love, all I end up is feeling like I have some sort of stalker slash parallel universe clone who reads the exact same books as me and marks the same quotes and has a weird fetish for maple leaf bookmarks. I mean, they could’ve used a feather or a post-it note, but no. They had to—”

“Maple leaf?” her ears perked up at the words, halting his avalanche of words momentarily. “Are you—”

Waving his hand to take a breath of air before continuing his rant, he shook his head rapidly. “I know, I know, it’s dumb, right? Who makes their own bookmarks and then leaves them in library books? More specifically, just to mark a good quote?”

“But—” she pointed her finger and held her hand up as she tried to speak, but was cut off by Jimin each time, clearly in need of a venting session.  “Why am I even obsessing over it?” he chuckled in disbelief as his hand slapped his own forehead. If his eyebrows rose any higher, they’d be about two centimeters from flying off of his face. “Hundreds, no—thousands, of people read books here. People check out the same book all the time. It just so happens to be the same stupid bookmark in the same stupid book with the same stupid quote—”

“Park Jimin!” she snapped. 

Overwhelmed by the flurry of word vomit that continued to spill from his lips, he was too distracted to notice the ring of the bell that sounded from the door behind him. 

“I think I’m going insane...” he deadpanned, resting the side of his face on the desk and staring blankly at the rows of books that seemed to mock him. 

“Noelle!” a voice greeted. “I thought you weren’t going to be in today?” 

“Had nothing better to do,” Noonie laughed. “What are you doing here?”

Huffing to himself, Jimin stayed frozen there, minding his own business and not listening to their casual banter. So Noonie did have friends...

“I needed to return a book,” the unfamiliar voice giggled. Cutely, might he add. Drifting off into a bored trance, Jimin earned himself a slap on the back of the head from his cousin.

“Don’t be rude. Introduce yourself,” she whispered through her smile, widening her eyes in warning as usual. 

Lifting his head from the desk, Jimin directed his stare behind him as a hooded figure came to view. A sweet smile crossed his features like second-nature as he waved to the stranger. Opening his mouth to greet them, his breath hitched in his throat when his gaze met yours. More specifically, his eyes strayed to the blooming bruise on the mirror side to his. 

“Y/N, this is my dork of a cousin, Jimin. Jimin, Y/N.” Introducing them to each other, the two reached out awkwardly and shook hands. Jimin’s mouth was still parted as he attempted to form at least a greeting.

“Hi—hello,” he finally managed to make out.

A nervous grin crept onto your face when you noticed he was still holding onto your hand. Retreating sheepishly, Jimin’s cheeks flushed a bright pink color. “Hi,” you murmured.

Noonie’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and Jimin. “Do you two know each other?” she asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

The two of you were in such a daze, you forgot she was also in the room. Snapping both of your heads to her, Noonie’s hands flew to her jaw-dropped mouth when she too noticed the matching bruises.  

“Huh,” she chuckled. “I guess this is where I bid the bibliomaniac and bibliophile goodbye.” Getting up from her seat, Noonie shot the pair a teasing wink before running off to the storage room in the back. With Noonie gone, the socially inept bookworms were left to their own devices, silent and struggling to find the courage to speak first.

A few seconds passed by like minutes, and the tension only seemed to grow; an unavoidable outcome, given the current circumstance. You were the book thief he’d been chasing for the past three months? Noticing Jimin’s lingering gaze that trailed higher than your eyes, your hand instinctively shot up to the dark purple spot on your forehead in embarrassment. 

“Pleasure to finally meet you,” you mumbled softly, eyes glued at the floor for the fear that he’d see your red cheeks through your shielding hands. 

Blinking a couple times to make sure that this was real life, Jimin cleared his throat. What if this was all just one big dream? 

“So you’re the book thief,” he chuckled half-heartedly, still in shock that he had finally found you. 

Raising your eyebrows, you stood frozen like a deer in headlights before remembering that you actually had to breathe. “Oh—yeah. That...” You rubbed the back of your neck as your nerves began to creep up on you. “And you must be the book hoarder?” 

Pursing his lips to hold back a childish snort, Jimin nodded. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one that made up a nickname for you. More seconds of awkward silence followed, making the two of you burst into laughter at your similar nature. 

“I’m sorry,” you choked into nervous coughs. “I’m not good at this whole—socializing thing.” Jimin could’ve sworn his heart hiccuped at your confession. Were you reading his mind? 

“No, no!” he assured, waving his frantically in rebuttal to comfort your flustered state. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’m awful at it.” Flashing a bright smile at his crescent-shaped eyes, his face seemed to glow like the moon when he laughed. 

“God,” you facepalmed, still giggling and blushing at how embarrassing this entire meeting was. “Where should we start?” 

Biting his lip while grinning in thought, Jimin felt his pulse race as a newfound confidence revealed itself.

“Maybe we can talk about your obsession with laminated bookmarks?” Giggling softly, you broke into another smile. How could you resist a face like that? Nodding in submission at his undeniable soft nature, you came up with a  split second decision that might aid in diffusing the awkward tension that still lingered. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” you offered shyly, the blushing warmth of your racing pulse still evident on the center of your face. 

Holding back another giddy smile, Jimin nodded eagerly, allowing the two of you to walk side by side up the stairs you knew all too well. 

Turning right at the anthropology and history text shelf, the narrow aisle led you and Jimin to the hidden corner you loved. 

“You know where this is?” Jimin gawked. His face was that of pure astonishment, but he spoke with a pout in his voice, probably disappointed that another soul knew of the whereabouts of the ‘secret garden’ that was hidden in the old building. “I thought this was a super secret hideout...” 

Breaking into a chuckle at his stupefied look, you nodded proudly. Sitting down and patting the cushion beside you, he sat down carefully. “Who do you think added the extra pillows?” 

Opening and closing his mouth a couple times, you took the chance to lift the corner of the fluffy blanket and reveal a book the size of an archaeological manuscript. Concealed by the bulk of the blanket and positioning of the cushions, it wasn’t a book at all, but rather a hollowed out encyclopedia with a hidden compartment. In said compartment lied a box of Pocky sticks, a packet of Sour Patch Kids, gummy bears, and wipes. Nevertheless, you were a responsible library snacker and Noonie didn’t allow you up here without good reason. 

Jimin’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “How did—when did you— ” he stuttered. “How? What? I’m so confused, are you MacGyver’s second life reincarnation or something?” 

You burst into a giggly fit of laughter and were on the verge of getting a stomachache. He was cute when he was speechless. “I think I’m the only other person who knows this library as well as you do. I’m here all the time.” Tearing open a packet of Pocky, you popped a chocolate-covered pretzel stick into his agape mouth and smiled at his reaction. Just like a child, he began chewing mindlessly, unable to resist the chocolatey treat. “And I was here yesterday.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said with food still in his mouth. “You were coming downstairs after hanging out here, and you ran away from me after that collision because you knew who I was?” 

Hiding your face in your hands, you mumbled an inaudible “yes” at the embarrassing statement. “I thought Noonie told you about me or that you’d have some sneaking suspicion about why the cushions were out of place by the time you got there.”

“I knew I wasn’t going crazy...” he muttered to himself. Popping another stick into his mouth, the snacking gave you time to mask your mortified face and relax into the padded fabric. 

“So what’s with you and laminated dead foliage?” he finally questioned, carefully reaching over for another pretzel stick. No one could resist chocolate, after all. 

An unconscious nasal snort escaped you when his honest form of asking the question registered in your mind and nearly made you choke. Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled out an orange leaf. Since your freshman year, you always made sure to carry one around with you for good luck. 

Biting your lip as you tried to concentrate on coming up with a response, you sighed. “When I was in preschool, I always got in trouble for reading too much. During naptime, I’d be nose deep in a book when everyone was asleep, and the teachers would scold me for not playing with the other kids during lunch. I’d come home upset. Sometimes, I’d even cry because I was so frustrated that no one understood that I just wanted to be left alone with my book.”

Jimin was listening intently as a dry smile crossed your face at the memory. “My mom saw how upset I was, so one day, she asked me if I wanted to make bookmarks with her. She told me about how if I left each leaf in a book that I loved, the person who would find it would be the one who understood me.”

Jimin’s gaze pierced through yours as his hands suddenly but slowly wrapped around yours, still holding the fallen leaf. When you looked up, your breath hitched in your throat. “But that seems a little elusive, right?” you whispered. 

“After everything we’ve gone through the past few months, I think it’s plausible.” His voice was confident. Studying his features, the corner of your lip perked up into a smile. 

“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes?'” he phrased, referencing a book the two of you could probably recite by heart.  

Unable to repress your smile any longer, a warm blush fanned over your cheeks once again, but this time, you weren’t the only one whose face had gone rosy.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin,” you giggled, welcoming the warmth of his hands that enveloped yours perfectly. When he began running his fingertips over the tops of your hands soothingly, an awestruck expression flashed across his face. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he replied softly as your name flowed off of his lips like honey. 

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” 

myg || drabble

prompt ↠ “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”  ↳Yoongi finally comes home from tour. 

genre ↠ FLUFF member ↠ min yoongi warnings ↠ none, my homie. Just kick back. word count ↠ 2.0k

moodboard credit to @outroshooky || requested by anon. enjoy lil meow meow!

~

It’s official. Sitting still is impossible.

You came to that conclusion hours ago after trying everything under the sun to distract your amped thoughts from the prodding impatience and annoying excitement filtering through your body. You put on your favorite film only to realize halfway through that you hadn’t registered one word spoken, the usually familiar plot blotched and broken under your measly attentions. You tried immersing yourself in the newest edition of your novel collection, normally a page turner if you’ve ever seen one, but the intricate character arcs and unique story line left you feeling less than fulfilled. You attempted loosing yourself in a coloring book, taking random, useless (but totally necessary) quizzes on the internet, organizing your side of the closet, and even cleaning the entire apartment before you gave up, resolving to submit to your one track thoughts in their fullness, seeing as how that’s where your mind kept wandering back to anyway.

Your eyes flit, now, between the front door and the small cellphone clutched in your hand as you carefully pace the trail you’ve forged around the scope of the your small home. Feet passing around the couch, past the entry way, down the hall and back, through the kitchen, and repeating, you unlock your phone to reread the last correspondence between Yoongi and yourself.

Tiny Tot: I’m boarding the last plane now. I’ll let you know when I arrive. I love you. 

Tiny Tot: We just landed. I can’t wait to hold you again, jagiya. Just a few more hours now.

You: I love you. Be safe, I’ll see you soon.

That message was sent almost two hours ago, just after you’d returned the cleaning supplies to their proper place under the bathroom sink, and you’ve received no update since. This normally doesn’t bother you as Yoongi has never been much on texting, but the months of solitary anticipation slowly building into this monumental day is making you just a little more antsy than usual. 

You walk your manmade path a few more times, ears trained for the sound of the door, before you sigh, wondering what could be taking him so long. The bright light of the city around you is slowly dimming, the sun beams illuminating your apartment with natural light gently morphing into a soft glow from the neon paint of the buildings below. You move to flip on the lamp lighting, the space around you humming with a peaceful radiance as you’re spurred to try one last distraction. Making your way into the cream coated kitchen, you reroute your attention to one of your favorite therapies: cooking. You try to recall the many lessons Jin had graced you with during his numerous visits to your home, along with the other boys, before they all flew off to perform in places unknown. You’d always gotten along with Jin pleasantly, his old sense of humor and shared love of crafting food two things you easily connected on. 

His words of wisdom begin to float through your head as you yank out various ingredients to prepare something Yoongi has labeled a beloved meal many times before. You begin slicing and dicing, panfrying and sautéing, throwing yourself into the wonderfully encompassing fog of aromas swimming through the air around you. For the first time all day, your distraction tactic seems to be having some progressive effects, subduing your thoughts to almost incoherence, the unrelenting tug of your attention becoming sedated within the world of food.

It’s when the short round of buzzing sharpens against the counter next to you that you’re drawn from your daze, the loud sizzling of the marinated meat in the skillet almost dousing out the competing noise. You jolt, hand stumbling to drop the chopsticks held between your fingers as you reach out to grip the vibrating device. 

Tiny Tot: I was trying to surprise you, but your door was locked -_-.

Tiny Tot: Are you home? I’ve tried knocking.

Tiny Tot: Babe, seriously. Starting to get some weird looks from your neighbors, over here. I look kinda creepy just standing outside your door. Can you pretty please let me in?

Your fingers shake against the hard glass of your phone screen, a stupid smile spreading like butter over your lips as you read the messages. He’s here, and standing just on other side of the door, the annoying opaque of the surface the only thing separating you from the beauty of his presence, real and physical in front of you, finally. No longer do miles of time changes and busy schedules hinder your ability to be next to him, to talk with him, to lay with him, to love him. 

Abandoning your phone upon the counter once more, you scurry towards the door, hopping your momentum to a halt when you realize the food is still frying on the stove. You hustle back, cursing under your breath, and remove the pan from the burn of the eye, speedily double checking the chance of any more kitchen mishaps before pivoting and setting your sights on the golden, brass nob of your front door. 

It feels like running a marathon as you push yourself forward, uncooperative feet stumbling over themselves as you go, hand preemptively outstretched until if finally collides with the doorknob, ecstatically trembling fingers encircling the cold metal and pushing until you hear a soft click! Pulling it recklessly towards you, the wooden obstruction is removed from your vision, replaced instead with the ethereal and dream-like picture of a tousled and travel worn Yoongi standing in the frame, his disheveled appearance still managing to pool the long-missed bubble of heat in your stomach.

“Hi,” he breathes relievedly, his eyes settling on you with wide wonder, as if he’s trying to take the scene before it disappears.

“Hi,” you say back, air pulsing oddly in your lungs, the brunt of your breath held captive in the rise of your chest. 

“So you are home,” he confirms gently, rocking back and forth on his heels. The banter of his voice, taunting you with the tension of it, has you fighting a playful and excited grin at the corners of your twitching lips. You can see his own mouth mirror your squirm. 

“So are you,” you add, your eyes glinting with building suspense. Yoongi smirks, the picture of it like walking the beach on a cool night, refreshing and sweet. “You know, you couldn’t have waited just a little longer to show up? I had dinner on the stove and-”

“Shut up,” Yoongi laughs, surging forward, his bags left to their own devices in the hall as his arms snake around the waist of your happily squealing figure. You laugh unashamedly and uncontrollably as Yoongi’s momentum walks your intwined bodies backwards, his lean and tall frame curling over yours as you wrap your eager arms around the line of his warm neck. Yoongi presses his face into the curve of your shoulder, his lips pecking a fervent greeting into the exposed skin under your lopsided t-shirt as you lean against him, your feet pushed onto tip-toes between the spread stance of his legs. 

“Oh, how I missed you,” he murmurs earnestly against your hair, his hands finding purchase on the hills of your full hips, fingers digging tenderly into your side as if he’s attempting to solidify the reality of you against him. “So beautiful.” 

You can’t contain your joy as your body bounces up and down in reaction to his arrival, the feeling of him in your arms again utterly rapturous. Your face hides itself in the valley of his chest and neck, the cool protrusion of his collarbone brushing your nose. The familiar and warm scent of him invades your senses, a drug to your addicted fervor, inhaling the soft cedar and vanilla of his skin. 

It feels like it’s only been mere seconds, much too short for Yoongi’s liking, when you pull away from his embrace, face emerging to admire his own as his arms remain locked around your waist, tugging your hips against him. Your eyes trail the gentle slopes of his porcelain features, the months of difficult distance making his glowing presence in front of you all the more vivid and detailed. You rake your gaze over the sharp line of his jaw, the expanse of his smooth complexion coating the button-like curve of his nose and pale apples of his cheeks, the pastel pink of his plush lips curled into an attentive smile, and the golden-glinted brown of his deep-set eyes shining down at you. He’s something of another world, a specimen crafted for someone much more deserving than you, but by the grace of God, here he is in your arms, and your arms only. 

"What’re you looking at?” you wonder aloud, watching the way his own eyes are carefully memorizing your face. 

“You,” he answers simply, the quiet ease of his voice sending warm tingles down your spine. His eyebrows scrunch with obviously forced confusion. “Are you wearing chapstick?” 

“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” you ask, unable to contain the teasing amusement of your accusation in your smile, giggling against the sudden change of his expression, feigned wonder melting from his features as something more softly genuine fills its place.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, eliciting more of the sweet giggles he so adores. Grinning sedately, Yoongi watches the way your face scrunches up, gentle features full of life as you laugh in his arms, the sound so much more satisfying in person than it is over the phone. Involuntarily, but full of want, Yoongi slowly raises a hand from your waist, his soft fingers coming to trail a tingling path along the arch of your neck, palm resting against your cheek as he brushes his thumb under the relaxing squish of your eye.  

Your laughter fades, the air spilling into the sudden silence coated with an intimate warmth as Yoongi stares at you. Bated breath catches in your throat, the look in Yoongi’s eyes melting you into a pool of impatient anticipation as his tongue darts out to wet the pillow of his parted lips. His dark irises flit between your steady gaze and the waiting enticement of your mouth, the slow lean of his head to meet yours like millennia. 

His lips pause over yours for a moment before he runs out of patience, pressing the cushion of his mouth against yours with deeply desiring affection. Your body goes limp at the feeling of his kiss, the absence of this mind-numbing connection for the past months leaving you completely subject to his touch, brain fogging as your entire being becomes slave to Yoongi’s lips. 

The kiss is gentle, tender, satisfied without rough movement to express the sincere longing and love of Yoongi’s presence. He pushes and pulls against the unspoken give and take of your pout, the soft blanket of his mouth unlike any earthly bliss. His tongue carefully swipes along the flesh of your bottom lip, asking for solicitous entry to taste more of you, a request you instantly comply to. He slips past the gate of your mouth, painting lazy stripes of affection against you as his other hand raises to mirror the first, thumbs cooperatively caressing the skin of your cheeks as you mewl into the kiss.

Yoongi’s mouth curls against you, obviously grinning into the affects his lips have on you just before he pulls away, the soft sounds of your parting mouths igniting a heat in your stomach that you force into recession until later, too blissed-out by the gentle touch of Yoongi’s hands to demand more. 

He rests his smooth forehead against yours, eyes studying your satiated and blithe expression with fondness. “So,” he whispers after a long, comfortable moment. “My woman made me dinner?”

Needless to say, his grip on you is broken by the playfully offended swat of your hands, back turning to saunter into the kitchen with a roll of your eyes. 

“What?” Yoongi’s confused voice echoes after you. “I meant it as a compliment.”

i swear i hate you when you leave (but i like it anyway) [one-shot]

moodboard courtesy of @londonistblue

Rey’s all about putting herself in other people’s shoes and empathy and being understanding, but Kylo Ren is The Actual Worst and no amount of empathy will ever change that. Seriously, fuck that guy. Also: literally, fuck that guy.

Or: five times Rey and Kylo have hate sex, and one time they do something... more.

It’s been like a month since I last posted something so here, have this piece of... I don’t even know. Rey and Kylo being soft, precious idiots as usual, basically. I’ll be back with your regularly-scheduled quality-but-not-really content soon, hopefully.

Also available on AO3. Bonus Kylo-POV alternate scene.

The first time it happens is on a Friday night like any other: Rey and Finn are over for movie night, the boys are out on a last-minute alcohol run, and she’s in the kitchen putting together snacks for the evening.

So maybe she’s singing under her breath and maybe she’s dancing around the kitchen as she flits from microwave to fridge to countertop and maybe she’s a little too comfortable in a place that isn’t her own, but none of that warrants the snide comment Poe’s asshole of a roommate feels the need to make when he stumbles upon her.

“Way to make yourself at home,” Kylo scowls at her when he shuffles into the kitchen and nearly bumps into her, and the fucking giant of a man uses so much force to push past her that Rey nearly stumbles.

It’s hardly the first time he’s seen fit to behave this way – she’s known him for two months and they’ve pretty much been at each other’s throats since day one – and really, Rey should know better than to let him get to her by now. But it’s been an awful week and this is the first time in days that she’s felt even remotely relaxed and must he ruin everything? “At least Poe actually wants me here,” she retorts sharply, levelling a glare at him when he turns away from the fridge to face her.

If Poe were here he’d probably rush in between the both of them and defuse the situation with a bad joke and an easy smile, talk Kylo down and reassure him that of course Rey’s just kidding, of course he’s happy to have his childhood friend as his roommate. But Poe’s somewhere out there trying to score the cheapest drinks available and Rey doesn’t give a single flying fuck about Kylo Ren’s fragile ego, so here they go.

“What would you know about being wanted, Niima?” Kylo sneers the reminder at her as he slams the fridge door behind him, and from there it’s the usual: raised voices and barbed insults that escalate into personal things, hurtful things, and at some point Rey shoves at him with her palms on his chest and he grabs her wrists and–

And then it’s a whole new thing entirely.

Rey will swear up and down, till the day she dies, with her dying breath: Kylo moves first. He’s the one who kisses her mid-sentence and he’s the one who picks her up a minute later and he’s the one who walks them to his bedroom.

It doesn’t matter that she kisses him back, doesn’t matter that she secures her legs around his waist and nods frantically when he mumbles bed? against her lips and pulls him back down when he pauses to wonder out loud if this is a bad idea.

After, she gets dressed in record time and thanks every god there is that the guys aren’t back yet. Kylo is still in bed, still flat on his back as he breathes heavily, still staring up at his ceiling in disbelief.

“Let’s never speak of this again,” Rey commands as she pulls her messy hair into a tight bun, and she closes the door behind her before he can get a single word in.

“I told you we’re never doing this again,” Rey hisses as Kylo sets her down on some stranger’s bathroom counter, her words entirely at odds with the frantic way she’s reaching for his pants and undoing his belt.

He hikes her dress up to her waist and pauses between kisses to correct her. “No, you said not to speak of this again. You never said anything about doing it again.”

She’d like to punch that smug look right off his face, but Rey settles for a bruising kiss instead. In the back of her mind she knows how incriminating this is going to look, knows they’re going to rejoin the party with matching swollen lips and rumpled clothes and disheveled hair and fuck, Poe is going to take one look at them and know–

“Rey,” Kylo mumbles against her neck, his fingers hooked into the sides of her panties. “Rey, yes or no?” He’s panting into her shoulder and desperately hard against her thigh but somehow he still has the presence of mind to notice she’s zoned out, to pick up on her hesitation and check in with her.

Stars, how is it fair that this complete asshole of a man is also the most courteous partner she’s ever had?

“Yes,” she tells him, shaking away all thoughts of Poe and his brotherly disapproval and silent disappointment as she reaches out to unzip Kylo’s fly and push his jeans down. They’re in college, after all – pretty much everyone here has had no-strings-attached sex, and really, Rey grudgingly admits to herself in the private confines of her mind, she could do a lot worse than her ridiculously well-built mortal enemy. “Yes, keep going.”

Kylo sighs in relief, mutters a thank fucking god into her hair as they make quick work of their undergarments and Rey hooks her legs around his back to urge him closer.

At some point it occurs to her that she’s letting the most insufferable man she’s ever met fuck her in a friend of a friend’s bathroom, and there’s probably a line forming outside said bathroom with a ton of disgruntled eavesdroppers.

Maybe she’ll care about that later; maybe she’ll lie awake all night in mortification. But for now, Rey clutches at Kylo’s shoulders and hides her face in the crook of his neck and doesn’t let herself think of anything other than how good and wrong this feels.

She tries to hold on to that feeling as they get dressed, tries not to let her cheeks burn in shame as Kylo reaches for a paper towel and cleans her up with disconcerting gentleness before he picks her panties up from the floor and hands them over.

“You go ahead,” he tells her as she hops off the counter and straightens out her dress, an unsettling softness in the way he looks at her, the way he smiles at her. “I’ll wait.”

Rey struggles to find words, tries desperately to think of something that’ll break them out of this weird moment and put everything back to normal. Finally, with her hand on the doorknob, she turns around and declares, “This is not going to be a thing.”

Kylo smirks, and the world makes sense again. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

It becomes a thing.

Not a big deal of a thing, and certainly not a real thing, but as they enter their fifth month of whatever the hell this is, Rey has to admit that she most definitely has a thing with her enemy. Former enemy?

No, enemy. They’re still awful to each other, after all, and it’s not like every argument ends in sex. There was that one time she called him out for being an asshole to his family and he asked her what would you know about family? and they didn’t speak to each other for two whole weeks.

But then he showed up at her place with takeout and reassurances after Poe mentioned something about her messing up a test and feeling awful about it, and they’ve been back to semi-normal ever since.

Semi-normal, of course, means shouting at each other in the middle of a frat party and finding themselves in the tiny hall closet five minutes later.

The door locks – probably for this exact purpose, given that they’re in a frat house – and everyone’s too drunk to notice their absence, anyway, so she drags Kylo into the closet and pushes him up against the wall the second he closes the door.

After, instead of getting dressed, Kylo sinks to the ground with his back to the wall and pulls her into his lap. “Bad day?” he asks gently, his fingers combing through her hair.

They don’t do this. They don’t linger after, and they don’t talk, and they don’t ask about each other’s day with a look that could almost pass for concern.

Rey sighs and lets her head fall onto his shoulder. “That obvious?”

“I know you,” Kylo shrugs, and… when did that happen, anyway? When did they start being able to recognize each other’s moods and tells? “Besides, I could tell you were spoiling for a fight the minute you walked in.”

“Sorry I screamed at you about…” She can’t even remember what it was she’d started the fight over, only that she’s been in a bad mood for two days and sometimes just the sight of him is enough to push her over and get her blood boiling.

Force of habit, probably, or some kind of rage muscle memory, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair of her to take her frustrations out on him.

“Spilling beer on you, I think,” Kylo supplies. “Of course, I was just standing there minding my own business and you were the one who bumped into me,” he adds nonchalantly, “but I think everyone’s used to us making a scene by now.”

“Ugh,” Rey groans, looping her arms around his neck as she hides her face in the curve of his shoulder. “That was so stupid. It’s just, Plutt is being an asshole again and I can’t quit until Poe can get me a job at the café and I totally forgot I had a paper due today…” She pulls back and makes an effort to look him in the eye. “Still, that was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

Kylo laughs. It’s quiet, so quiet she probably would’ve missed it if not for the fact that she’s literally in his lap. But she’s close enough to hear a soft chuckle and feel the slight shake of his chest, and there’s this smile on his face, something warm and fond as he looks at her.

“Rey, we argue all the time,” he points out. “That’s basically our thing. You don’t have to apologize.”

Except… when was the last time they’d actually fought? When was the last time they’d traded painful, personal jabs with the sole intention of hurting each other? Rey can’t recall anything after the incident about his parents, and that was nearly two months ago.

“Right,” she mumbles, reaching for Kylo’s discarded shirt on the ground. The sweat on her skin has cooled enough for her to feel a slight chill in the air, and they should probably get dressed anyway. “Yeah, that’s our thing.”

But is it really?

At some point it becomes normal for him to show up at her place and drag her to bed without them fighting beforehand. Sometimes Rey thinks maybe she should be more concerned about this sudden development but really, it’s not that big of a deal, right? They still don’t cuddle afterwards, and he never spends the night, and that’s really all that matters.

But then one day she’s watching him get dressed while she’s still lounging in bed, and out of nowhere Rey hears herself asking, “Are you going to Poe’s show later?”

Kylo pauses, his fingers hovering over the top button of his hopelessly wrinkled shirt. “Are you?”

Rey pulls herself up against the headboard and shrugs. “Have to, if I don’t want him to guilt trip me about it for the next fifty years.” She loves Poe, really, and his band is actually decent most of the time, but they always end up playing in the most overpriced, pretentious venues for some reason. At least if Kylo is there she won’t have to deal with hipsters hitting on her. It’s not like she wants people to think they’re together or anything, of course; it just makes life easier for her.

“Okay,” Kylo says, running a hand through his hair as if he stands even the slightest chance at taming the mess she’s made of it. “Then I’ll see you there.”

It sounds almost like he’s going just for her. Before Rey can process that, he crosses the room to her side of the bed and drops a kiss on her forehead as if he does this all the time, as if they’re the kind of people who kiss each other goodbye.

“See you later, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips brushing across her temple, and then he walks out of her room and seconds later she hears the front door closing behind him.

Rey stays in bed for the longest time, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened. They don’t do that – they don’t do tender kisses on the forehead, they don’t do tender anything.

But Kylo does it again later that night, saves her a seat next to him at the bar and pulls her closer with a hand around her waist to sneak a kiss hello before the rest of their friends show up.

It’s been eight months since that day in the kitchen, since the first time they fell into bed together. In the beginning every minute with him had felt so deliciously wrong, the sneaking around and fighting-as-foreplay and absurdity of it all sending a thrill down her spine every single time.

Whatever this is, it hasn’t felt wrong for a while now. But tonight… tonight Rey finds herself wondering for the very first time if she’s made a huge mistake.

A few days later she deliberately starts a debate about his favorite movie and tries not to panic when his retorts lack fire. It really doesn’t help that the look in his eyes suggests he’s humoring her rather than fighting her.

That glint of mirth transforms into mischief once he gets his head between her legs, and no matter how hard she tugs at his hair or how much she curses him out, Kylo seems determined to drag this out.

“Good things come to those who wait, sweetheart,” he murmurs against her inner thigh, and she wants to scoff at him, wants to pull him up and kiss that insufferable smirk off his face.

“God, I hate you,” Rey groans instead, just because she can’t remember the last time she told him so and that, combined with the lingering kisses and soft looks they’ve been trading recently… that feels dangerous.

Kylo shrugs and presses a kiss to her hip. “I know,” he mumbles, a soft, resigned thing rather than the smirk she’d expected, rather than the smug little grin that usually follows.

It sounds… wrong, somehow. “Hey,” she finds herself whispering gently, tugging at his hair to get his attention. Kylo looks at her, and her breath hitches.

“Come up here,” Rey orders quietly, choking down a dozen questions she’s not ready to hear the answers to.

She pulls him up and he comes willingly, all earlier plans of teasing forgotten as the air around them grows thick with something other than their usual animosity. Kylo looks at her the entire time, even when she closes her eyes and falls apart for him, and it feels like something Rey wouldn’t dream of asking for in a million years, wouldn’t even dare to wish for.

“Still hate me?” he asks a few minutes later, one hand slung around her waist as she rests her head on his chest. There’s something hiding under his casual façade, an underlying note of vulnerability that she shouldn’t know him well enough to pick up on.

Rey reaches out blindly, swats at what she thinks is his arm. “Don’t ruin it,” she mutters.

Kylo laughs softly, holds her closer and brushes his lips across her forehead.

Five minutes pass.

Another five.

He shows no signs of getting up, and when his grip around her eventually grows slack Rey realizes he’s fallen asleep. She moves carefully, props herself up with a hand under her chin and reaches out to brush errant locks of hair off his face. It’s the first time she’s ever seen him this way, the first time he’s ever stayed long enough to fall asleep in her bed.

“I think I stopped hating you a long time ago,” Rey whispers into the night. He doesn’t hear her, doesn’t even stir, and she can’t tell if her sigh is one of relief or disappointment.

A minute later, she rests her head on his shoulder and allows herself to fall asleep in Kylo’s arms.

Finn and Poe throw her a tiny birthday party despite her protests, and it doesn’t help that Kylo doesn’t emerge from his room all night, not even to toss a half-hearted happy birthday at her.

There’s cake and presents and Disney movies, complete with Finn’s best impressions of all the characters, and before she knows it the night is over and the guys are snoring on the couch and her heart is so heavy it hurts.

Rey pries an empty bowl out of Finn’s hand, drapes a blanket over each of them, and smiles fondly at her friends before she sets about turning off the TV and the lights. It’s not their fault that she hates her so-called birthday, and she loves them for trying to make it a day worth celebrating anyway.

But all the cake and presents and laughter in the world couldn’t make this day bearable.

Instead of returning to the couch, she finds herself taking a familiar path deeper into the apartment, one that leads her to Kylo’s door. It’s been months since the first – and only – time they spent the night together, but memories of warmth and comfort and being held linger still.

Her hand curls around the doorknob, and she slips into his room before she can let herself overthink it, remains quiet as she slowly eases the door shut and Kylo turns around to seek out his visitor.

“Rey?”

The only source of light in his room is an alarm clock, the kind with a bright red 3:02 AM glaring at her almost accusingly.

“Hey,” she whispers as his mattress dips under the weight of a newcomer. “Sorry, I know it’s late,” Rey adds with a wince – she hadn’t known exactly how late when the idea had occurred to her – as she stretches out next to him, both of them facing each other in darkness.

“S’okay,” Kylo mumbles, reaching out to pull her closer. One hand curls around her waist as the other reaches blindly for a spare pillow, which she accepts with a quiet thanks. He props himself up on one hand, the haze of sleep slowly giving way to awareness, and after blinking at her a few times he asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… it’s my birthday. Or it was, a few hours ago,” Rey amends after a glance at the clock.

Kylo’s fingers twitch against her side. “Yeah, I heard,” he mutters, and in the darkness she thinks she can make out a frown on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rey shrugs. The simple truth is that he’d never asked and so she hadn’t seen fit to force the information on him. But the real truth is… “I hate it. It’s not even my actual birthday – I’ll never know that one. It’s just the day they found me on the front steps of Niima House, abandoned like some kind of unloved toy a child had grown bored of.”

“Fuck,” she hears Kylo hiss under his breath, his form growing tense. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I had no idea…” It’s understandable, and she tells him so. After all, they’ve never had the Sad Backstory talk she’s had with the guys. Everything he knows about her past is just bits and pieces he’s put together from little comments here and there, just enough for him to use as ammunition against her back in the days when they still needed dirt on each other.

Silence falls between them as Kylo turns to lie on his back. The arm around her waist pulls her closer as he moves, and Rey finds herself in the exact same position she’d been in the night they fell asleep together. She makes herself comfortable and sighs as she tucks her head under Kylo’s chin; this is exactly what she needs. “This is nice,” Rey hears herself whispering into the night. “I know we usually have this whole thing where we pretend to hate each other, but this is nice too.”

“Pretend?” Kylo echoes a moment later. He pulls himself up against the headboard and stares down at her with an indecipherable look in his eyes. “Rey, when you say pretend…”

She laughs, a startled little burst of air escaping her at the ridiculousness of him being so taken aback by something so obvious that even Finn has picked up on it. “Kylo, we’ve been doing this for a year. You can’t seriously think I still hate you.”

An awful thought occurs to her; her throat goes dry and her stomach sinks and her heart stops. “Unless… unless you still–”

Kylo pulls her up and into his lap. “Rey,” his voice is impossibly soft, a silent plea for her to look at him. “I never hated you,” he admits when she finally makes eye contact, a small smile playing on his lips as he runs a hand through her hair.

Rey jerks away from his touch as soon as her brain processes his words. ”What?!” she demands a little too loudly, and they both turn to look at his closed door with baited breath.

“I never hated you,” Kylo repeats a moment later, when no sound comes from the other side of the door.

“Then why…?”

“You know how Poe is always poking fun at my non-existent social skills?” he asks, to which Rey can merely nod. “You always avoided me whenever you came over to hang out with him, and I could never get you to even look at me unless we were arguing, so… I figured if I couldn’t flirt with you, fighting would just have to do.”

She stares at him for the longest time, running through all of their arguments in her mind. “Wow,” Rey says when she eventually finds her voice. “Poe was not kidding.” How has no one ever taught this poor man that using an orphan’s past against her is not the way to her heart? Sure, she’s said her fair share of awful things to him, but that was back when she actually despised the man with every fiber of her being.

Kylo simply nods, tugging at his hair in a way she’s come to realize indicates embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m pretty much hopeless when it comes to meeting people. Making friends is hard enough. When I started crushing on you I just… panicked, pretty much,” he shakes his head and laughs at the memory. “I had no idea what to do, and I couldn’t ask Poe; he’d never let me live it down. So I just went along with it, and then this happened and I just… I didn’t want to make things weird. I didn’t want to lose you – not that I ever really had you in the first place, that is,” he adds in a hurry, turning his face away from her.

The way he looks… Rey recognizes it from the night they fell asleep together, from his immediate reaction to her saying I hate you. This time she can finally see it for what it really is, can finally admit to herself why it makes her heart hurt.

“Hey,” she brings both hands up to gently cup his face, and Kylo’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into her touch and nuzzles at one of her palms. “I didn’t want to make things weird either,” Rey says quietly, prompting him to look at her. “That’s why I didn’t say anything even when I realized my feelings for you had changed.”

“I didn’t realize you had feelings for me at all,” Kylo does his best to smirk at her, but even that can’t hide the way his voice shakes and his breath gets caught in his chest.

“Hatred is a feeling,” Rey points out with a shrug. “And so is…” So is love, but they’re not there yet, are they? “So is this,” she says instead, using her hands to draw him down into a kiss.

It’s soft and slow and everything they’ve never allowed it to be, and when she takes him into her Rey thinks she sees a shine in Kylo’s eyes that matches the tears she can feel in her own. This isn’t what she came here for, isn’t even remotely close to what she signed up for all those months ago when she reluctantly acknowledged that they had, in fact, become a thing, but she can’t find it in herself to be even the slightest bit bothered by how things have turned out.

After, he murmurs stay into her neck and she promises to come back after a quick trip to the bathroom. Kylo greets her with open arms and a sleepy smile, and she climbs into his bed with no intention of leaving it before morning.

“Do you want me to set an alarm so that you can leave before the guys wake up?” he offers as she pulls the covers up around them and settles into his arms.

Rey considers her next words very carefully; she knows what she wants with Kylo now – everything ­– and there’s only one thing that could keep her from it. “Do you want me to leave before the guys wake up?” she asks quietly, steering her tone as far away from accusatory as possible.

Kylo shakes his head and pulls her flush against his chest. “I don’t want you to ever leave,” he murmurs into her hair, and warmth blossoms in every part of her.

“Then I won’t,” Rey assures him, pressing a kiss to his heart as they both drift off to sleep.

It’s a promise she ends up keeping for the rest of their lives.

I’ve been working on this for three weeks at this point, so I’ve decided to make peace with the fact that I’m never going to be happy with it and just post it anyway. Hopefully this will snap me out of the worst case of writer’s block I’ve had in years.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any thoughts or comments you’d like to share! (Likes and reblogs are great too, but that goes without saying.)

I miss your tags and constant posting Like you're probably busy and stuff but i still miss it :)

I know Bub I miss it too 😞 but Monday I go back to uni so my schedule will go back to be sustainable (if you can call uni sustainable) and I'll start again I will also be back with fake text everyday and with moodboards (especially the weekly moodboard fic rec I know ove neglected it). So yeah I'll be back to normal posting soon. 💓💓💓💓💓💓

Admin Note:

Hey guys.

So, gonna be completely honest right now with you all, cause honestly is how I roll. For the past couple of years I have been going in and out of depression. But this year, time between the phases (of depression and feeling normal) have been longer periods. My last depression phase ended in May.

So, since the beginning of this blog, I have been feeling normal. I post my own content regularly (MCU Moodboards, 31 Day MCU Challenge, etc), my Queue is always stocked up 10 days in advance, and I reply and interact with people who comment on my post.

But, over the past two weeks over notice that my depression phase is coming back. I spend all day in bed doing nothing, when I should be making moodboards. I don't eat, I don't sleep, and I don't interact on Tumblr as much as I want to. I have so many moodboard requests just sitting in my Ask Box, waiting to be made. I have the outline of what I'm doing for them all, I just can't find the motivation to actually make them. Which is a shame because they're so amazing, and I feel enthusiastic about them, so I just can't do it. I'll lie there in bed, thinking about doing it, my phone in my hands on lock, but I just can't unlock my phone to make them.

So basically, if you have sent me an ask for a moodboard, they will be made, I promise. I just need to give myself a slap across the face and stop being so goddamn lazy and actually start doing it. And if I miss a day with moodboards, then I'm sorry. And if there's a load of generic moodboards, it's because I found a day where I just wanted to stockpile as many moodboards into my Queue as possible, just so I can please you all.

Your moodboards are on the way; don't worry. And don't worry about me either. It's summer holidays: 6 months of no routine. As soon as my lectures start back up in the end of September, then I'll have an excuse to get up at 7 in the morning. But in the meantime, I'll try and distract myself from boredom. I force myself to make the moodboards for you so I don't get bored. It helps; seriously 😊

Thanks guys. Again, sorry so much is out of order this week. It all just kind of creeps in without you noticing, so I couldn't give you guys a heads up that I wasn't going to be able to stick to my usual schedule. My Ask Box is always open though; who knows, your request might be the inspiration to get me in a creative mood and get me to make everyone else's as well.

Hope everyone is doing okay. I'm here if anyone needs to talk to me. (And don't worry, I have friends to talk to you myself 😊)

Thanks guys.

uhhh it’s ya boy,,,,,,, 👀bodhi. i’m not even going to try introducing myself this time we’re going straight into it. like/dm me if you’d like to plot you know the drill!

「 THOMAS DOHERTY, MALE, 23, BRENDON URIE/P!ATD. 」┈ did you read that latest viral gossip issue on BODHI “BO” LEVIN?  he is the LEAD VOCALIST in AFTERPARTY, one of my favorite POP ROCK groups. they’ve been releasing music for TWO YEARS now, but viral gossip has only been talking about them for the last TWO YEARS. get this, i think i heard THAT DESPITE THEIR BAD BOY IMAGE, THEY’VE NEVER HAD ANYTHING HARDER THAN WEED. they’re known as the RECALCITRANT of the music industry, since they have a rep for being GENEROUS but DISTRUSTING, but who knows. maybe that will change once they become #1.  ( ADMIN MONA, 18, EST, SHE/HER. )

INTRO !!

let’s start at the beginning. to anyone who asked, his mother used to say that the world stopped when bodhi was born, and that the moment that he opened his eyes she knew he would become something amazing---even if he was about to get whisked away by the nurses in the next second.

which is sweet and all... but the thing is, his mom was a really well-known celebrity pr manager, and bodhi was the fourth child in his family. what his mom really saw in bo was a spark for potential that she hadn’t seen in his older siblings.

so when he turned four, his mom decided that he should start getting into modeling. and with his round cheeks and pretty blue eyes, sure enough, he was soon gracing ads for different toys and even gap posters.

a few years after appearing in various commercials and having small cameo roles on tv shows, he had his breakthrough role where he played one of the lead roles in some tear-jerking, inspirational film alongside a hollywood movie star that was a major heartthrob at the time. it was nominated for and won multiple oscars (he didn’t win any personally though).

and after that, the roles only continued to come in, and he started to get homeschooled. whenever he landed another role, he knew that he should be grateful for it, but part of him resented it when he heard his other siblings talking about having friends and going shopping and trying out for football and just generally having a normal life in general. especially because this was a life that bodhi never chose to have.

so he started applying to colleges behind his mom’s back with his teacher, and when he turned 18 there was this huge legal battle that was covered in the media that he ended up winning where he cut off all ties with his mom. he enrolled in nyu, and effectively disappeared off the map. bar a few dumb disney covers he uploaded from his dorm on youtube. he was never a disney channel boy, but ya know. disney music’s lit and it was still his childhood.

in college, bodhi started to go by bo, and college was where he really started to develop his voice and his musical style (he had taken vocal lessons for a few of his roles but hadn’t really released any music of his own). the videos were uploaded with little fanfare or notice, and often were one take and still included all of his mistakes and ad-libs. a lot of media outlets (viralgossip included) probably made fun of him for being part of a oscar-winning film to becoming a youtuber who didn’t even have a regular uploading schedule. said he peaked early and all that.

the last video he uploaded was a cover of ‘i will go the distance’, and he was still in his purple graduation robes. and the comments were all sad and stuff b/c they thought he was finished with being in the public eye foreVER.

THE BAND !!

「 AFTERPARTY, DNCE. 」┈ lyrics hastily written on café napkins, smoking breaks on city penthouse rooftops, pens with missing caps, torn contracts, an endless pursuit for perfection, a turned-off cellphone, using a platinum amex card to order in pizza

WILL EDIT THE BELOW LATER!

a few months after his graduation, he dropped his first album titled self-titled (it wasn’t actually self-titled that’s just what it was called) with his band out of no where. the band was a secret project he was working on, and the first album had mixed, but generally positive reviews? and it was edgy as fuck b/c bo never got to have a rebellious phase in his teen years and basically most of the songs have this vibe where you can just tell that he wants to LIVE and be free!!11!!

some of his fans were super blindsided by this because he was singing disney music for four years lookin really soft and shit in his dorm? and suddenly he’s screaming at the top of his lungs and wearing guyliner it’s liT.

the band was something he was thinking about for AGES ever since he first befriended SOMEONE (wanted connection!) at a college party (and they are now one of his best friends) and they inadvertently gave him the idea to do something that would piss off his mom the most. so instead of acting, he invested his time into music. and instead of going solo and having his name plastered everywhere, he decided to produce music with band whose name doesn’t even have “bodhi” anywhere in it and he’s not even singing.

don’t want to be to presumptuous, but the band kinda has a modern the rolling stones vibe? in that bo (at least) is upper class, but the music is catered to a rebellious working class audience if that makes sense.

also, since he still had a ton of money from his acting career days, he started the band by holding auditions and selecting talented musicians to join their roster. it was super lowkey and under wraps, but it worked.

the band is super into experimenting in the studio with different sounds and stuff, and bo doesn’t mind spending his money on different types of recording techniques and multiple takes if that’s what it takes to get the sound that he wants.

and along the same vein, bo and his bandmates were definitely not the closest at first? since they had just met and i feel like sometimes bo can’t help but be a spoiled white boy sometimes because he’s never known a life outside of wealth and fame (even in college he was probably recognized a loT and given preferential stuff). but now they’re like the family bo never really had, and maybe even because they weren’t the closest at first they’re that much closer, you know?

after they released their first album, they dropped their second album only nine months after, and are now slowly working on a third. because even bo knows when to take a break.

when i post an aesthetic moodboard for afterparty, i’ll link it here.

PERSONALITY & SECRET !!

bo is super sweet and super nice and super soft! aka the total opposite of simon. despite everything that’s happened to him, he’s still super soft and hasn’t let himself get jaded. well done, bo!

like i said earlier, sometimes he’s always had money, and never had to worry about his next meal. and nyu is one of the wealthier private schools? so there are definitely times where he forgets his privilege but when that happens just let him know. and he’s the type to buy presents for his frienDS? and not think that much of it. it’s his love language so let him spoil your muse.

DRUGS MENTION FOR THIS BULLET ONLY afterparty mentions drugs, sex and all that good stuff in their music. but bodhi has never tried drugs and never plans to. he’s tried pot at a college party once and it made him sick so he’s never touched it since and he wasn’t really a fan of drinking underage or at parties sooo he’s v pure.

and is he inspired by trish walker? you bet he is!

also, my boi bo is bi. hahaha jk he’s pansexual like all my muses are sdjfkls so give me all the ships

TL : DR ;

bodhi---but please call him bo---is a former famous oscar-winning child actor who cut off all ties with his momager four years ago to go to college where he uploaded videos of himself singing covers on youtube. after he graduated, he started afterparty, a teenage rebellion pop punk band. *finger guns*

IDEAS FOR PLOTS/WAYS TO MEET !!

will be linked HERE once i finish writing that up!

thanks for coming to my ted talk !!

Hello R2!

Plot: AU My friends and I are on vacation and they saw you pass them by while heading to the pool. I wanted to head up and sleep off the jet lag, but my friends convince me to go down to the hotel pool to see you in your cute R2-D2 swimsuit. At first I think they’re messing with me because I’m a huge Star Wars nerd, but once I see you trying to shove off thirsty male guests, I wanna run up, change, and show I’m a serious fan like you. Are you the droid I’m looking for?

Rating: PG-13 (Minor language, flirting)

Characters: Suho x Female Reader, Baekhyun, Xiumin, Chen

Notes: Based on a real swimsuit I own and a passing thought. This is an AU if the guys were normal individuals traveling somewhere on a break and happened to be staying at the same hotel as the reader. (No mention of their real life careers or fame.) Corresponding moodboard can be found here. Dedicating this one to @oh-beyond – it was too tempting to not write it.

“Yaaaaaahhhhhhh!!! Spring break – finaaaaaallllllyyy!” Baekhyun whooped as he threw his arms up.

“Hey watch your arms!” Chen snapped as he dodged Baekhyun’s outstretched right arm. “I’d like to start my break without a black eye, thanks to you!”

Baekhyun stuck his tongue out at Chen and Xiumin rolled his eyes as he watched them in the rear view mirror. “Hey you two, don’t start a fight in the backseat or else I’ll make you drive.” He cast a quick glance over at Suho who was looking back and forth from his phone to the road. “How much further to the hotel?”

Suho showed him the path and murmured that they needed to drive straight for 1.5 miles before turning left at the next intersection. He stifled a yawn and shifted in his seat, trying to stay alert.

“You could nap you know?” Chen spoke up as he leaned forward. “Just give me your phone – I’ll guide us the rest of the way.”

Suho shook his head no and allowed a small smile to cross his lips. He waved his hand and murmured that he was fine. “We’re almost there anyways – I can just nap in the room.”

“Which is Suho‘s way of saying ‘You’d get us lost Chen-ssi’,” Baek teased.

Chen whipped around and smacked Baekhyun hard in the arm, making the other yelp in pain. Xiumin knit his brows and muttered something in Chinese.

“You’re going to want to move over soon,” Suho noted as he pointed up ahead.

“Waaaaaaaaaaeeee?! It actually looks nice – I mean fancy nice!” Chen gasped as they walked through the automatic doors into a large lobby.

“Suho did good finding this deal!” Baek agreed as he scanned the lobby, nodding at the elegant touches of natural cut wood panels and pebbled floors.

Suho grinned as he put his bag down and leaned his arms on the desk. He and his friends saved up to go somewhere beautiful and far away from Korea for this spring break, especially after a grueling few months cramming for midterms.

About a month ago, his laptop dinged with a notification about this hotel offering a special rate for their spring break week – a suite for under $200 a night with free breakfast and light snacks in the afternoon. Not to mention a decent bundle with the car rental and flight that Xiumin scored a few days later. The only catch with the latter was they were unable to sit together. Xiumin ended up being moved to first class – Suho was pretty certain that the stewardess with caramel colored hair had something to do with the swap. Baekhyun was seated next to a tall redhead boy with a deep voice, Chen got an aisle seat next to a sweet elderly lady who kept patting his arm, and Suho ended up in the back next to a overly chatty pregnant woman who was expecting her firstborn in three months. The woman wasn’t bad per se, but whenever he wanted to sleep, she’d come up with a new story or topic to talk about or she had to ask him to stand up so she could go to the bathroom.

“You’re such a dear – I’m sorry for the constant up and down,” the woman told him toward the end of the flight. “I promise I’m not normally like this but with a little one on the way –”

“It’s fine M’am,” he said with a polite smile. “I hope he or she is healthy and happy.”

“Hello, who is the reservation under?” the clerk asked with a pleasant smile.

Suho fished out his passport and passed it over, along with a printout of the hotel confirmation. The clerk accepted both and began typing his name into the computer to pull up the room.

“How much do you think it cost to do this lobby?” Baekhyun whispered as he looked closely at one of the wood wall features.

“More than what we’re making right now,” Chen sighed as he heaved his bag higher on his shoulder. “Well, for now we can pretend we’re vacationing like kings!”

“I think I need coffee,” Xiumin mused as he scanned the lobby for the nearest cafe. He pouted when he couldn’t find one and flagged down a bellhop who was wheeling an empty luggage cart to the entrance. “Excuse me, where is the cafe in this hotel?”

The bellhop paused and started to point straight ahead, using his arm to show the directions – go straight past the check-in, hang a right, and go straight for 6 steps before going to the left. Chen joined them at the mention of coffee and frowned as he tried to follow the bellhop’s gestures. Baekhyun tore his gaze from the wall feature and walked over as the bellhop mentioned the specialty items on the menu.

“Try the coconut milk latte – highly recommend it!” the bellhop said before excusing himself.

“Sounds interesting,” Baekhyun murmured. “We getting coffee now?”

“I think Suho’s almost – woaaaaaahhhh...” Chen said as a woman passed them. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched you walk toward the direction of the pool, hair billowing behind you.

Xiumin blinked and turned his gaze to you, eyes widening as you moved further away. Baekhyun froze and craned his neck to get a better look at you, humming in appreciation about your figure clad in a pair of cutoff shorts and a one piece bathing suit.

“Guys is it just me or was she wearing a Star Wars bathing suit?” Chen asked as he turned to look at the others.

“Eh? I didn’t notice her bathing suit,” Baekhyun replied with a shrug. “Those legs looked so good in those shorts!”

“Yeah it was Star Wars themed,” Xiumin confirmed. “I think...R2-D2? It was white and blue but her hair kind of covered parts of it?”

“Aish, we should have stopped her!” Chen whined.

“Why? What would you have said to her?” Baekhyun asked as he tilted his head.

“No not for me! I would have wanted Suho-ssi to see her bathing suit! They could have talked about that series and given us a break!” Chen sighed.

To say their friend was a fan of Star Wars was, well, an understatement. Suho owned every Star Wars film (including the awful Star Wars Holiday Special VHS), t-shirt, and collectible toy you could think of. Someone in his family introduced him to the series and started his love of all things Star Wars. Hell, Baekhyun even recalled finding Star Wars boxers in Suho’s drawers once! He watched the movies all the time and tried to get his friends to discuss theories about the world of Star Wars and what was next for the latest trilogy. While his friends liked Star Wars too, they had to admit that it was hard to keep up with him. Sure it made holiday and birthday shopping easy for them, but sometimes Suho showing his Star Wars geek was tiresome to deal with.

“Here are the keys Mr. Kim, I hope you enjoy your stay,” the clerk replied with a bow as she passed over the room keys in an envelope.

Suho smiled as he accepted them and thanked her before hoisting his bag onto his shoulder and walking over to his friends. “Got the keys – wait what are you looking at?”

“Suho you missed her! The perfect girl for you!” Chen whined as he shook Suho’s arm.

Suho groaned as he yanked his arm free. As much as he liked his friends, they kept trying to set him up on dates but none of them ended very well. Either the girl had a conflicting schedule or she’d find his interest in Star Wars cringeworthy and would ditch immediately. At this point he was done trying to please his friends and decided he was better off focusing on his studies and supplementing his free time staying up to date with the news for Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

“Come on guys, let’s just get to the room and crash,” Suho sighed as he began heading to the elevator.

“Waaaaeeeeeeee! Suho, you’re just going to walk away from your dream girl?” Baekhyun demanded as he followed him.

“Yeah! She could be...the one!” Chen insisted as he caught up to Suho.

Xiumin ran ahead and blocked his path, preventing Suho from going any further. Suho huffed and tried to move around the older boy, only to find that he would move in the same direction as Suho to prevent him from getting away.

“Look, I know you’re tired but you have to believe us,” Xiumin said as he looked him in the eye. “While you were checking us in, this really pretty girl in a Star Wars bathing suit walked by and she was headed to the pool. I really think you should go find her.”

Suho opened his mouth to protest and Xiumin pouted, jutting out his plump lower lip and positioning his hands in the tulip pose. His eyes widened and took on a cute begging look. Suho stared at his friend for a few seconds and huffed. Damn Xiumin and his aegyo...

“Fine,” Suho sighed as he rolled his eyes. “But first, I wanna drop off our stuff in the room.”

“Want me to get your back, Miss Dalek?” a guy asked as he sank into the lounge chair next to yours.

You snapped your head up and twisted your lips into a frown. “Wrong robot, but nice try,” you remarked with a shake of your head.

“Heeeeeeyyyy Sexy Robot girl!” a beefy looking guy called out as he stopped by your chair. “I think I felt a spark when I saw you!”

“That’s gotta be one of the worst pickups I’ve ever heard,” you groaned, slapping your head with your palm.

“Babe, where are you?” a girl called out.

The beefy guy snapped his head up and made his way over to a model-like blonde with huge lips and lots of makeup on. She snaked her arm around him and began dragging him to the jacuzzi. Silently, you thanked your lucky stars that one was gone – what a mess!

You turned your attention back to braiding your hair and turned your back to the first guy who addressed you. Maybe, just maybe if you pretended he wasn’t there, he’d take a hint and leave you be. Part of you was starting to regret wearing this bathing suit but it was one of your favorites.

“So are you actually into this nerd stuff?” the first guy asked you. “Cause most girls don’t actually care about sci-fy and –”

“For the record, this “nerd stuff” is from my favorite film series Star Wars,” you corrected him with a roll of your eyes. “Second, who the fuck do you think you are telling me that I can’t care or like sci-fy?”

“Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!” the guy said as he held his hands up.

“Suho, you should have changed into your shorts!” Chen scolded as he nudged Suho toward the pool area.

Suho shrugged indifferently and scanned the area, expecting to see no one fitting his friends’ description of a girl in an R2-D2 bathing suit. Instead, his eyes snapped to the left and he saw one matching their description, who happened to be arguing heatedly with another guy.

“Babe, calm down! It was just a question!” the guy protested.

“I’m not your babe,” you shot back. “It’s really annoying to have people like you pretend to know things when in reality, you don’t know shit. Daleks are from Doctor Who, genius! They’re the mortal enemies of the Doctor! My suit is R2-D2 – the droid who guides Anakin through his first x-wing battle, stows the plans for the Death Star in his memory, and helps Luke Skywalker! How do you not know this?”

“Now do you believe us?” Xiumin asked as he glanced over at Suho. “If I were you, I’d catch her before she leaves so she knows there’s at least another true Star Wa– ahhhh Suho, where are you going?!”

Suho had turned and began walking quickly to the lobby, making a mad dash to the elevator before it closed.

“Look it’s an easy mistake to make!” the guy protested as he followed at your heels to the lobby.

“No, it’s a mistake to deal with an asshole like you when I’m on vacation!” you spat. “I came to relax and have fun but no, you just can’t keep it in your pants and have to assume that I’m some nerd school girl trope that will play dumb and get on my knees for you!”

Your ears were pounding and you huffed as you caught the elevator that was opening. You quickly pressed the button for your floor, followed by the Door Close button, not realizing that someone was in there with you. You froze when you saw the reflection in the doors and snapped your head up.

“Oh crap...I’m so sorry – you probably wanted to get out, didn’t you?” you asked as you turned around.

Suho held his hands up and shook his head, offering you a polite smile. “It’s fine, I can take it down after we reach your floor. It seemed like he was really bothering you.”

You nodded as you brushed a strand of hair out of your face and paused when you saw the design on this guy’s swim trunks. You blinked as you stepped closer before your eyes traveled up and down his body. Star Wars vintage tee, Star Wars logo baseball cap, and a really awesome pair of trunks with vintage Star Wars comic book covers all over.

“Am I dreaming or are you wearing a lot of Star Wars right now?” you asked as you looked up at him.

He ducked his head and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I uh...I’m sort of one of those “I own every movie, t-shirt, and toy that I get my hands on” kind of fan,” he admitted. “I even got a film quality replica of Poe’s jacket this holiday from my parents – I wear it whenever I can. I mean, my friends have to pry it off my body sometimes because I wear it so much.”

“Shut up,” you breathed. “I can’t...I can’t believe I found another person who just gets my love of Star Wars. Where the Hell have you been all my life?”

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, signaling your floor. He smiled sheepishly before gesturing to the open doors. “Looks like it’s your floor,” he murmured.

You snorted before pressing the Door Close button and hitting the Lobby afterwards. “Changed my mind. Besides I wanna know what’s under the shirt Threepio. Although I’m sure you’re probably ripped compared to him.”

Suho blushed and you smirked as you slipped your fingers into his hand.

“C’mon you gotta say it,” you teased.

He swallowed hard and allowed a cheesy smile to cross his lips.

“This is the droid you’re looking for.”

Chapter 32 - Remember Me - Kryber

Title: Remember me

Pairing: Kryber [Amber Liu x Krystal Jung] Fandom: f(x) Genre: Drama, romance

Summary: The bad ass androgynous girl Amber Josephine Liu with a sex, drugs and rock-‘n-roll attitude whom everybody seemed to fear and admire at the same time, with the flash of a smug smile on her handsome face, and a sigaret or lolly pop in her mouth, depending on her mood. A leather jacket always hugging her shoulders, ripped jeans and a loose tank top that displayed just a tiny bit of her sports bra when she lifted her tattoo-filled arms. Everyone was weak for Amber Liu. Krystal simply didn’t see it. Until that one night she accidentally met her, and met a whole other person than the stories she had been made to believe. Word count: 5100 Rating: T A/N: Excuse the grammar mistakes. This is my first time writing a multi chaptered fic. Hope y'all enjoy the progress!

Read it on: AO3 & asianfanfics

Moodboard: x

With Amber safely at home, Krystal was finally able to concentrate on her work again. And she would need her head clear the coming few days, because tomorrow Liu Economics and Lee Electronics would break off their contract. That day was the calm for the storm: the Board was relaxed, her father was his 'busy' self and no one seemed to have a clue that something big was going to happen. Except for Krystal Jung, of course. With nothing to worry about, Krystal could focus completely. Her daily ritual continued: getting up from the bed she slept in with Amber – either her own or her girlfriend’s – and going to work, lunching with Amber and Jack Jack, working again and going home to see her soulmate trying to cook dinner, which eventually always turned out in a small disaster. Nevertheless, Krystal ate the food, because that’s what girlfriends do. A few days after Amber came home, her tattoo looked precisely the way she wanted it to look. The redness had disappeared and the letters flowed in the exact right way over her skin. Her hair usually fell over it but she found herself more often rubbing her neck when she was nervous – as a new habit forming. It was her way of being close with Amber, her own ‘what would Amber do in this situation?’. When she was home, she put her hair in a ponytail, much to the delight of her girlfriend, who loved to look at her new decoration. Amber’s fingers often trailed over the flowing letters of her own name in her neck, making goosebumps appear all over her body, the same way Krystal did when they laid in bed late at night and Amber’s back was unexposed and her tattoos free and visible. Living like that – crossed Krystal’s mind – wasn’t at all that bad. Even as Vice-President. But Krystal wouldn’t be Krystal if she blew off now. She owed it to herself, to Amber, to Victoria that she would go through with this. So, that meant she sent a confirmation e-mail to Jackie Liu and Amy Lee the night before the grande finale would happen. Both of them replied back within an hour, affirming their part of the plan. They would break the contract in the late hours of that evening so the plan could be set in action tomorrow morning. Krystal slept with a light heart that night, with Amber’s arms curled around her waist. She slept soundly, not waking up once. The next day, it felt like a tornado had run over the Jung Internationals' Headquarters, but the Headquarters only. When she entered the hall, it seemed like a normal working day. Unlike that time Victoria outlasted herself as her father's associate, the ladies behind the information desks weren't gossiping through their headsets, whilst trying their hardest to get on top of the work that was being shoved down their throats. They didn't even seem aware that Liu Economics and Lee Electronics had left. As soon as she came upstairs, she noticed why. There was no meeting called. The Board greeted her happily when she arrived – that is, as happy as old men can be on a Tuesday morning – and her PA Eloisa gave her the schedule of that day: it was a normal working day. But as soon as she opened her laptop, Krystal saw an e-mail of her father popping up, saying they needed to talk and it would be nice if they could have lunch together later. Krystal texted him back – not fond communicating through e-mails with her own father – telling him that she'd love to grab some food together during their breaks. Krystal got a reply back to meet him at Zucchini’s – the Italian two blocks away – at 1 PM. At last, she had sent a confirmation before putting her phone away and starting her laptop. In her mailbox, she found two mails from Jackie and Amy, both telling her how they had successfully ended their contract. And yet, no one seemed to know. Krystal decided not to ask and play dumb; waiting for others to make the first move. With such a big thing coming up, her normal work seemed like child’s play to her. Dull, boring work that consumed too much of her time and was in fact useless right now. If the company would fall apart in a few hours, what use was it do all of this work? Yet, she stayed at her job, despite working slower than usual. She let her mind wander about how she was going to run the company when she was in charge. When her father would leave it to her in times of despair, she needed to be a strong leader who knew what to do. Of course, she’d enlist Song Software, Liu Economics and Lee Electronics again, but it would still take a while before Jung Internationals would be strong again. Around half past twelve, Krystal started to clear up her stuff. To Eloisa she said that she’d be out for an hour or two. She knew her father well enough that if he invited her to lunch that there was something going on. All of the lunches and dinners they had ever spent between just the two of them had been because there was some sort of problem that needed fixing. Krystal had always felt incredibly superior that her father trusted her and only her with such problems and wanted to hear her opinion. She knew better now. Her father just needed someone who would agree with him in the meeting room, so the Board would be more easily convinced. Krystal had always admired her father and for a long time she thought that all of his decisions were correct. Now that she had grown older, she knew better than to let her judgement be clouded by her feelings. Her father was a formidable business man, but he as well had grown older and that was affecting his sense of judgement. Sometimes it felt like he was going blind, like there had formed a layer of whiteness on top of the dark brown of his eyes and that prevented him from seeing clearly. Krystal arrived at the restaurant five minutes late and she was immediately directed towards a table in the back. The smell of tomatoes and garlic immediately entered her nosetrils. The floor cracked familiarly underneath her feet when she walked. The walls were still dirty dark green and the wooden bar still looked like a piece of driftwood. The bartender was polishing glasses with a towel. Her father was already there, waiting patiently with a glass of dark red wine in front of him, his fingers intertwined with each other and his gaze down. When he heard the familiar clicking of Krystal’s heels on the wooden floor, he looked up and smiled. It was the smile he had shown her a dozen times when she was little. One that was a mix of pride, admiration and love. Whenever she had gotten a good grade as a kid or had managed to get first place in an athletics event, he would show her that smile. Krystal didn’t understand why he showed it her now, after years of not using it. It almost made her uneasy. “Sit down, love,” he told her, and Krystal did so. A waiter immediately put a glass of the same wine in front of her, but Krystal declined. “I prefer white wine, actually,” she told him. “Chardonnay, please.” The waiter nodded, took the glass away again and returned a few moments later with a bottle Chardonnay. He poured her a glass and Krystal slowly took a sip. “I thought you liked red wine more?” her father asked her, his eyes not averting from his daughter. Krystal put the glass down and nodded. She would not want to confess that due to Amber she didn’t like the bitter taste in the red wine anymore, but preferred sweet. “I underwent a change recently,” she muttered. “If I want to drink something that’s not to my taste, I’d take whiskey. I actually like the taste of white wine, unlike red.” Her father nodded slowly then shrugged. His daughter’s taste in wine was his least concern. For a moment, a silence fell. Krystal thought her father would break the ice by introducing the topic of why he had brought her here, but instead he took the menu’s and handed one over to her. “Anything you want, I’ll pay,” he told her, as he opened his. Krystal nodded quietly. Half an hour later, both of them had a damping plate of food in front of them. Salmon and ravioli. They were both quietly eating their food, when her father suddenly put his knife and fork down. “Do you know why I took you here?” he asked her. Krystal didn’t look up from her plate. “This was my favorite place to go when I was young, but I suppose it rather has something to do with Jung Internationals because I don’t recall you re-living memories for fun ever.” Her father chuckled. “Always so attentive,” he said. “I remember that you always wanted to come here on your birthday. We could have gone to the best chef in the country if you had wanted to, but you always chose this place with prices not higher than fifteen dollars over a five-star cook. One time your mother got food poisoning because she ate badly cooked chicken breast here. And still, you want to come here on your birthday, every year again.” Krystal looked up and tilted her head a little to the left. “This was the only place in the city that made me feel like a common girl. Like a normal, middle-class family who had no money to rent a five-star cook to make dinner for their daughter. The fact that mom got food poisoning once made it even better.” Her father nodded. “I know you felt that way. That’s why we let you.” “Why are we here, dad?” Krystal asked abruptly, not liking that he spoke so easily over her childhood. He doesn't know how she felt or would ever feel and she didn't like it that he interpreted her feelings. Her father sighed and rubbed his temples. For just a second, he looked like a fragile, old man again, who had had his days and needed a break. The circles underneath his eyes seemed to have turned darker when he looked back up to her. “I wished it would’ve never come to this point but I cannot hide it anymore.. Jung Internationals is doomed to fall soon and I don’t know how long I can pretend that everything is going to be alright anymore…” Krystal frowned. “What are you talking about?” Her father took a big sip of his wine and licked his lips afterwards. “That Song Software left us wasn’t at all that bad. We had an economy big enough to save us. But this morning… I found two mails from Ms. Liu and Ms. Lee that they wanted to quit as well, now that Victoria Song had left. Only, what I didn’t think they’d do was that they took all of the products with them. They have cancelled the production of the goods we had together under our names. Do you know how many combined stuff we have together with Liu Economics? Half of our assortment… The other quarter belongs to Lee Electronics. They don’t want to do business with us any longer. Jackie Liu said that she understood why Victoria had left. They will form a coalition together, the three of them. And with three quarters of our products and income gone, I don’t think Jung Internationals’ will last much longer.” Krystal tried to look as surprised and deeply shocked as possible, but she had never been a great actress. Nevertheless, her father was wallowing so much in self-pity that he didn’t even recognize the triumphant look in his daughter’s brown eyes. And even though she had practically won already, a strange feeling started to gather in her stomach. To hear her father talk about the company like this was heartbreaking. He had spent his whole life to build up something good and now due to his own daughter, he would lose it all. And if Jung Internationals’ economy was really going to crumble down, would Krystal be able to prevent it from dying? Despite her few years of experience, she was still young. But even if she wanted to stop right now, there was no way back. She’d just have to push through and set the last part of her plan in action. “Why did they leave?” she asked. Her father shrugged. “Amy Lee said that we were losing and we weren’t responsible business partners anymore and Jackie Liu followed Victoria Song. It seems like the three of them have been conspiring against us all along and it was just a matter of time before they left too. Song Software was simply breaking the ice.” “And there’s no way to stop this?” she asked sincerely – or, as sincere as she could. “I know the Liu’s well enough to know that Jackie Liu isn’t going to make up her mind. And as for Amy Lee, I understand damn well why she would choose the other side. We’re indeed losing, Krystal, and there’s very little we can do. Only the Empire Group stays with us but they have always been sucking onto us like a parasite. Soon, we won’t provide enough blood for them anymore and they’ll leave too, to the next host.” Krystal sighed and placed her head in her hands. “We have to make this public soon…” her father muttered. She looked up. “Why? Don’t you want to hush this up as much as possible? You always told me that bad publicity is also publicity but I don’t think that this belongs to that category.” He shook his head. “I cannot start firing people out of the blue, Krystal. Soon, we won’t have enough money anymore to uphold so many employees. We will have to select our best workers and fire the rest. The others have to work extra hours to come up with new products but even if we can design new items within the next few weeks I don’t think it will help…” Krystal sighed and looked at her father. He was staring at his place, like a kid who was just told he wasn’t allowed to play outside after dark. He looked defeated, tired and breakable. Her heart ached to hug him, but she controlled herself. Wasn’t that what you have always taught me, daddy? Control yourself; think rationally, without any emotions clouding your judgement. That’s why she said: “I want a re-vote.” Her father looked up, a look of hurt in his eyes. It was just for a second or two, then it got replaced by annoyance that was followed up by anger. “You can’t be serious.” But she was and she knew she needed to break the news now or it would indeed be too late for Jung Internationals. If she didn’t act quickly, the company would never be the same. “There is a reason why Victoria Song, Jackie Liu and Amy Lee bailed on you. There is a reason why they shared behind me. It’s simply because you’re not fit for the job anymore. I’m going in appeal, as soon as possible. But before that, I will make public what has happened with Liu Economics and Lee Electronics. The Boards and the other employees need to know,” she said, as she stood up, “Perhaps there’s still a chance for me to save Jung Internationals if I’m quick. Don't think about stopping me, if you want to see our company ever the same again.” And with those words, she turned around and strode out of the restaurant, leaving her father speechless at the table. A lonely, distant feeling fathered in her stomach. Krystal's face was neutral as emotionless spread through her abandon. “Did you really say that to him?” Amber asked her a few hours later, after Krystal had enthusiatically told her what had happened during lunch. She stared at her with eyes as big as saucers. Krystal shrugged, not really getting the worried response of her significant other. “I suppose I did. Aren’t you proud of me?” Amber let a sigh escape from her mouth and furrowed her brows. “Well, I’m proud of you for standing up against him but don’t you think it’s a bit too hard? He sounded like he was at the edge of crying.” Krystal pouted her lips. “It’s not like Jung Internationals is really going bankrupt. He’ll just have to bear with the situation right now,” she muttered. “Wasn’t it painful to see him like that? I know you think of him badly but still… he’s still your father.” Krystal rolled her eyes and sat upright from the bed, freeing herself from Amber’s arms abruptly. Her girlfriend immediately noticed that there was something wrong and propped herself up on one elbow too. “I don’t know if you have noticed, but good relationships aren’t exactly the most important thing in our family. I know you’re all close and sweet with your parents and sister, but I simply have never had that childhood. So no, it was not painful. It felt like I was finally getting what I deserved.” Krystal stood up from the bed and immediately took her bathrobe, feeling cold without Amber’s body heat and the sheets now that she wore just her lingerie but not wanting to admit it. She turned away from Amber, who quickly hurried up from the bed. Right as she wanted to leave the bedroom, she grabbed her hand and spun her around. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know that your relationship with your father is difficult,” Amber said, her face serious and her brown eyes deeper than ever. Krystal sighed and turned her face away. “It’s not understandable for an outsider. I barely knew him. I became the person I am today because I wanted to get to know him and I did. What I found out wasn’t exactly encouraging our relationship. I just see him as a rival, nothing else. If he cries about losing his position, then that’s his problem,” she hissed. “He doesn’t cry about not being CEO anymore, he cries because his lifework is going up in flames. Give the man some slack,” Amber tried. Krystal took her hand back furiously and looked deadly in her girlfriend’s eyes. “He deserves it.” She felt something pop in her as she said that. It wasn’t the surprised, almost hurt, look in Amber’s eyes, but something within herself that she had refused to acknowledge. She had always told herself that she loved her parents no matter what. It was expected of a person to love their family. But she didn’t. She only loved Jessica unconditionally and she wasn’t there ninety percent of the time. As a matter of fact, her sister made the choice to escape the family drama too, leaving her sister right in the middle of it. She didn’t love her parents nor would she ever. In fact, with saying this out loud, she understood that she perhaps even hated them. Strongly disliked at least. She hated them for turning their daughter into an emotionless robot, programmed to do as they say, believing that it’s good to do what its parents say. Krystal was brainwashed as a kid and would have been a completely different person if only she was brought up with love. But she had not and that’s why she could only be together with Amber now, after eight years, instead of right away. She had been programmed to think that love was bad. It wasn’t, but she was only able to understand now, at the age of twenty-six. And she hated it. She hated it that she could only be happy now and only give Amber now what she deserved. They had ruined her and she wanted revenge. She wanted to make her father suffer like she had, even if that meant burning Jung Internationals to the ground. “Please, go home. I want to be alone now,” she muttered distantly, not looking in Amber’s eyes. “No.” “Excuse me?” Her voice had shot up a few octaves. In utter disbelief she looked up, only to see a very stubborn look in Amber’s eyes. She stared back with the same stubbornness. “It’s not right for him to pay like that. He didn’t hurt you because he liked it. He’s probably brought up the same way,” she said. Anger gathered in her chest. “I don’t care. If we will get a kid together, I will not raise it like my father. That he has been fucked up too doesn’t mean you have to burden your child,” she barked angrily. But instead of anger or at least annoyance, Amber stared at her with shock in her eyes. “‘Our kid’?” she whispered. Krystal’s anger faded immediately when she realized her mistake. Krystal felt like her heart stopped. For a full few seconds, they just stared at each other. Her hands were shaking, she noticed. “Is this normal?” she eventually blurted out, when Amber would not say anything. “Because I don’t know, Amber. I don’t know if I’m supposed to think about that already or if it’s actually too soon. I don’t know anymore…” Amber took her hand again, tried to comfort her shaking girlfriend. But Krystal couldn’t set herself to grab her hand firmly. She didn’t know. She didn’t know how a relationship was supposed to work because she was simply never taught. “It is, I think. It is normal,” Amber replied softly. “Then have you thought about it?” “No…” she admitted. “Children are the next step in marriage, I suppose. Would you marry me, then?” “Is this a proposal?” “No,” Amber said firmly. “If it will come to that, I will propose in a special way.” “What if I want to propose?” she asked. It wasn’t like she had always dreamed about someone getting on their knees for her, but it would be revolutionary if she proposed. “Then you can. Just make it special,” Amber replied, with a weak smile on her face. She took her hand firmer and squeezed it reassuringly. “Please, don’t ever think that your thoughts might not be normal. You are normal, you are okay. That your parents lacked in this, doesn’t mean you’re different. You are perfect and good and even if you want to get married in Las Vegas right now, steal a child from a kinder garden and grow up somewhere in a small cabin in the woods in Europe, I’d say yes. You are everything I need, Krystal.” She breathed shakily in, trying to control her own body as much as possible. Her shoulders tensed and she gritted her teeth together to prevent tears from gathering in her eyes. And she didn’t want Amber to see her cry. Even though she had promised to open up more, she couldn’t have it. So, she placed her hands around her face and pulled her towards her roughly. Their lips clashed together in need. A sloppy kiss formed as their mouths moved over each other, teeth clinking together and heavy breaths in between. Amber gripped at the bathrobe, clutching the fabric between her fingers. Krystal felt tears roll down her cheeks during the kiss. She didn’t know if Amber could feel her lower lip shake, but she did and it made her heart ache even more. Why couldn’t she just be happy just being with her? Why did she always want more? CEO instead of Vice-President. Married instead of just a relationship… and what about children? She didn’t want to ruin the beautiful thing she had with Amber by wanting too much. Later that night they had settled on the couch. After their conversation, they had both been in need for hugs and silent love. Amber had settled in the corner of Krystal’s lounge sofa and Krystal half leaned half laid against her. Amber caressed her cheek and otherwise played with her hair whilst watching the movie – Jurassic Park – together. As the living room filled herself with the screams of dinosaurs, Krystal couldn’t find herself concentrating. Instead, her eyes closed slowly and she settled in a more comfortable position against her girlfriend, eventually pulling the thin blanket that was always on the rug of her couch over her body. Before she fell asleep, she muttered: “Just so you know, I’d say yes if you proposed to me.” Amber stirred. Her breathing stopped for a moment, then continued to breathe unevenly. “Why are you letting me know that? It’s no fun for me to propose if I know you’re already going to say yes,” she chuckled. Krystal closed her eyes. “I already let you know by tattooing your name in my neck,” she replied softly. “You knew from the moment we met again at the party. You have always known.” Amber stroke her hair, eventually moving her hand to her neck and tracing over her tattoo. She kept her gaze on the screen, watching how the tyrannosaurus rex attacked the portable research center of Dr. Grant. “I have. But I want to hear you say it when I propose, not right now.” “Okay, but then you first have to propose.” “Maybe.” “Maybe?” she asked. “It’s no fun in knowing I will propose, now, is it?” she chuckled. Krystal smiled softly. "I agree."

Another Life Update

I was supposed to have another moodboard up last Thursday, but things were crazy at work and at home this past few weeks. I usually have them done a week in advance, but my schedule has changed a bit. I should go back to normal now though, and a moodboard is going out tomorrow. I’m also working on a 100 follower gift. So, my queue is almost empty, and I don’t know when I’ll be updating it, hopefully soon. I took most of the day off to take a long nap, I so needed it! Anyway, hopefully life will go back to normal now. Thanks for all your support! You guys have been amazing!

Chapter 27 - Remember me - Kryber

Title: Remember me

Pairing: Kryber [Amber Liu x Krystal Jung] Fandom: f(x) Genre: Drama, romance

Summary: The bad ass androgynous girl Amber Josephine Liu with a sex, drugs and rock-‘n-roll attitude whom everybody seemed to fear and admire at the same time, with the flash of a smug smile on her handsome face, and a sigaret or lolly pop in her mouth, depending on her mood. A leather jacket always hugging her shoulders, ripped jeans and a loose tank top that displayed just a tiny bit of her sports bra when she lifted her tattoo-filled arms. Everyone was weak for Amber Liu. Krystal simply didn’t see it. Until that one night she accidentally met her, and met a whole other person than the stories she had been made to believe. Word count: 1900 Rating: T A/N: Excuse the grammar mistakes. This is my first time writing a multi chaptered fic. Hope y'all enjoy the progress!

Read it on: AO3 & asianfanfics

Moodboard: x

The trial didn't go as well as Krystal had expected it would. A few days ago, she had had to hand in the document Krystal had wanted to use to testify against her father. The signature was real and in the document, it was said Jung Internationals would be transferred to her on the date of the wedding. Only the judge didn't think of it so easily even though it had been crystal clear to Krystal. Clearly, the word 'wedding' that was named in the document was the thing that had set him off which was why Krystal didn't get the company to her name directly after the case had ended. The big throw-off was that Krystal wasn't getting married anymore, which had been one demands that legalized the document. Now that she wasn't getting married anymore, it was as good as worth nothing. Only her father's signature and the date mattered but the document was basically proved worthless by the judge, which made Krystal lose every leverage she had over her father. Still, there was hope. Her father was still sick and an old man, almost ready to retire as well, which made the judge doubt to give it back to her father. What was the use of handing it back to the old CEO who would retire in a few years? Whilst Krystal was qualified to last another few decennia. Not to forget that four big companies backed her up: Liu Economics, Song Software, Lee Electronics and The Empire Group. Their voices testifying for her were strong and clearly made the judge doubt the whole case. Although Krystal could’ve just bought their cooperation, the fact that all four CEO’s were here to back her up was remarkable. But since her father didn't have anything besides his argument that he was the legal CEO and he was still allowed to decide over the company, the judge was stuck with an almost worthless document, a young annoyed woman and an older sick man who refused to hand over his company. Which lead her to the decision to vote. At least, the employees were able to vote. And it wasn't the kind of charge that satisfied Krystal. Not at all. It was her first task as an open person to not lock up her frustrations but tell Amber... and it was one of the most difficult things she had ever need to do. The moment they walked out of court, her girlfriend could feel the tension building up inside her body. Krystal didn't want to hold hands when Amber reached out to her. She just sat down in the seat with her arms crossed in front of her body. Amber sat down behind the wheel and sighed. "Let's go out for dinner tonight," she suggested, already feeling how bad Krystal's mood had gotten. "I'm not hungry." "Really, Krys, this is just a minor inconvenience. You said it yourself: the employees love you. There's nothing to worry about," she said. "We can go to that tapas restaurant you like, La Cubanita right?" "You don't understand. My father will only let level two, three and four employees vote. The majority of our employees have a level one pass. They were going to vote for me. All of those who didn't clap, who didn't support me, are level twos or threes. I'll be losing so many votes..." she sighed annoyed. "And it's La Comida. La Comida Sabrosa to be exact." "Well there's nothing you can do about it. Just let them vote and if you don't like the result then just go in appeal. You still have the law at your side. Shall I make a reservation for tonight? I'm feeling like eating tapas." "If you say so," Krystal groaned. "No, I'll make the reservation, you're driving." Amber chuckled softly and nodded. Krystal took her phone and called the number of the restaurant. It took only five minutes to reserve a place for two. When she hung up again, Amber shot her a look. "I thought you weren't hungry?" she asked carefully. Krystal squinted her eyes annoyed and stuck out her tongue. "Want me to cancel, then?" Amber just laughed and shook her head. Krystal sighed and looked out of the window, trying to clear out the smudged landscape they were driving through. But that quickly grew boring and her annoyance that had risen since the end of the hearing was still too present. "I just hate what he did to me, you know," she eventually sighed. Amber looked up and shot her a knowing look that was a mixture of pride and worry. Proud perhaps that Krystal initiated a conversation about her feelings and worry because she felt so bad. Krystal sighed again and rubbed in her eyes with her thumb and index finger. "He isn't a bad man. I love him, still, but he has such twisted ideas. I think he just wants what's best for me and the company but he simply can't see how toxic it all is. The way he raised me and Jess, how he doesn't want to see how happy I am now I'm not marrying a man I don't love and refuses to give me the company because of such silly reason while I dedicated my whole life to him and Jung Internationals and making him proud of me. I simply don't understand how he cannot see what sacrifices I have made.." Amber took her hand and pressed a caring kiss upon the back of it to calm down her shaking voice. Krystal didn't want to look up just yet to see her gaze, but to feel her hand around hers was already calming down. "He'll see, Krystal. It may take months or even years to convince him but he'll see. I promise." Krystal wiped off her teary eyes and looked up. Amber was focused on the road but there was a hint of a smile on her face, faint enough to be oblivious to strangers but Krystal had grown to recognize the way the corners of her mouth were pulled up just an inch, causing her to recognize it immediately. "You're doing a good job, Krystal, don't forget that. You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. As long as your intentions are true, you are never wrong. Just clear your mind from now — or you know, think about how dashingly good-looking I am, your choice — and enjoy the ride." The voting happened a few days after. At the end of a busy Friday, they let the chosen employees come to Jung Internationals' Great Hall. The rest of the establishments would vote too. Krystal hoped that she'd get at least a few extra votes from the other establishments, especially those in Europe. Hopefully they were a little more open-minded and liked to see a new face as the spokesperson of Jung Internationals. But she didn't dare to get her hopes up yet. The whole situation was too doubtful to already predict who was going to win this battle. It took another few days to count all the votes, causing eventually a week to pass since the court visit. During that week, it was easy to notice Krystal wasn't entirely herself. As well at work as at home she had become crankier. She caught herself yelling at her once and Krystal had always promised herself to not become the kind of boss who yelled at their employees. But because of the tension of the past few weeks it became a bit too much for her to handle at some points and if your personal assistant messes up your schedule of that day, it's easier to blame them than it is to blame yourself. Amber had noticed it too but there was hardly anything she could do. Krystal still had trouble opening up to her. Right now, she didn't even want to try because that'd mean she might get in a fight with Amber instead and that wasn't worth it. Nevertheless, her girlfriend did notice her strange behavior. Krystal wanted it to be gone just as much as the people around her but she hadn't found a safe way to get rid of her anger and tension. As soon as the results came in, Krystal called in a meeting with the board members, as well as her father. He wore his best suit when he came to the company. To Krystal's pleasure, she noticed some people point at her father and whisper softly behind his back as soon as he walked by. It may not be much but at least there were rumors going through the company as well. And would you gossip about the person you'd support? She just hoped that the judging glares would benefit her. The only people who were invited to the meeting were the board members, her father and herself. She wanted to keep it as small as possible, in case she did loose. They had invited one more person who would announce the result of the voting. The meeting occurred in the small meeting room. Normally, either her father or herself would've sat at the head of the table. She used to sit at her father's right hand as his second in command. She came early to the meeting room to claim her spot, but she noticed that the order of the chairs had been changed, causing her not to be able to sit at the head. The table was turned horizontally, so all of them, the board members, her father and Krystal alike, sat next to each other. The board was already present, even though Krystal was a quarter early, and had only left the two chairs at the far right and the far left end of the table. Evans and Mitchell alike shot her a glance, but she didn't return it. The man who was supposed to reveal the score was currently muttering softly to himself, trying to get the beamer to work and display his presentation. Krystal simply sat down at the left end of the table. Her father arrived ten minutes later. The way he walked into the meeting room immediately put Krystal off. With his back straight and the hint of a cocky smile on his face – like he had already won – he sat down on the chair on the far right end of the table. He had not greeted anyone, but had simply given Evans a nod. It seemed like he had smiled back at him, but it could also just be her imagination. In the meantime, the man had managed to turn on the big screen and display his presentation. As soon as Eloisa and her father’s PA had brought them all a cup of coffee, the presentation was started. With a small introduction that was expendable for most people in the room, he talked a quick five minutes before he got to the key point. The results of the other locations of Jung Internationals had come in yesterday, late in the afternoon. Together with the votes in Jung Internationals’ Headquarters, they had come to a conclusion. The longer the man was talking, the faster Krystal’s heart started to beat. She wondered if she could control her emotions if she won or lost. Or perhaps she should just let everything go and follow Amber’s advice, just to rub her father his bad job as a parent in his face. There at first was a histogram that showed compared the votes in the foreign countries and in the USA. Her father won with about 75 percent of the votes in the USA but Krystal had the upper hand in the foreign countries, albeit with only 60 to 70 percent. But the percentages didn’t mean anything if they didn’t conglomerate the results. Which happened in the last slide of the PowerPoint presentation. The final graphic showed that the votes were equally divided. At least, that’s what it looked like at first sight. As soon as the numbers showed, Krystal’s heart sank. Her father won with 54 percent of the votes… With a dry throat, she underwent the feeling of the world collapsing around her. For a moment, she dazed off in her own panic, not hearing the clapping around her or the congratulations of the board for her father. She could only hear her own controlled breathing and notice the absence of her own heartbeat. As soon as she came back to life, Evans shot her a compassionate glance, but she didn’t want anything of that. How she had managed a smile on her face and get up from her seat, she didn’t remember. But she did it and walked over to her father to shake his hand. The smile was dry and ached on her face, but her father had taken her hand and shaken it firmly. “Remember this when you’re ever thinking about overthrowing your old man again,” he had said, before he had walked out of the meeting room, together with the board. Krystal saw them leave. The man who had made the presentation packed his stuff too and she was still in the meeting room when he left too. Eventually her hand reached for her phone in her pocket. She dialed the only person she knew who could cheer her up. “Come pick me up, p-please,” she breathed in the phone. “I’ll be there in five,” Amber had answered, before hanging up on her.