#my head is. spinning after. everything. fucking. oh wow the contents of my skull have been turned into liquid
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i can't just "like" a song i have to convulse violently whenever the best part of it comes on
#random thoughts#should hope this is in no way related to the events of march 2022. fuck#my head is. spinning after. everything. fucking. oh wow the contents of my skull have been turned into liquid#my liquified intelligence would pour out of my ears if not for my blessed headphones. la musique me rend unwell#incapable of thought? hardly#this post is about a house on the hill!! at least. right now. i should put it on. loop. sounds so pleasant i must consume it
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we could move in together
or Bucky suffering but make it crack****
Bucky drops onto the couch with a contented sigh. He stretches out, hands behind his head, smirking like he’s truly done something to be proud of. Sam’s coming over for dinner and finally, finally Bucky’s got a plan. They’ve been alternating these datenights dinners and whenever it’s Sam’s turn he cooks. Big batches of stuff he says he wants to make for Sara and the boys if it’s any good. Course, it’s always good. Bucky loves Sam’s cooking. He loves showing up much too early so he can watch Sam cook. Sam gets in fights with pots and pans, curses under his breath whenever he measures something wrong. You’d think everything he made would be a disaster but somehow, no matter how many times Sam swears that internet recipes are the bane of his existence, the food is delicious. Which makes Bucky feel like an asshole for ordering take-out on his turn every single time.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to cook for Sam. Boy, has he tried. But how can he tell if anything’s edible? Nothing compares to Sam’s cooking. So Bucky’ll make something, taste a spoonful, and decide it’s complete shit just in time for Sam to show up. There’s been a couple of close calls when Sam asked why his apartment smelled like pasta if they were eating deli sandwiches. (“It smells burnt in here, Buck.” “Ha! Yeah, I think my neighbor, uh, had some trouble.”) But tonight, Bucky has a plan. He found a recipe that was supposed to be “fool proof” and practiced making it yesterday. Sure it’s a mac-n-cheese casserole but there were several different cheeses in it so… that should count for something. He had a dish waiting to be put it in the oven when Sam arrived.
“I think we got this all tied up, don’t you Alpine?” Bucky says to the rabbit as she makes her way across the room to settle on his feet. Alpine’s favorite place to sit is on Bucky’s feet, which he thinks is adorable. He considers cuddling Alpine on his lap but Sam will be here any minute and he doesn’t need to be covered in bunny hair. Bucky as some class. The self-satisfied grin is still plastered to his face when Sam let’s himself into his apartment.
“Sam! You gotta explain this show to me! TV doesn’t make sense anymore.” His smile falters when he turns to see Sam crossing the room in long strides, some kind of burning intent clear on his face. “Uh—” Sam lands on the couch turned towards him. Bucky is keenly aware of the lack of personal space Sam has left between them. Sam’s knee is practically in his lap. Bucky sits there with his mouth half open, struck by the intensity of Sam’s stare. He doesn’t look angry, so that’s good at least. But what the fuck?
“Did you tell Sarah we were moving in together?”
Bucky blinks. “Wha—”
“At the cookout. Sarah just asked me if we’d found a place yet. What the hell? You can’t just tell my sister that we’re moving in together and not let me know!”
Bucky lets out a startled laugh. “The cookout? That was weeks ago! I’m sure she was just messing with you—”
“So you were joking?” Again, Bucky’s smile slides off his face. What is happening? Sam is not kidding right now. He might very actually be pissed off. But it was a joke? …wasn’t it?
“I…” Bucky trails off. So he’s been daydreaming about living with Sam. But that’s not what Bucky tells himself. He’s just picturing their dinners together at different times of day. Like in the mornings. Sam in pajamas is a quintessential element of these daydreams.
“Were you serious, Bucky? I’m trying to imagine that you wouldn’t just run your mouth off around my sister as a joke.” Sam is pinning him with this intense expression that Bucky can’t figure out and it’s taking all his self control not to squirm.
“I guess… it wasn’t.”
Sam keeps up the laser eyes till Bucky can practically feel two points boring through his skull. Finally, Sam sighs.
“Man…” Sam says, slowly shaking his head. He takes Bucky’s hand and holds it to his chest, just like they had outside Sarah’s house after Bucky confessed an overdue apology. But now, Bucky’s hand is literally against Sam’s chest and he can feel Sam’s heart beating. The thud, thud makes his stomach flip. Bucky stares at their hands. Sam is so close and that’s making him forget how to breathe. Maybe he should be looking somewhere else. Somewhere other than Sam’s hand gripping his. Listening to something other than Sam’s heartbeat. When Bucky meets Sam’s eyes again he regrets it instantly. This is 100x worse than before. This is tender.
“If you’re going to do this, you gotta be sure.” Sam’s voice is warm. His brown eyes are warm. His hand is warm. His chest is— you get the idea. Bucky’s brain still isn’t processing what the hell Sam is talking about. “Cause I won’t have you fuckin’ around with my heart.” Wait- what? “I don’t have the time or the mental space to deal with that. You understand?” Bucky would literally rather be in cryo right now. “Bucky.” The fuck does Sam expect him to say? If he starts moving his lips then words should form eventually.
“I wouldn’t do…” This is a struggle. Sam raises an eyebrow.
“You wouldn’t do what?”
“Fuck around.” It comes out barely a whisper. Sam sighs and Bucky thinks he’s actually going to die.
“What are we talking about, Buck? How you wouldn’t lie to my sister? Or how—”
“Yeah! Sure! I don’t know!” Bucky has class. He swears to god he used to have class. “I wouldn’t lie to Sarah! Yeah, I do want to live with you. It’s kinda the only thing I think about. But I didn’t know how to tell YOU that!” There’s a grin spreading across Sam’s face and it’s making Bucky feel things. “And I wouldn’t fuck around with your heart! That’s literally the last thing I would ever do! Your heart is very important to me and I would…!” Whatever courage he had is disappearing fast. “…take care…” Dear god almighty does Sam have to do that with his face? “…of it.”
Sam is smiling like the actual sun. And Bucky is burning to a crisp under a magnifying glass.
Sam leans back with a satisfied “hrmph.” He drops Bucky’s hand and stands up. Bucky involuntarily leans into the empty space like Sam left some kind of gravitational pull. What the fuck just happened? Bucky looks at Alpine. The rabbit is sitting on her hind legs beside him, looking up at him curiously and twitching her nose.
“So what’s for dinner? Take-out again?” If it could reach, Bucky’s jaw would drop to the floor. Sam looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
“That’s it?!!”
“What’s it? You forget to order a pizza or somethin?” Sam takes a few steps toward the kitchen and Bucky jumps off the couch.
“Sam. I hate you.”
“Wow. That hurts, Bucky. I thought my heart was important to you.”
“I—!” Bucky flails his arms around. Sam is grinning in that stupidly adorable irresistible way of his. The situation is hopeless. How is Bucky supposed to think when Sam is being this cute? And now he knows that Bucky wants to live with him? Disastrous. “I made you dinner!”
Sam looks surprised, maybe even a little touched. “Really?”
“Yes, really!” Bucky pushes past him on his way into the kitchen, overly aware of how their shoulders brush. Bucky pulls the casserole out of the fridge and transfers it to the pre-heated oven. Now that he’s not looking at Sam, the thought of meeting his gaze again makes Bucky feel queasy. Instead he decides to lean over the oven and stare at its digital clock. A perfect excuse to avoid those obnoxiously beautiful brown eyes for the next 20 minutes.
“What is it?”
“Casserole.”
Sam laughs. “You realize there’s like a million different kinds of casseroles, right?”
“Macaroni,” Bucky mumbles.
“Sounds promising. You’ve got beer somewhere?” Bucky mumbles some more because how can he admit now that he went searching for Sam’s favorite hard lemonade that’s annoyingly hard to get in New York? He hears Sam open the fridge. Too late. “Oh my god, you found this stuff here?!” The distinct crack of a can opening punctuates Sam’s excitement. “You’re the best, man.”
Bucky could say something snarky. Really, he should at least try. But his ears are burning and so is his face and goddammit why is this happening. Sam’s silent, clearly waiting for a comeback. Bucky starts to sweat. He hears Sam come up behind him. What is breathing? Surely it’s a non-essential function. Then Sam presses himself to Bucky’s back and wraps his perfect hunky arms around his waist. Bucky’s hearts skips at least five beats when he feels Sam’s warm breath on his ear.
“You just gonna stare at the clock then, huh?”
“Ye—“ Bucky clears his throat. “Yeah.”
“Mmm, okay,” Sam hums and rests his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, obviously with no intention of showing mercy.
“What are you doing?” Bucky’s voice is much higher than he cares to admit.
“Staring with you.” Bucky swallows. He can’t do this for another 18 minutes. “You gonna cook for me when we live together?”
WHAT. Bucky’s brain is hot and spinning like a clothes dryer but it’s his thoughts that are tumbling. Yeah, he’s definitely sweating a lot now. Bucky ducks his head, not realizing that would be a terrible idea. Sam drops a kiss on the exposed back of his neck. So this is it then. This is how it ends. Bucky is going to pass out or die or both.
“How much longer can you hold your breath before it becomes a problem?” God, Sam is such a smug asshole. “I don’t wanna scrape you off the kitchen floor before dinner.”
Bucky tries to inhale slowly, but it’s shaky- of fucking course it is. “I really hate you,” is all he can manage to whisper.
“Ya know, that’s funny,” Sam purrs. Literally purrs because he clearly wants Bucky to suffer. “Cause I could swear that you actually have a huge, embarrassing, all-consuming crush on me.”
Fuck right off, Sam Wilson, you perfect fucking prick, is what Bucky thinks. But somehow, unforgivably, what he says is, “You have really beautiful eyes, Sam.”
That startles a laugh out of Sam. “Why thank you, Bucky! But it’s kinda hard to believe you really mean that from the way you’re so adamantly not looking at me.”
“You know I mean it. Always accusing me of having a staring problem.”
“Still… you could convince me.” Sam’s tone is a challenge. Fuck this.
“Sam, if I look at you, I’ll either die or have to kiss you.”
“You’re so dramatic,” Sam chuckles. “You can kiss me, but dying right now would be inconvenient.”
That’s it! Bucky turns on him. “Inconvenient? In- fucking -convenient?!”
“Well, yeah, you didn’t say how long the casserole should be in the oven for.”
“Get out of my apartment!”
“Make me!”
Bucky grabs Sam’s face in both hands and kisses him hungrily. Fuck mac-n-cheese. He’s having Sam for dinner.
#they’re idiots#and this was super fun to write#sambucky fic#bucky barnes fic#back on my gay shit#onlysambucky
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Backtrack - Borrowed Time: Chapter 2
Backtrack Masterlist
Series Summary: What if you were the one Dean came to instead of Lisa? Rewrite of “Swan Song” and some of S6.
Word Count: 1598
Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing
Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader
A/N: Chapter 2′s song: Composed by Mutemath.
Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist
You cautiously approached the door, another thudding knock sounding out in the silence. You glanced out the peephole. The head of a man was visible through the hole, but you couldn’t make out anything definite.
You stepped away, worrying your lip. You didn’t usually answer the door to strangers. You still weren’t an outgoing person, plus nowadays you couldn’t really trust anyone. You started to turn away from the door, but something stopped you. You didn’t know what it was, but you found yourself going back to the door and opening it.
You peeked out before swinging it open wide. You stepped back, your jaw hanging slack. “Oh, my god,” you breathed, your stomach dropping and goosebumps rolling across your skin.
“Dean?”
“Hey, (Y/N),” he said, a thin-lipped smile crossing his plump lips. “It’s safe now,” he said with a forced chuckle and a half-hearted shrug.
Your eyes fluttered at the memory of his promise all those years ago. You swallowed and sent him a small smile before stepping back and gesturing for him to come inside. He gave you another smirk, looking to the ground and stepping over the threshold of your apartment.
You made your way into the living room before stopping and turning to face him again. The silence was awkward as you studied one another carefully. “So,” you finally said, your hands slapping against your thighs as you slowly lowered yourself to the couch.
Dean cleared his throat, hurrying to take the recliner across from you. “So,” he said, his voice so much deeper than when he left. But you guessed that wasn’t anything to be surprised about. It had been ten years after all.
“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.
Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he looked to the ground. He was silent for a few moments, and you wondered if he would even explain his sudden reappearance when he glanced back up, tears in his eyes. “There’s…” he started, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat once more before trying again. “There’s a lot to tell you. But...what you need to know right now…. Um…. Sammy’s...he’s...he’s uh…. He’s dead,” he finally said bluntly, not finding an easier way to say it.
You stared at him in silence, searching his eyes for any hint that he was joking. He wasn’t, you realized with a sinking heart as a tear unwittingly slipped down his cheek before he viciously swiped it away.
“What?” you asked, your voice betraying your utter disbelief. You shook your head, turning your gaze away from Dean before looking back at him, his expression unchanging. You thought about the innocent, intelligent, and endearing boy with a heart of gold and a smile that could light up a room. In the time you’d known Sam, he’d become more of a brother to you than Leah had ever been a sister. It was impossible to imagine Sam not being there, and tears pricked the backs of your eyes at the realization that he wasn’t.
“Wh...what happened?” you asked, your turn for your voice to quiver.
Dean licked his lips and rubbed his hands across his thighs nervously. “Well…. Uh,” Dean began before he huffed and shook his head, running a hand over his face. “Fuck, (Y/N). There’s been so much shit happening since I last saw you. My life has been a literal shitshow. I wanna tell you everything, but…. I don’t know if you’d even believe me if I did.”
You tilted your head, giving him what you hoped was an encouraging look. “Try me, Dean. I’ve seen some pretty unbelievable shit in my time.”
You watched as he pursed his lips and carefully contemplated your words. It gave you time to really study him. His face was harder, the lines around his mouth and running across his forehead more pronounced like he’d seen more hardship than should be bearable, and his eyes were tired - not like he needed sleep, although he probably could use a good twelve hours of shut eye, but like he carried the weight of the world. And you couldn’t help but wonder just what he had endured since he left.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Dean said with a harsh chuckle.
“How about the beginning?” you asked gently.
Dean nodded, his eyes drifting as he revisited his memories. “Well…. After we left….” He proceeded to tell you everything, starting with why he, his dad, and Sam had had to leave so abruptly; to John and his obsession with finding The Yellow Eyed Demon, the demon who had killed his wife; Sam’s psychic abilities; Azazel and his plans for Sam and several other kids with abilities; Ruby, and Sam’s addiction to demon blood, and Lucifer’s release; and finally ending with Sam saying yes to Lucifer and throwing himself and Michael into the pit.
Your mind was spinning when Dean finally finished speaking and you opened and closed your mouth several times as you sought to find the right words to say. “I...I, uh…. Um, wow,” you finally breathed.
“You don’t believe me,” Dean stated, voice monotone. “Shit, I knew this was a mistake coming here,” he added, quickly getting up from the recliner. “I’m sorry I even came. It looks like you have a real nice thing going here, (Y/N), and I hope you have a great rest of your life.” He turned towards the door and hurried over to it.
“Wait!” you finally got out past the shock of everything. Dean paused just as his hand landed on the doorknob. “Wait,” you implored again, this time softer.
He didn’t turn back to face you as you made your way over to him. “Dean,” you said, stepping up behind him and placing your hand on his shoulder. You gripped his bicep when he didn’t respond, gently turning him to face you. His expression was hard and emotionless, but his eyes held what could only be desperation.
“Dean,” you whispered, reaching up and brushing your fingers against his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. He reached out, his own fingers ghosting across your waist. “I believe you,” you said softly. His eyes shot open in shock and he searched your face as if he didn’t fully believe you. But then his shoulders slumped as if a little of the weight he’d been carrying had been lifted. His eyes filled with tears and before you could register what was happening, his arms were around you, his face buried into your neck as he sobbed.
You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him even closer. You moved your hand up his neck, running your fingers through his hair soothingly and stroking the back of his head. He continued to cry, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked his entire frame. He was broken. That much was evident, and with each tear that fell and seeped into your shirt, your own heart broke a little more.
**********
You awoke the next morning to a heavy weight on top of you. You cracked your eyes open to find Dean sprawled out on top of you, arms wrapped around you and face buried in the side of your neck.
You smiled, loving the feeling of having him here with you again after so many years, even if his reappearance was marked by heartache and pain. You moved your hand up to the back of his neck, carding your fingers gently through the hair at the base of his skull.
He shifted slightly but didn’t wake up so you continued your soft movements, just enjoying the moment as light from the rising sun filtered through the shades at the window.
You thought over everything he had told you the night before, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that nothing in his life had ever been normal, not even in that summer of ‘98. To some people what he had divulged would have sent them running for the hills, but you’d seen and experienced enough weird and unexplainable things in your life that had left you more open-minded than a lot of people.
Dean stirred, bringing you out of your reverie as he took in a deep breath. He raised his head to look at you, his eyes puffy from deep sleep but looking more rested. “Hey,” you said gently, running your fingers through his hair as he rested his chin on your chest.
He smiled softly, staring into your face. His gaze darted to your lips and back up to your eyes before he slowly leaned forward, pausing for only a moment before completely closing the distance. His lips were just how you remembered them, plump and soft albeit a bit parched.
You smiled when he pulled away, his chin coming back to rest on your chest while you continued your earlier ministrations. “I missed you,” Dean murmured, his fingers running lightly over your hip. “Every damn day.”
“I did, too,” you admitted. “There’s not been a single moment in the last ten years that you weren’t on my mind.”
Dean sent you a weak smile, his eyes holding something akin to remorse. “There were so many times I wanted to come back for you,” Dean said. “But I couldn’t. Not when I knew I’d only be putting you in danger.”
“I know,” you said, leaning forward to brush a kiss across his forehead. “But you’re here now. And even though it took awhile for you to get back to me, I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤
***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags:
Everything:
@divadinag @mogaruke @calaofnoldor @defenderrosetyler @coffeebooksandfandom @emoryhemsworth @satans-0-spawn @fandom-princess-forevermore @titty-teetee @gallifreyansass @swiftrogerswinchesterthot @hollymac79 @codename-nyx @kalesrebellion
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#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean x reader#dean winchester angst#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester fluff#supernatural#spn#supernatural fanfiction series
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hold me by the heart || {two}
What: BTS Fic
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Words: 1.8k
Warning: Strong language, curse words etc.
{ONE}
Morning has dawned and now it is time for both parties to face the consequences of last night.
The sun streams through the crack in the blinds and causes Yoongi to twitch in his sleep. His body spasms once more as the words, “Y/N’s boyfriend” reverberate in his skull. He tries to shift more comfortably into the bed to rid himself of the noise but the presence of a warm body tucked into him makes him pause.
A gummy smile splits his lips, and he turns to hold the person closer to his chest. It was all a bad dream, you are here now in his arms, right where you belong.
With his eyes still closed in contentment, he lays a soft kiss on the top of the mass of hair tucked under his chin. “Wow, you're never this cuddly, what’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”
His eyes shoot open at the painful familiarity of the voice. It isn’t you. It’s her. The shock hits Yoongi as he struggles to get out of bed, the desire to remove himself from this situation getting stronger by the minute. He finally unlatches himself from her and swings his legs off the bed and onto the soft carpeted floor. Getting up, his head spins and he is unstable on his feet for a second before grabbing the arm of his desk chair.
Pain shooting through his temples makes him squeeze his eyes shut and that is the first mistake he makes, for your hurt face comes swimming into his view again. “Fuck.” he whispers before he makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to down some much needed pharmaceutical help.
Taking stock of the situation he looks around his studio loft. First, he needs to get her the fuck out of here. He’s disgusted with himself, he wants to blame his intoxicated self but he knows it’s a cheap cop out.
How could this have happened he begins to think but his heart has the answer even before his brain can form the question. “She’s moved on you fool, she’s happy with some douche-bag, and you’re still stuck here. 3 months later you’re still stuck in the same place.” it seems his heart has gained sentience and his currently whispering in his ear.
Yoongi has had enough, he clears his mind and looks at the sleeping form still lying on his bed, the shape of her curling up like a snake in his chest and he knows what he must do.
“I’m called you an uber, you should leave.” Yoongi says in a loud voice from the kitchen, sipping on his coffee, not even bothering to kick her out politely. “I know I’m a big distraction to you baby, but let’s go get some breakfast first and then we can repeat last night.” she says in a poor attempt to entice Yoongi again. “For fuck’s sake. Get up and get dressed.” he growls in a dangerous timbre
He doesn't know if it's the hangover or her use of a term of endearment that has him almost gagging. A loud beep from the blonde man’s phone causes them both to jump.
He checks his phone with a furrowed brow but instantly relaxes when he sees the notification. “Your über is here.” Yoongi says in his lazy drawl while waving the phone in her general direction. His back is now turned to her, he cannot bear to look at her face again. It only serves as a painful reminder.
He steps into his mobile recording studio that he set up with great pain after everything shattered to smithereens. It's the only place he can breathe, his only sanctuary. Yoongi can hear the distinct rustling of clothes and a shrill voice yelling, “You’re kidding yourself if you think you can ever get this in your life again, you asshole. Oh and btw, my name is Sun-mi, not Y/N!” a loud bang echoes through his loft and Yoongi finally lets out a deep breathe.
He is finally alone.
He sighs as he picks up his noise-cancelling headphones and snaps them to his ears. Mellow beats of the track he’s been working on flow through and pervade his senses.
He shuts his eyes and unconsciously (or is it on purpose?) his mind drifts to the 3 years ago, when he was grappling with the growing pains of a startup record label. He had known absolutely everything about making music. He had known absolutely nothing about running a business.
3 years ago
DaeguBeats Inc.
“So why should I hire you Ms. Y/L/N? You have no previous experience in the music industry, I’m not sure how much of an asset you will be to the company.”
“You didn’t have any experience in running a startup but I don’t see you doubting your abilities to do so. Speaking of assets and liabilities, do yo have any ideas as to what current assets you possess?”
“Your interview strategy is quite unique I must say. Has pissing off the interviewer worked for you before?”
“I’ve never had an interviewer pissed off at me before, but then again I’ve never had an employer who’s as passionate about his brainchild as you seem to be.”
“I’ll be honest here Mr. Min, I came to this interview, because I’m a fan of Agust D. Yes I know that’s your pseudonym. Don’t look that surprised, doesn’t take a genius to figure out. Anyway, the passion that you pour in your music really speaks to me and if you’re as passionate about this company as you are about your music, I have no doubt that this venture will be a smashing success.”
“I...I don’t know what to say really. You don't seem like the kind of person who would be into my music. You look very, how should I phrase this, straight edge? Anyway, fact of the matter is I don’t think we will be able to hire you. Your credentials are astounding however we can’t possibly afford you.”
“Aaah I came prepared for this, I know how startups work, I’m not going to hound you for financial remuneration. I might have an idea that may be mutually beneficial to us. Let me buy some DaeguBeats equity.”
“Excuse me? You're being quite presumptuous if you think I'm just going to hand over a piece of my baby over to a stranger.”
“Exactly, I understand that this company is your brainchild and I know how to work in such a way that will both preserve its integrity and increase profit manifold. You have my contact information, give my proposal some thought. Should you choose to agree to it, give me a call. No one can take better care of a this place than a fan.”
The memory makes Yoongi smile as the song continues to flow through his headphones. He was so taken aback by your boldness that he thought he would never call you back in. That was until he realized that the company needed someone exactly like you if it was to grow. With his tail between his legs, he had called you back, setting some terms to your offer.
Slowly the two of you built DB from the ground up, running into your fair share of troubles but nothing that the two of you couldn't overcome. As the label grew, so did your friendship and soon the two of you were inseparable.
Things came to a head when Yoongi saw you walk away from him to go on a blind date. He felt wretched that entire night and couldn't understand why he felt like that until he saw you walk into his studio at 1 am in a red dress crafted by the gods.
He wasted no time in claiming you for himself that night, his hands flying over your body’s map. Thus you had come barraging into DaeguBeats and Min Yoongi’s life.
Neither had ever been the same again.
“So tell me again, why you pretended to be my boyfriend last night? Sorry I was too out of it to interrogate you last night.” you say sternly to your roommate and best friend of 3 months, Jung Hoseok.
“I don't know Y/N, it was totally spur of the moment, clearly that dick can't take no for an answer, so I decided to handle it man to man.” Hoseok answers sheepishly, looking everywhere but towards your face.
“Really Hobi? Because this whole “macho” act of yours is going to open a whole can of worms that I do not have the energy to deal with.” you say to the orange haired man in a tone that comes off angrier than you intend.
Hoseok winces at acid in your voice and replies softly, “Y/N I care about you ok? I wasn't going to just stand back and let some ass stand in our doorway and treat you like that. I don't regret what I did for a second, and I would do it again.” he finishes defiantly.
Your features soften at the unwavering loyalty Hobi shows, that is one of the reasons why you opened up to him so quickly and why you trusted him enough to let him move in with you. He is the exact antithesis of Yoongi. The best best friend you could have asked for.
“I'm being ungrateful. Thank you for what you did for me last night. I was so flustered I wouldn't have known how to react. I owe you big.” you say with the biggest smile you can muster, hopping off the bar stool in your kitchen, heading to the bathroom to get ready for work.
“I'll come collecting one day so don't you forget it!” Hobi hollers after your retreating figure with a giant smile on his face.
“I hope the next time I call myself your boyfriend, it won't be a lie.” Hoseok whispers to himself in the quiet of your living room.
3 months ago
YSJ Entertaintment HQ
“Err.. are you ok? You've been crying in the dance studio for half an hour. Usually I would've let you have the space in peace but my trainees are coming in to practice soon and I don't want your privacy disturbed.”
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I'm such a mess. I'll get out of your way right now.”
“It's not a problem… by the way I’ve never seen you around here. You look a little older than our average trainee age.”
“Oh sorry I'm so impolite I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Y/L/N Y/F/N. I'm the new associate director for finance for the company.”
“You're a director? What are you doing down here with the little people? Wait, don't cry again… err… I'm the company choreography, the name’s Jung Hoseok but you can call me Hobi. Stick with me kid, I'll show you the ropes.”
“Th-thank you Mr. Jung. I appreciate the kindness. It's my first day I could really use all the help I can get.”
“Please call me Hobi. Let’s start with the staff cafeteria, they make the best kimbap this side of Seoul. While we’re headed there you can fill me in on what has got such a beautiful lady like you in such copious tears.”
#kwritersnet#bts writing squad#noonanet#armiesnet#yoongi.net#daegulinenetwork#bts fic#bts#bts imagines#bts scenarios#yoongi#yoongi imagines#writing#mine#hold me by the heart
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