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sergeantsporks · 3 years

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Day After Day

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Life in the coven seems glamorous on the surface, but there's a lot of work in being a coven leader. Hunter can handle it. He CAN.

Ao3

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter blinked blearily at the tiny demon determinedly chomping his arm. He flicked its eye to get it to stop and peeled it off, tossing it to his counter. He rubbed his eyes, lying in bed for just a second—just one more minute.

Okay. That was enough. It was time to get up.

He needed to get up.

Up, or you’re late, and Kikimora will notice, and Belos will notice, and the whole coven will notice.

Technically, he was up an hour earlier than he had to be. Technically, he wasn’t even close to being late, because the rest of the coven wouldn’t even begin to get up for another hour.

Get up.

Hunter rolled off of his bed, flipping on the lights, because the sun hadn’t risen yet. His alarm demon had gone back to sleep.

Wish that were me.

Tunic, on, armor, on, cloak, on, pinned with the symbol of the emperor’s coven. Shoulder pad, on. Hunter picked up his mask, and a sick feeling swept over him.

I don’t want to put it on. I’m so sick of it. I just want to leave it off and breathe without it tasting like metal.

No. It kept him safe. It was protection from the outside world. He needed it.

Mask on. Hood up.

Down to the mess hall. No one else was up, and that included the chef demons—they’d wake up in about half an hour to start cooking breakfast for the coven scouts and guards. Hunter turned on the lights. Half an hour to cook something up, eat, clean, put everything back.

He set on a kettle, grabbing a mug and a tea ball. Too tired to make breakfast. He usually was. So, tea it was, and he’d get lunch with the rest of the coven—no avoiding that.

The kettle whistled, and Hunter poured the water. Wait awkwardly for the tea to steep. Pour the rest of the water out of the kettle, return it to its place, wipe off the counter where the mug had been to avoid spillage, take tea to cafeteria.

Just like every other day.

Titan.

Sit alone at the table, his mask pulled up just enough that he could fit the mug under, sipping tea that was just a little too hot and a little too bitter.

Good, it would wake him up.

Just like every other morning.

Finish the tea. Ten minutes until the kitchen staff showed up. Wipe off table, clean mug, return it to cabinet. Turn off lights. It was like he’d never been there.

Go to the center office and check for the night patrol reports. There were 2, one for each shift. Both were a quick read and a quick file. Nothing eventful.

The coven was starting to stir, a few early risers up and about. They gave respectful nods to him as he passed them in the hallway, and he gave them acknowledgement nods back.

Wish I had time for a nap.

But it was just about time for him to designate the day’s patrols, and after that he had guard duty in the Emperor’s throne room for matters of state, and then it would be time for lunch, and then the first round of reports would be in, and he’d have to read those, and then he’d have his own patrol, and then it would be time for his daily exercise routine and then it would be dinner time, and then finally he’d have just a little bit of time to himself, but at that point it would be too late to take a nap, because that would mean he wouldn’t fall asleep later, and anyway, he’d need to be awake to read and file the last set of reports before the night shift, and then it would be time to do a sweep of the castle before everything settled down and then it would be time to go to sleep so that he could get an adequate amount of rest for tomorrow.

Obviously he didn’t have any time to take a nap right now.

And the day progressed exactly as he knew it would. Organize the scouts, guard the emperor, lunch, reports, patrol (nothing eventful), training, dinner. And then he was in his room, and he could finally take off the mask completely and breathe freely.

Hunter flipped the cover of a book back and forth. Opened it up to the page he’d left out on. Sighed. Set it aside. Picked up a different book. Set it down. Picked up his staff, starting to polish it, then setting that aside, too. Picked up the first book again, and stared at the page he’d been on for a few minutes without reading it. Closed it again.

He really just wanted to go to sleep. But he couldn’t, or he wouldn’t sleep tonight.

You like reading. Just read a book. It’ll make you happy.

He picked up the book, flipping the cover back and forth again, staring at the page.

He just couldn’t summon the willpower to actually read it.

You’ve been looking forward to it all day, what’s wrong with you? You like to read, just read the book!

I just don’t have the energy.

And then it was time to look at the patrol reports. Mask back on, trudge back to the office.

See, you didn’t really have the time to read anyway.

Hunter flipped through reports without reading them, putting his head down on the desk.

I’m too tired for this.

I should have taken that nap.

He flicked himself in the head. “Focus, you need to get this done. You said you’d get it done, you came down here to do it, no getting distracted, just do it.”

One of the reports contained a demon sighting, a real nasty large one.

Huh. He’d have to make sure the patrols to that area were briefed on the possible danger, maybe assign larger patrols. He felt sick just thinking about rearranging the size, changing the routine of the coven—it was a lot of work.

Sounds like a tomorrow problem.

Yes. It was too late to worry about it now—there was nothing he could do at the moment, he’d just have to figure out the change tomorrow, when he assigned patrols.

Nightly inspection.

Nothing wrong. Everything in order. No problems.

Hunter unpinned his cape, hanging it up neatly. Tunic left for laundry, armor and belt hung up with cape. Helmet on the bedside table.

Teeth brushed, face washed, all in order.

Hunter was asleep when his head hit the pillow.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter didn’t for a minute, until the biting of the alarm demon got too painful to ignore. He flicked it away.

Titan. Just. Let me lie here for a second.

No. You put off redesigning those patrols, so you have to get an extra early start, now get up.

Uniform.

Tea.

Night shift reports—a little faster than usual, mostly skimming. No sighting of that demon.

Figure out those patrols.

Hunter thumped his head against the desk repeatedly.

Figure out the patrols.

Come on, stupid brain, focus.

Okay. He could make the patrols not going through the area with the sighting a bit smaller—there hadn’t been any incidents in those sectors, so they didn’t need a full patrol. And then he could just add those extra people to the patrols going through the hot spot, warn all patrols to be on the lookout, and… the new patrols needed to be particularly well-balanced, with a mix of defense and offense. So he couldn’t just shift patrol members from one side to another, he had to redesign the entire schedule to make the best teams.

Should have looked at this last night.

Well, you didn’t, because you never learn this lesson, now redesign the patrols.

He was late out of the office to see the early risers, hurrying to the briefing room where he explained the situation, handed out the new assignments, warned the scouts to be on their guard and to call for backup if necessary, then hurried off to the throne room.

This was the closest thing he got to a break until after dinner. Sure, he had to stand ramrod straight and hold still unless it was necessary to move, but at least he didn’t have to think, at least not the way he had to when he was designing patrols. He just had to be alert.

Lunch.

Reports.

Patrol was nice. He finally got to be alone, no one looking for direction or asking him to do something.

Lilith had never done patrols when she was coven head—but then, she’d had her special assignment of capturing the owl lady.

Oh. Oh, right, Lilith had also had to organize Covention, which would… now be his job. He should probably get on that—except he didn’t really have the time to organize Covention, because he only barely had enough time to get the DAILY things done, he didn’t have time for a major project like Covention!

Whatever. Whatever, he’d just have to get ahead on some patrol schedules, and then he’d have the time. It would be fine, he just had to work a little harder now, and start planning early. He could use some of his free time, it wasn’t like he was managing to do anything he actually wanted to do anyway.

Hunter finished the patrol—nothing to report, nothing of note.

Training.

Dinner—he just grabbed some food from the mess hall and headed up to his room, scarfing down a piece of bread while he planned the next week’s worth of patrols.

He could skip the nightly check tonight—it technically wasn’t one of his official duties, it just made him feel safer. But tonight he was too busy, he lost track of time looking at old covention shows and speeches.

Hunter rubbed his eyes with a yawn, clearing away his plate. Time… time to go to sleep.

Titan.

Alarm. Shut it off.

I don’t want to.

Get up. Get up, get up, get up.

Hunter ripped the alarm demon off of his arm with a groan, sitting up and scattering old covention records. Titan.

He stacked the papers neatly.

Mask on.

Tea.

Reports.

The patrol reports he’d missed from yesterday marked another demon sighting—and there were a few citizen reports, too, the creature was destroying local shops. Not just a watch anymore, then—he needed to put a price on its head, which meant he needed to take a look at the coven budget.

Later problem.

Shift assignments.

Emperor’s guard.

Titan. Was this it? Doing this for the rest of his life? Was that what he wanted?

Of course it was. Of course it was, of course it was. This was a bright future—looked up to, in command of the most powerful coven, right hand man to his uncle. So what if it got a little monotonous, a little stressful? There were plenty of people who would kill to be in his position.

Public time over. The throne room doors closed. “Golden Guard. It has come to my attention that we have a bit of a demon problem.”

Hunter inclined his head. “Yes, sir. I’ve increased patrol size, and was planning to put out a reward for its capture or destruction.”

“I would prefer if you oversaw this one personally.”

“Personally?” Whoops—he hadn’t meant for that to come out questioning.

“Personally. I know you have a lot on your plate, managing the coven. But I’m certain you can handle this as well, yes?”

Yes, he could handle it. Of course he could handle it, it just meant shifting priorities, and taking up the time he’d set aside for planning covention, and maybe getting behind on the reports for a couple of days while he solved this problem. He could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. You don’t have to. You could outsource the job to scouts, or put that reward up.

But Emperor Belos wanted him to do it, and Emperor Belos believed he could do it—which he could, no problem—so of course he would, because he couldn’t disappoint the emperor, no matter how much he wished he could just have one focus.

“Of course, Emperor Belos. You can rely on me.”

Okay, okay, okay, he just had to find and kill this thing quick. He skipped lunch, re-reading the reports of the demon. It always appeared in the same spot at around the same time—luckily during his report-reading time, not in the time he would be in the throne room. Simple, easy, go to spot, kill monster, get on with life.

Hunter took a deep breath. Okay. He’d just go with the patrol tomorrow. No big deal.

Patrol, reading a few more reports as roamed his set area.

You wished for something new to break up the monotony, he scolded himself, tucking reports away on his way back.

Training—nope, he was too tired. Not today. He was hungry, too, but mostly he was just. Exhausted. He kept himself together long enough to get to his room, then passed out on his bed.

What time is it?

Hunter blinked blearily at the setting sun outside—past dinner, then. That was fine, he was fine. He’d gotten sleep, and that was what really mattered.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter peeled himself off of his bed with a groan. He didn’t remember falling asleep again.

Maybe I should leave the demon hunt for tomorrow.

No. Nope. He’d put it off long enough, waiting for its normal appearance time instead of tracking it down. He just needed to grit his teeth and get it done.

So after his time guarding the emperor, he went out with the next patrol. And then, there it was, a giant cat-like creature with bat wings and the tail of a scorpion. The rest of the patrol assumed defensive positions, and Hunter zipped forward, shooting bolts of magic at the creature. It yowled, swiping a paw at him. Hunter just barely dodged it—his mind was fuzzy, slow. Maybe he should have made an effort to eat something this morning. Another blast of magic—but that just seemed to be irritating it. Hunter zipped to the side, hitting a tree with his magic instead. It crashed down on top of the demon, pinning it, and he came in for a closer look. Where was its weak—

Hunter rolled to the side as its tail stabbed down towards him. It grazed his leg, and hot pain flooded from the wound.

Too slow, too slow, too slow.

Wait—

Hunter dodged the next tail strike, then slammed his staff against the creature’s tail, using a burst of magic to send the tip of the tail into the creature’s eye. It howled, thrashing.

The scouts jogged up, binding the demon. Some help they’d been—no wonder this thing had been terrorizing people. “Sir! Are you alright?”

Hunter waved them away. “Fine. Just a scratch. Can you handle this?”

“Sir!”

“Good.”

Hunter climbed onto his staff, warping away. Ow—that stung. It was just a scratch, but the creature’s venom made the whole thing throb and itch. He didn’t think it was deadly—none of its attacks on citizens had been fatal, and even stabbing itself in the eye hadn’t killed it. But it sure did hurt.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Back to the coven. Wrap up the leg, sew up the rip in his pant leg, slap a healing patch on to stop the pain so he could carry through the rest of the day.

Finally eat a meal—but not scarf it down like he wanted to, because other coven members were there, so slow and dignified it was.

Those reports were piling up—I’ll do them later.

Pass out, barely managing to hang up his uniform.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter didn’t move, just staring up at the ceiling, his leg throbbing and pulsing.

Come on. You can do it. Just like every other day. Just… get up.

Just five more minutes. Five more minutes, and then we’ll get up.

No. You have to catch up on all of those reports—because if you can’t get the reports done, you won’t even be caught up to today, and it will just pile up, and you won’t be able to do Covention plans.

Hunter pulled the alarm demon off.

You can do it.

No one will notice if you’re struggling as long as you continue to succeed.

One day at a time.

#i am #i am so tired and burned out #so it's time to project on the 16 year old #hrnglmble #toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #the golden guard #toh hunter #emperor belos #my writing

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

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I would’ve posted this earlier but, alas, I passed out early. This is a longer one, but tumblr got its act together so I can post it all in one part. You guys know where the other chapters are, and if you don’t, they’re at the end of the chapter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat straight Nutella.

Chapter 10

“I’m thinking about getting some gloves.”

He looks over at you as he laces up his skates. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling slightly to yourself as you look your hands over, trying to imagine what they would look like. “Like, badass, fingerless gloves.”

He smiles. “Dude, those would look metal as fuck.”

“Totally, right?” Your smile widens. “With studs and shit.”

He gets to his feet, hopping onto the ice. “Hell yeah.” He drops a puck to assault as you go back to your backed-up coursework the best you can—your handwriting has gone to hell, but you are working with what you have.

You flinch at the crack of his stick, the cross of the T ending up underneath the letter somehow. A cheer from Casey tells you the rubber cylinder’s fate.

‘I swear I learned this.' You squint at the basic algebra, the pencil, crudely held in your fist, hovering over the packet. ‘Why can’t I do this?’

“How’s your pile coming along?” Another crack.

“It’s comin’.” You run your fingers through your hair. “Just… trynna remember how to do ne—… subtraction.” ‘Not debate. Negating is debate.’

He laughs. Another crack. “Man, that thing really fucked you over, huh?”

“Thoroughly.” You decide against continuing to torture yourself, having been at it for the past five hours—most of it in the library before Casey invited you to watch him practice some more— and set the large stack of homework back in your bag. “Are you actually making the shots?”

“Casey Jones doesn’t miss shots.” Another crack.

“Pardon me, oh almighty king of the ice.” You stand on your good leg, grabbing the side of the wall to watch as he went back to collect his pucks.

You two have managed to bond over a mutual respect/love of heavy metal and hockey and, seeing as you are staying out of the Hamatos’ hair for a while—not upon request, but out of courtesy—you have managed to spend a lot more time with him than you may have otherwise. Your school has not assigned Biology any big projects yet, so, until you are assigned it, you do not have anything other than your health to stress about.

“Pardon accepted.” You watch his form as he performs another slap shot.

“You…” you trail off, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“What?”

You shrug. “Dunno.” You lean your head on your arms. “I’ll remember eventually.”

He drops the second puck. “Got any plans after this?”

You sigh. “Nope. Probably gonna head home and try not to cut my fingers making dinner again.”

He takes another shot. “Then let’s go out after this. You and me.”

You smile. “What, don’t have any plans either?”

“Nah.” He drops the third. “Dad doesn’t care if I’m home late anyway.”

“True, true.” You have decided against prying into his home life; it is not your place and does not concern you in the slightest. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wanna catch a movie? Heard there was this new pizza place just a couple blocks down if you wanna try to sneak it in.”

You snicker. “In the box and all?”

“Yes.” He grins mischievously and hits this one off the walls. Some way, somehow, it still makes it into the goal. “I bet your sweatshirt is big enough to stick the box under.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Not in the mood for burns on top of scars, Jones,” you reprimand him teasingly. “That just ain't it.”

“Then you can wear mine under that one and—”

“Your sweat-soaked hoodie you’ve been practicing in all day?” You cringe at the thought. “Over my dead body.”

“I mean…” he licks his teeth, smile widening, “it’s not exactly like you’re in the best—”

You laugh. “So not cool!”

He puts his hands up in defense, gliding over. “I mean, am I wrong, though?”

“That is completely besides the point, you ass.” You balance on your foot, crossing your arms. “Damn. Making fun of the girl with the broken leg.”

He leans against the wall. “Man, you were dying before the crash.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, whatever, Jones.” You lean against your hand. “How’s Johanna,” you sing.

He presses his hand against your face, pushing you away. “Annie is doing fine.”

You grin, steadying yourself on the wall. “Do you feel her, Johanna?”

“I’m gonna tell her you call her that if you don’t quit it.”

“Do you think that walls can hide her? Even when you’re at her window?”

He pushed his arm all the way out. You hop back.

“Her name isn’t even Johanna.”

“But she is Johanna,” you whine in protest, not bothering to hide your mirth. “She has the hair, the voice, the disposition. She’s an ingénue and you know it.” You have been teasing him about this for a while now: the girl in question—Annabelle Halshaw, a year below you two—had caught his eye when he had heard through the grapevine that she was the lead singer in some indie band. When he had shown you a picture and told you the story, you insisted on calling her Johanna for her golden hair and soft, sweet singing voice he had proudly had you listen to.

“She’s not.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down as you grab your bag. “Lie to yourself all you want,” you goad, “but deep down, you know in your heart that the truth,” you put a finger up, “is apparent.”

He hops off the ice, sitting next to you as he unlaces his skates. “Whatever.” He smirks. “How’s The Don?”

You avert your gaze. “I haven’t seen ‘im.”

“Boo.” He tied the laces together. “Some girlfriend you are,” he ribs.

You go red. “Not my boyfriend. Not even friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sets the skates into his bag. “That’s why you already know his family.”

“That—”

“And why you’ve had him over to your place.”

“If you don’t cool your tits, I’m telling Lucy you’re crushing on her friend.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What,” you simper, “think I won’t?”

He grabs his bag. “If you do, I’ll show her that video.”

You laugh, following him out of the rink. “You’re the worst.” You note how strange it is that he spent so little time on the ice as you two walk out, but you do not say anything about it.

“Hey, you’re the one throwing threats around.”

“Yeah,” you argue, “but my threat is clearly better.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you again.

You two keep chatting on the way to the theatre about anything and everything, from new bands to upcoming games to the newest blockbuster horror movies. You are not personally on the hockey team, but, as his friend, it is your duty to care. Besides, you figure, it gives you something to look forward to.

The movie is fine. You convince him against sneaking an entire pizza in, you split a bucket of popcorn, and you give him shit for getting freaked out by the disembowelment scene. It is payback for him teasing you about crying during the last movie you two went to a couple of days ago.

You two stand at the streetlight.

“Dude, it’s like eight,” he groans. “It’s not even late.”

“True,” you agree. “Counterpoint: I still have another week’s worth of work to do by Friday on top of the homework I’ll have to do anyway, so unless you wanna help—”

“Forget I asked.” He pulls his hood up against the autumn wind. “Need me to walk you back?”

“Nah.” You shrug. “If someone mugs me, they’ll give me an excuse to not do my homework.”

“Murdered?

“I’m already halfway there.”

He grins. “See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See ya, Jones.” You wave as he runs off.

The walk home is quiet and considerably easier than it was a couple of weeks ago. Seeing as you now get queasy whenever you get into a car, you have been limited to taking the subway and walking, which, among other things, has contributed positively to your physical strength. You know that you should probably at least try to take the bus or a cab around town to build your tolerance up, but the last time you tried, you had almost tripped and fallen from how shaky your legs were getting out. Oddly enough, you note as you go through the door, you do not have a considerably larger fear of heights than you did before, or of fire, but cars were tripping you up, even though you were the one that crashed it. You feel thankful that, at least, you do not think your fear is crippling. At least, you reason, you can still get into the car.

You lock the door behind you, debating whether you feel like adding to the collection of cuts you now possess— they are self-inflicted, but not intentionally so; you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the fact that you physically cannot use your hands to cut things. You decide against it tonight, tossing your bag on the bed as you sprawl across it, admittedly exhausted. You allow yourself a couple of seconds with your eyes closed before you pull yourself up with a groan and get back to work.

A part of you wishes that you had the physical energy to stay out longer. You are always trying to find excuses not to sleep, and although the mountain of homework and readjusting your timelines for things you missed is certainly one way to keep yourself preoccupied, it is not exactly what you would consider fun. Then again, reliving your greatest traumas while you sleep is not exactly fun either.

You catch yourself peeling at the newly applied bandages on your fingers, fingernails catching under the crudely applied adhesives. Applying bandages properly requires more dexterity and patience than you currently possess, and you are hardly going to ask someone else for help with something as stupid as that. You have lasted this long without needing too much help. People can live by themselves. You will live, probably. Well? Not your concern.

‘I should eat something.’ Your eyes strain to focus on the piece of paper in front of you, your mind wandering aimlessly as you try to impress the actual importance of finishing this upon yourself, but you find that is an insurmountable feat.

You drop your bag off the side of the bed, reaching down and pulling your shoe off, leaning back into your pillows, the weight of the day practically immobilizing you. Fumbling hands switch the lamp off, bathing your room in momentary, blissful darkness before the gravity of your decision sets in.

“Alright, me,” you breathe to yourself. “What’s it gonna be today? My folks? Bradford? What’s his face? Hell,” you chuckle, “why not all three? I’m sadistic enough, I’m sure.”

You close your eyes. “Give me your worse,” you challenge as you slip into unconsciousness.

Two weeks.

He had kept his distance for about two weeks. It was not as if he did not care or was not morbidly curious what the crash had done to you—his glances through the curtains did not tell him much-- but, after some debate, he had figured you needed time to recuperate before you would want his company. Two weeks, he figured, would be enough time for you to get back on your feet or, at least, for you to start wanting company.

His excuse to see you had come in the form of his brother’s newfound prideful boasting. Feigning insult was as good an excuse as any to go see you; after all, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood anyway, and it was normal to pop in to see someone if you were already just a couple blocks down, right? Sneaking away was easy enough—they would not mind his absence—and he, after much prep work, knew exactly how and why he was going to say the things he would to get in your good favor. The plan, he knows, would have gone swimmingly.

His plans seem asinine when he hears you crying.

His brothers do not cry much. He does not, either; it was a habit that they had all thoroughly bullied themselves out of when they were much younger and, if they still did, he knew nothing of it. His master did not encourage this, per se, but talked, then, frequently about the importance of maintaining a more stoic disposition and not allowing emotions to cripple you in battle. Practically, Donatello was satisfied with that explanation, having not properly cried for more than a year now. To hear the sound again, especially coming from you, was novel.

Novel, too, is how you are crying. The sound is less of actual sobbing and more of you being strangled, quiet gasps for air escaping your lips as you shake on the bed, curled in on yourself and clutching at your chest as if whatever pain you are experiencing is centered and can be relieved by something between your collarbones. His eyes, for the first time, trace the lines on your skin, your sleeves riding up your arms to reveal them to him, tears racing down and along the gash in your face. Everything about the scene, from the soft gasping of panic to your position to the heavy scarring, is completely foreign to him, rivaled only by one or two particularly hard nights when he and his brother were much younger.

He slides in through the window, leaning onto the bed. His fingers flick your lamp back on as he grabs your shivering shoulder tightly, shaking you awake as he mumbles words of encouragement. He is not sure if his help will be appreciated, if snapping you out of it was even what he is supposed to do in this situation, but now is not the time to think of that. You are in pain. He can offer you this kindness. “Wake up,” he pleads, not thinking of how this would look until your eyes snap open to look at him.

Immediately, the reality of the situation sets in, and he scrambles off the bed. ‘Why did I think that would be a good idea?’ Panic. ‘You just walked into her room like a fucking creep. See, now she’s going to—’

“Sorry.”

He blinks, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, wiping the tears from your eye with your sleeve quickly as you bring your knees to your chest, voice hoarse. “Sorry,” you repeat. “That you… I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but I know I should be apologizing.”

He is completely dumbfounded.

Your eyes glance to the open window. “I should probably start closing and locking my window, right?” You rub the back of your neck, voice clearing the longer you talk. “It didn’t occur to me since I’m so high up, but if you guys can get in, The Foot can too, right?”

‘Why is she apologizing?’

You push the hair out of your face. ‘You need something, right? I—uh—need to stop saying ‘right’ so much.” You shake your head to clear it. “’ Sup?”

He hears himself mumble some bullshit out about being in the neighborhood.

You sigh. “Sorry.” You close your eyes. “I’m usually up later; I’ve been so tired lately.”

‘Is she serious right now?’ He is completely lost. ‘She was just crying her eyes out in her sleep and now she’s apologizing? Did I miss something?’ You are smiling now, eyes still bloodshot, as if the whole thing is a figment of his imagination, still shivering where you sit.

He rises to his feet, kneeling in front of you on the bed. “What was it about?”

You blink, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Your nightmare,” he clarifies. “You were crying. What was it about?”

You avert eye contact. “Nothing too crazy,” you shrug. “Just about the crash. Nothing too exciting.” If possible, he thinks the bags under your eyes are worse than the last time you saw him.

He takes your hands loosely, turning them palms up to look, for the first time, at the patchwork quilt that is now your skin. “What happened in it?” He runs his thumb along the lines, keeping his voice low; he remembers how that used to help when Mikey used to have fits when they were younger. Leonardo and Raphael were never good at that; they took better to being more violently snapped out of their moods, but, then again, they never had this kind of breakdown; theirs were always more driven by loathing, self or otherwise.

You pause, still not looking him in the face as your muscles relax. He remembers, vividly, how he had done something similar when you two had first met, how much better, health-wise, you looked. ‘How long has it been since then? Three months? A little less?’

You take a deep breath. “Just… family shit,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you trace his frame loosely. “Fire.”

Your gaze is piercing as you finally look at him properly. He feels something catch in his throat as you bow your head.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Your voice is so soft, barely a whisper. “That they’re dead, I mean.”

The air is a suffocating blanket that smothers you both.

“I never told you, did I?” Your focus does not shift as it might have a bit ago. It is locked solely and intensely on him, taking in every detail of his expression. “How I died? How they died? Why I died?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He thinks it best to just be quiet and let you talk. He does not think he has ever heard anyone speak in quite the same tones, ever looked at him quite the same way you are.

You take another breath. “I wanted to try my hand at baking.” You force your eyes to stay focused on his. “I was—still am—not good about sleep. I always slept bad, and never at the right times. I used to take pills for it, to try to get myself back on track.”

He sees where this is going.

“I thought I could still stay up as late as I was used to.” You glance to the side, stealing yourself a second before focusing back on the boy in front of you. “I sat down in my room, turned on a movie. I set a timer. I fell asleep.” You swallow, hands shaking in his. “I can’t smell well, either. I must not have smelled the burning.” Your lips curl in a bitter smile. “Sure as fuck felt it, though, when I woke up.”

He lets you finish.

You try to blink the tears out of your eyes. “They were asleep,” Your voice rises ever so slightly. “I fell asleep at two something. I woke up when they started yelling.” You purse your lips, face reddening in shame as your nostrils flair. “They were trying to get someone out of bed when the roof caved in above them. My door got blocked.”

You feel yourself smile.

“So,” you strain not to cry, “that, Donatello, is why I’m here and why I’m dead, and why I really do deserve to burn again.” You laugh. “Hell, my body count is rivaling some serial killers, so that’s… that’s certainly something.”

He lets go of your hands, face blank.

You lean forward, placing your hands on your knees. “I don’t blame you,” You wipe a wayward tear out of your eyes, trying to swallow the frog in your throat. “Fuck, man, I’d think less of me, too, if it were me.” You nod towards the window. “I get it if you want to leave, but I thought you might want to know why—”

He stops you mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

Your arms lay slack at your sides as you try to process what is happening.

He does not say a word.

You break.

You burry your face into him, tears welling in your eyes as you let out a strangled sob. You hold onto him tightly as you struggle to breathe, body shaking as you wrap your own arms around him the best you can. The sound roars in your ears like thunder, the deafening quiet of the apartment punctuated only by your own cries. He gently holds you there, resting his head on top of yours. Each sound you make sounds as though you are physically being choked by your guilt, and his chest feels as though it is being crushed by an invisible hand as he listens to your pain.

Neither of you knows how long you stay like that.

He considers telling you a story from a long time ago, about some training he and his brothers had back then, but thought better of it; he does not want to upset you any more than you already are, and being in good company with someone like him may not be exactly what you need right now. Granted, he does not know what you do need, but he knows listening to him talk about bashing brains would not help your sensibilities any.

Instead, he stays quiet.

You pull away after a while, wiping your face off again as you mumble out an apology.

“Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “It’s good to cry; it releases endorphins.”

You smile at that. “Well,” you giggle tearfully, “if it releases endorphins.”

He smiles back, face flushing. You look good, he thinks, even with your face all red. He knows that, scientifically, there is probably a reason, but he cannot think of it right now.

He stands up. “I’ll get—”

You grab his hand tightly.

He looks back at you.

“Can I ask a favor?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he agrees easily. “Anything.”

You glance off. “Promise not to take it weird?”

He feels his heart rate increase. “Y-yeah,” he nods.

He feels you pull him gently back on the bed. “Can you stay here tonight?”

His eyes widen as they flicker between the mattress and you. “What,” he clarifies breathlessly, “like sleep with you?”

You nod.

“In the same bed?”

You hesitate, nod again.

He clears his throat, face heating again. “Like, actually?”

“If it wasn’t actually, I wouldn’t ask, would I?” You grip his hand tightly. “I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

‘Oh.’ He mentally kicks himself. ‘She’s scared. Don’t make her uncomfortable.’

“It’s alright if you don’t—”

He is extremely quick to reassure you that he is more than happy—‘Bad choice of wording.’—to stay tonight until you fall asleep, but that he would not stay the whole night as to not worry his brothers.

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure I would be good company when I wake up, anyway; I still have class.”

“Oh, right.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself further onto the bed. “Which side…?”

You shrug. “Which way do you face?”

“I usually lie on my stomach.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” You slide your sweatshirt over your head after a bit of squirming around, tossing it onto the couch.

His face is now scarlet. “Okay then,” he mumbles, laying down on the side away from the window. ‘Is she going to—no, stop that.’

You look over at him, face down on the mattress. You can almost feel the heat coming off him. “Are you alright there, buddy?”

He nods.

You shrug, laying down under the blanket and curling into him, facing the window. “Mind getting the light?”

He reaches over, clicking it off.

You sigh in content, turning to face him, teetering on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not venomous,” you inform him teasingly. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: of the two of us, you should not be the one who’s a nervous wreck.”

“You dunno that.” His voice is muffled by the bed.

“You’re the strong one,” you argue.

“So?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’m the guy laying in the—I’m just gonna stop that sentence.”

“It’s only bad if it isn’t consensual.” You smile reassuringly. “I invited you to lay with me, right? So, unless I make you uneasy, then we’re all good.”

He breaks eye contact. “So,” he clarifies, “you don’t mind if I move closer to you?”

You shake your head.

He hesitantly slides himself further onto the bed. “Can I move closer than this?”

“You’ve already seen me bawl my eyes out. You’re doing me a service. Move as close or as far as you want.”

He moves to press his side against you. “Is this fine?”

You nod. “Look, how about this?” You rest your arm under your head. “If you do something I’m uncomfortable with, the safe word is pina colada.”

‘We already have a safe word?’ He was not sure if he is on cloud nine or just terrified of you.

You are very confused why he looks so warm. “Do you need me to turn the AC on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he assures you tightly. Slowly, he reached an arm out and over your waist, pulling you closer. You do not seem to resist in any way, wrapping your good leg around one of his to pull him closer.

‘Conscious touching.’ He glances down at you, trying to act cool. ‘Conscious, intentional touching. She smells so nice and she feels—okay, this is not going to work if you keep being a perv.’

“Thanks,” you mumble, humming softly. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

Cloud nine. Definitely on cloud nine.

“Every time.”

You giggle.

He blinks. “What?”

“Every time,” you note, already nodding off. “Like in that book.”

‘Which one?’ “They wrote it down for a reason, right?” The longer he spends like this, the smoother he feels.

“Totally.” You smile, closing your eyes. “Just know that this goes both ways, alright? If you ever need help like this, you know who to call.”

This is new. ‘Help like this? What, like crying?’ His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what you mean. ‘Or he means if I ever need company in my—what did I just say?’

You pick up on his confusion. “Emotional help, I mean.” Your fingers trace the indentations in his shell absentmindedly. “I mean, I know sometimes I didn’t want to go to my family about stuff. I dunno if you have that…” you trail off, realizing that you might be unintentionally bashing his brothers. You sincerely do not want to blow this.

“I mean,” he says after a bit, “I think I get what you’re talking about.” He sighs. “You mean stuff that they’d make fun of me for, right?”

You nod.

He feels his heart melt a little. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

You forgot how safe he makes you feel. “Goodnight, Donnie,” you mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pass out not long after that. If he has to estimate a general amount of time, he will clock it in at about five minutes. He does not move, however, until about thirty minutes before sunrise, too busy listening to the sound of your breathing and memorizing how exactly your body feels next to his. As he slips out of the window, early morning air waking him back up completely, he wonders if, someday, he could stay to see you wake up next to him. Not out of necessity, but just because you both wanted to stay like that for a while more.

‘I hope so. It’s a nice dream to have, anyhow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

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yoon-kooks · 4 years

Text

Witch Hazel- Pt.5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

“So are you in, Jimin?”

“I’m in,” he chuckles at your little proposal. His laugh retains its charm, even through the phone. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous of that charming quality of his. “But can I ask you something, Snow?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?”

“To prove a point,” you say. “You also have something to prove, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at my concert that night despite being well aware of how the public and media would react.”

“Right… Sorry about that, by the way.” You hear the sorrow still beating him up in his lowered voice. It makes sense that he feels the need to blame himself for all the backlash you received, but he shouldn’t have to feel guilty when all he wanted was a little freedom as a normal human being and not as the perfect idol the world makes him out to be.

“It’s fine, Jimin. We may be glorified idols at the top of the industry, but there are a lot of things we have no control over.”

“True… Sometimes it seems like the only way to escape the judgment of the public eye is to hide behind a mask, huh.” Jimin sighs. “But we can’t always live like that either.”

“Exactly.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone aside and pick up your guitar.

On your way to class, you’ve made a habit of checking jk.seagull’s blog for any updates on Witch Hazel, and you’re delighted when you find this new text post:

“it’s not done yet, but I’m planning on posting a new chapter this afternoon after class!”

To celebrate the occasion, you stop by your local coffee shop to pick up a special mocha with extra whipped cream. You’re already late for class after failing to hear your five alarms this morning anyway. And besides, maybe you deserve a little pick-me-up after all the writing you’d done the night before. For once, you feel pretty good about the direction you’re headed in.

Not even a scolding by your professor could ruin your mood.

“Oh, Y/N. How nice of you to join us,” your professor motions for you to take your seat as soon as you step foot into the art room. “I was just talking about how certain students have not been taking this class seriously as of late.”

She glances directly at you, along with your tablemates, Taehyung and Jungkook. “Sorry,” you mouth with a lack of sincerity, before taking a long sip of your mocha.

“And because of that,” the professor continues, “I’ve decided to move up the due date of our portrait project to tomorrow.”

A collective groan fills the room from the entire class, with the exception of those few lucky bastards who’ve already completed their project early. Once the class is dismissed, the scramble to actually get shit done begins. Even Taehyung opts to stick around as opposed to his usual obligations, and that speaks volumes.

As soon as your team relocates to one of the empty art studios nearby, however, it’s apparent that no one is really vibing with this project.

“So… what’s the assignment again?” Taehyung scratches his head. As much as you’d love to scold the boy for his lack of awareness of anything happening in art class, you haven’t been in the proper mindset to give the project any thought either.

“Something about drawing ourselves based on how others perceive us?” Jungkook yawns. “Or was it drawing each other’s portrait?”

“The first one, I think,” you say. “It doesn’t really make a difference when Jungkook’s gonna end up drawing Taehyung’s portion anyway.”

“True,” the boys say together. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your art class shenanigans, it’s that the more you get to know someone, the easier it is to understand them and their actions—even if they’re completely different from you like Taehyung.

“If that’s the case, let’s hurry up and let each other know how we perceive one another. I have a doubleheader later on that I’d really hate to miss,” Taehyung nods in satisfaction at his clever wording for what you presume to be back-to-back one night stands. “I’ll start: Y/N, there’s not much I know about you besides the fact that you’re unfriendly, but I think that’s intentional. Like you’re hiding a dark secret or something. Jungkook, if you weren’t so shy, I’m sure you’d get laid more often.”

“Let’s not sugarcoat anything,” you roll your eyes. “I would say you, Taehyung, abuse your charm to get what you want. You use sleeping around as an excuse to avoid responsibility. And you embrace it because you fear that that’s the only thing people will ever acknowledge you for.”

“I’m not usually a masochist, but I kind of like it when you roast me like that, Y/N,” Taehyung shrugs it off, though you know you’ve hit the mark. Everyone has a poker face, and Kim Taehyung is no exception. To take the attention off of himself, he throws an arm around his favorite art buddy. “Roast this guy next.”

You glance over at Jungkook who’s in the midst of adding to your roast on Taehyung. It’s interesting to see how differently he acts with Taehyung, with you, and with everyone else. The more he knows someone, the less he withholds. If he knew you more, you wonder what he’d tell you. “I agree that if Jungkook weren’t so shy, there’d be more potential for a lot of things, but-”

Buzz! Taehyung looks down at his phone. “Well, that’s my cue. Jungkook, Y/N, you know what to do~”

“Have fun at your doubleheader,” you wave off your incompetent teammate until he’s out of sight. “Should we be enabling him like this?”

“Probably not. But even I can’t say no to that charm of his.” Jungkook sighs as he pulls out a blank sheet of bristol paper. In what feels like an instant, several dots and lines transform into a general outline of Taehyung’s face. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen for his charm yet… unless…?”

“Look, I get the appeal of a smoothtalker who walks with confidence, but Taehyung really isn’t my type,” you laugh.

“Still, I’m a little envious of him.” Jungkook draws Taehyung a nice and natural wink. “Because he isn’t afraid to chase after what he wants.”

You want to tell the boy that he should chase after whatever it is he wants, but you know that’s easier said than done. After all, you know exactly how it feels to take that leap of faith, only to fall short before reaching the dream you so desired. So all you can do is nod and start working on your own portrait.

For about five whole minutes, you try to sketch out a decent upside-down egg shape for your head, but it always comes out a little lopsided or rough around the edges. Once you’ve got a little mountain of eraser shaving piling up, you decide it’s time to sneak a peek at Jungkook’s sketch to get an idea of how a well-seasoned artist draws a proper face.

What you see instead, however, is the boy staring back at your mountain of eraser shavings. You swear you hear a little pft come out of his mouth. The nerve.

“Hold your pencil like this,” he says, holding his own pencil with his pinky sticking out.

You replicate his grip, wiggling the pinky. “Is this some sort of weird pinky promise that artists do?”

Before Jungkook can even respond, your pinky is already linked to his. Funny how his finger curled around yours as if it were the most normal thing to do, but his burning cheeks say otherwise. You might’ve jumped the gun on this one.

After blinking at the empty pinky promise for a good three seconds, the boy finally lets go. “Use that pinky to steady your hand as you sketch.”

“Oh… right…” You feel a wildfire spreading across your own cheeks. Your dumbass somehow misinterpreted a drawing technique for something as childish as a pinky promise! Whether it’s because you’re flustered or just shitty at art, you fumble around to get your pencil on the paper. “…How do I do it again?”

Rather than trying to explain or demonstrate it to you, Jungkook motions for you to come closer. So you do. He takes your hand and individually sets each finger onto your pencil like a guitar teacher helping their student find the right chord position.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how gentle his touch is. Rather than forcing your fingers to conform to the conventional ways of an artist, he gives them the little push they need to find their own place along the length of the pencil—wherever is most comfortable for you.

Once you’ve got a good grip, Jungkook guides your pencil back to the canvas with your pinky just barely touching the drawing surface. “Now try drawing the outline of your face again.”

You do as you’re told and see immediate results. Although it’s not a perfect egg, your lines are noticeably smoother as if your skin had just been cleared. Jungkook gives you and your improved egg a thumbs-up, which you return with a thumbs-up of your own.

As you both resume your portraits, you can’t help but wonder if it was the tiny adjustment of how you held your pencil that made the difference. Or if it was Jeon Jungkook himself. You suppose only time will tell.

Several hours later, Jungkook has finished Taehyung’s portrait, you still need to color yours in, and an announcement goes off through the intercom.

“Due to the art auction charity event tonight, this building will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”

You groan. This is the worst case scenario for your damn group project. Because if you’re kicked out of the studio, you won’t have access to all of the necessary art supplies.

Unless…?

You exchange glances with the most devoted artist you know.

Jungkook’s apartment is not exactly how you imagined a weeby Snow stan’s habitat to look. There’s not a trace of Snow, nor is there a hint of magic anime girls floating around. But the one thing you did correctly predict is the amount of art scattered across the boy’s room.

Everywhere you look, you’re blown away by something different from the last. A painted city landscape detailed enough to be mistaken for an actual photo, a busy abstract pattern that makes the little wheels in your head spin, the familiar animation booklet of the flower in the snow, and an interesting little doodle that doesn't seem to scream “college art project”.

You try to make sense of what appears to be the chaos that ensues when the worlds of mathematics and music collide. Half of the basic times tables chart is replaced with values represented by music notes. The math nerd in you laughs when you see that a sixteenth note is correctly placed where two quarter notes align. Similarly, the music sheet on the other side of the doodle has a time signature of “75%” aka ¾ time aka the rhythm of a waltz.

“How old were you when you drew this one?” You point to the artwork titled Math Musician written in tiny font at the bottom corner next to the boy’s initials.

Jungkook chuckles, probably out of embarrassment. “I think I was ten.”

“Imagine being a talented artist at age ten. Can’t relate,” you clown yourself as you pull out your unfinished portrait from your art bag. In addition to looking “unfriendly”, your drawn face is rather lifeless and more so demonic for some reason. Hopefully some color will bring more dimension and life back into your flesh.

Just then, you realize you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“Umm, Jungkook?” you continue to stare down at your mistake. “I forgot to factor in your opinion of me into my portrait and now I just look unfriendly like Taehyung said.”

Jungkook tilts his head to get a better look at your monstrosity. His reaction could go one of three ways: he could laugh and give you a hard time about it, he could help you find a solution, or he could do both.

“You definitely nailed the ‘unfriendly’ part,” he snickers. “The RBF is strong with this one.”

“So you agree that I’m unfriendly?” On one hand, that would be good because you won’t have to revise your portrait if Jungkook shares the same opinion as Taehyung. On the other hand, you don’t want Jungkook to have that opinion of you.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I think if people looked beyond your unfriendly demeanor, they’d find someone very different.”

Before you can ask the boy to elaborate, he has already left and come back with the solution to your problem: fancy coloring markers.

“Since you already drew your appearance based on Taehyung’s opinion, you can color it in based on my opinion, if that makes it easier.” Jungkook hands you an assortment of markers, though a large portion of them are just different shades of one color in particular. Yellow.

Yellow was the last color you were expecting. You expected cooler and darker tones like blues or greys to match your ice queen personality. But yellow? Yellow, to you, has always meant bright and happy.

“Yellow is a happy color, isn’t it?” You start swatching each shade of yellow to see how they translate onto a white canvas. Your favorite shade out of the bunch is the soft pale one called Banana Milk, but that still doesn’t mean it suits you. To prove your point, you hold up your unfriendly demon portrait to your actual face and pout. “Do either of these faces look happy to you, Jungkook?”

“No, but they do look silly.” The boy cracks a smile at your humor. “In a good way.” The way he smiles so brightly plants a dangerous little seed in your head. Maybe the yellow is meant to represent not how he perceives your feelings, but rather, how he perceives his own feelings for you.

By the time evening comes, you’ve shaded in every inch of your canvas, completing your portion of the portrait project. You were right—the bright colors really did help bring life back into your face, and there’s less of a demonic aura about it now.

It also looks like one big contradiction: an unfriendly-looking face with a cheerful brightness around it. But that’s probably what Jungkook was referring to when he said you were very different beneath your unfriendly mask.

As you stretch out your arms and yawn, you peek over at the boy’s progress with his portrait. He stares down at his markers scattered across the floor, pushing his long locks out of his eyes, in search of his next color. From the small portion that he has colored so far, you notice a big difference between his portrait and yours. While your color scheme is bright and flashy like a star, Jungkook’s is soft and subtle to mimic his shy and lowkey personality.

“Use this,” you toss him the Banana Milk marker and pull a scrunchie off your wrist, “and this too.”

Jungkook places the pale yellow marker down right on the area he’ll color next. He doesn’t, however, know what to do with the foreign hair accessory in his palm. He just blinks at it.

With a dramatic sigh, you join the boy on the floor and take back the scrunchie. Like a puppy with long bangs poking its eyes, he lets you comb your fingers through his hair before tying a tiny sprout on top of his head.

“So this is what the world looks like,” he nods, as if his long hair had greatly hindered his view of the world in front of him. At the same time, he spots the finished product of your portrait. “Your self-portrait is a lot different from how I would draw you.”

“I would’ve appreciated a compliment for my hard work, but go ahead and insult me, Jeon.” You square up.

“Oh sorry. You did a phenomenal job, Y/N.” He doesn’t even try to put effort into masking his sarcasm as pity praise. But that’s expected in how he hasn’t missed a single opportunity to tease you and your shitty art. “It’s just interesting how differently others interpret us from how we interpret ourselves.”

Now you’re curious. “How would you draw me then?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook pushes his own portrait aside and starts digging around for a sketchbook with a blank page to spare. What possesses him to prioritize a drawing of you before his own portrait that’s due in less than 24 hours? You won’t allow that.

“I want to see it after our project is finished, please,” you pull his unfinished portrait back in front of him before making yourself comfy on the boy’s bed. “In the meantime, I’ll be reading you-know-what.”

“Smut?” The boy has a dirty mind, it seems.

“Unless Witch Hazel plans on getting a little smutty, no, I will not be reading smut.” With a hmph, you scroll through jk.seagull’s blog. “I wonder if the new chapter is posted yet.”

Jungkook, too, picks up his phone with wide eyes when he hears you say “new chapter”. Your hype and excitement around the fanfic must be rubbing off on him.

But unfortunately for you, there is no new post since the one you saw before class. You make a sad booboo face, but it isn’t the end of the world either. You’ll just have to reread the series from the beginning as you wait for either Witch Hazel to be updated or Jungkook to finish the project. Whichever happens first.

“Wait, I think the seagull guy just posted something.”

You’ve never jumped onto your phone so quick when Jungkook mentions the seagull guy. It isn’t a new chapter of Witch Hazel, but instead another small text post.

“sorry for not updating witch hazel today like i said i would!! i was bombarded with an unexpected art assignment;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;”

Your sad booboo face disappears. It seems you’re not the only one struggling to find balance between the arts and the need to satisfy others. “Isn’t it funny that he’s an art student too?”

“Haha, yeah…” Jungkook’s voice fades as he returns to his portrait.

“Maybe that’s why I like his work so much,” you say, clicking back to the very first chapter of Witch Hazel where Snow is helping out those who she had unintentionally scared away with her witchcraft. “He just gets it.”

“He gets what?”

With the biggest yawn, you shrug because you don’t really know how to put it into words. It just feels as though you and him think alike. And the thought of that is comforting enough to put you to rest until Jungkook finishes up the project.

“Y/N.” You hear things shuffling around in your half-asleep state. When you rise from mysterious pile of blankets on top of you, you see Jungkook putting his art supplies away and clearing space on the floor for him to camp out since you’ve apparently claimed his bed.

“Did you finish?” You check the time in the dimly lit room, and you’re shocked to see it’s past midnight.

“Yeah.” He pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and drops it into your palm. “Thank you for your service.”

“Keep it.” You slide the hair tie onto the boy’s wrist when you notice he looks a little different somehow. The hoodie he was wearing earlier is replaced with a plain white tee, and his torn jeans have become grey sweatpants. The unspoken reality of you stay over at the boy’s apartment is slowly becoming realized. “In exchange, I’d like to see how you’d draw me.”

“Already done,” he says, jogging to his desk and back to you with a page from his sketchbook in hand. “I drew you as a superhero.”

“What kind of superhero?” You kick the blankets off of you and reach for the drawing, but of fucking course, Jungkook pulls it back real quick just when you were about to snatch it. “Let me see!”

He keeps it hidden behind his back for a while until he gets a little too cocky and dangles it above where you’re sitting on the bed. It would be too predictable for you to reach for the hand with drawing in it, so you decide to aim for the other arm to trap him in.

But rather than latching onto his arm, you catch only a piece of the scrunchie around his wrist, causing you both to lose balance. Your back hits the soft bedding as you stare up into the eyes of the boy who just so happened to land on top of you. Aha, you finally figure out why he looked a little different after you woke up. No glasses, just his handsome brown eyes.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for figuring that out if you weren’t distracted by the drawing of you as a “superhero”. You were expecting something tough like the Avengers or Sailor Moon or even Izuku Midoriya. But instead you see someone who looks very much like yourself with a guitar and yellow flower crown.

“That’s not a superhero,” you say quietly.

“There are people who would feel otherwise.” Jungkook plops down next to you on his stomach.

“Like who?”

“Like people you share your music with.”

You bite your lip before rolling off the bed to run and get something. When you hop back onto the bed, you drop a pencil into Jungkook’s hand make him hold it with his pinky out like he had shown you earlier. You do the same with another pencil and link your pinky to his once more.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #btsboulangerie #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

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dawninlatin · 4 years

Text

Queen of Peace, chapter 4

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1826

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

There is love in your body but you can’t get it out

It gets stuck in your head won’t come out of your mouth

-Florence + The Machine, Hardest of Hearts

Asterin looked pissed. She and Manon were currently sitting on the floor at the dance studio, stretching after the long practice they’d just had.

«All I’m saying is that you’re not focused enough,» Manon continued. She had asked Asterin to stay behind with her so they could talk. Dance practice was about the only place she saw her cousin now, and even then, her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

While rolling her eyes, Asterin replied: «I just have a lot on my mind right now, besides, we’re doing good.» She shrugged, before moving on to her other leg.

Manon didn’t buy that whole a lot on my mind thing, so she pushed further. «Like hell you have a lot on your mind. I bet it’s that boyfriend of yours keeping you so distracted, you seem to spend all your time with him.»

«So what if I spend my time with him, he makes me happy,» Asterin scoffed as she finished stretching, now standing up to leave.

Oh, they weren’t done yet…

«I don’t care how happy he makes you when you can barely keep up with the rest of the team. Iskra-,»

«Relax a little, nationals are months away,» Asterin interrupted, turning around to face her cousin once more.

Manon hated to argue with her, but someone needed to make sure everyone on the team stayed focused, stayed in shape. «Nationals being months away isn’t an excuse to slack off. You know I can replace you at any time if you don’t keep up with the rest.»

Always the hard, disciplined leader.

Asterin almost looked hurt at her words. Manon kept her features cool and emotionless. She didn’t care about Asterin’s feelings. If she got kicked of the team, it was her own fault.

«There’s nothing I want more than to beat Iskra Yellowlegs like the bug she is, but you don’t have to be such a bitch about it. Go a little easier on the team, we have never been as good as we are now.»

Manon didn’t bother responding as Asterin walked out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the almost empty room.

They might be better than ever, Manon thought, but better than ever still wasn’t good enough in her grandmothers eyes.

Dorian usually enjoyed English class, but the teacher had been rambling about the importance of using formal language and how «kids nowadays talked to their peers». So instead of paying attention to what Mr. Norton was saying, Dorian continued reading the book Aelin had practically forced on him earlier. He had to admit, it was a good book. Especially the main character’s love interest.

Thinking about that sent a rush of sadness through him. Dorian knew Aelin loved that character as well. In fact, she hadn’t been able to shut up about him for the past few weeks. There was nothing Dorian wanted more than to geek out over their joint crush, but that would also mean telling Aelin that he liked both girls and boys.

He still hadn’t told them, still hadn’t found the courage. Dorian wasn’t sure what was holding him back…

The other reason to why he wasn’t paying attention in class was sitting two rows ahead of him. Dorian found his eyes wandering to the head full of white hair more times than he liked to admit.

It had been a week since he stumbled upon her having a panic attack in the library. Dorian had wanted to talk to her after, but she was hard to catch. He never saw her in the hallway, never saw her near the football field, never in the cafeteria, a few days ago he’d even checked the spot he’d last seen her, but it was as empty as always. The only time he actually saw Manon was in English class, but she was the last to enter and the first to leave, meaning it was impossible to go over to her desk and start a conversation while waiting for their teacher. Dorian had met her eyes, once, but she had looked at him like nothing happened, like she didn’t know him, before quickly looking elsewhere.

«-which will mean a lot for your grades.» Dorian only caught the tail of that sentence, but he shifted his attention to the board. Apparently Mr. Norton had stopped talking about formal language and instead moved on to presenting some assignment.

«For this project, you will be paired up two and two. You are to pick a book of your choosing, read it, and then make a podcast where you discuss it. I have put the deadline in two and a half weeks, it’s on a Friday.»

This made Dorian feel very exited. He hoped he would be paired with someone who’d let him choose the book. He already had a few in mind…

«These are the pairs,» their teacher said, pulling a document up on the board. Dorian searched the list until he found himself. He felt a surge of excitement as he saw who he was paired with. Right at the bottom, was his name, next to Manon’s.

This was gonna be a good couple of weeks.

This day could not get any worse, Manon though, looking at the board.

First, she had been woken up way too early by Abraxos yowling at her window. Good thing her grandmother was currently out of town. The lack of sleep had put her in a fairly pissy mood. A mood which had been made worse by fighting with Asterin after dance practice. Then she had been unlucky enough to be paired up with Dorian fucking Havilliard for a project counting 50% on their semester grade.

She had to find some way to get out of it. She could tell Mr.Norton she didn’t have time to meet up with Dorian. That she would read a book on her own and make an analysis. Or just ask to switch partners. Anything, to not do it with him of all people.

What are the odds - in a class with 30 students - of being paired up with the boy who happened to walk in on you having a panic attack a week ago?

Manon had zoned out in a train of thought, which were interrupted by their teacher speaking once again. «You can have the rest of this lesson to discuss how you want to go through with it,» Mr. Norton announced, sitting down behind his desk.

Fuck, now Dorian was coming towards her. She tried to look as bored as possible as he leaned against the edge of the table in front of her, hands in his pockets. He ran a hand through his curly, black hair, before asking:

«Were you okay the other day? I’ve been meaning to ask you, but…» He simply gestured at her, instead of finishing the sentence. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Manon tried to keep her features calm, cold. «What are you talking about? I’m fine. Besides, it’s none of your business.»

Dorian raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, so Manon answered with a glare. That seemed to make him give up his interrogation, she thought as his expression faltered.

«Okay, so we should probably discuss what book to read,» Dorian said reluctantly, not ready to let go of the previous subject just yet.

«Yeah, no, that’s not gonna work,» Manon replied, her voice bored.

«And why is that?» The boy in front of her was smirking now. She wanted to punch him in the face.

Manon rolled her eyes. «Because I have a very tight schedule. We can just do it separately and then mix up our notes as we hand it in.»

As soon as the words had left her mouth, the bell rang, students all around them moving to get out. Thank god! Manon was about to get up and leave herself, but Dorian stopped her. He ripped a piece of paper out of his notebook before scribbling down something and handing it to Manon.

«Here’s my number. Why don’t you text me when you’ve found an available spot in your very tight schedule.» After putting an emphasis on very tight he had the audacity to wink at her, before walking out of the classroom.

And Manon just stood there, baffled by the whole exchange, with a sudden need to scream.

When Manon was lying in bed that night, she still couldn’t get her mind off the stupid project. She most definitely couldn’t work with Dorian, she decided.

So why do you still have his number?

She cursed the voice inside herself. He meant trouble, and there had to be some way she could do it alone. She would talk to Mr. Norton tomorrow and figure it out. She didn’t need to think about it tonight.

Manon tried to close her eyes and go to sleep, but all she could see was Dorian, winking at her as he walked away. Text me, she could hear his voice echo in her mind.

Then there was the other thing bothering her. She still hadn’t spoken with Asterin after their fight. She had hoped they could declare peace over dinner today, but she hadn’t come home after school. It was now midnight, and still no sight of her cousin. She was probably at Hunter’s.

Asterin being away meant the whole house was quiet. Their grandmother was away on some business trip and wouldn’t be back for another few days. Manon normally enjoyed the calm quiet of the night, but right now she couldn’t relax. Something was on her mind.

You have that something’s number, that voice said again.

«Fuck it!» Manon annoyingly exclaimed as she abruptly sat up, rousing Abraxos - who was lying next to her - from his peaceful sleep in the process.

Ignoring the clearly offended cat, she reached for her nightstand, where her phone and the note she had tossed beside it laid. She opened her messages and typed in Dorian’s number. She didn’t bother saving it. Then she angrily typed in a message before sending it and tossing her phone back on the nightstand. She didn’t wait to see if he answered.

The message only said: Saturday, 3pm, the library.

Manon hadn’t even bothered signing it. He would have to figure out who it was from on his own.

«Don’t look at me like that,» she said to Abraxos as she laid back down. The cat only purred before snuggling close.

Rolling her eyes at him, she tried to be annoyed, but Manon had to admit she didn’t mind the warmth. The cat purred even louder, apparently agreeing.

As she closed her eyes once more, she tried very hard not to think about Saturday and the boy she had just texted.

A/N: And so it begins...

Sorry for not updating sooner, but school is being a bitch, and will continue being a bitch for the next week, so I have no idea when chapter 5 will be posted.

But, I can reveal that the next chapter will be all about Dorian<3

I am also sorry for the GIF I used this time, I couldn’t stop myself.

Also this fic turned out wayyyy fluffier than I imagined, but I don't mind. We'll blame Abraxos for being too cute...

Thank you so much to everyone who reads and likes and comments and reblogs and leaves kudos...I LOVE YOU!!

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin

#throne of glass #sarah j maas #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #manon x dorian #manorian #manorian fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #dawninlatin QoP

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x1-imaginesreturns · 5 years

Text

Butterfly (Part 2)

Masterlist

(Part 1)

Pairing: Dongpyo x fem!Reader (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 5,724

Notes: Thank y’all for all the support already, I wasn’t expecting to get so much attention already! Love you guys the most! I was also tempted to make this three parts but I’m leaving to go camping soon plus I have a foreign exchange student coming so... I kinda had to finish it.

Requested: No

“Alright now that all of the groups have been chosen, please take a seat with the people you have been assigned to,” your teacher says, gesturing to the dance class to make their way towards you guys.

As other groups started moving desks together, you sat there nervously as you waited for Dongpyo to make his way over to you. ‘Of course, it just had to be Dongpyo,’ you thought to yourself, ‘I mean, now I don’t have to worry about Minjin telling me to stay away from him. I should probably apologize for what she did though.’

Once the person sitting next to you had moved to their group, Dongpyo started making his way over to you. And considering you were in a classroom, that wasn’t a very far distance to walk. Soon enough, Dongpyo is sliding into the seat next to you, giving you one of his cute smiles.

“Hi y/n!,” Dongpyo chimes, scooting his desk so we’d be right by each other, “It’s been a while!” You nod shyly. “U-uh I’m sorry about a few months ago, I really didn’t mean for Minjin to drag me away like that,” you say, looking down in embarrassment.

“That’s in the past y/n,” Dongpyo says, “You and I have a chance to get to know each other now!,” he finishes happily, grabbing one of your hands, “So come on, don’t look so down! We’ll show both classes that we’re the best duo!”

After he grabbed your hand, you looked up in surprise, seeing that Dongpyo was still smiling brightly. You blushed, you don’t understand why you keep forgetting how cute he actually is. “We sure will!,” you say excitedly. You couldn’t help it, his energy was contagious.

You swear, Dongpyo’s smile got wider and you weren’t even sure that was possible. He takes his hand off of yours, instead reaching to grab the paperwork with all of the requirements on it. “Let’s discuss what kind of concept we’re going to go for, okay?,” he says as you nod, “I can already tell we’re going to have so much fun!”

You guys had decided on an interesting concept, it was going to be about a cute boy trying to show off his sexier side. You both thought that the image suited Dongpyo pretty well, and you were going to aim to make it a style of music that you enjoyed as well.

And so, you were currently sitting at one of the picnic tables at the local park. The park was known for its bright and colorful scenery, especially the flowers, which were everywhere you looked.

Since Dongpyo couldn’t make a dance until the song was finished, you guys knew you had to get that done first. Your teacher had said that the goal of the song was that it should be able to be performed easily.

“I’ve never sang and danced at the same time,” Dongpyo confesses, “I suppose I can practice that while you work on the song.” You nod, looking back down at your paper filled with miscellaneous ideas about the song. Lyrics, what it’ll sound like, etc.

Suddenly, Dongpyo gasps, reaching forward to grab both of your hands. Startled by the sudden action, you abruptly looked right up into his sparkling eyes. “What if you sing and dance too y/n?? We’d look so iconic together!,” Dongpyo says excitedly, his classic smile appearing again.

Your mind is screaming at you to not listen to him, as you don’t have any dance experience plus you’d have to make a rap part, as your voice isn’t exactly fit for singing.

But your heart just can’t resist his smile.

“I-I mean I don’t have much dancing experience,” you say as Dongpyo nods, “And that means we’d have to add a rapping part, I don’t sing very well,” you finish as Dongpyo thinks over it.

He then nods. “That’s totally okay y/n! I can help you with dancing and I guarantee that your rap part will be awesome! Let’s do it!!,” he says excitedly, his eyes glistening brightly.

“Okay!,” you say, “Then let’s get serious!”

Even though choosing the concept was easy, the rest of the song was proving to be challenging for you. Once the instrumental of the song had been completed, you had no idea where to start or where to go with the lyrics.

It was currently nearing midnight and you had only finished the first verse. You knew Dongpyo was relying on you to get this done, but you had no idea where to start. As a few tired tears started slipping down your face, you knew you were nearing defeat.

Normally, you’d call one of your friends and maybe ask them for help or advice, but all of them didn’t care about you anymore or you hadn’t heard from them in forever.

I mean... you could always call Dongpyo right? He was your friend now technically, wasn’t he?

‘But he should be asleep,’ you think to yourself, ‘With all the work we’ve been putting into this, he should be getting lots of sleep.’

You sigh, knowing that you should be getting sleep too. But the stress from not being able to finish the lyrics isn’t allowing you to get the rest you needed or wanted. Your mind suddenly wanders to Dongpyo. The more that you thought about him, the more you realized that you weren’t so stressed when you were around him.

He could always tell when you were stressing out, even just a little bit. Of course, he’d flash you a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and gently calm you down. He’d always knew where you could look for inspiration, and secretly, you knew that most of the time, you found your inspiration in him.

Without realizing what you were actually doing, you were pressing the call button on Dongpyo’s contact. What startled you out of your thoughts was of course, the sound of your phone ringing, and then the name of the contact on your phone screen.

“Hello??,” you jumped up, surprised that he actually answered, “What are you doing up so late y/n? You really need to be getting sleep.” You can imagine Dongpyo’s upset face perfectly. He’s pouting, but his eyes show concern.

Shaking yourself off from the strong mental image, you say, “I-I was just getting stressed out from the project,” you answer, “A-and you were the only person I could think of to call. But... you should be getting sleep too Dongpyo, we’re both working on the project together.”

He sighs and says, “Yeah, I know... but I just had a feeling that I needed to stay up tonight,” he finishes. “Wait, stay up for what?,” you ask curiously. “I didn’t know why,” Dongpyo says, “But I do now.”

“Yeah, so what’s the reason?,” you ask. “To comfort you of course!,” he says happily. You’re sure your face had every possible shade of red across it, not that Dongpyo could see, of course. “I-I mean, I’m fine,” you stutter out, “You don’t need to do that, Dongpyo.”

“But I want to comfort you,” Dongpyo starts, “I can tell you’re stressing way too much. Just listen to me y/n... I’ve had so much fun getting a chance to know you and work on this project. I know you’re a really talented producer and musician, and that even when you're stressed, you work till everything you do is absolutely perfect.”

“I always heard about you from Minjin,” he says, “I was sad because she was taking advantage of your kindness, even from the beginning. She always picked on me because I was apparently better than everyone else, and she always made fun of you behind your back because you apparently weren’t good enough for her. I always hoped that someday I could find you and tell you everything.”

“And then I finally found you, and Minjin took you right from my fingers. And then I saw you slowly disappear from the bright you I had met back at the convenience store. I never approached you because I thought that maybe you were still friends with Minjin. But then we got assigned to be a group for this project, and I’ve seen you brighten up again.”

“And even though I don’t know that it’s because of me, I’m glad that you’re smiling again y/n. So don’t stress out, as you said, we’re in this together! I know the song is going to be perfect. And I know that’s because you made it,” Dongpyo finally finishes.

Your face is as hot as a wildfire, and your face and ears are super red. Why had Minjin lied to you about him? He was more supportive than she or Sihoon had ever been. And he truly believed in you too.

“T-thanks Dongpyo. I-I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that,” you say shyly. You can practically hear him smile through the phone as he answers, “Anytime y/n. I really mean that now.”

“Now, you really should be getting some sleep y/n,” Dongpyo says, yawning a bit before continuing, “We both need to be in good spirits if we want the project to come out good!”

You yawn in agreement and Dongpyo giggles a little bit. “Goodnight y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, another yawn coming out of his mouth. “Goodnight to you too Dongpyo, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” you answer.

“I can't wait either,” Dongpyo says, “Goodnight y/n.” You smile softly as he finally hangs up.

And as you start to fall asleep, you can’t help but think you just might have a crush on Dongpyo.

You know it wasn’t good for you, but you woke up early the next morning and started working on the lyrics before you left for your classes. You definitely made more progress than you did last night, and you were proud of yourself.

Soon enough though, you did have to head to your classes, but you were still proud of the progress you made. As you’re walking to class, you start thinking about Dongpyo and about how you’re going to get to see him soon.

Your face heats up a bit at the thought of him. Your eyes stray down to your tattoo, the little butterfly almost lighting up at the thought of Dongpyo. ‘If only he could be my soulmate,’ you think, ‘But he definitely doesn’t have the same tattoo as me, he definitely doesn’t even have a tattoo on his hand.’

You sigh to yourself, knowing that you’re practically helpless. As you head inside your campus and towards your first class, you see Sihoon and Minjin hugging before they go their separate ways, and as you walk near the west entrance, you see Eunsang give his soulmate a kiss before walking inside the campus.

You can’t help the next few sighs that escape your mouth as you finally approach the door of your first classroom. It felt like the world was full of soulmates but yours was just dancing around you like a butterfly.

And what about your crush on Dongpyo? Isn’t it wrong, since he isn’t your soulmate, to like him in that way?

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. There’s no use dwelling on them. Class is going to start soon and you need your head in the right place.

And right as class started, you took a look outside. The sky was dark and you weren’t surprised when rain started to fall, creating a steady rhythm on the window next to you. And as you turned back to class, you felt despair gripping at your heart.

Your first class had gone by slowly, and the only thing keeping you going was the steady rhythm of the raindrops on the window next to you. You swear, you’ve never heard the halls so quiet as you walked to your next class. The sound of your shoes echoes throughout the hall, and you thought it was a fitting representation for how lonely you felt.

You continue walking, keeping beat with the rain as you do so. But then...

“Y/n!,” a familiar voice calls, “Wait up for me!” You turn around, and see Dongpyo walking towards you. He almost has a halo of light around him as he walks towards you, and when he finally stops in front of you, the world around you brightens.

You notice how outside, there wasn’t even evidence of rain, when you had heard and saw the rain just a few seconds ago. ‘Did I imagine it was raining?,’ you think, ‘How is that even possible? What is he doing to me?’

“Hey don’t look so surprised to see me, y/n,” Dongpyo says, grabbing one of your hands , “Let’s go to class together from now on.” You stare up at him with widened eyes, a few tears bubbling up in them.

“Let’s g- Are you okay y/n?!,” Dongpyo says worriedly. You shake your head and say, “It’s nothing Dongpyo. Let’s just get going, okay?” Dongpyo nods, but you don’t miss the slightly worried look in his eyes as you start walking towards your class.

You had finally finished all of your classes for the day, and it was now time to head back to your dorm to fix it up before Dongpyo came over. Since you were having trouble with the lyrics, Dongpyo suggested he come over and maybe try and help.

You frantically run around, making sure everything is in place and nothing looks weird. You were lucky you got a dorm to your yourself. You also set up your computer on your dorm’s small kitchen counter, and set out two glasses of water.

You had also changed into one of your favorite outfits, a pair of light colored jean shorts, and a slight crop top with pretty flowers decorating it.

Glancing at your phone’s clock, you knew that Dongpyo would be at your dorm any minute now. You were nervous, for sure. What if he thought your dorm was weird or something?

You sigh as you hear the faint sound of footsteps making their way down your hall. By now, pretty much all of the other students who lived in the same hall as you had returned from all of their classes by now.

And a few seconds later, you hear a knock on your dorm’s door. “Coming!,” you call out, walking over to your door. Opening it reveals Dongpyo, of course, and not without his classic smile. Seriously, at this point, he should be famous for them.

“Hi y/n!,” Dongpyo chimes, stepping in and giving you a surprise hug. Your heart pounds even faster than it already was, but you relish in the small moment nonetheless. The two of you part, and Dongpyo immediately goes over and sits at your kitchen counter, ready to work.

You knew you guys wouldn’t be working for too long, you had most of the lyrics done, meaning Dongpyo could start working on the choreography and you both could start recording your parts.

The song sounded really good, you had to admit, so you were proud of yourself. You were proud of Dongpyo too, he had been practicing a lot. In the beginning, you two silently worked at your table as you typed out lyrics and Dongpyo thought of formations for your dance.

Soon enough, you were working on the last verse of the song, and as you typed in the last word, you jumped up in victory, scaring Dongpyo. “Woah, hold up!,” Dongpyo says, giggling slightly, “What are you so happy about?”

“I finished the lyrics!,” you say excitedly, grabbing his hands, “Now we can finally work on everything else!” Dongpyo smiles and says, “That’s great y/n, let’s get started right away then!”

“What do you mean?,” you ask, misunderstanding him, “We gotta get recording equipment set up and all that.” Dongpyo shakes his head and says, “I meant dancing wise silly, you don't have any experience, so we gotta work on that first.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, “So where do we start?”

Due to time constraints, you and Dongpyo worked quickly on developing your dancing skills. According to Dongpyo, you were making really good progress for someone who didn't have much expenience.

Recording for the song also went by easily, as you two had listened to the song way too many times for your own good, so singing it wasn’t too hard.

Of course, the hard part was combining the two. Singing and dancing at the same time.

And then your teacher just had to put more pressure on you.

“So class,” you teacher started, “One week until the final project is due. I’ve been listening to some of your songs and they all sound quite good, I’m proud. Anyways...,” your teacher says, trailing off for suspense.

“What is it?,” someone in the back of the class yells, everyone else nodding in agreement. Your teacher grins before continuing, “I have a surprise for all of you!,” he rubs his hands together before saying, “We all know the next season of Produce 101 is coming up soon of course.”

Everyone nods and my teacher says, in a rush almost to confuse us, “The song that gets the highest grade will be featured in the next season as one of the final songs!”

No one says anything for a long while as we all just stare in shock. As if we’re all on cue, everyone starts screaming at each other, still in shock. Your teacher just stands at the front of the room, practically grinning at the chaos that ensued.

Nothing more was said of it, but everyone worked harder than ever before.

And finally, it was the nerve-wracking day before the final performance. You and Dongpyo had gone over the recording many times to make sure nothing was wrong with how sounded or flowed already, now it was just time for final dance rehearsal.

You had most of the song down, there was just this one part that you were having trouble with. You knew how to visualize it and you had watched Dongpyo do it too, but you still weren’t quite catching on.

And that’s why you and Dongpyo were currently practicing. As the song went along, the part was approaching and you were getting nervous. It didn’t help that you came in right after, meaning the timing had to be perfect.

The part was then upon and you had no time to react as you... messed it up again. Of course, then you stopped and sighed in defeat, making Dongpyo run over and turn off the music.

“S-sorry Dongpyo,” you say, looking down, “Whenever I mess up, I just kinda freeze up.” Despite the number of times you’ve messed up, Dongpyo still smiles at you and says, “And that’s okay. We’ll work through it, okay? This time I’ll guide you through it.”

Dongpyo walks back over to the computer and slows down the song a bit and presses play. He then darts back over to you, and says, “Just trust me, okay y/n?” You nod, not knowing what he meant.

As the part started approaching, Dongpyo puts his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him. As a massive blush erupts on your face, Dongpyo says, “Alright here we go y/n!”

He guides you through the movements easily, his hands never leaving your hips. It definitely made more sense now, but the feel of Dongpyo’s hands on your hips had practically been imprinted into your mind, and your face was definitely a dark shade of red by the time you finished.

As the part ended, Dongpyo ran back over to your computer to make sure the song didn’t play again. He also readjusted the speed of it. As he walked back over to you, a look of concern crosses his face.

“Are you okay y/n?,” Dongpyo asks, “Your face is really red.” You nod your head and say, “I-I’m fine! I just need a drink of water that’s all,” you finish, your eyes darting everywhere but never landing on Dongpyo. “Are you sure? You seem really frantic y/n,” Dongpyo says calmly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble semi-quietly as you grab your water bottle and take a couple sips from it. However, as you turn around to face him again, you see him cock an eyebrow at you.

“What is up y/n?,” Dongpyo asks, “You’ve been so jittery recently. And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong because something’s definitely wrong,” he finishes firmly.

You sigh. He was right, you had been quite jumpy lately. Freaking out whenever he hugged you, stuttering out of control whenever he complimented you, and even just blushing at the sight of his smile.

Not to mention, he can instantly brighten up any day, and even take away what you thought was a rainy day.

What was wrong with you? You were so clearly falling for someone who wasn’t your soulmate and it was breaking you in so many ways.

Getting out of your thoughts and back into the real world, you see Dongpyo still patiently waiting for an answer to your strange behavior.

“It’s because of you,” you mumble quietly, barely audible. Dongpyo tilts his head and says, “What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.” At that point, you’re really feeling every emotion that you had bottled up for him come up to the surface, along with the bubbles of tears forming in your eyes.

And you know you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did... but it just kind of come out unwillingly.

“It’s because of you!,” you shout, startling Dongpyo, “I can’t stop thinking about you and you’re affecting me in ways that you shouldn’t! I can’t be falling in love with someone else’s soulmate!”

You don’t know what compelled you to storm over to Dongpyo, but you did. With tears practically blocking your vision, you grabbed his right hand, your index finger accidentally covering where the tattoo would be and held it up, trying to show him the lack of the dark blue butterfly on him that appeared on your right thumb.

But as you lifted your index finger off of his thumb, you felt something come off with your finger. As you looked at your finger, what looked like concealer now coated it. And when you looked back at Dongpyo’s thumb...

The little dark blue butterfly had appeared.

Not believing what you were seeing, you went into hysterics. First looking up at Dongpyo’s face, you saw an emotion almost like regret coating his features, his famous smile nowhere present. You then released his hand again, like it was on fire, and looked at your own tattoo, almost as if you didn’t want it to be there.

And finally, you ran right out of the studio’s doors, not even bothering to grab any of your stuff. Tears ran down your face like a flood as you ran down the street towards your dorm and darted up the stairs of your dorm building. You knew you were getting plenty of weird looks, but you didn’t care.

You just wanted to be alone.

As you sat and sobbed into your pillow for hours, you weren’t really sure what your heart was feeling. On one hand, you were overjoyed. Dongpyo really was your soulmate, and that certainly explained why you had been attracted to him so easily.

But on the other hand, he hid his tattoo from you and the rest of the world. So many questions ran through your head.

Did he know we were soulmates this whole time? Why does he hide it in the first place? Is he afraid of getting hurt? What is even going on? Does he want to be my soulmate? Does he not like me back?

Ugh, why are soulmates so complicated for me?

Huffing into your pillow, you decide to get up and look in a mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy beyond belief, and your hair practically was a rat’s nest. You sigh in defeat, remembering that the final performance is tomorrow.

You had no idea what you should do. You both had to be in good spirits for tomorrow in order to pull off a good performance and to possibly win the contest. And speaking of tomorrow’s performance, you still hadn’t properly practiced the part that was messing you up.

‘It never hurts to practice,’ you think to yourself, ‘Even if we don’t fix things before the performance, I still need to be able to perform.’ You pull out your computer and then fast forward the song to near the part.

As the song starts, you start following along to the dance easily, and once the part arrived, you flowed through it seamlessly and ended the song powerfully. You don’t know why you were having so much trouble with that part, but now that it was over, you felt relieved.

Of course, you know it’s because of Dongpyo. If he hadn’t helped you like he had, you still would’ve been stuck.

And of course, you probably wouldn’t have found out that he was your soulmate.

‘I really need to stop,’ you start thinking, ‘But I’m definitely not going to be able to stop thinking about it. Ever.’ Sighing again, you figured maybe some sleep would do you some good.

Dongpyo was still the last thing you thought about before you fell asleep.

*knock* *knock*

A large series of knocks on your dorm room door wakes you up abruptly. It was currently 1:37am and you had to rub on your eyes to be able to see properly. Staggering over to your door, you open it to reveal the Security Guard that stood downstairs every night.

“Hello????,” you say in confusion, “What do you need?” The guard sighs before saying, “There’s a boy downstairs who’s claiming to be your soulmate, he says he needs to see you and fix things before he loses you. I can’t let him upstairs due to what time of day it is, but you’re welcome to come downstairs.”

He starts to turn from your door, but before he really walks away he says, “And if I were you, I’d go to him. I’ve never seen someone try so many different things to try and get in. He’s sitting on a bench outside if you’re up for it.”

He starts walking down the hall and as soon as you see him disappear around the corner, you close your door. ‘Should I really go to him?,’ you ask yourself, sighing, ‘I can’t just leave him out there like that, that’s not who I am.’

You decided it probably would be nice if you didn’t go out there in pajamas. Changing into just a plain pair of shorts and a t-shirt and then throwing on your nearest pair of converse, you were about to head out, but you stopped to look in your mirror.

Everything but your face looked fine. Your eyes were puffy as all hell and your hair was still messy, your lip tint even smeared from you crying into your pillow. You quickly run into the bathroom and straighten out your hair and fix your lips, it’s the least you can do.

You don’t know why you rushed down the stairs but you did, breathing a bit heavily by the time you got to the bottom. As you started walking towards the doors, the security guard was watching you and you swear you saw a small smile on his face. And as you looked outside, you saw Dongpyo’s familiar head of hair sitting on the first bench outside.

You also had your phone on silent, so you didn’t notice the frantic buzzing of your phone that would be there otherwise. Dongpyo had been texting and calling you in hopes that you would wake up, but he started to become discouraged because he knew you put your phone on silent when you went to sleep.

Standing right before the doors, you inhaled a large breath as you saw Dongpyo with his head between his knees, and by the little shakes of his shoulders, he was also crying.

He didn’t even seem to notice that someone opened the door, he just kept on crying. You stood there nervously, as you weren’t sure what to say but then he started crying out loud.

“I-I can’t b-believe I-I screwed th-things up with my own s-soulmate,” Dongpyo stutters out, clearly distressed, “H-How was I-I supposed to know the m-most amazing g-girl in the world was a-actually my soulmate?”

You blush a little as more frantic sobs come out of Dongpyo’s mouth. You take in a deep breath, knowing that this is it.

“Dongpyo?,” you say gently. He looks up at you slowly, almost as if he doesn’t believe you’re actually there. He stands up slowly too, walking towards you, almost as if he was in a trance. Tears were still running down his face, his eyes puffy like yours, his cheeks stained with tear tracks.

“Y-y/n...,” he says softly, stopping in front of you, “Are you really there?” You’re trying to not let the tears form in your eyes, but they are anyways. “Yeah... I’m here,” you answer, trying not to let the tears fall from your eyes.

Dongpyo’s eyes let out more tears as he suddenly embraces you. You stand there in shock, not hugging him back for a few seconds before you felt tears finally stream down your face. When you felt Dongpyo start to pull away, you then grabbed him and held him tight.

It was like that for what felt like forever. You and Dongpyo just softly cried in each other’s arms. But... there was still the wall of tension. You still needed an explanation from Dongpyo.

The two of you parted finally, and Dongpyo looks at you with tearful eyes. You’re sure you look about the same. “So...,” you start, your voice already sounding weak, “Why were you hiding your tattoo?”

Dongpyo sighs deeply, breaking away from the gaze you were holding with him. “My mom always told me I wouldn’t get hurt if I hid my tattoo,” he says solemnly, “My dad, her soulmate, cheated on her... and their tattoo’s disappeared afterwards. I was about 10 when they split and after that my mom starting covering my tattoo.”

‘That’s right,’ you think to yourself, ‘People can lose their tattoos if they’re not actually meant for each other.’

“And it’s just kind of became a habit for me,” he continues, “After my parents split I was always doubtful of the whole soulmate system. But then... I met you,” Dongpyo says firmly, “I fell for you instantly.”

“Thinking, maybe, just maybe, you could be my soulmate, I tried looking at your hands whenever I could, but it just seemed like every time I did, there was something covering that spot or I couldn’t even see it at all,” Dongpyo says, a wistful look on his face, “And then... you started yelling about how you were falling for me, and I was happy, I thought maybe I could secretly get away with being a jerk to my real soulmate like my dad was.”

He sighs, “I regret ever thinking that. Then, in a twist of cruel and amazing fate, you ended up being my soulmate. When I saw your tattoo, I almost felt like I was seeing things, and then of course, my disguise didn’t work, and you saw my tattoo.”

“I hated that I was the one who made you that upset. Seeing you like that broke my heart, y/n. I cried for hours after that, just for the fear that I had lost you forever, not just as a friend but now as my soulmate too,” Dongpyo says, a few more tears running down his face, “But I couldn’t give up. If there was even a chance of you forgiving me, I was willing to do anything to make you forgive me.”

Dongpyo stops then, moving his eyes to look back into mine. “So basically, I’m sorry. I couldn’t have wished for anything better than for you to be soulmate. I hope you’ll forgive me y/n.”

You didn’t realize how much you had been crying, but the tears were really pouring out now. Looking deeper in Dongpyo’s eyes, you saw his every intention and hopefulness in them. And you knew deep down, that he had told you the truth.

Even though you weren’t far from each other, you took a couple steps to stand right in front of him. You grabbed both of his hands, and looked straight into his eyes. “Dongpyo... even though I was hurt... how can I not forgive you now? When you’ve now shown me your sincerity and told me the truth? It’s easy, and it’s not just because you’re my soulmate.”

“If you hadn’t come here tonight... I don’t know what I would’ve done. So thank you, Dongpyo,” you say, dropping his hands to embrace him again. “Y-you’re the best soulmate anyone could ask for y/n,” Dongpyo says, “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

The two of you parted from your hug and Dongpyo grabbed your hands once again. “One last thing y/n,” Dongpyo says, a hint of a smirk forming on his face. “What?,” you ask.

“Oh nothing,” Dongpyo says teasingly, “Just this.”

Dongpyo leaned in swiftly, pressing your lips against his quickly.

He then backed up a bit before running over to the bench he was sitting on to grab the bag you had left at the studio earlier. He then gave it to you and then started running off. “Goodnight y/n!,” he yelled as he was running away, “See you tomorrow, you better be ready for the performance!”

“Yah! Son Dongpyo, where are you going you dork?!,” you yell after him, “You can’t just do that and then run away!,” you finish. You swear you hear him giggle off in the distance but you’ll never know.

And as you open the doors of your dorm to go back inside, wiping off the last few tears off of your face, you can’t help but smile.

You’ve finally found your soulmate.

#x1 #x1 imagine #x1 imagines #soulmate au #part 2 #dongpyo #x1 dongpyo #son dongpyo #x1 scenarios #x1 reactions #sihoon #kim sihoon #eunsang #lee eunsang #produce x 101 #produce x 101 imagines #produce x 101 scenarios #produce x 101 reactions

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For science 1/7 - (NSFW)

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings/Themes: masturbation (vaginal) & voyeurism, unrequited feelings, eventual sex. is this crack yet? lol there’s a plot i swear.

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: posting this now because I’ve been working on it on and off for like a month and im tired of looking at it and jk’s bday is coming up HAPPY BIRTHDAY JK and i’ll be too busy with school plus im almost 7k into the second chapter so..

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Your eyes burn in protest as you scroll to the top of your terminal window once more to search for the error that is fucking your code up. It’s been hours of work and you still haven’t managed to get your program to run even though the homework assignment is easy in theory. In fact it’s just like a problem that Jungkook said the professors would probably give you in your sophomore year, and here you are in your junior year seeing such an ‘easy’ question. With him, it had truly been easy, though. Jungkook was a better computer science teacher than any professor you’d ever encountered. Thinking back to early high school days has you smiling softly to yourself.

You miss sitting closely together, heads sometimes touching, as you both bent over a problem while he explained why it looked hard, but was actually something you could do in your sleep. The wide smile he would give you when you completed competition questions in minimal time would always set your heart fluttering.

Your phone vibrating brings you back to reality. The caller ID reads ~JK~ and you swoop in to answer the call. If the time in the corner of your computer is right (and it is) he should have already opened his decision letter from the PhD department.

“Hey, what’s the verdict,” you ask as soon as you accept the call. You know there’s no other reason why he’d call you when you were supposed to meet up in a few hours for weekly game night.

“I got in,” his voice is soft, but you know him well enough to be able to hear the joy mixed in.

“Congratulations, Kook! That’s amazing, I knew you would get in, they’d be crazy not to accept you. Oh my god, we should celebrate.”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could go out for drinks before heading back to mine to play tonight. You in?” Now you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I’m in. Let me just pack up and I can meet you. Where are you--the department lounge? I’ll come over.”

“Actually,” his shy tone has you sitting down slowly, returning your jacket to where you had it slung over the back of your chair. “You don’t have to leave right away. I was gonna try and call Yoori. You know, to tell her the news. And then tell Tae and Hobi, of course.”

“Oh. Yeah, no, that makes total sense. I should probably finish this code for Choi’s class anyway. It’s due on Sunday, but I’m almost done. Might as well turn it in early once I find this error.” Your hand scrapes at the sides of your jeans, looking for something to grab at.

“Well then I guess I have time,” he chuckles, “Your typos are always so tiny that they take hours to find. Let’s meet up at the bar in 2 hours then?”

You wince. Although it’s not at all a mean-spirited jab, you’re no longer in the mood for the friendly banter at the mention of Yoori, Jungkook’s long time unrequited love.

“Sure. See you then,” you hang up before he has the chance to say goodbye formally like he always insists on doing.

You put your phone down and berate yourself for getting distracted. If you were the brilliant Yoori, you wouldn’t have even made the typo in the first place. But you weren’t Yoori because you didn’t have the fortune of being born four years earlier and four times more beautiful, elegant, or intelligent. And you didn’t have the luck of being so much of a genius that you could skip years ahead of school like Jungkook either. So instead you would just have to chug along, always watching Jungkook chase Yoori.

You go back to scrolling through your code only to find the error a third of the way down. Jungkook was right, the typo was tiny--a misplaced equals sign. You sigh and run the code to make sure it’s perfect this time, and when it is you send it in to your professor to be graded. You consider heading home and using the extra time to make yourself look nice. Not that there was anything wrong with your oversized university t-shirt and jeans, but suddenly you think maybe things would be different for you with regards to your love life if you tried a little harder. You’re about to leave the library entrance that’s closest to your dorm, but you get a text from Jungkook.

6:41 - I called Yoori and she said she heard about my deal with RealiCorp and she wants to link up when she gets back on campus!

You narrow your eyes at the text. Jungkook had recently sold some software he developed to an up and coming gaming company that was supposed to make the imaging on immersion headsets better. He had made a pretty penny and was covertly offered a position at the company, but it was also a large victory for the computer science department at the university and his picture had been circulating around the department website for weeks. You suppose she finally saw it while she was taking a break from her research project off campus and decided to answer his calls for a change.

You text back what you hope sounds like a cheerful congratulation and decide to just go to the bar instead. What’s the harm in a few rounds before the rest of the crew arrives?

The harm would have been miniscule at most if you hadn’t been in your feelings, but when Jungkook, Tae, and Hobi arrive, you’re three rounds in and a little bit sloppy.

“Woah,” Hobi shouts, giving you a too strong pat on the back when he sits in the chair next to you. “Someone started a little early. What’s the occasion, are we celebrating something for you too?” Jungkook shakes his head with a sheepish smile and goes to sit beside you, away from Hoseok.

“Nope. Just getting ready for an evening with your loud ass.” He gives you a pretend pout and flags the bartender over. Tae sits next to him and gives you a little wave and smile.

“Two whiskeys, make mine a sour and make his straight. From the high shelf.”

“Hey now,” Taehyung’s eyes widen comically, “Are you forgetting that payday isn’t until next week? I’ll take the regular whiskey down there, please.”

“Don’t worry. Kookie said he was paying with his RealiCorp money,” Hoseok stage whispers into your ear, “He’ll probably cover your round too.” You swat him away and turn to Jungkook, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“You know I’ll cover yours. The rest of them, I don’t know.”

“What? Come on, you’re the youngest,” Tae whines, less than satisfied with his cheap whiskey shot.

“Shouldn’t that mean you guys pay for me?”

“N-no! Because you’re actually our senior now. You’re graduating this year, I’m the oldest technically but I’m not graduating until next year. We know these two aren’t graduating until the year after that,” he points to you and Tae, “Plus, you’re going to the PhD program next year. You should definitely be paying for us.” Hoseok has a point, you and Tae nod sagely to back him up.

“Fine,” Jungkook sighs, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’m in a good mood, so why not.”

“I bet you are,” Tae’s grin is big and catlike in the low light of the bar. His gaze a little lewd. “I would be too if I was one step closer to finally bagging a girl like Yoori.”

You look down into your beer bottle, the green glass suddenly much more fascinating than the conversation at hand.

“Did you hear,”Hoseok turns toward you,”Yoori is gonna come back soon and when she does he’s gonna make her Mrs. Jeon.”

“I’ll be sure to throw rice during the wedding,” you snark. The bartender brings you a new beer without another word. Taehyung howls at your comment.

“I’d kill to have a wedding night with her.”

“Hell, I’d kill to have a bathroom stall night. With anyone,” Hoseok sighs, “It’s hard out here for a comp-sci major. Right, guys?”

You hum in agreement. It had been a while since you’d last gotten laid.

“You’re right. I can’t even remember that geology minor’s face. Do you remember her? What was her name? Mara? Kara?”

“Sara,” Hoseok provides with a grin, “I think she has a thing for comp-sci majors. Kook, you ever hook up with Sara?”

Jungkook shyly traces a finger around the rim of his empty vodka class. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone.”

“Ever?” You try to keep incredulity from bleeding into your question.

“Ever,” he nods. He hiccups a little and all of the sudden you totally believe that Jungkook is a virgin.

“Dude, wait, I thought you hooked up with that one chick at the music festival last spring. Am I the only one who saw her?”

Tae nods in agreement. “Yeah, she gave you her hotel room key and everything.”

“It wasn’t like that. She told me her brother was there for a robotics tournament and I asked her if I could see the bot.”

You smile despite your sour mood. If there was one thing you loved about Jungkook it was his blind enthusiasm for STEM. Even if it made him a little oblivious to other things at times.

“Well, you better fix that whole virgin thing fast, bro. Chicks like Yoori probably want someone with experience. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift.” Hoseok nudges Tae with a wry smile.

“That’s not just a Yoori thing, most people don’t want to have to coddle someone in bed unless that’s, like, their kink or something,” you take a large swallow of beer.

“Wait,” Tae says, eyeing you like he’s had an epiphany, “You’re a girl--”

“Didn’t we establish this 2 years ago? When we met?”

“No, no, I mean you can help Kookie so he doesn’t drop the ball with Yoori.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort, “Help him how? Give him a sex-ed lecture?” You turn to laugh with Jungkook, but he’s looking at you seriously. Or as seriously as he can when he’s tipsy with unfocused eyes and blushing cheeks.

“You…don’t want to help me?” His voice sounds pathetic and small, making you feel bad instantly.

“Oh, Kook, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. But think about what that implies.”

“Is it because I’m a virgin?”

“Oh my god, Kook, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin don’t listen to us. We’re idiots.”

“Then why don’t you want to help me?”

Because I like you. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You obviously don’t say that, though. Instead you sit back in your bar stool.

“I-I would if I could, but I don’t know how to help you,” you finally say.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess the thought of being with Yoori makes me a little stupid.”

Desperately you search for a solution. Instead of finding one, you call the bartender back and order a round of tequila shots. Jungkook gives you a sad look but doesn’t ruin the mood by not taking a shot. You order two more rounds because somehow, even though he’s drunk, he still looks dejected. After your third shot you can’t stand the way his shoulder slump.

“You know what,” you slur loudly, drawing three pairs of eyes to your face lazily. “It’s getting late and we might not get to play Fortnite this weekend. Let’s all get to bed so we can be up early tomorrow to play.”

Tae points a wobbly finger in your direction, eyes suspicious. “When you say early, you mean after 2pm right?”

It takes twenty minutes for everyone to get their shit together enough to leave the bar. Tae and Hoseok keep losing each other in the bathroom. Jungkook keeps forgetting that he has to pay and tries to ask the bartender what he thinks about sub-atomic particle physics. Even though you’re drunk off your ass, you somehow manage to keep yourself responsible enough to wrangle Tae and Hobi out of the bathroom and guide Jungkook through the motions of swiping his card and signing the bill. The four of you then squeeze into the back of an uber. Hoseok whines about being lonely while sitting in the passenger’s seat. Jungkook’s bumps his hand against yours until he can firmly grasp it and get your attention before you pass out.

“Hey, can I sleep on the couch,” he whispers in your ear. His breath smells like alcohol and limes. You turn your head to chase the scent away and rest your head on his shoulder. You yawn.

“Sure. No problem, buddy.”

Your apartment is the first stop on the route and you launch yourself out the car and run up through your lobby and to the elevator to escape the cold of the air conditioner and the fluorescent lights. Jungkook lingers in the car until Tae pushes him out to make room for Hoseok.

“Kook,” Tae calls out as he helps Hoseok pour himself into the back seat.

“Wassap?”

“The only way to get good at sex is losta—lotta...lot’s a practish. Okay?”

“But-but…Who am I gonna practice with?”

Tae merely whistles and points a finger upward, gesturing to your illuminated window. The car pulls away and Jungkook sways unsteadily up onto the sidewalk with nausea clawing at his throat. Thinking of the stairs he’ll have to climb—because there’s no way in hell he’s taking the elevator, even in this state—he regrets not just going to his own first floor dorm. Does he really need to get sex counseling from you? There’s always porn, he muses before remembering the rant you’d gone on blaming porn for making a guy you’d been hooking up with try to do weird things in bed involving a summer squash. Looks like he’d have to rely on the real deal to get anywhere with Yoori. Oh, Yoori.

A shimmering vision of the beautiful girl with elegant eyes and an ever-painted smile floats in front of his hazy vision and gives him the strength he needs to hobble forward towards the lobby door with dedication.

Minutes ago you couldn’t wait to go to sleep, but as soon you unlocked your door and made it to your room, you were wide awake. Even brushing your teeth and stripping out of your jeans didn’t to tire you out.

“Fuck,” you groan. You throw yourself onto your bed and hope that the way the room spins will lull you to sleep but when the spinning stops, your eyes still won’t stay closed.

The clock resting on your desk across the room reads 1:48am. It’s already clear that you’re going to be hung over, but knowing that it won’t be cushioned by a nice long sleep before you have to go to yoga at 12 makes you want to cry. You desperately wrack your brain for all the remedies there are to make you sleepy. You just canceled your cable last week to save some money, so you can’t veg out in front of the TV. You’re lactose intolerant, so warm milk isn’t an option. You’d take a warm shower but you washed your hair already and if you go to bed with wet hair your mother’s voice will haunt you all night with stories of the cold coming your way. Kicking your feet in frustration, you toss yourself over the edge of the bed to hang. Maybe all the blood will flow to your head and you’ll pass out.

You’re about to risk passing out and landing on your neck the wrong way and dying when a bright pink shoebox under your bed catches your eye. Of course, you think, how could you forget your precious vibrator. Luckily for you, a good orgasm or three always managed to knock you out like a light. You reach over and scoot the box forward with your outstretched fingertips until you get it close enough to reach inside and grab the petite tiffany blue bullet. Giddy laughter leaves your mouth as you heft yourself back onto your bed and fall back on the pillows with a contented sigh. Orgasms solve all your problems. You flick the device on to the lowest setting and ghost it against your clothed mound.

Jungkook is completely breathless as he leaves the center stairwell and finally arrives on your floor. The stairs were a bitch and a half, but your door is only two down from the floor entrance. He can practically hear the siren song of your pull-out couch. When he turns the knob to your front door, it doesn’t budge and he wonders if you must have locked it on instinct. There’s no way you forgot that he was staying over, he thinks to himself. Reaching above the doorjamb, he hunts for the spare key you left there especially for him. The door unlocks easily and he smiles to himself as he locks the door behind him and toes off his shoes. He’s about to face plant into the couch when you call his name faintly from your bedroom.

As he stumbles through the hallway slowly to your room, he thinks over what Taehyung said to him before driving off. To Jungkook’s drunk mind it makes sense, so it must be a good idea to seek sex practice from you. You’re the only girl he knows and he’s known you so long that he can already tell there would be no awkwardness. The sad look in your eyes as you listened to his predicament in the bar tells him that you want to help him, but you didn’t know what route to take. He flexes his hands by his sides and figures he’ll just tell you what Taehyung told him and get to coming up with a curriculum.

The door to your bedroom is half-open and the lights shine through the opening, so he figures you must be up and waiting for him. He can still hear you calling his name, but it still sounds oddly soft from where he is. He pushes the door open but freezes in his tracks when he sees you.

The first thing he notices is obviously the frantically moving hand you have between your legs and the loud buzzing sound that comes from it. He takes in more details the longer he looks. He realizes belatedly then that you’re not wearing pants. Thanks to the high prescription strength of his glasses, he can also see the way your hand and thighs shine and the huge dark spot in the crotch of your panties in the light of your table lamp. Your toes are curling and he can just make out the way your lower stomach clenches underneath the very same sweatshirt you’d been wearing to the bar. Technically he can’t see your other hand but he has a pretty good idea of where it is and what it might be doing with the way it disappears under your shirt. You can’t see him, though, because your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed. The only thing you’re probably at least partly aware of is the cacophony of wet sounds that come from where you work the nose of the toy over yourself. The last thing he notices is the way you call his name in a soft whining tone that has him stepping forward without thinking.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whine as the slippery heel of your hand bumps against your covered clit a little roughly on an upstroke.

“Yes?”

“What the hell,” your eyes snap open and your head whips around to see him leaning on the door frame as he watches you.

His eyes are heavy with alcohol and his cheeks are just as pink as the lip he releases from the grasp of his teeth. He reaches out and stumbles forward, causing you to scramble back to distance yourself from him. You bring your knees up to hug to your chest before you realize that you’re still very much on show.

“Jeon Jungkook, what is going on here,” you shriek, bringing your hands to cover your eyes only makes you feel a little bit better.

He sits down on your bed like it’s any other day and he’s just chilling in the room like you invited him over. And then you realize that you did kind of invite him over as fragmented memories of the recent uber ride you took together spring up.

“You said you wanted to help me, but you didn’t know how. But Tae told me I just have to practish.”

“Practish?”

“Practice,” he corrects himself.

“Practice what?”

“Practice sex. Duh!”

“Jungkook, no!”

“Please? I wouldn’t be asking such a huge favor if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.”

“Why can’t you just go to a frat party like everyone else?”

Your heart is beating rapidly and you think maybe you’re not drunk anymore. Never in your life did you think you would turn down sex from Jungkook, but then again you never pictured it happening this way.

“Because I,” his head hangs and he starts to pick at a loose thread in your duvet, “I guess I missed out on this kind of thing when we were younger and I don’t think I could get very good results in a basement party. Plus, I know you’d…”

“I’d what?”

“You’d be good to me.” He lifts his eyes to lock with yours. His gaze is oddly sharp despite the fact that his skin is still clammy like it gets when he drinks.

Your breath hitches and for a moment it does feel like the fantasies you have almost every other time that you settle into your room, lonely and horny. Jungkook laughs bitterly to himself and you can feel your resolve crumbling as something selfish rears its head in the back of your mind. He tries one last time.

“Please?”

You crack.

“Okay.”

“Really?” His eyes light up once more as he gives you a blinding smile. “Great. Let’s start!”

It feels as though you’re having an out of body experience as you watch him clamber closer onto the bed with you. Your legs naturally open to accommodate him and he scoots into your space, his hands falling to naturally stroke with the soft skin of your ankles. Even though he lacks experience, Jungkook has a leg up in that he’s naturally on the affectionate side. Something you can’t teach with any amount of practice. Even still, the idea that Jungkook will be sitting between your naked thighs makes your stomach do flip flops.You barely start formulating something to say that will sound educational when you hear him get ready to interject once more.

“God, what is it?” You worry that if he interrupts you one more time you’ll lose your nerve.

“I need a visual aid. And, uh, I won’t be able to see because of your, uh, undergarments.”

You’re certain that you’ve never taken anything off faster than you do in that moment. The panties fly into some far corner of your room and you can only hope that they don’t land in a clump of dust bunnies.

“Alright,” you stutter, “I don’t have to give you an anatomy lesson, right? Please tell me you at least know where everything is.”

“We took anatomy together in 7th grade,” he says like that’s a decent answer.

You roll your eyes. “Right, okay. Anatomy lesson it is.”

“What’s this,” you point at yourself.

“That’s the uh…entrance to the vagina?”

“Ok and?”

“It’s where the pleasure comes from?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“Partial credit.”

“Isn’t that where the…phallus goes, though?” You decide it would be best to ignore his word choice for now.

“Yeah, I mean stuff goes in there but that’s not where all the pleasure comes from. For some people that’s not where any of it comes from.”

His eyes widen nervously. “Then where does it come from if not from penetration?”

You gesture again. “This is the clitoris.” His sweaty bangs flop over his lenses as he nods enthusiastically. Finally something he remembers.

“The clitoris,” he chirps affirmatively. You side eye him, but keep going.

“This little thing is basically there for the sole purpose of pleasure.”

“How do I activate it?” Again you blink at his terminology. Although you’d been a STEM freak with Jungkook for years, somehow he managed to baffle you with his nerdiness.

“Uh, you can stimulate it by touching it.” You draw a small circle in the air around the nub to demonstrate. “Like that, for example. You can also use your hands or your mouth.”

“Or that little blue thing you were using earlier,” he chimes in, reminding you of the embarrassing way this whole thing started.

You sigh. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s it?”

“No that’s definitely not it. We haven’t even touched the other places of pleasure or technique or foreplay. But this is a pretty good cheat code.”

“So what about the inside? Like the tubes?”

“There’s really not that much you need to know involving the actual reproductive organs themselves. We can just focus on the external bits for now.” You wince at how uncomfortable the discussion is.

“That makes sense,” his brows furrow seriously. He’s slow to blink, partly so he doesn’t miss anything and partly because he’s still fighting off tendrils of sleep.

“I mean,” you wring your hands anxiously, “that’s all you really need to know for now. It’s mostly learning on the go, anyway. You’ll be fine.”

“But what if I’m not fine. Don’t you think you could, you know, show me?”

“What is there to show?”

“How about you just continue…what you were doing when I came in.”

“Masturbating.”

“What?”

“I was masturbating when you came in.”

A hand flies to the collar of his shirt and he tugs on it sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

You try not to focus on how weirdly awkward the mood is now that your lust has calmed down to barely even a simmer. You reach for the discarded vibrator that jumped out of your hand and landed by the edge of the head of your bed, but he stops you with a raised hand.

“Can you, uh, maybe do it the old-fashioned way? For the first time at least?”

“Right, I guess I’ll get to it.”

Jungkook sits back on his heels patiently and watches closely as your hand trails a path down your torso to the apex of your thighs. The first touch, though you know it’s your own hand, has you twitching a bit. You bite your lip hard to focus and circle your entrance to coax out more moisture, then you move back to circle your clit. You close your eyes in hopes that not being able to see Jungkook’s gaping expression will help. It does, a bit. After a few moments, you let out a breathy sigh and sink further into the pillows. You plant one foot more firmly on the mattress to give yourself some leverage and push yourself more into your circling hand. The slight increase in pressure has you moaning and your eyes fluttering. You peek through heavy lids to see Jungkook’s expression has also changed. His eyes, clear just a second ago, look glassy again from behind his lenses, his mouth slack and shiny. The rise and fall of his chest is a bit heavier. You let yourself think it’s because of you and go back to collect more arousal to increase the slip.

Apparently, you’re more turned on than you thought. When your middle and ring fingers wander down to your hole they come back pleasantly slick. Something in you suddenly feels rebellious, so you use your free hand to spread your lips further and bring your coated fingers up to Jungkook’s face. You flex your fingers and separate them to show crystalline streaks of arousal connecting them.

“Just so you know, this is a good sign.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Somehow, even though you’re still wearing socks and a baggy sweatshirt, you’re hotter than all the completely bare, busty women he’d watched moan and writhe wildly on his computer screen. He reaches out and delicately grabs you wrist before redirecting your hand back to your dripping center.

“Keep going,” he rasps.

You whine and begin to rub your clit more earnestly, lewd wet sounds fill the room. He can practically see your lips getting wetter and wetter as you redistribute your arousal with every rough swipe of your fingers. Your wrist is moving fast, but it’s clear that you’re becoming frustrated with all that you can do with one hand. Your other hand quickly moves to take over making tight figure eights around your clit while the one already coated in your juices moves back down to your entrance once more. This time, you crook two shining fingers and shove them into your hole. Immediately your back bends and a drawn out moan leaves your mouth. Jungkook gasps quietly. You pump your fingers in and out roughly, then withdraw them to add a third finger.

He watches you like that for a while before you get fed up again. It’s been a while since you’ve been so needy and you feel like you’re on fire. Your toes curl impatiently on either side of Jungkook and he realizes you’re looking for more. On instinct he scoots further until his own legs are brushing up against the undersides of yours. His hand reaches out to pet your quivering thigh in a sympathetic effort to help with your plateau. He looks down at your hand, twitching feverishly in and out of yourself. His hands are much bigger and suddenly he moves like he’s about to replace your fingers with his own.

When Jungkook’s hands start to approach your center your breath hitches. You’re not quite in the right state of mind to reject him if he offers to finger you, but you don’t want to take advantage of the situation and make it any more emotionally complicated than it already is.

“Not yet,” you offer when his hands get too close for comfort, “Next time, maybe.”

He seems to be thinking the same thing and averts his attention to the forgotten vibrator. His grip on your thigh disappears, and you sigh quietly, but it’s hidden under the slick sounds you make each time your fingers get sucked into your heat and the low moans you make every time your pinch your clit just so.

“W-what do I do?” His voice is small and his sudden worried look has you wrapping a hand around his and bringing it to show him how you click the toy on and circle it around your entrance.

His hands are sweaty, shaky, so when your hips start to circle on their own, they move to find a resting spot on your thighs and squeeze to deal with the tension rising in his own belly. He grits his teeth, clenches his hands, does anything he can to keep from overstepping and making this about him. As obviously cliché as it sounds, seeing you sweating and moaning underneath him lets him see you in a new light. You’d always been around, but your presence as a woman in his life was backgrounded at best. Now, with Yoori momentarily not clouding his mind, he wants nothing more than to ravage you. He’s almost certain that if he tried, his lack of experience wouldn’t matter too much. He’s sure his body would be able to act on baser instinct and give you the what you wanted. If you wanted.

Your moans change in pitch and soon he’s aware that this will be the first time he’ll have been privy to someone else’s orgasm in real life. His dick is painfully hard and straining against the jeans he’s wearing. But he forgets the discomfort fast as he watches you grind yourself down against the toy in a way that is absolutely filthy. Your bottom lip, shiny and reddened, is pulled taut between your teeth in ecstasy. Your eyes flutter open and lock with his own. You focus and notice his blown-out pupils look huge within the depths of deep brown irises. There’s no denying he’s turned on once you flick your gaze down to his crotch and see the large tent in his pants.

“I—I think I’m gonna…Oh!” Your leg kicks out on its own like some electric current runs through you. Your voice breaks as the waves of your approaching high begin to take over you. One of his hands inches upwards a bit and strokes the tense muscle near your groin softly, at a loss for words. “Oh god, Jungkook, you—” keening, your eyes roll into the back of your head.

One of your hands reaches up to squeeze at his bicep as he’s leaning over you. He wonders in the back of his mind when he got so close to you. Your leg hooks around him like it has a mind of it’s own and tugs him down, forcing him to topple over you. That’s the last straw and you sob from the intense pleasure. Meanwhile your warmth and proximity and your words prove to be a deadly combination and within seconds he’s spilling over himself in his boxers, untouched. He lets out a low groan that puffs against the side of your neck.

You both sit there and breathe for a long while, catching your breath and coming back down to earth. He sits up eventually and pulls away from you, leaving you cold. Your legs flop from around him heavily. You’re a bit irritated when you realize you won’t be able to walk normally for a while. He discretely wipes his hands off on your duvet while you wipe at the sweat soaking your hairline.

“That’s it, that’s the show,” you finally say.

He shoots up and looks at you anxiously. It’s cute. “You mean until next time, right?”

His eyes are wide and imploring as he hovers over by you. He looks a bit like a turtle from this angle. A cute one, though. One that you want to play with again next week. You nod even though he might have all that he needs to do well with Yoori, being the fast learner that he is.

“I guess so. Same time, next week. Do some research for next time maybe. Make sure it’s from something not involving the medical library.”

“Got it!” He turns and waits until you’re not looking to adjust his pants.

You notice his hair is sticking to his forehead when he finally stands up. And there’s a cowlick sticking up in the back that reminds you of middle school Jungkook, before he met Yoori. The idea of the other girl, the girl he’s really in love with, dims your post-coital glow. Although, you suppose you have her to thank for this evening’s events. How else could you have ever managed a one-sided romp in the sheets with your long-time crush?

Both of you take turns using the bathroom to clean up. While he hums in time with washing up, you slip panties on and debate about whether or not to throw your sweats back on. You decide that if you’re going to play this off like it hasn’t changed your relationship, you should put pants back on.He comes out looking pink and clean and you want to pull him back into your bed and wrap yourself around him.

To protect his glasses from the dangers of the bathroom, he left them in your room. Squinting, he walks with hands out to collect them. When he puts them on he doesn’t look at you and instead pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes around while leaving the room.

“Heading out,” you ask with a quasi-disinterested tone.

“Yeah, I remembered I have to run the Saturday tutoring session this week. So I might as well go home so I can get ready for that. You should come, you know. Your test scores dropped 2 points this week.” Typical Jungkook. He couldn’t ever fully leave TA mode.

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the reminder, but that’s still an A.”

“Maybe we can try this again next week the same time?”

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

“Cool, I’ll put it on my calendar.” He lifts his phone to his face to tell the digital assistant to pencil you in for next week. You try not to grimace at becoming a date in his calendar app.

“Get out already, you nerd.” You push him out after he puts his coat back on, but you do watch out the window to make sure his taxi comes.

#btssmutclub #bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #btswriters #bts smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines #bangtan scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario

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katsens-writing · 5 years

Text

Exchanged Love, Part 2

Summary: Peter meets a sweet exchange student. Kind of like a summer love story except it’s during the rest of the year.

Pairing: Peter x Exchange Student!Reader

Content: A little emotional angst, some pining but lots of fluff and feels. One instance of slightly adult humor, very small. Maybe one small bad word? Please let me know if I need to add anything!

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Part two of a piece requested by an anon some time ago. It took longer than it probably should have but I already had a few wips going when I received it and then I discovered Good Omens. It’s a bit different than what I’ve written before but then again I still haven’t written much so everything is a little different. It's also my first ever request so yeah, different. My taglists are open if anyone would be interested in joining any of them. Enjoy!

Request: “I wish you would write a piece where Peter Stark is falling in love with the international student. And yes I meant Stark. (For the sake of length and sanity I wrote it as an exchange student. Hope you like it anon!)

---

By Monday morning Peter was feeling a lot better. When he returned to school the week went by quickly but he had no trouble catching up with the work he had missed, thanks to Ned, MJ, and Y/N’s help. Between the three of them, they had him caught up in all his classes and up to speed on the group project. They all worked so well together on the semester project that they started inviting Y/N to hang out with them. By the time the midterms came around, it was like they had known her as long as they had known each other. They had movie nights together, studied together and Y/N even became an honorary member of the decathlon team.

Whenever Y/N was around, Peter’s heart fluttered. It bothered him at first but after a while, he didn’t even notice it anymore, until one week when Y/N was gone. Peter went to school the week before spring break and found out Y/N had left early because she was going out of town. That whole week he seemed to be in a fog. He lost several assignments, showed up to class late and skipped lunch a few times. When he missed decathlon practice, Ned and MJ cornered him in the hall one day before science class.

“Hey man, you haven’t been yourself this week. What’s up? Is something wrong?” Ned asked.

“I can tell you what’s wrong,” MJ snorted. “Y/N isn’t here.”

“W-what?” Peter asked, confused.

“Oh...” Ned’s eyes widened. “I get it now.”

“I don’t,” Peter retorted.

“You need to get your crap together,” MJ crossed her arms. “Because this is painful to watch.”

“I think what MJ means is she thinks you should talk to Y/N when she gets back,” Ned offered.

“No, I think what I mean is he needs to get his crap together,” MJ snarked. She turned back to Peter. “You need to man up, tell her how you feel, and ask her out already!”

Peter opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. Thankfully the bell for the next period rang then. “Um, I gotta go... yeah,” he replied slowly with a frown, leaving quickly. He was thoroughly confused. What were they talking about?

He came home from school that afternoon and the second he walked in the front door, Harley immediately knew something was up.

“Hey squirt,” Harley teased Peter. “What’s with the face?”

“I dunno, what’s with your face?” Peter replied instinctively.

Harley’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Hello to you too,” he scoffed with a shrug as he turned back to the counter.

“Sorry. How’s college?” Peter asked a little guiltily without looking up as he sat down across from Harley.

Harley took a sip of his energy drink before answering. “Good. I think Mr. Barrows finally got over the lab incident. He said hi to me outside of his office last week instead of grumbling like he usually does. It only took him a semester and a half this time. I think it’s a new record.” Harley looked at Peter nodding absentmindedly and humming to whatever he said. Harley’s brow furrowed before a small, mischievous smile started playing at the corner of his lips. “Oh, and the school board picked me to be the residential advisor in the freshman dorm in the fall. That should be fun.”

Peter nodded distractedly and mumbled. “Oh, that’s good.”

Harley sighed and put down his drink. He tilted his head at Peter with a raised eyebrow and a faint smirk. “Ok, who is she?”

Immediately Peter’s head snapped up and his full attention was on Harley. “What?”

Harley’s smirk widened. “You heard me,” he grinned.

“She- she’s no one,” Peter replied.

“So there is a she,” Harley arched his eyebrows.

“No,” Peter scowled.

“He?” Harley quirked an eyebrow.

“No!” Peter sighed exasperatedly. “There isn’t anybody!”

“Mm, ok bro,” Harley grinned as he got up to put his cup in the sink. “Whatever you say.”

---

Once school was back in, Peter and Y/N hardly saw each other. They didn’t have any classes together and all of their classes seemed to be in different hallways. They still managed to get together in the evenings with Ned and MJ, but the more time they spent together, the more Peter curiously found himself wanting to spend time with just Y/N.

The semester went by so fast. It seemed all Peter did was blink, and suddenly it was almost over. He couldn’t believe it, but he didn’t have much time to think about it because, before finals, Fury had Tony gather all the Avengers for a mission in South America, including Peter. When Peter met Ned, MJ, and Y/N to study one more time at the library before finals, he told them he was going to be out of town for a little while.

“Oh? Are you going on vacation?” Y/N asked, a little surprised.

“Uh, no. It’s- it’s for my dad. He, um... he wants me to meet with some of his co-workers.” Peter replied. Well, it’s not a complete lie. I’m going to be meeting with Uncle Bucky, Uncle Steve, Aunt Nat and...

“Oh, that sounds exciting!” Y/N replied.

“Sounds boring,” Ned scoffed.

“Sounds like the beginning stages of nepotism,” MJ raised an eyebrow.

“Believe me, it will be boring,” Peter rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Dad does this every year. I’d much rather be here, but ‘this is my future’,” Peter pretended to quote Tony sarcastically. “I don’t even get out of finals.”

“Well, I wish you safe travels!” Y/N smiled, her eyes shining in the soft light of the library. She looked so pretty that Peter was caught off guard.

“Uh, thanks,” Peter’s cheeks flushed a little and his heart fluttered so much, it was almost like he was meeting her again for the first time. He didn’t have much time to think about it though, because the next day he was on a quinjet to Sout America with his dad, Captain America, Bucky Barnes, Hawkeye, and Black Widow.

The mission ended up taking longer than they had initially expected because the targets called in more security at both of their facilities since Rhodey and Sam had reported in, and the targets had since split up. The team divided into pairs, and after nearly a month in the Brazilian jungle with Hawkeye, they managed to locate and capture both of the targets, as well as most of their people.

“Good job on this mission, Peter,” Tony congratulated him. “Nice work on tracking that guard through the river.”

“Thanks, dad,” Peter mumbled tiredly as he flopped onto a couch. He was really enjoying the air conditioning after four weeks in the jungle.

“Yeah, bonus points for not murdering your uncle,” Natasha grinned.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Bucky argued. “I didn’t murder him either.”

“I’m gonna murder him if he doesn’t get out of the shower soon,” Natasha muttered crossly.

Peter frowned. “He still owes me $20.”

“Don’t worry, you can take it off his body once I’m done with him,” Natasha assured him.

Peter snorted as Bucky made some comment about Natasha being careless and leaving Clint’s body behind. Peter glanced at his phone and sighed. The service had been spotty at best on their mission. He’d been so tired since they got back in the country and so busy making up his finals that he forgot to check it. He had a few dozen mixed texts from Ned alone, about four from MJ, and a few missed calls from different people. He opened his messages from Ned and his heart sank when he began reading them.

“What is it?” Natasha asked, immediately turning her attention from her conversation with Bucky to Peter when she noticed his change in demeanor.

“Nothing,” he frowned. “I- I gotta make a call.” He walked to the sleeping quarters in the back of the quinjet and called up Ned.

“Hello?” he answered, the sound of a party in the background.

“Hey, Ned. I saw your texts but I didn’t read ‘em all. What’s up? You said something about Y/N? Is everything alright?” Peter asked with a hint of worry.

“Oh man, I wish you’d called sooner,” Ned groaned. “You just missed her.”

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, his stomach sinking. He was starting to worry.

“She’s leaving tonight man,” Ned replied, sounding pained. “I’m sorry.”

“She’s what?!” Peter cried, loud enough for Natasha and Bucky to hear him in the main cabin. His mind and his heart started racing.“I thought she wasn’t leaving for another two weeks!”

“I tried calling you to tell you. Her flight home next month got canceled so she had to take an earlier one if she wanted to be home in time for her little sister’s birthday.” Ned answered. “She said goodbye to everyone yesterday at school. She asked about you.”

Peter’s heart sank. “Wh-when does her plane leave?”

Ned shrugged. “Hold on, let me ask MJ.” There was a pause on the phone as Ned asked her. “She said either 10 or 11.”

Peter glanced at his watch. 10:38. “Let’s hope it’s 11,” he muttered as he hung up. He walked out of the sleeping quarters and headed to the cockpit, passing a few curious looks.

Bucky looked at Nat, confused. “Okay... what was that all about?” Nat just shook her head and chuckled.

“Hey Dad, how much longer ‘til we land?” Peter asked as soon as he was in the cockpit.

“About 20 minutes,” Tony replied casually, not missing the edge in Peter’s voice.

“Do you think you could go a little faster?” Peter asked, slightly anxious.

Steve turned to Tony with a slightly raised eyebrow before looking at Peter. Peter was tapping his foot and looking around nervously, flexing his fingers. Clearly, the kid was agitated by something.

“Faster?” Tony scoffed without looking over his shoulder at Peter. “Kid, landing is the time when you slow down. You sure you’re my kid? Because I could’ve sworn he passed his physics class last year.” Peter sighed dejectedly, ignoring his dad’s not-so-subtle brag disguised as teasing.

“Why? You got somewhere to be?” Steve asked, watching Tony’s face for any reaction. Tony had the faintest smirk on his lips.

“I- I just found out that... that a friend of mine is moving,” Peter swallowed hard, trying to control his voice. It sounded a little strained as he fought back the tears that were forming in his eyes. “They’re leaving tonight in a few minutes and...”

“You want to say goodbye,” Steve finished for him.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed softly, no longer trusting his voice.

“Hmm,” Steve turned and glanced at the altitude reading on the instrument panel in front of him. “Well, we’re low enough to the ground and you have plenty of fluid for the webshooters...” Steve glanced over his shoulder at Peter. “If you leave now and keep to the rooftops, you might make it in time.”

“Leave now?” Peter’s eyes widened incredulously at what Steve was implying. He was going to ask him exactly what that was but the ramp was already lowering.

“Hey!” Came a shout from the main cabin. Peter glanced out to see Clint standing there, struggling to hold down a towel wrapped around his waist.

Natasha turned to the cabin, cringing. “How about a little warning next time, huh? That was more of Clint than I wanted to see right now.”

Bucky turned to her, looking like he was about to be sick. “That was terrifying. Why would you ever want to see that?!”

“Well, she did marry me!” Clint snapped.

Peter grabbed his bag and walked to the ramp and hesitated, looking nervously at the city below. He groaned inwardly once again at the irony of his situation. He was Spider-Man. He swung through the city at ridiculous speeds and equally ridiculous heights on webs. He would free fall and swoop up at the last minute just for fun. And he was terrified of heights. Doing his Spider-Man stuff was one thing, but jumping from a plane was entirely different.

Steve looked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. “This is your chance, kid.”

Peter took a deep breath and pulled on his mask. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered as he jumped out of the plane.

Steve smirked and closed the ramp once Peter was gone before turning back around in his seat. He felt Tony’s eyes boring into him and he glanced at him.

“You did not just tell my kid to jump out of a plane,” Tony deadpanned, giving him a flat look.

“Of course not,” Steve replied nonchalantly. “And you didn’t just lower the ramp for him.”

---

A minute after Peter jumped out of the plane he shot a web out and swung to a skyscraper below.

“Whew, ok, still alive. That’s good. First step, check,” Peter spoke, his heart racing. “Next step, the airport,” he prepared to leap off the side of the building but froze. “He didn’t tell me which airport!”

Peter swore before his eyes widened. “Wait! Karen, how many flights are leaving for Italy from New York tonight?”

“Three flights. The last one arrives in five minutes from JFK.” The AI informed him.

“Is there any way you can stop it or delay it or something?” Peter cried, his stomach lurching, but not from the heights.

“No, I’m sorry Peter. Your father has only authorized me to do that in an emergency.”

Peter groaned and started swinging faster. Within minutes he landed at JFK. He glanced at the time in the corner of his display. 11:02. He was late. “What gate?” he asked Karen, his heart sinking. Maybe his time was a little fast. Maybe Karen forgot to adjust for the last time zone. He couldn’t be late, he just couldn't. He had to see her one more time, he had to.

Peter was starting to pace along the roof when he saw a familiar yellow bag standing on the sidewalk below and his heart stopped. He dropped down just around the corner from the people and took off his bag. He glanced around the corner and saw Y/N close the trunk of the taxi and thank the driver. He grabbed his sweater out of his bag and yanked it on over his suit before stuffing his mask in the bag. He didn’t have time to change completely but he didn’t want to miss his chance. He took a deep breath and stepped around the corner.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He shouted over the hustle and bustle of the crowd, trying to make his way to her.

She turned at his voice just as she was getting ready to step through a revolving door. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Peter!” She cried.

She quickly walked over to him as he made his way through the throng of people. As soon as he was within reach, she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Peter’s eyes widened as he instinctively put his arms around Y/N. He couldn’t tell if his heart was racing or if it was even beating at all. All he knew was that there was a warmth spreading from the left side of his chest. He rested his cheek on her head and closed his eyes.

“I thought you weren’t coming!” Y/N gasped, her unseen sadness vanishing in her surprise as she pulled back to look up at him. As she did, his arms slipped away a little and his hands came to rest on her sides.

Peter gave her a lopsided grin, masking the pained look in his eyes. “You really thought I’d let you leave without saying goodbye?” Y/N looked away embarrassed, her cheeks flushing. “I’m really sorry,” he lowered his gaze guiltily, his smile fading. “Honestly, I almost didn’t make it. Ned called me, but...” his voice trailed off.

“You are here now,” Y/N lifted a hand from his shoulder and placed it comfortingly on his cheek. “And I’m very happy you are.” As soon as he was looking at her, she lowered her arms to rest along his.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes met Y/N’s, sparkling in the light coming through the airport windows. For a second he forgot everything, how to talk, how to breathe. He was certain that if it hadn’t been for Y/N’s arms resting on his, he would’ve fallen down because he’d forgotten how to stand. What was going on?

Maybe I did fall, he thought. I mean I jumped out of the jet. Maybe I hit my head on the way down or something. That would explain it, wouldn’t it?

He looked up at Y/N and he swore his heart stopped altogether. Suddenly it all made sense to him; how he felt when Y/N was around, even more so how he felt when she wasn’t. How could he have not noticed? He loved her. He loved her and she was about to leave forever.

“Y/N,” he looked into her eyes, his heart beating a mile a minute. God, he was so nervous. Why was this so hard? He took down Vulture single-handedly, he went toe-to-toe with Thanos, got turned to dust, then faced the purple alien’s army without giving it a second thought, but this? This was terrifying to him. “I have something to tell you. I-”

“Shh!” Y/N quickly put a hand to his mouth, much to his surprise. “I know, Peter. You don’t have to say it.”

Peter’s eyes widened. She knows?

Y/N stood on her toes and Peter instinctively tightened his grip on her waist, not wanting her to stumble. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear softly. “You’re Spider-Man.”

Peter’s eyes widened even more and he immediately let go of Y/N. She shifted her weight back to her heels and looked up at the panicking boy before her.

“What? Uh, no- no, that’s not what I--” he stopped as his gaze fell back on Y/N. The look in her eyes told him there was no use. He sighed again and looked at her with mild amazement. “How- how did you know?”

“I told you not to stay out too long,” Y/N’s face broke into a dazzling grin as she looked up at Peter and his heart melted. “You were so sick the next day. I thought at first it just had to be a coincidence, but then I thought about how you gave me directions to the auditorium. You were the only one to stop and help, just like Spider-Man,” she looked away, her cheeks flushing a little. “That is why I was staring at you at lunch, because I thought you sounded familiar.’

“Well to be fair, I was probably the only one to crash into you,” Peter reasoned with a shrug.

Peter and Y/N both chuckled at the memories. Y/N’s smile widened as she looked up at Peter. “And whenever you missed a study group or hanging out with us at night, the next morning Spider-Man would be in the news, saving the day.” The two chuckled again but their laughter faded as a light air of sadness settled over them.

Peter hesitated. “Y/N... you’re right, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

Y/N’s eyes grew and her lips parted slightly in surprise. “It’s not?” Her surprise was quickly replaced with a look of concern. “Is something wrong?”

Peter chuckled weakly, smiling at her fondly. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he sighed. “Y/N, I--”

“Attention passengers, Flight 742 will begin boarding in 30 minutes. Again, Flight 742 will be boarding in 30 minutes. Thank you.” A male voice announced over the PA system.

Y/N’s eyes widened a fraction further and Peter’s heart sank. “That’s your flight, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Y/N bit her lip. “I have to hurry or I’m going to miss it.” She held her arms out and gave Peter one last hug. When she pulled away she lifted her eyes to meet his one more time. “Goodbye, Peter. I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Yeah, ok,” Peter smiled though he felt like doing anything but. “Talk to you then.”

Y/N gave Peter a small, sad smile, her eyes misting faintly before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Peter watched until she was completely out of sight before turning away with a heavy sigh. He shuffled to the curb and waved over a waiting taxi. He just didn’t feel like swinging home and he didn’t want to bother Happy on a Saturday night. Once he got back to the tower, he paid the driver and took the elevator up.

When the doors opened up, he walked through the hall toward his room. When he got to the living room, he saw his dad and the Avengers relaxing and talking. As he was walking by, his dad saw him and called out to him.

“Hey, Pete! Did you catch your friend?” he asked, setting a drink down before rising to his feet and casually striding over to his son.

“Yeah, I did,” Peter sighed. He was hoping to get to his room without having to talk to anyone. He felt like his heart had sunk to the floor and he looked like it too.

“Yeah? Then why do you look like someone ran ‘em over instead?” Tony asked, holding a water bottle out to his son. “Here, drink up. You look a little dehydrated.”

“I’m just... just gonna miss ‘em is all,” Peter mumbled, taking the bottle from his dad. He kept his head lowered as he fought back the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes.

“Well, you have their number, right?” Tony asked before frowning. “Wait, do kids still exchange phone numbers?” he shook his head, dismissing it.

“Yeah, I have it,” Peter replied, unscrewing the cap from his bottle.

“Well see? You’ll be fine then. Anyway, you’ve got more important things to worry about, like your internship.”

“Internship?” Peter frowned, pausing with the bottle raised half-way.

“Yeah, your advisor called to give me a heads up, said I may be getting an increase in applications soon,” Tony answered nonchalantly.

“Oh, great,” Peter mumbled as he brought the bottle the rest of the way to his lips and took a drink. His throat was sore. He turned and slowly started toward his room again, but if Tony noticed, he didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah. Now I’ve already got your internship set up if you want it, but if not that’s ok too. I’d understand if you don’t want to spend the summer working for your old man,” he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly as he followed his son.

“Uh, thanks dad,” Peter closed his eyes and suppressed a groan as he turned away back toward his room. He really didn’t want to talk about anything right now, let alone his internship. “But I really just want to go to bed right now.”

“I understand. I wouldn’t sleep long, though. If you want the internship, you’d better start packing, you leave Tuesday.”

Peter froze mid-step with his hand on his bedroom door. “What? Leave?” he asked, turning to face his dad.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, I’m gonna spend the summer finishing up some old projects around the tower. Your mom’s been bugging me to fix the dryer on the guest floor for months and I have a few design upgrades for the team. I’m really not gonna have enough work for an intern in the lab this year. Stark Enterprises International just opened a new Research and Development floor at the headquarters in Italy though, and they’re gonna need help setting up, calibrating, and testing out all the equipment.”

Peter stared at his dad completely stunned. After a minute, he blinked and replied. “I-I-I’m- I’m going to Italy?!” he gasped, wide-eyed.

“Uh, yeah?” Tony’s eyebrows arched a little. “I mean if you want to. If not, I’m sure you cou--”

“I gotta pack!” Peter cut him off, shutting his bedroom door in his dad’s face. Tony grunted in amusement, his eyes glinting with a smirk on his face as he turned and walked back to the living room. Black Widow noticed as he entered and looked up at him.

“So, how’d it go?” she asked before taking a sip of her drink.

Tony opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a soft clattering coming from down the hall towards Peter’s room as he dug through his closet. He quirked an eyebrow with a smile. “Does that answer your question?” Natasha chuckled and shook her head lightly.

“Thanks again, by the way,” Tony turned to her as he refilled his cup.

Natasha shrugged. “It was no big deal, I’d been meaning to catch up with an old friend in Italy for a while, anyway. He’ll be perfectly safe, you have my word.”

“I know, I had to check more for Pepper’s sake,” Tony replied casually with a slight eye-roll. Natasha brought her cup to her lips and hummed, hiding a disbelieving smile. “I’m just glad May was able to come on such short notice and set it up.” Tony continued.

“You can thank her tomorrow when she comes by for dinner,” Pepper spoke as she walked in. Looking at Tony, she nodded her head toward Peter’s room and arched her eyebrows with a chuckle. “I take it you told him?”

“How did you know?” Tony looked over his shoulder and smirked.

“Speaking of knowing, how did you know?” Bucky asked, cocking an eyebrow at Tony from his seat across from Steve.

He just shrugged. “Karen alerts me whenever Peter has her run a scan on him and tells me the results.”

“One of the few remaining Baby Monitor protocols he still has in place,” Pepper added.

“Yeah. One night I got one with some odd readings, but no apparent cause. It was Pep that suggested I playback the footage.” He nodded to his wife. There was another thump from Peter’s room as he hurriedly packed.

“Aww, his first crush,” Pepper smiled, sitting down her cup of tea.

“So let me get this straight,” Clint frowned. “You can delay a plane for so your kid can see his crush but you couldn’t delay it so I could sleep in last year in Marrakesh?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Tony shrugged. Clint grumbled and the rest of the team laughed.

“To be fair, he did warn you about the drinks in the minifridge,” Natasha grinned.

Tony smirked before he furrowed his brow. “Do you think he’ll realize it’s not a coincidence?”

Pepper chuckled as she walked up behind her husband. She put her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. “What? You don’t want him to miss out on the knowledge that he has the best wingman for a father?”

Tony chuckled as he turned to his wife and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him before giving her a kiss. “He’ll figure it out.”

---

Part 1 Buy me a coffee?

Tags: @parkerspicedlatte @xmarveled @jll72-blog

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monsterfanfic · 6 years

Text

Chapter 04: Enjoy It

Quietly, Eva rolled over out of Tonio’s grasp as her eyes rolling over every inch of him that was visible. Even the outline of his lower half that the satin sheets barely covered. If it wasn't for the Ralph Lauren Polol boxers he wore to bed, she'll have access to every part of the man's physique. A part of her wanted to tease him, show him her appreciation. Dinner, him being sweet and even sensitive, but also staying to him true self, or what Eva seen as his true self. Not to mention the golden fact that he pleased her body without needing an ounce of return compassion. On the other hand, Eva’s mind screamed for her leave his home and get back to what was important. School work. She couldn't afford to allow Antonio to stir her away from her grades and education. She had come too far. Last night was amazing and the way his mouth and fingers put her to sleep was the icing on the cake. Walking away right now would leave them to fix the problems for another day; another time. Staying until he awoke would cause more issues especially since she knew so little about the man beside her and honestly? Early mornings may not be the best time to figure him out in her mind. Smoothly as possible she exited out the bed and followed the path to the bathroom. It looked just as spotless as the first time Eva had entered it. Granted, it hadn't been that long, maybe four or five days, but to be owed by a man; she was surprised. The toothbrush from her last visit was sitting in the toothbrush holder along with his.

It took less than five minutes for her to brush her teeth and wash her face. Behind her was the black tiled shower and with the simple decision to occupy the warm water; Eva stripped and stepped in once the shower's temperature was to her liking. Lost in the warm water and African Black soap, Eva hadn't noticed Tonio was up. His tall frame posted against the stink as he waited for her to step out. He had been in the bathroom since her lost presence from his bed woke him. After five minutes of waiting for her to come back, Tonio saw no need, but to go see what was holding her for so long. While he waited, he did a quick face wash his self, taking a seat on the sink afterwards.

After how last night happened, it wouldn't be a surprise if Eva was running. "It's pretty early for a shower." His deep sensation voice caught Eva's attention, her hands slowly wrapping the colored plush towel around her petite body. “It's after seven now." "Yeah, twenty after," Pushing himself off the wall, Tonio stood in front of her. "If I hadn't gotten up before you finished and had you gotten dressed; you would've left." Eva laughed at the joking tone he seemed to hold for the moment. She enjoyed it when he wasn't so uptight. And even though they barely know each other, she's seen Tonio more upset than at ease. "No....." She lied, walking around him to grab the oversized sweat pants he gave her access to. Eva quickly dried her body off, before shamelessly dropping the towel to the marble floor. "I would've told you before I left." She too held an sarcastic expression in her voice, but Tonio didn't find the humor anymore. "Eva, why? What are you running from?" Bending, he picked up the abandoned towel, walking over to the closet where she got it from to put it now in the dirty towel basket. "I would've done that." Eva pointed out, once she had on the shirt. Panty and bra-less. "I asked a question, Eva." "It's not running, Antonio. Its call being careful. I didn't know how waking up to you this morning would be and vice versa. I don't know anything about you and besides as great as last night was; I’ve fulfilled my debt." The silence surrounding them turned tensed the second she finished her statement. Eva was left alone to finish her business soon after. Tonio left the bathroom and eventually the bedroom altogether. Eva could hear him addressing someone on the other end of the phone as he did so while she played with her fingers in the spot she was left in. "I'll drop you off in Manhattan, Eva."

"I can't believe you are seriously home, studying." Eva laughed as she looked up at the MacBook Pro sitting on the foot of her bed. Her naturally reaction being to shrug and continue her assignment against Kelly's normal astonished tone. Eva wasn't too comfortable right now with sitting and thinking so she pulled out her notebook to get a head start on the week’s upcoming readings and notes. After Tonio offered her a ride home, she had officially categorized herself as an “Pretty Woman”. She was nothing more than an inch for a scratch. And now that he was okay, this was over. Not that there was anything wrong, but it left Eva "in her feelings" about the entire situation. It only worsens as they drive, and no conversation occur. Tonio simply dropped her off and continued with his day, as she supposed. "Everyone isn't like you, Kelly. Skim a book and know everything about it." "That's because you don't try. I bet you've been reading and note taking since I left." It crossed Eva's mind to just lay everything on the table for her friend. For her pride. To tell how amazing last night was for her soul and body. To let it be known how she wasn't the "Nun-Girl" that Kelly and all their mutual friends suppose she was. Nonetheless, she kept it quiet. Only looking up at the screen to put on her innocent act before continuing the task. "How was the dinner last night?" Kelly didn't seem to buy the conversation change at first, but with some encouragement on Eva's end; she opened about the family dinner that was held at her parent's home. Dinner was served before Kelly and her younger sister could get down the stairs, gaining them faces of disappointment from one of their cousins that too studies at NYU. "Well it's not like you or Shelly care for her."

“Doesn’t matter, Eva. She was in our parent’s house. She could at least respect us,”

“Wait,” Eva said, her voice cutting off Kelly’s mid-argument. “Why doesn’t Samantha like you two? Isn’t it because y’all bullied her as kids.”

“First of all, she was a stuck-up ass little girl. We were just teaching her a lesson. Okay?”

Eva nodded sarcastically, laughing at the undeniably childish response her friend was firing off with. Samantha had ever right not to like Kelly or Shelly because of their actions. Eva knew she won’t. “I need to meet her.”

“Have you talked to your mother today? It’s Saturday, she usually calls every Saturday.”

“She calls me every day Kels. What you mean?”

“Well, Saturdays are different. You know what I mean.”

Eva hadn’t thought about it until Kelly asked, but as she figured, there were five missed calls from her mother. All started less than two hours ago. It was a lot calmer than expected. Usually within two hours Nicole is threatening to come to New York herself to find Eva. This time it was only five missed phone calls and honestly, because it was out of her nature, Eva was almost worried.

“What happened?” Obviously, her facial expression projected those thoughts from how Kelly sounded.

“Nothing. She’s called.....I should probably get back to her before she has an heartache.”

Laughing, Kelly nodded, before looking from her screen in the direction of someone else. Eva watched as she frowned then looked back at the device.

“Go ahead, love. I’m going to go help my mom find something to wear for tonight. Love you.”

Eva smiled before watching the screen go black on her Mac and then the call disappeared. Her fingers rubbed at the material of her Samsung phone. Giving up on the excuses, she pressed the phone icon, leaving it on speaker as she walked over to the mini-pantry in their dorm. Grabbing a packet of the Ramen Noodles, Eva knew after about ten seconds of nothing, Nicole wasn’t coming to the phone. Soon the infamous one worded voicemail, “Nicole” let her know her mother had indeed sent to her the voicemail.

Turning into her mother, Eva tried three more times before letting up.

She had enough going on in her own head to worry about her mother’s too.

Slipping on her furry night slippers, Eva grabbed her phone and keys before heading down to the dining room on the dorm floor. Preparing for her noodles to finish on the stove, she used the time to scroll and look over everything that was possibly visible in her phone just to occupy her time and keep her from doing something stupid. Like calling or texting Tonio.

As new as the feeling is to have the attention of a man, she can’t get so wrapped up in him that she forgets what she came to New York for.

tonio :: call me whenever you get a chance.

Eva crossed the door, thanking the pizza delivery guy one last time. Her mind wondering over the text. She had to stop herself numerous time from just blankly calling him back the moment she saw the message. It was going on six in the afternoon when her phone buzzed with the new message and as happy as she was to get the notification, she almost wondered why and what he could want so desperately he couldn’t just call her then.

sent :: something wrong??

tonio :: no Eva. Just call me.

She hadn’t processed any response to that before the incoming call showed up at the top of her phone’s screen. Settling the pizza box down on her computer table, Eva pressed the answer button before getting comfortable on her bed.

“We seriously have to talk about how you over think every fucking thing.”

No hello or anything.

“Hey, Tonio.”

“No, Eva, I’m serious. You did the same shit this morning. Luckily something came up at work and I couldn’t entertain you,”

“But now you have time.” Eva said, no questioning in her voice.

“Right. I’m downstairs.”

“Actually,” Eva said, laughing as she could hear the sighing on the other end. “I just got my cheese pizza, and I kinda want to enjoy it while it’s hot. So, you can just come up. Room 554.”

The line went deadly silent, then Eva heard what seemed like a car alarm echo in the background. She could hear Tonio moving through the halls of her dorm, walking pass those who should be in charge and questioning everything he was doing, but instead, allowed the tattooed-stranger to make himself at home.

“Open the door for me.”

#Dave East FF #Karrueche ff #FF

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not-close-to-straight · 7 years

Text

Long Distance (Chapter Three)

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

*********************

From Steve-- I know it's early, but I'm headed out for a run. Just wanted to say good morning.

From Tony -- Well good morning artist boy. Enjoy your run.

From Steve-- Sorry, did I wake you? I didn't actually expect you text back. What are you doing awake so early?

From Tony -- Haven't gone to bed yet actually. Got busy working, lost track of time.

From Steve -- Honey, it's 5am please go lay down and get some sleep

From Tony-- Honey?

From Steve -- Is that weird? We've been talking for a while, seemed like the right time to say it. But I don't have to.

From Tony--No, it's fine. As long as you're fine with me calling you weird things

From Steve -- call me whatever you want Tony

From Tony -- sure thing, schmoopsy doodle.

From Steve -- You're delirious honey.

From Tony-- You know, you would think so? But I'm actually like this all the time.

*******************

From Tony-- Got a full class schedule today?

From Steve -- Hey Tony. Just an afternoon lecture then I'm off the rest of the day. Going to paint the spare bedroom. What about you? Stuck in the office all day?

From Tony-- heading to California actually. Business trip. I'll be gone until Tuesday.

From Steve -- You gonna be out of contact all weekend? Honey I hate that idea.

From Tony-- don't be ridiculous. I'll glue my phone to my hand and you can text me all you want. Out of contact. What is that? No one is ever out of contact anymore. Text me whenever you want, I'll text you back every time.

From Steve -- That sounds wonderful.

From Steve-- And don't you dare say anything about long distance or I won't text you at all

From Tony-- Stick in the mud. You never let me have any fun

******************

From Steve-- how's Cali? I like the idea of your stretched out on the beach soaking up the sun. You good and tan? Drinking Mojito's under a palm tree.

From Tony-- I wish. California is lovely but lonely. Can't wait to get back to New York. I like the coast but I prefer the city.

From Steve-- Seems a little late to ask this, but do you have someone waiting for you in New York?

From Tony-- Not unless you count Pepper, but if she's waiting its usually not a good thing. I just sleep a little better in my own bed, that's all.

From Tony-- But I'll also be back in the same time zone as you which is a plus. Now we can talk all day without a four hour time difference. And, you know all these long distance charges are a real bitch. I don't think my phone bills have ever been this high.

From Tony-- Worth it, though. Totally worth it.

From Steve -- You are so cute, Tony. Stupid long distance comments aside, you are adorable.

From Tony-- you don't know that I'm adorable. You’ve never seen a picture of me. I could be hideous.

From Steve -- don't need a picture honey, I can tell just from talking to you. Adorable. And it's got nothing to do with your looks. Everything to do with you charm.

**************

From Tony-- Hey professor, I'm back in New York.

From Steve -- Real glad you made it safe Tony, sure missed hearing from you all day.

From Tony-- Yeah sorry about that. I slept the entire flight home, now I'm heading up to the office to get some work done.

From Steve -- Maybe just take the night off, huh? We can get all caught up, want to do a video or something? I'd love to talk for a while.

From Tony-- Ooh tempting professor, but I've really got to get some paperwork done. I wasn't half as productive on this trip as I should have been, and Pepper might do something drastic if I don't get my signature on at least a dozen documents tonight.

From Steve-- one day we will have to sit down and you can explain exactly what it is you do that keeps you so busy all the time.

From Tony -- yeah? I would be alright with that. We could sit down and talk. Or you know...not talk.

From Steve -- Are you propositioning me?

From Tony-- ….Is it working?

*********************

From Steve -- assigned a project in one of my entry level art classes for an anatomy sketch. Eight different students turned in nude sketches of themselves. I had to call in another teacher to help just so I wouldn't feel weird about grading them.

From Tony-- I feel like I'm not supposed to be laughing but I absolutely cannot stop laughing. Is it just terrible being a super foxy professor? You poor thing.

From Steve -- I wonder how I make it clear to all these nineteen year olds that not only am I too old for them, and completely not interested but I'm also gay?

From Tony-- Well that answers that question, doesn't it? All those girls are going to be devastated. I bet next semester every kid in your class is a boy, just you wait.

From Steve -- I would really rather prefer that none of my students took my class with the hope of seducing me. You didn't realize I was gay?

From Tony-- well you never said. I didn't want to assume. Didn't want to get my hopes up I suppose

From Steve -- Really? Was the shirtless picture not enough of a hint?

From Tony-- I don't know… you better send another one so I can be sure.

******************

From Tony -- so this morning my assistant walks in and just took my phone out of my hand. Locked it in a drawer and told me I couldn't have it back until I finished looking over something boring.

From Tony-- Actually her exact words were. “You can have your phone back after you act like an adult for a full hour.” So rude.

From Steve -- Damn Tony. What did you do?

From Tony-- I picked the lock. Or at least I tried to pick the lock. She smacked my hand away.

From Steve -- Well, frankly she sounds terrifying

From Tony-- Frankly, she is terrifying. Redheads. What can you do?

From Steve -- Well I'm glad you figured something out, because I would have missed you if you didn't text me all day

From Tony-- Why professor, if I didn't know better I would think you liked me.

From Steve -- Tony, if we weren't so far away I'd pass you a note. Check yes or no, do you like me too?

From Tony-- You're dumb. And sweet. Go away

From Steve – You want me to go away, Tony?

From Tony-- hey if you're going to pass notes like a fourth grader, I can respond like a fourth grader. You're lucky I'm not pulling your pigtails and pushing you in the mud at recess.

From Steve-- Fucking. Adorable.

******************

From Tony-- What are you doing this weekend, blondie? Got any good plans?

From Steve -- Same thing I do every weekend, I suppose. Getting up early for a run. Working around the house. I have a stack of art projects to look through and grade before Monday. What about you, honey?

From Tony-- probably just gonna text my hot teacher friend and distract him from all the productive housework and grading he’s supposed to do

From Steve-- I'm sure you hot teacher friend loves that idea. Even though, maybe not so much the tag of “Friend.” Not a huge fan of that.

From Tony -- Not so much friend?

From Steve -- not so much. Or at least, maybe for not too much longer hm? You think?

From Tony-- I can be on board with that. We gonna put a deadline on it? More than friends by midterms?

From Steve-- Midterms are still a while off.

From Tony-- well that leaves you lots of time to thoroughly woo me, doesn't it?

****************

From Steve -- Go to bed, honey

From Tony-- You don't know that I'm awake.

From Tony-- Dammit well now you do

From Steve -- Sleep, Tony. Seriously. You’ve been texting me all day and it's pushing one am. I know you’ve got to be tired.

From Tony-- You don't know anything, art man.

From Steve -- I know you well enough to know here in about fifteen minutes you're going to start getting delirious and saying odd things and calling me weird nickname. It happens every single time.

From Tony-- You are the least fun ever. I'll go to sleep

From Tony-- I hate my bed though. It's huge and lonely and cold.

From Steve-- Let's change that. Soon.

From Tony-- You gonna sell my king size bed and buy me a twin size instead? Sweet of you. Smart too, no wonder you’re a teacher. Always churning out those good ideas, huh?

From Steve-- Go to bed, Tony.

*****************

From Steve -- hey, how come I don't have a picture of you, honey? We've been at this for a while and all I know is that you have dark hair and dark eyes.

From Tony-- And a sparkling personality.

From Steve-- And a sparkling personality, yes. But why don't I have a picture?

From Tony-- Probably because I haven't sent one yet pudding pop.

From Steve -- please send me one. I'd like to see you on my screen when we talk

From Tony-- Actually I have a better idea, if you're up for it.

From Steve -- Let's hear it.

From Tony-- Well. It's Valentines Day in two days, you know? What do you say we meet up? I can head your way easy enough, if you're willing to drive a little bit, why don't we find some place in the middle and meet for dinner? Someplace neutral and easy and we can just... we can just see how it all goes?

From Steve -- Tony I love that idea. Please let's do that. I love that idea.

From Tony-- Yeah? Not too soon for this sort of thing? I realize Valentine's Day is sort of a big deal, maybe a weird one for a first official date, but it doesn't have to be weird. We can keep it low-key.

From Steve-- No, honey this is great. We've been talking about meeting you for weeks now. And we'd thought about going away from Valentine's Day so this is perfect. Bucky will be so excited, I'm going to text him right now and tell him.

From Tony-- Sorry what? Who the hell is Bucky? What do you mean he will be so excited? Steve what the hell?

From Tony-- No, no wait, you've mentioned him but like…. about running together. And working together. And grabbing dinner together. Not like, oh hey Bucky and I sleep together. What the HELL.

From Steve -- ...Bucky and I are dating, Tony. We've been together for almost four years. We both work at the university as well. I'm so so sorry, it didn't occur to me that you thought Bucky and I were just friends. I swear I thought I'd mentioned it before.

From Tony -- So you've had a boyfriend this entire time? This entire time? You and I have been flirting and talking and you...what? You only talk to me when he’s not around? You keep your phone locked so he can't read the texts? What the fuck is happening?

From Steve -- Tony, don't take this the wrong way. I promise it's not what you're thinking.

From Tony-- You have no idea what I'm thinking.

From Tony-- Jesus Christ

From Tony-- forget what I said about Valentines Day. Forget all of that. I don't want to see you anymore. Fuck off.

From Steve -- No honey wait. Don't be upset, I promise it's not what you think. I definitely should have mentioned this before, I know.

From Steve-- Damn it Tony I'm so sorry. Bucky has been reading our texts since day one, I guess I forgot that you didn't know about him. He thinks your funny and sweet and always wants in on our conversations.

From Steve -- Tony please

From Steve -- Tony please talk to me honey, come on

From Steve-- I swear it's not like we were playing you or anything. I meant everything I said about wanting to see you and about wanting to be more than friends.

From Steve-- Bucky and I really want to meet you, really want to spend some time with you-- it will be fine. I promise.

From Steve-- Bucky is just as gone on you as I am, babe. Just because it's just been you and me talking doesn't mean that he isn't right there, too.

From Steve-- This is my fault, Tony. Don't feel like you were played or anything like that. I swear, it just slipped my mind. Me and Bucky talk about you all the time, I guess I forgot that you didn't know about it. Or about all of him.

From Steve-- Tony.

From Steve-- TONY.

****************

From Steve -- Tony it's killing me not hearing from you. Please text me back

From Steve-- Honey. Say something to me. Anything. Answer your phone. I've called you like a dozen times, please just pick up and let me explain.

From Steve -- I get it, I screwed this up. Should have taken Bucky's advice and told you about him sooner but honestly I was afraid you'd stop talking right away because I wasn't single and I didn't want that to happen.

From Steve -- Damn it, sweetheart. I can't handle not hearing from you. Text me back or call me back and just scream at me, it's fine. But I know we can figure this out.

*******************

From Tony-- Lose my number.

#ncts #stuckony #texting #long distance #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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skymoonandstardust · 7 years

Text

Your Friendly Neighbor, Spider-Man

Peter Parker x Reader

Summery: During a sleepless night a nose makes you look out your window-- only to see the webslinger himself.

The glow from your clock was impossible to ignore, the numbers 1:35 like a neon sign in the dark as you tossed and turned under the covers. With a groan of mixed frustration and exasperation you sat bolt upright in bed, flipped the covers off you and exited your room before stalking down the hall, your expression looking as though you were off to murder someone. Really, you were heading to the kitchen to get some water, hoping that would help with your sleeplessness—but you were so tired and frustrated that you very well could have at that moment.

A few minutes later you walked back into your room, glass of water in hand which you took another sip of before you set it down and climbed back in bed to hopefully fall asleep. Twenty minutes later and you were still wide awake—To make it worse you had school tomorrow, which meant waking up bright and early. Letting out another groan and rolling over for the fifth time that night you’d just settled down when you heard a thump outside your window.

Laying still for a minute and listening for any more noise, you heard a small sound a second later and got up to look.

You weren’t getting to sleep quickly and you had nothing else to do so why not?

Pulling back your curtain just enough to see you peeked out—and saw nothing in the blackness but the fire escape right across from yours and the dark window of the apartment it belonged to. Scanning left and right again you saw nothing. A glance downwards at the pavement of the alley below you showed only emptiness, not even a stray cat in sight-- then you looked up on a whim.

You almost lost your grip on the curtain as you spotted the red and blue figure of Spiderman climbing down the side of the building across from you. Trying to calm yourself and stay as still as possible to keep him from noticing you, you tracked the hero’s progress as he climbed. So you saw when he slowed down and eventually stopped beside the fire escape across from you, Sent out a web to attach to the bottom of the fire escape above it, and slowly lower himself down lightly, his feet hitting the metal without a sound.

Spiderman stopped, pausing in a crouch for a second as his masked face scanned all around him.

You had no idea if he knew that you (or at least someone) was watching him—you’d heard something about some kind of spider sense—but you had to hold back a gasp when he looked in your direction (your overactive mind imagining that he was looking right at you) for a second before continuing to scan.

Spiderman must have been satisfied there was no one around because he moved after another minute of stillness.

Watching (and with a really good view now since he was practically at eye level) you saw Spiderman walk over to the widow, open it, climb inside and close it softly and slowly behind him.

Wide awake and with a head full of questions you stayed at your post a few minutes longer till it was obvious he wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

Finally letting the curtain fall you walked back over to sit on your bed, brow furrowed.

You were familiar with the Parkers—the people who owned the apartment whose window Spidey had just crawled through. Mostly you knew Peter. You’d only met and talked to his Aunt May for a few minutes the two or three times you been over before the teenage boy had quickly ushered you away. You’d even been in Peter’s room, the very one that window looked out of. The two of you were friends, You and Peter Parker. Well, kind of.

Both of you went to the same school so you’d see each other during class, in the halls and sometimes at lunch. You’d been paired up with him for projects and assignments two or three times and had gone over to his house to work on them together. Every once and a while the two of you would happen to go out on your fire escapes at the same time (or not too far apart) and since they practically touched you’d exchange a few words, nothing really long or meaningful.

Though, you had to admit that you could see into his room from yours and sometimes you’d look up and peak in. You enjoyed looking at him a bit too much and probably stared more and for a little longer then you should. What’s more, you could swear that a few times you’d caught him gazing too, or you would look over and see his head whip around like he’d been watching and turned quickly before you saw.

It was probably your imagination though.

But tonight, you had more important things to think of other then your possible (massive) crush on the boy next door and his potential staring.

You knew that a burning question would keep you up for the rest of the night as you turned it over in your mind until the sunrise set fire to your curtain and lit up your room as it spread.

What was Spiderman doing going into Peter Parker’s room?

Part 2?

The forevers: @a-sea-of-fandoms @casownsmyass @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @scarlettsoldier @thatbasicnerd4life @docharleythegeekqueen

Marvel girls: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kenziecole-green

Spider-Man:

@lets-imagine-fanfics

@tomxhotland

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taeken-my-heart · 7 years

Text

Independent {f} - Chapter 2

Summary: Your mom calls you stubborn, your friends call you wild, and the boys you’ve left in your wake call you a frigid bitch. You’ve built a life of independence and you like it that way. Kim Taehyung, however; might just change your mind.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Light fluff

Word Count: 3436

Another week passed after your last meeting with Taehyung and you neither saw nor heard from him since then. You knew logically that this should make you happy, this was exactly what you’d wanted, but for some reason all you could think about was the uncomfortable clenching in your gut each time you thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t actually interested.

You sat at the back of your Photojournalism class staring wistfully out the window as your professor droned on about your latest photography project but you were hardly paying attention. The syllabus had given you all the details you’d needed at the beginning of the year and you already had a plan mapped out for what you wanted to photograph and submit.

You sighed, wondering absentmindedly if you were losing your touch with men, maybe Taehyung wasn’t chasing after you because you’d lost your charms. You weren’t doing anything differently from before, though, so you couldn’t understand the change. You ran a hand through your hair in frustration; why was this occupying so much of your attention? You’d never sought men’s attention before and in fact had found it rather annoying and a hindrance to your overall lifestyle.

The professor released the class and you began to pack your bags. As you walked through the lecture hall towards the door your teacher called you over and you hiked your bag higher on your shoulder. It wasn’t very often that Professor Schultz called someone aside and when he did, it usually meant a special assignment. Your stomach clenched in irritation at the thought. You already had enough on your plate, an extra assignment wasn’t all that inviting at the moment.

“I’ve got an assignment for you to do,” He smiled. You tried your best not to sigh.

“Is this on top of the current project?” You asked, as calmly as possible.

“Actually, in your case I want you to make it your assignment. It’s rather time consuming and I don’t really trust anyone else with it.”

You frowned in confusion. What kind of an assignment would he give you that made it important enough to change your entire plan? You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked.

“Well,” he said, packing some of his books into his brief case, “we need someone to cover the front-page story in the school’s paper. The Winter Recital is happening in 2 weeks and a lot of recruiters are coming so it’s a pretty big deal for our school. We need someone who can document the whole preparing process through to the performance. The Dean needs someone reliable and you’re the only one I trust with this assignment.”

You were currently kissing your plans and good sleep goodbye as you internally screamed. It was flattering to be thought so highly of and you knew this would look good in your portfolio, but The Winter Recital was the last thing you wanted to be spending time focusing on. You were a purist in the sense that you wanted to work on the things you felt passionate about…and this was not one of those things.

Despite all your reservations you found yourself nodding, “I understand. Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll do my best to make sure we are well represented.”

“Thank you, y/n,” Professor Schultz smiled, snapping the clasps to his briefcase closed and lifting it off his desk, “If you just follow me to my office, I can give you a paper with all the information you need.”

Half an hour later you found a quiet spot in the back of the library and sat down in the plush cushions to go over your new assignment and make some notes. You had intended to go home, make some ramen and veg in front of your laptop for the rest of the night but now you had to get ready to go to the first rehearsal in two hours and that left you grumbling in irritation.

According to the paperwork your professor had given you, this assignment would occupy nearly every night of the next two weeks and you bemoaned the loss of your free time. The Winter Recital was for anyone in the humanities field that could perform. Only the best were selected to participate and each year recruiters from top talent agencies and specialized academies would come to recruit the cream of the crop.

Your friend Eleanor had been recruited for her incredible singing last year and was now in the process of producing an album under one of the most popular labels in the country. It really was the opportunity of a lifetime for any college student to be able to document the recital because the pictures always made national headlines. You just didn’t find it particularly exciting. You prided yourself on capturing beautiful little moments that people often overlooked and what kind of small beauty could you find in this type of performance that wasn’t altogether over the top?

After finishing the plans and moping for the last five minutes, you stood up to make your way to the concert hall. It had grown a little chilly as the afternoon progressed into early evening and you were glad, you’d thought to bring a coat. You slipped through the front doors of the performing arts center quietly and looked around in curiosity. If you were being honest, you’d never actually set foot in this building, though you probably should have due to the nature of your degree, but most of your photography classes had been thrown into other random buildings like an afterthought and there didn’t seem to be much of a point in visiting the stomping grounds of the performing arts kids.

You could hear soft music wafting from somewhere in the building and you allowed it to lead you to the main concert hall. Stepping through the doors into the dimly lit hall, you watched as some of the actors stood talking to their professor at the edge of the stage as he gave them general directions. You held your satchel awkwardly in front of you as you waited for the professor to notice you and took the opportunity to glance around the concert hall. It wasn’t really anything special, you had sort of expected it to be a little grander and in line with its general purpose, but it was very simple.

It was a large hall filled with simple adornments and chairs stuffed into every corner. The stage was the most beautiful part of the entire room and that was partially due to the set design, which they were still setting up behind the actors as they began to talk amongst themselves.

“Y/n, I presume?”

You jumped at your name being called and looked down to the director, a middle-aged man with glasses, a slightly rounded tummy, and long khaki pants with a tucked in button up.

“Yes, that’s me,” you said, stepping forward quickly and making your way to him through the maze of chairs. You extended your hand and shook his once you’d reached him and shook the hand of his assistant, Michael, as you made introductions.

“Professor Schultz has high praise for you,” Professor Brinkerhoff mused, “I hope you’re as good as he said because we need this production to be the talk of the town.”

You bristled at his inference. A show should be the talk of the town all on its own and your pictures would have nothing to do with whether or not they were successful. Despite that, you bit your tongue and smiled.

“I hope I can do his praise credit.”

Professor Brinkerhoff nodded and motioned for you to follow. “I don’t really know your method or style, but we’ll be running through different parts of the show tonight, mainly focusing on our theater production and dance, but you’ll need to capture each portion. It’s a given that not every picture will be selected for print, but if you could make sure to have a few pictures of each performer so we have a large selection to choose from, that would be great.”

You nodded along in turn as he recited all the things he wanted you to do that were part and parcel for this sort of assignment. For someone with less experience, the reiteration would have been helpful but to you it was just a broken record. When Professor Brinkerhoff finally let you go to attend to the actors you set your bag down with a sigh and began to riffle through for your equipment. The practice started and you began taking pictures of each individual making sure to pick up any small details you felt would contribute to the beauty of the pictures. Pictures of the actors, pictures of the set artists, and pictures of Professor Brinkerhoff and Michael deep in conversation about possible improvements.

You sat a few rows behind the professor flipping through your pictures and waiting for the next set to take place. You’d already gotten a lot of pictures and were now wasting time sitting around waiting. You tried not to be bitter because you had prepared for this, but preparing and surviving were two different things.

You sighed in boredom and stared absentmindedly at the stage as the dancers filed on, stretching and preparing for their set and that’s when you saw him. Taehyung. He was dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants that were just a little too baggy for his lithe frame. He stood staring down at the professor, hands on hips and nodding in turn with whatever the professor was saying, but you couldn’t hear him. Your head was fuzzy and felt like it was filled with the sharp whistle of a speeding train all at the same time.

You couldn’t remember when you stopped breathing, but you coughed and spluttered uncomfortably as the music started and you watched in awe as they began to dance; as he began to dance. He moved with a gracefulness and fluidity that made sparks nip at your spine. He was beautiful and you found yourself raising your camera quickly to your eyes, snapping picture after picture of just him.

You barely came to your senses enough to snap a few pictures of the others before the dance number ended. You stood in a trance off to the side watching as Taehyung and the other dancers talked in a huddle. You knew you should scurry off somewhere to hide before he noticed you, but your feet were rooted to the floor. Despite all of his father’s apparent reservations, Taehyung had definitely chosen the right career path. You glanced down to look at the pictures you’d just taken when you heard someone shout your name.

“Y/n!”

You looked back up to find Taehyung looking at you, smile nearly splitting his face in two. He raced to the end of the stage and jumped off the edge coming to stop right in front of you. You stood in confusion, trying to say something, anything that would sound more dignified than silence but nothing came.

He didn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing here?” He beamed, chest still rising and falling from the dance.

“I-” You cleared your throat awkwardly trying to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tickle, “I was asked to photograph The Winter Recital.” You said simply.

If it was possible, Taehyung’s smile grew. “Wow, what an honor. I know what a big deal this recital is to us, I can only imagine how much something like this could help in your portfolio.”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was true, this was a big deal. Other schools had concerts and recitals but because of your school’s location and prestige this was like the GRAMMYs of recitals. This would probably set you up for something really amazing, but you couldn’t think of that now, not when Taehyung was standing right in front of you smiling so brightly you thought you might go blind.

You tried to remind yourself of your life goals and a man was certainly not part of them. You rounded your shoulders preparing to give him a simple compliment and return to your seat but he spoke first.

“What do you think so far? I love the scene before ours, I don’t know if you know any of the actors in the group but they’re really talented. My friend Jin is among them, right there,” he said, pointing off into the distance at a tall, dark haired young man in the corner of the stage. “It evokes a lot of emotion and really sets up our dance number perfectly.”

“To be honest, I’ve been so focused on taking pictures I haven’t really paid much attention. I’ll have to watch more carefully tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Taehyung asked, “You’ll be back?”

“Yeah,” you said, doing your best to keep your sigh in, “this is my photojournalism assignment courtesy of my professor. I’ll be here all the way through to the end of the recital.”

“Wow, so I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he smiled. Just then the professor called him back over to rehearse again and he left you with a smile and small wave. You returned to your seat and flipped absentmindedly through the pictures you’d taken. There were a lot of good candidates for your project, but none quite as beautiful as the ones you’d taken of Taehyung. You’d never admit that, of course. At least not to anyone outside of your own head.

By the time rehearsal was finished you were decidedly sapped, a raw mixture of hunger, exhaustion, and just plain irritation at being stuck with this assignment. It had been a beautiful display of talent from all ends, but it’s not what you wanted to be doing. You nodded to the professor, bidding him a good night and headed out of the concert hall and into the main rotunda that held the doors to your freedom.

You stepped out into the cool night air and took a deep breath in, eyes closing in a moment of simple bliss. You stood still for around 10 seconds before hearing a door open beside you and you opened your eyes to look to your right.

“Hey,” Taehyung smiled, “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

You stuck your hands into the small pockets of your sweater and shook your head, “just leaving now.” You took the steps down two at a time in an effort to put some space between you and the young man that was making your heart beat loudly in your ears. You heard his soft footsteps behind you before he fell in time with your own. He’d pulled a beanie over his head and tucked himself into the hood of his navy-blue hoodie. He smiled down at your questioning gaze and then looked straight along the path.

“My apartment is in this direction so I figure we can walk together for a few minutes.” He said, nodding his chin in the direction you were both walking. You shrugged your shoulders but couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word.

“So, have you been back to the little coffee place I showed you last week?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” you said simply. Truthfully, you wanted to go back but you were always afraid you’d run into him and that would send you running off to Starbucks for an overpriced latte in an effort to avoid the feelings growing out of the center of your heart and winding their way down into your stomach, disturbing the long dormant butterflies from their sleep.

“Ah, I thought you liked it,” he said.

“I do, I just haven’t found the time recently.” You weren’t really sure why you were explaining yourself to him, but the words kept tumbling from your mouth in quick succession before you could stop them.

“I understand that. This recital has kept me so busy but it’s such a great opportunity I can’t help but throw myself into it.”

“What if a talent agency notices you? You’re really good so they just might.” You wanted to bite your tongue in punishment for how loose it had become but you couldn’t take it back now so you brace for impact.

“Thank you,” he smiled, “to be honest, I haven’t really thought about it. There’s a lot of talented people up on that stage with me. It’s just an honor to participate. I’m not dancing for the prestige; I just do it because it makes my heart beat from one moment to the next.”

You found yourself nodding in understanding. Your mother didn’t understand your passion in photography, she always made some side comment about finding a job better suited to your skills and that always made you wonder bitterly what skills she seemed to think you had outside of pictures. Despite your mother’s reservations and your own doubts at the sensibility of your chosen career path, photography is the only thing that makes your heart beat; that gives you purpose, and quite honestly, it was the only thing that could get you out of bed the first few months after your dad died.

“I get it,” you said, “that’s how I feel about photography. Sometimes it’s the only thing keeping me glued together.” You stopped walking as you stepped into the driveway of your home. Taehyung looked at you in confusion and you thrust your thumb back over your shoulder.

“This is me.”

Taehyung looked at the house and smiled brightly. “Oh, so you live in the house with the little yellow duck mailbox.” You smiled in bemusement.

“I’ve always wondered about this house,” Taehyung began to explain. “I’ve walked past this door every day for the last year and I always pause to pat this little duck on the head,” he said, smiling wistfully as he stroked the head of the yellow duck mailbox. Of course, you knew about this, that is how you came to know of his existence. You’d been standing in the living room, shoving your books in your backpack as he’d walked by that first day in late summer to stop suddenly at your mailbox, smile in childlike wonderment and pat the ducks head enthusiastically before continuing on his way.

You had never seen anything so bizarre and so beautiful in all your life and in that moment, you determined to avoid him at all costs, his sincerity and enthusiasm so alarmingly attractive. You’d spent many hours since that day awkwardly trying to avoid him while still stealing private moments to peer at him through the books in the library as he studied or watching him eat lunch with his friends in the school café.

You nodded, rubbing your lips together in order to avoid saying anything you’d regret. “It came with the place. I’m just renting the bottom apartment with a few other girls.”

Taehyung nodded looking at the house, eyes wide as he scanned the peeling white paint of the front porch with the dark blue rocking chair and flower boxes hanging from the sides of the railings. It was a small, quaint house that you’d rented a room from with three other girls, two of whom were sisters. You loved it so much that you’d rented it for an entire extra semester and at this point you planned to do the same thing again next year.

It was the type of quiet beauty that you liked; soft, a little rough around the edges and completely unassuming. You watched Taehyung finish his scan of the house as you shifted from foot to foot. You didn’t know why you hoped he would like it; it was precious to you and any rejection given felt personal.

Finally, Taehyung looked back at you and smiled, “I like it; it feels like home. Seems like it is the type of place that holds a lot of good memories.”

Your tongue scanned the inside of your bottom lip as you looked down at the sidewalk and nodded. “It’s been a very comfortable home.”

“Anyway,” Taehyung sighed, tugging his backpack higher on his shoulder and looking back down at you. “I’ve gotta head home, homework is calling my name, but thanks for the company; this walk was pleasant for once, thanks to you. See you tomorrow!” With a final wave, he spun on his heel and walked into the darkening evening and you watched until you could no longer see him with a tightening in your chest that was completely unfamiliar to you.

Thanks again for reading! Feel free to send me comments and ask questions. Have a nice day!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #BTS v #bts scenarios #bts #v #taehyungfluff #romance #taehyung x you #bts fanfic #bts fanfction

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myaekingheart · 5 years

Text

I feel like I’ve been all over the place today. I woke up feeling like crap, slept for an extra fifteen minutes, did the bare minimum getting ready. I found this instagram that had funny ED memes, though, and they kind of inspired me to really start trying to do better with my eating. I actually ate breakfast before I left the house, and then I grabbed two snacks from the vending machine between classes (when the ED voice in my brain was telling me that despite feeling a little hungry, I could go without, that I didn’t really need the food, that you could just bypass the vending machine so I thought to myself “well then fuck you I’m gonna get two because I deserve to eat”). It felt weird and lowkey satisfying sitting in this nearly three hour class not starving or feeling like I was going to pass out, and also gave me hardcore nostalgia for the days of elementary/middle/high school when we would have lunch and then go to class afterwards full and sleepy. Really weird shit happened in my afternoon class, though. I somehow got a perfect score on a test that I did not study for at all and totally bullshited an answer on, and then we were put into groups for an in-class assignment that escalated into a group project and I got put into a group with a kid in this class who...intrigues me? I guess you could say? I don’t know, I don’t want to say I have a crush on him, per se, I’m just...intrigued by him. In a socially anxious, non-romantic format. I don’t know, it’s weird, but like not only did I get put in a group with this kid but my professor also had me sit in the desk right next to him and it was just...bizarre. I felt like I was back in this weird time warp almost, I don’t know, there was just something very unusual about all of this. It was also storming outside to give an even greater air of the unusual. We luckily got out early, too, which was nice. Had a pretty smooth trip home even if my contact started bugging me at the bus stop. Had a few pieces of chocolate when I got home, and then curled up and actually read a book for fun for like a solid three hours which was super nice. It was when my boyfriend and I went and got dinner that things started going south again. Dinner was decent, but we got chicken and it didn’t sit well so I started having yet ANOTHER IBS flare-up, and then of course when I was in the bathroom trying to deal with that, I could overhear my neighbors next door yelling at each other which only heightened my anxiety. I just wish I could live in peace, honestly, I’m so sick of this stupid apartment and this stupid town and everyone in it. Hopefully things will be better once we move, it’s just getting to that point that’s the struggle. I wish we could just pack up and get out of here now. But anyways, I thought I was okay enough to get a shower so I took one and then I started feeling worse so I had to sit in the bathroom for a solid, like, twenty five minutes just trying to suffer through this. Took my meds and was still in hell, but at least it wasn’t the same brand of hell as Thursday morning. At least this hell was productive. But hell nonetheless. The anxiety started kicking up, too, which also did not help this one bit. I just overall started feeling very chaotic and uneasy and I started blaming the food. I started fearing that dinner made me sick, or maybe I was just stressed, or maybe this was punishment for having eaten too much today. I don’t know, that last option doesn’t sound totally impossible. Maybe my digestive system just couldn’t handle the extra load. Maybe I’ve gotten my body too accustomed to starvation and now this is the price I pay. Sounds about right. I’m very scared I’m falling into the same pit from a few years ago, though, where everything stressed me out and my IBS reached a peak to where I couldn’t even a damn thing without feeling sick and then lost like ten pounds in the course of a couple months. I’m scared of that happening again. I don’t want to get that sick again. I don’t want to go through that torture again. I can’t handle it. I find it funny, though, that my IBS started getting really, really bad again around the time when I started applying for jobs. It’s almost as if my body just doesn’t want me to work, you know? Like I want to get a job and be independent and make my own money and shit but then when my body does stuff like THIS, it makes it hard to feel like a functional, productive adult, if not human being. I don’t even know if I can make it to school tomorrow with how absolutely disgusting and sick I’ve been feeling tonight. I guess I’ll see how I feel in the morning-- I really shouldn’t skip. I have homework due tomorrow that I can’t afford to get a zero on--well, actually, I can, but I don’t want to. And I only have one 45minute class, really. It’s just that my bus commute is also, like, 45 minutes there and back. So that’s extra. Extra spoons to spend. I don’t know, I’ll probably suck it up and go anyways but I guess we’ll see how I’m feeling. It just sucks, though. Like I don’t want to be sick like this. I don’t want my life to be dictated by my chronic illness but that’s basically life with chronic illnesses, isn’t it? Your entire life revolves around them and is dictated by them. And that fucking sucks, but I know there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. If there was, it wouldn’t be chronic, would it? I don’t know, man. I’ve kind of reached a stalemate in my flare-up at this point, but I still feel iffy. I stayed up two hours later than my boyfriend now just because I didn’t feel confident enough that this was over and that I would be able to crawl into bed and happily oblige to sleep without interruption. And now it’s been two hours and I haven’t had to run back to the bathroom yet so there’s that. I don’t know. I’ll have to make sure I keep my meds on hand tomorrow at the very least (I forgot them today, which made eating more an especially scary idea that did actually feed me lots of anxiety) just to be safe. My next doctor’s appointment isn’t for another two weeks so that’s fun. Last I was there I asked him about this weird deja vu bullshit I’ve been feeling off and on for a few years, which I’ve begun suspecting is temporal lobe epilepsy. If that is what it is, then that’s terrifying and I’m not sure how I feel about that but I want to make sure I have answers. My primary said he wasn’t super well-versed in what the deja vu stuff might be but that he was going to ask the psychiatrist on campus (I see an on campus doctor because I can and it’s free for me so woo fucking hoo) and let me know when I see him at our next appointment. I just have to say, also, that I really, really like this doctor. Technically he’s a nurse practitioner but whatever, po-tay-to po-tah-to. He’s just got this really great demeanor/attitude, I feel like he genuinely cares about his patients and enjoys his job. He makes it fun, or as fun as a doctor’s appointment can be. And when he asked me if I wanted him to get me in touch with the psychiatrist on campus, and I told him I wasn’t sure about the finances of it and that there was a copay per my insurance I didn’t think I wanted to pay, he said that was fine and that we would work on it together like whatever I was dealing with. I mean, after all, it doesn’t mean he can’t consult with the psychiatrist about something he’s unsure on himself. I don’t know, just overall he’s a really cool guy and I like seeing him. He makes me less nervous about doctor’s appointments than I usually am, and it’s just overall nice to know that he and the staff in general there are such kind people who always seem like they care about their patients and whatnot. Plus it’s free, so that’s always a bonus. But yeah, when I do go back, I hope I can get answers on what this weird ass deja vu shit is because it hits at the most inopportune moments and leaves me kind of mentally stunned for a solid three hours or so afterward, it’s so weird. And when I do go back, I’ll likely have to talk about the hell week I’ve had with my IBS so that should be fun lmfao yay for chronic illnesses-- they fucking suck.

#ramblings #delete later

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siriusly-random · 7 years

Text

Whiskey Tango

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rated: T

Summary: Without a second thought, Lucy quickly downed one last whiskey before jumping to her feet and grabbed Natsu by the hand without a word, dragging him to the dance floor. He didn’t seem to mind though, stumbling his way after her with his face flushed and graced with a smile.

Word count: 5247

Just a one-shot I thought up as I had a really rough week not too long ago with midterms and projects and this was the result.

This deals with anxiety and alcohol and all that jazz so just a heads up on that.

Part 2/

I read tags guys so if you wanna leave a quick comment it’d be really appreciated!

Also thanks to the amazing @x-benihime for your help with this. It honestly probably would have been shit without your input so thank you <3

Into each life some rain must fall. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“A double whiskey please.”

The bartender nodded, pulling out a bottle of Jameson and pouring it into a glass, handing it across the bar. Lucy sighed, looking down into the glass with a sort of resentment before knocking it back in one swing. It had been a long week with her midterms and assignments all shoved together forming her own personal hell.

She ordered another.

She was tired. She was so tired, and she just wanted to drink and have a well-deserved break. It was a Friday night, and she didn’t have anything due again for a while so she told herself why the fuck not.

Though, she supposed, getting wasted at 8pm alone probably wasn’t the best decision she made in a while. But she didn’t have anything else to do (except study and catch up on some work, but who’s counting), and her friends all decided to go home for the weekend, so here she was. It’s not like she minded the alone time though; the bar was really relaxing at this time with only a few people around, and the music was pretty calming.

In any case, at least she would get a good night’s sleep for once.

“What’s a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone at a bar on a Friday night?” Turning towards the voice, Lucy fought down the urge to visibly shudder. An older man- probably in his 60’s- sat beside her, leering down at her.

Forcing a small smile onto her face, she politely lied, “oh I’m not alone, just waiting on my boyfriend. He should be getting here any minute.” Lucy turned her back on the man and turned towards the bartender, ordering another drink.

She was definitely going to have a headache in the morning.

“Well that’s awfully rude, making his little miss wait so long.” The sickly voice drawled, slurring on his words and making Lucy twitch. She thought she had dealt with the situation.

She just wanted to be left alone.

“I came early, he isn’t late. Totally my fault.” She avoided looking at the man, trying to give him the hint to leave her alone.

She heard a chair scrape against the floor, and glanced over to see him moving closer. She internally groaned, not in the mood to deal with this at all.

Just as he was about to say something else- probably something sexist and degrading- she felt an arm slip around her shoulders, a voice whispering in her ear.

“Just go with it.”

Startled and confused, Lucy glanced to the side to see a man with pink hair and a large grin plastered on his face, hand giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Hey babe, sorry I’m late. Got caught up with some work.”

Lucy saw the old man get up and move, probably to find some other poor young girl to creep out. The pink haired man moved his arm away taking the seat next to her, looking sheepish.

“Sorry for just springing up out of nowhere, just looked like you were really uncomfortable so I thought I’d try to help.” His cheeks were a bit rosy, from embarrassment or alcohol Lucy didn’t know. He scratched the back of his neck, almost absentmindedly as he ordered a drink.

“What’s your name?” she blurted out, face heating up after realizing she had been staring.

Whiskey was not her friend in that moment.

Looking surprised, the man quickly regained composure and offered her a large grin. “Names Natsu, nice to meet ya!” He threw out his hand, which Lucy took without a second thought.

“I’m Lucy. Nice to meet you too.” She supposed she should have been a bit more skeptical of the guy, but he seemed familiar- though she could place how- and he was, simply put, very attractive.

“I know.” Eyes going wide, Natsu started to fumble his way through his slip up. “I mean, you go to Magnolia University, and, well I’m not a stalker or anything, I know that’s what it sounds like but ah, we’re in the same economics class and, ah shit this is weird, but you know my roommate Gray and-”

Lucy couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. This was honestly one of the cutest things she’s seen in awhile. At least she knew now why he seemed familiar. “Oh! You’re Gray’s friend who sets things on fire all the time! He’s told me about you.” Apparently he even caught himself on fire once. Lucy remembered wondering why Gray would live with someone who could potentially set their whole apartment on fire, but to each his own.

Natsu’s face seemed to heat up even more at the fact that she knew about his pyro-like habits, and she suddenly felt bad. “But he’s also said you’re a great guy and a decent roommate, besides the fact.”

That seemed to ease him up, as he suddenly sat up straighter and a smirk appeared on his lips. “Ice princess said that? I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He leaned forward slightly on the arm he had resting on the bar, “got any other ammunition I can use against him?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her drink. She briefly wondered when it had gotten half empty. “I’m not helping you out in whatever weird competition you two have.”

He downed the rest of his drink, quickly ordering another. “How do you know him again anyways?”

“My mother and his father went to school together and were good friends, so we used to visit each other a lot as kids.” Lucy smiled fondly while thinking of her raven-haired friend. She can’t even remember a time when he hadn’t been there, he just always was. “He’s like my brother honestly.”

Natsu’s brows squeezed together in confusion for the briefest of moments, but Lucy saw it. Her mind was in too much in a haze, however, to figure out what was confusing. She should probably slow down on the whiskey, but she was having fun, and she wasn’t quite drunk yet.

“Weird to think Fullbuster has someone like you for a good friend.” Natsu teased, ordering them both another round.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy took a small sip from her drink, thanking her newfound friend. At least, she hoped that they could become friends. He seemed like a fun person, and Lucy needed some more fun in her life.

And wanting to be his friend had nothing to do with the fact that she was on the verge of being very drunk and thinking he was insanely attractive.

“So what’s your major?” Jolted from her thoughts, Lucy twirled the straw in her drink, smiling at Natsu before taking another drink.

“I’m majoring in business admin, with a minor in English.”

“So pretty much a million projects and papers with some tests thrown in?”

Lucy hummed in agreement, not wanting to think about that. “What about you? Business as well?”

Suddenly her drink was gone, and not thinking much of it, bought them the next round.

“Nope, I’m minoring in it though. I’m majoring in chemistry.” He grinned at her again, this time his eyes lighting up knowingly. “Did you just finish up midterms and projects too?”

Sighing, Lucy nodded and downed the rest of her drink. She came here to forget, and forget she would.

Another double it was.

“I actually just had my last midterm today, economics.” Economics. That was- “Oh! Right, I guess you would’ve had it too!” Lucy almost slapped herself on her forehead, berating herself for forgetting that he mentioned they were in the same class so quickly. She wondered how she never noticed him before either; you’d think someone with pink hair would stand out in her memory. Maybe he sat in the back whereas she sat in the front, or maybe he skipped class a lot.

That seemed like the most logical reason. Economics was painfully boring.

He chuckled, a deep sound that was making Lucy’s mind wander to a place that she quickly drew herself out of. “Yeah, that was something. Not sure if I passed, but it’s done and over with and now I have whiskey and a pretty girl to take my mind off of it.” He finished his drink and suddenly Lucy wondered how many they’ve had, but then decided that she didn’t really care all too much.

And then it clicked in her mind just what Natsu had said and she felt a heat rise in her face, and was so thankful that the bar was dark and it wouldn’t be that noticeable.

Before she could make a witty retort however, she felt her phone go off in her pocket, and she decided that it was a perfect out at the moment so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, only managing to unlock her phone after the fourth attempt. Maybe she’s more drunk than she thought. She heard a snigger, and looked up to see Natsu looking much too interested in the menu board but she could see how his lips were turned up slightly in the corner, attempting to fight off a smile.

So much for not making a fool of herself.

Scowling, she opened the text message to see that it was from her father, and promptly locked her phone without reading it. There was no way she was going to deal with him tonight, knowing he would be wondering about school and her marks and her life in general, and quite frankly, if she were to answer him right now there would be a lot of swearing involved.

Lucy huffed, mood slowly starting to deteriorate as her thoughts drifted to her father.

She was definitely not drunk enough, she decided.

She quickly downed a few shots, earning a concerned look from Natsu as he got one for himself. “Everything okay?” he asked, placing a hand on her knee in a comforting gesture. Lucy ran a hand through her hair, taking a shaky breath before giving him a smile.

“Honestly?” she asked. Maybe, Lucy thought, it would be good to talk about it for once. Levy was understanding when Lucy told her about her father and her childhood, but they only ever talked about it the one time after Levy found Lucy crying on the bathroom floor.

“Honestly.” he repeated, giving her knee a squeeze.

Lucy licked her lips, trying to figure out where to start. Her mind was all jumbled, and she had a heavy feeling in her chest and throat that she knew all too well. “Well, know how I said my mom and Gray’s dad were friends, and that’s how we know each other?”

Natsu nodded, the confused look from before came back for a moment before it was gone again, just as quick. “Well, you probably know this, but Gray’s dad died when he was younger, around 10.” Again, Natsu nodded, not saying a word, which Lucy found she really appreciated.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy steadied herself by placing her hand on top of his, his fingers twitching just the slightest. “My mom died around the same time. Well no, it was the same time. The were on their way to their high school reunion together. Carpooling.” Lucy stopping, incapable of continuing her story. She thought she might burst at any moment, eyes beginning to water.

“I know.” He said softly, shifting his chair closer to hers, an unsaid apology in his words. He moved his hand from her knee to her back, rubbing it in slow circles. This time it was her who placed her hand on his knee, taking a few deep breaths before calming down. The weight was still there; pushing against her chest, but not as noticeable. Lucy couldn’t help but be surprised that it started to settle so quickly.

Regaining her composure, Lucy sat up a bit straighter and looked up at him, eyes distracting her for a moment as she stared into them. But she continued on, keeping her hand on his knee and his arm around her.

“After the accident, my father changed. He became distant and uncaring, focusing all of his energy into the family business. I was pretty much raised by maid- which I’m thankful for,” she scoffed. “They were more loving to me than he ever was. But then I wanted to go to University, and well, he actually approved.”

Sighing, she reached for her glass, taking a big drink. “Well, he approved until I told him I wanted to major in English. That I wanted to be a writer. That was when he had a problem.”

Natsu continued to rub circles on her back, silently telling her to take her time, that he was in no rush.

“And so, after a lot of arguing, it ended up being decided that I could go to University, but only if I majored in business. But, I was allowed to minor in English.” she finished with a frown on her face- and a few shots- letting him digest the information. Of course there was a lot more to it than that, but talking was becoming increasingly more difficult, so she figured that was enough.

She glanced over, scared to see what he thought of her now. He was biting his lip as he stared down at his drink. Lucy started to get nervous with him not saying anything, her leg started to bounce out of habit.

He finally looked up at her, a questioning look on his face. “Why can’t you just switch over to English? You’re already minoring in it. Maybe you could minor in business. It’s your life.”

Lucy had thought about doing just that. Because Natsu had a point; it was her life. She should be able to do as she pleased, and get the education she wanted.

The only problem was her father paid for her tuition and living expenses, and she told Natsu as much.

“And he never let me get a job when I was living at home, so I have no savings. I’ve already applied for a few jobs to start saving up. But I can’t even get a good student loan because of him.” She frowned, cutting herself off before she started ranting to Natsu, who probably didn’t want to listen to her complain about her problems.

Natsu licked his lips after downing his drink, drawing her eyes, and he gave her a toothy grin. “Y’know, that’s pretty cool.”

“Cool?” she quirked an eyebrow, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“Yep. Cool. You’re breakin’ away from something that makes you unhappy, doing what you need to do. That’s pretty cool if ya ask me.”

She laughed lightly, wondering how he could so easily make light of something that’s been weighing on her. “Well ya know what Natsu?” her hand moved a bit further up on his leg as she leaned in closer, giving him a genuine smile that reached her eyes. She leaned in until her lips were against his ear, feeling him tense up the slightest before whispering, “I think you’re pretty cool for a pyro.”

She leaned back, laughing at his incredulous expression. She couldn’t help herself, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He just shook his head, smile lighting up his face in amusement. “And I think you’re pretty beautiful.” he muttered softly, but loud enough for her to hear over the music. Eyes widening, Lucy stared at Natsu, mouth turning up into a soft smile as she gazed at him. She usually would’ve blushed and became embarrassed at such a comment, but for some reason she was able to push through the embarrassment and take it with stride.

It must be the whiskey, she thought.

All of a sudden the music changed to more upbeat song, more people heading out onto the dance floor. It must’ve gotten late, as the music didn’t normally change until 10 or 11. For a fleeting second she couldn’t believe they’d been sitting and talking for so long, but she didn’t really care.

Without a second thought, Lucy quickly downed one last whiskey before jumping to her feet (a relatively bad decision with the amount of alcohol in her system) and grabbed Natsu by the hand without a word, dragging him to the dance floor. He didn’t seem to mind though, stumbling his way after her with his face flushed and graced with a smile.

They started off slow, getting a feel for the music as they swayed from side to side. Natsu grabbed her hands, twirling her around before bringing her back into him with a grin. Smiling back at him, she reluctantly twirled out of his hold, but moved his hands to her waist. Her eyes were lit up with slight mischief beneath her drunken haze. She brought her arms up to his neck and stared him in the eyes as he smirked at her boldness. She was lost in the music and in the whiskey, not thinking about how she would never do something like this sober. She was having fun- after all, that was what she came to do.

His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer to him as they danced. He leaned his forehead closer to hers, almost touching, but never going any closer. Her eyelids felt heavy, threatening to close but she’s also never felt more awake. They locked eyes, too many emotions running through them and Lucy didn’t think she would’ve been able to tell what he was feeling even if she were sober. She let out a long breath, bringing her forehead to rest against his as they moved against each other, dancing to the beat. Her hands dropped down to his arms, grip loose as she moved, feeling lighthearted and happy.

His forehead drops from hers, moving to the side, lips ghosting her neck and Lucy closed her eyes because she wants him but she knows she’s drunk and that’s a bad idea but she can’t help the shaky breath that escapes her. His hands move lower, pulling her even closer until they were pressed against one another, not a space between them. His breath tickles her neck as he exhales, a shiver running down her spine.

The music had become a background noise, moving to beats she barely registered as she lost herself in him. She ran her hands up to his shoulders, then back to his neck in a slow motion, drawing his head back up, locking eyes once again. He was easier to read this time, and she knew he wanted her just as much, if not more. His eyes darted down to her lips, resting there for a second before looking back up at her.

She bit her lip as a she looked at him, desperately wanting to press her lips against his and to stop thinking for once, but she couldn’t.

But holy fuck did she want to.

It was too bad that her mind decided to start working again.

The pain in her chest came back, and she felt it slowly build up as she tried to ignore it. Deciding that life was incredibly unfair at that moment, she pulled away from Natsu and gave him an apologetic look as she turned and headed towards the exit.

She had to get out of there.

She needed air.

She needed to breathe.

She leaned against the railing on the porch outside the bar, closing her eyes for a moment as she breathed deep, in and out, trying to calm down. Her breathing was shaky and she felt a tear roll down her cheek as she cursed every god she could think of for letting her feel like this.

She wiped her hair out of her face and tried to dry her wet cheeks with shaky hands. She looked around for a cab hoping she wouldn’t have to call one, but resigned herself to the fact that she would most likely have to.

She suddenly felt a warm pressure on her and saw Natsu out of the corner of her eye, staring at her with concern as he rubbed circles on her back. She cursed, not wanting him to see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this.

“Do you want me to get you a ride home?” Natsu questioned, unsure of his own words.

Lucy smiled, but it wasn’t real and she knew Natsu could tell from the look on his face, making her heart sink. Nodding, Lucy couldn’t hold it back anymore and the tears streamed down her face, chest heaving as she sobbed as Natsu gently led her towards a less crowded area, pulling out his phone as he went. He pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her as she cried and pulled at her hair in frustration, angry at herself for letting this happen. She heard him talking, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and brought his other arm around her, not saying anything.

“I’m sorry,” she finally choked out after a few minutes, having calmed down the slightest bit. She stayed in his arms, feeling secure and warm as she dealt with the aftershock of it all. Her chest still ached and she found it hard to swallow. But she knew it was almost over, and she was glad for that.

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine. I think you deserved to let some of that stress out. Your life isn’t exactly easy.” His hand moved up to stroke her hair, her face in the crook of his neck. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Most people would just tell her that it would all be okay and that she just needed to get more fresh air. So for someone to tell her that it was okay was overwhelming- in a good way.

She just nodded her head, muttering a small ‘okay’ and moved her arms around him as they waited for her cab. He started to hum, the sound drowned out from the music playing from inside the bar, but she appreciated the gentle vibrations she felt coming from his chest.

“Lucy?”

She must have imagined that voice, because she could’ve sworn that that was Gray, but Gray didn’t drink.

But then Natsu unravelled his arms from her, and she turned to see that in fact she wasn’t imagining things and Gray was standing there, his jeep parked on the side of the road in front of them.

Blinking, Lucy stood up and looked at Natsu with a confused look on her face, but before she could ask him what was happening Gray had engulfed her in a tight hug, releasing a deep, relieved breath. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Recovering from shock, Lucy reciprocated the hug, breathing in his familiar smell, almost making her want to cry again from relief.

“It’s not fair Gray.” She muttered, clutching onto him desperately in an attempt to keep her composure.

“I know.” He soothed, then released her and gave her an understanding look, “what do you say? Stay at my place for the night?” Closing her eyes in relief, Lucy nodded before opening them again and giving him a smile. She didn’t want to spend the night alone, and she figured Gray was thinking the same thing. “Alright, let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and opened the front door of his jeep for her before getting into the driver side. Natsu got in behind Gray and Lucy gave him a smile in the mirror, to which he returned with a large grin, eyes squinting slightly.

Her heart fluttered, smile turning soft and small as she looked out her window, eyelids heavy, as they drove to Gray and Natsu’s apartment.

She missed the knowing look on Gray’s face as he looked at her.

Her head was pounding, mouth craving water.

Groaning, Lucy rolled over to the edge of Gray’s bed and sat up, staring at the wall for a few minutes before checking the time on her phone.

9:16 AM.

Licking her dry and bleeding lips, she got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water and an Advil. She saw that she still had an unread message from her father and she knew she’d have to open it eventually, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Passing by a sleeping Gray on her way to the kitchen she smiled fondly at him, thankful for having him in her life. He had giving her a sweatshirt and pair of shorts to sleep in, helping her to bed before going to talk to Natsu, a conversation she remembered all too clearly.

“What the hell happened you prick?” she heard Gray whisper-shout, with the sounds of cupboards opening and closing.

It was quiet for a few moments, and Lucy wondered if the response was whispered quietly enough for her not to hear. She felt bad for leaving Natsu to defend himself when he hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was too tired and comfy- and drunk- to get up to help him.

“I told you on the phone.” Natsu calmly stated, a bit of anger in his voice, though she didn’t know what he was angry at.

For a fleeting moment the thought crossed her mind that he was angry at her, because she ruined his night.

“We were dancing, having a good time, and then she just took off and I thought something might be wrong since she was having a rough night and went to find her outside looking like she might pass out or somethin’.”

There was a weird thumping sound, and Lucy assumed that was the couch turning into a bed.

“What do you mean she was having a rough night?” Gray sounded defeated, as if he knew exactly what was causing Lucy trouble. And he was probably right.

“Regular stuff, school and shit. Then there was this thing about her dad.” The anger seemed more prominent in his voice when he mentioned her father, making Lucy realize that no, he wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at her situation.

Gray swore, “she told you about that then?”

Of course she did, she was drunk. Gray should know better by now.

“Yeah.” Natsu paused, seemingly debating on whether or not to continue. “Does...does this happen often?”

Lucy shrunk in her covers at the question, closing her eyes as she let sleep take over her body.

She didn’t want to hear the answer.

Shaking her head, she continued on to the kitchen, opening random cupboards until she found the one with the cups, grabbing two and filling them up with water. Strangely enough, she had never been to Gray’s apartment except for when he moved in, and Natsu hadn’t been there at the time so she never met him.

Making her way to what she assumed was the other bedroom in the apartment, Lucy bit her lip and wondered if she should just go back to bed and leave him be.

Taking a deep breath and deciding to say fuck it, Lucy knocked on the door.

She half hoped he wouldn’t hear the knock so she wouldn’t embarrass herself, but also hoped that he would and she could talk to him. She felt she owed him a proper explanation instead of whatever Gray told him, though she also knew Gray would’ve done a decent job.

She tensed up as she heard footsteps, and then suddenly the door opened and there stood Natsu,wearing only boxers.

Face heating up, she quickly looked away from his exposed chest and saw a blue ball of fur curl around his legs before leaving the room and trotting to the living room.

“Lucy?” He grumbled, voice low as he rubbed his eyes with one hand.

“Uh, hi.” She awkwardly greeted, holding up one of the glasses for him. “I thought you might be thirsty. Sorry for waking you up.”

He smiled at her, taking the glass from her hand. “How are you?” He asked, almost downing the glass in one gulp. Lucy’s mouth twitched in amusement, taking a generous sip from her own.

“Much better, thanks.” And she was. She still wasn’t completely fine of course, and she doubted she ever would be, but she was okay. And that was what mattered. “I was actually wondering if I could, well, talk?”

Tugging at the sleeves of the sweatshirt, she made eye contact with him, seeing an understanding in his eyes that made her feel slight relief.

“Yeah, ‘course. Come on in.” He moved aside, giving her room to enter as she took in his slightly messy room, bed in the center with clothes strewn about. Overall though his room was typical, posters scattered on the wall for different bands and movies, with a desk against the wall filled with books.

Natsu shut the door as she sat down on the edge of his bed, sitting beside her.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, Lucy shifted so she was sitting on one leg, the other dangling off the bed so she could face him. “First off, I am sorry for crying all over you last night and for unloading my problems on you. You didn’t deserve that- we barely know each other.” Natsu looked like he wanted to object, she she continued on before he could say anything. “I, however, am not sorry that it happened. Because I know that I can’t help it, that it’s something that I have to live with. And letting it out is better than keeping it in.”

He seemed to be okay with that for the most part, nodding for her to continue. “It’s, well, I get panic attacks. Sometimes they have an obvious reason, like last night it was school and my father, but sometimes they aren’t so obvious.” She chuckled bitterly, fighting off the tears as she talked about it. “I still don’t know why I’ve had certain panic attacks. It’s frustrating.” Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. “I’m rambling. Anyways, my point is I didn’t mean for that to happen and I wish it didn’t but it did and now I have to live with that. I just hope that you won’t hold it against me.”

Natsu stared at her for a few seconds, crossing his arms as he studied her. “Lucy,” he started, grabbing her hands off the bed. “I would never hold that against someone, ‘specially not you. I know we just met so this is a bit weird, but I’ve noticed you for a while now.” His cheeks lit up in a blush and Lucy found that adorable, and also very sweet that he took notice to her. “I mean, I’ve been in a few classes with you, plus with what Gray’s told me and everything. So I feel like I kinda know you.” His grip tightened slightly on her hands.

“You should never have to apologize to me for this. Cry on me all you want, rant to me, whatever you need. I’ll be here.”

Lucy let the tears fall as she couldn’t hold it in anymore, but this time for an entirely different reason.

It was from talking about her disorder, and the looming message from her father, but mostly, it was from relief.

And in that moment as Natsu wrapped his arms around her, she was so, so, happy.

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu x lucy #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #ftfanfics #gray fullbuster #my writing #should probably have gone over this a bit more but oh well #enjoy!! :)

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kpopausandscenarios · 7 years

Text

Radio Station **~~** Min Yoongi One-Shot

So this is a original character story, I really hope you enjoy it, this was orginally posted on my Mibba .

Yoongi opened his laptop and clicked into the radio show, it was silent for a few more seconds before the voice that he had grown to love spoke. "Good evening you guys, glad I made it in time. We were having some really weird technical difficulties." Her voice let of a soft giggle, just the sound made the music major smile. He pulled out his music theory text and began to read over the passages they were going to be going over the next day during class.

"Next we have another anonymous submission. This song is titled 'I Am You, You Are Me'. “ A slower song began to flow out of the speakers on his computer. He would never admit it to anyone but he really just listened to the radio show because he liked the way the host sounded. She had a honey sweet tone when she spoke about music, her voice always calming and even.

Sohyun let out a sigh as she finished her radio show for the evening, it was already past 9:30. She turned in her office chair and closed her laptop, the sound booth and the office just out side of it were both empty. Heechul and Leeteuk had left after solving the broadcasting issue. She was completely alone. She thought back to her Music Theory class and decided she should go get a coffee and work on the reading for it. She shoved her laptop into her backpack and pulled the drawstring closed. She grabbed her phone off the desk and stood to leave.

The radio show ended and Yoongi looked up from his text, Namjoon was seated on the bed next to his. "How was work?" The older of the two questioned. "Hm? Oh it was pretty good, I had a couple people come in for consultations and I did the shading on that half sleeve I started a couple weeks ago." The philosophy major answered with a slight smile on his lips. "Music show already over? I was surprised she was playing Jiho's song, he usually doesn't send them in." "I didn't know he was submitting anonymously." Yoongi said, an eyebrow arched. "Yeah, he mentioned that he'd sent a couple of his songs in a while ago but he didn't put his name on them." Yoongi nodded as he closed his book and sat up from his bed. "Going to get coffee?" "Yeah, I'm gonna be up for a while longer."

Sohyun walked into the coffee shop looking around she noticed the lack of people, it was surprising due to finals creeping up on everyone. The ever cheerful Park Jimin stood behind the counter waiting to take orders and offer service with a smile. "Sohyun-noona!" He greeted with a grin. "Jimmine." She smiled slightly. "I was just thinking about you!" the younger man grinned even wider and commented "I listened to the show tonight! It was great, like always." "Kamsahamnida." She said with a slightly warm face. "What can I get for you?" "An iced Americano if you could, I'm sorry. I know it's really late and you probably want to go home soon." "Not a problem at all! What's the extra work? Major or minor?" "Minor, my music theory professor assigned a lot of reading for tomorrow so I figured I'd get coffee and do it really quickly." "Sure, I'll get that right out for you!" She passed him her card and he swiped it quickly.

"Hyung!" Jimin's voice filled the small shop a moment after the small bell on the door chimed. "Jimin-ah." A raspy and exasperated voice commented.

Sohyun looked up to see a young man with messy bleached out hair standing before her, he was in her music theory class. He had a rather annoyed expression on his handsome face. They made brief eye contact and she looked away quickly.

"Sohyun-noona! Here you go~!" Jimin practically sang as he brought her Americano over to her. "Kamsahamnida." She said bowing her head and speaking quietly. She turned her gaze back onto her book, deciding she should probably focus on what she was supposed to be doing.

"Americano." The raspy voiced boy said. "Hot or iced?" Jimin asked. "Hot." Yoongi glanced at Sohyun, she was one of the smartest people in their music theory class. She always seemed to have the highest grades, but she never spoke. He'd heard her say one word and that was as Jimin handed her the coffee she's apparently ordered. The music major took a seat at one of the tables near her as he waited for his coffee.

"Hyung, have you met Sohyun-noona? She's a brilliant piano player!" "We share a music theory class." The older man commented looking up from his book. "Oh! She's such a nice person, I was talking to Jin-hyung about her the other day. Sohyun-noona," Jimin called out. "Ne?" She said softly looking up at him. Her black hair falling over her eyes, her wire framed glasses slipping down her nose bridge. "Seokjin-hyung was wondering if you'd be coming by our building any time soon, he wants you to try something he's been working on for class." "Ah, um. Well, I'll text him and ask him about it." Sohyun's voice sounded so familiar, Yoongi couldn't put his finger on why. Maybe she said stuff during class and he was used to hearing it there.

She rose from her seat and put her book into her bag, she bowed politely to both Yoongi and Jimin and paused before leaving. "Have a good night Jimmine." She dropped her head and then quickly left. The door shut with a slight ring of the bell connected to the top. "She's so kind." Jimin commented thoughtfully. "Hm." Was all Yoongi could manage. "I think you two are very similar. I was actually talking to Jin-hyung about it the other day, he agreed with me. You two are very focused on what you want in life, you're both quiet, but extremely intelligent." "Are you trying to hint at something Jimin?" Yoongi raised a brow. "I just think you two would look nice together, that's all."

Yoongi leaned against the table unable to put his finger on why Sohyun's voice was so familiar, he was almost sure she never spoke in class. How had he become accustomed to hearing it? He felt his shoulders slump and he gave up that train of thought to focus on his book again.

Sohyun wracked her brain to recall the blonde boy's name. She laid in bed staring up at her ceiling, it finally hit her. "Min Yoongi." She muttered quietly, finally able to remember the boys name. He usually gave all the answers with confidence, his rough outer appearance had no holding on his skills in music. Sohyun had watched him compose a piece in one sitting during a study class their instructor had given them. He wrote and edited it all in the two hour study period. She could feel her eyes getting heavier as she laid in her bed. Finally they slid shut and she drifted off to sleep.

Sohyun looked over at Jihoon who was sitting a seat away staring at his text intently. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone sit down beside her. She glanced over and saw Yoongi sitting right beside her, it was strange because he usually sat near the front in the middle rather than towards the back of the stadium seating with her and Jihoon. There were less people around them so it was easier to concentrate. "Is this seat taken?" His deep and lazy voice asked. "No." She mumbled, looking away quickly. She wasn't use to him sitting so close. From this close range she was able to look at his face, he was extremely handsome.

He wore a pair of thicker framed black glasses, his hair mused like he'd just rolled from bed. He wore a loose fitting white t-shirt over a pair of black ripped up jeans. A leather jacket slung over the back of his seat. Sohyun once again forced herself to look away from him like she had in the coffee shop. She could hear the casual tapping of his pencil on the wooden desk top.

Their professor came in and quickly began to lecture. Sohyun felt relieved that her mind was more distracted now that she was taking notes and not paying a great deal of attention to Min Yoongi. He was a closed off person, not to much unlike herself.

"Sohyunie!" Heechul cooed as she entered the studio. "Heechul-oppa." She smiled at him sweetly. "We shouldn't have any issues tonight, I had Teuk-y look over the equipment once more to make sure. You should take a night off sometime this week! You're here all the time!" "A-ah? But I enjoy it. I don't really have any plans so it's okay." "You should go on dates and interact with the people in your major! For a communications major you sure are closed off." "Eh? I'm sorry." She mumbled looking away from the older man. "No, it's not a bad thing. You really should take the night off on Friday. I insist, as your boss you have to." "Kamsahamnida." She bowed deeply and stood straight up again. "How are classes going?" "I'm doing well. I think the orchestra wants me to perform with them sometime in the next few weeks." "Good! You'll have to tell me so I can come watch you!" He grinned and nudged her side with his elbow. She nodded slightly and looked down at the clock on the wall, her show started in less than fifteen minutes.

Yoongi looked over at his phone to check the time, 8:27. Only a few more minutes until the radio show started. He'd sent a submission in under his stage name, Agust D. He honestly wasn't expecting much to come of it but he hoped to hear it. "Good evening!" Her voice startled him, she had started the show early. The soft, honey sweet tone filled the room. "We got the equipment working in a timely fashion tonight. I figured it'd be okay to start a little early. With finals coming up we've been getting a lot of anon submissions. I guess music is one of the greatest stress relievers."

He wasn't willing to really admit that he'd practically fallen in love with her voice and the personality she projected over the radio. "Our first submission is from one Agust D, the song is called The Last. I was listening through it today during one of my study sessions and it's a really deep song about struggles that a lot of people, especially in college, face. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do." His heart leap up into his throat at her comments over his song.

Sohyun finished playing The Last and smiled to herself, she really loved the song. She played a lot of hiphop because there were a lot of underground rappers on the campus that enjoyed sending their songs into get some airtime. "Our next song comes in from an anon. It's called Awake." She quickly queued up the next song and thought back to The Last, his rough sounding voice discussed the struggles with mental illness. It was simultaneously rough and smooth, a low voice that sounded lazy but still confident. It was the perfect contradiction.

The sound of the office outside of the recording booth's door opening made Sohyun look up from her laptop. The show had ended half an hour prior, she wasn't expecting Heechul to come back. She tensed up but then she saw the grinning face of Park Jimin from the window. "Jiminnie-ah! It's open." She called out. The door was thrown open and the young man grinned at her. "I love the show, like always." "Ah! Good, I'm sure it gets boring to hear me just ramble about music." She chuckled, self-deprecation coloring her tone.

"Nonsense! You have such a calming voice. I feel like people just listen to hear you talk. Anyways! That's not why I'm here." "No? What can I do for you?" "Well you see, there's a friend of mine that needs to relax. You're a lot alike, really. I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go on a date, well it doesn't have to be a date but sorta a date-" "Jimin, the point?" "Right! I was wondering if you two could possibly go to dinner or something this week, I think it'd be great for you both! I feel like you'd really hit it off!" "Um. Well I have Friday off, Heechul-oppa is covering my show." "Ah! Great! I'll check his schedule! I'll text you." The younger of the two grinned at her widely and turned around to leave the room. "Have a good night." "You too, Noona!"

"Hobi-hyung! You should help me convince Yoongi-hyung to go on a date with this person I want to set him up with." "Who is it?" "Have you met Myo Sohyun? She's a Communications major? Plays in the orchestra." "Oh yeah! I've sorta met her, she's really quiet. She'll play piano for some of the Ballet Principle students." "Yeah, don't you think they'd be good together? Get this, she's the host of the nightly music show on the school radio station." "Ah? Yoongi-ah listens to it every night. Does he know it's her?" "I don't think so, he didn't seem to realize it when they talked briefly the other night." "I'd be glad to help you." The taller of the two grinned.

"Yah! Why are you so loud? Don't you two have things to do?" Yoongi all but yelled as Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok leaned across the piano he was practicing on. The pair giggled with large grins. "I really think you should go on the date, she's just your type!" Hoseok commented. "I don't have time." The oldest of the three fought to keep the exasperation from coloring his tone. "Nonsense! Tell you what, if you go on this date I won't come to your dorm and eat your snacks for a whole month." Jimin grinned. "How am I supposed to trust that? You have a key to my dorm." "Hyungggg! I promise!" Jimin all but whined, "You two will really like each other!" "If it gets you two to lay off, fine." "Great! You're free Friday, right?" "I guess." Yoongi mumbled. "Okay! I'll text you a time for the date!" With that Jimin pranced from the practice room, closely followed by Hoseok.

Sohyun glanced at the time again, it was 7:30. She knew that Jimin wanted her to meet this person at a small sushi place a station away from the campus at 8:00. She finished getting dressed, as she began to close the clasp on her necklace her phone started to ring. - Incoming Call from Kim Heechul "Hello-" "Ah! Sohyunnie! I'm so sorry! Apparently my Sociology final got bumped up to tomorrow morning rather than Monday! Who has a test on a Saturday? I really should be studying, I know I told you to take the night off." "You can't make it, that's okay. I don't mind."

She felt bad to admit that she felt the weight lift from her chest at hearing she was needed at the station. "I promise I'll make it up to you, I'll buy you dinner next week as a thank you and I'm sorry." "Okay, fighting oppa!" "Kamasahamnida! Saranghae!"

She quickly sent a text to Jimin explaining that she had to host the show due to the unforeseen test on Heechul's part. He was quick to reply - Ah! That's okay, I'll just send him to the studio. I'm sure it'll be fun for you both! He loves music! She felt her blood temperature drop a bit as he said that. - Ne. Sounds great! Was all she could manage in response to his excited reply.

Yoongi made his way across the campus towards the radio station set up in the communications department. He nervously straightened his jacket and tapped his fingers against his leg as he walked. Finally he found the room where the radio was broadcast from. Inside he saw a figure hunched over a computer, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. She turned around and he felt his breath catch. Sohyun met his eyes and looked down quickly, she motioned with her hand for him to come inside the room.

This was the voice he'd fallen for? This was the music taste and humor that he admired and love to hear? It all seemed to fit at that moment, that's why her voice had seemed so familiar. He pulled open the door and walked inside.

"Hi." Her soft voice greeted him, she still looked down at the laptop in front of her. He could see the redness on her face as she spoke to him. He wasn't even sure what to say, he felt his face getting hot as well. "Hi, I-ah. Jimin sent me?" "Ne. Ne, I'm sorry about that. I was suppose to have the night off but Heechul-oppa has a test tomorrow." "No! No, it's not a problem." He couldn't bring himself to tell her that he really loved her radio show.

"Make yourself at home, really. I'm sorry, this isn't exactly most peoples ideal first date-er. Well I mean not date but-" "Date..." He smiled slightly, "Really, I don't mind at all." "Do you listen to the radio station?" She questioned, trying to keep her nerves at bay as she set up the equipment for the show which would be starting in a few minutes. "Ne, I listen to your show every night. I usually study to it-aish. Sorry that was embarrassing." He quickly cut himself off, his pale skin turning a shade of dark pink.

"Oh, really? I'm glad someone listens to it at least." She could help but chuckle as she plugged the aux cord into her laptop. "I know a lot of people listen to it, you have a nice voice." Her face felt hot at the sound of his praise. "E-eh?" She looked up, her eyes widening as she took in his blushing face. "U-uh?" He looked away quickly. "I-if it's okay with you, I'm going to start broadcasting now." "Oh, um yeah. You do what you have to, I'll just be here."

Yoongi felt embarrassment flooding his body as he watched her finish getting ready for the show. She flipped a few switches and typed a few things into her laptop and then began to speak into the mic. "Good evening everyone." A smile lit her face as she spoke into the mic. Her melodic voice sounded even nicer in person than it did over the speakers of his laptop. "I have a pretty wonderful selection of music tonight, it wasn't suppose to be me this evening. My sunbaenim was suppose to host tonight but he had a test he needed to study for. Fighting oppa!" She ran her fingers through her hair as she spoke.

As the show went on she got more excited and happy, she ran her fingers through her hair again. As she pulled her pale hands through her thick, black hair and raked it into a bun. She grasped at her wrists for what was apparently a hair elastic. Yoongi smiled to himself, she seemed so comfortable and happy in that setting. "That's gonna be all for tonight, I hope everyone's finals go well! Please tune in on Monday night for more music!"

She flicked a switch and turned in the desk chair to face him. "There we go, sorry." "Don't apologize, you seemed really happy. Plus it was nice to hear you and see you. This really is your element." "I...I should buy you some ramen to make up for this inconvenience." "No, it's really okay. Let's go get some food anyways, come on." He tugged on her hand.

They walked side by side on the way to the station, most of the noise came from the surrounding area. The hum of cars and snippets of others voices could be heard, the cooling air creating a sort of calm. Finally Sohyun spoke, "Do you have any hobbies?" "E-eh? I really enjoy composing and writing lyrics. It's something that gives me piece of mind." "That doesn't surprise me in the least." She giggled softly, "During one of our classes you composed an entire piece off the top of your head. It was really amazing." "What about you?" "I really love to play piano." "You play with the orchestra sometimes, right?" "O-only when you're unavailable." Her face warmed again. "Ah, I should be out more often then. I'd love to hear you play."

"Sohyun-ssi?" Hearing her name she looked up from her bowel to see Yoongi looking away with a slightly red face. "N-ne?" "I didn't fully explain earlier what I meant about your show. I listen to it every evening because your voice helps me concentrate. It's relaxing and soft." "My voice?" Her eyes widened at his statement. He nodded, his messy blond hair falling in his face ever so slightly. She felt her heart lighten and her face get warmer at his unexpected compliment. "Kamsahamnida." She all but whispered.

The last train of the night was almost entirely empty, Yoongi and Sohyun sat beside each other. She pulled her phone from her pocket and some headphones. After a moment she offered one to Yoongi, a slight smile on her lips. "You don't mind?" "I wouldn't offer if I did. Plus you said this is a date, it'd be rude if I just put in my headphones and ignored you." With a small smile he took the earbud. He put it in the ear opposite to the one closest to her.

The sound of his own voice fell into his ear. "I really like this song a lot." She mumbled quietly. "I do too." He smiled to himself, deciding to mention it was his a different day.

Yoongi felt something warm thud against his shoulder, he glanced over and saw the Sohyun's eye were drooping and she was now leaned against his shoulder. A glassy, drowsy look overtaking her features. He decided if she was this tired there was no point in waking her up.

"Sohyun-ssi?" "Ne?" She yawned quietly. "Our stop is next." "Mm." She sat up and blinked a couple times, her face started to redden. "Ah, that was really forward of me. I'm sorry, so sorry." She bowed her head quickly, now seeming fully awake. "I don't mind." He said softly.

They exited the station next to the campus, the wind that seemed so calm and cool seemed to have picked up making it colder. Yoongi walked closer to her, his manners causing him to walk on the outside of the sidewalk to keep her as far from the street as possible. "Thank you for being willing to endure such an...odd, first date." Sohyun finally commented as they neared the campus. "It was wonderful." He said earnestly. He watched in delight as she smiled widely at him, her lips pulling back to reveal a sweet gummy smile. "We should do this again." He commented nonchalantly. "Ne." She said quietly.

"Here, let me walk you to your dorm." Yoongi said offering his arm to her. She slowly reached out and grasped it, her pale hand contrasting with the black leather of his jacket. She took in his profile; his pale skin and blond hair stark against the night time scenery around them. Looking over him she noticed the small things, his ears were lined with a few piercings. His lips quirked up into a slight smile as he spoke of music. He had beautiful lips, his voice was so relaxing. Lazy and rough but smooth and soft at the same time. As they slowly walked towards her dorm building it seemed bittersweet to part so quickly.

"Yoongi-ssi?" She finally said as the stopped in front of her building. "Ne?" He looked over at her with a slight smile on his face. "Um," She faltered, not sure if she wanted to mention the fact that she'd had a crush on him all semester. "I wanted to mention the face that I'vehadacrushonyoumostofthesemester." He blinked as if processing and deciphering what she had even said. "Good, I feel the same." He finally said, a smile on his lips. "I hope this isn't to forward."

As the words left him he pulled her closer to him, their lips pressed together lightly. The heat that radiated from him warming her body as they stood pressed against each other. Warm bursts of air fell against their faces as they look at each other, their breathing slightly heavy. "We should really do this again." Yoongi finally whispered.

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