#will have to look at some university extension programs again instead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zotlel · 4 years

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The Exhibition (M)

pairing: jaebeom x you (ft. jinyoung)

genre: photographer!au, smut, romance, one-shot

synopsis: You are starved for inspiration as a photography student. When visiting the anonymous photographer “Defsoul’s” exhibit you meet a like-minded boy who gives you that spark. Only you didn’t expect the night to pan out exactly as it did.

word count: 7.8k

The wide city sidewalk was packed full of people anxious to get home and start their weekends. Their hurried steps accompanied by the warm street lights were quite a sight, you thought. With a quick flash of your camera, you are able to capture the scene as is, but you were already running late. You weave in and out through the bodies because unlike them you were not going home.

This was the third year of your photography program at the city’s most prestigious university. Despite how much you loved photography, you had been stuck in a creative rut recently that you just couldn’t seem to break free from. Therefore it had become a tradition of yours starting this new school year to attend some sort of photography exhibition on Friday nights. The size of the city that you were currently studying in allowed this to be a possibility due to the ever-growing art community it had.

Your steps continue at a quick pace, but you couldn’t help your eye from wandering at the scenes around you. So hungry for any sort of inspiration, from the streets dampened with a former rainstorm to the businessman making quick work to undo his burgundy tie that had been constricting his neck. Anything. You wished for just anything to strike you with a spark.

You had finally reached your destination where the new exhibition was being held. Alone. That was the title of the photographer’s first show. The photographer in question? Unknown. The photographer was going under the alias as “Defsoul.” It was quite a trendy thing these days to have no idea whose art you were looking at. You really could not wrap your head around as to why you would not want to put your name amongst the work you are proud of. Which was also a perfect example of why you probably struggled so much creatively.

The space the photographer chose had a rather grunge vibe, photographs were arranged on the tattered brick walls and all throughout the room. The air was thick around you as soft R&B beats flowed throughout the space. Stepping into the studio, you notice that you are one of the first patrons to arrive at the exhibition. While most guests came in pairs or groups you stood small in the expansive space in solitary, you preferred it that way. Small gatherings of people were scattered throughout the different rooms, all ranging from different ages, sexes, and ethnicities. You silently complemented the ambiguous photography for having the ability to reach so many demographics. The more you walked about the studio space, the more you understood everyone’s attraction to the enthralling photos.

Each photo was supposed to emit a different sentiment, or so that is what you have learned from your classes. The photos themselves vary from different subjects, older couples holding each other close, some were expansive European landscapes, and then also the occasional stray cat stretching in the afternoon sun. You tried your hardest to interpret the photos in your own words, trying to find the connection. Alone. That was the exhibition name. So why didn’t you feel that when walking amongst the various scenes?

To you, the different film that was taken emulated a mass collection of photos taken from someone’s personal collection. There was a sense of solace in each photo that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It felt as if you were with the photographer in every photo, imagining the way they shot each scene. You had been walking around rather aimlessly through the gallery until you stopped upon one image in particular.

The photograph was no more expressive than any other photo in the gallery, but you couldn’t help stopping and staring. The scene was the back of a man, his hair slightly long and disheveled, he looks out into an extensive lake surrounded by forestry, the light of a late midday sun which illuminated the photograph. You cannot help your logical analysis of the image, and you find no flaws. The common idea surrounding photography is that it is a completely creative and artistic practice, while this isn’t false, it just so happened to also require certain formulas as well. It requires an eye for direction, proportions, and balance. This photo that fascinated you in the gallery had all of those elements.

The sound from the other patrons fades around you as you become enraptured in the photograph. It was only the scent of pure pine and spice that had you reeling back to the current moment. To the right side of you, a man stood, he wasn’t looking at you but instead he was, just as you were, staring into the alluring photo. You studied the man, he seemed to be around your age, taller than you, with dark hair that matched his sultry eyes. You admired the man’s bone structure, tall nose and cheekbones, he really was quite attractive.

The way your gaze lingered on his face must have given him a sense of being watched. Because before you could hide your stare the handsome man was shifting his face towards you, looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk dances on his features. Heat rises to the apples of your cheeks as you turn to look at the picture again, pretending like you weren’t just caught checking him out.

“What do you think?”

You turn to face him, “Excuse me?”

“About the photo,” he smiles back at you. You cough slightly trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, um-” you start carefully, “it is actually my favorite one in this exhibit I think.”

His face softens at your answer as he nods, looking back to the photo before he begins to speak again, “What’s so great about it?”

You look at the photo one more time, really analyzing it.

“I’m not sure exactly,” you say honestly. “It was the only photo that really caught my eye. Don’t get me wrong I thought all these photos were great, but this one helped me visualize what the photographer must have been witness to through his photos.”

He looks back at you with a surprised expression.

“That’s a really interesting take on the photo, I thought you just thought the man in it was attractive.”

You laugh slightly, “You can’t see much of looks from a person’s back.”

This has the man doubling over in laughter, much to your surprise. You look around the room to see if any of the other patrons are staring at the man, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the attention. Then you looked back at the man and his blinding smile and you cannot help but return the same emotion. And for the first time, in a long time, you began to feel captivated with this man.

His laughter seizes yet his smile remains as he turns his body to face you, “I am Jaebeom by the way.”

He says while extending his hand out to you. You are now able to see his entire face as you grip his hand in a greeting. To your surprise, he had a silver nose ring on his right side, along with multiple piercings all up and down his ears. It was your first time feeling such an attraction to a man’s jewelry. You blink rapidly realizing you had just been grasping his hand in silence for some time, but he didn’t seem to mind. You tell him your name before dropping your connected hands, he repeats it softly as if he was saying it for only him to hear.

“Did you come by yourself tonight?” He asks.

“Is that some form of a pick-up line?” You reply back snarkily which has the man chuckling at your playful banter.

“It’s only a pickup line if it works,” he states causing your head to nod in agreement.

“Well then yes, I am alone if you must know.”

“Fascinating. I would have definitely assumed you to just be here on a date, not actually here for the art,” he says.

You scoff, “How pretentious of you to assume such a thing,” you say.

“I’m a photography student if you couldn’t guess, so I am most definitely here for the art.”

“I meant no offense,” he holds his ringer clad hands up in a form of surrender. “It was just a simple observation due to the other people here tonight.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, you thought. The gallery was littered with different couples strolling throughout the space. Love could easily be seen in the air the minute you walked in. Not that you minded, of course. If you had allowed yourself to date you would also think to come to an art gallery like this, spending time with someone you were attracted to amongst gorgeous imagery, it was quite romantic.

“This does seem to be a hot-spot for couples tonight,” you note back to him.

“So, what would you say if I asked you to come out for a drink with me tonight instead of staying here?” He asks you.

“What, are the lovebirds kind of cramping your style?” You laugh back at his sudden suggestion.

He laughs at this before continuing, “Not necessarily. I’m just interested in you, I thought maybe a good way of getting to know more about the beautiful girl from the gallery would be over a couple of drinks.”

You smile shyly looking away from him, “I don’t know, I was kind of curious to see if this secret photographer would show themselves by the end of the night.”

“Trust me, he’s not one for introductions.”

He? You thought to yourself, how could Jaebeom know the gender of the photographer? Perhaps he had been coming to Defsoul’s exhibitions enough to have eventually met the elusive photographer.

Perhaps you should take Jaebeom up on his offer. Hell, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been out for a drink. Especially with a man as good-looking as Jaebeom. Maybe you could finally allow yourself to let loose, just this once.

“Well, in that case, you lead the way,” he smiles at your response. Jaebeom raises his hand inviting you to take hold. You do so while smiling, excited for what the night shall bring.

Jaebeom grips your hand tightly as you two make your way throughout the lamp-lit city streets. Your heart is beating wildly every time he would look back to check if you were still there, grinning when he is met with your presence. The two of you walk hand-in-hand as he tells you he is taking you to one of his favorite lounges in the city, you can’t help your excitement.

You two finally arrive at the bar, the exterior of the building is ornate in nature with vintage signage and lights decorating the brick walls. Jaebeom drops his grasp on your hand to open the large wooden door allowing you to step inside first, what a gentleman you thought. Inside the lounge the cigar smoke twisted in an elegant way, forming curls in the dim light. The room was illuminated solely by the age-speckled bar lights. Jaebeom finds an empty booth towards the back for you two to sit. A smartly dressed waiter comes around to grab drink orders and skirts away hurriedly after. You sit back a bit in your seat trying to calm your nerves by looking around the room.

You wouldn’t exactly describe yourself as an introverted person, but this definitely was a new experience for you. Coming out with a man you barely knew, to a part of town you were unfamiliar with, just for drinks. It was all so different for you, but there was something about Jaebeom that made you feel a certain sense of security. It was usually pretty easy for you to tell when a guy was a complete sleaze-bag and Jaebeom definitely did not give off that impression. Still, you couldn’t help but feel slightly shy to be with such a handsome man.

“I’m so curious to hear what you are thinking,” Jaebeom speaks up from the other end of the table.

You turn to look at him and notice his chin perched on his hand as he stares dreamily at you with his deep-set eyes. You go red as you realize he must have been studying you this entire time.

“I was just thinking about how all of this is a very new experience for me,” you respond back.

“What exactly?”

“Just this,” you emphasize your words by swinging your finger in the space between the two of you.

“I’ve never said yes to drinks with a man I had met less than an hour before.”

“You don’t say,” he chuckles. “I would imagine a girl as beautiful as you would have plenty of suitors waiting to take you out for a simple cocktail.”

You laugh at this. It’s not that men have not tried taking you out in the past, they most certainly did. You were just in a place with your life that didn’t allow you the capacity for any man. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, really. You knew that at this point in your life the things that were the most important to you were school and finding your place in the competitive field of photography. No man could ever distract you from this dream of yours.

“Even so,” you begin. “I don’t really have the time for any sort of man in my life right now.”

“So then why did you agree to come out with me?” Jaebeom asks you.

That was a good question, why did you say yes? Despite the fact that Jaebeom had been one of the most attractive men to ever approach you, you wondered what it was about him that pulled your attention so strongly.

“I’m not sure why exactly it’s kind of hard to explain,” you say. “I just feel comfortable in your presence.”

This was something new to hear for Jaebeom. Mysterious, chic, sexy. These were all things Jaebeom was used to hearing from women, but “comfortable” was new. Little did you know, you were also a new experience entirely for him. The other women Jaebeom had encountered in his life felt like nothing more than a shallow quest for lust or domination with him. But you, he wanted to know so much more about the girl sitting across from him. Your dreams, inhibitions, fears. He could listen to you ramble on all night.

“I feel the same way,” he replies back coolly, to which you beam back a tender smile.

The rest of the night with Jaebeom is filled with giddy conversation between the two of you, both anxious to learn more about the other. You share with him things that some of your closest friends did not even know about you, but that was the power he held. He somehow was able to fluster you like a shy schoolgirl and yet hold your hand so sincerely that it felt as if you had known him for years. Drinks and conversation flowed throughout the few hours you spent with him at the lounge, effectively easing all your anxiety.

Once the two of you got onto the topic of photography there was no stopping the excitement. You could see in his eyes he loved it just as much as you, but ultimately he feared he was not good enough to be professional. You related closely to this worry, also sharing the hardships you faced with the creative aspect of it all. The way Jaebeom was able to relate so deeply to you on this issue made him all the more attractive to you, but that could also be the drinks talking.

“Of course you also make music,” you laugh at the man across from you at his recent confession.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He gawks back at you.

“Nothing offensive really,” you begin.

“It just fits your whole image you know. The gorgeous man I met at the exhibit is also incredibly deep and creative,” you joke with him.

He smiles and nods his head understanding that to most people he appears that way. Not that he minded, of course, he just wished sometimes he wasn’t so easy to read.

“Gorgeous, huh?”

He completely ignores your other statements to instead put you on the spot, but to his surprise, you don’t seem the least bit bashful. Instead, you take a long sip from your drink before setting it down with a soft thud. Looking him in the eye as if to say, “Did I stutter?” Jaebeom smirks and breaks his eye contact, absentmindedly twirling the small cocktail straw in his almost empty glass.

“I want to hear your music,” you say breaking him from his trance.

He looks up to see you leaning in on the table excitedly, a small flame of mischief burning behind your eyes.

He leans in towards you, “Really?”

You nod.

“Well then, let’s get out of here.”

You knew just as well as anyone what it meant to go back to his place and listen to his music, but that was exactly what you wanted. Jaebeom hails over the waiter closing up your tab before you both exit the bar to the crisp Autumn night air. As if on cue, a taxi pulls in front of where the two of you stood, allowing a handsome young couple to exit its backseat. Jaebeom takes the opportunity, seizing the door open for you to step into the now emptied seats of the taxi. He joins in after you quickly telling the older man who was driving the taxi his address.

The ride began innocently enough. Silent, as you two sat next to one another, too nervous to make eye contact. Because you knew as soon as you looked, things would take a drastic turn, but you were always too curious for your own good. You turn your head slightly to catch Jaebeom looking at you, not in your eyes, but everywhere else. From the way that your legs were crossed to your innocently folded hands in your lap, the curves of your body, the long expanse of your neck, until finally, into your lust-filled eyes. That was all it took.

Jaebeom was the first to snap, instantly latching his hand onto the back of your neck in order to bring your lips onto his. You more than happily obliged bringing your own hands to rest on his taut shoulders, molding your lips unto his. The connection was everything you imagined. Hot, rushed, and oh so gratifying. You could taste the deep bitters of his drink as his tongue danced across your lip, your own tongue eager to meet his. He groaned into your mouth once he felt the connection which in turn had you draping a leg across his lap attempting for your bodies to be closer. You felt somewhat sorry for the cab driver, but you mostly didn’t care.

Jaebeom grips your leg that is draped over him feeling the soft flesh beneath your tight jeans. God, he only imagined what you looked like completely exposed to him. The thought had to wait as the two of you could feel the car come to an abrupt stop, followed by an awkward cough from the front seat. You both break free and stare into each other’s dark gazes, unable to shake the overwhelming amount of lust. It took a second clearing of the cab driver’s throat to snap the trance and leave his car. Jaebeom handed the man the cab fare, being sure to tip him generously, before exiting the car and extending a hand out to you. You take it graciously after saying a quick “thank you” to the driver.

Once outside the cab, the pace of the evening leveled out. Jaebeom, now calm and collected, takes your hand in his, smiling at you briefly before guiding you to a rather expensive-looking building. It was late at night when you two arrived, yet upon entering the bright lobby you notice a rather well-dressed attendant sitting modestly behind a large desk. She looks up from her desk to see who had entered. Upon gazing at Jaebeom she stands and bows her head silently in a form of saying “Welcome.” Jaebeom smiles politely at her while still having you in tow towards the titanium elevator doors. They open upon his touch of the button allowing you both to step inside.

The feeling of being next to Jaebeom in the elevator versus the taxi was entirely different. While the backseat of the taxi was filled with nothing but lust for one another, the elevator was quiet. Utter silence from you both as you anxiously spare looks to one another. Whenever one of you caught the other’s eye it would be hard to hide your bashful smiles. Your stomach was doing flips in expectancy of what was to come. The doors part, you had arrived.

Jaebeom enters his apartment with relative ease, despite his nerves making it difficult to punch in his door code. Once the two of you were inside is when he finally began to speak, “Can I offer you anything to drink? Wine? Water?”

“Wine sounds lovely, thank you,” you respond back.

He smiles, “Wine it is. Please make yourself at home while I go get us some glasses.”

Then he is off, leaving you to wander about his apartment curiously. It was relatively a clean place, or rather there just wasn’t much furniture in general. Simplistic and chic. You couldn’t think of a more fitting apartment for Jaebeom. You walk about the space coming unto what seemed to be a living room with a single black leather loveseat and a computer desk against the opposite wall. You make your way over to the couch sitting down gently.

Not long after, Jaebeom appears from the doorway holding two glasses of a deep red wine. He chuckles nervously extending one glass to you. Jesus, he was so endearing. You take the glass with a small smile and thank him, bringing the bitter liquid to your lips.

“Did you still want me to play you some of my work?” Jaebeom asks nervously, still standing above you.

You had almost completely forgotten that was the whole reason you wanted to come. You were too enraptured by the beautiful man’s aura.

“Yes please, play me something,” you say excitedly.

He takes a sip of his wine and smiles before turning his back and walking towards the computer. He types away for about a minute before a soft melody can be heard throughout the room. You look to see speakers installed all around your head creating a hypnotic atmosphere. You close your eyes and sway, finding yourself getting lost in the beats and pretty vocals of his song. It isn’t until you feel a dip in the seat next to you that you open your eyes to see the expectant face of Jaebeom at your side.

“You really made this?”

“Yeah, that’s my voice if you can’t tell,” he replies nervously bringing a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“I don’t know as much about music as I do photography, but this is really good,” you say to him which has him chuckling and shaking his head. “No, really I mean it.”

He looks up at you to see that you were in fact being genuine. He felt more proud then than at any other moment he could remember. Jaebeom sets his wine glass down on the coffee table next to yours before turning his full attention towards you, tucking a soft hair behind one of your ears.

“You’re really something, did you know that?” He asks you, with a voice just barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest at the sudden close proximity, but God did you love this man’s presence. You leaned slightly into his hand that was still hovering near the side of your face, allowing him to cup your cheek affectionately.

“That’s funny,” you say. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He’s smiling at you now, staring deeply into your shining eyes. The self-control he had completely left him at that point. He leans into you slowly, allowing you time to register what was about to happen. You close the gap, kissing him softly. He sighs into the kiss, languidly moving his lips against yours while at the same time grabbing your hips to move your body closer. You reciprocate and bring it a step further, throwing one leg over his lap to straddle his thighs, never once breaking apart your lips.

He takes a shaky breath the minute your body softly grinds onto his. God, he was intoxicating. You were so eager to elicit more responses from him, to watch him come undone, so you snake your hands into his long hair, earning an appreciative moan. You can’t help but whine at the sound, wanting nothing more than to feel his body pressed against yours.

Jaebeom seems to know your thoughts exactly because in one moment he is sweeping you up off of the couch, legs still fastened tightly around him, making his way towards what you can only assume to be his bedroom. He would stop occasionally to press you against a nearby wall, breaking from your lips he would decorate your neck in soft kisses. The scent of his musky cologne exhilarating your thoughts. Finally, he reaches his bedroom, dropping you down to your feet softly with a thud.

“I want you,” he breaths out onto your abused lips.

“Then you can have me,” you whisper. “All of me.”

He groans at your response as it seems they were the exact words he wished to hear. Swiftly Jaebeom grabs at your top peeling it off over your head leaving you clad in a simple black bra. If you had known you would be seen naked tonight you would have opted for something a little sexier, but Jaebeom doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, his head instantly drops to your cleavage, pushing your breasts eagerly up into his face as he begins to kiss and suck at your skin surely leaving marks for you to remember him by. You breathe out at the sensual feeling, greedy to feel his skin against your own.

You reach below him to tug at his black t-shirt hinting at how much you wanted it off of his body. He understands, breaking away from your chest to pull his shirt over his head. His chest is broad and milky, illuminated from the streetlights outside his bedroom window. You can’t help yourself, bringing a hand to rest against the middle of his chest. You felt him, all of him. The warmth, the sweat, the anticipation, all of it rested just below your fingertips. Slowly you drag your hand lower, noting the shiver that ran through Jaebeom’s body at your soft caresses. You reach his belt, playing with it you look up at him through your lashes, batting them innocently.

“Fuck-” he says. “If you keep looking at me that way, I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling him closer by his belt loop. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You have no idea where this sense of confidence has come from. Normally during sex, you tend not to be much of a talker, letting the man do as he pleases. Tonight felt different from all those nights before. Jaebeom made you a different person, someone who felt bold enough to take control. You liked this person he created, and he seemed to be just as pleased.

He smirks at you, enjoying your teasing nature, he pulls you flush against his skin. He holds your eye contact for a moment before firmly turning your body so that your back meets his chest. You gasp as you feel him move your hair to the side, decorating lustful kisses along your shoulder and neck. His hands find purchase on your hips, greedily massaging them while also forcing your ass to grind onto his already stiff cock straining against his jeans. You moan at the feeling, taking pride in the effect you had on him.

“Do you like that, baby?” He asks you. “The feeling of my hard cock against you?”

The man could talk dirty, you thought, could he be any more attractive?

You don’t reply with words. Instead, you grind your backside harder against him, causing a hiss to fall from his lips. You lull your head back dreamily, getting lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, both of you ravenous for any sort of friction. While his hands stayed firmly on your hips you took this opportunity to grab at one of his hands, bringing it upward to your chest, encouraging Jaebeom to massage your breasts. He happily obliges, feeling up your warm body with his rough hands, your scent invigorating his mind.

“I want you to strip for me, then go lay on the bed,” Jaebeom softly commands in your ear, effectively snapping you out of your daze.

There was something about his assertive tone that sent heat straight to your core, you were so eager to feel him there. He takes a step away from your body allowing you space to remove your clothes, and you do so. You look over your shoulder at him to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, anticipating your show. You reach down for the button of your jeans undoing it in a slow and sultry way until you are able to strip the fabric down your legs.

Jaebeom intently watches your scantily clad figure which in turn gave you the confidence to continue. You put on a bit of a show with your movements, matching your swaying hips to his music that could still be heard inside the bedroom. Once you step your feet out of your jeans you turn your body so it is facing his. There is still a bit of space between your bodies, but the tension is extreme. You reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, taking one strap between your fingers as you allow the bra to drop.

Upon seeing your bare chest a fire ignites behind Jaebeom’s eyes. You smirk, with still swaying hips, you hook two fingers into your panties. Turning once more to give him a view of your backside, you dance your way out of the soft material, letting it gather around your feet. Finally, now completely bare, you make your way to his large king bed adorned with fresh white sheets. Crawling on all fours up the bed, making sure to arch your back for the best view, you flip your body onto the bed awaiting his arrival.

Jaebeom drinks this all in. The music, fragrances, lights, visuals, and the ambiance of seeing your bare body lay upon his white sheets, decorated purely by the moonlight. Without waiting for a second longer he rids himself of the last of his clothing, pushing his jeans and boxers down with haste. He walks to the foot of the bed, softly caressing your calves as he climbs up the expanse of your body. Your eyes meet his hazily, running your gentle hands along his forearms until his forehead is resting softly against yours.

“Can I taste you?”

Your mind is in a haze at his request, but who were you to say no?

Your head nods at his request and he smiles. Kissing your lips passionately before dragging them lower and lower down your body. Occasionally Jaebeom would nip and suck on parts of your skin, causing your body to tremor. Until finally you began to feel his heated breaths over your core. You gripped the sheets expectantly, unconsciously tensing your body in anticipation. He gives each of your thighs one last kiss before licking a strong tongue through your core.

You moan instantly, surprised by how sensitive you were from just one touch. Jaebeom doesn’t stop, he grabs hold of your thighs effectively throwing them over his broad shoulders. At first, his licks are long and languid, causing your hips to fall in motion with his tongue. Once he begins to feel your thighs tense at the sensations he picks up his pace, switching from licking up your core to occasionally wrapping his lips around your clit.

You feel electric waves throughout your body at his movements. At one particular suck, you moan out into the night, threading a hand through Jaebeom’s hair, which in turn has him groaning into you. He too was lost in the pleasure he was giving you. From your scent to your heavenly moans he couldn’t stop himself from grinding down against his mattress eager for some relief on his achingly hard cock.

“Jaebeom please, I need to feel you inside of me, please,” you manage to moan out wanting nothing more than for your bodies to become one.

Although Jaebeom wanted so badly to see your body come undone from his tongue alone, he too was starting to get impatient. One last suck to your clit before he is climbing back up your body, greedily you reach for him and connect your lips. He moans at your soft sucks against his tongue, desperate for you to taste your own arousal.

Shockingly, you are able to flip your bodies over allowing you to climb on top of Jaebeom’s beautiful body. You break away from the kiss to sit up and see him. There he was in all his glory. The stoic man from the gallery naked and heaving beneath you, so eager to be inside of you. You smile sweetly at him and he groans, taking his painfully hard cock into your hand you stroke him tenderly, to which he throws his head back in excitement. Without waiting a second longer you align him with your dripping core, slowing sinking him deep inside of you.

You release an intense sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. Jaebeom moans at the warm feeling of your pussy wrapped tightly around him, he then looks to see where your bodies meet. As if on cue you begin to sway your hips back in forth, still in rhythm with the music coming from the living room. The pace is slow and sensual, just as you like.

Jaebeom felt as if he could feel every little movement. From the way your beautiful hips swayed to your hands pressed firmly on his chest, he savored every second. His hands come to rest against your hips once again, encouraging your movements. Moans spill from your mouth as you get lost in the feeling of him buried so deep inside of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Jaebeom is blissed out in the feeling, allowing you full control; he loses himself in the moment, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the song. You too let your body take over and allow your mind to float above the two of you making love. You can hear the melody too.

난 네게 눈이 멀었고

(I became blinded by you)

넌 내게 눈이 멀었겄지

(You probably became blinded by me)

우리 서로만을 보았고

(We only saw each other)

이 세상에 둘만 있었겠지

(We probably were the only ones in the world)

Jaebeom begins to lose his patience as he can feel his end nearing. You yelp with surprise as his strong arms wrap against your frame, flipping you onto your back. You squeeze around him from his dominant change in nature, he groans at the feeling.

“I want to feel you come all around me, baby,” he tells you.

You nod back ready for him to ravish your body. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder giving him the best angle for you both. The pace from before is completely different. While you took your time with Jaebeom while you rode him, when he was on top he fucked you, hard.

Sheathing himself back inside of you so hard and fast you both scream out in pleasure. He wastes no time fucking you raw, trying to chase the high you both so desperately longed for. His movements are fast yet calculated, effectively hitting your sweet spot every time he entered you. You were desperate to hold on to reality gripping the sheets above your head as you moaned loudly. Jaebeom saw this action and instead moved your hands to his hair.

“I want you to show me how good I’m making you feel,” he says to you in his gruff voice.

You understand his wish, grabbing his hair just as tightly as he fucked you, earning an appreciative groan from him spurring on his movements further.

You felt your end coming. It was like a small fire that suddenly began to blister in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved for air as you gripped his hair even tighter, warning him. He understood.

“Come on, baby, I need to feel you come, please,” his words did just the trick.

The fire turned into an explosion as the white-hot orgasm swept through your body. You trembled in his hold as he thoroughly fucked you through your high. Once you came down you noticed his brows furrowed and his movements began to waver. You released his hair to hold him close to your body, encouraging him to let go.

He eventually reaches his own high as he drops his head to your shoulder, you hold him close as he moans out deliciously into your ear. His movements stutter as he tiredly milks his orgasm to completion. He slumps his body against yours, slick with sweat the two of you stay connected for some time attempting to calm your breaths.

Tiredly you stroke your hand softly up and down his back lullingly. You begin to feel the effect of all the alcohol in your system as you fought to keep your eyes open. Too at peace with where you were, you allowed yourself to become a victim of slumber while caressing Jaebeom’s naked frame.

When morning broke, you expected to be woken by the bright sunshine pouring into his room. Instead, the thing that woke you from your slumber was the distinct click of what you only know to be the sound of a film camera. Still naked in his sheets you turn your body over to see an equally naked Jaebeom perched at the foot of the bed with a small camera plastered to his face. The morning sun decorated his frame in the most beautiful way, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He lowers the camera slowly from his face, gauging your reaction, “Sorry I just thought you looked so perfect lying there. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head no. He smiles and climbs up his bed to be with you again in the early morning light. He lays at your side and you turn your full body to him, he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You both stay there for what felt like an eternity. Mindlessly you both would let your fingers dance along the other’s naked form, basking in the soft flesh below. The silence was infectious, filling your soul with content. You never wanted this feeling to end.

──

“Can I just say what an honor it is to be accompanying you on this gorgeous Friday night,” Jinyoung smiles at you. “The forsaken Friday nights that you would normally spend in solitude, per your own request, but I am the first one to break that tradition. Really it is a privilege.”

You laugh at Jinyoung’s over-the-top monologue. Jinyoung wasn’t wrong, he was the first person you had ever asked to accompany you on this Friday night. Your friends all knew the deal, Friday nights were for your alone time, for your creativity to rekindle.

“You are just too handsome to say no to,” you reply back sweetly, reaching up to Jinyoung planting a swift kiss on his cheek. His eyes crinkle in the most adorable fashion.

As much as you had grown and changed in the past couple of months, Jinyoung was always a constant in your life. Before you used to be so caught up in your art and finding inspiration that you never gave the cute boy from your English class the time of day. Often times Jinyoung would ask you out for the occasional coffee or study date to which you would always find an excuse not to go. It surprised you that even after all his failed attempts he even still wanted to take you out, so ultimately you agreed. You could say that perhaps you had a change of heart. Something eventually opened your eyes to his affection for you.

After walking some time the two of you finally make it to the exhibit. The words “Awake.” displayed in white neon outside the entrance. Looking to Jinyoung and smiling you both make your way through the large entryway. Subtly you feel him slide his fingers through your own, and your body heats at the affection.

It had been quite some time since Defsoul had held any sort of photography exhibition. In fact, the last one being just over six months ago. Although the photographer was still active through social media you were surprised as to why it had taken them so long to put on another show. You remembered just how much you fell in love with their work last time that you were eager to see what else they had in store.

As the two of you walk hand-in-hand throughout the gallery you instantly notice the ambiance of this show to be vastly different from the one you had attended months before. The air was lighter, the photographs themselves felt brighter than before, and even the conversations between the patrons were airier. Jinyoung would occasionally point to certain photos attempting his best at discussing the art of photography in order to impress you. You would smile at his attempts, bringing his body closer to yours the more you strolled throughout the space.

Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the night you shared with Jaebeom just months before where you met him at one of these exhibits. It had been so long since you had even thought of him or his name that you had almost forgotten. Though the feelings you felt never disappeared.

You catch yourself smiling at the memory before looking up at one of the larger displays in the studio. You stopped dead in your tracks upon looking, your breath caught in your throat as you just stared. It was you, not your face, your naked backside peeking perfectly out of his crisp white sheets, the morning sun playing through your soft hair beautifully. There you were on full display for the whole world to see.

The world around you faded as you sat and stared, Jinyoung taking notice finally to what you had been looking at, “That is gorgeous, I think this might be my favorite one so far.”

You can’t hear him as your mind was reeling a mile a minute. It was then in that moment you came to realize everything. His sheets, his bed, his room, his photograph. This was his show, Jaebeom was Defsoul. How could you have not seen it before?

You looked about the room frantically, fear striking you as you noticed the other patron’s eyes glued to the huge mural of you, Jinyoung too being entranced with the photo. Anxiety bubbled over into your stomach. That was until you saw it, the title: Muse.

You didn’t know why exactly upon reading the simple word that tears began to pool in your eyes. Again you looked around the room. You needed to see him, to confirm your thoughts. You needed to know who Jaebeom really was. Then suddenly there he stood, perfect as ever.

Jaebeom stood meters away from you and Jinyoung, the bodies of the other patrons crossed your paths as the two of you just stared at each other. He looked just as stunning as that night, that one fateful night. His gaze is soft on yours as if to ask if you were okay. You cannot answer him, still in too much shock.

Until Jaebeom looks to Jinyoung, your connected hands, and then finally you, he smiles warmly. Little did you know that this is exactly what Jaebeom wanted to see for you. Your happiness above all else. To others, what the two of you shared could easily be written off as just some other one night stand, but he knew it was so much more. He cared for you in ways he never thought he would be able to feel for another person. And so he was happy, if he couldn’t be the one holding your hand in this gallery, he was glad you had someone to take his place. You deserved as much.

A tear finally escapes your eye as you continue to gaze at Jaebeom’s sincere expression, laughing slightly you brush the tear away. You felt no anger, no embarrassment. Because what Jaebeom said was right, for that night you spent together, he too was your own muse. The spark you needed at that moment. You needed him then just as much as he did.

Without leaving his eyes, you bow your head slightly, doing something you realized you never did that night. You thanked him. He raised a wine glass in recognition. Then he was gone, swallowed into the sea of people who would never know his true identity.

“I didn’t know photography moved you that much,” Jinyoung says to you while wiping your tears away, a look of concern etched into his features.

You laugh, dropping your head bashfully before raising your eyes again to look at Jinyoung. You were so content with the way you began to live your life since meeting Jaebeom. For so long you had deprived yourself of the one thing that should have mattered the most, your happiness.

It was fate for you and Jaebeom to meet each other that night, but you knew it was only meant for that one night. Jaebeom was the trigger for you to stop living inside the constrictive box you created for yourself. You felt inspiration more than ever through your art, which in turn greatly improved your abilities. You also finally allowed yourself love, and to share that love with someone who genuinely wanted you.

Now with Jinyoung, you had never felt more at peace in not only yourself but your life. Rising to his height you capture Jinyoung’s lips with yours. He smiles against you and reciprocates your affection. This is who you were meant to be with tonight, and for every night thereafter.

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #got7 #jaebeom #im jaebeom #fanfic #smut #jaebeom fanfic #jaebeom smut #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #jinyoung

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hongism · 4 years

Text

liquorice and ivories - k.hongjoong

➻ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader ➻ wc: 16.5k ➻ genre: smut, tad angsty, fluff, e2l, pianist!hongjoong, pianist!reader ➻ rating: M, 18+ ➻ warnings: public sex, semi-public sex, explicit smut, oral sex: m & f, fingering, handjobs, choking, lowkey hate sex at first, sex on a piano, degradation, praise, marking, biting, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, creampie, unprotected sex ➻ summary: you and hongjoong are competitors, of course. two people, one dream - there’s never room for two in this industry. neither of you care who you have to step on to get to the top.

Your fingers hit the ivories with a thud. The sound echoes through the practice room, reverberating against the walls and sending the sickeningly sweet sounds to the ears of all the people in the room. You sit back, satisfied with the performance, and glance over at your small audience. The professor is the first to clap, and he sends a small smile your way before standing up. Five of your classmates mimic his movements, but the sixth remains stony and cold, unmoving except for the slight curl of his lips that echoes his disgust with your performance.

Kim Hongjoong.

The two of you have never cared for each other; both are so competitive that you can’t stand to be around one another for more than five seconds. You are arrogant to a degree, but only because you think about how far you’ve come and how much you’ve developed over the years. Hongjoong, on the other hand, is just arrogant. There’s no need to beat around the bush and think harder about it. You’ve known the man for about two years now – you both joined the university at the same time and now are in your junior years together. Given the minimal size of your program though, it means that you have to share every single class with Hongjoong.

When you started your journey in the program, you didn’t notice Hongjoong. He’s a short-statured man – still taller than you yes, but small compared to your other male classmate – and he was relatively quiet during the first year of school. A fashionable student, even with the awkward uniform you’re all required to wear, but he always manages to style it in a way like no one else. Whether it’s a beret on his head or a sudden change of hair color, Hongjoong always adds a new flair to his outfits. Once he even had a mullet, which you had never seen before in person, but as much as you hate to admit it, it actually suited him quite nicely. Now, however, his hair is bright blue and parted right down the middle. His bangs frame his forehead, exposing just enough skin to entice, and if you didn’t hate his guts so much, you would understand why all the girls at this school want to get in his pants.

As you said, you didn’t notice him during your first year at university because he was so quiet and kept to himself. That all flipped during the second year though. Hongjoong became bold all of a sudden; the bright-eyed boy of freshman year was long gone and replaced by a cynical man who sought to tear everyone down. You became his primary target of attack. You weren’t sure why at first, but it became glaringly obvious once your professor admitted that you and Hongjoong were the top two students of your generation. It is a competition, in which you are his biggest competitor.

Exchanged insults, glares and scowls sent in each other’s direction, attempts to outdo one another in practices and recitals and competitions. You fight each other tooth and nail. Your professor seems totally unbothered by the hatred you bear for one another; he claims that it’s a healthy way to challenge each other, even though everyone knows that it is the opposite of healthy.

All that to say – you are not surprised in the slightest to see his disdain. Your professor on the other hand cannot stop grinning after your performance.

“Fantastic job, Y/N. Really stunning. I think you’re doing better than ever with this piece. I have no doubt that you can win the next competition if you continue practicing hard and performing at this level.”

You push the piano bench back just enough to step out, bowing to your professor at his kind words.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Mr. Kim, you’re up next.” Hongjoong stands as he’s called forward. The two of you pass without sparing so much as a glance in the other’s direction. You take his now empty seat, one leg crossing over the other as you lean against the back. Hongjoong sits on the bench, fiddling with the adjustments and distance from the keys a bit. “Remind me of your piece?”

“Chopin’s Nocturne, Opus 48, number 1.”

“Ah yes. Start whenever you’re ready.”

As soon as Hongjoong’s fingers hit the keys, you’re reminded of why you hate the man so much. It’s not because he’s arrogant and egotistical for no reason. No, he’s sickenly good at playing the piano. That infuriates you even more. If he was bad and full of ungodly rage, you might be able to rectify his attitude, but no. He’s the best pianist you’ve ever met, ever heard, better than some professionals that you’ve gone and seen in concert. He plays the piano as though it’s an extension of himself. The ivories are like his muscle and bone, he treats each one like it’s a part of him, and he knows how to recreate a piece of music in a way that is so authentically original yet completely his own. Yea, you fucking despise it.

Over the years, the biggest complaint you’ve received from teachers and judges is that you cannot properly express the music. You can play it perfectly, recreate the notes as they were written, and copy them to perfection. But that’s not what the judges or teachers want. They want you to be unique and diverse. They don’t want a perfect replica. They want you to take the piece of music and make it your own, create something flawless and make it even better by putting your own heart and soul into the notes. Hongjoong does that with such ease that he makes it look effortless.

This piece he plays now gives him the perfect playing ground to do that again. The way his fingers dance across the keys, a feather-light touch that brings the slightest notes out and the hard-hitting chords that resound in your ears. His performance is as flawless as ever, he has no trouble making the song his own. You hate it. The perfection under his fingers nearly makes you sick to your stomach because the player behind the keys is nothing but a self-righteous asshole.

You honestly want to smack some sense into Hongjoong, maybe rough him up a little and try to make him less of an asshole, but you doubt that would work. You settle for glaring at the side of his head throughout the performance, despising each perfect note he plays until he finishes the song. You return the favor of not clapping when he finishes the piece, six long minutes of torture, but everyone else in the room applauds his performance with fervor. He stands up and steps around the piano bench, bowing to the professor then turning to look right at you. A smug smile spreads across his lips. He knows how well he did, and he knows how much you enjoyed the piece. You don’t give him the pleasure of returning the glare any longer and glance away to stare at the floor instead.

“Fantastic job, Mr. Kim. Near perfection, I would say. Be sure to watch the tempo as you play. Otherwise, I have no advice for you.”

“Thank you, professor.” Hongjoong’s voice mimics the sickly sweet tone of his playing, a melodious sound that grates against your ears despite how pretty it is. He rubs at his wrists as he pulls away from the piano, and his expression is blank when you look back up at his face.

“Alright, that’s all for today. You all did well with your performances. Be sure to keep practicing. I’ll see you at the competition on Saturday. Watch your emails as I’ll be sending out information about the bus ride to the concert hall. Dismissed!”

You waste no time in standing up, snatching up the bag at your feet and slinging it over your shoulder without thinking twice. You’re out the door within seconds. It would be a wise idea to drop by a practice room and work on your piece some more seeing as there are only a few days left until the competition, but too much rage boils in your gut. You want nothing more than to go home and stew in fury on the couch while watching some awful drama. So, that’s exactly what you do.

The bus ride back to your apartment is quick and easy, as is the walk up the stairs to your room. When you step inside, a small black cat darts out from under the couch to greet you. You stoop down to scratch at his chin, cooing as he rubs against you with a happy purr.

“Hi, Victor. Did you have a good day?” The response you get is a quiet meow. “Yea, I had a good day up until practice. Fucking Kim Hongjoong.”

You step around the small cat to plop down on the couch, dropping your bag to the floor with a thud. Digging around in your pockets, you pull your phone out to find a littering of texts across the screen as well as two missed calls. With a sigh, you tap the screen to return the call, immediately greeted with a loud scream in your ear.

“Y/N!”

“Yea, hi, Woo. Why’d you call?”

“I can’t just call my best friend out of nowhere?”

“No, because you never call unless you want something,” you sigh into the receiver. Wooyoung replies with a dissatisfied click of his tongue.

“Wow, I see how it is. I get absolutely no respect. None! You hear that, Seonghwa? No respect!” You hear Wooyoung’s roommate hum quietly over the phone, and Wooyoung grumbles at his nonchalant response. “Anyways, you’re right. I called because I want something.”

“I fucking knew it.” You sit straight on the couch, elbows coming to rest against your knees. “What is it this time? Calculus homework? You know I’m not a math major…”

“No! No, if I wanted help with Calculus, I would just ask Hwa.”

“Okay, so what is it?”

“I’m having a party tonight and–”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear me out!”

“The answer is no.”

“Come on, Y/N! You never go out!”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s a chill party!”

“You say that every time then the cops get called and suddenly it’s no longer a ‘chill party’.”

“Okay, but this time it really is.”

“How so?”

“It’s small. Only seven or eight people are coming. Including you, maybe?”

“More always end up showing up, Woo.”

“Not this time. I’ve limited it. Mingi and San are not allowed to bring anyone over, I’ve made it glaringly clear. So please? Pretty please? Seonghwa and I will buy you dinner for a whole week!”

“Um, when did I agree to that?” Seonghwa’s voice carries over the phone against, his tone full of protest as Wooyoung makes the offer.

“Make it two weeks and you have a deal,” you respond, voice flat.

“What? No! That’s way too much. One week.”

“One and a half.”

“I’ll give you one week and Hwa will buy a whole bag of cat food for Victor.”

“Deal.”

“What?” Seonghwa’s shout of protest resounds again. “I did not agree to this!”

“Too bad, so sad, Hwa! She’s coming!” Wooyoung cheers, voice quieter as he pulls away from the phone for a moment. He comes back right after to talk to you again. “Okay, be here by eight. That’s when people will start showing up. Seonghwa’s getting us some good good alcohol so we’re really going to have fun. I promise!”

Wooyoung doesn’t give you the opportunity to respond; instead, he hangs up the phone and leaves you in silence again. You drop the phone to the couch with a sigh, glancing over at where Victor is now perched on the armrest.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

He meows back at you, amber eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yea, that’s what I thought.”

…

The house is already booming with music when you arrive at the front door. Wooyoung is lucky to live with Seonghwa because the man is filthy rich and can afford to rent out a whole house to live in for the school year. It allows for loud parties like these, although the house is relatively small and the other houses around it are very close, they can at least have the luxury of not sharing a whole apartment building with hundreds of other people.

You don’t bother knocking, twisting the knob and stepping into the noise. Wooyoung is there to greet you at the door, two cups in hand, and he grins when he sees you.

“Y/N! Let’s get this shit started! Rum and coke?”

“Yea, yea.” You snatch one of the cups from his hand and start sipping at it without a second thought.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Well, it’s mine now!”

“You little shit.” Wooyoung scrunches his nose up, then drops a hand to your back. “Okay almost everyone is here. San is in the middle of dragging Jongho over by the ear, then we’re gonna be in full party mode.”

“I can’t wait to make a speedy getaway.”

“You say that every time. Then you stay all night. Make up your mind, woman.” Wooyoung elbows you in the side. He catches sight of Seonghwa a moment later, rushing off to go stand with the older man. You watch him go with a small shake of your head. As much as Wooyoung doesn’t want to admit it, he is absolutely infatuated with his roommate. Every time they have a party like this, Wooyoung ends up in Seonghwa’s bed, and they wake up as though nothing happened. Part of you wishes you could have a relationship like that – fuck and move on without a care in the world. The two won’t admit that it’s something exclusive but you know Wooyoung wouldn’t dare sleep with anyone else, and Seonghwa doesn’t bring anyone to the house or spend the night elsewhere. They have an unspoken agreement, an undefined relationship. Still, it bothers Wooyoung that Seonghwa won’t speak up about his feelings, and you’ve had to console the man through drunk tears on occasion. The only action you get, on the other hand, is hearing Wooyoung’s stories about how they fucked and getting gross details of all the positions Seonghwa put him in throughout the night.

You shake your head at the thought, downing some more of your drink to expel the image from your mind. You glance around the living room, searching the faces of the people who are already here. Wooyoung was at least telling the truth, and there are only three people talking in a small circle. All are faces you recognize: Wooyoung’s friend Mingi, Seonghwa’s old flame and best friend Yeosang, and Yeosang’s current boyfriend Yunho. All people you know well enough to be friends with, so you approach them without any hesitation. It’s only when you step past Mingi’s outrageously tall form that you catch sight of a much smaller form, one with bright blue hair that you recognize in an instant.

“He fucking didn’t…” You mutter to yourself as you drag your gaze over the man’s form. “Jung Wooyoung, I swear…”

You spin on your heel just before going to where the group is standing. You make a beeline for Seonghwa and Wooyoung, catching the younger man by surprise when you grab hold of his shoulder and yank him back.

“Woah! What? What happened?”

“You fucking invited Kim Hongjoong?” You ask, tone incredulous as you glare at your best friend.

“I-I – oh shit. I forgot! I forgot you weren’t friends!”

“How did you fucking forget, Wooyoung? I tell you how much I had him on the daily!”

“Mingi asked if he could bring his roommate! I didn’t know that his roommate was Hongjoong, I swear. I’ve never met him before, I just assumed it was some random person. Please don’t hit me!” Wooyoung flinches away from you as you raise a hand to smack him across the back of the head.

“I can’t believe you,” you grumble as Wooyoung yelps. Seonghwa laughs at your exchange with Wooyoung, eyes forming soft crescents as he smiles. “You didn’t think to ask?”

“Why would I need to ask? We’re friends, I just assumed his roommate would be chill like he is!”

“No, it’s Kim fucking Hongjoong, the least chill person in the fucking universe. I’m leaving.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Please don’t, Y/N. You just got here, come on. Stay for just a little bit. You don’t even have to talk to him, okay? Just stay with me or Seonghwa. Or San when he gets here! I know you like him!”

“Shut up!” You turn away at the accusation, cheeks heating up as he points out your minor crush.

“I’m just stating facts,” Wooyoung huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his tongue out at you.

“I’ll stay as long as I don’t have to breathe near Hongjoong.” You send a glare at the blue-haired man’s back even though he can’t see you. You don’t even know if he’s seen you yet; he’s still glued to Mingi’s side without a care in the world.

“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” Seonghwa asks as he brings his drink up to his lips.

“He’s a self-righteous fucking asshole who tears people down so he can feel better about himself,” you grumble back. Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up, and Wooyoung shakes his head.

“Competition. They’re both good at piano. Thus… they’re competition to each other.”

“Yea, yea… it would help if he wasn’t such a fuckwad.”

“Ooh, fuckwad. That’s a new one. Hey, Hwa, how kinky would it be to call you fuckwad during sex?”

“I – what?”

“Please spare me! I did not come here to hear about that again.”

“Oh, fuckwad, harder!” Wooyoung cries out, leaning closer to you. You try to swat him away with weak hands.

“Not as kinky or hot as you think,” Seonghwa chimes in, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Maybe we can try it tonight and see if I change your mind.”

“I hate it here,” you chime in, trying to hide behind your drink.

“Sure you do.”

“No, I really hate it here. This is disgusting, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I mean, you can watch if you want–”

“No! Oh my god, no. Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung cackles as he pulls away from the two of you, moving over to where the others stand with their drinks, and leaves you and Seonghwa to stand at the edge of the kitchen.

“What am I going to do with him?” Seonghwa asks as he watches the short brunette walk away.

“Marry him?”

Seonghwa releases a small laugh. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

You smile at the taller man, glancing at his love-stricken expression out the corner of your eye before downing the rest of your drink. Casting another glance over at Hongjoong’s back, you spin on your heel and enter the kitchen to make yourself another drink. The amount of rum you put in is almost shameful, and it’s a good thing that your recital is on Saturday and not tomorrow because you know you will end up absolutely wasted before the night is over. You don’t even bother to put soda in this time either, just leaving the liquor and a few cubes of ice.

The alcohol burns as it sears down your throat. Seonghwa has moved forward to join Wooyoung with the others. You know you’re going to have to go over there eventually, but Hongjoong’s lurking form is deterring you from doing so for now. Just your luck too because the doorbell rings as you step out of the kitchen.

“I’ll get it!” You call out over your shoulder, making your way over to the door. You already have an inkling as to who it might be, and that is only confirmed when you crack the door open. San and Jongho stand behind it, bright smiles on both their faces. You bite down hard on your lower lip at the sight of the former and try not to let your gaze rake over his body as he steps over the threshold.

“Oh, Y/N! I didn’t know you were going to come too. What a pleasant surprise!” San says. His hand finds your waist as he pulls you in for a warm hug. Your heart does small cartwheels as he presses against you, and you feel the need to down a whole bottle of rum to expel the feelings.

“Yea, I-I, uh, Wooyoung convinced me to come,” you stammer out, glancing away from San’s face. Jongho smiles at you but says nothing, and he looks a lot less excited to be here than San. You understand the feeling at least and pass a sympathetic smile in his direction.

“I’m glad he did. I don’t see you nearly enough.”

“Oh shut up. You’re just one building over, you can always visit me in the practice rooms.”

“And risk seeing asshole supreme? I’ll pass.” San laughs as he shuts the front door, and you know exactly who he’s talking about.

“Don’t speak too soon. He’s here with Mingi.”

“Oh fuck. Where’s the alcohol? I’m gonna need it.”

“Kitchen.”

“Bless you.”

“Mhm,” you hum over the rim of your cup. Your eyes shift back over to where the others are standing. Your heart plummets in an instant as you see Hongjoong’s gaze on your form. That familiar hatred is lingering in his stare, and you return it immediately with an equal amount of fury. Rather than staying any longer to see him, you move to follow San into the kitchen, downing a good amount of alcohol along the way.

“You know, I should’ve brought my girlfriend with me,” San says as you step into the kitchen. You freeze in your tracks, mouth falling agape as your brain processes the words. It’s almost a physical pain that spreads across your chest when you realize what he’s saying. You don’t let it show on your face though; the pain is covered with a shaky smile and laugh.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You’re always the only girl at these parties. It must suck to not, I don’t know, have another girl to talk to, you know?” San brings a cup to his lips, sipping at it quietly as he looks at you. You swallow roughly.

“Right, yea. Of course. I… Honestly, I barely notice. I have Wooyoung.”

“Good point, good point. I’ll be sure to bring her to the next one though. I think the two of you would get along! Hell, you might even know her. She’s in the piano program.”

“O-Oh, wow! Wow. Wow. What a coincidence!”

“I know right? Her name is Minnie if you talk to her at all.”

You nearly choke on your drink as San says the name. Not only do you know the girl in question, she is one of your closest friends – if not your closest friend in the piano program. Not once did she ever let it slip that she was dating your crush. The crush you have mentioned to her on multiple occasions. Nice. Fuck, this nice just keeps getting better and better.

“I-I, no. No, uh, I’ve not talked to her too much!” You lie with another weak smile. “But I’ll be sure to introduce myself soon. I’d love to chat with her about music and stuff.”

“Yea, absolutely. I can give you her number if you’d like?”

“No, no! It’s okay! I’ll see her tomorrow in class. You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh yea, I forgot you guys have practice together every day. She speaks highly of your playing, by the way.”

Your smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks as you strain to keep it going.

“Oh please, I’m not that good. Nothing special.”

“Humble words for the best in the program,” San replies with a lilt to his tone. Your cheeks feel like they might collapse if you maintain the grin any longer. Thankfully, San steps away from the counter and motions towards the living room a moment later.

“I’m gonna go say hi to the others.”

“Yea, go ahead. I’m just gonna get a refill on my drink!” You don’t need another refill, you still have half a cup left. You throw it back when San disappears though in the hopes that it’ll take the sting in the corners of your eyes away. It wasn’t even a straight-up rejection. Still, you’ve spent months pining after San and trying to get close to him, only for this to happen. One of your closest friends to up and date him behind your back? Yea, that hurts a lot more than you’d like to admit. Once the alcohol is fully down, you drop your cup to the counter and begin to pour another glass of straight rum. You don’t even notice when someone else steps into the kitchen with a drink in hand.

“Even at a random party, you manage to annoy me.”

Hongjoong. As though your night couldn’t get any worse, he decides to come and bother you. How perfect. You should’ve said no to Wooyoung.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” You slam the bottle of rum against the counter and bring your cup back to your lips. Hongjoong comes closer to the counter, shaking his head at your behavior.

“Such a model student you are.”

“You’re one to fucking talk.”

“The mouth on you is absolutely foul.”

“I didn’t realize we weren’t allowed to cuss.”

“It’s not pretty for a lady to cuss.”

You nearly toss your drink in his face but somehow you manage to hold back from doing so.

“My patience is already minimal.”

“Rejection ruin your night?” Hongjoong reaches across the counter to pick up the bottle of alcohol. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you think you’ll draw blood. “Everyone in class knows that Minnie’s dating San. How did you manage to miss that? Especially seeing as you’re the one who talks with her the most?”

“She neglected to tell me.”

“Probably didn’t want to crush your dreams.”

Your grip on the cup in your hand tightens. Hongjoong’s words shouldn’t get to you – they normally don’t, but right now you’re already in a bit of a fragile mindstate, so the stinging in the corners of your eyes returns in a rush. You inhale sharply. Hongjoong glances up at you as he hears the sound. His fingers pause on the bottle of rum.

“Are you crying?” He asks. You squeeze your eyes shut as though it will hide the evidence of your tears, but it only serves to cause them to run down your cheeks. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I di-didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hongjoong’s apology is quite the shocker. You half-expected him to laugh in your face and call you all sorts of names. When you glance over at him again, his expression is one full of regret and guilt. You wipe furiously at your cheeks with one hand, keeping the other on your cup of alcohol.

“Shut the fuck up,” you say again, albeit with a much shakier tone this time. All the remorse on Hongjoong’s expression melts away in an instant. He glares at you in response and returns to pouring himself another cup of alcohol. You turn away and move towards one of the counters, hopping up on it and mulling over your drink in silence.

“You’re really going to sit there and mope all night? I should’ve known you were boring as fuck just from hearing your performance quality.”

It didn’t even take a minute for Hongjoong to return to insulting you. The temptation of chucking your drink at him returns, but once again you manage not to do that.

“What do you get out of being mean to me? Does it make you feel better? Is that it?”

“No. You’re just so easy to rile up. Makes you worse at playing the piano too, which means it makes me that much better than you. Eliminating the competition, love. That’s all.”

“Don’t fucking call me ‘love’.”

“Why? Does it get you going?”

“I hate you so much, I swear. Don’t you have a line of girls you can fuck around with whenever you’re bored?” You hiss the question at Hongjoong. He laughs a little, one corner of his lips curling up as he takes in your questions. He hums and pushes the bottle of alcohol away again, then brings his cup up to his lips. After a long and slow drag of the drink, he pushes it back down to the counter. You watch his movements with wary eyes as he steps around the counter and moves closer to where you’re perched.

“What’s the fun in that?” He asks, head tilting to the side as he draws closer to you. “Why not play a little game of cat and mouse? Tease, poke fun, see how much it takes for someone to give in. That’s real fun.”

“So I’m a game to you?” You spit out as Hongjoong closes in on you. He pauses in his tracks, only a few feet away from you now.

“A game? You aren’t the game itself. You’re just a piece in the game. The true game is getting under your skin.”

Hongjoong continues to move forward until he hits your knees. Despite his short stature, he’s just tall enough to be eye level with you at this angle. You lean back, head thudding against the cabinet behind you. There’s nowhere for you to go, and you stare back at Hongjoong with narrowed eyes. You bring your cup up, effectively blocking him from coming any closer, and down some more alcohol in the hopes that it’ll drive away the sudden warmth in your gut that arises when Hongjoong grins at you.

“Cat got your tongue all of a sudden, princess?”

“No,” you rush to answer. Hongjoong’s smile persists, and he places his hands down on the counter. They close you in, dropped on either side of your form. He’s putting an awful amount of trust that you won’t knee him in the balls like this, because you’re at the perfect angle to do so.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Hongjoong says. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear his words, and you panic, shoulders tensing up in an instant. Hongjoong hesitates, watching your movements with careful eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“N-No, I… I…” You can’t finish the sentence. Your gaze travels down the slope of Hongjoong’s nose to his plush lips, their dark red color enticing you to lean forward. It’s the alcohol in your system, it really must be, because otherwise you wouldn’t even dream of kissing him. Hongjoong leans even closer, his breath mixing with yours. It smells like alcohol, and as he gets closer, you can see a faint blush across his nose and cheeks. He must be feeling the effects of the drinks as well, which should be a sign for you to stop and know that you’ll regret this in the morning. Hell, you aren’t even drunk yet. You’re barely tipsy. So why the fuck do you want to Hongjoong to pin you to the bed and fuck you senseless?

You don’t think any longer than that. You drape your arms around Hongjoong’s neck and close the distance between your lips. His lips are soft and warm when they hit yours, slotting together like puzzle pieces. He sighs into the kiss. He pushes against you as his hands shift to grip your hips. Despite the smell of alcohol on his breath, his lips taste sickenly sweet, almost like liquorice candy. Strangely, you can’t get enough of you. His tongue prods at your lower lips, swiping across the skin in a way that causes shivers to run down your spine.

A slight gasp escapes you, and Hongjoong uses that to his advantage. He presses his tongue between your lips with ease. It hits yours in an instant battle for dominance, and that sweet liquorice taste is on his tongue as well as though he’s been eating the candy for hours.

He pulls back for a moment, letting the two of you catch your breath. Your eyelids flutter as he moves, and your head falls back against the cabinet behind you. Hongjoong takes advantage of the motion. He leans forward and presses his lips to the column of your throat, tongue dragging over the skin there. Small gasps of air leave you as he sucks gently at the skin as well, and you know you should stop him because he’ll leave marks. Marks that won’t be gone within two days for the competition. Yet you don’t mind it too much ask his tongue lavishes your neck. What you do mind is the fact that the two of you are still in the kitchen. Which has no doors. So anyone could walk in and see the two of you going at it like this at any second.

You nudge Hongjoong’s shoulder, and he pulls off within an instant.

“What’s up?” He asks in the most nonchalant and casual tone ever.

“Upstairs bedroom. First door on the left. I’ll meet you up there in five minutes,” you say through a series of gasps. Hongjoong arches a brow, your confident tone catching him off-guard as well as the confirmation that the two of you are taking this further. He pulls away from you. His hands slide down your thighs as he moves in a teasing manner, and the gleam in his eyes tells you that he knows exactly what he is doing. You wait until he’s completely gone from the kitchen to release the breath you were holding, eyes falling shut. You take another chug of alcohol and finish off the rest of your glass. It’s just enough liquid courage for you to hop off the counter and pace around the kitchen, hands pressed together as though in prayer.

Now that Hongjoong is gone, you’re suddenly second-guessing this whole… situation. The two of you hate each other, that fact hasn’t changed in the slightest, you know that he still hates you as much as you hate him. It’s just the alcohol. It’s just the alcohol, it has to be. You’re still thinking straight and clearly though. It’s the arousal in your gut then. That was not there before Hongjoong kissed you or when you pulled him into said kiss. Then… perhaps the rejection that wasn’t really rejection from San. Maybe it’s that. Surely it’s that. Or maybe the two of you just need to fuck this out of your systems and carry on with hating each other.

Thinking is getting you nowhere. You don’t wait any longer, dipping out of the kitchen and taking the stairs up to the second floor without a second thought. The door you mentioned to Hongjoong belongs to Wooyoung, and he may not be happy about you using his bedroom to fuck your sworn enemy, but he’ll be wasted and distracted with Seonghwa within an hour anyway. You push into the bedroom with a sudden burst of confidence, but that dissipates the second you step in and lay your eyes on Hongjoong.

He’s stripped the leather jacket he was wearing off, leaving him in black pants that are far too tight, and a tucked-in tee that looks so effortlessly good on him that you hate it. You hate how damn perfect he is without even trying. He barely gives you time to shut the door before he’s approaching you, pressing you up against the wood. Your lips find each other again, and you moan out of surprise. The sound spurs Hongjoong on; he grabs hold of one of your legs and hikes it around his waist. The show of strength sends a surge of arousal to your core. He presses his tongue between your lips again, and you eat that sickly sweet taste of liquorice up as though starved.

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong asks, pulling away for a brief moment to look you in the eye.

“Yes,” you respond without any hesitation. “Yes, so fuck me.”

“Fuck…” Hongjoong mutters. He pulls you off the wall, and you press your other leg around his waist as he moves for the bed. You’re glad Wooyoung at least didn’t leave his room a complete mess otherwise Hongjoong would be tripping over clothes and shoes. He makes it to the bed with ease, however, dropping you to the mattress. The air leaves your lungs in a huff. You sit up on your elbows. Hongjoong stays back for a few moments, tugging at his belt until it’s completely gone, then his shirt follows quickly. You barely noticed the obvious tent in his pants prior to this but in all honesty, your eyes were looking anywhere except for his groin. His stripping encourages you to do the same, pulling at your own t-shirt and discarding of it on Wooyoung’s floor. Your shorts are harder to inch off, but as you tug at the zipper, Hongjoong’s hands land on your hips.

He doesn’t say a word, yanking your pants down with such ease that you nearly melt at the sight. Now he’s the one overdressed though, tight pants still clinging to his form, while you’re left in the black set of lingerie that you wore without thinking you were going to end up like this. Hongjoong doesn’t seem to mind one bit, bending down over you and dropping his hands on either side of your body. You welcome him with a kiss full of teeth and saliva.

“Fuck you’re hot,” Hongjoong says as he pulls off your lips for a second. He reaches around your torso and unhooks your bra, yanking it off you. Cold air hits your chest, and you suddenly feel very embarrassed at the exposure. Hongjoong’s eyes rake over you. He brings a hand to drag over your chest, pinching your nipple without warning. You gasp at the sensation, and your back arches off the bed under his fingers. Your reaction encourages him to repeat the motion, and he dips down to latch around your other nipple with his lips. You cry out from the sudden stimulation, Hongjoong’s teeth grazing over your breast lightly, and your hands reach down to find purchase in his bright blue hair.

He doesn’t waste much time though, lips quickly leaving your breast and trailing wet kisses down your bare abdomen until he reaches the band of your underwear. A grin spreads across his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief as he snags the material with his fingers and pulls it down with ease. You don’t even have time to think before he reaches between your folds and flattens his tongue against your clit. Another startled yelp escapes your, legs jerking, and Hongjoong hooks his arm around your leg and grasps at your opposite hip with the same hand. The other hand lingers at your core, teasing your dripping folds while his tongue goes to work at your clit.

“Fuck, you taste so good, princess,” Hongjoong purrs against your lower lips. You glance down at him, making eye contact as he drags his tongue through your arousal. You can see your juices on his lips. The dirty sight causes you to writhe against him. He stills you by pressing two fingers into your heat.

“Ah! Ho-Hongjoong, oh my god,” you stammer out as he immediately curls those two fingers inside you and nips gently at your sensitive bud. “F-Fuck, fuck.”

“Such a dirty mouth for a dirty little slut, huh?” You can’t respond with words this time, but his statement draws a high-pitched whine out of you and your walls tighten around his fingers. Hongjoong teases the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Dirty talk then? Or degradation?”

You answer by squeezing around his fingers again, and the sensation is so tight that Hongjoong grits his teeth.

“You’re gonna be so good around my cock,” he hisses out. He squeezes a third finger into your heat, scissoring you open with relative ease. That damn tongue continues to tease your clit. He flicks over the small bead and draws small circles around it. It edges you closer and closer to an orgasm, but Hongjoong senses that and pulls away within an instant. He drags his tongue lower instead and pushes the wet muscle into your heat with his fingers. The added stimulation makes you cry out, and your hand grips Hongjoong’s hair and tugs at the strands. He nearly growls, the vibrations of the sound reverberating through your core in just the right way. It causes your orgasm to hit all of a sudden, back arching off the bed and body going slack as the intense waves wash over you.

Hongjoong guides you through the orgasm, fingers still curled inside you as he pulls his tongue back to lick the juices off his lips.

“Ready to take my cock in that dirty little cunt?”

“Yes, fuck – fuck, yes. Please fuck me.”

“Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can do that.”

Hongjoong pulls back from your core, hands going straight to his pants. He has to stand up to tug them down, and he yanks his underwear down in the same motion. You’re surprised by his size in all honesty. He’s rather short compared to the other men you’ve been with so you weren’t expecting much in that department, but he’s much larger than you expected him to be. He doesn’t give you time to gape any longer though, kneeling back on the bed and pulling your legs up around his waist. He guides his member to your entrance. You swallow in anticipation and watch him slowly enter you. He continues moving forward until he bottoms out, a low groan leaving his lips when you instinctively clench around his cock.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he grunts out, leaning down over you again.

“Just fuck me already,” you say in response. You curl your fingers around his neck and bring his head down to yours. Your lips connect as he pulls out, and the sharp thrust of his hips against the back of your thighs breaks the kiss. You throw your head back at the sensation, the curve of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot at just the right angle. You can’t keep the moans from slipping out; the feeling is far too good for you to keep quiet, and it spurs Hongjoong to thrust faster. He picks up a relentless pace, hips slamming against your thighs at an almost bruising pace.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. You tilt your head to the side and press your lips against your bicep, biting down on the flesh in attempts to quiet your moans. Hongjoong must not like that because his fingers close around the base of your throat. “Eyes on me.”

You follow the order without thinking twice, snapping your head back to look Hongjoong in the eye. Your quick obedience brings a stutter to his thrusts. He dips down to capture your lips in his own. Despite the fact that you just hit one orgasm, the drag of his member inside your walls is already spurring you to another one in a short amount of time. Your sporadic clenches around Hongjoong’s cock signal that oncoming orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum again, slut?” He growls against your lips. You nod a few times, tongue darting out to taste his liquorice tasting ones. He pulls just out of your reach and leans back. “Do it yourself.” His words draw a surprised gasp from your mouth. You can’t tell whether he’s being serious or not until he pulls his still hard member out of your heat. You swallow roughly, eyes trailing over him in disbelief, before pulling yourself up to be eye level with him again.

“T-Then let me ride you,” you say. Hongjoong arches a brow and bites his lower lip. Still, he doesn’t move. You blink at him. You don’t know what he’s wanting you to do or expecting you to do, so you do the only thing you can think of. Pin him down against the bed, throw a leg over his hips, and grip his member by the base. He groans at the action, watching you guide his cock back to your drenched folds with a cocky grin. You wipe the smile off his lips with a sudden drop of your hips. You take his whole length in again and don’t waste any time in picking up your pace until it matches his previous one. Even as you bounce on his member, he doesn’t grip your hips or guide your movements, just laying back and watching you do all the work. It reminds you of how much you hate the man, even in the throes of pleasure, he’s still an arrogant and self-righteous asshole. That thought doesn’t keep your orgasm from approaching quickly. Your bounces slow down as you grow ever closer to your high. When it hits, you release a loud cry, freezing on top of him with pulsing walls as the strength leaves your body. You stay like that for a few seconds, unable to move because of the intense orgasm, then pull off slowly.

He watches you with a narrowed gaze as you lower your mouth to his cock. You lap at his member, collecting the juices and precum from it, then take half of him into your mouth. He nearly bucks up into your mouth. You have to comb a few strands of hair back when they fall over his member. Hongjoong releases a wanton moan. You bob your head up and down along his cock in efforts to make him cum faster, and the plan works in your favor. Moments later, he is spilling hot cum down your throat. You swallow every last drop. When you pull off his softening member, you wipe at your lower lip with a satisfied grin.

“You fuck better than I thought,” Hongjoong says through a deep sigh.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” you answer as you fall back against the bed. Your whole body aches and burns from the sex, but you feel extremely satisfied as well. Hongjoong moves with you, head hitting the pillow at the same time yours does.

The two of you refuse to look at each other even in the afterglow of your sex. You don’t know what to say to him, or if you should say anything for that matter. All you can do is stare at the ceiling. Based on the noise that resounds from across the hall, Seonghwa and Wooyoung are already getting down to business. If you hadn’t just fucked Hongjoong, you might find this predicament awkward.

“I’m going to shower,” Hongjoong announces after the silence drags on for a few minutes.

“Y-Yea, yea, go ahead. Help yourself to a towel and stuff. Wooyoung won’t mind.” You watch the man get up and head into the bathroom. The awkwardness is now setting in, and you aren’t sure what this means for the two of you. Perhaps it was just hate sex, but it certainly wasn’t drunk sex because the two of you were surprisingly sober before you even started fucking. It shouldn’t change anything at all.

At least, that’s what you have to keep telling yourself. As Hongjoong passes you on his way out of the bathroom, he doesn’t even spare you so much as a glance. You take a shower of your own in complete and utter silence, mostly spending your time staring at the wall with a blank stare. It’s only when you step out of the shower and look at yourself in the mirror that you say something

“God, how fucking dumb can you be, Y/N?” You towel your body dry and reach down to snatch one of Wooyoung’s spare shirts off the floor, not caring that it might be dirty as you tug it over your head.

When you step back into the bedroom, Hongjoong is long gone. You shouldn’t be surprised. You really shouldn’t. You knew he wasn’t going to stay, and you knew that this was nothing more than a quick fuck for him. However, you are not the type to just have a quick fuck and go. So when you slide under the covers of Wooyoung’s bed, you only feel cold and dejected. Sleeps doesn’t come for quite some time, and you refuse to admit that there were tears on your cheeks at any point in the night. It was just a quick fuck and nothing more. You really have to keep reminding yourself of that fact.

…

“Come on, ladies! Quit moving so slowly! We’re on a schedule.”

You release a huff. The bus seat under your ass is wildly uncomfortable, and even though two days have passed, you aren’t any less sore from your little sex escapade with Hongjoong the other night. It’s the morning of the piano competition now, and you have managed to fully avoid Hongjoong in every way up until now. Because for some unknown and dumb reason, your professor decided that he needed a seating chart for the bus. And he thus decided that putting you and Hongjoong next to each other was a brilliant idea. You can only be glad that you arrived before he did, taking the window seat and pressing your headphones in so that you don’t even have to interact with him in the slightest.

It feels like some bad karma is against you at the moment, the same bad karma that perhaps caused you to fuck Hongjoong in the first place. Being forced to sit next to him is a punch in the gut. You thumb through your music on your phone to find the piece you’ll be playing for the competition today, letting the chords and notes resound through your ears and take over your thoughts. You don’t even notice when Hongjoong climbs onto the bus and sits down beside you, but the sudden lurching of the vehicle causes your eyes to snap open. You glance around in surprise, the music completely distracting you from what was going on around you. When your eyes fall on Hongjoong, you taste liquorice on your tongue. More than that, you fucking smell the candy.

You understand why after a moment, Hongjoong’s fingers toying with a small cube of the black candy. He pops it between his lips, tongue darting out to drag over his lips and collect the rest of the sweet treat’s taste. Then, he glances at you out the corner of his eye and catches your lingering stare.

“What the fuck do you want?”

You were right about one thing. Nothing has changed between the two of you. You opt not to respond and turn away from him with a huff. You return to your music, trying your best to only focus on the notes and all the notes you got from your professor over the past few weeks. Thankfully, Hongjoong doesn’t bother you any longer and actually lets you have some damn peace and quiet. However, you blame him for the fact that your mind keeps drifting back to him, thinking about everything from his body to the way he fucked you the other night and how good it felt. With each intruding thought, you crank your volume up higher and higher. It does nothing to expel the thoughts but at least it gives you some peace of mind.

That is, until Hongjoong elbows you harshly in the side. You yank one of your earbuds out and whip to look at him.

“What?” You spit out with venom in your tone.

“Turn your fucking music down. I can barely think with how loud it is.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“It’s your damn music,” Hongjoong hisses back with an equal amount of anger to his voice.

“Fucking deal with it.”

Hongjoong’s hand darts out and closes around your thigh. You choke on your saliva, coughing as he squeezes your leg. His fingers are dangerously close to your core, and due to your surprise, you pressed your thighs together and effectively trapped his hand between your legs. Hongjoong leans closer to you, and you pull away in response.

“Turn your damn music down.”

You can smell the candy on his breath, and it reminds you of the taste of his tongue and feel of his lips. You almost want to lean in and revisit the taste, but you resist that burning urge. Instead, you manage to plug your earbud back in and turn the volume down a few notches. It’s enough to satiate Hongjoong for the time being. His grip on your thigh disappears, giving you a chance to breathe again but it’s much harder to breathe now that he’s gotten you a bit worked up like this. You curl further against the window and glare at the passing scenery as the music continues to play in your ears. At some point, you fall asleep to the rhythmic beats of your piece. You don’t even realize it, head still pressed to the cool glass of the window as the bus rumbles onto your destination.

You wake up once the bus comes to a halt, and you wake up with a jolt. However, it’s not because of the bus’ sudden stop; no, it’s because your head has somehow managed to come to rest on Hongjoong’s shoulder as you were sleeping. How that happened, you have absolutely no clue because you were angled towards the window and you’ve never been one to move much in your sleep. Hongjoong must have fallen asleep as well, because as soon as you jolt upwards, your head smacks against his and he wakes with a start.

“What the fuck?” He cusses, bringing a hand to rub at his temple where you hit him. You rub at the sleep in your eyes in attempts to hide the evidence of your tiredness before your professor catches sight.

“Wake up, shithead,” you mutter as you shove his shoulder. “I need to get past.”

“Your fault for choosing the damn window seat.”

“And it’s your fault for falling asleep.”

“Were you not just sleeping yourself?”

“I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Hongjoong spits back, eyes narrowed at you. He gets up regardless and steps away, and you take the chance to leave the bus with your bag in tow.

The one thing you hate the most about these recitals and competitions is the fact that you have to dress up nicely for them. It would be nice to show up and perform just the music, hell maybe even just play behind a curtain. But no, the judges need to see you and you have to be immaculate in every way. It’s not cheap in the slightest, but you’ve opted to reuse one of your previous recital dresses in the hopes that none of the judges will be faces you recognize.

Your professor leads the way into the concert hall, and you linger at Minnie’s side, as ironic as it is. Despite still being madly angry at her for not telling you that she was fucking dating Choi San behind your fucking back, she is still your closest friend in the program. That and she can’t seem to shut up about some movie she watched the other day. Her noise at least distracts you for the time being, especially as Hongjoong slips past you and runs a hand through his blue locks. The action is far too enticing and attractive for your liking. Again you’re left to blame it on horniness.

As you walk through the concert hall, those familiar gnawings of anxiety bite at your heels. Minnie is chattering away in your ear but you can’t hear a word she’s saying. Your hands grow cold quickly, and you tighten your grasp on your bag. You only relax a little once you get backstage and settle into a small dressing room.

“Alright, get ready quickly! Y/N, you’re the opener for the competition so you should get ready first.”

You respond with a few shaky nods before ducking into one of the bathrooms in the room. You change with haste, tugging the dark blue dress over your form until it rests comfortably on your body. You took care of your hair and makeup before coming; that was the first thing you did in the morning. All that’s left it to put on your shoes and get warmed up for the performance.

“Y/N, the room across the hall is where you can warm up,” your professor says when you step back out of the bathroom. You answer with another set of nods, moving for your bag to put your casual clothes back inside and replace your shoes.

“You’re gonna kill it!” Minnie drops a hand to your shoulder, squeezing you tightly.

“Thanks,” you mutter back as you fasten the straps of your shoes. When you stand up, you catch sight of Hongjoong staring at you. Your immediate response is to glare at him, which he returns just as quickly. “What?”

“Don’t fuck up too much. I don’t wanna have to clean up our reputation for you.”

You puff your cheeks full of air and stomp out of the room, not bothering to fight back at Hongjoong’s insult. You head straight for the practice room across the hall. It takes a few adjustments of the bench and your shoes, but you manage to get seated comfortably at the piano.

“Emotions. You need to show the emotions, Y/N,” you murmur to yourself as your fingers touch the ivories. It isn’t even the real thing, you should just be warming up and practicing the parts you had troubles with, but you still put your all into it as though it is the real thing. By the time you conclude the last notes of the song, you aren't even sure that you did what you needed to do. You can’t hear the emotion in the notes, you can only play them and hope for the best.

How Hongjoong does it is a mystery to you. He plays each note like it’s his very blood and bones, his life story laid bare before the keys. For someone so full of hatred and anger, it seems even more confusing to you, and as much as you try to reconcile it, you can’t.

“L/N Y/N to the stage. L/N Y/N to the stage.” You glance up with a start, eyeing the small speaker in the corner of the room. There’s a growing lump in your throat, and it only grows larger as you walk out of the room. Your professor is waiting there for you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder as the two of you begin to walk towards the stage.

“Remember the time signature and tempo. Watch your crescendos. And emotion! Put feeling into it!” He says as you walk ever closer to the front. You can’t respond due to the lump in your throat. Your attempts to swallow it down and dispel it do nothing either. As you reach the curtains, you catch sight of a certain blue-haired man at the edge of the stage. Your gaze hardens on him. Hongjoong never comes to stand by the stage and watch you perform. He’s toying with another black liquorice candy when you walk up to him, popping the candy between his lips before dropping his hand to mess with his cufflinks.

“Our first performer of the day, Miss Y/N L/N. She will be performing Franz Liszt’s Etude Opus 161, Number 3, La Campenella,” the announcer says, his voice booming through the hall. You don’t have time to think before your professor is pushing you forward onto the stage, and you nearly suffer the embarrassment of tripping over your feet on the way to the piano.

You reach the instrument without any issue, by luck of a miracle. The lump in your throat subsides as you sink onto the piano bench, and your fingers dance over the knobs on the bench to adjust it to your liking. Lift your left hand high, right one at the ready on the keys for the cue from your left. You drop your left hand to the keyboard and begin playing your piece to the best of your ability.

All your focus becomes consumed by the keys and music in your ears. You can’t even glance up to watch your professor or Hongjoong’s expression, too enraptured with your playing to think about anything other than the piano. Your whole body follows the tempo of the piece. You sway back and forth, following the movements of your hands as they dance across the ivory keys, and your heart leaps a little in your chest with each successful chord and note. Even if you aren’t able to fully capture the emotions behind a song, you can at least perform. And performing is what you do best. Replicating the notes, decrescendos, crescendos, chords, octaves and leaps, your runs and arpeggios all executed to absolute perfection. The entire performance is full of the excitement in the piece up until your last note after the five and a half minutes of playing.

Your fingers hover over that final note, letting it ring out and coat the ears of your listeners, and when you pull back, your foot slips off the pedal to let the music die out into silence. Applause greets you as you rise from the bench and bow towards the judges. You leave the stage the way you came, joining your professor and Hongjoong at the edge just behind the curtains.

“That was better than ever!” Your teacher cheers as you reach his side. He beams from ear to ear, eyes hidden behind the smile of his eyelids, but you don’t pay him any attention. Rather you look to Hongjoong in attempts to gauge his expression. If he’s impressed in the slightest, he does well to conceal it.

“Following Miss Y/N L/N, we have Mr. Kim Hongjoong, playing Chopin’s Nocturne, Opus 48, number 1.” The announcer’s voice rings out again, calling Hongjoong onto the stage. He glances away from you as he steps out from behind the curtain.

“They put us back to back?” You mutter the question to your professor, who just looks down at you with a glint in his dark eyes.

“The judges requested that you two play back to back,” he explains, maintaining his grin.

“Oh…” You exhale and turn back to watch Hongjoong sit down at the piano. His performance is always a thing of beauty, but you know exactly why the judges would want the two of you back to back. Whilst you exude perfection in every note, Hongjoong does more. More with the piece, he plays with the rhythms and tempos, creating music that sounds wholly his. He plays as though he is the sole creator of the piece and no one else. Each piano he plays becomes part of him. You are polar opposites when it comes to performing. And that’s what they want to see. They want to see the two of your challenge each other with your differing play styles.

The lump in your throat returns as Hongjoong begins to play. Something feels off in the very first note. A spring of anxiety pops up in your gut as you hear it. It isn’t the same as usual, something in the way Hongjoong’s fingers glide over the ivories is not right. The professor still looks quite pleased though, almost like he doesn’t even notice the difference. When you glance out over the panel of judges, they bear similar expressions. It’s a mystery to you how they don’t notice the difference because in your ears, it is so stark and unable to be missed.

The next six minutes carry on with that same vibe. You can’t place what is going wrong until Hongjoong presses his fingers to the final note. The wrong note.

You lurch forward. Hongjoong freezes. The chord echoes through the whole hall, the glaringly obvious mistake resounding without stop even as Hongjoong pulls his fingers off the keys. He stands. Bows to the judges. Heads back towards where you’re standing without a word. It’s not like Hongjoong to make a mistake, not like him at all. You don’t think he’s ever made a mistake, even in practices he is always meticulous and perfect.

Hongjoong’s hands are trembling when he comes off stage. He strides past you without sparing you a glance. He doesn’t look at anything in fact, his eyes are unfocused as he moves forward. You can only stay rooted to the spot and watch him move away without a word. It happens in a millisecond, and if you blinked you would have missed it for certain. Hongjoong’s legs give out and he begins to collapse. Your professor rushes to his side as fast as possible. He grips the blue-haired man’s arm and pulls him back up, draping his arm over a shoulder and rushing down the hall. He’s calling for a medic and an ambulance, and as soon as those words process in your head, you choke on air.

Your feet move before your thoughts do. You chase after the pair, hiking your dress up a bit as you run. The old man carries Hongjoong back to your shared dressing room. Your fellow students dash out of the room as he brings Hongjoong in. You pause in the door frame, watching the scene unfold before you with a plummeting heart. An emergency nurse pushes past you to get in and effectively blocks your line of sight. All you can see is the blue strands of hair atop Hongjoong’s head and nothing more.

Someone catches hold of your arm. It’s Minnie, and she tugs on your wrist as she spews words in your direction. However, you don’t hear a thing. Your ears still ring with that final wrong note Hongjoong played, eyes unfocused as you try to look at Minnie. She’s pulling you to the aside, away from the hustle of bustle of the other people in the hall, and trying to catch your attention. You refuse to look at her, however, and opt to stare back at the room where Hongjoong is with wide eyes. The shock hasn’t drifted from your bones in the slightest.

You don’t get any form of relief until the emergency nurses file out of the dressing room. They don’t carry Hongjoong out on a gurney which is a small relief in and of itself. Your professor appears in the doorway next, sweat on his brow and glasses in one hand. The other runs through his hair – the minimal amount that’s left, that is – and he addresses the other students first.

“You all are to wait at the stage for your performances. You can go into that room across the hall if you need some more practice time, but you are not to enter the dressing room again until the end of the competition. Understood?”

You watch the students share a chorus on nods. Minnie releases your arm to move away with the rest of the students, but she sends one final look your way, one that seeks answers you do not have. Once all your classmates have filed away, you are left to stand across from your professor with bated breath. He doesn’t say anything at first, and neither do you, so the two of you just exchange forlorn stares without speaking. The silence drags on for so long that you think you might pass out; you’ve been holding your breath the entire time as well and it’s really starting to make you feel a bit lightheaded.

“What happened to him, professor?” You ask when the silence grows unbearable.

“He’s fine. Just a small accident.” The answer is spoken with haste, and his tone is flat. The way he says it almost implies that the words are rehearsed.

“A small accident wouldn’t warrant such a reaction from you though,” you reason, lifting a hand to scratch at your scalp.

“I need to go up to the stage to be with the other students, Miss L/N.” Your professor speaks with such finality that you don’t dare press the subject any further. Instead, you watch him walk back to the edge of the stage, waiting until he’s completely out of sight before pressing into the dressing room where Hongjoong is yourself.

You don’t see him immediately, which surprises you to a certain extent, but then you notice that the unisex bathroom in the back corner has an open door and the lights are on. Hongjoong must be in there, but it seems odd for him to have left the door open when anyone could walk in. You’re tempted to call out to him and ask if he’s alright. Something prevents you from doing so, however, and you merely creep closer to the room with quiet steps.

Whatever you might have been expecting goes out the window as you catch sight of Hongjoong’s blue head of hair. He is hunched over the toilet, an awful retching sound leaving his form every few seconds, and you can’t believe that the nurses and your professor dared to leave him alone in a state like this. Hongjoong hasn’t caught sight of you yet, but you certainly make your presence known as you stumble back. Your heel catches on the short train of your dress, you throw your hands back to brace yourself for a fall, but instead catch hold of a table and manage to stay on your feet.

Hongjoong whips his head towards you as you stumble, however, and all of his attention is suddenly directed at you. There is a small excess of vomit lingering on the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand as he looks towards you. There’s no explanation that would be suitable enough to explain what you’re doing or why you’re doing it, because frankly, you don’t even understand why yourself. That fact alone is slightly more terrifying than you would like to admit.

“What the hell do you want?” Hongjoong spits out. He slowly stands up straight, legs a bit wobbly as he moves, and moves for the sink to wash his hands and face. “Come to see me suffer? Does that get you going?”

Your jaw stutters as you fumble to come up with some sort of response. Nothing comes out for a few seconds and you’re left to just stare dumbly at Hongjoong with nothing but a blank expression.

“Figures…” Hongjoong mutters. He leaves the bathroom and heads for his small travel bag. You watch him move without saying anything, eyes tracking each of his movements with scrutiny. As he bends down to open the bag, Hongjoong winces. His arms jerk, back straightening for a brief moment, then his body returns to normal as though nothing happened. Hongjoong hisses, teeth gritted as he continues to push down and get whatever he was looking for. When he stands back up, you catch sight of a toothbrush and toothpaste in his hands. It’s strange, because those aren’t items he would typically bring to a competition like this one which lasts less than a day. The behavior makes it seem like he almost knew that this was going to happen.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask out of the blue. Hongjoong all but ignores you in favor of walking towards the bathroom again, this time with toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. “I mean – what happened to you?”

“You’re going to have to elaborate because there’s plenty wrong with me.”

“On the stage, Hongjoong. You fucked up and missed the last note. You never do that.”

“Yea, well, I did this time. What do you want me to say?”

“You collapsed as soon as you were backstage. Something is obviously bothering you now since you puked. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Why do you care all of a sudden? Wanna know why your competition is getting worse? Get used to it.”

“No…” You trail off, unsure of what to say next. Hongjoong brushes his teeth with ferocity, and his gaze remains on the mirror rather than looking to you while you speak. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You aren’t sure where the desire came from. It’s foreign to you, as it the worry that bubbles in your gut as you look over Hongjoong’s form. He seems frail all of a sudden, and that’s just so unlike him in every way that you can’t get past it. He doesn’t respond right away – probably due to the fact that his currently scrapping his toothbrush over the expanse of his tongue. You wait for a reply in silence for two minutes, then Hongjoong spits in the sink and washes his mouth out again.

“Parsonage-Turner Syndrome,” he says. His eyes find yours, still as void of emotion as ever, but you blink back in shock. “Do you know what that is?”

“N-No, I’ve never heard of it,” you answer honestly. Hongjoong sighs and returns to his duffel bag, pushing his toothbrush and toothpaste back inside. He digs around a bit more in the bag before standing up straight again. A small wrapped candy lingers between his fingers. He undoes the wrapper with quick motions, then pops the black liquorice between his lips.

“Idiopathic brachial plexopathy or neuralgic amyotrophy,” Hongjoong recites the words as though he’s heard them thousands of times. You don’t doubt that he has based upon the look in his eyes. “A rare disorder consisting of a complex constellation of symptoms with abrupt onset of shoulder pain, followed by progressive neurologic deficits of motor weakness, dysesthesias, and numbness.”

Hongjoong pauses and purses his lips. He looks away from you, but the way his eyes well up with crystalline tears doesn’t escape your notice. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek in silence. If there’s anything to be said, you certainly don’t know what it is.

“In short, I’m losing the function of my arms. Eventually, I won’t be able to use them at all. The more I play the piano, the bigger risk I run of destroying them further. How ironic, huh?” Hongjoong releases a dry laugh, but the humor is gone from his tone. As his words sink it, your heart sinks further and further. You dare to glance up at his face from across the room. The tears in his eyes have fallen down his cheeks. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen Hongjoong, but you also can’t imagine how difficult it must be for him. “How fucking ironic…”

Hongjoong’s voice dies off a little, cracking as he finishes his sentence. A moment of silence passes. You debate saying something but every time you try to speak, your voice dies in your throat. A scream of anguish leaves Hongjoong’s throat. He swings for the wall with his left hand, fingers clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles are white. He hits the wall with such force that the sound echoes in your ears, and you flinch away from the table you’re leaning against. Hongjoong sinks to the floor, knees hitting the ground with a thud. His fist never quits its rhythm against the wall; he continues slamming his hand at the surface. You’re frozen in place, watching his fist hit the wall over and over until red flecks begin to spread across the pristine surface of the wall.

“Hongjoong–” You start towards him, a sudden urgency rushes to your bones, and you hurry to keep him from abusing his hand any more than he already has. “Hongjoong, stop. Stop it, Hongjoong, stop.”

You snatch him by the wrist, and he relaxes into your touch within an instant. He slumps forward until his forehead hits the wall. It takes a few seconds of silence, then a strangled sob escapes his slacked body. You catch him before he completely falls over and drag his weight in your direction instead. He doesn’t even complain, fingers finding the material of your dress and balling around it without a word. He cries against you. You can’t imagine how long he’s been holding it in, how long he’s known that this was his fate, that the thing he loves the most will lead to his destruction. It’s heartbreaking and horrible to think about. The fear of even spraining a finger haunts you sometimes, but Hongjoong has to live with the knowledge that his fate is to lose his ability to play forever.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong,” you mutter against his hairline. A laugh leaves his lips, but it’s wet and full of mucus. He nearly chokes as he continues to laugh.

“How the fuck is this okay? In what world is this okay? Answer me that.”

“I-I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is always fucking sorry. Yea, come say sorry again when you have your only passion stolen from you.”

“Ho-Hongjoong. No, I-I – stop. It’s not been taken away from you yet. You still have tim–”

“How much time? How long until I fuck my arms up to the point of no return?”

“Can’t they do anything?” Your question is spoken in such a quiet tone that you fear that Hongjoong might not hear it.

“There’s no cure. Just fucking physical therapy and acupuncture to slow the muscle denervation. Electrotherapy. Nothing that fixes it.”

“But it would slow it?”

“For a time.”

“Isn’t that worth it then? Even to just… try? The hope that maybe it will fix things enough to let you play is worth it isn’t it?”

“Worth it to what? I’ll never be able to play at the level I want to. I’ll never get to achieve my dreams, not in this condition. Not with this disease. I’m doomed no matter what. Physical therapy won’t do shit. If I’m gonna lose my arms, then I’m gonna do what I love until I can’t anymore.”

Hongjoong’s resolve is strong, even through the weakness he’s showing right now, and you can’t blame him. His behavior makes sense now. The hatred and disdain for you, the ego and arrogant nature about him, the flaunting of his skills – it was all just an attempt to hide the fact that he was breaking inside.

“Then you’re robbing yourself of an opportunity… you never know if something is going to work unless you try, Hongjoong. Even if you’re not a miracle patient who gets cured out of the blue, just trying could give you the ability to play longer. Not because you need to be the best or play better than everyone else or even play at a high level. But because it’s something that you love. And at least having the ability to do something you love is better than losing it altogether.”

Hongjoong doesn’t respond to your words. His tears aren’t slowing down, and you wonder if he’s in any pain in this very moment. His shoulders tremble but because of the sobs that wrack his hunched form. As you cradle him against your chest, you can’t help but look down at your own hands. Your fingers are trembling against Hongjoong’s back. In that brief moment, you imagine yourself in his shoes.

The first sear of pain through your arms. The continued abuse over weeks. Finally going to see a doctor. Being told that it’s a disease. That the longer you play, the worse it will get. That eventually you’ll lose the use of your arms completely. The dream you’ve had since you were a child – you wonder if it was Hongjoong’s dream too, before he was given the news. You wonder if Hongjoong had the same bright eyes and hopeful dreams of becoming something great, someone great. You imagine that dream being wrenched from your grasps. It hurts. Just the thought of it hurts more than a thousand knives in your chest.

All you can do is pull Hongjoong closer. There is nothing to say, nothing you can say or do that would make this any easier or better. You settle for this and press your cheek against his head.

…

The time has escaped you yet again, and you glance up from the keyboard to see that the clock reads six o’clock already. You wanted to get some rest in your apartment before nightfall hit because Wooyoung somehow managed to drag your ass out for another party even after what happened last time.

You push the bench back and close the lid of the keyboard. Your fingers linger on the wood, however, and you look at the instrument with a strange tightness in your chest.

It’s been three weeks since that competition. Three weeks since you’ve seen Hongjoong. He hasn’t attended class, you haven’t seen him in the practice hall or rooms at any point in time, it’s almost as though he disappeared off the face of the planet. You hate it. Class is too silent. It’s boring. Without Hongjoong, you have nothing to do except think about when the class is going to be over. It’s almost funny how only now that he’s gone do you realize how much time you spent slaving over the mere thought of him.

During the first week, you watched the door and waited for Hongjoong’s blue head of hair to step through. You always had your snide remark at the ready: “Late for class? At least you bothered to show up this time.” Hongjoong never came though.

The second week you guessed where he might be. Thought about what happened in the aftermath of his meltdown at the competition. They took him to the hospital, forcibly prying him from your arms, and that was the last you saw of him.

And then the third week passed by, and you began to wonder if the damage to his arms had already been done. Even now as your thoughts are occupied by the thought of him and him alone, you wonder if that’s the case.

As you get to your feet, the door behind you slides open. The sound is almost silent, and if you had still been playing you wouldn’t have heard a thing. You whip around to face the intruder. You nearly don’t recognize the form standing before you. Formerly blue hair has been replaced with a bright red, and it’s only when you look at the man’s features that you recognize him. Your darting gaze flits down to his left hand. It’s wrapped in a white gauze, fingers loose and flexing in the wrap. A good sign, perhaps. At least the damage isn’t fully done yet.

“Ew, it’s you,” you say, trying to contain the smile that threatens to overtake your lips when you see Hongjoong.

“Wow.” Hongjoong glances around the practice room. There is something sad and longing in his eyes as he looks around. You open your mouth to say more, but he continues speaking without you having to ask. “I, uh, I dropped out.”

“You what?” You just about fall over upon hearing the news. It catches you so off-guard that you choke on the saliva lingering on the back of your tongue.

“I dropped out of the program.”

“Yo-You – but, but the program – you were one, you were one of the only ones to get – what?”

“I thought about what you said. I, um… Yea, I dropped out. Started doing general studies instead. Think I’m gonna go for a teaching degree. Maybe try to be a piano teacher one day.”

“Why?” You aren’t being very eloquent, but the shock is too strong for you to even think about putting together a coherent thought.

“I kept thinking about what you said. Robbing myself of an opportunity… losing something I love. I love the piano, and I love playing the piano more than anything. I can’t lose the ability to play it. That’s – That’s taking away a part of me I can’t lose. Without piano… I would be nothing. I’m not ready to lose it because of some stupid fucking disease that can kiss my ass.”

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s the last thing you expected to hear from Hongjoong, especially since he resolve to be the best regardless of what happens to him was so strong. He saves you the trouble of coming up with a reply.

“I started going to physical therapy. They started me out on some acupuncture treatments, then worked me up to doing strengthening exercises and range of motion exercises. We’re going to try some electrotherapy next but the doctor said I’m making really good progress.”

“R-Really? Hongjoong, that’s amazing. Honestly. That’s truly incredible. I’m so ha–”

“Thank you,” he interrupts. His gaze is on the floor, fist clenching here and there, and his tone is quiet. “Thank you for giving me my dream back.”

You don’t have time to think before Hongjoong is walking towards you. He catches you by surprise, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his chest without hesitation.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you murmur in response. Your arms drape over him, and hesitance fills your motions unlike his hasty ones. He is warm and soft under your touch, so unlike how he was that day of the competition – cold and stiff.

“I do. Please, I-I…”

Hongjoong doesn’t need to finish the thought, but you don’t need him to. You can guess what he might be trying to say. You aren’t sure you need to hear it or if you can handle it. Instead, you settle for this comfortable embrace. Hongjoong’s breath is hot against your throat, and curse you for thinking about it because it leads your thoughts in a bad direction. Hongjoong shifts his head closer to your neck, lips caressing the skin there that barely peaks out from under your collar.

“C-Can I…?”

“Yes,” you exhale when Hongjoong inches closer to your lips. He brushes over your skin with such a gentle touch that you wonder if it is actually real. He deepens the kiss a moment later, however, and presses against you with more fervor. Your lips slot together, warm filling your chest and gut. He guides you backwards as his hands find your hips. You gasp into Hongjoong’s mouth when your ass hits the lid of the piano. Hongjoong doesn’t seem to mind though. He uses it as an opportunity to press his tongue between your lips. That familiar taste of liquorice lingers there, and you smile into the kiss.

You let him take over, his tongue exploring your mouth with a newfound interest. It’s so different from your first time together; that time was filled with fervor and passion and arousal. This is slow, gentle, almost romantic. You can’t get enough of it. Each kiss leaves you wanting more, each lingering touch makes you want to take more, and when Hongjoong’s fingers hook around the back of your thighs, you moan into his open mouth. He lifts you with ease although you do worry for a split second about straining his arms. He dispels that worry with haste, propping you up on the lid of the piano without a care in the world.

His lips attack your neck next, pulling away from your mouth to leave a saccharine trail down your skin until he stops at the base of your throat. You bring a hand to his freshly red locks as he sucks at the skin there and roll your head to the side to give him better access. Your gaze flits down to the door he entered through, and the lock on the handle isn’t turned. You should be worried because being caught having sex on a damn Steinway would be atrocious, but Hongjoong pushes that to the side as well. Deft fingers work the buttons on your blouse apart and push the material back until you’re stripped of the shirt. He pops the clasp of your bra next and drops the lingerie to the floor. You bare your chest to him, ready for him to dive in and mark up your breasts in a similar manner but he doesn’t.

His hands instead go to the waistband of your skirt. He unhooks that button and zipper, tugging the material off of you as quickly as possible. All of a sudden you’re left only in your underwear. Hongjoong doesn’t let you stay nearly naked alone for long. He leans back to tug his own shirt off, then his pants are quick to follow. As the material drops, you catch sight of the prominent bulge in his underwear. Without thinking, you reach out and grab hold of his constrained member. He groans into your touch, hips automatically bucking forward from even the slightest touch. You don’t wait to dip your hand past the band of the underwear and take hold of his semihard member.

“Y-You’re the devil,” Hongjoong hisses out as you pump his cock ever so slowly. In response, you drag your thumb over his slit, collecting the precum there and using it to help you pump his cock with more ease. You release a small laugh as his hips thrust into your touch. The laugh is cut short when Hongjoong presses the palm of his hand against your core. “Something funny, princess?”

You can do nothing except gasp in response, back arching off the lip of the piano. Hongjoong must enjoy the sight before him because a low moan slips through. His free hand darts around your back and collapses the music stand atop the piano. He seems ready to move you up even higher on the piano, but you stop him with your hand.

“N-No, wait – I just, I want you to fuck me. That’s all.” Your hand slides across Hongjoong’s bare chest, leaving goosebumps in your wake, and Hongjoong nearly shivers. Your words seem incentive enough for him, however, and he dips down between your legs to tug your underwear off. His follow soon after; hardened cock finding freedom at last. You slide a bit further down the lid of the piano in efforts to get more comfortable. Hongjoong braces your hip with his left hand and the other goes to your dripping folds. You’re nearly wet enough to drip all over the floor, positioned carefully so that you don’t sully the piano any more than you are already.

He works you open with deft fingers, two pushing into with ease thanks to your wetness. He uses those fingers to scissor your heat open and stretch you. You moan under the touch. The loudness of your moans is a bit worrisome considering you’re still in public, so you try to conceal them at least with the back of your hand. The moment you try to cover your lips however, Hongjoong reaches up and tugs your hand back down to the piano. He covers your lips with his. The position lets you moan freely into his mouth until his fingers disappear from your heat altogether.

“F-Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Hongjoong hisses. He uses the juices of your arousal on his fingers to pump his cock a few more times before lining up with your tight hole. The stretch isn’t painful; quite the opposite really, but a high-pitched whine breaches your lips. Hongjoong hesitates halfway, eyes tracking your expression for any sign of discomfort. He only moves again when you nod. Once he’s completely buried in you, you expect hasty thrusts but they never come. You blink at Hongjoong, eyes wide in expectation.

He stares back at you with an unreadable expression. His brow has furrowed and he almost squints as he looks into your eyes. You open your mouth to ask if something is wrong, but he speaks before you get the chance.

“I wanna try… us.”

“You want to what?” You ask, taken aback by the sudden statement. It’s hardly a proper time to bring up a serious subject, but maybe it’s the best timing in the world. How are you supposed to know? It’s not as though you fuck people on the daily in a practice room atop a piano like this.

“I wanna take you out. Spend time with you. Go on dates. Be in a relationship. With you and only you.”

“You’re asking after you’ve fucked me twice now?”

“Haven’t fucked you the second time yet, actually.” Hongjoong winks at you, a smirk curling across his lips. “Is that a yes or no?”

“It’s a ‘ask me again after you’ve fucked me senseless’.”

“I’d rather have your senses intact when I ask you.”

“Yes, Kim Hongjoong. In case you didn’t notice, I’m a bit more than interested in you.”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell when I was… you know, in you.”

“Shut up and fuck me already!” You protest, slapping his chest with the back of your hand. Hongjoong pulls his hips back and snaps them back against you without warning. You release a strangled moan that quickly evolves into a whine at the sudden thrust.

“I’ll make the rules, princess.”

You nod hastily in reply and brace yourself against the pillow for Hongjoong’s next thrust. He goes slower this time though, taking his time with each thrust, and you know he’s only doing it to rile you up because of the cheeky grin on his face. You want to either kiss or slap it off him, but he makes you choose the former by pushing forward. Your lips slot together with ease. It’s comfortable, easy, relaxed – like you’ve done it a thousand times and will do it a thousand more.

His thrusts do pick up in pace after that, his tongue entering the mix as well as he pries your lips open with the wet muscle. You allow yourself just let go under Hongjoong’s touch. You drape an arm over Hongjoong’s shoulder, nails raking down his back as he fucks you with reckless abandon. The angle is near magical because each thrust seems to hit deeper than the last, and your moans are borderline shouts of pleasure. Hongjoong doesn’t let up once. You’re glad for it because you’re pretty certain that if he does stop, you’ll slip off the piano entirely.

Your head falls back, lips disconnecting from Hongjoong’s, and you struggle to stay upright with the way his cock rams against your sensitive g-spot. An orgasm is approaching quickly. You can’t manage to get any words out, but Hongjoong seems to understand when you drag a hand to his shoulder and squeeze tightly. Your walls clench around his member without warning. Hongjoong’s thrusts stutter as you squeeze his cock, then he reaches up to pull your face back to his.

“Ca-Can I cum in you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. Please. Please, Hongjoong.” The man presses his lips against yours after you get the words out. You can’t hold the orgasm back any longer, and it washes over you with a sudden intensity that leaves you trembling in Hongjoong’s arms. He joins you not long after, hot seed spilling into you, and you moan at the sensation of his cum filling you up. He hunches forward and his head hits your shoulder. Both your chests heave from the exertion; you can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs. Gently you bring a hand to Hongjoong’s hair again and comb through the red locks with light fingers. Hongjoong sighs into the touch, shivering as your nails brush over his scalp.

“So… is this when I take you to dinner or?” Hongjoong lifts his chin to look you in the eye. You roll your eyes ever so slightly as he grins. The hand in his hair moves to smack him upside the head.

“You’re supposed to do that before you fuck me.”

“Eh, I’ve never been one to do things in order like that.”

“Good thing you can fuck well then or else I might not want a date at all.” Hongjoong’s smirk morphs into a wide smile, and his nose scrunches up as he looks at you. You smile back at him then press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll take that date now though.”

“One specialty Kim Hongjoong date coming right up. Though you better be prepared to stay up late tonight.”

“And you better be able to keep up with me. Hopefully all those exercises they’re making you do can help.”

Hongjoong grumbles at your comment, pulling back from you with a pout on his lips.

“I’ve got great stamina, thank you very much.” Hongjoong pauses his sulking for a moment to wear a serious expression on his features. “I’m serious about this, you know. You aren’t just some… some quick fuck to me. You didn’t have to be nice to me or give me a chance or anything, especially with the way I’ve been treating you over the past two years. So, uh, yea. Yea, I’m serious.”

You cup Hongjoong’s cheek gently and pass him a small smile before leaning your forehead against his.

“I believe you. And it’s not like I was any kinder to you. But if this is a chance to make things right, then let’s do it.”

“Y-Yea, yea, you’re right.”

“Now let’s get dressed before someone walks in on us like this. Then you can take me to dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Hongjoong pulls away with a grin still on his lips. For a moment, you just sit there on the lid of the keyboard and watch him move around collecting articles of clothing. The warmth in your chest is foreign and unknown, but comfortable nonetheless. You never would have expected things to play out the way they did, but it was a happy accident and you want to bask in it for as long as possible. You slip off the lid of the ivories. The taste of liquorice is still on your tongue.

☽ ☾

➻ requested by: @atinyinwonderland ➻ prompts:

“Ew, it’s you.” “Wow.”

“Eyes on me.”

this highkey turned into a Thing and idek how that happened but here we are aosidjfosijdfo also i did some research into PTS (parsonage-tanser syndrome) and it’s a rather rare disease apparently but this kinda issue with no longer being able to play piano and being forced to give up your dream kinda stemmed from my personal life and my sister and how i saw it impact her so it’s very real emotions and reader’s thoughts about being in hongjoong’s shoes are thoughts i’ve had myself and it truly is hard for me to even think about especially since music means so much to me but yea i cried while writing this, i hope you all enjoyed im going through it imma head out

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

Text

#i wonder what your thoughts on diaspora in hetalia are#cause its a pretty interesting topic (the post in question)

@urmomsstuntdouble a collection of things that I think about on a semi-regular basis below the cut (also thank you for the tags!)

Disclaimer: I think this turned into more of a discussion of immigration and immigrants, but I hope this strikes your fancy anyways 😅. Also this got SO LONG and I explained quite a bit of history (because idk whether anyone knows much about this), so the key thoughts will be bolded!

My thoughts are kinda complicated about this tbh; it’s weird, because if China really did exist as a personification in real life, we’d probably both be judging each other, just for different reasons 😅.

General Hetalia Cases

I think when discussing immigrants/diaspora, you have to think about why different immigrants left. @cupofkey kinda discussed that a while ago (if anyone hasn’t seen this superb post, GO READ IT NOW) about the Vietnamese diaspora, and I think there’s some of that in every country. How do the immigrants feel about the home country? Why did they leave: because of hard times, poverty? Political instability/revolution/war? Opportunities overseas? Are they doing well in their new home, or still struggling? Does their new country treat them like foreigners or outcasts, unworthy of even arriving, or doing anything besides menial labor, or have they been welcomed (rather unlikely)? Do they hate their home country (politically), or miss them? Would they ever go back, not just to visit family or the place of their birth, but to return permanently?

I think on the whole, hetalia nations would still maintain a connection to their immigrants, especially since most are still in touch with their culture, although they’ve crossed borders or changed nationalities. (However, the angst of not being as in touch with your culture as you think you should is so real; would our home countries be disappointed? Or do they sympathize, somehow?) In the end, we’re all the same that way. Plus, the alternative thought of them just disowning immigrants feels weird; I don’t even know how that would be possible. But I think that connection gets complicated by the reason people left, and their feelings for their place of origin; I’ll be using APH China and Chinese Americans as an example to discuss this hksdgsdf (sorry I don’t want to do more research than necessary and I have Thoughts about this)

**OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER that immigration/diaspora discussions are almost always case by case and will vary greatly based on things like country of origin/race/ethnicity, country immigrated to, initial socioeconomic status, time period, etc. And even among diaspora, people can and will have vastly different experiences, and it’s not good to generalize. These are just some thoughts with one example.**

1. Waves of Immigration

Depending on when people arrive, they’ve got different push/pull factors drawing them to a country and it also factors into how the nation feels about them and vice versa... Chinese immigration to the US has mostly two major waves (you could also say there were 3, counting the post-WWII/Communist China wave, but I won’t talk about that): one in the mid 1800s and the other after the 1970s/1980s into modern day; the gap is because the Chinese Exclusion Act (1882) that banned most immigration from China wasn’t repealed until 1943 (because of Japan’s attack on the US in WWII, the US needed China as an ally).

IMMIGRATION WAVE 1: MID 1800s

These immigrants were mostly from southern China (Canton area), and they came to the US because of hard times (Opium Wars + political instability because of things like the Taiping Rebellion) and economic opportunity in the West (eg. Gold Rush (San Francisco is literally “Old Gold Mountain” in Chinese today) + industrialization, railroads, expansion etc.). There was Much Discrimination against those immigrants, and many worked as hard laborers in a variety of occupations (on railroads, gold mine, farms (in the South esp), laundry businesses; there were merchants as well, but they were the minority); many were looking to get some money that they could send back to their families in China and planned to return, but over time, they settled down and stayed. I think for those immigrants, Yao would definitely be understanding, even if he might not be empathetic. After all, he’s not thriving at that time either, and although he thinks Alfred is inferior to him (in many ways), he understands why people would be drawn by economic promise and quick wealth, even if it might not be the best strategy for getting rich. It’s not like staying in China would be better lmao. However, I don’t think he would approve (?) how many of his immigrants stayed in the US when most viewed it as a temporary move; I think Yao is very surprised by how so many of them persisted to carve out a home there, despite the discrimination and limited opportunities. Perhaps he admires their resilience, the creation of Chinatowns and community and how they still come to a country that doesn’t even let them in (see the San Francisco Fire of 1906 and the boon for paper sons), but still wishes they would come back, however unlikely that hope is. Personally, Yao would never be able to stay in Alfred’s country, the beautiful country, if Alfred’s hypocrisy prevented his experience, his immigrant’s experience, from being anything close to beautiful. (You were founded by immigrants and foreigners, but now you spurn them: the poor sojourners who continue to flee to your shores, and refuse them respite from the disasters at home.) And anyways, Alfred is just the next scrappy young upstart, barely 70 years old but with a swagger like he rules the world; how could he have something over himself, the Middle Kingdom, who has stood the test of time? (Admittedly, he’s doing nowhere as well as Alfred—even he can see that, despite his pride, and despite the haze of opium in his brain. Leaving is the logical, objectively sound choice. Still, his pride hurts vaguely when he thinks how his immigrants keep choosing a country that keeps rejecting them, over and over again, instead of himself. But it is no matter. The injury to his ego is inconsequential and easily brushed aside; for they are still his people, and they deserve a good life, wherever they are. His distaste for Alfred flares up again: Arthur’s bastard child, who takes advantage of his trade (see the Open Door Notes, 1899-1900), but refuses his people.)

if anyone wants more context or is interested in the history I mentioned, I highly recommend this pdf (from the book A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America by Ronald Takaki)

IMMIGRATION FROM 1949 TO 1980: according to Wikipedia, there was very little immigration from mainland China during this period due to the Cold War and China becoming Communist; most of the immigration was from Taiwan/ROC but counted in the quota for China. Since there’s a separate Hetalia personification for TWN, I’m not going to go over that. However, there were also many people from Mainland China who escaped to Hong Kong, still a British colony, during that period (I hope it’s clear why, but if anyone asks I’ll put it in a separate post); some stayed there, while others emigrated to the US; both trips were for more freedoms and a better life etc because China was really really messed up for a bit (also keep in mind the people emigrating all had the means to and were at least middle class, usually somewhat educated, etc.). I will not be talking about that group either because I don’t think it’s my place to, but please know they exist as well.

IMMIGRANT WAVE 2: 1980s ONWARD

A lot of people came from mainland China for education; there was also an. exodus of intellectuals following 1989 (which I Will Not get into). Many of these people sought job opportunities, like those that rapidly opened up in the computer industry, there are many students who come here to study abroad, who take SATs and TOEFLs to get into good US colleges or to conduct graduate research and get PhDs; some stay, others have gone back to like, advance China’s development (this sentiment of getting good students to go abroad and then go back to China to use their talents for Patriotic Purposes isn’t a new thing, stretches back to like the late 1800s). I don’t really have much to say about this group besides what’s below ↓.

2. Immigrant Thoughts On Their Home Country

more complicated, because it varies by generation and time period and probably 203943 other things. Mainlanders that came over starting in the 1990s till now have relatively positive feelings towards China (imo, extrapolating from my life experiences); I think part of that is also because most* of these immigrants aren’t really escaping from something? They’re coming for an education/job opportunities (students studying abroad in the US (留学生 or liuxuesheng) for graduate school or university come to mind as one example), and they’re still very much connected to China politically and culturally, sometimes* more so than to the US. For these immigrants, I think Yao doesn’t worry too much about them? They’re pretty successful* overall*, and discrimination, although still A Large Problem™, isn’t the same from stuff that Yao (or his immigrants) remember from, say the mid 1800s (see above), or even during the paranoia about Communists after WWII and the subsequent Chinese Confession Program that made many people really scared of being deported. (Red China made Chinese Americans a target of the Communist panic, and the confession program was instated in order to make sure Communist spies couldn’t infiltrate the US. Those who immigrated illegally could confess that and gain citizenship; however you also had to weed out everyone you knew who also immigrated illegally.) I think Yao would see them as an extension of himself in a different land; they’re very much still part of him, and he gives them his well wishes.

However, I think that immigrants born in the US in modern day at least (1990s onwards) are definitely more ambivalent about China’s legacy + modern day Issues™, as much as we are connected via culture and heritage. Not quite sure how Yao would feel about that, because I’m not quite sure how much Yao is the state and how much he represents the people. However, I think there would be some mutual unease; does he see this as betrayal of some kind? Perhaps he doesn’t blame us for feeling as we do? Maybe he wonders what we feel about him; maybe he doesn’t want to know. Maybe he chooses the easier route: to focus on the bonds between him and his huayi instead of the grievances, and leave the rest unsaid.

Additionally with first gen immigrants, there’s the conflicting feeling of being stuck between two worlds and value systems that oppose each other in many respects. Also there’s sometimes a feeling of not-quite-being-in-touch-with-your-culture (in other diaspora as well, ofc. here it’s often exemplified by forgetting or not knowing how to read and write Chinese proficiently, among other things 🙃); idk. does Yao see that as a bit of a disappointment? Would he wish us to try harder? Does he view it as inevitable, for those raised in the US; the environment is too different, and perhaps he won’t blame us for those differences, or shortcomings. Does Yao know, or care, about the racism? What about his immigrants who try to assimilate completely into American culture, who try to erase the Chinese part of their identity? Those that have tried it, but regretted it? Are they still his, when they have tried rejecting their connection to him, choosing to drop the “Chinese” from Chinese American? Does he consider racism when thinking about them? What about international adoptees? Does he claim them, when some have not been raised in a culturally Chinese environment, and when it’s still a sensitive subject on both sides of the ocean? I don’t have answers to many of these questions.

There are also immigrants who fled China because of war or persecution or upheaval, (one example is with regards to the Cultural Revolution), but I don’t feel qualified to discuss it here, and I don’t want to take it lightly.

But, despite everything I’ve discussed above, I’d like to think that however an immigrant feels about their home country or however long they’ve been there, all nation personifications would still wish them a better life (even Yao). I mean, it’s not always easy being an immigrant/part of a diaspora (especially when race becomes a factor). I really don’t think any of the hetalia characters would say “look at your struggles. What a mistake it was to immigrate somewhere where you still face so many challenges, although they might be different from the ones back home”. that’s just No. Also, I think that when you disregard sentimentality and their inherent connection to the people, countries would still be able to sympathize with people trying to strive for better, you know? People immigrate for a better life, whether it’s because it was getting rough when they left or because other places had more potential, and like. although nation-people can’t leave their own country, I think they understand the people who do, because it’s a chance to make a new life, and it would be unkind, counterproductive, limiting, to prevent someone from taking that opportunity if it came. And their children, and grandchildren; they are still connected to their origins even in a new country, by blood if nothing else, and nations are people too; they must have some sentimentality for their people born in a different land. I’d like to think that if Yao met a Chinese American kid running around San Francisco’s Chinatown, or bumped into an ABC high schooler in a well to do Massachusetts suburb, he’d stop and nod and maybe say hello, and wish them luck, wherever they go in the future. After all, they are the products of his immigrant’s hopes and dreams, and they are his too, as much as they live in Alfred’s land.

* (asterisks): this is a) from my experience and research; not everyone will have the same experiences! please keep this in mind and don’t generalize a very vast group of people. :)

Idk if that was too sentimental or rambly or something, but yeah, those are some of the things I consider when I think about nations and their diasporas. If you made it down here, thanks for reading! I greatly appreciate it. Also I hope I got all my facts correct, but if anyone spots anything incorrect, especially regarding the post 1980s immigration wave, please tell me! Tried doing my research but there are still a few things I’m unsure about rip.

This might be deleted tomorrow because I’m feeling weird about it, but feel free to reblog! I’d also very much love some feedback too if any of y’all are feeling up to it

#i was thinking about a lot of this when writing the zine fic so this post is partially an extension of that #hws china #aph china #musings #hetalia #nation lore #hws #aph #aph china headcanons #hetalia worldbuilding #headcanon musings #hetalia headcanons #I GUESS??

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gaemkyuu · 3 years

Text

The Meeting

Warnings: implied intercourse, but not described A/N: First story that I am posting! I have four more parts, so if you like it, leave me a comment and I will post the others :) Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece on Charlie Gillespie. In no way do I claim or declare that Charlie’s portrayal is accurate to real life. I do however, own Teagan Valencia :)

Masterlist

The Teagan Valencia Series: The Meeting / The Fight / The Proposal / The Present / The Recovery / The Future

The Meeting

“Quiet on set...! And...Action!”

Teagan watched in silent adoration as Charlie delivered his lines. She didn’t always have the opportunity to sneak away from work to watch him work, but today was an exception. The second season was well underway in the filming process and their popularity was increasing. Kenny noticed Teagan out of the corner of his eye and motioned her over so that she could watch the scene from the monitor. She was amazed at how Charlie looked playing Luke. She had met him three years ago when he was filming Season 1, but yet the boy on camera looked exactly like he did that same day three years ago.

***

Teagan had been visiting Vancouver that weekend to visit family and help her sister get settled. Her little sister had been accepted into the University of British Columbia in the Business program studying Accounting and Finance. She was the pride and joy of filipino immigrant parents as she was attending an esteemed university and getting a degree. All the while their oldest, Teagan, had opted for a non traditional method of getting into the marketing industry by working for a popular canadian clothing brand. Her sister was going to be a university graduate while Teagan worked her way up the ladder in a retail store. Teagan always knew that going to school wasn’t where her path was taking her, but she always knew that hard work, determination and experience were valuable assets in the job market. Something her parents would never understand.

“Charlie watch out!”

They were walking around Gastown in their cute summer dresses killing time before their dinner reservation, when Teagan was knocked over by another person. As she got her bearings, she felt cold liquid on her chest and the weight of another body. The other person quickly scrambled to their feet and profusely apologized, helping her stand as her cousins stood there in shock. She heard a couple more footsteps rush over to where she were standing, dusting off her butt and looking her tackler in the face. In an instant, Teagan had forgotten what had happened as she got lost in the deep green pools of the man in front of her. It wasn’t the eye colour that stole her focus, but rather the intensity of emotions that he conveyed through them. Teagan could see and feel the embarrassment, regret and sincerity of the man.

“Teags?”

Her cousin’s voice broke her trance and she blushed when she realized she had been staring. She noticed that two other people stood behind him, in which she assumed was her friend. One was fairly tall and blonde and the female with long auburn hair and a beanie. Teagan forced herself to focus on what the man was saying rather than the beautiful eyes in front of her.

“I am so so so sorry. I completely didn’t see you and didn’t mean to ruin your dress or tackle you to the floor” Teagan looked down at her once cute summer dress covered in iced coffee from Starbucks. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Teagan stood there speechless.

“Uh-uhm- D-Don’t worry about it! It’s totally fine” Teagan felt slightly flustered and out of breath, her blush deepening as she heard her cousin scoff on the side. “I can quickly just go and buy something else to wear”

“Please let us pay for it! We feel horrible!” the man’s female friend offered coming closer to Teagan motioning the other two males as well.

“Seriously, it’s fine! I’m totally fine! Don’t worry about it!” Teagan couldn’t quite understand why she felt embarrassed when they were the ones who were at fault. “What happened anyway?”

“Our friend thought it would be funny to run away with my iced coffee and wasn’t looking where he was running. It’s my fault too because I was chasing after him” the blonde one shyly confessed, rubbing his neck apologetically. “I hope we didn’t ruin your night”

“We were just killing time waiting for our reservation. It isn’t for another half an hour, so we have ample time to grab Teagan a new dress” Teagan silently thanked her cousin as her brain was malfunctioning at the handsome man in front of her.

“We seriously feel so bad, can we please make it up to you somehow?” the female tried to offer some sort of compensation again.

“It’s totally fine, no hard feelings. It wasn’t like it was on purpose right?” Teagan’s brain started to slowly function as she declined the offer of the female.

“Seriously, we need to make this up to you two. I won’t take no for an answer and if you do say no, I’ll just follow you around until you say yes” The handsome man took a step closer to Teagan, causing her breath to catch and swallow deeply.

“Uhm, okay! I mean, if you won’t take No, I’d much rather just make new friends instead of gaining a stalker!” Teagan could feel her words tumble clumsily out of her mouth. Thus began the start of a new friendship. Teagan, her cousin and their new friends ventured to the nearest H&M to find something else for her to wear. Turns out that the other female, Savannah, had excellent taste in clothing. They all came to learn that they were all in the same age range, with Tegan being born in 1997 and Owen, the blonde being born in 2000. Teagan also came to learn that her handsome tackler’s name was Charlie and that all three of them were actors for a new Netflix project that was scheduled to air in the New Year. The three ladies got along incredibly and their shopping trip turned into all five of them going to dinner. They had lucked out when a table of 5 before them no-showed the restaurant. They spent the evening getting to know one another and a deep friendship was easily formed. Throughout the night, Charlie and Teagan connected on several levels and at times forgot there were three other people at the table. Occasionally the two would banter or tease each other, even though they had met that day. As their dinner came to an end and bills were paid by none other than Charlie, the girls exchanged contact information, planning to hangout on their next day off. But before Teagan could walk away for the night, Charlie slipped a piece of paper in Teagan’s hand apologizing one more time for running into her.

‘Coffee? This time I won’t spill it on you’ was messily written on the one side, with his phone number on the other. Teagan’s cousin didn’t notice the smile that lit up her face, but she quickly snapped a picture of it and tucked it in her purse for safe keeping.

That coffee date with Charlie ended up becoming a regular occurrence, though the only one who would be drinking coffee would be Teagan as Charlie always settled for tea or whatever dessert or smoothie he wanted to explore that day. She appreciated his adventurous side as she was creature of habit at times. She learned a lot about the industry and the many quirks of Charlie Gillespie. Soon, coffee dates turned into dinner dates and dinner dates turned into weekend cuddles and relaxation, but filming would eventually wrap and the holidays approached, leaving Teagan and Charlie to make a definitive decision in their relationship. Teagan didn’t expect to extend her Vancouver visit from a week to about a month and a half. Reality was coming fast ans soon Charlie would be back to LA and Teagan working in Edmonton.

“Charlie, what are we?” she asked him as both sat on the couch of his apartment. Mama Mia played softly in the background on the TV as she turned to face him.

“Well what do you want to be?” he cheekily asked her, flashing one of his killer smiles.

“Je suis sérieuse. Tu retournes à LA toute suite et moi à Edmonton. C’est quoi ça?" Charlie knew that when Teagan spoke to her in french she was serious. It was one of the things he learned early on about Teagan. He was pleased to know that she was fluent in french, having taken an IB course in high school, but they often bantered about their accents. She understood how french was a huge part of who he was and she didn’t speak to him in french unless it was important. She knew it got his attention right away since he was so used to being around people who only spoke english.

He paused the TV, complete silence filling the room, both of them facing one another. Charlie was off to Vietnam for the holidays and Teagan planned to spend hers with her family in Edmonton, seeing as she had made an impromptu extension to her trip in Vancouver. He knew that the next time they would be seeing one another they would be crossing borders to visit one another and to be honest the distance felt a bit overwhelming. But Charlie couldn’t shake the fact that there was something about Teagan that he didn’t want to let go.

“What’s going to happen when we both go back to living the way we were before one another?” Charlie chuckled softly to himself, knowing his decision. Teagan cocked an eyebrow at his response.

“Well nothing’s going to go back to the way it was before Teags” she loved hearing Charlie use her nickname. He said it in a way that sounded so comforting to her ears. “You’re mine right?”

“Define: mine” Teagan smiled coyly at Charlie, already understanding what he meant. “I need help understanding you. I don’t speak Charlie Gillespie Language” Charlie rolled his eyes and got down in front of Teagan, settling in between her legs.

“Teagan Jillian Valencia, will you be my girlfriend?” He jutted his lips forward ever so slightly to create the perfect pouty lips and then he comboed them with his best puppy eyes. Teagan shook her head at the dramatics of the man in front of her and kissed him on the lips, pulling him up and forward. “So, that’s a yes?”

She nodded and kissed him again, this time a little more aggressively. Charlie took the hint and started getting all handsy, but Teagan broke their kiss. “As much as I would love to do this right now, Owen comes home in 30 minutes and I would much rather him not walking in on us, again”

“Well let’s make this quick and move to the bedroom!”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #fanfiction #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #imagine

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

this is the life

ole miss rafe x reader

you and your boyfriend deal with your ~futures~

literally no one asked for this lol, i’m sorry

(warnings: cursing)

Your animal and dairy sciences seminar had a report due that you’d stayed up very late making last minute edits to because you were stressed it was really bad. The next morning was brutal. Not only was in an 8 a.m. lecture, but your coffee machine was out and you overslept, barely giving yourself enough time to get to class before the professor checked attendance.

You slid into your seat, out of breath, just as started scanning the seating chart for attendance. The boy who sits next to you turned to ask, “Library was backed up this morning?”

“What?” you asked, halfway paying attention, still scrambling to get your notebook out.

“Since you’re running late, I’m assuming it’s because the library was busy when you went to print your report.”

Your stomach dropped and you swore, “Fuck. I forgot to print it. Fucking fuck. I submitted it online but I forgot we needed to hand him a physical copy too. Oh god I can’t afford to fail this class.” You were getting worked up and the boy was starting to look more and more like he regretted talking to you in the first place.

“I mean he’s pretty chill, so I’m sure if you explain he’ll let you bring it by his office later.”

The boy had a point, but you were already too far gone. For the rest of the class, you were unfocused, and if someone asked you what he lectured on, you’d have no clue, so preoccupied with rehearsing how you were going to beg him for an extension. You only had one other class, and you’d definitely be able to print it out and run it to him between them, but that was depending on if he let you.

Just as class was ending, your phone vibrated in your hoodie pocket, and you checked it, immediately calmed at seeing a text from your boyfriend. Rafe sent Can’t wait to see you this weekend and whatever had a grip on your chest loosened enough for you to take a full breath for the first time since waking up.

After speaking to your professor and his reassurance that you didn’t really need to worry much about the written report, that it was just to ensure everyone had it turned in prior to class, you left, much happier, but the exhaustion hitting you straight in the gut.

Thankfully, all you had left that day was a communication elective and then to drive to Rafe’s apartment in Oxford. He’d convinced you to make the trip because he wanted to show you around the place he’d called home for four years after leaving behind his “hometown trauma.” His words.

Your class flew by, people were giving speeches and you’d given yours Wednesday, so you sat there mindlessly, half asleep, until she dismissed the class for the weekend. Stopping back by your apartment to pick up your overnight bag, you decided to last minute check your PO Box, it had been a while. To your shock, you actually had mail, and when you saw the return address, the sick feeling returned to your stomach.

There was about a two-hour drive to Rafe’s apartment from Starkville, and you had the option of opening the letter containing either the best news or the worst news of your life before the drive or at Rafe’s apartment. Part of you wanted to know then, but a stronger part of you wanted to be with Rafe so he could comfort you if necessary.

Instead of making a decision, you felt your tired brain could not, you called Rafe. He answered before the second ring and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I see that receptionist job taught you some useful skills.”

“What?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Answering my calls fast, that’s good because my time is money.”

Rafe sighed, “Can I help you?”

“Someone’s mad. But, yes, should I open the letter from the vet school now or wait until I get to Oxford.”

You heard some shuffling around before he answered, “You think you can wait? I actually have something to tell you too.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” you were a little worried, “Is everything okay?”

“I think so. We just need to talk.”

“Right, talk, are you sure everything’s good?”

“Yeah, stop worrying. Just drive on over.”

You had been excited to go visit, but after that phone call you wanted to go back to bed. With a deep sigh, you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands and slumped backward. Blinking away the spots, you buckled up, pit in your stomach, and drove to your favorite coffee shop in Starkville. If shit was going to go down in Oxford you were going to have your comfort drink.

StrangeBrew’s drive-thru was packed and you tapped your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as you waited to order your blueberry cobbler cold brew with soy milk. Right as the barista handed you the to-go cup, your phone vibrated and Rafe had sent drive safe!! <3. The fuck did that mean in the context of your earlier phone conversation?!

The drive to Oxford was boring as hell. You’d made it before, a band you liked had played there one night, and you and some friends had made the reluctant trip to see them. Turning on your podcast, you focused on nothing but the drive, pushing aside relationship doubts and the growing anxiety about the letter sitting in your passenger seat.

You called Rafe when you got close, and he was waiting outside his building when you finally found a visitor’s spot. He jogged over to grab your overnight bag and bent down to give you a quick kiss, before greeting you with, “Hey, baby, how was the drive?”

“Boring as fuck, nothing new.”

“Went smoothly?”

“About as smooth as possible. I’ve had to pee for the last like 40 minutes though, so it’d be great if I could do that now.”

He laughed and turned to walk to his building, motioning for you to follow him. You did, scampering a little to keep up with his long strides, and he unlocked a door on the first floor, holding it open for you, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.”

Rafe was sitting on the couch when you made it back out to the living room, and you finally took a good look at him. His laptop was on the coffee table and he was wearing a pair of Ole Miss sweats, a worn-out t-shirt, and a pair of glasses you were unaware he needed.

“Take a picture,” he interrupted your train of thought and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Cameron. Now, tell me what you want to talk about so I can open my letter.”

“No, open your letter first and then we’ll talk.”

You weren’t sure why he was so insistent or why your heart rate tripled, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t the coffee. With shaking hands, you held up the letter from the MSU Vet School. All of your undergrad work came down to that letter, whether you’d have to take a gap year and try to find work to apply again or whether you could move forward in your career path.

Rafe watched on eagerly as you carefully tore it open and started reading. Eyes jumping across the page, unable to focus, you barely made out, Congratulations and We welcome you and We look forward to seeing you next fall.

With a gasp, you launched yourself at an unprepared Rafe and latched on, arms wrapped around his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly and asked, gently, “Good news?”

“I’m going to Vet School,” you whispered, voice cracking in the middle of your sentence.

“Fucking right you are, my little Rockstar.”

Your face heated up and you buried it in the crook of his neck, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Only to come crashing back down a few seconds later as you remembered Rafe wanted to talk. Pulling back slowly, you asked, “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

His face lit up and he leaned forward, hanging on to you so he didn’t accidentally dump you onto the floor, and grabbed his laptop. Clicking to his email, he showed you the message he had pulled up from Mississippi State University Department of History Admissions.

“So, you know I’ve been interested in teaching,” he started, “and I’m debating whether I’d like to teach college or not.”

“Yeah, last we talked, you were leaning toward college professor, right?”

“Right. Well, I applied to a few schools that had a PhD program I was interested in, and I heard back from my top choice.”

Your mind was racing, still not connecting the dots, until he motioned at his laptop. Looking back down, you skimmed the email, telling him that he’d been accepted into MSU’s PhD in European History program and gasped, turning back to him in excitement, “No way?!”

“Way,” he told you, wide grin on his face.

Jaw dropped, your mind raced to put together a coherent thought, “How long have you been planning this?”

“The program is good, this isn’t a new thought, but MSU obviously jumped up my preference list to the top after we got together.”

“Fuckin whipped,” you teased and he tilted your chin down to kiss you.

Pulling away he brushed some of your hair back, “Only for you.”

As he leaned in again, you were the one to pull back, “Wait, we have to celebrate!”

Rafe groaned, “No, let me kiss you.”

“No! I want food, I spent the entire ride thinking I was going to get dumped when I got here.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“We need to talk,” you quoted, “that’s one scary fucking sentence, Cameron.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sweetheart, I just wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“Well you did.”

Rafe leaned in to kiss you again and pulled back to add, “You really think I’d make you drive all the way here, just to break up with you. I’m wounded you think that lowly of me.”

“You are an asshole.”

Rolling his eyes, he pinched your cheek gently, “Be nice to me, I’m sacrificing my dignity and lowering myself to Mississippi State’s standards.”

Blinking a few times in surprise at his sudden switch, you told him back, “Fuck off, I’m sure you were last choice as soon as they saw where you got your undergrad degree.”

Without saying anything else, he kissed you again, gripping behind your knees and shifting so your back was on the couch. As he lowered himself down on top of you, you decided that food could wait. You had your future to celebrate.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe obx #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #college rafe #ole miss rafe

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needlepcint · 3 years

Photo

INTRODUCING...

HALLE BAILEY, CIS WOMAN, 20, SHE / HER ⟨ ✽ ⟩ hey, you haven’t bumped into nia williams lately, have you ? they have been living here for the past two years ( during the school semester ) and during that time, locals have gotten to know them as quirky & charming. a little birdie told me they can be quite vain & devious though. explains why they’re an architecture major at whitby university. they really remind me of field time at six am and still making your eight am looking flawless, spandex shorts under short skirts paired with high heels you can run in, && impeccably manicured hands handling any power tool with ease. if you’re ever looking for them, i bet you can find them around the retro room.

HIGHLIGHTS...

the daughter raised by a single father, a former nhler, though also with the help of his teammates’ wives and girlfriends — a unique situation that shaped her life ; a lover of beauty, no matter what it may be, but a little obsessed with it when it comes to herself ; tiny but with a nose for scoring, speed, and elusiveness on the field that’s made her a two time women’s soccer mvp and she’s only a junior ; sometimes comes across as a little ditzy and airheaded, but though she has the look of a girly-girl, looks can be deceiving and certainly don’t underestimate her ; has an incredible knack for turning old things into new and desired items, mostly with regards to furniture and knicknacks.

THE STORY...

— cole harbour, nova scotia, the birthplace of sidney crosby the next one, eight years later — nathan mackinnon, and six years after that : nia williams. her birth was unplanned, however ; her mother only twenty and working towards med school. her father a halifax mooseheads player just having fun at her conception, now twenty-two and playing out his dreams in the nhl with the montreal canadians.

— things always work out in the end, though, and at twenty-two her father became her sole guardian and growing up quite a bit in the process, her mother vanishing from her life at that point and never re-entering.

— she was technically raised by a single father, but she was also perhaps raised by the veterans on the team and most importantly, the wives and girlfriends of her father’s teammates whose care she was left in the care of during games. it was them that taught her the things that her father couldn’t, and nia never wanted for her mother, that space happily and willingly filled by almost two dozen women who were older sisters, mothers, aunts... they were family.

— but even with all the make up and fashion advice, nia was very much her father’s daughter as well : crawling around the outdoors, going one-on-one on the ice, swimming in the ocean and still looking flawless while doing it. michael williams was a good father in the end, and grew into the role.

— she play hockey and soccer growing up, seeming to have a nose for offense, as elusive on skates as in cleats. nia could’ve been great at both sports, was great at both sports, but in the middle of high school she made the switch to focus on soccer full time. her passion for the ice remained, but the opportunities in soccer were stronger — and she loved the outdoors, loved the field in the early hours of morning.

— it was in the summer after grade 11 that she was offered a scholarship from whitby university to play women’s soccer ( amongst others ), but whitby fit the bill for what she wanted, and port briar reminded her a lot of home in cole harbour with the chilly sea. so after graduation, she was off to whitby to play soccer.

— on the college scene, it became obvious that nia simply put, was a star. a small but ever elusive forward who had speed that didn’t seem possible with her stature and an ability to score like no one else. the campus loved her, the team loved her, and opposing teams loved to hate her on the field. she was named mvp of the team as a freshman, a feat she would repeat her sophomore year as well. she’s currently gunning for her third.

MISC...

— architecture feels like an odd choice for those who don’t know nia well. she tends to come across as a little bit of an airhead, ditzy, not always the greatest with common sense. but she is actually quite book smart and sometimes, the ditziness is just a bit of an act. she had fostered a bit of FASCINATION with arenas having been in so many growing up, she began to harbor a desire to design one ( and to do it better ). sketching had been something that held her attention when she needed to be seated and still, and that fit in perfectly. after entering whitby undeclared, nia found herself drawn to the architecture department and program, officially declaring at the end of her freshman year.

— nia is hardly ever still : tapping fingers, jumping knees, sitting and then standing. she was diagnosed with adhd when she was seven. she is medicated for it now, but it also still manifests in attention deficient for her, leaving a wake of unfinished projects in her wake. sports had been one of the few things that held her attention, kept her occupied, and one of the few things she worked to hone her skills in.

— because of her tendency to jump from one thing to another, it’s no surprise she had a litany of hobbies that she’s tried : you name it, she’s likely tried it once. everything from yoga, to sewing, to painting, to rock climbing. in some ways it’s made her a bit of a jack of all trades, though she always comes back to soccer in the end.

— however, one of thing did stick, kinda. in high school she took a woodworking class and from that spawned a hobby of furniture upcycling. her father had always been good with his hands and she knew her way around power tools, still does. she takes great pride in being able to fix things to be usable again, and loves to shop around the retro room or drive around port briar looking for things left at the curb. it can’t be a huge project though, like anything, if it’s not done in one go, chances are she may never return to finish the project.

— she lives in an off-campus apartment this year after spending the first two in dorms. she’s looking forward to having her own space and kitchen ( even with roommates ).

— rigid schedules help her to keep organized when her natural tendency is to fall back into messiness and chaos. living with a neat roommate has helped her in some ways, because though messiness is her tendency, she finds that neatness helps her to keep focused and on track. being reminded to clean every week has been good for her.

— her favorite color is red and she has a penchant for red nails and red lipstick.

— her father is now an assistant hockey coach in the ncaa, but not at whitby. she sees him when that school in in town though she’s always rooting for whitby. her summers are spent back in cole harbour and she is still in touch with some of the wives and girlfriends who she’d been so close to.

— she’s an early bird, as odd as it is. she’s always loved sunrises over the atlantic ocean. you can find her either on the field or out for a run in the early hours, and then when the snow flies, likely doing yoga.

PERSONALITY...

— on the surface nia is very much a pretty girl. always looking flawless, a little ditzy, a little shallow. her smile is her weapon and she uses it to get people on her side. she likes people to like her, though one might hesitate to truly classify her as a nice girl or a mean girl. she ends up falling somewhere in the middle as most people do, never mean without cause but not friends with anyone. her enemies aren’t always obvious, something kept under wraps with petty glares and muttered comments. she doesn’t go looking for trouble, but if it crosses her path she meets it head on. her soccer star status has endeared her with some and made her just as many enemies, especially on their rival teams. she’s generally sweet to everyone she meets, but wrong her and she’ll be the first to be shit talking behind your back.

— men and women alike find her charming, something that suits her tastes. she’s been in a fair number of flings, though nothing that she ever saw as longterm. nia in general doesn’t look at the big picture, which has frustrated some who saw something more with her. but people still love her all the same. it’s a power she pretends to not know she has, but she’s more devious than her lipsticked smiles portray her to be.

— she has a thing for looks, rarely looking less than pristine herself, even in the middle of practice on a hot pre-season day. beauty, she’s been told, starts on the inside, and she does believe that, but helping along the outside never hurts either. she likes to feel good about herself, and comfort doesn’t always take precedence.

— nia always has a schedule, but at the same time, she’s almost always late. time management is a thing she’s still working on, and the only advice is to tell her anything is fifteen minutes earlier than it is.

— she’s a pretty girl, but has never felt like she had to stick to that box. instead, she has a way of just looking flawless no matter what that does. people judge her from her appearance and she knows that, but she also relishes in being able to prove people wrong. she knows her way around a math class and almost every power tool there is, she’s not afraid to get dirty --- just looking bad, so she’ll find a way to make mud look flawless. she’s obsessed with beauty, just not always the most conventional forms of it.

APPEARANCE...

— 5′0″, built lithe and fast.

— style : cute and cottagecore on the daily, but isn’t afraid to toe the line into edgy for nights out. a bit of “hardness” can make its way into her outfit in blacks and faux leathers matched with flowy silks and puff sleeves. she can make the switch from “good girl” to “bad girl” as quickly as she wants, depending on how she’s feeling that day.

— jewelry : an absolute sucker for jewelry. often is on esty too often despite her already extensive collection of bracelets, necklaces, and rings. her style is often dainty jewelry, though she doesn’t discriminate.

— tattoos : a small butterfly on the back of her left shoulder

— scars : several small nicks and almost invisible ones

OOC...

hiiii. it’s ollie again ✌️😎... and bc i normally play hockey bois... here’s my self-indulgent tie to hockey via nia whoops.

#briar.intro #( that pic of halle truly just... wow )

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lnarizakis · 4 years

Text

i thought i’d never see the love of my life again, but here you are, right in front of me | b. meguru

pairing: bachira meguru x gen! reader

foreword: my first time writing for blue lock and for bachira!!! hopefully i did best boy (and my bf) some justice. i had so much fun writing this and i hope you guys have fun reading it hahaha. the request i was inspired by said that the reader was the one who moved away, but uh, i made it different. i still hope this is good for u!! and i hope you guys enjoy this!!

wc: 1.9k+

look out for: angst to fluff, spoilers pertaining to bachira’s backstory, post-blue lock storyline ((made-up ending, not spoilers!!))

━━━━━━━━━━☆

"You know, I never thought you were weird."

You extended out your hand, reaching out to the poor boy beat down to the ground. He looked up to you with sadness in his eyes and defeat in his inconstant breathing. He clasped onto your hand and you pulled him up from his misery. The two of you stood on the soccer field alone, and the sadness in his eyes were washed out with relief as he embraced you, crying into your shoulder.

When Bachira pulled away, you noticed the snot that ran down his nose was tinted red, mixed with blood, and you yelped in surprise, pushing him out of the soccer field with you. He laughed at your concern as the two of you made your way towards his household.

Holding his soft hand, you maneuvered around his home as you've been there several times, towards the bathroom where you were to take care of Bachira. You set him on the edge of the sink, directly in front of you, and brought out the first-aid kit stowed away in one of the cabinets of the bathroom.

Sighing, you thought to yourself, "I wish Meguru didn't have to go through all of this. I'm here for him, and I hope he knows that." You looked up at his innocent face, dabbing the wounds inflicted by his teammates with water, washing away the dried blood. He flinched when you began treating his wounds with alcohol, and to calm his nerves you placed a hand over one of his, tightly gripping the edge of the sink on which he sat. Bachira watched your face, intently focusing on tending to his wounds, and he could feel his heart racing, not from the adrenaline of the game the two of you just played, but from how you cared for him and how you were always there for him, despite all the names he'd been called for playing independently and strangely on the field.

Bachira Meguru wanted to say he was in love with you. Though he wanted to laugh at himself for being in love at only age ten, he knew that these feelings that he had for you were real. The monster in his heart whispered in his ear, telling him so. He knew that you, too, had a monster within yourself, caring for him like the gentle spirit it was. While Meguru's own was wild and reckless, consuming his whole being, yours was there to pull him up before he sank deep into madness. He wanted to say he was in love with you because he knew you felt the same.

"Good game out there," Bachira said instead, breaking the comfortable silence. The hand on his own moved up to pinch his mouth shut, not letting him speak anymore.

"Don't talk, Meguru. Some of the dirt on your cheeks might get into your wounds." He hummed, agreeing to your command.

"You're pretty skilled at your age, (Y/N)-chan. Are you gonna be a nurse when you grow up?" Bachira asked, irking you as he agreed not to speak just seconds ago. You were a passionate lover, and it got on your nerves that Bachira didn't follow what you just advised, creating the chance that he might infect his own wounds.

"Meguru, please."

He gave a single, short nod.

When you finished, Bachira hopped off of the sink and gave you another hug, wrapping his arms around you to the point where it felt like he could touch his own shoulders. Letting go, he thanked you, and as you acknowledged his gratitude, you made your way towards the front door, leaving.

That's how it always had been: you would play soccer with Bachira and his teammates almost every day, no matter the weather or the time, and typically by the end of the game he was beaten up by whoever because of his playing style. You thought it was cool—impressive, even—but apparently his teammates didn't think so. After everyone had left, you'd lift him up from wallowing in the grass with his tears and the monster in his heart to accompany him and bring him home (sometimes on your back) to tend to the injuries he'd gotten. It was a painful routine for you to follow, but it was all you had to do to stay by Bachira's side. After all, you loved him with everything you had.

Seven years later, you were there when Bachira opened up a letter inviting him to attend a training camp called "Blue Lock." Thinking it was a mere training camp to better his skills in soccer, you thought it was something that would last a week, or probably even two, but you didn't realize that the last words he would tell you for several years were "Make sure you've got something warm for me when I come back!"

It was the first time since forever when the two of you went separate paths, and even as you continued on in high school and into university, Meguru never left your mind. You wondered if he still remembered you, as soccer would be the only thing running through his own mind at an intense training camp like Blue Lock. You have heard of boys dropping out of the camp every few weeks ever since Bachira left, and though you didn't want to admit it, you wished that he would come home to you, holding him in your arms as he cried to you about his ruined dreams. It was an unpleasant thought that sat in the back of your mind, taunting you about your selfishness. It was ironic that despite how generous you were with caring for Bachira, you were completely selfish with keeping him to yourself. Perhaps that was the effect love had on you, though you weren't so sure if he was still in love with you, too.

He was. He knew he was, and always will be in love with you as much as he was in love with soccer. He missed you everyday he was in stuck in Blue Lock, and he would constantly tell the friends he made about his love. One night, Isagi Yoichi asked him as they laid in bed about who you were, and the former might as well have called Bachira's description of you his bedtime story because he rambled on for hours on end about you. The lilting tone in Bachira's voice was reason enough for Isagi to know how much you meant to the boy.

There was a knock on the door, several years since Bachira left for Blue Lock, and you let go of the book in which you were studying for medical school to open the door. In front of you was Bachira Meguru, weary and tired. Right away he fell into your arms, and his whole weight dropped on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and he exhaled deeply. From over his shirt you could feel his toned muscles that he grew from undergoing the extensive physical training.

Bachira pulled away from you, and upon seeing your face, he smiled just as he did when the two of you were children. "It's nice seeing you again, (Y/N)-chan. I missed you." He pinched your cheek with his calloused fingers, to which you whined. He laughed heartily at the exchange, and held your hand as he dragged you out of the house.

"Meguru! I was studying!" The two of you talked as if he never left.

"You can do that later! Let's go out!" He exclaimed, pulling you to his side.

Flustered at his words, you stuttered out what seemed like a question. Bachira simply laughed at your response. He took you towards the nearby beach of Chiba, and as soon as your feet touched the sand he collapsed onto the soft surface, beckoning you to do the same. An uneasy silence, unfamiliar to how it was in the past, rested over you two as you watched the calm waters in front of you.

"So, how was Blue Lock?" You asked, hoping to get some answer of the mysterious program. You had so much to ask him and to tell him after all these years. You turned your gaze to Meguru who still stayed watching the quiet waves.

"They didn't want me. I was playing against real monsters, (Y/N)-chan. More than the monster in me. In you." Bachira turned towards you and poked your chest. The both of you chuckled a bit. He sighed, then fell onto the sand, lying down. You did the same, and you were both looking up at the afternoon sky. "I don't know, (Y/N). I went to Blue Lock to find someone who could play with me, and don't get me wrong, I found people, but..." He paused.

"I also went to improve and get better. Like everyone else there. And I guess I just wasn't enough."

Frowning, you felt a pang in your heart and the initiative to reach out to him again.

"Don't say that, Meguru. You're amazing at soccer. You're always impressing everyone on the field, making everyone seem like a fool."

Bachira turned to face you, and you to him. "You really think so?"

"Of course. You're an amazing person, Meguru,” you told him with absolute certainty in your voice.

“I love you, (Y/N)-chan.”

“I love you too.” A pause. “Wait, what?” You sat up in the sand to look at Bachira, who lay beside you, smiling giddily up at you with a slight blush painting his cheeks. His hands were rested behind his head.

“I said I love you. And you love me, too.”

“I also missed you,” you added. Bachira noted how you never denied your loving him.

“I missed you, too. Did you know I never stopped talking about you one night that everyone on my team kicked me out of our room and I had to sleep in the bathroom that night?”

You laughed. “Did you really?”

“Yes! And it was so cold in there, too. No one gave me any blankets or anything!” The both of you laughed as you extended a hand to reach out to Bachira, helping him sit up on the sand. He never let go of your hand, and instead he clasped his fingers between yours. You both watched the intimacy of his actions, and you were slightly afraid he could feel the sudden warming of your hand.

Looking into his golden eyes, you could sense a seriousness about him. “You know, I wasn’t kidding about what I said,” he told you.

You had a feeling you knew what he was talking about, but you wanted to confirm it. “What did you say?”

“That I love you,” Bachira said.

“And I love you too,” you replied, pushing him down with you on top. Laughter rang in the air as you cupped his cheeks, shaking with his giggling.

“Shh, Meguru,” you said, leaning down. You gave him a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling away, he looked at you like you were his everything, as he placed a hand behind your neck to bring you down for another kiss. Whispers from others on the beach floated around you, some laughing at how ridiculous the two of you looked. Meguru opened his eyes to look in their direction, his insecurities from back when he was younger awakening.

“Meguru, don’t pay attention to ‘em. Who cares if they think we look weird? I’ve told you this before, but I don’t think you’re weird. I don’t think we’re weird!”

“Pssh, when did you tell me that?” He asked, before you leaned in to kiss him again.

#blue lock x reader #bl x reader #blue lock x you #bl x you #bachira meguru x reader #meguru bachira x reader #bachira x reader #bl bachira x reader #bachira meguru #blue lock bachira

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fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Text

A matter of comfort

This was prompted by the amazing @iamsofternow ! I hope you enjoy! This story involves trans topics. As I’m not trans myself, please tell me if anything I wrote is wrong or could hurt someone! I will change/delete it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: implied body disphoria, trans character written by a non-trans author)

Nines was running just behind Gavin following the fugitive android. He cursed as he should have caught up to the criminal long ago, hadn’t it been for the fugitive’s companion who had nearly ripped his left leg from its socket as he had interfaced to induce stasis for later arrest. Like this, he could only keep up with his human partner that was blocking his sight remaining surprisingly on the optimal path to catch up even with the faster model. Right as they turned the corner though, Nines got a good view of their fugitive, who had turned in just the right way to pull out a pistol from his side. Although the supposed weapon was still masked behind his body, Nines had already pre-constructed the probability of the bullet hitting his partner. So, right when he exited his pre-construction software, he shouted: ‘Gavin! To the left! Now!’

The exact second, he shouted “now” the bang of the pistol being fired echoed through the air and Gavin jumped aside and out of the way. Nines realised three outcomes next: First of all: Gavin would survive. Secondly, the bullet would hit him instead, directly into his thirium pump, causing him to bleed out and overheat in mere seconds. And lastly: His momentary momentum was too high to break or redirect in his weakened and damaged state, causing him to run directly into the railing, tip over it and fall into Detroit River. That didn’t mean he tried to stop that outcome anyways, hoping for that few percent chance the universe would align to save him.

But in the end, it was futile, as he felt his body fall and saw the water rushing closer. All he could do was shutting down before the water would cause him to short-circuit and hope that someone would care enough to fish him out of the river.

‘Nines!’ Gavin had jumped to the side as soon as the android had said something and only started running again, as he registered Nines had been shot in his place. He watched as the android stumbled forwards, trying hard to halt before the railing, but even to the human it was obvious he wouldn’t make it with the way his left leg slipped under his weight. He had to watch as the android toppled over, desperately trying to reach for the vertical bars but hands grasping only air. And then he disappeared.

An agonisingly long moment later, Gavin found himself at the very same railing, leaning over and staring down at the splash that was the only evidence Nines hadn’t just simply disappeared into thin air. ‘Nines!’ Could androids swim? Was Nines light enough so it was even possible? Was he even waterproof? How severe had the wound been? Would he survive this? He was short of jumping himself, but held himself back, calling backup instead. He informed them of what had happened, that their fugitive had escaped and was armed. ‘I need a technician here. And… A diver probably. As soon as possible!’

About an hour later, Gavin stood at the side of a scene that could have been finny hadn’t it been his partner: A tow truck had parked at the edge of the pier and pulled up Nines’ motionless body with a wench. A team of technicians as well as a group of the experts that had worked on the sole prototype’s development had gathered around the truck and got to work immediately as soon as the android was lowered to the ground. Multiple cables were hooked up to his neck port while others carefully opened as many compartments manually as they could to let the water out. The partial reactivation half an hour later made Gavin hope for good news, but the technicians shook their heads.

‘What?! What is it?’ ‘He shut down before hitting the water, that’s good. His memory core is likely the best protected part of him, therefore it is still intact. The person you got to know is still there.’ ‘I hear a but coming’, Gavin sighed. ‘Yes. He won’t be able to use this body. The damage is too intense. He will need almost a full body replacement and as he is the only unit ever developed, we can’t just put him in a new one. We will have to contact people that have already resigned if they haven’t fled the city after the revolution. It will take a long time until we are finished rebuilding him.’

Gavin’s face fell. ‘How long are we talking here?’ ‘At least six months. Likely more if we don’t have all the blueprints readily available. Some of it was top-secret and some only Kamski’s AI had access to.’ ‘So effectively, Nines is dead for the next six months, possibly more?’ ‘We will try our best to come up with a solution.’

That was about all of an explanation Gavin got as the technicians carried Nines over to a van, laid him down in the transport area and drove off after leaving their contact details with Fowler, who had only just arrived at the scene. He stood there, answering his Captain’s questions once again and then returned to the precinct where he was supposed to carry on with his job. Because Nines was in repair and taken care of and he would recover eventually. Seemingly only Gavin sat there staring at the empty chair and worrying how the hell he was supposed to continue like this without his partner, a pain in the ass but still by now a person he considered a friend or at least acquaintance, missing for half a year.

When Nines stood in front of the station, he felt uncomfortable. Not only because of the attention his unannounced visit would likely cause, but also because of his body. His old clothes stretched in places it hadn’t before, his considerably weaker state compared to his old one was unsettling, and his perspective had changed too. He was looking at the world from a point far lower now. It was an overall weird feeling.

He entered the lobby and walked up to the reception, grimacing as he pulled out his badge and pass. ‘Hello. I’m Detective Nines, I’d like to talk to Fowler.’ He cringed at the high pitch in his voice he couldn’t modulate like he could do with his own. The android behind the counter frowned, so Nines extended his hand – so much smaller and more defined, almost sculpted – for an interface. Soon after, the receptionist smiled at him the next second and let him pass the security gate.

Nines directly marched towards the glass cube of Fowler’s office, ignoring the confused faces of his colleagues. He tried to walk with just as much confidence as he always had, but it was difficult now that he had everyone’s attention. The only reason he wasn’t stopped by any of them was that the receptionist obviously had let him pass and not activated any alarm yet. He sighed, entering the glass cube and waiting for Fowler to get off his phone call. What was nearly immediately happening.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here? Who let you in?’ ‘I’m Nines’, he declared, handing over his badge and service weapon. ‘I think I’ll have some explaining to do.’

Gavin had watched the foreign woman walk into the bullpen like it was nothing out of the ordinary. He exchanged glances with Chris and Tina, who both just shrugged and looked back to the reception. But as no one came running after her, they just collectively frowned and waited for what would happen next. At least the woman seemed to know exactly where to go and she headed directly for Fowler’s office. Maybe someone from the higher ups? But she was an android… Not to be racist, but most of them hadn’t yet made it so far up the ladder, even with the new regulations in place. He watched her enter the office and hand an object over, then the glass frosted over for privacy, leaving them wonder but soon getting back to their work.

‘Everyone!’ Gavin’s head lifted up from the paper he was working on to look towards the stairs in front of the glass cube. Fowler was standing next to the woman and Gavin froze. That could only mean… Had they replaced Nines already? He had only been gone for a week and a half. ‘This is Nines. Cyberlife found a way to transfer him into a new body, so he isn’t missing life for half a year. I expect you to treat him the same way you did before and help him to adapt the best he can. Now back to work.’

Gavin always prided himself to be unphased by almost everything. This though? This had his mouth gaping in surprise. And he wasn’t the only one. But of course, the woman – Nines – was approaching their desk already, and he forced himself to stand up and keep his face under control. ‘Nines?’ ‘Yes.’ Gavin had to look really intently to notice it, but the way the woman looked to the ground ashamed or maybe embarrassed had something entirely Nines to it. ‘Yes, it is me.’ ‘Holy shit, it’s nice to see you’re still alive’, Gavin sighed as even considering everything, this had been the most important thing. ‘What- How- They told me it would take over six months!’ ‘Yes, I was informed. My own body will indeed need more time to be repaired. About that time actually. But for the time being, they transferred me into this tracy model.’ ‘A tracy?’ ‘They are the only ones that are compatible with my programming.’ ‘Would have thought they’d put you in a RK800.’ ‘We have a similar architecture, yes. But only Tracies are able to freely download additional data and programs outside of their own… purpose and are the only android model aside from custom ones that allow intense modification. My personality isn’t that extensive, but my military programming is. Therefore, they put me into this body.’ ‘Well, it’s good to have you back’, Gavin stammered. ‘I… I don’t know if I’m so happy about it. Maybe just waiting those months would have been better. At least for me. I wouldn’t have noticed the time.’ ‘Then why didn’t you do that?’ Nines stepped from one foot to the other. ‘I don’t want to miss that much time. And I worried that… That being gone for so long would alter your view of me. Also, someone obviously has to look after your ass on missions like the last one.’ Gavin chuckled at that. ‘Yeah, thanks for that, I… I guess you saved my life.’

They kept standing there awkwardly, unsure what to say or if they should rather be quiet. It was Nines, who spoke up in the end: ‘Should we get back to work? Did you catch the fugitive?’ ‘Hmm? Yeah, sure.’ Both of them sat down and Gavin updated him on their cases, after which they both got back to work. But something kept Gavin looking back at Nines and it wasn’t him trying to adjust the chair to his new hight. ‘Hey, err… you said you don’t know if you are happy about being back… Is there a reason for that?’, he finally asked. Nines looked up. ‘Yes, actually… This might be dumb, I mean androids and genders don’t really make sense, but… I feel weird in this body. I guess it is a matter of adaption, but… If I could, I would love to have my own back. This is… highly uncomfortable.’ ‘Just because of the body or-‘ ‘Gavin, I’m a woman now. For at least the next six months. And I have never been a woman before. This is… alienating.’ Gavin swallowed. ‘I… first of all, others see you as a woman. That’s not necessarily the same as being one. Second-‘ ‘I don’t see a difference there’, Nines interrupted. ‘Okay, as someone to who this really matters: There is a difference. And as I was about to say, I might be able to help you.’ ‘And how’s that?’ Gavin grimaced, looking around to see if anyone heard them. It wasn’t something he considered a secret, but he still had only come out to his closest friends, mostly because it was personal. ‘Well, Nines I haven’t exactly always been considered male myself… Maybe I kinda get how you are feeling at the moment. Just saying I might be able to help you if you want that.’ ‘I…’ Nines looked at him and maybe it was the fact that this new body’s eyes were just as blue as his own, but Gavin could clearly see the surprise and relief on his face. ‘I would appreciate that.’

They met on neutral grounds the next weekend with the overall plan to get Nines something comfortable to wear and help him set a few things clear. As Gavin waited on the bench outside the mall, he was playing with his thumbs lost in thought. Yes, okay, he would admit he felt guilty about the whole ordeal. He knew far too well how it could feel being uncomfortable most of the time simply because of existing in a space with others that didn’t see you as you truly were. Being the cause of that was just… Nines had taken a bullet for him and now suffered the consequences. The least he could do now was help where he could and make these six months as comfortable as it could be for the android.

‘Hello, Gavin. So, what’s the plan?’ Gavin jerked up pulled from his thoughts and only then adjusted realising this wasn’t a random woman asking him, this was Nines. ‘Err… Hi. Yeah, err, I thought to get some clothes for you? But I don’t know what will help you. What bothers you the most?’ ‘I don’t really know’, Nines shrugged. ‘I’m just… bothered? What was the first thing you changed?’ Gavin cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. ‘I… Well, I changed pronouns. Told them I would like to be addressed as a he, not a she. Then I changed my name to fit my identity. But err… you don’t have to do that, you are seeing yourself as male, right?’ ‘I don’t see myself as anything, Gavin’, Nines disagreed. ‘I am a program running on hardware that is now considered female. So I guess, I would switch to female pronouns? It would cause less confusion and spare me the explanation every time I’m introduced.’ ‘Nines, this isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for you.’ ‘I’m more comfortable not talking to strangers about my personal life if we are on a case.’ ‘Okay’, Gavin said, lifting his arms in defeat. ‘It’s your decision. But by the way, you can also go by them or other pronouns. It’s not that uncommon and it would go with your personal perception.’ ‘I will be considered female’, Nines determined. ‘At least for the time I possess this body. I may think of adapting something else once I’m back in my body.’

‘Alright’, Gavin nodded. ‘Do you want to change your name, too?’ ‘My name will remain Nines. I like it and I see no reason to change it.’ ‘Nice’, Gavin commented. ‘Then let’s see if we can get you something to wear that’s not Cyberlife branded.’

The months had passed quicker than thought. After an initial adapting phase, work almost went back to normal. Gavin had went shopping with Nines, buying a bunch of clothes both baggy and tighter as Nines hadn’t been sure if she wanted to accentuate her body or hide it just yet. She did underline that she liked tighter clothes as they didn’t get in the way as much, but in the end, she seemed to settle mostly on hoodies that were some sort of a compromise of both.

During work Gavin noticed a few things neither of them could change or disregard: Nines was slower now. The Tracy body wasn’t built to withstand higher forces and overheated far too quickly in high demand tasks, limiting Nines to only slightly above human levels of speed and endurance. She wasn’t as durable either. Without armoured plates and reinforced hull segments, almost every hit to her meant repairs and replacement parts. Gavin learned quickly to keep watch of Nines and more than once catch a blow from some criminal directed at her if it meant she would be spared the trip to a technician – although she always scolded him for that. Reduced strength of her model compared to her former soldier unit also meant Gavin had to constantly remind her of it, much to Nines’ frustration.

By the time the fifth month started, almost everyone had adapted to Nines’ new self and the call from Cyberlife that her body was repaired was almost like a wake-up call. Gavin and Nines had grown closer during these few months. Gavin had helped her whenever she asked for it and the mutual need to look out for each other now had changed their dynamic quite a bit. Gavin considered Nines his best friend by now, maybe even more considering how intimately familiar they both had become. He had shared stories with her he had never told anyone else about and Nines had in turn been the first person, Gavin had met outside of the internet that shared his experience. How often they had just sat next to each other on a couch in either of their apartments, sharing their thoughts holding each other close. Each of them telling the others their personal worries to in turn be comforted. Sure, Gavin had known that one day Nines would get her body back and the way she smiled, honest and bright, he could only feel happiness himself. But again, there was that little voice in the back of his head that told him it all would change now. And he didn’t want it to.

He parked the car in front of the Cyberlife Tower, forcing a smile at Nines sitting next to him. She smile back at him, obviously more than excited to walk over, but hesitating. ‘Will you wait for me here?’ ‘Of course’, Gavin nodded fondly and patted her shoulder reassuringly. ‘See you in a bit.’ He watched her walk towards the entrance turning back to give him a little wave of her hand and then disappeared behind the doors. Gavin’s smile fell and he leaned back against the backrest. Why did this feel like goodbye? Nines would be the same person when she- when he? – came back outside. He was just worrying too much, surely.

But when two hours later, Nines emerged dressed in his tight black turtleneck and white custom-tailored leather jacket that looked just like her - his - uniform had without the Cyberlife logo, his heart sagged. He stepped out of the car regardless and stood there awkwardly, as Nines came closer, hugging him with a strength that hurt as he was spun around. ‘Ahh, phck, Nines, too much!’ ‘Sorry’, the far, far deeper voice chuckled and put him down. ‘Ah, it’s good to be back in my own body.’ ‘Heh, yeah…’, Gavin commented, rubbing his arms. ‘Guess so.’ ‘I can finally see everything again’, Nines marvelled and blinked before bending down to pick up a small pebble to throw it with a force as if he planned on sending it into orbit. ‘Oh, yes, I missed that. I can finally calculate everything I want to again. I can analyse samples again, I can switch to infra-red and night vision and I can scan-‘ Apparently, the android had tried everything while listing it and now frowned. ‘Gavin, are you alright?’

‘I am’, he hurried to reassure. ‘Just… You have your body back. Anything else changed?’ ‘Oh. I guess I would go by male pronouns again. Just to avoid confusion. And… I will likely change my wardrobe again, because I doubt any of the shoes will fit. But other than that… not really. Why?’ ‘Oh, nothing, just… Nah.’ Gavin opened the door and entered the car, just to escape the situation. Too bad Nines followed and sat down on the passenger side. Gavin went to turn the key in the ignition, but was stopped by a hand – too large, too powerful, far harder than before. ‘Gavin, please. We used to talk about these things, not swallow them. I… Nothing has changed. I promise. I’m still me. My body changed, but what is my body than a means to interact with the world? I am still the same.’

‘I just…’, Gavin began but stopped himself again. ‘Nines, I… Before all this happened. Before you saved my life I hardly knew you. We were work partners and you were pleasant company. But there wasn’t… We only really became friends when you changed. When you needed my help. Now that you have everything back, I… I’m worried you will just get back to business as usual.’ Nines seemed to think about all he had just heard, then turned around judging by the sound of his clothes. He remained silent though, so Gavin risked a glance over. Nines was staring at him directly, his eyes full of concern and maybe even fear. And yes, some things stayed the same. Nines was still looking at him the same way, with the same expression. ‘Gavin. It is true I needed your help, but you are a fool if you think I only kept you company because of that. I like you. I really do. And in those few months I realised what I feel for you is more than I ever felt for anyone. I may be back in my body and have less problems, but… Gavin, I still need you.’ ‘You do?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Sure’, Nines grinned. ‘Who else can I sit around with in parks judging the people passing by. Who else can I gossip with about our co-workers? And who else can I talk to when I need someone to really listen? Gavin, when I say nothing changed, I mean it.’

Gavin still didn’t look convinced, so Nines took a different approach. ‘You once told me that it isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for yourself. I think you should understand, that just because you helped me, my need for help isn’t what makes me like you. You were there for me when I needed you most. Because of that I know you will be there for me always. And that makes me comfortable regardless of the body I am in. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes’, Gavin answered silently. ‘Yes, I do. Thank you.’ ‘I have to thank you’, Nines corrected. ‘But for now, I think we should celebrate this, shouldn’t we?’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #trans Gavin Reed #I wanted to add a joke of Nines being unable to open a jar but for one androids don't eat and also I'm always pissed when I can't open one #So I wanted to spare Nines the embarrassment #In our online drinking night I spent like ten to twenty minutes opening my damn bottle while everyone watched aaaa #yeah that's it for tag stories this time XD

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vanaera · 4 years

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Love at First Snow (jhs)

Synopsis | It is during the first snow Hoseok first meets Y/N. It is also during the first snow he prepares to put a ring on her. Little does he know, fate has other plans. (OR: As Hoseok relishes in the spirit of the Holiday season, he cannot help but also reminisce how you two, though entire polar opposites of each other, ended up together. Characters | dance major (and “academically-challenged”)!Hoseok x Genius!female reader (College AU) Prompt | “You know, you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.” Genre | Fluff, Humor, Angst Wordcount | 16.9k (I’m sorry, this ended up longer than I intended) Warnings | Discussions of verbal abuse from toxic families and mentions of panic attacks A/N | Hi Cristine! It is I, snowflake, your secret santa! This is my gift for @bts-poetry for @bangtanarmynet, and @btsbookclub ‘s Secret Santa 2019 event! I combined this gift with the prompt I claimed in @kwritersworld’s 2019 Christmas Event as my inspirations for both events have merged into one story hehe.

Everyone has some titles to live by. “Well-versed lawyer,” “patient teacher,” “single mother,” “broke student”—one-liner characteristics and descriptions enough for people to summarize the entirety of one another. From each other’s greatest achievements to their itty bitty mistakes, any of them can be used to replace an identifier. After all, people always see what they want to see. It all depends on what title sticks out the most to the majority around them. For Jung Hoseok, he lives up to the title of a lovable boyfriend and a rare one, too. As whenever people look at him, the first thing they see is the aberrance of how he ended up….dating Y/N.

There’s nothing wrong with him, or Y/N for that matter. It’s just…they are the most impossible couple to end up together as they are the most literal polar opposites of each other.

People remember Jung Hoseok as the golden dance major of the prestigious South Tigers University. He got into the Performing Arts program, Major in Dance by acing the laborious dance audition despite his unimpressive results in the written exam. Hoseok’s colorful background from his long-term dance crew, Hope World, and his countless wins in different hip hop dance competitions were more than enough proof to know he is indeed one of the top dancers of the university. With a body capable of executing each move ever known to humankind with such grace and precision, Jung Hoseok also has a stage presence that warrants everyone’s unbridled attention. Thus, it is without question he is the prided Most Valuable Dancer of his university’s varsity dance crew, Synergy. The long line-up of trophies Synergy has placed in STU’s hall of glory, all thanks to the competitions Hoseok led, are enough to say Hoseok is literally the modern-day Apollo.

However, it is not just his talent or insanely god-like face and physique that makes Hoseok so “golden.” Because as if Apollo wasn’t enough, Hoseok also impersonated Helios. Jung, Hoseok is warm and kind and funny. He easily makes everyone want to be his bestfriend the moment they met him. Most people often speak of him first thing in the morning with another wonderful feat he pulled off. Hoseok is great in the things he does — playing as the great wingman for people who need the extra push in their romances or becoming the occasional teacher’s pet who goes to the professor and (easily) successfully convinces them to give the class a deadline extension for a requirement. Hoseok turns up every campus party into the happiest event anyone could ever be in and he is such an amazing, sincere friend who remembers everyone’s birthday and gives out the nicest of hugs. Hell, Hoseok even volunteers in long-inactive “dead” college organizations like the Campus Drunk Patrol, Environment Protection Squad, and Animal Welfare Group in his free time. Hoseok is the literal sun and anyone who knows him — which is literally, everyone — will never be unable to deny otherwise.

So when Hoseok expressed romantic interest in Y/N in sophomore year, everyone around him was beyond bewildered. Most especially, his friends.

“Y/N?” Jimin sputters, “as in…The Y/N, L/N from our batch?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Like the Analytical Physics major Y/N L/N?” Taehyung gapes.

“Yeah, I mean,” Hoseok sends them a questioning look, “is there any other Y/N L/N?”

Taehyung scratches his head. “Well, no…I just thought there’s a Y/N in another batch?”

Hoseok gives him a pointed look, unamused.

But Taehyung’s true sentiment is voiced out when Jimin half-screams at their table, “Why her?!”

“Well, why not her?” Hoseok half-smiles, picking on the fries that were dropped scattered onto the table after Jimin unceremoniously pounded his fist on the surface in an act of over-exaggeration.

Taehyung sends Hoseok a disgusted look but continues his friend’s argument, “Dude, she’s like, the entire opposite of you.”

“And that is an understatement.” Jimin points a fry toward his direction, glaring at Hoseok.

Hoseok huffs, “Oh c'mon, you’re all just going overboard. What happened to the golden rule ‘don’t judge a book by its cover?’”

“First of all, Y/N’s not a book,” Jimin scoffs. “She’s like, the whole fucking library of science textbooks. Last sem, we’re busy doing a group project when Y/N suddenly spewed some SOHCAHTOA shit about the Bermuda Triangle. As if the things she said are already a whole level of weird, she even said them in a manner like Liam Neeson’s ‘I don’t know who you are but I’m going to kill you’ monologue from Taken. And second of all, the golden rule is ‘do not do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you,’ dumbass.”

“Okay I got the golden rule wrong,” Hoseok groans, “but nevertheless, you’re still violating it by judging Y/N.”

“In our defense tho,” Taehyung mumbles over the straw of his milkshake, “Y/N judged us first. I was watching Orange one time in the library and she came over and took a seat with me. And then she said some alien gibberish about how Naho Takamiya always fall stupidly on the stairs because she said, by verbatim, ‘according to basic logic and common sense, that’s not how projectiles work,’” Taehyung clicks his tongue and Jimin cringes. Taehyung continues, “Y/N said Naho wouldn’t fly to the hallway when she tripped on the actual steps. She even actually drew a diagram with computations of Naho’s fall and gave it to me before she abruptly got up and go. God, I’ve never felt so stupid and insulted both at the same time.”

“And,” Jimin adds, “last December, I shared a meme on Facebook about turning on your brain instead of your heart this coming 2017 and guess what she did? She commented below “guess, you’ll just die of heart failure before 2017 even comes.” Jimin rolls his eyes, “She made me feel dumb as if I don’t know how heart failure works. So us judging her back is just fair and square.”

“But you don’t actually know how heart failure works,” Hoseok retorts. He glares at Taehyung, “And dude, to be honest, Orange is overrated and Naho really flies whenever she trips, or gets tripped, on the stairs.” Hoseok throws up his hands in annoyance. “Seriously, are you two judging her for just…I don’t know, being smart?!”

Taehyung sighs. “Okay, that’s a bit true, but the thing is, Hobi, our IQ levels are already a bit higher than yours—”

“What’s that got to do with this?!”

“—And if Y/N’s already treating us like the biggest idiots of the world,” Jimin continues Taehyung’s words, “then what chance do you have in having a decent conversation with her? Much less a more fruitful one that could end up in a romantic relationship? There’s like a 99.9 percent sure-ness she will make you more of an idiot than us!”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nods. “Her thoughts are composed of quadratic formulas and science shit like ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.’ While I’m not even sure you know what DNA stands for.”

Hoseok gawks, “Of course I know what DNA stands for!”

“Then say it,” Jimin cocks a brow.

“Dual Nucleus Association—fuck, why am I even doing this—” Hoseok glares at his friends, “What do you take me for? An imbecile?”

“Well, yeah,” Taehyung says honestly.

“That’s why right now, we’re telling you to drop anything you’re feeling in that,” Jimin points to Hoseok’s chest, “for Y/N. Hell, how will you even click together? Y/N’s allergic to nonsense and emojis and your daily vocabulary is entirely nonsense and eggplant emojis.”

Hoseok opens his mouth to argue he also knows about the clown emoji but before he can utter a word, Taehyung beats him to it.

“Dude, we’re not telling you this to insult you.” Jimin snorts and Taehyung closes his eyes before he looks again at Hoseok’s eyes, “Okay, maybe we’re enjoying teasing you a little too much. But we can say this is just payback for you not letting us go home earlier yesterday because you said we ‘need improvement’ which I damn well think not, bitch.” Hoseok squirms and Taehyung claps his shoulder hard, making him wince. “Anyway, what we’re trying to say, Hoseok, is we just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“How will I get hurt?! Nothing’s happened yet. I’m just saying I like Y/N—”

“That’s what we’re worried about, Hoseok,” Jimin cuts him. “Nothing’s happened yet but we know something already did.”

“Like what?”

“You like Y/N. That’s the problem,” Jimin deadpans. “Hoseok we know you like to take relationships seriously. We even know that when you set your heart on a girl, your imagination is already two steps ahead, playing your wedding in your head.”

Hoseok gulps, a guilty sweat forming on his temple.

“But you see, Y/N belongs to that type of people who have their what-will-you-be-in-10-years solidly planted in their heads. And it’s highly probable a relationship, much less a wedding, is written in those 10-year plans. Much more, art majors like us are stigmatized to bound for failure because society is still close-minded and deems art won’t feed us. And by the meaning of society, it’s the ‘almighty and noble’ science folks Y/N belongs to. For God’s sake, there’s a lot of movies that have already forecasted science and art don’t mix!”

“Well, I don’t remember any movies—”

Taehyung looks at Hoseok, incredulous. “Dude, there’s like The Theory of Everything—”

“That’s science and faith!”

“Stephen Hawking’s ex-wife sang in a choir. And she also started writing after their divorce! So that’s still art!”

Hoseok was about to retaliate when he feels Jimin clasp a firm hand on his shoulder. He looks at him. Jimin sighs, “Hoseok, we just want you to not regret your decisions in the end. Y/N belongs to those snobbish high-hat people who treat everyone below them like dirt. There’s plenty of other girls out there who are much nicer than Y/N. Nice just like you. For one, why don’t you try giving a chance to the girls who’ve been crushing on you since freshman year? I know a few and they’re actually sweet. Just anyone who’s not Y/N. Seriously, just trust us on this, Hobi.”

Except Hoseok does not. If there is one characteristic to describe Hoseok other than nice and talented, that would be his hard-headedness. He didn’t listen to his parents when they tried to discourage him from taking dance as his major. Hoseok disregarded numerous peers’ suggestions to join a frat so he can “shine more.” He even disregarded the toxic masculinity fraternities promoted by rocking pink overalls with his sparkly ugly sneakers and multicolored acorn pouch (which Jimin told him was the bane of the entire fashion industry) at least once a week. He even changes it up with other colorful ensembles the fashion students make. Hoseok did not even listen to Taehyung when the former told him not to drink before taking their finals in World History because, "no Hoseok, the alcohol does NOT bring back memories.”

And look where his stubbornness got him. Hoseok became one of the greatest dancers his university has ever handled. His sole talent is enough for him to get invited to teach classes in several prestigious art colleges in the country. Hoseok gained more fulfilling and growth-inspiring friendships than surface-level ones offered by frats. He enjoyed more substantial conversations than booze temptation and toxic, trivial fights over games and girls. Hoseok even accidentally created a modeling career with local brands after his viral modeling of a peach acorn-inspired outfit for the project of his fashion major friends. Although him disregarding Taehyung’s reminders was a big mistake as he totally flunked World History, that night actually made Hoseok learn his lesson not to drink before the finals (and also because he learned the alcohol does not bring back memories he actually needed for the exam. But memories of his most embarrassing moments — like the one where he ended up performing in a children’s party as a fairy godmother—complete with the rainbow gown, fairy wings, plastic crown, and wand—because he mixed up the location of the college’s Halloween party with his friend’s family get-together).

So, why would Hoseok listen to Jimin and Taehyung when setting his eyes and heart for Y/N feels like the most right decision he has ever made in his life? Especially when Y/N’s nowhere the high-hat snobbiety concept Jimin put her in. Hoseok is sure about this because he started to see and know her more than anyone else could after the fateful night of the Science Majors’ last year’s Christmas party.

“Is that Y/N?” Hoseok squints his eyes. The person walking towards him is clad in a black coat and indigo satin slip-dress that falls short on her mid-thigh. Her hair is a mess and her small glittery satchel is slipping off her shoulders even if she adjusted it again and again. Not to say she’s also limping on her two-inch silver heels. When the girl raises her head and sees him, her face falls into an annoyed scowl. Hoseok right then confirms it is aberrantly, and shockingly, Y/N. At the sight of recognition in his face, Y/N immediately runs away in the opposite direction. Hoseok finds himself already chasing after her before his mind could acknowledge that he is actually running after the campus’ excruciating goody-two-shoes in the ass'o clock of the night.

Hoseok easily catches up to Y/N. He blocks her way, causing her to halt. Hoseok hunches as he breathlessly puffs, “Hey Y/N, why you so fast?”

“No-none of your business Jung Hoseok,” Y/N turns away from him and crosses her arms. Hoseok almost smiles. It is amusing how she effortlessly pulls her usual “intimidator stance” even in such a weird scenario.

“Well, it is my business if you’re wandering on campus grounds in the night and obviously not sober.”

Y/N whips her head towards him, “I am sober. What are you even here for?”

“According to my eyes, you’re clearly drunk. Look,” Hoseok points to her face, “you look red all over and you can’t even look at me straight.”

Y/N slaps his hand away.

Hoseok puts his hands back in his pockets, “You’re clearly doing some beautiful eyes challenge right now.”

Y/N cringes at him but Hoseok continues, “And for your second question, I’m patrolling for the Campus Drunk Patrol.” He smiles and points to the logo on his jacket.

Y/N leans forward and squints at the logo. Seeing her raised brow, Hoseok explains, “We aim to help drunk students sober up before commuting home. We can also escort them to their dorm facades and notify their RAs to come and get them.”

Y/N still has her brow raised, skeptical. Hoseok sighs, “Well, it’s a dead org so I understand why you don’t believe me. If I also learn some org that’s been inactive for five years has suddenly gone active, I will be skeptical, too. But trust me on this, okay? I’ll just walk you around until you’re sober enough to know how to go home. I heard you’re dorming here. I can help you get to your dorm if you want.”

Y/N still looks unconvinced and Hoseok releases a sigh again. He juts his thumb and points to his back, “We have our Patrol Marshal stationed there by the campus gates. He can totes see us here and tell you’re one of the stubborn drunk students who refuse to cooperate with our protocol.”

Hoseok smugly puts his weight on his left foot.“You can refuse and go ahead. But because the marshal doesn’t let drunk people he already caught go home, he will notify the head RA and trust me when I tell you I’ve seen a lot of students end up in bigger trouble for not complying with our joint protocol with the RA Council. Or,” Hoseok smiles, “you could just make our lives easier by letting me help you sober up.”

Y/N looks away, gnawing on her lip. When Hoseok hears a faint “fine” come from her, he has to keep his jaw from hanging open.

Because, why wouldn’t he be flabbergasted?

Y/N L/N, the fearsome Analytical Physics major, is not the sweetest star out there. With a resting bitch face, innateness to give cold replies, gift of the perpetual judging stare, and insensitivity to joke cues, Y/N is one of the hardest people to cooperate with. It is not entirely because she does not put in any effort. No one just found it easy, or tolerable even, to interact with her. Sure, Y/N’s smart, a genius in Hoseok’s eyes. However, what stuck to everyone’s memory is how she unconsciously belittles everyone around her. Y/N gives out unnecessary run-throughs of chemistry concepts about any movie or animation brought up in a conversation. She instantly goes grammar-nazzi on anyone who slips on the rules of English grammar, especially when people make errors concerning the Oxford comma in their papers. She even goes out of her way to explain to her fellow students the physics of how and why they drove or parked badly with their bike or scooter.

But the pinnacle of Y/N’s negative reputation has to be her merciless removal of her senior’s name, Oh Sehun, from the case study required in Communication Media Theories. In her very first year in university, at that. Although her action is justified as Sehun did not contribute anything at all in the group project, this name removal caused outrage among every college student. Sehun, who is actually the college’s renowned quarterback, graduated late and was now behind of his original team who already got into the professionals. All because of Y/N. Hence, the people in the university have started to associate her name with the title “stuck-up-iest bitch to ever walk on Earth.” Some don’t even seem to remember her name. All everyone knew is that Y/N’s one hell of a condescending bitch.

So having Y/N walk silently by his side, cooperating for the first time without reciting her rights based on the constitution with such accuracy in verbatim while passively and implicitly insulting him, Hoseok cannot help to be so shocked.

Noticing the complete silence that has surrounded them two, Hoseok breaks from his trance and leads Y/N to the college’s cafe. It’s already closed, given the lateness of the night, but it has their outdoor metal chairs set-up outside. He lets Y/N plop down on one of the metal seats as he produces a coffee-in-can for her.

“Do you just casually carry around canned coffees with you?”

“No, just when I am on duty for the patrols. Caffeine is the best way to help people sober up fast.” Hoseok inserts an edible straw for her and she grabs the drink.

“I don’t think so,” Y/N mutters, “Human body processes consumed alcohol on its own, thus, it’s processing speed is neither affected nor aided by any exterior substances. With this, there’s no such actual thing as 'sobering up fast.’ It just feels like that because caffeine is a stimulant and hence, counters the sedative effect of alcohol, making you feel alert and appear to be sober.” Y/N takes another sip, “Nevertheless, thanks for the free coffee.”

Hoseok almost gapes. The people were not kidding about how Y/N casually spouts science shit wherever she goes. Although he’s supposed to get tipped off, Hoseok just finds this set-up oddly amusing. He leans forward in his seat and props up his arm on the table to cup his face. “Anyway, why are you out in the late of the night?”

Y/N gives him an unamused look, “Because I was obviously partying. Is there any other party in the campus right now than the Science Majors’ Christmas party?”

“You’re right,” Hoseok chuckles, “but what I mean is, why are you already outside? The party doesn’t end 'til 2 A.M.”

“I just decided I want to go home.”

“Why?”

Y/N drops her drink on the table, “Are you just gonna ask me 'why’ everytime?!”

Hoseok tilts his head and smiles, “Talking with drunk people is part of our protocol in sobering up. So, yeah, I’m gonna ask why every time until the redness on your nose and cheeks subsides a little.”

“Fine,” Y/N hisses. She gives Hoseok a steely glare, “This night is the first time I’ve done something so stupid such as going to a party in an attempt to expand my connections. It turns out everyone still irrationally hates me about Oh Sehun’s name removal and they refused to interact with me. They kept sending me glares while I just pathetically stood in the corner of the room for the duration of the party, dumbly holding a cup of some alcoholic drink I just realized 30 minutes ago was what you call ‘spiked.’ These pretty heels I wore hurt my ankles and toes all for nothing.” Y/N covers her face with her palms, “God, I don’t even know why I’m opening up about these things with you when it’s just the first time I talked with you. Maybe it’s just because I’m just drunk, god, it’s so stupid–”

“It’s not stupid,” Hoseok interjects and Y/N raises her head from her hands. Hoseok smiles, “When there’s too much alcohol in our system, we get to do stuff we never knew we can. And sometimes, they are things we really desire to do but dare not let out in the open, afraid of what others may think. And it may come off as stupid as you’re letting your heart do the talking instead of your brain. But you know what? You have to be stupid sometimes to acknowledge what your brain may be missing out on. Plus,” Hoseok stretches open his arms wide, “there’s just the two of us here so no one can really judge you because hey, I’m just all ears here. After all, I’m just an officer of the Campus Drunk Patrol helping you sober up.” At the sight of Y/N’s pursed lips and eyes set on the coffee beside her, looking as if she’s convinced (and it looks like it’s not like her to admit it), Hoseok smiles wider and leans forward. “Now, back to your story. Why did you decide to go to a party?”

“Because,” Y/N sighs, “I don’t know, @keanu_reeves_is_the_real_daddy from Hoboken said in Reddit that going to parties is a great opportunity to make friends.” Y/N looks down at her hands and interlocks them, “I’m just–I’m just desperate to get some friends. I’m already in second year, and still, no one wants to be with me. I often talk about how I don’t care whether people like me or not. Most of the time, I really do not care at all. But sometimes...it also gets lonely when you feel everyone seems to hate you.”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

Y/N looks up at him, frowning, “That’s a great joke, Hoseok. I saw you hanging with Jimin just yesterday and I heard my name as the subject and "stick-in-the-ass bitch” as the predicate in a couple of sentences.“

"Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but it was just Jimin who talked bad about you. Did you hear me say your name and 'stick-in-the-ass’ in one sentence?”

Y/N glares at him. She then rips her gaze away from him to set them back on her interlocked fingers. “What are you trying to imply, Hoseok?”

"I’m trying to imply, if you want to have a friend, I’m willing to be one.”

"But you already got lots of friends.”

Hoseok smiles, “That doesn’t mean I have no room left for one more.”

Y/N gives him that skeptic look again and Hoseok snorts. “Hey, I’m being serious here. I really want to be your friend if you’d like. And no, it’s not because I pity you.”

Y/N raises a brow at him in disbelief and Hoseok purses his lips. He raises his hands in surrender, “Ooohkay, maybe like 0.001 percent I do, but 99.999 percent I just don’t like how everyone hates you for something that is not actually your fault. I really want to get to know you if you’d let me.”

Y/N just stares at him and Hoseok, for the first time in his life save for the days he’s answering written exams, has literally no idea what to do. Is Y/N angry at him for blurting out those things? Or is she aggravated he seemed plastic? But Hoseok knows he meant every single thing he said because first and foremost, he cannot lie even if he wanted to. He’s a goddamn horrible liar that anyone will know he’s lying before he can even start to lie. Second, he always says the first thing that comes to his mind because, in the majority of his life, he is incapable of thinking first before doing something. And third, Hoseok really meant what he said. He’s always been curious about Y/N. Jimin and Taehyung always talk ill about her and from the numerous negative shits he hears from them, he can’t help but think that maybe, her reputation is just one big hell of a rumor. It’s just impossible that so many rumors and negative comments about someone who he rarely sees outside the university, to be true.

Hoseok knows because he also has his fair share of rumors he has struggled to disprove. Like how he “cheated” in dance contests because no one can’t believe someone is just so exceptionally talented that they can win every single competition they join. Or how he “slept around” with almost half of the female population in the university just because he has lots of female friends and he loves to joke around with eggplant and saliva emojis in his texts. It’s hard to be contained in such one definitive title, much more a heavily negative one. Hoseok knew what it felt and it feels it’s just wrong to stay as a standbyer while the entire university jeers on Y/N for such a trivial reason.

“Do-do you really mean that?”

Hoseok looks at Y/N and nods. “Yes, I do.”

Something wet drops on his jacket and Hoseok looks up at the sky. The sky is pitch black, save for the white inklets dotting the atmosphere, lightening up the dark horizon along with the glow of sparkling snowflakes. He turns to Y/N and smiles, “Oh look, it’s the first snow.”

Y/N returns his smile this time. She tells him she wants to stay for ten more minutes to appreciate the snow before going home. Hoseok grins at her and says he’s got enough time to spare before his duty ends.

The next day, Y/N’s frowning at Hoseok as the latter awkwardly holds his lunch tray next to her table.

“Uhhh, aren’t you standing by the wrong table? Your friends sit over there.”

“No,” Hoseok quips. “Jimin and Taehyung are not seated anywhere here because their lunches are scheduled way later today. And, this, in my opinion,” Hoseok scoots to Y/N’s side and sits down beside her, “is the perfect table.” Hoseok digs in his lunch and grins at her, “You should probably start eating now, too, y'know? Your food’s gonna get cold.”

“I–” Y/N bites her lip and look away before she refocuses a glare at his face, “Are you really taking seriously your joke last night?”

“It’s not a joke,” Hoseok retorts, dropping his utensils. “I’m serious about everything I said."

"But I didn’t mean mine. I’m drunk, remember?”

“If you really didn’t mean them,” Hoseok looks at her, “then you can just tell me to leave. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Y/N stares at him, brows scrunched together as if conflicted. She looks down on her hands on her lap and sighs, “I…don’t really want you to…leave. I’m sorry, I just…thought you’re just playing with me. You know all of this is still new to me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Hoseok chuckles, “no need to be so serious. We can take things slowly as long as you’d like.” Y/N pulls up a small smile and Hoseok grins. “Let’s finish our lunches and then we can look at memes. Memes are essential building blocks in friendships.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Taehyung and I became friends after we accidentally sent each other hilarious anti-government blinking man memes.”

It is needless to say the entire university goes berserk later when they find Y/N, the campus bitch, and Hoseok, the university’s sunshine boy, guffawing over chemistry memes during lunch. Hoseok does not understand a thing, but he enjoys laughing with Y/N as she passionately explains to him each concept and why they are funny.

It is true that Y/N wasn’t the dearest person in the world. Hoseok learned this after weeks of dealing with her unintentional snarkiness and unnecessary science lessons that may seem insulting and offensive to others. But through the time he got to befriend her, Hoseok learns Y/N is just too smart for her own good. Y/N always goes around like an encyclopedia because she doesn’t know what else to say when she wants to find common grounds with other people. It is just unfortunate that Y/N cannot speak of anything that does not involve quantum mechanics and chemical structures. Meanwhile, her unintended snarkiness is always directed to people’s redundancy and anomalies in their speech. Hoseok found out about this as soon as February rolled in, that it has to do with the restrictive childhood Y/N had. This, he discovered when Professor Minyoung Park called for him after his Science 11 GE class.

“Hoseok, I see you getting close with Y/N, these days.”

“Yes ma'am,” Hoseok replies. He sits on the chair in front of her desk.

“Oh, then you must have been familiar with how she can get,” Ms. Park leans forward, “not so…friendly around people. I know she and her mind of hers can be a little too much for others.”

Hoseok’s forehead furrows. How did Professor Park know? Although Y/N’s bad reputation has easily spread like wildfire among college students, not many professors or any of the university staff have shown any interest in her life other than her impressive academic standing. Hoseok asks, “How did you know, Ms. Park?”

The 40-year old professor leans back and smiles. “Would you believe I used to tutor Y/N L/N back in middle school?”

“No way,” Hoseok’s jaw drops open.

Ms. Park chuckles, “Yes, it’s true. I know, what a coincidence right? I remember how that pretty girl used to be so insecure about her braces.”

“Yeah, she must be so…adorable back then,” Hoseok looks away bashful. He’s not used associating Y/N with such adjectives. Saying them aloud feels too weird on his tongue.

Ms. Park’s voice makes him turn back to her. “Until now she is. It’s just a shame how she did not outgrow her…usual speech style. But in her defense, it’s not entirely her fault.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. His curiosity is instantly piqued. “What do you mean, Ms. Park?”

“Well, Y/N L/N is brought up in a home…quite not friendly for children growing up. The L/Ns is a prestigious family. Not for their wealth, but for their remarkable lineage of geniuses. Y/N’s great grandparents are renowned mathematician whizzes. Her grandparents own Fields medals for their remarkable contributions in mathematics. Moreover, Y/N’s parents are well-respected chemists in almost every pharmaceutical congregation. Even their relatives are families of renowned doctors and engineers. From over ten years of tutoring her, I noticed how expectations pile up upon the short shoulders of young Y/N. Every single school day, Y/N has to attend cram schools and private tutoring after her classes to ensure she stays on top of the overall batch standing. She also has to be exposed to upper-class parties at such a young age which I think does not help anyone at all. Especially a child. All the people ever do there is brag about their achievements, scour for new families to ally with or manipulate, and eye each other’s mistakes so they can prove publicly how better they are than everyone else.” Ms. Park looks at Hoseok in the eyes, “Believe me, I used to dream about attending such parties until I finally learned how they go when I’ve been invited by the L/Ns. And with Y/N being a single child, all eyes were on her. So any room for mistakes is non-existent. Her parents assured her to grow like the perfect daughter they wanted her to be by making sure her movements are always constantly monitored and kept in check. You think Y/N studied here because this is just a prestigious school? No. The L/Ns wanted to send her abroad. To Harvard. Y/N refused and convinced them instead she’ll study here because I work here. And her parents trust me that I can be their eyes to see Y/N’s progress.”

Hoseok nods but he cannot help but let his mouth hang open at everything he’s discovering right now. No one really knew anything about Y/N. And suddenly out of nowhere, on some random Thursday afternoon, he is introduced into a pandora box of history where everything about her suddenly seems to make sense.

Ms. Park must have noticed his troubled face so she reaches out and holds Hoseok’s hand. “Hoseok, I’m not telling you these to pressure you. In fact, I am happy Y/N finally found someone who can listen to her and understand her, instead of watching her like a glass-cased perfect doll. I’m just telling you all these not to excuse the mistakes she has done but for you to understand where she’s coming from, especially when interacting with her can be difficult sometimes. So I hope you won’t give up on her, Hoseok. I know you’re a good kid. I just want Y/N to finally enjoy herself like every other college student out there.”

And Hoseok, with his ever characteristic stubbornness did not give up on you.

“What do you mean I cannot state the faulty quantum mechanics in Antman to Taehyung?!” Y/N scowls at Hoseok, fingers frozen on the book she has mid-taken away from the shelf.

“Because you will break Taehyung’s heart,” Hoseok purses his lips and steps nearer to her, almost cornering her to the back of the bookshelf. “And can you lower your voice? We’re in a library.”

“For the same reason you should also back up a bit as I do not fancy you borderline sexually harrassing me.”

“Sexual harassment?!” Hoseok whisper-yells, “I’m stepping closer to you because I feel the need to whisper louder for you to get my point that you should not explain whatever Antman’s faulty quantum shit to Taehyung because that will make him angry. And sad!”

“Why will he be angry?” Y/N sticks her nose up and crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t he feel grateful I am adding heuristic value to his existing knowledge?”

Hoseok drags a hand down his face, “Well, I didn’t say you cannot explain some facts to Taehyung. I’m just saying you don’t tell him those things in a matter-of-factly way you always do because he’ll think you’re insulting him for watching such movies.”

“How should I say them then?” Y/N quips back.

Y/N learns the answer to her question before she knew she already did it. She realizes it when she gets out of her film class and Hoseok, who has been waiting for her last period to finish, asks her how did it go.

“Well, I told him 'The film Antman is quite weird.’”

“And what did he say?”

“Taehyung grinned at me and high-fived me.”

“Well then, it was successful. Much better than how you initially decided to do it,” Hoseok grins.

“But still…I called Ant Man weird, I’m still perplexed why Taehyung is pleased.”

“Calling something weird is a common expression to us,” Hoseok starts and Y/N tilts her head. Hoseok explains further, “’Weird’ can mean as a good endearing weird or an insulting ‘weird.’ If you added statistics of probability and some laws with calling something ‘weird,’ it will sound like 'Hypothesis one is proven: the movie is confirmed to be bullshit because of unquestionable proof.’ And that will appear insulting because you are not giving room for others’ opinions to be valid. It will make you look you’re belittling them if you said it that way. But today, you did not. See?” Hoseok smiles, “you do not have to state 100 percent what you really meant. Just a bit of truth you find essential for others to know is already enough for a small talk.”

Y/N nods, her lips morphed into an amused “oh.”

Hoseok grins as he puts his hands on his waist, “Trust me on this. I became Mr. Congeniality last year for a reason.”

“What does it have to do with making small talk?”

“It means, I am the expert in making small talk.”

***

“C'mon, Y/N, let’s go to the spring festival. Please, please, please, pleaseeee.”

“No, Hoseok,” Y/N pulls her hand from his grip, “I have to study for our finals.”

“But, Y/N, it’s too early for that. The finals is yet to come 'til next month! Look at me, I do not feel any pressure to study yet.”

“But that’s because you do not have any academic standing to maintain.”

Hoseok’s face falls and Y/N immediately rectifies her mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, Hoseok. Of course, I know you also value your class standing, given your program and all. I’m sorry I’m being insensitive again.”

Hoseok breaks into a laugh. “Oh my god, I’m just fucking around with you! You’re partially right though, I don’t have an academic standing to maintain but a performative one. Although I still have to keep my grades up so I can continue studying here. Anyway,” Hoseok grins at Y/N, offering his hand out, “I only accept apologies in the form of accompanying me to the spring festival.”

“Fine, Hoseok,” Y/N begrudgingly accepts his hand. But Hoseok cannot miss the small smile forming on her lips.

“Don’t fret tho,” He boops her nose and she cringes at him, “we can insert some Q&A sessions later so you can do a bit of studying if you’d still like.”

“How will we do that?”

Y/N learns the answer to that when she finds themselves screaming from the opposite ends of the giant boat ride.

“HOSEOK, DAMN YOU!”

The boat tips and her stomach drops but all she can hear is Hoseok screaming.

“WRONG, Y/N. The answer to the drilling ship which can dig 'til the mantle of the earth IS CHIKYU! NOW, off to the next question. What are CYANOBACTERIA?!!!”

But Hoseok does more than just sticking by Y/N’s side and not giving up on her. He falls in love with her.

Through the months he has become Y/N’s friend, Hoseok cannot help but be endeared by her. The things about her he never thought will come as close to what he calls cute suddenly grows on him. It grows too much that he lives off every single one of them. Even if it usually ends with him getting roasted. He used to get frustrated by Y/N’s never-ending witty comebacks. Now, his heart started singing during their bicker-banters that Hoseok even started to look forward to their bickering. Y/N’s smile that Hoseok used to think was a standard horror level of creepy is now all he could dream about when he’s asleep, and even when he’s awake. The way Y/N laughs at him, or smiles when she sees him were heart-warming. Until they upped 100 million levels and now they have become cataclysmic for his heart. The way Y/N patiently teaches him his lessons, or how her science-y jokes and memes become funny was something Hoseok used to overlook as trivial. Now, he couldn’t wait for the days he’ll bring his notebooks to the library and stare at Y/N’s face while she teaches him quantum mechanics and chemical structures.

Y/N’s small “tokens of appreciation,” as what she called it, like her handmade ‘thank you’ cards she gives Hoseok every month, or her invitations for Hoseok to accompany her to some street event or nearby dance event, or as uneventful as a new food stall that has opened in the university were something Hoseok never put much thought on. Now, they’re Hoseok’s source of both happiness and headaches as they make his heart fly and his brain ache for thinking too much into her actions. The way Y/N looks at him like never someone else has before—so attentive and focused in everything he says as if everything that comes from his mouth has so much worth listening to. Even if it’s a disgusting tale of how he almost shitted his pants before their science exam because he didn’t listen to Jimin when he told him to stop binge-eating spicy wings as a coping mechanism to stress, Y/N listens. This used to be something Hoseok treats as his special privilege as her friend. But now, it has become a national treasure he does not want to share with others. Especially with Namjoon, his roommate, whom Y/N managed to befriend because the former is a Biology major who’s on the same level as Y/N’s intellectual prowess. God, Hoseok cannot even count on his hands the number of times he’s been conflicted if it was jealousy on Namjoon’s effortless way to make Y/N laugh, or petty anger because he cannot even understand their jokes.

Hoseok doesn’t know how or why he suddenly felt all of these things for Y/N. It just happened. And so is how he accidentally blurted it out to her during one of their conversations, despite Jimin and Taehyung’s adamant warnings not to ask her out.

"And whenever I use the microscope in my room, I’m always scared turning the coarse knob so much. It will be horrifying to see the objective lens break the slide and the coverslip.”

“Y/N, I like you.”

YN’s jaw goes slack and she stares at him, eyes wide. Hoseok almost feels perspiration dot his entire hairline for what feels like ten whole minutes in purgatory. Will Y/N leave? Will she scream at him, laugh at him even for his audacity? Will she reject him? Of course she will, what is he thinking? Taehyung and Jimin are right. Y/N is smart and he is too dumb for her to even fulfill at least an ounce of her standards. Y/N is respectable and he is a shameless clown–

“I��am allowing you to be sexually attracted to me, Hoseok.”

“W-what?”

“I said,” Y/N looks straight into his eyes, “I am giving you permission to like me, Hoseok.”

Hoseok balks. “P-permission? W-why do I need permission?”

“Because, if you’re going to like me, I need you to know I am acknowledging your sexual attraction to me seriously,” Y/N stands up, putting her hands in the pockets of your coat. “It will be a waste if you do not want a long-term commitment. I do not have time to dwell on anything less than that.”

Lucky for Y/N, so does Hoseok and he wastes no time proving it to her. For the course of six months, Hoseok courts her in the most possible best Hoseok-way. Y/N lived the majority of her life within suffocating walls surrounded by academics, titles, honors, and people waiting for her to fall. Hoseok wanted to take her with him on a break (and a possible future lifestyle) away from them all. So he takes Y/N to carnivals, dance events, and festivals–ranging from streets decorated in cheap glowing lanterns to grander events that have remarkable fireworks displays.

Hoseok shows Y/N himself at his most vulnerable and strongest. He lets her watch him perform alone in practice rooms as he expresses the things muddled in his head, things he never dares to say to anyone else. Y/N’s been with him when he broke down due to his anxiety concerning his not-so-impressive acads. She was also with him in his embarrassing drunk adventures. Hell, Y/N even participated in his crew’s weird end-of-the-sem party. She let Hoseok dress them two like the two robbers from Home Alone–complete with the rageddy cut gloves and dirty face makeup. But, Y/N has also seen Hoseok’s crew’s successful university tours, the exclusive events he got invited to, and his dance recitals that got many theater and entertainment scouts crowding the room he’s dancing in.

Hoseok shows all of himself to Y/N. Willingly and so transparently, that in turn, she started to show him her self, too. Y/N let him see her in her utter glory. She let him see her receiving awards from various electronics competitions and exhibitions, her creating the first demo of her portable printer and scanner machine that earned many positive reviews from numerous investors, and her getting featured in not just the university’s newspaper or any other school’s newspapers, but the city’s news for a composting machine she invented. And, Y/N also let Hoseok see her at her worst. She let him see her get told off by one of the people she had unconsciously insulted in the hallways, her failing her Communication GE classes, and her having a panic attack when her parents announced yet again another party of scholars who wish to see what she’s been up to lately.

These things made Y/N realize Hoseok was serious about her and she, in return, has started to cherish the golden boy who would never leave her alone for the day until she’s crying from sheer laughter and happiness.

However, it is the small things Hoseok does that really really gets to her.

Hoseok remembers the small details Y/N slips in during their conversations.

“Hey, you are not supposed to eat that,” a fork clashes with Y/N’s own, preventing her from reaching the delectable dish.

“This pasta?” Y/N looks up at Hoseok.

“It has chopped shrimps. I asked Seokjin about it and he said it has prawns.” Hoseok grabs Y/N’s hand and leads her to the other side of the buffet. There, he gets her pasta with white sauce, this time, garnished in bacon. “Here, eat this, instead. It may not taste like the one with the shrimp but at least you won’t get allergies and you can enjoy the rest of the night instead of chilling out at the hospital watching sad re-runs of The Big Bang Theory.”

***

“Hoseok, you won’t believe how fascinating my yield turned out to be, like–Hoseok, what are you doing?

Hoseok pauses in his fumbling and blinks at Y/N. He looks down back at his bag and sighs. “I was hoping to keep this a surprise but oh well.”

He pulls up something from his bag and Y/N’s left gaping when he hands her a box of baked cookies. He rubs his neck, the tip of his ears reddening under her gaze. “I remember you telling me it’s been a while since you ate cookies. My mom baked a lot for us so here, have some. I know you’re on some ridiculous diet your parents told you to take. But I hope you could give yourself a cheat day and just eat and enjoy the day. Your parents aren’t here.”

Hoseok never fails to check up on her.

“Hey, how long have you been hunched over your desk now?” Hoseok’s voice blares from Y/N’s phone’s speakers and she sighs.

“About five hours now, I think?”

“Okay. Why don’t you take a break for ten minutes before going back to the grind? You told me your back is being an ass to you for two weeks now. Give it some rest. Also, drink some water.”

“Okay mom, will do,” Y/N chuckles over the line.

“Okay my daughter,” Hoseok sing-songs and she snorts. “I’ll call later and check up on you. Don’t dare to not take a break. I know where your dorm is and I’ll break into your window if I have to.”

“Okay, okay, will do, my personal health support system.”

“Glad to be of your service, ma'am.”

***

Y/N sighs as she throws her bag onto her bed. Today is a beat day. Mr. David was sour and he poured all his frustration on their class by giving out unnecessary lectures instead of teaching the new lesson. Y/N guesses she’ll have to self-study again for a quiz the prof has irrationally scheduled for tomorrow. And oh, Ms. Peterson also gave out a heavy paper late. It will force Y/N to cram for it in two days as submission date is just the day after tomorrow. Why is every deadline piling up today? It’s not yet even finals week yet!

Y/N plops onto her desk with a heavy sigh. She’ll end up having to do an all-nighter again — wait, what’s that doing there? There’s a pack of sandwiches in a clear food container sitting on top of her desk, beside her notebooks. Y/N doesn’t remember buying one or requesting her rommate, Jae In, to buy her one. Curious, she picked it up and turned it around. That’s when Y/N sees a yellow post-it attached on the plastic container.

“Hey Y/N. I thought of you today and decided to make you a sandwich. This is edible, I assure you. I asked my cooking mama friend Seokjin to come over and help me. Eat this snack before you do your work. I know you always start work right after coming home from your classes. I hope you eat on time and not skip on meals.

With super duper mega love,

Hoseok 😘”

And Hoseok helps Y/N to the best he can, whenever he can, especially about things she’s passionate about but no one takes time to really understand.

"Hey Y/N,” Hoseok greets as he plops down next to her seat in the library.

“Hoseok?” Y/N glances up at him, eyes wide, “What are you doing here? You told me you have practice today.”

“Eh, the members cancelled on me today. And also, I’ve missed you, so I figured why not visit you.” Hoseok grins at her and she momentarily forgets how to breathe. Y/N doesn’t know when Hoseok started to have that effect on her, it just happened. And although it is starting to be an inconvenience regarding how she becomes a nervous wreck under his gaze, she weirdly cannot find herself complaining against it.

Hoseok leans forward, breaking her trance. “Now, what should we study today?”

“Uh-uhm, cellular mechanisms. I wanted to learn more about cancer cells.”

“Cellular mechanisms it is, then. Want me to help you make diagrams?”

Y/N nods and Hoseok grins, “I see the skills of artist Hoseok is not about to die anytime soon, eh?”

***

“How does that work, Y/N?”

“Well, it converts the mechanical energy from every step you take into electrical energy. It’s not yet finished so I’m still figuring out how many more parts I need for this to work. My previous demos have a lot of mistakes.” Right at the same time, a bolt pops off. Y/N runs a hand over her face, “And a lot of malfunctioning parts.”

Hoseok scratches his head. “I don’t know about any energy conversions but I know how to screw well?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“A-a statement. I can fix what we have for now while you revise your design. Whaddya think?”

“That sounds good.” Y/N turns around and heads for her blue prints. But before she can pick up her measuring materials, she turns back to Hoseok, meeting his gaze as he’s mid-picking up a screw driver.

“Thank you, Hoseok for assisting me on this. I know it’s just a personal project and I may be taking too much of your time when you should probably be resting at your dorm.”

“Pssh, you’re not taking too much of my time. I am enjoying my time with you. Also, it’s not just a personal project. It is a personal project so of course, it deserves to have gigantic importance to you. And it will turn out great because I know it will. Now go let’s get these revisions done so we can do another test run.”

Hoseok has been a wonderful friend, an amazing supporter, and a sincere person who never feels ashamed of showing Y/N what he felt. That is all she needed for her not to doubt anymore and accept his confession.

“Hey, Y/N,” Hoseok huffs, hands tucked deep in his red parka. “Why did you tell me to meet up in the park? It’s cold out. Can’t it wait 'til tomorrow?”

“No, it cannot,” Y/N faces the man, brows scrunched, her lips red from the number of times she has bitten it. “Hoseok, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“W-what is it?”

“I…am reciprocating yo-your profession of your sexual attraction to me.”

“What?”

“I said, I am reciprocating–” Y/N’ bites her lip and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she gives Hoseok the most focused stare she can ever give. “Hoseok, I am accepting your love confession. I like you, too.”

Hoseok stares at Y/N, eyes wide, mouth agape. And for too long that Y/N thought the cold must have frozen him all over.

“Hoseok, why are you staring like that? I am telling you, I like you too–hmppf!”

Hoseok is kissing her, his lips pressed softly against hers in a gentle peck. Before Y/N could process things in her head about what to do when the boy she likes started kissing her, Hoseok is already coaxing her lips to dance with his. And before long, Y/N is returning him a kiss with the same ardor as his. It’s not like her to suddenly make out with someone so publicly. Hell, it’s not even like her to kiss someone with such passion that the warmth she feels on her chest comes close as to the heat of the sun. But as Y/N stays in Hoseok’s embrace in the middle of the frosted park which contrasts their warm chests, everything just feels so right.

So right, as if fate just planned this very night for the two of them. Because, as their kiss comes into an end, Y/N and Hoseok both jolt at the drop of wetness that land on their heads. Y/N looks up and sees the familiar soft white snow falling from the dark night sky. The first snow. Right then deja vu sets in of how it was just one year ago she met this giggling boy in front of her at the very same time of the year.

“I guess the universe wants us to be together, too.” Hoseok smiles.

Y/N grins at him and sinks deeper into his embrace. “As preposterous that sounds given that the universe is, literally speaking, a no-higher living being, it is more preposterous that I am finding myself agreeing to and blushing because of this.”

“I can’t understand what you said but I think it means you like it too so I’m deciding this is one of the best blush-worthy moments I ever had,” Hoseok kisses the top of Y/N’s head, “and whatever you say won’t stop me from taking back what I said.” Y/N nuzzles her nose against his chest, smiling at the way she cannot tell her heartbeat apart from his–the beats beneath their chests in sync despite the incongruity in her words.

***

Loving Hoseok is easy. He is charming, generous, understanding, and everything Y/N ever wanted. Even more, nothing really changed from their friendship, just the addition of cheesy pick-up lines, sweet kisses here and there, hot make-out sessions which more often than not escalate into passionate (and very amazing) love-making. And Y/N loves her relationship with him as well for this. Because even if Hoseok succeeds in making her a soft mush for him, she cannot live her life without having him be the best-est friend she could ever have in her life.

But from all the things Y/N loves about Hoseok, her most favorite has to be his utter transparency. What she sees in him, is what she gets. Hoseok is unabashed in proclaiming his feelings for her. He does not get embarrassed in showing Y/N his love for her. And, Hoseok does not keep secrets from her. He just willingly tells everything about him to her, no euphemisms, no lies. Y/N guesses this is probably the reason why their fights never last too long. Moreover, this quality of his makes up for Y/N’s inability to effectively express her thoughts and feelings. He taught Y/N pure utter honesty that so many people have stigmatized for naivety, but actually felt so amazing. He also taught Y/N to trust and let down her walls for people so they can be able to love her. Hoseok inspires and motivates Y/N to become a better version of herself, not only for the sake of others, but also for herself, and she cannot be grateful enough for that.

Titles didn’t matter with Hoseok, with Y/N, and their relationship. What only matters is their labels for each other–boyfriend and girlfriend, lovers loved and in love. Hoseok does not encrypt his messages in a way that would match Y/N’s mental capacity – He just talks with her like the way he is, nonsense and eggplant emojis and all. Hoseok does not burden Y/N with heavy, unreasonable expectations. He just loves her and lets her be whatever she wants. He just stays by Y/N’s side as she freely learns from and works on her mistakes like every flawed human being. With Hoseok, Y/N knew what she deserves and she started to live her life the way she has always dreamed of–so flawed but so perfectly Y/N L/N who is unafraid of what the future may bring to her.

However, not everyone cannot fully comprehend Y/N’s relationship with Hoseok. Loving Hoseok may be easy but the environment surrounding their relationship is an entirely opposite scenario. For Hoseok’s and Y/N’s disregard of titles, does not guarantee everyone else around their relationship will do the same.

Y/N’s relationship with Hoseok spread throughout the campus like a Jeffree Star fight-controversy with another YouTuber in 2x speed. The entire university has gone berserk yet again, unable to fathom how someone who shines so bright like Hoseok can be together with someone like Y/N who dims other’s lights. And for other people, they cannot understand how such a happy-go-lucky academically-challenged student like Hoseok can even amuse such no-shit, genius brain of Y/N.

Almost everyone has something to say about their relationship. And, most often than not, they are negative. It didn’t help anything in their relationship as Y/N is already insecure as to why Hoseok even chose her when he can have any woman he wished. Y/N knows she’s difficult to be with. She struggles with expressing her feelings and thoughts. She even feels like she’s making things too hard for Hoseok. You see, Y/N’s a safe player. In whatever grounds she’s in — academics, social life, family ties — she always plays safe. Y/N finds it hard to not be so, especially when all her life, she has been groomed to be a person well-liked by everybody else — a person safe from any negative impression that may tarnish her reputation. So, when things get a little bit too hard with Hoseok, Y/N finds herself automatically heading for the exit.

Just like in one Wednesday night in August. Y/N had her fair share of fights with Hoseok. From the difficulties that tie with his popularity, her inability to show her feelings to him that sometimes makes him question her love, his procrastination and occasional lack of care for his academics, her nature to obsess over her studies that she tends to forget herself and everyone around her, to his numerous female friends who have the audacity to still flirt with him even if they all know he’s dating her — Y/N and Hoseok have fought about them all within their seven months of dating. And sure, they were already pretty bad fights given that they were immensely serious with Y/N and Hoseok ending up screaming at each other, giving each other cold shoulders, and ignoring each other for at most (usually) five days. But this Wednesday night was not like any of ther previous fights. Because this time, Y/N told Hoseok she wanted to break up with him.

“Will you stop for a second, Y/N?!”

Y/N swiftly turns around, tears brimming her swollen red eyes, “What do you want, Hoseok? I already said what I need to say. I am tired of constantly being the bad guy whenever we fight. I am tired of this, of you. I want to break up.”

“No, you don’t mean that,” Hoseok almost cries. He looks equally devastated as her — swollen eyes, pale face, trembling fingers. “N-no, you don’t mean that,” he repeats, this time, his voice breaking.

“Of course I mean them, Hoseok,” Y/N spits, “I never say things I do not mean. You know me.”

“I know you,” Hoseok retorts, “that’s why I am telling you right now you don’t mean telling me you’re tired of our relationship, of me. That you want to b-break up. B-because you’re Y/N,” he breathes out. “You seem cold but you actually care. You do not speak your thoughts or feelings aloud but act on them. Okay, maybe you speak them out, but you say it in a way most people do not understand so that still does not count. But, Y/N,” Hoseok reaches for her hand before she can even think of shaking off his hold, “I know you love me. Deep inside the deepest of your hypothalamus, like you said, I believe you love me. Or else, you wouldn’t stay when I told you to watch me dance alone, frustrated with the world. You wouldn’t put in effort befriending Taehyung and Jimin despite knowing what they all said about you in the past. You wouldn’t have told me you wanted to come with me to my hometown and meet my family for my dad’s birthday. And,” Hoseok looks down at his feet, “you wouldn’t have stayed with me this long knowing how annoying I can be and what everyone else has to say about us. So please, Y/N. Just please…stay. Let’s talk it out together. Don’t just break up with me. Please don’t just l-leave me alone.”

When Hoseok looks up at Y/N, it is with his brows scrunched together, eyes glazed over, and form almost kneeling in front of her. He holds her hands so tight, but yet so gentle, as if afraid if he clasped her fingers tighter, it will be too suffocating that she’ll slip away from him. He just looks at her and she cannot help but return his gaze. Y/N realizes right then, it may have been a bad decision to do so. For all she could see in his eyes is her reflection. Her and only her. It even seems as if he’s trying to keep the entirety of her as vivid as a memory can be. And maybe it’s because it’s the way he unabashedly tells her everything he loves about her. Or the way he remembers every single detail about her. Or how he knows her so well despite their relationship blooming at such a young age. But, they are all enough for Y/N to hold his hands tighter and let him engulf HER in his arms.

“H-Hobi–”

“S-see? You even still call me like that,” Hoseok mutters above her head and Y/N bites her lip as she clutches onto his jacket tighter.

“Hobi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean them. I’m not tired of you. I’m not tired of u-us. I do not want to break up with you. Not at all. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Y/N lets out a sob and Hoseok hugs her tighter, running a hand over her hair, knowing it calms her down. “It’s just that everything’s been too much lately. The-the way your friends–”

“What did they do?” Hoseok’s voice deepens close into a low growl. Y/N gulps. “Please tell me, Y/N,” Hoseok says softly as he cups her face in his warm hands. Y/N bites her lip and looks away. She does not want to be that type of girlfriend who instigates a fight between their significant other and their friends. She does not want Hoseok to have a bad blood with people he cares about. But then, Y/N remembers their fight two months ago. That night when she confronted Hoseok about the consecutive late nights he has spent in the practice room, neglecting his studies and even his own health for the past two weeks. The moment Y/N cornered him about it, Hoseok broke down and told her everything — how he lacked the motivation to perform well in his recitals and how his course adviser told him to pull his shit together before he fucks up the nearing international dance competition.

“She told me that I’m dating you right now but why can’t I even pull my shit together like you do. That she doesn’t understand why you’re even dating me when you can date far more competent guys. That sooner or later, you’re going to break up with me. Because,” Hoseok sighs and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his cheeks, a tear slipping down them instead, “look at me. I’m so sloppy. I’m such a loser—”

“No, you’re not!” Y/N interrupts him and Hoseok jolts. “You…you’re not a loser. Sloppy, yes, sometimes,” Hoseok winces and Y/N grabs his arms and pulls him toward her so she can hug him tight. “Hoseok, listen to me. I’m your lover. No one else’s but yours. I love you and I will not leave you. I do not care about other guys, if they are more competent or whatever. After all, competency is just a social construct designed to promote the societal standards that aim for conformity.” Y/N disentangles herself from him to cup his face in her hands. “Hoseok, you are not a loser. And, you’ll never be. How can you be at least an inch of one? You were the one who led countless competitions which won our university so many awards. Almost ALL the trophies in our campus’ Hall of Honor were all thanks to you. You were the one who helped our fashion design majors grab an opportunity with various labels after your runway a year ago became viral. You were also the one responsible for resurrecting countless dead orgs with actually good goals. They even received rewards from the local government because of the projects you arranged! You’re not a loser, Hobi. In fact, you are the opposite of loser. It’s just your prof is an ungrateful bitch, demeaning you like that when you’ve brought glory to her name as your program adviser. What a fucking asshole, I could have punched her in the face and—”

Hoseok detaches his lips from hers and smiles. “I can’t believe I’m starting to rub off of you. You just said your first curse word. Two even!”

“Damn you, Hoseok. I’m being serious.”

“And so am I. Thank you for cheering me up, Y/N. This is why I love you so much!”

Hoseok has always been honest to Y/N and she decides it’s only right for her to do the same.

Y/N looks up at him. “Nayeon, Sungyoon, and…Sara cornered me yesterday and I thought it will be about what you are recently up to. Why you were absent at yesterday’s practice. It turned out they did this high school toxic open-forum-like session where they told me all my shits and why I shouldn’t hang out you. They said you were no longer the Hoseok you used to be because I kept dragging you down. That I…do not deserve you and you should be with girls like you. And you know what, I thought so, too. Because, you have far better things ahead from you than tying you down here with me.”

“No one can tell what you deserve or not, Y/N,” Hoseok retorts. “Only you can. And, I know what you are thinking right now maybe the opposite of what you really think about yourself. But if I could help, I think you totally deserve me. Even more than that, honestly. Because, Y/N, you are not tying me down anywhere. In fact you are tying me up. Not literally but figuratively. Okay” Hoseok closes his eyes, “I know it doesn’t make sense—whatever I say doesn’t make sense on the regular basis, so what’s the difference—but, what I mean to say is, Y/N, you are keeping me afloat. You are keeping my head up from the expectations and shitstorms that is plaguing me. You are helping me stay alive and keep pushing through all the difficulties I face. And for that, I am eternally grateful for you. So,” Hoseok smiles, “do not let anything anyone else says about us get to you. Because, they don’t really know anything about me and they very much don’t know anything about you. They don’t get to judge. Not when they do not know how it feels to have the most amazing angel by your side.”

Y/N scrunches her face at him but she hugs him tight nevertheless. “Must you always be this cheesy and cringey?”

“Only for you, baby,” Y/N could feel Hoseok grin from the top of her head. “Also, I’m gonna have a talk with those girls so expect apologies coming your way. And if things go the other way,” Hoseok clicks his tongue, “expect a decrease in my friends.”

However, everything Hoseok spouted is easier said than done. Because truth be told, Hoseok thinks it is him who actually doesn’t deserve Y/N. She is intelligent but so is she kind. She’s mature and it is usually her who does most of the helping and progressing in their relationship. Most of all, it is more realistic to say, Y/N is the one who has far greater things ahead than him. And it became clearer to him the night she took him with her to her family’s home for one of her parents’ parties.

Y/N countlessly told Hoseok she didn’t need to attend it. She even highly advised him not to come with her. But Hoseok has forever been stubborn so of course when he told Y/N he wanted to meet her family, he did every bit of convincing that get him to where he is now — shaken and lost in the middle of a fucking science exhibit of a party. The night actually started out well. He introduced himself to every member of the L/N family, even distant ones who stayed in the farthest, most unnoticeable corners of Y/N’s house. Y/N’s family members welcomed him with smiles and actively talked with him. Her parents even handed him his plate of food themselves and invited him to spend Christmas with them.

It only started going downhill when it was time for the main event of the party—the what-have-you-been-up-to lately segment or what Y/N would like to call the “let the best bragger win.” Everyone started spewing their achievements for the year in a fashion that challenges the other party to disclose their far greater successes. Which, ultimately, insult the others for their lack of any. The party felt as if it was a battlefield with every member of Y/N’s family pitting their achievements against each other, no matter what context they are in—even if they are not of the same category to even compare. Next thing Hoseok knew, he was being dragged into the center of the conversation, with Y/N’s father asking him to tell his “revolutionary thoughts.”

Hoseok tried his best. He really did. He had recalled every lesson he learned in his Science-related GEs and even tried to apply them in the academic journals he saw Y/N reading. That’s why he doesn’t understand why every single time he opens his mouth, Y/N’s entire family is laughing at him. Is the Dual Nucleus Association found in fingerprints that funny? Hoseok didn’t take too long to ponder on it, for the next second, a hand is pulling him to the front doors of the L/N house. It takes another second for Hoseok to register Y/N was the one who’s dragging him onto the street in angry stomps.

“Y/N! Why did we go out?” Hoseok pulls on her arm, “We have to come back! It will be rude to your parents! I don’t want to leave a bad impression y’know–”

“It doesn’t matter, Hoseok!” Y/N whirls around, distraught, and Hoseok only notices just now her glazed eyes. Y/N chokes out, “Leaving an impression on them doesn’t matter because we have to get out NOW.”

“What? No, Y/N! That’s not appropriate! I–”

“Then is it appropriate for my parents and relatives’ to blatantly insult you right in your face?”

Hoseok takes a step back, “What? But they were laughing at me there. I guess my jokes are–”

“Hoseok, they were mocking you in there. We both hell know the fingerprint DNA trivia you were telling them is not a joke.”

“But your father said the Dual Nucleus Association I muttered was revolutionary and funny.”

Y/N closes her eyes as she releases a staggered sigh, “Hoseok, ‘revolutionary’ in my father’s dictionary meant ‘stupid.’” Hoseok scrunches his brows and Y/N breathes out, wishing she could let out as well the aggravation and loathing for her parents she has kept inside for so long. “He was making fun of you, Hobi. DNA does not stand for Dual Nucleus Association. It’s Deoxyribonucleic Acid. My father fucking knew what this means because he took a PhD in Microbiology and he didn’t even have the heart to correct you. He even put you up in front of everybody else and humiliate you without you even noticing it.”

“W-what?”

Y/N sighs for the nth time as she reaches for his hands. “Hoseok, I’m sorry I left you alone. This whole time, I didn’t know you were in my father’s care. It’s just that my cousin came to me and asked desperately for help about the verbal abuse he experiences at home. The way he asked for my help, I knew he’s about to-to blow up sooner or later. So I immediately went to his aid. And I guess I got so preoccupied trying to make him calm without triggering his panic attacks that I…did not see where you stayed in the party. Worse, I didn't fucking even know you were with my parents. I know this is not enough of an excuse and I have been a shitty girlfriend tonight. So I’m sorry, Hoseok. I’m deeply so so sorry. And right now, I’m trying to make up for my mistakes by telling you we should leave. Now. I cannot let any of them insult you more,” Y/N’s voice breaks and she raises her hand to wipe a tear that has cascaded down her cheeks, “I cannot, Hoseok, for so help me God, I will march over there and declare I want to denounce myself as a L/N.”

Hoseok doesn’t reply. He just nods at her and looks down at his feet. Y/N gulps down the anxiety building up in her larynx as she leads the two of them to the car he rented. She opts for the driver’s seat and hits the gas. Within minutes, the two of them are enveloped by the silent nightscape, a stark contrast to the cacophony of pride in her house.

“Hoseok,” the man turns to the sound of Y/N’s voice. “W-what else did my father say to you?”

Hoseok starts to fumble with the loose thread of his navy suit jacket. “Do you…really want to hear it?”

“Is it that bad?”

“Well, I-your dad questioned my ability to provide for you in the future. Because of my major and aspirations and all.”

Y/N turns to him, aghast, “What?! Why would he even say that? What, he started to forget women’s abilities to revert back to the traditional patriarchal views?! Fuck him!”

“I knew you would say that,” Hoseok says, chuckling softly. Y/N faces him again, this time perplexed as to why he is laughing. Hoseok reads her look and he clears his throat.

“When you told me I was being insulted in the party, I will admit I am offended. But, before that, during an earlier talk with your father, I was not the least bit upset.” Hoseok meets your eyes. “That time, I was scared. Immensely shit-scared.”

“I should have come to you first, not my cousin–”

“No, let me finish first.” Hoseok purses his lips. He then looks out of the car window, at the scarce stars on the sky. “I knew we are far apart from each other. It was obvious even before we got together. Hell, I do not even get the memes you send to me when we first started out as friends. Sometimes, I even get insecure that even if you are not really bestfriends with Namjoon, he seems to get everything you tell me you found at the lab. Just by listening to our conversations, he understands them all. So effortlessly at that. I even have to plead him to tutor me and dumb-translate the science-y things you tell me, while I dry my brains out trying to understand them. But when I talked with your father, tonight, how he reiterated your status and skills and their difference from mine…I have never been this scared in my life. Scared that what he said will come true—that you will realize how someone like me can never truly understand you ‘til the long run. That you will get tired of slowing your pace down for me…That you will eventually find someone more compatible with you–who also has a much more stable future ahead of just an aspiring dancer.” Hoseok turns toY/N and he reaches out for her left hand, her free hand. He clasps them in his hands and looks up at her, “But, I swear Y/N, I promise I will do my best. Your father may not be convinced but I want you to know. That I will do my best for you, Y/N. I will learn more for you. I will understand you more. I will improve my reputation into a much more respectable one. Hell, I can quit dance if I have to.”

Y/N gives Hoseok a pained look. “No, Hoseok, you will not quit dance. I do not want you to quit dance. It will be too unfair for you and I know you will regret it.”

Hoseok sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah…that sounds easier said than done.”

“You don’t have to do those things for me,” Y/N squeezes his hand, making him look back to her. “I actually enjoy helping you learn. I love that you goof off the way you want because when you do that, I am reminded people like you still exist today — people who are not afraid of being themselves. Because of that, you inspire me to live more. I also love that you put in the time learning the things I’m saying because it means you genuinely are interested about my thoughts and you are not afraid of women being smarter than you — something most guys fail at. But that’s because most of them are misogynistic, prideful men on their high horses. And, I know you’re not like that. Most of all, I love it when you dance. Because through it you freely express every bit of your emotion. Because, you’re transparent, Hoseok. You’re an open book and I like it the best because you don’t leave me hanging, confused, troubled, and worried about what you’re feeling, especially when you know I am already bad at reading emotions. You are my stable ground, Hoseok. You make me feel safe. And despite the bad fights we’ve been through, I know you’re always doing your best. How can we stay this long if not for you being the brighter one between us when it comes to communicating, knowing that splitting because of things that can be solved will only result in one hell of a horrible mistake?” Y/N turns to Hoseok and he looks at her with his mouth agape, eyes blown wide. She smiles at this. “You have to know you’re more than enough, Hoseok. Like you said,” her smile grows wider, “no one can tell us what we deserve or not but ourselves. And with this, I know and feel that I deserve you, Hoseok. And you, me. What do you say?”

Hoseok’s response to that was not of a verbal one but a physical one—one that involved a feverish kiss on Y/N’s lips, and her jawline that led Y/N to park the car by the empty gasoline station. Feather-light kisses, desperate hands to grab each other as close as they can be to each other, Y/N indulges in Hoseok and him in her in a passionate love that burned so bright it rivals the sun. The only words that transpire during that fateful night was “I love you’s” and for Y/N and Hoseok, they are more than enough of an anchor of him to her and her to him as waves of obstacles come in your way.

All of these moments with Y/N have accumulated into Hoseok’s most wonderful memories in his life. And he still replays them in his head as another year of being her lover passes. Of course, problems never failed to arise as they manage their relationship. But, the ones caused by the comments of everyone in the university have lessened as Y/N and Hoseok have now graduated. Hoseok has left the university after he graduated, while Y/N stayed in the university as she applied for a Master’s degree in civil engineering.

Y/N still lives in her dorm for the convenience of teaching in the campus and studying after work. Meanwhile, Hoseok lived in an apartment in the city, close to the prestigious dance studio he works at. Their schedules are most often than not, amiss, and the distance between them can be sometimes frustrating. However, what remains the biggest obstacle is everyone’s opinions about the two of them. Sure, they were not as restrictive as what the two of them have experienced in the university. But it didn’t mean it hurt less when people say how they never thought someone as fun as Hoseok will choose someone so boring like Y/N, or how Hoseok’s intellect was a down-grader for her respectable reputation, saying she has a tasteless choice in choosing partners. Although these problems may get a little overwhelming, the two of them never let them get in between their relationship.

Hence, Y/N and Hoseok are still madly in love like the first year they have started dating. So in love that Hoseok felt it is now the time to propose to Y/N. For anymore day without her officially bounded with him, when you already own every piece of his heart, is something Hoseok cannot take any longer. He wants Y/N to be his partner for the years to come, his significant other for forever, and the only person he wakes up to and sees last in his day and nights for the rest of his entire life. Hoseok knows this and he has never been surer in his life.

This is the reason why Hoseok is where he is today: clad in an ugly Christmas sweater and mismatched socks, with a troubled look on his face. Hoseok may have only realized he wanted to marry Y/N in late November, but he was able to make an intricate proposal plan to execute before this year can end. Today is Y/N’s free day and he has classes that have ended early. Lucky for him, Jimin is free to take her out for some last-minute gift-shopping in the afternoon so Hoseok can have ample time to decorate Y/N’s dorm with hearts and diagrams of the hypothalamus (because “No, Hoseok, we do not say I love you from the deepest corner of my heart, but from the hypothalamus. We do not feel from the heart. It just pumps us blood”). Hoseok will have the gifts he bought for Y/N delivered that very same day to complete his decorations (and to also spoil her even more). He will cook Y/N her favorite dishes and make her hot cocoa even though he very much likes eggnog more, just because she likes the sweet chocolate beverage. He even requested his orchestra friends Yoongi, Jinyoung, Seokjin, and Sandeul, to play Jingle Bell Rock (“in cursive”) on the far side of the hallway so when Jimin drops Y/N off, she can have her favorite Christmas song as her background music when she steps inside her room and gets surprised.

That is why when his heart and hypothalamus decorations actually looked shit, the arrival of the gifts was delayed ‘til tomorrow, and the meals he cooked looked inedible—not to say the hot choco looked like a mess too and totally un-aesthetic—Hoseok finds himself frozen in his place next to Y/N’s Christmas tree, looking as if he was constipated for ten days. Worse, his girlfriend is already standing by her door frame, kicking the door close like it was just any other day.

Y/N hangs her coat on the hanger and puts her shopping bags on top of her wide cabinet. She nonchalantly glances at him, “Hoseok, what are you doing there?”

Hoseok feels sweat run down his face in waterfalls. If Y/N is surprised he was standing stupidly next to her tree, she did not show it. But right now, Hoseok’s concern is her seeing the decorations he made chucked in a large paper bag he hid behind the tree at the last minute. Of course, it is poorly hidden. He plays with the collar of his sweater “I…um, I–”

“Nevermind. I guess this is one of our spontaneous date nights you ironically always plan. You should inform me next time, you know, so I can prepare for you as well,” Y/N smiles at him. “Come sit with me.” She walks to the sofa by the Christmas tree and pats the seat next to her. Hoseok scrambles to sit beside her and tries not to look like the dumbest fool in the world. Y/N did not get surprised, the orchestra’s music is barely heard inside as the cold wind of early winter overrides it, and he looks totally shit. How can he propose to her now, huh? All of his plans are ruined!

“Di-did you eat already?” Hoseok asks, hands sweaty on his sweatpants. “I made you your favorite.”

“Umm…yeah,” Y/N bites her lip, guilty. “I was already hungry before Jimin and I can finish our shopping and I really felt a great need to devour some pizza today.” She reaches for her small satchel and produces a folded paper bag. “I saved some for you. We can eat it later while we watch Netflix.”

“O-okay,” Hoseok nervously laughs. His eyes land on the pink mug on the dining table. He looks back at Y/N, “D-do you want to drink something? I made you hot cocoa.”

“Ooh, I’ll drink it later. I just had a sweet choco milkshake before I got here,” Y/N bites her lips again in guilt. “I’m sorry, Hoseok, I didn’t know you prepared these stuff for me. If I had known sooner I would have never even stepped out of my dorm today.”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok pulls a smile and he tries not to look a tad bit upset about the failure of his plans, because he knows Y/N will immediately recognize that look.

And, he wasn’t wrong. “Why, Hobi?” Y/N cups his face to make him turn to her, “did I do something wrong?

“No,” Hoseok looks away. “It’s just, my plans…didn’t work out today.”

“What plans?”

Hoseok immediately feels his ass on fire. Did he just almost give himself away? He cannot just blurt out he wants to marry her! He wanted it to be special and he cannot have that happen in just her dorm with his shitty-looking outfit and almost-burned food. He wants Y/N to remember this day and he ain’t taking the risk of letting any bad memories mess up his proposal. And so, Hoseok sighs and decides he has to abort the plan and schedule it some other day. He’s just gonna make an excuse for now. “Well, I just thought we can make this random Thursday special y’know? Keep up with the aim of my spontaneous dates–good surprises making life much better without needing a reason to be. So I just made some food and stuff for the fun of it. It’s just a normal day surprise.”

“Oh, then I’m glad today is really spontaneous dates today. I may have…foiled your plans, but look, I happened to have a surprise for you!”

Hoseok tilts his head, “What is it?”

Y/N grins at him before turning around and fumbles for something in her bag. Then the next second, Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe is suddenly blaring loud from her phone.

“Y/N, did you seriously just play Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe in speaker mode?”

“Oh, don’t be an in-denial bitch. I know this is your favorite Christmas song. A good song has to create the aesthetic and mood for tonight,” Y/N chuckles, “Here, Hoseok, my present for you.” She hands him a box wrapped in a fancy green sparkling wrapper with a red bow tied around it. It was medium-sized, enough for one of his favorite KAWS models to fit inside.

“Present?” Hoseok asks, feeling both joy and guilt respectively swell in his heart and pit in his stomach. Joy, because Y/N is to add another model to his growing collection. And guilt, because he didn’t bring her anything worth the same as her gift. But as he tears open the box, another fancy green box just stares back at him. He looks up at Y/N with squinted eyes. “I see what you did there, sneaky missy.” She just chuckles at him and Hoseok continues to unbox her gift, only to have another box inside. Hoseok wonders what made Y/N think of doing this infamous wrapping technique for her gift when she wasn’t even that much into wrapping gifts. She always just give him gifts in standard wrapping paper, messily taped all over around. Moreover, what even is her gift and how small does it have to be? Because now, Hoseok’s hands are getting tired of unboxing box after box and the gift is now currently the size of a stress ball!

“Y/N, can you just tell me your gift? I’m getting tired. I can open it tomorrow instead and we can just get straight to Netflix tonight.”

“No, Hoseok,” Y/N laughs, patting his shoulders. “Keep unboxing.”

Hoseok continues forth with the unboxing and his heart starts to sink to his stomach as the box got smaller and smaller. This is probably a prank. One to get back at him for telling Y/N last year he bought her her favorite gift for their monito event with Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon. Only for him to arrive with nothing but a bow on his head and shamelessly declare to everyone that he is her gift. Nothing must be inside this box to contain a gift so small. The box in his hand is now just the size of a small toy car!

Hoseok sighs as he opens the box. Another green box will appear and then he’ll see the paper saying “Pranked you, Hobi!”

But it does not.

For the box on Hoseok’s hand right now, is gaping open to him right now. And all he sees is a sparkling, silver ring embellished with emeralds that seem to form waves around the base of the band. A fucking ring is sitting right on top of his hand.

Hoseok gapes and just stares. Far too long that Y/N decides to break the silence. “Surprise! I bought you an engagement ring! With green emeralds just like your favorite color.” She grins at him as she holds Hoseok’s hands in hers, making him turn to her while he stays jaw ajar.

Y/N suddenly feels self-conscious and unconfident. This is not the reaction she is expecting. She starts to fear if she’ll spend the coming Holidays boyfriend-less. Just by looking at Hoseok’s stupified face, it looks everything is happening too fast and too sudden tonight for her boyfriend. Nevertheless, she says, “I-I know this may come off as a really big of a surprise. After all, this is an engagement ring and right now I am trying to propose to you. Barely, even. So, of course, this is definitely a shocker. Especially when we only just spent two years dating. Still too early for a proposal to come, as what others will usually expect,” Y/N’s voice breaks.

She wrings her hands together, her feet trembling beneath her, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. “But, Hoseok, in these two years I have spent with you…I learned what it felt like to be loved and be in love with you. We fight, yes. Healthily usual even. But, at the end of the day, everything still feels worth it. And I guess,” Y/N smiles, “I cannot get enough of it. I cannot get enough of you. Being your girlfriend no longer satisfied me. I now want to be your wife. I want to be the only person you’ll stress over science just to impress. I want to be the person who’ll be your home. The one you will come home to, wake up to, and sleep next to every night, every single day. I want to be your partner-in-crime, especially when we have kids and we’ll play some game I never heard of but will still enjoy in the end just because you like it. But only if you want kids, hehe.” Y/N laughs awkwardly and scratches her nape. “Hoseok, I know I am clumsy in saying my feelings for you. Today is my first time saying everything so honest and raw like this so I know this may shock you. God, you don’t know how many times I practiced this speech in my office. Other professors must already be thinking I’m going crazy—anyway, what I only want to say is,” Y/N reaches for Hoseok’s hand and kisses it. “Hoseok, I want to stay by your side for the rest of my life.” When she looks up at him, she says, “And it will only happen if you’d also love to be by my side forever as well. So what do you say?”

“W-what, I will say?” Hoseok repeats, still shaken. However, he’s so happy he cannot help the wide grin splitting on his face. “Yes, Y/N, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever and ever and ever and ever.”

“R-really?” Y/N’s releases a relieved sigh, fingers wiping the tears that have formed on her eyes. “T-Then, why did you look like as if you’re about to walk out on me when you opened the box?”

Hoseok cups her face in his hands, wiping away the tears. “Because you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.” Y/N scowls at this and hits his chest, hard. Hoseok coos at her as he hugs her tight and chuckles, “You’re an asshole because you headed out straight for my heart—hook, line, and sinker — and now I am completely blown away when I was supposed to be the first one to do so. Seriously, Y/N, I did not expect this to happen this way. Not when I also prepared a surprise for you tonight.”

Y/N’s brows raise in curiosity. Hoseok unzips his gym bag on the sofa and turns back to her, now with a red velvet box on his hands.

Hoseok pops open the box, a ring of the same design as the one she bought him stares back at her. But this one, instead of green emeralds, is embellished with blue emeralds, her favorite color. Right then and there, Y/N wanted to cry.

Hoseok rubs his nape. “I’m supposed to propose to you tonight as well. But you beat me right to it and now I forgot my speech.”

Y/N chuckles at that as she wipes away the tears that have formed yet again on her eyes. Hoseok smiles as he squeezes her hand. “But, that doesn’t mean I’ll skip on this once-in-a-lifetime’s opportunity to propose to you,” Hoseok looks at her, “Y/N, I love you. And I know forever can be a heavy word and sometimes love cannot solve every problem that may come our way. But Y/N, what I said two years ago hasn’t changed. I will try my best. For you, I will. And we may be young but I know you and I are capable to make us work for as long as time can let us. Because you are Y/N, and I’m Hoseok. People may be against us but we know with each other, we are the best we can ever be. We deserve each other. We need each other. But most of all, we love each other. That’s all we need. Me and you. You and me.” After he breathes out, Hoseok cups Y/N’s cheeks and she leans forward and interlocks their lips in a soft kiss.

Y/N grabs onto Hoseok’s ugly green sweater and deepens the kiss, letting her mouth do the talking for her and him. For no words can be enough to express everything that is settling in their hearts tonight — euphoric bliss, the sweet feeling of triumph. Although Y/N can feel a tinge of the uncertainty of what may come to the two of them in the future grappling on her nerves, there resides in her heart the greater courage that despite the unpredictability of life, Y/N knows she can manage it with the constant she now has by her side — Hoseok. And for him, her. Because, Y/N is certain this is the most right decision she has ever made in her life: loving him. And, Hoseok proves it is the same for him as when the kiss comes into a close, he whispers on her lips, “Guess the déjà vu tonight is really working at its best. Fate really wanted us to be together.”

Y/N grins at him, her forehead bumping into his, “And where’s your proof, future Mr. Y/N L/N?”

Hoseok presses a kiss on Y/N’s forehead, on her cheeks, on her nose, then at the corner of her ear. He whispers, “Look outside.”

And there outside, white droplets fall from the sky, lighting up the near-black horizon while frosting up the window panes. It is the first snow. Y/N smiles. What Hoseok said to her when she reciprocated his love confession doesn’t seem so preposterous now. It seems like fate really tied the two of them up together as she first met and started dating Hoseok when the first snow fell. There’s a saying that whoever you’re with during the first snow, you will be with that person for a long time. Y/N and Hoseok have already been living proof of that for being together in three years—friendship plus dating days combined — amidst whatever people say against them two.

And Y/N hopes, that as she and Hoseok promise forever to each other tonight, the saying will come true. Because she wants the two of them to be together for a very, very, very long time. After all, Hoseok is right. She is Y/N and he is Hoseok and together, they are the best they can ever be, titles and achievements be damned. The weather may be cold during these pinnacle moments of her and his relationship but their hearts are warm and cozy, and there is nothing more Y/N could ask for.

Epilogue:

“You know, Y/N, my original proposal was beautiful, I’m sure I’ll have you bawling tonight.”

Y/N gives him a look and Hoseok laughs, “Good thing they’re gone now. D’you know I actually wrote my entire proposal in my hands? They just got erased because my hands have become so sweaty when I chucked away the decorations I made for you.”

“What decorations?”

Hoseok pulls on the collar of his sweater, “Cut-outs of hearts and hypothalamus?”

“R-really? You remembered what I said to you three years ago?”

“Of course, babe,”Hoseok smiles, “It’s you. How can I forget that? But they’re not available anymore as I already threw them away. They looked like shit.”

“Where did you throw them?”

“In a paper bag….by your Christmas tree–hey, why are you picking it up?”

Y/N turns towards him, smiling, her hands gently holding the crushed hearts and hypothalamus cut-outs. “Because you made it for me, Hoseok. Of course they hold value to me. It’s you.”

“You’re really a Grinch, you know? You’re making me cry with your sweetness and beauty when I should be jumping up and down with joy right now.”

“….Do you always have to be cheesy like this?”

“Only for you, babe. And get used to it. You have a forever to experience this one-in-a-million love from the one and only Jung Hoseok.”

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Sorry my Christmas gift for you all was late! My requirement deadlines in uni ended up until Dec. 16 and so for the majority of December, I was solely focused on uni stuff. I tried limiting myself from using page breakers in this fic, a challenge I put on myself to train my skills again in doing transitions in my writing. This story is inspired by the rivalry of science and art majors in our uni in my first year! Also! I hoped you guys appreciate my take on @kwritersworld’s prompt. I want to incorporate it in a very unexpected way, while at the same time, reflects my character in a way I‘ve never done before. OC here is a bit grumpy and lacks social skills to be friendly so I interpreted her as an everyday-Grinch hehe). Lastly, @bts-poetry, I really enjoyed doing mini Q&As with you! I hope you like this gift and I also hope we can talk more in the future!

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