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formidxble · 4 years ago

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▸ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the 2 times bang chan tried to confess and the 1 time he almost did.

▸ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bang chan x female reader

▸ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff and humor || CEO x Secretary AU

▸ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.8k

▸ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @meow-minho @bxngchxn @fairy-of-shampoos @hyunsluvv @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @poutypoutybin @fizzydrink698 @minniehohos @the7thcrow @vanishingboots @qtieskz @arohabangtan @willwriteforhugs @mbbykh @helpsplease @freckledquokka @jisungcherry @crazyoverghosts @changlix-mp4 @asweeetdisposition @lixesque

▸finally !! this took so long, but this takes place before the events of “my house” ! you don’t have to read this in order to understand “my house” and vice versa. i’d also like to say that chan in this fic is 28 years old !!!

▸ before i forget, thank you for 900 followers! crazy how i posted “my house” as a gift for 500 followers, but now we’re here!! ahh, thank you! i hope you enjoy this, dear reader!

masterlist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ my house

bang chan’s sure that he doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love.

it’s not because of the bitterness that surrounded the concept itself, but he assumes it’s because of the position he’s in. while many think that being a CEO of the company entails many benefits, such as mansions, multiple cars, private jets, and tons and tons of women, he knows it’s actually the complete opposite.

maybe it’s because of his work-mindset that deters him from making meaningful relationships or maybe because he’s detached himself from everyone to guard whatever self-worth he still has. whatever the reason may be, he lays in his king-sized bed, alone, in a mansion that barely felt like home.

bang chan’s sure that he doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love, but for some reason, as he stares at you from his office window, he’s sure he’s proved himself wrong.

he admits that he may have expected a firework or two or a grand celebration, but as he watches you tuck a hair strand behind your ear, he finally understands why people decide to throw themselves in the name of love with no plan, with no questions of how’s and why’s. the question is, is he ready to grab the opportunity, specifically the one that’s right outside his office?

his eyes follow you as you lean back on your office chair, huffing as you cross your arms in front of your chest before your eyebrows scrunch. chan chuckles softly and it’s got him wondering, for the nth time today, how he never noticed how your skin glowed despite being confined in a busy workplace. he’s never observed how pretty your fingers were when you grab a pen from the holder on your desk. and, maybe he was just blind all this time, but when has your hair looked this healthy and vibrant?

his stare is broken by the arrival of an employee who rests her elbows on your desk. chan watches how your eyes light up and how your lips curl up into a smile. he takes in a deep breath as his heart starts to beat faster. thoughts of work disappear and the image of you makes a home inside his mind. suddenly, his day’s a little bit brighter now, he’s not stressed anymore, and with your smile, he feels as if he can accomplish anything. now, he wants you to be the one to fill his days, afternoons, and nights.

and it’s probably the cheesiest thought that’s ever popped up in his business-centric mind, but that’s how love goes, he can only assume. the worst part is that he’s letting it take over him and he can’t find anything in him that’s saying no, that he shouldn’t push through with it, that it’s probably his loneliness playing tricks on him again. but, for the first time in his life, he’s able to say that yes, he’s ready to grab that opportunity, that chance for love, even if it’s uncertain, even if it hurts him somewhere along the way.

chan laughs.

it’s the mundanity of everything that intrigues him and chan wonders how a woman has managed to capture his heart in this manner. would it be selfish to ask for more when he supposedly has everything he could ever need? nevertheless, he rolls his chair back, a soft blush on his cheeks, before standing up and making his way to your desk.

no plan.

no questions of how’s and why’s.

you immediately stand up from your chair to bow and greet him and the female employee does the same, bowing with a small smile etched on her lips. chan grins and he’d be stupid to ignore the way his hands start sweating when you give him one back.

“come eat lunch with me,” he hums, putting his hands in his pockets. you tilt your head, eyebrows scrunching in response. chan chuckles as his head mimics yours. “unless, you have plans?”

you shake your head in response. chan catches the way you give your colleague a look and in his peripheral, he sees her scrambling away, a soft giggle leaving her lips. both of your eyes lock once more and you grin.

“let me get my stuff, then we can go, sir.”

in chan’s position, it’s always calculated— the probabilities of securing a sale, the percentage of the stock they’ll be able to acquire, and all that business stuff he’d grown accustomed to.

but now, he’s forced to think of all the possible outcomes in a scenario where nothing is certain.

there are many variables that come and interfere with the process of falling in love. feelings and emotions are built up over time and he can’t help but reminisce as the two of you make your way to the cafe. images of him getting angry flash in front of him, partnered with many different instances where the both of you argued in his office. he also remembers the way your eyes turn glossy during said arguments and the way you storm out when it gets too heated.

but, apart from memories like those, chan recalls the soft moments he’s shared with you over the course of the 8 years you’ve been together. the knowing stares, the smiles you share from across the room, the blushes that form on both of your cheeks, and the way the both of your hands absentmindedly reach out for each other when you think no one’s looking.

it’s become a secret language that none of you have consciously created.

and as chan pushes the cafe door open for you, he’s reminded that the line between your work relationship and friendship has been blurred for a long time. the both of you have grown closer to each other ever since you started spending more nights with him in his office. though it’s complicated, he knows that you’re not just his secretary anymore, but you’re someone he can confide in and someone he can trust.

with these, the outcomes that can arise from this conversation with you become hazier than when he started thinking of them.

the phone in his pocket is tempting, but he decides not to call changbin up for this one. he doesn’t know when and how to start, but at the end of the day, there are no rules to falling in love.

before you could fall in line, chan puts a hand on your shoulder. you turn to him as you raise an eyebrow.

“go,” chan tilts his head in the direction of a free table, “i’ll order for us.”

you blink. “but—“

“i insist,” chan chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “we don’t usually go out for lunch, so”—he grabs his wallet, holding it up for you to see—“it’s my treat.”

you step in closer, voice hushed only for him to hear, “you don’t have to, chan.”

formalities dropped, like what he’s used to with you in private, but it feels different now, hearing his name out in public. it rolls off of your tongue so easily and he can’t help but feel like he’s on a date.

“i want to,” he responds after a short while, watching as your cheeks turn bright red. “plus, it’s no big deal. we can always eat lunch together in the future if you’re up for it.” mentally, chan exhales shakily as the words leave his mouth.

you clear your throat as you nod and turn away, walking over to the table with no protests.

chan exhales through his nose as he finds his lips quirking up into a fond smile. his eyes follow you as you take a seat. he forces himself to look away before you could catch him staring, but at the side of his eye, he knows you already knew.

one thought pops up in his mind as he walks over to the table after ordering and paying, how was he supposed to go about this?

it brings him back to the talk about probabilities and being secure in your decision despite the uncertainty that comes with it. there’s a huge probability of him not getting the response he desperately wants to hear. is it enough, the moments you’ve shared, good and bad, for your feelings to grow as much as his did? and did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

he hopes the answer to both questions is affirmative.

chan’s hands start sweating as he grips the chair, pulling it away from the table. he takes a seat, your eyes locking with his as he makes himself comfortable. he had to admit that he has no plan and he has no idea what he’d end up saying, but as he’d come to know just earlier, love is about free falling and trusting the other that they’ll catch you. and one part of him knows, deep down, that your arms are open and ready.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

“miss y/l/n,” chan starts, clasping his hands on the table, “i brought you here to—“

your eyebrows shoot up as your mouth opens. “wow,” you chuckle shakily. “so formal. is this serious?”

for chan, it is.

his face heats up as he unclasps his hands, subtly wiping them on his pants. he flashes you a sheepish smile. “i just wanted to talk to you about something.”

you tilt your head, eyes not leaving his. chan’s heart starts beating faster as his lips part, but only a shaky sigh leaves it.

chan prides himself in his public speaking skills. he wouldn’t be called the industry’s Wolf if he didn’t do his job well. he’s spoken to a full stadium, presented in front of the world’s most prominent businessmen, and he’s travelled around the world giving seminars to people who aspire to be like him. but for some reason, he’s in front of a woman and he’s suddenly tongue-tied.

but, it’s not just any woman. it’s the woman he’s in love with. the thought makes him reel. saying it to himself has just proven that he’s madly in love with his secretary, you, y/n y/l/n. the woman who’s been with him ever since the beginning of this god-forsaken journey, the woman who’s seen him at his most vulnerable, the woman who’s stood by him after all these years.

“i—“

“is this about the schedule for this week?” your voice cuts through his thoughts and it scrambles them. chan feels like a teenager at this moment as his shoulders tense up, mind going blank at the melody of your voice.

“no, y/n—“

“i actually wanted to bring it up with you, as well. i’ve noticed that there are some inconsistencies with the schedule at the office and the schedule we prepared,” you grab a folder from your bag, laying it on the table, and opening it. chan blinks and swallows.

his eyes scan the paper in front of him, the surface littered with messy writing with a variety of colours adorning them. it’s hard to read if the both of you settled for this as the official schedule, but somehow, it doesn’t annoy him anymore. instead, his heart aches at the sight of your handwriting, the strokes completely unique to you and the design, if one could call it that, screams your name.

“unless,” you hum, “this isn’t what you wanted to talk about?”

as much as humanly possible, chan wasn’t here to talk about anything work-related. if only you knew the reasons behind his invitation, you wouldn’t be whipping out the damned folder. nevertheless, even as his shoulders fall to his sides, he leans over on the table, trying his best to focus on whatever it is you have brought to his attention.

“it’s fine,” he starts. “tell me about the problems, instead.”

“chan—“

“no,” he dismisses. “it’s nothing important. it can wait.”

this is what he gets for not having a plan in the first place. falling in love is all about falling into the depths of what is essentially the unknown, but it doesn’t mean that he has to dive in head first with no helmet. he groans internally as you flatten the paper on the desk, his confession thrown out of the window that’s beside the two of you.

suppose, it’s not the right time nor is it the right place. if chan was looking for fireworks and a grand celebration for his realization earlier, then maybe he can be the one to give that to the both of you once he actually gathers the courage to tell you how he feels. despite his defeat today, he forces himself to sit in front of you, and listening as you get into the nitty-gritty of the schedule in the office and the schedule you have on-hand.

truthfully, chan’s seen the inconsistencies before you could, but he lets you tell him, the sweet melody of your voice wrapping itself around and in him as he rests his cheek on his palm, eyes not leaving you.

“chan?”

your voice snaps him out of his trance and he raises an eyebrow.

“before i go on,” you giggle, “i’m paying the next time we go out, okay?”

chan cracks a smile, heart bursting at the thought of getting to be with you like this again. he hopes it’ll be a more relaxed setting. no more talk of work. just you and him, like he’d envisioned it to be.

“alright.”

hopefully, he’ll get to tell you next time. he’ll hold onto that.

the fateful next time comes rather quickly, just three days after the first one.

it comes in the form of a successful contract, with the client agreeing to it almost immediately. chan could sit back and say that it’s all his doing, that it’s with his charisma and wit that charmed the client, but truth be told, he couldn’t have done it without you.

first, without you, he wouldn’t have known about the company. sue him for not being interested in smaller companies as business partners, but it’s with your exceptional ability to get him to listen that’s made him understand the appeal. second, without you, the process wouldn’t have been as smooth as it was. papers arrived on time, meetings were set without a hitch, and the relationship with the client was amenable enough that it made transactions easier.

of course, all of the things you’ve done are considered to be the behind the scenes of a successful company, but for chan, you’re front and center. and though the success is connected to his name, it’s always also going to be your success.

as chan offers polite goodbyes to the businessmen who were exiting, his eyes drift to the other end of the room and it lands on you, glowing, with a wide smile that’s taking over your lips. your hair’s a bit disheveled, blouse not neatly tucked in, and the bags under your eyes are now more prominent than the last time he’s seen them, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the room. it’s multiplied tenfold when he sees you speaking to the client, the two of you laughing because of something you whispered.

chan’s heart aches and he knew it was the right time.

this is why he finds himself leading you up to the company rooftop.

chan’s an incredibly simple man when it comes to life’s pleasures. if he wants something, he’ll ask and he’ll get it, as simple as that. but, this is different. if chan wants to get something—get you, he knows he has to exert effort, even if it was as cheesy as confessing while the sun is setting in the horizon.

he has a plan now, a script to follow, and a solution to every outcome that may arise, but why are his hands still sweating in his pockets and why is he feeling light-headed?

chan pushes the rooftop door open, motioning for you to step outside first. he fights the urge to smile fondly when you narrow your eyes toward him. you step out nevertheless and he hears you gasp when you look out to the city’s skyline. he steps out himself, the door closing softly behind him.

the building is positioned perfectly toward the sunset and the light outlines your features. you’re glowing and it’s brighter than the brightest star responsible for this view right in front of him. chan puts his hands inside of his pockets as he stands next to you, watching the way the air ruffles your clothes and your hair from the corner of his eye. how he wishes he could be the wind softly grazing your skin as you looked out to the horizon.

chan lets out a soft chuckle as he shakes his head.

standing beside you, he understands why people say that love brings out the worst in you. chan’s never been the one to open up. used to guarding himself, he was taught to always be strong and to never show vulnerability, especially in public. he had an image to protect, a family legacy to keep going, and being weak won’t help him at all.

but, maybe, you can help him with that. make his worst into his best. chan sighs shakily.

“you did well,” chan starts as he taps his foot. you turn to him with a grin.

“thank you, sir. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

you cough softly as the words leave your lips. both of your cheeks heat up and chan uses this opportunity to move closer to you, the warm, afternoon air flowing around the both of you. just like the first time, the confession he’s prepared in his head is scrambled and he didn’t know when or where to start.

come to think of it, changbin did mention cue cards. chan smacks himself internally.

“yes, well,” his voice cracks slightly, “i didn’t bring you up here just to praise you.” you raise an eyebrow. “you and i both know of your abilities, so i won’t inflate your ego any further.”

“inflate my non-existent ego?” you joke, earning a giggle from chan.

chan turns to face you, wiping his palms on the side of his pants. you mimic him as you cross your arms in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side. your eyes lock and chan’s mouth grows dry. you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and he wonders why he’s never pieced it together before.

chan takes a step forward before taking your hand into his. he feels you hesitate for a moment, your hand threatening to pull itself away from his touch, but after a while, your fingers relax into his palm, as do your shoulders. your eyes scan his face and chan prepares himself to dive into the depths of love, hopelessly.

“y/n,” he starts. “we’ve been working together for a long time now and—“ chan rubs his thumb on the back of your hand—“i can say that you’re one of the most extraordinary women i’ve ever had the opportunity to be with.” your eyes widen. “and it’s not just about our professional relationship, but it’s also about our relationship outside of it.”

“you’re not just my secretary,” chan pauses to look at you—your eyebrows are scrunched and your mouth is slightly open. “you are my friend, someone i can talk to when i’m alone, someone i can confide to, but y/n…” chan taps his foot gently on the floor as he looks out to the horizon once more, wetting his lips. he hangs his head briefly before letting your eyes meet.

“y/n, i want to be more than that for you. i want to be more than just frie—“

a familiar tune plays in the rooftop and chan recognizes it almost immediately. your ringtone. what amazing timing this has been.

chan blinks as the warmth on his hand disappears. his heart is ringing in his ears, yet he catches your quick apology as you fish your phone out of your pocket. before you could say anything else, chan nods, shoving his hand inside his pocket again. you shoot him an apologetic look before you make your way out of earshot.

chan steps forward to grip the roof railing enough to make his knuckles turn white. he hunches over it as his stomach starts to hurt. he feels as if his blood has been drained from his body and his head becomes light, a stark contrast to the way his chest feels in the moment. he gags softly when the air blows on his face.

he was so close to the edge, both literally and figuratively, but the ringtone had to pull him back to square one. if he thought that his mind was a pain in the ass earlier, it was worse now.

one thing is clear, though. the confession has been eating him up the past few days and if he wanted to feel like himself again, he had to tell you, even if it meant getting rejected and making things awkward around the office.

he could always continue once you come back, right?

but, he learns now that the universe has a funny way of fucking with him. he can’t continue anymore because how could he when you returned to him out of breath, eyes bloodshot, and hands shaky?

“y/n?” chan questions, pitch higher than intended. he puts his hands on your arms to grip them gently as he scans your face. he tries to ignore the panic that’s brewing in his stomach. another thing to add to the list of the things happening in his body.

“did something happen? is there an emergency?”

“my—my sister—“ you stutter, tears flowing down your cheeks. chan prepares himself for the worst.

“y/n, i—“

“she passed her dream university!” you exclaim before bursting out crying again. chan slightly deflates, his shoulders falling to his sides and his chest becoming lighter. he rubs your arms awkwardly before pulling away with a nervous laugh.

“i thought it was—“

“no, chan! you don’t understand how serious this is!” you scream. “we’ve been talking about it ever since she was a kid, now, she’s on her way to college. and not just any college! it’s her dream uni! sure, it’s expensive, but you know, we can make it work! we always do!” you run your hand through your now disheveled hair, a huge smile forming on your lips. “you know that one time i was telling you about my sister taking the exam? this was for that university! the—“

chan sighs internally. if he confessed now, he would be stealing such a monumental moment from you. it wasn’t about him or your relationship anymore, but it’s about your family and your personal life. instead, he lets you ramble as he rests his arm on the railing, watching and listening to you and your stories. chan tilts his head gently, a fond smile on his lips.

next time.

he’ll get to tell you next time.

lucky for chan, the next time comes exactly the next day during the company’s big blowout party for him.

he finds himself waiting for you in the car and the both of you were running behind schedule, but he knows why. you’ve always wanted to take your time dressing up during formal events such as this. of course, he’d always offered a professional stylist to make sure the schedules don’t suffer from your tardiness, but time and time again, you would decline. the memory makes chan scoff in the backseat, letting out a soft huff after.

“late again, sir?” his driver teases.

chan puts his arm on the arm rest as he replies, “as usual.”

when the front door of your house opens, chan’s reminded of the reason why he’s never pushed the professional stylist offer.

you’ve done your hair in a manner chan hasn’t seen before, but it suited you. your make up’s bold, but elegant, and your dress hugs your body perfectly, leaving nothing to the imagination. he gulps. you’ve always upstaged your looks and tonight’s no different. chan knows you’re definitely going to outshine him in the party later, but you deserved to be seen the way he sees you—not just as his secretary, but as a professional who commands respect in the rooms she walks in.

as chan sharply inhales at the sight of you, his driver chuckles quietly.

he knows deep down that he had to say something tonight, but as usual, he’s ready with the cheesy speech—the ‘you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me’, the ‘i want to be yours’, but he’s just not sure when to tell you. would it be a good idea to steal you away in the middle of a company event or would it be better if he waited until the both of you were alone?

another day, another dilemma it seems. however, this particular dilemma has no right answer. no matter what he thinks of, there’s always a negative outcome.

before he could delve deeper, he sees the car door open through his peripheral. “we’re late again.”

you hum nonchalantly as you make yourself comfortable in the backseat. “good evening to you too, sir.”

“are we good to go now or are we still on your schedule, miss y/l/n?”

“there’s nothing wrong with being fashionably late, right mr. bang?”

but, as most things in chan’s world, there is something wrong with being “fashionably late”. you and chan are ushered out of the car as soon as you arrive at the company. the staff are muttering something about the crowd waiting for the two of you—for the grand entrance as the others have labelled before.

despite being part of the industry for a long time, chan could only roll his eyes at the formality of it all. it wouldn’t hurt to let loose, but he lets the staff guide the both of you to where you needed to be.

on the way to the event hall, chan unbuttons his black formal polo. he tells himself that it’s for show, but really it’s to let out the heat that has formed throughout his body as the thought of potentially being able to tell you about his feelings takes over his mind, alongside his thoughts of feeling like a teenager again. nevertheless, he tries his best not to look in your direction as you walked beside him.

once you arrive, the staff tell the both of you to wait as they prepare the hall for the grand entrance. chan thanks them as they disappear from sight, leaving the two of you alone. he shuffles awkwardly as he waits before hearing a soft ‘tsk’ leave your lips. he turns his head toward you, but before he could ask, your hands are on his chest.

chan freezes, but he finds it in himself to choke out your name, mouth drying up as he feels the heat from your fingertips through the fabric of his polo.

“buttons,” you mutter, your fingers finding their way to the buttons he unbuttoned only moments before. “you have to look presentable, chan. there are a lot of eyes in there.”

his eyes travel from your hands to your face. your eyebrows are furrowed as you focused on the task at hand and he almost forgets to breathe the whole time you’re on him. your perfume takes over his senses and for a moment, he thinks he’ll float because of the cheesy happiness that has started to bubble in his chest, but he doesn’t. instead, when you raise your eyes to meet his and he sees that sparkle that he’s grown to love, he’s brought back to reality.

and that’s when he realizes, after years of denying it to himself, that it’s not a feeling anymore. chan’s sure that you make him human. around you, he’s not bang christopher chan, the country’s youngest and most successful CEO, instead, he’s chan, the 28-year-old man who’s hopelessly searching for genuine connection in an industry that offers none of the sort.

chan’s on top, constantly, and the others that have come before you have made sure to keep him there, but you’ve grounded him in reality every time the both of you were together. may it be as simple as you answering back to him or as deep as listening to him rambling about god knows what during quiet nights in the office, you’ve always offered him a time and a place to feel human—be human, even for just a few minutes.

chan mumbles your name once more, but you don’t seem to hear as you lightly pat his now-buttoned chest with a smile on your lips.

“there,” you hum. “keep them buttoned for the rest of the night, okay?”

“i—“

“imagine all the articles when you come in there with your chest in full view,” you giggle as you start stepping back to your previous position beside him.

“y/n—“

you playfully cross your arms in front of your chest as you continue, “you have to thank me someday, you kno—“

“y/n,” he cuts you off. “can you please listen to me?” you stop in your tracks as you turn your head, eyebrows raised.

you blink in his direction, lips parting, “i’m listening, sir.” you tilt your head. “what’s wrong?”

chan moves in closer to you as you turn your body towards him, arms falling to your sides. “on the rooftop…”

“yes?”

“i didn’t get to finish my, um…”

your eyes widen. “yes, of course!” you exclaim. “i remember, yes.”

the two of you stand in silence for a moment as chan tries to collect himself, mind a complete and utter mess like the first time he’s faced with this exact same situation. he looks up at the ceiling as he tries to think of a word, a phrase, a sentence, anything else he can say to free himself of the shackles he voluntary put on himself.

your voice cuts through his thoughts as you ask, “did you want to tell me now?” you look at the door in front of you. “we’re due to enter soon.”

“i’m aware,” chan mumbles as he steps in closer to you once more, “but, this won’t take long.”

you nod, eyes scanning his face as your eyes meet. chan inhales, letting out, “how can i—okay. shit.”

this is already a disaster. where’s his cue cards? “i’ll just—“

“chan?” you question, moving in closer to him as well, concern clouding the sparkle in your eyes.

“you’re amazing,” chan blurts out, albeit a little muddled. nothing like the present, yes?

“i—“

“you amaze me,” chan continues. “and you continue to do so after years of us working together and i sometimes wonder”—he grabs a hold of your hand as his starts to shake—“how you do it.” your lips part and chan notices how your chest has stopped moving.

“you’re so charming and just—“ chan lets go of your hand abruptly as he turns away from you, his hand finding its way to his forehead before hanging his head and groaning to himself. he turns back to you, your whole body frozen in place.

“i guess what i’m trying to say is that i l—“

“mr. bang? ms. y/l/n?” one of staff interrupts. you and chan jump away from each other, both awkwardly looking around the hall as blushes form on your cheeks. chan forces himself to make eye contact with the staff member as he rubs the back of his neck. he gives the woman a half hearted smile as he raises an eyebrow.

“we’re ready for you.”

you and chan’s eyes meet as the sentence echoes throughout the hall. he swears under his breath as his shoulders fall, eyes closing as he releases a huff.

“chan,” you mutter, a hint of worry in your voice. he inhales sharply before shaking his head and putting on his best smile for the lady that’s decided to ruin the moment. he nods before closes his fist as he turns toward the door, his jaw clenched. he feels you tug on his sleeve, but he ignores it, heart thumping in his chest as he offers his arm out for you.

“we have to focus now,” chan replies after a short silence. “it’s…it’s not important.”

you don’t say anything else as the atmosphere in the room turns heavy.

for chan, at least.

as the crew finishes up the final preparations around the both of you, you snake your arm around his and chan tries his best not to dampen the mood any further. he straightens his posture, his lips fall in a straight line, and his jaw relaxes as he exhales. and as much as he would hate to admit it, it’s in defeat. yet again.

before he could wallow in his own despair, you ask, “are we dancing tonight, sir?”

it takes a second for him to respond. “unfortunately not, miss y/l/n.”

“not in the mood to show off tonight?”

chan scoffs softly and he hears you giggle. his chest tightens at the sound, yet he appreciates the effort in making the whole situation less awkward than it is. picking up from where the both of you left off, like he wasn’t just about to pour his heart and soul to you.

“i don’t think we need to,” chan plays along. “this party’s for us.”

“us?” you exclaim with a small smile. chan merely nods.

despite the playful banter, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself. why was it so hard to just…say what he needed to say? he can have a ton of scripts at his disposal, but why is it that when he’s in front of you he’s tongue tied? he felt like an idiot, a love-stricken idiot who couldn’t say it straight no matter how much he plans it out.

one question pops up in his slew of thoughts. “if not tonight, then when?”

he may never know the answer to that question. but, one thing is clear to him.

he started this week with some form of optimism that he’ll end up with an actual connection, but now, he feels as if he’s three steps back from his starting position. he sighs internally as he fixes his posture once more. no rest for the weary because the door to the event hall slowly opens and he squints at the light shining right at the two of you. he feels you squeeze his arm gently and he gives you a reassuring look in response.

chan tunes out his thoughts of his failed confessions and his inner voice saying, “next time.” he puts on another smile for the crowd as the both of you start walking in the event hall, the thunderous applause becoming deafening.

here we go again.

#kim tries to write #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #skz #bang chan fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #bang chan fanfic

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gukyi · 5 years ago

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four weeks | kth

summary: four weeks. that’s how long you’re trapped on campus after missing your flight home because of a grossly overtime final. and as you’re walking around your empty campus, thinking that you could sink no lower, you find yourself alone in the art building with a certain freshman-year-dorm-neighbor from hell, and he’s got an offer that you don’t think you can refuse: he’s staying on campus this winter break as well, and he’s happy to let you live with him.

or, four weeks is all it takes to fall in love.

{enemies to lovers!au, roommates!au, college!au}

pairing: art and chemistry double major kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, comedy, the whole nine!! word count: 20k warnings: alcohol consumption (be safe!), unwanted sexual advances (not between main characters and not at all explicit), and a ton of college tomfoolery. a/n: i’m finally finished with my very first semester of college! it was a lot, but finishing this fic was a treat after my damn finals, which were very stressful. this is part of the stranded for christmas collab, and i’m so honored to be doing this with such amazing, talented writers! please give them and their fics lots of love, and enjoy this super fun train wreck of a fic!

Admittedly, Global Politics in the Twentieth Century has never treated you particularly well.

Your lecturer is about as interesting as grass growing, the readings are low quality scans of book pages with the tiniest font and absolutely no line spacing, and any friends you had in that class in the beginning of the semester dropped out of it by the time mid-September rolled around, leaving you trapped due to societal pressures and a History and Politics general education requirement you still have yet to finish.

But, of all the things you could imagine Global Politics in the Twentieth Century doing to you, like charging you an exorbitant $200 dollars for a textbook you would never open anyway, burning your house down, or even straight up just murdering you, this is by far the worst.

It’s bad enough that your final for Global Politics in the Twentieth Century is on the last possible day for finals at the latest possible time, but when the clock strikes 8:00PM and you have just about fucking had it with this semester, you realize that no one else is standing up.

This panic intensifies as you begin thinking of all of the terrible things that could be the reasoning behind this: you’re just the dumbass who finished their final first and got all of the questions wrong, the clocks have yet to adjust to daylight savings and you think that it’s 8:00PM when really it’s 7:00PM, or, worst of all, your final is running overtime.

You have only ever heard of horror stories about overtime finals. Things like having to cram the next three-hour final into one hour, or having to reschedule the final to some other time that is equally as conflicting. Stuff that is, to a normal human being, a minor to moderate inconvenience at best (and to an overdramatic college student—pure, unadulterated hell), but when this is the last final on the last day at the latest time, there are no other finals to be had. No other school-related scheduling conflicts barreling into you.

It’s just your luck, really, that on the last day of the semester, at the latest time you are allowed to be here, Global Politics in the Twentieth Century would come back to bite you in the ass one last time. As if all the times you dozed off in class (or just plain skipped), forgot to turn in your reading analyses, and showed up late to your recitation are finally catching up to you. Like the very worst kind of karma that could ever befall you.

Well, to be fair, it’s not as if the rest of the day has treated you any better. The entire time you’ve been awake on this fine December day has been an absolute trash can of a day.

This is how the beginning of your very last day of the semester played out:

Your alarm went off at 8:00AM sharp, purposefully set that early so you could wake up and have a productive day studying before your final at 6:00PM.

You hit snooze and ended up waking up around 11:33AM.

You scrambled out of bed very inelegantly and attempted to get your life together before noon so you could at least have six hours worth of a productive study day before your final.

You remembered that you hadn’t packed yet, so you spent the next hour frantically stuffing your belongings into the singular carry-on sized suitcase meant to last you through your month-long winter break.

You also realized that you hadn’t done your laundry for the week (well, week and 6 days…), and you obviously want to bring clean clothes back home so you spend the next two hours doing your laundry and finishing up your packing.

By the time you finally managed to get the time to study, the panic had fully nestled itself into your bones, so you could not focus and spent the next three hours staring at your study guide and praying that osmosis would kick in so you could actually retain information.

You left to go to your final five minutes later than you should have and then ran across campus (with absolutely no dignity left) in order to get there on time.

You arrived at your final just in time, only for there to be technical difficulties with printing the exam because your professor is a procrastinator, just like you are.

The next thirty minutes were then spent contacting the IT department, attempting to fix the printer, having to go print in another building, and then coming back with the final exam to a room of aggravated students who thought that they would be thirty-minutes into the exam by now.

You are taking the final exam. It’s stupid difficult and you’re absolutely going to tank it.

You are watching as the final runs overtime for about half an hour.

You are watching as the final runs overtime for about an hour.

You are watching as the final runs overtime for about an hour and a half.

And on your very last day of the fall semester, your final runs overtime by two whole hours because of some mystic force determined to ruin your life, and your flight heading back home took off fifteen minutes ago.

You know, it could be worse. You could have failed all of your classes. Instead, you paid an exorbitant $500 to miss your flight, fail your Global Politics in the Twentieth Century final, and end up trapped on campus for all of winter break because you don’t have the money to buy another plane ticket at such late notice (or at all).

So, it could be worse.

You trudge out of your final exam and try not to burst into tears on your way back to your dormitory. Barely anybody is left on campus now that finals are officially over, but you still want to save that last shred of dignity. As you’re walking down the pathway, you begin to feel wet splotches on your face. For a moment, you think that they are fat tears rolling down your face, but you look at the cobblestone beneath your feet and realize that instead, it’s raining.

The perfect weather to match your mood, if you’re being honest.

Not wanting to get caught in a downpour, you end up taking refuge in the coffee shop connected to the art building on campus. It’s a genius business design, if you say so yourself, because there is no one more dependent on caffeine than sleep-deprived, eyebag-laden art students. Surprisingly enough, there are still people behind the counter bustling around, so you use the last of your university dollars to order a peppermint hot chocolate to warm your insides (but not your cold, dead soul).

From there, you take a quick detour to explore the art building, a building you have, admittedly, never really taken much of a look at. It must be empty now, with everyone off campus—except you, of course—which gives you the perfect opportunity to wallow in peace while admiring art.

Walking inside, you stare at your reflection in the enormous glass walls. Look at your tired eyes, slouched shoulders, lips pressed thin, and hands warmed only by the heat of your cardboard coffee cup. Count each acne mark and hair out of place. It’s almost like you’re watching yourself as you look in the mirror, a third person standing in the background. The audience. Like the person who’s looking back at you isn’t you at all.

It's quite artistic, actually. Ironically enough.

But no matter how picturesque, how cinematic this particular moment of your life is, nothing can really soothe you after missing your flight, failing your final, and pretty much having the worst day of your entire life.

Just then, you hear footsteps echoing down the halls.

You assume that it must just be a professor leaving their office, or even maybe one of the hardworking security guards, but as you watch the glass walls to catch a glimpse of who's passing by, you realize that it's not a professor, or a security guard, or even a very large mouse scurrying across the floor.

"I thought I would be the last one in here," Kim Taehyung says when he spots you, stopping in his tracks with a canvas about half the size of him underneath his arm.

"So did I," you muse in response, not really wanting to turn around to save yourself the trouble of talking to him.

Still, Kim Taehyung has always been one hell of an observant guy, so by the time he's stopped behind you, he's already peering into the reflection of the glass windows to look at who he's talking to.

"Y/N?" He asks, walking up to you with his eyebrow raised. He comes over, standing next to you as you look at each other's reflections in the glass. "Never thought I'd see you in here."

"Me neither, to be honest," you say. Seeing as you aren't a visual studies major, you never really considered the art building to be a location of top priority. Until now, that is.

The last time you spoke to Kim Taehyung was the last day of your freshman year, when everybody was getting ready to move out, packing up their belongings and removing the fifteen thousand Command hooks stuck to their walls. You and him made eye contact as you placed the last of your boxes for the semester into those enormous Residential Services carts, glaring at each other from your adjacent rooms.

“First year flew by, didn’t it?” Taehyung asks, smirk lacing his features.

“Thank God it’s over,” you tell him.

“Not gonna miss me, huh?” Taehyung winks, and it makes you want to take this cardboard box filled with all of the notebooks and lined paper and folders you used throughout the year and chuck it at his head.

“Miss you?” You ask with a scoff. With the final box finally out of your room, you can officially lock the door behind you, closing the chapter on your very first year at university. “Please. Nothing makes me happier than the fact that I don’t have to live next to you anymore.”

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung asks, tapping his fingers on the side of the canvas underneath his arm. “Thought you’d be off campus by now.”

“I had a late final,” you say, pretending that your life and every aspect of it is fine when it is, in fact, not fine at all. The best case scenario is that Taehyung accepts your bullshit answer for what it is and heads off to do whatever it is that he does, leaving you alone so you can wallow in pity and ponder the meaning of life. The worst case scenario is that Taehyung stays.

And Taehyung has always been very good at picking the latter.

“Ah, sucks, for what class?” Taehyung asks. You can’t tell if he’s genuinely curious or just wants to interrupt your personal self-wallow time for as long as possible.

“Global Politics in the Twentieth Century,” you tell him with a sigh. You don’t want to have to hear, say, read, or write that name ever again.

“Oh, really? I took that class last semester,” Taehyung says with an eyebrow raised, surprised. “I thought it was super interesting.”

As if you needed any more proof that you and Kim Taehyung are exact opposites in every way. You are hardly surprised that Kim Taehyung enjoyed Global Politics in the Twentieth Century—not when the two of them have so much in common, like inconveniencing you, being annoying, and sort of always having it out for you. It’s like they were meant to be together.

“I can’t say I thought the same,” you say pointedly, lips pursed into a tight line.

“Ah, well, I never did peg you for a history buff,” Taehyung says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Why are you still on campus? I thought art students had to turn in their final projects on the first day of exams,” you ask, turning the focus onto him. It’s obvious that he has no intention of leaving you alone, so your next best option is to interrogate him until the tension between the two of you is so suffocating, so thick and heavy, that he wants to leave.

“I had a couple of chem finals after I finished up my art classes,” Taehyung says. Right. You forgot he was doing a double major. “And, my parents are actually travelling this winter break, so I was planning on staying on campus. Didn’t really want to go back to an empty house, you know?”

After the day you’ve had, you can think of nothing better than opening the door to your home, knowing that you have the entire place to yourself and can spend the night in your bedroom, watching Netflix.

“You’re staying on campus?” You ask. Great. The only two people who will be on campus this winter recess are you and Kim Taehyung. Fantastic.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, clearly unaffected. He seems particularly unbothered by the fact that he can’t go home, almost like he’s been looking forward to having the entire university to himself. “You’re about to head home, then, aren’t you? Just taking a quick break in the art building?”

Well, almost to himself.

The chances of running into Taehyung this winter break, despite being probably the only two people on campus, is still slim. It’s a big campus, and there are people who are not part of the university that walk on campus all the time.

And still, you don’t know what you’ll do if you lie to Taehyung and tell him you’re about to fly home, and then bump into him at the local coffee shop. You might just perish. That might be what happens.

So, for once in your life, you suck it up and tell the truth. For once.

“Actually, I missed my flight because of my final running overtime, so I’m sort of stuck here,” you tell him, and as the words leave your lips it feels like your whole body gets weighed down, like you’re cemented to the floor.

It’s only then that Taehyung actually turns to face you, so you aren’t standing shoulder to shoulder and staring at the rain pattering on the pavement outside. You look at him, meeting his eyes and to your surprise, they aren’t filled with mirth. He hasn’t got this pleased grin on his face. He’s not milking this situation for what it could be milked for at all. He could be standing here, bathing in the satisfaction of your timely demise, and he’s not.

He actually looks quite sad.

“Really?” He asks, genuine.

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s then that you accept your fate, resign yourself to the fact that you’re trapped on campus with no way (and no money) to get home, and try to look for the silver lining. “So, I’ve actually got to get going, grab my stuff and everything.”

“Oh, do you live off campus?” Taehyung asks. “We should get together sometime this break. Who else are we gonna talk to, right?”

Spending time with Taehyung on your lonely-ass winter break sounds like the absolute worst thing in the entire world. It’s been two years since the last time you were forced to be within fifty feet of each other, so even having this conversation is taking you by surprise.

“No, I’m still staying on campus. But my dorm is closing for the winter break, so I need to go and find an Airbnb or something to stay somewhere,” you say, feeling your heart break at the notion of spending even more money this winter break after having watched your $500 dollar airplane ticket get flushed down the toilet.

Taehyung stays silent, eyes gazing at the lines between the linoleum tiles on the floor. He’s stopped tapping on the side of his canvas, a painting which you still haven’t fully gotten a glimpse of. In the quiet of the art building, the dust settles, and you wait for Taehyung to say something. Anything.

After a few more seconds, you decide that the two of you have been standing in awkward silence for long enough.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” you say nervously, letting out an unnatural and forced laugh as you turn on your feet and begin to head towards the exit. You have no idea where you’re going to go or what you’re going to do, but what you do know is that you have to be out of your building by noon tomorrow, so you’ve got less than a day to figure it out.

And then, Taehyung says the worst thing he could possibly say at this given moment:

“Do you wanna stay with me?”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“What?”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Taehyung immediately clarifies, as if that makes the offer any less sudden. “But I live in an off-campus apartment year round, so you could always stay with me if you’d like. You wouldn’t have to book an Airbnb or anything. But you don’t have to.”

You close your eyes, feeling your chest rise and sink as you inhale and exhale. You can’t believe you’re actually considering his offer. You can’t believe that Taehyung would willingly offer up his personal abode, his private apartment to you, the freshman year next-door neighbor who knocked on his door every six hours to tell him to shut the fuck up. You cannot believe that you are on the verge of accepting.

“Are you sure?” You ask, both eyebrows raised. Yes, the idea of free lodging and no-hassle appeals greatly to you, but you’re not so certain that Taehyung or you actually want this. After all, you spent all of freshman year hating on each other’s living habits as personal hobbies of yours. “You don’t have to offer just because I don’t have a place to stay. Seriously.”

“No,” Taehyung says, taking a step towards you. It’s barely a foot, but it feels like he’s a thousand miles closer to you than he was before. “I mean it. If you want to stay with me, you’re welcome to. I have a futon in my living room that you can sleep on. I’m being serious.”

You cannot believe that he’s asking this.

You cannot believe you’re considering this.

You cannot believe you’re about to say yes to this.

“You really mean it?” You ask one more time, just so you can be certain. You’d hardly be surprised if this whole thing was just a mindfuck.

“I do,” Taehyung says. “No matter what, I don’t think anybody should be alone for the holidays.”

“Then yes,” you say, letting Taehyung catch up to you as you begin to walk towards the exit, step by step. “I’d really appreciate it.” You turn to look at him, your eyes meeting his own chocolate brown ones, nearly ink black in the dark. You can’t offer much, certainly not anything to top this gracious proposal, but you smile, and he smiles back, and you think that’s enough.

Your first order of business is trekking back to your dormitory and grabbing your fully-packed suitcase. At least spending an hour shoving as many of your belongings as possible into a tiny carry-on has its benefits despite you not setting foot in the airport.

“Been a long time since we’ve done this,” Taehyung comments mindlessly as you walk through campus, following the cobblestone path as a shortcut to his apartment.

“Done what?” You ask snarkily. “Hung out with each other?” You scoff. You and Taehyung spent all of freshman year skirting around each other, desperately trying to avoid contact while also banging on each other’s doors every ten minutes. It was essentially two semesters worth of shouting at each other through walls and sneering when you actually locked eyes.

“Talked,” Taehyung simplifies, because he’s right.

“Isn’t that what we were aiming for?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, turning to look at him as your suitcase wheel skips on a stone out of place. “I thought we had reached that consensus already.” It’s been a year and a half since you last spoke to each other. You were almost confident that, without any overlapping classes, you would be able to keep that streak going long after graduation.

As it turns out, things change.

“I don’t know if we ever actually agreed on that,” Taehyung says, thinking back. “Almost like it went…” he pauses, and you can’t be sure if it’s for dramatic effect or because he actually doesn’t know what to say. “Unspoken.”

The irony is not lost on you. In fact, it hits you smack dab in the forehead as you watch Taehyung’s curious expression morph into the sleazy frat boy one he wore so much back then. He looks very pleased with his pun. It makes you want to sock him in the face.

And as it turns out, some things never change.

You resist the urge to punch him in the shoulder because he offered you a place to stay for this break and you sort of (actually, really) owe him big time right now. But that doesn’t mean you can’t send a disapproving frown, which seems to do the trick.

“I distinctly remember how you were so excited to never have to live next to me again when we moved out,” Taehyung says like he’s remembering a fun trip to the zoo. Almost like he looks upon the last time you ever interacted with each other fondly.

You mentally sigh. If only freshman year you knew what was going to happen in the middle of your junior year. If only your final hadn’t run overtime by two hours. If only you had booked a later flight.

If only.

“I don’t remember that at all,” you lie like a liar, saying the words as the picture of you snarkily spitting them at Taehyung at the end of your freshman year plays in your brain on repeat.

“You sure about that, Y/N?” Taehyung says, turning to look you up and down. He’s always been such a people reader, and you’ve always felt so helplessly transparent in front of him. Even back then. Even now. “Because I don’t really think that your memory is that bad.”

“Nope, no, I don’t,” you say quickly, trying to get Taehyung to stop eyeing you like you’re a question on an exam that he thinks is suspiciously easy.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter then, does it?” Taehyung muses as you round the street corner and his apartment complex comes into view. “Since we’ll be living together, anyway.”

“Miss you? Please. Nothing makes me happier than the fact that I don’t have to live next to you anymore.”

Before you can wheel your cart down the hallway and kiss your freshman year goodbye, Taehyung opens his mouth and says one more thing. You almost don’t hear him, too busy reminding yourself that you’ll never have to see him again, but then he says, “One day, Y/N, you’re going to realize that we’re closer than you think.”

When you walk into Taehyung’s apartment, your eyes zero in on these three things: the navy blue futon pushed up against the wall by his television and the fact that it doesn’t look like the kind of used furniture from off of the street that most college kids typically resort to, the little wooden kitchen table that looks straight out of a family-owned Italian restaurant (looks like the two of you will be eating dinner together), and the paintings on the walls.

“Did you paint these?” Is the first thing you ask once you’re inside, putting your suitcase up against the wall as Taehyung takes off his coat.

“Those? Yeah, I did them early last year. My walls looked so damn plain without anything on them.”

In freshman year, Taehyung seemed like the kind of artsy hipster who shopped at Urban Outfitters and put vinyl records on his wall with Command Strips but never actually listened to them.

But the pieces on his walls aren’t vinyls of bands like Arctic Monkeys and Modern Baseball. They’re paintings, oil and acrylics and even a bit of charcoal. Still life and portraits and shadows.

You had never seen one of his paintings before. You never imagined you’d ever want to, or even get the chance to. And now, you’re standing in the middle of his apartment, and you’re surrounded by them.

“They’re…” You trail off, eyes bouncing from wall to wall as you take all of them in. There’s at least ten, one, if not two on each wall in sight. His bedroom is probably filled with them. His apartment’s not enormous, rather small since it’s only got one bedroom, but the paintings make the whole place bigger. Make it feel full of life.

“They’re alright,” Taehyung finishes. He’s already grabbing extra blankets from the storage closet in the side of the wall. “They were assignments we had during the semester so I figured that they’d be put to good use on my wall.”

“It’s very impressive,” you admit. “Kind of a flex, but an impressive flex.” There is something so perfectly Taehyung about the fact that he’s got art all over his walls, but they’re his very own pieces that he has framed and hanging, on display for the entire world to see if they’d like.

“They’d collect dust otherwise,” he says with a shrug. He tosses two blankets and a pillow your way, letting them plop onto the futon. “Are those enough blankets? It can get fucking cold in here, so I don’t want you to freeze to death or anything.”

And for a moment, you think that Taehyung has actually outgrown his asshole-y freshman days, maturing into someone with an actual moral backbone.

“How considerate,” you say sarcastically, “but I think I’ll be alright. I’m a big, strong girl.”

“Just don’t come crawling into my bed if you want a taste of that weighted-blanket life,” Taehyung says, pretending to flip his hair. “Though, I wouldn’t blame you if you did want to sleep with me.”

With a pillow right at your disposal, you waste no time grabbing it and chucking it straight at Taehyung’s face. He easily dodges, having spotted the move from a mile away, and chuckles.

“Come on, Y/N, you can do better than that,” he says disapprovingly, shaking his head as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Your arm was much stronger back in freshman year.”

Scowling, you watch as he puts on the kettle to boil, letting the water begin to bubble as he goes about his business like he doesn’t have a guest in his living room that absolutely can’t stand him.

And you realize that maybe Taehyung’s a couple of years older, a couple of years wiser, but that doesn’t make him a couple of years any less unbearable.

If you were a sleep-deprived engineering student three cans of Monster deep who, in their 4AM haze, invented a time machine to go back to freshman year, and you told your eighteen-year-old self that you would be living under the same damn roof as Kim Taehyung in two years time, freshman year you would probably sock you in the face. And ask you if you changed majors. Which, you did.

It’s not a far reach to wonder why. By the time October rolled around, the two of you had already established yourselves as archenemies until the end of time.

It was a natural progression, really. Two tiny dorm rooms right next to each other, two beds pressed up against opposite sides of the same paper-thin wall, and two disgruntled freshmen trying their hardest not to die of alcohol poisoning.

Now, you don’t have a track record for going to sleep at a reasonable hour. In fact, you don’t think you’ve gone to bed before 11PM since middle school. But is it really that irrational of you to want to get some well-deserved shuteye at two in the morning after a long day of procrastination and a long night of doing the studying you should have done during the day? Your roommate is fast asleep across from you, having gone to sleep at midnight like a regular college student who has her life together, which means that she’s immune to the fact that right next door, you can hear nothing but pounding drums making the very linoleum floor of your dormitory shake.

Scowling, you scramble out of bed, sliding on your shoes to go give a certain Kim Taehyung a bit of a reprimanding.

Why the fuck does he listen to heavy drums at two in the morning? What the fuck is he doing? Does he not own headphones, or anything that might restrict the sound to his own two ears and nothing else? Does he not have any respect for the people next door to him that might also have to listen to the sound of a thumping bass while they’re trying to go to sleep?

Some of you have 9AM’s tomorrow morning. And by some of you, you mean you.

You quietly shut the door behind you so as not to wake your roommate, dead-bolting it so you don’t get locked out and have to trudge down to the Help Desk looking like a tired piece of non-recyclable garbage, and immediately bang on Kim Taehyung’s door. He hasn’t got a roommate, and you know he’s awake, which means that if he doesn’t respond, you’ll know why.

Surprisingly enough, he does, opening the door and immediately grinning once he sees who’s on the other side, like he can’t get enough of the fact that his mere existence bothers you.

“It’s 2AM,” you tell him, in lieu of a greeting.

He checks his watch. “That it is.”

“Would you mind turning down the music? I’m trying to go to sleep.”

“This late, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, an eyebrow raised. “No wonder you’re always so cranky.”

“Maybe it’s because my next-door neighbor plays loud fucking music when I’m trying to go to sleep!” You say, already beginning to raise your voice like a loser who can’t control her emotions.

Which is exactly what you are, actually. So this is very on brand for you.

“Hmm, never thought about it that way,” Taehyung says innocently. He’s got a gleam in his eye that says otherwise.

“I’m being very nice to you right now, Kim Taehyung. Please turn your music down. Because it’s loud and you’re probably bothering other people as well,” you say, restraining yourself. If you were any more sleep-deprived you’d storm into his room and pound in his face like it was the fucking drums he’s listening to.

“But you’re my only neighbor,” Taehyung says, a bitter reminder that you were unlucky enough to be the second-to-last room in the corridor, and he, the very last one.

You inhale, trying to not lose your cool despite having probably already lost it. Kim Taehyung makes you want to tear your eyeballs out. Or buy heavy-duty earplugs off of Amazon Prime. The thing is, one of those options costs you money, and one is entirely free. So, it’s not difficult to see which one you’re leaning towards.

“Taehyung, please turn your music down, or so help me God. I’m asking nicely,” you can feel the carbon dioxide paths coming from your nose as you breathe, in and out and in and out.

“Just for you, Y/N,” Taehyung says with a grin. God. You could just straight sock him in the face right now. “It helps me focus, but so does getting to see you.”

“Perish immediately,” you tell him sharply before pulling the door shut, marching back off to your room.

True to his word, Kim Taehyung does turn off his music. Or puts in headphones. At least he’s conceded.

That is, until you wake up to a crash of glass later that morning at 7AM, coming from only one direction.

The fact of the matter is, everything you and Taehyung did that year bothered the other so immensely that hatred, pure, unadulterated dislike, was really the only thing that could have come out of it.

“You still listening to loud ass drums in the middle of the night?” You ask, eyeing the speakers by Taehyung’s television as you sit on his couch (as far apart from each other as possible) and eat some leftover spaghetti.

“I invested in some AirPods as a treat to myself last year, so yes, but don’t worry,” Taehyung says. He’s mindlessly flicking through the available Hulu options on his TV, severely unimpressed by every one of them.

“Wow, AirPods, sounds like you’re moving up in the world,” you say callously. “At least I don’t have to listen to it with you anymore.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it helped me focus,” Taehyung says, all matter-of-fact about it. “It was from a Spotify playlist of modern orchestral music. You should give it a listen, it really gets you into the zone.”

“My relationship with classical music has, unfortunately, been tainted by a certain someone,” you remind him, taking the time to shoot him a glare just in case he doesn’t already know who exactly is at fault.

“What a shame, you might actually like it,” Taehyung says sadly, shaking his head.

“So what are the speakers for, then? If not for your fuckin’ drums,” you ask, motioning to them again as you slurp up the last of your spaghetti. It’s not as if you’ve got some sort of sacred reputation to protect in front of him. He’s seen you at your best (the first day of freshman year, when there was still light in your eyes), and at your worst (2AM, coming out of a drunken stupor, and bedhead-ridden). Like an ex-boyfriend, or something.

“My friends really like singing karaoke,” Taehyung says. He points to the bluetooth microphones underneath the television as extra proof.

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse to yourself. Taehyung always struck you as someone that needs people not to calm him down, but to elevate his already boisterous personality. Friends who are equally as unabashed as he is.

“Since you’re here for a whole month, we should try it some time,” Taehyung suggests, taking the empty bowl from your hands and heading back to the sink to wash up.

“You need help with that?” You ask, immediately getting up because even if Taehyung has a tendency to drive you up the wall, you’re still going to be a good guest.

“No, don’t sweat it,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “You know, I have karaoke for All I Want For Christmas Is You. Super seasonal, right?”

You dust off your hands from where you’re standing, loitering in that weird halfway point between his kitchen and his living room. Checking the clock underneath his television, you realize that it’s already past ten. And while you haven’t gone to sleep this early in a while, being in Taehyung’s apartment makes you feel all sorts of strange. Subdued and exhausted, too grateful to be your normal aggressive and witty self. And after such a long goddamn day, passing out on his navy blue futon seems like absolute heaven.

“Not right now,” you say, shaking your head. Karaoke is something that friends do with other friends. And despite currently living under the same roof, you and Kim Taehyung are not friends.

(But perhaps you will be. And that’s the scary part.)

You sigh, absolutely tanked. It’s been a stupidly long day. “Maybe later.”

Living with Taehyung is a sort of strange limbo you never, in a million years, pictured yourself in. You aren’t close enough to be friends but you’ve matured out of being the true enemies you had both envisioned the yourselves as in freshman year. The both of you walk around his apartment like you’re afraid to talk to the other, waiting patiently for the bathroom when the other person’s inside, trying to keep yourself busy with nonexistent work (it is winter break, after all) and the apps on your phones.

This is the sort of thing you dreamed of when you were a freshman. A Kim Taehyung that you could co-exist with peacefully. Someone who didn’t spend every waking moment of his life making every waking moment of yours unbearable. You used to find excuses to sleep overnight in the library (it was open 24/7, after all) just so you wouldn’t have to go back to your dorm and see his stupid face. Now, the two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch minding your own goddamn business and doing two totally unrelated activities. In silence. The only noises being his refrigerator/freezer combo when it starts making ice and the sounds of your fingers hitting the keyboards on your laptops. Maybe he’s playing a video game on the Playstation 4 he keeps out in the living room, but he has headphones on and isn’t saying a word.

It’s a very strange sort of limbo indeed, because no opportunities arise for you to become friends nor do any arise for you to become enemies. At this rate, you’ll live together for the month-long winter break and when it ends, you’ll go back to never speaking to each other again.

And that, strangely enough, makes you sad. Makes you want to reach out to him, try and build up a relationship that last ended in absolute chaos so that when you leave this place, it won’t have been for naught. You will have gained something from it, no matter how small.

But just like usual, Taehyung beats you to it.

“Hey,” he says one day, walking into the living room and already pulling on his overcoat. “You free right now?”

“Yeah, why?” You ask, shutting your laptop as you turn to him. He’s all dressed up and you’ve been wearing the same hoodie for the past forty-eight hours.

“Let’s get hotpot. I’m freezing and I want some hot soup and meat.”

So, you go and get hotpot.

Like any normal university with more than approximately three East Asians enrolled, there’s a hotpot place right off campus that many a college student frequent. You have, admittedly, not been since freshman year, but this winter break you seem to be reaching back into all of those memories anyway, like a can of worms. Memory worms.

“I’m starving,” Taehyung says as the two of you sit down. He’s already opening the menu, eyeing all of the different ingredients he can order for a simple All-You-Can-Eat fare. “Plus, I’ve been craving hotpot for weeks now.”

As if on cue, his stomach grumbles and you can hear it from across the booth.

“Even my tummy knows,” Taehyung says, placing a palm to his belly to soothe it. “Have you gotten hotpot before?��

“Yeah, but it was a while ago. I just never had the time to go for a whole two hours and pig out on food,” you say with a sigh. It’s been so long that you barely remember what it tastes like.

“Then we’ll spend every minute that we’re allowed to here, eating as much food as we want and gaining a few pounds while we’re at it,” Taehyung says, determined. The waiter comes by to pour you both some water and he already begins to order, pointing to about fifteen different things on the menu before the waiter whizzes off.

“I don’t think I heard a single word you told that guy,” you say candidly. Taehyung listed everything off so quickly that it went right over your head.

“I just ordered a lot of food, so be prepared,” Taehyung says like it’s a promise. He’s got this glint in his eye, one that tells you that you should be glad you came on a fairly-empty stomach because it’s about to be filled to the brim.

And prepared you are. Within five minutes of Taehyung ordering, there are plates and dishes and boards of food in front of you and a steaming pot of broth in the middle. There’s so much on the table that you can hardly see the marble table top underneath.

Taehyung dives right in, clearly an experienced hotpot eater. He grabs two bowls filled with various sauces and pops a couple of the vegetables into his mouth as he waits for the broth to boil. And when it begins to bubble, he immediately begins dumping everything in sight into it, from meat to noodles to vegetables. It all looks ridiculously appetizing.

When the first round of hotpot is over and done with, you already feel yourself starting to get sleepy just from the consumption overload. Taehyung, on the other hand, has apparently no limit and is already ordering more, pointing to another fifteen things on the menu.

“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Taehyung asks, and you can hear the knowing tone in his voice. Like he already knows how you’re going to answer him.

“I have to admit that I never did,” you say. It must the food that’s softened you up. No wonder Taehyung invited you to a place where you can literally eat as much as you want in a two-hour timeframe.

“This is nice, though, isn’t it?” He asks.

And for once in your life, you agree. It is nice. Not just the food (though the food is very nice) but being with someone on a winter break that would otherwise be overwhelmingly lonely. Eating out with someone, even if it’s someone with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong, isn’t that sturdy. It’s nice. Because it means that, somewhere along the way, you both wanted something to change for the better.

“It is.” You nod. “Way better than all the times we fought during freshman year.”

“Remind me why we never went to our RA to resolve things like we should have?” Taehyung says, but he doesn’t make it sound like you both made a mistake. He asks because he’s curious, and because the past is the past.

“I think we were both too fucking prideful for our own good,” you say, shaking your head. You now would disapprove of you in freshman year so strongly. “We thought that we could either resolve it ourselves or spend the rest of our lives hating each other.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” Taehyung asks, holding up his water like it’s a glass of vintage red wine from the 1800’s. “That we thought that we could just spend the rest of our lives hating each other?”

“I was prepared to do it,” you say, taking another piece of meat from the hotpot in front of you, letting the steam waft from it like a tiny campfire. “With how big this school is, I was convinced that you and I would never have to see each other again. Never have the opportunity to change how we felt about each other.”

“But that’s not how life works, Y/N,” Taehyung tells you, looking into your eyes like he’s trying to reach into your soul, pick apart the memories of freshman year and watch as your relationship deteriorated as each day went by. “It doesn’t matter if we see each other every day for the rest of our lives or if, after this, we never say another word to each other. You will always have the opportunity to change how you feel about someone, even if you aren’t with them. Even if you aren’t seeing them at all.” He takes a deep breath, and reaches over the steaming pot of soup to nudge your shoulder with his finger, ever so slightly. It makes you look up at him, meet his dark brown eyes with your own, foggy from the steam. “That’s what makes us human, Y/N. We’re human because we can change.”

Your heart, still and silent, begins to thump.

“Do you wanna go to New York?”

“Today?”

It’s early in the morning on Christmas Eve, and the two of you are wide awake after Taehyung’s neighbors a floor below him called the fire department as an early wake-up call for the entire complex. You’ve always been a light sleeper—Taehyung made sure of that in freshman year—but even he woke up as the fire trucks pulled up to the fire lane next to the apartment building. He came stumbling out of his room in nothing but a t-shirt two sizes too big and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, locks of his hair sticking every which way, face illuminated by the blue, red, and orange lights of the emergency vehicles beneath the window.

And he stayed like that, even as the noise died down and the sun rose. He marched around looking like he had just rolled out of bed, barely sparing himself a second glance in the reflection of his refrigerator.

“Yeah,” Taehyung responds like it’s obvious. “If we hopped on a bus now we could make it there by nine and spend the day there. How about it?”

“You mean, right now?” You ask, just as clarification. College and its many features have forced you to grow used to spontaneity, but it usually came in the form of “I’m hungry, so I am going to eat an entire bag of Hot Cheetos at this exact moment” or “Yes, my bank account is crying but these pants are very cute,” and not, “Do you wanna go to New York?”

“In a bit. Buses leave from here every hour to go to New York, especially since it’s the holiday season. Tickets are ten dollars. We could do it, if you’d like,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s suggesting that the two of you go grocery shopping or something else equally mundane.

“Just for the day?” You ask, a girl of both many questions and a shocked expression.

“Sure,” Taehyung says with a shrug, biting into a tomato as if it were a goddamn apple. “We can go to a museum or two, eat a nice lunch or dinner, and go ice skating at Rockefeller. See the tree, too. It’ll get us in the holiday spirit, don’t you think?”

And normally an outing to New York would have you planning weeks in advance, organizing reservations and buying tickets for entry into exhibits, but it’s winter break and you’ve got more free time than you know what to do with.

And maybe you’d hate to admit it, but you need someone like Taehyung to get you off of your ass and out of the house, do something fun and spontaneous like college students do in the movies.

Taehyung is practically a movie portrayal of a college student in real life. He’s spontaneous, secretive, sage. He’s artsy and worldly, paints but is also extremely smart and well-educated. He lives in a quaint off-campus apartment by himself and spends his days making friends and keeping busy. He loves to tease you, and has that sort of lopsided smirk that all casanovas do. And he is, as much as you’d hate to admit it, always been something of a looker. He’s got the same sort of handsome, classic look that young European men in paintings from the eighteenth century have, a portrait of them in the prime of their lives. One wink and he’d send every preteen girl in the audience to their knees.

And you? Well, you suppose you’re the tragically unlucky female lead who has to live with him until classes resume.

Taehyung’s standing in the kitchen, leaning on the counter island as he scrolls for bus tickets on his phone. “There’s a bus leaving from the station in thirty minutes. Think we can make it?”

It might be the fact that you’ve been holed up in Taehyung’s apartment for the past forty-eight hours that makes you say yes. Or it’s the desperation to do something, anything, literally anything, to keep yourself busy this break.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that little voice in the back of your chest, one buried in the depths of your heart, that makes you go. Because there is something so wonderfully exhilarating about being spontaneous. And there is something even more exciting about it being with someone you know.

You grin. “Let’s do it.”

Two hours later, the two of you are standing outside Penn Station in New York City, staring at the road signs to try and orient yourself. It’s chilly and a little windy, but the sun beats down regardless, shadows of skyscrapers cast along the streets.

You pull out your phone to pull up the Maps app, looking up directions, but Taehyung just begins to walk down 7th Avenue, not a care in the world.

“Where are you going?” You say quickly, scrambling to catch up to him. This early in the morning, your breath still turns to fog as you jog towards him to meet his abnormally long strides.

“Do you want to go to the Met, MOMA, or Guggenheim?” Taehyung asks simply, like he’s trying to decide which type of Doritos to get in the chips aisle.

“Uh…” you are, admittedly, not that particular to the art that you’ll see. Art does not have as much of an immediate relevance to you as other things in your life, like your bank account, or your final semester grades. “Why don’t you pick the museum, and I’ll pick the restaurant we go to?”

“Deal,” Taehyung says, that same devilish gleam in his eyes, a trick (or two) up his sleeves. Only this time, you aren’t afraid of what he’s got in store.

You find that you are very much looking forward to it.

Twenty minutes later sees the both of you standing outside the gigantic glass doors of the MOMA, surrounded by a pitch black exterior about as edgy and contemporary as the pieces of art inside.

“You never struck me as a modern art kind of guy,” you tell Taehyung as the both of you walk inside, glass windows and ceilings on every side of you and a bustling crowd right in front of you. Modern art seems rather stuffy. And perhaps, two years ago, you would have equated Taehyung to such, but now, stuffiness couldn’t be the furthest adjective to describe him. He may be a little obnoxious and overwhelmingly charismatic, but he is certainly not stuffy.

“I prefer Impressionism and the subsequent periods,” Taehyung tells you, another fact you never knew but happily stow away. “But I am, admittedly, a bitch for modern art, no matter how goddamn stupid it is.”

“Good to know we’re spending our money on a museum that will definitely be worth our while,” you say dryly, taking the two tickets from the woman behind the desk. You pick up a map while you’re at it, almost certain to get lost in this maze of a museum, but Taehyung is already zooming off, forcing you to scurry through the herds of people just to keep up his pace.

“Do you know where we’re going?” You ask, entirely serious. You fumble to open up the map and suddenly you’ve got a piece of shiny paper larger than your backpack in your hands, overwhelmed.

Taehyung stops, the two of you standing right by the middle of a doorway, blocking everybody’s path. And he places his hands on top of yours, lowering the map as you gaze up at him, wondering why the heck you haven’t moved to the side so you aren’t inconveniencing the thousands of people roaming the museum. His brows are soft, a little furrowed, like someone began to knit them together but then forgot halfway through. Like he’s thinking. Like he wants to tell you something.

“No,” Taehyung says softly, large hands enveloping yours as he begins to fold the map back up, “I don’t know where we’re going.”

You open your mouth, about to prove your point, but Taehyung continues.

“But I don’t need to. Because we’re supposed to get lost,” he tells you, honest, candid, and true. “That’s the whole point. It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”

You scoff, heart a little warm on the inside but wit still sharp. “You sound like an infomercial for a cruise.”

Taehyung laughs, tilting his head back in the way that says that he means it. “I’m serious, Y/N. Please. We don’t need a map. We can guide each other. All we need is faith, trust…” He pauses, leaning in and waiting for you to finish his sentence.

Begrudgingly, you give in, mostly because he’s too naturally charming not to. “And pixie dust.”

Taehyung grins, satisfied, before he catches you by surprise, takes your hand in his, and pulls you into the elevator.

Much like the corrupt businesses whose main offices are only a few minutes walk away, you go from the top down. Taehyung says that it is like a very, very long slide. You say that it’s an extremely slow walk.

He’s an art student. You don’t really know what else you were expecting. He stares at each piece until it bores into his eyes, fills up another cup in his soul, overflowing with color, with light and meaning and everything in between. Every now and then, he and you stop at the same one, inspecting each and every detail, and Taehyung will lean to the side and whisper in your ear.

He will tell you what he thinks of the medium, what he thinks of this piece and what he thinks of the positioning of that specific object. He tells you not how he interprets it in the eyes of the artist, but what it means to him, and how he perceives it. And, as the hours pass, you realize that, while you have been in museums before, you had never felt like you were truly there. And here you are, standing in front of priceless pieces of art with a boy in love with art beside you, and he holds your hand as he takes you through what brings him more joy than anything else.

(Well, besides perhaps, chemistry.)

When you reach the first painting and sculpture floor, Taehyung lets out an audible gasp.

You round the corner and before you know it, you’re standing in front of what could very well be the most famous painting of the nineteenth century.

“I forgot it was here,” Taehyung says distantly, like he’s forgotten who he’s talking to. In the ink black of his pupils, you can see the oil painting reflected, the thick blue and yellow brushstrokes, each and every line on the canvas.

“Now, this piece I’m familiar with,” you say, standing next to him and staring up at The Starry Night, an artistic feat, worth more than probably a hundred times your tuition, and a legacy. The legacy that The Starry Night left behind is one that you see still reflected today. You see it in all of the other people in this little room, clambering over one another just so they can get a glimpse. You see it in the little children who draw self-portraits in art class, Sharpies and markers and crayons littering the page.

And you see it in the boy next to you, who loved something so much he knew that he would be doing it for the rest of his life. He would be following a legacy, forever, until he forged one of his own. You look not at the art but as Kim Taehyung gazes at it, memorizing each and every stroke and imprinting it onto his brain. And you finally realize what art means: passion. It means that it fills you up, flows through your blood and into your heart, consumes you. And it means that the only thing you can do to prevent it from eating you alive is to spread it, and let others get a taste of the madness.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it,” you muse. You don’t know much about art but when there is something so mesmerizing, so stunning, in front of you, it’s difficult not to notice.

You feel Taehyung turn his head, letting the gaze of his piercing brown eyes rest upon your figure for a split second before he turns back. “It is,” he says.

The way that the two of you go through art museums, by the time you emerge, it’s already dark and the streets are beginning to empty as tourists and cityfolk alike find places to eat, walking into every bar, restaurant, cafe, and house on the hunt for a good meal, whether homemade or curated. You had spent nearly an hour in the gift shop alone, laughing at the overpriced t-shirts and kitschy pillows.

“Where to next, m’lady?” Taehyung asks as you push open the glass doors and let the biting cold hit your noses.

“You know, we were so busy in there that I didn’t even have time to find a nice place to eat tonight,” you admit sheepishly.

“That’s alright,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “I like surprises. Spontaneity is my thing.”

“You don’t say,” you comment sagely, making Taehyung roll his eyes.

Knowing that it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation now, you and Taehyung make your way south, following the flow of traffic heading towards Times Square and keeping an eye open for any places that look relatively nice and busy, but not too busy, the perfect sign of both a delicious and available restaurant.

After walking for a few blogs, cuddling together (in a totally platonic way) to preserve as much body heat as possible in the now freezing weather, air no longer warmed by the sun’s rays, you stumble upon a tiny hole in the wall Mediterranean place. You can’t really see anything inside due to the fog on the window, forming from the combination of cold air and hot, but Taehyung does a quick google search and says that it’s a modern Mediterranean restaurant that specializes in pizza. Google says it has two dollar signs. You hear the word pizza, and everything pretty much goes out of the window.

“Hi,” Taehyung says as you squeeze through the little hallway to get to the host, voice warm and silky. “Table for two?”

“Your last name, sir?” The man asks.

“Oh, we don’t have a reservation,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. You two are college students. It’s not like you plan ahead anyway.

“That’s okay, we still ask for every customer’s name for a more personalized experience,” the host says. He leans forward, eyes wide, waiting for Taehyung to respond.

“Kim,” Taehyung says simply as the host gathers two menus and a wine list.

“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” the host says, and you open your mouth to correct him (Because you are not married. You’re not. You’re not even dating. This is not a date. It’s not a date, right?), but Taehyung puts a finger to his lips and tells you to zip it. It’s almost like he’s enjoying this.

For the rest of the evening, the wait staff all address you and Taehyung as Mr. and Mrs. Kim, which is absolutely outrageous for multiple reasons: you are college students, you both look like college students, you’re not dating, you don’t act like you’re dating (other than the hand-holding and cuddling which was purely out of survival and nothing else), and most importantly, you’re not interested in each other like that. That part is obvious. Isn’t it?

When you order a glass of champagne each they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When Taehyung has a question about one of the ingredients on one of the pizzas they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When you order your food they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When they come by to clarify Taehyung’s request of no anchovies they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim. When they bring these massive pizzas and place them down on your table, wishing you a pleasant meal they call you Mr. and Mrs. Kim.

Mr. and Mrs. Kim, they call you.

“Everything alright, Mr. and Mrs. Kim?” Your waiter asks as you’re plowing through your individual pizzas very inelegantly.

“Yes,” Taehyung grins cheesily. “Thank you very much.”

He’s positively beaming.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” You ask, a single eyebrow raised.

“This pizza is really good,” Taehyung tells you.

“Not that,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You know that Taehyung knows exactly what you’re referring to, he’s just being annoying about it, as per usual. “The whole ‘we’re married’ thing. You like it, don’t you?”

“The “Mr. and Mrs. Kim’ thing?” Taehyung says with a smile. He’s relishing in the feeling, especially when it’s obvious that you’re not as keen on the collective nickname. “I fucking love it. You don’t?”

“We’re college students,” you remind him.

“So? That means that they think that we look old enough to not be college students. I consider that a win, especially because Jimin always says I look twelve,” Taehyung says with a shrug.

“We’re not married,” you add. It’s the truth.

“You’re right, we’re not, but Mr. and Mrs. Kim has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think? I love the way that it sounds,” Taehyung says. He basks in it.

“We’re not even dating, Taehyung,” you say with a sigh, exasperated. Doesn’t he get it? It’s weird, being Mr. and Mrs. Kim, because you never have been. There never was a Mr. and Mrs. Kim. And quite frankly, there never will be. “We’re not even interested in it.”

“Who says?” Taehyung asks, and the path he’s directing this conversation down is not one you’d like to take. It’s rocky and bumpy and unclear, hazy with fog. You don’t do fog. You like when things are clear cut and visible.

“I do,” you say with a frown. “Are you interested in dating me, Taehyung? Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to date you right now. Or, like, at all.”

Taehyung pauses. His brows are furrowed again, but all the way this time. He stares down at his pizza, and he contemplates. You sit there and watch him, feeling the weight of every second as it passes by. Were you too harsh? Maybe you were. But it was the truth, and he deserves something honest, even if it’s brutal.

“Oh,” Taehyung says, like he wasn’t expecting those words to come out of your mouth. What you said has been lingering between you like smoke, refusing to dissipate. “Well, I—I guess that makes two of us.” It’s obvious that there’s something else there, just underneath the water, but you don’t press further. It sounds like he’d rather keep it hidden.

When you leave, the waitstaff bid you goodbye exactly as you had predicted.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” they say cordially as you and Taehyung pull on your coats and hats and gloves and head out the door.

“You too,” Taehyung says softly after a few seconds, like he was waiting for the words to fade away before speaking. “Thank you.”

Your bus leaves from Penn Station at 9:30 that night, and it’s barely seven. Plenty of time for you to continue exploring, see Times Square all lit up like it’s New Year’s Eve, go up to the top of the Empire State Building, or even take a peek into Central Park at nighttime, when the moon is high and the lanterns are lit.

“How about we go ice skating?” Taehyung suggests as the two of you walk along the pavement, side by side. Your hands are buried deep into the pockets of your coat.

“At Rockefeller?”

“Sure, why not?” Taehyung says. That sentence pretty much sums up your trip to New York thus far. “I’ve always wanted to go skating and see the tree during Christmastime. When else will we get the chance?”

Five minutes later you’ve paid for rental skates, a locker for your shoes, and a ticket to the rink. Visible right next to you is the enormous tree, the lights twinkling and cameras flashing as everyone scrambles to get their Instagram picture to prove that they actually went to the tree at Rockefeller Center in New York City.

When the zamboni is finished and the employees have skated over the ice enough to increase the level of friction, Taehyung and you balance on your skates as you walk towards the entrance. Slowly, everybody begins to glide on, wobbling at first before eventually getting the hang of it. There are a couple of small children holding onto those little penguin skate assistants, laughing as their older brothers and sisters guide them along the ice.

“I’ve never skated before,” you admit nervously, about two seconds before you’re about to enter the rink.

Taehyung’s mouth drops open. “Never?”

“No,” you reiterate, even more nervous than before. “I have no idea what I’m doing, I just said yes because like you said we’re in New York and it’s nearly Christmas and we should just seize every opportunity that we have and—”

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, calming you down as he ushers you away from the entrance so you aren’t blocking other people’s paths. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry,” he tells you, holding onto your wrists to make you look up at him. “I can show you how to. It’s easier than it looks, I swear. I won’t let you fall. You just have to trust me, alright?” He shakes your wrists to catch your attention, make sure that you heard him. “Alright?”

Deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

“Alright.”

Everything is, in fact, not alright. No matter what Taehyung says, ice skating is way more fucking difficult than it looks. Taehyung steps onto the ice and it turns into second nature for him, gliding around a small circle to get warmed up as you cling onto the side railing like an idiot. You have no idea how to move, you have no idea where to go, you just shuffle along the railing with the rest of the children who are far younger than you, also trying to skate for the first time.

This is embarrassing.

“You’re a liar,” you tell Taehyung pointedly as he circles around, coming up to rest next to you. You’d point at his chest for emphasis, but you’re afraid you’ll fall without both hands on the railing at all times. “This is—” you pause, remembering that there are children present, “—very difficult.”

Taehyung just chuckles. “You have to be brave, Y/N, come on,” Taehyung implores. He holds out his hand, motioning for you to let go of the wall and take a leap of faith.

“No, I will not be brave. Please let me be weak,” you beg, scared for your life. One wrong move and you’d go splat in the middle of the rink and embarrass yourself in front of all of New York City.

“Come on, Y/N,” Taehyung says, holding his hand closer. “You said you trusted me. I told you, I won’t let you fall. Come on. Be brave.” And then he adds, leaning in to meet your eyes, “for me?”

He’s always been too charming for your own good.

Tentatively, second by second by painstaking second, you remove your hands from the railing, first the left and then the right, as Taehyung pulls you right next to him, holding on tight.

“See?” He asks as you begin to move on your own, Taehyung’s short glides pulling you along the ice. “Look, it’s not that bad.”

“I am scared for my life right now.” You blink.

“Focus on me, okay,” Taehyung says, making you meet his eyes once more. “Eyes on me, alright. You’re doing fine. You’re skating, isn’t this fun?”

“I am terrified that I am going to perish on this very rink,” you repeat for emphasis.

“Look, Y/N, look! You’re skating!” Taehyung tells you, and finally you glance down at your feet and realize that they’re beginning to move on the ice, all on their own.

“Oh my God! I’m skating! What the—heck!” You say, eyes widening in excitement.

“I knew you could do it,” Taehyung says, hands gripping on tight. You can feel the warmth from his palms seep into your own, feel the back of your hand burning from the touch. “You just had to trust me.”

“This is so cool,” you say, immediately very pleased with yourself. “I’m such a pro, I can do anything. Who said skating was scary?”

Taehyung opens his mouth to respond, but you shoot him a warning glare and he zips his lips.

“Watch this, I can even do it on my own. You’re gonna be very impressed, Kim Taehyung, just watch me!”

Within the next moment, you’re letting go of his hand and pushing yourself away from him, gliding along the ice ever-so-slightly as you begin to balance on your own.

But power is short-lived, and much like every leading male in Greek tragedies, your hubris gets the best of you, and you face the ultimate demise.

The moment you attempt to pick up your left foot, your right toe pick gets caught in a dip of the ice and you go toppling over, collapsing onto the ice in a cold, bruised ball.

Luckily, your coat takes most of the hit, its length preventing your knees from hurting into the next century, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. Ashamed of yourself and even more mortified to have to face Taehyung after boasting about how amazing you are, you slowly push yourself off of the ice, wobbling like a baby deer.

“What was that, Y/N?” Taehyung says with a raised eyebrow as he skates over. He’s clearly just recovered from a laughing fit.

“Fuck off,” you mutter, and you don’t even care if children hear you. “I got excited.”

“Clearly,” Taehyung notes, eyes wide and knowing. He holds out a hand, and before you even have time to think of a snarky retort your palm is reaching out for it, letting him pull you up off of the rink. “Here. Come on.”

One hour and two fairly bruised knees later, you and Taehyung are taking off your skates and relishing in the feeling of your feet, flat on the ground like feet should be.

“You alright?” Taehyung asks. You didn’t have any massive falls following the first spectacle, but you admittedly, still cannot ice skate very well. You’ll have to figure out a way to learn.

You round out the night by going to look at the Christmas Tree. Now that it’s fairly late, the massive families with young children have all gone home, leaving only the young adults left to bask in the glory of the peak of Christmas decorations.

“It seemed bigger in photos, didn’t it?” Taehyung asks as the both of you crane your necks to look at the tree in all of its glory. “Like it was the size of a small tower.”

“Yeah,” you agree. It looks somewhat disappointingly small, now that you’re here in front of it. “Today was a lot of fun, Taehyung. Your spontaneity paid off.”

“When does it not?” Taehyung asks, proud of himself. He even has enough of an ego to do a little hair flip, making you shake your head disapprovingly. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I certainly did.”

“What was your favorite part?” You ask.

“Definitely when you were in your prime for one moment and a puddle on the ice the next,” Taehyung says, and for that, he earns a punch to the shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But I did really enjoy ice skating.”

“Yeah, because you can actually do it,” you remind him.

“What about you?”

You think. This day has been so long, from getting woken up by Taehyung’s irresponsible neighbors and the entire city’s fire department outside your window, to hopping on a bus to New York, to museums and restaurants and ice skating and the city, you feel like you’ve lived three days in one.

“The museum,” you finally decide. “I’m not really an art person, but I thought it was lovely. Nice and heated, too.”

“Yes, the best part about the Museum of Modern Art was its modern, state-of-the-art central heating,” Taehyung repeats, making you laugh. “I’m glad you liked the museum. I was worried you’d think it was too stuffy.”

You had thought that too. And then you watched someone fall in love with each and every piece, right in front of you, and you realized that there’s more to art than putting a price tag on it and critiquing it. It’s passion, materialized. It’s real.

It’s Taehyung.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “I thought it was beautiful.”

On Christmas Eve, it snows.

Correction: On Christmas Eve, it snows a lot.

Correction for the correction: On Christmas Eve, it blizzards.

When you listened to “White Christmas” last night, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, if you were being honest. Maybe an inch or two. Maybe even just a flurry. But certainly not nearly two feet worth of snow, effectively trapping you inside of Taehyung’s apartment complex until the next day because not even the snow plows are allowed to go out on the roads. Not until the snow stops.

“Good thing we don’t live on the first floor, right?” Taehyung asks with a laugh that late afternoon, taking a peek out of the window to stare down at the white expanse below you. “I’d hate to be those guys.”

“It must be so cold,” you say sadly. You’ve spent the better part of today huddled up in as many blankets as Taehyung owns in his apartment and you have no intention of shedding even one of them. Not even as you sweat right through your pajama shirt from high school.

“We can just make dinner here, tonight,” Taehyung says, fishing around in his kitchen to see what the options are. It’s already beginning to get dark even though it’s not even five o’clock. God, you hate winter.

“What are we making?”

Taehyung fumbles through the cabinets and his fridge, hunting for anything that might make a good meal. Eventually, he pulls out two cartons of Trader Joe’s vegetable broth and every vegetable in his fridge.

“Wanna make soup?”

Soup is very easy to make. You set the broth to simmer, chop up vegetables, and dump them in the pot.

But the idea of you and Taehyung sharing his tiny kitchen space, both with knives in your hands is, well, a recipe for disaster.

Luckily no knife mishaps occur, but, like the children at heart that you are, you eventually end with pelting uncooked lima beans at each other in the most adult version of a food fight you have ever had in your life. No fuss, no mess, no tomatoes or key lime pies or spaghetti doused in sauce getting chucked across the kitchen floor, the dinner table.

No, your little food fight ends with you and Taehyung kneeling down on the tile as you pick up each little lima bean, gathering them in your palms.

You make to toss it out but Taehyung stops you.

“Wait,” Taehyung says, a hand on top of yours as it hovers over the trash can, “don’t toss them out.”

“Huh?” You ask.

“I’ll feed them to the birds,” he says, taking the pile from your hands and placing all of the lima beans, along with his own, in a Ziploc bag.

“You have a porch out here?” You ask, looking around. You’ve never seen it.

“No.” Taehyung shakes his head. “They land on my bedroom window sill so I feed them.”

When you were in freshman year, you remember how Taehyung always left his window open. You know this because even though yours was always closed, anytime a police car, fire truck, ambulance, or particularly loud motorist drove by, the sound was always loudest on the wall of your room that bordered Taehyung’s. You hated how he always left his windows open, even in the winter. Wasn’t he goddamn cold?

And now, even though it’s Christmas Eve and there’s a blanket of snow outside nearly two feet deep, Taehyung will go and open his bedroom window again and feed the birds lima beans like a fucking Disney prince, and it makes your heart flutter, ever so slightly.

You end the night sitting on Taehyung’s couch, only a foot or so of space in between your bodies as he multitasks, channel surfing and gulping down your homemade soup.

“I haven’t made soup in a while, but damn, this is good,” Taehyung says, drinking the rest of it before getting up to help himself to seconds. He sticks a hand out to take your bowl as well, and wordlessly you hand it to him.

“It’s my magic touch,” you tease. It was not. Taehyung did most of the work. You don’t have much of an affinity for cooking.

“It’s my chemistry brain,” Taehyung corrects. “Chem is basically like making soup.”

“But it can kill you,” you tack on.

“But it can kill you,” he agrees, returning to the couch. This time, when he sits down, he plops right down next to you, your sides touching as you sit in front of his television, slurping up homemade vegetable soup. “How’s your major? What is it, again?”

“English with a minor in Psych,” you say over a mouthful of carrot.

“Sounds like too much reading for me,” Taehyung comments. “I’d only like picture books.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” you tell him sarcastically. “But it’s going well. I’m thinking of maybe adding Consumer Psych as another minor since there’s a lot of overlap, but I’m not sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Sounds busy,” Taehyung comments.

“Almost as busy as visual studies and chem,” you remind him. “Seriously, do you ever sleep?”

“Inspiration is a fickle mistress and the will to do my chem problem sets, even more fickle,” Taehyung muses like the two subjects aren’t the absolute bane of his existence. “But yeah, I mean, I made it this far.”

“Our majors are so different,” you comment. They are. Encompassing all sides of the college major spectrum, from STEM to art to humanities. The only thing you’re missing is a business minor. But only snakes would ever be interested in something like that.

“It’s nice,” Taehyung decides. “Because this is forcing us to talk with someone with whom we don’t already share all of the same classes with.”

“I couldn’t imagine taking the same class as you,” you say, not because you’d hate having to be in the same room as Kim Taehyung or dread the potential to be paired up for group work, but because your tastes are so different. They’ve always been different. Art, English, chemistry, psychology. Headphones or speakers. Closed windows or open. It’s always been opposites with the two of you.

“Maybe I’ll take a psych class so that way we can,” Taehyung says.

“Maybe I’ll take an art history course,” you retort.

“You’d really take an art history course? They’re awfully boring, and I’m an art major,” Taehyung says, in disbelief.

You ponder it for a moment, but then nod. Yes, you would. Even if it sent you to sleep. Because it looks genuinely interesting. “After today, I wouldn’t mind it. You showed me a lot about art, Kim Taehyung. More than I thought I would ever learn in my lifetime.”

Taehyung sighs, shutting the television off. You guys weren’t watching it anyway. You hardly realized it was on. He looks down at his empty soup bowl, and then at you. He always does that—always looks somewhere else before looking at you, like he has to muster up the courage by first staring at an inanimate object. And then he says, “You’ll never stop learning about art. Neither will I. It’s a constant cycle, learning and relearning and changing your mind and revisiting old pieces. Because art is all around us.”

He looks at you, like he’s trying to say something else but doesn’t have the words. “You just have to look for it.”

New Year’s Eve is often a time of reflecting on the year that’s passed, making a list of goals to achieve once the clock strikes twelve. Thanking your friends and family, your loved ones, for being there for you this year, and promising to be there for them as well next year.

To you and Taehyung, it’s literally your last chance to get piss drunk this year without repercussions. You’ve never stayed here, at your university in the city, for New Year’s Eve (obviously). You’d be interested in getting all dressed up to go out. Taehyung would also be interested.

And so, after a day of slouching around and making half-assed resolutions you know you won’t keep (like managing your time better. As a college student? Impossible.), you and Taehyung decide to get dressed up and go out, pulling out the winter jackets you don’t care if you lose, or if they get trashed, or if they stain with vodka. All you want is to lose your goddamn mind in a tiny club with a bunch of other wasted young adults who don’t want to stay at home on the last night of the year.

You are, unsurprisingly, a self-proclaimed not-a-going-out person, but tonight is something of an exception. It’s your last night to do this this year, and honestly, you can’t really think of a better way to end the year. There’s been plenty of ups (that A+ on your paper on the ethics of Beowulf, yay!) and plenty of downs (Global Politics in the Twentieth Century, yikes), and no better way to say goodbye to them all than with alcohol in your system. But even if, during the regular college season, you’re something of a stick in the mud, you remembered to pack a nice party dress just in case, so you tug on a little black velvet mini-dress that sparkles rainbow in the light, covered with tiny glitters that get stuck in your hair and never come out.

As you’re fishing around for some tights that you don’t care about so your legs don’t freeze off in the cold, the door to Taehyung’s bedroom opens.

Out he walks in all of his New Year’s Eve glory, a full black ensemble complete with structured belt and a leather jacket. You turn around to look at him and he stops dead in his tracks, eyes blinking like he doesn’t know where to look. It gives you a clear view of him and his simple yet extremely flattering outfit. He looks like Danny Zuko. He looks like a boy you would avoid in high school.

Funnily enough, seeing him now draws you closer to him.

“Wow, hot stuff, you clean up nicely,” You comment, tugging on some black tights with a hole in the back that no one’s going to notice.

“I could say the same thing about you,” he adds on, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. “I didn’t even know you had this.”

“I packed it just in case,” you say with a shrug.

“Came in handy, didn’t it?” He asks. He comes up to stand by you, holding his arm out for you to wrap yours around, two people on a mission to not remember most things about this night. “You ready to go?”

Stuffing your phone and wallet into your purse, you quickly link arms with him as you walk to the door, your black boots clopping on the floor like the obnoxious high-heel owner you are.

“Yeah, you ready?” You ask, doing a quick double check. You’ve got everything.

“Let’s fuck some shit up.”

And fuck some shit up you do. By the time you reach the club that Taehyung had found online, you can already hear the bass pounding through the walls, feel the ground shake from the speakers alone. Go big or go home, you suppose.

As you expected, the club is already packed with bodies. Every young adult within a twenty-mile radius is out tonight, eager to spend the last night of the year doing what young adults in the primes of their lives do best: drink. And you and Taehyung are no exception.

Like everybody else entering the club at the same time as you, you make a beeline for the bar, already itching to get something into your system. You don’t love being drunk, and you like the taste of alcohol even less, so you just order a simple cocktail that should keep you occupied for a while.

Taehyung, on the other hand, well. He seems to harbor the go big or go home mentality quite firmly. It’s obvious that he’s here to do one thing and one thing only, which is not remember what he did when he wakes up tomorrow. You watch, a little impressed and a lot nervous about what exactly he’s trying to achieve, as he downs several shots in a row, pays the bartender, and immediately pulls you into the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room.

“The more I move, the faster my body can process the alcohol,” Taehyung tells you as your cocktail sloshes around in the glass in your hand. It’s an alright cocktail. A little too sweet for you, but you suppose that that’s your fault.

“Wow, when you said you wanted to fuck shit up, you meant it,” you comment as Taehyung dances, jumping and swaying to the beat of whatever Top 40 pop song is blaring from the speakers. You can barely hear the music over the volume of the rest of the club, people shouting to speak to each other, the sound of feet hitting the floor.

Within approximately fifteen minutes, Taehyung is already fairly tipsy and eager to keep going, bubbling over with excitement.

You convince him to dance a little longer before he goes back to get more, trying to make sure at least a bit of the alcohol he had at the beginning of the night goes through his body. The song changes to something much sultrier, like honey dripping from the speakers themselves, and suddenly, the entire club’s atmosphere changes.

“I love this song,” Taehyung says, and it must be the lack of control that causes him to place a hand on your waist and pull you in close to him, making you gasp.

“Wow, okay,” you comment, blinking. Taehyung rests his chin on your shoulder, leaning down as he holds you tight, your bodies swaying in tandem.

“You don’t mind this?” Taehyung asks.

“Not if you don’t,” you respond. He’s practically drunk, and you’re even a little buzzed. There are worse things you could be doing.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” He inquires aloud. It’s a good thing that you can’t see his face, can’t watch the haze in his eyes, otherwise you might lose your footing and collapse.

“What is?”

“This,” Taehyung repeats unhelpfully.

The next three minutes are some of the most confusing ones of your life as Taehyung rests a hand on your waist, palm rubbing up and down as the two of you dance together like it means something to the both of you.

But it doesn’t, does it? You chalk it up to both of your minds not being as sharp with some alcohol in your systems. That must be it.

When the song ends, the mood disappears as well, and Taehyung’s back to his bouncy, tipsy self. He’s practically stumbling over himself once he determines that it’s time for more shots, and you’ve never seen Taehyung drunk before but you can tell that he’s nearly there. You’ll probably put a hard stop on the drinks after this round, since Taehyung is the one most familiar with the way back to his apartment and you wouldn’t mind going home and sleeping after this.

“Come with?” Taehyung asks as he eyes the bartender like he’s the love of his life.

“No, it’s alright, Tae,” you say.

“You never call me Tae,” Taehyung comments mindlessly. Even when he’s nearly drunk, he still picks up on the little things.

“I guess the alcohol is making me soft,” you admit. “You go. I’m gonna find the bathroom and hope that nobody’s having sex in it.”

“Okay,” Taehyung singsongs as you pull away from him, looking for a dingy hallway to go down. “Be safe.”

“You too, I’ll be back soon,” you promise him, and that’s when you go rushing down the hallway.

Things are certainly weird down here. It must be the feeling of the new year looming over your heads. Like this is the last night to do everything wrong without regretting it in the morning. The bathroom is, luckily enough, empty, so you rush in and splash your face with some water, not caring about if your makeup runs. You’d sweat it off, regardless. You stare at yourself in the mirror, and this feels so stupidly like a goddamn romantic comedy that it makes you want to laugh at the irony.

Beautiful male art student lead gets drunk, confuses hardheaded and impenetrable female lead who doesn’t believe in love and supposedly hates beautiful male art student’s guts. Tension ensues.

Your life may as well already have a shitty Rotten Tomatoes rating stamped on top of it.

After collecting your thoughts and praying that that white stain on the wall isn’t what you think it is, you leave the bathroom and scurry down the hallway, eager to find Taehyung and make sure he isn’t bouncing off the walls after a second round of shots.

He’s not.

Instead, he’s still standing by the bar as a beautiful young woman speaks to him, long dark hair resting against her shoulders and a model-esque smile on her face. She’s leaning in with a suggestive look in her eyes, a hand coming up to rub at the side of his arm.

You furrow your brows as you watch them from afar, a little hurt by the fact that beautiful male art student lead is confusing hardheaded and impenetrable female lead even more, but then you notice Taehyung’s hesitance. The way he backs up a little when she gets closer. How he stiffens when she touches him.

And, well, fuck that.

“Tae,” you say, rushing up to him faster than you’d like to admit. “There you are, I was looking for you.”

The girl next to him frowns at the sight of you, and it’s clear she feels no shame to hide the immediately dislike. Sure, you don’t have model proportions or a smile whiter than snow, but you have morals.

“Who’s this?” You ask, trying to be nice.

“Nobody,” Taehyung tells you, and his hand immediately interlocks with yours. Standing next to him, you can feel as the tension fades from his body, his whole demeanor relaxing now that you’re by his side. “She just wanted to talk.”

“Are you a friend?” She asks, because she knows.

“I’m a special type of friend,” you say. There’s no way she’ll leave Taehyung alone otherwise. And this is definitely on the cocktail you drank (and nothing else, you swear!), but you even reach up to plop a kiss on his cheek for proof. Taehyung’s eyes widen as you do, but he plays it off as catching him off guard and grins, wrapping an arm around you to pull you even closer. “Can we help you?”

The girl is absolutely pissed, which means that you did your job.

“No, it’s alright,” she hisses through gritted teeth before turning her sights on someone else. Someone without a friend to protect them.

“Thanks,” Taehyung whispers once she’s gone. Even though she’s probably not coming back, Taehyung keeps you close, a hand on you at all times like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold on tight.

“Of course,” you tell him. “You’d do the same for me.”

“She scared me,” Taehyung says, and if his red face is anything to go by, it’s clear that he’s pretty much reached his alcohol intake limit. “I’m glad you came.”

“I could tell you didn’t want to talk to her,” you say.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Taehyung says, and it’s definitely the alcohol that’s erased his filter. “I was waiting for you to come out of the bathroom and she just came up to me and started flirting with me. I think she wanted to get in my pants. I didn’t want her to get into my pants.”

“I know.”

“I’d much rather be with you than with her. Than with anybody else. I would always want to be with you, instead.” He tells you, keeping your hands firmly intertwined as you lean against the bartender counter.

And well, huh. That’s different. Taehyung’s aforementioned lack of a filter means that any thoughts that run through his mind immediately turn into spoken words, but you weren’t expecting those words. You never thought you;d hear them, not in a million goddamn years.

“Okay, Tae,” you say, patting him assuringly. He’s just drunk. That’s all.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” Taehyung tells you firmly, pushing your comforting hand off of his shoulder and turning to face you directly. “I mean it.”

“I know, Tae.” you reassure him. It’s easier than trying to fight him, especially when he’s this hammered. You check the time on your phone. Maybe it’s time to leave. If you go now, you’ll be able to make it back by midnight. “Let’s go home, okay? I’m ready to go home.”

Wordlessly, Taehyung nods, and the two of you leave the club before people are even thinking about ringing in the New Year.

When you reach Taehyung’s apartment, he takes off his leather jacket to hang on the coat rack and turns the television on. Only three minutes to midnight.

“I had fun,” you say, trying to lighten the conversation. The way back was silent, the only noises the sounds of New Year’s Eve parties on every block you turned onto. Taehyung kept his face forward and his eyes ahead, even as you tried to huddle close to him to conserve the warmth.

“It was sort of fun,” Taehyung halfheartedly agrees.

“Did you drink too much?” You ask. His face is still beet red.

“I don’t think I drank enough.”

Two minutes to midnight.

You frown, brows furrowing. Why on Earth would Taehyung want to drink more? What would change if he had another shot, a can of beer or a little cocktail?

Slowly, you begin to peel off your own layers, resting your coat on the back of the couch and slipping off your boots. The both of you stand in his living room as the TV begins to buzz with excitement, the broadcast of Times Square lighting up the otherwise silent, tense atmosphere. He’s only a couple of feet away but it feels like he couldn’t be farther from you.

One minute to midnight. Everybody begins to count down, and you feel yourself holding your breath.

“Will you be alright going to sleep?” You ask. Even if Taehyung’s still drunk, he’s far less bouncy than he was at the club.

“I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, beginning to walk past.

Three.

“Okay.”

Two.

“Okay.”

One.

Something overtakes Taehyung, something quick and brief. He stops right next to you and flinches, like he wants to lean in and do something, anything, goddamnit, but stops himself before he goes through with it. Everyone on television is cheering, but this apartment couldn’t be less festive even if you tried.

Taehyung sends you a small smile as the world rings in the new year, dashing off to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

And you stand there, in the middle of his living room like the goddamn fool you are. Turning to the television, you watch over and over as every couple in Times Square kisses, clip after clip after clip, and like a goddamn idiot, you wish that Taehyung had done the same.

The end of winter break approaches faster than you’d like it, just like it does every year. Before you know it, there’s less than a week left before classes resume and you go back to the daily college life. Less than a week left before you can go back to your dorm and pretend like this year’s winter break mishap never happened.

Less than a week before you and Taehyung go back to never seeing each other.

You’re sitting at his kitchen table, clearing out your backpack and recycling every paper, every syllabus and assignment and study guide from last semester, doing a deep cleanse of your life (because holy shit, you need it), when you come across the purchase you had made at the MOMA.

“Taehyung,” you call out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah?” He asks from where he’s sitting on the couch, reading a James Joyce book. You love that novel. It was one of the very few you read for fun last year.

You take the small paper bag in your hands, walking over to the couch. “I almost forgot about this, but since winter break’s starting to wind down, I just wanted to give you this as a thanks. For everything.”

“You got me a belated Christmas gift, Y/N?” Taehyung asks as you hold out the gift, clearly something thin like a posterboard or an art print.

“If it means I don’t have to buy you two things, then sure, consider this a belated Christmas gift,” you say with a laugh, sitting down a foot away from him as he slowly opens up the packet. “It’s sort of cheesy and very basic, but I just wanted to get you something nice as a thank you.”

Out Taehyung pulls is a print of van Gogh’s The Starry Night, big enough to fill up the empty spaces on his walls, so every inch of his apartment, of his life and his home, is filled with art.

“Oh my God,” Taehyung says, mouth agape. “This is…”

“It’s basic, I know. But I know how much you loved seeing it in person, so I thought that a memory of that would be nice,” you say, trying to ease the nervousness that has bubbled up inside of you.

“It’s wonderful,” Taehyung says, and you swear you’ve never seen him so happy, other than perhaps when you saw the real thing. “This is so fucking thoughtful of you.”

“I just—you told me a lot about the art we saw that day, but when we reached this painting, you were speechless. And I sort of knew, then, that it was your favorite piece. Because you didn’t have to explain it with words,” you tell him. “I could just tell. It was like your whole body warmed up the moment it came into view.”

“I’m touched, Y/N.” Taehyung beams. “This is all an art student could ever want, really. To be able to know that their love for art meant something to someone else.”

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything. Taking me in, cooking me food, being really nice me despite me entrenching on your living situation.” You smile.

“I was happy to do all that stuff,” Taehyung tells you honestly. “I’ve had a lot of fun this winter break, even if we’re still trapped on campus.”

You loved getting to go home for winter break your freshman and sophomore years. You loved being able to escape from the college mindset and just relax, no deadlines, no assignments, no worries.

But looking back on it, you think that you’ve had the most fun this winter break, stuck at school, a five-hundred-dollar plane ticket short, with your dorm neighbor-slash-nemesis from freshman year. Never have you done so much in so little time.

“Yeah, me too,” you say, thinking back fondly. It feels like this winter break has lasted for years, but also as though it went by in the blink of an eye,

“I have something for you as well,” Taehyung says, scrambling up to dash into his room. “Consider it just a Christmas gift, because I don’t really have to thank you for letting you stay at my apartment for free for a month.”

“Roast me, why don’t you,” you muse jokingly, rolling your eyes as Taehyung fumbles around in his bedroom before he emerges with an equally flat, similarly-sized gift wrapped up in some spare tissue paper.

“I don’t recall you buying anything at the MOMA,” you tease as Taehyung hands you the gift, settling back down on the couch to watch as you open it.

Slowly, you peel back the tissue paper, and when you reveal what he’s wrapped up for you, it drops to your lap.

It’s a portrait of you, done entirely in pencil. It’s you smiling, with your eyes closed, lashes fluttering. He’s memorized your entire face, drawn it neatly onto this piece of sketch paper, like he was just passing the time and suddenly he had a picture of you on his hands. He’s even remembered where your freckles go.

“What’s this, Tae?” You ask, like you don’t already know.

“Uh, it’s you,” Taehyung says sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on drawing you, I didn’t have a gift in mind, but I was practicing sketches the other day and an hour later I looked down and I had drawn you. And I felt bad for not telling you, because that’s weird, so I thought that you could see it.”

“You drew a portrait of me? Just randomly, from memory?” You ask, looking down at the sketch in your hands like it’s just ruined your life.

“Yeah, so?” Taehyung asks. He looks terribly nervous.

“So, that’s—people don’t just do that, Taehyung. You don’t just draw a picture of someone purely from memory while you’re practicing sketching,” You say, reeling back as he tries to lean in, attempts to explain himself.

“What do you mean? I did that. I thought of you and I drew you, what’s so bad about that?”

“I don’t know if you missed the memo, Taehyung. I told you in New York. We’re not dating, Taehyung,” you tell him, so firm and certain in your conviction that you hardly pay attention to the way his shoulders sink. “We’re barely even friends. I’m not interested in you like that. Please don’t think otherwise.”

“Don’t tell me what to think,” Taehyung snaps, and he’s mad. Really mad, not like the fake anger from freshman year when you tried to get back at him by being an equally-annoying neighbor. “Don’t tell me how to feel. I drew you, Y/N. Not because I’m obsessed with the idea of us getting married, or because you’re my muse or some bullshit like that. I drew you because I thought of you, and I draw what I think of. Don’t tell me what to fucking think.”

“Do you like me, Taehyung?” You ask, on the verge of shouting.

Taehyung’s furious. “So what if I do? Huh? What difference does it make? You’ve told me over and over that you don’t like me back, so why does it matter? It’s not like I’d ever have a chance.”

“I told you because I didn’t want to confuse you,” you hiss, standing up and beginning to grab your belongings. It’s clear that this conversation is turning sour.

“Confuse me? You didn’t want to confuse me?” Taehyung shouts. “You did a damn good job at that. Telling me in New York that you hated being called Mr. and Mrs. Kim, but holding my hand as we walked around the city and looked at art together. Kissing my cheek in the fucking bar but then patting me like on the back like I’m just a sadass friend of yours. Can you blame me if I was confused, Y/N?”

“I told you,” you say again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung bites. “I’m sorry that I fucking fell in love with you, even though half of the time you acted like it was alright. My mistake.”

“It was your mistake. I never said I wanted to date you,” you tell him firmly. You refuse to take the blame for something you had made so explicitly clear.

“Can you fucking blame me for being hopeful?” Taehyung asks. He’s standing up, about to head back into his bedroom, absolutely furious. “You held my hand and kissed me on the cheek and I thought that meant that you felt it, too.”

“Taehyung—”

“Keep the portrait, Y/N,” Taehyung spits. “I don’t ever want to see it again.”

He slams his bedroom door.

It’s a good thing you made friends with some upperclassmen when you were a freshman.

After packing your belongings into your little suitcase and standing in the lobby of Taehyung’s apartment complex, you remember that one of your old friends who had graduated last year still lived in an off-campus apartment since he would be beginning graduate school at the same university.

“Yoongi?” You ask when you hear him pick up your call.

“Y/N? What’s up?”

“Long story,” you say with a sigh. “Would it be alright if I stayed with you until school started?”

“Holy shit, you’re on campus? What the fuck, yeah, sure, you know where I live. I’ll be here whenever you stop by,” he says without question.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing outside his door, double checking to make sure you’d got the right apartment.

You barely get the first knock in before the door swings open to reveal Min Yoongi himself, clad in all black and looking very tired.

“Are you okay?” You ask. He looks exhausted.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, ushering you inside.

“Have you been up all night?” You ask, resting your suitcase against the wall.

“I took a brief nap between two and three, but yes, I have been,” he says like it’s natural.

“You’ve always been a chaotic sleeper,” you say with a shake of your head.

“The grad school grind stops for no one,” Yoongi says with a sigh. “What’s up? Why are you on campus?”

“It… it’s a long goddamn story. Do you have time?”

“I have a piece due for a small indie band tomorrow at noon that’s barely finished,” Yoongi says.

“Oh,” you say. You suppose the story can wait. Yoongi offered up his abode to you until classes resumed if you needed it, and there’s no way in hell you’ll be going back to Taehyung’s.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I got loads of time,” Yoongi says. He plops down on his couch and motions for you to sit next to him. “Tell me everything.”

Yoongi has always been a particularly good listener. Not just to other people’s words, but to music, to the sounds of the chords and the notes of the piano. He has an ear for things that most others would never notice.

It’s the same thing for when he’s doling out advice.

“To clarify,” Yoongi says when you’re finished telling your story, thirty minutes later. You had warned him that it would be a long one. “You had once hated his guts, but no longer hate his guts?”

“I stopped hating him after freshman year,” you admit, more to yourself than to Yoongi. It’s true. The moment the two of you stopped seeing each other, everything dissipated.

“And now you like him.”

“We’re friends,” you say, tentatively. Maybe less than friends after the disaster that just went down in his living room.

“But he drew you a portrait of yourself,” Yoongi mentions.

“I said that it was complicated,” you say with a frown.

“It doesn’t sound that complicated,” Yoongi says. And maybe he is a graduate student with more life experience under his belt than you, but you think that it’s pretty complicated.

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like he likes you, and you like him. I wasn’t really interpreting it in any other way,” Yoongi says casually.

You reject the notion immediately. “I do not like him.”

Yoongi frowns. “Would you really be here, in my apartment having a relationship breakdown, if you weren’t confused about your feelings for him? Really?”

“I just needed to get out of his damn apartment, that’s all,” you say, avoiding eye contact. Yoongi has this very annoying habit of being extremely reasonable all of the time, and it bothers you immensely.

“Sure, okay. Y/N, I’m not gonna dictate how you feel and try to change your mind, or anything. But if you can look me in the eye before the end of your break and tell me, one-hundred percent honestly, that you don’t like him, then I’ll believe you,” Yoongi tells you simply. “How about that?”

It sounds like a very doable deal. Maybe it’s not doable right now, but it certainly seems possible in the future. In the future, specifically.

“Fine. But you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” you tell him matter-of-factly. Why does he care? It’s not like you’re worried about it.

As it turns out, you’re worried about it.

You’re worried about it because even though you’re not in the same room, not in the same building, not even on the same goddamn street as him, you’re thinking about him. Thinking about how much fun the two of you could be having right now as you relish in the last couple days of your winter break before the cold reality of school hits.

Think about the things you could be doing. Exploring, going out to restaurants, finding new little gold mines in this city that you call home. And instead, you’re moping around your friend’s living room wishing that the two of you hadn’t ruined the whole thing.

Maybe you had been too harsh. Taehyung has a right to be mad at you for lashing out at him. How was he supposed to feel? You held his hand and kissed his cheek and pretended that it was still freshman year, that the two of you were still just two people stuck together by unfortunate circumstances. Acted like nothing had really changed despite the years going by. Going through with all of these adventures with him knowing, in the back of your mind, that once classes started back up, you’d probably never make an effort to see him again.

Drawing a portrait of you says one thing, but dancing around him says another. Every time you fucking see Yoongi in his own goddamn home you try to muster up the bravery to tell him that you don’t like Taehyung the way that he thinks you do, and you can’t.

He sets up his pullout couch in his living room for you when you go to sleep that night, you dream of Taehyung. Envision him wandering the halls of a nameless museum, priceless pieces of art hung along every wall, from van Gogh to Monet to Picasso. He turns back around so you get a view of his face, dream up his curly black hair and soft eyes, sparkling with wanderlust as he roams the corridors, stopping to spare a quick glance at every painting he passes.

And then at the end of the hall, he pauses in his tracks, looks up at the painting on the wall. You watch as the camera zooms in on what he’s looking at, what made him stop in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on it.

It’s your portrait. A simple piece of paper out of a sketchbook, graphite on the coarse canvas. It’s barely more than a line drawing, your eyes here, your nose there, the little freckles that decorate your skin. It’s only in one color and still, even now, it leaves you speechless. Taehyung made that. He drew that, line by line. He made that for you.

You wake up in a cold sweat at seven in the morning. Yoongi’s fast asleep in his bedroom, and you know he won’t be waking up until the hour on the clock reads double digits. Frantic, you scramble through your backpack until you pull out the sketch paper a little bit larger, a little bit thicker than the rest, still wrapped up in tissue paper.

Pulling the paper away to reveal the canvas, you stare down at it in the hazy light of the sunrise, small rays beginning to stream through Yoongi’s window. Your fingers trace along each line, picturing Taehyung as his pencil scratched along the paper, over and over until it looked perfect. Taehyung made this. He sat down, thought of you, and drew this.

A picture may be worth a thousand words but this one doesn’t say a thousand words. Instead, it only says three.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you flip the sketch over to see if there’s anything else he’s drawn. There isn’t, but you find a little note in the bottom right corner.

Y/N,

I hadn’t realized that I had drawn you until I was nearly finished with this. My bad, but it was too late to stop. I don’t know if I’ll ever give this to you, or if I’ll just have a guilty conscience for the rest of my life, but just in case I do, I want you to know this: art inspires me, and you are no exception.

Tae ♡

When Min Yoongi wakes up that day and trudges out of his bedroom, he finds you sitting on his pullout couch, staring down at a sketch in your hands. When you turn to look up at him, he sees your red eyes and wonders how long you’ve been out here, crying.

“I can’t do it, Yoongi,” you tell him.

“Do what?” Yoongi asks, even though he already knows the answer. Why else would you be letting your tears drip onto your portrait?

“Tell you that I don’t like him. Because I do. And I can’t lie to him like that.”

Yoongi grins. He knew you’d come around, like you always do. You may have quite the stubborn streak, but you’ve got a big heart, and it always gets the best of you.

He sits down next to you, glancing down at the portrait. It’s gorgeous. Taehyung did a wonderful job. He looks at you as you cry over a sketch of yourself, and he thinks that, even if he doesn’t really know this Taehyung character, the two of you will make a perfect pair.

“You should tell him that,” he tells you with a nudge. You look up at him, scared for your life. “I think he deserves to know.”

The night before winter break ends, you ask Taehyung if tenants of his apartment complex are allowed on his rooftop. He says no, but also says that his landlord is out of town for the holidays.

In the biting cold of a mid-January evening, you climb up the stairs of his apartment complex and push open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, a gust of wind nearly blowing you right over. Looking around, you spot Taehyung in nothing but a sweater and a scarf, sitting on the edge of the rooftop and looking out over the city.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He turns around to find you standing next to him, wrapped up in a long coat, gloves, a beanie, and a scarf.

“I’ve got a warm body,” Taehyung tells you, looking back out into the sea of lights.

“This is scary, isn’t it?” You ask, sitting down next to him. Your feet dangle off the ledge, and normally you’d be insistent on sitting in the middle of the rooftop where no danger can befall you, but this feels a lot more personal.

“Why did you want to meet me up here?” Taehyung asks, all business.

“I just wanted to talk,” you tell him. “You know, since it’s the last day of winter break and all.”

“It went by fast, didn’t it?” Taehyung muses.

“I remember failing my final and missing my flight like it was yesterday,” you remember fondly, laughing. It seemed like the end of the world at the time, but there’s always a silver lining. You just didn’t know what it was, back then.

You think you have a pretty clear idea of it now.

Taehyung chuckles, letting the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you gaze out at the rest of the city. Taehyung’s apartment building isn’t particularly tall, but it’s got enough height to it that it feels like you’re looking out over a place you hardly recognize. There are so many things you don’t know about this city, despite having lived here for over two years. So many things you are aching to find out, and only one person you’d really like to do it with.

“What’s your New Year’s Resolution?” You ask randomly, interrupting the quiet that had befallen the both of you.

Taehyung jumps at the sound of your voice piercing through the atmosphere, caught off guard. You lean in, expecting him to answer.

“Oh, um, I guess to draw and paint for fun more. A lot of the stuff I’ve been making in school I’ve been doing because I had to,” Taehyung says quickly. It’s sort of obvious that he made up the resolution on the spot. “Uh, what’s yours?”

You press your lips into a thin line, smiling to yourself. “To be honest.”

Taehyung scoffs at that. “Believe me, Y/N, you are more than honest. Brutally so.”

“To others, yes,” you reason. You always were a tell-it-like-it-is sort of person. “But I’m not very good at being honest with myself.” You swing your legs slightly as they dangle over the ground below, kicking into each other. Taehyung turns to look at you, waiting for you to continue. “Yoongi says I’m a very stubborn person. I always have been. Once I determine something is the way it is, it’s very difficult to change my mind.”

Taehyung chuckles to himself. He’s probably quite familiar with that aspect of your personality.

“But I realized recently that sometimes, things change without you even realizing it, and that instead of being afraid of those changes, you should embrace them. So that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to be more honest with myself, because I think I’ll make everybody around me, including myself, happier.” You continue.

“Good for you,” Taehyung tells you mindlessly, turning back to face out towards the city.

“Kim Taehyung, I’m not finished talking, yet,” you demand, forcing him to look back at you. “I hated you in freshman year. You were the worst thing to happen to me that year, annoying and full of yourself. And I didn’t know you in sophomore year. We stopped talking and decided that it was better if we never did again.”

He lets out a little huff of breath, visible in the cold night air.

“But I do know you now. You offered me a place to stay when I missed my flight after what might have been the worst final I have ever taken in my entire life. You took me to New York, and we made vegetable soup together. You let me hold your hand and kiss you on the cheek, and you drew me a portrait,” you say firmly. He looks up at you and finally, finally, his eyes aren’t foggy. There’s no haze, no mist. You look into his eyes and you can see yourself reflected in the ink black of his irises. He’s beautiful. He’s sitting on the ledge of the roof of his apartment building in the middle of January with nothing but a sweater and a scarf on, and he’s beautiful. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Before you can even take another breath, Kim Taehyung places a cold palm on your scarf-covered cheek and pulls you into a bruising kiss, his other hand wrapping around your waist as you shuffle along the ledge, closer and closer. And even if his hands are cold and his lips are chapped, his mouth is warm and soft, wanton and desperate. You beam at the feeling of his lips on yours, wrapping your arms around his neck as you ring in the New Year for real. This is how it was supposed to be. This is what you had been waiting for.

When you part, Taehyung’s lips are a cherry red to match the tip of his nose. His brown eyes are twinkling, and not from the light pollution of the city.

“Can I be honest, too?” Taehyung asks. He’s got the biggest goddamn grin on his face. “I think I’m in love with you.”

The words are music to your ears. “My honesty is rubbing off on you,” you tease. “Because I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Smiling, grinning, positively fucking beaming, Taehyung wraps his hands around you and kisses you again. It warms your heart from the inside out, blossoms like a tulip in spring. When you started this winter break, you thought you had reached your lowest point, but you’re finishing it on a high that you hope never fades. He loves you, he loves you, and most importantly, you love him back. And as it turns out, the movie where beautiful male art student lead and hardheaded and impenetrable female lead are stuck with each other for four weeks has a happy ending, after all.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #v fluff #v angst #v scenario #taehyung scenario #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts au #taehyung au #REPOSTING BC IT WASNT SHOWING UP IN THE TAGS #w: four weeks

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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s-fellows-art · 4 years ago

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Simplified tips on how to improve your art.

.putting under cut because its long but thats cause i explain these and not just list stuff.

1) Flip/mirror your canvas when working. - it allows you see anatomy and other errors you may overlook.

2) before uploading look at the image on a different screen or the next day. - this give you time away from it, and as tempting as it is to upload as soon as your done, if you wait you will see stuff you can improve on and be able to look at it with “ fresh” eyes.

3) Stop shading with black or grey scale colors- shading with inly these colors make the imAge look muddy, if you shade with a color that is a darker hue of the same color your adding shading to it one in the same tempters ( warm= R Y O cool = B G I V on the Rainbow ) you get more vibrant art and you don’t muddy what your working on.

4) Learn to grey scale BEFORE coloring as a draft p2- learning how to shade in black and white can help you identify lighting points and details. When digital painting simplifying something out to a grey scale can help you keep track of what your doing.

5) Use the tools you have access too- References to learn anatomy , taking time to learn amniotomy will help you a lot in the long term, but doing everything off the top of your head your bond to get something wrong early on, or even later on in art. Use the sharpen tool around highlights if your program offers it. It saves time. Also play with your filters and line art colors. These will ad detail to your work and takes less time. If you mess around with the brushes in your program and stuff before starting it will help you later on. Its not cheating professionals use it all the time.

6) practice drawing random stuff- it teaches you the shapes and trains your hand ti make the strokes/motions needed for basically everything. Art studies can be very helpful. Even if it feels stupid drawing 500 eyes on a note pad, it helps.

7) Simple is good, complex is chaos- over complex art is hard to look at because your not sure what to focus on so the areas you want the eye to go to is where you should focus your details rather then make every single little thing detailed. Another way to do this is to brighten the colors where you want the eye to go at first glance in an image, but make the other areas muted in color, or blurred slightly.

8) Don’t be afraid to look up tutorials and take breaks if you get stuck - I personally only learned how to shade faces from watching makeup tutorials. And there is nothing shameful in not knowing how to do something and needing to look it up or ask, its how you learn you can just power you way through it all the time, and somethings your wasting your time if you do for something not worth it in the end run. Also the act if stepping back and away to go do something else is sometimes all you need, sometimes looking at the same file over and over again can be mentally exhausting. Take a break. Drink some water. Stretch your wrists. Look away from it for a while then come back.

9) Stretch your wrists before working- save your self years if pain trust me. I regret not doing this. Also draw from your shoulder not your wrist unless detailing, less stress on your arm and more precision.

10) Use different line thicknesses - i find using thicker lines for areas that touch the outer parts of your drawing or more important areas, and using thinner for detailing adds a bit of detail and quality to your work even if the line art isn’t clean. Inner face parts (other then the top bracket of the eyes), lines between fingers, lines marking clothing folds, and things like that should be done in thinner lines then eyebrows and what not.

Next two some will role your eyes at but honestly makes a huge difference, even if you got to force it at first. Its hard to break a bad habit.

11) don’t look for flaws in your work, look for what you like about it,- if your constantly pointing out what is wring with what you are doing your not gonna go any where, bare minimum go “ okay im not too happy about this, lets see how we can improve it” instead if “ this looks like garbage I hate it”. If you stay in the mentality of I don’t like this , your never gonna be happy with what your making or improve because subconsciously your telling you self you can’t. This slight change in mind set of trying to find at least one thing you like will make a big difference in the long run because slowly you will be moving towards finding a style your comfortable with and going from there, you will be finding things you

12) don’t compare you self to other artist- its one thing to want to take influence in your fave artist, its another to constantly out yourself down because your not like them. Everyone art started as shit. Everyone. We all were that crappy 1 year old can barely hold a pen person at one point. like learning how to read and write or ride a bike.... No one starts as a perfect artists, its something you learn, so comparing your self to people around you is not gonna help you improve and putting yourself down just because your not perfect yet. Even if its something as little as “im happy I finally finished this” is better then “I wish i was like _”. You are slowly moving towards a goal, some people just move quicker then others because they learn different techniques, instead if putting energy into hating everything you do why not try to learn how the people you like the art of got there by learning some techniques your self?

13) Ignore the notes enjoy the journey- Regardless , you making art is amazing in itself . Its something only you have made. There may be other things like it but its not like how you did. Your unique and honestly ignore the notes, if your constantly pushing yourself based off of numbers, your gonna burn your self out and give your self impossible expectations to try to complete. Everyone has different tasted and are not always gonna like what you do the same way, if at all, there is nothing wrong with what you made you simply just can’ please everyone and its not your job to. The notes are a bonus, not a goal, you don’t have to try to compete for them the only person you have to create for for is you. Do what ever the hell you want and if people like it, great, if they don’, then they like a different cup of tea then yours, don’s make it bad tea. Edit 1 as i thought of more : also the reason your sketch looks better then your line art is because your line art is too neet. If you use difrent thicknesses in lines (thicker for outter areas and important areas) and thinner for areas with more movment (bottom crese of eyes or outline of area around puple inner part of mouth clothing inner parts or what ever u feelis needed) it will look better because it will show your brush strokes which is what makes your sketch look good. -You can also add a 3d effect woth the red and blue outlines on areas that are not the central focus of the peice. Blurring has the same sort of effect to where it forces the eye onto the clearer area if the photo and makes it more visually intresting. Having this effect everywhere however can make stuff hard to focus on and diffcult to look at so only keep it on non focus points (most common focus point is the face so wouldnt put it there) .

Idk how helpful these will be but they made a big diff in my progress over the past year. The last bunch made a significant difference for me, though it was really hard to force myself into that mentality. And i still skip doing some of these in occasion ill admit but i hope this helps none the less.

#art tutorials #4 am sorry if theres typos #S.fellowsart #long post

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kitkatd7 · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Party

Summary: You’re having a great Christmas eve… until you aren’t. You’re being bullied and Loki isn’t having any of it.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Angst! self-consciousness, bullying/belittling, cursing, fluff ending

Requests:

Requested by @myraiswack: Hello love, congrats again on 500!!! Could I request a prompt thing for Loki with 4. “Leave me alone” angst prompt but then a fluffy end with 9. “Hold me” (so kinda a hurt & comfort thing? Idk you can do whatever😁💕) Thank you so much 😘

Requested by @cap-n-stuff: Hi! Can I get an angst to fluff with Loki?? Thanks!

Prompts: “You have to kiss me if we’re under the mistletoe.” (Season of Fiction Writing Challenge)

Word Count: 1482

A/N: This is for @star-spangled-beard-burn Season of Fiction Writing Challenge!! Congratulations again, and I hope you enjoy it! Beta read by the beautiful @rhemasky and the ever wonderful @cap-n-stuff thanks lovelies <3

Prompts will be in bold (Poem is not mine and I take no credit for it, I’m borrowing it from google)

----------------------

You’re at Tony’s Christmas party with your boyfriend, Loki, and everything is perfect. The food is amazing, all of your friends are present, and you’re all watching Tony, who’s drunk, and singing Deck the Halls with the wrong lyrics. And to top it all off- You feel beautiful for the first time in a long time. Not that Loki didn’t tell you every chance he had how gorgeous you were- but having someone tell you and feeling it are two very different things. But tonight- Tonight is different. You look gorgeous; you feel gorgeous. A dark green dress hugs your skin delicately, accenting your curves. The golden sparkles that start at the top gently cascade down the strapless dress, thinning out until they disappear just before the hem of your skirt. Your hair twisted back into soft waves, held by golden pins. The necklace you never take off you rests at the hollow of your throat; An elegant gold star with small white gems. It was a present from Loki, gifted along with a poem:

I want to invite you for a walk

To a quiet place; in the moor.

When the breeze sings serenades,

One of those nights-

The moon is full.

A restless pounding invades my heart

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If only they could speak,

What would they say?

If you could hear them speak,

For they know my fondness for you

And that in my thoughts,

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you.

They would ask you,

To love me back.

That was how he told you he loved you. The memory wraps around you in a warm haze as you smile up at Loki. His grip tightens around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you sigh contentedly.

“Do you want champagne, love?”

You hum a yes, watching as his dark, deliciously clad form disappears into the crowd.

You roll your eyes upon hearing a high pitched voice call your name. You turn, coming face to face with one of Tony’s countless guests. Lord knows how she got an invite.

“Aren’t you Loki’s ex-girlfriend?” She asks, not waiting for a reply as her friends shoot you a pitiful look. “That is so sad! I can’t believe it. Everyone thought you guys would work out- But can you really blame him for breaking up with you?” She snarks, tone shifting as she eyes you demeaningly.

“What? No, we didn’t break-”

“I mean, sure, you’re sort of cute, in your own way. But honestly, you're not good enough for him anyway. It’s probably for the best. You’ve got too many… How can I put this lightly?” She pauses thoughtfully, her hand under her chin in fake contemplation. “...Imperfections.” She finally says maliciously as her friends nod in faux sympathy.

“Also, you’re obviously way too clingy- Guys don’t like that.” She hums, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Loki needs a more confident girl. Prettier. Thinner. Someone like- well, someone like me, I suppose,” she says casually, eyes glinting assertively.

All the air is pushed from your lungs as you choke back sobs.

Loki’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you whirl away from a group of women and push your way aimlessly through the crowd. He grabs your arm lightly as you turn to face him, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

“My love, what’s wrong?” He asks, cupping your face gently when you shake your head and try to step away. He whispers your name, his eyes clouding in confusion. “Tell me what they said,” he prompts you gently. Blinking back fresh tears, you pull away. “Leave me alone,” you whisper hoarsely before rushing out, vanishing in the mass of bodies.

He looks around for the source of your pain, his eyes scanning the crowd so intently he doesn’t notice Thor come up beside him. “Are you alright, brother? You look tense.”

“I’m fine. It’s Y/N. Someone upset her greatly, and I think it only fair I return the favor,” Loki growled, striding across the floor with purpose, his eyes glinting.

Stalking up to her, Loki glares daggers, his words dripping with venom. “I don’t know what exactly you said to Y/N, but I know the general context- If you think for even a moment that you are worth more than she is, you are desperately wrong. She’s the most beautiful, intelligent, gentle person I’ve ever met, and to call her anything less than that is simply your resentment overtaking the little sense you have. She is worth more than you could possibly imagine, and she deserves for you to treat her with more respect than anyone here. The only reason you aren’t begging for your life right now is because of her and the restraint she taught me. Consider yourselves lucky we didn’t meet a year ago. Now. Get. Out,” Loki snarls, eyes flashing with barely contained rage.

----------------------------

Some minutes later, Loki opens the door to your room softly, slipping inside to find you perched on the edge of the bed, smudged mascara and drying tears mixing on your cheeks. Your dress in a forgotten heap on the floor, replaced with sweatpants and a hoodie that you never gave back to him. He crouches in between your thighs, his hands resting gently on your legs. All his quick wit evades him, and he finds himself unable to conjure the perfect words to ease your pain. “I’m sorry.”

You burst into fresh tears, burying your head into his shoulder, and all he can do is hold you as you try to find the words. “She’s right, you know?” You murmur, sitting up as a mirthless laugh passing through your lips as Loki looks at you in confusion.

“What was she right about, darling?”

“That I’m not like her. I can never be like her- I’ll never look like her, or sound like her, or act like her. I can never be that perfect. She was right about everything. She was right that I’ll never be good enough for anyone. But I’ll especially never be good enough for you-”

Your sentence cuts off as Loki’s lips capture yours, his hands cup your face as he kisses you with such a confident passion that it leaves you breathless when he pulls away. Resting his forehead against yours, he stares deeply into your eyes. “Don’t ever say that you aren’t good enough for me again. It is I who isn’t worthy of you, my love. But she’s right-” He starts as you look at him in shock. “-That you aren’t like her... And that’s why I love you.” He huffs lightly to himself, brushing the back of his hand against the soft skin of your cheek while gazing at you like you hung the moon in the sky. “I don’t want you to be like her. I don’t want you to try to look or sound or act any differently than you are- Because as soon as you try to be someone else, you lose yourself. Darling, perfect is not a real thing. Perfect is a mask, an image of what someone else wants you to be. To be perfect is to be fake and to let go of every ounce of life in your being. I love you exactly the way you are, and always will.”

You stare at Loki in complete surprise, your lips parted slightly, at a loss for words.

He kisses you again with a dominating sweetness that you’ve never felt before. His lips are fierce and compelling against your own as you lean into him, all of the pain you felt slipping away into memory at the caring touch and soothing presence of your lover.

“Hold me.” It comes out a breathless plea against his lips as he gathers you in his arms and moves you both to the headboard.

You snuggle into him, your head on his chest and his arms securely around you. Anchoring you. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined us spending Christmas.” You hum tiredly against his skin in agreement.

Before you can slip into sleep, you hear him murmur your name. Your eyebrows furrow at the soft expression on his face and the light dancing in his eyes. “You have to kiss me if we’re under the mistletoe,” he whispers.

“Loki, there isn’t any-” You huff before following his gaze to the ceiling where there is, in fact, mistletoe. “That’s cheating.” you chuckle, leaning closer instinctively, eyes flicking between his and his lips.

“Mm, perhaps. But if I get a kiss from you then it’s worth it.” He charms, lips curving into a warm smile.

You sigh, into the kiss in pleasure and exhaustion before nestling back into his side. Maybe this isn’t a terrible way to spend Christmas.

-----------------------------

What did you think? Please feel free to let me know!

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Permanent tag list: @lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed @remibarnes22 @romainniesweetheart @angelinathebook @star-spangled-beard-burn @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff @imma-new-soul @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fablesrose @coffeebooksandfandom

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mizzmaymayy · 4 years ago

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ACOSF Post-Read Thoughts

One week later I have finally finished ACOSF and am ready to share my thoughts!

Before you start reading the book I advise this:

If you are an elucien shipper and/or love Lucien (like me) DO NOT expect to get much out of that... I’m sorry :( nothing is confirmed but there’s just not a lot. Also, stating my bias towards Lucien now since he is my baby.

Overall: I will say this book was so good to read. I found myself growing in self love and acceptance through this book. It completely surpassed my expectations for Nessian smut lol and I'm so very happy that nesta and Cassian are finally together.. mated for all eternity and for all to see.. LETS HAVE A WEDDING! and the friends Nesta has found.. I cry.. so happy for my mad girl.

Small things I really enjoyed about this book:

How Cassian would have like “seasonal allergies” at the spring court lol its just so relatable

THE BALL SCENE OMGOMGOMGOGM MY FAVE SCENE FOR SURE. I love the politics in that scene and the aesthetics UGH... LOL and then when Cassian says MOVE.

when nesta pictures both Azriel and Cassian on her.. 🥵

Things I really did not like about this book:

The lack of information from other character’s lives 😩 like we barely get any Mor, Lucien, Tamlin.. I just like need to know about them!!! but we get more characters 😩 and even though I do really like the new characters and am really interested in their future roles.. I just can’t not think about the OGs

The way the mating bond is presented/discussed bw Cassian and Nesta... like how come Lucien knew Elain was him mate the moment she is made but it takes Cassian to know until they kiss? Idk I just wish it would’ve been discussed earlier or unraveled better... We got it too good with Feysand

I do not like the idea of Rhysand being high king.. I just want the courts to be happy and work together.. an internal war would be so damaging I really don’t think it’d be worth it. It would do a lot of damage before going into an international war.. But I also know that he would be an amazing king but like just let him be happy with his people and court like he said 😫

Post-read thoughts:

I’m still a little upset we got this info about Lucien being Helion’s son and there was even a time when they were both in Velaris but no headway into that at all.

Idk im kinda really annoyed with Azriel atm.... that lust scene made me want to throw up.... and how come after 500 years he finally gets over Mor and then starts to like Elain.... and then now that he can have Elain immediately goes to Gwyn... ugh I just don’t like it. I wouldn’t like to be given a necklace that was meant for someone else... and what that necklace meant.. the scene that happened there... so like is she gonna wear it and azriel is then gonna think of Elain!? GWYN DESERVES BETTER.

I’m like 99% convinced Mor and Eris are mates or that if Eris even simply layed a finger on her all those many years ago she would’ve had to be Autumn Court property, and he knew no one deserved to be shackled to his father... I think Eris thinks his court deserves better than his father and is working towards that

So also, Nesta changed her and Feyre’s anatomy but not Elain’s.... and there had to be that talk where Gwyn said her anatomy was different and flexible.. (?so does that she can have an Illyrian baby?)

Ugh I just think Az deserves better than someone else’s mate....

Like I know there’s talk about Elain getting the bond severed but even that would be painful... I just hate how we jump to the conclusion like oh Elain doesn’t like to be around him so we must sever the mating bond... like I think Elain also needs to do self care too.. like can’t they at least talk about stuff before this happens??? This could be so damaging to both of them. I think the reason Sarah has that scene in previous books where Feyre and Rhys talk about mating bonds and that they can be severed is to lay some rules down.. maybe it will relate more to Eris and Mor. Not that I want their bond to be severed either.. I think with growth they could both eventually be friends...

To add, I don't think Elain is meant for the Night Court.. In one of Cassian’s POV he like mentions how Elain doesn't really fit in with the Night Court when she is wearing the black dress... and when Nesta visits the Spring Court she talks about how Elain would love this place and it would be perfect for her... so idk. Maybe Lucien will get to take over Spring Court or the Day court and she will finally get a place she loves and belongs in.

I know people are shipping Vassa and Lucien but can you tell me one thing they have in common or why they're meant to be that isn't the fact that they both have red hair/fire? Since we do we pair ppl off based off their physical appearance...

Also, I think Vassa and Jurian are a thing... Lucien said they are always at each other’s throats and then he had like a pained look.. I think its a look of jealousy.. like that he wishes he had someone like that too. like they have each other- his friends, and he again feels alone.

I’ve been reading some theories about Elain being a villain and idk.. though I agree she is being hella shady.

Who will the next book be about? Thoughts for the next book/books

I’ve heard ppl say Sarah said she’ll write about Mor before someone else.. but I’m kinda thinking Elain is next..

I think that within the next books we are gonna get a lot of Autumn Court- which im super excited for- and get a lot more of Eris and Lucien and all the history with Jesminda, Lucien’s parentage, all the backward traditions like the Blood Feud.. whatever the eff that is. But I know Lucien wouldn’t do any of that.. he’s so sweet to Elain.. I also know Lucien would watch Elain love someone else if meant she was happy..

I also feel like the Wild Hunt is gonna come back somehow...

Anywhoo, thats a wrap on my thoughts. tell me what you think!!!

#a court of silver flames #acosf #elucien

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kintatsujo · 4 years ago

Note

any advise for someone putting together a webcomic?

Oh boy oh boy anon I don’t happy flap often but you better believe I have advice XD

For people new here: I’ve been doing my main webcomic, The Law of Purple, since 2004, also was doing a different webcomic, Alien Revenant, for several years before having to hiatus indefinitely, have done a number of fancomics, including one that ran weekly for a number of years, and I’m in the midst of rebooting another original called Eclipse Knight. That’s why I’m someone you might consider asking about doing webcomics. That and I take an actual philosophy to this stuff.

Onward to my Advice, born of blood and toil!!

Make a palette and stick to it

This does keep the art of your comic looking consistent but the REAL reason is because you’re not going to be spending a bunch of time deciding on colors because bam, I have ten specific colors for different shades of wood and I’m gonna pick from those. Note how I phrased that! I’m not telling you to make a 500 page comic using Gameboy Classic colors or something-- I’m telling you to make a palette based on the colors you’re going to want for your project. I personally tend to prefer to work from “master” palettes where ALL the colors are coming from but you can also make pools of palettes so that, for example, individual characters have their own personal colors.

Also: Don’t bother with too many different shades of red. A lot of people can’t see the difference between more than a handful, so why make more work for yourself?

The more backups the better

I know that probably sounds obvious but you’d be surprised how many webcomics go on hiatus because of things like “I lost half my files.” Alien Revenant’s rocky years started because it uses conlang heavily and my glossaries weren’t as up to date on all my backups when a certain pen drive got borked. Even after that you’d think I’d have learned my lesson and I STILL ended up having to recover some colors from LOP’s master palette that I’d added between computers when our one desktop crashed.

Don’t feel guilty for using shortcuts that work for you, and use whatever kind of references you need

I’ve made perspective references by setting up toys and a bunch of rulers and furniture and taking pictures with my phone. I’ve made perspective references using computer programs. I own a model Harley motorcycle because it’s the one I wanted Blue to ride. Use free floorplan programs. Use the Sims. I have straight up traced pictures of buildings I’d drawn in the past and in the LOP page I’m working on there’s about fourteen characters that are just the same guy copy pasted over and over. (They’re going to be obscured by effects so why kill myself over it?) I’ve also copy-pasted the lineart for backgrounds from one panel to the next when I wanted the same angle, and sometimes I just copy paste the sketch layer when a character’s going to be mostly in the same pose and adjust from there.

(Copy-paste isn’t a sin and if you’re clever it’s barely even noticeable.)

Also a full-turnaround sheet for every character is HELPFUL but like, don’t actually feel like you HAVE to do it, either, especially if you realize it’s actually stalling you out. Reference sheets are usually most important for things like somebody having complicated tattoos, or the furniture and architecture of the main character’s house, or uniforms, things like that.

Set aside Specific Comic Work Time if possible

I’m currently doing better at keeping up with my own schedule entirely because there’s time each week that I have nothing to do but work on my comic, which is Sunday mornings while I’m sitting in my office waiting for people to go away so I can wipe down the light switches and lock the doors. When I was at my most productive as a webcomicker, I had a full set of college courses crammed into two or three days and nothing else to do once my homework was done but sit around the school lounge areas and draw.

Time yourself doing pages and try to base your schedule on that

Even if you start off with a decent buffer, no schedule buffer lasts forever.

Don’t pick a coloring style that takes you more than four hours per page

oh my god, no amount of painterly coolness or smooth airbrushing is worth that. I should know because I did an airbrushing style for a chapter of LOP when I first started coloring on the computer and chapters of LOP are generally between 100 and 200 pages long, and I wanted to fuck off and live in the woods or something by the time I was done.

Not even because of how much time it took-- Once I was good at it, it looked beautiful, but airbrushing the same two dudes having a Serious Conversation for fifteen pages makes you contemplate killing them both off randomly by the end and one of them was the main character. On that note--

Style testing will save you a lot of time and tears

There’s a number of ways to style test; do a bunch of memes with your characters, do a short five page thing, just do a series of standalone pieces. It’ll give you a much better idea of what will work for you and what won’t.

That said if you wanted to do a different art style for every page of your comic because that’s what scratches your id, go right ahead and do it because doing webcomics should be fun if you ask me.

Pick a legible font

I had a rant about this not too very long ago. Go to Blambot and get yourself some legible fonts. I’m dyslexic.

Try out batching your pages

When I talk about “batching” LoP pages, I mean that I sketched four or five of them, then I went through and inked all of those, then I went through and colored all of them. This isn’t necessarily something that works for everyone but when I have consistent Work On Comics time and a buffer it’s something that usually works pretty well for me.

Don’t pick a website for hosting that you think is ugly

Because the website your comic is on will inform a lot of your experience. I’m currently on ComicFury and I’m very happy there, and he’s got a set of templates you can choose from and modify the colors of. Also personally I don’t actually trust Tapastic as a hosting site, not to go into detail but someone I read had some very bad experiences with them basically trying to legalese the rights to her webcomic out from under her. I can direct to a post of the Twitter thread if anyone wants it but you can also find it by searching “Tapastic” on my blog.

And finally, if you stop having fun it’s time for a break.

One of the things about doing consistent webcomic schedules is they don’t always allow for that “breathing in” part of the creative cycle. It’s okay to do things like taking a break for a month to just... binge watch three different anime or something. I thoroughly encourage a schedule that lets you enjoy other media while you’re actively working (sometimes literally; I sometimes listen to podcasts when I color) but sometimes you just straight up need a Real Vacation from your webcomic. Definitely consider taking at least two weeks off between discrete chapters if that’s something your comic has. Some artists do filler, some invite in guest artists, but it’s fine to just say “see you in October.”

Good luck, Anon, and let me know when I can read it!

#anonymous #webcomics #comics #artists on tumblr #art advice #art reference #Anonymous

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terry-perry · 4 years ago

Text

A Life Worth Sharing (Ian x Vampire!Reader)

A special request for my good friend @ladyfluff

Hope you enjoy!

Set in the Adam’s Family AU

She groaned as she felt herself being shaken awake. Her annoyance soon melted away, however, once her vision became less fuzzy and she caught sight of her boyfriend crouched down beside her and wearing that shy grin she loved so much.

“Sorry to wake you,” Ian mumbled. “But didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Peering over at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was almost five in the morning. She groaned again; she didn’t like it when he left super late (or super early, to some). His sleep schedule was already off-balanced enough with his job and her brother having him as his personal errand boy.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” She pleaded.

“I wish I could, but my flight leaves very soon. And I have some music people I have to meet with tomorrow night.”

“Okay, but you’ll be back in two weeks right?”

“Definitely,” Ian grinned before leaning forward to give her a good, long kiss goodbye.

This had been their routine for almost two years now. It was a struggle at first with the constant back and forth and then the added revelation of what she and her family were, but they were able to adjust for the most part. They cared for one another too much to let what they had go so easily.

Even when they had only been on a handful of dates, it was almost unreal how intense their feelings were. Y/N knew this was definitely something she had never felt before. Like many others of her kind, she had her share of casual lovers throughout the centuries she lived -- only giving her heart to one or two souls.

She made peace long ago with the idea that there might not have been a special someone for her. She had convinced herself that the love she shared with her family was enough to sustain her. She did her best to be happy for her brothers as she’d watch them interact with their loves they had found; laughing at the way Peter would banter with Rowan, be fascinated at how Adam and Eve were able to communicate with one another without words.

She was happy for them, yes. But envious as well.

None of the others she’d been with made her feel what she did with Ian. Since the night they met, she would think back to the stories she heard long ago about their kind and their version of soulmates. They weren’t known to play around with their feelings. They may give in to carnal urges from time to time, but there’s very few they were willing to place their trust in.

And with Y/N and Ian’s relationship being a special case, she was willing to make it work no matter what way they chose to go about it all.

''Listen darling, all you've got to do right? You just take these, put them in some water right? Unless you want to dry them, dried flowers are amazing. You can use them for potpourri and stuff.''

Ian nodded as he continued to listen to what Peter had to say. What luck for him to be in Detroit on business. He was just who he wanted to speak to about what he planned on doing the next time he saw Y/N. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

Peter wasn’t exactly his first choice. He could’ve tried talking to one of his human friends that were in serious relationships of their own, his mother or even Eve if he especially wanted an unfiltered, unbiased opinion on the matter. But she was still doing what she did in Tangier. Regardless, Ian knew that if had to choose between Y/N’s two brothers, Peter would be the one to do his best to not judge as he gave his two cents.

At least then the risk of him being maimed would drop a good amount.

“She’ll really like these,” Peter continued, offering the small bundle of flowers. “They’re just like the ones we had outside our home, growing up. She used to love frolicking in the field and pick as many flowers as she could.”

Just then, Ian thought of his girlfriend. A mini version of her running around so carefree with her sweet smile intact. They had touched upon the subject of children in the past, and while it may have been a giant sacrifice to make when it came to dedicating his life to her, he knew it was worth it. He never even played with the idea of having children of his own until falling in love with Y/N.

“Can I ask you something?”

As expected, Peter offered him a friendly smile to let him know he was all ears with what he had to say. A nice change from the scary expressions Adam had to offer when it came to stuff like this.

“Yes?”

“How did you know Rowan was the one you wanted to be with?”

He got a bit worried when Peter’s expression went on to be a little more puzzled, as though unsure where this was going. Thankfully, he decided to answer without another second to think about it.

“I guess it was the way we were able to stand together through hard times. As you know, we met each other during a time where a love like ours wasn’t exactly celebrated. Quite the opposite. We had to earn the bliss we have now. That’s how it is with love, I suppose.”

Ian nodded, letting his words sit with him. Love was definitely work. Twice the hard work when it came to unique situations like this one. But it was all about being with someone that makes you want to do it. Someone that doesn’t make it feel like work.

And Ian did his best when it came to Y/N. The long distance, the different sleeping patterns and, of course, the morbid fact that he would eventually grow old and die. But he did all he could to make it work and be there for her. If he was meant to wither away, he would happily do so if it meant he gave his time to her.

“I know what you’re up to,”

Ian wasn’t able to escape Adam like he intended to. As harsh as it sounded -- especially since he was someone he genuinely looked up to -- Ian didn’t want to get the third degree from him. Had he contemplated getting his blessing? Sure. But his fear took over, knowing his thoughts on the relationship already.

So to now hear that Adam knew what he was planning on doing behind his back got him scared shitless.

“What do you mean?” Ian sputtered, deciding to play dumb.

The vampire could only narrow his eyes in response. He wasn’t in the mood for games. Then again, when was he? Ian grew more fearful as Adam stared him down. He had no choice but to sigh and give in.

“How did you know?”

“Speaking as someone that’s been hiding their true nature for 500 years, I know a bad liar when I see one,”

Ian could get that. Especially, now that he thought about it some more, he wasn’t the best with hiding his intentions the last several weeks. Adam must have spotted the catalogs he saved that had a great selection he could choose. If that didn’t get him to question anything, the way Ian showed interest in Adam’s marriage was definitely a big hint.

The two of them had a mostly business-like relationship with not a lot of personal information being transferred between themselves. That hardly changed when Ian started seeing Y/N; the two men not wanting this to change the arrangement they had, despite Adam being strongly against their coupling. So when he began to ask about the ways Adam made his marriage work, that was a definite red flag. Why would he be curious about his life and become suddenly bold enough to ask questions if he didn’t have some ulterior motive to his actions.

“Doesn’t help that you kept eyeballing my wedding photos,”

Ian cursed to himself. He was so stupid to think he could get away with how he kept checking out the old pictures Adam had of him and Eve. In his defense, they had been among the many photos Adam had of his heroes. Of those he knew once. He supposed it was because those particular ones were kept close and meant for his eyes only.

Those moments where Ian would sneak a peek, wondering about the ways he could have something similar with Y/N, he could understand how anyone could’ve caught on to what he was up to.

“Adam, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But you need to know that I love her. She’s it for me. I’ve known that since I first saw her, and that feeling hasn’t changed. I hope you understand.”

“I do,”

Well that was certainly something that caught him off guard. Adam wasn’t exactly someone that green lit what Ian had with Y/N. So to hear that he seemed to be okay with this next step...

“I may not be 100% okay with what you have with my sister, but I know how much you care about her. However, I can’t let you propose with just any ring.”

Ian wondered what he could mean by that until Adam pulled out something from the pocket of his robe. Revealing what he could describe as the shiniest and most beautiful diamond ring he has ever seen.

“This once belonged to one of the Bronte sisters, I can’t remember which. Either way, they were a couple of the few people Y/N admired and miss dearly. She’ll really appreciate it if you give this to her instead.”

Ian couldn’t help but smile. He may have not known who exactly were the people Adam was talking about, but he knew this was his way of getting his blessing in a way. It may not have been said out loud, but he knew Adam was aware of the feelings he had for Y/N. He wasn’t messing around when it came to her.

“Thanks Adam,”

The day had finally arrived. Well, the night. Whatever.

Ian didn’t have a complete plan, more of a hope that she’d say yes. It might have been why he decided to do it after witnessing her staring out the large window she possessed in her apartment when he welcomed himself in. This was it then, especially when Y/N turned to welcome him with a smile before going back to her other view.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this sight,” she reflected, her eyes never leaving the lights the city of New York had to offer for the late night. She was sitting down on the chaise lounge that was near the window. He stared at her for a brief moment before closing the door and making his way over to her

“I was thinking the same thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off her as he stepped forward.

He wasn’t much for big gestures but she deserved it, this was the right time. He was sure.

“Y/N...”

She had no choice but to put her attention back to him. She wasn’t all too sure what was going on, but she had a feeling he had plenty to say as he took her hands in his. Needing her to feel the anxiousness he was feeling as he did his best to word all he wanted to tell her that moment.

“You’ve made me feel things that I didn’t know existed outside of movies and the songs we listen to. And I’ve realized that I don’t want to live without you. It doesn’t matter to me if we spend forever or just the rest of my life together. All I care about is that we spend our time protecting each other, taking care of each other and making the most of what we have together. Because you’re it for me baby. You’re the love of my life.”

Y/N reached up to cup his cheek with a warm smile and glassy eyes.

“And you’re mine,” she sighed.

Ian closed his eyes and succumbed to her touch, turning his head a bit so that he could kiss the palm of her hand. He laced it up with his and brought it down with him as he got down on one knee. He took a deep breath and looked up at her with his own vision starting to blur somewhat with tears. But he could still see the way she placed her free hand over her mouth in an attempt to repress all the emotions that wanted to come out at once.

“Y/N,” he began with an unsteady voice. “Will you marry me?”

With all the enthusiasm she had, she nodded her head.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Once he was back on his feet, she jumped into his arms and held on tight. He hugged her back with a similar amount of desperate strength and added in a fierce kiss that gained a bit of saltiness from their tears. With some reluctance, he broke apart from her when he remembered something.

“Fuck. I forgot the ring.” He said, fishing for the small, velvet box in his pocket. He took it out and opened it up to present the ring to her before placing it on her finger.

She marveled at the sparkling beauty of the diamond, tracing the delicate band and cut.

They shared another loving embrace after, as if holding onto one another would keep them safe and sheltered for as long as they lived.

#Ian x Reader #only lovers left alive #ian olla #ian olla x reader #anton yelchin #request #Olla #vampire!reader #sister!reader #oneshot

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years ago

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First of all!! Loved the MoU fic update! left you a comment on AO3 and all. 10/10 ratings haha.

Secondly, moving countries is great you should try if you ever get a chance. I've always wanted to do that and jumped in on the first opportunity I got to make that dream come true, and I recgozine how lucky I am to be able to do so. It's definitely not easy but I'd do it again if I could (in true sag fashion 😎 haha). Where would you want to live? You ever been outside the UK?

Hahaha you and I in a team would be a nightmare to play against I think. Oh come on you absolutely do not deserve people questioning your intelligence! I like to play dumb in addition to the taunting so people underestimate me, they never see it coming when I win. They never see the cheating coming either, my friends are always shocked when they find out, but I do it almost every single time! 😂 I'm competitive too but I like to play it cool especially If I lose I'll be like "it's just a game calm down yall" but if I win I'm like "in your face losers!" (very mature I know).

I love your drunken story, though does sound like it was very dangerous so I'm glad nothing bad happened to you two! Ah I love yalls nordern accent (me and everyone in this fandom 😂) haha your friend's sense of humor is golden.👌 I'm glad you enjoyed my worst drunken experience, that was the last time I did something like that, I felt bad bc my best friend had to take care of me the whole night and you're right she should've told me it was just a rock! Lucky you you didn't get a hangover the day after, I certainly regretted drinking too much that night however fun it might have been haha.

Like I said before your niece is a really cool kid haha I'm glad you have someone to talk to about Bly Manor, don't know anyone who watches the show and my friends don't like scary stuff so I have to talk to myself about it 😂 and now you! Thank you for entertaining me ;) and I only watch the parts I really like now, I'm tired of crying every time I watch the whole show haha.

Do you do random accents really badly like Dani too? 😂 it is kinda funny your mom said it like that yeah hahaha maybe she just meant the good bits? And I mean, do you think you need help? Lol

I have a sneak peek of that damie fanart here, don't think I'll ever finish it tho. I want to do a medieval AU inspired fanart. Maybe it will also inspire someone to pick up the idea and write it haha.

How's your weekend been so far? My neighbor is making me watch Grey's Anatomy season (???) 500 idk but I wish I was reading that pirate AU instead 😂

Awwh thank you so much!! I will get around to replying to the comment on AO3 tomorrow when I reply to the others I've had a very busy day today though so haven't even had chance to read any comments yet but thank you so much for giving it a 10/10!! I wanna do it as soon as I get chance but I know it's gonna be hard and that I am gonna need a bit more money behind me first but I definitely wanna do it when I can... yeah I've been out of the UK twice- one time I went to France for the weekend when I was doing my A Levels and was like 17 the college I was studying at took some of the art kids and since I was doing a photography A Level I got to go and then a couple of years ago I went to LA for a few weeks which was great but I've never been out of the UK for longer than that!! A nightmare for everyone else but it would be hilarious for us I just know it would haha... I sometimes do I have said some dumb things, I actually used one of my dumber moments as a funny little story in one of my fics- people still laugh at me now for what I said and it's been 10 years... my roommate will not let me live it down!! See surprising people that way is always brilliant like when people just expect you to lose and then you win? That's the best kind of win in my eyes!! I don't cheat at games I am just ridiculously competitive and can't stand losing unless it's something like a video game I am okay with losing those but board games I can't stand losing and I am also a terrible winner my roommate won't play games with me anymore!! I can't say anything about anyone being that kind of a winner because I know I am and one of my sister's is terrible too we literally make a song and dance over winning Oh it was so dangerous and we were so dumb to do it like anything could've happened and we both sit and look back at that and go "man we were dumb" but I also sit and go "oh my god she's gonna be a mum in like 4 months" because we've done some crazy / stupid stuff!! My roommate is without a doubt one of the funniest people I have ever met and she's not afraid to tell it how it is... I'll admit because I have a Northern accent Jamie is like the only character on Bly Manor to not have an accent to me so when I hear people talking about her accent I'm always a little like "what?" Because to me that's just how people talk around here haha I did enjoy your drunken story and honestly we've all been there I have had to be taken care of on more than one occasion for being too drunk like to the point of people having to help me into my pyjamas and everything I've been in some bad ways haha!! She should've definitely told you it was just a rock and not a turtle!! Yeah I've only had one hangover and that was after a night of drinking where I blacked out and don't remember any of the night!! Yeah the night of the drinking is always fun- the hangover isn't though and often makes you wonder if it was worth it haha She's so cool like genuinely just a cool and funny kid and she just asks all the questions about shows she's watched so with me its Bly Manor with her mum and dad it's Stranger Things she asked me about it once but I had to tell her I'd never watched it she didn't seem impressed but yeah I'll talk to her about Bly Manor any day of the week- and you too now honestly I will talk about it to anyone that will listen... I can't not watch it all if I watch it because there's just so much about it that I love even if it makes me cry... episodes 4,6, and 8 are my favourites though and are probably the ones I have watched the most!! Yeah I do random accents all the time and they're always terrible but I always find myself really funny- I had this friend at Uni that had a slight southern English accent because he had spent most of his childhood there before moving up north and he still said certain words in a southern accent and I used to do his accent all the time but it was always terrible!! Oh yeah my mum is pretty blunt with stuff like she'll say things sometimes without thinking about how it sounds that or she just doesn't care like she's said

somethings haha I am sure she did mean the Dani thing in a nice way though because she said she liked her- Dani and Owen were her favourites and I mean some help for me wouldn't be a terrible thing I'll admit haha That fan art is incredible!! Like seriously amazing!! I would love to see some medieval fan art for Damie!! I have been sent a few medieval prompts for Damie and I have started writing some of them but it's taking time to actually get full chapters together but once I have and once I have more time from wrapping up other WIPs I'll make a start on editing and uploading those because medieval stuff is always great!! It's been good thank so far today I went to a little beach town with my mum, 2 of my sisters their partners and two of my nieces (my cool niece was one of them… not that my other niece isn’t cool but you know what I mean) and me, my two brother in laws, and my nieces all played a game of crazy golf while my mum and sisters went to a cafe and had cups of tea... they didn't wanna play with us but we still had fun while we played (I came second which I was very happy with)!! I hope you enjoy Grey's Anatomy and that you get chance to read the pirate AU soon!! It's soo good!! ☺️

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crafty-simmer · 4 years ago

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Tag game

Thank you for the tag @persimmonsimmer and @grilledfamily, I was super surprised by this.

Rules: Tag 9 people you would like to know / catch up with

Last song I listened to: According to Spotify it was “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers, this is one of my go to songs for an instant uplift. I’m English but went to University in Scotland and many of my friends were from the central belt, it brings back great memories as well as being a very happy tune.

Last movie I watched: Like @persimmonsimmer my last film was LotR but the extended version of Return of the King, I watched them all over the last weekend. I was 8/9 when the first film came out and wasn’t allowed to watch it, fast forward a few years and I was hooked. I’ve read The Hobbit and LotR and have attempted The Silmarillion more than once.

Currently watching: I’m watching The Mandalorian but often while playing the game so need a re-watch at some point, really enjoying it and its nice to see Star Wars in a different way again. I also re-watch TV series quite a lot, Battlestar Galactica is currently on a free streaming service in the UK (BBC iPlayer if anyone wants to know) so I’ve done a bit of watching of that too.

Currently reading: The annotated version of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - I clearly revisit stuff often as I’ve read Pride and Prejudice probably 5 times but this is my first read through of the annotated version. I also started Trouble Blood by Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling) but after just a few chapters I lost interest, the message while underhanded is clear, some of the earlier books are enjoyable but the authors bias is clearly showing - I doubt I’ll finish it.

Currently craving: Sleep, it has been a really busy week and early starts and I don’t really sleep all that well anyway so I just really want a good nights sleep and to sleep in. On the plus side, I did find out today that I still have 2 weeks worth of holiday to take before April!!

Tagging: Finding people who hadn’t already done this was hard work but here’s a few from my following/followers lists @xiuxxvisims @coolenasha @lulousims @ingenuesims @youcancallmewhatyouwouldwant @olexathatsenough @niiice-pants

#non sims #tag game #about me #savior hide

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profit-force · 3 years ago

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baroquebucky · 5 years ago

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chemistry

part 5

a/n: thank you guys so much for 700 !! I don’t know why y’all follow me but thank you all sm <33333 this one is a long one so get ready !!! if you guys have any requests let me know !! okay enough talking hehe enjoy! (Sorry for any typos !)

part 4

Some time passed after you and peter almost kissing and you tried to push it to the back of your mind, not wanting to think too much of it. Esmeralda continued to talk to you about peter during lunch, telling you about things that had ‘happened’ during morning rehearsal. You however took things with a grain of salt considering what peter had told you that night.

Your orchestra concert was quickly approaching, only two days until the concert and until you played your solo. You were nervous, partly because you always got nervous for concerts- mostly because you knew peter was going to be there. You had heard peter play during football games when they played the part of the show with his solo in it. He had never heard you play, and during FaceTime calls when he heard you talk about the pass offs you had to do, he encouraged you to practice for him, but you never took him up on the offer.

You walked into English with a smile on your face as you waved hi to peter and sat in your seat across from him, pulling out whatever work you had done last night, ready to half pay attention on how to write the essay, you would end up winging it anyway. You snuck glances at peter, blushing when you would make eye contact with him. As you listened to the announcements, your ears perked up at the announcement of homecoming spirit week, deciding you would participate in one day, your favorite musician or band.

You pulled your phone out and messaged sami a grin on your face as you typed out your brilliant thought.

im wearing my one direction hoodie Thursday and you can’t stop me

You giggled as you saw that she read the message, immediately replying with a facepalm emoji and an “yeah i figured that much.” You looked back up from your phone and saw peter looking at you, a look on his face, some would even say jealousy. You furrowed your brows at him as a way to ask what was wrong. He shook his head and turned back to the screen at the front of the class, half listening to the news, mostly thinking about what made you so happy.

As you both walked out of class making conversation, you smiled at the curly headed boy, blushing slightly as your hands brushed while the two of you walked down the hall, pushing through the other students. As you approached your history you quickly realized that he had passed his classroom a while ago. “Pete your class is back there, you’re gonna be late!” You told him, glancing up at the clock, smiling as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“oh cmon it’s right down the hall, she won’t count it against me” he smiled at you. Shaking your head you waved him off, saying a small bye and rushing into class, you could see peter bolting for his class as the bell rang. A blush settled onto your cheeks, a smile plastered on your face, you bit your lip as an attempt to hide the smile on your face, especially because Esmeralda would surely be there to question why you were so happy.

“hey y/n! how are you?” the girl spoke from besides you and you gave her a small smile. “Pretty good actually, how bout you?” You glanced at her, you could tell she was judging you but you didn’t really know why. “im good” she replied curtly, focusing back on the work before her. There wasn’t much conversation after that.

As the bell rang you gathered your things, smiling at your other friends in the class as they said bye to you. Quickly you swung your backpack over your shoulder and headed towards the stairs, not thinking twice to look to your side.

“y/n wait up!” you whipped your head around, smiling brightly as you saw peter jogging towards you, running down the stairs slightly to get next to you. “hey parker” you smiled, keeping your eyes focused on the stairs so you wouldn’t trip.

“what class are you going to?” he asked, moving closer to you as to not bump shoulders with the other people as they rushed past the two of you. “uh PE right now, i really hope she gives us a study hall” you sighed, looking up at the fluorescent lights above you before looking at peter. “isn’t your class like all the way over there?” you questioned, your eyes narrowing at the now flustered boy.

“well yes but i just wanted to talk to you! how do you where my class is anyway?” he spoke, smirking as you began to grow red, he heard your heart rate pick up, your steps got faster before saying a rushed ‘bye!’ he smiled and turned on his heel, walking fast and weaving through everyone to avoid being late again, but it was worth seeing you any chance possible.

Much to your dismay there was no study hall, you walked into the locker room and quickly changed into your gym clothes, going to sit with the two friends you had made in this class.

Class seemed to go by quickly the rest of the day, and finally you saw peter again during chemistry. You checked yourself out in a window while you walked to chem, trying to make sure you looked good. You entered class smiling, at your teacher and sitting in your seat next to peter.

“long time no see” peter spoke up, a smile on his face and you rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “much too long for my liking, miss me much?” You joked, your heart beating out of your chest as he laughed. You both stopped talking when you heard the intercom come on, interrupting everyone’s small talk.

“good evening students and teachers, today we will be doing an earthquake drill, teachers please play the video we have emailed you, we will come back on when the drill is over”

You and peter shared a look, a small smile playing at both of your lips before you faced the projector and watched some elementary students stuff themselves under desks.

“how would we fit under desks? they’re like 3 feet tall!” You heard charles snicker from across the room, causing everyone to laugh and mumble an agreement. “You won’t be going under the desks, you guys can go under the lab tables and hide there” Ms. Patrick spoke up and you all went to the back, squishing you against each other. Of course peter made sure he was right next to you.

You hugged your knees, smiling at the curly haired boy next to you. “all this gum under here is so gross” you spoke, your nose scrunching up as peter looked up. “yeah it is, but look at all the writing under here” he smiled as he pointed at one that read: stan + beck = <3

You smiled slightly, wondering who they were and what they were doing now. “That’s kind of endearing, they left their mark on the school” you smiled, looking at peter who looked like he just uncovered all of the galaxies truths. “let’s leave our mark then yeah?” he smiled as he took your pencil from your hands, wiggling so he could write on the table, looking up and twisting his arm so the writing was legible.

y/n + peter = epic

Your face flushed at the small writing, wondering who would see that in a couple of years. “absolutely perfect” you smiled, your neck hurting a little from looking at the top of the table you were all under. Peter smiled at you, whispering a small “yeah.”

Soon the announcement came on and class continued as usual. “are you wearing different Halloween socks?” Peter questioned as you packed up. You looked down at your feet, ghosts and black cats covered your ankles. You smiled at him, “of course i am! It’s October 7th, so close but yet so far” you sighed dramatically. Peter laughed at you and you blushed, seeing him jump slightly at the bell like he does during English.

“see you around parker” you smiled, swinging your bag over your shoulder and falling into step with sami. “don’t think i didn’t see that whole under the table thing” she spoke, keeping her eyes in front of her and a smirk on her face. You blushed and shoved her slightly. “oh please it was nothing” you smiled, even you didn’t believe what you were saying.

“if you’re so confident bet me the $500! he’s gonna ask you before Christmas break i just know it” you both turned the corner and went down the steps to orchestra, peter and Ned opting to take the elevator as usual. “oh shut up, he won’t” you protested, slapping her hand away from you, a smile on your face.

The orchestra concert was tomorrow, Thursday and you were slightly terrified, you wondered if peter would still go, he said he would so what would stop him right? You smiled at the thought of him sitting in the audience and cheering you on like you did during his band performance. You had yet to tell him that you had done color guard during the summer your freshman year at your old high school.

As you practiced your solo in a practice room your phone dinged and you got a message from your best friend back home, Ximena.

there’s this white boy in my class that has a crush on me but i don’t know if i like him help

You giggled at her message quickly replying with something along the lines of ‘just wait it out and see what happens’ not wanting to give her too much advice that could backfire. Five minutes before class ended you trudged back to the orchestra room, packing up and deciding to catch a ride home with sami.

Ximena had messaged you asking you to FaceTime the moment you got home which you happily agreed to. You set your bag down in your room, saying hi to your mom as she cooked, telling you your dad would be working late tonight. You gm gave her a quick hug before going back to your room and calling your best friend.

“tell me everything right now” you spoke up, a smile on your face as you pulled out all the homework you had to do tonight.

“so i told him i don’t know what im feeling right now and get this- he said he’s willing to wait however long for me!” she squealed and you were so happy for her, she deserved someone nice and caring. “xime that’s so good! get to know him better and see what happens after that!” You beamed at her through the phone and she nodded, quickly asking about you and peter and you updated her, trying your best to water down everything because you didn’t want to over romanticize anything.

“who knows honestly, i mean like you said just go with the flow and see where it takes you” she smiled at you and you nodded, telling her a quick goodbye as your mom finished cooking.

Soon after the two of you finished dinner you went back to your room to finish your homework. You were humming along to your music when you got a notification from peter.

this time tomorrow my ears will be blessed by the screeching of the orchestra

You smiled at his message, quickly putting your pencil down and typing out a quick response.

ah yes, the sounds of angels themselves, not to b confused with the odd blaring of whatever the hell a metal twisted noodle is

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling brightly as he read your text, he knew you loved the band.

oh please, if you didn’t like the bad you would go to football games

I’ll have you know i actually like football

please you don’t even believe it urself

no balls ?

no balls

your heart rate picked up as you pressed the FaceTime button, keeping a complete straight face as peter answered, a giant smile on his face.

“i actually do enjoy football” you spoke, not being able to keep a straight face when you saw peter purse his lips and shake his head at you. “y/n you know i can see you during games right? you only look up when the horn blares announcing we made a touchdown” you opened your mouth then closed it. “checkmate” peter spoke, smirking at you.

“i actually have a lot of homework to get through and i would appreciate you not interrupting my studies” you spoke, a smile on your face as you grabbed your phone to hang up. “OKAY I’m sorry!” He squealed, not wanting you to hang up yet. You giggled and set your phone back down, making small talk and enjoying the company of the two do you doing your homework together.

“I’m gonna go now, Ned said he would come over to help with the millennium falcon tonight” he spoke, a blush rising to his cheeks, he faceplamed himself. Why would he say that?

“huh I’ve never actually watched Star Wars now that I think of it, have fun with ned!” You spoke and peter was shocked, okay maybe you had one flaw. Peter swore to himself he would get you to watch all the Star Wars movies no matter what.

As you hung up you quickly finished your homework and texted ximena, readinf screenshots she had sent you of conversation between her and jonny. You felt something was off about him but you chose to ignore it, not wanting to upset her.

After watching tv with your parents you decided to go to sleep, you had been texting peter all night and you sent him a quick goodnight text to which he replied with a ‘goodnight sweet dreams’ adorned with many emojis. You smiled and changed, washing your face and drifting off the sleep.

When you woke up for school the next day you were filled excitement and nervousness, your orchestra concert was today and peter would be in the audience watching you. You quickly made it to school, meeting up with sami in the cafeteria and eating your breakfast together, the two of you talking about a show she has found while scrolling through her feed.

“I heard there’s gonna be a fire drill today during 1st, maybe you can get some flirt in with your boy” she smirked at you, causing the wrapper from your breakfast bar to weakly hit her arm. “I’m just saying as cute as the football games are, you gotta get some real contact time in you feel?” she winked at you and you snorted.

“what the hell am i supposed to do?” You looked at her, an amused look on your face. “i don’t knkw touch his hands or something” she shrugged and you shook your head in disbelief. “how do I do that? Play sticks with him?” You laughed, the bell causing you both to stand up and say goodbye quickly, heading in opposite directions to class.

You say in class, waiting for the alarms to go off. You weren’t gonna play sticks with peter, he’d think you were 7. How else could you flirt, you were so deep in thought you jumped when the alarms went off, quickly following the rest of your classmates out the door and into the cold October air.

Peter wiggles through the high schoolers and stood next to you at the front of the school, watching everyone pour out of the building. “I wish they’d give a warning or something, those alarms make my head hurt” he spoke up next to you and you nodded. “I just think they’re annoying.”

You stood there for a while, looking down at your shoes before looking up at peter. “wanna play sticks?” You smiled shyly and he blushed, nodding as he extended his hands out and the two of yo began to play.

“okay no that’s cheating” you began shaking your head and you hit peters fingers a little harder than usual. “I’m not cheating you just really suck at this game” peter laughed and you shoved him slightly, putting your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. “I hate this game” you huffed and he laughed, “maybe next time choose a game you’re good at- i mean if there is any” he spoke, and you looked at him in shock.

“quite the trash talker for someone who can’t beat me at cup pong” you retorted, a smirk on your lips and peter opened his mouth in shock. You noted all the students starting to go back in the school and you turned to peter, “shit talking is a two way lane buddy, learn how to drive first” you smiled at him, patting his shoulder and walking into the school, leaving him flustered and way more attracted to you than before.

You felt your hands shake slightly as you walked away, a nervous smile on your face as you looked at the ground, you pulled your phone out to text sami, upset that her plan worked but happy that it actually did work.

The rest of class flew by and soon you found yourself walking with peter to your next class, and then the next, and the next, and the next. By the time chemistry arrived peter had walked you to most of your classes, except for your small animal class which was outside. He did however send you the walking emoji and said “pretend this is me.”

The two of you didn’t talk much during class, mostly because you had a test and so you were pretty focused on your work, you hoped that peter had understood all the work that he had always asked your help for. Everytime he would call for help on the homework, the two of you ended up goofing off and laughing.

As the bell rang sami and ned walked together, laughing at something he said and you walked next to peter, listening to him as he explained to you why you should watch Star Wars with him.

“how do you think you did on the test?” you asked after he finished his argument, looking at him with a small smile. He looked at you confused for a second, “i think i did pretty good why?” You furrowed your brows and laughed. “I mean you made me help you all week with the work! I didn’t know if you understood it or not.” His eyes went wide, he understood the material the moment it was presented, he had called you for ‘help’ all week just to have an excuse to call you. “Oh yeah! Well duh I understood it thanks to you” he smiled, nudging you with his shoulder and you blushed.

“I’ll see you at your concert later yeah?” He spoke, turning the corner into the band hall with ned. You nodded your head, “don’t you dare be late!” Sami snickered as the two of you waved goodbye to each other. “I still think by Christmas break, maybe even thanksgiving break.”

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the audience of the auditorium, watching the freshman orchestra play. You sat next to sami, making jokes here and there and searching the audience for your parents. “Have you seen peter?” You asked her and she looked around, shaking her head. You shrugged it off, you guys played last anyway so it’s okay.

Peter ducked as the robber swung at him, making some lame joke as a way to stop himself from freaking out. He quickly checked the time on the wall of the store, he was already late to your concert. The robber swung at him again, landing a hit on his face causing peter to wince. He quickly webbed his hands to the counter, returning the stolen goods to the store owner and running out the moment he saw the police arrive. He landed in the all good familiar alley, changing into his school clothes once more and spraying cologne all over himself.

The JV orchestra just finished their second piece and there was no sign of peter. You felt your heart fall as you realized he probably didn’t care enough to come. You were so stupid to think he actually cared about you that much. You grew lost in your thoughts and before you knew it you were going up on stage, setting up your stand and flipping to the right sheet of music. You looked out into the audience once mkre and saw the doors swung open, revealing a very flustered and out of breath peter. A giant smile spread across your face and you quickly took your seat.

You saw peter take a seat near the middle of the auditorium and give you a thumbs up. You quickly looked at your teacher as you all began playing the first piece. As you finished playing the first and second piece your teacher moved towards the mic stand to announce how you had a solo in this piece and the usual ‘she’s worked so hard and I’m so proud of her.’ You saw your parents holding up their phones recording and you saw peter looking at you with the biggest grin on his face.

As the song began, you mentally prepared yourself, putting in every ounce of emotion you had as you began your solo. You didn’t notice peters mouth falling open and a gasp leaving his lips. You didn’t see how he looked at you in awe. You didn’t notice how he fumbled to pull his phone out and record a snippet to post later.

As the song finished you stood up and bowed slightly like your teacher had told you, looking at you parents and waving slightly. They cheered you on and gave you a thumbs up, a giant smile across both of their faces.

As everyone finished packing up and taking their instruments back to the orchestra room, you saw peter waiting for you in the hall down the orchestra room. You rushed over to him a smile on your face.

“you came!” You spoke, looking at him with joy. “I told you i wouldn’t miss it for the world” he spoke, shoving you slightly. “You did amazing! This whole time you’ve been holding out on me” he pouted slightly. You rolled your eyes, your face red at his compliment. “It was okay i guess” you shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip to hold back a smile but you failed.

“it was way mkre than okay! you’re smart and talented? what else are you hiding from me” he joked narrowing his eyes at you. You laughed and shook your head looking at him for a second. The two of you held eye contact, not knowing what to say. Your mind was screaming at you to lean in a kiss him, risk it all right now. His mind was screaming at him to lean in and kiss you, risk it all for you.

You let out a soft cough, tearing your eyes away from his and looking at the clock on the opposite wall. “I’m gonna go ahead and uh go, my parents are waiting to me” you spoke up, smiling at the boy softly. “oh no yeah! Go ahead i was about to go myself, good job again with your solo!” He spoke as you smiled at him, waving goodbye as you walked past him to go meet your parents.

Peter stayed in the same spot for a couple seconds, scrunching his face up and squeezing his eyes shut, cursing himself over and over again for not shooting his shot. Again. He turned on his heels and walked towards the exit, ready to go home and sleep.

It wasn’t until much later that you got home from dinner with your parents that you scrolled through Instagram and saw that peter had posted on his story. You quickly pressed on it and saw yourself playing on the stage. In small text under where you were was an“i know her >:)” and a Star Wars gif.

You slid up and typed out a response.

“I think i know you too, also I’m still not watching Star Wars.” You sent it, locking your phone and heading to go shower and change for the night.

By the time you had gotten out of the shower you were beyond tired and just wanted to sleep. You replied to sami’s message and texted Ximena back, she had decided today that she liked jonny and was gonna tell him tomorrow. You still had a bad feeling but continued to push it aside. You replied to peters text and told him you were gonna go to sleep, he replied in a few seconds with ‘sweet dreams’ and cute emojis. Your head hit your pillow as soon as you plugged your phone in and you were out.

There was a football game today and you of course you were going. It took sami a bit of convincing but she finally agreed, mumbling about how she wouldn’t mind seeing Ned while you and peter flirted up a storm under the bleachers.

As the day passed things with peter seemed to fall in routine. Pass notes during first, walk you to class almost every period, text whenever you could, and talk most of chemistry. It was nice, knowing that you always had peter there, and of course it didn’t hurt that you had the biggest crush on him. You knew he didn’t feel the same, considering he had friend zoned you before but you couldn’t stop liking him all of a sudden. You kept trying to stop yourself but it was t working, so you decided to just go with the flow instead.

So as you say next to the boy of your dreams in chemistry, he turned to you with a smile on his face. “are you going to the game tonight? I think we can win this one” you giggled softly and looked over at sami who winked at you. “uh yeah i may make an appearance to support our courageous football team.” He smiled at you and nodded “cool cool cool” you looked at him confused, “i started watching this show, he says that a lot” he spoke, flustered.

By the time class ended you and peter had made a truce, you would only watch Star Wars if he watched game of thrones. He immediately agreed, sayinf he would go to any length necessary to get you into the best franchise possible.

The bell rang signaling the end of the day and you decided to go to sami’s place to kill time before the game started. You said hi to her mom and chatted for a bit before her dog, Hazel attacked you with love.

“well if it isn’t my favorite girl!” You cooed at the dog, picking her up and petting her. “okay ouch” sami spoke, hanging you a sandwich and a water bottle. “oh please, you didn’t think I actually prefer your dog over you? because if you do, you are absolutely correct!” Hazel barked at sami causing you to burst out laughing.

“anything new with Esmeralda?” Sami spoke between bites. You groaned and slouched into the couch. “She’s always brining up peter. ‘Peter and In this ‘peter and i’ that. Like i don’t give a flying fuck! Peter already told me they have nothing and i trust him so i don’t know why she’s so obsessed with him” you ranted, biting into your sandwich.

“God she’s so annoying, there’s something off about her, I can’t quite place what though” Sami state’s, scrunching her face up in thought before ignoring it and finishing her sandwich. “You ready to go?” She asked, glancing at the clock, not realizing how much time had already passed. You nodded and finished the rest of your sandwich, downing the water bottle and thanking her as you recycled your bottle. Her mom quickly came out of her room and grabbed the keys, making a comment about one of you needing to learn to drive soon.

As the two of you settled on the bleachers you hugged your windbreaker closer to you, a feeble attempt to stop yourself from freezing. Your eyes scanned the sea of band kids, immediately landing on your favorite curly haired brunette boy. You both smiled at each other waving before you pulled your phone out to record him, zooming in on him as he gave you a thumbs up.

everyone’s fave band nerd >:)

you quickly posted it and put your phone in your pocket, pulling your sleeves over your hands. You and sami made fake commentary on the game, acting as if the two of you were ESPN commentators, the two of you breaking into fits of laughter when you had no idea what you were talking about.

Esmeralda stood on the stands, taking note of your friendship with sami, she hated seeing you happy. She deserved peter not you. He would see that soon enough.

You and sami were so caught up laughing and enjoying yourself you didn’t realize the band was about to preform. You quickly searched the field to find peter, giving him two thumbs up as he waved at you.

As the preformance began you smiled watching him march, a blush spreading across your face as you thought of him teaching you to march if the two of you ever dated. You quickly pushed the thought away, you were only friends.

You cheered loudly with the rest of the stadium as they finished their performance, smiling at peter as he took off his shako, shaking his head and fixing his hair. God he looked so good in his uniform, his hair was messy and his nose was slightly red from the cold, his curly unruly and a grin on his face as his gaze met yours.

“sami im in deep, i have to get over him now” you pleaded, turning to your friend as she snorted. “you aren’t serious are you?” you looked at her confused. “dude he so likes you!” You rolled your eyes and she groaned. “fine whatever i guess I’ll help you, but let the record show i am very opposed to this.” You glared at her and she shook her head. The two of you sat out the rest of the football game, considering your team was winning and it was a very rare occurrence when that happened.

You tried to ignore peter but you couldn’t, continuing to wave at him and have some form of communication. The two of you giggling and smiling at one another like love sick puppies.

As the game ended you said bye to peter and motioned for him to text you, sami pulled you away before you could keep the conversation going.

“getting over him huh?” She laughed as the two of you walked out of the stadium and searched for her moms car. “okay in my defense it would’ve been rude to ignore him” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. She smiled at you and shook her head, she wasn’t gonna try that hard to get your crush to cease, she had a good feeling about this one.

The weekend rushed by, much to your dismay. Before you knew it you were seated in English, smiling at peter as you threw a piece of paper his way, effectively hitting his face causing you and your friend next to you to laugh. As the bell rang class settled down and your teacher walked in, dressed as none other than Snow White. It was homecoming week, today’s theme being dress as your favorite fairy tale character.

You and Peter shared a look, keeping in your laughter in as she taught as if nothing. Class went on as usual and you and Peter kept stealing glances at one another and blushing. He was wearing a black hoodie and light blue jeans, even though it was simple he looked so good in it.

Your face flushed and your heart rate picked up as he flashed a smile at you. He could hear your heart rate beating faster than usual and he felt himself get more confident, he loved knowing he had that effect on you.

As the bell rang he followed you out the door, smiling at you and asking you why you hadn’t dressed up. You smiled back at him, “why didn't you dress up as a prince?” his eyes went wide and you flushed as you realized what you said. “so you think I look like a prince?” you opened your mouth to say something before you looked away from him. “oh! there’s my class I have to go bye!” you rushed away from him, leaving him with a smile as he turned on his heel and headed to his class.

Class passed pretty quickly, you had a study hall so you decided to get ahead on your homework, not wanting to have to do it at home when you could be doing anything else. You dreaded seeing Peter during passing period considering you had basically called him a prince. Your walked out of the gym and were greeted by a happy peter. “how was class?” he asked, stopping his stride and starting again so that you took the same step. You smiled at this and looked up at him, “pretty good, we got a study hall, and yours?” He shrugged his shoulders, “same old same old.” It was quiet for a while before the two of you spoke up at the same time. You both turned red, he motioned for you to speak first. “are you excited for homecoming?” he looked at you and fiddled with his fingers, “eh, not really I don’t plan on going” he shrugged his shoulders and you nodded. “I was gonna say did you do the chem work, I forgot it was due today” oh yeah I just finished it, I’ll send you a picture of it, don’t worry” you smiled at him before saying goodbye and entering your classroom.

The day seemed to fly by, Esmeralda seemed distant today, you didn’t mind though considering she had been getting on your nerves lately.Chemistry came and went, you spent the class period copying notes from Peter because you kept drifting off.

The week continued on like this, it was the same routine as always, you would facetime Ximena when you got home, she seemed less interested in your days and only talked about jonny, you pushed it aside listening to her talk about how sweet he was being. She updated you on all your friends back home and you made a mental note to text them to see how they were doing.

At school you and Peter would hang out during passing periods and talk during class when you had the chance.Before you knew it, Thursday arrived and you slipped on your old one direction hoodie, smiling as Sami’s eyes widened when you sat across from her in the morning. You smiled at her, bursting into laughter as she sat there speechless.

“I can’s believe you actually wore it” she smiled, sinking back into her seat and eating her breakfast bar. “I told you I would, these are my boys” you smiled proudly, looking down at your hoodie. “hehe, five directions” she laughed and you rolled your eyes, throwing a napkin at her.

You had a test in English so you couldn’t really tell what Peter’s reaction was, or if he even noticed the sweater, either way you were nervous to see what he said. He didn't walk you to class today considering he had been late all of last week and May scolded him for it, he had texted you after hoping you would side with him but of course you didn’t.

By the time chemistry rolled around Peter was already in his seat and his face brightened up when he saw you. “no way, you like them too?” he spoke, excitement lacing his voice. Your face lit up, “yeah, wait do you?” you smiled at him as he nodded his head, could he get any better? “whats your favorite song from Made in the AM?” you paused for a second, “I really like Wolves, what about you?” he looked at you for second. “I love walking in the wind” you smiled at him nodding your head.

“ah a man of taste I see” you joked and he laughed. “Do you like any of their solo music?” You looked at him and he nodded. Before the two of you could continue the bell rang and class started.

You continued talking here and there about the band, you both listened to all of their solo music and you so excited to know you had simliar music taste beside one direction too. When class ended you both walked out, almost forgetting about your best friends, Bed and Sami hadn’t noticed though, too caught up talking about who knows what.

“So when are you starting Star Wars?” Peter looked at you, a small smirk on his face. “When are you starting Game of Thrones?” You retorted, and he nodded his head, “touché.”

As the two of you went down the stairs towards the fine arts hall you turned to him. “Saturday?” He smiled at you, nodding his head. “I’ll start watching season one today I guess” he spoke, faking disgust, you shoved him and he smiled at you, pushing you a little back.

As the day ended, you headed home, you opened your window for a little bit, taking in the cool air for a bit before closing it once more. It felt nice outside so you decided to take a walk, you didn’t have homework and you decided you had nothing to lose. You quickly popped in your headphone and headed out the door, choosing a playlist as the elevator dinged and you headed out your apartment complex.

You walked around the neighborhood aimlessly, taking roads you never knew existed and getting lost for a second before finding your way back to a road you knew. As you continued to walk you found a small park, one you never saw before, it was getting dark so you made a note in your phone as to where it was and headed back. You looked around for any sign of your spandex wearing friend but he was nowhere to be found, it had been a while since you had talked to him.

As if on cue you heard a small thump behind you and you turned around. A smile on your face, “spidey!” You smiled, running over to hug him. “long time no see y/n” he spoke, peter cringed as he heard himself speak.

“how have you been? anything intense lately?” He shook his head and you smiled at him, thankful he hadn’t gotten hurt. “how about you, how’s your boy problem?” You smiled at him, explaining your situation with peter.

“I mean i take everything with a grain of salt of course” you ended and he cocked his head to the side. “it seems like he’s really into you though” you shook your head. “nah, he friendzoned me a while ago so” you shrugged your shoulders and turned the corner, ending up in front of your complex.

“I missed talking with you spider-man” you said, giving him one more hug before saying goodbye, before you could enter the building he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards him. You looked at him confused as he pulled you away from your building.

“I think he really does like you, just give him some time, maybe he’s just building up the courage to ask you out” he began, mumbling nervously. You looked at him confused, why was he so on peters side all the time?

Your feeling of him being Peter resurfaced, you pulled your phone out, about to click on Peters contact to call him when Spider-Man’s head whipped up. “I have to go, there’s a robbery in progress, I’ll see you soon yeah? Give peter a couple more weeks!” He spoke before swinging off. You stood there in shock. Had you told him peters name before? You couldn’t remember, you looked down at your phone, texting peter.

hi :~)

You locked your phone and headed back inside, making your way back to your apartment to go to sleep. Tomorrow was the homecoming game and sami told you to not miss out, it was the only other game that got packed besides the first game of the season. You didn’t protest, anything to see Peter in his band uniform.

As you drifted off to sleep you got a bad feeling about tomorrow, something was feeling off. You didn’t know what, but you suddenly felt less excited about the game.

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!) :

@savedbystark @hphmincorrectquotes @squirtsquirtjigglejiggle @sonicisnotsober @qrangr @ghostiinparker @acenright @ksmy-99 @mutuallynotmutual @holland-tingz @martinafigoli @jackiehollanderr @hemoglobin-s @tyemmamarvel @Mia-mayels @nochillsavv @frenchfrostpudding @vlogsquad-wannabe @sapphireorchid @laurel-not-lorel @abitofeverythinggg @spaghetittiesbcimgay @teenageeggsneckpasta @broken-hearted-barnes

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker fluff #soft!peter parker #flirty!peter parker #marching band!peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x you #chemistry #baroquebucky

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