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7waystreet · 2 years ago

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legacies | ch.5

synopsis — a fiery (y/n) newly enters a university campus dominated by the three trust fund brats. she’s not going to take their shit and they’re not going to let her off so easily either. will this rivalry evolve into friendship, lust or love?

genre — college, angst, friendship, love, slow burn

disclaimer — 18+ strong language & sexual content

chapter index:

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | coming soon

ch.5

❊ ✬ ∗ flashback ∗ ✬ ❊

Not seeing the point of engaging in this dead conversation any further, Jungkook curls his fingers around the purple folder still sitting on the table and picks it up, but Taehyung abruptly snatches it out of his clutch, Jungkook's eyes closing up in agitation before he snaps them open. "What the hell are you doing? Let go" he mutters between gritted teeth.

"Isn't this (y/n)'s folder that she forgot? I'll return it to her."

"Guess what? It's actually for me" Jungkook wildly snipes the folder right back into his own grip, stomping away from Taehyung in flair with a flick of his neck, his silky black bangs moodily swishing across his forehead as he does it.

"Jungkookie... wait! Hold up!"

Abruptly stopped by Taehyung while he's about to depart the cafeteria, Jungkook halts in his steps when Taehyung grapples with his shoulder, a hot puff of breath sighing out of those thin lips as he slowly turns around dawning a clear look of exasperation on his clenched face. "What?" Jungkook barks at Taehyung, who's caught up with the boy near the entrance in a flash.

"Look, I'm sorry ok? I don't want us arguing like this, especially over a girl. We've never let one come in between us before" Taehyung pleads with an unmistakable sincerity, his feathered lips nervously curving downwards even more than their usual pouty appearance.

Jungkook's annoyance eases up almost at once hearing Taehyung's earnest apology, the young one's innocence unfolding in front of his best friend in a jiffy, but he's not going to outright show off his guarded soft side so he remains cooly rooted in his spot. By simply giving Taehyung a firm nod, he confirms they're both still on good terms, the older one better at expressing his feelings as he smiles brightly in return. Taehyung doesn't press any further on the topic now, accepting Jungkook's silent action without much inquiry before he switches the subject and furthers the conversation with "So anyways, what did (y/n) give you that's in the folder?"

"Oh, we're paired up in our literature class for this stupid poetry assignment. She passed me a copy of the one she already wrote for us all by herself" Jungkook instantly replies back to Taehyung, shaking the purple file in his clutch along with his head too, like he's embarrassed by how much of an overachiever you are completing the task so ahead of the due date.

"Ah right! She actually asked me for help with the poem since literature's one of my best subjects and I aced professor Kim's class. Mind if I take a look at her work? You're anyways not really gonna open that folder are you?" Taehyung gently extends his palm out as he cheekily questions the boy, his rising curiosity certainly getting the best of him while he secretly but impatiently waits for Jungkook to respond.

"Uh ok" Jungkook finally mumbles out after some thought, although with a visible hesitation, the idea of you affectionately asking Taehyung for assistance while oppositely avoiding Jungkook's partnering company pricking his own brain no doubt, despite his strong attempt to hide this unsettling feeling in his heart.

"Thanks! I'll reach out to her and offer some guidance. Maybe that'll lift her mood up, whatever's gotten it tanked so badly" Taehyung grins as Jungkook quietly places the purple file down on his hand, both boys then walking out of the cafeteria towards their afternoon classes, Taehyung with way more energy than Jungkook, who's quite ready for a post lunch nap.

You're itching to punch off those crocodile tears streaming down her evil face as she exits the familiar ornate mahogany door, her fake sniffling immediately stopping the second your fiery eyes pierce into hers. The fabricated virginal look in them fades in a flash before a devilish glint pops up all of a sudden, but you're not at all shocked seeing her demeanor change up so drastically, the way she now struts past you in her heels with absolute arrogance while looking down at you like you're nothing but vermin making you want to scream out loud in frustration. Despite wanting to curse the bitch out into oblivion and yanking her long hair right out of her scalp for stealing your poem, you bite down on your tongue and force yourself to remain seated on the bench outside dean Kim's office like you currently are, simply waiting on being called in next, which could happen any second now.

Just as your thought classically finishes, the clicking noise of the door handle catches your attention, your gaze then ripping off of the fading figure of the girl and head shifting towards Kim Seokjin, who suavely steps outside his office with a warm smile spread across his smart face. You're not sure why he looks so happy greeting you considering you've been reported to his office for a plagiarism scandal, but his calming demeanor eases you up and you're privately thankful for his welcoming gesture.

"It's nice to meet you, (y/n). I'm Kim Seokjin, the dean of this university. Please come inside and take a seat" the tall man walks a few steps forward and kindly extends his soft hand out to shake yours, which you instantly hold as you bounce up from the bench and fix the wrinkles in your uniform with a quick run of your other palm down your sides.

Taking a quiet gulp, you then follow him into his office as he pushes the door open with ease, the attractive pinewood musk scent of his cologne lightly trailing behind him before he heads towards his dark brown oak desk and sinks down in the matching vintage chair. Your eyes grow wide when you decisively take in the visual of his exquisite office, which is much larger and deeper than you'd expected, the tan walls covered in never ending shelves of large books and framed certificates of achievement. The array of cabinets and furniture are all made with expensive looking woodwork, the cushy carpet and fancy lamps prettily tucked into the room's high ceiling creating a warm cast, like you've just settled near a cozy fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa in your hands.

But you're most surprised seeing the figure of another man already sitting in a seat across from Kim Seokjin, with an empty chair next to him that you're guessing you're supposed to occupy. When you walk closer to him though, you recognize the back of his head as indeed professor Kim Namjoon's, your guess confirmed when he turns around and graces you with his double dimples. Why is everyone beaming at you like you're not just about to get expelled for plagiarism, which is an absolute banning crime in any university's rulebook?

"Well, let's begin shall we? Namjoon must've explained to you why you've been called in here today, is that right?" dean Kim smoothly delves into the conversation once you're glued to your interrogation hot seat, your head quickly nodding in agreement while you fearlessly maintain eye contact with the powerful man across from you. "Good! Can you share your side of the story then? How did you and Bomi end up submitting the same writing for your literature assignment?"

"Sir, I promise I'm the original author of this poem... I spent hours drafting it in the university library, actually right after I had seen professor Kim in his office and collected helpful literature resources from him! I can't exactly prove how she got her hands on my poem, but I have my suspicions. The only other person I had shared it with a few days before the submission date was Jeon Jungkook, who is my equal partner for this assignment. Why isn't he here? He needs to be questioned too! You've got to believe me, I would never jeopardize my academics over a serious offense like plagiarism, especially for a subject that I love so much and I want to major in!"

"Relax (y/n)... we know you didn't cheat!"

Your shaky breath halts and your chest tightens right away at those words, your eyes slowly turning from dean Kim towards professor Kim who'd delivered the comment, his large palm now resting on your shoulder in an attempt to soothe your flaring anxiety. Your shocked face now twists up in utter confusion though, your mind totally not being able to understand why you're sentenced here in the first place if they know you're innocent, and more so why the hell Jungkook hadn't been. They'd clearly interviewed Bomi before you, with absolutely no sight of the demon who'd been damned into being your companion for this assignment.

"But... so... then why have I been called in here?"

"We've got to officially set up a meeting and give you a chance to explain yourself, it's only fair. Trust me, I've been a professor long enough to spot when a student is lying though, and I can tell you're being truthful. Besides, seeing your enthusiasm towards the subject and our thoughtful discussion about poetry in my office earlier gave me a gage into your talent for writing. I'm not exactly supposed to share this info... but Bomi has failed my class before and well, how do I say this? The great quality of the work just didn't sit at par with her previous record."

"Ok then why aren't you punishing her?!" the words spill out of your trembling mouth after hearing professor Kim's response, the contrast of the comfort his explanation has provided and the rising anger now building up in your throat throwing you off of your civilized composure.

"Like you said before (y/n)... we've got no real proof to pin it against her" dean Kim sighs out loud, folding his arms together and leaning his elbows forward into his desk.

"You can get proof. Just ask Jungkook why he spitefully sold my poem off to his special friend!"

The room falls completely silent at your tiny outburst, the look of calmness on Kim Seokjin's face now fading away into a visible nervousness as he lifts his hand up and uncomfortably loosens his tie, professor Kim also awkwardly fidgeting in his seat making the cushions rustle up. "Hm we will" dean Kim then mumbles out in a clearly unconvincing way, although he's forced a smile to pop up on his plump lips in an attempt to keep up with his obvious lie.

Your head's about to blow off in steam at the thought of Jungkook walking away from all of this without a scratch to his already obnoxiously swollen ego, a nasty taste settling in your mouth by how unfair the world really is that you're cursed to live in. Even the towering dean of the school looks meek as a mouse underneath the power that the legacies' families hold over the university, all only because they have indescribable flowing money in their bank accounts yet zero honor to their famous names. Fuck this shit, you think. But keeping your mouth shut now is important as you've somehow luckily managed to avoid getting a penalty in your ambitious career, not wanting to further make things worse by bulldozing your hateful views of the boys onto the dean and the professor. Staying out of trouble is best.

The door swinging open without a knock startles all three of you sitting in the hushed office, dean Kim's face unnaturally lighting up like a Christmas tree when his hawk shaped eyes shift away from yours and lock in with the person that's just walked in. He quickly stands up in attention and strolls past you, your body turning around in curiosity to check out who he's excitedly begun greeting.

Of course... Jimin's father. You recognize the man right away since you'd already seen him in professor Jung's dance studio a couple of weeks ago, the way the vain man's running his fingers through his slicked back hair a painful reminder of how frequently his irritating son does it so often himself.

"Ah welcome in! Please take a seat! Would you like anything to drink? I can get something ordered for us!"

Ugh. You roll your eyes in annoyance and refuse to budge out of your chair after seeing the way professor Kim jumps out of his with a smile, making room for Mr. Park and ushering him to sit down in the now empty seat next to you. The rich man lets out a happy laugh while hearing the praises thrown his way, patting dean Kim's shoulder before strutting over and sitting down besides you like he's claiming his throne or something.

"And who would this young lady be? In trouble like my son Jimin frequently gets in, are you?"

"No sir. I've actually just been praised and told my work on the recent literature assignment was indeed stellar!"

Mr. Park certainly looks taken aback by your instant reply to his condescending questions, both his brows shooting up before a smile curls up on his lips, his eyes then trailing away from yours and meeting professor Kim's, who plays along with the situation you've created, much to your happiness. "Indeed a great piece of poetry written by (y/n)!" the teacher beams in response, your heart bubbling with joy when Mr. Park's expressions switch to a look of fascination.

"Well well, (y/n). Why don't you send in your resume to my office? We're looking for talented interns to join our team during the school year."

"Of course I will, sir. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Park" you stretch your palm out for a handshake as you take your cue and swiftly get out of your chair, the stunned man firmly shaking yours back appearing totally impressed by your charming attitude and the way you already seem to know his influential personality without even needing an introduction.

The curated smile on your face drops flat after you've respectfully excused yourself and turned around to leave the room, an ugly sense of victory brimming in your heart as you leave the scene and shut the door closed. After the eye opening experience you've just had, you're not going to let go of a chance at a fulfilling opportunity that's literally walked into your life, no matter how much Mr. Park's existence bothers you. It's a cut throat world and now that you have a better understanding of how this university works, nuzzling your way into the good graces of the mighty people running the show just might be the edge you need to get past your schooling years here, even though you hate the idea of it all.

Letting out a long sigh from you mouth, you fill your lungs up with a fresh deep breath of air after exiting the suffocating staff building, your feet then following the usual path to your dorm room as the thought of just laying in bed and watching a fun drama seems so relaxing to you right about now. But the horror strikes when your eyes fall on Bomi cuddled up in Jungkook's arms by the corner of the stairs that you need to take to reach your destination, your entire body freezing up in place when Jungkook's big eyes suddenly lock in with yours. Your palms clench into fists at the cozy sight of them together like that, the fury surging through your veins with a blast forcing you to turn around and redirect your route to just about anywhere but that very location.

"(y/n)! Wait!"

Your pace speeds up even more when you hear Jungkook's voice calling out to you from behind, the need to want to get away from him making you almost break out in a run, but he catches up to you with ease. His palm tightly coils over your shoulder to forcefully stop you in your step when you reach the end of a hallway in the nearest building you'd slipped inside, in a dire attempt to hide yourself from his growing figure. You slap his arm away with a tough force though, detaching his grip over you in a snap, but he stuns you by grabbing your wrist next and dragging you into an empty classroom next to where you're both standing, slamming the door shut after so you're trapped alone in there with him.

"Let go of me! What the hell are you doing?!" you yell out in a fuss, your voice booming in the hollowed out space before Jungkook slowly unleashes his tight hold over your reddening wrist.

"I need to talk to you. What happened with the dean? Are you in trouble? Bomi said you stole the poem from her but I don't believe a word she said... You'd given me the folder way before the due date and Bomi said she wrote the poem the day before the submission. How's that possible?"

"How's that possible? HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE? What the hell are you playing at when you're the one who passed her my poem to get me expelled, you disgusting fuck!"

"What? But I didn't..."

You let out a horrendous cynical laugh at that, like you're a mad woman yourself, Jungkook's doe eyes appearing disoriented while his forehead scrunches up in perplexity by this unhinged sight of you. He remains paused in astonishment, his curly black bangs messily flopped over his forehead, and if this was any other casual situation, he would've flipped them up in style about twice or thrice already. But you might as well have lost your mind at the way he's a born star at acting naive with his cute facial expressions, his entire demeanor softening up like a bunny to further press in his radical agenda of being innocent in this crazy ordeal. What a fucking joke.

"Fuck off Jeon! If you ever come near me again, I will lose against myself and assault you with another slap. Stay the hell away from me!"

Angry tears threaten to stream down your shuddering cheeks but you tensely hold them in before whipping your entire body away from Jungkook's strapping one, thudding the classroom's door open with your palms and storming out without a glance back. What you don't see is how Jungkook intensely stands there for many passing minutes, deep in thought than ever trying to connect the jumbled up dots together.

But his now somber visage cracks open with the speed of light when the unbelievable realization hits him like a damn truck. A impulsiveness then taking over his cast, he treads out of the classroom with newfound purpose, only stopping when his hands crash open the door to the upperclassmen boy's dormitory that he spends a lot of his time in, his legs barraging their way inside before he yells out in a frenzy.

"What in the fucking world did you do with (y/n)'s folder, Taehyung hyung?!"

205 notes · View notes

keichan · 3 years ago

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Sanctuary

The bottom floor of your college library became your sanctuary when you were a freshman. So was someone else

Kuroo x reader

A/N:

I found this draft in my google docs from early 2020! Not really a fan of it but it has potential for a part two. Maybe I will maybe I won’t. Please enjoy 4.4k words that I wrote two years ago! Def a cliffhanger lolllll

wc: 4.4k

The bottom floor of the library at your university was reserved for pure silence. It slowly became integrated into your schedule to come to the library around midnight to however long you felt obligated to stay. Your roommate at your dorm liked to fall asleep around 9pm so you’d feel guilty if you fiddled around in your bedroom.

You sat at a booth by the stair entrance every evening where you could prop your feet up and still get a good view of all the other students and professors working around you. The routine was always to do assignments, study for exams and quizzes, and then watch a show or movie on some streaming platform if you weren’t feeling too tired.

A month into your freshman year of college, you have it marked as your own personal sanctuary.

Tonight you began to slowly nod off into your laptop. It was just one of those nights where your legs didn’t want to carry you back to the dorm until the last possible moment.

The clutter of notebooks smacked the hardwood table of the booth ahead of you. You and many other students snap your heads up to see a boy dressed in sweats, disheveled black hair, scrambling to pick up his belongings. People let out minuscule groans of annoyance at the commotion, but quickly returned their attention back to themselves.

He quickly glanced up at you as you were directly in his line of vision as the expression of worry and embarrassment sprinkled across his tired face. He tried to look natural as he quickly slammed himself into his seat trying to look like he’d been there all that time.

You sent him a sleepy smile of understanding before you propped your chin up on your palm before gluing your eyes back to your show, slightly more awake than before. You’ve never seen him on the bottom floor this whole first month of classes, but this was the first night of many to come.

——

The next evening you found yourself in your usual seat. The boy with messy hair was there at the booth in front of you already. This time looking much more lively, accompanied by two redbull cans. He had a pair of headphones in and was softly switching his eyes between his laptop to his notebook for his notes.

As you sat down, he caught you in his peripheral. He quickly made eye contact with you before dipping his head in a small greeting with the corner of his mouth pulling in a slight smirk. He returned his eyes back to his paper and you opened your textbook to begin your own night of studying.

——-

Through the week you begin to notice the boy with unruly hair, consistently wearing sweats, had made the booth in front of you his regular seat. The two of you exchanged small smiles if your eyes ever caught each other as the days went by. By now it was ingrained in both of your minds that you’ll be seeing each other for the remainder of the semester.

Tonight you sat in the booth alone with your notes scattered everywhere. You had already been in the library about two hours before he arrived. It was now nearing 3am and you were slightly snoring on top of your laptop. You’ve been fading in and out of sleep for the last hour or so whilst trying to finish the packet of homework that your chemistry professor had assigned over the weekend.

You stir to the sensation of something cold pressing to your arm. You groggily look up to see the boy from the neighboring booth pressing an ice cold Red Bull to your arm.

He offers a small smile before whispering in a low voice . “Whatever you're working on seems important tonight. Looks like you need to stay up. Don’t worry about paying me back, it’s on the house!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and the black haired boy before accepting the drink into your hands.

“You can’t go around acting like you own the vending machine.”

He ignored your statement. “The caffeine in it will give you about 3-4 hours more if you need it.” He towered over your notes before he quickly widened his eyes.

“You’re in CHEM 1070?!” he accidentally raised his voice too loud, to have everyone in the nearby vicinity shoot him a glare.

He narrowed his eyes at the students that surrounded the two of you before sliding himself into the seat across from you, repeating himself in a hushed whisper. “I mean, you’re in CHEM 1070? Me too!” You rub the sleep from your eyes to notice the most excited look on his face. You couldn’t think who in their right mind would be this excited about sharing a chemistry class with a random student at 3am. You may be a chemistry major, but it isn’t the most thrilling thing to talk about when you wake up from a nap.

“Yeah? I have Ibe as my professor. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, his 11am class.”

The stranger places his hands on the desk before leaning forwards. “Oh yeah? Me too? I really love this class! I can help you if you need it! I’m a chemistry major!”

It makes more sense. Especially now that you know it’s just not a random guy overly excited for a subject that they don’t understand. You couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm, lulling you out of your sleepiness.

“I’m actually a chem major as well! Have you started on the packet? It’s due on Monday but I’m just not sure how to balance these formulas. Same with the sequences of reaction towards the back of it.”

He had a sly smile resting on his face. “Let me get my bag and we can start working on it.” He paused to extend his hand.

“Kuroo Tetsurou”

You grabbed his hand to shake it.

“L/N F/N”

——-

You come to find out that not only did Kuroo have academic scholarships for your university, but also sports. He was a starter on the college men's volleyball team as a first year. The reason why he found out about the campus library was because it was the only place around that was open 24 hours that wasn’t the dorm lobby. He would shower and show up after practice to study.

“It’s so goddamn bright” You grab Kuroo by the shirt and place him in front of you as you exit the building, using his tall figure to block out the sun. He hunched over to let out a rather harsh laugh causing you to freeze. The students around you stared out at his outburst. You quickly tugged on his shirt for him to stand up.

“What? Can I not find it amusing that you used me as your shield?”

“No, Kuroo, not with that laugh.” You flicked his arm before tugging his shirt sleeve to follow you to grab an early lunch.

It had been roughly three weeks since you two had become acquainted on the bottom floor of the library and the two of you had already created a routine on the days you had shared class. Grab food as soon as possible after class. If you two had the time, hang out at each other’s dorms. Kuroo went to practice on Tuesdays and Fridays. Later in the evening, sit at you two’s declared booth on the bottom floor of the library. You had even begun attending his games every Saturday evening. Home or away.On the days you two didn’t have class, you two found a reason to hang out. Your two roommates knew from the get go, that you two together were inseparable.

The two of you sat at a table in the dining hall that sat between your two dorm halls. You looked at Kuroo as he talked about how he missed his friends from high school. He was talking about his childhood friend Kenma and how he was coming to visit the campus soon in hopes that he could attend the university soon. A small smile rested on your lips the entire time. You never felt bored around Kuroo, everything about him was just interesting.

“Y/NNNNNN” Kuroo whined, grasping you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You meet his eyes, your focus now completely on him.

“We should go shopping in Shibuya today!”

You place your chopsticks on the table and support your chin on your palm. “I’m interested! I’m not from Tokyo, I’m from Nagoya, so I’ve never had the opportunity!” Enthusiasm laced your voice. Kuroo couldn’t help but smile.

“Let’s go!”

-------

“Wow! All of these shops are so cool!”

After roughly two hours of train rides from the outskirts of Tokyo, the two of you had made it to Shibuya. It was Monday afternoon so the streets weren’t as crowded as they normally would be and it was still the time of day where kids were barely getting out of school.

“Kuroo, we should go in here!” You quickly grab his hand and duck into the store. What drew you to it was the fact that it was nearly five stories and had cute clothes on display at the front of the store. Plus loads of sales bargains. Kuroo’s face grew slightly red as he walked behind you.

You didn’t realize that you were still holding onto him until you released your hand to shift through shirts to find your size. Truthfully, you didn’t think anything of it, but Kuroo couldn’t figure out why there was the slightest sinking feeling in his chest when you had let go.

You held the shirt against your chest. “Whaddya think?” You asked, glancing down. Kuroo gave you a thumbs up.

“Kuroo, I’ve got an idea!”

He stared at you with an expression that said go on.

“15 minutes. You go find a fit for me and I do the same. Then we can go take some cute pictures around Tokyo!”

“I like where you’re going with this, but may I ask, why 15 minutes?”

“Gives it a sense of competition, doesn’t it? Anyways!” You check your phone for the time. “15 minutes start… Now!”

----

You turn to admire yourself in the mirror outside the dressing room. “I’ve got to say Kuroo, you could change your major to design and would actually excel in it.” He walks up behind you and presses his hands on your shoulders peering at your reflection with a sheepish grin. He chose for you to wear a form fitting pleated dark burgundy skirt, accompanied with a black long sleeve shirt and a pair of black velvet boots that had a slight heel on them.

“Just another thing for me to be good at, isn’t it?” You elbow him softly in the stomach, staring at him in the mirror. He met your eyes and quickly bent over to pick up the outfit you selected before dipping into the changing room.

You leaned against the wall scrolling through Twitter.

“Well?” Kuroo asked, walking out of the dressing room with his hands out.

You slid your phone into your pocket and crossed your arms, glancing up and down at him smirking. He was wearing black torn skinny jeans, with a floral short sleeve button up in shades of black, burgundy, maroon. You didn’t grab any shoes for him but his black Converse sufficed.

“I have to say that I did a good job!”

“Wow, Y/N! You can’t even tell me that I look good?” He let out a light laugh, a look of anticipation graced his features.

“You look really good, Kuroo!” You grabbed his wrist pulling him to look at the mirror with you. In a second you whipped your phone out of your pocket and nudged him to pose for a picture. Kuroo slung an arm over your shoulder and pulled you towards his chest and placed a genuine smile on his lips. He rested his head atop yours.

“Looks like we both did a good job, let’s go explore the rest of Tokyo!”

Kuroo led you around many different wards of the city. Trying street food, looking into small shops and trying your best to be each other’s personal photographers with candids and posing. The whole day was only filled with smiles and laughter. So this is the adventure that college would bring you two. As the day dipped into night you two silently prayed that the next four years would be like that for yourselves.

Kuroo paused on the sidewalk to glance at his watch. He quickly grabbed your hand and broke into a sprint. “Kuroo! Why’re you running!?”

“We’re about to miss the last train to the college! I lost track of time!” His voice was lost in the wind. He came to a sudden halt causing you to slam into his back, but he held his ground supporting you. He quickly slid his phone over the card reader and passed for the gate. You fumbled with your phone and did the same. Hand and hand you two sprinted into the last train car.

Kuroo grabbed the hand rail on the ceiling of the train as it began to move. Your other hand quickly moved to his bicep to brace yourself. You both sighed before looking at each other with a shit eating grin.

You and Kuroo shuffle to an empty seat. You quietly yawn and place your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut. Your arm lazily linked around his, all the fatigue from the day hitting you at once. Kuroo smiled to himself as you quickly fell asleep without a word. Fifteen stops until you’re back on campus.

The grin rested on his face as he used his left hand to scroll through the pictures the two of you had taken that day. Your little photoshoot idea in one of the alleys of Harajuku. Propping your phone up against the bricks of neighboring shops and buildings as you and Kuroo striked ridiculous poses. He stopped at one picture. It was an off guard of you staring up at him, holding his hands, the both of you smiling wide in the midst of laughter. The bright streetlights made your features glow.

His chest grew warm as he added it to his favorites. He locked his phone and slid it into his pocket before resting his head on top of yours. He glanced ahead of him to see an elderly woman grinning at him.

“You two are such a beautiful couple! Matching outfits and everything!” she chuckled quietly. Blush automatically covered Kuroo’s cheeks as he tried to withhold his composure.

“No ma’am. We’re just friends- the outfits were just a coincidence.” He tumbled over his words.

The old woman clicked her tongue and shook her head, laughing quietly. The train came to a halt and she rose from her seat, dipping her head in a gentle bow before exiting. He sighed and rested his head atop yours once again. He placed his hand on top of yours and waited until you arrived at your destination.

-----

“Tetsuro!” Your voice pierced his ears as he answered his phone.

“Y/N? What’s up? I’m heading to the library right now. Do you want me to stop by the convenience store to buy your favorite again?” He changed the direction he was walking assuming he was correct.

“No! I was thinking screw studying tonight. I wanna do something fun before winter break starts. Like… I don’t know… Go with me to get my nose pierced!” Kuroo turned back on his heel, changing directions yet again, but this time to your dorm. You could hear his smile through the phone.

“Let’s go!”

At this point in the semester, everyone who has crossed you and Kuroo’s path knows that the two of you spend every waking moment together. You’ve become well acquainted with his roommate Yaku, as he has with yours. Despite her monotonous tones and being unbelievably uptight, she actually really enjoys his company when he visits your dorm room. You’ve gone home with him on the weekends sometimes and finally managed to meet Kenma. Despite his quiet demeanor, he’s quite fond of you. You knew that it made Kuroo rather joyous to have you and Kenma become close, though he’d never admit it to your face. His father and grandparents absolutely adored you and they were always happy to see your face when you’d come to visit.

“Tetsu, is now a good time to tell you that I’m afraid of needles?” You turned to him, stifling a small laugh in the piercers chair.

“Ain’t that some shit.” he chuckled. He studied your face as nerves consumed you. His hand extended to give your cheek a slight pinch of reassurance.

The piercer grabbed your nose gently with the clamp. “It’s okay if you want to hold your boyfriend’s hand if you want to. You froze in place, mainly because there’s nowhere else for you to go. You felt your face get hot. “It’s not like that, we-”

You were quickly caught off guard by Kuroo's hands clasping over yours. He made eye contact with the piercer.

“Thank you, sir.”

He returned his gaze to you to offer a soft smile, outside of his normal sly one.

“Breathe, dummy.”

You nodded, trying your best not to feel flustered, you stared forward.

“Ready? One. Two. Three.”

----

You and Kuroo stood outside of your dorm room, both yawning as it dipped into the late hours of the night. You turned around to be face to face with him. He reached up and gently tapped your nose with his finger.

“I’ve got to say… You look really cute with that piercing, Y/N.” His voice was soft. He placed his hand on the wall behind you glancing down to your figure. You felt his breath softly fan your face as his eyes studied your features. His dark eyes bore into yours as he leans closer. Heat quickly consumed your face as you pressed yourself further against the wall.

“I-I uh- thank you Tetsuro.” You stuttered.

“Of course!” He leans up to place his arms behind his head, just to yawn again. As if being that close didn’t phase him.

“I’ll see you this weekend for movie night since Riko is going home, right? Then you go home for break the next morning, right ?”

You nod vigorously.

“See you.”

Kuroo walked down the hallway without turning back while you leaned against the wall wondering what the weird pang in your chest was.

------

You and Kuroo curled up next to each other underneath the blankets of your small twin-sized mattress. After tonight's study session on the bottom floor, the two of you headed to your dorm and began your movie night. The laptop balanced on your legs. You tried to enjoy the film, but Kuroo was aggressively tapping away at his keyboard.

“Tetsu, we can’t have a movie night if your nose is going to be buried in your phone! You know that-“

“HA”

You jump in your seat as Kuroo thrusts his phone in your face.

“You said that your final grade in chem was a 96! Well mine is 98!” Kuroo’s chest swelled with pride as you took his phone from him in disbelief.

“You little shit! I can’t bel-“

“Believe it, Y/N-chan! I’m the better chem major of the duo.”

He held a fist to his chest and looked off into the corner of your dorm room as if he were living in a movie. You rolled your eyes before hitting his chest.

“It’s okay Tetsu! I’ll get you next semester!” You sunk back in your seat with a confident smirk resting on your lips.

You two sat in your own pride watching the movie until your eyes began to droop. You feel a light weight on your shoulder and turn to see Kuroo dead asleep. Cute snores coming out every other breath. You couldn’t help but smile. You reached to close your laptop before carefully reaching down on the floor below you.

You return to your spot to feel your eyes begin to close. Not before long you drift off to sleep.

——

You wake up to something warm wrapped around your body. Your eyes groggily open to be face to face with Kuroo. His eyes crinkle slightly as his eyes catch yours. Your head jerked back in surprise, but his hand was ready to catch you from throwing yourself from the small bed.

Your eyes quickly scanned his face confusedly. Why wasn’t he uncomfortable? Was he just as surprised when he woke up with his arms around you? Was he-

Your thoughts were interrupted by Kuroo stroking a thumb over your cheek.

“G’morning, Y/N-chan .” His voice was raspy, but his features were softened compared to any other time you’d see him.

“Good morning, Tetsuro.” You mumble, not breaking away from his gaze. His hand stopped to rest on your cheek, before his eyes fluttered shut. He slowly began to move closer until the tips of your nose touched.

You jolt up in your bed immediately, refusing to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“ he mumbled in the smallest voice. You ignored him.

“What time is it?” You scrambled through the sheets looking for your phone, refusing to make eye contact with him. You felt his soft gaze follow your movements.

“Shit! My train for home leaves in an hour.” You quickly slide yourself off the bed, plopping to the floor. You hurry to get your suitcases together that you’d already packed. The sound of feet landing on the ground next you makes you jump slightly. You nervously fidgeted with your things before a hand clasped your wrists.

“Do you want me to carry these to the station for you, L/N?” His words came out with caution. You flinch at the sound of your surname. Not looking into his direction you nod. He gathers your things in his hands and walks out your room without glancing back.

Not a word was spoken at the train station. You played with your hands as you tail Kuroo along the streets of the university. His eyes did not shift anywhere but straight ahead.

Upon arriving he places your bags at your feet. He meets your eyes with a blank, emotionless stare.

“I’ll see you after break.” With the simple words pouring monotonously from his mouth he turns around with a hand raised. You reach for his shirt as he turns away, but he’s already gone with a swift stride.

“Tokyo to Nagoya! Now boarding!”

You sign before picking up your bags and making your way onto the train. Staring at the window, the only thought in your head is why didn’t you kiss him back?

——-

As the spring semester started, you and Kuroo acted as if nothing had occurred before you left, if anything the two of you were closer than before. Casually holding hands as you walked to classes, at the library, to the dorms, but never a word being said by either of it.

“Tetsuro! Come help me carry this box up the stairs! It’s too heavy!”

“Make Kenma help you! He’s already down there!”

It was now the fall semester of your second year of college and you, Kuroo, and Kenma were moving into your apartment. The three of you managed to get a discounted rent on a 3 bedroom on the edge of campus, you all quickly signed the lease right before spring rolled around.

Kenma grabbed the box from your arms and turned to face up the stairs with a heavy sigh. You chuckled and returned to your car to retrieve smaller boxes.

A pair of arms snaked around your waist. You smiled and sank into him.

“Tetsuro, you can’t just come behind me like that.”

“Sorry about that.” Kuroo placed a gentle kiss on your temple and took the remaining boxes from your hands. He gave you a quick wink and began walking up the stairs.

“Tetsu! Those go to my room!”

“I know!” He called over his shoulder.

You reach up to close the trunk of the car before dusting your hands off your shorts. With hands on your hips you stare up to see Kenma glaring down at you from the balcony. You offer a slight wave and a gentle smile just to have him roll his eyes and return inside.

Your body sank into itself as your features sank. You made your way upstairs to join your two roommates.

——-

“I’m home.” Kenma appears through the front door to see you and Kuroo holding each other on the couch while watching TV. His face immediately distorted into a look of resentment.

“Why do you always look like that when the three of us are in the same room, Kenma?” You lifted your head from Kuroo’s chest curiously. He closes the door behind him while muttering, “Why do you two act like that when you’re not even dating, it’s annoying. Just get together already.”

You felt Kuroo stiffen under you before the words poured out of your mouth, “We don’t like each other like that, Kenma. We’re just good friends. Right, Tetsuro?” You slightly dig your elbow into his stomach, awaiting an answer. He quickly straightens up in his spot, leaning away from you.

“Right.” He paused looking to his side. “We’re good friends.” He scratched the back of his head quickly before standing from the couch.

“I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

You glance down at your watch, calling after him. “Tetsu, it’s only 8pm, why are-“

“Goodnight.”

His bedroom door abruptly closed before you threw your head against the couch. You groaned into your hands as Kenma squinted his eyes at you.

“For someone whose major is incredibly difficult, and is on the dean’s list, you’re incredibly stupid, aren’t you?”

Your hands slid off your face to reveal a glare. “Who the hell are you calling stupid, Kozu-“

Kenma was already fiddling with his phone, not even looking in your direction. “Kuroo loves you. It’s kind of obvious. He does everything for you and never leaves your side. And you kind of just string him along by letting him sleep with you at night and letting him kiss you. He’s not saying anything so you won’t leave him. If you’re going to keep acting this way you ought to leave him alone.”

With his nose still buried in his phone he walks to his bedroom without another word.

#kuroo #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu AU #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu college au #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro x you #kenma #kenma haikyuu #kuroo college au

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wh6res · 4 years ago

Text

taeyong — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. when your soulmate gets a wound or cut, flowers bloom on the same spot in your body.

synopsis. you’re desperate to meet your soulmate. maybe you can put a stop to the flowers stubbornly blooming on your wrists.

warnings. tread cautiously. mentions of mental illness (depression, attempted suicide), swearing, manipulation, implied self-harm, dubious content, forced relationship, unconsensual touching near the end, ty pulling the sadboi agenda

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

by the time you’re graduating high school, you’re used to the sorry glances people sent your way.

for someone so young, you have more flowers blooming on your skin than any adult. a few small pieces of it blooming in the corner of your cheek, near the jawline. a few of them on your thighs.

but the most concerning piece is the one on your wrists that are fully covered by the flowers, your skin nowhere to be seen with all the lilies of the valley tainting your skin.

yet the worse has got to be the summer before senior year. you had been halfway done with the college entrance examination for a local university. your parents said the pain you felt the first time will turn into a mild itch whenever the flowers form on your skin.

it started small, absentmindedly scratching at something on your neck. initially, you thought it was the heat, your sweat, and the fabric of your clothes irritating the sensitive skin. but when you walked up to the proctor to turn in your exam, you knew that apologetic stare like nothing else—but his eyes had flickered down to your neck.

when your friends blew up your phone, asking where you are to celebrate, you lied and headed straight back home, head ducked, collars upturned, hiding the lilies of the valley wrapped around your throat like some insignia.

a year later, you end up studying soulmate theory in university. they say it’s a useless course as there can be no scientific explanation to soulmates. you like thinking you chose the course because of sheer interest but really, you’re just finding an explanation, some external reason that probably bore no results but you trudged forward anyway.

you’re restless in the pursuit of finding him—or her, you couldn’t care less. the hurt you feel weighs heavy in your heart each time you feel them blooming on your wrist, mind plagued with worry.

your roommate interrupts your deep thinking as she practically throws herself onto your bed. “i have an idea!” she cheers, determined. “why not part-time in the school clinic? that way if people come in, you can compare their cuts to your flowers.”

“now, you just might be onto something there.”

the hunt for your soulmate still wasn’t easy despite working in the university’s clinic and it only got worse each day. your schedule is killing you, you’re slightly getting behind in some subjects, and you practically live in the library.

contrary to popular opinions, soulmate theory can be a fucking bitch to study about. what with learning psychology, astrology, and botany all together. it was interesting how all these things can be factors in how people are paired to become soulmates. interesting, but rather complicated in a sense, too.

they say psychology and astrology dealt with two people’s compatibility. while botany, the meanings of the flowers themselves, was theorized to predict how the soulmate connection will affect their relationship—ultimately, roses were a really, really good sign.

you have been busy messing up your hair, utterly frustrated and irate—astronomy’s messing with your head and you can’t go a minute without scratching your wrists as the flowers bloomed after the other.

then something unexpected happened.

a lanky guy dressed in an all-black ensemble walked into the clinic. well, it was more of a being carried between two guys by the arms rather than walked in. everything about his clothes looked way too big to fit his delicate frame and it hardly looked like it was for fashion style purposes. his skin hugged his body to the bone, eyes sunken, and he looked so frail that a tiny shove would’ve sent him sprawled on the floor.

his name was taeyong and he lied on the bed unconscious, with handkerchiefs wrapped around his wrists like bandages—courtesy of his friends, who looked deathly worried for the fate of their poor friend. if he had lost any more blood, he would’ve died. you had never seen the clinic in such chaos, people running around, anxious. your leg muscles were sore from going back and forth from the nurse’s side to the cabinets storing all the medical supplies she needed.

it had been a whirlwind, and after your superior had patched and properly bandaged his cuts, you were left to look after him in the meantime as nurse jung tried contacting his guardian.

his friends—who you learned were named yuta and jaehyun, were snoozing outside on the bench across the hall, parallel with the clinic’s double-glass door, as they waited for their friend to wake up.

depression. suicidal. taeyong has been like that for his whole life, jaehyun stated earlier. you can only shoot a sorry look at the unconscious boy lying on the hospital bed.

it had already been dark outside when you came in to switch out his bandages for new ones—only to realize that his cut is exactly where you had been scratching earlier before he showed up.

you retracted, unbelieving of what that possibly entails. along the way, you’ve pieced together that your soulmate is probably struggling through something heavy, something that weighed him down so much that it made him believe hurting himself is the only solution, what with all the flowers on your skin.

“it’s him…” you mumble, wide eyed as you eyed the faded scars around his wrists, eerily aligned to the flowers blooming on your own.

you didn’t want to overwhelm him, that much was sure. you didn’t want to chase him away if he gets uncomfortable. so for weeks you started leaving anonymous notes in his locker. not the sappy love letter types, just little words of encouragement that could make his day better.

when their friend breaks out into the tiniest of smiles, yuta and jaehyun’s thankful eyes would scour around the halls. sneakily looking for you behind taeyong’s back. they understood where you’re coming from and hadn’t spoken a word of disagreement when you told them you didn’t plan to make yourself known as his soulmate yet.

and as if the notes were not enough, you start giving him his favorite starbucks drink every now and then—on days the flowers didn’t bloom as much as it normally would. you turn up half an hour early before lectures so you can place it on the table where he usually sits with his two best friends. even if his class is on the other side of campus, you’d still go.

but it only took three weeks of creeping around until you’re caught by your soulmate himself.

“do you want something from me?”

you didn’t know what to say, cat got your tongue as you stood before him holding the drink. you couldn’t weasel your way out and say the drink’s yours, not when he caught you standing before his usual seat, not when you were already leaning forward to place it on his desk.

“uhm… i…” you stutter pathetically, not being able to meet the intensity of his eyes.

“jaehyun and yuta aren’t exactly the most lowkey, especially with how much their eyes wander when i open my locker. so, do you want something from me? what are you playing at, stalker?”

the name he called you stung like a bitch but you can’t blame him for it. you knew him, he doesn’t know you. you’re giving him gifts anonymously. even if they were all from the goodness of your heart, from an outsider’s view, your actions still appeared sketchy.

“soulmate,” you correct him.

you watch his features twist into confusion, only for it to morph into shock once he’s digested what you just said. eventually, he schools his expression back to indifference. his stoic face is so intimidating, you thought, biting your bottom lip and fidgeting on your toes.

“what?”

“i’m your—i’m your soulmate.”

his eyes flicker downwards to peak a glance at the bouquet of flowers painted on your skin. colors as beautiful and vibrant as the day you got them, the stems of the bell-shaped flowers intricately woven into each other. for a split second, you even twist your arms a little, showing him the rock hard proof of your claim.

ever since you found him, you’ve always contemplated for the better part of your limited free time about what his reaction will be when he finds out you two are soulmates. will he accept you? or worse case scenario, pretend you didn’t exist? the possibilities are unknown especially with someone who seems to be going through so much that the last thing they wanted is this person who thinks they’re entitled to be part of their lives because the universe made it be that way.

not that you feel entitled… taeyong can reject you all he wants and you’ll give him the space he needs—

he’s crying.

and not the simple, small tears slowly streaming down his face one by one type of crying, no, his tears were an onslaught. full-on sobbing as he threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, words heavily muffled by your coat.

“is it—” he hiccups. “true?”

you blink, from all the reactions you’ve gone through in your head, crying was the very last thing you expected from him—crying and hugging you like you’re the last person on earth and he’s been touch-starved until he found you.

maybe that was the case.

you wonder what jaehyun and yuta felt whenever taeyong ditched them to spend time with you—and that was pretty much all the time since he’s found you. he’s like a puppy, following you around wherever you go (unless he has classes) and had been neglecting his friends. whether it was intentional or not, whether his two friends were cool with it or not, you don’t know.

you try your best to smile every time he runs up to you on the other end of the hall, spotting you coming out of your own respective classroom after lectures are done.

he’s beaming like a child, inviting you to this cafe he wants to take you to—and pathetic ‘lil ‘ol you just can’t seem to say no to those huge expecting eyes.

but you’re not blind to the slight scowl on yuta’s face nor the razor sharp smile on jaehyun’s features. they want to hang out together, just boys, but now there’s this soulmate who’s suddenly more important than them—what happened to bros before hoes?

but they knew taeyong needed you. heck, he never once smiled like the way he did before he met you. it was like he’s become this whole new person with a child-like innocence reflecting his eyes.

“so?” your soulmate prompts just as his two friends came over, flanking him.

taeyong deflates the moment he sees the hesitance in your eyes. “uhm… i actually have a shift in the clinic, and nurse jung said the clinic isn’t some hang out place, so you can’t, uhh…” you trail, not wanting to finish the sentence.

a little white lie can’t hurt anyone, right?

taeyong shouldn’t depend on you all the time, not when he also has friends who care about his well-being and mental health just as much as you do. being soulmates didn’t mean he has to spend every waking moment with you and the faster he realizes, the better.

when you dashed away before he could even mutter out a reply, you miss the frown on his face, his eyes never once leaving your frame until you turned the corner.

people often favor the underdog. they have this gnawing urge in their gut to sympathize and unknowingly root for their own plot twist or happy ending.

people look at you and your soulmate and think you have poor, suicidal and depressed and sad taeyong eating at the palm of your hand, following you around like a lonely duckling—the undeniable underdog in a coming-of-age movie, the person shoved around until some bigger, more capable person comes to their rescue (in this case you, unfortunately).

but appearances have always been deceiving.

your little 3-week head start with getting to know your soulmate had only been on surface-level. you just wanted to help him but taeyong’s obvious attraction—can you even call it that? you’d like to think it’s more of infatuation—is off-putting for you. from standing way too close to putting an arm around you, from walking you to your lectures to walking you home, from the light headpats to having the guts to kiss your cheeks.

it’s too much and it wasn’t as if you basked in the public display of affection. whenever you tried telling him off in the most gentlest of ways, taeyong would frown and curl in on himself, eyes glossy, darting around, and looking like a kicked puppy.

you couldn’t leave him like that just because of some harmless skinship, right? he’s just excited and happy he’s found you. weren’t you also the first one to initiate? with all those notes and gifts you’ve given him? and now you’re backing away just because of a few touches?

“you know,” your roommate plops herself on the couch next to you, netflix movie playing as background. “you’re not obligated to fix him. you’re his soulmate, not his psychiatrist.”

you sigh, head diving into the couch pillows. “i’m not trying to fix him, i’m just…”

she raises a prodding eyebrow.

“…i’m just trying to be there for him.”

taeyong likes to think that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. but the sense of rush and sick pleasure running up and down his spine whenever you force a smile and give in to his wishes proves otherwise.

all his life he’s been pushed around. tasked to buy his old man beer and cigarettes and an assortment of drugs. if he turns up empty handed, guess who becomes a punching bag? and he has always been alienated throughout his school life. immature elementary kids aren’t exactly the kindest and would’ve picked on every single thing to appear cool to their friend groups. and poor little scrawny taeyong who didn’t speak and didn’t defend himself was just too easy of a target.

“uhm… you don’t—don’t need to walk me home all the time.” do you think so low of him that you believe he doesn’t sense your fake little giggle?

“but i like walking you home,” he pouts, jutting his lips just a wee bit more for extra measure. he makes sure his eyes are as round and glossy as can be, he noticed those puppy eyes are what gets to you the most.

he can tell by your tense shoulders, the clear hesitance in your face, that smile that looked too sweet to be real, and your averting eyes. you needn’t say anything for taeyong to figure you out. he isn’t blind to the lack of comfort you’ve developed by being with him.

he has to think of something or else you’ll be slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

he asked you out on valentine’s day. it wasn’t the simple, forgettable act of popping out the “hey, do you want to go out on a date with me?” question while holding a bouquet of flowers. taeyong made sure you’ll never forget this certain day that he had laid his claim on you—not that it needed to be vocalized, it was his wounds that made flowers bloom on your skin. the soulmate connection should be enough.

but taeyong wanted to go the extra mile.

with the help of his friends (yuta’s popular and jaehyun can be very persuasive), he’s got people handing you lilies of the valley every ten feet until you reach the auditorium in the main building. despite it blooming on your skin you’ve never really seen them in the flesh. they’re like dew drops, bell-like flowers growing in an elegant dip from it’s main stem and appearing no bigger than your thumb.

you were awed, but skeptical.

you meet taeyong by the end of your little journey, standing on a decorated stage with a bouquet of the flowers nestled delicately in his hands. the natural sunlight bleeding through the open windows giving him such a beautiful glow that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. he had smiled and timidly gave you the flowers while asking.

“will you be my girlfriend?”

if only you’d look close enough, that sugar coated smile contrasted greatly to the sly flickers in his eyes. he knows how your actions are dictated by the reputation you’ve built. taeyong knows you'll say yes, because if you didn't, how could you have rejected your own soulmate who has made you the light of his life? he’s been nothing but kind to you and you’ve only pushed him away! you’re a monster! you should’ve saved him!

if him alone can’t make you say yes, maybe the pressure-induced stare of the whole student body can.

and as you shivered amidst taeyong’s suffocating hug, feeling the triumphant smirk against your head and his prodding nose as he sniffed your hair, you now understood why your body bloomed this specific woodland flower.

lilies of the valley are beautiful.

but lilies of the valley are poisonous, too.

the flowers remind you of taeyong.

making things official has only made things worse. taeyong has promised you that after being together he won’t try hurting himself anymore and that he’s a big boy and he can attend his therapy sessions alone. but the itching in your skin is as constant as ever and you just got off the phone with the receptionist of the clinic he goes to.

“are things alright? i haven’t seen taeyong since three weeks ago.”

if there’s one thing you absolutely hate doing with your soulmate, it’s confrontations. for the three months you’ve been together, taeyong has always, always spiraled out whenever you confront him about something. be it the mildest or the most superficial thing, what started out small will turn into a complete whirlwind and he’d be in a fit of tears by the end of it.

every single time.

you prefer happy taeyong than sad taeyong—if you can avoid it for as long as you can, you will. but you’re at your breaking point. him lying to you about his therapy sessions is the pin that popped the little balloon of security you’ve been protecting.

when you arrive home, he’s already there, crouched and sifting through your bookshelf. it wasn’t a surprise or anything out of the ordinary, he possesses the key to invite himself into your apartment any time. “hey, you’re home!” he immediately stands, barreling towards you.

he encircles his arms around you protectively as he pulls you flush against his body. you feel the tip of his nose prodding against your neck, hearing him inhaling your scent like cannabis.

you learned to ignore it, this habit of his—but just because you do doesn’t make you any less uncomfortable than the first time he did it.

you don’t bother hugging him back.

you were too pissed off to keep up with pretenses.

“the clinic called, said you weren’t attending your sessions. why were you lying to me?”

when pushed into a corner, you were never one to beat around the bush.

“i don’t like going alone, i told you that, remember?” he quickly replied, shoving you away. “i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just come with me for my sessions, don’t you think? you’re blowing this out of proportion when it’s all your fault.”

you wanted to pull at your hair. scratch that, you wanted to pull at his hair—no, not in that kind of way.

“how the fuck—” you stop. taeyong hates it when you curse. cursing will do you more harm than good. you inhale through your nostrils, willing yourself to calm down. “how is this my fault? i told you i have to run errands for professor kim!”

“then quit working there! they’re not even paying you, it’s just for extra credit! which you wouldn’t even fucking need if you weren’t flunking astronomy so bad.” taeyong must’ve seen your features twisting into that of betrayal. he was there when you were crying your eyes out because you failed the exam. he knew the subject was taking such a big toll on you.

how could he…

“don’t fucking look at me like that, kitten. you know it’s the truth.”

what is the point of this, some form of payback he’s subjecting you to? just because you didn’t come with him to his sessions? six months in this relationship and you already feel so drained, how would the universe expect you to keep up for a whole fucking lifetime together with him?

“why…” you choke, the tears building up in your eyes as your voice breaks. “so what do you want me to do, then?” you ask, because you genuinely don’t know.

does he want you to choose? is that it? you didn’t want to lose the credits, but you didn’t want to lose this relationship either, no matter how much you’re drowning in the toxicity of it all.

because this is your soulmate.

certainly, the universe wouldn’t destine you to each other if it would only bring forth chaos, right? taeyong has mentioned time and time again that this is his first relationship. of course, he’s depending on you to show him the ropes.

but it seems he isn’t really a big fan of how you do things.

“quit.”

you shake your head defeatedly. “you know i can’t. i’d have to take the whole subject again next semester and—”

“i said quit, dollface.” the finality in his tone renders you speechless. “then fucking take the subject again next semester! i don’t care. that’s your consequence for neglecting your major. why the fuck do i have to suffer, too, if my soulmate is such a failure?”

his words cut deep, deeper than flesh, cutting through bone as your knees the urge to buckle and collapse before him. “taeyong, please—”

“honestly, i don’t even know what you’re doing with that professor. you always brush it off whenever i ask you!” the glare he sends could kill. “is this… is this why you’re so adamant about not quitting? then again… what kind of professor is willing to pass his students just by interning for him? i can’t believe i’m only realizing this now!”

this is bad. this is very, very bad.

“whatever you’re thinking about is not true! trust me—”

but as if he can’t hear you, he dawdles on, trying to connect the dots when there is absolutely nothing to connect.

“you suck dick for grades? how could you do this to me? how can you do that to yourself?”

you don’t understand exactly why he’s crying again so you don’t say anything. not because his fierce accusations were right but because even if you try hard to convince him that nothing is going on with your astronomy professor, he’d still cry and whine and paint you to be the bad guy.

“what… what use do i have in this world if my soulmate thinks i’m not enough? and i lost you to some guy who smelled like prunes of all people!” you would have laughed if the situation had been different, but taeyong was dead serious. “i’m useless. i’ve been useless with my family, my friends, and now you. i can never do anything right, can i? i can never make anyone stay. i can’t even make you stay!”

and like a switch that has been flicked off, your conflicted emotions vanish in thin air. gone are every trickle of anger, confusion, and irritation you felt as he makes a beeline to the coffee table, smashing the little ornamental fish bowl and pointing a shard against his dainty wrists.

“no!” you tackle him to the ground, groaning when you feel the shard dig into your side yet you made no effort to get off of him. blindly, you reach, twisting his wrist to drop the piece of glass. “you promised!” you wail, clutching the collars of his shirt as you pull him close to you. “stop, stop hurting yourself.”

you feel him shaking his head, his own onslaught of tears staining your shirt as the negativity he’s been bottling pours over like a tsunami, dragging you under the currents with him. “no, no, no…” you splutter, snot running disgustingly down your nostrils. “it’s not true, none of that is true. you’re my love, my moonlight, i’d never betray you for anyone or anything!”

“but—but your professor, the internship—”

“i’ll quit. i’ll take the subject again next semester, it’s not a big deal, okay? don’t worry, i’m here. i’m so sorry!”

it was all too easy.

the thing with noble people like you is the foolish sense of responsibility lying underneath your skin, it’s gravitational pull so strong that you don’t bother to think before you speak, to think before you act, to think before you make promises, because what’s important isn’t yourself, it’s the person lying meek and helpless before you.

quit, you say? taeyong wants something more.

the evil lying inside pandora’s box can never remain dormant, not when meddlesome people like you who think with a one-track mind pull the lid off its hinges, preaching how every evil can have their own redemption.

a hand finds purchase around your waist as an eerie blissful smile stretches on his lips, eyes clouded over. “really? i’m your moonlight?”

“yes—”

“would you prove it to me?”

he doesn’t make room for your hesitance to settle, he lunges, hands wrapping around your face to pull you into a kiss. it wasn’t like all the other kisses you’ve shared with him, no, this one had a dark, underlying purpose. his hands digging into your open wound to make it bleed, tongue sliding into your mouth the moment you gasped in pain.

your hands press on his chest, trying to push him away but taeyong’s thoughts are running wild. you blush in sheer humiliation when he lets out an almost pornographic moan. with a sinking realization, you’ve become hyper aware of something poking at your abdomen.

no, not yet. you weren’t ready yet!

“taeyong, wait—i’m not—”

“you said you love me, didn’t you?”

#nct imagines #taeyong imagines #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios #yandere taeyong #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #idk how to tag stuff geez

346 notes · View notes

morkleemelon · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: mark x reader, best friend! haechan x reader, gender neutral

genre: college! au, angst, based on the song ‘drivers license’ by olivia rodrigo

warnings: language, heartbreak, allusions to a broken past, mention of parental issues, college party with alcohol

word count: 5021

song recs: drivers license - olivia rodrigo, heather - conan gray, happier - ed sheeran, a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be - jess benko, someone you loved - lewis capaldi

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

The apartment door shut behind you with a soft click as you return after a long day of classes. Feeling around the wall in the dark, you switch on the overhead light, the murmur of electricity giving its greetings.

Your living space is underwhelming: you’ve allowed yourself minimal furniture to save on funds and what little you do have is unfortunately not tidied well.

Unopened mail scatters across your plaster countertop. One in particular seems out of place amongst the dull grays and whites of the others, the bright smile of a supposed student greeting you with a cartoonish “congrats! you passed your driving test!”.

It all seems pointless now.

Your body aches as you set down your backpack and strip off your outer layers. It’s mid-spring in Seoul, so daily downpours of rain is a given.

Tossing your raincoat carelessly over a nearby chair, you don’t mind as the raindrops patter onto the wood panel floor as you make your way to the living room couch. The worn out leather used to be comfortable, but now it scratches at your skin with the memories you had attached to it.

You remember when he used to be here with you. You’d laughed together, cried together, talked together until the moon went to rest and the sun took its place in the sky. Everything was brighter then when he loved you.

Mark had chased after you first. He’d taken to you almost immediately after you’d met; he was walking downtown with his friends and when he wasn’t careful where he was going, backing into you and causing you to spill your tea all over yourself. He was flustered, running into the nearby café to get you napkins to clean yourself off. You said it was okay, but he insisted he give you his number so he could pay to get your shirt cleaned or buy you a new one.

Pulling a blanket throw over your legs, you switch on the tv to drown out the quiet. Your eyes fix on the old soap opera, but you aren’t really paying attention. The roaring laugh track falls dead to your ears as you pull the blanket closer over yourself. The space next to you feels so empty.

Mark was never subtle about liking you. After that first time you met, he made it his mission to make you his. You weren’t sure about it because he was part of the popular crowd and you weren’t one to date around. Not to mention, being pursued so earnestly was a new experience for you, one that seemed too good to be true. The first time he asked you out, you rejected him. You thought he would give up then, realize you were nothing special and you would go back to your sheltered life. That was what you grew to expect from others.

But unhindered, he persisted. Much to your astonishment, he snaked his way into your everyday life, chipping away at your walls piece by piece. When it rained, he had an umbrella waiting. When you cried, he had the tissues ready. Piece by piece, you let him see inside. You could never forget the moment when he finally succeeded and your resolve came crumbling down.

He was sitting right there, on the cushion not one arm’s length away from where you sit now. Mark was never shy about telling you that you were beautiful, that you were special, but this time he prepared a special weapon to win you over.

Mark sat there strumming his acoustic guitar, the one his big brother gave him for christmas, as he so excitedly boasted to you.

“This is a song I wrote about you,” he said, peering into your eyes. His voice was soft and he seemed shy for the first time. Fingers dancing on the strings, he was genuine and vulnerable in front of you. “Forever,” he sang and ‘forever’ you believed.

So you let yourself love him back.

You kissed him first, to his surprise. You mustered all the courage you had and you leaned over his instrument to cup his warm cheek, pressing your lips quickly to the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was short and you had missed a little, but your heart raced with anticipation. “How would he react?” you had worried to yourself afterwards. You had your doubts, that is, until he kissed you back.

Mark’s hands were laced through your hair as he brought you in again, this time deeper than the first. Moving his guitar onto the floor beside you, he pulled you into his lap and you kissed him back with all the love you had. It felt so natural, moving your lips against his and feeling his breath fan across your wet skin as he kissed a line down your neck.

You could still feel it, only now it burns.

He asked you to be his and you breathed a “yes” back. He kissed away your insecurities, insisting they made you all the more special. Piece by piece, then all at once, you gave yourself to him.

Days turned to weeks then months, you came back to your apartment together, kissing, loving, he always went out of his way for you. “This is it,” you thought, “he’s the one”.

You talked about him with your friends all the time, gushing about how good he was to you. Mark integrated into your friend group with ease and he got along especially well with your best friend, Haechan. When he met your mom, she wouldn’t stop praising how well mannered Mark was. In every way, he was perfect for you. And in every way, you believed he would be forever.

One of the things Mark always teased you about was your lack of a license. Most students your age had one now that you were in university, but you had yet to take the test out of fear. Mark let you drive his car around the parking lot and the two of you laughed at your jolting stops every time you hit a curb. You said you were scared, but he held your hand and told you it was okay. With his help, you drove the small white car around in circles until the fear went away.

You promised him that once you got your license, the first place you would go was his house since he always had to drive to yours. Mark’s face lit up in such a way that could only be pure joy and you kissed the night away. He said he couldn’t wait.

But, you guess, now he can.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

It was only so long before you came across your first problems. Part of it was your fault; you were foolish enough to believe that you would always be the most important one in his life. You’d grown so used to Mark’s special treatment and constant reassurance that when he treated you any different, you got so scared.

It was a saturday night and he wanted to bring you out to a party. You begged him to stay inside like you always did, just the two of you, but you could tell he really wanted to go.

“Can’t you go without me?,” you asked, lying next to him in your bed.

“I wanna show you off,” he whined back, pulling you into a suffocating hug.

“Ah, fine!,” you squealed, your chin wedged in the nape of his neck as he squeezed you tight. He pressed a dozen kisses all over you then.

“It’s not a big deal,” you thought, “this is the least I can do for him”.

When you showed up to the party, you stuck right by his side. You had never been to one before, the alcohol and drugs making you uncomfortable. The trap music blared loudly as sweaty, intoxicated students grinded on each other shamelessly. Unfamiliar men looked at you with hooded, lustful eyes and you pulled at the hem of your short dress in discomfort. Mark hardly regarded you except for a hand at your waist and chatted freely with his friends that you didn’t know.

You felt out of place. Even without drinking anything, it wasn’t long before the heat of the frat house made your head spin and you tugged at Mark’s arm to get his attention.

“Baby, I want to leave,” you pleaded.

“What? But we haven’t been here for even an hour, ___”. Mark looked so disappointed as you interrupted his drinking game.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I really don’t want to be here,” you insisted, hoping he would once again leave everything and come to you.

For the first time, he hesitated. And for the first time, you saw her.

“Mark!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted over the cacophony. A blonde girl headed over to you. She was tall, clearly older by the way she carried herself. Her skin glistened with sweat from the party, but it didn’t take away from her gorgeous features. Even as her makeup ran slightly, you took in her looks with a pang of envy.

“Oh, hey!,” Mark greeted, his hand leaving your waist to pull her into a hug. Your heart tugged with jealousy. The way she looked at him and the way he didn’t even seem to see you as he chatted with her made you sick to your stomach. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Turning around, you weaved your way through the crowd towards the exit. The cold night air greeted you as you opened the front door to leave. You shivered at the difference in temperature as you made your way quickly down the driveway. It felt so wrong to be walking away from Mark, but the emotions crowding your head made you take one step after the other.

All the rest of you begged for him to stop you, to run after you and reassure you like he always did. So when you felt his hand grip your elbow, spinning you around, tears streamed down your face in relief.

“I’m sorry, ___,” he apologized, hugging you close. It was so warm. “I’m sorry”.

And you forgave him so easily.

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

But that fight was the first of many. Each worse than the last - it started with bickering about little things like being late for dates or accidentally missing calls. Much to your greatest fear, Mark became noticeably slower to respond to your messages and always seemed to cancel your plans together, if you even made them anymore. Slowly, you found yourself sitting alone in your house more, waiting for him.

Still, you believed in him naively. Every couple fights, right? And he promised you forever. Just like every other time, he would come back to you and all would be well. You loved him like you’ve never loved anyone, even more than yourself.

But what you didn’t know was that you were pressing on the gas while Mark was slamming the brakes - your relationship became dysfunctional and before you could admit it, you were the only one hanging on.

You pressed too hard and everything exploded.

“We’re just friends, I don’t know what’s not clicking!,” Mark huffed angrily as he paced around your apartment kitchen.

“I’m not saying anything, all I mean is that I wish you’d told me that you were driving her home,” you reply, raising your voice slightly.

“You don’t own me, ___, I don’t have to tell you everything! What about you and Haechan, huh? You’re always hanging out with him and I never say anything!”. His voice was almost a shout, nothing like the loving tone he always used with you. He started packing up his things.

“Chan is my best friend, you know that,” you answer, voice breaking slightly as tears began to form.

Mark zipped up his bag, pausing to look up at you. His gaze was stiff, but it softened slightly at the sight of you. You could tell he was thinking about his next move. You thought it would be just like every other argument you had - he would pull you into his chest and the rhythmic beat of his heart would tell you he forgave you. After all, you had his promise of ‘forever’.

But this time, he turned away. He sauntered towards the door and with his hand on the handle, he fired his words like arrows to your heart.

“I think we need a break”

And just like that he left, the door clicking softly behind him.

One second, two, three.

You waited with your breath hitched in your throat for him to come back.

Four, five, six.

Tears dangled from the tip of your chin before splattering against the wooden floorboards as you listened for his footsteps to approach again.

They never did.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

And pictured I was driving home to you

That night left you utterly broken. You stood there in shock until the gravity of your pain brought you crashing down. Crying and crying more, you waited still for him to come back. Mark broke down your walls only to leave you defenseless - sheltering yourself was a good defense mechanism, one that was supposed to prevent you from being hurt like your dad did your mom.

In every way, you blamed yourself. You were never good enough for him and you never did nearly as much for him as he did you. A piece of work, that’s what you were. You didn’t deserve him and now he finally realized it.

You had cried all week, barely leaving your room to eat and go to class. You debated calling in sick, but even that cost energy you didn’t have. Checking your phone religiously, the pressure in your chest grew greater each time you saw he didn’t text or call.

Your last two messages were left unread: you’d asked him to call you to talk and you said you were sorry for doubting him.

Calling your friends was the only relief that came to you, but you felt bad for always bothering them. They didn’t have the words to comfort you. Well, there wasn’t anything they could say to comfort you.

But the final blow was yet to come.

Your phone buzzed with a message and your hand instinctively rushed to check it.

A message from Mark?

Your heart dropped when you saw it was only a calendar reminder.

“Driver’s License Test Today!”

You squeezed your eyes shut then as the memories of the times you spent practicing with Mark flooded back unwillingly. Shifting around in your cold bed, you wrapped yourself closer into the mess of sheets. He praised you as you got better, setting up the appointment himself.

“You can do it, babe,” he smiled at you widely from the passenger seat, “Once you get your license you can come over to my house all by yourself”. He leaned in close and you instinctively tilted your neck towards him to meet his lips. Kissing the sensetive spot where your jaw meets your ear, you let out a soft sigh of content. “And we can have so much fun”.

Struggling to ignore the stinging pain of the recollection, it took everything in you to muster the energy to go. Something in you still believed that maybe he would come back. Maybe he just needed time to think and he still meant forever. Maybe he was hurting just like you.

So you go to the dmv and you drive just like you practiced with Mark’s old white car, only this time with your own rental. The proctor ticked away at the boxes as you cruised around the familiar suburban streets. You’re glad he didn’t mention your puffy under eyes and slept-in hair.

“Alright, kiddo” the proctor finished signing the checklist as you pulled back into the original parking lot, “congrats! You passed!”.

You smiled and thanked him, but you didn’t feel happy. After the proctor hopped out of your car, you checked your phone to see you had a missed message. Heart racing, you unlock it quickly, hands shaking while you typed in your passcode. It had started to drizzle outside.

“___, I’ve been thinking a lot and I think it’s best if we broke up. I just don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry”.

You dropped your phone.

Minutes must have passed before you could move a muscle. Rain pattered gray against your windshield and you watched as the droplets ran down and disappeared into the wipers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Your body on autopilot, you start the car, the old engine skipping a few times before running smoothly. Hardly thinking, you cruised through the suburban neighborhoods outside of Seoul, not sure of where you were going, but needing to go somewhere.

“Mark,” you say to no one, “Mark”. The second one was barely a whisper. You repeated his name to yourself as the rain bore down harder, tears falling down onto your lap. Curling your fingers tighter around the steering wheel, you sped down to the only place you knew to go.

“What the hell,” the boy at the door stated, staring bewildered at your soaking form. You sobbed, raindrops mixing with your tears so it was unclear which was which. Lighting cracked in the dark sky, followed by the inevitable rumble of thunder. Your car was pulled over the side of the road and you stood shivering pitifully in front of your best friend.

Haechan took you inside, offering you a towel and dry clothes while you said nothing, not trusting your voice to handle words. Of course, the two of you were close enough to understand this and he offered you silence back.

You cried into his lap as he patted you on the arm. The fireplace crackled in the background, but you still felt so cold.

“He broke up with me,” you hiccupped out finally, grabbing onto his hands for dear life. You hadn’t voiced it out loud yet and the words left your throat like knives.

“That son of a bitch,” Haechan cursed, letting you grip onto him, not saying anything about the pain.

“I-I,” your body shook as you hiccupped uncontrollably. He shushed you, stroking your hair with his other hand to calm you down.

You took deep breaths, closing your eyes to try to pacify your trembling sobs and make the pain go away.

“It hurts,” you finally managed, “It hurts so bad”.

Haechan squeezed your hand in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. Just like that, he held you for hours until his legs went numb and your small gasps calmed into steady breathing. Still, he didn’t move.

“One day,” he softly broke the silence, brushing invisible circles on the back of your hand, “it’ll all pass. You might think he’s everything right now, but if he wasn’t ready to love all of you, he doesn’t deserve you”.

And it was after letting those words sink in that you slowly began to notice the warmth of the fireplace.

Red lights

Stop signs

I still see your face

In the white cars

Front yards

Can't drive past the places

We used to

Go to

'Cause I still fucking love you, babe

You drifted asleep on his lap then, peacefully. When you awoke, your best friend was no longer in your embrace and you blinked to remember where you were. For a second, just a small second, you forgot about what happened the day before.

Shifting up to a sitting position, you stretched your sore neck and looked around to Haechan in the kitchen. A sizzling noise accompanied by the alluring smell of bacon wafted over. Your stomach grumbled - it had been a few days since you’d had the appetite to eat something.

You made your way to the familiar kitchen, one you had spent many days hanging out in. Haechan tilted his head towards the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“You’re awake?”

You nodded in response. He wore a floral apron as he cooked, his hair still messy from sleep. For the first time in a while, you smiled.

After breakfast, he let you drive to school.

“I didn’t know you got your license,” the boy remarked as he buckled in.

“I did. Just yesterday”. Your voice was still slightly hoarse from crying. With your best attempts in Haechan’s bathroom, you washed the tears from your face. You hoped you could pretend you were okay.

But as you drove along, you passed the house that you had so temporarily forgotten about. The white car parked outside of Mark’s home pierced your chest with dull pain as you remembered the promises you made together.

“That’s cool. Did you finish the bio project?,” Haechan made his best attempt at capturing your attention, understanding what was going through your head.

You couldn’t reply.

Sidewalks

We crossed

I still hear your voice

In the traffic

We're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue

Know we're through

But I still fucking love you, babe

The rest of the ride was silent as you struggled to keep it together. You thought about how Mark used to kiss you whenever there was a red light, leaning across the dash to tell you he loved you. You used to laugh at the ticklish feeling of his fingers feeling around your jaw to get a better angle to your lips, squealing at him to go when the light changed green.

You felt numb as you sat in your morning bio lecture, heeding no attention to your professor’s voice. Haechan sat next to you, observing your pained expression with concern.

“___, you okay?”

The question only makes you feel worse and you lean your chin weakly against his shoulder. You let out a small whimper, lips trembling as you hid your face in his neck. Grabbing your hand, he led you out of the dark lecture hall. You didn’t have the energy to ask where you were going as he pulled you out of the university science building.

“Give me your keys, I’ll drive,” Haechan directed. You obliged.

Seoul traffic picked up and the two of you sat listening to the radio.

“You wanna go get coffee?,” your best friend asked.

You didn’t answer, listening to the melody of the acoustic music playing on the radio. It reminded you of the song Mark wrote about you all those months ago. Haechan accepted your silence as affirmation and he pulled into a quaint café lot. A white car is parked in front of yours and you think you’re seeing things because it looks like Mark’s. Everything seemed to remind you of him.

You didn’t notice that Haechan got out of the car until he held your door open for you. Numbly, you step out, not taking your eyes off the white vehicle.

It was Mark’s.

Haechan realized the same too late and you were already staring through the café window. There he sat, the person you’ve been dying to see and hear from. Mark sat there and across from him, you recognized the blonde from the party. He left her for you then, but now you couldn’t say the same.

He looked so happy, happier than he was with you in the last months of your relationship, his smile reaching his eyes and his nose scrunching up as he laughed at something she said. Mark’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her. You don’t miss how his hand gripped the edge of the chair behind her back so his arm was almost around her shoulders.

He looked so okay without you.

Haechan pulled you under the small café umbrella as it started to drizzle. You were turned away from the window, out of sight from Mark, but the image was already burned into the back of your head.

“What am I supposed to do, chan?,” you whimpered, letting your tears soak into the taller boy’s chest as he hugged you close, “I still fucking love him”.

This time, he didn’t answer as you gripped onto his tee shirt. He didn't have to as you remembered your best friend’s words from the night before: “It’ll all pass”.

“It’ll all pass,” you thought desperately, although you felt like the sidewalk would swallow you whole. “It’ll all pass,” you repeated, this time out loud, the words feeling like cement as you sobbed into your best friend’s shirt.

It started to rain harder before Haechan spoke, his voice rumbling in his chest against your cheek, “It’ll all be okay one day, I promise”. You held onto these words for dear life.

…

Switching off the television, you shuffle out of the living room to get ready for bed. It’s been a week since then and you still repeat Haechan’s words to yourself every night. They serve as your only consolation to fight against the knowledge that Mark found somebody new. Somebody that isn’t you is making him happy now. Somebody that isn’t you is hearing that they’re special, that they’re beautiful.

Still, you pressed the band-aids to your bullet hole.

“It’ll be okay,” you whisper to yourself as you turn your bedside light off, “It’ll pass one day”. The promises wash around your head until sleep invites you in and finally the dull pain of being awake can be ignored.

The bright light of morning came as a surprise, waking you from your slumber. You shield the golden rays from your eyes with a tired hand, although welcoming the rare sunshine in a month filled with rain. Birds sing their weekend song as you stretch the sleep from your bones. For the first time in a while, your room appeared bright.

Brushing your teeth, you make a peace sign in the mirror at your messy hair. Letting out a single chuckle, you flop your atrocious bun to the other side. For the first time in a while, the ache in your chest doesn’t feel quite as painful. Spitting out your toothpaste foam, you take the time to cleanse your face properly, patting on your favorite moisturizer after.

You brush through the tangles in your hair, looking at your reflection, taking in the first image of yourself trying to heal. It isn’t a lot, but it’s everything.

Strolling to the kitchen, you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. Munching away, you pull open the living room curtains, letting the morning light stream in. There you stand, watching the bumblebees rub against the pink flowers to drink their nectar.

“Cheers,” you whisper, raising your spoon up to the window before bringing it to your lips. Finishing the simple meal, you debate what to do next.

You look to the couch, wondering if it would be okay to sit and waste your day away with netflix. Just then, you feel a buzz from your back pocket.

“____, you free?” the message reads. It’s from Haechan.

You reply that you are and he asks you to come over to hang out together. Looking to the couch then back to your phone, you head down to the door to grab your keys and your license. Before you leave, you pause, looking at the cluttered letters collecting dust on the countertop. Before the door clicks shut behind you, they’re in the trash and the counter smells of lemon disinfectant.

The weather is so nice. You feel the warmth against your face as you walk down to your car. It’s not the rental anymore because Haechan helped you find a used one that you could afford. It’s bright red, your favorite color, and it doesn’t skip when you start the engine.

You cruise down the suburban streets with the windows down to feel the fresh breeze play with your hair. It smells like cut grass and petrichor.

Turning onto the familiar street, you expect your heart to clench at the sight of Mark’s house, but it doesn’t. You press the gas pedal a little harder as you speed past the white car parked in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, you drive past his street.

Maybe it hurts a little, but you don’t cry anymore. You turn the wheel smoothly as you pull onto a different road, just like the way you always practiced. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’re always thankful for the time you had with him. You turn the radio to your favorite channel, letting your body sway to the relaxing guitar tune. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’ll always love the song he wrote about you. Even if Mark doesn’t mean it anymore, someone new could.

Following the route you now have memorized, you steer into your best friend’s neighborhood.

Maybe you’re driving alone, but it doesn’t hurt so much. Not when there’s someone waiting for you.

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

Yeah, you said forever now I drive alone past your street

182 notes · View notes

tryingmyves · 3 years ago

Text

Sober

DENKI KAMINARI x Y/N

part two

A/N: A fic inspired by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray (I swear they put crack in this song). You’ve been in love with Denki Kaminari for as long as you can remember and he only seems to think of you as more than a friend when he’s inebriated. Simple, right?

sorry this chapter got a bit long but things are getting ~spicy~

c/w: alcohol mention, smut (soon)

chapter 1

[FOUR MONTHS AGO]

Technically, classes wouldn’t start for three more days, so you weren’t quite a college student. But you and Kaminari came to the city early because the lease on his apartment was starting and you needed to meet someone from Craig’s List about the car you plan to buy. To be honest, the car was what you expected: a piece of shit. But it would get you to your part time job and back to campus, so what more could you ask for? You couldn’t move into your dorm until tomorrow, but Kaminari said you could stay with him for the night. His roommate Kirishima hadn't moved in yet, so he had extra space.

Aside from the brief meeting with the stranger you bought your car from, you and Kaminari spent the day hauling cheap furniture up four flights of stairs into his apartment. Both of you were utterly exhausted. You were both covered in the grime of your own sweat; countless trips up and down the stairs had left your legs burning and heavy. When you agreed to help Kaminari move in you didn’t expect that he'd have so much shit, or that his apartment would be on the top floor of a building with no elevator. But at the current juncture you were too fatigued to complain. The two of you are laying on your backs, sprawled out on the cold wooden floor of the living room, unpacked boxes surrounding you.

“I feel disgusting,” you complain, raising your head slightly off the ground and unsticking the mat of sweaty hair from the back of your neck. You push it upwards so it fans out above your head.

“Yeah, you smell kind of disgusting too,” Kaminari replies with a laugh that becomes a cough when your arm swings down to connect with his stomach.

“I think you mean, “gee Y/N, thanks so much for helping me move into my apartment! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kaminari raises himself up on his elbows, still recovering from your blow. “Hey - I have your thank you, it’s just in one of these boxes. Alcohol tends to be the universal thank you for helping a friend move - plus I don’t have wifi until tomorrow, so tonight we’re getting drunk and celebrating as college students!” he smiles.

You let out a sigh, “Well I hope you have ice. Find my thank you gift - I’m going to go break in your shower,” you say rising from the floor, “but not because you said I smell. Only because I want to!”

Kaminari laughs as you make your way to the bathroom, pulling himself off the floor as well to start rooting through the cardboard boxes full of his belongings. You lock the bathroom door behind you and spend a few moments deciphering how to use the unfamiliar shower. You start the water, a bit cooler than usual, still feeling balmy from all of today’s physical activity. After moving all of Denki’s belongings into the apartment you didn’t remember to grab anything of your own, so you would be using his toiletries to wash up. You throw a thin towel on the back of the toilet before stepping into the refreshing stream of water. The water cascades down your face, snaking down the curves of your body before disappearing down the drain. A sigh escapes your lips, thankful for a small moment of relaxation after a long day. You get to work washing your hair and scrubbing the day's sweat off of yourself, wrapped in the scent of cedarwood and lemon, something you’ve long associated with Kaminari. After roughly fifteen minutes you feel sufficiently clean and turn off the shower, stepping out to towel yourself off.

Not wanting to put your dirty clothes back on, you sneak out of the bathroom with your towel wrapped around you and down the hall to Kaminari’s room. You snatch a t-shirt and pair of sweats out of an opened box and creep back to the bathroom to get dressed and brush out your hair. You pull the over-sized shirt on, relishing the traces of Denki’s cologne that linger on the fabric and step into the sweats. You rake a comb through your wet tresses before re-emerging from the bathroom. You find Kaminari in his kitchen, haphazardly unpacking a box of cutlery with a mixed drink in his hand.

“Did you break into my thank you present without me, Denki?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, “Well maybe if you hadn’t taken so long -” He stops, registering you’re now in his clothes instead of your own. “Hah, nice threads,” he laughs.

You grab the hem of the shirt, holding it out from you a bit as if you're presenting it. “Yeah, well my shower wasn’t going to do much good if I got back into my sweaty clothes, so I helped myself.”

“Seems to be a recurring theme tonight. I don’t mind, you look cuter in it than I do anyway,” he winks at you. “Now,” he slides a second cup across the counter towards you, “thanks for helping me move in. Let’s get drunk!”`

You smile as you place the cup to your lips for a drink, your mind buzzing even without the alcohol. You’ve been friends with Denki long enough to know that he is always flirting, even if he doesn’t mean anything by it. Usually you just brush off his comments or turn the tables with a line of your own, hoping to get him flustered. But lately you haven’t been able to ignore the flutters in your chest at his words. The pair of you have been friends since middle school and you’ve grown accustomed to people assuming you’re more than that. But in reality, things between you and Denki have always been platonic, despite the incessant flirting. However, you want there to be more. His golden eyes draw you into him and he can so effortlessly make you laugh. For you, home isn’t a static location but wherever Denki happens to be.

“Woah Y/N, I didn’t mean you had to chug it!”

Denki’s comment snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve drunk nearly half of your drink while lost in silent longing. You lower the cup, “Well you have a headstart on me!” you reason, not wanting to tell Denki he’s the reason you got lost in your cups.

“Fair enough, but head start or not, I’m drinking you under the table tonight,” he challenges. “Let’s play some Mario Kart! I set up the switch while you were in the shower.”

“Fine, but if you’re wanting to get drunk we’re playing Beer-i-o Kart.”

Kaminari huffs, “well, obviously.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey in addition to his own cup and heads to the couch, you following close behind.

The rules of the game are simple: you win if you’re the first person to cross the finish line but you have to finish your drink before the end of the race. Even in the world of Mario Kart, drinking and driving is a no go, so there’s a few different options on how to play. You can either chug your drink at the start, put your controller down mid race to slam your drink, or stop just before the finish line on lap three to empty your cup. You can also drink while you’re put back on the track if you somehow manage to drive off the course. Both you and Denki are highly competitive, and while he might think he has the monopoly on video games, your skills rival his.

Unsurprisingly, Denki picks the Lightning Cup as it’s both a nod to his quirk and he’s a sadist who actually enjoys rainbow road. He beats you handily in the first two races, able to finish his drink slightly quicker than you, but you manage to win the Grumble Volcano race. He hits pause before the final race can start so he can mix two more drinks. You laugh as he nearly drops his own cup, his cheeks pink from all the liquor.

“Oh shut it, Y/N, or you can make your own drink.”

“Aw, don’t be bitter just because you lost that one Denki!” you tease.

He hands your now full cup back to you, “Yeah well this next one’s all mine. You’re going down!”

You just stick your tongue out in response and ready yourself for the last race. Once you’ve both situated yourself, Denki unpauses the game and the countdown begins. He immediately starts chugging his drink but you peel out from the starting line. You know you’ll fall off the map several times, so you might as well use that time effectively by drinking then. Denki finishes the freshly poured drink in under 30 seconds and is already in hot pursuit. He manages to pass you on the first lap and despite the multiple red shells you send his way, you can’t catch up. You’re not sure if it’s your competitive nature or the copious amounts of alcohol that influence your next move, but you shift from your seat on the couch and plant yourself directly in Denki's lap, blocking his view of the screen and making him drive off the road.

“Y/N, you cheater!!” Denki squirms beneath you, trying to dislodge you from your new position.

You laugh, “We never said this was against the rules!”

You zip past his character as he’s being lowered back onto the track, a triumphant hah! announcing you’ve overtaken him.

“Well in that case, neither is this!” Denki’s hands grip at your sides, his fingers poking at all your most ticklish spots. You shriek in surprise and jump from his lap, desperate to get away from the sudden assault. You land on the couch, laying on your back, but Denki doesn’t relent. He crawls between your legs and bares over you with a wicked grin on his face before bringing his hands to your sides once more.

Now you’re squirming beneath him, a breathless ball of laughter, your game forgotten in the background. When Denki finally stops tickling you his face is no more than a foot from your own. Your better judgement goes out the window, forced out by the haze of your laughter and half a bottle of alcohol. You wrap an arm around the back of Denki’s neck and pull his lips to yours. You can feel the smile on his face as he opens his mouth, tracing at your lips with the tip of his tongue. You part your lips, allowing him inside. His lips are soft and you're not sure whether or not he activated his quirk but you’re feeling sparks.

He separates from you, nipping at your bottom lip as he does. His forehead resting on your own he whispers, “I’ve always wondered what that would be like. It’s better than I thought.”

The low hush in his voice makes your breath catch. “What else have you wondered about?”

“Well if kissing you is this good, I can only wonder what you’re like in bed.”

You press your lips to his again, “one way to find out,” you say through the kiss.

At that, Kaminari grabs your thighs and stands from the couch, hoisting you to his waist. He carries you down the hallway towards his bedroom, kissing you the whole way. As you cross the threshold of his room he separates from you, “say less.”

#denki kaminari x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #denki kaminari #by ves #fan fic writing #fan fic blog

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rileymarie · 3 years ago

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Fahrenheit 451 Quotes

“Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?” And then he shut up, for he remembered last week and the two white stones staring up at the ceiling and the pump-snake with the probing eye and the two soap-faced men with the cigarettes moving in their mouths when they talked. But that was another Mildred, that was a Mildred so deep inside this one, and so bothered, really bothered, that the two women had never met. He turned away.

Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books levelled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me?”

Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.

Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man's mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters, that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought!”

School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?”

More cartoons in books. More pictures. The mind drinks less and less. Impatience.

Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally 'bright,' did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn't it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal.

Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator.

You can't rid yourselves of all the odd ducks in just a few years. The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That's why we've lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we're almost snatching them from the cradle.

If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the Government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it.

Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy. Any man who can take a TV wall apart and put it back together again, and most men can nowadays, is happier than any man who tries to slide-rule, measure, and equate the universe, which just won't be measured or equated without making man feel bestial and lonely.

And the second?” “Leisure.” “Oh, but we've plenty of off-hours.” “Off-hours, yes. But time to think? If you're not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can't think of anything else but the danger, then you're playing some game or sitting in some room where you can't argue with the fourwall televisor. Why? The televisor is 'real.' It is immediate, it has dimension. It tells you what to think and blasts it in. It must be, right. It seems so right. It rushes you on so quickly to its own conclusions your mind hasn't time to protest, 'What nonsense!'”

“Jesus God,” said Montag. “Every hour so many damn things in the sky! How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it? We've started and won two atomic wars since 1960. Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumours; the world is starving, but we're well-fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much?

Lord, how they've changed it — in our 'parlours' these days. Christ is one of the 'family' now. I often wonder it God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He's a regular peppermint stick now, all sugar-crystal and saccharine when he isn't making veiled references to certain commercial products that every worshipper absolutely needs.”

The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not. No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.

"Number one: Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You'd find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more 'literary' you are. That's my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

“So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless.

Only if the third necessary thing could be given us. Number one, as I said, quality of information. Number two: leisure to digest it. And number three: the right to carry out actions based on what we learn from the inter-action of the first two.

They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book.

Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.”

The old man nodded. “Those who don't build must burn. It's as old as history and juvenile delinquents.”

#fahrenheit 451 #book quotes #quotes #books #crap this book predicted the future #ray bradbury #reading

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hansolmates · 5 years ago

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jeongguk; a royal exchange (02)

feat. the rom-com college!jeongguk x princess!reader au no one asked for

she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement.

notes: p.2 is a straight up roll of pure crack and fluff. lil sexy for like .2 seconds. super self indulgent and inspired by the princess diaries. princess is stressed the whole time and we live to see her suffer

w.c: 7.1k

01, 02

“I’m sure this is probably the hundredth time you’ve heard since you’ve landed, but welcome to Illyria! The palace welcomes you to your new home away from home.”

“Ho-ly,” Jeongguk slaps a hand in front of Taehyung’s offending tongue, in case swearing is forbidden on royal territory. Wouldn’t want their scholarships taken away over Taehyung’s potty mouth.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hoseok, sir?” an exchange student from a university in New Zealand (yet Korean-born, ironically) pipes up, “why does the infrastructure of the building look like that?”

The student is referring to the ravines of gold metal that stream the walls of the palace. While the architecture is classic, the sheen of the metal definitely gives it an air of regality.

“Good question, Namjoon. The castle is wired and designed after our main export, Illyrium. The element was discovered in the early 1850s in what is now the ruins of Oros,” Hoseok quips brightly, patting the stone affectionately. “It has a conductivity percentage of 106% percent, more than silver. It is also quite durable.”

Namjoon’s deep laugh echoes throughout the pavilion, “I was just asking because it makes the castle so beautiful. Thank you.”

Jeongguk takes the time to snap more pictures of the castle, switching between his Sony and his phone. He zooms in on a low balcony overlooking the terrace they landed from. A figure rolls into his shot, stumbling barefoot with a ruby silk robe swishing between steps. You’re tired, sleep-laden as you clutch a snow white mug between your two hands, leaning your elbows against the metal bearing. You’re staring at nothing and everything, glazed over your backyard that seems to stretch on for eons.

“You’re right,” Jeongguk marvels at your visage between his lens, “absolutely beautiful.”

“Can I please get a better assignment, Jimin?”

“Your highness,” Jimin frowns, following after you, “you love teaching the exchange students, what has changed?”

“Exactly, Jimin,” you sigh, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jimin’s nose nearly bumps into yours, “nothing has changed. I teach students every quarter, the same subjects every time. It’s not to say that I don’t love teaching,” you exhale, blowing into Jimin’s honeycomb bangs, “but can’t I have a more challenging assignment? Conversing with dignitaries, renovating the town square, I’ll even do culinary!”

Your poor secretary squeaks, pushing up his rose gold iPad to carve some distance between you two. “You-you know those jobs aren’t suitable for a Princess,” Jimin cuts himself off once he sees your eyes soften in defeat, “b-but! I’ll see if Hoseok would be willing to take on another class? And maybe we could arrange a presentation to the King in regards to your proposals?”

“Right,” you smile sadly, folding your arms and stretching the tight blazer your mother forced you in, “as if another Google Slideshow will impress him.”

Jimin squeezes your shoulder, as if he could tell you all the things he could never say through body language. “Showtime’s in two minutes, your highness.”

You nod, making haste to the large double doors that lead to the main living room. Normally, the scholarship program’s presentation is done in the throne room, a big show of bravado and an ego booster to your family. However, this particular class is entirely post-grad and under ten students, so you figure they were placed in a more intimate area for the sake of comfort.

Jimin pulls a lint roller out of nowhere, careful to catch every bit of dust that dares meet your presence. You tug uncomfortably at your collar, and give the signal to the door bearer. You fight the urge to flinch at the usual bombastic announcement.

“Introducing, the Princess of Illyria!”

The students and staff are bowing when you enter, and you send a look to Yoongi, who only offers you a lazy smirk. It’s a look you’ve feared since childhood, an explicit tell that he knows something you don’t. Nevertheless, you tack on a smile, standing in front of the ten students who are still dutifully lowered. You have to hand it to them, the undergrads would already be turning heads to get a peek at the princess.

“You may rise,” you voice floats. As mother always said, your voice must replicate a dandelion seed, bouncing in the wind.

The student directly in front of you elevates, a pair of doe eyes taking his sweet time to appreciate the view.

Jeon Jeongguk gives you a lazy smirk, mirroring your brother’s. The smile evaporates from your face, taking in the handsome man that you lived with for two months over two years ago. His eyes have certainly not lost their spark, but his hair is trimmed and showing off his forehead. A Sony camera wraps around his neck, held tightly by a strong pair of hands. He’s even dressed brightly, wearing a navy blazer over a plain white tee and a pair of dark jeans. Something twinges in your heart when you see that a familiar pair of black combat boots remain.

Jeongguk is the first to break eye contact, deciding to at least pretend to care about Hoseok’s presentation on the flatscreen. An overplayed video about Illyria’s history drones on, while Hoseok and Jimin are exchanging schedules in between. You’re sure that Jimin is passing on your word about choosing not to teach this quarter, and now it’s personal.

This urges the students to take seats on the couches, while staff floats around with various pastries and refreshments.

Your family takes their respective seats, and you fight the urge to pinch Yoongi as you hiss, “You knew about this?”

“Surprise,” Yoongi sing-songs, munching on a linzer cookie. “I handpicked all the students.”

“Couldn’t give your sister a heads up?” you snap hotly, making sure no one was looking as you pop a whole cream puff in your mouth.

“Sorry,” Yoongi leans over the shell of your ear, “Your hot ex-roommate is here, just wanted to let you know before you eat the dessert table.”

You mouth a fuck you, taking a stab at him under the table with your heeled foot.

After Yoongi’s not-so-subtle reveal of each other’s identities in a crowded Chinese restaurant two years ago, you’ve since cut off all contact with Jeon Jeongguk as you resumed your life as Princess of Illyria. Simultaneously shocked, but not surprised due to the obvious hints of suspicion, Jeongguk had forgiven your lie and allowed you to leave in good spirits. You remember leaving him at the front door of your dorm, hugging you warmly and bidding you safe travels.

It confused you, because it would've been easier to leave if Jeongguk had gotten angry at the complete breach of trust and kicked you out.

Hoseok is now presenting a slideshow of the intended schedule and itinerary for all students. You’re now glaring at the back of Jeongguk’s head, trying your damn hardest not to shove three brownies in your mouth in the presence of guests. Your tiny dessert spoon picks pathetically at the measly crumbs, and Jimin is urging you to smile from his position opposite you.

“And as always, our lovely princess will be conducting our class on Modern Illyrian Anthropology and will be organizing your field studies!” Hoseok practically shouts across the room, where you’re sitting wide-eyed with your family. You feel Yoongi reach over to dab the crumbs off your lips, enjoying your suffering.

You shoot a look at Jimin who was supposed to take care of things, and he gives you a pained expression that reads don’t fire me.

With a tight-lipped smile and feigning ignorance to Jeongguk’s interest in you teaching, you reply to the expectant students, “It’s always a pleasure to teach, I promise to not bore you with Illyrian history, that’s Hoseok’s job.”

“Hey!” he scrunches his nose, then turns to the students who are hiding their giggles, “Better get on her good side if you want a nice field assignment.” he warns good-naturedly, giving you a mock glare.

You suppose giving Jeongguk a field assignment far, far away from the castle.

After the long-winded presentation and a handful of brochures, the royal family is escorted out to retire for the day. As the youngest in the family you're the last one to leave.

Out the doorway you hear Taehyung utter, "That's her? What a babe!"

As to not arouse suspicion, it takes longer than anticipated to get a private moment with Jeongguk. No one but Taehyung and Jimin know of your circumstances, and it is to remain that way due to the fact that you and Yoongi committed fraud, royal or not.

Jeongguk is a quiet student, surprisingly. Choosing a seat by the window, he spends most of your classes doodling and looking out the pavilion. As stimulating as Namjoon and Irene’s questions are, you’re a little disheartened at the fact that Jeongguk has made little effort to talk to you, even if it’s as impersonal as classwork or office hours.

Today Hoseok’s teaching, and that gives you ample time to work out where you want to assign the students for field study. You’ve shaken off Jimin for now, and you’re currently roaming the halls with your phone, checking off your schedule.

Called the Museum of Modern Illyrian Art for Namjoon … check.

Sent staff to the villa in prep for the kiddies’ weekend getaway … check.

Sent e-vites and physicals to the Genovian royals … next.

Find a quiet corner to stress cry before 2:30—

A hand flies out of nowhere, grabbing your waist roughly and throwing you in a small room. The hand clasped over your mouth swallows your scream as the door shuts tight.

The captor turns on the singular lightbulb, grinning at you like a madman. “Hey Princess—what the fuck!”

You grimace, putting down your switchblade that was dangerously close to Jungkook’s jugular. “What the hell, Jeongguk! I could’ve killed you!”

“Dang, princesses are something else nowadays. Where on your body are you hiding knives?” Jeongguk marvels as if he wasn’t ten seconds away from being dead!Guk, patting down your lavender pantsuit in a way that’s highly inappropriate. “What are you, Ty Lee?”

“Self-defense secret,” and under your breath you add, “and Mai’s the one who hides knives. Ty Lee’s the acrobat.”

The grin easily returns to the tall boy’s face, burnt eyes shining against the naked bulb. This is the most emotion you’ve got out of him since classes started, and it’s doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “So, come here often?”

“To the storage closet?” you snort, “not particularly.”

“And where’s a place I can go that you do come often?”

“My office hours,” you deadpan, “in which you haven’t visited, by the way. As a friend and as a teacher, I’m insulted.”

A low whine erupts from his throat, and he leans against the shelves, long arms spread across the three-ply toilet paper. “But your little secretary’s always there. It’s awkward when we’re not alone. I don't know if I should act like a friend or a student. Speaking of, where is he?”

“Ah, Jimin’s getting Starbucks.”

“Lit, can you tell him to pick me up a pink drink?”

“No,” but you send a text to Jimin anyway. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m supposed to be coming back from the bathroom,” he air-quotes, “AKA, running around the palace until I can corner you.”

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blazer.

“Are you annoyed at me?” and for a second, Jungkook’s eyes betray a hint of vulnerability. “Am I being too forward? Or do you not want to catch up? I don’t know, I figured you’d be excited to see me but you’ve just been so busy.”

“Jeongguk,” you put a hand on his shoulder, ceasing the rambling. He opens his mouth to add more, but you squeeze his bicep. “I’m not annoyed at you. I’m annoyed at the situation. I’ve missed you,” you offer him a shy smile, and he returns a small, hopeful one in return, “but you’re right, it’s been really busy with the usual duties and I’ve been a little on edge with keeping things together without letting any secrets out.”

You’re also confused as to why you’re still harboring feelings for him, but that’s another secret you keep to yourself.

“Well, your duty is doo-dy.” Jungkook huffs, but is placated by your confession. “Don’t worry Princess, I’ll think of something.”

A knock startles the both of you, and Jeongguk squeaks, brandishing a plunger in defense. With a dainty finger, you push the plumbing tool back to the ground, as the knockings did not stop.

“Ohmygod—am I going to be beheaded for kidnapping the Princess?” Jeongguk panics and checks his phone, realizing his bathroom break turned into a straight up game of hooky. “Do you guys still behead? I mean if you’re pulling out knives from who knows where—”

“Guk, relax,” recognizing it immediately as a code between you and your brother, you swing the supply closet open.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, gauging the situation. When he notices that no, you two did not just romp between the 3-ply and were in fact only talking, he huffs. “Losers,” he mutters under his breath, hiding a grin as he leaves you two to splutter.

It’s already well over twenty minutes past your class time, but Taehyung just wouldn’t shut up.

You can’t blame him, he’s thrilled that you managed to snag him a field study with your personal couture designer. He’s lit up like a good boy on Christmas eve, getting his present early. He’s gushing about how excited he is to use authentic Swarovski crystals and rub noses with the fancy fabrics.

“I’ll make you the perfect dress for the upcoming gala, Your Highness.” Taehyung’s vibrating in a manner you never imagined on a human before.

“Thank you,” you reply awkwardly, “I’m sorry, but what gala are you referring to?”

He shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a gala you have to go to sometime. I’ve just always wanted to say that, makes me feel special.”

“Tae,” Jeongguk is sitting on your desk, heels bumping into the mahogany. With a stiff jerk of his head, Tae’s lips morph into an ‘O’ and he finally gets the hint, bowing to you and scurrying off.

“Y’know, his fashion’s kind of eccentric.” he nods over to the excessive fur lining on Taehyung’s slippers, “I’d make sure your designer keeps a close eye on him.”

“And what do I owe the pleasure of your presence,” you click, “twenty minutes after class?”

Jeongguk has the audacity to roll his eyes, rolling his head back to crack out the stiffness. “The chamber choir, really?” he exhales, dropping the itinerary you spent the better half of your nights preparing.

You raise your eyebrows, “What? It pertains to your major.”

“For the past six years all I've done is eat, sleep, and breathe music,” he says, and you’re suddenly reminded that you had a glimpse of that version of Jeongguk two years ago. A slave to the music, as much as he loved the subject, it sometimes felt like a tether that weaved far too deeply under his skin. “Can’t my field assignment be something different? More eclectic?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“In fact, I do.” Jeongguk lolls his head to the side, chestnut bangs falling softly. “For my field study, I want to shadow the Princess’ duties.”

You slam your hands down, standing up so you’re nearly nose-to-nose with the young man. “Are you crazy? Do you want Yoongi and I to get caught?”

“Listen, I’ve thought about it all throughout class—”

“—what? You didn’t listen to my lecture?—”

“—and today in class you mentioned that you graduated with a Master’s in Public Affairs, because in fact I always listen to you,” Jeongguk presses a finger to your lips when you try to cut him off, “and lo and behold, one of my minors was in public affairs! What better way to get more experience in the business when I have the master right in front of me?”

“I don’t know, Guk,” you try, mulling through all the possible situations and horrors that could occur because of it.

“Princess, we’re killing two birds with one stone!” Jeongguk pleads, giving you the puppy eyes, “not only do I get a far better field study assignment, but it’s far better because I get to spend more time with you!”

You hate how absolutely weak you’ve become under his gaze. In the span of less than three weeks, Jeon Jeongguk has re-entered your life like he never left. He wanted to spend time with you. The selfish part of your brain says you wish the same. Who are you to deny such a simple desire?

“Fine,” you spit out, putting up a front and pretending to be annoyed, “but you better not get all huffy around Jimin.”

He shrugs, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Worth it.”

“You’re different,” Jeongguk states bluntly, actively ignoring the way Jimin tries to push between you two. Jeongguk continues to press into your shoulder as you weave through the gardens. You’re picking flowers for a specific theme arrangement and pattern. A diplomat from Spain is coming and he is bringing her young daughter. You've heard that she’s recently taken in interest in constructing flower crowns.

“Well, two years can do that to a person,” you reply airily, dropping a tiger lily in the wicker basket Jeongguk insisted on carrying.

Having Jeongguk follow you around like a duckling is fun, to be frank. Jimin is no longer hyper-focused on you, forcing him to spread his attention between you and your overly-attentive student. Jeongguk can’t attend every single one of your events because some of the information’s sensitive, but when he does it makes your job feel less of a job and more like a fun group project.

Like when you and Jeongguk would stumble in the farmer’s market every Sunday morning, hungover but aching to fill your bellies. You two were walking zombies, forcing yourselves out of bed to feed yourselves. But it was always fun because you were together, whenever it was Jeongguk’s turn to pay, you’d sneak in more KitKats for yourself. Whenever it was your turn, Jeongguk would smuggle more cartons of banana milk.

“No, no. It’s not that,” your friend admonishes instantly, “your personality’s still the same, even though it was Yoongi-fied. Your heart hasn’t changed,” you turn your head sharply towards a field of carnations, concealing your flush. “I mean, you’re more confident.”

“In other words,” Jimin pipes, looking up from his iPad, “an air of regality.”

You scoff, putting a hand on your hip and looking expectantly at the two boys. “You’ve changed too, Guk,” you reason, shaking your head. “Old Jeongguk wouldn’t be wearing white dress shirts and shoving princesses in closets.”

“You shoved the princess in a closet—!” Jimin starts, having half a mind to cancel the field study all together.

“Well, Old Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to really get to know you,” Jeongguk twirls a baby’s breath between his fingers, tucking it in-between your ear. “That’s New Jeongguk’s job.”

“So, you’re the Princess’ head of security,” Jeongguk tilts his head to look up at the slightly taller man, his visage covered by a pair of shades. The bodyguard is never really present, only when citizens enter the castle or you’re out of town. “You know you’re inside, right?”

The man only slightly inclines his head to acknowledge Jeongguk’s prodding. Hmph, he looks like a talker.

“If you’re her head of security,” Jeongguk leans closer, trying to avoid any further attention to his conversation, “do you know where she hides her knives? Because sometimes she wears those tight pencil skirts and I can’t help but wonder—”

“That’s classified.”

“Alright, where do you hide your knives—”

“Also classified.”

“Jeongguk,” you relent, sliding your footrest next to your throne, “leave Seokjin alone and come here, please.”

You can’t blame him. It’s always been a pastime of yours to ruffle Seokjin’s feathers, but you must admit that meeting with citizens is a long and frankly, boring process. The routine is fairly simple, the citizen bows and offers something for the table, and in return you lend your ear and offer assistance if possible.

“For your table, Your Highness,” the next citizen bows, carrying a foil-lined tray filled with fresh baked bread.

“Smells delicious, Bertrand.” you beam, ripping open the tin to snatch a hot slice off the top. Rosemary and thyme are egg washed atop the brown bread, and you proffer a piece to Jeongguk, as you could imagine the poor guy is as antsy as ever. “And may I introduce you to my student, Jeon Jeongguk? He’s studying my diplomacy for his field study.”

Bertrand tips his head, “Lucky you, she’s a true leader.”

Jeongguk nods shyly, nibbling on the crust. “Truly an honor.”

Jeongguk offers to bring the gift to the table with the other offerings across the room, and you nod, conversing lightly with Bertrand. His worries are simple enough, he feels pressured by a catering request from an Illyrian Duke, and wishes to serve a party fit for a royal. In resolution, you offer to send a palace chocolatier and chef to help with the preparations. Jeongguk returns to his seat next to yours just as Bertrand leaves. He pulls up his iPad, feigning notes that he should be writing while observing you.

The next citizen hobbles over, holding a large ivory wicker basket covered by a beige tarp. “For your table, Your Highness,” they bow, “I hope you like omelets.”

If you weren’t on the throne with an audience of one-hundred, you’d be delivering a very confused expression, coupled with panic. “May I?” you inquire, forcing a smile as you lift open the tarp.

In the basket there are two small jars of marmalade, and one huge chicken sitting fat and proud that its skin overflows between the gaps of the wicker. Its head twitches in your direction, barely turning because its neck is hugely bulbous with excess weight. Its beady little eyes mock you. It smells fear.

“Her name’s Dixie,” the citizen supplied helpfully.

“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispers next to you, but not soft enough for it to not echo in the throne room, “Dixie, you are a thick chick.”

“Jeongguk!” you exclaim, which causes the whole room to reverb at your shrill cry.

Of course the chicken has to freak out, flapping its wings and freeing itself from the confines of its package. The animal dives for you, and you press yourself as much as you can against the throne. Jeongguk knows no bounds, throwing himself in front of you to catch the large bird. Feathers weave unto his umber tresses as the bird meets gravity, Jeongguk unable to calm down Dixie.

It’s more or less a wild goose chase (chicken chase?) after that, Jeongguk follows Dixie down the platform and around the throne room. The citizens and staff are clutching their stomachs in laughter, endeared by the young man following the chicken. Jimin is laughing and slapping Seokjin’s shoulder, his face breaking in an unabashed smile.

And you can’t help but laugh along with them, trying to smother your giggles by covering your face with a silk fan. You peek over the thin fabric to see Jeongguk looking especially concentrated on his mission. It wasn’t like the chicken was going to escape the throne room because the doors are closed, but surely it will be a workout as Dixie’s a trooper and isn’t going down without a fight.

“Don’t worry Princess, I got this!” Jeongguk’s voice reassures you from the far edge of the throne room. He’s taken a break, but the glint in his eyes show he’s committed to catching Dixie as she scuttles in circles.

He flashes you a breathtaking smile, all gums and pearly whites as he runs a hand through his wavy locks. Your smile falls slightly, and you clutch your fan tighter at the realization. Oh, you are besotted.

“Hoseok’s had me on my back about teaching a full class before your weekend getaway but I’ve long decided,” you lift your chin haughtily in a way only princesses do, jutting out your lip in confirmation, “that you should enjoy the time you have here. Summer’s almost over. You all should get a headstart on your packing so you can get to the beach early.”

Your class erupts into hoots and hollers, the Powerpoint presentation about the minerals of Illyria long abandoned. Two months have already passed, and in a couple weeks they’ll be saying their goodbyes. A twinge of sadness hits you as you relish in your students’ happy smiles. As each semester passes, each group leaves something behind you’ll never forget. This summer, as much as you taught them, you’ve learned a lot from them as well.

Students are already starting to pack up, but Namjoon’s butt is firmly planted in his seat, raising his hand. “Sorry, I have a question.”

You smile goodnaturedly, already used to his usual spiel. “I can email you the Powerpoint and we can go over whatever you want on Monday.”

“Ah, no. I was wondering if you were coming with us,” Namjoon mutters sheepishly.

You’re surprised, even moreso when Irene and Yerin insist that you should go. “Yes, you have to go!” Yerin bounces in her seat.

“Oh,” you blush, “I can’t. I don’t normally go on these things, wouldn’t it be weird to have your teacher at your party?”

“Hell no!” Yerin gasps shamelessly. It’s one thing you liked about this class, after class is over, they always managed to make you feel normal. Maybe it’s the closeness in age and education, but they remind you so often that you’re still young. After all, they weren’t Illyrian, and while outside of class they put on the whole shebang for you, it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable around you. “We can show you what real college life is like! We can roast barbeque on the beach and tell scary stories!”

Taehyung snorts, already halfway out the door, “I’m sure the Princess doesn’t wanna see you shitfaced in the ocean.”

You placate Yerin with a small smile, “I have to work after this, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Namjoon walks up to your desk as the rest of the students file out. He runs the spine of his journal along your desk, “Prince Yoongi and Hoseok will be there too, if it makes you feel any better. Hope you can come.”

The room is soon vacated, leaving you and your Star Student alone.

“‘I’ll see what I can do’, really?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, plopping himself atop your desk. Your eyes snap to the way the dark denim cords around his thighs, and you make a deal of slamming your laptop shut. “C’mon, of course you wanna come. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Not really,” you admit. “I used to really like spending the weekend at the villa. I loved getting to know each class and know what it feels like to be like you guys,” you downplay yourself, stuffing books and electronics in your briefcase. “But ever since we roomed together two years ago, I can’t bring myself to go anymore. It’s not the same when you’ve actually had a taste of it.”

Jeongguk’s eyes soften at your confession. You could feel that he wasn’t prepared for your honesty, and you don’t blame him. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I leave in two weeks, you know.”

“I know.”

“Can you at least try to come, for me?”

You lift your head up to reach his eyes, looking equal parts nervous and vulnerable. You’re suddenly thrusted back to two years ago, cornered in your dorm room where Jeongguk was upset at the thought of hurting him, lying to him. You didn’t want to hurt him, or yourself.

But as Jeongguk’s large hand reaches across the desk to your smaller one, you don’t think to pull away.

“Your Highness!” Jimin interrupts the two of you, and Jeongguk snatches his hand back with a glare. Jimin ignores him, looking breathless as he leans against the door of your classroom. “Your 3 o’clock is ready. We have to hurry if we want to get through the crowd.”

With one last look, Jeongguk excuses himself, brushing past Jimin with a gruff “Bye, Princess.”

“Today’s not your day to meet with citizens,” Yoongi mumbles next to you, looking disapprovingly at the way you wait for the next citizen to approach you.

Seokjin holds the crowd off as you converse with your brother, who looks ready to leave to the villa. He’s dressed in a plain white t-shirt, foam slides and baggy slacks. If it wasn’t for the family crest proudly presented on his right breast pocket, he could easily be mistaken as the average citizen. “Mother insisted,” you reply shortly, growing more irritated by the second.

“Really?” his brows disappear under his bangs, “because from the way she said it, you were looking for work.”

Caught, you turn away from his watchful gaze. “I have a problem, okay?” you say stiffly, “I needed a distraction.”

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugs, leaning close to your ear to murmur, “where’s the dead body?”

You slap his arm, “Yoongi! I didn’t kill anybody!”

“At this rate, it looks like you’re wasting yourself away.” Yoongi replies bluntly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Loverboy was all pouty in my room not too long ago. Don’t disappoint him.”

With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and walks off. Citizens bow at him like dominos as he exits, your break definitively over.

Whatever is blooming between you and Jeongguk, is and never will be fair to the both of you. In your eyes Jeongguk isn’t the type to settle, not relationship-wise, but life-wise. He wanted to grow and cultivate his art, and taste freedom every step of the journey.

You weren’t freedom or growth, and you could only hope he realizes that before you become too selfish.

“Your Highness?” you break out of your reverie when a young woman your age looks at you shyly, “My name is Wendy. I didn’t get anything for the table but, I got you a caramel macchiato.”

She brandishes a venti iced caramel macchiato, condensation dripping from her fingers. Your face lights up, accepting the caffeinated drink. “I really needed this!” you perk up immediately, taking a sip and letting the cool flavor soothe your tastebuds. “Thank you, Wendy. What is it that you request?”

“Advice,” she admits, a blush creeping from her neck. She looks down at her work boots, caked in grime. “I’m an engineer who works in manufacturing Illryian technology.”

“We are eternally grateful for your service to this country,” you reply evenly. Engineers are highly revered in your country, as your economy is dependent on their brilliant minds.

“But I have fallen in love with a man who is under my station, and wishes to find work elsewhere,” she bites her lip, her eyes growing glassy. “I haven’t told him my feelings yet, however I’m also worried for my family who finds men like him to be unworthy of an engineer like myself.”

“Ah, bound by duty and expectation.” you reply grimly, “a rock and a hard place, huh?”

“Yes, forgive me for my crassness. I felt as if you would understand my predicament.”

Putting your drink down, you reach for her hand. Oil and dirt cake her fingers, and she attempts to pull away as to not soil you, but you hold on tighter. “Tell him how you feel, Wendy.” you whisper, a conversation so intimate it’s only proper it be for her ears and her ears only. “Whether he leaves or not after you tell him is his decision. However, I assure you it will hurt far more if you don’t give yourself a chance.”

Her voice cracks, “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

You start to feel a little teary at her candor, and you run a thumb over her palm. “Then you’re one heartbreak closer to happiness. Nevertheless, you are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.”

Wendy finds the strength to squeeze your hand, and you belatedly realize that if this piece of advice was personified, it’d be slapping the shit out of you.

“You came!”

Hopped up on bitter caffeine and potential regrets, you stand in the living room well past midnight, party in full swing. Jimin trails behind you sans iPad, feeling lighter in a pair of trunks and a black tank. A playlist of Namjoon’s organizing is blasting from the surround sound, coupled with the flatscreen television projecting an intense lap of MarioKart. Irene and Taehyung are shoulder to shoulder, concentrating on getting that Mushroom Cup. The sliding doors that lead from your villa to the beach are cracked open, wide enough to hear the conversations the other students are exchanging.

It was always nice to have your villa occupied like this. Less empty, more familial.

Yerin is the first to greet you, throwing her arms around you and smelling like seasalt and vodka. She’s drenching your clothes, clad in a yellow polka-dot one-piece. “This weekend’s gonna be killer,” she whispers in your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. For a petite thing, she really wastes no time cutting to the chase.

You detach yourself, holding up a bag of pastries. “Snagged some munchies for your inevitable drunk crash,” you smirk, placing the container on the kitchen island.

Yerin gapes, red tinted lips mouthing an ‘o’ at your language. “You’ve been hidin’ out on us, haven’t you Princess?” Yerin then brushes past you, ready to get her fingers on the confections. You’re over her shoulder, pointing out both Illrian delicacies and pastries she’s familiar with.

After Irene snags the Mushroom Cup they’re joining you at the island, lips coated in powdered sugar and jam. The girls laugh when some powdered sugar gets into Taehyung’s hair, Irene patting him a little too hard on his bangs.

“You’re here!”

You whip around to see Jeongguk sliding the glass doors hurriedly, bare feet slapping across the tiled floor to reach you. He’s dripping wet, ocean water rivering around his body. Your eyes can’t help but follow the flow of the cool liquid, finding purchase between the planes of his chest and honeyed abs, glowing from the heat.

Three years of your life were spent studying preparation and execution for war or nuclear threat. Unfortunately, at this very moment you feel way more prepared for war than Jeon Jeongguk standing in your villa, looking like that.

Instead of the usual pleasantries, you hold up a leather wallet. “You left this in the classroom,” you chide.

It’s a baldfaced lie. Somehow, Jeongguk’s wallet had conveniently ended up in your office between reams of paper. The bastard himself has the audacity to feign surprise, coral lips gaping in relief. “Wow, Princess. Totally not a ploy to get you to come here.”

“Right.”

“Give it here, I’ll drop it off in my room.”

“Wait, wait!” you hold up both your hands, centimeters away from Jeongguk’s pecs. You’re nearly eye level with them, and you force yourself to look up at his smug face. “You’re dripping wet on the tile! Your feet still have sand you heathen! Do not get our carpets dirty!” you hold the wallet to your chest protectively, “where’s your room?”

He tilts his head adorably, droplets flecking from his slicked back mane. “Third door on the right.” he doesn’t dare to argue with your sudden passion to keep your villa clean.

You nod, “go enjoy the water. I’ll be right out.” You don’t give him a chance to reply, kicking off your sandals as you reach the cosier part of the villa. Soft carpet meets your toes as you pad off to the guest bedrooms.

Jeongguk managed to snag the corner room, albeit smaller, it’s a single with a full mattress. You see his Superdry backpack open on the floor, its bottom worn with the white lining peeking through. Despite only arriving in the afternoon, his fresh scent is palpable. You drop the wallet on his desk, and you notice that his laptop’s still on.

The Macbook Pro glows confidently, his screensaver revealing a photograph of you on your balcony.

“Snooping around, Princess?”

You whip around, seeing Jeongguk appear fully clothed, running a towel over his hair. He is no longer dripping water or sand, but he still smelled like salt and fire. He nonchalantly closes the door behind him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“You know it’s illegal to take unsolicited pictures of royalty, right?”

“And who should I answer to, hm? The Princess?” he teases, face blooming from the fluffy white towel.

You’re not upset about the picture, he knows that. But there you sit, slumped over his desk, looking forlornly at his picture of you.

“I’ve locked the door,” Jeongguk pipes up, looking at you worriedly. “Yoongi mentioned that the room’s are soundproof. He said you looked upset today. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

The room feels smaller, swallowing you whole. You’re tired from today’s events, both emotionally and physically. Jeongguk is having nothing of it, reaching between the two of you to pull the arms of the desk chair, wheeling you between his thighs.

“Jeongguk,” you start, “why weren’t you mad at me when you were right? Right about me hiding something from you.”

His brows furrow, “You made a sacrifice and protected your brother. Why would I be mad at that?” he says honestly, “sure, I was upset at first. Who wouldn’t be? But you did it out of love.”

You smile wanly, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a chance that he’d be upset at you. It was out of your devices. “I wanted you to be mad,” you admit, wringing your fingers between your skirt, “it would’ve made it easier to leave.”

“It would’ve, wouldn’t it?” he replies, his voice cotton soft. “After you left, Yoongi wouldn’t let me talk to you on the phone. Said you needed time. But I got him to tell me stories about you, stories that made me realize that I missed getting to know you.”

It’s then you feel the weight of today express itself onto your cheeks, the wetness dampening your skin. You feel his thumb brush away the tears.

“Tell me,” Jeongguk requests softly, “tell me what you really feel.”

You let your head collapse in his hands, relishing the warmth and comfort it brings. “I feel hurt. And confined.”

“More,” Jeongguk bids, his other hand squeezing your thigh, “let it out, Princess.”

You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.

“I miss acting like fools at the grocery store, falling on top of each other half-asleep.” Everything tumbles out shamelessly, like a waterfall. “I hate how frustrated I am when you call me Princess, because while it is my title, it turns me on in the most devastating way when you say it.” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed to see his reaction. “I want to laugh with you, hold you, I want you, so badly. But I want you to be happy, to make music and art, and travel the world to find your muse,” you shake your head, pushing yourself away from him. “I feel so stuck here, I can’t hold you back when you’re free and—”

“That’s enough bullshit,” and he’s kissing you, a clashing of teeth that has you sensitive and reeling. His hands grasp your cheeks, and you’re stumbling in your chair as the wheels make moves on their own. You squeak against his lips before you’re wheeled back to the bed. Hot hands pull you forward to teeter your body onto the bed, keeping you in place.

The man in question breaks apart, but close enough that his lips brush against yours when he speaks, “I’ve never kissed a princess before,” Jeongguk says wryly, cupping your cheek, “but if you make one more gripe about freedom and your stupid self-righteousness and I’ll stop.”

A pure, unprepared whine escapes your lips, shame be damned.

“You’re my muse,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I bothered Yoongi for weeks, working tooth and nail for that scholarship,” a kiss on both your nose, “you’re what it means to feel free.”

And that’s all it takes for you to surge forward, toppling over him until he’s pushed against the headboard. Capturing your lips with his, you catch droplets of saltwater and a flavor that’s so distinctly Jeongguk, feeling high off the taste.

Your skirt rides to your waist, your underwear damp from the ocean and arousal. You straddle him, feeling so unbounded and free as Jeongguk lets you do what you’ve both wanted to do. With a roll of your hips Jeongguk grunts, forehead pressed to yours. “Princess,” he rasps, meeting your thrusts, “we have until Christmas to do this, no need to rush.”

Wait, Christmas?

Jeongguk grins, kissing away your surprise. For now, you’ll ignore the burn between your thighs. “Before we left today, Yoongi and I asked the King, your father, if he would consider extending my scholarship for a full semester. I mentioned that Yoongi and I had some unfinished projects from undergrad,” he pecks your lips, “and he’s going to help me produce a full album for my final thesis.”

“That’s amazing!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so proud of the two of you!”

“Mhm,” he nuzzles your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, “can’t produce anything without my muse around, so I’d say Illyria is the perfect location.”

Your fingers thread into his damp locks, and you feel your heart swell with happiness. Here, under the gaze of the beautiful boy who wanted to offer you his heart and his world, you felt free.

extra.

It takes the strength of both your hands to pull Jeongguk in the storage closet, but it isn’t like he’s putting up a fight anyhow.

“Come here often?” you drawl, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Impressive,” he chuckles, “usually it takes you an hour to shake Jimin off ya. It’s only been thirty-five minutes.”

“I just wanted to show you something funny,” you pull up your Instagram, and play the featured video. While it was posted weeks ago, it started to pick up traction after Yoongi liked the post this morning. Jeongguk is dashing around the palace, sweating bullets and cooing “c’mon Dixie!” to the sprinting chicken in the throne room.

“You’re viral!” you giggle, “you put Illyria on the social media map!”

Under the lowlights, it’s still easy to see Jeongguk’s skin has gone placid. “If I ever hit it big, that shit better not haunt me,” he groans into your neck.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “every famous person has a backstory. Aubrey Graham had Degrassi and the Yodeling Wal-Mart boy–”

“Are you really gonna compare your boyfriend to the Yodeling Wal-Mart kid? Tell me what you really came here for,” And like a teenager, Jeongguk reels it back in, winding his hands around your waist. He gives you bedroom eyes like it's a session of Seven Minutes in Heaven, “so, we’re gonna make out or what?”

#jungkook #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #jjk #royal au #college au #bts x reader

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 2

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Ghost Encounter

Before that incident occurred, Lin Yan didn't believe that there were ghosts in the world. He studied history during his undergrad and continued straight into doing his master's in archaeology. When he was on an expedition with his professor, he picked up the bones of a dead body and plucked a jade cicada from the mouth of a mummified body. Ghost stories were always something joked about in their dormitories. If something happened to people after they died, then the world would know about it. For example, if someone picked up the imperial blue bowl of the emperor, the old man would notice and stand up, shouting: "That's mine!" How interesting.

The dead should just let the dust from the past settle and stay quiet.

Lin Yan had just finished dinner when things changed. He didn't live in the school dormitories. He had moved into the apartment his parents had set aside for him when he got married because of the fights his old roommates in the dorms had with their in-laws on the phone. This apartment was much closer to the school, and he had been living alone since then. He cooks alone, plays games alone, and travels halfway across the city to visit his parents on the weekends. Lin Yan is one of the tens of thousands of small researchers in dozens of colleges and universities in this city. If he makes great accomplishments, his future will be bright, but if he's average, then he will be lost in the crowd.

That day, he made himself Fried Sauce Noodles. Once the minced meat was boiled, it was mixed into the sweet stir-fry noodle sauce. The noodles were drained out of the pan, topped with the sauce, and it was delicious. Lin Yan took the bowl and sat in front of the computer, watching "My Old Memories of Old Beijing" and eating the noodles.

The air was humid and stuffy in the early summer weather. Suddenly, halfway through the movie, a clap of thunder rang out outside. It didn't take long for large raindrops to pour down, and the thin lines of water on the window glass became a curtain of rain, pattering against the windows.

Lin Yan was busy turning off the video. Before his computer had fully shut off, a bolt of lightning flashed across the night sky. With a snap, the computer went black.

Afraid that something might happen, Lin Yan complained and unplugged the computer from the socket. He used a desktop computer specially equipped for 3D restoration renderings of cultural relics. As soon as the power came back after the thunderstorm had passed, he would have to submit a repair request.

Tomorrow, he'd have to trouble Yin Zhou to repair the machine again.

Suddenly, a strange feeling washed over him.

Cold, inexplicably cold, sending a shiver up his spine.

He didn't know when the temperature of the room started to drop. He didn't even notice it while he was watching the movie. Now it feels like he was inside an ice cave. The cold is coming out from all corners and enveloping his body. The sweat on his body turning cold, his t-shirt sticking to his back.

Lin Yan vigorously wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, thinking about how the weather must be cooling down because of the rain, and decided to get up to find a long-sleeved shirt. Before he could get up, his eyes glanced at the computer screen and nervously sat back down.

With the lights on in the room, the situation in the room was clearly reflected on the dark computer screen. In front of the screen was Lin Yan's face, and behind him was the window, which opened wide inward, and the curtains were swept around by the wind. It was the "person" standing in front of the curtain that made Lin Yan frozen from head to toe.

That's not it; it was more like the shape of a person - a person wearing a strange hat.

Lin Yan stared blankly at the things on the screen, a sense of panic slowly creeping up his spine.

It must have been a clothes hanger that he forgot to move, there's no need to jump to conclusions. Lin Yan pulled at the corner of his clothes, took a deep breath, and swung his head around.

Nothing was there. Everything in the house looked normal. The only difference was that the raindrops were coming even larger, the rainwater twisting into small streams on the glass and flowing down.

His suspenseful heart began to calm down.

No! Lin Yan went numb all of a sudden. Not only was there no one there, but the windows were clearly locked, and the curtains were tightly tied on both sides. How could they be blown by the wind? What he saw in the reflection on the screen just now. . . what was going on?

An illusion! It must be an illusion! Lin Yan clenched his jaw. He couldn't help but pinch himself to keep himself sane.

There was a small electric crackle. The power went out, and the whole room fell into silent darkness.

Almost at the same time, the indicator light of the computer monitor suddenly flickered. The two small red lights looked like blinking eyes, accompanied by the squeaking sound of the whirring motors. The screen that was in a completely power-off state glowed green as if the screen saver had been switched. It's like a procedure.

No. . . Wasn't there a power outage? Lin Yan was completely speechless. His whole body was pushed back into the chair by the sudden and weird atmosphere. Then the screen flashed and, as if someone was typing, large characters appeared one after the other on the screen, piercingly red.

"The first day of the month of Wushen; the death date is approaching."

Another clap of thunder boomed outside the window.

Lin Yan swallowed hard and stared at the line of words on the screen. He tried his best to calm himself down, but his mind went blank.

It must be. . . It must be Yin Zhou pranking him.

He was a professional programmer and technical expert. Messing with the program to mess up the power grid. It must be boring to try and scare yourself or something.

"The first day of the month of Wushen; the death date is approaching."

The line of red letters flashed on the screen twice and disappeared. The computer then powered back off. Only Lin Yan's heavy breathing remained in the dark room. He took out his cell phone from his pant pocket and tried to call Yin Zhou. Before he pressed the call button, there was a heavy and repetitive tapping on the windowpane.

"Taptaptap. . . taptaptap"

He couldn't see anything in the heavy curtain of rain.

Lin Yan suddenly jumped up and leaned against the computer desk, staring out the window. This. . . this was the twelfth floor, what could be knocking on the window?

"Taptaptap. . . taptaptap"

The knocking increased as if someone were waiting impatiently.

Materialists couldn't stand immediate losses. Besides, creatures always have the instinct to avoid danger. The atmosphere was so strange. Lin Yan grabbed the car keys from his pocket and rushed out of the house without looking back.

The rain fell harder and faster, and the normally bustling three-ring road was empty. There was only the heavy rain curtains and thick fog. Lin Yan turned on his headlights lights all the way. He hoped to find an exit that was bustling with life and filled with a large crowd. In one night, his normal life was completely messed up. There was no signal from his cell phone and no signal from the radio. He seemed to be isolated in a corner of the world and was just driving around endlessly.

Lin Yan glanced at the fuel gauge. He was running out of fuel as he went further down the road, but he had not found the exit of the overpass. He was a native to this country and yet he was trapped in the city that he had been living in for 22 years. Just saying it was absurd enough to make anyone laugh.

The low-beam light couldn't illuminate the road very far. Under the warm yellow light, only the dense lines of rain could be seen falling diagonally, washing down his windshield. There was a wide road in front of him, turn after turn. There were no people, no cars, and even the sound of the GPS reporting how many kilometres were left was inaudible and his speed on the speedometer was barely visible. Lin Yan looked straight ahead, for fear of missing any fork in the road.

After travelling on the highway for nearly three hours, Lin Yan finally began to panic after passing the IKEA billboard multiple times over.

A deep thought came to mind.

The ghost was making him go around in circles.

The arrow on his fuel gauge was almost at 'empty'. Lin Yan slowed down. He thought he couldn't keep driving forward. Obviously, there was a force trying to stop him. What he should do is to sort out his thoughts and find a solution instead of continuing to drive around aimlessly. He didn't dare think about what would happen if he ran out of fuel.

Lin Yan pulled the car over, leaving only his hazard lights on, then sat in the car and began to think about what happened at night.

Power outages, computers that suddenly freaked out, strange reflections.

The first thing that came to mind was that someone was playing a prank, but he immediately denied it. If it was just the problem with his computer, he might still suspect the unreliable programmer Yin Zhou, but the knocking on the window, preventing him from getting off the highway, and blocking his mobile and radio signals; none of that was this guy's style. Lin Yan searched his mind for a long time to find a candidate that might want to scare a friend like this, but he came up with nothing.

He himself was a very good person. He was a good student from elementary straight through his master's. Apart from skipping classes to play Warcraft, and handing notes to his classmates during an exam, he basically had no blips on his record. He has never even played any tricks on girls, let alone his immediate friend group. Even if someone wanted to play a prank on someone as revenge, that wasn't how Lin Yan handled things.

Lin Yan was a person who, even when he ate toothpaste and cookies on April Fool's Day, still believed that he was just eating something mint-flavoured. To understand what was going on, Lin Yan could only find the solution by going through his process of elimination. By the time he can go through his hilariously incompetent system of thinking, he has probably already vomited up three litres of blood.

Lin Yan rubbed his temples and thought hard. Someone was threatening him in an inexplicable way, or was outright declaring war.

Lin Yan turned on the cell phone's calendar and entered the date of the first day of the Wushan month. The small square immediately jumped to the corresponding date: July 15 and the gates of hell would be wide open.

Something is wrong, Lin Yan thought.

When he looked up again, there was suddenly something that hadn't been there before that appeared in front of his car.

A figure stood near the side of the road as the heavy rain poured down. The figure didn't seem to notice Lin Yan was there, neither holding an umbrella nor wearing a raincoat, quietly standing with his head held down under the dim street lamp. The fog everywhere made Lin Yan unable to see his appearance. He could only make out that it was tall and he was wearing weird, oversized clothes. The caring Lin Yan wanted to offer the figure a ride. Even though he can't really protect himself right now, but he can at least provide some shelter from the rain.

An empty highway, rainy night, a strange individual on the side of the road, this unfortunate picture seemed suspicious at first, but Lin Yan saw something a little more depressing.

The figure seemed. . . very lonely, like waiting for a resolution that will never come.

Lin Yan re-started the car after making sure all the doors were locked, and slowly slid forward along the roadside, thinking that after being trapped in this endless loop for so long anyway, it was more useful to see if this person might be able to help him break the cycle.

When he was less than ten metres away from the person, Lin Yan suddenly froze as though a gong went off beside his ear. He finally realized why he felt there was something wrong with this figure. This person had no shadow.

The streetlamp was casting light on this person, but there was no shadow at his feet. The place where the shadow should have been was just the shape of the streetlamp reflected in the puddle, which was shaken by the continuously falling rain, rippling and disturbing the surface of the water.

Lin Yan knew what he had encountered almost instantly.

He was covered in a cold sweat, he couldn't keep a grip on the steering wheel because of his clammy palms. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, not caring how much fuel he had left. He didn't even care if there was any road ahead, he just knew subconsciously that he had to get away.

40km, 60km, 80km, 90km. . .

Suddenly a car sped out in front of him. Lin Yan was stunned, and instinctively stepped on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel to the left!

"Squeel--" After the extremely sharp and piercing sound, the front bumper Lin Yan's Audi A4 was just a few centimetres away from the Buick's back bumper as he brushed past it. Immediately after, Lin Yan drove into the bushes and the car shook before getting stuck. After it stopped shaking, the windshield was covered with holly leaves.

The car had almost been totalled.

Lin Yan lay on the steering wheel, panting heavily, his whole body was frozen.

"Knockknockknock." Something harshly knocked against the car window

Lin Yan jumped nervously and stared at the glass in horror. When he could see the face of a man, he let out a long sigh, and then rolled down the car window.

"Who the hell taught you how to drive? If you were so desperate to die, just tell me and I'll beat you to death!"

A series of harsh curses about his ancestors gave Lin Yan a sense of joy, bringing him back to reality. He almost rushed out and hugged the Buick driver.

"No. . . I'm sorry, I've been on this highway for three hours. I just found my way. I was a little excited, sorry, sorry."

Lin Yan wasn't paying attention to what the other driver said, and couldn't help smiling bitterly since the driver must really consider him an idiot.

The Buick driver stared at Lin Yan for a while, then suddenly stopped the curse, and muttered, "You look like you've seen a ghost." He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to Lin Yan: "Did you come across something weird? Smoke a cigarette to calm your nerves. You should bring out a protection charm next time. We all have strange experiences at night every now and again."

Lin Yan got out of the car, and the driver lit the cigarette for Lin Yan. The two stood side by side on the roadside. Strangely, cars began whizzing by on the road. There were rows of shops and tall buildings lit up on both sides of the street where there was originally only fog and dark shadows. Even the rain from earlier had stopped.

Lin Yan took a puff of cigarettes and calmed down, and said in surprise: "Have we met before?"

The driver smiled indifferently: "It often happens, especially in places with a lot of accidents. The more deadly the accident, the more evil will be left behind."

Lin Yan nodded. He didn't know how much his materialistic worldview changed from this information.

After sending the driver away, Lin Yan whipped the sweat off his forehead and took out his phone to check the time. The screen showed two text messages and three missed calls, one every half an hour on average within the past two hours. Lin Yan opened his settings; the phone wasn't muted, the volume wasn't very loud but it was enough from him to hear it. It confirmed that the signal had been blocked this whole time.

Message 1: "Will you come out for a drink? The regular place."

Message 2: "What are you doing? Answer the phone!"

Both the sender and the caller were Yin Zhou.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #yaoi novel #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #danmei novel

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aliypop · 4 years ago

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To The One Before

word count: 1,697

Warning: Mentions of panic attack

A/N : Heres a bit of backstory to my character I hope you guys Enjoy it!

"Family isn't who you're born with: it's who you'd die for." Alexandra Morgan was 13 when she first heard that phrase from her best friend, Ray Stantz, "My family is like a tornado, Ray..." she sighed, taking a bite of Ray's Hershey bar. Ray knew what it was like to have parents who were perfectionists, after all: he was the product of a housewife and a doctor. "One day, I'm going to leave that house, and I'll never come back!" she laughed standing, on top of the hood.

"You don't mean that do you?"

"With my whole heart..." she smiled, sitting back down with him. Ray smiled back, saddened by the fact that she would say such a thing. "But what about me.. And.. and our ghost club!" he asked as Alexandra kept ranting on about her plan to leave home.

"I couldn't forget my best friend." she took him by the hand and squeezed it,

"Beside's, who's gonna protect you from Carl.." her thick glasses-covered eyes looked at him,

"Well, promise me this, Alexandra..." he handed her a stay puft marshmallow. "That we'll always be friends even in college."

"Why college?" she examined the marshmallow poking at the sugary treat. "Because... why not!"

"No talking to boys or looking at them, and if you do- " Dennis, Alexandra's, father was as nervous as most dads were when dropping their daughters off to college, but he wasn't as nervous as her mother,

" If you get homesick, you can always call, and you know we're only 45 minutes away, and I got you one of those calculator things and!"

"JEAN, you're scaring the girl! Dennis sighed, "What we're trying to say is strive for perfection ... anything less and.."

"You'll pull me right out of this science jazz..." she sighed: ever since Alexandra had been little, her father never understood her passion for physics and doing experiments. He always knew that women got their brains from the pantry, not books, but Alexandra was different. When most girls played with easy bake ovens, she made nuclear reactors using antennas from their old tv set and jumper cables. Her inspiration came from some kid in Ohio who made one using chicken dung. "That's my girl... and remember.."

"No boys," she sighed pushing, her glasses up, "As if any will ever like me.." she sassed.

"That's not true, sweetheart," Jean said, lifting her daughter's chin.

"Mother, must I remind you I went to prom with Ray!"

"And you two were a lovely pair."

Alexandra sat in her dorm, isolated from the rest of the world, which was how she liked it. A book in her hand and a pencil in another, she was ready to finish the first semester of work. As she listened to the radio, she began singing along with the Jackson 5. Ray, however, was wandering around with his new best friend, Peter Venkman, a Missouri native with the charm of a con man. Both Ray and Peter had been walking by the dorms in which the two had been talking about Atlantis.

"It was just my imagination, running away with me. " a voice sang as the two were slowly approaching the women's dormitory.

"Alexandra..." Ray gasped, running towards the sound of her voice.

"Ray?!" she poked her head out from the door: as she saw the two men standing there, she couldn't take her eyes off of "This is Peter Venkman he's my.."

"Friend replacing me already, aren't cha." she joked as she invited the two inside. There had already been notes on her wall as well as books on her floor. "I see you got busy..." Peter remarked, looking at the way her eyes sparkled through her glasses and how her lips curled. "Didn't class just start.." he thought to himself as Ray read behind her theories of time travel.

" Because I know you didn't mean that in an innocuous way, I'll respond with Yes," she turned to look at him as her heart nearly skipped a beat,

"Nerd much?" Peter whispered as Ray turned around in shock, he knew that that was a phrase that Alex never enjoyed hearing.

"I prefer to say an intellectual, but perhaps you wouldn't understand." she scoffed. "I beg to differ."Peter walked towards Alexandra, as he got closer towards her,

"You're just a know it all.." he smirked, "Or a narcissist .." he said in a whisper, looking down at her lips. Alexandra laughed, noticing how close they were. She had never in her life been this close to anyone, especially a man such as Venkman.

"My father warned me to stay away from boys, you know.."

" Well, I don't see your old man around..." he pulled her close to him as the heat from her face radiated fog from her glasses.

" I'll pick you up, say 8 pm."

"Should I bring my books?"

"Sure, but I doubt you'll need them." he winked.

As years passed and Ray and Peter grew closer as friends, so did Alexandra and Peter. It was a cold New York December morning, and sitting by the window wearing one of Peters shirts was Alexandra. Hot tears streamed down her face as she held her term papers in hand. In all her academic life, she had never gotten a D: her world was crumbling, "Hey, it's three in the morning.." Peter then looked at the half-empty bottle of brandy that he and Ray usually would split.

"Do I need to wake Ray..."

Alexandra shook her head, unresponsive to his question. "Wanna tell me about it.." he then asked, sitting in front of her. "I'm going to fail.." she repeated in heavy breaths, her hands nearly pulling at her thick curls. Peter had semi-studied this behavior before but to see it happen in person terrified him. "Breathe." he held her hand, Alexandra nodded, as she only breathed faster, nearly hyperventilating. "That's not what I meant, but breathing is breathing..." he mumbled. As the sun began to shine, the two were eating pizza and talking about their families.

"Try having a father who is not even proud about his son going to college.

"Try being a music prodigy by age six and science prodigy at 9." she laughed, "I have so many expectations set on me and..." she looked at Peter, who gave her a look she knew too well. Peter, although now a part of the parapsychology world he still was great in psychology. "You did it again.."

"I don't know what you mean.." he smirked.

"Oh, I could just!" she stood up, falling into his arms. "Kiss me.." he suggested, kissing her lips ever so sweetly. There were days when Peter was a gentleman, sweet and caring, but there were days when Alexandra would throw curses his way and wish she'd never see him again, days where she'd cry in Ray's arms, and all he could say was " Peter didn't mean it this time did he..." he asked watching her stuff her face with pizza and ice cream. "We broke up again.." she cried, "Because I got offered to teach at the university.."

"That's good!" Ray smiled, "I mean, it's what you've always wanted, right?" he then stopped talking. It was true that Alexandra wanted to teach quantum physics and engineering, but to see Peter move on so fast when she told him the news only made it worse.

As time went on and Alexandra had gotten adjusted to her new life as a professor, her date life only sunk worse.

"Alright, class, I'm Dr. Morgan today we'll be talking about the theory of Relativity.." Alexandra turned towards her class in which she heard the protest of groans. The year was 1984, Alexandra: was 31 years old and living in Manhattan. " I assume you took Dr. Spengler's theory class, or else you wouldn't be in mine." she glared at a few students over her glasses. To say that Alexandra's quantum physics and engineering classes were easy was an understatement.

From her labs to her assignments, there was nothing easy about her not since, "Can I help you, Dr. Venkman.." she glared at him, nearly wanting to set him on fire. "Just looking for a few students who'd want to do a few paid experiments," he smirked. When paid was involved, it meant Venkman rather than the students. "Make it quick, Venkman.. " she rolled her eyes. As her lecture progressed, she noticed a pair of eyes staring at her, they were stern, a bit cynical, and they were listening to her rant about the theory of being in a paradox.

"So if you were to see yourself uh.. " she kept looking at him as her mind went blank, and her heart nearly pounding. "You could ruin the structure of the world." the voice in the back responded.

Sitting at her desk as her students left, Alexandra took it upon herself to stay behind and work on her UPC or more so known as an ecto camera. As she heard heavy footsteps run past her classroom, she knew that it was

" Ray?"

"We got one!" he shouted, ushering her to follow him.

"Is it a 1 or 5?" she asked him, following him around to their lab.

"She wasn't very friendly..."

"So a five it i-" she stood in front of their door, watching as the dean removed their gear from their lab space. "Well, that's unfortunate ..." she whispered under her breath, looking up at the man who was in her class earlier.

"What am I supposed to tell my mother.." he mumbled.

"What are we going to do now!"

" I say drill a hole through Peter's head.." Alexandra said under her breath as Egon smiled, "So you're a fan of trepanation too." he asked as both Peter and Ray tried to get her to switch the subject. "I always say that if done right, could cure a disease if done wrong, a lobotomy or death. " she shrugged her shoulders, "Although I wouldn't advise it on a hamster," she added.

"Why's that?"

"Makes them go crazy..." she laughed, looking at him, "I'm Dr. Alexandra Morgan."

"Dr. Egon Spengler."

#ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters oc #ghostbuster x oc #ray stantz #egon spengler #Peter Venkman #fanfiction #oc x canon

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she-who-the-river-could-not-hold · 4 years ago

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October Fic Challenge #2: Autumn Would Be the Magic Hour

Emori is a freshman in college and she can’t get over the beauty of fall in Polis, especially when compared to the desert she’d grown up in. And it turns out that a fellow student had noticed and he can’t help but mention it one day. –– [title from a quote from Victoria Erickson]

Polis University is, at a glance, just a normal college. It has nice open areas for students to hang out and chill or study. Weekend parties that might get a bit too rambunctious but are great for making memories at. Classes that are small but not too small, allowing for a sense of minor ambiguity but you still feel like you can easily talk to the professor.

But none of those reasons are why Emori loves going to Polis U. She didn’t just pick it because of the scholarship or their majors (though it has a surprisingly strong psychology department).

She picked it for its location.

And most specifically: it’s location and how that translated to the seasons.

Emori had grown up in a trailer park in a desert, devoid of signs of life that weren’t prickly or poisonous. She was used to an oppressive heat, coughing when speeding cars kicked up dirt, a constant haze. So when the chance had been granted to her to leave, to get out of a place that was sucking her as dry as the environment, she took it and ran. Ran to the college up north on the opposite coast that was nestled amongst the trees and low rolling hills that had all four seasons. Sure, when classes had started it had been at the cusp of an extra muggy summer. But even that experience had been a fun one for her. She liked to embrace any change she could.

This time of the year though? The switch from September to October as the area transitioned into autumn?

Utter perfection.

It was a Monday evening and she’d been out of class for about fifteen minutes now. Normally she’d be making her way to the dining hall to grab dinner, but when she’d stepped out of the small brick building she’d been greeted by a drizzly, foggy evening. Bright orange and yellow leaves lined the walkway from the building, slick to the ground from the light rain. The day’s earlier overcast clouds had melted into fog and filled the gaps between the trees, creating a muted atmosphere. Classmates around her had streamed out of the building, most ready to just be done for the day or fishing for their umbrellas while they bemoaned the shift in weather.

Not Emori though. She edged to the side and mimed like she was looking through her backpack for something, waiting as everyone left. Once she was the only one left, she quickly situated herself on the stone steps, her boots just peeking out from the buildings roof and onto the damp pavement. Not quite far enough out to get wet but enough to stretch her legs out after a long day of classes.

She took in a full-body breath, letting her gaze soften as she looked out in front of her. The air seemed fresher here all of the time, but something about today was even better.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn’t realize someone had sat down beside her until a voice said, “You’re probably the only person here who actually likes this kind of weather.”

Emori jumped at the interruption and looked over to see the grinning face of one of her classmates.

“You trying to give me a heart attack, John?” She teased lightly. She liked seeing him bristle at her use of his first name instead of his last like how everyone else addressed him (though she’d noticed he hadn’t reacted negatively as much recently).

His eyes still narrowed lightly, though all in good fun she could tell, and he looked back out at the nature in front of them. He didn’t give an excuse or explanation of why he’d decided to surprise her by joining her.

“I just meant ever since it started to feel like fall, I always see you looking out the window in class with the look of awe on your face. Or one time when it started raining I saw you leaving the library and I’ve never seen someone that excited before for rain.”

For once, the cockiness he usually spoke with was gone. He seemed almost shy and it would have thrown Emori for a loop if it hadn’t been for the fact that she’d suspected he had this side since she saw him on the first day of English 101 and she found it utterly adorable.

She was more stunned by the fact that he paid attention to her and it made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

The two sat for a few more minutes in silence, watching as a few leaves dropped to the ground almost as if they were in slow motion. The rain was becoming steadier and Emori knew they’d probably have to get a move on soon so they wouldn’t become soaked, but she was too nervous to break the moment. She even considered telling him about her childhood, as if to explain the simple joy she got out of the autumn weather they were experiencing. But she also didn’t want to break the silence. This moment of peace they were sharing made her heart swell… and maybe finally acknowledge that her feelings towards John Murphy had certainly grown past just thinking he was cute.

Eventually he was the one to interrupt the silence.

“Want to grab dinner with me? I mean––my friends would be there too, Raven is always complaining we don’t have enough girls in the group. Not that I don’t want you there I just––ugh,” he dropped his head back in frustration at the obvious struggle he was having with his words.

It made Emori laugh, eventually dissolving into helpless giggles as John let out a mutter about being a dumbass and not being able to ask someone out normally.

“I’d really like that,” she finally said, saving him from feeling like he’d embarrassed himself any more than he already thought he did. She didn’t want him to sweat it out to the point of him thinking she wasn’t interested in him.

At her words, he puffed up a bit in pride before jumping to his feet. Spinning around on his heel then, he extended his hand out towards her to help her up. Emori hesitated for a second before accepting it, cringing at his hand tightened against hers as he pulled her to her feet. It was her “bad” hand, or so her parents had always deemed it. Maybe it had been the smoking her mom hadn’t stopped doing during her pregnancy, maybe it was radiation from the military base down the way from the trailer park, no one really knew. She was used to the weird stares it garnered her.

But John’s eyes were solely focused on her, not even a flinch or reaction to the feel of the odd texture of her skin beneath the wool glove she wore. Instead, his eyes sparkled as he looked at her face, his sharp and angular features somehow both softened and defined by his smile. It wasn’t his trademark smirk or a mischievous grin, just an outright smile.

As they walked, he launched into describing the farm that had the best pumpkin patch near the school and how she’d have to join him and his friends for their annual trip. Apparently she hadn’t experienced “real” fall until she’d gone on a hayride. Around them, the fog brought on an earlier dusk as darkness cloaked the campus and the streetlights illuminated into a warm, golden glow.

He didn’t let go of her hand once while they walked towards the dining hall.

#memori #emori #john murphy #cracklingfires #the 100 #the 100 fic #the 100 au #my creations #kathryn writes #kathryn writes: the 100 #crackling fires 2020 #kathryn writes: cracklingfires

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yooseung · 4 years ago

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( park jimin, cis man ) have you seen YOOSEUNG HO ? i heard HE is a WAITER at MAL’S DINER. they’re TWENTY-FIVE years old and they’ve been living in san verto for SEVEN YEARS. they tend to be CLEVER & DOGGED, but rumor has it they can also be SPITEFUL & SELF-CENTERED.

basics

name: yooseung ho

nicknames: yoo, seungie

pronouns: he/him/his

birthdate & age: 1st of november, 25 years old

current residence: living with yohan park at a spacious apartment

sexual orientation: bisexual (leans towards men :nauseous_face:)

childhood home: brooklyn, new york

strengths:

+ quick-witted

+ loyal

+ straightforward

weaknesses:

– obnoxious

– dogmatic

– quick-tempered

likes: black coffee, overwatch, sunday roast, cotton candy, caramel, trashy pop music

dislikes: early mornings, sports, heights, clowns, horror films, books, sea food

tattoos: yes :~)

piercings: multiple piercings on his ears and a navel piercing

fam background that i copy and pasted from my notes app </3 (tw: brief mention of abuse)

- yooseung’s childhood was polarising, to say the last. in the eyes of yoojin and junghoon ho, both more convinced by the prospect of heirs than the prospect of children, their son was little more than a vague annoyance on his best days and an intolerable menace on his worst. though extended family and close friends threw around words like “charming” and “handsome”, yooseung was every bit as likely to be beaten with his mother’s velveteen slippers and his father’s belt as he was to have his cheeks pinched and his praises sung.

- their lives were ruled by tradition – a very unhealthy amount of it, and some very backward views. eight-year-old yooseung felt awkward at family gatherings and was unable to form bonds or conversations with his family.

- for all his too-clever comments and small acts of rebellion, however, yooseung secretly longed to please his parents. more than anything, perhaps, he wanted to make them happy in the hopes that it might sway them to affection. needless to say, that dream was never realized and yooseung, to the surprise of no one, became an arrogant and volatile product of his upbringing.

misc

- yooseung moved to san verto as soon as he turned 18, coerced by his parents to pursue a bachelor’s degree in business administration, except he dropped out of college after failing most of his classes. he isn’t smart, he hates reading, absolutely hates studying, and enjoys spending most of his time playing computer games and shopping

- his parents got Absolutely Pissed and financially cut him off, which prompted yooseung to begin working at mal’s diner RIP

- he is very materialistic and has a habit of splurging on expensive clothes and living a lavish lifestyle ,,, doesn’t really have self-control ,,, mans probably got a sugar daddy/mommy somewhere ngl because he only works at the diner four times a week and streams himself playing overwatch for fun (he’s steadily gaining followers because he’s really good at it)

- can’t live without a pack of cigarettes. when he began smoking as a teenager, it was just something that he had picked up from the other kids in an effort to fit in. however, he quickly found himself attached to the sensation, finding temporary relief and relaxation in the bad habit. throughout the years this has switched from a casual, social habit to something that he gravitates towards whenever he’s stressed, anxious, or needs to occupy his mind

- he doesn’t really have a dream as of the moment, but is flirting with the idea of becoming an e-sports player

- he’s v arrogant, is practically in love with himself, and makes fun of people all the time :sob: it’s how he protects himself from getting hurt, though it’s a very unhealthy method

- that being said, he’s had a pretty bad record with relationships. no matter how serious things became, he dated with an emergency exit strategy in place. despite the trail of broken hearts he’s created, he finds comfort behind the walls that keep him emotionally guarded

- but as mean as he is, he values and is extremely protective of the close friends he has

- also a potty mouth. :/

wcs? <3 rly rackin my brain rn these r all i can come up with for now im sorey

- smth spicy, like exes that ended on bad terms (i doubt yooseung would end a relationship on good terms honestly) or fwbs that kind of got serious so yooseung dipped because he hates Feelings awh </3

- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the one (1) person who curb stomped on his heart n is practically one of the causes of yooseung’s fear of commitment :flushed: could be someone he knows from high school, or could also be someone he met after moving to san verto (he was still shiny and dumb and easy to trick) haha who gnna give me this... <3

- a childhood friend from brooklyn (or somewhere else i can change stuff up)!!!!!!!! could be estranged, could also have kept in touch with yooseung bc facetime calls & letters are real cute

- neighbors!!!!!!!! maybe a neighbor yooseung likes to annoy bc he thinks they’re hot and he wants to sleep with them <3 UIERUIEWROUEWUR

- platonic stuff like unlikely friends, someone he met in university that he still speaks to, a mal’s diner regular? someone he plays overwatch with?

- a good influence... he needs it. He Really Needs It. he needs someone who can tell him that its ok 2 b nice to strangers sometimes <3

- yooseung is usually the devil on his friends’ shoulders but mayhaps it’d be fun if he had someone to be Bad with we can plot this out 4 more details

- enemies <3 he is Very easy to hate <3

- i have a wcs tag here <3

IF ANY OF THESE INTEREST YOU, HIT ME UP! SOME ARE MORE DETAILED THAN OTHERS BUT ALL OF THEM ARE OPEN TO MODIFICATIONS TBH, WE CAN DEVELOP THEM HOWEVER WE WANT :) FEEL FREE TO CHOOSE MULTIPLE PLOTS TOO..,.,. GO CRAZY

ps if u have any wcs yooseung can snag please im/dm me <3

#— about.#reposting bc my theme wasnt cooperating with the previous post format

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markwatkinsconsumerguide · 4 years ago

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Consumer Guide / No.111 / American musician, Barbara Markay, with Mark Watkins.

MW : Why decide (initially) to switch from making classical music to pop?

BM : It happened during my first year at Juilliard College toward the end of the school year. It was in their new building at Lincoln Center, and I was practicing the piano in one of their practice rooms on the 5th floor, which had windows and a beautiful view of the streets below and the whole Lincoln Center area. I was taking a little break, and was looking out the window and thought to myself that I should be down there experiencing life and meeting interesting people, instead of practicing piano all day long! I had gotten into the Juilliard prep department / pre-college division when I was 10 years old, and had been a classical pianist for a long time. Maybe it was time for a change!

After that day in the practice room, I started to think about this more and more, especially every time I got a practice room with a “window on the world” so to speak. I started to think about all those people walking around on the streets, and who among them was actually going to be interested in listening to classical music. I thought that I might be wasting my musical talent on my present studies as a pianist and composer, and that I was much more interested in talking to people and finding out what they were thinking and why they said and did the things they did.

I became more and more interested in writing lyrics, which turned into my first pop songs. I realized that I could communicate the music I had inside me via pop music better than just performing classical music, because I could write about the whole new exciting culture of the times with no narrow, preordained musical style restrictions, or older musical rules. I could write and say whatever I wanted to! It was a brand new world for me! And so much fun! I still appreciated and loved classical music, and graduated from Juilliard college at the end of the four years, but I was now writing these funny, risqué, pop songs, just piano and voice, and everyone I played them for loved it!

We had academic studies as well as music classes as part of our program, and one of these classes was English literature, which I suddenly was great at. I don’t know where this understanding of human beings came from, or my love for reading English literature, but one day my English teacher, Beatrice Taub (who also taught at Columbia University), asked me after class if I really really was sure, that being a classical pianist and composer was really what I wanted to do with my life, because I was exceptionally good at literature. She suggested that I might take some extension classes at Columbia University to explore it further, maybe transferring to Columbia eventually.

It was then that I realized that these songs I was writing were going to be a better career path for me because they involved both writing and music, and I got that encouragement to continue with pop music. There was also another class I took that the music students would take together with the actors, that also was encouraging me to continue to write pop music.

Some of the people in my class were destined to be really famous actors, and one of them was Robin Williams. I felt more at ease in this class because they were mostly all actors, and had broader interests than the music students, I felt. Robin asked me one day to play some more of my songs for him, because he wanted to do a show out of them. He said he just loved the humor and the music I had put to the songs. He said he wanted to do some kind of a musical review with it. He was very funny even then. Just a natural comic, but also a great actor. Nothing came of it at that time, but my songs were eventually made into many musical reviews years later.

That was the beginning of my pop musical career.

Christopher Reeve, Kevin Spacey, Christine Baranski (1974), Kelsey Grammer, Kevin Kline, Patty LuPone, William Hurt, and more, were all actors who were part of the new acting department at the new Juilliard building at Lincoln Center. Eventually, years later, they would put in a classical guitar department, and a jazz department, which would have been unheard of before the new building came into being. Before these new times, Juilliard considered classical guitar to be “folk” music, and jazz wasn’t even on their radar. I guess someone was thinking like me, and these other forms of music needed to be heard and expressed as well as traditional classical music. So I think it was in the 1980s they got Sharon Isbin (fabulous classical guitarist) to head up the new guitar department, and Wynton Marsalis to head up the new jazz department to get these new genres started at the new Juilliard.

So much for my very formative Juilliard years!

These early songs were part of my piano & voice comedy act that was very popular at the time. A lot of people compared me to being a musical Joan Rivers. ‘It’s All Rite’ was part of this set of songs. I went to the UK on vacation soon after graduating college, and met Lee Allen, a music promoter with Carousel Artists (I think that was the name of his company) who booked me on a college tour of England and Ireland. Eventually, I put a small group together and performed everywhere. I played at the New University of Ulster, Belfast, and I opened for 10CC at, I believe, Kings College in London, and played many other colleges as well. What a great time I had, and everyone really liked the songs, including the risqué ones! And I just loved England! But then it became time to return to the states.

MW : Where does your music fit in terms of categorisation / the music scene?

BM : It wasn’t until the mid-1980s that I started writing more serious pop songs, not the early comedy stuff anymore. That was just after I had put out ‘It's All Rite’, the 12” dance, salsa single version of the song, and it was such a huge international hit. After that, I got interested in metaphysics - the invisible world so to speak - and more philosophical and spiritual matters. I found my first and very great meditation teacher, Anne Elizabeth Cooper, in New York City, and studied metaphysics with her for two years. It absolutely changed my life! I developed a totally different point of view of everything! I started writing songs more along these lines, and also songs about how people relate to each other on deeper levels. I needed to grow as a writer and artist, so this new path I took expanded my views of life and consciousness level.

Some of my early pop albums like Change To Come and Heart Like A Song contain some of my favorite and most prized songs, like ‘Still Need You’, ‘Change To Come’, ‘I Am The River’ and ‘Fallen Angel’ from the Change To Come album. And from the Heart Like A Song album, my favorites are, ‘In The Silence’, ‘You Are What You Believe’, ‘Hands Of The Artist’ and ‘All That I Am’. You can tell by just the titles how I had shifted focus and had finally grounded myself in more meaningful songs that brought in a brand new audience.

After those two albums. I continued expanding to world beat grooves with the Shambhala Dance album, which won best dance/dub/club album of the year (New Age Reporter finalist 2005 Lifestyle music award!). ‘Atlantis’, the first cut on the album, got great reviews and lots of airplay, even today it’s still being played. It’s been called “a meditation through movement”, and, “an exotic voyage of mysterious flamenco, Asian and middle eastern melodies, full of powerful world beat grooves beautifully blended together to create an atmosphere of intense, vital emotions both sensual and meditative at the same time” (Wind and Wire magazine, April 2005, Bill Binkelman).

I continued exploring different styles with a meditation album, Heaven And Earth, which is a continuous 50 minute meditation. I got and still get a lot of plays in the yoga studios and meditation classes with this one and the Shambhala Dance album. But you can see how my shift to more metaphysical and spiritual music has carried me into these different, but related styles. I even composed a musical rendition of the ancient, venerated prayer, ‘The Great Invocation’, given to humanity by ascended Tibetan master Djwhal Khul. I have shifted styles as I matured and explored a more expanded and deeper understanding of what I wanted to express musically.

MW : How are you using social media to stream / promote your music on platforms such as Spotify, iTunes etc?.

BM : It’s great! You can see all of the albums and singles I’ve done on Spotify, iTunes, and the other streaming services right away. So can all the other artists who put content out there. Everyone had to switch to streaming for the great international exposure. There’s nothing like it!

MW : Two of your early records were banned. Did you set out to challenge the mainstream with titles ‘It’s All Rite To F*ck All Nite…’ and ‘Give Your Dick To Me’?

BM : I was never really “banned”. What happened is that I produced the first 12” dance single version of ‘It’s All Rite’, and took it to all the record labels, which were mostly all in New York at the time. Everyone absolutely loved the record! Everyone absolutely wanted a few copies for themselves and their friends. But nobody had the balls to put it out into the market!!!! They were all afraid of repercussions, censorship, and their reputations! So I decided that I would put it out myself, something nobody had done at the time! I thought the record needed to be heard. I found a pressing plant in New Jersey, who were fine with pressing it up, then I went to an art store and got some “press type” and designed my own album cover. I got a friend of mine to take a picture of me, and voila! I had an album ready to go. I had no monies to promote the record, only just enough to record it and press it up. I figured that if I could get it heard by some people, maybe I could get some interest in it and maybe sell a few copies.

At that time, in New York and across the whole country, there were record pools, which were organizations of DJ’s who played the music in the dance clubs. I sent a 12” record (CD’s hadn’t been invented yet) to a list of record pools around the country, and to my surprise, I got a great response. Everyone wanted a copy to play. It was a salsa dance groove, something kinda new for mainstream clubs at the time, but the song was funny and danceable so everyone liked it and wanted to hear it. This was a time when you couldn’t get any airplay without a record label behind you. It was payola all the way. But what I could get was club play, and these DJ’s kept asking me for more and more records. And now people were asking the DJ’s where they could buy the record. So I had to get a distributor to put the records into record stores.

By this time, the record was being played in most all the clubs in the United States, but with no place to buy it. My first thought was to go to Sam Goody, one of the biggest record stores in New York at the time, and see if they would sell the record. They said yes, showing me a copy of some dance/club charts they had in the store that said that the record was #1 on the charts!!!!! I had no idea about these separate dance/club listings and was really excited that it was already charting. But there were about five dance charts around at this time, and ‘It’s All Rite’ was #1 on all of them! It stayed #1 for about five or six months in a row! It was a sensation! This started in about May of 1978, or 1979, I think, and ran thru September. Sam Goody gave me the very hard to get whole window display of my record, so did Colony records, another big record store in New York City at the time, and the rest is history! Other record stores followed.

Soon I realized that I needed a bigger distributor, so I contacted several in all the sections of the US, like the South, the Midwest, North Central, East Coast, West Coast, etc. They kept asking me for more and more records. I couldn’t figure out where the records were going. So one day I called my local one stop guy in Long Island City, and he said they were all going overseas. I asked where overseas, and he said, “Everywhere! Especially Holland.” Apparently, 12 miles off the coast of Holland was a ship that had a radio station broadcasting from it, and they could play anything that they wanted. My record was the number one request! Nobody could do anything about it to stop them, because they were in international waters. 12 miles out!!!

Since this was my first big hit, I was inexperienced as to what I needed to do next. It wasn’t too much later, about December of that year, I got a call from WEA International in Holland (Warner Brothers, Electra & Atlantic records all together) who said they wanted to license my record. It sounded great to me, so I took the deal. They published it in Europe, South America, England, Japan, Asia, etc. and promoted it in all the clubs. And I finally got legitimate airplay on it, because on the “B” side I had recorded the “clean” version, called ‘It’s All Rite To Truck All Nite’. Lots and lots of airplay everywhere! Finally!

It became #16 on the Billboard pop charts in the Benelux countries, and #2 on the charts in Paris, Michael Jackson being #1 at the time. WEA asked me for another single to put out, and I gave them, ‘Give Your Dick To Me’, and that was also very successful. I did the same thing with the “clean” “B” side, ‘Give Your Flesh To Me’.

So the bottom line is that if you have a record that everyone wants to hear, nothing will stop it from being heard. The people decided they wanted to hear ‘It’s All Rite’, and it squeezed itself through the cracks to be a big hit. Also, it started a new trend in music of what could be heard and played. Several DJ’s told me that I had really done something BIG with that song. They said it changed the music business forever! It opened the door for new things to come into the market, and then the people could judge for themselves whether they liked it.

Now getting back to your original question about being censored/banned, I really didn’t have any criticism for doing the record. People just wanted to get a copy of it and enjoy it. And I didn’t set out to “challenge” the system. I was simply expressing my views on what people were really thinking, and I did it via a danceable, funny, comedy record. I was just having fun!

Now, a lot of people took it seriously, literally, and that’s ok. Everyone has their own interpretation of things. That is what Art is for. To make people think. And that is what, ‘It’s All Rite’, did. It made people think, laugh, dance, party, and feel good! Remember, this was a time when Lenny Bruce had set a new standard, Joan Rivers was on the scene, along with Richard Pryor, George Carlin, etc. By the time I came along I took it all for granted that I would be able to put this record out. I wrote it when I was 19 years old and still in college, so that’s what you write when you’re that age. I didn’t care at all what people would think about me or this song!

Nobody I was aware of wrote anything negative about this “outrageous” song. One of the many reviews I got for my act (when I was performing all my funny songs with piano & voice around town in the late 1970s) was from Michael’s Thing, an LGBT magazine, New York City’s #1 weekly entertainment magazine and “going out guide” with reviews, comics, of all the performances, Art in the city, new and noteworthy etc. which said about my act, “…...she (Barbara) makes you laugh while she stabs you in the back!” I got nothing but praise for putting this song out! The LGBT community loved what I had done and fully supported me, along with great reviews from the Village Voice, and a nice write up from Billboard magazine by Roman Kozak. I also played at Huey’s Bar, a gay men’s bar, on Hudson street (west side of New York city near the Hudson river) for several months, through that whole summer, just piano and voice. It was a big hit!

MW : Tell me about your involvement with Carly Simon’s Coming Around Again album?

BM : I was doing synthesizer programming for a few of the songs on the album. The arranger I was working with was doing some arrangements for her new album, and I got to do some of the synth programming. It was lots of fun to be involved and to go to the recording sessions.

MW : …and the Michael Jackson (BAD) video…. also include any thoughts on Jackson’s charisma, ability (song & dance)….

BM : I never got to meet Michael Jackson, but I did get to meet Martin Scorsese who was really really interesting! He was asked to produce the video for the song. He came up to the office one day to discuss what kind of extra scored music was needed for the BAD video, music before the song started, and after the song was through. He was very intense, a real thinking kind of guy, and someone who knew what he wanted. He also has a great sense of humor! He impressed me as someone who really knows people. Meeting Scorcese was actually more exciting for me than meeting Jackson as he’s a real character!!! A mature adult!

MW : You’ve worked with Bruce Willis as a backing singer. Tell me about those times … also include your views on his abilities as an actor turned singer…

BM : Bruce Willis is a really great actor, and can play almost any part. That includes as a blues singer. The show we did was as his backup singers (along with two friends of mine) for the opening of the new Hard Rock Café in Austin, Texas. It was a very long day, full of rehearsals on stage with the band, and waiting for Bruce to arrive. As we tested mikes and stage positions, we could see a huge crowd starting to form in order to get a good view of the coming show. The press was there, and reported close to 100,000 people waiting to see this opening.

Bruce eventually got there, extremely exhausted. By the time the show started it was dark out, and everyone was excited. Then came the big moment when Bruce Willis came on stage, and everyone went wild! The band started to play and he started to sing. I was shocked by how well he could sing, and put over a song. It was a real “performance”.

He may not have all the technique of a “professional” singer, but what he has is better. He can make you get into the song, feel the song, …it’s not really the voice but the performance that’s spectacular. So close up to me. I could really see why he’s considered one of the great actors of our time. Acting, singing and performing are all connected. And he puts it all together beautifully.

MW : Describe a typical weekend….before lockdown and during…

BM : Well, I used to love to go to the ocean and watch the sunset a lot, then meet my friends for dinner in one of the great restaurants by the beach or in town. Before lockdown there were great movies to see, not just at home (these days) but at the real movie houses. Plenty of them around in the “old” days. During lockdown everyone has to stream movies at home. At least streaming is safe!

I also used to like to work out at the gym, but you can’t do that yet, so I’m hoping that sometime in the near future that will become viable again. Sometimes it’s fun just to take a ride up pacific coast highway and breathe in the sea air and see the beautiful scenery. You can still always do that.

There are lots of farmers markets around town, so I always go on the weekends to shop for fresh, whole, organic fruits and veggies! That’s always fun, and sometimes I go with my friends too.

Eating good, fresh, organic foods is my entire “Health Plan”! You are what you eat! So far, so good! And I can do this all year long. And during this lockdown, we just all wear masks. It’s fun being at the farmers markets and seeing all the chefs from all the great restaurants in town shopping for their weekly recipes with those big shopping carts they push thru the market. They buy whole boxes of produce and everything else sold there.

MW : What is your favourite…Carly Simon single?

BM : I think that would be ‘Mockingbird’, especially the 2015 remaster. James Taylor sounds great on this, and the two of them together just fit together perfectly. This remaster is from Songs From The Trees (a musical memoir collection). I’m glad they did this, because this is a classic! You can hear all the instruments clearly, the voices are very present, and the whole thing is a pleasure to listen to. Musical tastes change, but the classics will remain with us from “gentler” times.

MW : AND your favourite… Bruce Willis film?

BM : (I can’t choose just one!)

The Whole Nine Yards : hysterically funny!!! I laugh every time. The Fifth Element is a real classic! I see it again every time it’s on TV. Bruce Willis is fantastic in that “deadpan” character he plays. And the score by French composer Eric Serra is superb. Hip, powerful, rhythmic, smooth, jagged, everything needed to match the screen scene.

But the music stands alone if you just listen to the score by itself without the movie. I think they sold a lot of the music score. The Sixth Sense - so powerful, and metaphysical! It’s right up my alley! And Bruce Willis has a knack for finding well written screenplays! That’s a big key to the success of the movies he’s in.

And since they’re so well written, he has an opportunity to really show off his talent and get into those great parts.

MW : AND your favourite… Michael Jackson album?

BM : I think I like the Thriller album the best. I love the songs, especially, ‘Beat It’, ‘Thriller’, and ‘Human Nature’. And it was so well produced by Quincy Jones, with pounding gritty grooves, and great songs.

MW : List, in order of preference, your Top 10 singles & albums of all-time…

BM : (I have the original CD’s of this music, and still call them CD’s, but I’m sure this music is all streaming/downloads by now!)

1. Famous Blue Raincoat: songs by Leonard Cohen, studio album by singer Jennifer Warnes: exquisite, perfect singing of songs with her crystal clear voice! What a superb collaboration this was! I wish they had made more albums together like this one! A true classic! When I first heard it I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Songs so well written, songs with a real message, and so well sung and produced.

2. I also love Leonard Cohen’s, ‘Hallelujah’, sung by anyone! It gives me chills every time! Powerful and hauntingly beautiful! The best cover of it that I love is K.D. Lang’s version. (I think it was on her album, Hymns Of The 49th Parallel, 2004).

3. Bach: Sonatas & Partitas: violinist: Itzhak Perlman: The sub-title of this 2 CD set put out by EMI classics says it all: “Great Recordings of the Century”, which is aptly titled!!! I can listen to this album at any time, and it will put me into a deep trance. I can’t stop listening.

Itzhak Perlman is an absolute master of the violin, and these solo compositions are not only some of Bach’s finest works, but Perlman’s rendition of them is flawless. He understands what the composer was trying to accomplish, and every time I listen to this it feels like he is showing us the true soul of humanity! The longing, the passion, the “reaching to the Light”! The thing about this kind of classical music is its very high vibration! I think it does make you smarter!

4. Then we have Jorge Aragao and his live album entitled Ao Vivo (which means “live”). Another album I have listened to for years. He’s a Brazilian singer/songwriter, and the songs are all sung in Brazilian Portuguese. But don’t let that stop you from listening. It’s exciting, passionate and very well recorded. It has the whole flavor of Brazil in it! Recorded in 1999.

The last song is a great rendition of ‘Ave Maria’. A true classic! (I took a great vacation to Brazil for a month once in the mid-2000s and this album is the real deal! The Brazilians absolutely Love him!)

5. Edith Piaf: 30e Anniversaire 2 cd set (probably on all the streaming services by now). All the songs are beautifully recorded, written, produced and her voice is extraordinary and present. It gives you the whole culture and passion of the French. It always puts me at a French café with friends and great great food! If you’ve never heard Edith Piaf, it’s well worth a listen.

There was a wonderful movie on her life called La Vie en Rose which I also recommend to get the whole feeling of this music. And I listen to this music often, especially when I’m feeling like there’s no culture west of New York City! She saves the day every time!

6. John Lennon: Imagine: I think everyone knows this is a classic! It’s a positive message!

7. The Eagles: Hotel California the whole album, but especially the title song, ‘Hotel California’: It never gets old!

8. Bach: English Suites performed by pianist Andras Schiff: he’s a Bach specialist, and has a great insight into what Bach intended with this great recording: Part of my regular listening.

9. Buena Vista Social Club: it really gives you the heart and soul of Cuba. I think the reason this album was such a hit when it was first put out is the huge amount of heart, passion, and honesty it evokes. You can feel it’s the real deal. Nothing fake here!

10. And last but not least, two albums that were put out by Putumayo a while back, called Brasileiro and Samba Bossa Nova. They are compilations of several Brazilian artists and styles, including bossa nova, folk, light samba, and I think some other styles too, beautifully put together. They are calming, gentle, rhythmic and haunting, and a great way to wake up in the morning. So many positive vibes! So musical and unpretentious!

MW : Where / what was the best meal you’ve ever enjoyed and what was the company like?

BM : Well, all I can remember is that it was in a Paris restaurant, and I was taken there by a record company executive to discuss publishing my music through a Paris company. I remember she told me that the closer you get to Paris from anywhere in the world, the better the food gets!!!

And I wasn’t disappointed!

The meal was some kind of spectacular steak, mousse au chocolate for desert, and fine red wine throughout the meal. Cheeses for dessert! (that was more dessert after the dessert!) And it was the atmosphere and vibe, not just of the restaurant, but of Paris, and the French people and their culture that I found so fabulous! I love the French and they loved me back!!!!

MW : What can we anticipate coming from you later on in 2021?

BM : I’m currently thinking about something along the lines of my previous Shambhala Dance and Heaven And Earth albums. Worldbeat and with a sleek groove.

It takes time to compose something like that.

It will be announced on my website when it’s done. www.barbaramarkay.com and I will put it out on the streaming services / downloads as usual.

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clevelandstate · 4 years ago

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Film Students and Safe Sets

Written by Lauren Koleszar // The Vindicator

*This story has been edited slightly for length*

Film & Media Arts is one of the most hands-on majors at Cleveland State. It relies on massive collaboration and in-person filming that normally requires between ten and thirty cast and crew members for upperclassmen producing junior- and senior-level professional content. New COVID-19 guidelines require a “Safe Sets” certification, and students have been limited to crews of ten people or less on a set at one time. Camera departments that normally run on four to five students are being managed by two if they’re lucky. Students are choosing to produce scripts that need only a few actors and can be filmed at safe, easily accessible locations. Students are desperately working on pre-production and editing from home; and when on set, they’re filling multiple crew positions to make up for the absence of the much larger number of students who are normally able to work on one set together.

In spite of these challenges, film students at CSU are producing impressive creative content and becoming multi-faceted filmmakers as they take on many new responsibilities that are ultimately shaping them into better equipped professionals who will have a wide range of skills and experience.

We talked to film major Davis Chu, whose freshman year at CSU coincided with the opening of the university’s new film school in the fall of 2018. The initial lockdown hit during Davis’s second sophomore semester, and he took us through his personal experience and observation of the evolution of student filmmaking at CSU over the course of the last year.

LAUREN KOLESZAR: Elevator pitch. Who are you, what do you do and what interests you? DAVIS CHU: Hello there, my name is Davis. I’m a third-year film major, concentration in post-production, with a minor in graphic design. I am also in the Honors college. My passions include: writing, comedy, animation, editing, music, screenwriting, acting, and television. To clarify, when I say “television,” I mean watching it. Although I’m also working on an original pilot for school.

LK: Why are you studying film, and what are some of your favorite films, creatives or influences? DC: I think if life is a circus, then studying film is a trampoline. It may not have the safety net of other more stable fields, but it’s a great launching pad for someone who wants to pursue the arts.

I’m a film major, but I don’t consume as much film as I do comedy and TV. My comedy influences include the Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Mel Brooks, Larry David, Dave Chappele, Ricky Gervais, Dana Carvey, Marc Maron, Conan O’Brien, John Mulaney, Sarah Silverman, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert...

For TV shows: VEEP, Barry, Fleabag, Atlanta, Master of None, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, Succession, Girls, Seinfeld, Game of Thrones, Rick and Morty...

LK: Film is so hands-on, and most classes changed dramatically with the switch to Zoom. Describe the impact of the March 2020 lockdown on your film classes and projects. What kinds of things unique to film students had to change? DC: The period of January to March was a very slow, then exponential realization that the world was falling apart. I was supposed to edit a student short. My assistant editor was my dear friend Alex Maytin. They were yet to shoot, but the production was underway, and Alex and I were preparing to tackle the footage. It was an ambitious project and it honestly seemed monumental. Little did we know that the lockdown would dwarf our problems completely.

When school announced it was going virtual, Alex and I started brainstorming a potential remote workflow. He was gonna merge and organize the footage, mail it on a USB and I would edit. Like, we really thought the production was still happening. Needless to say, it didn’t.

Everyone in the school had to take on their own projects and oversee it from start to finish. People chose to make documentaries, short narrative films, I decided to make a small series of sketches titled Under Quarantine.

LK: What has filmmaking been like in the era of COVID-19? DC: I think the lasting impact on the film industry will be distribution. We were already moving in the direction of streaming services. But I think the presence of COVID-19 has accelerated the process. My prediction is that studios and creatives will probably lean away from film and into miniseries. I don’t really mind that. Storytelling is storytelling, whether it’s a 120-minute movie or a three-episode hour-long miniseries.

LK: How has your personal approach to creating and studying changed over the past year? DC: I’m definitely not alone in saying I’ve grown a lot in the past year. What changed the most is my approach to learning and creating. I’ve come to the conclusion that almost every skill is learnable. If you want to get good at something, all you have to do is take the time to do it. Last semester, I had a lot more time I could dedicate to my schoolwork (just by removing the time it takes to walk to and from class). I made some stuff I was really proud of. I found a love for animation. I think I have more patience for overcoming learning curves now.

LK: What has changed for the better? For the worse? DC: There are a couple super small silver linings if you look close enough. One of them is the accessibility and flexibility of education. For most of the classes I was taking, the transition was rather smooth. If I’m taking an animation class, and we’re all using our computers anyway, why don’t we take advantage of this great technology and just meet virtually?

LK: How has the transition been for professors and faculty? In what ways have they helped make accommodations for students? DC: The professors have been incredibly accommodating. Earlier this semester, I tested positive for COVID and [it] wiped me out. I emailed all of my teachers and within a day, every one of them responded with empathy and get-well wishes. Through extensions and exemptions, I was able to catch up and now I’m back! It’s also cool that the faculty are conscious enough that not everyone has access to the same level of technology.

LK: Has there been anything you've learned or had the opportunity to experience because of the impact of COVID-19? Personal or film-related? DC: I don’t know how much of this is related to COVID-19 but I have been pretty introspective lately. I’ve been slowly coming to terms with the Asian-American experience and how race has affected me. With this topic in mind, I started writing a TV pilot for my class. I guess that is one of the benefits of being an arts major. Be it COVID-19 or racism or any problem, we have the luxury of being forced to process our emotions.

LK: Finally, what inspires you and how do you work to overcome the weight of the pandemic on your college and creative experience? DC: I take everything one step at a time. And I try to remember that so long as I’m doing my part to keep other people safe, that’s all that really matters. Control what you can, set a good example for others, and let go of the rest. And creatively, so long as I have access to tools I can use to make stuff, I’m satisfied.

*To read this article in it’s original, full-length format or to check out other great Vindicator content, visit thevindi.com/post/film-students-and-safe-sets.

#TheVindi #the vindicator #film and media #Engaged Learning #Cleveland State University #cleveland state

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1115

survey by vintagekid

Name: Robyn.

Happy with it? I am now, but I certainly wasn’t as a kid. Other kids were cruel and would tease me solely for my name, which made it hard for me to socialize. I got the same bad Batman jokes too many times and I also got called a boy. These seem petty now, but as a kindergartener adjusting to life in school, it had been traumatizing and made me wonder if my classmates were going to remain the way they were for the long run which no 4-year-old should be mulling about, really.

Do you wear stilettos? When I get the chance, which isn’t very often at all. But I do love stilettos.

How important are looks to you? I find this question very vague, but generally looks matter to me to a certain extent, like how I’d want to look nice and proper for a job interview or for formal occasions such as weddings. Relationship-wise, I also think I have to feel a level of physical attraction towards someone for me to consider seeing them.

How often do you download music? I don’t anymore. I stream all my music.

Can you name a philosopher? Socrates.

What would you do if two unicorns tried to whisk you off to candy mountain? I just looked this up and this is apparently in reference to an ancient viral video, like it was around before viral videos were even a universally-acknowledged concept. That said, I don’t have a clue how to respond to this lmao.

You became the deciding vote in an election, which party would you go for? I don’t base my voting decisions on parties because the party system in my country is a tragically broken shitstorm in which every single party rallies the same values and principles, just executed in their own – and usually poor and unsustainable – ways. I do my research on each candidate, see how they answer in debates, look at laws they’ve authored, see which marginalized groups they proactively support (if they do), and decide from there.

Do you have a bzoink account? I don’t but I’ve been a semi-regular visitor since like 2009.

How many phone calls do you typically make in a day? Zero. People usually call me.

What song are you listening to? Tell Me It’s Okay by, surprise surprise, Paramore.

Do you understand things others your age do not? I don’t know. Maybe. Everyone’s bound to understand some things better than others.

Do you hate people that label themselves? Why would I hate that? And why would their chosen label be my business?

How many windows do you have open? None. There’s plenty of mosquitoes at night, so even though the cold evening air would been pleasant to have we have to keep the windows closed by nighttime.

How superstitious are you? Not at all.

If you were in Harry Potter, which house would you be in? I’ve been told either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

Which comedian can always crack you up? It’s not a habit of mine to watch comedians.

Are you nagged about being on the computer too much? Not since I was a teenager. Since college I’ve been doing most of my work, if not all of it, through my laptop, and I think my parents understand that I have to use it all the time.

Do you feel bad about anything you've done lately? Nothing comes to mind, no.

What's your texting bill typically like? My SIM is prepaid, so it works the other way around. I put load credits in it only if I know I’ll have to call/text/surf regularly.

What song did you/do you want played at your wedding? Turning Page by Sleeping At Last.

Do you have a lot or hardly any lines on your palms? Idk, a decent amount I guess? I don’t think it hits either extreme.

What's your favourite word? Poignant.

Are you allowed to swear in front of your parents? Yeah. They’ll shoot me a glare sometimes, but I’m in my 20s and...they know they can’t really do anything about it anymore lol.

Do you eat apples? No.

What are your addictions? Coffee, I suppose.

What are some words you use in daily life? I use intensifiers often, like very, really, super, absolutely, etc. I’m also big on expressions hahaha like oh my god, seriously, for real, and ugh.

Do you look things up on Google constantly? Yes.

Where do you get your music from? Spotify. Sometimes YouTube if I wanna look for a leak.

What do you think of people with afros? That they are people with afros...? I don’t really know what you’re looking for me to say, lmfao.

survey by charey-chas

Do you like getting your picture taken? Not for the most part. My body instantly gets all frozen and awkward when a camera’s placed in front of me, which I hate because I do wish I could have more photos of myself around. Is your phone anywhere near you? It is not, actually. It feels great and I really should start making it a habit to keep it away from me entirely on weekends. Do you ever enjoy going to school? In my first school, I enjoyed going mainly (and probably only) for my friends; but Catholic school was predominantly a torturous experience. The rigidity isn’t something I look back fondly on, and it felt like being kept on a tight leash for 14 years. College was a lot more enjoyable in every way possible. I liked going to (most of) my classes and learning as much as I loved the vibrant org culture and the general freedom that comes with university life. Have you ever gone on a road trip? Lots. The Philippines is a relatively small country and unless you want to jump to a different island altogether, there are many provinces you can readily travel to by car. Who do you get along with best in your family? Nina, my sister. Then my dad. I clash a lot with my mom and I don’t talk to my brother. Based on your personality, what animal do you think you'd be? Cats and I don’t get along very well hahaha but I think I’m similar to them. Would you ever buy anything from an infomercial? Maybe once, just to be able to say that I have. Have you ever made a snow angel? No, because I’ve never seen snow before. Have you stayed in a hotel in the last month? No. We had a brief getaway in Tagaytay but we switched things up and went to rent a condo, instead of book a hotel room, for a weekend. What's your most comfortable outfit? If I want to go for comfortable, I usually go for my rompers or jumpsuits. Do you text or IM more? IM these days. Would you rather listen to music or play it? Listen. I have no music-playing skills whatsoever. Have you ever been in a hot tub? Sure. Do you like pizza? LOVE IT Are you sleeping in your own bed tonight? Yes. If not here, the couch. But most likely it will my bed tonight. Are any of your friends having a sleepover right now? I doubt it. Angela and Hans had an overnight stay in Batangas a few days ago for their Valentine’s shenanigans though, which I guess kinda counts as a sleepover. Have you ever been to a house party? I don’t think so. That’s something I missed out on in my college days, but I don’t mind. Do you listen to your iPod or the radio when you're in the car? I think I keep a good balance. If my phone’s battery is not very high I’ll rely on the radio; and sometimes I’ll sync my phone’s Spotify to the car as well.

survey by charey-chas

What song is stuck in your head at the moment? RAVI’s BUM. What's your fathers' middle name? He doesn’t have a second name, but I’m not sharing his legal middle name on here either. How many hours a day do you spend on the computer? On work days, I’d say 8-10 hours. On weekends, maybe a little slightly less than that since I do like getting off the laptop sometimes to rest my eyes. Could you live without the internet? People from the past managed to live without it, so I know I can. It would just be extremely inconvenient; and having been dependent on it for such a long time now, I would likely be clueless on how to navigate most activities. What's something you're really into? Learning about cultural differences!! That’s why reading survey answers has always been fascinating to me. I would love a website that dives into the various everyday behavior people observe in other countries, but the ones that do exist use like 20- or 30-year-old sources, so they aren’t even relevant at all anymore. What's the last movie you saw in theaters? Knives Out. Have you ever seen a movie in 3D or in an IMAX theater? Just once. It was Denise and Leigh’s 18th birthday treat and they brought us to watch Doctor Strange in 3D. Do you prefer skirts, shorts, or skorts? Shorts. Have you ever vandalized? Just a few school chairs in grade school, but otherwise I’m too paranoid for vandalism lol. What's the longest you've stayed up? Maybe a little longer than 24 hours. Who'd you have a sleepover with last? Gabie. When's the last time you baked something? Nearly a decade ago. Our oven was new at the time and I wanted to try baking cookies. Do you like to dance? When I’m alone. Do you scratch mosquito bites, even though you're not supposed to? Yup. Are you afaid of spiders or do you like them? I mean I’m not fond of them, but I also don’t scream and run away when I see them. I just don’t care for them for the most part. What's a pet you've always wanted? I’ve only ever wanted dogs, and now I’ve got two of them. Do you like mice? Not really. Would you ever get a tattoo? Sure. I’ve been considering it for a while now; it’s just a matter of being able to save up for one. Do you prefer to walk in the street or on the sidewalk? Street, if it’s bare and safe enough. Otherwise if I’m in a busy city with regulations and all I’d obviously rather be on the sidewalk. What's your favorite t-shirt? My CM Punk Best in the World merch. Who did you last think about? I remembered Deina when I was thinking about the tattoo question. She got a pawprint tattoo on her wrist shortly before her senior dog passed away and ever since learning about it I’ve also been thinking about getting the same tattoo. Do you like giving hugs? I love giving hugs and it’s an automatic response for me whenever I see someone I love, which is why Covid is such a torture for me. Do you prefer hardwood flooring or carpeting? Hardwood. Did you/will you get a car for your 16th birthday? No. I got a car when I was 17, around six months before I started college. Have you ever eaten a worm? No but I’d be willing to try.

#survey #surveys #a few short ones in one post

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