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softblushywarbunbun · 5 years ago

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Howl (MC x Mitsuhide)

There was a white wolf.

She didn’t know when it had gotten there or where it came from.

Something told her that it had been there since her birth, something loud and forceful, but she shook it off.

That couldn’t be right.

She didn’t remember it being there since the beginning- but she did.

She remembered both.

Why did she remember both?

How did she remember both?

She tossed and turned restlessly in her sleep, sweat beading on her face, the wolf watching victoriously from the corner. You could almost say it was smirking, but- but that was impossible. There was no way a wolf could smirk.

The wolf was there when she woke up, there when she fell asleep. There when she went to school, there when she came home. There when she was hurt, there when she was happy. It was there all the time. She called it Asteris. She didn’t know why, she just knew that it sounded like such a pretty name, all exotic, and its eyes reminded her of the middle of aster flowers, golden and shining, watching her at all times. She also thought it might like to have two names.It had a surprising affinity for human food, able to chomp down apples and drink soup with the best of them.

It was her companion. At least, it became her companion, after a time.

Her parents were gone. She didn’t know where they had gone, just that she had woken up one day, and they were gone. When she asked her neighbors, they said that she had always been the only person in the house. No one else lived there. No one else had lived there as long as she had lived there. They were certain of it.

Eventually she stopped asking.

There had been a boy, one time, who hadn’t taken ‘no’ very well, and who’s hands had gotten a bit free in their placement. She had kicked him away and run home crying, and the next day, he had been gone.

When she asked about him, they didn’t know who he was. They were certain that there had never been a boy like that in their town. They asked why she wanted to know, she never explained.

She hated to admit it, but she was the tiniest bit glad he was gone.

The wolf stayed even closer to her ever since then.

She went to college.

The wolf stayed by her side.

She went on a date.

The wolf waited patiently by the front door for her to come home, leaping on her with a joyful yelp and licking her face all over excitedly.

She got all A's and went out to celebrate.

The wolf didn’t come near her for an hour. She could almost say it was pouting.

She graduated college and went out to celebrate.

While out celebrating, she met someone and had a one night stand.

The wolf growled at her whenever she tried to come near him for the next week.

She got a job.

The wolf insisted on coming with her every single day.

It scared off a good percent of the people who thought they knew better than her, which she appreciated greatly, scratching him behind the ears until he was panting, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

She got a promotion.

The wolf jumped around and yipped excitedly along with her.

She met someone and brought them home, then invited them to stay the night.

The wolf broke every window in the house, yet when she saw him, he didn’t have a scratch on him.

They lived many long, happy years, her wolf and her. The wolf stayed happily by her side through everything.

She never married. The wolf wouldn’t allow it. Every time she brought home a date, the wolf broke everything it could possibly find in the house, and healed miraculously.

Every time she stayed over at a man’s house, it ran away from home for a month at the least.

She found that she missed it, despite all it had done to sabotage her relationships.

It had helped her, in more ways than one. It was her best friend. Everyone at her work was too weirded out by the fact that she brought a living animal into work every single day. The only creature that had stayed by her through the mysterious disappearance of her parents and anyone who bothered her, including that one boy long ago.

So she never married. She didn’t think it was worth losing her only friend.

She confessed this to the wolf, and it seemed to grin victoriously.

Something was nagging at her, something insistent. It was saying again and again that something was wrong, that her wolf wasn’t normal. That nothing normal could be that… that intelligent. That sometimes it seemed a bit too human. That something was very strange about how those people had disappeared right after she had confessed tearfully to the wolf how they had bothered, bullied, humiliated her. That it was strange that she could remember both her childhood with and without the wolf. That it was strange that her parents had suddenly disappeared.

She stubbornly ignored it. She refused to believe it. It just- it just wanted the best for her, that was all. If it truly was behind the disappearance of her parents, that just proved that they weren’t good enough for her. No one was. No one but the wolf. It was the wolf and her against the world. Only them.

The world would just have to deal with it.

She reached her 60th birthday, spent the night crying about how she was getting old, how her best days were behind her.

The wolf stayed by her side the entire night, licking at her cheek in reassurance and snuffling sadly.

“You’ll stay by my side, right?” she had asked it tearfully. It nodded and woofed happily.

She smiled and hugged the wolf gratefully, letting her tears fall into its soft fur.

She reached her 70th birthday, still working. People at her work had begun asking her why she wasn’t married yet. She sat through the afternoon with her head in her hands, wondering if she was really doing something wrong, if she should really try and have relationships, if she should try and meet someone. After all, a woman at work had confided in her that her mother remarried at 80, it was not like she would be doing anything strange.

When she suggested it to the wolf, it huffed and seemed to glare at her. Then its ears drooped sadly and it trodded huffily over to the corner where it lay there, motionless, looking over at her mournfully every few seconds.

She looked at it for a second, then began to laugh, getting up and following it over to the corner.

“Oh shh, you silly creature. I would never let someone get in between us, because- let me guess, if I did find someone, you would run away?”

The wolf nodded proudly.

She laughed, hugging its head to her chest. “That’s exactly why I won’t.”

She reached her 80th birthday, finally retiring with a very nice nest egg saved up. She moved into a nice little cottage in the European country. The wolf traveled with her. She refused to buy a ticket unless she could buy a second one for her wolf. She didn’t want him to be in a carrier in the back. He was worth much more than her. The people at the desk simply chalked it up to an old woman’s crazy ideas, and agreed, making her pay an extra forty dollars. She didn’t mind. He was worth it. He was always worth it.

She lived a comfortable last years there, with her wolf faithfully beside her, from morning to night. She got her groceries delivered, and didn’t own a computer, phone, or any other technology. She only went out of the house to sit on the rocking chair on the front porch, smiling calmly at the surrounding wilderness. She never took up knitting, as that was when she would have to admit to herself that she had truly moved to ‘crotchety old grandmother’ status. The wolf helped get her up in the morning, licking happily at her cheeks until she groaned and batted him away, waiting loyally by her bedside until she decided to finally get up, plodding slowly through the one-story home to the kitchen, making herself and the wolf oatmeal. The wolf jumped up onto the only other seat at the kitchen table, waiting for its meal, tongue hanging out and tail wagging happily. She set his bowl down in front of him, and he greedily slurped it down, licking the bowl clean as she watched fondly.

There was one night, during the winter, where she heard all sorts of animals outside her house, right outside her bedroom window, the wolf, previously sleeping calmly at her feet, shot up, howl joining theirs, lasting long after the others had stopped. She covered her ears and cowered away from him. So loud, too loud. It hurt.

The wolf trailed off after a while, howl fading into growls, fading into silence. The animals had gone. He turned to her happily, tail wagging until he saw her state.

Whining sadly, he padded forward and nosed at her cheeks. She didn’t notice that she had been crying until then. She didn’t mean to, but the howl, the howl was so angry, so sad, so many emotions at once, it had overwhelmed her. The wolf lapped at the tears, whining all the while.

She forced a smile through the tears. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry, you scared me, is all.”

The wolf never howled again. Animals never came near their house ever again, except for harmless ones, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks.

She was woken on the night before her 96th birthday, wrinkled cheeks creasing even more in a smile as she felt a long tongue lapping at her cheeks.

“Okay, okay, stop that would you, I’m awake!” she cried, laughing and pushing the wolf away. He dutifully stepped back a few paces. She sat up slowly, expecting to have to force her aching back to support her. But- that was strange. Her back didn’t ache anymore.

She brought her hand up to touch her cheeks. There were no wrinkles to be found.

Looking down at her hands, she saw them, just as young as they had looked in her twenties.

She looked back down and stifled a gasp of horror.

Her body, her old body, her 95-year-old body, was lying still below her, the chest rising no more.

She was dead.

She was really dead.

So, this is the Afterlife? she asked herself, looking around. Everything in her house looked the same, though slightly blurry, as if seen through a sheer curtain.

Her eyes passed her wolf and traveled on- then snapped back.

Standing above the shape of her wolf was a man. A white-haired man, dressed foreign and ancient, eyes the same burning golden as her wolf.

As she watched, his lips crept up in a smirk, and he stepped forward.

As soon as he did, the shape of the wolf disappeared, fading into the darkness

“Hello, my love,” he lisped, voice deep and seeming to reverberate in the empty space.

“H-Hello?” she asked, still surprised when she didn’t hear the age in her voice.

“I am Asteris,” he bowed deeply, smirk still wide. “The name you gave me, I quite like it.”

��I- You- Wha- You-” she babbled, eyes widening.

“Yes, do breathe, sweetheart. Not that it serves any purpose but to stop your rambling.” he said, sighing and reaching out a hand to caress her cheek.

She snapped back at the feel of his skin on hers, slapping his hand away. Well, attempting to. He caught it and grabbed her other wrist with his free hand.

“You- You were just a wolf! My wolf!”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and she flinched.

His gaze softened, but his eyes were still sharp.

“I was never just a wolf, my sweet little mouse,” he said, hand trailing slowly down to her neck, making her shiver involuntarily.

“I have been given many names, Mitsuhide, Snake God, Winter God, God of a Thousand Suns, but in truth, I am only one. I am the Nameless, spirit of the Winter, of Frost and Dark, Ice and Pain, Sadness and Snow, everything under the cold sun. And now you, my sweet, would you like to know what you are?”

She stared at him in horror. Her wolf had been a man. Her wolf wasn’t a wolf. Her wolf was a spirit. Her wolf was touching her. A man was touching her. The man-that-used-to-be-her-wolf was touching her. He was touching her neck. She was reacting to it. She was dead. She was dead and in her twenty-five year old body. She was dead. Her wolf wasn’t. Her wolf had been by her side all her life. But he hadn’t. The memories were fake.

“Shhhh, don’t overthink too much, you’ll hurt your head,” the man- Asteris- soothed, shushing softly and using his other hand to caress her cheek.

She nodded, then opened her mouth to speak.

“Wh- What am I?” she asked, unsure about the answer.

“You are mine.” he said forcefully, eyes flashing again. She found she didn’t mind it as much this time. “I have watched over you since you were but a screaming child, and I only found it fitting years later, to appoint myself your loyal-” he snorts, mouth twisting up into a smirk. “Watchdog.”

She stared at him.

“So- So the memories?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, then he laughed. “Oh my clever little mouse, I should have known that you would not fall for that. Yes, those memories were implanted in your brain by yours truly, in hopes that you might learn to love me. I am sorry about your parents, but it was a necessary sacrifice. You needed to be mine. They weren’t good for you, not as good as I am.”

She nodded, the admission he had just given about her parents going in one ear and out the other.

“I am not sorry for that one boy, though.” His presence seemed to grow, and his eyes flickered, his voice low and growly. “He touched where he shouldn’t have.”

She nodded again, this time in agreement, and relaxed slightly. He really did want the best for her.

“Why of course I do. How could I not want the best for you?” he asked, and she jerked her head back in shock. “Ah yes, a bit of a fun fact, from the moment you lifted yourself out of your body, all of your thoughts were revealed. I can read your darkest desires, the corners of your brain you hoped to hide forever.”

He stepped forward again, laying one knee on the bed next to her, and leaning forward, kissing her forehead.

“And what I know of your deepest desires? Oh, my dear, those could fill oceans.”

His lips are soft, she thought. Her brain was overloading a bit too much to think of anything else.

“How could I not? You, who took me in, gave the Nameless a name, kept me fed and safe, loved me for who you thought I was, just a loyal-” his lip curled in distaste, “mutt.” Then he smiled again, and it was as if the sun shone once again. “But no matter about that. I have waited years, and now you are finally.” His presence grew even more, and his eyes flashed bright. “All. Mine.”

He snorted quietly, a smirk crossing again over his features. “I fear I did act out a bit when it came to you and your… dalliances, but I think that can be excused, given the circumstances, no?” She nodded silently.

“And never did I expect you to bow to my whims, to keep yourself single, until the day you left this Earth. I could not be happier, pet. You truly have learned what I have been trying to teach you all these years. That you, everything about you, your smile, your laugh, your tears, your body-” He fisted his hand tightly in her hair, causing her to wince slightly. “Belongs to me.”

She stared at him in amazement and hurt fear, then opened her mouth to speak.

“B- But I wasn’t alone.”

He looked at her, simply raising an eyebrow in question.

“I had you.”

He smiled widely, eyes narrowing, releasing and patting down her hair, then bringing his knee off of the bed and holding out his hand.

“Isn’t that the truth, my little lamb. You had me. And you will always have me.”

She smiled, reassured.

“Come with me?” he asked suddenly, eyes boring into hers. “Come with me and be with me forever. Be with me until time bleeds dry. Be mine for eternity. Fulfill what you have been preparing for all your life, what you have been wishing for all your life. Be all mine.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he smiled sweetly at her, and her quip disappeared in a wash of realization that he was really her wolf. That he had been with her all this time, that she had spoken the truth, that she had never truly been alone, and she would never be alone ever again

She stared at him, soundless. A tick started near his eye, and he sighed. “Come, haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you want to repay all I’ve done? Don’t you want to be with me?”

She nodded slowly, a small smile growing on her face.

His smile matched hers. “Good. Now, come.”

After a moment more of hesitation, she pushed herself off the bed and found herself floating for a few seconds, before she landed on the floor next to the bed.

She reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away at the last second.

She looked at him in confusion.

“Wha-?” she asked, a hurt look coming over her face. Didn’t he want her with him?

He shook his head at her, smiling. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost call it cruel.

“Ah ah ah, not just yet.” he said sadly. “I want to hear you say it.”

She was completely lost now, and he sighed.

“Come on, little mouse, say it. Admit the very truth of your being. Say you’re mine.”

Her eyes widened in realization, and she smiled in relief. He did want her with him, he just wanted proof of her feelings.

She looked at her 95-year-old self, still lying motionlessly on the bed, and made a decision.

“I- I’m yours.” she admitted nervously, turning back to him.

His smile grew to impossible lengths, seeming to stretch past his cheeks, and he shuddered, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh, that’s good to hear.” he said, laughing. Then he held his hand out to her again, stepping closer.

“Come, little mouse. Be my prey. Let me be your God, your savior, your predator. Be mine.”

She smiled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly, slightly scared that he was going to leave, or that she was going to wake up, and this will all have been a dream.

Thankfully, he didn’t. He simply smiled and brought her to him, enfolding her in his arms, inhaling deeply.

“You’ve always smelled delicious, my sweet, but your surrender smells even sweeter.” he murmured.

Unable to see the smirk on his face, she smiled happily and returned the embrace.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

Not waiting for her answer, he snapped his fingers, and they faded out of sight.

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So, this was originally supposed to be for a 4 seasons Ikemen Sengoku writing collab that I was doing with @ikesenhell, @ikemenprincessnaga and @ikesenlemonadestandstories, and I was supposed to go 2nd, with winter, but then I went absolutely AWOL and left them hanging, so this is me finally posting and simultaneously apologizing so many times 🙏

This is one of my favorite stories that I’ve written, and I hope you enjoy, even if it’s over a year late ;_;

#mitsuhide akechi #Akechi Mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #winter #mitsuhide x mc #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen #so very sorry #ikesen fic #so very very sorry #tw: manipulation

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thecozywhaleshark · 6 years ago

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“I like it here”

A/n: OKAY so FUN FACT. I have recently found out that Tumblr has been a little shit and has deleted the three soft and fluffy fics that I submitted to @taetaesbaebaepsae over the past month when I was trying to decide if I wanted to start writing fanfic on a more regular basis. Luckily, I write all my fics in Word so I still had them and can re-post. Sorry if you have already read these, but I thought I would just re-put them up now. Okay, rant over. Enjoy! (1/3)

Word Count: 1263

Summary: Min Yoongi decides he likes your place

When you had first moved into your apartment, you admit, it looked unappealing. You were fresh out of college and had just begun a new job. It didn’t pay much, but it paid enough for you to have your own place. It was small, the ceiling was cracked, the floors scratched up, and the pipes often backed up due to age, but it was yours. It had a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a small living room, and that was all that you needed.

You had quickly made it as homey as possible for yourself, taking your bits of mismatched furniture and giddily organizing your space. Your space. You couldn’t get enough of it. You had bought the denim couch from a thrift store and salvaged the old fashioned floral armchair from the side of the road. Luckily your parents had let you keep your bed set so you didn’t need to worry about a mattress or a dresser. You had been so determined to make it a cozy space you figured out how to DIY colorful throw pillows from the sale fabric at JoAnn’s, hung fairy lights along the walls, put up your own bookshelves (with the much needed help of youtube), and arranged your plants around the sole window in your little living room. You put a basket of blankets in the corner, the top one which you had knitted yourself with the help of your grandma. You were only a beginner, and you were very proud of the mismatched squares and bumpy edges. You put your dollar store silverware in the drawers, your mugs and plates in the cabinets, and plugged in your coffee machine. Done.

When other’s started hanging out at your house, it wasn’t exactly planned. You and your friend Namjoon had become friends at a coffee shop you had both frequently attended, as you always ended up showing up at the same time. Eventually you two began to drink your coffees together, and you told him about your new job and he about his tours and what it was like to be the leader of a popular band. Your friendship quickly grew, and soon you guys were hanging out at each other’s places. Movie nights at his place, quiet at home work days and Sunday brunch at yours.

When he asked if he could bring a friend one time you didn’t think anything of it, and that was the day you met Min Yoongi. He was polite but so, so quiet. Nevertheless, you welcomed him with open arms and invited him into your small home. He quietly sat down next to Joon on the couch and they worked on their project, while you busied yourself doing your own thing.

With time, Yoongi started showing up at your place without Namjoon. It became routine. He would knock, you’d let him in with a bright smile, and slowly, he started to smile back. It took a lot of gentle touches and whispered words (because for some reason you felt like you would spook him if you talked too loud while he was working), but eventually he no longer went straight to work when he came over, and would take the time to have conversations with you over coffee at your kitchen counter (the coffee pot was always running at your place, lets face it, you had an addiction.) On the days he didn’t want to talk he would come in, sit in what had become “his spot” on your couch, and grab a blanket out of the basket, especially when he stayed late working on his music. When he wrapped them around his shoulders it made your heart happy, he had finally gotten comfortable.

You had gotten so used to Yoongi sitting in your house with you every day after work, that when the boys went on tour, you missed his presence. He skyped with you on occasion, but otherwise, you didn’t hear from him much. It was heartbreaking, but you understood. He was busy.

He knew he should try to talk to her more, but he didn’t know how. How do you tell someone that you miss them when you barely know them? Okay, yes, he had invaded her house to the point he was there every single day, and being cut off from her and the safe space she had created hurt like hell. But she was Namjoon’s friend, she had let him in out of courtesy, she was probably just too nice to say no when he knocked on her door. He was probably annoying her, she didn’t want him in her space every day. And as often as he told himself not to go back, the more he found himself there. Truth is, he just liked it there. It was cozy, there was always coffee going, on Tuesday’s there was bread day and thick cut sandwiches, and it smelled so much better than the stuffy air of his Genius lab, and… he would be lying if he said he didn’t like the company.

You weren’t one to be loud either, often putting on some soft soul music and working on your own things. He liked those days, where you both sat in your own silence, doing your own things, in the living room or at the kitchen table. He just liked being in your presence. He found himself starting to come over more and more during the day, and more often than once he stayed the night, falling asleep on your couch while working. You hadn’t minded you had said, but still, he hesitated.

He cut his contact with you short on tour, hoping to clear his mind, but every time he wanted to work on his music, he found his mind drifting, back to you and your leaky, dinky apartment.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, and eventually you began to think he had all but forgotten about you. You do miss Yoongi, but at least you still talk to Namjoon.

The day they are supposed to get back from tour, there is a knock on your door. When you open it, you find Yoongi, his luggage next to him. He had come straight from the airport.

He hadn’t planned on coming straight here after tour. He had plans to go to his own apartment, take a hot shower, pass out in his own bed. But when he hailed a taxi, the address he gave was yours. He just wanted to go home… but he knew this wasn’t his home. And the way he had treated you over tour, he didn’t know if you’d accept him. And yet he still found himself knocking.

“Yoongi?” you say, surprised.

When you opened the door, his heart jumped. You were in your pajamas, he could see the fairy lights were on behind you, casting the apartment in a soft glow. It looked warm and cozy and like heaven.

“Can I come in?” his voice is so soft, and you notice his body is slumped slightly in exhaustion.

“Of course you can,” You say, opening the door wider with a soft smile and helping him bring his suitcases inside. As soon as they’re inside the doorway, he’s pulling you into a soft hug, letting his eyes close briefly as he breathes you in.

“What brings you here?” you ask, pulling away from him, questioning.

He shrugs as he moves past you and slumps down onto your couch, pulling one of the knitted blankets over his shoulders. “I like it here.”

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brittle-bone-gabe · 5 years ago

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Two Opposites, But Two Losers: Chapter One - Two Months in

Chapter Two, Chapter Three,

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is a first-year medical student trying to start off on the right foot, but being up all night to study and pull through on his assignments increases his need for coffee; this is where he meets his “favorite” new barista, Richie Tozier: an art student with bad habits. (I will specify a possible trigger in the chapter titles if it calls for one).

Pairings: Eddie x Richie, Ben x Beverly, Stan x Patty, Bill x Audra, Bill x Mike

Read on Ao3: Here

Transitioning from high school to college wasn’t the easiest thing, fresh outta high school, most students would assume that it would be okay to stack classes upon classes. No, college would never be that easy; especially while stacking classes on top of a job. Studying seemed next to impossible, having to alter your schedule to make sure you can finish the classes for the day while making it to your shift on time… Nothing about being in college was easy. If anybody knew that it would be Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie’s had been attending Southern Valley University in Maine for six-years now, studying hard, attending every class… Well, that seemed to pay off, as Eddie was now in the university’s medical school program.

Needless to say Eddie didn’t do any partying at all during his past years in college, he couldn’t even imagine going to a party; alcohol, drugs… no, that wasn’t his scene at all. Hell, even in high school he didn’t do any partying. Not only wouldn’t his mother let him go anywhere she didn’t approve of, he was afraid of the germs and all the diseases his mother warned him about. So, no. Eddie didn’t have any desire to go to any parties and fuck up his life. Besides, with the extra classes he picked up in high school that counted towards college credits, giving him a slight head start in getting his associate degree, there was no time.

Being considered for the med school program in his first year of college was the best news Eddie had ever received in his life. Granted, he didn’t have many people to tell, as he was considered a loser in high school so he didn’t have many friends, but he did tell his mother. Sonia was… not thrilled about that. Ever since her son told her that he wanted to be a doctor she flipped out; trying to manipulate him into changing his mind, but once Eddie had his sights set on something it wasn’t going to be easy to change his mind. Sonia would get on his case, asking if he decided to change his major, even going as far as trying to call the university before he even started attending to force them to change it, but thankfully the school wouldn’t allow that, since Eddie had to be the one to make that choice.

Eddie tried extremely hard to stay home while he started college, but, of course, his mother made it a living hell. She had still treated him like he was in middle school even; setting a bedtime, checking his laptop and phone for anything to get him in trouble, insisted on driving him to school even though Eddie had his own car, hell, if they go out shopping Sonia insists that Eddie keep a hand on the cart so he wouldn’t get lost. It was Eddie’s last straw when Sonia went through his laptop, basically grounding him because he was listening to podcasts that she didn’t approve of. He had snatched the laptop away from her, stomped up to his room, packed his belongings and left without saying a word to his mother, who, the whole time, was trying to manipulate him into staying home. I’m sick, Eddie-Bear, you wouldn’t leave me while I’m sick, would you? When that didn’t work… How would you feel if I end up in the hospital on life support because I didn’t have anyone here to take care of me! How would you feel, Edward? You’re going to kill your mother! The psychological manipulation was hard for Eddie to overcome, but he had to remind himself she did this all the time and she seemed to be fine.

For an entire month Eddie more or less lived in his car and the universities gym showers. It wasn’t easy, but he didn’t have enough money from his job to get a place of his own, he didn’t really have many friends he knew well enough to couch hop or move in with. Eddie was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either live in his car, or with a woman who psychology abused him. The car was the best option. Unfortunately the dorms couldn’t take anybody in in the middle of the year, the deadline had been weeks before the semester started… oh well, Eddie would live.

Thankfully, one day while browsing a classified advertisement website, as Eddie had begun to do religiously, someone named Bill had posted about how he and his current roommate needed a third roommate since their old one bailed on them. Eddie didn’t really know Bill or his current roommate Mike, but the rent was reasonable, they rented a house near campus, he would have his own room.

After five years of living with Bill Benbrough and Mike Hanlon, it was safe to say they were great friends.

-----

Being in his first year of med school, all nighters weren’t uncommon, in fact, it seemed to be a natural occurrence for Eddie. Yeah, as someone whose job it was going to be to tell people that getting a full night's sleep would be important to their health, it didn’t count for college students. As far as he was concerned, coffee and all nighters were going to be a natural part of life for most people in their twenties.

Eddie was hunched over the desk in his room, his head resting on the opened textbook in front of him, snoring lightly, still holding onto the mechanical pencil that he had been using to take notes. Scattered across his desk were large, empty paper coffee cups from the small coffee shop on campus called Harvest Flavor. That place was a god send. Their coffee was better than that overpriced coffee company, pretty cheap too. All of those cups of coffee had helped Eddie stay up until four in the morning, but like clockwork, he crashed as soon as the clock struck four.

He snorted himself awake, his eyes wide staring at the pencil that was still in his hand. Did I fall asleep? When did I do that? He sat up, his back cracking in the process, keeping his eyes closed for a moment since the light in his room was still on and burning his eyes. He dropped the pencil onto his textbook, using the palm of his hands to rub his sore, tired eyes. Eddie looked at his Apple Watch, it was a little after six in the morning. Great. Only two hours of sleep, and his anatomy class didn’t start until eight-thirty, so obviously he had some time to kill.

When would Eddie break this habit of staying up all night? Maybe when he felt like he was doing adequate in his classes, mainly cell biology. Eddie couldn’t help but feel like he was falling behind in his classes, but none more than cell biology… Basically, if Hell were a class it would be that one. Just this past week alone he’s been staying up just to study extra hard for that one class, but no matter how much studying he did it didn’t feel like it was enough. If this is how his first two months of med school were currently going he couldn’t possibly imagine how hard the rest of the program was going to be.

No… no, he could do this. He needed to do this. Not only because this was his dream career, but because he really wanted to piss off his mother. He couldn’t wait for the day he graduated medical school just to show her his MD. That was the pettiness that was chugging Eddie along.

Grumbling, Eddie thought that maybe it would be a good idea to study a bit of his anatomy class before going in today. However, there would be no way he would be able to keep himself awake like this. No, he needed some coffee to push him through the rest of the morning. Eddie checked his phone, hoping that Harvest would be open this early. They opened at five-thirty in the morning, thank God. That was lowkey the only coffee place Eddie liked.

Knowing that Bill and Mike were still sleeping and also needed to get up soon, Eddie quietly moved around the house to get ready to head out. He grabbed the clothes he had set out the night before before he started studying and went to take a quick shower. He was great at tip toeing around… until he accidentally knocked over every possible bottle in the shower. Eddie had stayed still, his soapy hands still tangled in his hair, staring down wide eyes at the bottles that laid on the tub floor. It had sounded like a bomb had gone off, and Eddie held his breath, hoping that that didn’t wake anybody up. He let out a sigh, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, finishing up his shower.

Eddie dressed in an oversized blue knit sweater, black jeans cuffed up over his ankles, with his black Converses. It was a simple outfit, but Eddie was still tired despite taking a shower, which normally woke him up, but it didn’t seem to do the trick today. Yup, he needed coffee and he needed it now.

Before leaving the house, he grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, even though he wasn’t planning on driving to Harvest. Nah, it was spring, the weather was starting to warm up, and since Harvest was literally right on campus near the house. No need to waste gas going there. He had thought about bringing his backpack and textbooks with him to Harvest, but he decided he wasn’t going to stay long; just get his coffee and leave.

Eddie started walking down the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his jean pockets. Along the way there were a couple of balls of snow left behind from the previous snow fall from a week ago that had refused to melt into the ground. Of course, Eddie couldn’t help but kick the snow, sending snow and small bits of ice across the ground. The sun was just barely peeking up over the trees, which were in the progress of growing leafs back. Spring certainly was Eddie’s favorite season; it gave him a sense of new beginnings, something he certainly felt when he started college and escaped from his hypochondriac of a mother.

Approaching the familiar, old building of Harvest, Eddie couldn’t help but notice a tall guy with shaggy, curly brown hair, and glasses. He was leaning up the side of the building, holding a cigarette to his lips, taking a puff before dropping his arm to his side, blowing out the smoke. Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes, he thought that smoking was the most disgusting thing a person could do to their bodies. He tried ignoring him as he was walking past him, but Eddie could literally feel the man’s eyes on him, as if he was watching him go inside. Eddie had his hand on the door handle about to go in, but since the guy was looking at him…

“Y’know…” Eddie started, meeting the guys gaze, who had the cigarette up to his lips again, “that shit’s back for you, right?”

The guy had a slight confused look on his face for a split second before giving Eddie a shit-eating grin. He flicked his cigarette into the street before straightening his posture, folding his arms over his chest.

“Good, maybe I’ll die faster,” the man said, still not letting that grin go.

Honestly? Eddie wasn’t expecting that response, he was expecting for the guy to flip him off or just tell him to fuck off. Eddie blinked a few times before going inside the coffee shop. He knew that a lot of the humor around college was the oh, I hope I die, jokes, that didn’t mean he understood it, or could tell when someone was actually joking. This guy, however, it was clear he was joking. What an asshole.

Once inside, Eddie noticed that nobody was there; no customers sitting at the many seats, nobody behind the counter, just Eddie and the quiet music playing over the radio. It was actually peaceful. While waiting, Eddie took out his phone from his back pocket, debating on whether or not if he should text his roommates Bill and Mike to see if they wanted any coffee while he was here, knowing they loved the place as much as he did, especially since Eddie and Mike came here almost every late afternoon to grab a coffee. Eh, he decided against texting them, assuming that they were still sleeping and probably didn’t want to be bothered.

When Eddie looked up he saw the same guy from outside now leaning behind the counter. He was now wearing a stupid dark brown apron with a namebadge on his left said that read Richie T.. Great… he worked here. It was as though Richie didn’t drop that stupid grin from the moment he flashed it outside to this moment and for some reason it really pissed Eddie off.

“Nice to see you again after all these years,” Richie said playfully, standing up straight when Eddie came up to the counter while pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“You washed your hands, right?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, it was like the hypochondriac he had worked so hard to destroy broke through for just a moment.

Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What are you, my boss?” There was a small silence between Richie and Eddie, he snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I washed my hands.” He held up his hands, turning them over as if that was going to prove his hands were squeaky clean. Richie’s stupid grin was replaced with a smile, still looking at Eddie. “What can I get the cutest morning bird I’ve seen all week?”

Eddie wasn’t expecting that, like, at all. Was he flirting? Or was he being nice? ...Or was he making fun of him? Oh, to be able to reach over the counter and punch this tall bastard in the arm. Instead, Eddie just glared at him, as if he was saying that he wasn’t going to fall for Richie’s joke.

“If I’m the cutest morning bird you’ve seen all week then you must not get out much,” Eddie shook his head slightly, tsking, “that’s so sad.”

Well, now it was Richie’s turn to be stunned. Normally people didn’t fire back at him whenever he made his stupid jokes or comments, other people would just roll their eyes and tell him to shut up. Richie would be a liar if he said he didn’t like the fact that this small guy in front of him could throw back the shade just as quickly as Richie threw them. Thinking about it, Richie almost had an issue thinking of a comeback.

“Short, small, and grumpy? Where have you been all my life?” Richie asked, pressing his face on his hands as his elbows were leaning on the counter. He waited a couple of seconds before he laughed when it was quite obvious that he couldn’t come back with anything. ‘Whatdoya want to order?” He finally asked, standing back up.

“Can I get a Latte Macchiato triple espresso.”

Richie quickly punched the order in on the computerized register in front of him, the screen reflecting in his glasses.

“Name?” Richie asked even before Eddie managed to pull out his wallet.

Eddie looked up at him, blinking as he was still tired and for some reason had an issue processing what Richie asked him.

“What?”

“Name…? For… for the order.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Hmm… I think that’s too long of a name to fit on the cup, but I can tr-”

“My name’s Eddie,” he quickly interrupted him before Richie could finish his stupid joke, handing him his card so he could swipe it on the register. He put the card back in his wallet when Richie handed it back to him, he slipped a dollar into the tip jar that was sitting on the counter.

“Cute morning bird made me rich!” Richie said loudly as he began writing Eddie’s name on the large sized cup, a smirk on his face as he turned his back to Eddie to begin making the espresso.

“Shut up, Richie!” A woman could be heard from the backroom of the kitchen. She walked past the hole in the wall that connected the front line to the kitchen, opening the door and made her way over to the register. Richie laughed as the red, short haired woman punched in on the registers time clock. Sorry, she mouthed to Eddie, rolling her eyes as she turned back around to go back in the kitchen. Before she left, she made sure to pinch Richie’s side.

Richie turned around, the espresso in one hand, while checking the Apple watch on his other wrist. “You know this shit’s bad for you, right?” He asked playfully, handing the paper cup over to Eddie, who had a slight pout as he took it from him. “Why do you need such a huge coffee in the morning? Early shift?”

As much as Eddie wanted to come back with something, he held his tongue, as it sounded like Richie was actually trying to make a real conversation with him.

“Nope,” he answered simply, deciding quickly that he would stay here to drink his espresso rather than go back home. He took a seat as far away from Richie as possible, but Richie was still pressing on.

“What? You got class or something?” He didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, almost as if his mouth was on a motor. “Yeah, I have a class after my shift, totally not looking forward to it. Didn’t study for my test at all.”

Richie was talking so fast that Eddie could barely process what he had just said.

“Uh… no,” Eddie finally answered, turning in his seat to look at Richie, who was leaning against the counter again, “yeah. Class later. All nighter.” He took a sip of his drink as Richie opened his mouth again.

“Not worth it, my dude, trust me.”

“You are such a liar,” the woman standing in the kitchen at the hole in the wall. Richie’s eyes went wide, surprised to hear Beverly talk shit about him while they had a customer in here, normally she saved it for when nobody was inside, “you spend your nights at parties. Not worth it. Shut up.”

Richie closed the window between the kitchen and the front end.

“Aaannywaaays…”

“All nighters are basically part of my degree.”

Richie had opened his mouth to ask Eddie what exactly what degree was so important that he had to have all nighters all the damn time. Before he could ask, a group of college kids walked in. Lowkey, Eddie was happy that Richie was distracted, nobody should be that energetic this early in the morning.

Now that there were other people in Harvest, Richie wasn’t as talkative as he originally was, now only talking to the woman who was in the back through the hole in the wall. Which was fine with Eddie, he was desperately trying to wake up, the espresso was certainly helping. He felt more awake and alert, enough to go back home to study for his class in a couple of hours. More than anything, Eddie was happy that Richie’s attention was off of him, he didn’t particularly like any attention on him, it made him feel awkward and like he needed to keep everyone entertained.

Eddie swirled the paper cup in his hand, making sure that there wasn’t any espresso left before standing up. He made sure his table was cleared before throwing the cup away in the trash can by the front door. Once again, he could feel Richie’s eyes on him, and he was expecting him to say something to him before he left. Honestly, he wished he wouldn’t, the group of people were sitting on the other side of the coffee shop, but the place was small enough where they could hear whatever words were to come out of Richie’s mouth.

He quickly tried to get out the door before Richie said anything, but he unfortunately wasn’t quick enough…

“Bye, Morning Bird!” Richie said loudly, waving with a huge annoying smile on his face.

Eddie didn’t even turn around to look at him, he hunched his shoulders together as he was quite embarrassed since he knew the group was now looking at him.

“Bye…” he mumbled before heading out the door, his face red as he did, almost tripping on the way out.

“What’s your problem, Trashmouth?” Bev asked her best friend, leaning out the hole in the wall.

“Hm?” He asked, turning around to look at her, adjusting his glasses. “What?”

“Why were you picking on him?”

Normally Richie was pretty chill with the customers. Especially if they were regulars, then he would basically treat them as if they were guests in his own home. Surprisingly, Richie had a great customer service attitude, so that’s why Bev was slightly shocked over how he was treating Eddie.

“I always act like that towards customers,” Richie reminded her, sitting on the counter, facing her as he swung his legs back and forth so his heels lightly bumped into the counter.

“Nah, nah, nah… That was… different.”

Richie couldn’t help but roll his eyes.“To be fair, my sweet Bev, he started it.”

“How the fuck did he start it?”

“Alright, check it. I was minding my own business, right? Smoking outside on break.”

“We don’t get breaks.”

“Shush. As I was saying, I was smoking, right? He comes up to me and is like… you know that shit’s bad for you, right?” Richie did his best Eddie impression, but it didn’t land, only causing Bev her turn to roll her eyes.

She snorted. “I mean… he’s right.”

“You smoke more than I do!”

She flipped him off before going back to get the treats out of the oven before they burned.

-----

By the time Eddie got home it was almost six-forty-five, the entire walk home he was pondering about everything that just happened at Harvest. He’s been going there all the time and never, not once, has he ever seen Richie or the woman with red hair working there before. Well… to be fair, he supposed, he never went so early in the morning, only in the late afternoons. Richie… What a fucking asshole. He talked too much. Too goddamn much.

Walking inside the house, Eddie had expected the living room lights to still be off, as he wasn’t holding his breath for anyone to be awake yet. Surprise, surprise, when Eddie entered, he saw Bill sitting on the couch with his laptop in his lap, looking focused on whatever it was on his screen. Strange… Bill was never up this early. If Eddie knew that he was awake he would’ve brought him home a coffee.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, dropping his keys on the long table in front of the front door, slipping off his shoes, “isn’t your class at ten?”

“I fo-forgot to do my homework last night,” Bill answered, not taking his eyes off of his laptop screen, “w-why are you awake?”

Bill’s stutter was getting a lot better than it used to be when Eddie first met him almost five-years ago. Normally it got worse whenever he was anxious, sometimes the stutter slipped naturally. Apparently it was awful when he was a kid and made talking somewhat impossible to the point where Bill didn’t even want to open his mouth. Occasionally he went to a speech therapist, but Bill’s convinced it didn’t do too much.

“I was up all night, I needed coffee.”

“Did you go to Harvest without me? Fuck you.” Bill looked over at Eddie and flipped him off, Eddie returned it as he moved into the living room, plopping into the recliner chair that was deemed his chair.

“The guy working was a dick though. Very loud,” Eddie started, rocking the chair with his feet, leaning back, his eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

“You think everyone is a dick though…”

Eddie didn’t say anything in response, he just hummed as he leaned the chair all the way back. He was just going to shut his eyes for just a minute. Well, it turned out there was no studying getting done before class this morning.

#my fic #reddie #richie tozier #Adult Reddie #Eddie Kaspbrak #Ben Hanscom #Bev Marsh #Beverly Marsh #Stanley Uris #Bill Denbrought #Mike Hanlon #it #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #College AU #it fanfiction #It fanfic

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cupofteaguk · 6 years ago

Text

if i could tell her

summary: Jung Hoseok is just trying to pass his philosophy class, yet ends up with so much more.

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: college au, fake dating au | fluff/angst

warnings: slow burn, hoseok is a fratboy in this fic, this fic is a mash of a tutoring with fake dating what can i say, and yes the title comes from the dear evan hanson musical

word count: 16k

It’s not abnormal to wake up in a space that is not his own, considering his life and what he did just to feel any sort of rush of pleasure, awakening in an apartment and atop a bed with a touch too many scents that only makes the hangover pierce even deeper at his skull. He arises, a groan barely leaving his lips as he sits up, rubbing at his head and looking down to see that he wears nothing under the sheets. Again, all part of the typical one-night-stand escapades he participated in.

However, what is not typical is the way the bed feels cold, empty without the presence of the other figure sleeping opposite of him—someone he almost would not have missed had he had woken up in his own room, someone he might have forgotten had it not been for the vague memory of a girl underneath him, a name he might have been gritting between his teeth in the haze of his lust. Kathy, was it? Or Kat? No, the longer Jung Hoseok sits there, the more confident he grows in the fact that the name certainly had been Karly.

The physical appearance of the girl remains blank on him, no matter how desperately he tries to rack his consciousness, tries to remember the scene of the party and what she did to catch his attention. There must have been something, something hidden within the corners of his mind, perhaps a glance or a smile or a dance move or a joke. Either way, the answer refuses to present itself to Hoseok at the present moment, which is fine because aforementioned Karly is absent to spare him from that awkward situation.

Still, he remains motionless for a few more seconds, counting down to see if the girl—Karly—is perhaps just in the bathroom or making breakfast, doing anything within the apartment that could make an escape on Hoseok’s part awkward. Yet he doesn’t hear anything, fails to make out those telltale signs that leaving would be a bad move. So he straightens up, feet falling upon the carpet with a gentle sigh, and manages to find his clothing littered across the room. Hoseok makes quick work on dressing himself, pulling on his shirt, tugging on his jeans, slowly making his way to the bedroom door and down the hallway. The apartment is quiet, and he is momentarily stunned that this Karly girl would just leave him alone in her home, that she would be so trusting of someone she did not know personally.

That is, until he walks into the kitchen and finds that he is most certainly not alone in the apartment, that there is a certain someone sitting at the kitchen counter—a certain beautiful someone.

“Woah,” Hoseok greets, taking in the sight of you: philosophy textbook propped open and overhard eggs hovering over your lips, hair in a bun with the stray curls cascading down your face, eyes wide and fixated on his frame. If he hadn’t been enduring the aftermaths of a particularly bad hangover, then he’d realize that the gaze you were giving him is one of vague recognition and not a morning after ‘let’s share breakfast and have sex after this’ type of ordeal. He doesn’t really realize anything beyond the fact that you are extremely pretty and while he certainly doesn't remember the act of sleeping with you specifically, he wishes he had. “Are you Karly?”

You actually laugh at that, a beautiful sound that immediately leaves him to believe that he most definitely would have remembered every single second, every single detail, of fucking you. “Karly is my roommate,” You say, shutting the philosophy textbook in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

The name strikes a bell in his mind, but he lacks the mental capability to place it. He tries for his own laugh, immediately wincing when the noise makes him feel like he's just been struck across the back of the head with a shovel.

You straighten slightly, detecting his discomfort at once as you slide yourself off the bar stool you've been situated at, heading for the overhead cabinets to make a grab for a glass cup. You fill it with water, grabbing a bottle of pills and dumping two out into the palm of your hand before resting both on the opposite end of the counter. “Here, those should help,” You say, gesturing to the items before residing yourself back on the stool.

He manages another laugh, one much smaller and is really more of just a breath of air escaping his lips. “You seem very familiar with all of this,” He notes quietly, approaching the counter and grabbing the pills.

He lowers the glass of water, only to find that you are staring intently at him. “You think you’re the first guy to sleep with Karly?”

He doesn’t know how to answer the question, or if he’s meant to answer it at all. You give him one last lingering look before opening your philosophy textbook once more, clearly comfortable with the silence that has grown between the two of you once again. Hoseok finds that he doesn't necessarily mind watching you read, finding that you have this little crinkle between your eyebrows to show your level of concentration, how easy it is for you to tune him out, and he can feel the corner of his lips quirking up.

“I was referring to you,” He says at last, voice lightening up slightly as he leans across the counter and for a moment, it feels as if he’s back to being Jung Hoseok—too many parties under his belt, too many girls to keep him grounded, believing he could get anyone and everyone with just the right presentation of words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, although I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

If you’re impressed (or unimpressed) with his attempt to stir some sort of reaction out of you, he doesn't get the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you flip through a few pages of your textbook, barely sparing him a glance, as if Karly’s one-night-stands hitting on you was something you were only entirely too use to. Finally, you look up at him. “If you forgot that I sit next to you in philosophy, Hoseok, I doubt you’d be able to remember me under any other context.”

The smile on your face shows just how little remorse you hold for him, as if you had been expecting him to lack the ability to place you in his life. The news is certainly a surprise, which is why the best thing he can manage is a very intelligent, very coherent: “What?”

You jut your chin out a little. “Philosophy with Professor Tong? Every Monday and Wednesday?”

He knits his eyebrows together, searching his mind. “Yeah, but no, I think you’re mistaken. I always fall asleep in that class and on the rare occasion that I don’t, the girl who sits next to me aces every exam, highlights all her notes, and has some sort of dumb flower notebook—oh.”

He bites his tongue when you grab something from underneath your philosophy textbook, flashing the flower notebook straight from his memories and immediately making him feel vaguely like a jerk. Mistaking someone for someone else isn't necessarily the best way to start a relationship. “Do you mean this dumb flower notebook?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side, throwing it back down onto the table. “I just like to be organized and pass my classes.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok says, at least having the decency to show a level of guilt at the downward spiral his conversation with you is going. “But, I mean, is it fair to hold me against the fact that I didn’t know we had class together? Like I said, I fall asleep most of the time, and it’s not like I’m trying to get on a name-to-name basis with any of my peers. We’ve probably never even spoken to each other before—!”

“We’ve had class discussions a bunch of times,” You interrupt dryly, gaze having resumed back to your textbook, although he doesn’t remember seeing you look down. “You once told me that the two kinds of evils are alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You exhale in a laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes without contempt, not seeming to mind his inexperience on the subject matter, which only makes his own heart speed up slightly at your surprisingly playful attitude. “I suppose not, from a subjective standpoint.” Then you shift in your seat, making a grab for the cup of water you have rested along the side of the counter. You take a sip, flickering your gaze up to see Hoseok using the silence to take a sip of his own water. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding the whole ‘I don’t know what’s going on in class’ deal, otherwise I’m assuming you’d be freaking out a bit more about our exam coming next in a few days.”

Hoseok chokes on his water, coughing violently as the liquid travels down the wrong pipe and he desperately longs to find his breath again. You watch in silence, watching the way he lightly pats his chest, watching the way he takes deep inhales and exhales to calm his heart to regain control his body.

“You okay there?” You inquire.

Hoseok coughs one last time. “W-We have an exam in a few days?” He asks, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Yep,” You say, your lips coming together to pop the p at the end of the word. You make work on picking up that dreadful flower notebook and flipping through some pages until you come across what you’re looking for. Turning the notebook at a 180 degree, you slide it across towards Hoseok. “We also have an essay due at midnight on Friday. Altogether, it’s worth about thirty percent of our grade—!”

“Shit,” Hoseok curses under his breath, taking in the long list of different concepts, theories, names, studies, and readings that will be on the upcoming exam—all of which he knows absolutely nothing about. “What’s the essay about?”

“Something about if criminals should be held morally responsible for their actions,” You say with the shrug of your shoulders, as if you’ve already finished the essay and have been finished with the essay for weeks now.

Hoseok is quiet, and must be quiet for a beat too long before you lean forward on the counter, immediately giving the boy a whiff of your scent: kind of floral and sweet and light and he’s floored from the sensation. How could someone smell this good first thing in the morning? Immediately, his mind starts to wander—he wonders if you wore perfume, what kind, and what you included in your laundry detergent. He wonders about your morning routine, if you had a boyfriend, what your major was, why he had never noticed you before, how you managed to stay alert in all your classes. He wonders if you work, if you did other things to occupy your time and he wants it all, he wants to be a part of your life more if it means getting to see you eat egg in the morning or getting to watch you tie your hair up in this bun, if it means getting a whiff of your scent over coffee.

“Hoseok, are you alright?”

He blinks, barely able to catch you staring at him, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, before he’s turning away and forcing himself to study the Philosophy terms that might as well be Chinese characters for all the sense they were making to him. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I guess I got caught up in all this work and just started blanking out…”

You lean back in your chair, taking back the scent and he thinks he can officially put a label on the flower you’ve taken after. Definitely lavender.

“It is a lot,” You agree. He catches you furrowing your eyebrows out of the corner of his eyes and he wonders what idea you are brewing up in that mind of yours. “If you want, I could give you some pointers for the essay and help you study for the exam. It’ll be difficult because there’s only a few days until the test, but we can try our best.”

“Would you really?” He inquires incredulously, snapping his head up to meet your gaze. You aren’t entirely looking at him, your eyes are shifted elsewhere and he wonders how often you actually go out of your way to do this—to offer your help to someone like him who is in desperate need of it. That thought fills his heart with the sensation of… something. For now, he just decides to think of it as gratefulness. “Y-Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks a lot.”

The pair of you lock eyes across the counter and he watches the way you run your tongue over your lower lip for a moment before your teeth come out to gnaw at the soft flesh. Your gaze is broken by a distraction that seems to catch your attention because you’re flickering your gaze down to your phone.

It doesn’t matter if whatever on your phone holds any importance to you; it’s enough to break Hoseok out of his reserve, to let reality come crashing down. What was he doing? Yeah, he knows that he’s just taken up the offer on homework help from someone who clearly knows what’s going on, but what happens after that? Hoseok is not blind to all the social aspects of groups and circles that only continue to remain loosely true in college—there’s a reason why the pair of you have never interacted or have never crossed paths. It’s because both of you ran in two completely different social circles and just had interests that didn’t normally correlate with one another. The only reason the pair of you have crossed paths in the first place is because you just so happened to have a roommate that didn’t think twice about pushing her way into Hoseok’s life.

Yoongi would probably reprimand him for overthinking the situation. It’s not like there was anything that was going to happen with you and Hoseok—you’re just a peer who is going to help him get through the next few days of Philosophy. The fact that you’re cute and attractive and give off a positive first impression, one that leads him to think that there’s more substance to you than most girls he meets who are just looking for a quick fuck, is something that he’ll have to work around. But he needs to pass this class, if only to keep him on track for graduation. After all, keeping his feelings in check shouldn’t be too hard right?

Right?

The following day is Sunday, officially five days before Doomsday aka a Philosophy exam and an essay that the boy has absolutely no confidence over. Still, he remembers what he has to do and he values the importance of his assignment as well as recognizes the sacrifices you’re making to help him out. So he shows up at your apartment—partially retracing his steps from memory and partially following the directions you’ve given him on a slip of paper.

Pulling out aforementioned piece of paper, he sees the address as well as your phone number scribbled down underneath. The paper itself is slightly crumpled from Hoseok having to pry the slip out of his roommate’s grabby hands just to make sure that Jimin didn’t try to look you up on Facebook after the former boy let it slip that he thought you were ‘slightly more than attractive’.

He doesn’t put too much thought into why he had been so insistent on making sure that Jimin couldn’t find a way to open any lines of communication with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to distract you, make you uncomfortable, expose you into his world—or maybe he just wants to keep you to himself, keep you his little secret. He thinks he knows the answer, but he refuses to admit it.

Instead, he finds your apartment, checking the number a few times just to make sure, before knocking on the door. It takes a second, and for a moment he worries that he had gotten the time wrong in his haste to see you and get started on the tutoring—or, really, just to see you in general, probably without even realizing it. Luckily, the door swings open to reveal a familiar figure that most definitely is not you but—!

“O-Oh hey,” Hoseok greets at the girl on the other side, not you but your roommate who he knows he fucked the other night but cannot seem to remember her name for the sudden life of him.

The girl smirks, and he runs his mind through a mental list of potential names. Kathy? Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. Katherine? No, that sounds even worse. “Jung Hoseok,” She greets, leaning against the doorframe. There’s something like actual surprise in her eyes and he gets the feeling that maybe you left your roommate out of the loop regarding his return to the apartment. “What brings you back here? I thought you didn’t take second rounds?”

Hoseok, who had not been expecting to get an invite to sex today, can feel himself flushing deeply at the offer. The girl at the door is right, he rarely ever comes by for repeats. He’s about to open his mouth to reject the offer, before another voice cuts in, one that he finds himself visibly relaxing to despite the relationship it holds in his life.

“Karly!” You exclaim, appearing by your roommate’s side at once. He breaths in a little because yes of course, that’s her name. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N,” Karly returns, breaking eye contact to stare over at you. “I don’t know if you guys have ever met before, but this is Jung Hoseok—!”

“I know,” You interject, flickering your gaze over to him only to find that he is still staring at you. “I invited him over—I’m helping him with Philosophy.”

It doesn’t take long for the passes of embarrassment to start flickering across Karly’s face at how she had assumed Hoseok’s visit was for something under completely different circumstances. It looks like she wants to protest, whisper accusations to you, do anything to take the target of tension off her back, but she merely settles with flickering her gaze between you and Hoseok. A muffled “huh” escapes her lips, but she steps away from the doorframe and allows the boy to step through.

You grumble something about grabbing your laptop from your room before turning down the hall and leaving Hoseok with Karly. For a moment, neither of them say anything, just basking in the awkward silence and knowledge that they definitely fucked yet not being able to remember the experience. Not that Hoseok actually wants to—especially now that you’re in his life, even if temporarily.

Even with the tension, even though he is the last person to know anything about Karly, it’s easy to see that she’s weighing something in her mind, preparing herself to say whatever it is that’s occupying her thoughts. Considering what she had said the last time she let her mouth run, Hoseok finds that he almost panics at the thought of having to answer a question, statement, or observation from her.

Once more, he finds himself comforted by the sight of you appearing from the hallway, the laptop tucked underneath your arm and the words absentmindedly slipping between your lips. “So, Hoseok, I think we should start with you telling me what you know so we can start to work around that…” You flicker your gaze up to find Karly still in the same room. You raise an eyebrow. “Karly, don’t you have a group project meet up today?”

The question starts Karly out of her trance as she fishes out her phone, curses, and dashes into her room. There is a moment in which neither you nor Hoseok breath a word to each other, that silence broken when Karly comes rushing back out. She yells something out that sounds vaguely like: “See you tonight” before it is followed by a slam of the door.

You give him a smile. “I hope she didn’t say anything to you.”

He shrugs, saying the first thing on his mind, one that so happens to be: “I don’t think there’s anything worse than knowing that you fucked someone, yet not remembering what that had been like.”

In spite of the bluntness of the statement, you can’t help but laugh. Or, maybe, his candor is what stirs up that breathy exhale from between your lips in the first place. “That does sound pretty awkward already.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done that before?” He inquires, the question meant to be light-hearted and a joke; but the suddenly tight smile you deliver makes him think he had to go and step out of the line. Again.

“Not really,” You say, shrugging your shoulders after a moment. The gesture looks like an afterthought. You turn slightly so that your back is facing him, indicating that follow up questions would not be allowed on the subject, even if for teasing that you most likely would not think is funny.

Why couldn’t he seem to get it right with you?

“So, like I was saying before, since our exam is going to cover chapters one to five, why don’t you tell me what content you are familiar with so we can at least try to build a foundation around that.”

Hoseok falls short at that, nervous both under your observing gaze and his own lack of knowledge in the field. Suddenly, the fact that he doesn’t know anything and that he had spent the past few months either skipping class or just not attending it only becomes more and more clear to him the longer he sits there.

You only continue to stare at him, watching him, waiting for any sort of response from him in regards in your question. He wonders what you’re thinking—if you think he’s stupid or irresponsible or wasteful of money and time. Yet, there’s nothing in your eyes that hold distaste or dissatisfaction, even when you raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s okay if you aren’t familiar with anything, you know.”

“No, it’s just,” Hoseok starts, although he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. You’re trying to spare him the embarrassment of the truth, the truth that he doesn’t remember anything from class, but his desire to prove you wrong is too overwhelming. To keep himself busy, he flips open the notebook he’s got reserved for this class, immediately landing upon a page full of words and lines and scribbles that dance back and forth across the surface. At first, he feels something akin to curiosity and confusion because he does not remember taking an ounce of relevant notes throughout the course but the longer he stares at it and takes in the words, the longer it takes for the realization of what the words in between these edges mean and he’s about to slam the notebook shut and write himself away forever but—! “Uh…” Hoseok starts, but you beat him to it.

“What’s this?” You inquire, already long since having leaned over to study whatever is written across his notebook. Hoseok doesn’t pull away or snap or do anything, really, he just sits there and lets your gaze flint across the pages and lets the realization dawn upon you that the notes he’s taken are not philosophy or remotely academic based at all but are more poetic and lyrical and string together a little too perfectly for these to be mere afterthoughts or something he only did when he was bored. So you open your mouth, your curiosity blocking away the social norm that mentions how maybe asking about something pressed between the spaces of a notebook were a touch too personal to bring up. Yet you do it anyways: “Are these poems?”

He winces. “Close, uh, they’re song lyrics.”

You flicker your gaze up and he jumps. When did you get so close? “You’re a lyricist?”

“Not a professional one,” He brushes off. “Hopefully one day I can be though.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes continuing to roam across the page he has opened on the table. For a moment, you don’t pry or flip through the pages or even touch the notebook. You don’t even look like you’re trying to soak in every word, which he almost finds odd. Any other person in Hoseok’s life would have done anything to catch more of his personal life, especially since he kept a majority of his feelings and his past under wraps. But even after realizing what lay underneath the cover of his notebook, he doesn’t feel that painful desperation to hide the words and emotions from you.

He wonders if it’s because of the trusting, open, honest, naive look that shines like the daylight in your eyes, the fact that you’ve already caught him at his worse (aka his walk of shame and discovering his shitty work ethic) and he feels as if there’s not as much to lose around you.

“Well, you are very talented,” You point out quietly, leaning back into your chair and delivering him with the kind of smile that doesn’t have him doubting the truth of your statement.

Still, his lips twist up into a faint, rare, smile. “Really?”

You seem to understand the gravity of his expression, must know that the boy who lives in his laughter and smirks and lips pressing together didn’t just hand out smiles for free, because the corner of your own mouth curls up right back at him. “Yeah.” Neither of you say anything, too caught up in this moment, in basking under the fact that your smile reminds him of starlight and all good things, and he wonders why he wanted to write you off and out of his life after that first class because he already knew that you were different than him. Sometimes, different could be good. Better, even.

You are the first to clear your throat, resuming your attention back to your laptop and opening it. “R-Right,” You start. “So, philosophy.” You train your gaze on the screen intensely enough that Hoseok can feel himself shifting in his own seat. “I guess, even just to stay safe, we should start at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok manages, looking down to study his fingers, long and lean, and bony around the knuckles but also so lonely on its own. “That’ll probably be best.”

“Alright,” You continue with the nod of your head, turning your laptop and he arches an eyebrow to find that you had started constructing a powerpoint for him. “Chapter one is about questions concerning God…”

It’s no secret that Hoseok hates philosophy and education in general with the fiery passion of a thousand suns—especially considering that his interests hardly corresponded with a field of general eds or speciality classes that the university offered. He didn’t need another class telling him how to download producing softwares that he’s been using since high school. He needs an internship, but he also needs the grades and the time management skills and the sports and his current job just to try and stay afloat before thinking about changing things up.

Given that he targets the academics as one of the many seeds of stress in his life, it’s no surprise that he barely finds the willpower to enjoy lectures and studying and tests, although this is a pretty common factor that resides with him and a majority of his friends. It’s hard for him to think that anyone could find the subjects taught at school fun.

But, then again, he really hadn’t met anyone like you—someone who could be so passionate about something yet not be annoying about it. He doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know if it’s his own desperation to have a grasp on philosophy or the fact that you’re actually kind of cute when you’re going on and on about freedom and determinism that could potentially be clouding his judgment. He doesn’t know what it is, yet it hardly matters because he’s actually enjoying learning about the different concepts and theorists and finds that he’s learning more in just three days than the three months that he’s been enrolled in the class.

Maybe it’s because the one-on-one interaction actually forces him to pay attention, or maybe it’s because you’re actually an attentive tutor who possesses the ability to explains things with such ease that his brain just naturally makes the connections.

Or, maybe, above all, it’s the fact that getting to spend time in your apartment, even if for schooling purposes, means getting to know you in all its minor details that you let slip or things that he just so happens to take note of. Like how excited you get when he is able to apply certain concepts perfectly to the topic being discussed, or how you use both your hands to cover your mouth when you yawn, or how you twirl your pencil between your fingers whenever you’re distracting or lost in your thoughts.

He finds that you’re also an extremely caring and compassionate individual, seen especially in the way you never fail to check up on him through various text messages or even when he’s sitting right next to you in your apartment.

You’re good at making him feel good about himself, about allowing him to feel positively about his academic accomplishments no matter how big or small they may be, which is why the pair of you are able to go through the five chapters as quickly as the pair of you do. Even with his other classes, homeworks assignments, work obligations—much like you—he finds that he looks forward to a new day and a new lesson from you. The confidence you instill in him, that he is able to instill in himself, provides as a turning point that guides him to your front door Thursday morning, that guides him to say, “I’m ready for that essay” as soon as you open the door. It’s the first time he takes such an initiation in the assignments, but it’s worth seeing the grin that overtakes your features.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires, slipping in through the opened door and setting his backpack down on the table so he can discard his jacket.

“Nothing!” You retort, trailing closely behind him. “I’m glad that you’re ready to work on the essay, even though it’s due tomorrow night. And we should do a review of everything you learned just to make sure you have everything down.”

“Wow, you can’t just let me have my moment, can’t you sweetheart?” He teases, deciding at the last second to add in the nickname he’s started addressing you by after the third day after he accidentally let it slip and you had merely laughed to show your indifference to the name. In a way, labeling you with such an intimate nickname to no protest solidifies the strange relationship you and Hoseok developed, one that had been created within the four walls of confinement.

“Not until you pass your exam,” You return back with a teasing curl to your lips. He’s use to seeing this part of you now after managing a crack in your facade, one of the joys of being within your company for long stretches of time not occupied with work or classes or other assignments.

It leaves almost a strange tickling, eating sensation at the pit of his stomach, where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after the exam passes him by. He had told himself in the beginning that he wasn’t going to let his feelings cloud his judgment, but he hadn’t predicted you would be so easy to get along with, that you would know more about him than some of his friends, that he would have been able to keep that emotional distance from you. You’re way too funny and energetic and alive to stay away from.

You keep up that same level of cheer and support from the side as Hoseok starts to cram down on his essay. You stay up with him to assist him with potential flashcards or last minute questions about theories, offering help in regards to new topics he could indulge into for this five-page essay on moral obligation. You bring your chair closer to his in order to read over his shoulder—the scent of lavender and the additional coconut conditioner from your shower only continuing to soothe him. You fall asleep on his shoulder, and he wonders what he had done to deserve you in such a vulnerable state.

A week shouldn’t often be considered a long period of time, especially when looking at the grand scheme of life and the existence of human existence and Earth in the long run. A week is probably just a blink, a second, a millisecond, definitely not enough to leave a claim or a mark upon anything. However, in spite of that, Hoseok likes to think that within the week (or, technically, five days), he’s been able to spend with you, it’s safe to say that the pair of you could consider each other friends. Or, at the very least, acquaintances. A pair of individuals with inside jokes and an easy air of understanding between the two of you, in which he thinks that he knows you and your body language and the air around you relatively well.

He’s not going to claim himself an expert on you, that he suddenly knows all the secrets you’ve been hiding from him and from the world, but he feels as if he can read you well enough to know that something is definitely up when he knocks on your apartment door to show off the A- he got on his exam—and you can only return his enthusiasm with a tight-lipped smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asks upon seeing that you weren’t going to celebrate your own amazing tutoring abilities with him, lowering his phone and looking at your expression.

You blink, shaking your head slightly, and giving him a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “O-Oh yeah, sorry, everything is fine. But congratulations.” You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it. And how about the essay?”

He opens his phone again to find the grade the professor had gifted him with. “B+!” He remarks brightly, following you into the apartment space as you turn around to make your way into the kitchen. “Not bad, you know, considering that I started the day before.”

“It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,” You say, smiling cheekily, but it still doesn’t reach your eyes and Hoseok wonders if he should be alerted or bothered by the fact that he is very aware of this. Instead, he lets himself continue to ponder about it as he takes a seat at your kitchen table and watches the way you move about the space, the way you fill some glasses with hot water before digging out his favorite tea bags to rest them in the liquid. There is a new kind of silence, the loudest one he’s ever heard and it eats so deeply at his skin that he pushes himself from the table and rounds the counter to approach you.

Without a warning, he gently grabs you by the shoulders to spin you around. At first your eyes are wide with surprise, but they fill with exasperation when Hoseok flicks your forehead.

“Yah!” You retort, pushing at his chest, eyebrows furrowing together. “What was that for?”

“I can practically hear the internal monologue you’re having from the table,” He points out. “And you’re acting weird—weirder than normal.”

You glare at him, shifting slightly to brush your hair back. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just… family stuff.” You shrug your shoulder, showing the first genuine signs of emotions today: confliction. It looks like you want to say what is on your mind, that you have to share the depth of your problems with the first willing participant. It momentarily strikes Hoseok in regards to how long you’ve been keeping this issue to yourself, considering that he’s been seeing you every day for the past few days. Rather than comment on it, he just keeps his gaze level with you, willing you to disclose your concerns with him. It works, because you heave in a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re looking at someone who use to think the two kinds of evils were alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

You snort at the memory. “Well, you weren’t ever really wrong. Just from a philosophical standpoint.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He replies, taking in a breath before deciding to reach out and gently touch the top of your head. He can feel your hair underneath his touch, just as soft as he had imagined, but it’s enough to get your attention and help let your guard down long enough. “C’mon, I promise I won’t judge. Out loud.”

“It’s just,” You start. “I have this family gathering tomorrow evening and all my relatives have spent the past few years pressuring me about getting into a relationship so I know that if I show up tomorrow without a boyfriend they’ll get that disapproving look like I’ve failed at my only purpose in life—like I don’t have other things I want to focus on right now. So, yeah, I don’t know, I’ve been debating on what to do for weeks now and I don’t even know if I should show up or not.”

Hoseok chews softly on his own lower lip. He’s never received that type of pressure from his family or friends about going out and getting a girlfriend—mainly because his friends were only too aware of what he preferred doing over the emotional stuff (the thought suddenly brings a nauseous sensation to the pit of his stomach)—and his family probably just entrusted in the hope that he would bring back a girlfriend one day. One day. They know his love for music is more secure than any love he could hold for a singular person. At least, right now.

He stares at you for a moment longer.

“You should probably go,” He points out. “I mean, if you don’t show up, your relatives will just assume that you couldn’t get a boyfriend and that’ll just be giving them all the power and no one wants that.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do then.” You grumble, a bit of a whining complexion to the tone of your voice. “It’s not like there’s a line of guys who’ll want to help me, or anyone that I trust enough not to make a fool of both of us in front of my family.”

Hoseok thinks about it, seeing the truth of your statement. He knows that you’re the type of person who keeps mostly to yourself, not because you didn’t enjoy the company of other individuals surrounding you, but because you were more comfortable on your own. It’s something that he’s been able to pick up, even if in just small pieces and small flashes—whether it be noticing how much calmer you are in the silence or your passing obsession with using headphones and music as a way to hide yourself away from the world.

He’s never taken you as the type of person with an overabundance of friends, but rather someone with a few select close individuals whom you entrusted everything to. Although he finds it hard to be in that position himself, given that it seems like his entire life is just surrounded by other people and finds the thought of being alone… well, lonely, he can’t help but think that lifestyle suits you and your shy smiles and the way you often like to curl up on the couch with a notebook after a particularly long day—!

The offer slips out before he can stop it: “I’ll help you out.”

You blink, staring up at him, eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding the angle that he’s coming from. “What?”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend for that family event,” He explains, shrugging one of his shoulders and realizing that he cannot bear to look you in the eye. Instead, he fixates his gaze on the electrical outlet directly behind you and hopes that his face is not as red as it feels. There a beat of silence a moment too long, but it feels suffocating and Hoseok scrambles, wondering how long it’ll take him to fling himself out the window of your apartment. “Actually, no, that’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything, I just thought I’d drop a suggestion—!”

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea!” You retort a bit too quickly yourself, and it shows in your expression. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly, and can’t look him in the eye either. “I-I mean, we’ve spent all this time together so it wouldn’t be too different from our interactions right now.”

“R-Right,” He says, unsure if he’s trying to convince himself or you because he had promised himself a week ago that he would do well in keeping his feelings in check and when that clearly hadn’t worked, any normal or sane person would know that the next solution would be to step away to try and write away those emotional attachments so what the fuck is he doing? Offering to be your boyfriend for a day—was he serious? “I mean, actually, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know how well of a boyfriend I could be, I’m not good with the whole relationship thing.”

“Me either,” You shrug, although your reasoning is a whole lot different from his. “We can just figure it out together, we have a whole twenty-four hours before the gathering.” You meet his gaze, looking a whole lot calmer and reassured than you had seconds ago, which is interesting considering that Hoseok still looks like he’s just been challenged to duel with a bear. “Hoseok, please? I don’t really trust anyone else right now not to fuck this up.”

“Not fuck this up,” Hoseok echoes, running a hand through his hair, the worry still prevalent although he had been the one to make the suggestion in the first place. The fact that you’re putting all this trust in him only makes him more nervous, more hesitate about letting you down, how he doesn’t want to disappoint you. But it does make his heart race, does fill him with the vaguest sense of pride, which is probably why he can’t turn you down, why he made the offer in the first place, why he keeps coming back to you.

“Please?” Your eyes are wide now, wider than he’s seen them before and you look like you’re about two seconds from grabbing his hands. Not that he would mind that. “I’ll buy you all the tacos you want.”

He scoffs. “Yah, you really think food is going to sway me?”

“If we go to taco trucks, then maybe?” You answer hesitantly. Rather than making a grab for his hands, you lace yours together. “Hoseok, please. Besides, you can’t just drop a life saving suggestion like that and just walk away.” Your eyes light up, which he knows cannot be a good sign. “Plus, you owe me! I helped bump your Philosophy grade up to a B!”

That is true, yet the argument of him owing you a favor is not the reason why he relents, why he lowers his arm and lets out a sigh to feign exasperation. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Your eyes brighten as you clap your hands together. “Really? Hoseok, thank you, it means so much that you would do this for me.”

You take your time to gaze up at him, bright smile overtaking your features, the gratefulness etched in your eyes and he responds with a pinch to your cheeks.

“I’m just in it for the tacos.”

As it turns out, and as one might have guessed, Jung Hoseok definitely does not agree to do anything just for three-dollar tacos that he could just as easily go out during taco truck season and purchase a handful himself. He definitely does not agree to do anything for anyone. Period.

So what the fuck is he doing here, on a Saturday morning, back at your apartment, your hand extended out towards him, fingers curling in slightly the longer he leaves you hanging because this—this—is just too much, too overwhelming, too—!

“Weird!” Hoseok whines, bringing his own hands close to his chest. Your hand is still being offered toward him, your knuckles and skin look soft and the space between your fingers look lonely and a hand has never looked so tempting before and maybe that’s why he’s being so strange and so hesitant. He knows he’s about to bite off more than he can chew, knows that this is all much easier in theory than actual practice, but he can’t help himself.

You roll your eyes without contempt. “C’mon Hoseok, it’s just my hand, it’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of any of your slaps before,” He bites back, although he doesn’t know why he’s trying to put up such a fight. This had been his idea to start with and his idea to do this with you, yet he’s the one being stubborn about it.

You pout. “Hoseok, this family gathering is in less than ten hours; we need to have at least some kind of practice on hand holding and relationship shit, I don’t want either of us screaming when the other tries to wrap arms around the other’s waist or something.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Hoseok adds, grinning, the smile diffusing when you shove his shoulder. “Ow, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

“Good.” You reply, offering your hand towards him once more.

Hoseok flickers his gaze from you to the hand settled between the two of you. He looks down at his own hand, already looking significantly bigger than your own and wonders not for the first time if this would really be a good idea before reaching to overlap his hand with your own. Strangely, the palms fit nicely on top of each other, even as everything around him feels as if it’s slowing down to match the chilling and overwhelming sensation of fingers lacing through the empty spaces.

He can’t tell if he’s sweating or the feeling of his heartbeat increasing dangerously could be felt through the skin. He really doesn’t hope that’s the case, especially since the last time he held hands with a girl was during some middle school theater production which went about as well as one might think—even considering the fact that he hated that girl to death. Now that he’s here, with someone who he most definitely does not hate, holding your hand, the experience is sending his brain in through a haywire.

Still, despite his own feelings to keep himself afloat, he can’t help but bask in the sensation of your touch. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed it until this moment, how nice and natural it feels to hold your hand like this, even though your fingers and palm are much smaller in comparison to his. It makes him feel protective and needed, but also reassured and comforted.

“You’re tense,” You point out, giving him a side eye, which is when he realizes that yes, he’s just about as relaxed as a board.

“I’m not,” He says instead, trying to hunch his back slightly to give off the impression of being slightly more composed despite the fire going on in his mind.

“Yes you are!” You fight back, untangling your fingers from his and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. It’s almost embarrassing how lonely his hand now feels on its own. “Hoseok, you have to loosen up otherwise we’re never going to pull this off.”

He lets out a breath. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not use to this, okay sweetheart? It’s not like there’s a FAKE RELATIONSHIP RULES FOR DUMMIES book at Barnes and Nobles that we could pick up and skim through.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “That would be a pretty good idea actually, you think we should go check it out just to make sure—?”

“Y/N.”

You close your eyes, shake your head. “Right, right. Okay. Here, how about we do a little bonding exercise that I learned while at summer camp.” You’re leaning over to the coffee table to make reach for your phone. “It’s where we look at each other for two minutes in complete silence.”

“Uh.” If the thought of holding your hand is more than enough to set Hoseok’s body aflame, then having to stare at you makes worries spring up in his mind. What if you caught his eye and read all the emotions he had tried to stomp away to a place where they would never have to see sunlight again? What if he can’t stop himself from staring at your lips and kissing you or whispering a dreadful secret that usually takes the form of three words?

However, before he can speak the first set of excuses that reach his mind, you’re already setting the two minute timer on your phone and turning to look at him. He’s expecting something dreadful and awkward and flushed cheeks, but once again he finds that he is pleasantly surprised. It’s definitely an unique experience, but it’s not uncomfortable or bothersome by any means. He finds that he cannot simply stare at one place for too long, even though you’re rather good at keeping your eye contact with him. He looks at your eyes, takes in the deep color that threatens to drown him, how he can count the number of specs that dance behind the orbs. Then, he decides to move on, taking in the sloping curve of your eyebrows, the apples of your cheeks, your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips—!

Panicking, he darts his eyes back up to find yours once more. It’s only two minutes of his life, but the seconds sure seem to stretch out. He watches the way you flicker your gaze between his eyes, an unusual touch hidden within the color, the occasional flicker downwards and he can feel his heart racing and plunging and compressing all in one when he mirrors your gaze and finds that you have been staring at his lips, just as he now is with you—oh fuck—!

The timer goes off.

You blink, pulling yourself away from the situation and bringing your attention to your phone to turn off the timer, leaving Hoseok alone with his thoughts over what had just happened and what could have potentially happened if time had been irrelevant. He leans back on the couch, watching you, trying to will his heart to calm down before facing you again. He allows himself two deep breaths in and out, offering his hand out to you this time.

You catch the gesture out of the corner of your eye and grin, reaching over to take it slowly, lacing the fingers together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to do. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You look at him, continuing to smile with all teeth and no hesitance, yet there is a longing touch of something crinkling at the corner of your eyes and there is something lopsided about your smile that he finds difficult to ignore.

Yet he does, just managing a smile and he squeezes your hand just enough to keep him grounded. “Yeah.”

Even with the brief overview of your family, a simple walk through on how the pair of you met, how long you’ve been together, even when the small practices on hand holding and arms curling around the waist, trying to do enough to plant an air of naturality between the two of you, it doesn’t feel like enough—although Hoseok is sure that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t come close to making him feel any more assured. It makes him wonder why he had decided to engage in something of this degree, why he would dare to make himself pretend to have feelings when he really does but he can’t have you know that. The complication of having to feign emotions that he actually harbors while acting like he doesn’t while he really does is enough to make his head spin.

All he knows is that he cannot seem to stop drumming his fingers, a nervous habit that he developed at a young age and something he just couldn’t seem to write off so here he is years later drumming his fingers on his legs, on the dashboard, against the back of your hand as he pair of you wait on the front porch of your relative’s estate.

“Don’t worry,” You say underneath your breath, as if your entire family could hear you through the door. “You’ll be great. Just don’t try to overthink it—just be yourself.”

Hoseok exhales. “It’s impossible to put ‘being myself’ and ‘overthinking’ in the same sentence.”

You give him a side glare. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what you really mean, but he doesn’t get to say that because the door swings open to reveal a figure who he recognizes to be your mother. “Y/N!” She greets, delivering forth a bright smile even as her gaze slides over and notices Hoseok by your side. “Oh, who’s this?”

You cast him a look. “Uh, mom, this is Hoseok, my boyfriend,” You introduce, turning to look at him again. “Hoseok, this is my mom.”

Your mom claps her hands together, looking ecstatic that you’ve (finally) been able to bring someone to a family gathering, and she isn’t afraid to voice that out loud as she gestures for the pair of you to step inside. A majority of the rooms are filled with groups of people, each engaged in their own conversations, but each take the time to say their hellos as well as bombard poor Hoseok with questions regarding his major, family life, friendships, his plans for the future. These don’t last long, thankfully, because you do well on dragging him away when he feels like he’s about to burst.

He’s too caught up in answering the questions, in trying to come up with decent answers that’ll impress your relatives that he nearly forgets about you until the pair of you are finally alone for the first time in almost an hour, both of you at the buffet table.

He’s in the middle of trying to reach for a wonton when, “Hey.” A nudge right into his rib cage. “Hey.”

“Ouch, what? What is it?” Hoseok returns, suddenly all alerts and careful eyes as he turns his neck slightly to look at you. You’re staring right back at him, taking in his cautious expression and worried front—the same one that he’s had since the start of this gathering. As casual as it may be, and as laid-back as your family actually is, Hoseok still feels like he’s been stepping on pins and needles since the start of this goddamn thing, since the start of the goddamn request that’s gotten him in this mess to begin with, since he discovered you at the kitchen counter in a time that suddenly seems so long ago.

“My aunts and uncles have been staring at you for the past twenty minutes,” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low and smile present, so your relatives would think you and Hoseok were discussing typical romantic relationship shit (whatever the fuck that meant) rather than planning on how to go about continuing to lie to their faces.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

You give him a side glare. “Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, romantic or something? Everyone is looking at you like you’re not doing enough.”

“I’m just doing what you taught me back at the apartment!” He protests, lowering his voice when he sees the warning glint in your eyes. “In case you didn’t realize, sweetheart, I’m just as lost and confused as you are. I’m playing this by ear just as much as you are.”

You make a face at him, one that he returns back with ease, until you’re reaching over to gently pinch his cheek. “Okay, how about this. We’ll just keep walking around, maybe talk to my cousins and my aunt over there. Put your arm around me.”

He sighs, trying desperately to think about all the free tacos you had promised him in exchange for this. He doesn’t try to think about how nice you feel underneath his touch, how warm and comforting and study you feel as you wrap your own arm around his waist, leading him through and making more conversation with your family. Even when the pair of you do find spots to sit at.

Yet, he still feels the impending weight of expectation on his shoulders, provided forth so lovingly from your family that takes the form of lingering stares and flickering eyes in a way that leaves him with the vaguest panic that your family isn’t entirely buying the handholding and quiet behind-the-scene bickering in the corner about how the fuck the pair of you were supposed to pull this off.

“Hey,” You say again, recapturing his attention as soon as the pair of you break away from the group once more with the excuse to throw away your finished plates, but also to engage in another private conversation. “Kiss me when everyone is looking.”

The forwardness of your statement is enough to get him to raise his eyebrow, although it’s not enough to mask the sudden racing of his heartbeat. “What?”

“My relatives are getting that disbelieving look on their face that I hate,” You explain, casting a sideways glance at them, to which Hoseok realizes that they’re all doing the exact same to the pair of you. “Please? Do this for me.”

He rolls his eyes to cover up the little voice inside of his head that says that he would pretty much do anything for you. Of course he would. Why else would he have agreed to take time out of his Saturday night just to convince your family that you weren’t as big a loser as they all seemed to think you were (although, honestly, you are a loser, but he means it more as a term of endearment because—oh, you know what, never mind).

So, for you, he flickers his gaze over to your family and can only catch a handful of them blatantly staring back at the pair of you before he is overcome with the sudden urge to follow through on your request.

Rather boldly, he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, stealing one last glance at your family before he brings a hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer, so close, but not close enough—he only manages a brush of his lips against yours before there are already butterflies and fireworks exploding in his stomach and behind his eyes. He only lets himself indulge in the lightest amount of pressure, the briefest graze of his tongue along your upper lip, before he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had come in.

He opens his eyes first, long enough to see you slowly peel your own eyes open, orbs gazing up at him with questions springing up behind the color like flowers taking in their first breath of spring, and although he isn’t aware of what his own eyes look like, he can only assume that he’s not too far off.

And if you hold him a little closer, grip his hand a little tighter, like you’re afraid to let go and watch him slip away, he tries not to pay attention to it and tries not to notice the way he feels the exact same way with you.

Walking to your apartment feels strangely like returning home, although he doesn’t entirely blame himself for this sensation. Truthfully, he’s spent more time in your space than he has in any other place throughout the duration of the week, whether it be with desperately trying to shove philosophy terms into his mind or training himself on how to hold your hand without simultaneously letting out all of his deep and meaningful secrets. He may roll his eyes about it or grumble about how uncool it is to your face, but he can’t really picture himself doing anything else now that he knows that you’ve been such an extensive feature of his life for a week.

This feeling leaves a strange and unpleasant sensation to brew in the pit of his stomach, the thought of what he’s going to do next when he steps away and no longer serves a purpose in your life plaguing his mind.

He must not do a good job of covering up his emotions, because he notices the way you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye in the car, the way you turn to him, the way your arm reaches to cross the space of distance, the way your hand finds his. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even have the mind to let you know that none of your relatives are in this apartment complex, that there is no need to put up a front and feel like you have to hold his hand out of sheer obligation, because he likes your touch and craves it and can’t lose it now that he’s been faced with all the goodness that happens while having it in his possession.

“Y-Yeah,” He manages after a moment, long after you’ve parked in your typical parking spot, bathing the pair of you in the darkness and the silence of the evening. “Everything is fine.”

The corner of your lips quirk up slightly as you try to untangle your fingers from Hoseok’s hold. “Okay.” You run the palm of your hands over each other. “You good to drive back?”

“L-Let me walk you to your door first,” He offers a little too quickly, but it’s worth it in the way you smile lightly, the way you nod and allow him to follow closely behind you as the pair of you make your way into the complex and into the elevator. There is an air of naturality that doesn’t feel too constraining, even as you both stand in silence, the movement of the elevator moving up providing background noise.

There is no pressure for conversation even as you lead him down the halls, even though he knows the direction by heart at this point. He doesn’t really know the purpose of his intentions, perhaps to extend this moment for a long as he possibly can, because Jung Hoseok may want to be a lot of new things because of you, but selfishness is a consistency he cannot stand to lose right now.

To him, it feels like you reach your front door too early, so he hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show in his features as you dig around your bag for your set of keys before turning around to face him once more. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you gesture to the closed door with your shoulder. “So, this is me.”

He smiles back. “I know.”

You nod, taking in a breath, steering yourself for the next set of words that are about to leave your mouth. “Hoseok, thank you again for today. You really helped me out and now I can just prolong on getting a real boyfriend, which might be good for my sanity, so thank you.”

“Of course,” He manages earnestly. “You helped me with my Philosophy grade, so it only seems fair.”

“You’d better work hard on maintaining it though,” You tease. “I won’t accept any excuses if you try to come crawling back to me.”

“I’ll miss you breathing down my neck though,” He retorts back with just as much of a light-hearted touch to his statement, because it’s the truth. Even though the pair of you still share the same Philosophy lecture, it still feels like as soon as he allows himself to walk down the hall, things would be different. “Hey, another thing…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You… you shouldn’t see getting a real boyfriend as an obligation,” He manages, scratching the back of his neck because this hadn’t been rehearsed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find the right guy no matter what—anyone would be crazy not to fall in love with you.” Myself included.

Something in your expression changes. Your eyes widen slightly, your lips part, you look genuinely taken aback by his words, as if you hadn’t expected anything of the sort; yet you don’t look angered or discomforted by it. Instead, you smile shyly, pressing your lips together and you cannot look him in the eye and he wonders if your heart is beating just as much as his.

So he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and willing you to meet his gaze, which you do after a moment of hesitation. Your eyes have taken on a glassy shade, a feeling hidden behind that is not unlike the glimmer he saw back at the gathering. There is a yearning that he feels in his own nerves, underneath his own fingertips, silently pleading him and guiding him forward. He cups the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he brings you towards him to press his mouth against yours—the sensation not unlike the kiss he delivered to you at the gathering. But there something more; both of you want more, and it shows in the way you grip his t-shirt this time, the way you lean forward to return his kiss.

It’s like swarms of butterflies have grown in his stomach, his heart expanding to the size of the moon for a different reason other than just pure adoration for you—it feels like something more earth-changing, a feeling more hardwired to another akin to eternity, like he could spend forever just kissing you and being with you and he wouldn’t mind one goddamn bit.

Both his hands have moved up to cup your face to keep you as close as possible and even closer than that, his fingers desperately trying to remember everything about this moment, from the way your neck as craned up to meet his mouth, the way he can feel your heartbeat against his skin.

“Y/N,” He grunts against your lips, the vibrations dragging whimpers from the back of your throat. “I-I have to tell you something.”

The sound of the front door opening immediately pulls both of you from your trane, sending a whirlwind of different emotions through his body as his first instinct is to rip himself away from you. It appears to be your reflexive decision as well, because you back up so sharply that you hit the doorframe. It allows him to see the flushed complexion of your face, the fact that he made you like that, but it also allows him to see that Karly is the one who had opened the door.

It’s easy to see the shock upon her expression, the momentarily flare of jealousy that goes off like an explosion behind her eyes, but that light disappears just as quickly as it had come, because she is suddenly back to being the attentive roommate Hoseok never got to see.

“Y/N, you’re back,” She says, training her gaze intently on you in order to gauge your features. “How was the gathering?”

You catch your breath, looking down to pick up the keys you hadn’t even noticed you had dropped. “U-Uh it went good. Great, actually.” You flicker your gaze over to Hoseok. “I-I should go.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

He exhales in a laugh. “I look forward to it. B-Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Hoseok.” You spare him one last glance before allowing Karly to drag you into the apartment.

It’s hard to categorize your feelings as you step in through the door and can barely catch the way Karly shuts the door behind you, too overcome by a tickling, fluttering sensation rooted at the bottom of your chest. It makes your fingers reach up for your lips, makes your mouth curl up at the corners, makes the longing sensation in Hoseok’s voice and eyes replay itself over and over again like flickers in the back of your mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Karly inquires softly, snapping you out of your trance as you whirl around to find her still lingering by the door. Her gaze is fixated intensely on you, not a ounce of remorse or envy or sadness hidden behind her eyes—instead, there is something akin to sympathy and that gets you to stall slightly with your movements.

“Karly…” You start, bringing your fingers together. “I just—!”

“I get that he offered to pretend being your boyfriend and all, and that’s fine, but pretend anythings don’t make out like that in front of an apartment,” She notes, gesturing past the door but you don’t need a reminder. “When did… that start happening?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I think something has always been there.”

“Are you in love with Hoseok?”

You dig your nails into the skin of your fingers, the fear of having to battle this question hitting you for the very first time since you started that… thing with the boy. You recognize that your friendship with him doesn’t necessarily sprout from the most traditional of means, but you like to think the pair of you have reached a good place, a stable setting, a relatively strong foundation. It’s why you trust him so much, even though you shouldn’t, why you’re so naturally fond and drawn to him, despite his reputation.

“Look,” Karly starts, her voice soft and soothing and clearly preparing you for some bad news as she takes the few steps in order to reach you. “Y/N, I really care about you, and I know your whole deal with relationships isn’t the most positive so I would hate for you to get hurt. I just, I’m just not sure if Hoseok is the best thing to be introduced in your life. I mean, look at him! Look at his reputation! If he and I hadn’t had sex that night, the pair of you might not have even met in the first place.”

You give her a nervous look, having completely forgotten that the only reason Hoseok was in your apartment in the first place was because he and Karly did have sex that night—and much like cold water you can feel the reality of the situation beginning to settle in. You are reminded of the difference you and Hoseok led in terms of interest, activities, and ambitions; how you believed in love and romance and Hoseok has never committed himself to a relationship, how Hoseok did not do the relationship thing, how he used them until they used up their purpose in his life.

It makes you think, makes you think if all of these things Hoseok has done with you has been part of an act, as been part of his desire to knock another girl off his list. He had been trying to flirt with you when the pair of you first met, perhaps he had tried to do whatever he could to get under your skin. It had worked.

You had played yourself right into his trap.

“Guys like Hoseok,” Karly adds in, reaching over to rest her hand gently on your shoulder. “They take innocent girls, ones who haven’t been hardened by life yet, girls like you, and he gives them a reason to make them wary. He doesn’t do the dating thing, I’m not even sure if he has the emotional capability to hold romantic feelings anymore.”

You look up and fixate your attention on Karly’s expression, seeing the truth of her words and the purity of her intentions and you find yourself consoling in it. After all, Karly is a byproduct of the same world that Hoseok lives, so it makes sense that Karly would have a closer hand in understanding the type of thoughts running through the boy’s mind.

Karly squeezes your shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re my best friend and I know that it’s best to let you know these ahead of time before you get hurt.”

“Do… do you think he’s just using me?”

She sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him return back to people the way he returns back to you. But I just… I don’t know, Y/N, he’s bad news—bad news before you met and he’ll probably just be more bad news once the pair of you move past this.”

You press your lips together, mind reeling over this presentation of new information and how a seemingly perfect day can go horribly wrong within the span of just a few minutes. There are so many questions you have, so many things you want to ask that it makes your head spin, but you simply nod and grumble something about going to your room.

In a way, you shouldn’t be mad at Karly for sharing her concerns with you, because Karly is one of your best friends and telling her not to be honest with you was something that you would never want to do to her. If anything, you should be mad at yourself for letting your mess with Hoseok unravel and letting yourself be blinded with the dose of reality you knew would come back to bite you in the ass at some point.

You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be so naive, to think that the world didn’t exist beyond the walls in which you and Hoseok used to isolate yourselves from the world, to think that the time you shared together could just carry on forever with no repercussions whatsoever.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, why would Hoseok actually want to date you? What kind of personal benefits would come out of that? He wouldn’t gain anything socially and people like Hoseok thrive off their social life. The longer you sit on your bed, letting Karly’s words and your own insecurities eat at the inside of your mind, the longer you can feel its poison settling in that you had to end things with Hoseok and that you had to cut yourself out of his life while you still could.

You wonder if it’ll hurt, but you wonder if he’ll even care.

With a sigh, you lay yourself atop the covers of your bed, curling up and only allowing the words of your roommate to sink even lower and lower underneath your skin. Hoseok has always been quiet about his feelings, always quiet about where he saw you and him in the long run, always quiet about whether or not you were actually of value in his life—all of which leaves an uncomfortable sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You needed to do this, if only to make it easier for you to let go, if only to let you swallow the pill of Hoseok’s real life with a bit more ease.

You know it’s the right thing to do for the sake of your sanity, yet you find yourself still dreading the thought of walking into Philosophy and seeing Hoseok and wondering if he has any idea. He probably doesn’t, probably doesn’t even realize what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks, probably doesn’t even care.

The thoughts are valid enough to drill itself into your mind with little resistance to the matter. Why would there even be a problem with trying to convince you otherwise? Doubt festers like a poison in your mind because Karly has a point. You and Hoseok are separated by miles and oceans and space filled with different activities and different interacts and different futures—you weren’t cool like him or talented or funny. You would never had the opportunity to talk to him or be with him or fall in love with him if it wasn’t for Karly introducing him into your life.

And now you were paying the price.

You don’t go to class on that following Monday. It’s a first for you, but the thought of having to sit next to Hoseok and have him smile at you and remain oblivious to your mindset only makes you nauseous and hurt. You know that the more responsible thing to do would be to confront Hoseok and just say the words that have gradually become more and more lodged in the back of your throat but you also can’t bring yourself to be upfront. Being upfront would make everything a reality and could potentially uncover everything that you’ve tried to hide away.

So you stay quiet and you stay away. You ignore Hoseok’s texts inquiring about your whereabouts and if you had caught a cold, you ignore his calls and when he shows up at your front door with polite knocks and stammering questions. You know that Hoseok isn’t stupid and you know that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away and yet you persist on.

It’s only a matter of time before Hoseok is able to catch you, able to find a flaw in your schedule of How To Avoid Jung Hoseok—but you have to admit that he seeks you out much quicker than you had originally anticipated.

Except you really hadn’t expected to find him in your apartment, although you don’t know why you’re so surprised. You had told him where the spare key was and had completely forgotten to move it after attempting to set your plan into motion. This just goes to show how little success your arrangement involving Hoseok typically go.

“Hoseok,” You manage to greet, finding yourself completely rooted to the spot as you practically stick yourself to the front door, the noise echoing through the silence of the apartment. You wish Karly was here to help you find your bearings but of course she’s out attending another party. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was always welcomed into your apartment anytime,” He says softly, a undertone of hurt in his voice but you do well in trying to ignore it. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days so I wasn’t sure if the offer still stands.”

You chew your lip, angling your head away from Hoseok’s intense stare so you could attempt to hide away from the full impact and full emotion dancing behind his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you,” You try, swallowing and knowing that you are terrible at lying to him.

“You haven’t been going to our philosophy class,” He reasons. “You always attend class.” He straightens off the kitchen table where he had been originally seated. “The only thing that changed between last class and the class you didn’t attend was…” He trails off, clearly in reference to the kiss that still makes your cheeks burn. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to hurt you? Because I’m sorry if I did, you’re honestly the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

“I-It wasn’t you,” You protest weakly.

“Then what was it?” Hoseok presses, stepping closer to you. “Is someone fucking with you? Is something on your mind? You know you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” He makes a move, as if he wants to grab you and keep you from drifting so far away even if you haven’t moved from your position against the door since arriving. But he must see something in your eyes that spell out just how much you’re lying to him that it keeps him from reaching out to you.

You press your lips together, trying to steel your nerves and make yourself stronger. “I can’t do this anymore,” You whisper, looking up from some faraway point in the distance to risk a glance at Hoseok’s expression.

There is a flash of something in his eyes, something that you are unable to catch before it flickers away. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” You whisper back. “Look Hoseok, we’re just from two completely different worlds and we both have different expectations for our own lives. You live your life the way you want to just as I do the same for myself and I think trying to avoid that will just be prolonging it.”

“Woah, woah,” Hoseok cuts in, bringing a hand up to the door to cage you in. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere,” You say, shaking your head a little. “It’s just, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

“You’re just you?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”

You shake your head, already feeling the flush of embarrassment beginning to hit your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I think you should leave now.”

Hoseok swallows, clenches his jaw together, something he only does when he’s desperately trying to understand something to no success. You’ve seen the expression more than once while tutoring him and just being around him so you have to look down before you can start to regret shutting him out.

“Y/N, please, try to help me understand,” He urges quietly, desperately, leaning in, cupping your face with one hand. “Please. You’ve become so important to me that the fact that you’re just shutting me out now is just so confusing and I don’t think I can handle that.”

You move to pry his hands from your face. “We’re just two completely different people from two different worlds and it’ll never work out. You should go.”

“But I just—!”

“Go.” You cut in, closing your eyes, a note of finality in your tone, letting go of Hoseok’s hand and moving to the side to leave the door wide open. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, doesn’t try to suck the answer out of you through puppy dog eyes. Instead he watches you for a few more seconds, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He recognizes your stubborn nature and knows how difficult it is to fight it. So he nods regretfully, opening the door, turning to look at you one last time, before finally taking his leave.

You are left alone in the apartment, staring at the spot that Hoseok once stood as you process everything and try not to tell yourself that you had just made a terrible mistake.

Jung Hoseok doesn’t try to contact you after that and for a moment, you are grateful. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you must mean that Karly’s previous accusations have been right and the boy is only now starting to realize that you have caught on. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you means that you can attempt for some closure and be able to end that chapter of your life without making too big of a deal about it.

However, like everything in your life that involves Jung Hoseok, there is flip side to every blessing and it’s as if life can never wait too long before attempting to bite you back in the ass.

Except this time, this particular moment just feels like the biggest bite the world has ever delivered to you.

If you had known an hour ago that walking into the coffee shop just off campus would result in exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid for a weeks now, perhaps you would have rethought your decision to enter aforementioned coffee shop in the first place. Maybe you would have rethought the schedule of your entire day, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid the shop and therefore avoid him.

Not just avoid him, but avoid those lingering stares he’s been giving you for the past few weeks—the touch of desperation that always seemed to hide in the inner corner of his eyes but worse of all that feeling you got in your chest whenever he was in close proximity. Like right now, for example.

All you know is that maybe, just maybe, turning around had not been the smartest trick in the book and you should consider yourself lucky for not dropping your coffee upon the ground. You have a tendency of getting carried away in the midst of a great shock, especially when it comes to Hoseok.

He’s giving you a wide-eyed stare, the kind that reveals the depth of his shock and how he had most certainly not been expecting to actually run into you today. Even though the pair of you still share class, you’ve always managed to escape before he could successfully corner you and it’s clear that he’s almost given up the prospect of trying to fix whatever had broken between the two of you.

At once, seeing him right here and right now, just reminds you of all the characteristics and qualities you’ve come to adore so much about him: from his warm, good-spirit to his dorky and careful habits that almost didn’t match the popular facade he gave off constantly in the halls. Within such a short period of time, you made him different and better—time and distance definitely has not come close to changing that.

“Hey,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Y-You aren’t following me, are you?”

“U-Um…” He stammers, returning your question with his own awestruck quality, his tone airy and unbelievable and you wish you would have better prepared yourself for a situation like this. The pair of you go to the same university and attend the same class and have come to know him better than you know yourself in only a week—how the fuck could you have not seen this coming? “N-No, I’m really not. I just… I just needed a caffeine fix.”

You nod quickly, holding up your own cup of coffee and gripping it a little too tightly with the hopes he won’t see the way your fingers tremble. “Me too. H-How have things been with you? It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” He agrees, trying for a shrug. “I, uh, just found out I got this job at the music studio in the city. It’s just for an internship, but I’ll get to organize music and meet producers so I’m pretty excited.”

The news of Hoseok’s good fortune makes you lower your coffee and lower your guard, lips parting and curling up and the hesitancy momentarily disappearing. “Really? Hoseok, that’s so great.”

“Thanks,” He returns breathlessly, lips curling up into his own, private smile—the kind that’s usually only reserved for you. “C-Can you stick around? We can catch up.”

For a moment, you blame the momentary race of your heartbeat on the anticipation you had constantly felt towards the thought of a moment like this and how hesitant you are. Of course you’re still feeling this way. After all, as soon as Hoseok walked out of the apartment, you had fully readied yourself to carry on with the rest of your life with the boy no longer in the picture. You had gone through the whole process of accepting your differences and coming to terms with the fact that things would never have worked out regardless of your beliefs and your hopes and the whole reversal process of your grief is not something that could be so easily mended over a cup of coffee.

So why does a part of you feel like it could? Maybe it’s the romantic part of you, the hopeful part that has always loved and believed in Jung Hoseok and the idea that perhaps he could return your feelings, the part you’re often too scared to think about that just wants to try and make things right.

All it takes is one lingering gaze upon his expression, to really see all that desperation and pleading in such close proximity for you, kind-hearted and whole and reassuring and much too good for this world, to cave. “Oh, alright.”

You try to ignore the way his eyes light up, the way the corner of his lips turn up for a second too long before he’s leading the way, gesturing to a corner booth big enough to house the two of you and private enough that you don’t have to think about any onlookers—a probably unconscious movement on Hoseok’s part that you find yourself appreciating. That way no one will see the popular, the charming, the star athlete, hanging out with the quiet, the studious, the nobody.

You swallow. You try not to think about those things, because thinking like that will lead to missing him, which would lead to wanting him back in your life, and you don’t think you could stand the heartbreak of having to let go of him again due to your own insecurities.

“So, how have you been?” He starts off, slow and steady and testing the waters, not knowing how far he can go without getting shut out again. It seems as if no matter how far he tried to separate himself, his mind always returned him back to that evening where his whole life changed, in which he tried to do everything afterwards to separate himself from his feelings to no true success.

You brush the hair out of your face, picking up your coffee in favor of looking at him because you have a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach that tells you he’s most definitely watching you and trying to generate some sort of noteworthy response. You wonder what his expectations of you are right now and you wonder if you’re any close to meeting it—you wonder if he’s hoping you would be willing to offer some sort of explanation pertaining to that night and you wonder if you’re willing to be that vulnerable.

“I’ve been good,” You say, nodding carefully, curious about how much would be appropriate to disclose to someone you used to not think twice about telling everything to. A part of you hates it, hates the wall that you’ve gradually started to build around yourself, even if it had been done so out of your own fears and insecurities of not being good enough. You decide to talk briefly about your classes before you find yourself accidentally going off about a recent situation that had occurred while you took a visit to the campus bookstore.

To go more into detail, you talk about talking into aforementioned shop looking for twenty books for some English extra credit assignment, in which said twenty books needed to be read and converted into an essay. You go into the difficulty of trying to find all those novels on your own, how you had attempted to stack one on top of the other only to have the whole thing fall in you, how you had received multiple bruises along your face and arm as a result. By the time the story is done, Hoseok is smiling fondly over at you, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

“You’re just way too clumsy for your own good,” He points out, lowering his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

His statement leaves you unable to stop from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I bet you must really miss me and all of this, huh?”

The question, meant to be nothing but sarcastic and light-hearted and your stupid, stupid attempt to rid of the tension in the atmosphere, produces only the stiffest laugh from the back of your throat. You lift your coffee, desperate for some kind of distraction to keep your hands busy, but you make the mistake of lifting your gaze to see how Hoseok is taking your stupid, stupid joke.

You stop short when you notice how quiet he’s become, how silent and unbearable your words have rendered him into and for a moment, you think that you are the one who has overstepped the line—which, considering everything Hoseok has subjected to you over the course of the week you had gotten to know him, is stating a lot.

Hoseok’s attention is focused entirely on you, lips parted slightly, and you swear you can see the way his breathing has picked up as if he’s trying to will himself to say something that could either make or break the next step of your relationship.

It isn’t until your own smile has diffused does he finally will himself to speak his mind: “You know I have.”

You swallow, looking down at your coffee cup and tracing your finger lightly over the rim, feeling the panic of Hoseok’s words start to settle in. “T-That was out of line for me to say,” You say, tightening your grip on the cup and starting to stand. A flash of panic flickers in Hoseok’s eyes. “I should go.”

“N-No, Y/N, wait.” Hoseok stands up just enough to make a desperate grab for your wrist. You stare back at him with wide-eyes. “Please, just stay for a moment. I haven’t been able to talk to you or even look at you for too long over the past few weeks and it’s been driving me crazy s-so please. Stop shutting me out. Tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“It’s really not you, Hoseok,” You state, staring down at the sight of his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “It’s me.”

“Bullshit,” He cuts in, interrupting you with so such a sneer that you find yourself looking up to study his expression. He clenches his jaw, trying to will himself to stay calm but it’s hard. “You don’t get to look at me like I’ve become your whole world and then avoid me and never talk to me again—that’s not fair.”

You try to pull your wrist back to no luck. “Oh, you mean like what you were going to do to me eventually? I was just trying to spare myself that heartbreak from letting you drag out whatever this is any longer.”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together. “Like what I was going to do to you? What are you talking about? I would never do anything to hurt you like that.”

“Well, why not?” You bite back. “Why would I be any different from all these other girls that you sleep with and mess around with?”

He looks pained. “Are you really asking me what makes you so different?”

“Of course I am! Why would I be different? I’ve got nothing going for me when it comes to you—I mean, you’re Jung Hoseok and I’m just me; you’re just as out of my league as you were when we first met. I don’t live like you so how could I ever be enough for you—!”

Without a warning, Hoseok tightens his grip on your wrist and steps out of his side of the booth, circling around in order to be as close to you as possible. “It’s because I’m in love with you, you fucking moron. I don’t care if you don’t live like me, I’m glad you don’t because I’ve always hated the thought of you only seeing me as the party kid, the guy who messes around with girls, or the guy who doesn’t even care because I care about you so much that I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, flickering your gaze between his eyes as if trying to read any potential sarcasm in his statement and you grow increasingly more nervous when you can’t find any of that. “B-But,” You manage. “I’m just me—!”

“Yeah,” He interrupts. “You’re just you—but that’s what I love so much. You being you is the only thing I’ll ever need. I promise. Please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

You flicker your gaze down to his lips, switching between his mouth and his eyes and knowing you can never resist him and that maybe Karly didn’t know as much as you thought she did. “Okay,” You whisper, nodding even after the words of confirmation leave your lips.

Hoseok’s own eyes widen for a second, his lips curling up into that breathless smile you love so much. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Yeah, I believe you. I trust you—and I love you too.”

He presses his lips together, but his attempt to diffuse his smile doesn’t work out. “So, is there another family gathering you need to attend? It’ll feel less guilty when we go knowing that we aren’t lying to them the next time around.”

You laugh, heart racing at the implication of his statement. “I know.”

#bangtan bookclub #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #jung hoseok scenario #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes #repost: workofteaguk

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kahlanmars · 5 years ago

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Bad Behaviour

Ok guys! I’m italian so I’m very sorry if I made some mistakes, it’s not my mother-tongue.

Yes, it’s about Morgan’s sister, my OC. I do not own anything about the MCU, RDJ or Gwyneth Paltrow. Sadly.

(Gif not mine)

1. BAD BEHAVIOUR

When I wake up everyday I’m perfectly aware that I’m one of the most lucky person in the world being one of the richest heiress alive. The last daughter of the great Tony Stark.

Everyone thinks that we, me and my sister, are going to be heroines. Wrong. We got everything from our father. The brain, that’s Morgan. I’m the bad behaviour.

Truth by told, Morgan is the perfect daughter. Not only she has a superior intelligence, the kind of intelligence that could build an armour in a cave, but she has our mother’s character. She’s always calm, delicate, careful. The eldest daughter.

When I wake up today, I sense it’s too late to have breakfast. Maybe lunch? …I hope not dinner. I’m used to wake up at midday after a party. Mary Stark, the troublemaker. Mary Stark, the party girl.

«MARY NATASHA STARK.» …Mary Stark, the girl who’s gonna be grounded for the rest of her life. A very furious Pepper Potts comes into my room. She doesn’t mind the AC/DC posters, the mess in bookcase or even my messy hair and make-up, but something tells me she minds the car that I crashed last night.

Ehi, it wasn’t all my fault. I was distracted. By a boy, but I don’t think it’s a good idea that I tell her that.

«Mother, how are you? Do you want a proper cup of coffee in a proper coffee pot?» I’m very proud of my ability to say this tongue-twister without stumbling. According to her face, she’s not.

«We can’t do this anymore, Mary.» Her warning face is something she only has with me, my privilege. Morgan never got that. Well, my beloved sister never disobeyed like that.

Don’t get it wrong, I love her. She is America’s little star and I think it really suits her, and she’s sweet, she is smart, all perfect. I am… I am what Tony Stark was when he was twenty years old. I’m following my father’s footsteps too!

«What? I’m back home! Safe!»

«They saw you last night with Cruz Beckham.» Her voice is so desperate that I almost feel sorry for her but really, how many eighteen years old girls stay at home knitting? I’m just famous. I never asked for my mother. Or father. Or the money, but I have it.

«And so what? He’s great!»

«He’s thirty! And you were drinking! And you were dressed like…» She doesn’t finish the line, but I can imagine.

«Like a slut?»

«I never said that.»

«No I get it. You think I’m a slut. If Cruz Beckham does the same thing that I do in a party he is a great man and if I do that I’m America’s Whore.»

«Language!» I hear it while I slam the door. I’m not in my pajamas, I’m in the same black skirt I was last night, a purple crop top, but of course I took off the heels before going to sleep. And apparently I didn’t wash my make up, because I look like the Winter Soldier, according to the pictures. Not as good looking as uncle Bucky, tho.

Morgan is staring at me, with a sympathetic look on her perfect face. I can see she’s struggling to evoid the judgment.

«You’re home.» I start, walking in the kitchen with a huge smile on my face. Nobody needs a kitchen that big, let’s face it. We have it because we are rich. We are famous, that’s what famous people do, right? It’s stupid that I’m so hated. “Mary Stark in trouble again”, “Mary Stark walking in the streets with no jeans on”, “Mary Stark fails to be the perfect daughter”. Not that he could see it, obviously.

I’m not the first heiress who goes a little crazy. Paris Hilton. Kim Kardashian. Blair Waldorf – I watch Netflix at night, old shows and everything.

«Yes, mama wanted to talk to me.» She answers. Morgan is twenty-three, rising and shining. She had five years with dad. I look at her, she’s majoring in law in college so I never gets to proper see her. Brown hair, like mine (but combed), dark eyes, not so tall but petite, cute.

«She is scared you could be Iron Girl.» I warn her. The thing is that Morgan can be Iron Girl. She has the brain, she has the heart. Mom is just scared and I get it, but Morgan wants to help.

«So having me here, with all dad’s machines… is not a great idea.»

«Completely controlled, Happy behind every door.» We laugh. I bring the milk, even if it’s midday, hoping that Miss Potts doesn’t show up.

«Mary… Happy isn’t doing a wonderful job with you.»

«Happy likes you, cheeseburger’s girl. He loathes me.»

«He doesn’t! He is just concerned.»

«Of what? I’m safe and sound like Taylor Swift.»

«You are in, like, all the magazines. In lingeries. Playing, or flirting, or… dancing.»

«You brought the magazines?» I ask with a bit of impertinence. She glances at me. Just. Like. Mother

«I’m just worried about you, sis.»

«No reason. I’m a Stark, right? Not the “Winter is coming” ones, that family is unlucky. But we are!»

«Sure.» She mutters back. «It’s just that you are so good when you behave. You have an artistic mind, great sense of colors, if you just-»

«So what are you working on?» I try to avoid another argument. One day at a time. And I know Morgan always works on something.

«Pardon? Nothing. I’m very busy studying.»

«No you are not. You passed your final test studying the night before it while I was chatting with you about Peter Parker.»

«You had a huge crush on the guy.»

«I was thirteen and stupid and he was always around. Morgan! C’mon!»

«Not this time. You will see it when I will finish it. Don’t be the annoying little sister.»

«But I’m the annoying little sister! And I will go to the garden, so mom won’t find me.»

«Dressed like that?» She looks at me and immediately blushes. Sometimes she seems like she is the main character of Downton Abbey. A fiancé, a good job, perfect hair, so boring, no fun. In a lovely way, because I love her.

«Mom is in my room, I can’t change myself.»

«Well wash your face at least.»

I obey, Morgan commands more gracefully than mother. I just think that after the flawless experience she had raising Mor she would never expect me. I don’t blame her.

«Oh, Mary? Don’t go to the garage please.»

------

The next place I go to is the garage. C’mon, it was a hint. She wants me there. Otherwise she would never tell me that, she knows the first thing I want to do is the forbidden one.

I sneak through the garden and I end in front of the garage. I never came here. That’s dad and Morgan’s place, not mine and I respect that. It’s large, in cement, and the door is locked but… my sister is the mastermind of this place. And she would never change something dad created, even a little code.

Five. Two. two thousand nineteen. Her birth date.

Well that’s normal. I feel happy for her, she has memories of the past, father loved her. He would have loved me too, he just never met me.

The inside of the garage is wonderful. I imaginated it as greasy, old and grey, and instead it’s a tech paradise. Not really my kind of paradise, but still… a paradise. Desks, labels, tables, it’s written in greek according to me.

«Wow I’m so stupid.» It’s the first though it comes to my mind. I could never project something like that. The second is “I need some music”. I search until I find a vynil. Wow, so edgy, daddy. Or sis, I don’t know, but I bet on daddy.

The first notes of “Back in Black” fill the room and now that’s my place. I scream, and I sing and I dance like there’s not tomorrow, who said I can’t enjoying myself while I’m hiding from my mother? I find myself dancing in the middle of the room and for a moment, just for a moment, I think that maybe mom and dad did that too when they were young. Dancing in the lab. No, mom would never do something like that.

The song ends and I stay there, getting out of breath. Just a moment after I become aware that there’s something wrong with my thumb. Something on it. A liquid? A fluid? I try to get off me but suddenly everything is very heavy. My eyes want to close themselves. I try with all my strenght not to fall asleep. It would be a terrible idea. Well, if I just fall asleep for a minute Morgan will find me… eventually.

Hey! If you want to be in a list just ask me!

@pies-wands-and-more

#tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader #mcu x reader #avengers x reader #fanfiction

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 6 years ago

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"I like it here"

This is my first attempt at some fic writing, but I really wanted some soft Yoongi. So enjoy i guess? and thank you momma thot for grammatically checking my errors :) - @thecozywhaleshark

You had gotten so used to Yoongi sitting in your house with you every day after work, that when the boys went on tour, you missed his presence. He skyped with you on occasion, but otherwise you didn’t hear from him much. It was heartbreaking, but you understood. He was busy.

He cut his contact with you short on tour, hoping to clear his mind, but every time he wanted to work on his music, he found his mind drifting, back to you and your leaky, dinky apartment.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, and eventually you began to think he had all but forgotten about you. You do miss Yoongi, but at least you still talk to Namjoon.

The day they are supposed to get back from tour, there is a knock on your door. When you open it, you find Yoongi, his luggage next to him. He had come straight from the airport.

“Yoongi?” you say, surprised.

When you opened the door, his heart jumped. You were in your pajamas, he could see the fairy lights were on behind you, casting the apartment in a soft glow. It looked warm and cozy and like heaven.

“Can I come in?” his voice is so soft, and you notice his body is slumped slightly in exhaustion.

“What brings you here?” you ask, pulling away from him, questioning.

He shrugs as he moves past you and slumps down onto your couch, pulling one of the knitted blankets over his shoulders. “I like it here.”

#min yoongi x reader #bts imagine #bts suga imagine #suga imagine #this is the sweetest shit ever #my pal is a genius #submission #bts fic rec #bts fic recs

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walking-true-to-style · 6 years ago

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But We’re Best Friends! || J.M.

Pairing: University Joe Mazzello! X University! Reader

Words: 6.1K

Warnings: suggestive themes, swearing

Gender: unspecified

Request: @queenscoolcat

“If you still need an idea maybe you could write something where Joe is in love with the reader but he thinks they don’t feel the same way until reader kiss him and he just melts and is speechless”

Synopsis: Joe pleads with you to audition for USC’s performance of Rocky Horror Picture show. Partly because he loves seeing you acting, but also partly because he has the biggest crush on you. Though, he doubts you would ever feel the same. You two have been best friends since your Freshman year in college! He would never want to jeopardize that! Would you?

“You HAVE to audition!” Joe whines at you. You scrutinize the poster, the red lips and bloody font pop out at you immediately.

Rocky Horror Picture Show

“I don’t know, Joe. I don’t think that’s my… area of expertise.” You chuckle at his enthusiasm. His eyes widen at your words.

“What do you mean? You’re acting is amazing!” you bite back a genuine grin, your cheeks dusting a shade of red at his compliment. “I MEAN walking around in lingerie and being… sensual? Not really what I’m good at.” At this point Joe looks as if he was a kicked puppy in the rain.

“Please just at least audition with me! If you don’t get in, then at least you can say you tried, right?” he brings out his lower lip. How can you resist those big, brown, beautiful eyes. You press your lips together in thought.

You admit, it would be kinda fun to be in it- the costumes, the music, the general aesthetic were things you adore. Plus, this is your last year at USC, may as well give it a shot, right? You already know Joe will get a lead role- he always does. You really appreciate him being supportive and telling you that you’ll get in. But the fear lingers of showing your body off in front of many people. You decide that it’s worth it, if it means getting into your favorite show, and, like he said, if you don’t land a role, at least you tried.

“Fine, but you’re going to help me with the audition! Payback for making me prepare something the day before.”

“Deal!” Joe exclaims. He takes the pen and fills in your name under one of the few time slots available- Saturday, 7:30 PM. You won’t be going together, but at least you know you’ll have his support.

That day after classes, you go to Joe’s flat and immediately begin updating resumes, working on songs, and dancing around like there’s no tomorrow. Joe puts on a dance for you that is somewhere between the Charleston and the Funky Chicken. You can’t help but break into a belly laugh. “I sincerely hope you don’t have a dancing role.” you snort and throw a pretzel at him from the bag slumped at your side. He feigns insult and puts his hand over his heart. He makes mock crying sounds, inducing another hearty laugh from you.

“Show me what you have, then!” you shake your head, smirking.

“It’s late, Joe, I should get back to my place.” you turn to your side and start packing your backpack.

Joe cocks a brow at you, cracking a shit-eating grin.

“Backing away from the challenge, are you?”

“You know how my flatmate is about waking her up by coming home at “UNGODLY” hours of the night.” You zip up your bag, and Joe groans. Before you have time to get up, he slumps onto you, pinning you to the couch, knocking some of the wind out of you. “At least stay the night! They’re still gonna throw a fit either way.” he begs. You sigh, giving him an even “Okay, okay.” Still he doesn’t get off. You attempt to push him off, but he remains in his spot- total dead weight. You give up, seeing the futility of the situation and let him lay there for a while. However, as pins and needles begin poking at your legs, you ask Joe to get up. He apologizes and gets off you, offering a movie and to grab your extra clothes you keep in the event of nights like this. You nod, and he sets off to his room. On the way, he stops at his flatmate’s door and gives it a quick knock, realizing he didn’t exactly ask if you can stay. “Yeah?” his flatmate calls from inside. Joe enters to find his flatmate taking notes at his desk, face buried deep in a textbook. “Hey, sorry, but is it cool that (y/n) stays the night?” Joe asks. His flatmate looks up from his notes and turns to him.

“(y/n) practically lives here, so, sure?” Joe gives a guilty smile to him and ushers a “Thanks, Tom”. As he is about to close the door, Tom asks, “When are you gonna do it then, huh?” Joe looks back at him, brows knitted together.

“Do… what?”

Tom lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Ask (y/n) out, you idio-” “SHHHH” Joe comes back into the room and closes the door, shooting a glare at Tom.

“(y/n) can hear you!” he whispers urgently. Tom smirks and rolls his eyes, making Joe huff irritably.

“Sorry, jeez,” Tom sighs. “But seriously when are you going to do it. You make goo-goo eyes at (y/n) every time you two are in the same room.” Joe bites the inside of his cheek and shrugs. “I- I don’t know. We both have a lot going on between school and the show and-”

“Excuses, excuses. What is it about (y/n) that scares you? Cuz you act like a pussy every time I ask this.” Joe looks down sheepishly. “W- Well… (y/n) is just so...perfect and authentic and sweet….” he lists off the qualities he loves about you effortlessly. Though, he catches himself mid lecture on you and snaps himself out of his out trance.

“...but we’ve been friends way too long. I’d hate to ruin that, y’know? Besides, I highly doubt (y/n) would feel the same.”

At this point, Tom is almost ready to throw his psychology book at Joe. He rubs his temple before clapping his hands together and sitting back in his desk chair in mock therapy mode.

“Okay, then let’s weigh our scenarios. Hypothetically- just work with me here- you ask (y/n) out let’s say… after the show or some shit.” his roommate brings up his hand as puppets. Joe sits on the bed, folding his arms, ready to humor whatever silly thing his flatmate is about to do. “Oh, (y/n)! (y/n), you looked so gorgeous and sexy onstage I loooove you, will you go out with me?” he says in a spoofed version of Joe’s voice. Joe looks at Tom as if he’d grown a third head who continues nonetheless. “First scenario….” he changes into a version of your voice. “No, cuz I think of you as a brother! Besides, I think your roommate is much more handsome and-” “Okay, okay, I get it!” Joe lets out an exasperated sigh. Tom raises his brows and looks down. “Okay, second scenario- (y/n) says yes and you two date, fuck, marry, live happily ever after, so mote it be, blah blah blah.”

Joe pinches his nose and sighs. “Please, be serious.” he groans. Tom claps his hands together again and leans forward toward Joe, brows tightly knitted together. “Look, you love (y/n), right?”

Joe smiles to himself.

“More than I’d like to admit.” “You want to be more than friends?” “Well, yeah, but-”

“Has (y/n) ever left you for dumb shit before?”

“Well, no, but I-”

“Do you value your friendship more than a hypothetical relationship?”

“Of course I do! But I-”

“Worst case scenario is that (y/n) rejects you and you still remain friends. My point is, there’s nothing to lose! So please do yourself and (y/n) a favor and do it before we graduate next semester.”

Joe weighs his options further. Though he doesn’t want to admit it, Tom’s is right. He just nods, thanks Tom for his time and goes to grab your clothes and a movie. Once he comes back he finds you curled up on the couch texting. You look up at him, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his stomach into loops.

“I was beginning to think you passed out on me.” you tell him. A blush creeps onto his lips. He presses his lips together and hands you your clothes. Come on, just ask already he wills himself. Still he doesn’t. You notice his hesitation and get up to grab your clothes from him. “Everything okay, Joe? You seem tense all of a sudden.” Say something!

“Uh- yeah, I’m good. Just… stressed about the audition I guess?” you let out a breath in amusement at his anxiety. It’s just like him to worry about an audition, even one you know he’ll land. “You’re gonna be great Joe- look at the acting gigs you’ve had, even when you were a kid!” you lay a hand on his arm, and his anxieties melt away. He doesn’t understand it- You have this ability to both make him weak in the knees, yet feel completely at peace all the time.

“Thanks, (y/n). You will too.” he says to you, his normal demeanor returning. You give him a quick hug and he reciprocates happily. As you part, you let out a yawn. Looking down at your phone, you realize how late it is. 3:27 AM

“I think we should get some sleep before tomorrow, eh? Thanks for helping me out.” you say, sleep already creeping into your voice. “No worries, what are friends for?” you nod and go into the bathroom to change into your extra clothes. Joe watches you leave for a moment before returning to his room. Once you change, you come into his room and settle in the bed beside him as you normally do when you stay over. Swiftly, your tiredness overtakes you and you fall asleep.

The next morning, you wake up before Joe, who is out like a light next to you. You smile at him, watching his chest rise and fall. After a moment, you creep out of bed, quietly gather your things, and head out the door and go back to your apartment. Once there, you begin rehearsing everything Joe helped you with last night. Luckily, your flatmate had already left for work, so you could sing loudly. You practice some of your dancing and manage to get to a place where you’re comfortable with the movements and have memorized your song. Looking at the clock, you realize you need to get to the arts building in about 2 hours. You figure that’s enough time to get a shower in and make yourself half-decent.

7:30 hits and you are waiting anxiously outside the door of the theater, resume held tightly under your arm. Most of your friends are auditioning the next day, so you are stuck with several people you don’t know well. You go over the choreography to your song mentally, taking deep breaths in the process. You get a text before you go in from Joe. You open your flip phone and look at the message. [Joe]

Hey! You’re going to do great tonight! Break a leg :) I’ll pick you up after if you want.

You smile down at your phone and reply back.

Sounds good! I’ll text you when I’m out. I’m thinkin fast food honestly.

Soon after you get a reply.

[Joe]

Sounds good. See you then!

You place your phone back into your pocket and continue going over your audition material. A few names are called before you. You grow fidgety with excitement as your name gets closer and closer.

“Next is Whimic. (l/n), you’re on standby.” the girl bringing people back calls out. You get up and move to the lobby. As people come out, you spot one of your friends finally. You couldn’t mistake that grunge-y girl if you tried. “Nicole! Hey! How was it?” you trot up to her giddily. Nicole smiles at you and gives you a hug. “Hey, honey. It was okay. Be prepared to do some weird shit after your song, though. I had to spell my name as if I was having an orgasm.” she snorts. You laugh as well.

“Yikes, alright, I’ll keep my mind open, I suppose. What role are you going for?”

“Hopefully Magenta, but we’ll see what happens. I gotta head out, though. Meg is gonna be pissed if I don’t get back in time for date night.” You chuckle and give her one more hug. “No worries! Fingers crossed for ya!” you separate and Nicole walks away. “You too, babe!” she calls back. Soon after, your name is called to come in. You follow the person that called you into the house and greet the director, tech assistant, and music director with a smile. You set your resume and head shot down on the table and go to the accompanist. You show them where you’re starting on the sheet music you hand them and then move to center stage. Once there you turn around, you take a deep breath in and out and begin your slate.

“Hello, my name is (f/n) (l/n), and I will be singing “Big Spender” by Shirly Bassey” the accompanist comes in with your music. Surprisingly, you are able to move in time, despite how nervous you are. Still you push through, and as the first few bars of singing come in, your anxieties begin to melt away. The stage is your home and you feel as if you’re the only one in the theater. You move around the stage with a newfound confidence as the director scribbles down some notes. As you finish the song you strut back downstage. “Hey, big spender” you jut your hips in time with the pianist.

“Spend, a little time, with me.” you move your hips to the end of the song, finishing with a wink and turning on your foot to walk back upstage. As the song finishes, you turn back around and bow your head. “Thank you.” you project. The director smiles at you and the three members all usher a thank you to you as well.

“Before you go,” the director calls to you as you grab your music from the accompanist. “Do you mind just screaming at the top of your lungs for us?”

You are slightly taken aback by the request, but you understand it is likely for the show.

“Uh- yeah sure.” you offer. The director nods and sits back.

“Whenever your ready.”

You take a deep breath and let out the loudest scream you could. It bounces off the back of the theater’s walls and almost pierces your own years. Though, the three audience members seem completely unfazed. “Thank you. That will be all.” they say.

“Thank you for your time.” you bow your head and leave.

Once outside, you text Joe that you’ve finished your audition. He texts back an ‘Okay!’ and pulls up not long after. You hop into the car, giving him a side-hug.

“How was it?” he asks you excitedly.

“Really good, actually! Thanks so much for making me audition, honestly.” A wide smile plasters itself onto his face. “I TOLD you! Now let’s get something to eat! I’m starving!” he turns on the radio for you, letting you choose whatever station you want. You flip to an oldies channel and “Bohemian Rhapsody” plays in the middle of Brian’s first solo. You both mimic the guitar sounds, giggling the whole time.

“You know, this is the first song I ever downloaded on Napster.” he says, turning down the volume to speak.

“You CRIMINAL!” you retort jokingly. He laughs at your remark and gives you a small shove. He turns the music back up, and you both come back in with the operatic section- terribly out of key, as one does. You lean over onto his shoulder as he drives, sending electricity through his body. He melts at your touch, though you don’t notice, still singing dramatically.

You both pull up to the fast food joint and head in. You order your food and sit down, chatting about the audition.

“Did they make you do anything weird?” he asks you.

“It wasn’t the worst, I just had to scream at the top of my lungs.” you shrug. “I’ll make sure I keep that in mind.” he giggles. You continue to tell him about what went on, Nicole’s story, and Joe listened closely the whole time. Watching you speak so animatedly is something he loves most about you. In truth, you can likely turn the most boring lecture into the most interesting for him, so long as you are excited about the topic.

Suddenly, your buzzer goes off to grab your dinner. You both go up together, grabbing your trays and drinks. As you sit back down, Joe’s phone rings.

“Hello?” he answers. “Hey, Joe! You have a minute?” his agent chirps through the phone.

“Uh- yeah, what’s up?” He looks at you nervously. You cock a brow at him and he mouths the word “Agent” to you. You nod and let him continue.

“We have a movie offer for you, but you need to take the next few months off to film if that’s okay!”

Joe’s heart falls a moment upon hearing that. This offer will help him further his acting career, but that would mean he wouldn’t be able to do Rocky Horror, assuming he gets in, which you assured him over and over that he would.

“Uh- I’m not able to check my planner at the moment. Am I able to call you back?” You both exchange gazes at each other as you take a sip of your drink.

“No problem, but the sooner the better! Talk to you soon!”

“Yeah… Talk to you soon.” Joe hangs up the phone and slips it back into his pocket, sighing. “What’s up, Joe?” you ask him. He looks at you, eyes full of guilt.

“So… That was my agent.” he starts out.

“Uh-huh?” “And they’re offering me a TV deal.” Your eyes light up. “That’s amazing Joe! Are you going to take it?”

His grimaces at you, causing the light to fade from your sunny demeanor.

“Well, if I do it means I can’t do the show, so I can’t do the show- let alone audition.” His heart breaks at the expression this induces from you.

“I- don’t have to take it, though! I’d love to do the show.” he rambles. You shake your head and take his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The action soothes his surging mind slightly.

“You should take it, Joe. You want to do film more, anyway.” you assure him, though, Joe catches your voice faltering a bit. He bites his lip anxiously.

“I’ll…. I’ll think about it.” You nod at him with an almost unreadable expression. He can’t seem to figure out where your head's at, but, when he asks you, you tell him you just want to see him happy. You both continue eating, changing the subject to Joe’s relief and are back to your typical silly antics. After dinner, he drops you off at your flat, waiting until you’re inside before driving back to his place.

Once home, Joe drops his keys into the bowl aside the door and slumps down on the couch. The only sound is the whirring of the AC and the incessant clicking of Tom’s keyboard as he works furiously on an essay due at midnight at the kitchen counter in an otherwise silent flat. After a few moments, Joe looks up at him and sighs exasperatedly before going into his room. He shuts the door and changes into some fresh boxers and a white t-shirt to relax in. However, that’s the last thing he can do right now. Staring at the phone in his hand, he continues weighing his options in terms of the deal. He gets up and paces back and forth, trying to come to some conclusion. He knows He’d feel incredibly guilty if he didn’t audition tomorrow, but he knows you would too if he didn’t because of you. Finally, he huffs and opens up his phone to make the call.

+++

“Joe! You’re gonna do great!” You assure him, helping him pull his luggage out of the trunk of your car. Joe pulls his other suitcase out and sets it down, letting out a breath as he does. You two are very early for his flight to New Hampshire to film The Hallow- nearly two hours before takeoff, but that’s LAX for you.

“I know, but I’m going to miss you.” he says with a sad smile. You look at him with a sympathetic expression on your face. You touch his arm gingerly, and Joe bites the inside of his cheek. It’s your softest touches and send Joe on high alert.

“I’m gonna miss you too, but, hey! Call me or text me when you can- oh! And I have something for you.” Joe’s eyes widen in shock.

Did you just confess?

“You- you do?” he says hesitantly. You chuckle at his words.

“Course I do! You think I’m going to send my best friend away without an early birthday gift since he’ll be gone? It’s in the back. I’ll grab it.” Joe snaps out of his trance. “O- Oh.” he deflates as you root around in your backseat. Under your coat, which you threw on top to hide the gift, is a small, green bag with ruffled paper in it. You bring it around back to Joe and hand it to him.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” he murmurs, thumbing over the colored bag. You grin at him and urge him to open it, giggling excitedly. Inside is a little white box with a locket inside with a shrunken down picture of you two from a Halloween party. You’re dressed as a dinosaur and Joe is in a makeshift Tim Murphey outfit. Joe is screaming as the dinosaur head on your costume “chomps” down on him. “It’s nothing much, but that way you have me wherever you go.” you tell him somewhat bashfully. Joe stares down at the photo, mouth slightly open.

“Thank you…” he finally says, though, his tone is more disappointed.

“Do you… not like it?” you ask him. His gaze snaps back at you, brows raised. “No- I do! I really do. Oh my god, (y/n) I love it! I just- No, it’s perfect. Thank you so much!” he wraps you in a big hug, squeezing you. Once you part you help him put it on, even if he will have to take it back off for security.

“Text me when you land, okay? Wanna make sure you get there safely!” you tell him. He nods, not trusting his tone anymore as a lump forms in his throat. “I will.” he pulls you into one more hug, this one longer than before. His eyes grow slightly misty as he pulls away and grabs his luggage to go into the terminal. “Thank you again for dropping me off, by the way.” “No problem! Now go catch your flight, dork!” you laugh. He nods with a smile before turning on his heel and heading in.

The following weeks, you two text nonstop, wracking up minutes like there’s no tomorrow. You tell him excitedly on the night the cast list comes out that you’ve been cast as a Transylvanian.

“That’s awesome! I told you you’d get in, didn’t I?” he tells you ecstatically on the other line. You grin at his enthusiasm.

“Nicole got in too! She’s going to play Magenta!” “She’s going to do great, but I think you may steal the show.” Joe chuckles. You scoff at him before following in his laughter. As the laughing dies down, there is a moment of silence between you two.

“Will you be back in time to see it?” you ask him. Joe thinks for a minute and checks the calendar.

“The premier is the 23rd of October… Opening night is, what, the 29th? Go through Halloween?” “Yessir.” you say. “Uhhh, I should be able to get back before then, depending on if they need me for press, but they probably won’t!” You practically squeal through the phone. “I’m so excited to see you again!” Joe bites back a smile, looking down at the floor.

“Me too, (y/n).”

“Please just don’t make fun of me onstage.” you joke. Joe scoffs at you. “Oh, have SOME faith in me! I’m not gonna make fun of you… much.” he laughs. “I gotta head to bed, though. They want me onset by 6 tomorrow morning.” You make a mock barf noise through the phone, making Joe laugh again. “I couldn’t agree more.” he snorts. “I’ll talk to you later then, movie star.”

“You too.”

“Goodnight. Love ya.”

Joe sighs happily. “Love you too.” The days crawl by without you. Joe finds the thing he looks forward to most is getting to text or call you when he can- not that shooting The Hallow isn’t fun- He loves everyone in the cast so much. He just misses you. He finds himself staring at the picture in the locket more than usual. His cast mates have teased him about it, which he brushes off playfully. They say he’s so lucky to have “a partner that cares enough to send something like that.”

“O- Oh we’re not- No we’re just friends.” he stammers, a rosy color dusting his cheeks.

“Really? The way you look at the locket made it seem like you two were a thing.”

He shakes his head rapidly. He knows you would never feel the same, though. He’s gone way too often for you two to be an item. Not to mention you’ve seen him at his absolutely worst, and he values being your friend more than anything else. But one can’t help but think…

+++

As the opening night creeps up, hell week commences, meaning the stress is up as everyone scrambles for last minute, tech, blocking, and costuming. After a particularly long rehearsal you swing by Nicole’s place to watch the newly released The Hallow to decompress. The whole time, you are at the edge of your seat, watching Joe’s character with much intensity every time he comes on screen. As the credits roll through, you get up to help Nicole wash the popcorn bowls you two used.

“I think it needed more gore.” she says. “Nikki, it was fine! You’re such a horror snob!” you snort. Nicole shoves you playfully.

“Would you have me any other way?” she cocks a brow at you, opening her arms out.

“Shut up.” You spray her with sink water, earning a yelp from her. She laughs and squeezes the sponge, water hitting your upper body.

“Oh- Hey, is Joe gonna be back for the show?” she asks, coming down from her laughing fit. “I think so. He said it may not be until closing night, though.” you replies. She hums.

“Hope so! I bet he’s excited to see you, especially with how you open the show.” she waggles her eyebrows at you. You look at her confused.

“Whaddaya mean?” you say, finishing up drying a bowl and placing it back in the cabinet. Nicole turns toward you and leans on the counter.

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’? He’s TOTALLY into you.”

“He… is?” Nicole scoffs at you. “Honey, he’s really not that subtle. He looks at you like how I look at a high-quality matte black lipstick!” she laughs. You smirk at her comparison. Though, looking back, you can’t help but realize she’s right.

“Maybe…”

+++

Opening night hits and only a few things go wrong- mostly sound issues, but they’ve since been fixed. By closing night, you have grown much more comfortable showing your body in front of people by this point- call it literal exposure therapy. Closing night feels bittersweet as usual as you put on the rest of your makeup backstage. Nicole is beside you, finishing up her smudged liner before turning to you.

“How do I look?” she asks, striking a pose and fluffing her kinked up hair. You smile at her and give a thumbs up.

“Meg is gonna go crazy over this look.” you say. Nicole gives a triumphant grin. She pulls down her collar to reveal a small purple mark at the base of her neck, admiring her girlfriend’s work in the mirror. “I sent her pics during tech week. She already has.” she smirks. You roll your eyes at her, chuckling. You go into a changing room to put on a suit that Joe had lent you for the show and hat over your costume.

In the house, Joe takes his seat close to the stage where Transylvanians are supposed to sit a row in front of him. He waits excitedly for people to come out. The director and assistant stage manager come out, going through rules and initiating the virgin games. Tonight, virgins are split into teams and had to pass a dildo between their knees to teammates. Joe finds himself laughing quietly at the struggle. The team that wins are all given packets of mayonnaise as a prize. They all go back to their seats. The stage manager puts a chair center stage, and the show is about to begin. The lights dim and you step onstage, a spotlight hitting you. There are “whoops” and “hollers” by your friends in the audience. Joe smiles at you, even though you can’t see him with the light in your face. He can’t help but feel weirdly...warm inside seeing you in his suit. You pull it off very well, though. Not to mention how well you’re about to literally pull it off.

As the music begins playing, you begin to sway your hips. Already this catches Joe’s attention. You take off your hat and throw it to an audience member and run a hand sensually through your hair, really wanting to make a meal out of your last show. Slowly you untie the tie around your neck, rolling your head to one side. You slip off the fabric effortlessly and place it onto the chair. You face your back to the audience, still swaying as you unbutton your shirt. The fabric slipping down your arms at a pace that snails could beat. You sway your hips some more to the rhythm before you turn around, the only thing on your chest are nipple pasties shaped like the lips in the logo. Joe subconsciously licks his lips and throws his jacket over his lap, his cheeks growing more flushed than before. More “whoops” and “ow!”s emerge from your friends in the audience. Joe is paralyzed. He feels dirty watching this, but he can’t help but keep watching, eyeing your every movement. You shimmy out of your pants, revealing some rather skimpy black underwear and garters attached to fishnet stockings, and Joe clenches his jaw. As the song fades out, you strike a pose and blow a kiss to the audience. All your friends wolf whistle at you and yell your name. You bow and gather the clothes before you saunter backstage to put on a slightly less revealing set of lingerie on.

The show goes on without too many hiccups. You come back out with the rest of the Transylvanians for songs and dances. Once numbers finish, you find your spot in the audience. You all do your callbacks loudly. In quieter moments, you scan for Joe. Once you find him, you attempt to gauge his reaction. His gaze is fixed on the show, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. Huffing slightly, you turn back to the show. Obviously you aren’t going to get the reaction you’re looking for right now. However, Joe is not exactly paying too much attention to the show itself- the image of you strip teasing out of his suit is seared into his memory like a brand. Each time you’re onstage, though, his gaze is only on you. Your whole performance sends his mind reeling.

Intermission hits, and Joe immediately gets up to get some air, feeling slightly lightheaded by your performance. Meanwhile you sit backstage with the cast getting ready for the second act. People in the cast come up to you telling you how good you looked. You thank them profusely and then continue to make yourself as decent as one can for Rocky Horror at your table.

“You looked SO hot up there!” Nicole exclaims, hugging you from behind. You grin widely at her in the mirror and hug back. “Thanks, Nikki. You look hot all the time!” you giggle. She lets go of you and sits in the chair to your left. “I bet Joe had a nice view.” she says with a shit eating grin on her face. Your eyes widen and your face goes red. “Oh god… I forgot he was coming tonight!” you groan, throwing a hand to your face. Nicole chuckles and rubs your back.

“It’s okay, babe.”

Not long after, the ASM calls for you places, signalling that it is time for the second act. “Thank you places!” you and Nicole yell in unison before getting ready for the next scene.

The second act goes relatively smoothly, with the exception of someone forgetting their blocking. You take your spot back in the audience, feeling yourself easing back into the environment. At the end of the show, you all take your bows and the audience members either come up to meet the cast or head out, feeling… different. You and Nicole take a picture together and laugh with your group of friends who are gushing about how good both of you did. The post-show adrenaline courses through you as you laugh and gush back to them about preparing for that opening. You look away for a moment, gaze interlocking with a pair of familiar eyes, and you utter a gasp. Joe is smiling at you from across the house. Seeing that he has your attention, he begins to make his way over to you. You excuse yourself from your friends and shimmy your way through the crowd, meeting him halfway.

“Great job tonight!” he grins at you.

“Thanks, Joe! Oh my goodness I missed you!” you exclaim, throwing your hands around his neck. He hugs you back tightly.

Without thinking, and full of adrenaline from the show and seeing his face again, you kiss him on the lips. It catches him extremely off-guard. You pull back and step away from him bashfully upon realizing what you’ve done. Joe just stares at you like a deer in the headlights. You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously, unable to figure out his reaction.

“Sorry- uh. I- I don’t know what came over me.” you stammer out, your cheeks becoming extremely flushed. Suddenly a finger is under your chin and Joe is staring at you with the most loving, sappy gaze you’ve ever seen. “Can you uhm…. Do that again?” he begs. You lick your lips hesitantly and nod. You both lean in this time, Joe melting into you completely, forgetting there’s a crowd of people around you. He holds his arms securely around your back and yours make their way around his neck. You move your head slightly to deepen the kiss, earning a small groan from deep in Joe’s throat. Nicole gives you both a wolf whistle and you both pull back immediately into reality, faces beet red.

“Bout time!” she snorts at you two as she makes her way over.

“About time?” Joe echoes. You press your lips together shyly, and Nicole breaks into a laugh. “(y/n) would NOT stop talking about you the whole time you were gone, dude!”

“That so?” Joe looks at you with a newfound confidence. You grow warm under his gaze. Nicole snorts and nods.

“Seriously the amount of goo-goo eyes this one makes whenever you text is fucking RIDICULOUS.”

“Thank you, Nikki.” you say abruptly as you shoot Nicole a desperate plea to stop. She obliges, still choking back some laughter. “You coming to the cast party, by the way? It’s at my place this year. Joe can come too if he wants.” she winks.

You look at Joe and he looks back at you for the ultimate decision. You shrug and look back at Nicole. “I think I’m gonna skip out this time ‘round. Next show for sure.” you tell her. She feigns insult, though, she knows exactly what your plans are for tonight. “Whateverrrr,” she laughs. “You lovebirds have fun.” she says and gives you a hug. As you part you snake a hand around Joe’s middle, and he brings an arm over your shoulder.

“You too, Nikki.”

Nicole points a finger gun at you and walks off with Meg, leaving you and Joe together. “All the time, huh?” Joe smirks.

“Just help me grab my stuff.”

Taglist:

@littlemisscaptainfandom A/N: I hope you liked it, Caro! Thanks for requesting!!!

#ziggy writes #queenscoolcat #queen #queen x reader #queen imagines #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #bo rhap imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello x oc #joe mazzello imagines #borhap imagines #joe mazzello fic #borhap fic #queen fic

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playlist-reid · 6 years ago

Text

Step Up the Morphine

welcome to my next blurb for spencer. this one is inspired by Step Up the Morphine by DMA’s.

enjoy!

word count: 1,901

Music was the best way for you to calm down. You were constantly listening to music. On the plane to a new case, at your desk at your work, even when you were at your house all by yourself. Music helped you focus and you were sure you would not function nearly as well without it.

Today, you sat at your desk, typing away at some documents for the last case your team was on, and your head bobbed lightly to the music playing in your ears from your phone. Every so often, you glanced up to be sure that nothing was going on, but other than that, you were more than focused on the task in front of you. In fact, you were blowing through your work much fast than the others.

About halfway through the way, there was a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump and remove the earbuds from your ears quickly. With a crooked smile, Morgan nodded towards the conference room. “Let’s go, McJagger. We’ve got a case.” He teased you as you laughed lightly, pausing your music.

As you stood, Morgan glanced down at your phone on your desk. “DMA’s? Who are they?” He asked you and raised his eyebrows skeptically.

The two of you walked sync towards the conference room. “An Australian band I found online. They’re kind of Indie,” you explained to Morgan with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. You loved to tell people about the music and the bands you were listening to. It made you feel interesting and important to have something to share with others.

Morgan hummed in response as you strolled into the conference room, a wide smile on your lips as you settled in next to your closest friend, Spencer. “Good morning,” you greeted him cheerily, watching as he smiled and nodded in response, nudging a manila folder closer to you.

“This one might be particularly interesting to you,” Spencer told you quietly with a small frown playing on his lips.

Curiously, you flipped open the folder, almost immediately gasping. It was three girls, lined up side by side on the cold, dirty floor of a house, with words sliced into their stomachs. You picked up the picture, examining the words closer.

“No,” you told Spencer as he nodded solemnly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Penelope Garcia beat him to it. “The media has already dubbed this serial killer as The Songwriter,” she explained to the group as she face away from a screen the flipped the pictures through on. “It is in Detroit, Michigan, and this is the third set of girls found with lyrics, um, carved into their abdomens.” She looked at each one of you as Aaron Hotchner knitted his eyebrows together.

He looked up to Garcia, angry but trying to hide it. “So, there are nine girls dead before we are called in?” He asked her irritably as he closed the folder and stood.

“No, sir. All nine girls were found at the same time. I hadn't finished my story. The killer sent a letter to a local news forecaster with the three addresses.” Penelope finished and you flipped through the pictures quickly.

With a small gasp, you shook your head. “This is a long song,” you told the others as you closed the folder quickly as well, “If he continues with his pattern now, with one line of lyrics per victim, we are looking at potentially eighteen or more victims that will be carved!” You exclaimed.

“Wheels up in thirty minutes,” Hotch said and the group began filing out of the room quickly. Spencer grabbed your arm as you began to walk away.

He pressed his lips together, “Are you going to be bothered by this case?” He asked you quietly, as if he was scared of your response.

With a small smile, you nodded. “I’m always okay, Spencer. You know that. Besides, this is a trash song, anyways,” you assured him as he let go, giving you a small nod as you walked away.

~.~

That night, as you sat in the lobby of the hotel, your messy hair in a crown of curls and frizz around your head and shoulders, you listened to music with your eyes closed. You were in a large sweater that belonged to an old boyfriend many years prior, with old sweatpants you had from your days as a college athlete covering your cold legs as you thought. You didn’t want to be in your hotel room yet, because you knew you would fall asleep if you sat in a bed, and you knew you were close to having a breakthrough in the case.

Every bit of information you had stored in your extensive memory on the song the killer was using was going through your mind at a million miles a second, and all the information was making the pit of your stomach toss and turn, as if you were going to be sick. Before too long, and before you did truly get sick, you were torn from your thoughts as a hand rested on your shoulder.

Instinctively, you jolted your shoulder away and moved to your feet, reaching for the gun that was not on your hip. Low and behold, Spencer stood there, a small, amused smile on his lips. “Can’t sleep?” He asked you as you huffed lightly, your shoulders falling forward.

You pulled your earbuds from your ear and shook your head. “No.” You mumbled and pulled at your sleeves, trying to look anywhere but at the boy that knew you so well. “What are you doing up?” You questioned in return as Spencer examined you closely, profiling you, even though you both knew that he was not supposed to.

“I was going to go for a walk,” he told you quietly as the person sitting at the desk eyed you both carefully.

With a small nod, you bit your lip. It was a habit you had that was near impossible to break, but you never truly thought about it. “Can I come?” You asked him pathetically as your tired and bruised eyes glanced at the floor.

Spencer nodded, holding his hand out to you. This was something he rarely ever did. He did not like touching hands to begin with, but a couple years prior, during a gruesome case much like this one, he took your hand as you walked to interview one of the victims that escaped. Since then, he held your hand so sparingly, only when he knew you needed it most, and it became a comforting gesture you never knew you longed for until it was happening.

Gratefully, you took his hand, feeling his long, warm fingers intertwine with your own. With a small hum, the two of you began walking in silence, with no destination in mind, in the brisk, dark air. You walked to a park not far from the hotel, still silent and not uttering a word to each other.

It was not until the two of you sat on a bench, just a few spare inches between you, did you speak to your close friend. “Spencer, how long have we known each other?” You asked him softly and your voice came out just above a whisper.

A small, purely happy smile formed on his lips. “Six years, three months, twenty-two days,” he answered in his normal matter-of-fact voice, causing a wide smile to form on your face.

You laughed. A truly, happy laugh, and it felt like the first time you laughed in a decade, despite that not being true. “You make me so happy, Spencer. Every time you are around, it is just so easy to be happy. Did you know that?” With a cold, shaking hand, you pulled your sleeves down once more, covering your hand.

Spencer glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips still, but there was a red tint on his face. “No, I did not know that,” Spencer admitted as his eyes darted away from you, “I didn’t realize I could have that effect on anyone.”

“Spencer, you are the best part of my life, I think. Even better than music. Why don’t we ever hang out outside of work?” You asked him with a tad bit of anger in your voice, something he was not expecting. However, there was still a smile on your face.

Spencer’s face turned more and more red under the mix of moonlight and a nearby street lamp, and he looked down at his hands. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he admitted and glanced at you again, just in time to see the smile wipe from your face quickly.

“Oh.” You shifted, moving slightly away from him. “I see. May I ask why?” You asked him with slight disappointment in your voice and pain on your face, but you wouldn��t look at him with all you had. You were unsure that you could.

This time, it was Spencer to begin shifting in his seat. His eyes looked at anything but you, and you were not mad at this. In fact, you did not want him to look at you at all. He was silent for quite some time, and so were you, simply sitting in a heavy and awkward silence, letting the cold air seep into your skin.

Finally, he cleared his throat, and began speaking in an uneven voice, “I like you a lot. More than I should. And if I start seeing you outside of work, I will not be able to hide it much anymore, and I will only fall for you more.” His voice was uneven, but so fast, and you felt heat rise to your own cheeks as you looked up, examining his face.

You stared at one another, your eyes meeting for what felt like for the first time all day, and you felt all the emotion he had built up in his brain spill onto you in that moment. Being with Spencer was a thought that you had never truly had, let alone considered, but as this thought came into your mind, you realized how much you truly would not mind being with Spencer romantically.

With a careful hand, you reach over, taking his hand in yours, and squeezing it gently. “I wouldn't mind that,” you admitted to Spencer, whose eyes were wide with shock and fear, and a small smile formed on your lips. “Do you want to come over for dinner when we get back? I make a mean Alfredo,” you told him with a cheeky smile, and watched as a wide smile slowly formed on his lips.

He leaned his head down, resting his forehead on yours, and he sighed lightly, letting his minty breath fan over your face. “I wouldn’t want anything more.”

With a giggle, you pulled away, and the two of you sat there, in silence further, as you held hands, and you rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the company of one another.

There was a different feeling in the air between the two of you. It was new, hesitant, but new, and you were far too excited to see where this new adventure would take you.

#spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid preference #spencer reid fluff #Matthew Gray Gubler #mgg #criminal #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal mind fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #Spencer Reid blurb #Spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fanfic #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid preference

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glennthewalmartguy · 6 years ago

Text

Oh my god, I love him

Zimbits one shot. Rating: Teen for language. TW for anxiety and discussions of the overdose

It happened one night during a Kegster. Jack had spent less than an hour sitting by his door, thinking about going downstairs but never actually doing it. Then, he worked on his thesis for a bit. It wasn’t due for a while, but Jack always loved to get his work done early. He’d learned in high school that, if he didn’t get started early on every project, his anxiety would stop him from doing it at all. Eventually, he had written enough to be slightly ahead of his schedule. And it was still loud downstairs. It was late, and he should be sleeping, but the noise was starting to make him itch. He could probably text Shitty and he would at least quiet down on the music a little bit, but he didn’t want to bother anyone. The people making all that noise down there seemed to be having fun, Jack just wished that parties didn’t make his skin crawl. Pretty quickly, and without realizing it, he let himself fall down a hole. He was never going to be normal. He would never be like everyone else, he could never be happy doing that. Eventually, everyone he knew and loved would realize that he was boring and leave him alone. He would never get drafted if he couldn’t handle a fucking house party-

But Jack knew these thoughts well. He knew how to deal with them, when they appeared. And when he finally caught himself, he did deal. He was a good hockey player. His friends loved him for who he was. They wouldn’t leave him. Even though he could stop the thoughts, the anxious feeling still ate at his chest. So, he went out on the roof. It was quieter out there. The air was cooler and the breeze made him feel nice. Once on the roof, he was able to calm his breathing a bit more. He felt truly relaxed after a couple minutes, so he stayed on the roof. It was just the right temperature outside. Jack felt so calm, even, that he didn’t start when the window to Bitty’s room opened and he crawled out on there with him.

The Kegster was lasting a bit long for Bitty’s tastes, even for a kegster. He had spent about half of the night baking and the other half talking to a bunch of thoroughly drunk people. He’d tapped out after a few sips of tub juice that night because he wasn’t feeling it, so it was really entertaining for him to watch all of these people act like fools and not care one bit for their reputations. And even though Bitty wasn’t drunk himself, the energy kinda carried over. If no one else in the room is going to remember what you do, why bother making yourself look nice? He’d danced around and let himself fall apart until he got tired.

During his first week at the Haus, Bitty’d had a bit of trouble adjusting. It was never really quiet, not until the late hours of the night. But he noticed around the third night that his window opened up to the roof, and he could climb out onto it. The world was always still there, and the noise of the Haus was muffled in a peaceful way once you got out in the open air. Bitty didn’t go out there real often, since he wasn’t a huge fan of heights, but he did appreciate sitting on the roof on nights like this one. When the noise got too much at a party, or when he was avoiding doing homework and almost everyone else was asleep.

Bitty crawled out onto the roof as soon as he got in his room. He didn’t think it was quite cold enough to justify a jacket, so he went through his window trusting his shirt and those few sips of tub juice to keep him warm. He fully expected to be alone, but Jack was also there on the roof. He looked… peaceful.

“Oh!” Bitty said, “I didn’t realize anyone else would wanna be out here, I can go back inside, if you want?” Jack turned to look at him and smiled gently.

“No,” he said, “come sit.”

Bitty looked hesitant to come sit with him. Jack understood that. They were friends, but that weren’t all that close. They didn’t spend much alone time together. Jack still felt at ease when Bitty sat down beside him and sighed.

“Lord,” he said, “this Haus party is just going on forever!” Jack smiled back at him.

“Yeah, it sure is, Bits,” Jack said. Bitty looked up at him.

“Don’t you have a paper or something to do?”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit ahead of schedule. Working was making me anxious, I let myself have a break.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come out here and spoil your peace and quiet. I can go right on inside.” Bitty moved to stand up, but Jack stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Bitty sat back down.

“No,” Jack mumbled, “you aren’t ruining anything. I like having you out here.” Bitty blushed and settled back in beside Jack.

“You mind if I ask you something, then?”

“Go on.” “Why don’t you ever come down to the Kegsters with us? We miss our captain something awful down there.”

“I just…” Jack paused to collect his thoughts. Bitty waited patiently. For some reason, that made Jack feel warm.

“I don’t like loud noises and places, or places with a lot of people.” Bitty nodded.

“So, everything that exists at a Kegster?” he laughed. Jack smiled a little and nodded in response. There was a beat of silence. If Jack listened hard enough, he could still hear the music from the party.

“I think that’s just fine. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself and not pushing your limits too much. Sometimes I worry that you put just about anything over your own feelings.”

“Yeah… maybe.” Bitty looked Jack in the eyes. Normally, Jack avoided eye contact, but with Bitty he didn’t want to look away.

Jack continues, “I just need to be really good.” Luckily, Bitty understood what he means by that.

“I think you need to be happy.” They both pause again. Bitty smiled, then his eyes light up like he’s remembered something. “Oh my lord, Jack, Shitty did the craziest thing! This freshman from the civil engineering college tried to go upstairs with her girlfriend and she just would not back down. So Shitty got a big ‘ole cup of tub juice and poured it on her shoes! She lost her ever-loving mind at him, I swear. I’ve never seen a girl go so red so fast. Her girlfriend to carry her away-” Bits kept talking for a few minutes while Jack listened. He noticed pretty quickly that he really liked listening to Bitty tell stories. He moved his hands around a lot and he used a lot of emotion in his voice. Eventually, though, he ran out of stories to tell about the Kegster. He quieted down and Jack layed down on the roof so he could stare at the stars. Bitty joined him.

“I like your stories,” Jack almost whispered.

“Why thank you, sweetpea. Most people find them a tad annoying.”

“I think they’re nice.”

“Do you have any stories to tell, Mr. Zimmerman?” Jack looked over to find Bitty doing the same thing. He searched Jack’s eyes for a moment as Jack thought.

“You know I overdosed.” Jack immediately felt sick for saying that. It was too much of a tone change. He should have thought of something else to say or just said no. But Bitty didn’t recoil or even look shocked. He just nodded, serious.

“Yeah. Do you want to talk about that?”

“It.... it was the night before the draft. I think I was already having a bad time because of my dad. He wasn’t… outright rude or anything. He just wasn’t really there. I was seventeen and I really wanted to make him proud. It wasn’t his fault, though…” Jack trailed off, wondering if he should tell Bitty this next part. The part that only his parents knew.

“Then Kent came over.” Bitty knit his eyebrows together.

“Kent Parson?”

“Yeah… he, uh. Told me that we should stop seeing each other.” Jack waited for Bitty to process that information. He sort of expected him to ask questions about the obvious declaration, but he just said,

“The night before the draft?”

“Yeah.” “What an ass.”

“And then I started having a panic attack, a really bad one. And I just really needed to stop panicking because the draft was tomorrow. So I took my anxiety medication. And it didn’t help fast enough, so I took more. And then I woke up in the hospital.” Suddenly, Bitty had his arms around Jack’s shoulders and his head on Jack’s chest. He didn’t say anything.

“I think my dad was disappointed, but he wasn’t as distant after my overdose.” Bitty returned to his previous spot.

“Coach never really liked me much. I don’t think he expected a son like me when he found out he was having one. I was a figure skater, I baked, I talked a lot, I liked to gossip with the church ladies, and I really hated baseball. I think he was disappointed in me from the moment I was born.

“He didn’t want a gay son. I never talked to him much growing up. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I call him ‘Coach’ and he’s my father. He wants me to be something I’m not.”

Jack spoke with strong conviction, “He’s an idiot.” Bitty smiled sadly at Jack, then he shivered.

“Good lord, it sure does get cold out here, doesn’t it?” Jack sat up and took off his jacket. He handed it to Bitty, who tried to push it away.

“No, honey, I can’t take that from you.”

Jack insisted. “I’m Canadian, Bittle. I’m fine.” Finally, Bitty just took the jacket and put it on. They laid down again. Jack looked at the stars and sighed.

“I don’t ever want to stop feeling calm.”

“Do you think that a lot, Jack?”

“Not really, not anymore… I mean I’ve had anxiety my whole life. It isn’t fun, but I’m used to it at this point, just…”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes I get kinda sad that I won’t ever get better.” Jack felt awkward, suddenly. He didn’t talk about this. He didn’t feel like this when other people were around. He tensed his shoulders and swallowed.

“But you have gotten better.” Bitty turned onto his side and flung an arm over Jack’s chest. It was gentle and calmly intimate. Jack turned to look at him. He seemed so sincere.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve gotten better. From when I first met you, you seem better. I mean, you’re not cured by any means, that’s not how this whole anxiety thing works, right? But you’re dealing with it. You’ve got your medication, and a therapist. You’ve got yourself a routine. Last year you really didn’t deal well with a lot of things. A game loss, a messed up paper, something going wrong, a lot made you panic. You seem to… cope better now?” Jack stared at Bitty. He was so close. For some reason, Jack felt like he needed to get closer.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Bittle’s speech wasn’t perfect by any means. He didn’t have anxiety and he didn’t know the right words. But it was genuine. It made Jack feel better about his thoughts. He did know how to handle it more easily now. Without his brain’s permission, Jack yawned. He felt tired, suddenly.

“Bittle,” he said, yawning again, “I should get to bed.” Bitty nodded, but he looked sad. He picked his arm up off Jack’s chest and rolled over onto his back. Jack sat up and awkwardly pat Bitty’s shoulder before standing and crawling back in his window.

He sat on his bed and tried to think. Why did he feel so empty? It felt different than his usual anxiety. He felt… lonely? Jack felt lonely without Bitty. Then, it happened.

“Oh my god.”

Bitty crawled back in through his window. While he and Jack talked for over an hour, the party had stopped. While he and Jack had sat together… alone and calm. Holy shit, Jack wasn’t straight! Bitty had had to hold down so much after Jack told him. He thought he was going to explode, but he held it in. Because Jack had trusted him with something personal, and he didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

There had been so many times out there that he had just wanted to do something. He wanted to grab Jack’s hands or kiss him or confess his feelings, but he held that back, too. Bitty started crying, alone in his room. It was almost worse to know that Jack could like him back, he just didn’t. Bitty felt so lonely. He knew that he should just try and get over Jack. Jack wasn’t the kind of guy to go after Bitty. Jack was tall and handsome and he was so smart. Bitty was just Jack’s teammate. Maybe, now, he was just his friend. He wouldn’t be more than that, so he would just have to suck it up and spend time with Jack.

But, fuck, it hurt so much to sit out there with him. Jack just always looked so sincere when he looked into Bitty’s eyes or handed him a jacket. Bitty stood up from his desk chair. Jack’s jacket! He forgot to give it back. He should go over to his room and give it back. But something stopped him. He was still crying, he looked like a mess, and Jack was probably sleeping, anyway. Bitty took a few steps toward the door, but turned around. He put a hand over his mouth to stop a sob from breaking through.

Then the door to his room opened. Bitty whirled around to see Jack, standing there with his mouth open.

“Bittle,” he said. Bitty wiped his eyes quickly. He started to pull off the jacket.

“I am so sorry, Jack. I must’ve forgotten to give it back-”

“Bittle.” Jack was very close now. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say.

“I am such a mess right now, let me just-”

“Bitty.” Jack both hands on the sides of Bitty’s face. Bitty looked up at him, shocked still.

Then Jack kissed him.

Also on AO3!

#zimbits #omg check please #one shot #ficlet #its not actually written in this fic but like #Jack is 100% autistic #its like The Kiss scene #but earlier #I don't like Parse just be aware #and i like Bad Bob more than this makes it seem #mine #my fic

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 6 years ago

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Safety Dance - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: So Gee is out at work or college or something and the reader goes over to his place to wait for him, and his room is in the basement so she goes down to his room and puts on some music like Tainted Love by Soft Cell or something and starts dancing, but like, unexpectedly and really like risqué. And then Gee also gets back early and stands in the door way and just watches her and she doesn’t know he’s there and he’s like wow u should dance for me more often and then it like carries on to fluff <3

Word count: 1 614

It was cold and grey outside and while you usually did not mind the weather being as unenjoyable as today, right now the wet, chilly winter atmosphere darkened your mood. You had been sitting by the window for a while now, trying to relax after the stressful day at college, but not even your favorite cup of hot chocolate was able to brighten the dark clouds that had sneaked from the sky outside into your head. You waited until the tingling in your legs got unbearable, then you stood up, and walked over to your closet, pulling out a warm, cozy pullover and a soft scarf which you wrapped around you before you headed out of the house.

The wind that had blown this morning had died down, the air was not really cold, but not warm either, and the dark, empty branches were still dripping from the shower of rain that had fallen while you had been on your way home.

The streets were mostly empty, except for a few people who walked their dogs, or hurried down the pavement, piling shopping bags in their arms.

It did not take you too long until you reached your destination. The house was tall, just like all the houses in this area were, and the old bricks looked especially dark from the rain. You rang the doorbell next to the tiny sign that read ‘Way’ several times, never receiving an answer on the duplex system, nor being let in by the electric buzzing of the unlocking door. So instead you pulled out your keychain and selected the small, silvery key that fit the lock.

You still remembered how Gerard had given the key to you. It had been long before you got together, long before your friendship turned into more than that. He had insisted on giving you this key in case you ever wanted a place to hang out at. You had shaken your head, and denied his offer, but he had been so insistent, that you had ended up taking the keys anyway. You smiled at that memory, and let yourself in; making sure the door fell into its lock behind your back.

The corridor was narrow, and two of the three lightbulbs broken, so the light was dim, and the fading daylight barely made it through the dusty window of the door. You gripped the railing of the staircase and climbed down into the basement, where Gerard had his apartment. Once again you fit the key into a lock, and the door sprung open, allowing you access.

The flat was dark, and the smell of coffee had grown cold, a sure sign that no one was not home yet. You turned on the light, and yellow beams streamed through the lamp you had helped Gerard choose. You kicked off your shoes and placed them neatly next to the pair of winter boots under the coat rack. The scarf was thrown over one of the coat hangers before you hesitantly advanced into the small kitchen.

You knew it was silly, feeling so reserved in a place where you almost spent as much time as in your own flat, but without Gerard in here you felt like you were invading his privacy. But apparently he did not think so; otherwise he would not have given you his keys, would he?

Carefully you filled water into the coffee machine, and added ground coffee into the filter, before switching it on. It immediately awoke to live, and started sucking water into the boiler. You took out two cups, and placed them on the little table so they were prepared for the coffee once it was ready.

You left the kitchen, and strode over to the bedroom. This room was the heart of the small flat. It was by far the biggest room, and the most decorated as well. A king sized bed stood under the small windows that lined one side of the room. Books and comics were piled on the nightstand next to it. A huge desk, covered in drawings and more comics faced the door. The wall opposite the bed was lined with bookshelves, these too filled to the brim with books and comics. The few spaces between were filled with action figures and little souvenirs. In front of these shelves stood a sofa and an armchair, both old and used, but cozy and familiar to you. You strode over to the radio that somehow was squeezed between the books.

In the kitchen the coffee machine was bubbling and puffing, filling the flat with the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee.

The button of the radio cracked under your finger as you switched it on, and for a moment you were worried you might have broken the old thing, but then music started flowing out of the speakers. The volume was turned up pretty high, apparently Gerard had engulfed himself in the sound of whatever song had been on the radio the last time he had used it. Some eighties tune blared from the radio and filled the room.

You felt the tension that had weighted you down before, slowly fall off. Suddenly the grey weather outside was not bothering you anymore, not now that you were standing in your boyfriend’s bedroom, surrounded by his things, his smell, the coffee machine contently working in the room next doors, and some amazing music making you want to dance.

So that’s what you did.

You closed your eyes, and concentrated on the music, felt how the beat made your bones vibrate, how the melody fit so perfectly to the text. You started moving around with your eyes closed. You knew where the furniture was, even when you had spun around a few times. You moved your arms over your head, and moved your hips to the beat of the bass, while your socked feet smoothly wandered over the carpet. You knew it had been a good idea to come here, even if Gerard was not home yet. You always felt so safe at his place, so safe and free, so that was what you allowed your body to show with each movement you made.

Had you not been so occupied by the music, you would have heard how the flat door was unlocked again, and a tired Gerard entered his flat. He had heard the music from outside, so he was not surprised to find the lights turned on. Quietly he took off his coat and his shoes, and tip toed to the open door of his room. The music was still playing, the Star Trek lamp on the ceiling shed some warm light, and the windows over his bed were already dark. But his eyes were fixed only on you, as you moved through the room with such confidence and joy. He leant against the frame of the door, watching your every movement, how you jumped around and raised your arms. He smiled happily; proud to know that he was allowed to love you, all of you, because there was no one else he would rather call his, no one in the whole world. The music faded as the song came to an end, and the title melody of the radio channel played into the calming song.

Your dancing had stopped, and you stood next to the radio, breathing heavily.

“You should dance for me more often,” Gerard whispered, just loud enough for you to hear over the radio.

You jumped around in surprise, still unaware of his presence.

“You’re home,” you cheered and skipped over to where he was standing in the door, flinging your arms around his neck.

“Yes, I’m home,” he agreed and hugged you, his still cool skin against you warm one.

“I made coffee,” you told him, pulling away, intending to go into the kitchen to look after the progress the coffee machine had made, but Gerard held you in place.

“How about,” he whispered and carefully walked you backwards, his hands on your hips, “the coffee waits for a bit.”

He guided you to the bed on which he pushed you down once the frame was hitting the hollow of your knee. You giggled and pulled him down with you, connecting your lips softly with his when he landed on top of you. He kissed you for a while, his long lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and his breath hitching every time you gently bit down on his lip, but then he pulled away, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

“Damn music,” he whispered and reached for the remote, turning down the still terribly loud music to a more tolerable level.

You giggled again before you pulled him back down by his shirt. You felt him smile into the kiss before he rearranged both of you more comfortably on the big bed. Your head was resting in the big pillow, and Gerard had pulled the warm Batman blanket over your legs so you would not get cold. You kept kissing for a long time before the day’s exhaustion demanded its tribute and you cuddled together closely.

Your head was resting on Gerard’s chest, and got moved up and down with every breath he took. His heart was beating firmly in his chest, and sometimes his belly glugged a little, making you smile tiredly every time. His hands were softly combing through your hair and he leant up several times so he could place a gentle kiss on it. It did not take long before you had fallen asleep, safe and warm in your lover’s arms, while outside the cold of another grey night flooded the streets of the city.

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #basement!gee x reader #BASEMENT!GEE #gerard way x reader fluff #fluff #cute #fluffy #dance #dancing #radio #fanfiction #fanfic #safety dance #men without hats

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jinterlude · 6 years ago

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Two Faced (Ch.7)

➵ Pairing(s): Gang!Jungkook x Female!OC & Gang!Mark Lee x Female!OC x Gang!Seokjin

➵ Genre(s): College!AU, Mafia/Gang!AU, Angst, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Love Triangle & Slight-Fluff

➵ Warning(s): N/A

➵ Words: 4.7K

➵ Co-writer: @softjeon

➵ Summary: Two girls. Two gangs. One craved absolute control over the city of Seoul. While, the other simply craved sleep and good grades. Now, what do these two ladies have in common? Simple. They have nothing in common—or so they think. Everyone knows the saying, “never judge a book by its cover”, so maybe there is something more to these two than meets the eye…especially when one of them is suddenly thrown into the underground life. Loyalties will be tested. Romance will blossom. Yup. Sounds like an average college day…

« Previously | Next Time »

Chapter 7 - Promise Me

It had been weeks since Sumin received that beautiful crystal vase of roses. Since then, there hadn’t been any signs of those luxurious gifts stopping anytime soon. Quite frankly, it annoyed Sowon to no end as their dorm room turned into a storage closet for Sumin’s presents. She knew that Seokjin had money to burn and how incredibly smitten he had become when it came to Sumin, but the gang leader didn’t realize that he would seriously waste thousands of dollars of gifts for her precious little roomie.

If anything, Sowon would think that Seokjin would spend a decent amount of dinner and then use his interesting charms on the girl. Yet, at the same time, he wasn’t luring an innocent little lamb into his clutches. So, his usual tactics wouldn’t even remotely cut it.

God… the more Sowon thought about a possible explanation as to why the eldest member of her little gang of misfits bought gift after gift for Sumin, the more her migraine grew worse…

A long, tired sigh escaped her lips as the exhausted older woman nestled her head into her arms. Why did she come to her morning class? Oh...that’s right...Sumin used her brainy side and made an excellent point about protecting her.

“What better way to make sure that I’m safe than for you to sit right next to me in the class that the both of us are currently enrolled in…” Sumin’s words echoed throughout her tired mind.

It was safe to say that the gang leader understood the fact that Sumin would make an excellent lawyer…

“Wake me up when lecture is over…” Sowon mumbled, closing her eyes and finding a comfortable position.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sumin saw her roommate falling asleep—and they sat front and center of the lecture hall.

Her mouth parted just a bit as she was in total disbelief that Sowon had the guts to fall asleep right in front of the professor. But she soon remembered that this was Sowon, A.K.A the leader of one of the infamous gangs in Seoul, so she took her immediate thought back. Instead, she replaced it with a fun game of how soon would their professor scold her for falling asleep.

“I think the professor will do that for me, Sowon…” Sumin whispered, turning the pages of her notebook in search of a blank page.

Only a few minutes later, exactly that happened—but much to Sumin disappointment, Sowon didn’t even look half as scared as she would be if the Professor would wake her up and embarrass her in the middle of a lecture. Instead, the leader just simply answered each and every question the professor had about the ongoing topic making everyone stunned about where Sowon had gotten her knowledge from out of a sudden.

She didn’t even blush. Sumin scoffed. She would have really wanted for someone to whoop Sowon’s ass, but apparently there was not much that could shake her confident aura. While she was still staring in disbelief at her roommate, when they both sat down for lunch, Sowon simply laughed at her cute expression.

“You talk in your sleep,” Sowon shrugged her shoulders, “And you repeat every fucking law there is...and some might say...that I’m pretty smart myself.” She winked at her flustered roommate. “I know this must be a surprise for some...but,” She took a sip from her coffee, a smirk appearing on her lips, “But I didn’t threaten or blackmail anyone to get into this university.”

And there it was again. There she thought she knew almost everything by now, the gang leader was surprising her with another info about herself that made Sumin speechless. How many secrets did the gang leader carry around with herself?

“C’mon, sunshine,” Sowon said and shook Sumin out of her stupor, “We got one more lecture and then I want to get rid of those stupid withered flowers of yours. And those stupid packages. Oh, and Jungkook will get you after work today.”

Sumin made a face, “Does he have to? I mean the last time he did, he ended up scaring off a few customers…And the coffee shop doesn’t even close until 8:30 P.M.!” She complained, raising her tone just a bit but not enough to disrupt the lecture.

Sowon perked her brow up, feeling a bit intrigued that her husband would do such a thing. Though, she wouldn’t put it passed him to do so.

An airy chuckle escaped her lips as she then asked her cute little roomie to explain that.

Sumin sighed, quickly jotting down any important information before setting down her pen.

“Okay. Fine…” She began, recalling that rather interesting yet intense night…

Smiling sweetly at the customers, Sumin, with her hair neatly tied in a ponytail, greeted the customer and kindly asked what the person would like.

A slim, tall female pursed her lips as her eyes scanned the menu. All the drink choices looked and sounded yummy! How could she simply choose one?

After thinking about which drink suited her current mood, the petite female gave up and asked Sumin what she’d recommend for this Autumn season.

“Oh! Hm...that’s a tough one since I have more than one personal favorite of mine.” Sumin looked behind, glancing at the menu, “Though, since it is a bit chilly tonight, I recommend our apple cinnamon latte! It has just the right amount of apple and cinnamon flavor, so it does not completely overpower the hints of coffee. However, we can definitely add more apple and cinnamon flavoring if the taste of strong coffee is not your forte.” She said, suggesting her number one favorite drink.

The female customer smiled and instantly asked for that drink. The way Sumin advertised it immediately piqued her curiosity to the point that she had to try out this drink. She dug out her wallet and pulled out a credit card before handing it over to Sumin.

Sumin took the card and slid it through the card reader. She handed both the card and receipt to the young woman as she told her that her order would be up soon.

The customer smiled politely before walking over to an empty seat to patiently wait.

Sumin tapped her register as she mentally counted down from ten. Her golden rule was to always wait at least ten seconds before leaving the register to help out her co-workers.

In a matter of seconds, she reached ten. However, just as she turned to help her fellow baristas, she noticed a familiar face walk inside the shop. The sweet, young lady halted in her steps; her brows became knitted together. What was Jungkook doing here? She had thought that Seokjin would come and fetch her—just as he’d been doing for weeks now.

Jungkook nodded at Sumin, smirking slightly, as his eyes surveilled the little, adorable coffee shop that his wife’s roommate had been working at for almost a year. Prior to being thrown into the gang life, the innocent ray of sunshine decided to work here because as she quoted, “I can’t rely on my mom to pay for my tuition. I’m old enough to make money on my own, so why not?”

At first, Jungkook nearly laughed at the girl’s reasoning but soon directed his laughter at Seokjin, who wanted to shell out thousands of dollars to pay for Sumin’s schooling.

That poor lovesick fool…

“Are you ready to leave?” asked the gang leader’s husband, glancing behind him for a moment.

Sumin raised her brow, “No…” She began, “Besides, I’m the closer today, so I need to stay until 10 P.M. at the earliest” She explained.

Jungkook blinked a few times. The fuck…? Had her shitty boss always made her stay late?

More importantly…

Why didn’t Seokjin say anything to him and the rest of Bangtan about Sumin working until the late hours of the night? There were a few times where they couldn’t pick her up from work. She could’ve been fucking kidnapped!

Blinking a few times, Jungkook nodded and turned away from the counter. Sumin, raising her brow, stared at Jungkook’s retreating body; confusion etched on her face.

From her months of knowing her roommate’s husband, she knew that it was never a good sign when he suddenly becomes quiet. Most of the time, it ended with Seokjin being forcibly used as sparring partner but seeing how her newly appointed bodyguard was not here—what was he planning?

“Jungkook…?” The anxious girl questioned, drawing out the last syllable in his name.

Unfortunately, no answer.

Moments of silence continued to pass her by as Jungkook remained still in the middle of the coffee shop. Soon, many bystanders glanced his way as their curiosity bested them; though, Sumin was almost certain that many of the females only stared because of how good looking he was. Judging from their faces, she knew that they were more than likely wondering if he was taken, and if he wasn’t, then they hoped they’d have a chance with him.

Good thing Sowon wasn’t with her…

It had been almost an hour, and Jungkook continued standing like a statue. Finally having enough of his strange antics, and the fact that her manager was about to demand that he leave, Sumin quickly asked a fellow barista to cover her before walking over to her bodyguard of the day.

She cautiously approached him, remembering what Sowon had said when it came to sneaking up on Jungkook, and slowly placed a warm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

Just as she opened her mouth to kindly ask him to come back later, she noticed him reaching behind him.

Her eyes widened as the color practically drained from her face.

Jungkook had slowly reached for his gun.

Why was he going for his gun? There's absolutely no reason for him to do so.

Then, it hit her.

He was about to do something that would definitely cost her her job...

“Jungkook...don’t...you…” However before she could finish her warning, Jungkook pulled out his gun and fired a few rounds into the air, alarming everyone in the cafe.

“EVERYONE GET THE FUCK OUT! THIS SHOP IS NOW CLOSED!” He demanded; his voice boomed, creating this echo.

Without a second thought, everyone, including the workers, scrambled out of the coffee shop. Every single one of them screaming their heads off, while Sumin covered her face with her hands; a few whines escaped her lips.

She thought Sowon lived to embarrassed the shit out of her but no. Jungkook had taken over that role.

Waiting a few seconds, making sure that no one would have the balls to come back inside, Jungkook calmly secured his gun again, tucking it in the waistband of his jeans. Of course, he made sure that the safety was on. He’s not stupid.

He then swiftly turned, grinning widely as he walked up to Sumin. He placed a friendly hand on her head and said,

“Well, looks the like shop is closed now. We can go home,” He glanced at his expensive watch, “Oh and look at the time! It’s not even 9 P.M. Go you!” He shouted happily. His smile ever so bright.

Slowly, Sumin removed her hands from her face. Her eyes narrowed, sending icy cold daggers his way.

Jungkook, on the other hand, became oblivious to her fury. He’d never seen her pissed off. His wife? Yes. Sumin? Nope.

Without saying anything, Sumin balled her hand into a fist and then drew it back. Before Jungkook could ask her what she was doing, he felt a rough impact against his shoulder.

Aw...Sumin tried hurting him. That’s cute.

“You’re an idiot!” shouted Sumin, unleashing Hell on to him.

Jungkook gawked, “How am I an idiot?! I did you favor, Minnie!”

Sumin made a face as tiny creases formed on her forehead. The fuck? Minnie? What kind of nickname was that?

“First of all, don’t call me that again. Second of all, how is you firing your fucking gun inside the place that I work at doing me a FAVOR?!” She argued; her voice increased an octave.

Jungkook smirked, “Why? You remind me of Minnie Mouse. Plus, your name is “Sumin”, so why not?” He retorted, earning himself another punch in the arm. “And, to go back to your second point, the rounds were blank, so no harm came to you or the customers.” He added, shrugging nonchalantly.

Out of frustration, Sumin threw her hands up and simply walked away. He’s too much of an idiot right now and arguing with him would only create even a bigger migraine.

However, Jungkook didn’t see it that way. He saw it as a victory for himself. She walked away; therefore, he was right.

And of course...he had to let her know...

“Ha! I win this argument!” He bragged, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Okay...that did it…

An almost animalistic growl emitted from her lips as Sumin grabbed a nearby knife and threw it at the annoying gang member.

Jungkook instantly stopped smiling and ducked just as the knife flew over his head. He couldn't help but let out a long whistle.

Damn...that was quite impressive.

He slowly stood up, eyeing the knife that impaled the wall. The longer he stared at it, the more an idea began to circulate inside his devious mind.

“I wonder if Sowon would allow her cute little roomie to be properly trained in weaponry…” He glanced at Sumin, who currently calmed herself by violently cleaning the counters, “Specifically in knives…” He finished his thought.

Sumin shook her head to get herself out of her daydreaming, when Sowon pushed her back into their shared room.

“But it also had a good thing he had been there,” She shrugged her shoulders, as she let herself fall onto her bed, ready to fall asleep again even though she just took a nap while the lecture was still going on up front, “We now know you are pretty good with weaponry and it’s a good style of defense for you.”

She happily smiled, feeling content with herself. Sowon yawned, as she closed her eyes, “Wake me up when it’s time to get you to work, sunshine.”

While Sowon was getting her rest, Sumin, on the other hand, got rid of the few wilted flowers and proceeded to study, mumbling law after law quietly to herself. Working part-time and suddenly training with gang-members didn’t give her much time to study, so she needed to take what she could get...

It was about an hour from closing time and only a few customers were lingering over their coffee. Sumin kept mumbling a few laws she keeps forgetting to herself as she cleaned the counter.

As soon as the chimes over the door jingled, she put a smile on her face either greeting or wishing the customers a ‘good evening’ before she returned to her duty of cleaning everything for closing. She diligently disinfected the equipment and prepared the area for the next mornings business rush, organizing all of the coffee, milk, creamers...everything, really.

Then she took a box and put all the remaining muffins into the box with a smile on her face. The boys would love the little surprise as they always loved what they had in the shop. This way she didn’t need to waste anything and throw it away. She put it aside and then walked around the counter, closing the main door behind the last customer. Sumin quickly returned to the counter and got out her personal bag and carefully putting the muffins away. She kept looking over to the glass windows, wondering where Jungkook was, as the young man never came later and most likely showed up way too early.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sumin proceeded to the tied-up trash bags and got them out the back door, stuffing them into the trash can. Humming to herself, she pulled down the lid again and turned around only to freeze in her movements completely. Her eyes fell on another intense gaze, a wicked smirk appearing on the strangers lips.

“There you are, little one,” Mark spoke almost softly, cornering Sumin easily against the backdoor of the coffee shop, “Has no one taught you to not go out alone in empty alleys at night?”

Her breath hitched. Her heart nearly stopped. Her fingers trembled slightly as fear slowly took control of her body.

What the fuck was Mark Lee doing here?

More importantly... how on Earth did he figure out where she worked?

“And has no one taught you that it is a dick move to drug a defenseless girl?” She snapped back, though, what she really wanted to ask was, “What are you doing here and how the fuck did you know I worked at this coffee shop?”

Mark, on the other hand, simply scoffed yet had this scheming like smirk plastered on his face. While, Sumin radiated this innocence like aura, she started to develop a little bit of a backbone. More than likely thanks to Sowon and the rest of her little band of mischiefs.

He then took a step closer to her, unbothered to answer her questions, causing the poor girl to take a step back. He continued to close the gap between them, slowly trapping her against his body and the door. His eyes displayed this predator like stare as he slowly swept his bottom lip with his tongue.

God, the things he could do to her that would have her begging for his touch. Just him imagining her this moaning mess stirred up his hormones and sped up his heart. It’s not every day he had the opportunity to claim such a beautiful angel like Sumin.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as Mark swiftly yet gently pinned Sumin’s arms above her head. He lowered his face and nestled it against the crook of her neck. He slowly inhaled the sweet and addicting scent of her perfume that smelled like country apples. It’s nice to know that she hadn’t changed it since the night they first met. He would honestly go crazy if she were to change anything that got him so damn obsessed over her that fateful night—the night that he knew that Sumin would be his.

Moments of silence continued to pass them by as Mark had yet to show any signs of releasing the poor girl. At first, Sumin struggled to free herself, but that only annoyed the NCT gang leader. Every time she’d squirmed underneath his touch, he’d either softly kiss or nip her precious neck. Whenever he did that, Sumin felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. This unfamiliar noise that begged for a release.

What kind of spell did he have her under?

“C-can you let me go now? I have a feeling that one of my guy friends will be showing up soon, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” Sumin requested softly; her eyes glanced around, hoping to see any familiar faces.

Mark hummed in response, remaining still, as he did not want to leave the comforts of Sumin’s neck. Something about her warmth relaxed him. A feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long ass time. He placed on final kiss on her neck, but this time it was different. He gently sunk his teeth in her skin and sucked; though, he was careful to not bite too hard. His tongue gently swept over the area as his teeth continued to pull on her precious, soft skin.

A sigh of content exited her lips as her mind grew fuzzy. Out of nowhere, Sumin tilted her head; her eyes closed and her lips parted just a bit. That foreign sensation, that she experienced earlier, continued to grow within her. Her rational thought slowly faded away as she wanted nothing more but to tangle her fingers within his hair and capture his lips with hers.

Wait...what?

That’s not what she wanted to do, especially with the leader of NCT—the sworn enemy of Bangtan.

Without a second thought, she pushed him away, uncaring about the fact that he could’ve tore a piece of her skin off by doing so.

Mark, with his pupils practically dilated, panted. He secretly thanked Sumin for doing that because if she hadn’t, then they’d be naked inside her coffee shop and filling the place up with their loud moans.

Yeah...the first time he’d claim her body would be in his bed—where no one would have the privilege of seeing his precious angel’s bare body.

“I think you should go, Mark…” Mark heard Sumin say softly. He then met her gaze; his eyes flickered towards the love bite that he had created.

He scoffed softly with a short grin on his face, “You’re probably right. I don’t want your little bodyguards to get the wrong idea about us.” He said, reaching inside one of the pockets of his leather jacket and fishing something out.

Once he felt something cool against his skin, he pulled it out and dangled it in front of Sumin.

“I want you to wear this.” He instructed vaguely.

Sumin’s eyes widened as she produced this loud gasp. Her eyes took in the fine details of the necklace, noting the mixture of diamonds and blue sapphires as it created this beautiful flower design.

She redirected her focus on Mark, who’s silently pleased with the reaction that he had gotten from her.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept it,” She began, smiling apologetically, “I mean, we aren’t even dating, so for me to take this will just feel wrong to me.” She finished, hoping her explanation would convince him.

Sadly...it didn’t…

If anything, it only added to his strong desire to claim her as his.

Mark quickly mustered a sincere smile, hiding this calculating gleam in his eyes.

“I know but, I want you to have it. While, yes, we are not exclusive towards one another, I hope you see this as my way of courting you.” He said, walking towards her and clasping the necklace around her neck. “I know it has only been a few months since we have met, but I am a firm believer of love at first sight, and I want you to know that I will do whatever it takes to convince you that I am right man for you regardless of the fact that I am the leader of NCT.” He added, staring at Sumin with hopeful eyes.

To say that she was speechless would be an understatement. Not only did she had that effect on Seokjin, but Mark as well. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that two fellas both expressed a huge interest in her, and all she did was simply smile.

God...where was Sowon when she needed her. She was her go-to guy chaser whenever some creep would have the audacity to speak to her after they’ve been rejected.

As the innocent girl opened her mouth in hopes to try and convince Mark that things would never work out between them, the NCT leader placed a finger on her lips.

“Before you reject me...just think about it…” He said softly, smiling, before turning away and leaving her.

Sumin eyed his retreating body, confusion dawned on her face. Great...how was she going to explain things to Sowon…

Meanwhile, as Sumin collected her thoughts, Mark strolled down the alleyway but soon halted in his steps as he came face-to-face with someone he did not want to see. Someone that could ruin his perfectly good evening…

A fucking member of Bangtan…

“So, you really think this was a wise decision to come here, huh?” Jungkook clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side, one hand settling on his gun, ready to use it if Mark made one wrong move. “The rumors are true then, you’re all are pretty fucking dumb then. Good-looking but no brains,” He laughed lowly, eyeing Mark as he circled around him, slowly backing up to Sumin, so she could hide behind him safely.

“Fuck off, now…or I’ll kill you right here,” Jungkook hissed, grabbing Sumin by her wrist to pull her against his back. Mark growled low in his chest, not liking the way the opposite gang member was treating his love-interest, but there was one thing the other was right about. It would be fucking stupid to stay here in the open with Jungkook any longer. Mark winked playfully at Sumin, saluted at Jungkook teasingly and then turned around, running off and vanishing into the dark.

Jungkook stayed frozen in his spot for a moment. He listened closely, trying to make out any noises that would tell him that Mark would come back but there was nothing. So, he cursed quietly and without saying anything else he stomped along, pulling at Sumin’s wrist to motion for her to come with him.

Just as she wanted to open her mouth, Jungkook’s rough voice echoed through the dark, “I don’t fucking care if you haven’t closed the coffee shop yet, and if you’re not finished cleaning up. We’re going to go now.” He was walking fast and Sumin had a hard time keeping up. Jungkook pushed a second helmet into her hands before motioning to his motorbike. “Oh, don’t you even think about going back to the dorms tonight.”

This cool sensation penetrated the warmth that radiated from her skin. Confusion glazed over her eyes yet there were tiny hints of fear. Fear that she may never see her friends and mom again if Mark were to successfully kidnap her.

What a truly frightening thought…

“Minnie…?” a questioning voice penetrated her thoughts. Sumin looked up and saw a worried expression written all over Jungkook’s face.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he started up his motorbike, revving the engine a few times to get it nice and hot.

Sumin slowly shook her head, still frozen in her spot.

Jungkook raised his brow as he hopped off his bike, making sure the kickstand was firmly down and resting on the pavement. He then walked up to the afraid girl and placed a friendly hand on top of her head. A faint yet warm smile appeared on the boy’s face as he disliked seeing how distressed his “sister” had become over some creeper who refused to get in his fucking thick head that Sumin would never be his.

“Hey…” But before Jungkook could finish what he wanted to say, Sumin interrupted him, saying something that would never leave his mind for the rest of his life.

“Can you promise me that Mark will never get me?”

“Minnie…”

“No, Jungkook. Swear on your life that you and the rest of Bangtan will make sure that I am safe...”

Jungkook stared sympathetically at his wife’s roommate. He even felt a slight twinge in his heart as he’d never seen this innocent girl become extremely vulnerable. Not even after the whole drugging episode a few months back.

The girl in front of him was vastly different from the spitfire he had met while Sowon was in hiding.

The fuck did Mark do to her?

With this confident smirk gracing his face, Jungkook courageously stared straight into Sumin’s scared eyes and said,

“I swear on Seokjin’s life that I will make sure that you are safe with us and not with that creepy fucker that thinks that you’re his.”

Sumin chuckled softly, finding it amusing that Jungkook used Seokjin’s life as a bargaining tool yet again.

“Why do you always swear on Seokjin’s life and never yours?” She asked before putting on the helmet.

Jungkook laughed, “Because my wife would kill me if I somehow ended up dead.” He explained as he too put on his helmet before straddling his motorbike.

“Wait...what?” Sumin became confused, trying to figure out how on Earth Sowon could kill Jungkook if he was already dead. Great, her head started to hurt just thinking about it.

“Let’s just go back to the mansion. It’s past your bedtime, young lady.” The second-in-command teased, propping up the kickstand and ready to head back to the mansion.

“When did you become my dad?”

“When my wife suddenly adopted you.”

A/N: Wow! Talk about ending that on a heavy yet cute note between Jungkook & Sumin. Honestly, I love the sibling dynamic the two of them share! Anyway, we are slowly ending the end of this amazing series! But...I think Jey and I were thinking of making a sequel, especially with certain aspects of this story taking a different turn. What do you guys think? ;)

Also, by the time this is officially released, I will be done with my last ever semester of school (well until the teaching credential program lol) Go me! So, I will have more time to write more updates, one shots, and everything in between!

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/and an ask in mine or Jey’s inbox! We love hearing your thoughts!

- Kim

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