#if i took 10 hours to study and analyze this i would probably figure it out but i won't do it so it's just

[gender-euphowrya]

watching eraserhead rn i feel like i need a degree in Something

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him.  But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

[rigelmejo]

Using this tool to determine unique amount of words in a text (and generating a vocabulary list). Since it can’t handle a huge amount of input I’m just going to do maybe a chapter or half a chapter of each story and see the result: http://www.zhtoolkit.com/apps/wordlist/create-list.cgi

This tool is useful for figuring out how difficult a text is compared to something else you’ve read, and it generates word lists! So you have something to study from (if you aren’t using Pleco, want like a Graded Reader experience with intensive reading word lists, etc). You can think of meanU as the “easiness rating” - the higher it is the easier the text is to read. 

**This list gets long below the cut, but will hopefully help serve as a reference. For a rough estimate I’d say anything from 1.9+ seems to be manageable for someone who knows HSK 4 words and is using a click-dictionary (like Pleco, Zhongwen Chrome Extension, Mandarinspot.com Annotator Bookmarklet, eReader dictionary, etc). Some ~1.9 ones are easier or harder depending on genre familiarity. For example I think 论如何错误地套路一个魔教教主 is extremely easy if you’re used to wuxia genre as its very simple for the genre, versus something like 魔道祖师, also if wuxia vocab isn’t an issue for you then priest novels like 天涯客 tend to be easier than 镇魂). For ease’s sake, ones 2+ seem to be the most ‘doable’ for actual extensive reading though. Again, this depends on which genres you’re more familiar with - but in general the ones scored 2+ below are novels I had more success reading without dictionary lookup in general. 

Anything marked *** I would recommend as ‘easier,’ and anything as ** I would recommend as possibly easier depending on your genre familiarity.

Update: I have gone through this list and now most text samples analyzed were generally between 1900-2100 words, so now the scores should be more comparable. While a 1.9 may or may not be easy based on your level, in general if something is scored lower it will still be harder and if scored higher will still be ‘easier’ than a 1.9. Your genre familiarity will also affect things. So when looking for “similar difficulty” material and “slightly” harder or easier, these scores should hopefully be a bit more useful now. 

* Unique unknown is the count of the Chinese words not in the public common word filter, nor in your user known word list * meanU is the average frequency of all words. Here, it is the average of the log(10) frequencies. It is a very rough measure of text difficulty. A value of ~1.9 is somewhat difficult, and ~2.6 is probably easier. (Ref: [http://www.soc.cornell.edu/hayes-lexical-analysis/])

First, novels I’ve heard recommended as ‘easier’ to read:

***小王子

Characters:3196 Word Count:2192 Unique Words:744 (33.9%) Unique unknown*:608 (81.7%) meanU(log10)*:2.004

**So it’s ease rating is 2, fairly easy! That makes sense, at least based on my experience reading it right now. 

***地图 by 倪匡

Characters:3005 Word Count:2094 Unique Words:681 (32.5%) Unique unknown*:551 (80.9%) meanU(log10)*:2.072

**This author was recommended as very approachable on chinese learning forums, sci-fi short stories (around 100 pages per story) for people who know HSK 4+. (Also again shout out to this text analyzer tool because the vocabulary lists it generates are super useful for looking through ahead of a reading to help prepare).

***他们的故事 by 一根黄瓜丝儿

Characters:3085 Word Count:2172 Unique Words:730 (33.6%) Unique unknown*:613 (84.0%) meanU(log10)*:2.008

**Score of 2 makes sense, it was the first webnovel I was able to read (with the help of Pleco Reader click-definitions). It’s definitely on the easier side. If there’s unknown words in this, a huge portion of them are very common daily life words or simple novel description words so they were worth learning for me. 

***论如何错误地套路一个魔教教主

Characters:2403 Word Count:1766 Unique Words:691 (39.1%) Unique unknown*:565 (81.8%) meanU(log10)*:1.962

**This is The Wrong Way To A Demon Sect Leader and I recommend it hands down as an intro wuxia or bl novel. The reading is actually fairly easy, and if its not then learning any of the words here are pretty basic wuxia genre words you will keep using. (Also its a great listening reading method novel to do since its audiobook matches perfectly to the text, and it’s english translation is pretty literal).

我和我的四个伴舞 by  娜可露露

Characters:3587 Word Count:2547 Unique Words:978 (38.4%) Unique unknown*:840 (85.9%) meanU(log10)*:1.899

**Harder rating than I expected it to be given it was recommended to me lol.

魔尊总是要抱抱 by  杨乔萝

Characters:2633 Word Count:1861 Unique Words:845 (45.4%) Unique unknown*:718 (85.0%) meanU(log10)*:1.901

**I had a hard time figuring out if this is the novel Demon Wants a Hug manhua is based on, or if its another novel. ToT I’d personally rate this as an ‘easier’ read, because after ttwtadsl, I remember this novel’s chapter 1 was doable without a dictionary. 

迪奥先生 by 绿野千鹤

Characters:2564 Word Count:1784 Unique Words:851 (47.7%) Unique unknown*:732 (86.0%) meanU(log10)*:1.835

**Recommended to me as “easy.” On the upside, its ease rating is better than hanshe.

碎玉投珠 by 北南

Characters:2896 Word Count:2164 Unique Words:879 (40.6%) Unique unknown*:752 (85.6%) meanU(log10)*:1.874

**This was recommended to me as “easy.”

寒舍 by 夏灬安兰

Characters:2988 Word Count:2027 Unique Words:895 (44.2%) Unique unknown*:777 (86.8%) meanU(log10)*:1.833

**I find it interesting this is marked as a 1.8. I found it easier to read than any priest novels. I am currently reading it with a click-dictionary (Pleco Reader). At first chapters took me 1.5 hours to read, and now they take me 20 minutes. Part of what makes hanshe ‘easier’ than it should be, is it has sets of chapters all focusing in one main setting each - so the vocabulary can get specialized but then its repeated frequently and learned fairly easily with context over time. 

Comparing some well known novels:

镇魂

Characters:3159 Word Count:2081 Unique Words:954 (45.8%) Unique unknown*:815 (85.4%) meanU(log10)*:1.911

**Scored as theoretically a little easier than hanshe. Almost the same score as Demon Wants A Hug - but I’d argue zhenhun is a lot more difficult than that novel. So these scores aren’t perfect lol. I think hanshe is a little easier than zhenhun - but I do think hanshe was good prep reading for zhenhun.

默读

Characters:2963 Word Count:2056 Unique Words:1016 (49.4%) Unique unknown*:881 (86.7%) meanU(log10)*:1.784

**Marked as a bit harder than zhenhun (chapter 1 anyway). I feel they’re more similar in difficulty. For me they feel similar to read - but modu sometimes has more descriptions (although if you’re less familiar with crime genre novels, this will probably be more challenging - whereas zhenhun is harder if you’re less familiar with supernatural genre).

破云

Characters:2943 Word Count:2068 Unique Words:998 (48.3%) Unique unknown*:862 (86.4%) meanU(log10)*:1.835

**I have tried to read the first chapter of Poyun and found it a bit harder than hanshe.

**天涯客

Characters:2920 Word Count:2095 Unique Words:874 (41.7%) Unique unknown*:744 (85.1%) meanU(log10)*:1.878

**I personally found tian ya ke a bit harder than hanshe, and a bit easier than guardian and modu. If you’re going to read a priest novel, this is one of the easier ones.

魔道祖师 (MDZS)

Characters:3020 Word Count:2158 Unique Words:952 (44.1%) Unique unknown*:811 (85.2%) meanU(log10)*:1.827

***人渣反派自救系统 (SVSSS)

Characters:2552 Word Count:1796 Unique Words:905 (50.4%) Unique unknown*:765 (84.5%) meanU(log10)*:1.900

**I’ve read a few chapters and I would say yes 1.9 is a fair estimate. I found it a bit harder than ttwtadsl, but easier than mdzs. If you plan to read this genre more, this is pretty approachable for the genre (as far as xianxia terms, I found this easier to follow than mdzs for example).

一受封疆 by 殿前欢

Characters:2871 Word Count:2119 Unique Words:989 (46.7%) Unique unknown*:855 (86.5%) meanU(log10)*:1.863

残次品

Characters:2743 Word Count:1776 Unique Words:940 (52.9%) Unique unknown*:805 (85.6%) meanU(log10)*:1.811

**Can Ci Pin is likely harder than this estimate, since its a sci fi with futuristic words.

***SCI谜案集第一部

Characters:2855 Word Count:1986 Unique Words:773 (38.9%) Unique unknown*:645 (83.4%) meanU(log10)*:1.973

**I haven’t read any of this, but I’d recommend it as potentially easier - like ttwtadsl it has a ton of really short chapters, which I think makes each individual section feel a bit easier.

***盗墓笔记1  

Characters:2954 Word Count:2149 Unique Words:756 (35.2%) Unique unknown*:635 (84.0%) meanU(log10)*:1.992

**Keep in mind the more words I put into the tool, the higher the difficulty gets period. I’d say dmbj is an easier read like svsss - its somewhat challenging but not like priest novels.

**活着

Characters:2866 Word Count:2056 Unique Words:815 (39.6%) Unique unknown*:690 (84.7%) meanU(log10)*:1.895

**Considered one of the “easiest” books for people to read starting out in chinese, it did not get the easiest score (compared to the 2+ ones). I have not tried to read it. That said, it is only around ten chapters so its a much more approachable choice than some longer texts. 

***许三观卖血记

Characters:2741 Word Count:2123 Unique Words:499 (23.5%) Unique unknown*:391 (78.4%) meanU(log10)*:2.132

**This is by the same author as above  余华. I’m recommending this one over the other one though, for two reasons. First, this scored MUCH higher on reading ‘ease.’ Second, I just read the first chapter and it IS incredibly easy to read - it felt like the next step after a graded reader, very few unknown words. Pretty much anything on this list above a 2 is probably going to be the easiest.

***一级律师[星际] by 木苏里

Characters:2558 Word Count:1729 Unique Words:760 (44.0%) Unique unknown*:639 (84.1%) meanU(log10)*:1.956

**This was highly recommended to me, along with modu and poyun as good mystery stories.

**(瓶邪同人)所谓一切发生在网配+番外 (dmbj fanfic)

Characters:2729 Word Count:1910 Unique Words:808 (42.3%) Unique unknown*:679 (84.0%) meanU(log10)*:1.947

夜半衣寒 by 夏灬安兰

Characters:3085 Word Count:2122 Unique Words:832 (39.2%) Unique unknown*:716 (86.1%) meanU(log10)*:1.875

***他来了, 请闭眼 by 丁墨

Characters:2270 Word Count:1615 Unique Words:744 (46.1%) Unique unknown*:614 (82.5%) meanU(log10)*:1.962

**I am happy to report this one has a pretty high ‘ease’ score, and this is an author I was highly recommended so maybe I’ll check out their novels for a while.

**如果蜗牛有爱情 by 丁墨

Characters:2766 Word Count:1968 Unique Words:896 (45.5%) Unique unknown*:762 (85.0%) meanU(log10)*:1.927

美人为馅  by 丁墨

Characters:3175 Word Count:2201 Unique Words:1018 (46.3%) Unique unknown*:891 (87.5%) meanU(log10)*:1.808

**女将军和长公主

Characters:4428 Word Count:3090 Unique Words:645 (20.9%) Unique unknown*:522 (80.9%) meanU(log10)*:1.984

**I haven’t read any of Female General and Eldest Princess, but this is a pretty high ease rating, and its the only gl novel I put on the list. So definitely worth checking out if you feel like reading! Also I imagine a lot of hard words will be common ones for the genre since its rating of ease is ‘higher’ so they’re probably worth learning.

**全職高手 (The King’s Avatar)

Characters:3067 Word Count:2171 Unique Words:772 (35.6%) Unique unknown*:637 (82.5%) meanU(log10)*:1.989

桃花债 (Peach Blossom Debt)

Characters:2828 Word Count:2114 Unique Words:920 (43.5%) Unique unknown*:786 (85.4%) meanU(log10)*:1.858

**I did not expect this one to score as ‘difficult’ tbh. When I’ve read pieces of it, its somewhat manageable without a dictionary.

**琉璃美人煞 (The Glass Maiden, Love and Redemption novel)

Characters:2752 Word Count:2004 Unique Words:810 (40.4%) Unique unknown*:678 (83.7%) meanU(log10)*:1.929

**As far as xianxia go, this is the only one I’ve read a bit of, and I did not find it too difficult - not easy, but manageable especially if you use a click-dictionary. (Also for listening reading method, the english translation is pretty literal, the audiobook matches to the text well - it just doesn’t match the chapter endings).

圈子圈套

Characters:2909 Word Count:2082 Unique Words:761 (36.6%) Unique unknown*:641 (84.2%) meanU(log10)*:1.977

**Generally considered one of the ‘easier’ novels to read along with huozhe. When I lowered the word sample it was close to 2, when I increased the word sample it was 1.7. 

***笑猫日记: 会唱歌的猫

Characters:2551 Word Count:1816 Unique Words:587 (32.3%) Unique unknown*:474 (80.7%) meanU(log10)*:2.035

**First: recommending this for easier material - its one of the only other ones to score above 2. I read 3 chapters this week, and it is definitely easier reading material - it feels a little bit easier than 小王子 and decently easier than 他们的故事 (bl novel not gl manhua). This is one of the novels on this list that truly feels like a ‘next step’ after graded readers. So I highly recommend this one. Also like  他们的故事, a lot of its words are daily life words one would find useful about growing up, families, park and nature words, people/objects/places in cities. And its more specific words while a bit niche about animals and plants, so far I have all found very applicable - poodle, parrot, minya bird (which pops up in several cdramas I’ve seen), mouse, cat, gingko tree (one of the few trees I know the name of in english too). 

Second: How many words you put in definitely affects the tool’s scoring - when I put in around 2000 words this was scored as 2, when I put in 3000 it was scored as 1.9. 

***流星·蝴蝶·剑 by Gu Long

Characters:2954 Word Count:2188 Unique Words:755 (34.5%) Unique unknown*:629 (83.3%) meanU(log10)*:2.015

**Also highly recommending this as easier material if you want to get into wuxia - I read one chapter of this last night without a dictionary. 

***那些年我們一起追的女孩

Characters:2645 Word Count:1844 Unique Words:803 (43.5%) Unique unknown*:660 (82.2%) meanU(log10)*:1.955

**I’d highly recommend this as easier material - it was one of the readings in a mandarin book club I was a part of, is genuinely SHORT, and is genuinely lower on the difficulty scale.

***一个钢镚儿

Characters:1965 Word Count:1361 Unique Words:580 (42.6%) Unique unknown*:474 (81.7%) meanU(log10)*:2.030

**I haven’t read this but marking it as a great choice, it easily scored above 2. 

***撒野

Characters:2911 Word Count:2072 Unique Words:701 (33.8%) Unique unknown*:583 (83.2%) meanU(log10)*:1.980

**I will probably try this one as its scored pretty easy.

那些風花雪月

Characters:2409 Word Count:1673 Unique Words:735 (43.9%) Unique unknown*:615 (83.7%) meanU(log10)*:1.885

**This one I wanted to run for fun lol. this was once recced as one of the “easiest” novels to read. Well I found it to be extremely hard to read - looks like it wasn’t just me. Even at a low word count of text sample, its rating is 1.8.

**叛逆者

Characters:2821 Word Count:1952 Unique Words:849 (43.5%) Unique unknown*:718 (84.6%) meanU(log10)*:1.898

Adding The Rebel because Zhu Yilong’s about to star in the show based on it, and an english translation already exists. While its ranked as a bit harder at 1.9ish, this novel is very short (13 chapters I believe). So the time commitment is much shorter (compared to hanshe’s 155 chapters).

X

This tool’s score seems HIGHLY dependent on how many words you put in. I’d say aim around the same word amount for each sample if you want to compare the results better - I clearly did Not do that and I think that’s part of why there’s so much variance between 1.7-1.9 between some materials I think the difficulty would be different on. Based on that, I’d say ones where I put high amounts of text samples in and STILL scored high are probably some of the easiest! And ones with high amounts of text samples that slid down into 1.7~1.8 may not actually be quite as difficult. (EDIT: I have just gone through this and taken ~1900-2100 word length samples of each to try and make the ‘ease’ ratings more comparable).

X

I am a bit sad by how few novels actually got a score of 2 or above. Does anyone have any “easier” webnovel/novel recommendations I can look into? I could do an analysis for a few more.

[deliriousgeek]

She’s The Alpha (Owen Grady x reader) .9

Here’s chapter nine lovelies! Sorry that it took so long to finish, but it’s here! Also, idk if anyone pays attention to the lore or actual timeline of the Jurassic World franchise but in case anyone does, I will not be following that timeline. The events in this series will be different from that of the actual canon series. There are probably typos since I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as possible so I heavily apologize for that. Any who, enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff?

The synthetic, white light illuminated the creation lab in a haze. No computers beeped and no screens flashed. The few movements in the room belonged to the lights flickering off in the nocturnal specimen containers, slowly rousing them from their day time slumber. The sun had set outside, but there were no windows in the lab and so the white overhanging lights gave no indication that any time had passed at all. If one stood quietly in the middle of the room, they could hear the wake up songs of croaking frogs and tweeting good nights from birds, each in their respective containers. One could look around and see the blinking eyes of lizards and watch as a lone paleontologist observed a substance as it dripped into a beaker. 

Yn’s eyes narrowed as she watched the amber toned liquid flow through the tube. Millions of years in development, 10 years of research, and a grueling year’s worth of testing flowed into a glass beaker. The action itself seemed too underwhelming for the labor and effort put into it. Her studies in Jurassic World would finally come to fruition if this one test worked. After tweaking experiments and hypotheses, it would all rely on this serum. 

It all relied upon the inspection of this serum. One look under a microscope was all she needed to confirm her suspensions. Due to staring at the beaker Yn failed to hear approaching footsteps outside of the laboratory doors. It wasn't until three raps on the glass door disturbed the incessant sound of dripping liquid, did she notice she wasn't alone.

"Uh, should I leave you with the beaker or should I go?"

Letting out a chuff Yn swiveled her chair to face the door.

"Sorry Owen, I didn't hear you come in."

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the door frame. A brown, paper sandwich bag with the Jurassic World logo printed on it was in his hands. He lifted a brow and impishly smiled. "Yn you're working too hard again. Do you know what time it is?"

Blinking her eyes and readjusting to turning so fast, Yn rested her hands on her knees and leaned back. Eyes flicking to the clock she sighed. 

The clock face stared back at her and read 10:30 pm.

"Damn."

Letting out a relinquished sigh as her hand slid down her face. For the past year Yn had been working as a paleogeneticist for Jurassic World. After her first initial visit to the park, which went smoothly, she returned home and endorsed Jurassic World. Shortly after the endorsement was published Jurassic World attendance skyrocketed. Mr. Masrani had reached out to Yn once more, but this time with a job offer. His hooking line that convinced her to leave the traditional paleontology world was “You won’t have to study dried out and dusty fossils. Instead you’ll be able to work with them in the flesh.” With an offer such as that, she couldn’t say no. Yn was elated when she had finally made her decision. However, her joy did not extend to her father, or any of her other extended family. Each shared their concerns and worries, much like the first time she traveled to the park, but once again they were met with Yn’s hard researched evidence on the park’s safety and personal confirmation that she would be fine. After that, they couldn’t say no. Three weeks later she was hugging her father goodbye and hopping on a private helicopter to Jurassic World. This time she was taken to the Hammond creation lab not as an endorser, but as a respected colleague. 

Now, Yn was on the brink of connecting something big, something that would revolutionize everything the world knew about dinosaurs. 

“Yeah, ‘damn’ is right. Now, are you going to stay locked up here all night or join me for a couple beers?”

Yn smiled at Owen’s offer, but she knew her answer. “I’d love to, Owen, but I really need to finish this. I’ll be outta here soon. Don’t worry about me.”

 This time Owen’s eyes slightly narrowed and his arms crossed, “You’ve been working late like this for the past month. What are you working on anyway?” He inquired as if trying to figure out what the purpose of the experiment was by analyzing the liquid. 

“Just confirming some stuff Dr. Wu theorized. With the late nights I’ve been pulling, I’ve actually gotten a lot further than what I expected.”

“Hmm.” Owen stepped back and let the paper bag drop to his side. “Well that’s great. Uh, okay well. I guess I’ll be off then. Want me to leave you a beer?” 

A laugh escaped Yn’s lips. “Nah. If someone came in and saw it I’d be immediately fired.” She was about to end the conversation there when a thought came to mind, “but if you’re still awake in say, about an hour? Would you still be down to share a beer and a late dinner?”

Hearing her suggestion Owen perked up. “Sure, I’ll be up. Meet at my place?” 

Yn nodded. “Yep.”

Turning on his heel with a slight jump to his step he shouted down the hallway, “See you then!”

Yn shook her head with a fond chuckle. She could always count on Owen to cheer her up. Or remind her when it was time to go home. With a made up resolve that she had done enough for the night, Yn began to clean up the lab and head to Owen’s trailer.

The test tubes were cleaned and put away to dry. All the tools she used were put back in their respective places. Now all that was left to do was save the research she had completed. Yn sat down in front of the computer, typing in the last details into the report. Then with a few clicks the file “Indo.Genome.2” was saved. 

With a satisfied sigh Yn closed up the lab and began her journey to Owen’s trailer. Upon arriving and exiting her car, Yn smiled. “Did I miss a celebration?” She observed the strings of light that hung across the open space between Owen’s trailer and the trees. A table set for two sat in the middle of it all. Owen occupied one chair, grinning with a teasing smile.

“Oh no, you didn’t miss anything.”

“Then what’s all this?” Yn gestured to the lights as she took her spot across from Owen.

He reached for his beer bottle and shrugged. “Can’t a man do something nice for his friend?” 

Yn laughed. “You can, but you usually don’t decorate unless we’re celebrating something.” She mused.

Placing the bottle down his teasing resolve softened. If Yn didn’t know any better she would think he looked sheepish. Owen didn’t answer after a few seconds so Yn took that as her cue to drop the interrogation.

“Got a bottle opener?”

“Oh right.”

Owen took the bottle from Yn and opened it, handing it back to her.

“Thanks.” 

Yn took a sip and sighed. She always preferred Owen’s place to hangout over hers. Yn looked out into the lake. It’s inky black surface reflected the white light of the moon. The lake was beautiful and quiet, encompassed by local foliage and the soothing noises of the jungle. 

Contrary to her condo in the park that was surrounded by late night bar attendees and bustling guests. It was peaceful here. She enjoyed that. 

Observing Yn take a sip of her beer and see her shoulders visibly relax gave Owen a sense of triumph. A few minutes of silence passed between them as they observed the lake before Owen spoke up. 

“Actually n/n, there is a reason for setting this all up.”

Switching her attention from the lake to him Yn turned. “Oh?”

“Yeah, uh,” He had a little trouble finding his words. “Actually uh, I’ve noticed the way you’ve been acting the past two months.”

Yn tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Leaning back into the patio chair Owen spoke. “Every time I’ve come to check on you, I find that you haven’t eaten. You’re the first person at work and the last one to leave. I hardly see you during our lunch break. To top it off you stopped coming by the paddock at the beginning of the month. The first couple times I noticed these changes I didn’t say anything, but now seeing as nothing’s changed I’m a little worried.”

Yn stared back at Owen with wide eyes and a mouth slightly gaping. Hearing all the differences in her routine surprised her. Had it really been that bad? Taking in a breath at her realization Yn reclined into her chair. What made it worse was that she had made Owen worry and fret over her. Now it made sense that he would check on her late at night in the lab every so often. He was worried about her well being. 

Taken aback Yn replied, “Wow. I’m sorry Owen. I didn’t mean to worry you. Honestly, I’m okay. I’ve just been really distracted with this project.”

“That’s the thing Yn. I know how much of a workaholic you are, but this is a new level.” Owen stated, a little displeased. 

A chuckle came out of Yn. “It’s not that bad.”

“Oh really?” Owen dead panned. “When was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?”

Yn quirked a brow. “Oh please. I got a full eight hours of sleep just last,” Her brows knitted. “Last,” Her memory must’ve been foggy because she specifically remembered that on- “Last..” Huh. She couldn’t remember. “I don’t know.” She replied.

“Exactly.” Now Owen’s brows tightened. “Why are you working yourself so hard?” 

“Psh Owen it’s not that bad! I’m seriously okay-”

“Yn.” Owen’s tone held no room for rebuttal. His shoulders tensed and face hardened, then his posture loosened. “Are you sure you’re okay? The last time you threw yourself into your work something bad happened. I can’t have you go into that dark place again.”

Touched about Owen’s worry for her, Yn softly smiled. Reaching across the table to his hand that rested across from her, she placed her palm on top of his closed fist. Looking into his eyes Yn spoke, “Owen. I am okay. I can promise you that I am one hundred percent mentally and emotionally okay. Nothing bad has happened. All that’s kept me busy is this project. I can’t really talk about it other than that it’s something I’m really proud of. If something did happen or I wasn’t feeling like myself, I would tell you. Okay?” She squeezed his hand for an extra bit of sincerity. Looking into her eyes Owen confirmed she was being serious. Letting go of his resolve he nodded. “Okay. I just needed to make sure.”

Yn gently smiled, retracting her hand. “Thank you Owen. I really appreciate your concern for me.”

“Hey, I’m not the only one,” His playful side coming back. “The girls miss you too.”

Yn laughed. “I miss my raptor babies too.” “Uh no no, they're not your raptor children, they’re mine.”

Yn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

Owen laughed. His eyes widened in remembrance. “I forgot, your sandwich is in the fridge. I’ll go get it.” He stood and headed into the trailer.

Yn smiled and uttered a “thank you” before he disappeared behind the trailer door. Looking back out into the lake, Yn was grateful. She and Owen had come to develop a special friendship. She would go as far to say that they were best friends. Without him, Yn probably wouldn’t have made it through the first month of working at the park.

Just as she was about to take another sip from the beer bottle Owen came out from the trailer; his phone in one hand and Yn's sandwich in the other. “Hate to cut this dinner short but there's trouble at the paddock.”

Standing with alert Yn began walking towards her car. “What happened?” “Delta’s fighting with Blue.”

Yn nodded, already opening her car door. “Get in, I’ll drive.”

Tag List

@littlegangrel @thebadassbitchqueen

Constructive criticism is welcomed!  If you want to be added to the tag list, please don’t be shy. I don’t bite :3

And to my followers or anyone that is reading this, if you’re going through something and hurting please know that there are people to talk to. If you’re stressed or overwhelmed, let me remind you to take breaks. 

Don’t be like “Yn” and not take care of yourself. You are loved! You are valued! Please treat yourself like how you would treat someone not taking care of their own needs. 

Sincerely, DeliriousGeek <3

[fy-enhypen]

“I don’t want to define music in one word” - Heeseung

HEESEUNG was comfortable with handling a basketball. Most of the time the ball went in, just as it was supposed to. Once, when he missed and the ball bounced off the rim, HEESEUNG kept shooting over and over until it went in. At last, two points. Shooting over and over and hitting the wall until he succeeds? Well, HEESEUNG’s attitude toward the stage is the same. On I-LAND, your older brother said that he’s proud of you now, thinking back to how you used to be this average cute but a little immature kid who liked playing games with friends and didn’t like to study.

HEESEUNG: That time he was talking about, that was when I was really immature. I’m not exaggerating when I say that everything’s changed. This might be a bit off-topic, but I have this one good old friend who I would hang out with and goof around with all the time. It was all really childish, but I’m way more mature now. (laughs) But I do think I should keep growing up more than I am now.

I saw that, when you were doing the group photoshoot, the staff asked you to move to NI-KI’s side, and you asked him first if that was okay before moving.

HEESEUNG: Yes, I did say that. It happened so quickly, I’m surprised you caught it. (laughs)

You didn’t hesitate to help other contestants with their dancing on I-LAND even though you were competing against one another. SUNOO said you’re an “angel.” (laughs)

HEESEUNG: I could try and take all the credit for that, but that’s not really how it was. (laughs) I think that was possible because I-LAND had more challenges emphasizing teamwork than other survival shows. But that aside, I still wanted to help them. When I first became a Big Hit trainee, I practiced really hard for six months and became one of the better performers among the new recruits. I guess it’s probably because I had a lot of opportunities to be the leader from that time on.

Did you have much experience singing or dancing before you became a trainee?

HEESEUNG: I’m still not that good at dancing, but I was absolutely hopeless at the beginning. (laughs) I was really, really bad. It was so bad that my friends would make fun of me for not being able to do even basic moves. They’d say, “Seriously, how did you ever get casted?” But Big Hit’s training regimen is really good. (laughs and stretches arms out diagonally) This is called “arm stretching.” It’s a basic move. This is all I did for a year. And then more than a year of following the rhythm. I focused on basic, repetitive moves like that, then I took baby steps with a dance foundations class, and then with endless practice I finally got a lot better.

You can give hope to hopeless dancers. (laughs) I know that you were always very interested in singing.

HEESEUNG: I dreamed of becoming a singer since I was six, but I totally lacked confidence. Singers need to be able to sing in front of people without feeling nervous, but the most I could do until high school was sing with two or three really close friends at a karaoke. And then my dad suggested I take the entrance exam for an art high school, but I was too nervous during the test to sing anything. I was about to head home thinking I’d better study or choose a different career path when suddenly a casting agent spotted me. I was really lucky.

HEESEUNG: I was heavily influenced by YEONJUN from TOMORROW X TOGETHER when I came to Big Hit. Up until then, I had a sense of pride. I thought, well, I’m pretty good at singing, right? But after I saw YEONJUN, I realized I was totally fooling myself. (laughs) I felt like YEONJUN is the kid who gets perfect in every subject and I’m the one who gets, about 80 in one class and goes around bragging about it. So I thought there’s no room for feeling “not confident or some other nonsense like that” (laughs) I need to really up my game if I want to be a singer. From then on, I tried to really show off everything I’ve got on stage, which is different from how I used to be.

In the “October 2020 by ENHYPEN” video, you set a goal to practice vocals for one and a half to two hours every day. Even with your busy schedule, you’ve been close to 70~80% successful with that goal.

HEESEUNG: (laughs) It’s easy to achieve your goals when it’s something you like to do. I usually put my all into things I like, but I don’t have much motivation to do things I’m not into. I think that’s a strength and also a weakness. To use studying as an example: I lost interest in studying when I was in middle school, so I didn’t put much effort into most subjects, but I liked English because I liked to listen to pop songs. There was a foreign language high school near me that accepted students only based on their English grades and mine were good enough to get in.

All your practice really shows on your debut album, BORDER: DAY ONE. I was impressed by how you expressed each song differently.

HEESEUNG: The lead single, “Given-Taken,” is about facing a new world, and ENHYPEN just debuted as a team, so I wanted to convey a passionate start of a race. You could say it’s mellow since it opens with a harp, but I used all my energy to emphasize the tone. In “Let Me In (20 CUBE),” there’s the lyrics: “Can you open your window / Been looking everywhere for my Nemo.” It would sound kind of weird if I sang, “Open up!” forcefully like that.(laughs) So I recorded my vocals in a way that best conveys the meaning and doesn’t break the mood.

It looks like you have specific ideas about the performances and your music. On I-LAND you recorded the “-note” video diary, and you reflected on various aspects of your performance. It was very impressive the way you could go back and analyze it like that.

HEESEUNG: If you debut, you become a professional. I don’t look like a pro in my performances yet, but I think you become more professional by making deliberate efforts. I think I need to be able to express myself inside and out, so I’m trying to do all different kinds of training.

You mentioned several times that you want to write your own songs this year. Have you written any?

HEESEUNG: When I was in sixth grade, I took a music composition class using a sequencer program my dad recommended, called Cakewalk. I started to write songs again after I became a trainee. There’s a song I worked on until I got into I-LAND, and also some songs I wrote and recorded the lyrics over some existing beats. But we’ve been so busy preparing for the debut. I really regret that I haven’t been able to show off my work. Anyway, I’m going to keep trying to write songs for ENGENE whenever I get time. I just hope they’ll be patient with me.

You said “Merry and the Witch’s Flower” by Yerin Baek is your favorite song. What kind of songs do you usually listen to?

HEESEUNG: As far as genre goes, I’m really into alternative R&B. I also like songs that are dreamy and chill. I listened to a lot of songs by Yerin Baek, Anderson Paak and Eric Bellinger lately. I usually listen to the newest releases to see what people like these days, but I also listen to old hits by 2Pac and the Notorious B.I.G.

In BE:LIFT LAB’s “Training Camp,” you said your personal motivation is the high goals you set for yourself.

HEESEUNG: If I were to say that I want to be at 100, I’m currently at a 30 or 40. I’m absolutely serious. I think I need to try a lot harder if I’m going to reach my full potential. I want to be more than just a set of skills, or an amazing person; I want to make sure I don’t lose myself. The more time you spend on your work, the less time there is to invest in yourself. And if your work takes over your identity, I think you might even find it easy to lose your own sense of self. I want to be the kind of person who can grow while staying devoted to my work.

It reminds me of your performance of “Chamber 5.” Even though I-LAND is a survival program and you could have chosen a song that would have been more advantageous to you, you took on a new challenge solely for self-improvement.

HEESEUNG: (laughs) I was in way over my head. I seriously never tried even a single playful song like “Chamber 5” before in my life. But, obviously, you can’t go back to the past. Anyway, that was my choice. I was preparing for a job where you have to be ready to handle all different kinds of concepts. I took that as a fact and just practiced. And also, I had the magnificent teacher, Mr. SUNOO, right there with me. (laughs) So it was good in the end.

Maybe it’s thanks to that experience that the way you turn around and wink in the “Let Me In (20 CUBE)” performance suits you so well.

HEESEUNG: (laughs) That kind of stuff just comes to me naturally now—basically showing people how charming I am. Was it a bit awkward? (laughs) Songs like “10 Months” are in-your-face cutesy. It was hard at first, but after thinking about my own style the answer came to me. I look mature compared to the other members, so I figured that was the solution to the problem of how to express my charm. Now I am Lee HEESEUNG, a man of endless allure. (laughs)

Before a leader was selected for ENHYPEN, your name kept coming up in the polls under headings like, “the first person you’ll turn to when you’re having a hard time,” or, “the person who won’t hesitate to take difficult tasks for others.”

HEESEUNG: I’m good at listening to other people’s problems. That sounded like bragging. (laughs) If I see someone struggling with something I can fix or help them with, it’s hard for me to just stand by and watch. I don’t go around thinking I always need to help with everything, but I unconsciously act that way.

You’re the oldest member of the group. I can tell the other members trust you, and rely on you. As their oldest teammate, how do you want to be there for them?

HEESEUNG: I hope they don’t think of me as being more important than them just because I’m the oldest. In middle school, high school, clubs, and places like that, I realized that opening up to someone your senior isn’t always easy. So when we became a team, I thought I should be a cute, approachable guy (laughs) and create an atmosphere where they can speak openly with me. Everybody feels comfortable talking to that kind of person.

It seems like you already are. You all looked really close when the others were touching your head without hesitation on V LIVE and saying it looks like the full moon. (laughs)

HEESEUNG: (laughs) Yes, I’m … not thrilled that happened. (laughs) Everyone in the group has their own strong, unique personality, but still, we all try to trust and respect one another, and we set clear boundaries. And as we spend more time together, we share more personal stories, which helps us grow closer.

In “-note,” you thank the people around you and judge your own practice progress objectively while finding the positive aspects. I was impressed.

HEESEUNG: Even though they didn’t show it on the show much, I felt tremendous pressure being in a leadership position. There was so much to deal with. A lot of that was hard, of course, but I believe that people become the things they say they are, so I chose to be thankful and stay positive. If I say it like I believe it, my thinking will change and then I can overcome any difficulty. For artists, fans are important, skills are important, and talent is important, if you want to draw people in. Everything is important, really. I think it’s most important to have a healthy mind if you want to really nail all those things.

What does music mean to you?

HEESEUNG: That’s the hardest question. (laughs) I don’t want to define music in one word. I don’t think there should be just one correct answer to what music is. Because there’s no answer, all kinds of different music gets made, and many different people can be on stage. As soon as there is an answer, music will lose its charm.

[pepperonijem]

I. Plus One || Count on Me

I. Plus One → Count on Me masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: none, this is just fluff I guess. Or, pre-fluff??? 

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: .The beginning of it all. What else is there to say? (College AU)

A/N: I wrote this for @sebbbystaaan​‘s 500 writing challenge! Thanks for letting me participate in this! :) My prompt was “Hey, we do what we do best. We improvise, all right?” from Fast and Furious 6. This is part one of a mini series!

“Alright, I’ll see you guys in two weeks,” the professor shouted over the cacophony of laptops being shut and backpacks opening. “Enjoy your spring break everyone!” 

Peter let out a sigh of relief, thankful that this was he didn’t have to worry about calculus for the next week. He packed up his notebook and followed the exodus into the halls of the building. Peter paused by the small couch by the elevators, deciding to sit down and wait for the crowd to diminish rather than fight for a spot in the overcrowded elevator. 

Unlike most of his classmates, Peter was in no rush to get out of the building. He had no plans to go back home over the week-long break. Happy and Aunt May were on a small vacation of their own and with Ned’s spring break not being until a few weeks later, Peter had made the decision to just stay on campus for the week. Peter’s big plans for the week mostly consisted of seeing how quickly he can learn to solve a Rubiks cube, and then maybe trying out the game he just bought, something about farming? 

He passively scanned the bulletin board behind him, trying to pass the time as more people flooded the hall. Guitar classes, babysitting gigs, research studies, the usual. His eyes passed over each flyer but stopped on a sheet of notebook paper, hastily handwritten, with accents of neon highlighters around a phone number.

FAKE DATE NEEDED FOR A WEDDING. RSVP 555-0120. I’LL PAY YOU $50 AND YOU GET A FREE MEAL. SERIES INQUIRIES ONLY!! 

Peter let out a chuckle and noticed that the date was this Friday. Figuring he had nothing better to do anyway, he pulled out his phone and began typing in the number, not realizing it was already in his phone. 

(Y/N) from class

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember what class he had you in, until a silly memory of a conversation the two of you had about trying to insert as many Spongebob references into your presentation as possible. Oh right, he recalled. She was in that French class I took last year. Your professor had assigned you to project groups at the beginning of the semester based on who you were sitting with, and it just so happened that you were the only two people who sat at the front row. 

The first project you and Peter had together was an oral presentation in which you had to have a conversation in front of the whole class. The morning of the presentation, you and Peter noticed everyone else rehearsing and carrying out extensive scenes, whereas the two of you had agreed to wing it, not thinking seriously about the project at all. Funny enough, your presentation went smoothly, scoring high marks for the both of you.  By the end of the semester, you two had become somewhat friendly with each other in class, but unfortunately, because you two were in different majors, it was the last class you had together. 

Although Peter would never admit it, he was disappointed in himself for not ever asking you to hang out outside of the class. But now, he finally had a chance to do something about it. 

Once he got back to his dorm, Peter dropped his backpack on the floor and flopped on his bed. He pulled out his phone and typed out a message, analyzing every word to make it sound as casual as possible. 

Hey (Y/N), it’s Peter! We had French together last year. Um, I saw your flyer outside of my class, about the wedding. Do you still need a date? I don’t have any plans this break so uh, I thought why not?

Before he could think too hard about his wording, he hit send and set his phone face down in a terrible attempt to not freak out over a reply, but the thoughts flooded his brain anyway. Oh god, oh god what if she doesn’t remember me? Or worse what if she did remember me and now she thinks I’m a creep? “So I thought why not?” Come on Parker, you sound like you don’t care. Maybe she didn’t even--

A loud ding came from the other side of his mattress and he scrambled to flip over his phone. 

4 new messages from (Y/N) from class

Peter unlocked his phone and checked the messages.

Yeah, I remember you! We did that Spongebob presentation! Also, yeah I definitely am in need of that date TBH I’m glad it’s you asking me because I was scared I was gonna get some weird messages. Anyway, if you’re not in class or anything can you meet me at the cafe in 10 minutes?

Peter replied a quick yes before slipping back out of his dorm room and headed towards the campus cafe, trying to let out his jitters before he saw you. Come on Parker, you’ve fought space aliens and literally saved the world, you can do this. He hyped himself up, and let out a deep breath before opening the door. The smell of fresh baked croissants and strong coffee enveloped him in a warm hug as he walked through and he immediately felt a wave of calmness wash over him as he walked over to where you were seated at a table in the back, tucked away from the chatter and sounds of the rest of the cafe.

“Hey,” you looked up from your laptop and smiled at Peter as he slid into the opposite side of the booth and slid his backpack off. “I got us a couple of cookies, but I don’t know if you like coffee or not so I didn’t get you a drink.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” he waved it off. “Thank you for the cookies though, these are my favorite,” he said as he reached for one of the snickerdoodles. “So, why the fake date?” He asked.

“Right,” you began, taking a deep breath. “So funny story, my cousin is getting married next week, and one day when I was home I mentioned that I was working on a project with a guy, and somehow they assumed that I was talking about my boyfriend, and everyone was so excited so I didn’t have the heart to tell them no, and so blah blah a year later, they’re using this whole wedding to try to meet my… nonexistent… boyfriend. Which is where you come in!” 

You grinned sheepishly as you stared at a wide-eyed Peter. Somewhere in your head, there was a voice saying that this was not a good idea, coming to a crescendo until Peter finally let out a laugh. You laughed with him, unsure of what he would say.

“I’m in,” Peter said with an excited smile.

The next couple of hours went by in a blur as you and Peter worked on the details of your fake relationship. From your first date, your anniversary, how Peter asked you out, what he got you for Christmas, for your birthday, you tried to cover as much as you can.

“Okay, well what happens if someone asks us something we forget to cover?” Peter asked nervously. “Or, or, what happens if I say the wrong thing, or we get our stories mixed up--”

“Hey,” you interrupted, flashing Peter a calming smile. “We do what we do best. We improvise, all right?”

Peter nodded, setting his pencil down and grabbed the last cookie.

“The trick is to base everything on as much truth as possible,” you taught him. “The more truth we tell, the less lies we have to remember.” You leaned back, somehow more relaxed than you probably should be in this situation. “We’re gonna do great, okay, Pete?”

With a full mouth, Peter returned your smile. Although he was extremely nervous, he had to admit, he was also excited. It was evident from your days in French class and the last few hours that the two of you had a pretty solid chemistry, as it was incredibly simple and fun to bounce ideas off each other. No idea was a bad idea between the two of you. Just silly ideas and good ideas, but nearly everything ended in laughter. 

By the time you had finally finished planning, the sun was long gone. The two of you packed up your stuff and Peter walked with you back to the dorms, still not wanting the evening to end. He was hooked on your company, and the regret he felt from not pursuing your friendship sooner left him with the gnawing desire to have more than just this one fake date with you, to have this arrangement blossom into a real friendship, that goes beyond a classroom.

Once you finally arrived at your door, your conversation came to a slow stop. “This is me,” you sighed. “Thanks for walking me back, and uh, thanks for agreeing to help me with this crazy scheme.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Peter smiled at you. “This is gonna be fun, I can feel it.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of you or because of his anxiety, but he was excited nonetheless.

You let out a small chuckle. “I’ll see you on Thursday, for the rehearsal dinner?” you asked, still beaming at him.

Peter nodded and extended his hand for you to shake, as you rolled your eyes and gave him a quick hug instead. Oh they’re definitely because of her, he thought.

 “It’s a date.”

[sweetiepie08]

Rebel Z (Chapter 4)

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10. 

[-]

Dib felt the familiar burning sensation in his eyes as he stared at his monitors. Zim had been relatively quiet for quite some time now, three years to be exact. He didn’t disappear completely, like he had right before the Florpus Hole incident. Dib still caught him moving about his house, talking to strange aliens on his tele-communication device, and building dangerous-looking machinery. Despite Zim’s clear activity, outright plans to take over the Earth seemed to cease. Or at least Zim stopped gloating about them. Dib noticed these changes and decided they were concerning enough to require constant surveillance, but stable enough that he could step away from his screens every now and then.

As his eyes drifted across the screens, they landed on a haphazard stack of college brochures resting on his desk. Top universities from all over the world have been sending him these since preschool. He suspected college recruiters everywhere put his name on their lists the second they heard the world-renowned Professor Membrane had an offspring. They badgered him and Gaz for as long back as he could remember. They typically threw at least one ivy-league brochure in the trash every week. Although now, he had to start keeping them. Those recruiters must have started salivating as soon as his SAT scores were in. Every school wanted to be able to say they educated the children of Professor Membrane.

At least he didn’t have to deal with all the college recruitment events he knew were going on over at the High Skool. He and Gaz left mainstream education behind years ago after convincing their dad to let them homeschool. It wasn’t that hard. All they had to do was sit their dad down and show him their curriculums. His only condition was that they keep their grades up and take the most advanced programs available. It turned out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Dib & Gaz were learning the advanced science their father wanted them to, and they never had to set foot in the Skool again. This arrangement ended early for Dib, as he completed his senior year before his former classmates reached midterms. Of course, this only made the college recruiters even more ravenous.

Well, they were going to have to wait. High school may be over for him, but now he was taking a gap year. He told his father he wanted the time to figure out which branch of science he wanted to study. This was only half-true. Really, he just needed to figure out what to do with his life, period.

His child-hood dream of being a paranormal investigator grew less and less appealing as he saw what the field had become. The Swollen Eyeball network had gone down hill since Agent Darkbootie went off the grid to live amongst the sasquatch. Standards dropped to the Marianas Trench. Now, they let in riff-raff like flat-earthers and hollow-mooners. Uncovering the truth didn’t seem important to them anymore. It was all about who could come up with the most convoluted conspiracy, regardless of evidence or even common sense. Dib wanted to uncover the mysteries of the universe, to expand the knowledge of the human race. Knowledge didn’t seem to factor in at all anymore, not so long as the theory was sexy.

As for Dib’s work on Zim, he had to admit, it’d become mundane sometimes. He could only watch Zim binge-watch tv so many times before accepting there was nothing more to it. Hell, sometimes Dib would find himself watching whatever was on the tv more than he watched Zim. He’d sometimes go days without any notable movement. A few weeks ago, however, remarkable activity breathed new life into Dib’s efforts.

Currently, Zim’s ship sat haphazardly parked, or rather crashed, on the front lawn. Dib stared at it, waiting for Zim to notice the state of his space craft.

“Still monitoring Zim?” He heard Gaz say from the door.

“Always,” Dib replied, eyes still glued to the screen.

Gaz rolled her eyes and walked into his room. “You sure you need to? He’s been pretty quiet lately.”

“He knows I’m watching.”

“Okay, TJ Eckleburg,” Gaz said, leaning on his desk and popping open a soda.      

“huh?”

“Read a book.”

“Whatever,” he groaned, his eyes flickering from one monitor to another. “The point is, quietness means nothing. Remember the time he disappeared but it turned out he was just hiding in the toilet?”

“You mean the time you let him hijack Membrane Labs, kidnap dad, and almost send the planet through a florpus hole?” She took a long sip of her soda. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And what about the time he left for weeks, then just showed up one day and broke my camera?”

“Oh yeah, that. I wouldn’t call breaking your camera ultimate evil, though, especially if you were shoving it in his face. You never did find out where he went, did you?”

“No, but there’s definitely something going on now,” Dib said as he opened his laptop. “I was going over the surveillance footage from last night and look.”

He brought up a clip he saved from the footage. It showed Tak parking a boxy, gray ship in Zim’s back yard and sneaking into his base. After a few minutes, the rooftop hanger opened. She flew Zim’s ship out, dumped it on the front lawn, and parked her own ship back in the hanger.

“Is that Tak?” Gaz asked, watching the clip.

“Yeah, I saw her on the cameras a few weeks ago. She broke into Zim’s base and left after about an hour, but this time she hasn’t come out.”

“So why aren’t you going over to investigate?” Gaz asked, returning to her casual lean.

“I can’t just rush in without a plan on something this huge!” he retorted. “I have to figure out what they’re doing first.”

Gaz shrugged. “Maybe she killed him and took over his base.”

“It’s not that easy,” Dib explained. “Zim’s computers are programed to only respond to him.”

“I used it once. The Tak hotdog thing, remember?”

“That was different. Zim let us in semi-willingly. Unless Tak found a way to override the security features…”

“Maybe she’s using Zim’s corpse as a meat-puppet to control the computer.”

Dib cringed. “Uh, gross.” Even he wasn’t sure he could stomach that idea. He returned to his monitors and saw a shadow move in Zim’s living room. “Wait! I just saw something!”

They both leaned into the screen as Dib zoomed in the camera on the window. Through it, they could see Zim’s robot servant sitting on the couch, eating snacks.

“That’s just Zim’s dumb robot watching tv,” Gaz said.

Dib threw his hands up. “Oh come on!” The robot again?! He’d watched this thing gobble down nachos on this couch a million times. Why did everything look so normal over there? “There has to be something going on. Is Tak hiding? Did Zim capture her? Are they planning something together? I have to know!”

“My best guess?”

“You’ve got a theory?” Dib asked, eagerly swiveling his chair around to face her. “Let’s hear it!”

“Tak’s playing the trombone and Zim’s slamming the oven door.” Gaz smirked, looking annoyingly proud of herself.

Dib’s face fell into a scowl. “Thanks Gaz, very insightful.” He sharply turned his chair back toward the monitors.

“You’re going to be up here obsessing all day, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Probably.”

“Fine.” Gaz downed the rest of her drink, tossed the can in the trash, and started toward the door. “I was thinking about watching that new Skinwalker Ranch documentary tonight, but I guess you’ll be busy.”

She walked out, leaving Dib alone with his screens. He scanned the feed in front of him, all inactive save for Zim’s snacking robot. He had been wanting to check out that documentary, but keeping an eye on Zim was more important, especially after this recent development. His eyes landed on the robot again, who was now sloppily sucking down a giant slushee. Dib sighed and checked the rest of his cameras.

Still nothing.

[-]

Zim emerged from his labs after another night of testing and research. His latest project was going well so far, despite the recent interference. No doubt, his leaders would be pleased. He went to the kitchen for a well-deserved soda and, whistling, headed to the living room to check on Gir.

As he sipped, he noticed something large and purple out the window. When he went to look, he nearly spit out his drink. His voot sat crashed in the front yard for all the Urth to see.

“Gir!” he shouted, jumping around to face his robot. “What is my ship doing out there?!”

“I dunno,” Gir said, munching away on his snacks.

“Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?”

“Uh, Zim,” the computer interrupted. “It was probably the intruder.”

“What intruder?!” Zim demanded, stomping into the middle of the room. “Why didn’t you alert me?”

“Uh, I did.”

The show Gir was watching snapped off the tv and the screen now showed security footage from the previous evening. Zim and Gir sat on the couch with a bowl of snacks.

“Sir, I have detected a-”

“Not now, computer,” TV Zim said, “Jessica is about to reveal the murderer.”

“But this really is urgent.”

“Of course!” TV Zim shouted, leaning off the couch. “It was the bus driver, seeking revenge for his fallen offspring!”

“Zim, there is an intruder in the-”

TV Zim jumped to his feet. “What? No!”

“Exactly!”

“It’s not the bus driver after all!” TV Zim declared. “I knew it!”

“No you didn’t,” TV Gir chimed in.

“There’s too much time left in the episode. Jessica still has 15 minutes to find the killer. Now, which of these smelly bus-humans is the real culprit?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever.”

The security feed cut out and Gir’s show came back on the tv. Zim growled and pressed his palms into his forehead. Curse that Jessica Fletcher and her engaging small-town mysteries! If that show hadn’t been canceled Urth decades ago, he would have ensured that was the last murder she ever wrote.

“Computer! Is the intruder still in the base?”

“Yes.”

“Locate them.”

After a few seconds of processing sounds, Computer answered. “Irken biosignature located in the storage room.”

Irken, he was pretty sure he knew what that meant. Zim stormed over to the trashcan/elevator. “Computer, take me to the storage room. I’ll show Tak how to sneak into my base.”

“You’re going to show her how to sneak into your base?”

“Or how not to sneak… Or what happens when you sneak… or… Ugh you know what I meant!” Zim jumped into the elevator. “Just take me there!”

[-]

Finding Tak wasn’t as hard as he expected. As soon as he made it down to the storage room, Zim was greeted by the sound of something metal clanging to the floor. From there, all he had to do was follow the trail of crushed cans. At the end, he found Tak sitting on the floor, surrounded by discarded cans and bottles. She barely took notice of him as she downed another drink.

“You!” He shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You have some nerve coming back here after… whatever it is you did! I spent days running diagnostics, trying to figure out what it is you tampered with.”

“Eh, who cares what I did?” Tak slurred, tearing her mouth away from the bottle. “I’m back on Urth. Life is empty and destiny is a cruel joke.”

“What are you going on about? And what is all this?” he said, trudging through her mess. His foot kicked a glass bottle which was larger than the rest. Picking it up, he recognized the fancy Irken label. “This is my gingzor!” he gasped. “I’ve been saving this!”

“You can get more,” Tak said with a burp. “Did you know you can get this stuff on Urth without showing identification? Idiots.”

“Have you been in my storage room, drowning yourself in gingzor all night?”

“Yup, why not? As good a way to waste my meaningless life as any.” She looked down the neck of the bottle in her hand. “Empty, sad,” she pouted as she tossed it over her shoulder.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just my recent discovery that my entire life is a lie,” she sighed. “Hey, wanna watch me laser-shot this whole six pack?”

Tak held up a pack of green cans by their plastic connector. She shot a hole in the bottom of one with a laser pistol, then started chugging the drink out from the bottom.

Zim curled a finger around his chin as he pondered the sight before him. This was very unlike Tak. He’d had enough encounters with her to know what to expect. Proud declarations of her superiority, vows for bloody vengeance, maybe a bit of maniacal cackling… that was Tak. She even had all night to attempt to kill him and, instead, spent it swimming in a pool of gingzor and self-pity. This…this was not Tak. He wondered what could possibly bring her to such a lowly state. Then it hit him.

“Ah, I see what’s happened,” he declared. “You finally realized you were never meant to be an invader and that knowledge has sent you down a spiraling pit of despair. Go on, let it out. Zim can offer his pity.”

Tak’s eyes narrowed. She plucked a can off of the pack, shook it up, and sprayed it in Zim’s face. Zim let out a yelp as he was doused in the drink.

“You know, Zim, I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

“Sentimental?” he grumbled, rubbing the gingzor out of his eyes

“I found your secret stash.” Tak smirked as she pulled out a box labeled ZIM’S PRIVATE STUFF (GIR DON’T TOUCH).  She reached into the box and took out a CD case titled Best of Queen. “Looks like someone’s a fan of Urth royalty,” she said as she tossed it in the air.

Zim scrambled to catch it before it smashed on the ground. “That is a music group, not royalty and-”

“Oh what’s this?” she asked, pulling out his sleeved blanket. “Some sort of backward robe?” She threw that on Zim’s head, then held up his fuzzy boots. “And what are these?”

Zim snatched the blanket off and dropped it on the ground. “It gets very cold on Urth and-”

“Guess I can expect softness from someone who kept their cadet badge.” Tak held up the pink, metal circle with the Irken insignia emblazed on it. His heart beat just a second faster.

“Enough!” he shouted, swiping the badge out of her hands. “You have no business going through my stuff!”

Tak made a dismissive sound and waved her arm. “Pfft, I’ve already seen the inside of your brain. What’s the harm in looking through a few boxes?”

“Eh? My brain? Wha?” His hands flew to his back as he realized what she just admitted. “My PAK! You tampered with my PAK!”

“For the last time, I didn’t tamper, I ANALYZED!” she screamed in his face.

“Uh… this was the first time I mentioned it… Wait! It doesn’t matter! You committed a capital offence!”

“No, tampering is a capitol offence. Analyzing isn’t technically against the law.” She let out a bitter chuckle. “Although, it probably should be if they didn’t want me to see what I saw.”

“Eh? What?”

“I know something you don’t know…” she sing-songed.

“What? What is it?” He demanded, grabbing her by the shirt. “Tell me!”

“Guess who’s defective…” she sing-songed again in that annoying, giddy tone. “You! And me! And Skoodge! And a whole bunch of other people probably! And it doesn't matter at all!” She laughed. “Nothing matters! Nothing is real!” She laughed harder and threw her arm around Zim’s shoulders. “I don't even want to kill you anymore because it be so pointless. Why put in the effort? We're just walking talking food for a giant, horrible, tentacle-y, blob-monster-god-thing”

“What blob-monster-god-thing?” He inquired, pealing Tak’s arm off of himself with a sneer.  

“You know it as the control brains.” She smirked. There was something bitter and smug in it.

“Control brains?” He gasped. “You're speaking treason.”

“Eah-yup!” she declared, popping open another drink.

He desperately rubbed his temples as this new information buzzed around in his brain. She couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t be. “This is a trick,” he accused, eyes darting around, looking for hidden cameras. “You're trying to get me to say something treasonous so you can record it and show it to the Tallest.”

“Nope, no trick,” she said. Her voice was unsettlingly casual. “I went all the way to Refierencee to find out Irk is nothing but the plaything of a life sucking horror blob. Don't believe me? Here.” She tapped a spot on her PAK and a cable flew into her hands. “Plug me in and check my memory drive. See if I'm lying.”

She waggled the cable at him, daring him to take it. There had to be a reason she was doing all this. She must have some sort of ulterior motive. Why else would she make up such an outlandish lie? Unless, it wasn’t a lie...

“Fine,” he said, snatching the cable, “but I warn you, I've upgraded my computer security. So if you try to infect my base with a virus, it won't work.”

Tak shrugged and went back to her drink.

Something was wrong here, very wrong. Whether it was the truth or just a nefarious plot, there was only one way to get to the bottom of it.

[-]

Tak sat on a box, her PAK plugged into the computer while Zim reviewed her memory drive on his computer screen. He played the Refirencee memories again. Was this the 3rd or 4th time? He couldn't remember. He scanned each frame with a sharp eye. There had to be something else here, some sort of tell that this was a trick, just another one of Tak’s schemes. There was no way this could be true.

“Watch as many times as you want,” Tak said, opening yet another can. “It's not gonna change.”

“You tampered with your memory drive,” Zim said matter-of-fact. Even if he hadn’t found an inconsistency yet, that had to be the case. It was the only explanation. Well, not the only one…

“Nope,” she answered. The assurance in her voice was grating. “Have your computer check. I dare you.”

Zim glanced up. “Computer…”

“No signs of tampering detected.”

“You see…” She was so smug. He hated it.

“Then this Krislotch person is a liar.”

“And has an amazing amount of free time on his hands,” Tak retorted.

“There must be something else!” Zim slammed his hands on the control panel. “Some other explanation! If it is true that means-”

“That our people are slaves and our entire society is a lie? Why do you think I keep drinking?” She asked, knocking her drink back.

“Enough sass, you talking bottle of gingzor!” He shouted, whirling his chair around to face her. He jumped to his feet and put an accusing finger in her face. “You expect me to believe this? That the Control Brains are actually-”

“A giant parasite feeding off the life force of our entire race? Yes! Exactly! What aren't you getting?” She jumped to her feet as well and advanced toward him, crushing a can in her hands. “It's got its tentacles in everything. It controls every aspect of our lives and it'll continue to grow bigger and bigger until that's all there is. Irk doesn't exist, Zim!” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in. “In our lifetime it never has! There is only it and everyone: the invaders, the foot soldiers, the janitors, the food service drones, even the tallest! We're all just slaves to the glory of the parasite.”

Tak broke out in a wild cackle as tears began leaking from her eyes. Her fingers slipped from Zim’s clothes and she doubled over, hysterical laughter echoing around the room. Zim could only watch and puzzle over her conduct. This behavior was unbecoming of a proper Irken, especially not an elite as Tak fancied herself. Maniacal laughter was fine, sure, but this? Would she degrade herself so much for an act? He thought not.

“What now?”

“It's just so funny,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I mean, we work all our lives to serve the empire. You and I even remained loyal in exile. And when I learned about this thing, how our people were in danger, my first thought was ‘I have to stop this thing.’ And now,” she let out a burst of cackling, “I'm an enemy of the state! And I have to hide in your base of all places and the first person I can tell about any of this is you.” Her laughter began again in full and it sent her to the floor. “You see how that's funny?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oh.” She calmed down enough to take a few deep breaths. “Am I laughing or crying?”

“Uh, laughing I think?”

“Good, good, 'cause this really is funny,” she said, reaching over and grabbing another can. “Like a great, big joke. My life, my existence… it's all a big, cosmic… what's that human phrase? Fuck you!” Her arms opened to the ceiling. “It's a big, cosmic fuck you!”

Zim watched her, laying on the floor, her pained laughter filling the room. The site was beyond pathetic, but he could feel no victory in it. He couldn't feel anything at all. If this was true, Tak was right… about everything. And in the face of this revelation, he did the only thing he could do. He sat down on the floor, grabbed a can of gingzor from the pack, and poured the contents into his mouth.

[thepencilnerd]

Melophile | Part II

– please read part 1 if you haven’t  – (it can be found on my masterlist ^^ )

melo·phile- noun; a person with great love and affluent passion for music

➵ A piano major and a composition major collaborating for a final semester project. It seemed straightforward, right? But what if you were forced to pair up with the school’s most problematic genius, Min Yoongi? Add to that the fact that he absolutely hated your guts and you had the perfect recipe for disaster. How can someone you’ve never even met before despise you like a sworn enemy? Getting to know each other was hard enough, but what happens when the most beautiful, painful, and darkest secrets force the two of you to expose the thing you each guarded the most—your own emotions?

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ genre: AU! enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, slow-ish burn 

➵ word count: 27k (sorry mobile readers)

➵ warnings: swearing, too much fluff, angst, discussions of depression, oral sex (m&f receiving), marking, biting, hair pulling, cumplay/eating, light impreg kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), i’m still screaming while writing these warnings bc i thought it’d pretty tame this chapter i was wrong

a/n: my longest work to date :’) i hope you all enjoyed and thank you so much for staying with me on this emotional rollercoaster <3 

Previously on part one of Melophile...

“Stop calling me that.” Each word came out through pursed lips and clamped teeth. Leaning into you so that he was directly in your line of vision, his lip curled into a smirk and his eyes flaunted a veil of malicious intent.

“Make me,” he snarled. Never in your life had two words made you more furious than at that exact moment.  

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat out, face just centimeters away from his. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, I really am, okay? But you don’t know a single goddamn thing about me, so stop acting like you’re the only one who’s been hurt in the past.”

Moving closer to you in response, you felt his hot breath fan over your lips, making you lean back instinctively.

“I’m not hurt,” he pointed out with venom dripping from his voice. Leaning towards the shell of your ear, his exhaling breath tickled your neck.

“I’m broken, _____…” Yoongi growled.

“Fucking hell...” you muttered silently while pinching the bridge of your nose. Contemplating your reason for existence, you felt an unpleasant stickiness rub the inside of your thighs but ignored it as you found yourself studying the face of the sleeping figure beside you—what a great distraction to start off the day.

Yoongi’s sleeping face was the epitome of serenity. Lying on his side, his face pressed against the pillow like a marshmallow in a way that made his cheek and lips squish to the side lazily. His eyes were shut and his mouth was open the slightest bit, a faint snore emitting from his throat each time his chest rose and fell.

A grin sneakily crept onto your face when you took the time to admire how peaceful he looked. It was probably the first time you’d ever seen him so—exposed. Realizing the mistake of your words, your timing couldn’t have been worse when Yoongi’s eyelids fluttered open.

The corners of his eyes formed into half-moons as he crinkled his nose. Stretching over your body with his free arm, you shuffled away from his reach and rolled off the bed.

You let out a strangled yelp as your body tumbled onto the floor. As if you didn’t have enough bruises from last night already...

Hurrying to peek over the edge of the bed, Yoongi’s face bore a bemused look and you’d bet a million dollars he was about three seconds away from—

“Are you okay?” he chuckled, bursting into a fit of raspy laughter with a lazy smile. 

His upbeat aura made you analyze his face for any indication that he was hungover or on possibly on something, but all you saw was a genuinely cheery boy. 

“Y–Yeah...” you stuttered. “I’m good. Fine. I’m fine.”

Softening his gaze, he sighed and rolled back into bed, staring at the ceiling. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Struggling to find a way to break the ice, you only realized then now dry and scratchy your throat felt.

Clearing your throat, you scratched your head at your surroundings. “Is this your room?” Mumbling something that resembled an ‘mhmph,’ you took his half-ass mumble as a yes.

“How did we, um...” you hiccuped, nerves beginning to take over. You resorted to pointing to random points around the room sheepishly.

Hearing the rustling of sheets, you met his half-lidded gaze. He wasn’t wearing a top, yet you were the one who felt self-conscious and covered your chest with your arms—and you were actually wearing a shirt.

Sniffling slightly, he rested the side of his face on his arm lazily. “I piggybacked you here after you knocked out like a light,” he chuckled to himself, reliving the moment briefly. “Drooled all over my shoulder and everything.”

“I do not drool!” you exclaimed, wiping your mouth subconsciously while blushing furiously at his accusation.

“I beg to differ,” he smiled, flashing a gummy smile that made you hiccup. The conversation was becoming much too casual for your comfort, and you quickly got up on your feet to try and find your clothes. You needed to get out of here. You needed to get out of here now.

Unfortunately, your body betrayed you when your legs trembled and gave under you. Your muscles felt like jelly and you couldn’t even make an attempt at getting up the second time, so you slid down back into a cross-legged position on the floor as smoothly as you could, trying not to look as embarrassed or defeated as you felt. Yoongi hid his snort of amusement with a cough. 

“Where are my clothes?” you questioned, suddenly aware that you were dressed in black boxer shorts and a shirt too large to be your size. Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at the realization.

Hands shooting up to cover your chest instinctively, you stared at Yoongi like a deer in headlights. “You undressed me?!” you gawked.

Propping his elbow up, he rested his cheek on his hand as he chuckled. “Technically I redressed you after the undressing part, so it counts as a double negative,” he corrected. Smug bastard...

Wincing at the stretch you felt in your thighs from just sitting in a cross-legged position, you stood up again only to stumble again like a tower made of jello cubes. Yoongi sat up immediately, grabbing your arm to help you stay upright, but you tore yourself away from Yoongi’s warm hands. The soothing sensation of his touch was making you feel too comfortable for your own liking. 

Clothes. Door. Exit. Now. Four words you never expected to dictate your every move thereon afterward. 

He looked at you with a puzzled expression, taken aback by your irrational behavior. Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as you spotted your pile of clothes in the corner of the room, you scurried across to pick them up. 

Yanking down the boxers you were wearing and pulling off his shirt, the smell of his cologne sunk through the fabric and made your heartbeat jump for a moment. Flashbacks of last night snapped like a series of camera shutters in your mind; his scent rubbing onto your skin, the texture of his hair between your fingers, the warmth of his lips against your neck, the feeling of his tongue—

“Pull yourself together,” you screamed in your head. Shaking your head to snap yourself out of your sinful thoughts, you jumped up and down into your jeans and threw on your hoodie in record time before he could make a remark about your nude state.   

Picking up your phone from his nightstand and stepping—more like tripping—into your shoes, you turned around and closed your eyes, crinkling your nose to focus and think about whether you needed to gather anything else. Once confirming that you didn’t bring anything other than your phone, you rushed out the door and left Yoongi with his mouth hung open. 

“Well shit...” he thought. 

It had been a full week since the “incident,” as you had labeled it, and you were cooped up in your dorm like a prisoner, only sneaking out to get snacks and coffee from the corner store across the street. The stupid week-long break could not come any sooner, could it? 

Words splattered like stray drops of paint across the walls of your mind as panic occupied every waking thought since that night. 

He knew your secret and you knew his.

You didn’t know why fear was growing on you like a parasite. It’s not like he was going to tell Powell. Even if he did, you’d probably just have to go to a few physical therapy lessons and get prescribed some medication to manage the pain. 

“He’ll restrict your physical participation hours and make you play less...” your subconscious suspected. There it was—that was your greatest fear. Crawling bugs, skyscraper-tall heights, deep dark oceans, and even being trapped in a burning building didn’t compare to the complete and utter dread you would feel if you had lost music. Just thinking about it was enough to make you bite your nails. 

As your silent nights of waking up, showering, eating a few bites of granola bars, and wallowing in your bed until you fell asleep became repetitive, Yoongi was as loud and active as he had ever been—in the form of texts, that is. 

Saturday

Min Salty: You good? [1:41 p.m.]

Sunday 

Min Salty: Earth to _____ ? [ 8:19 a.m.]

Min Salty: Did you get sick? [11:43 a.m.]

Monday

Min Salty: Are you okay? [4:50 p.m.]

Min Salty: Call me [5:01 p.m.]

Tuesday

Min Salty: _____ , talk to me [12:12 a.m.]

Wednesday

Min Salty: At least let me know that you’re alive [10:08 a.m.]

Yesterday

Min Salty: I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you need [9:04 p.m.] 

Re-reading each text was like stabbing yourself with a rusted dagger over and over again as the realization of what you had done loomed over you like a storm cloud. Lying in your bed, you buried your face in the pillow and screamed, thankful that everyone down your dorm block was away for a few more days. It killed you even more inside when you read over the text you had sent five minutes ago.

Today

Min Salty: Practice room 2B at 3? [2:34 p.m.]

You: sure [2:41 p.m.]

Thrashing your arms and legs wildly in an attempt to relieve you of your impulsive and rash decision, you huffed one more time before getting out of bed and changing into a pair of jeans. Rubbing your eyes and triple-checking whether you had just done what you think you had done, you wailed overdramatically, praying that this was all just one big nightmare. 

What the hell were you thinking? 

Blowing your wild baby hairs away from your face, you ignored the state of the bird’s nest of a messy bun that laid atop your head and didn’t bother changing out of your hoodie. You were way too used to wearing those since you started college. Packing your dorm keys and notebook into your backpack, you slung it over your shoulder half-heartedly and prepared for the storm that lied ahead. 

The entire walk across the campus was filled with dread and you didn’t bother cleaning up your disheveled state when you finally knocked on the door. When it swung open, you met his gaze for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

Yoongi was sitting on the piano bench with a cup-holder filled with two hot drinks and a paper bag settled on the guest table. He too was flaunting just as plain of an outfit as your black joggers and school logo-printed hoodie.

With grey sweatpants, matching sweater, and grass-stained sneakers, you both stared at each other with awe at your equal ability to feel so comfortable in your less than dress code friendly attire. You didn’t even notice until your eyes landed on his socks that they were different colors, to which you clamped your hand over your mouth and disguised your snort with a brash cough. 

“Don’t you look gorgeous?” he scoffed, admiring your equally casual half-strewn choice of an outfit. Pulling out two chairs from the side of the room and placing them next to the table, you opened your mouth to protest, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the room.

Starting with the coffee, he handed you the paper cup, tapping under your chin playfully because he found your dazed face amusing. Angling your head down low, you felt a pang of regret. He shouldn’t be this happy...

He tore the bag open to reveal an array of croissants, donuts, and pastries from the café across the street. You’d gone there so many times in the last couple of years, you would be a moron if you hadn’t memorized the menu by now. 

“Why did you—” you sputtered, pointing to the golden loaves of steaming hot fluffiness that made your mouth water. Sitting down, he patted the chair next to him, welcoming you to sit and make yourself comfortable.

“Food first then talk,” he halted. “You look like you haven’t eaten anything other than instant noodles and mix coffee in weeks—and I know better than anyone what that looks like...”

Scowling at his double-edged insult and scold, you sat moved the chair to be across from him rather than beside and sat down slowly like a cat who was exploring their new home. 

Were you dreaming? Why was he being so soft? Was he on something? Perhaps, plotting his revenge? Or worse, your murder? 

 Sensing your hesitant state, Yoongi shoved a mini-donut into your agape mouth. “I didn’t poison anything, you fusspot.” He continued eating his food in silence as if nothing were wrong in the world. Maybe this would be an opportunity for you to get some actual food into your system and not be forced to talk.

And who were you to turn down lunch?

Chewing the mouthful of glazed donut you'd been fed, you chewed slowly and closed your eyes to hold back the moan that nearly came out. Starchy bread and sugary fruit preserves had never tasted so good.

A few minutes passed in total silence. The only sounds came from the crinkling of papers as Yoongi pulled out more napkins and the gulps that came from the two of you idly sipping your drinks. Yoongi had finished eating, but you were purposely taking your sweet time by chewing slower than a turtle and being overly cautious with your now-lukewarm coffee.

Leaning back onto the wall, Yoongi looked up at your room, breaking the silence first. “You’re in a single-dorm?”

Pausing in the middle of chewing, you swallowed and nodded, reaching over for your drink again. 

“By request?”

Another nod.

“Does it get boring?” he continued, clearly seeing that he was getting under your skin with each question. 

God, why did he have to talk so much?

You shook your head a little too vigorously as you took the last bite of your donut before setting it down and then taking a few reasonably long gulps of your coffee, finishing that as well. 

“Why’d you call?” you finally asked. 

Chuckling at how he had broken through your shell with the peace offering of food and coffee no one could resist, he fumbled with the empty cup in his hands. “I just wanted to check up on you,” he replied simply. “Plus, I was bored out of my mind and you’re the only other person on campus so I figured it’d be smart to kill some time with practice.” 

You shifted in your seated position as the comment took you by surprise. “You knew I was fine,” you mumbled, voice coming just short of a shy child’s whisper. 

“I actually,” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about last week.” 

“It was a mistake.” That was all it was; a mistake. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened as his eyebrows lifted up, his expression morphing into one of shock at your unexpected answer. “No, I—”

Shaking your head, you gnawed on the inside of your cheek. The sooner you got this cleaned up the easier it’d be on both of you. “We made a mistake and we need to move past it. It wasn’t responsible for us and—”

“Bullshit.” The word came out in the familiar tone that he used with you that night; anger and rage directing itself into the fury of one single word. 

“What?” you scoffed, wide awake now more than ever. You couldn’t tell whether it was because you were shocked at his view on the situation or whether it was the caffeine kicking in and doing its magic. 

Stretching his neck to one side and exhaling through his nose, he couldn’t make direct eye contact with you and opted to stare at your hands wrapped around your cup. “It wasn’t a– you didn’t do anything wrong,” he altered his sentence. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did anything wrong because you and I—” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he began to grow annoyed at himself. 

Why was he stumbling over his words so bad? 

“Yoongi,” you said firmly. It was your turn to take hold of the conversation. “Can we just pretend like none of this happened and go back to being—” Pausing to bury your face into your hands, you shrugged. “Whatever we were before.”

“You really don’t want to talk about it?” he asked bluntly. 

You refused to even give yourself a second to process the question before you responded with a firm no. His tongue prodded the inside of his cheek for a moment before he got up. “Should we work on the piece then?” 

For some reason, regret ate at you like a power-hungry monster that would never be satiated. 

“Yeah,” you responded robotically, sitting yourself down on the cold leather chair. “Let’s practice.”

Never in your life had those words tasted so bitter in your mouth. 

You wanted to say that moving past mortifyingly embarrassing moments in your life was a process in and of itself. You even dared to say that admitting them was the hardest part but of course, to each their own. 

It had been two weeks since you last spoke to Yoongi and timed seemed to move slower than ever. Whenever you found yourself pondering over the option of texting him, your pride got the best of you. 

Between passing periods and free time after school, you had yet to formally speak with him last week. You cringed internally as flashbacks of the week prior set off like landmines in your head.

Scurrying down the hallways like an undercover rat, you went as far as wearing sunglasses along with your hood to try and disguise yourself. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t recognize you in this state, right? You were even wearing a colored hoodie, for God’s sake—completely unheard of for someone of your tastes. Black and grey hoodies were your wardrobes’ partners in crime.

You earned a couple stares from the crowds of people as you kept your back hunched and weaved through them, but it definitely won over having to run into Yoongi. Or even worse, actually having to talk to him. Chills ran down your spine. You’d have to face him one day, but this was the one things you could afford to procrastinate just a little bit. 

Then came the day when he too learned about your schedule after countless trials of “accompanying” you to your classes—while hiding from your line of sight. 

“_____!” he shouted through the bustling crowd, waving his arm in the hopes that you’d see him, but to aid him in the off chance that you wouldn’t run away from him this time. Somehow, by the laws of the universe and its devious ways, he managed to catch up to you and tug at your sleeve. 

Turning around after muttering a wave of silent swears to yourself, you turned around like a character who was moments away from being murdered by the serial killer. Spoiler alert: this scene actually had a happy ending. 

“I’m late for a class!” you chuckled wryly, cringing at your own forced and awkward tone. “Catch you later!” Waving goodbye, you sped off as quickly as your legs could carry you to your lecture. 

“Catch you later?” Did you jump out of a 70′s sitcom or something? Your pessimist mocked you, poking fun at your awful crack at an excuse. 

There was bound to be someone else who arrived at the lecture 20 minutes early, right?   

Lounging in the tightly nestled corner of the café, you were in the middle of shuffling through the notes from class when a certain someone decided to grace you with the gift of a heart attack.

“Jesus freaking Christ!” Your notes nearly flew into the air as you jumped like an animated cat. Turning around to face the person behind you who had made the ballsy choice to sneak up on you and poke your shoulder, Yoongi’s face greeted you with a cheeky grin.

“Busy?” he asked nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just given you the fright of your life. Looking at him with your eyes open to the size of saucers, you wet your lips and gulped, trying to think of a way to dig out of yet, another hole you had buried yourself in. 

Pointing behind you with your finger to distract him, you raised your shoulders and jutted your neck forward, contorting into an uncomfortable pose that screamed awkwardness. “Text me later!” you spit out, crinkling your nose with a forced chuckle.  

“But—” Yoongi’s sputtering faded into silence as you dashed out of there quicker than a farm dog that was herding a flock of geese. 

Each time you replayed the self-deprecating memories like a slideshow in your head, it was comparable to sticking your hand into ice cold water you’d scooped up from Antarctica. “Dammit.” Your voice came out hushed but dangerously close to being an audible growl and your fist slammed onto the wooden table. 

Studying in the library was a bad choice. Odd stares and hushed whispers scattered across the room like a swarm of bees and caused the people around you to shift in their seats. Murming a silent apology at your sudden outburst, you packed your things and tried to leave as quietly as possible.   

As you felt the satisfying crunch of leaves under your feet with each step, your eyes drifted off into nowhere while your mind was a million miles away. You didn’t know why you felt so strange. It was as if everyone saw the world through black or white lenses and yet, you were the only one who hallucinated color in between the lines. 

Huddling your arms closer to your body, a cold gust of wind blew across your face, making you shiver and prickle with goosebumps. A dull, aching sensation made its way across the tops of your hands as your muscles reacted to the temperature difference, forcing you to tuck them under your armpits. Fashionable isn’t it? The weather of the autumn and winter months always bid the worst for your hands, and yet, your forgetful self always let the errand of buying a pair of stupid mittens slip your mind. 

It had also been a week since you’d gone anywhere near a piano and it stuck like a wine stain on white linen. You were jittery and anxious like a stranded survivor balancing on on the tip of an iceberg. Since you had a natural inclination to let out your emotions through playing, your cognitive acuity also felt at an all-time low. The rare possibility of running into your professor while you were in this state was soul-crushing, and the off-chance that he might see your restricted playing ability was even more so debilitating. 

Even though you hated to admit it, the best thing you could probably do for your hands was to go and play, even if it were for a few minutes. The doctor—even though it was his sincere recommendation for you to stop playing altogether and consider taking up stress ball yoga instead—told you that light activity was actually beneficial in regulating your chronic pain. 

The occasional Advil helped as well, but you’d been popping the tryhard M&M’s like candy on a regular basis since sophomore year, so your built-up tolerance to the orange-coated tablets rendered them useless. 

Debating between taking a hot shower back at the comfort of your room and going to practice for an hour (or three), you settled on the latter. You could use the extra hours anyway—you knew better than anyone how much you needed them. 

You took your usual shortcut around the quad and turned at the corner of the brick building you’d grown too acquainted with throughout the years. Stepping into the corridors, warm air welcomed you like an old friend as the buzz and whirring of the heater indicated that it was on full blast. Thank God. 

Treading down the length of the hallway with tentative steps, you were surprised to see that there were quite a few people occupying the studios. You recognized a few classmates through the glass panes of the doors. 

Judging by the pointless blabbering, incessant arguing, harsh thumping of keys, and scattered frustrated groans, the muted sounds that were still clearly audible through the soundproof rooms made you chuckle. Something told you that these were the master procrastinators who didn’t decide to start on the project until now...

When you reached the end of the hall, you were relieved to find an empty room. Finally. Sighing in relief, you had never found the flick of a light switch and whoosh of a closing door more satisfying than in that moment. 

Sprawling your things out haphazardly onto the floor, the overly-stiff lid of the piano opening made you scrunch up your face. If this piano was the only one out of tune in the building, you were going to—

You didn’t even finish the thought before your finger pressed on a key as if it had a mind of its own. “Thank the tuning gods,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your chest and exhaling out the air you’d held in your lungs. Sure, it was one of the older models the school’s inventory had to offer, but it was still miraculously in tune. 

If anything, you let out a ‘hm’ of intrigue as you sat down. You’d never played in this particular studio or on this piano before, but the different weight of the keys and peculiar texture of sound that emanated from them piqued your interest. 

Playing on a different piano than your usual model could best be described as a painter who had to paint with a completely different base canvas, colors of paint, and a set of brushes. Whereas a painter was familiar with his or her usual painting medium and more than comfortable with the feel of their brushes, the process of adapting to a new set of materials altogether was neither difficult nor easy, because they didn’t know what they were dealing with yet. 

It was just different. 

Pianos were almost grouped in the same theory, except rather than produce a visual piece with brushes and paint, you had to paint a picture with sound; an odd medium considering the less physically pliable nature of it. 

This piano in particular, for example, required more weight on certain keys to produce an equal amount of sound as the others. The texture of the sound was also a different quality, this being more rustic and ragtime sounding than the new models lined up in the front entrance studios. Those sounded much more acoustic, crisper, and sharper, fitting a more classical and structured repertoire. 

Starting easy with a few scales and basic pieces you learned when you were younger, the aching in your hands still lingered, but the pain grew more than bearable since your hands had warmed up. 

What were you going to practice today? Chopin? Beethoven? Lizst? Forming your mouth into an ‘o’ shape at the last name, you quirked your lip into a meek grin. When was the last time you played one of that psycho’s pieces? 

Settling on Liebestraum No. 3, you took a moment to try and remember the piece by heart. Closing your eyes to concentrate on picturing and mapping out the piece in your head, you breathed deeply and grazed your fingertips across the keys. 

The collection of three pieces was also known as Dreams of Love and the third piece’s gentle and melodic hymn was just that. The beginning of the piece was soft like a lullaby, enveloping the listener into a space of warmth and tenderness; like the sparks of a newly blossoming and dreamlike relationship. Hypnotizing and consuming, the simple unfolding melody drew you in completely.

The second cadenza then transitioned into the harsh reality of love, becoming more weighted and melancholic as the tempo not only sped up and became more frantic, but the tones and harmonics also developed into more complex ones. Desperate, heartbreaking, and filled with the raw reality that love had the ability to take just as much as it had to give, your hands no longer dictated how well you played at that moment; your humanity did. 

The final cadenza was the one that shredded your heartstrings. After the highs and lows of falling in and out of love, the dynamic returned to its former soft and lulling roots, reminding you that the everlasting form of love and eternal happiness was truly unattainable, and only lurked in the distant world that was your dreams. 

The words that constantly lurked in your head sent a pang of guilt into your chest, erupting and manifesting itself physically into the delicate and drawn out keys of the pieces final notes. Would you ever be happy?

Coming down from the euphoria that engulfed every nerve in your body, tears brimmed your eyes. Scoffing at yourself, you sniffled, dabbing away the wetness that dampened your cheeks as self-pitying chuckles left your mouth. This was a definitely a first. 

The sudden sense that someone was watching you made you grow suspicious. Snapping your head around to the door, your body went cold as a figure was visible through the glass pane of the door. 

Yoongi.

You remained frozen in place, unable to move from the wave of anxiety that swallowed you whole. Your throat was dry and your tongue felt like it was cemented to the roof of your mouth. Turning back around to face the piano, you tried to wipe the remaining tears as discreetly as you could, but you realized that your puffy eyes and red nose betrayed you. 

Facing back to the door, you pressed your lips into a thin line and hoped that it would mask any indication that you had just bawled over a stupid piece. God, you felt so pathetic...

Through the reflective pane, you tried to make out his expression but felt your heart hiccup when you zoned in on his face. He sniffled once before looking down at his feet, then back up at you, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his glassy eyes. 

Was he—crying? 

Blinking hard through your still-puffy and damp eyes, you squinted to try and get a clearer view of him through the glass, but in the blink of an eye and almost as soon as he had appeared, he was gone; vanishing like a figment of your imagination in a dream you had rudely woken up from. 

Your feet felt like they were cement blocks weighing down on the pedals. Unable to come to your senses enough to stand up and stop him you could only stare blankly at the door as the illusion of his echoing footsteps deadened into silence.

Today

You: 4A in 20 minutes? [5:22 p.m.]

Min Salty: sure [5:26 p.m.] 

Trying to push past and cross the awkward tightrope of a situation that you had created, you felt your breath hitch in your throat and form a hiccup instead. You weren’t sure what surprised you more, the fact that he had replied quicker than you anticipated or the actuality that he had replied to you at all. 

Biting your cuticles raw, your nerves were stinging you like a swarm of angry bees. You were already in the studio, of course, and had been practicing for an hour or so before the idea popped into your head. After that, the text had been saved as a draft for about ten minutes before you eventually swallowed your ego and placed your finger on the dreaded send icon. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Exactly two-minutes had passed since his response and each tick of the clock was like the ring of a bell, signaling that it was feeding time for the growing monster that was your anxiety. 

You hissed through your teeth when you accidentally bit down too hard on your cuticle too hard and made a pool of bright red blood flood the edge of your nail. Simultaneously, the click and turn of the doorknob made you snap your head up and freeze, halting your pacing steps. 

Smoothing over the top of his hood, Yoongi fashioned a plain black shirt, tattered burgundy jacket, distressed jeans, and scuffed white sneakers. It didn’t take you a second longer to notice the black dust mask he had over his mouth, either. Whether it had become a habit of yours or a natural inclination to study him from afar, you always found yourself staring for a moment too long before you spoke. 

“You’re—” you cleared your throat. “—early.” Glancing at the clock, you made sure that you read it right. “Really early.”

He pulled out a chair and slung his bag onto the floor. “I figured you’d be here already.” His voice sounded rough, but not the abrasive kind of rough—the sick kind. When did he get sick? Did he take any medicine? Why was he here?

“Shut up...” you reminded yourself. “It’s none of your busine—”

“Are you sick?” Repressing your negative subconscious, you cared more about his health, for now, more than your ego could force you not to. He shook his head no rather than give you a formal response, refusing to speak and therefore, confirming your suspicions. 

He hadn’t even taken off his mask yet and you were pretty sure it was about 75 degrees outside; more than toasty enough for him to walk around without a mask to keep his mouth warm. 

“Yoongi, you should go home and rest,” you sighed. Instant guilt began to gnaw at you. 

Another forceful head shake and a few suppressed coughs later, he sat down on the chair and pulled out his notebook. It was bad enough you had your own pride to deal with, and adding Yoongi’s into the mix wasn’t going to lead anywhere. You weren’t putting him through this today. 

Taking his notebook away from his lap, you set it on top of his bag and kneeled down, placing your hand on his forehead. As you expected, it was slick with sweat. 

“Christ, you’re burning up...” you swore, flipping back and forth between the palm and back of your hand to make sure that he was really that hot. Gently grabbing your wrist, he craned his neck away from your reach and pulled your arm away from his vicinity.

He took his mask off agitatedly at your relentless nagging to try and prove his point. “I’m fine.” His voice was stern but still weak, a clear indication that he was anything but that. Frowning with concern written all over your face, he simply stared vacantly into your eyes while still maintaining his hold around your wrist. 

Shaking your head at his hardheaded attitude that mirrored yours, you pried his fingers off of your wrist and pressed the back of your hand to his damp cheek. Yoongi’s eyes went wide as his face instantly heated up and flushed at the contact. 

“You’re running at least a 100 right now, Yoongi,” you scolded. “We can practice anytime, but right now, you need to go home and rest.” Your hand was still resting on his cheek while you spoke while he continued looking at anywhere but your eyes. 

You pulled your hand away from his cheek and let out a near-inaudible gasp when he clutched your wrist again. Bringing your cool hand back to his face, you swallowed tensely when he slid his grip up to your hand and guided it to the side of his face, cupping his large hand over yours so that it was now cupping his cheek. 

He closed his eyes tenderly at the coolness of your hand, relishing the soothing and comforting touch that only you could ever provide. Your eyes fluttered a few times before you gave into his silent plea. Running your thumb over the delicate skin of his cheekbones, a twinge of woe struck your chest at the sight before you. 

“Why do you make me feel this way...” you murmured to yourself. 

“If only I understood the way I felt about you...” Yoongi thought. 

A soothing and not-entirely awkward silence filled the room. Yoongi’s throaty breathing and occasional sniffles were the only other noises that were distinguishable, and your intermittent hiccup decided to grace you with its presence towards the last three minutes of the hour. 

“Yoongi?” you whispered. Had he fallen asleep? Sitting up? Was he secretly a horse? 

“Mhm?” he hummed. Whew—still awake. 

Holding back the tiniest grin, you sighed. “Let’s go back to your dorm.” 

Mumbling something in his enervated state, you helped him up to his feet and slung his arm over your shoulders to keep him upright and on his feet. You could only pray that he was still conscious enough to have control over his legs. 

That day, you learned that dragging a barely conscious man who was twice the size of you into the boys’ dorm block was a sight worthy of earning a couple tentative stares. The childishly logical part of your brain wondered how serial killers did it. 

“Hm, I don’t know _____, maybe the fact that they’re absolutely maniacal psychopaths who possess four times the upper body strength you do helps,” you huffed, verbally exercising your strain as you tried to walk straight while propping Yoongi up. Was he drunk or really that sick?

Where was the RA anyway? Paying that high price of tuition should at least warrant a decent resident advisor for safety reasons. 

Brushing the shoulder of a stranger, the guy stared at you with terribly confused eyes as he stopped brushing his teeth. Panting heavily, Yoongi grumbled another illegible sentence of nonsense as you took a breather to ask the stranger where his room was. Logically, it had to be one of the only single-dorms in the building, so you prayed it mirrored the layout of yours and was at the end of the hall. 

The doe-eyed boy pointed to the end of the long corridor, the minty toothpaste bubbles foaming around the sides of his mouth as it remained parted open in confusion. You quickly thanked him and stumbled slowly but surely down the length of the hallway. Even though it was safe to assume that his door was locked, you turned down the lever and were surprised when the door swung open. Yoongi apparently doesn’t lock his door on the regular...

Thankfully, the layout of the room did, in fact, resemble yours, so you were able to find his bedroom with ease. You convinced yourself that fact that you had woken up there one fateful morning certainly played no part in it. Flinging himself (along with the frustrated force that resulted from your built-up and rushing endorphins) onto the mattress, he landed into the rumpled sheets with a thump. Apparently, he also didn’t have a habit of making his bed before he left his dorm. 

You let out a final harsh exhale. You did it. Stretching out your shoulders as a reward, you were more than positive that they’d be sore tomorrow. When was the last time you worked out? A trick question with a secret option C. You couldn’t be bothered to. 

Pulling off his shoes and peeling his jacket off of his body, you started to question whether he was secretly blackout drunk or truly terribly ill. He was out like a light within the first few steps into his dorm. You splayed his crinkled blanket over his body loosely, careful to keep him insulated but still allow some room for air to circulate and allow breathability. 

When your fingers brushed away the blonde hairs that were stuck on his sweat-dampened forehead, he shifted from his side-lying position, reaching out instinctually to grab your hand again. Yoongi kept his grip on your wrist firm, locking it close against his chest like a child’s teddy bear. He nuzzled his head into your wrist like a puppy, nosing the soft skin between your pulse point and prominent vein. He couldn’t help it that the cool skin of your poorly circulating limbs felt like ice packs on his burning hot skin. 

You blinked a couple times trying to process the options you had. Each tug in an attempt to free your arm from his grip only resulted in him clutching tighter, and he seemed to mumble something as his face contorted into a recognizable expression of discomfort. Nightmare?

Finally realizing that he wasn’t going to let go of you anytime soon, you gave up. It’s not like you had anything better to do today. Kneeling down beside the bed, you placed your free hand underneath your chin and propped your elbow on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position and wait for the situation to pan out for a couple minutes. He’d have to let go of you eventually. 

You couldn’t hold back the burning desire to admire his sleeping features. He looked so at peace compared to his day-to-day mood, almost like an entirely different person. Rubbing over his knuckles involuntarily, you didn’t even realize you were doing it until you felt his grip relax with your touch. Judging from how he had his mouth slightly parted and the steady rhythm of the rising and falling of his chest, you concluded that he had fallen asleep. 

Not wasting another second, you stealthily slid your hand out of his caging hold and folded the remaining edge of the blanket over his arms. You stood up and brushed off your red kneecaps and tip-toed to the door, closing it as softly as you could. Yoongi needed to sleep his heart out. 

Was it wrong to just leave? You stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that by the time he’d wake up, he would be starving. It wasn’t easy eating when you were sick, and Yoongi’s comment last week about him knowing what a month’s long diet of instant noodles and coffee looked like made you shudder in guilt. Gathering every single bit of patience and empathy you had left in the degrading bones of yours, you diverted yourself away from the exit and to the kitchen. 

Single-dorms on the university campus were like miniature studio apartments. Usually reserved for students on an as-needed basis, there were only six or seven in total. So far, Yoongi was the only other person you had met who occupied one. You hated to admit it, but he was probably the only other person you had talked to and gotten to know this much in all your years of attending the school. Would you dare go as far as to say he was your only friend? 

You quickly shook off the thought and went back to digging around his kitchen. His fridge and cupboard inventory didn’t come as much of a shock to you. It was, for lack of a better word, horrendous. 

The small refrigerator was practically empty, and the only things occupying the near-empty shelves were a couple apples, a half-dozen pack of eggs, a measly portion of fruit salad (probably from the mini-mart down the street), a package of mixed and chopped vegetables for soups and stews, one styrofoam takeout box, and a suspicious looking tin-foil boat. 

Don’t even mention the side compartments. Those were reserved for a few energy drinks, half-opened caffeine shots, packets of takeout condiments, a full-sized bottle of ketchup, a block of cheddar cheese, and a torn open foil pack of butter. Quirking the edge of your lip into a dumbfounded pucker, your face relaxed into one of comedic amusement. How could anyone live off of this—garbage? You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word “food.” That would be offensive to the existence of food itself. 

His freezer was completely empty, so moving onto the cupboards was either going to be a big mistake or a happy accident. You prayed deep down it was the latter. Then again, you also could not have been more wrong. 

The cupboards weren’t any better. If anything, they were worse. The grey-painted plastic backboards were the only things visible, usually a sign that a student had just moved in days ago. In one corner of the lowest shelf was an almost-empty box of granola bars; the shitty 99 cent ones every seasoned uni student stocked up on in bulk before the semester started. Beside it was a newly opened bag of rice. At least that was the one food item in this crapshoot that seemed remotely new. 

The rest of the shelves held two worn-out, rusty frying pans, and chipped glass china. Those were probably hand-me-downs from senior students who couldn’t be bothered to throw their old belongings away after graduation. There was a whole recycling bin full of them in the storage shed by the cafeteria 

You bit your lip, trying to think of what to make with what little you were given. Omelet? Boring. Soup? Painfully more boring. Curious, you unwrapped the mysterious bundle of tin-foil and discovered a very fresh marbled flank of beef. Cheering internally, you set to work on your favorite childhood dish that you were most confident in cooking: fried rice.  

You were more than willing to buy him another pack of meat. Hell, after the shock of seeing his fridge? You were more than willing to buy his groceries for a whole damn month if it meant he would take care of himself. Your grandparents always sent you too much money at once anyway. It wasn’t as if you had friends to go out and drink with, so paying for dinners wasn’t a usual activity you took part in. 

You started off by washing the rice and setting it up on the stovetop to boil. It would take the longest to prepare, so it was only natural to get that out of the way first. Next came the simple process of chopping up the meat, cooking it thoroughly, combining the packet of pre-cut vegetables, and then mixing in the rice last. On any other given day, you would have seasoned the meat with at least a pinch of pepper, but you didn’t exactly have that option considering the given circumstances.

It didn’t take long since the limited and pre-measured ingredients boxed you in along the way. Plating the rice onto the only dish deep enough that Yoongi had available, you used the same pan to quickly fry up two eggs. The smell of steaming hot food made your stomach grumble in response. 

Not to stroke your ego or anything, but you enjoyed patting yourself on the back for your accomplishments every now and then, no matter how small. Self-assurance was good for the old pessimistic soul. 

You tried to think of any other thing you could add to the meal and ogled the table when you nearly forgot. Shuffling back to the fridge, you cut up half an apple and arranged the slices into the plastic mini-mart bowl of fruit salad. Then, you eagerly jumped towards the bottle of ketchup and shook it vigorously with arms that were already starting to feel sore from lugging around Yoongi earlier. 

Drizzling the condiment over the golden heap of steaming rice, the red zig-zag streams finished off the orange and green vegetables quite nicely. You covered it with the only other dish Yoongi had in his cupboard and hoped it would still be warm by the time he woke up. Sighing in satisfaction as well as exhaustion, you didn’t pause to check the time. 

“Shit...” you muttered. The sky was already pitch black, meaning that it was well past 9. You facepalmed. How long had you been here? Mind you, you also completely forgot that you still had an essay due next week. Do you know how much easier life would be if your laptop grew its own set of hands and just wrote it for you? 

If you checked up on Yoongi before leaving, you had a feeling he would wake up the minute the doorknob clicked, so you thought it was best just to let him rest. Sneaking out of a dorm for the first time in your life, the door creaked ever-so-slightly before latching shut as Yoongi and his dorm returned to their all-too-familiar state of vacancy. 

Getting up the next morning was certainly an interesting process, to say the least. You sat in your tangled mess of bedsheets for about ten minutes before coming to the realization that yesterday was everything but a dream. It hit you like a bucket of cold water that had just been dumped over your head.

Throughout the entire day, you hobbled through your classes with hunched shoulders and a rounded back, feeling a constant strain in your upper body each time you tried to straighten out. “Working out” was a mistake. 

As the deadline for the performance was almost at the two-month mark, you grew more and more anxious with each passing day. It wasn’t anything special. You always had a healthy amount of anxiety revolving around academia but your performance nerves were on a completely different level. 

Humming to piece to yourself, your phone buzzed from your pocket as the blaring of your ringtone sounded. Your parents didn’t call you during the weekdays and you couldn’t think of anyone else who had your phone number. “Perks of having no friends,” you thought. Fishing it out of your coat pocket, your eyes widened when Yoongi’s name flashed across the screen. 

Your fingers swiped across the green icon absentmindedly, accepting the call with little hesitation. “Hello?” Didn’t he usually prefer to text you rather than call?

“Hey,” he replied. He sounded a lot better than yesterday but his throaty tone made it clear that traces of his cold still remained. “Are you free?”

You hiccuped. “Wh–yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Of course, he knew you were free. It was a trick question. After following you around and trying to catch your tail, he had familiarized himself with your schedule, just as you had done a few weeks prior. “Do you want to book a practice room?”

A sniffle suddenly sounded from behind you and echoed in the receiver, making goosebumps sprawl across your neck. Not a millisecond after, the line clicked dead. Rip it off like a band-aid or peel it off slowly and painstakingly? Opting for the former, you closed your eyes tightly and mouthed a silent swear, turning around in slow motion like something out of an action film. 

Low and behold, there was Yoongi shifting his weight back and forth on his heels. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to go on a—” he paused to rub the back of his neck; he only did that when he was nervous. “On a hike?” 

“A hike?” The word felt foreign in your mouth. As far as you were concerned, yesterday’s fiasco was enough physical activity to last you for the rest of the year, but Yoongi wanted to go on a hike? “Aren’t you still sick?”

He shrugged. “A little cardio might help me burn it off and do me some good.” 

“You’re not plotting my murder, are you?” you gulped. Why was that always the first logical explanation that presented itself in your head?

Blinking at you for a moment, he chuckled and shook his head at your comment. “Not unless it's by physical activity. And it’s only up to the viewpoint. You’ve sprinted to classes farther than that.”

He had a point. The school was built atop a hillside and the viewpoint was, as its name entailed, a spot where you could look over the entire campus. It was about a five-minute walk outside of the gates and the climb wasn’t too steep. It certainly beat running a whole campus-length to each of your classes. 

“What about practice?” you sputtered, tongue weighing down your mouth like an ankle weight. “We haven’t gone over the piece in weeks.” 

Throwing his arm over your sore shoulders and bringing you close to him, he sighed. “Learn to live a little, _____. We still have two more months. A walk might clear your head.” Since when was Yoongi the voice of reason? 

You allowed him to walk a few steps ahead of you and ducked under his arm swiftly when you got the chance, freeing yourself from his hold. The concept of space bubbles around Yoongi had grown dangerously close to popping now. 

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “Fine, fine, let’s go.” Picking up your pace, he trailed behind you with an amused smirk. 

Was it the cough medicine making him loopy or was he just particularly charming today?

“Min Yoongi, yo–I swear to God—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before collapsing onto the grass like a sack of potatoes. “If I ever get the strength back in my legs, I am going to smother you with a pillow,” panting between each word. 

By the time you made it up to the top of the hill, the sun was already set, making vivid orange and dusty pink colors streak across the darkened sky. The air was colder up here than back down on the campus level but you tried your best to hide your discomfort whenever your hands throbbed from the cold. 

Yoongi laughed as his eyes crinkled and his pearly white teeth showed in a gummy smile. “Good luck with that,” he chuckled. Making himself comfortable and sitting down beside your limp body, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing in deeply. The walk actually did in fact, miraculously clear up his stuffy sinuses. Wonderful. 

Sitting up, you tried to rub your hands as discreetly as possible so as to not make him worry but failed when cracking of a few knuckles caused him to snap his gaze to you. He unzipped his jacket and flung off his hood and you immediately stopped him. 

“Nope,” you retaliated quickly. “No. Put it back on. Don’t even think about doing anything textbook cliché or I’ll roll you down the hill like a Lincoln log.”

Raising his eyebrows slightly at your distaste and choice of a non-threatening threat, he shrugged his jacket back on with a quizzical pout. “Don’t you have a pair of mittens or something?”

You grumbled a no in response, embarrassed that even he was aware of how ridiculous it was. A calming silence cast over both of you, the only sound coming from a few crickets chirping and the murmuring city far below. Your teeth started to chatter a couple minutes in, making genuine concern spread across Yoongi’s face. 

“Come here,” he sighed, gesturing to his open arms. Widening your eyes, you raised your hands assuringly.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled nervously. “I just have really bad circulation, that’s all.” It wasn’t a total lie. You really did have awful circulation and it constantly made your hands and feet cold. Not a day went by when you didn’t wear socks and a thick wooly sweater around your room. 

“Do you want to get sick too?” he asked with a bite in his voice, almost as if your stubbornness was beginning to get the best of him as well. “We’ve done worse things with fewer clothes on anyway...”

“Hey!” You jabbed his side. Narrowing your eyes at him in a silent message that he had won this round, you scooted over beside him as he wrapped his arms around your frame. It never ceased to amaze you how no matter the situation, whether it was his hands around yours or his arms around your body, you seemed to fit perfectly in his hold like a matching puzzle piece. 

Nestling yourself into his warm figure, you felt yourself relax into his touch. It would be a sin to deny that he had an unexplainable effect on you. The softness of his jacket, the heat radiating from his body, and his natural scent lulled you into a dazed state, too relaxed to even care about boundaries anymore. 

“Can we talk about it now?” he whispered, voice coming out muffled because his cheek was squished on the top of your head like a child’s. 

Fluttering your eyelashes open at his sudden request, you swallowed tensely. How did you not see this coming? You pulled away to get a proper glimpse of his face. “What is there to talk about, Yoongi?” 

“Don’t say my name like that,” he cut off abruptly. Had you already ticked him off? Giving him a look of confusion, he shook his head and looked down. “Don’t say my name like you pity knowing me...”

“Yoongi,” you exhaled faintly. He didn’t interrupt you this time. “I don’t understand what you want to talk about. We got angry at each other, we fought, and we made a mistake. That’s all.” Forcing out the last phrase felt like swallowing a jagged blade. You hated admitting it because of how untrue it was. 

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me, _____.” His face remained firm as he used your name, speaking with an unflinching air of confidence and assuredness that only he could muster. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scoff. “What do you want me to say? That it was amazing? Because it was. It was amazing, okay? Everything felt so fucking perfect and I hate admitting it—” Pausing to breathe, you groaned and tangled your fingers through your hair at the sudden outpour of emotions you’d kept bottled inside of you for weeks. 

"Because feeling that good and happy for once scared the shit out of you, didn’t it?” he finished for you. Looking up at him, his gaze remained glued onto you, completely unfazed at your expected outburst. 

The question that made your heart race like the beating of a butterfly’s wings suddenly presented itself on a silver platter. 

“How did you know about my RA?” Your throat went dry as the words felt like chalk on your tongue. Had he told Powell yet? 

Leaning his head to one side, his jaw muscles tensed. “It doesn’t take a doctor to see that you're in pain outside of class.” He said it with a tone of dripping bluntness. “Not to mention how sensitive you are to the temperature changes; how you always rub your hands when it’s cloudy outside because it’s cold; even after playing a long piece because your fingers start to ache, and how abnormally swollen your joints get after a long day.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed into a dumbfounded frown. How did he know all of that? You weren’t even remotely aware of the fact that he was cognizant of your existence, much less your usual habits and mannerisms. “How do you notice all of that?”

Yoongi's jaw muscle tensed but he didn’t respond. 

Licking your lips nervously, another equally anxiety-inducing question made its way to the tip of your tongue. Moving your hands down to his sleeved arm, Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat when you looked at him softly, silently asking for his permission. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, hesitant for a brief second, before tipping his chin down once.  

Your fingertips lightly brushed across the smooth skin of the top of his hand before grasping the edge of the sleeve cuff. Sliding it up slowly, the scars that were hidden became exposed, the milky tone of his skin contrasting with the rough and darkened scratches that were scattered across the entire length of his arm. 

“Gnarly, isn’t it?” He let out a nasal scoff. These were the only battle scars he was sure he would never flaunt in all their glory. The pads of your fingers carefully brushed over the delicate skin, studying the textured pattern like an ancient relic; one that would leave an impression in the mind for all the wrong reasons. 

“What happened afterward?” Your voice was cautious, coming out just shy of a whisper. Would he trust you enough with this? 

Yoongi’s jaw clenched again. Before he could say anything, you slid his sleeve back down over his arm and instinctively held his hand for support. Gripping yours back in response, he took a deep breath to compose his thoughts before speaking. It was now or never. 

“Powell found me. Whether it was because of fate or some bullshit theory of the universe, I don’t know, but he rushed me to the hospital and stayed with me for the entire week in the recovery unit.” A cold gust of wind blew and he was the one who held your hand tighter. “I didn’t tell my parents of course,” he chuckled dryly. 

“They never supported me in music until the day I got my scholarship here. Before that, they practically forced me away from anything having to do with music. ‘You’ll die starving and poor; you won’t have a proper job; and when you’re on the streets, homeless and begging for money, we won’t be here to help you. Just to tell you, We told you so.’ If I told them, I knew they’d force me to move back in with them and take on the family trade; scrubbing pots and serving drinks for drunkard business mongrels until 3 a.m.”

Yoongi’s Adam’s apple bobbed at the memory but his eyes remained centered. “I took a semester off to recover and decided that it was probably best for me to just drop out since I couldn’t play anymore. PT was a crapshoot. There was nothing left here for me.” His eyes glazed over momentarily but returned in a split second. Did physical therapy really not work? Had he even tried a single session? 

“Then Powell spent the entire semester practically begging on his knees to try and convince me to switch majors to composition and theory instead,” he grinned faintly, even letting out a ghost of a chuckle. “It took a month or two, but I figured I owed him that much. The old man practically raised me like his own son ever since freshman year.”  

He turned to face you, gaze landing on your intense ones with a soft smile as his thumb rubbed over your hand. “Everyone thought I got sucked into the party scene, failed all of my classes. I think some of those idiots assumed I got hazed into a gang or a cult. Like those morons knew anything about me...” 

You bit your lip. People were truly the worst. Not to mention immature, gossip-mongering, feeble-minded pre-burnout college pricks. 

“The hospital seemed like heaven compared to the hell I stepped into when I got back. I was like an animated corpse. I rarely ate, couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t even bother going to classes. I’d just sit my bed all day and stare at the ceiling like a rock. I was too afraid to sleep because every time I did, I’d have nightmares about it.” 

He frowned at the pang of contrition that struck him. “The headlights centimeters away from my face and blinding my eyes, the sirens ringing in my ears, the creaking metal wheels on the gurney...” Shaking his head, tears flung off his face and a droplet landed on the top of your hand. 

Your eyes fell to the grass at you held back your own budding tears. No matter how badly you wanted to scream that it was all over and in the past and that you were there for him, all you could do was sit and listen.

“Everything just felt so fucking empty…” he whispered, tugging hard at the edge of his lower lip between his teeth. “That night with you in the practice room was the first good night’s sleep I’ve gotten in two years.” The confession took you by surprise, your eyes lighting up like a spark from a firework. 

His eyes softened at your reaction. “When I got rolled into the ER, a nurse was rushing down the hall with me, holding my hand the entire way. I was busy blacking in and out of consciousness.” He stopped to grab your hand and bring it to cup his cheek, closing his eyes instantly at the contact-comfort. “But she had her hand by me the entire time until I completely knocked out in the operating room.”

Stroking your thumb over the sleep-deprived hollow that sunk in under his eye, his eyebrows knitted together and he clutched your hand tighter, afraid that if he let go, you’d dissipate like a figment of his imagination that was too good to be true. That’s why he wouldn’t fall asleep yesterday...

“It was dangling there like bait in right in front of me; taunting me, insulting me, mocking me like I was nothing—like the universe was reminding me that I was never going to be able to love anything else ever again and that I’d just have to live with it,” he continued with his face strained, expression taut as he tried to focus despite reliving the painful set of memories. 

He hadn’t bothered touching a piano since that night, refusing to accept the fate he’d have to gamble in anticipation of finding out whether he still had the ability to play or not. In reality, he didn’t know whether he could still coordinate his muscles—and he had absolutely no desire to find out any time soon. 

Yoongi let out a huff through his parted mouth. “Do you know how easy it is for people—things—to come into your life, give you everything that you would ever want and could possibly ask for, and then have them take it away just like that?” Seeing his breath through the frigid air, you had a feeling it wasn’t the weather making his words sound cold, but the emptiness and distance he had created within himself.

Gnawing on the corner of your lower lip, you kept your gaze focused down at your hands. It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. Somehow, you finally found the courage to speak. “Is that why you hated me?” you asked in the barest of a whisper, your voice quieter than the rustling of the leaves on the trees. “Because you felt like I took that away from you?”

“No,” he replied instantly. Fluttering your eyelids at his unexpected and confident response, you frowned at him, confused. 

“I never hated you—didn’t—hate you because you played the piano,” he shook his head, eyes directed to the ground wistfully. “I was jealous.”

Your gaze softened at the confession as you swallowed nervously, awaiting his next words. “You looked so happy,” he smiled, letting out a chuckle that was too full of melancholy. “I knew from the first moment I saw you playing by yourself in the studio...” Yoongi’s voice trailed off, face melting into an expression you couldn’t read. 

Staring into his eyes, you silently pleaded him to continue. The corners of his mouth lifted into a gentle smile as his pearly white teeth barely peeked through his lips. “From the moment I saw you on my first day back, I knew I was screwed,” he grinned. “I wanted to hate you so badly but you were so perfect, how could I?”

A rosy flush crept onto your face at his heartfelt words. “You were alone in the studio two hours before any classes started and you were just playing your heart out,” Yoongi remembered the day clearly, the vivid details of the first time he encountered resurfacing like the fresh morning air after a rainstorm. The way his heart raced in his chest made it seem like it had just happened yesterday. 

“I thought you were some competition kid who got a free pass into school because of personal connections or an arranged acceptance, but I just heard you playing and—” he chuckled, shaking his head again. 

“You weren’t just reading notes and playing the piece like a robot; you were breathing the music and I could feel it.” Yoongi’s fingers stroked the palm of your hand. “I could feel you. In every single piece I’ve ever heard you play: Campanella, Liebestraum, Fantaisie, Moonlight Sonata...”

Your pulse was racing like the engine of a sports car. Judging by how confidently he listed down the pieces, he knew each of those pieces by heart, recalling each exact moment when you had played the melodies like a page out of the book of his recollections. Campanella was the piece you’d chosen for your junior year exam, Liebestraum your senior, Fantaisie was simply one you practiced for fun, and Moonlight Sonata was the piece Powell had asked you to play for an exhibition recently. 

“I tried so hard to avoid you and hate you and completely despise your existence,” he scoffed at himself. “You glowed brighter than the stars when you played. Seeing it from you made it hurt so much more because I missed that feeling more than anything,” he paused. “But I couldn’t. I was already in too deep, so I just ignored you.”

For the first time, a lengthy and comfortable silence befell the two of you.

“I didn’t know what who I wanted to be until I started college,” you admitted suddenly, confidence stemming from the seed Yoongi had planted with his truth. 

“My mom taught me how to play the piano when I was four. She’d put me in her lap while she played and let me press the keys.” You chuckled at the flashback. “I didn’t think much of it until I fell entirely in love with it in middle school. It was this weird need, this urge to play whenever I was happy, angry, sad, annoyed, and frustrated. I felt like it was the only friend who understood me better than the actual people I knew.”

Yoongi gave you an understanding smile, sympathizing with your logic by the nature of personal experience. 

“In high school, everyone thought I was the one who had my whole life plotted out like a map: a loving family, supportive parents, good grades.” A ghost of a smile grazed your face at the distant memory. It felt so close and yet so far like you could reach out and touch it, yet it was a fingertip’s length from being torn away from you.  

“During senior year, I found out that I really didn’t have a passion for anything. Not even for music—at the time,” you filled in. “I shut everyone out with these gates I built. I hated how lonely I was, but who else could I blame? I didn’t want people to see me for who I thought I was: a passionless, unmotivated, lazy, worthless failure who would never amount to anything.” 

Shaking your head, tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision, yet refused to cry over something as stupid and insignificant as this. Seeing this, Yoongi simply laced his fingers through yours firmly, wordlessly showing his support for your endurance. 

“I auditioned for fun one day after seeing the posters stapled across our school’s bulletin board. Didn’t expect much at the time since I didn’t think you could do anything with a degree in music, and in the beginning, I actually thought I was right,” you laughed wryly at yourself. 

“Undergrad was pretty awful. Playing as a student with a major was so much different than playing for fun. I was so stressed with deadlines and projects and practice hours, I almost forgot why I started playing in the first place.” Your mind wandered back to the long, sleepless nights you spent in the studios trying to perfect what would never even come close to the synonym of perfection.

“Then in my sophomore year, I got to take more classes with Powell and he completely changed my life. I wish I was exaggerating, but he really did change who I was as a person, not just a dazed university student. I don’t think I’d still be here without him.”

Your lips formed into a tender smile. “I started getting my passion for playing back and I learned to appreciate the value of my scholarship. I guess now, I’m just hanging in the middle.” Yoongi’s eyes studied your features intently, concentration remaining unswayed for the entirety of your release of emotions. 

A couple moments skimmed by before you resumed speaking. 

“I like spending time at coffee shops, taking the bus to the bookstore when I have free time, and sometimes I even make an effort to actually greet some of the people there—but I like being alone,” you admitted. Yoongi’s ears perked up at your last phrase.

“I like doing things by myself and being able to have control over everything in my life so that I don’t have anyone to blame other than me when shit goes downhill,” you rambled, swallowing your words while you spoke like bitter medicine. Yoongi’s smoldering gaze, as it lay on you, was intense enough to start forest fires.

You sighed heavily. “But frankly, I don’t like being lonely.” The confession bled past your lips like spilled ink from a bottle, leaving a splattered and stained trail as it seeped through your mind. 

“No one does,” he responded honestly. Directing your watery eyes to his softened gaze, you looked down at the pair of your hands entwined together.

What was this in his eyes? 

Who were you to him?

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t waste a single second before cupping the sides of your face and bringing you into a kiss. The force took you by surprise and made you land on your back with a soft thud, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter against his lips.

It didn’t take you longer than a couple of flashes in your brain synapses to give into his magnetizing touch. Making out on a hilltop in front of the city lights never crossed the line of sounding appealing other than outside of a cheesy rom-com, but Yoongi’s warm lips preoccupied every train of logical thought that ran cross your mind. God, what was he doing to you? 

You’d slept with him once and you still managed to get butterflies like a giddy teenager who was in their first relationship; immature and blind with infatuation. You tangled your hands through his hair like second nature as his weight pressed on top of you, making you feel secure under him. The kiss was tender and patient—a stark contrast to the last time you had locked lips with him. 

“Can I be alone with you?” he asked suddenly, breath fanning across your lips because he refused to pull away farther than three centimeters from you. 

You laughed heartily, making him flash his pearly whites and peeking pink gums again. “Is this your dumb way of asking me out?” Smiling widely in response, his lips connected with yours again, effectively shutting you up. 

“I don’t want to pretend like I don’t have feelings for you anymore, _____,” he murmured into your ear. “Do you know how hard it’s been having to act like I hate your guts for the past three years when I can’t stop thinking about you on a regular basis?” 

Another awfully timed blush graced the tops of your cheeks. You shoved his shoulder playfully at his seemingly sarcastic yet sincere compliment. “Stop being such a softie, it’s gross.” Yoongi pouted, feigning hurt at your teasing comment. His childish face made you burst into laughter, vibrant and full of life. You’d swear on your life that he had a million personalities buried deep underneath that facade of a stone-cold gargoyle. 

Biting your lip, you shook your head, picking at the grass to distract yourself. “What if I’m sleeping and this is all some dream that’s way too good to be true?” you mumbled. How did you go from avoiding each other like water and oil to melding perfectly like paper and ink? 

“Then it’d be your dream and my nightmare...” he murmured, keeping his forehead pressed against yours as his lips remained centimeters away from contact.

You laughed shyly, shoving him away teasingly at his admirably honest nature. “So three years, huh?” 

Again, Yoongi chose not to respond, allowing you to take note of yet another one of his habits: refusing to answer a question he knew he was guilty of.  

You only had one shitty, wonderful, stressful, joyous, short life. Might as well make it worth living with what you were given. 

As you gazed deeply into the dark eyes that belonged to the person who you once thought hated your very being, you realized that you were entirely and utterly screwed—because you were completely captivated by each other. 

The best part? You had a million more reasons to discover exactly why. 

Relationships were never you or Yoongi’s thing. Whereas the typical couple would spend hours at a time arguing over stupid things, trying to work it out but only tearing their hair out in clumps and eventually breaking up, you never saw the point in arguing in general. If you argued with your partner, you would request to break up. Simple. Clean. Painless. Well, at least for one.

It was a really black and white way of seeing the complex web that composed a relationship, but to you, it was just blatantly obvious. Some called you cold but that was just another opinion. 

Why argue if you’re “in love” with each other? Why fight if you’re “in love” with each other? Why hurt the person you love if you can choose not to be with them and let them be happy? Holding onto people for the sake of a quote on quote, “relationship” despite hurting each other was selfish and pointless. 

To you, that wasn’t love. It was self-sabotage. 

“You okay?” Yoongi’s voice peeped from above you, mumbling into your hair. 

“Hm?” you hummed, snapping out of your daze. He chuckled deeply at your deeply unwavering expression, pressing a kiss to the top of your head tenderly. You were currently tangled in the sheets of his bed after waking up from a nap. Today marked the first week of your official relationship and you had to admit, it was pretty nice. 

Okay, nice was an understatement. It was perfect. 

You had yet to get into an argument, as both of you had quite passive and anti-argumentative personalities. Then again, you were still technically in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, so it was bound to pop up at some point. 

Your days together were few and far between spending time in the studio practicing, sleeping over at his dorm (courtesy of his ever-so diligently working resident advisor), walking each other to class, texting and video calling for hours until one of you fell asleep, and occasionally going up to the viewpoint when the weather conditions proved to be favorable—and you had chugged four cups of coffee. 

It was like something of a fairytale, and you were always worried that you’d wake up one day to find out that it was just that: a false reality you had conjured up in your own head. But if it was a dream, it was one you never wanted to wake up from.

“Hold still,” you scolded for the tenth time. 

Yoongi grumbled. “I’m trying, but it’s hard when you’re tickling my neck.”  

Huffing at his fidgety muscles, you blew a hair out of your face and kept your hands busy. “It wasn’t my idea to dye your hair, dummy.” He hummed an off-beat tune in response to your incessant scolds. 

In the early hours of the morning, you had gotten a text from your loving and selfless boyfriend that he needed to save a few bucks and needed to touch up his hair. You, being the only other person he spoke in the whole universe (practically), so graciously agreed. It was about five minutes into the hands-on activity that you were beginning to regret your generous and giving disposition. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to deal with the fumes of bleach as Yoongi had opted to dye his hair back to his natural dark brown color. He mentioned something about his growing lazy temperament and it becoming too time-consuming to continuously touch up the dark roots every few weeks. It wasn’t exactly the best for his hair either, the blonde ends breaking off due to the harsh chemicals and his inability to spare the extra five minutes to use conditioner. 

“Then why did you dye it in the first place?” you laughed, dumbfounded at his odd reasoning. 

Mumbling something in an inaudible hush, you shot him a confused glance. "I was going through a phase...” he said clearer this time, tucking his chin down in shame. 

Lifting your eyebrows, you nodded, accepting his answer and sensing that he wasn’t going to elaborate any time soon. “You know, you could just let it grow out and style it like that, grown out roots and everything” you offered. “I’ve seen a few celebrities who pull it off pretty well.” 

“Eh,” he let out a disgruntled sound, crinkling one of his eyes.

You snorted through your nose from holding in your laugh, making him flinch as your breath tickled his sensitive neck again. “Sorry,” you giggled. Continuing brushing the pitch-black gel over his roots, you were trying to be careful and not let it get on his skin. As far as your experience in hair dye went, the stains would wash out easily with some warm water and soap, but you didn’t enjoy the extensive process of cleanup it would lead to. 

“Does it bother you?” you asked, referring to the color differentiation of dark roots to beige blonde hair during the grow-out process. 

Thinking over it for a minute, Yoongi pouted and gave into his perfectionist attitude as he clicked his tongue with a “yup.” Holding back a grin at his undeniably soft personality, you couldn’t believe that you still hadn’t woken up yet. You intentionally blew a puff of air in his ear, causing him to jolt from his seat. 

“Hey!” he was the one to scold this time. 

“My advisor is going to kill me.” 

“If you die, I’ll kill you.” 

Scrunching your nose at his menacing threat that made absolutely no sense, he let out a sleepy grumble, nestling his head into your hair and inhaling your scent. 

“Just because your advisor is shit at his job, doesn’t mean that mine doesn't notice when I’m gone,” you pointed out. 

Yoongi mumbled lazily into your hair in the hopes that you’d drop the topic and go to sleep. It was an idle Friday night and the two of you had spent the entire day at the studio practicing the piece. Since you only had classes from Mondays to Thursdays, you got into a routine of meeting up and spending the whole free day in the studios. 

The last day of the week was what Yoongi looked forward to more than anything because it usually ended with you burying yourselves in his bed sheets with a random episode of The Office playing on your laptop and falling asleep tangled in each other. 

“Yoongi,” you groaned. “What if I get in trouble?” 

He hummed something inaudible into your chest once again, tickling your collarbone with his whispers. No way were you letting him fall asleep that easily. It was only fifteen minutes past 8. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Poking his shoulder playfully, his mouth was still closed, indicating that he was indeed fully awake. He always parted his mouth slightly when he was asleep, another habit you picked up early on the way before your relationship started.  

Then an idea struck you. There was that favor you needed to repay him for...

Prying your body away from his arms gently, you bit your lip coyly, smirking at his clueless sleeping body. Your hand trailed down to the band of his sweatpants slowly, making him gulp. Running your fingers along the bundle of fabric near his hipbone, you were surprised when your hand met his already-hard length. 

Yoongi’s eyes were now fully open as you shot him a questioning gaze. “Your fault for being so goddamn attractive all the time...” he defended, jutting his lower lip into a pout and not bothering to hide his blatantly obvious hard-on. 

Dropping your mouth in a mock offended gape, you raised your eyebrows as a chuckle of disbelief came out. “I haven’t even touched you yet!” 

“I get hard just thinking about you,” he admitted all-too casually. Smacking him on the shoulder from embarrassment, you shook your head and couldn’t help but bury your face in his chest. 

“It amazes me the same Min Yoongi who despised me a few months ago would turn out to be the softest cheeseball I know,” you scoffed. 

Kissing your nose, he wrapped his arms around you and turned onto his back, rolling you on top of him. The change of angle made you immediately feel his hardness pressing under you. You rested your chin on his chest innocently, rolling the piling lint on his shirt between your fingers. 

Yoongi’s eyes started drifting off again, too tired to keep the ball rolling, but not before giving you another idea. Keeping your chin resting atop his chest, you began rolling your hips slowly against his, making him suddenly choke while exhaling. 

Lifting his head to look down at your seductive grin, you batted your eyelashes sweetly, feigning innocence as you continued grinding your hips over the growing tent in his pants. 

“_____,” he whined, rubbing his tired eyes. “You know there’s nothing or anyone I’d rather be doing right now, but I’m a little sleepy.” Pressing a swift kiss to his lips, you ignored his excuses and slid down to pull down his sweats. 

“Who said you had to do anything?” Your voice was too cocky for your own good and Yoongi was, as he had mentioned, too tired to even sit up and watch what you were doing. You had all of him to yourself and at your mercy. 

Snapping the band of his boxers against his skin, Yoongi let out another soft whine as he started growing more impatient and harder with your teasing pace. His clothed member was straining against the tight cotton of his briefs and made you lick your lips in anticipation. 

You palmed him through the thin fabric, drawing out teasing him for as long as possible to make his pleasure greater in the long run, but it forced another throaty growl out of his mouth. His gruff tone made wetness pool immediately between the junction of your thighs. 

Unable to handle your own slow pace for much longer, you yanked down his briefs in one swift tug as his length immediately sprung out against his toned stomach. It was just as perfect as you had remembered. 

You were seconds away from biting your lip to the point of breaking the skin. Wrapping your hand around his hardness like a magnet, it throbbed underneath your fingers, already oozing precum from the red and swollen tip. Each time you pumped up and down his length, it caused a bead to well up and pool around his slit. Fuck—how was he was so perfect?

“_____,” he moaned through a strangled whine. Watching his face with every precise stroke, Yoongi’s face flushed bright pink as he clenched his jaw and rubbed his forehead in frustration. Words of encouragement weren’t needed to put an end to your teasing; your own blooming arousal took care of that. 

Gnawing on your lower lip, you couldn’t hold back your desire anymore as your tongue darted out to lick a slow line along his tip, grazing the dimple of his sensitive slit with the flat edge of your tongue. He arched his back off of the bed instantly and almost came with a single touch. 

Unable to talk and already breathless from the contact he had been waiting for since that night, you peppered kisses down his thick member and licked a stripe on the prominent vein beside his tip, causing him to jolt again. Your core throbbed seeing him in such a vulnerable state, while Yoongi knew that at that exact moment, he belonged to you, and only you.  

Finally wrapping your lips around his head, your tongue smoothed over his cock, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to keep his nails digging into the mattress. Swirling your tongue around the tip tantalizingly slowly, you guided his hands into your hair, directing him silently to tug your tresses. 

Obeying instantly with a moan, lewd sounds began filling the room as you began bobbing up and down mercilessly, varying your speed and pressure occasionally to keep him on edge. You even went as far as to grasp him with your hand and drag his tip across your slick and swollen lips which earned you another deep moan from him.  

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, throat raspy and rough from holding back his cries of pleasure. Pausing your unholy administrations, you gave your jaw a break by gripping his base tightly with one hand and swirling your tongue around the index finger of your free hand. He craned his head back in an overload of pleasure as you used it to rub over his slit, toying with his red tip. 

Everyone had a different piece of advice regarding giving head. Some said you needed to focus on the tip; others said that the balls were highly disregarded; a few said that the spot where the head met the length was the most sensitive. All in all, it really depended on the person, and to be quite honest, you weren’t that experienced. 

Yoongi was an exception, as both of you had learned your respective kinks out of genuine interest and desire for mutual pleasure, not as a nagging chore or contract payback. 

Not to mention the first time you’d slept with each other was—enlightening. 

“Fuck, _____,” he growled, moving your hair out of your face to gaze into your eyes. “How are you so fucking perfect?” Huh—even when he was blissed out, he was still the romantic type. 

You broke your character of confidence as a shy grin escaped. Wrapping your mouth around him again, he let out a grunt and threw his head back onto the bed. The sloppy, obscene sounds returned once you repeated your actions, his knuckles moving out of your hair to grip the bed sheets for fear of hurting you. His fists were clenched so hard, his knuckles were white. 

Yoongi’s body grew warm, a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, and he began pulsating in your mouth more frequently; he was close. Closing your hand around his throbbing length, you gripped him firmly and coordinated your pumps with your mouth, making him throw his head back in pure ecstasy. 

His hands found their way back to your hair, trying to pull you away as a warning that he would cum soon, but you swatted them away. Grabbing your hands instead, he laced his fingers through yours in a death grip, heart pounding so hard that it nearly burst through his ribcage. 

His pants grew increasingly urgent and his moans were primal. He found his release with the cry of your name as his cock shot hot spurts of cum into your throat and on your readily cupped tongue. The sensation of him throbbing in your mouth as his breathing calmed down was such a powerful feeling, and add to it the pleasure of seeing him writhe in pleasure beneath your fingertips? 

It sounded like a recipe for a perfect Friday night in both you and Yoongi’s books. 

Sucking his remaining release off of his softening length, you savored the satisfying, salty taste like fine wine as it coated your tongue and throat. It felt so wrong but too right. You wiped off whatever you could from his spent cock, hating to waste anything. Once you were done, you tugged his boxers back on as Yoongi brought you into his hold and wasted no time kissing you deeply, exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

Parting your mouth to calm your breathing, Yoongi’s eyes bore into yours with blown out pupils, still coming down from his high. “I didn’t know that’s what you meant by sleepyhead.” His euphoric chuckle reverberated like the baritone of a bass. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” you moaned softly under your breath, licking the remnants of his release off of your index finger as you nestled into his side.

He gazed at you warmly as his mouth broke into a gummy smile and eyes into half-moons. “That’s supposed to be my line.” 

Suddenly, a mischievous expression glassed over his features. You narrowed your eyes. “What is that face?” Smirking with a sinister gaze, Yoongi was now wide awake, giving you no time before flipping you onto your back and tickling your sides. 

“Hey!” you giggled, trying to swat away his arms like flies. Without giving you a formal warning, he tugged down your shorts making you yelp in surprise when the cold air hit your dripping core. 

Licking his lips in excitement and carnal instinct, he flashed a far too innocent grin at you before he delved in, unable to hold back his mundane hunger for another second. 

It was going to be a long weekend.

Digging around the fridge, a bundle of asparagus landed in Yoongi’s hand as he caught it mid-air from falling. You were already crouched down and braced for impact, but unfurled your wound arms, taking a peek at the grinning figure above you. 

“You okay there?” Yoongi’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, helping you up from your hunched position. Taking the bag from his hands, you beamed at him in response, turning back to the stovetop. 

He sighed. “You really didn’t have to stock up my fridge, you know.” Sneaking a carrot off of your cutting board, he popped it into his mouth like a 12-year old badgering their mother in the kitchen. “The apocalypse isn’t until—” he snuck a glance at his imaginary watch, filling his cheeks with air and pursing his lips into a puffer-fish face pout. “—400 years from now.”

You rolled your eyes at his ever sarcastic jokes. “If the apocalypse doesn’t kill you, your diet of energy drinks and expired caffeine shots will,” you lectured. 

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile warmheartedly. Not at your nurturing actions, but at you. He still felt like this was all a dream, too good to be true. Wrapping his arms around your waist, you fit into his larger frame like a lock and key as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck. 

“What’s on the menu today?” he asked, voice producing ticklish vibrations just under the shell of your ear. 

Turning to face him, you scrunched your nose. He wasn’t just a cheeseball—he was officially the biggest, softest, sweetest, weirdest, and most amazing person you had ever met. You never thought you’d say anything even remotely close to that in your entire life.

“Your favorite,” you answered in a sing-song voice. 

The corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky smirk you knew too well. His hands trailed down slowly to your hipbones, rubbing soothing circles into them out of habit. He licked over his bottom lip teasingly, all while keeping his eyes glued on you. Yours were focused on washing the rice. 

“Yoongi,” you warned playfully, knowing his expressions like the back of your hand. You could feel his eyes drinking in your features, your very existence an oasis for him, a once deserted and desperate man. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He pouted, jutting his lip out as his eyebrows furrowed into a dramatic scowl. “But I’m hungry!” he whined impishly into your hair. 

“I’m making lunch,” you giggled. “Just wait.” Your eyes widened at the last word, emphasizing your point. 

Trailing gentle pecks long your neck, he murmured softly into your ear.  “Not for fried rice...”

Your hands froze in the midst of opening the bag of spinach.

“Yoongi!” you groaned. 

Another Wednesday, another solitary four hours spent in the studio alone. After your classes were over, you texted Yoongi saying you needed a few hours alone to practice freely. Just because you were in a relationship didn’t mean you had to spend every waking moment with each other. 

Besides, he and you were both aware of your respective personal space and private time you needed to spend doing your own things. Yoongi also mentioned that he needed to finish up a beat he was making for a friend, so it worked out well. 

You walked out of the studio with a scarf wrapped around your neck, sheltering you from the biting wind that graced the campus grounds. Skipping down the stairs, you were greeted by the back of a person whom you had become very well-acquainted with. 

Hearing the sound of your gleeful steps he had memorized down to the last click, he turned around—with a pair of to-go cups in his hands. 

Your eyebrows raised up as your mouth broke into a mixture of an endeared laugh and astonished chuckle. Leaning down, he pecked you on the cheek, feeling his heart flutter at your effortless beauty. 

“Was she even real?” he wondered.

“You didn’t have to,” you awed. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to get dinner anyway.” 

Yoongi handed you the cup marked with the symbols you knew by heart: double-shot of espresso, a pump of mocha, a single packet of hazelnut creamer, and two packets of sugar. 

“Your hands need to stay warm,” he insisted, rubbing over your hands that were now wrapped tightly around the cup. 

Biting your lip, your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much at the simple but meaningful gesture. “Thank you,” you blushed sincerely, not just from the wave of emotions that washed over you but also from the cold. 

Was he even real? 

You nearly twisted your ankle trying to catch up to his speed-walking figure. 

“Hey!” you shouted, panting heavily at how quick he was on his feet. Was he training for a marathon behind your back? “Yoongi! Hold–wait up! Slow down!”

No matter what you said, it didn’t seem to faze him as he continued walking. Hunching over and putting your hands on your bent knees to hold yourself up, you took a couple deep breaths before sprinting as fast as your burning legs could carry you. 

“Min fucking Yoongi, if you don’t stop right now, I will—” You didn’t manage to finish your sentence before stumbling over a jagged crack in the pavement and falling with a gasp. The impact was abrupt, the shock not giving you a chance to let out a proper scream. Silent accidents were the ones that hurt the most. 

Yoongi was by your side in the blink of an eye, almost tripping over the ditch himself when he ran back to you. “_____!” he shouted in pure panic. Well, that certainly broke his vow of silence...

Helping you get off of your stomach and sit up straight, he winced when he saw your forearm. The injury was nothing more than a wide scrape on the damp cement, but the rocky debris and dripping crimson trail made it appear all the more appealing for a Stephen King movie. 

You cringed at the wound yourself, but more so at the stinging pain that began to spread over your elbow. Minor cuts and scratches were gifts sent from Satan himself. The thought of it getting infected made Yoongi pull out a pack of tissues from his bag as he pressed the bundle firmly over your wound. His face was still locked in an uncomfortable grimace. 

“Let’s go back to my dorm. I have a first-aid kit,” he mumbled, helping you onto your feet and bending down on one knee. You raised your eyebrow at his odd position, only realizing a few seconds afterward that he was offering you a piggyback ride. 

You let out a nasal scoff. “Yoongi, my legs are still perfectly mobile. Get up before you get your clothes wet.” You had enough to deal with his bitchy mood today and it certainly didn’t help that it had been raining a few hours prior to his temper tantrum. 

He pressed his lips into a firm line, refusing to respond or get up from his crouched position. Was he messing around? After a minute of complete silence, you huffed, annoyed at his ridiculous and adamant form of an apology, and saddled onto his back. 

Hooking his arms beneath your knees as you looped yours around his neck, you realized how much of a cheeky shit he truly was. Yes, he hated acknowledging it, but even he knew how ridiculous this argument and wanted to use the close proximity a piggyback would give to his advantage—even though the two of you were as stubborn as garden weeds. 

“Are you going to talk to me now?” you asked, propping your chin comfortably on his shoulder like a perched bird as he began walking the two of you back to his dorm. 

Sniffling once, he prodded the inside of his cheek in an effort to distract himself, too prideful to answer you right away. 

“Yoongi...” you sighed faintly, saying his name the way you did whenever he tugged at your heartstrings. He exhaled harshly through his nose once before finally speaking. 

“I don’t like how nice you are,” he said bluntly with an obviously sheepish tone of shame coating his voice. What?

“What?” you repeated out loud this time, unable to hold back your animated face of utter confusion.  

When he didn’t reply, you tugged on his ears like you were scolding a child who’d just been caught licking dollops of icing straight from the piping bag. “Min Yoongi,” you called out half-threateningly. 

He let out a whiny grumble, a sound that was a combination of a grumpy obese cat and worn out AC motor. 

“I don’t like how nice you are to everyone,” he repeated. “Especially to guys.” 

Your mouth was parted in an ‘o’ shape and your eyes were narrowed like an animated character’s. Was he—no way...

Your eyes widened to the size of the moon when he blushed. Oh my God. “You’re jealous?!” you screeched. He jumped at the volume of your voice. It was the first time he had ever heard you genuinely scream and he imagined it was what you would sound like if you were at a concert. 

Were you a Liszt or Chopin person? Rachmaninoff? Maybe Beethoven? He nibbled on his lips to hide his grin. Why were you so cute? 

“Earth to Yoongi?” you deadpanned, waving your hands in front of his face to get his attention. Snapping his eyes to you and blinking out of his daze, he returned to his stern expression. Tipping your head to one side, you stared at him with half-lidded eyes, tired of his antics. 

No wonder relationships didn’t last long; human beings were naturally and wholeheartedly stubborn as fuck. Flaring your nostrils at his unyielding disposition, you clicked your tongue between your teeth, resorting to blatant, unfiltered honesty. 

“Jungkook was just being helpful—and I was being polite.” Enunciating the word, Yoongi paid no attention to it, as it wasn’t one he had registered in his dictionary. 

There it was. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat at your ability to lay out your non-implicit thoughts onto the table. “You could’ve told me he was the idiot who told you where my dorm was when you were hauling me into my room that day.” He defended his reasoning, still unconvinced. 

“I didn’t even know who he was until we met him today,” you groaned, repeating what you had said earlier for the fifth time. This was all so torturously textbook newly-blooming relationship bullcrap and was making your head pound in your skull. 

Jungkook, the boy you’d seen that day when you dragged Yoongi down his dorm corridor and who had directed you to where his room was, recognized you during lunch today. Being the social butterfly and sweetheart he was, he found it in his best interest to introduce himself to you formally.

During the conversation, which lasted just short of a minute and a half, Yoongi’s glare was practically burning crater-sized holes into Jungkook’s face the entire time, imagining his face as target objects ranging from a checkered dartboard to a chipped wooden knife block. 

He jutted his lower lip into his signature pout. “Well I didn’t exactly enjoy seeing the little prick recognize you and shout like he’d just won the damn lottery...” he remarked bitterly, irritation directed purely towards Jungkook and not you. 

“Did he really not have a better way to grab your attention? I was this close to filing a lawsuit for hearing damage.” Unable to bring his fingers up to mimic a pinch, he narrowed his eyes tightly instead. “Nearly burst my damn eardrum running over to you and calling you 'superwoman lady...’”

“Yoongi,” you hummed, a chuckle escaping your lips like a song. “You’re jealous because of some sophomore who happened to recognize me from carrying her boyfriend—” you emphasized. “—to his dorm room because he was sick?” 

Coming to terms with your lawful point, he mumbled something under his breath that you could’ve sworn was, “Not back then I wasn't.” 

“I’m in love with you, you idiot.” Poking fun at his jealous side, it was quite endearing to know that he cared about you to the extent of fuming like a kettle in the presence of other guys. Grabbing one side of his face with one hand, you gave him an affectionate peck on his cheek, causing him to blush like a middle-schooler. God, he was so innocent. 

After a couple more leisure paces in the direction of the boys' dorm, you stopped for a moment to look at you properly. 

“I still think you’re too nice,” he closed with a ‘hmph,’ continuing his way back to his room. You could only hold back your hearty smile for so long before it burst. 

“No freaking way, buddy,” you scoffed. Tossing another kernel of popcorn into your mouth, Yoongi pointed to his open mouth. Popping one into his, respectively, you returned to your bantering debate. 

“Liszt is obviously far superior to Chopin,” Yoongi remarked snarkily. You’d gone over this for the past hour, killing time while the pre-packaged cookie dough you bough baked in the oven. 

Another sarcastic puff of air left your lips. “Are you kidding me? Other than the fact that he had freakishly large hands and made a pact with Paganini and sacrificed both of their souls to the Devil, I don’t think this is even a real topic up for grabs.” 

Snatching the kernel from your fingers in the midst of bringing it to your mouth, Yoongi chortled at your gaping jaw. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” His straightforward and genuine eyebrow raise made you shrug. 

“I don’t know. You listen to La Campanella and tell me.” Mirroring his inquisitive expression and raising your eyebrow, his voice vibrated in a lengthy hum. 

“Hm... Well played, _____. Well played...” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, trying his best to seem intimidating like a dollar store Sherlock Holmes. “But you mastered Campanella in your junior year, so who’s the real soul-sacrificing Devil here?” 

You poked your tongue out, launching another piece of popcorn into his readily awaiting mouth to shut him up. However, your aim was a little too northbound and it ended up hitting his forehead. You laughed to the point where your stomach was cramping. You assumed it was karma taking your side. 

Days blurred into weeks and before you knew it, it was the night before the performance exam. No matter how many times you’d been forced by your school assignments to play for an audience, it never ceased to get your heart pumping—for the wrong reasons.

Sighing, you flung your body into your freshly washed bed sheets. It was only 10, but you figured since it would take you a few hours to fall asleep from the nerves, it’d probably be best to knock out early. 

“Not too late to sneak over and cuddle with me, you know,” a voice reverberated from your phone speaker. 

You chuckled at Yoongi’s determined and unwavering stubbornness that stemmed from his giddy fondness for you. Your advisor had eventually caught you sneaking into your dorm room a few days ago and if you had, oddly enough, listened to Yoongi’s pestering and stayed in his room for the night, you wouldn’t be on room lockdown right about now. You felt like a prisoner in your own dorm. 

Wrapping the blanket around yourself like a swaddle, you hid your gleeful smile with the bundle of sheets as his equally gummy grin displayed on the bright screen of your phone. Both of your room lights were all off so his cheeky face was all the more visible. 

“She let me off easy and didn’t give me a suspension and that was because I’m one of the good students on this block,” you reminded. “I don’t think I want to push my luck.” 

Yoongi huffed exasperatedly, irked that he wouldn’t be able to hold you tonight. “Are you ungrounded tomorrow?” He spoke in pout. That damn pout...

Burying your face in your blankets and clamping your hand over your mouth to hide your squeal, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the crude beginnings of your relationship. Was this real? 

“Yup,” you mumbled sluggishly through the fabric. “You’re buying dinner after the performance is over.”

Letting out a sigh, he lied down on his bed and rested his hand comfortably beneath his head, allowing you to get a full glimpse of his body, only now realizing that he was shirtless. Despite the darkness that cascaded both of your rooms, you could clearly see the definition of his lean but built muscles, the veins on his forearm rippling with each time he shifted on his mattress. 

“Who gave you permission to be so hot?” you yawned out, accidentally letting the lewd thought slip past your lips as you grew increasingly sleepy with each sentence. He laughed huskily in a low voice, admiring your state of sleep-drunkenness, as you liked to call it. 

His raspy voice wasn’t just the thing you’re ears were blessed with in the mornings, but also at night when he was equally as exhausted as you. It was like a second piano to your ears, lulling you to sleep each time whether it was through video calls or cradled by his side.  

Bundling the sheets around his body, you whined faintly at the loss of your favorite sight. “I don’t know, my girlfriend. She’s cool or whatever,” he whispered, eyes beginning to droop shut like yours. “But don’t tell her I said that.” 

The word still felt like a new muscle stitched his tongue, every sentence that contained it sounding a million times better with the coined phrase. Yoongi continued cherishing his new reality: he had a girlfriend and it was you. 

You couldn’t respond with words, just a fuzzy, softhearted grin. “Love you, dummy,” you yawned again. 

Yoongi yawned in tandem with you, lips curling into the gummy smile you loved.  “I love you, _____...” he managed to say before allowing sleep to consume him.  

Neither of you even bothered to end the call, a habit you had developed from the hundreds of times you had rung each other and fallen asleep to each other’s voices. The first few times resulted in you both waking up with absolutely no battery and having to forgo your phones for the whole day, however, you quickly learned that splurging $30 on a portable charger just for these occasions was well worth it. 

What if you mess up? Are your hands warm enough? 

What if you forget a section? You should’ve fit in a few extra hours in the studio yesterday. 

What if your fingers cramp up? 

Did you remember to take an Advil? Should you have taken two? 

A million questions pestered your mind like a plague, buzzing and ringing in your ears loud enough to make a swarm of steroid-filled bees jealous. Pacing around backstage as the muffled sounds from the auditorium filled the space, you were a few paces away from boring holes into the ground. Performance jitters were the worst and your anxiety made them all the more unbearable. 

“Hey,” Yoongi interrupted, placing his hands on your shoulders to snap you out of your pool of overwhelming thoughts. “Calm down. Breathe. You’re starting to make me nervous.” 

Running your hands through your hair, you groaned and uttered out another apology. Why were you so stressed out? It wasn’t a full audience. Just your entire class plus the comp majors and table of judgmental executioners, more commonly known as the board of music teachers. The entirety of their presence was the icing on top of your cake of nightmares. God, what you would do for a slice of double-chocolate cake right about now...

“What—” you started but Yoongi knew better to cut you off early and derail your train of thought before it arrived at the station. 

He cupped his hands around your flustered cheeks, his cooling touch bringing relief to the blistering hot skin that began to rise with your heartbeat. 

“Do you know how absolutely phenomenal these past few months have been?” Articulating his words in unison with his heartfelt gaze, his thumbs stroked over your cheeks softly, assuring you wholeheartedly with the fewest words he could. 

“I know how much pressure you put on yourself, but I also know how much more you love playing the piano,” he spoke soothingly. “Don’t think about them or messing up. Hell, don’t even think about sticking to what we fixed and picked on during practice.”

He brought you into his arms, making you lean onto his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat that thumped through his shirt. “Think about enjoying it to the point of not having any regrets. Of what it feels like while you play. Think about how you love it unconditionally through thick and thin, and how you wouldn’t give up anything in the world to let it go.” 

His words flowed like a stream in your head, smoothing over the rocky slopes of your worries and fears and replacing them with ripples of passion and confidence. Just as you pressed a kiss to his lips, the stage coordinator signaled to you with a frantic wave. It was your turn. 

Yoongi held onto your hands tightly for just a moment before giving you a small grin and going to find a seat in the audience. You took a deep breath. You only had one chance at this; you were going to make it count. 

Taking even-paced steps onto the stage, you closed your eyes and murmured a  wordless prayer to whoever might be listening. Whether that’d be the piano gods themselves or the ibuprofen coursing through your bloodstream and numbing your nerves, it didn’t matter. You needed to play for you. 

Not hesitating or wasting any more valuable seconds, your fingers brushed the cold keys, a sudden rush of eagerness filling your previously buzzing nerves. Your muscle memory activated like the flick of a light switch, the soft melody of the beginning exposition filling the echoey stage all the way to the back of the concert hall. 

Your fingers stroked the keys with such accuracy and precision, nailing each of the complex chords with ease. The development was coming up next. Changing your tempo from the quick-paced and exciting beginning to a mellow and even-toned pace, a pre-recorded track suddenly flooded through the onstage speakers but you didn’t have time to react.

You could recognize that beat from a million miles away. 

It was the same solemn tune that Yoongi was playing in the studio that night alone; same melodic chorus, orchestral strings, deep bass, and right down to the synth pad that started towards the end of the section. The flowing melody and tempo blended with your playing harmoniously, producing a euphonious sound that pushed you to play with more urgency and passion. 

The unexpected harmony made you smile, on the verge of tears as you could only comprehend one message that rang as clear as a bell: he wrote this for you. 

Before you knew it, you were already finished with the last recapitulation, the final remaining notes trailing off gently into what you assumed would be the end of the track, like that night, but it didn’t stop. It continued into another excerpt that melded perfectly with the coda you’d composed; vibrant, fuller, lively, vivid, and colorful—happy. 

The full-bodied and adagio resonance of Yoongi’s composed track with what sounded like a philharmonic orchestra and synth board contrasted like day and night from your constantly moving fingers. High off of the adrenaline of playing and euphoria of music, you paid no attention to the burning that had spread in your fingers during the first two minutes of the piece, instead choosing to bask in the utter state of bliss you were in.  

The track slowed down in sync with your playing, toning down the fast-paced and riveting chorus that had reverberated through the room seconds ago and replacing with it with the delicate and gentle closing notes that finished the piece.

It was over. You did it.

A momentary pause enveloped the auditorium, silence washing over the audience like a crashing tide. Your fingers were resting on the keys for a second before a roar of applause replaced the dead silent concert hall. 

You did it.

The panel of teachers were all standing on their feet, their warm smiles and nods of approval and continuous claps almost making tears trail down your cheeks. Looking around the crowd of people to try and find Yoongi, a finger gently tapped your shoulder, making you turn around with glassy eyes.

There he stood in all his gummy cheesiness, smiling his heart out. You sniffled, unable to hold back the tidal wave of tears that overwhelmed you as you burst into sobs and threw yourself into the safety of his arms. Enveloping you into his ever-warm and comforting embrace, he pressed soft kisses on the crown of your head, keeping you secure in his hold. Refusing to pull away even for a brief moment, he stroked your hair soothingly, urging you to take your time to breathe.

Sniffling once more, you managed to croak out a word or two. “When? How? Why—” you couldn’t finish before breaking into tears. You were a mess.

Even though the entire auditorium was still filled with the continuous applause and praise from the audience, Yoongi leaned down and chose to whisper into your ear. “I told you. Ever since that night when I saw you in the studio alone…” You could practically feel the happy smile that danced across his voice.

It was the first dream you didn’t have to wake up from.

It was real.

All of this was real.

The first thing you did after finishing your presentation was sprint like a marathon runner to the dressing rooms and change out of your quote on quote, “formal” attire. Consisting of a pair of black dress pants and frilly blouse with heels, your feet screamed in relief when you changed to your usual outfit of straight-cut jeans, oversized sweater, and frayed sneakers. 

Yoongi handed you a bouquet of flowers as you strode victoriously out of the concert hall to the stairwell at which he was waiting. You widened your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure that this was still real life.

“Is this a practical joke or rom-com gesture?” you giggled, accepting the arrangement of dark red roses, lemon leaves, white snapdragons, and baby’s breath buds. He went the extra mile by personally requesting a gold ribbon to be weaved through each of the rose buds, making a sentimental warmth spread throughout your chest. Breathing in the fresh scent of the flora, the earthy and undeniably pleasant scent filled your airways.

Yoongi’s lips quirked in a shy grin and hid his gummy smile, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when he was apprehensive about something. 

“I figured I missed out on doing this on our first official date,” he shrugged as his tongue caught on the unused word. “So, I felt like surprising you on our twenty-something official one. And I might have snuck in a slice or few of cake in your fridge... ” 

Your jaw dropped to the floor. His face shifted back into the cheesy Chesire Cat grin you adored before humming a soft ‘ah’ and pausing his steps to reach for something in his bag. Was there anything that could make this day any better? 

Fishing through his disarray of loose papers and crumpled notes that decorated his bag, he pulled out a box that had miraculously not gotten squished or dented inside. It was wrapped in rose gold colored polka-dot wrapping paper and adorned with yet, another glittery gold ribbon tied into a neat bow. 

Making a shy face at the extensive detail, you carefully tugged on the end of the ribbon as flecks of glitter flew up in the air, the knot coming undone with ease. Yoongi offered his hand out to hold it.

Smiling, you moved onto the wrapping paper. Trying your best to peel it by the tape because you hated to tear it and make a mess, you finally got to the box. You pulled to top off to reveal another layer of tissue paper. A fluffy bundle of fabric was folded neatly underneath, making you take on a puzzled frown. When you took them out and unfolded them, you couldn’t muffle the gasp that escaped.

A pair of fuzzy mittens with a matching beanie.

“Yoongi...” you gawked. Rubbing over the feathery light, cozy fabric, he was still smiling widely at you, feeling pure happiness at seeing you so overjoyed from a pair of mittens.

Taking the bouquet, crumpled wrapping paper, and empty box from your hands, he set them down on the ledge beside the stairs. He first put the fluffy tasseled beanie on your head and smoothed out your baby hairs. Then, he rubbed your already-cold hands for a couple seconds to warm them up before sliding the plush gloves on.

“I don’t like it when you’re cold…” he said softly, rubbing circles over the tops of your hands through the wooly fabric. Cupping his cheeks with your warm and well-circulating hands, you pressed a single deep kiss onto his readily puckered lips. 

“Your room or mine?” His breath grazed your pink lips, a distinct warmth emanating from his body compared to the crisp winds that blew against the pair of you.

Biting your lip at his query, you shoved his shoulder teasingly. He already knew the answer.

Making out and walking backward was anything but a non-hazardous concoction. You practically topped over the door ledge while walking into Yoongi’s dorm, continuing to stumble over the bumps and dents in the poorly boarded floor. He managed to pull off his shirt and unbuckle his belt before shoving you onto the bed, and you only made it to the zipper of your jeans before landing on your back with a soft thud.

Caging you in between his forearms, he reunited his mouth with yours in a heated and feverish kiss. You captured the delicate of his lower lip between your teeth, nipping, tugging, and sucking on it to tease and satiate him for the time being. You had the whole weekend for yourselves.

His eyebrows furrowed as he couldn’t resist anymore and gave into his body’s demands. Grinding his clothed member into your aching center, you moaned at how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. Satisfaction and adrenaline surged through you and you couldn’t help but be the least bit proud at the fact that only you had this effect on each other. Undeniable lust triggered by unconditional love, aided with consistent support and mutual understanding; a thing so many people craved but so few had the ability to cultivate.

Yoongi let out a husky growl when your hands tangled into his dark hair, gripping firmly at his scalp and trailing down his bare back. Although your nails were trimmed short, they still left red lines down the defined ridges of his shoulders and back as he moaned into your mouth at the sensation.

Grasping you by the roots of your hair, he maneuvered your head to bare your neck to him, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses at the exposed and delicate skin. Nipping teasingly at the junction of your ear and pulse point, he bared his teeth in a grin before sucking a deep purple bruise into the skin, causing a rush of arousal to flow down your thighs.

“Yoongi,” you moaned out hoarsely. His pouty lips continued trailing down your neck before stopping, giving you to a moment to hastily take off your sweater and throw it mindlessly onto the floor. You’ll pick it up later. He licked his lips at the sight of you in all your beauty, pressing a soft kiss to the dip of your collarbone. He couldn’t help it when his lips instantly attached to your breast, massaging the other with his hand and lapping at your nipple skillfully. Moving onto the neglected side, you arched your back into his firm erection when he grazed his teeth over the sensitive nub.

Another gush of wetness flooded your thighs as you rubbed your legs together instinctually at the dampness. Yoongi noticed this like a hawk, eyeing your every movement keenly. Smirking, he slid down your unbuttoned jeans with one firm tug, swiftly yanking the loose-fitting pants down like a candy wrapper, except this sweet treat was one he could never get enough of. The best part? He didn’t have to worry about cavities.

Taking a moment to admire the string of arousal that trailed from your core to the string of your thong as he pulled them off, he gulped, saliva pooling in his mouth at the mere thought of lapping up all of your juices. His sculpted fingers rubbed small circles over your drenched folds, bringing the arousal coated digits to his mouth for a taste. He couldn’t wait another second.

Yoongi delved face first into your center, not caring to clean up the trail of wetness that painted your thighs beforehand. His cheeks were coated with your essence and he licked up as much as he could, his entire mouth cupping over your core in a desperate attempt to hear your delectable moans that spurred him on. Hearing your vocal sobs and whines of pleasure made him moan as you gripped his hair, the vibrations of his gruff voice making your body tingle with even more pleasure. It was a never-ending cycle of mutual pleasure.

You were in absolute heaven. Alternating the use of tender flat-edge of his warm tongue with the firm tip, you could’ve pulled a muscle in your back from how much you were contorting into the bed. Each time he sucked harshly at your swollen clit, it forced out a euphoric cry from you, teetering amidst the peak of your pleasure and the brink of startling ecstasy.

You tried to be gentle with his hair, but when you pulled your hands away from his tangled mess of locks, he growled in disapproval, immediately demanding that you return your hands to where they were by moving away from your aching core and biting at your thighs.

You wanted so badly to take his throbbing and dripping cock into your mouth. You salivated at the utter thought of it and it sent another stream of arousal down your thighs and into Yoongi’s mouth. Two fingers slowly stretched you out, pumping deliciously into your tight heat in sync with the flick and suckle of his tongue as it produced a high-pitched gasp from you.

His free hand came up to knead your breast, pinching and twisting your sensitive nipple agonizingly slow. He gazed into you with jet black pupils, a carnal aura surrounding his every breath, leaving you with no choice but to surrender to him willingly. He continued sucking at your clit while curling and pumping his long fingers into your heat at the perfect pace, earning a drawled-out moan from you each time. His dick twitched against the straining fabric of his boxers, begging for some kind of attention, but Yoongi ignored it.

Tonight, it was all about you and he was going to make sure you knew that.

The obscene sounds of his tongue working relentlessly against your drenched and throbbing pussy made you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood in a feeble attempt to drown out your moans. As he pinned your hips down with his forearm, his fingers suddenly changed pace, moving faster and curling deliciously against your tight walls. His mouth wrapped over your clit and fingers began pumping furiously, the bursting pressure of your peak shattering like glass with one last suck.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you exclaimed, grinding into his mouth during the first few moments of your high to ride it out as long as possible. Feeling like a boneless pile of jelly from your staggering orgasm, you felt him smile against your dripping center, lapping up your flowing juices like an oasis in a desert. Your clit throbbed from the remnants of the overwhelming pleasure gifted to you by his talented tongue. By the time he was done, the only evidence that you had just had the best orgasm of your life was only visible on his face, his chin completely drenched in your essence.

Yoongi licked over his lips and swiped over his chin with his thumb to collect the remnants, popping his finger into his mouth to savor the taste he could never get enough of. His forehead glistened with a light sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling visibly from the effort he had just spent. How did he still have the stamina for more?

Lost in the blissed-out haze that came from your high, you chuckled lazily, still swimming an orgasm-induced trance. You’d never came like that before and you were more than sure you’d never be able to without the help of Yoongi. Smiling drunkenly as your post-orgasm blush dispersed along your face, a soft giggle left your lips when Yoongi hovered over you before flipping you over.

Lying on top of him, your hands ran down the svelte muscles of his chest and abs as you tasted yourself on his lips, the remaining wetness that spread over his chin coating yours in an act that was too sinful for you not to relive in the years to come. Literally.

Your mouths tangled in a fervent kiss full of desperation and need, running your hands over his toned body without any logical thought. The faintly metallic but not too bitter taste of yourself on his tongue made another pool of arousal stream down your folds. The pleasure was all yours now.

Before you scooted down to his desperately throbbing member, you made sure to appreciate the beauty that was Yoongi. You captured the delicate flesh of his vascular neck between your teeth and sucked blooming marks into the delicate skin, grinning in satisfaction when they mirrored yours but were half the size.

Nosing at the skin beneath his ear where his pulse pounded like the delicate wings of a hummingbird, your exhaling breath tickled the shell of his ear, making him let out the barest hint of a giggle. Tugging on the small hoop earring that decorated his ear lobe with your teeth for a sweet moment, you moved back to his torso.

Tracing across the picturesque sketch of his abs and the V-line that led down his pelvis, his skin felt hot beneath your lips, evidence that his blood was rushing just as much as yours had been not too long ago.

You forced out a grunt from him when you palmed his hard length through his unbuckled jeans, wasting no time and pulling the thick fabric down along with this cotton briefs. His immaculate length sprung up against his stomach with a soft slap, the head of his cock red and oozing precum. Rubbing over the dripping slit with your fingertip, his knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets so hard. He couldn’t think straight.

“_____,” he begged, Adam’s apple bobbing to expose his dewy neck. The glossy sheen that glossed over his entire upper body made your body hum with pure desire. He was so perfect…

You rubbed over the head of his cock a few more times just for the sheer satisfaction of watching a bead of precum form at his tip and pool around your index finger. Placing your now-glistening fingertip in your mouth, you hummed at the musky taste that coated your tongue. Without teasing any longer, you finally pumped his throbbing cock, licking down the length for more lubrication while trying to focus on his head.

“Fucking–God, _____,” he choked out through a guttural moan. With clenched teeth and hands now tangled in your hair, he didn’t have to guide you as you went to work pleasuring him. “Fuck.” He was like putty in your hands, melting into a pool of boiling hot magma with one single touch.

Stroking the base of his cock while you bobbed up and down the upper half, he jolted with the pace at which you were going. Your tongue swirled around his sensitive head and into his slit every few seconds, making him writhe in absolute ecstasy.

Yoongi let out a carnal growl, pulling you up by your arms up and up to his body. He cupped his hands your ass while his mouth locked onto yours in another deep kiss, exploring your mouth with a hunger he only possessed when he was with you; one that no matter how much time passed, would never be satiated.

Massaging your pillow-like cheeks with his firm grasp, you both moaned into each other’s mouths when your dripping wet slit found his dick. With the feeling of your slick pussy grinding over his bare length and your hands raking through his disheveled head of hair, Yoongi almost came right there.

This was completely different than the first night you two had spent together. The first time was entirely filled with sinful lust, primal hunger, and frantic passion. It resulted in a battle of teeth clashing against tongues, bruising grips, and hasty eagerness, allowing neither of you to feel the full extent of your deepest desires. 

However, the deeper you fell in love with each other and the greater time you spent in each other’s company, sex became less about the physically pleasurable aspect and more about the raw emotional and near-spiritual bond you felt while connected.

Legs and arms entwined in a mess of tangled limbs; sticky bodies glistening with sweat; his hair sticking to his forehead and yours strung across his damp chest; the soft puffs of faint panting and the warmth of your bodies wound tightly against each other that lulled you into the best slumber you could possibly ask for. That was what you loved more than anything. The total submission of your barest state exposed in all its vulnerability and your mutual ability to look after one other unconditionally was more than you could ever ask for. He was yours, and you were his.

Yoongi’s hands ran over your shoulders and the small of your back, reuniting them with the plush pillows of your ass, admiring your rosy flushed face with awe.

“You’re so beautiful…” he said in a quiet voice, afraid that if he spoke with valor that you’d vanish like an illusion conjured by his deepest desires.

Calming down your heavy breathing, you placed a hand against his beating heart, the pronounced thumping of it underneath your fingertips causing goosebumps to scatter down the back of your neck. He placed one of his hands over yours while the other found your free one, cupping it against one of his cheeks tenderly. Nosing the delicate skin where your wrist met its socket, he inhaled gently, drinking in the feel of your soft skin against his.

Your fingers traced over the hollows of his cheekbones, marveling at how he appeared more beautiful than a millennium-old sculpture. You always took the time to admire and cherish every part of his body and his eyes were no exception. The deep-set and piercing gaze you had first feared was now a sight you hated to part with. Running alongside the hairs that stuck to his forehead, your focus settled on his lips, smiling heartily before pressing a slow and patient kiss to them.

“I love you so much, Yoongi,” you whispered against his mouth, earning you a smile back.

He clasped your hands tightly, pressing fluttery kisses to the tops of your knuckles before locking his gaze onto you. “I love you, _____...” He spoke in a hush like he was keeping a secret, you name rolling off of his tongue like a sacred hymn he held closest to his heart. 

Studying the darkened gaze that cast over his eyes, your instincts clawed at you. “I need you inside me now, Yoongi.” Your voice came out in a whining sob, begging him to take you. 

Slowly sitting down to guide his member into your aching heat, he kissed you with even more urgency and passion than you thought was possible, basking in the feeling of you consuming each other through the linking of your bodies as he buried himself hilt deep. 

“Fuck, you’re always so tight for me,” he hissed. Dirty talk wasn’t really something you two prided yourselves in, preferring to voice your desires through physical actions alone, but you sure as hell didn’t have any complaints about it. It always seemed to come naturally for both of you and ended up sounding like praise rather than command. 

Your velvety walls wrapped around his thick length and made him twitch inside of you. Grinding into his hips from your dominant position, Yoongi nestled his head into your chest as he began pounding into you mercilessly, all while paying equal attention to your sensitive bundles of nerves on your breasts. 

Words weren’t needed to direct each other when you knew one other like clockwork; every kink, erogenous zones, sensitive spots—especially pace. 

He leaned back onto the wall and lifted you by your hips, allowing you to hover over him at an angle that made him drive into a spot deep inside of you and gasp. “Oh my God, Yoongi, right there!” Your moans turned into pants and sobs of overwhelming delight at the deeper angle at which he was filling you.

A drop of sweat beaded at Yoongi’s furrowed brows, his tense expression a result of him also feeling the torturously delicious feeling of you encasing him. He couldn’t hold back for much longer and neither could you.

“Yoongi,” you warned, feeling your walls tense with each additional thrust he managed to power through his growing exhaustion, not from the physical act of relentless thrusting, but from the pure willpower he was exerting from holding his orgasm back. Your nails dug deep crescent half-moons into the ridges of his shoulders while his fingers pressed blossoming bruises into your hips, reminding you to gawk at them later.

Feeling your tense body, Yoongi used up the last remaining bits of his energy to pound into you furiously, exerting as much force as he had left. A sharp intake of breath came from deep inside his chest when you came around him without further warning, your unbelievably tight and utterly drenched cunt clenching around his cock and making him finish not a second later. 

Bottoming out completely before sliding out and back in, it was almost too much when he continued hammering into you at a slower pace, his pulsating member shooting continuous spurts of hot cum deep into your heat. With his teeth bared in a silent snarl and your mouth parted in euphoria, you rolled your hips over his a few more times before collapsing on top of him, his spent cock still somehow twitching and filling your heat with thick spurts.

Yoongi’s eyes were half-lidded and dazed from his equally powerful orgasm. Staying inside of you for a few more seconds to ensure that as much of his cum remained inside of you as possible, you yelped when he slid out and replaced his cock with his hand, cupping your cunt to prevent any from seeping out. You giggled lightly at his concentrated face when he flipped you onto your back.

He also took great pleasure in scissoring your mixed fluids together between his fingers and bringing them up to his lips for a taste; another one of his post-sex habits. Curling into your drenched lips to scoop out more of the unholy mixture, you didn’t need to ask as he slid his coated fingers into your mouth, swiping over your readily cupped tongue as the evidence of your releases slicked down your throat.

“Kinky...” you giggled, running his fingertips along your lips before pecking them.

Yoongi gave you a half-parted gummy grin and chuckled. “You love me more for it.”

Completely spent, he kissed you deeply before he climbed into the covers, comfortably nestling his head into the valley of your breasts and nosing the soft skin. You cradled his head and pressed a delicate kiss to the top of his frizzy hair, raking through the messy knots with your fingertips. His exhaling breaths grew soft, indicating that he was on the verge of falling asleep.

Even though he mumbled the words into your chest, you broke into a heartwarming smile at his entirely too pure personality and held him in the security of your embrace. “I love you, _____.” 

There it was again: your name. 

It never sounded as good as it did unless it flowed from his lips. 

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you whispered, your soft whisper lulling him into a deep slumber as his eyes drooped shut while his steady breaths coaxed you into the darkness of sleep as well.

It was real. 

Some time in the near future...

You woke up to an empty bed, frowning in confusion instantly at the cold sheets that greeted you. Where was Yoongi? Almost as soon as you had asked the question, the smell of bacon and fried eggs filled your nostrils, making your mouth water.

Throwing your legs over the bed and climbing out of the disheveled bundle of sheets, you threw on one of Yoongi’s wrinkled shirts over your bare body, smiling sheepishly at how it draped over your thighs and stopped right above your knees. Brushing your teeth and rinsing your face in a record amount of time, you made your way to the kitchen and were greeted by the amusing sight of Yoongi dancing to the playlist you used when cleaning your room.

Jumping around like a maniac, he was too absorbed in his dancing and oil-spattering bacon to notice you leaning on the counter. With a cheeky grin gracing your face, Yoongi’s eyes bulged out of their sockets when he saw you. Clearing his throat harshly, you broke into a bright fit of laughter at how bashful he was. Was that what you looked like when he caught you dancing in your room?

“Good morning,” you giggled, nibbling the corner of your lip to hold back a snort.

Yoongi turned off the stovetop with the click of a knob, plating the hot food onto your dishes. “Good morning,” he played off cooly. Carrying the two plates to the small dining table, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before setting them down.

“Happy Anniversary,” he exclaimed, returning to you to give you a proper kiss. Smiling onto his lips, you laced your arms around him as he wrapped his around your waist.

You scowled playfully but broke into a smile. “A little birdy told me a while ago that anniversaries were stupid…” you hummed jokingly, referring to the surprise you gifted him a year after you started dating. It was just a handwritten card and matching set of hoodies, but Yoongi let it slip that he thought regular anniversaries were cheesy and a little cringeworthy. 

But he wholeheartedly appreciated your gift though, refusing to wear anything other than that exact hoodie for the majority of his classes. Often times, he asked you with puppy eyes and a pout to wear yours—even on some days when it was 80 degrees outside.

“Must have been a really drunk bird then,” he shrugged. You weren’t terribly hurt by his statement that night because you truly did understanding where he was coming from. Those couples who had hebdomadal anniversaries did, in fact, make you want to gag. Anniversaries in your mind were supposed to be reserved for monumental occasions and milestones, not as petty excuses to receive stupidly expensive gifts from each other.

You beamed, pecking his lips once more. “Mhm, not a very cute peeper either.” Your comment made Yoongi raise an eyebrow, nuzzling his mouth into your neck and blowing raspberries against your skin until you surrendered.

“Okay, okay, okay!” you gave up, choking your submission through joyous laughter. “Let’s eat, Yoongi!” Eyes lighting up in victory, he pulled out your chair for you before sitting down himself.

“Happy Anniversary, Yoongi,” you chuckled, lips forming into a loving grin at the gummy smile that blessed his sparkling eyes.

Reaching over the table to hold your hands and rub comforting circles into them, he blinked slowly, imprinting a picture-perfect snapshot of this moment in his long-term memory for years to come. “Happy Anniversary, _____,” he beamed.

“Are you sure about this, Yoongi?” you asked cautiously, rubbing his hands in the hopes of soothing his buzzing nerves. “We don’t have to do this today…”

He pressed his lips into a firm line and nodded, keeping his eyes glued on the black and white keys that lie before him. “I’m ready.”

Releasing his hands from your grasp, you patted them softly before letting them hover over the keys. Not having touched a piano since before the accident, the unfamiliar cold feeling of the wood made Yoongi’s breath hitch in his throat.

His fingers suddenly started to shake as bile rose in his throat and his face went pale, turning colorless enough to make the piano keys look off-white in comparison. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like epoxy glue and felt heavier than a cement block. With his pupils dilated dangerously wide and beads of sweat forming along his hairline, his throat closed up, restricting his airflow.

Your eyes widened immediately, alarmed at his visceral reaction as he snatched his hands away from the keys and couldn’t bear to face the instrument for another second.

“I ca—I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it,” he choked, shaking his head vigorously while hiccuping, trying to take in breaths of air as he began drowning in the memories that suddenly poured in.

You cupped the sides of his face and smoothed your fingers over his tear-stained cheeks gently. “Yoongi—look at me.” Shutting his eyes tightly, more droplets of his painful memories trailed down as his hands shook, the pads of his fingers squeezing coin-sized bruises into your forearms.

“Look at me,” you said more firmly the second time. Opening his eyes slowly with shaky eyelids, he swallowed the lump in his throat before making direct eye contact with you. “I’m here, okay? I’m right here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’m right here with you, Yoongi.”

Relaxing his grip, his fingers that were pressing into your skin moments ago slowly began rubbing small circles into your forearms, soothing the numbing pressure as your blood began to circulate again.

“I’m so—,” he sobs choking on his tears, your lulling shushes helping his breathing calm down and slow. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—” His repetitive please continued into mumbled whispers. 

As he continued to mutter his robotic sayings, you soon realized that he wasn’t apologizing only to you—he was apologizing to himself.

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you whispered, allowing his head to fall into the crook of your neck as his tears left trailed down your chest, leaving a glistening trail of wetness that made your eyes sting with your own tears. Your heart shattered seeing him in such a state of distress, but all you could do was murmur softly into his hair while his shoulders continued to shake. 

This too was real. 

“Bach Invention No. 8 already?” you gawked. “Yoongi, how?”

He shrugged, shoulders rising up to his ears in humble yet clearly visible accomplishment.

“You were playing Hanon a few weeks ago, what are you putting in your cereal?” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief and awe at his consistently growing skills.

“I had a pretty great teacher,” he smiled warmly, patting the seat beside him and inviting you to sit down. Shaking your head at his lively and glowing image, you set down your two cups and made yourself comfortable.

It had been nine steady months since Yoongi had composed himself to start playing again and it would be a lie to say that it hadn’t been a time-consuming process. Slowly but surely through tears, overwhelming breakdowns, neverending hours, long nights, and emotional outpours, Yoongi’s natural instinct and eagle-eye muscle memory kicked in, aiding his subconscious breaking down the mental barrier he had formed since the accident.

The first few months were a struggle as he was stuck in his own head and high expectations. He stayed up constantly trying to master the most basic warm-up exercises, refusing to give up until he knew it by heart. Even during the deepest pitfalls of exhaustion, you stuck by him, likewise refusing to leave his side until he was half-asleep and drooling on the keys.

You, on the other hand, had finally gotten around to accepting physical therapy, regular check-ups, and after four years of putting it off, had your prescription officially signed off by your doctor. 

The short-span of your potential professional career was inevitable, but you processed and accepted the outlook better than you did when you were first diagnosed. You had grown up since then. You weren’t a young, naïve, immature, want-it-all child anymore; you were just you, and that was more than enough. Life wasn’t about doing as much as you could for the quantity in hopes of happiness, but rather for the quality of happiness that you were living with what you could accomplish to your heart’s extent. 

“Why not 13?” you asked curiously, referring to the piece that was in the solemn and dark minor key. Yoongi’s lips curled into a sheepish grin, sensing where you were going with your question.

“Major keys are nicer to listen to,” he mumbled. Fumbling with your fingers in his lap as he usually did when he felt the need for a distraction. “Minor scales are too depressing.”

Nodding your head in agreeance with his response, a soft chuckle reverberated from deep inside his chest. You gave him a comical eyebrow raise. He brought your hands to his cheek for what felt like the millionth time in the span of your relationship, leaning into your easing and tranquilizing touch as he melted in your hands. 

After years of ignoring the adverse effect of your struggling circulation, the effort you dedicated last year in looking after your health had paid off; your hands were finally warm. All the more inviting for Yoongi to cup them around his plush cheeks. A healthy diet, consistent sleeping schedule, and regular hikes up to the viewpoint with Yoongi really went a long way in terms of lifestyle. 

Thinking over his words, he shook his head rightfully so. “There are too many good things in life to do instead of drowning in that kind of ocean…” His kissed the top of your hand as his eyes met yours in a stare that radiated unconditional affection, complete fondness, and total selfless love.

Life was, in fact, too good to spend it wasting away in the shadows.

Some time further in the future...

Shuffling through the array of papers that littered the desk, you were seconds away from ripping your hair out. How were you going to do this? You started with the syllabus. That was probably the first step in starting a lecture, right? Then the expectations for the class? Goals? Learning outcomes?

God, were you even speaking English at this point? The abrupt buzz of your phone alarm snapped you out of your thoughts instantly. As crowds of students in what seemed like the hundreds flooded the lecture hall within seconds, you started to panic. Anxiety flooded your throat like thick smoke, forcing you to gulp a hiccup down. A gentle nudge on your shoulder caused you to turn around, coming into the view of none other than Yoongi.

“You okay?” His eyes voiced concern, eyebrows turned downwards as he studied your face with flowing sympathy.

You nodded, pressing your lips into a tight line. “Fine. Fine. All fine. Everything’s great.” Your speech flowed out like dreaded word vomit.

Yoongi rubbed your shoulder to ease your rippling waves of uneasiness, trying to relieve your bubbling apprehension. “Powell asked us to sub his class for a reason, _____. “Don’t doubt yourself. You’ll be amazing and I’ll be right by your side to help,” he convinced. “Okay?”

Swallowing down the sheet of sandpaper that lined your throat, you nodded.

The students were now fully seated and quiet, the soft hums of a few sorting through their bags and pulling out their laptops. The sea of L.E.D. apples and brightly lit block print logos made you nauseous. Once they were all settled, you cleared your throat.

“Thank you all for coming to today’s class,” you greeted with as much authority in your voice you could muster. “My name is _____, and this is Yoongi.” Pausing to direct your attention to him, he tipped his chin up lazily, reminding you of the first day you’d encountered him in a setting much like this one. Your eyes softened at the reminiscent memories. Time flies... 

“We will be substituting for Professor Powell, as he is out sick for the week,” you explained. 

A few scattered hollers and applause were heard from parts of the hall, making Yoongi shoot you a smug grin. You frowned quizzically for a brief moment before shrugging it off. “As former graduates ourselves, we are very aware of the immense pressure Professor Powell puts on you as first years in the graduate division. Trust me.” You turned your body to Yoongi, signaling him with a small nod. “We’ve both been there.”

He chuckled, taking the reins of the conversation smoothly while you began handing out the syllabus for the final project. “Powell might have discussed this project with you last semester or you might have heard legends about it from your upper classmates while you were freshmen.”

Yoongi didn’t bother using the title of “Professor” before he spoke, making some students gasp audibly. His voice was the epitome of confidence, self-assurance and clarity coating his voice like velvet as he articulated his words with consistency.

“The syllabus that is being handed out to you explains the details of your final project. Your partners have been chosen for you and will not, under any circumstance, be altered to fit your personal preference.”

Whispers spread across the entire room like a swarm of bees, students gasping and mumbling, appalled as they analyzed each detail written on the page. Your echoing clap silenced into their incessant grumbles. That seemed to grab their attention.  

“As Professor Powell has said multiple times prior to the start of this semester and I’m sure as far back as your undergraduate days.” A grin formed on your lips and you glanced over at Yoongi, who was already smirking and staring back at you with his lip in between his teeth. “The audience needs to see who you are through the music; experience your deepest memories, feel your deepest pain, and live through your life up until this point.”

“You’ll laugh, cry, scream, and want to rip each other apart with your bare hands,” Yoongi added on with conviction in his voice, standing up straight and no longer leaning against the wall. “But above all the setbacks and obstacles, you’ll come out as stronger musicians and even better artists.”

“Complain and fail. Choose to work independently from each other and that implies that you are working against one other,” you noted. “You are there to help each other through difficult times, not leave the other person hanging when things get tough.”

Yoongi sighed. “It sucks, we know.” He glanced at you thoughtfully, a ghost of a smile dancing across his lips. “But we promise it’ll be worth it.”

At this, a student in the front row raised her hand, a wide-eyed curiosity glinting from her eyes. You smiled and gave her the cue to speak. “By chance, you guys aren’t the seniors who passed this same assignment with a full grade four years ago, are you?” Her naïve and self-answering question made you and Yoongi look to each other knowingly, embarrassed and honored that the rumor was still flying about, alive and well as ever. “You two are like living legends!”

The class erupted into another wave of applause and gasps, sounding like a sound effect out of a comedy club’s built-in soundboard. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled, leaning his head to one side and side-eyeing you lightheartedly. You also found yourself blushing and chuckling awkwardly, sighing as you avert your eyes to anywhere but the crowd of eyes glued onto you and him.

“It’s kind of a funny story…” you hummed. 

“Why did you start liking me?” you asked. Lying down on the blanket that was strewn on top of the grass, Yoongi shifted beside you, admiring the spot on the viewpoint he picked out. The view of the campus never ceased to take your breath away. 

The longest three seconds of your life passed before you turned on your side and he peeled his eyes away from the dim sky, redirecting his gaze to you. Taking your hands into his, the edges of his lips curled into the tiniest smile, staring thoughtfully at the sight he had never imagined in his wildest dreams would be here right in front of him. 

“Because you gave me everything I could ever ask for without wanting anything in return, and I don’t deserve it.” His words flowed like ink from a fountain pen, soaking through the pages that bound your love for him. 

Pausing before continuing, you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he had to say next.

“It’s like you’re too good to be real. Here. In front of me.” he clasped your hands tighter. “I still feel like don’t deserve you.” At this sudden confession, his tense expression softened. “Like I’m not enough for you...”

The dark and piercing stare you used to cower in fear at had now revealed itself to be the only one you knew that was full of vulnerability and as delicate as a glass menagerie. They were eyes you had grown fond of, admired, and more than anything—wholeheartedly and unequivocally loved.

Running his thumb over your cheek, you cupped over his hand in response, making your heart flutter at the delicate flush that spread across his face. 

“Min Yoongi...” you sighed as your eyes began to form budding tears. Shaking your head while trying to hold back the painful smile that threatened to escape, you took a deep breath. 

The lump in your throat returned tenfold when you looked up and saw that his eyes were glued onto yours, his deep brown orbs watering with glassy tears and lip quivering with the infinite ocean of amour he felt for you. You had already fallen in too deep to drown.

All these years later and you still made each other’s hearts race like a soaring kite. 

Whether it was from the cold or the bursting dam of repressed emotions, it didn’t matter. You cupped both sides of his face and brought his forehead to yours, pressing lightly and maintaining contact so that you were trapped directly in-line of each other’s eyes. You couldn’t help but smile and allow a tear to trail down your cheek when his hands cupped over yours.

“You’re right. You aren’t just anything to me,” you whispered, your voice near barely audible to anyone except Yoongi. “You are absolutely everything I could ever ask for and more. 

Yoongi swallowed the rush of nostalgia that flooded his mind and closed up his throat. “I have never in my entire life met someone who comes close to how you understand me, wait for me, and push me through my bad days,” he croaked through blurry eyes. 

You sniffled, brimming tears finally spilling like the puddles of your youth you once basked in. “You make me the happiest and the best person I can be, and I love you more than anything else in this entire world...”

“And I promise that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he finally spoke, completing your words like the last piece of a puzzle fitting perfectly in its place. 

His words and soft lips sealed a kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering softly at the ardor you felt only while in his warmth. You kissed him back, the saltiness of your mingled tears leaving watercolor thin streaks down both of your cheeks.

Words would never be enough to express the bond you and him shared. He could only pray to whoever was listening that you felt it as strongly as he did, and you for him. 

A song composed with no more than the painful memories of your past, tender youth of the present, and limitlessly unbound fate of your future, your paths entwined with the string of fate and aria had brought you together to this exact moment in time.

Passionless pursuit in the chase for perfection; a journey filled with sorrows in the hopes of leading to the smallest sliver of happiness; an outcome neither of you had expected to come to fruition in your wildest and most distant dreams.

Everything else is arbitrary. Happiness through the darkest of times stemming from the willingness to fight and determination to be happy—that is what you made your lives out to be. 

The faint glint of the rings you both bore reflected against the lamp post bulbs, an even brighter light emitting from both of your smiles. Had it already been a year since he’d asked for your hand? Yoongi’s fingers ran over the engraved metal, tracing the near-microscopic words that were etched into the band. You did the same with his, the loop of silver feeling cool against your fingertips.

It was real.

This was real.

[bngtanah]

The Difference Between Boys & Girls | o2

summary: Sam & Erin are university students who share a cheap one bedroom apartment above a shitty takeaway restaurant. Due to the limited space, they’ve grown accustomed to sharing just about everything, including the occasional kiss. Despite the amount of time they spend together, their complete comfort in sharing a bed, etc, the pair continues to hold on to the idea that they are completely “platonic.” None of their friends believe this excuse, but as ridiculous as it sounds the unconventional living situation truly does seem to work for them.

Well, it used to anyway..

pairing: Jung Hoseok (Samuel Park)  x Named OC characters: meet the cast.

genre: angst, smut, fluff

chapters: o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11| 12| 13| 14

warning: boyfriend!hoseok, jealous!hoseok, friends to lovers trope, college au, angst, sexual themes, slow burn, ambw

a/n: i am a fool. I accidentally deleted my blog so this is me re-uploading EVERYTHING.

With her body wrapped in a dress that stopped just a couple inches below her ass, bare shoulders and a sheer cutout in the front Sam was having a hard time keeping his eyes from travelling along the contours of Erin's body.

Originally she planned on wearing just a pair of jeans and a cute top, thus ensuring that she would attract the least amount of attention when they reached their destination. That all changed when Samuel decided he was going to tag along, she didn't mind all eyes being on her as long as he was by her side.

And of course, the surge of confidence she felt after having caught Sam's eyes widen and his mouth drop open slightly when she stepped out of the bedroom may have had something to do with it also. He had managed to settle his features and avert his gaze once Erin joined him for their obligatory pregame shot in the kitchen, making sure to keep his distance like he was drinking with his baby sister and not some woman he'd leer at in a dim nightclub.

His reaction only made Erin stifled a giggle after she allowed the alcohol to ease down her throat. He could play it cool all he wanted, Erin knew she had ruffled his feathers and that alone was almost enough to make their whole night worth it before it even began.

"Aren't you, like...cold? In that dress?"  Samuel asked, uttering his first full sentence since they'd left the apartment.

Erin only shook her head and made a small noise to demonstrate her disagreeing.

Samuel scoffed and moved closer as they walked in stride, he knew better than to believe her when she was obviously freezing. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side, the pad of his thumb drumming lightly against her hip. "Like hell you're not."

The touch burned through the flimsy layer of cloth and Erin was sure her cheeks would be flushed if she had any less melanin in her skin.

She couldn't allow her mind to read too much into his actions, however. As far as she knew Samuel had always been a very hands-on kind of guy. If he liked you, you knew because he'd find any excuse in the book to touch you. But there was also the side of his personality that just radiated affection when he was comfortable, the occasional hand grab, hug, caress usually mean nothing more to him than simply being friendly.

Sammy just liked human contact and sometimes it honestly drove Erin nuts.

"I think we're almost there" Erin commented as she glanced down at her cell phone, rereading the address Kim sent her a few hours earlier. "It should be on the left after this intersection."

"This doesn't really look like a good location for a bar" Sam noted as he glanced around their surroundings.

The streets were considerably empty for a Friday night and the few people they did see shuffling around looked like they were auditioning for part in Rent. Definitely not the young hip crowd either of them had been expecting.

Five minutes, and one wrong turn later they figured out exactly why the area seemed so dead.

The 'fun night out' Erin had been invited to turned out to be a gallery showing for a few unknown local artists. The air of excitement deflated the second Erin and Sam entered the building.

Kim was there at the entrance, craning her head back and forth and when she spotted Erin she beamed, and waved wildly. The second she did a quick scan of Erin's attire and noticed the handsome young man attached to her hip, her smile dulled considerably.

"Unnie! You remember my roommate, Samuel?"

Kim extended a hand, a smile way too broad to be genuine plastered on her lips. "Of course! It's a pleasure to see you again."

She was clearly lying since her nostrils were a bit too flared to be sincere. That didn't stop Sammy from grinning widely and taking her hand, bowing slightly to press his lips lightly to the back of her palm. "The pleasure is all mine."

Erin rolled her eyes gently and quirked her eyebrow in his direction, he winked at her and stood up straight again.

"Right. Well Erin I thought the friend you mentioned bringing along was a girl? Since this is a supposed to be a girl's night out."

And you said we would be going out for a drink, I guess we're both liars huh? Erin thought to herself.

"I know, but she couldn't make it and Sammy decided to volunteer to take her place. He might as well be a girl; you'll hardly notice the difference I promise."

Kim looked skeptical. Like she wanted to push the issue further but decided against it. "Alright he can stay but he has to participate like the rest of us."

"Participate, in what?" Sam asked.

"The post night discussion of course!" Kim answered, with more excitement than necessary as she reached down into her purse and dug out a notebook and pen for each of them. "We're all going to take notes on our favourite pieces and discuss them after the viewing, fun right?"

Erin braved a smile since she was used to Kim's concept of fun. Sam, on the other hand, refused to believe that she was serious as he erupted into a fit of laughter. Erin dug her elbow into his side and gave Kim a look of reassurance, "He has a weird sense of humour, we’re going to love this."

Kim nodded slowly and readjusted the strap of her purse "Okay, if you need anything just find me I'll be around" She began backing away "Oh and the drinks are free if you want one" The petite girl added before turning and disappearing into the shallow crowd.

"Homework, E. Seriously?" Sam began complaining not two seconds after Kim was no longer within earshot.

"What happened to Mr. Positive? The drinks are free that's something, right?"

"It's the only reason I'm still standing here"

"Oh come on, you wouldn't abandon your noona. Especially after you asked to tag along" Erin chuckled as she clipped the pen onto the side of her notebook.

"That's because I thought we would be drinking, not analyzing crappy art"

"Listen, I don't wanna do this anymore than you do. I'm way overdressed and I don't even like art. But at least we're here together and we've already been spotted so it's too early to bail anyway. If you want to continue grumbling I won't stop you but grumble on the way to the bar to get us some drinks."

Sam parted his lips to argue, but the resolve in Erin's eye made him second guess that. They could literally argue all night over this and he wasn't about to upset her when she looked that nice. "You're right," He sighed "You want your usual?"

"Yes please," Erin beamed and leaned upward to peck his cheek before he sauntered away in the direction of the bar with a dopey smile.

Suddenly very aware of the fact that she was standing in the middle of the floor alone, Erin quickly moved towards the nearest display of art. She pulled the pen from her notepad and pretended to be interested in the large canvas splattered with various lines and squiggles. Erin was never very appreciative of art even when she could understand the concept.

"Oh my god, this looks like a goddamn finger painting" She muttered underneath her breath.

A bellow of male laughter tickled Erin's ears from behind and almost made her jump out of her skin. She turned and came face to face with an unfamiliar person. His rounded cheeks made him seem young, much too young to be mixed in with this crowd but once Erin allowed her eyes to drift further down from his face she determined that he was probably in her age bracket. His hair was parted through the middle and pushed away from his face, colored a shade that Erin could only describe as neon tangerine and he wore a smile on his face that made the room seem ten shades brighter. He was tall but only by comparison to Erin, he was still a few inches shorter than Sammy so that brought him right to her eye level.

"Sorry, I didn't realise I was talking out loud," Erin said softly, accompanying her words with a slight bow.

"Don't be, you're not lying" He answered, still trying to stop himself from laughing "I'm Brian by the way."

"Erin"

Brian bit into his lip once his laughter subsided and subtly felt Erin up with his eyes. She pretended not to notice and returned her attention to the painting.

"So I guess art isn't really your thing either?"

"I love it actually, but the use of color and composition here is just lazy and uninspired." Brian commented and took a step closer, he was close enough for Erin to catch the scent of his cologne and a tiny shudder ran down the base of her spine. It was small but significant considering the only man that made her feel that way lately was Sammy. "Look at this area right here" He gestured to the far left side of the canvas "To the untrained eye it would probably look like a deliberate splatter of red paint to represent anguish, but I know that this artist just stepped on a tube and left the mark there."

"Mhm.... wait can you repeat that first thing again," Erin said, quickly putting her pen against the notebook and writing down the gist of what his.

"Are you a journalist?" Brian asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"University student, this is just for my.... study group. How do you know so much about this?"

"Because it's my painting and it only took me about five minutes to finish" Brian grinned and turned to face Erin. He was inches away and the coy smile that spread across his lips when their eyes connected made her chortle. Brian wet his bottom lip with his tongue which inadvertently drew Erin's attention there before the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them broke up the staring contest.

"Uh. The line was long, here's your drink. Who is this?" Sammy asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Erin smiled and took the tumbler of liquid from Samuel "This is Brian, we're making fun of his terrible art. Brian, this is my roommate; Sammy"

Both men nodded toward each other, exchanging a polite handshake before turning their attention back to Erin. Samuel was the first to speak.

"Listen do you really want to stay here all night? The drinks are watered down and I know how much you hate this art crap"

Erin shrugged gently but made a sour face the second she took a sip of her drink, it tasted like cranberry juice mixed with tap water, not vodka.

"Oh gross, let's get out of here before Kim finds me again," She said resting her cup on the nearest flat surface. She was all prepared to sprint out the nearest exit when a hand gently grabbed her upper arm and stopped her in her tracks.

"If you're going to leave can I see your phone before you go?" Brian asked, flirtatious smile still present.

"Why do you need to see my phone?"

"So I can put my number into it"

"Wow, you are subtle!" Erin laughed, taking a second to think of a response. "Ah, what the hell" She sighed and pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it and handed it over.

"Oh, what's this? It looks like you're accidentally calling me, that's weird. I guess I'll just have to save your number in my phone as well" Brian mused as his fingers moved over the keypad.

The entire interaction made Sam's lips fall into a flat, disapproving line while Erin giggled like it was the most amusing thing she'd ever seen.

"I hope to see you around sometime, Erin" Brian waved while she and Samuel headed toward the entrance.

"You too"

Instead of going home like Erin thought they would be, she and Samuel ended up at a bar a few blocks down from the warehouse where the gallery viewing was. Kim and all the members of her study group called multiple times but Erin stopped feeling bad about not picking after the first few shots.

Somehow one hour turned into to two and both Sam and Erin were tipsy to say the least they burst out onto the sidewalk, laughing at jokes neither of them were saying out loud.

"Do you know what we should do right now?" Sammy said excitedly, his hands holding onto Erin's shoulders.

"What?"

"Go watch the stars! Like we used to in school... I'm pretty sure there's a park somewhere around here" He muttered to himself but propelled forward anyway, dragging Erin along with him. She allowed him to pull her along as he tried to gain his bearings, she wasn't really ready to go home yet either.

After some trial and error, they managed to find the "park", which was actually just a patch of grass and a small hill but who was complaining?

Sammy motioned for Erin to sit next and she scrunched her nose upward "I don't want my dress to get dirty I'll stand, it's okay."

"Here," He sighed, pulling the jacket he was wearing off his shoulders and laying it down over the grass. "Better princess?"

"Much" Erin grinned as she moved to sit, exhaling a deep breath once she was settled and Sammy's arm found its way behind her. "I can't remember the last time we did this," She said after a beat, glancing up at the illuminated night sky.

"I do. It was the night of my graduation, you rode the bus all the way from Seoul to Daegu just to be there for my ceremony and stayed up with me to watch the stars even though you had a class the next morning." Sammy recalled with fondness in his voice.

"I remember that you begged me for like two hours to sneak out to the beach with you. Then when we actually got there you couldn't stop freaking out about being caught."

"My mother is a very perceptive woman; I still think she noticed me leaving in her sleep!"  Sammy retorted and both of them exploded with laughter.

"You made a promise that night too, do you remember that?"

Sam nodded with a smile but didn't saying anything.

"You're just going to make me repeat it by myself?"

"You look so cute when you say it noona"

Erin rolled her eyes, but cleared her throat anyway "I- state your name-"

"Sang-min 'Samuel' Park!"

"-So solemnly swear to live my life to fullest degree of potential and happiness possible from this moment on, recognising that I am no longer a child, but that doesn't I have to turn into a cynical old man. All agreed say aye." Erin was hardly able to finish talking before she gave into the laughter.

"Aye!" Sammy repeated in a squeaky voice and joined Erin in a chorus of giggles and guffaws.

A moment of comfortable silence passed over them once the laughter died down and Erin sighed again, snuggling closer to Sam and leaning backwards on her elbows. "You think you kept your promise? Are you happy, Sam?"

He frowned for a second and shrugged "I'm alright, I've still got you with me so that's good enough for me." He said softly, reaching forward to brush a stray hair out of Erin's eyes and tuck it behind her ear. The tips of his fingers slowly trailed along her jawline as if he was touching her for the first time. When he cupped her jaw in one hand and pulled her face closer his Erin found herself letting him do so.

They had kissed before, games of spin the bottle at high school parties and a few times after having a couple drinks at home. But those could be explained away by a momentary lapse in judgement and raging underdeveloped hormones. This was a deliberate action and Samuel made sure to move at a slow pace to give Erin enough to time to back out if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

"You looked so good tonight, noona" Sam whispered against the shell of Erin's ear, the bridge of his nose nuzzled against the hollow of Erins cheek and the warmth of his breath fanned over her skin causing heat to spread all over her body. Her breathing grew shallow and her eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, just as his lips barely brushed against her own a loud blaring noise shattered their fairy tale and made them both jump backwards.

"Oh shit, I think that's my phone. Sorry" Erin fumbled around with the clutch in her hands before pulling out her cell phone and preparing to curse out whoever had the misfortune of calling her at that exact moment.

"Hello?" Erin barked into the receiver.

"I- I'm sorry is this not a good time? Were you sleeping?" Brian’s gentle voice momentarily disarmed Erin's annoyance and she shook her head.

"Oh Brian is that you? No... I'm actually not even home yet, Sammy and I stopped for a drink before going home"

"O-oh okay," Brian replied softly, taking a second to think before speaking again "Well maybe you can text me when you home just so I know you're safe."

"I can do that" Erin answered, trying her best to smile even though she noticed the sudden change in Sam's posture, going from relaxed to rigid the second Erin answered the phone. He stood up after she hung up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. After she was standing he leaned down to pick up his jacket and dusted it off before placing it around Erin's shoulders.

"I should get you home."

[silentwhispofhope]

Paroxyism (Leon Kennedy X Reader) Report 2

Last Chapter <> Next Chapter

"What?" You asked in shock. "Sir, may I ask why I need to go there? A city that's three and a half hours away, need I remind you?"

You let out a huff in exasperation and leaned forward in the chair.

"I'm fully aware (L/N)," he paused for a moment before looking away from his papers. "We stopped receiving transmissions from the police force there six days ago. Nothing has been heard since then."

Realizing the seriousness of the situation, you shut your mouth. You leaned back. Lieutenant McCord studied your actions before he interlocked his hands.

"Why am I going then? Why not Officer Smith? He's been itching to leave his computer," You state as you raised an eyebrow. It felt weird to refer to your best friend by his last name. You internally shuddered at it.

"As much as he wants to leave, he can't. There has been a recent surge in crime, and we need all officers on hand for unforeseen emergencies. You are the only one who is available for this. We just need to check up on them. Worst case scenario is that all of their power is out."

Your eyes fell to floor. Great. Now you're an errand boy for the state government. Your hands tightened on the ends of the chair's arms. You didn't sign up for this.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," you replied.

"Good. Finish your work for today. You are to leave at 0800 hours tomorrow. Once there, report to Chief Irons or Lieutenant Branagh. You are dismissed."

McCord returned to his work immediately. You slowly loosened your grip and stood up. Opening the door, you passed through into the hallway. Letting out a breath of air you were holding, you shut the entrance to the Lieutenant's office. You shuffled back towards the end of the building. Soon enough, you walked pass a familiar work station. As you continued by, you heard the rustle of clothes and movement of a squeaky chair. Stopping, you saw Kyle standing behind you with a concerned look.

"How did it go?" He asked.

You simply gave him a glance in response. This was enough of a reaction to back off.

"I'll talk about it after we're off the clock," you told him, and he nodded his head. "Also, push up your glasses. They're about to fall off your face."

You heard him mutter a thank you as you continued to walk towards the forensics lab. Once in, you dragged a nearby chair to the small desk in the large room. Flicking on the small lamp next to you, you sat down and grabbed blank forensic papers. You grabbed a pen and began to fill it out. Victim's name? Alex Meredith. Age? 27. Sex? Male. Cause of death? Blood loss and shock. This process continued on for a while. Unbeknownst to you, the room slowly got darker as the sun sank below the horizon. Senior scientists would walk in and out of the doors.

Finally glancing at the clock, it read 8:31. Your stomach let out a rumble in protest of your work.  Quickly, you finished the conclusion and looked away from the paper. Your shift had ended at 8. Shuffling the papers together, you rolled over to your boss' desk and set the stack down. You stood up and gave your chair a gently shove. Zipping up your (F/C) hoodie, you paced towards the front door. You gave the officer at receptionist desk a wave. As you walked towards your car, you spotted a figure sitting on the hood of your woody.

"Hello stranger," you joked as you came closer to Kyle. "Scoot."

"Ready to talk?" He asked, one arm on his knee.

"I'm going to Raccoon City tomorrow."

"Seriously?!" He blurted and threw his hands dramatically into the air. Your best friend laid back on the windshield. His arms thrusted out like a starfish's. You tilted your head towards him.

"Trust me. I tried to get you to do it instead, but McCord said no."

"I'm never getting out of the building at this rate," he whined.

"Apparently, we haven't heard anything from them in a week." You glanced up at the stars as the two of you continued to talk.

"Sounds sketchy."

"I know. He tried to say it's probably because the power's down, but there hasn't been any storms near them for the past month."

"Are going to bring anything with you?"

"No clue." A moment of silence passed between the both of you.

"Sorry for making you wait. I got distracted."

"It's okay."

The two of you talked for several for minutes before saying your goodbyes. Jumping into your car, you slipped the keys into the ignition. Turning it, the machine roared into life. Soon, you were driving out of the parking lot to your small apartment.

Tossing the keys onto the countertop, you shuffled towards your bedroom. Your comforter welcomed you with open arms as you flopped face first into the bed. You laid there for several minutes listening to the ticking of a clock. Rolling onto your back, you gazed up at the popcorn ceiling. With a huff you realized you still needed to shower. You hoped off your bed and headed to the bathroom. As you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped yourself of your clothes and brushed your teeth. Spitting out toothpaste, you jumped into the shower. When the hot water hit your back, you let out a sigh of relief. In a way, you were relieved you weren't heading back to the station tomorrow. Even though you've only had your job for a month, it could get very stressful. Once clean, you dried yourself off, put on your pajamas, and rolled back into bed. Checking the time, the alarm clock next to read 10:00. You quickly set you alarm to 7:00 AM. The digital clock beeped in return. Turning the bedroom light off, you drifted into sleep.

Nine hours later, you were walking around your apartment. Taking one last glance in the mirror, you analyzed your outfit of a simple grey T-shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans. You wore back lace-up boots and a deep navy blue sweatshirt. Your (H/C) hair was tied into a classic ponytail. Several loose strands fell to compliment your facial structure. Remembering the conversation you had with Kyle, you furrowed your eyebrows in thought. You came down to the final decision of being safe rather than sorry. Walking towards your closet, you pulled out a thin, flexible utility belt and attached it around your waist. Turning towards your nightstand, you grabbed the flashlight from the drawer and attached it. You walked back towards the kitchen and placed your hand under the small table. The sound of duck tape ripping echoed throughout the room. Pulling your hand out, you saw a small handgun. You tucked it into its holster and grabbed an extra magazine.  For an extra precaution you grabbed a small first aid kit and shoved it into the large pocket of the belt. Finally, you clipped you police badge onto it.

Checking the time, you saw it was only 7:38. You grabbed the landline, and you called the police station. After reporting to an officer, you ended the call. Grabbing your car keys and a muffin, you headed down to parking lot. Once inside, you took a bite out of your breakfast. You pulled at your seatbelt as you began to pull out. Your journey to this mysterious city was about to begin.

A couple of hours into the ride, and you were already bored out of your mind. Several farms and gas stations passed by you every now and then. You tried to keep your mind occupied by playing the license plate game and punch buggy by yourself (which was pretty stupid). Eventually, you lost count though. You were soon pulled away from you thoughts as you saw a lone figure standing in the middle of the interstate in the distance. Slowing your car down, you came to a stop several yards in front of the person. You could clearly identify the individual as a female. Pressing on the horn, she gave no response as she continued to face away from you. Your window rolled down partially as you tried to catch her attention, but nothing seemed to work. Putting your woody into park, you got out. You pulled your handgun out and turned off the safety.

"Ma'am! State police! You are blocking the road and may be subjugated to an arrest if you do not move," you yelled out in your best policeman impression. If only Kyle could see you now.

This seemed to catch the woman's attention as she slowly turned towards you. Her appearance caught you completely off guard. Blood littered her face and body as her jaw swung from several strands of tissue. Her left eye dangled from its socket. It was here that you began to notice the grotesque smell of rotting flesh.

"What the fuck!" You exclaimed.

Within seconds the creature lunged at you with an inhumane speed. You fell backwards as she forced herself onto of you.  Your arms did their best at holding her back as she tried to bite you. A large drop of bloody saliva dropped onto your check as you struggled.

"Shit!"

With a large shove you pushed the zombie off of you. However, it merely stumbled back several steps. You quickly aimed your gun at its shoulder and shot. The monster kept moving as though the bullet didn't affect it. This time you aimed at the head. Two shots pierced the air. The zombie finally stopped in its tracks and crumpled to the ground. You attempted to slow down your panicked breathing, but it was no use. Soon you heard sounds of more monstrous groaning. Not wanting to see what else was coming, you scrambled to your feet. You sprinted back to your car and slammed the door shut. Not bothering to buckle yourself, you shoved your gun back into its holster and put the pedal to the medal.

As you speed down the road, thoughts raced through your mind. Up ahead a large green sign stuck out from the background. WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY HOME OF UMBRELLA. As you continued, more of those things began to appear. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. You swerved several times to avoid being attacked. As soon as you entered the city, hoards of the monsters appeared. The place was in flames. With the speed you were going at, you had no choice but to ram through them. You soon felt you car began to cave in on itself and began to roll. You were thrown around like a piece of trash.

The car came to slamming halt as you fell onto the ceiling. You let out a groan of pain as you shakily tried to exit the car. The groaning sound of it pushed you to move faster. Crawling through the shattered window, several pieces of broken glass dug into your skin. You squinted in pain. Finally, you made of the car and quickly turned onto your back with your gun in your dominant hand. You scooted away as a large bust of flames erupted from the machine you were once in. Standing up, you noticed that most of zombies had spread out to avoid being caught of fire. You swiftly saw that you were a street over from the RPD and hurried to a nearby alleyway. You grabbed your side in agony as you hastily rushed through.

Turning up on the other side, you noticed a boat load of cars crammed together. It's like everybody dropped everything and rushed to the police station. Several yards away, you saw an entrance to it and rushed over. You narrowly dodged several zombies as you ran pass the flaming bus. Pushing the gate open a smidge, you squeezed through before shutting it closed. Backing way from the fence, you were finally able to catch your breath. Several zombies stumbled to the gate and scratched at the air. They seemed to loose interest rather quickly. Thank god the gate was heavy. Turning away, you walked up the stairs. You pushed the entrance doors open and softly closed them behind you. Before you could admire the place, you heard shuffling movements come from behind the large, wooden receptionist desk. Immediately, you pointed you gun at the spot as you continued to hold you side.

"State Police!" You yelled. "Show yourself!"

                                                          ~~~

A/N: Woah! Over 2,000 words you guys! I really hope you enjoyed that! Don't worry! You'll get to met Leon in the next chapter!

[joonslushii]

BTS Reacting To: Meeting their S/O for the first time

// hey so,, I usually try to make the reader as interactive and relatable as I can but this is kinda dedicated to someone,, I probably won’t do it again though ajsjs (unless it’s requested) oH, and sorry about Jungkook’s reaction, I ran out of text blocks. //

Also, this is so long what the fuCk

________________________________________________

Jin:

Curly hair isn’t very common in Korea so when you had first walked into his cafe, curls framing your face as you took in the scent of cinnamon, he was more than intrigued by you. I mean, how could he not be? You were absolutely adorable. He would watch you sitting at your table and find himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to play with your curls. You flashed him a smile as he greeted you and you had ordered a muffin. Whenever you would come into his cafe and it was time for him to serve you you’re food, he always made sure to write a message on the muffin’s decorative wrapper. In the process of opening up your muffin you had clearly saw his note and in return you had playfully rolled your eyes.

It read: “We should get coffee sometime, because I like you a latte ;) 000-000-000”

You looked back up to him with a goofy grin as he sent you a wink in return. Finally you had given into his cute charms, proceeding to save his number into your phone as ‘cute cafe boy’ and making a mental note to text him later.

Namjoon:

You’d been trying to reach a book that just had to be all the way up on the top shelf. Rolling your eyes, you were about to go and ask one of the library workers for help. Not expecting to bump into a tall stranger’s chest, you ended up letting out a weird screeching sound. You heard a deep chuckle coming from above you as the stranger reached above you to grab the book you had been struggling to get.

“You looked like you were in need of some help, here.” he said handing you the book.

“Ah! Thank you, I’ve been trying to get that book for at least 10 minutes now.” You giggled, looking up at him. This man was quite tall, skin on the tanner side, and had a smile that showed off his deep dimples. While you were busy examining his face, he was doing the exact same thing. He smiled even wider as he took in your appearance. You were wearing leggings with an oversized sweatshirt that made you look endearingly small in comparison. But what had really reeled him in was your hair. Your kinky curls bouncing atop your head as you giggled at him cutely. All he could imagine was you laying your head on his lap while he played with your cute coils.

“you’re really cute.” he thought, but he must’ve said it aloud because you were now cocking your head to the side.

“I’m cute?” You teased

“Wait No- yes, I mean—” he struggled, trying to find the right words. He took a deep breath as he continued, “Can I get your number?”

You smiled, finally hearing what you hoped he would ask. “Of course you can.” You replied sweetly. After you had both switched phones and traded numbers you said your goodbyes. But not even an hour later you got a text from ‘library boy💕’

and it read: “Would you like to meet tomorrow for lunch? :)”

Hoseok:

When Hobi first met you he had been on his way to the dance studio to (obviously) practice a dance. He had been close to his studio and heard the loud sound of loud muffled music coming out of it. He curiously entered the room only to find a girl in gray sweats with flames going up the sides, wearing a crop top, paired with white high tops. He hadn’t noticed at first but your hair was curly and was styled in a half up-half down style. Something about you screamed badass. You hadn’t noticed him yet, being so caught up in getting the moves right. As you moved to the song that was playing, he watched as your limbs hit every beat, not missing a single one.

By now, he was sitting on the floor watching you contently. The song had finally came to an end and you were now trying to catch your breath but then heard slow clapping coming from the side of the room. You whipped your body around at the sound only to see a brown haired boy, who was quite cute, smiling a smile brighter than the sun. You smiled apologetically at the boy, realizing that you must’ve had the wrong room, as the next person shouldn’t be here for another hour or so.

“How long have you been there?” You asked, gulping down water.

He thought about it for a moment before speaking, “20 minutes or so but—“

You started rambling as you realized that you had taken up quite a bit of his practice time. “I’m so bad at keeping track of time, I’m so-“

He interrupts you with a smile, continuing with what he was trying to say earlier, “I’ve been here for 20 minutes or so but I didn’t have the heart to stop you, you were pretty entertaining if you ask me.” He charmed

“Ah thank you, once again, sorry about that.” You laughed

“It’s no problem, really! I enjoyed it.” He complimented

“I’m glad you enjoyed it and thank you again, but I really have to get going now.” You rushed, having checked the time.

“ah okay. we should dance together sometime, yeah?” He smiled again, this time his little dimples popping out.

You contemplated, “That sounds good, can I see your phone?” You asked politely.

he hummed in approval and tossed you his phone. You typed your number in, saving yourself as ‘Y/N’

“Oh! My names Y/N, Text me!” You giggled, exiting the studio.

He laughed to himself at your antics as he repeated your name over and over again, as if he was testing how it sounded on his tongue.

Yoongi:

This could be a whole Drabble ajkdkskshs

You leaned against the counter of the towns local gas station, the stick of a bubblegum flavored lollipop poking out of the corner of your mouth. There was something about the bubblegum flavored lollipop that had you hooked. You had tried many other flavors before but their tastes never satisfied you like this flavor did. Maybe it was the pop of sweetness that would fill your mouth or the feeling of nostalgia it gave you; you didn’t know.

The jingling of bells had interrupted your thought process, alerting you that a customer had entered. A man wearing ripped jeans, a black mask, and a black long sleeve walked in. He was quite pale with mint green hair, a black beanie atop his head.

You watched as he looked around for a second and then approached the counter, pulling down his mask. He was cutely intimidating.

“What can I get you?” You asked, pulling the lollipop out of your mouth for the time being.

His eyes scanned the selection of cigarettes behind you before speaking. “I’ll take a pack of Marlboros.” He requested. His voice was raspy but soothing.

“Those things kill, you know.” You remarked as you unlocked the glass wall that held the cigarettes.

He looked at you for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. “Those things give you cavities, you know.” He retorted, analyzing the lollipop that you were holding.

A smile appeared on your face at his clever comeback. “What’s your name?” You asked, scanning his item.

“Yoongi.”

“Cute. I’m y/n.” You replied, popping the lollipop back into your mouth.

He chuckled at your straightforwardness and sent you a curious look. You were definitely different from most of the girls he met. Most of them were blushing and giggling shyly by now, realizing how handsome he was. But you, you were chill. You were mysteriously intriguing. He liked that, he wanted to get to know you better.

“When does your shift end?”

You checked your phone and locked eyes with him, handing him his cigarettes. “In about an hour, why?”

“No reason, just wondering.” He hummed, leaving the gas station.

That was weird, you thought. About an hour, just as your shift was ending, the door had chimed again. You looked up to see the mint haired boy, his gummy smile threatening to show. He walked in and leaned against the counter. “Your shift end yet?”

“Yeah actually, I’m just getting off.” You said, confused as to why he was here again, Not that you minded in the least.

“Would you be interested in getting lunch with me?”

You hummed in consideration before a smirk appeared on your face. “What’s in it for me?” You asked playfully. You were never going to reject his offer in the first place but you wanted to tease him a bit.

He hummed with a small smile on his face before answering, “Free food and some of these?” He said while reaching into a bag that you hadn’t noticed he was holding. He pulled out a bag of your favorite bubblegum flavored lollipops. He held them teasingly in the air as he continued speaking, “but only if you come to lunch with me~” He said teasingly holding them in the air.

Your eyes widened comically as you thought about it. He didn’t seem like a murderer, he was observant and sweet, and he was handsome. What were you gonna do, say no? You’d be stupid to say no, so you accepted.

“In that case,” you tapped on your chin as if you were debating something, “sure.” You said coolly but had a smile bigger than ever.

You looked at him again and the sight you saw made your heart clench in fondness. His eyes were filled with happiness, a gummy smile big enough to reach his eyes.

Jimin:

You had been strolling through the park one night. You watched as the snowflakes fell; the frosty flakes sprinkling onto the top of your head as well. Yes, it was cold, but you had been studying for your finals all day and had been starting to feel suffocated.

You followed the path in the park until you heard sniffles up ahead. Thinking back, it sounds been sketchy as fuck but your curiosity only urged you further. You hesitated. “Curiosity killed the cat, right? guess I’m dying. You thought, walking further.

You continued to follow the sound of sniffles and it had soon led you to a man sitting on a bench. The street light sitting above him illuminated his figure. You couldn’t see his face but he wore only a light sweater and skinny jeans, and a pair of black converse. Having heard your steps, his head snapped up. You examined his face; His tear stained cheeks were shiny, but he was cute.

You approached him wearily. His eyes never left your face as you fished a few tissues out of your coat pocket. Should I ask him if he’s okay? No—he’s obviously not okay, he’s crying. As you got closer, he scooted over, almost as if he was trying to make room for you. Taking it as a sign to sit down, you sat.

Embarrassed, he turned his face away from you. No words were exchanged for a few moments until you spoke. “Are you cold?” you asked. Shaking from the cold, he pulled his sweater down over his hands. You noticed this and stood up to take your heavier jacket off. As soon as you got it off you scooted closer to him and pulled your oversized jacket around him. His face had whipped around to look at you so fast that you thought he’d get whiplash. You held out the tissue you had been holding. “here.”

His arm slid out from under your jacket and took the tissue. “Thank you.” He mumbled, voice unstable from crying. He blew his nose into the tissue and you both sat there in silence for awhile. Once again, you decided to speak up. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You offered.

Jimin contemplated for a second. Did he want to talk about it? You were a stranger, he didn’t know you but you seemed kind. You had been considerate enough to give him your coat, tissues, and had offered him your company. After all, He would probably never meet you again...right? Right.

To your surprise he had accepted your offer with a “sure.” and had even given you a small smile.

“Alright then, shoot.”

After hearing your words of confirmation, he started to speak. He spoke and spoke for about 25 minutes, only tearing up once or twice. You had offered him the best advice you could muster up and to his surprise, had actually ended up helping him. When he was finished, he continued to speak:

“Thank you. Really. You’ve helped me a fuck ton. He gave you another smile, but this time it was different. It was sincere.

“Anytime, ” You smiled. “Oh, and if you ever need anyone to talk to. I’m here.” You reached into the jacket that was still around Jimin and pulled out another tissue and a sharpie. You had written your number on it and handed it to him with a smile.

Taehyung:

This one turned out a bit different, oops ?

When it comes to Taehyung, you two had already knew each other. Tae and you had been dating for a while but have never actually met.

When you first met him, he had texted the wrong number on accident but you then ended up talking more and becoming friends, best friends actually. You told him things that you would never even think about telling anyone else, and all without knowing who he really was. He was someone you could tell anything to. You wanted to have a deep conversation at 3am? He was there. You wanted to FaceTime? He’d always answer. It was a mutual feeling, so after awhile, he FaceTimed you and asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Hey y/n,” he says, setting up phone so you could see him better. “Hey TaeTae, What’d you need?” You smiled back into the camera. He looked nervous, really nervous. “Well, we’ve been best friends for quite awhile...” he paused, suddenly serious.

“Yeah...” you urged him to continue talking.

“I don’t think we should be best friends anymore-”

“w-what, why?” Your eyes grew wide and your hands trembled as you struggled to speak.

“Because,” He continued, “I want to be more than that.” He was now looking down and playing with his fingers, rambling. “I understand if you don’t feel the same or if you-“

“Wait Tae. Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” You interrupted, blank faced. You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.

He smiled hopefully, “I am. Will you accept me y/n?”

You smiled the brightest smile you’ve smiled in a while. Damn, he makes you so happy.

“what the fuck? Yes, of course I will!” You screeched, almost falling off your bed in the process.

You had been wanting to meet him in person for awhile but Tae wanted to wait till you were more serious till you met. Both of you were currently in college but you knew that Tae couldn’t afford to spend money on a plane ticket for you. You had a stable job and could surely take some time off from college, so why not? Tae was someone you knew would be worth spending the money for, so you didn’t mind.

After packing your suitcase the night before, you woke up at 6am to finally meet your boyfriend. You were excited but along with that excitement came an overwhelming anxiety. What if you weren’t what he thought you’d be? What if you weren’t good enough? What if when he finally sees you, he sees all the flaws he didn’t see before? All of these ‘what if’ questions swirled in your head as you boarded the plane.

The whole plane ride, your stomach continued to feel like it was twisting itself into a giant knot. To try and and create a distraction for yourself, you had plugged your earbuds into your phone and listened to music. To your relief, you were asleep in less than 5 minutes.

Precisely 2 hours and 4 minutes later you were being tapped awake by your seatmate, who then announced that you had arrived. You came out of your sleepy state as your initial excitement kicked in once again. A small smile framed your face as you grabbed your small duffle from above you. In less than 20 minutes, you ,y/n l/n, would be meeting Tae, you couldn’t believe it.

You got your phone out of your back pocket and on the lock screen was a text from Tae telling you where he would be. You replied that you had gotten off safely and made your way to get your suitcase. Following the crowd to where the suitcases would be disposed, you speed walked. You made your way over and were now waiting for your suitcase to pass by. Finally spotting it you grabbed it off of the machine with ease.

Once again, you texted Tae. You asked what he would be wearing so that you would know what to look for. He responded quickly saying that he had recently changed his hair color before he came. He says to look for someone with a head of silverish hair and a striped baseball Tee with a red jacket. You looked for awhile and finally saw him. What he didn’t tell you was that he would be holding a big, neon colored sign with your name on it.

His stomach filled with butterflies as he saw you standing there staring at him as if you had just saw the most beautiful thing ever. He looked at you standing there and only one word could describe you right now; perfection. Absolute perfection. He couldn’t believe you were all his.

When you had saw him it felt like time stopped. Your heart raced as you dropped your luggage and sprinted towards him. As you got closer he had already abandoned the sign he had once been holding. Once you finally reached him you jumped into his open arms, but he had caught you as if he had practiced this a thousand times before. Your face was buried in his neck, his arms holding you tight around your waist. You could hear him sniffling as he mumbled a chorus of “Fuck, you’re actually here.” and “Mine, all mine.” into your ears. You pulled away and mumbled a small “Hi TaeTae.”

Cupping his face with both hands, you wiped his tears with your thumbs as you gave him small pecks all over his face. He giggled at your cuteness and did the same in return.

Jungkook:

You and Jungkook were in High school. Jungkook had a crush on you and had started to leave little love notes in your locker. Looking back at it now, his tactic was quite cliche. But hey, it worked, right? Others might’ve found it creepy or even “obsessive” but you found it endearing and sweet. 

 This had been going on for a while and each of the little poems or messages would leave you smiling after reading them. Jungkook was in some of your classes, but had only actually talked to you once, and it hadn’t even been a whole conversation. He had accidentally bumped into you in the hallway and mumbled an array of ‘sorry, I didn’t mean too !!’ and ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—‘ As he scrambled to help you pick up your stuff. Unlike you’re “friends” who had laughed at him, you had simply given him a kind smile and told him not to worry about it. Your kindness is what had attracted him to you in the first place, your beauty had been a bonus. 

 He had been giving you these notes for about a year now and you hadn’t actually been curious to find out who they were from, you just enjoyed getting them. Maybe it was the feeling of wanting it to last longer, you didn’t know. But unfortunately for Jungkook, he had chosen the worst possible time to give you the note.

 It was 5th period and you had needed to use the restroom, but to get to the restroom, you had to pass your locker. As you navigated your way through the halls, you were just about to turn another corner as you saw a boy in front of your locker. He was folding a small piece of paper. Is that Jungkook? You watched him for a few more moments and decided to approach him. All of a sudden you were about an arms distance away from him. He still hadn’t noticed you. It’s like that note has him in a trance, you giggled. At that sound, his body jolted up into perfect posture. He stuffed the note into his back pocket. “y-y/n?” He squeaked. 

 “Hey Kook,” You paused “It’s okay if I call you that, right?” 

 “O-of course!” He spoke a little more loudly then he would have preferred. 

“Cool,” you paused again, “anyway, what are you doing in front of my locker?” You questioned. 

 “A-ah, I was just—“ he startled to ramble and in the midst of his rambling the little paper had fallen out of his pocket. He had reached down to pick it up but you had beat him to it. On the front of the folded paper was your name in pretty cursive writing. Jungkook stood frozen in front of your locker as you continued to open the note. His hands were sweating profusely. When opening up the paper, it had a small poem on the inside. You recognized it, it was actually written by one of your favorite poets! 

“ I appreciate that you want to write me love notes, but you copied someone else’s poem.” You teased him.

 “W-Well, I still wrote it on my paper!” He defended himself with a light smile, the blush appearing on his cheeks. You giggled. “Well, next time you want to write me a love poem, just text me.” 

 “Really?” His eyes widened. 

You grinned at him, holding your phone out for him to type his number into.

[chemicalmagecraft]

The Gamer Hero, Deku Chapter 1

A/N I hope you guys like my first fanfiction. This is a concept that I thought of that I'm surprised hasn't come up yet, at least for BNHA. Either that or it has and I haven't seen it yet.

xoxoxo

"Sorry, kid, it's not going to happen," the doctor said. "If you had a Quirk, it would've shown itself by now."

"What do you mean?" my mom asked.

The doctor pointed to an x-ray of my foot. "After the emergence of Quirks, there were studies done. It was found that most people with a Quirk lack this joint right here. It's possible for someone to have the joint and a Quirk regardless, but if Izuku here hasn't developed a Quirk at this age, it probably means he doesn't have one."

After that, I was crushed. The one thing that I wanted most was to be a hero, and now that dream seemed completely out of reach. How could I become a hero without a Quirk? I never completely gave up, but after a while, it just seemed so hard. It was around this time that I really started to get into video games. In them, I could be the hero. I was always the hero. I saved the day, stopped the bad guys, and had all kinds of cool powers. Maybe... maybe that was what kept me going. At any rate, I eventually redoubled my efforts to become a hero and began analyzing everything I possibly could about heroes. I watched hundreds of videos of fights between heroes and villains in all kinds of environments. I went to see every hero fight I could. I learned enough that I could theoretically be certified a Quirk counselor if I took the exam. Still, I always had some doubt as to whether or not I could do it. If there was ever a hero without a Quirk, they never made it big enough to even be mentioned. Everyone at school laughed at me for saying I wanted to be a hero.

But that all changed the day my Quirk awakened.

I woke up feeling odd, but couldn't quite place why. It only hit me when I was brushing my teeth. When I was just about done, I noticed something weird above my head in the mirror. I looked up and immediately spat out my toothpaste when I saw white text floating above my head. It might have been reversed, but I could read it clear as day.

The Gamer

LV 5

Midoriya Izuku

I had no idea what to make of it. "Why is there a text box floating over my head!?" I thought. "And what's with that part that says 'The Gamer?" I might have stayed there, staring like a deer in headlights at my own reflection, for hours if my mom hadn't called up to me.

"Izuku! Hurry up or you'll be late for school!" That snapped me out of my reverie. Whatever it was could probably wait until I was at school.

"Coming!" I yelled back down, and then hurriedly finished getting ready. When I went downstairs, she was waiting for me with my lunch. After she gave it to me (along with a hug and a kiss) I looked above her head.

Supermom

LV 11

Midoriya Inko

So it wasn't just me. It seemed to me like she couldn't see the words, considering the fact that she hadn't reacted at all. Still, better to be safe than sorry. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, Izuku?"

"Have you noticed anything strange today?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"I thought something was off. I guess I just stayed up a little too late last night." She narrowed her eyes at me. "D-don't worry, though! I'm fine now." That confirmed that she couldn't see the text floating above our heads. Satisfied, I headed out the door.

xoxoxo

On the way to school, I saw that everyone had a title above their heads. "It's just like a video game!" I thought. I stopped for a second as a thought struck me, then continued as I thought about it. "Could this be a Quirk? What if that's the reason? It'd explain why only I can see these titles. The doctor did say that it was possible I had a Quirk, just not likely. But why now? Why wouldn't my Quirk have shown up earlier?" I was so distracted that I didn't even notice the crowd until I walked into someone's back. After apologizing, I followed everyone's gaze to see a giant, monstrous man standing on the overpass.

Giant Monster Man

LV 32

Yamazaki Riku

"Guy gets cornered by heroes and just turns into a giant monster," a nearby man said as if it was a common occurrence. I made my way through the crowd toward the front. When I did, a bunch of fangirls squealed as a guy who looked like a cross between a ninja and a tree kicked the giant in the face. "It's Kamui Woods," I said. I squinted and just barely made out his title while he monologued at the villain.

?

LV ?

Nishiya Shinji

Huh. I figured that the titles had some limitations to it. My assumption was immediately given some credit when a giant woman kicked the giant villain in the jaw while he was distracted with Kamui Woods' special attack.

?

LV ?

Takeyama Yu

"Mt. Lady, huh?" the guy next to me said. "She's certainly making a name for herself. Seems like she might make it big."

"Yeah," I muttered. "She's certainly got a good Quirk for hero work. Plenty of power and flashy too. I can see a few downsides, though. She can't use it in tight spaces and being that big would definitely cause a lot of collateral damage." I was interrupted by a ping. I looked down to see... a blue text box?

A new skill has been created through special action! Continuously analyzing your surroundings has created the skill 'Observe' to gain information about objects.

Observe (Active) LV1 EXP: 0.00%

The ability to observe one's surroundings and gain information from it.

Gives the user information about the object it is used on.

Yet again, all I could do was gape at what I saw. A skill... so this wasn't just identifying people... I don't know how I immediately knew how to use it, but I did. "Observe," I thought while looking at the text box for the Observe skill, and a new text box popped up.

The text box for the Observe skill. Shows the effects and experience of the Observe skill.

I probably would've played around with this more, but the man next to me cleared his throat and said, "Hey, kid! Are you okay?"

"O-oh, I'm fine!" I blurted out.

"You looked pretty distracted, there. Something happen?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," I replied. "My Quirk's just a little weird." I was just using it as an excuse, but... it had to have been my Quirk. There was no other explanation for it. I decided that I'd explore this new Quirk as best I could when I got to school. Wait. "I HAVE TO GET TO SCHOOL!" I realized and ran for it.

xoxoxo

Once I made it to my homeroom, I immediately collapsed into my chair, panting. I looked at the text boxes that had appeared on the run to my school.

The level of the skill Observe has increased by one! The level of the skill Observe has increased by one!

Those and a bunch of Observe text boxes made up most of them. I saw the LV1 on Observe's text box and inferred that I could probably raise the level of the skill by using it a bunch. Naturally, I spammed it at every item I could on the run over. However, there were two that I hadn't expected.

Due to repeated struggles, your VIT has increased by one.

Due to prolonged running, your DEX has increased by one.

Well. That was interesting. I suppose it made sense. I may have gained some weird video game power, but I was still in real life... supposedly... so I was still able to exercise. I wondered what my stats were, then had an idea. I concentrated, then thought the word "Menu" to myself, just like when I used Observe. It didn't surprise me, then, when a menu popped up.

Status Screen

Skill List

Inventory

Party Options

Map

Quest Log

Options

Well, that seemed interesting. I decided to start at the top and make my way down. "Status Screen"

Name: Midoriya Izuku

Title: The Gamer

Level: 5

HP: 250/250

MP: 275/275

STR: 10

VIT: 11

DEX: 11

INT: 30

WIS: 10

LUK: 10

POINTS: 0

MONEY: 0 Yen

What? I got most of my stats, but... why would a level five character have twenty more points in INT than in the other stats? I guess that explained why I didn't start at level one, but... maybe I got five stats per level after one and my Quirk automatically dumped those into INT because of my above-average IQ? I guess that made sense, but I really wished it hadn't. I could have probably used those points better myself, Quirk! Still... I decided that I'd have to train up my stats the hard way at first. "I can probably focus on INT, WIS, and LUC during school hours. Studying and doing math problems should probably increase my INT, maybe I could increase my WIS by meditating, and if I constantly flip a coin and call it that'd probably increase LUC. As for out of school, I said I was going to Yuuei, so nobody would think twice about me exercising like crazy. Actually, why haven't I done that already? 'Exercised like crazy' is half of what made Batman Batman, so why did it take me this long to figure out that I should do that!?" I then noticed another text box.

Due to planning things carefully, your WIS has increased by one!

That's probably what led to me questioning my previous actions. I would have thought about that further, but I was interrupted (again) by someone saying my name. "Midoriya-kun is also planning on going to Yuuei." Oh no.

"WHAT!? DEKU!?" Kacchan went over to my desk and started burning my desk with tiny explosions. I got a good look at his name.

Lord Explosion Murder

LV 14

Bakugou Katsuki

That title was really accurate. "YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING QUIRK, YA SHITTY DEKU! YOU'RE JUST A DISGRACE!"

"Kacchan..." I sighed. I was surprisingly calm considering the fact that an explosive blonde was shouting in my face. I guessed I was just really distracted by the whole "I have a Quirk now" thing. "You can't stop me from going to Yuuei, no matter what you do." "Actually," I thought, "while he's in my face like this... Observe."

Name: Bakugou Katsuki

Title: Lord Explosion Murder

Level: 14

HP: 800/800

MP: 725/725

STR: 27

VIT: 25

DEX: 35

INT: 29

WIS: 13

LUC: 13

Quirk: Explosion

Emotions: Angry, worried

That last one didn't seem right... "SHITTY DEKU! I'LL MURDER YOU!"

"Bakugou, calm down!" the teacher said. "Remember, you're not supposed to use your Quirk in school. I don't think that getting a detention will look very good to Yuuei."

"FINE! I'M JUST GONNA GLARE AT HIM!"

"PLease limit yourself to that. That isn't against the rules and doesn't cause a disturbance."

"MAYBE I WILL!"

Wow Kacchan is high-strung. I sighed as he plopped back into his seat and started glaring at me. With that threat out of the way, I decided to test my new training regimen.

xoxoxo

On the walk home from school, I decided to review what I'd done at school. After Bakugou's outburst, I'd decided to try out meditation, which yielded quite the fruit.

A skill has been created through special action! Through repeated meditation, the skill 'Meditation' has been created.

Meditation (Active) LV2 EXP: 61.23%

By clearing one's mind, the mind becomes much sharper. This skill allows the user to meditate on the mysteries of life, the universe, and everything for enlightenment.

Increase HP recovery per minute by WIS while meditating.

Increase MP recovery per minute by WIS while meditating.

Increase stamina recovery per minute by WIS while meditating.

WIS can be trained through meditation.

Through repeated meditation, your WIS has increased by one!

I also found a 500 yen coin during lunch and started flipping it as I'd planned. Just like I'd thought, calling it right enough times had increased my LUC.

Due to repeatedly winning games of chance, your LUC has increased by one!

"I should probably focus on VIT and DEX, and especially DEX. Even if I can shrug off getting punched by a truck and hit with the same amount of force, there's going to be some attacks that I can only dodge." I would have done some more planning, but I was interrupted by a weird feeling and a ping. I was excited to see what this new text box would bring me until...

A new skill has been created through special action! Through exposure to impending doom, the skill 'Sense Danger' has been created.

I had about a second to think "Well that is the second most ominous thing I've ever seen." before a manhole burst with some form of sludge. The sludge consolidated into a single blob that somehow had eyes and a mouth with teeth.

Sludge Monster

LV 26

Kurosawa Shou

xoxoxo

A/N: CLLLLIFFHANGER! I hope you guys like it! Just know that I'm always open to constructive criticism, especially with my math because fuck math. Also I'd like to apologize in advance if my updates are erratic. I'm still in school and I can get easily distracted.

[ariistocracies]

i am ,, going to attempt to rush through this last intro bc i um . Suck and procrastinate on things jdslkjfs. im down trying 2 act cool so u guys ready my intros so we out here and this is my soft boy tony !!

shawn mendes. cismale. he/him. — did you see { anthony debarros }, i haven’t seen the { twenty-one } year old in a while! you know, they’re a { editorial assistant }, and have been living in jersey city for { five months }. some say they’re { fickle & over-analytical }, but i think they’re { diligent & empathetic }. regardless, i’m glad { tony } is here.

STATISTICS:

full name: anthony gabriel debarros nicknames: tony hometown: seattle, washington sexuality: pansexual gender: cismale spoken languages: english, spanish, & french hogwarts house: ravenclaw

BACKSTORY + PERSONALITY:

okie so to start off, tony was born into a fairly middle class family in seattle, washington where his mom was a pediatrician and his dad was a police officer for the city and it was the typical white picket fence kind of life with tony, his older brother samuel ( 23 ) and his younger brother jesse ( 18 )

tbh normal was the most likely word that tony would use to describe his life ?? he got along with his parents and brothers for the most part and kept his head down in school and mainly focused on his studies ?? loved reading and could definitely read a  whole book in a day if he wanted ,, which he has done multiple times bc ya boi has a membership at barnes and noble and has no chill jslkfjdsl

his parents always tell him how much of a quieter child he was in comparison to samuel and jesse bc both are actually big into sports and the whole All American Boy type of persona with being great at football and flirting with pretty girls and having girlfriends where tony kind of just .. existed ?? lmao idk how to exPLAIN

he kind of just went through the motions, was definitely considered the quiet and geeky kid in his class and made ppl surprised since samuel was v popular when he was in school and with jesse a grade below him, it was more believable that sam and jesse were related than tony being their brother ?? just bc the stark difference in personalities

tony didn’t mind much since he usually kept to his own devices, had his own small group of friends and went through the motions of high school and his part time job as a server at a popular restaurant in seattle ,, def one of the kids in all a.p classes and excels in all of his classes without needing to study much ?? but he does anyway bc he figures it’s a better past time than partying or drinking

definitely wears his heart on his sleeve and more in touch with his emotions than his brothers ,, loves them but also a bit :// since they tend to pick on him and tease him about being the black sheep among the debarros brothers and when jesse does it during school hours or just talks to him at his locker tony can’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable ?? just prefers blending in rather than sticking out

9/10 times u see him he probably has his headphones in bc music is a nice escape for him and it helps him focus rather than on ppl surrounding him since he’s not the biggest fan of large crowds of being the center of attention

more of an introvert who prefers nights in watching shows on netflix than big nights out .. i picture a v sad time when tony was in high school that bc he is v attractive bc hello shawn mendes ,, samuel and jesse dragged tony to a party once and tried to get tony to lose his virginity and got a girl to try and seduce him ?? tony was v uncomfortable and he was too anxious to say no when she brought him to a bedroom and little did he know that his brothers were filming in the closet ,, smh

tony got as far as kissing before pushing away when she tried to unbuckle his pants and then found out about his brothers and just felt v humiliated and didn’t speak to his brothers for a good two weeks after that and just retreated further into himself

that experience kind of just ,, ruined sexual encounters for him and for as much as he just wants to rid of his virginity since he feels like it’s a giant neon sign over his head, he’s too nervous to attempt anything ?? given he’s attracted to personality more than anything he’s just too lost in his head and potential romantic / sexual encounters make him anxious

he graduated as valedictorian in his grade and even though he’s incredibly brilliant, tony was completely lost of what he wants to do ?? and that was solidified when sam went off to join the marines and tony couldn’t decide which college to commit to and nearly took a year off before last minute deciding on villanova university for english !!

he graduates summa cum laude a semester early and ya mans secures a job at the publishing house that he interned at during the summer,, so now he works at simon and schuster in nyc where he commutes to on the daily to be an editorial assistant where he p much helps out senior editors with manuscripts and rejection/acceptance letters

he’s v protected bc his parents kind of babied him a bit ,, his mom loved him since he was the softer of his sons and they connected well emotionally and for as tough as his dad was, he was v supportive to tony and he has great communication with his mom and dad ,, they both grounded his brothers for a month after they finally got tony to tell them about the Incident nfjdsjfkl

so yeah just more so observant and quiet since he likes to watch ppl rather than jump head first in ,, v thoughtful but can lead to him over analyzing situations but overall a v sweet bub who is hoping to make some friends

[rollinscarisi]

I’m Still Here

So I haven’t written anything in months, literally. But after the premiere I wasn’t really sure what I was feeling so I decided to wirte something. Was it a good idea? I don’t know, but I hope you like this little story anyway.

TBH this isn’t my best work but it’s almost midnight here and Amelia has a brain tumor so you can cut me some slack.

BTW here is my updated masterpost! 

“Dr. Hunt, do you have a minute?”

Owen looked up from a patient’s charter to find DeLuca standing next to him, looking rather worried.

“Um, I’m kind of busy here actually-“ He had only taken a few days of absence and it felt like a year’s worth of paperwork had piled up, just like that.

“Yes, I get that, but-“

“Can it wait?”

“Well not really, it’s kind of urgent and-“

“Look, I’m still not fully back to work and if they had an emergency at the ER I would’ve been paged, so-“

“It’s about Dr. Shepherd!”

And just like that the intern had his full attention.

“What about her?”

The trauma surgeon’s body language changed immediately. His shoulders were tense and the little muscle in his jaw started ticking, the way it always did when he was nervous.

His marriage with Amelia may be on the rocks, possibly over, and his mind may be swimming around with doubts, but damn, he still loves her with everything he has.

“DeLuca, what about her?!” he realized the intern looked a bit scared but quite honestly he didn’t care.

“It’s not really my place to tell, and Dr. Shepherd told me to be quiet about this and not tell anyone but I think it’s not the kind of thing you keep to yourself and honestly I’m worried about her...”

“DeLuca...!” his voice warning him he better get to the point.

“Dr. Shepherd has a brain tumor.”

Silence.

Everything around him stopped.

It couldn’t be.

He must have misheard.

There is no way Amelia, his Amelia, the brilliant neurosurgeon, has a brain tumor.

How can the universe be this cruel?

DeLuca’s voice brought him back down to earth. “Dr. Hunt?”

“What did you say?”

The intern wasn’t sure if he should really repeat himself, but the threatening glint in the trauma surgeon’s eyes left him no more to argue. “Dr. Shepherd has a brain tumor… I’m certain she wasn’t aware, but it’s starting to affect her work and to be honest I don’t think she’s taking care of herself properly and-“

“Where is she?” he noted his voice sounded different but he was too out of it to care.

“Dr. Hunt, I’m not sure if-“

“I’m only going to ask this one more time, where is she?!”

“She hasn’t left the on-call room on the 4th floor for a couple of days and-“

He was off before he heard the rest. Getting to Amelia was the only thing on his mind.

He knew that with the way things were she was probably going to push him away but tough luck on her, he wasn’t going anywhere.

He ran as fast as he could, climbing up the stairs as fast as his legs would allow him, ignoring the way his lungs were starting to protest.

She couldn’t stop staring at it. 

She spent her entire adult life staring at MRI’ scans, studying them, analyzing them, fascinated with the wonderful tumors and aneurisms they showed. 

She lived for those little butterflies she felt on her stomach every time she encountered a tumor. The thrill she felt just by looking at them. The excitement she felt every time she needed to plan a surgery. It was glorious. 

And now here she was, staring at a massive 10 cm left frontal lobe tumor.

And all she felt was sadness.

Absolute and utter sadness.

She would’ve considered it beautiful, if only it wasn’t in her own brain.

She needed to figure out a plan fast. She needed to push emotions aside and think rationally about this. And who would operate on her? She obviously can’t operate on herself and Derek is still dead. It seems it’s possible for other people to come back from the dead except the ones she loves...

In a way she’s glad for Owen. He is so happy his sister is back and he can finally stop feeling guilty for having stopped looking for her. So she’s happy for him, she really is, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t feeling a little jealous that her brother is still dead.

And what about Owen?

Should she tell him? Part of her thought that yes, he deserves to know and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want his comfort. She’s not even sure if he’d comfort her after the things she’s said. 

Well that’s not true, she knows he would. Because that’s how he is, she knows him. He would never turn his back on her, especially during a time like this, no matter how hurt he is. 

She was suddenly pulled from her thoughts when the doors burst open and he walked in. 

“Hey! How’s Megan?” Amelia cleared her throat. 

Really? Is she really making conversation as if nothing is wrong? Is she really trying to keep this a secret from him?

“She’s good, recovering well.”

“That’s great, it’s good that she’s-“

“And how are you?”

Her eyes opened ridiculously wide, “Me? I’m good, yeah, really good!”

He laughed a little, a low laugh, full of bitterness. He said nothing though. 

They stared at each other for what it felt like hours, Owen daring her to lie to his face again. 

Amelia was trying to read his face, there was something about his eyes, although she couldn’t quite get it. Until she did and figured it out. 

“Who told you?”

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I’m worried about lots of things, one of them is knowing who’s the person that can’t keep a secret so I never tell them anything again,”

“Amelia stop!” he took a deep breath, as if to calm himself down, “You have a tumor…?”

“Yes, thank you, I’d almost forgotten about it hadn’t you mentioned it…”

“Damn it! I’m trying to talk to you! At least act like you care!” he practically yelled.

They stared at each other again. It seems that is the one thing they’re good at… But after a while Amelia’s voice cut through the silence.

“I do care…” she looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor against the bed. Her voice small and scared “I’m just afraid that after everything I did and said, you wouldn’t care… And I’d be alone. And I don’t wanna be alone. Because I’m really, really scared.”

Amelia could feel the tears coming, but she was fighting them with everything she had.

“Damn it Amelia.” his voice much softer now.

Owen made his way to her and crouched down, sitting himself next to her and gently but firmly pulled her to him. It felt good to hug her, to have his arms around her and feel the heat radiating off of her.

Over her head, he looked at the scans and tried to ignore the chill that ran down his spine. That thing is the size of a grapefruit…

When he first heard she had a tumor he imagined something small. But now looking at the scans he realized how wrong he was. It is huge. He was scared for her before, but now he was absolutely terrified. Amelia lifted her head from his chest while his hands continued stroking her hair. “It’s um-“ she wiped the few tears that managed to fall, “it’s a 10cm left frontal lobe tumor, as you can see.” “Have you done more tests?” “No, only a ridiculous number of MRIs...” she took a deep breath, taking comfort in the feel of his fingers running through her hair. “I keep hoping that with each MRI the results change. As if it was a mistake and the tumor won’t be there anymore...”

Owen nodded, not really sure of what to say. What do you say when someone is you love is in this position? What is the best way you to help them? He desperately wants to help, but the only way he knows how is to be there for her, for whatever she needs.

“You know in the area this tumor is it changes a person’s social behaviors, their impulses and responses... What if when we take it out-“ she stopped as another tear fell down her cheek, “if we take it, I’m not the same person? What if the person I’ve been all these years is just this tumor?”

“That won’t happen, you will-“

“You don’t know that…”

“Yes, I do! When they remove it, you’re still going to be you. You’re still going to be Amelia Shepherd. You’re still going to be here.”

“Why are you here?”

He gave her a little smile and wiped away her tears, and a few of his own.

“Because I know the amazing person you are. Because the universe is cruel and you, of all people, don’t deserve this.” He stroked her cheek, “Because I love you, despite everything.”

“I pushed you away, I ran away... I spent all that time away from you and now I might not get to have it back… I might not have the time to make up for it...”

“Amelia, you will-“

“Not sure if you still want me but-“

“Of course I want you!” he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead “Listen to me, you will get through this,” she started shaking her head “Yes you will! You will! And I’ll be here every step of the way, you hear me?” she nodded “Only freaking superheros, right?”

She laughed a little, wondering how he even knew about that and repeated after him.

“Only freaking superheros...”

[iamsonyeondone]

we're a two-player game // jeon jungkook part 1

Pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluffz and very slight angzt

The ever-growing pile of stress began to pull at your hair. College was starting to overwhelm you with the numerous group projects and assignments that you barely had time to yourself. And that resulted in the dark eye bags and how the whites of your eyes were turning crimson red. So looking like a mess was an understatement and your best friend, Taehyung, made sure you knew that.

"How long have you not showered? A few years?" Disgust filled every etch of his face as he analyzed the state you were in. Your messy bun could have been mistaken for a birds nest and your overall look screamed ' indebted and sleep-deprived college student'. You simply groaned in return at Tae's remark as you slumped into the seat beside him. You've heard worse.

"Another all-nighter?" He looked over with a  knowing look as you nodded slowly. It was as if your head would fall off from even the smallest force. It was evident that the fatigue was really getting to your head and another day of no sleep could end up with you, 6 feet underground.

"If it wasn't for my hoodie, I wouldn't have known that (Y/N) was sitting next to you, V." A familiar voice called out. Jungkook greeted the both of you, attempting to hide the wave of laughter that crawled up his throat. He failed miserably to say the least. Almost everyone in a 5 mile radius could hear the boisterous laughter of Jeon Jungguk.

"Ugh, Kookie! All your laughing is giving me a headache," You groaned as a throbbing sensation filled your head and drummed at your temples. You held on to your ears tightly as if they were bound to fall off from your head from all the ruckus that managed to come out from a single person.

"Sorry, Little Ms Grumpy. How's your assignments going along though?" He inquired as he occupied the seat in front of you, his laughter dying down.

"These damn assignments will leave my damn sights forever when I hand the damn thing up later. And if you guys ever bother me after that, you're all dead," You attempted to put on your fiercest look that you could ever imagine, but it was a complete failure as Taehyung chuckled and pinched your cheek.

"You can't hurt us even if you tried, little one. You promised us a match anyway when you were done with these. If you break it, we break your pinky," Taehyung raised his pinky as the memory of you promising them to a match on Overwatch came rushing back. The three of you had to settle the scores from the previous match since Tae was unsatisified that you and Jungkook had 'cheated' your way through to victory. You groaned in reply. You hated breaking promises but you were on the verge of falling asleep for eternity.

"Ok, how about this, I get some good night's rest and then we can play as much as you guys want to after that. Sounds good?" You negotiated as much as you could and took into consideration of your promises.

"Sure but... We can't guarantee that you'll wake up once you lay a finger on your bed, so your coming over to our apartment to play," Jungkook smirked, knowing full well how long you could stay in bed and snore as if you were playing the role of sleeping beauty.

"Fine, but you guys have to order the pizza," 

"Don't worry about that, Tae's got the bills. If he didn't then he probably stole those gucci slippers," Taehyung  gasped in horror at Jungkook's statement and soon the bickering of the boys went full throttle as you laughed at their antics and all their attempts at overpowering each other. Maybe sacrificing your hibernating week was going to be worth it.

----------

You had been waiting outside their door for almost an hour so far and no reply whatsoever had been received. You were about to leave their doorstep in fury with your already-fully-planned revenge when the door flew open. Jimin, your best friend since high school, was at the door, his hair pointing in every which way as his eyes were barely open. 

"Hey (Y/N), what are you doing here so early? It's the weekends anyway," He smiled softly, ignoring the fact that he looked like a complete mess. You wanted to scream from the lack of hearing of these seven men that even none of them could open the door. But you didnt have the heart to vent your anger towards Jimin when he greeted you with a soft smile, proof that he was having a good nights rest.

"Those two idiots promised that we were playing Overwatch here today but can't even reply my messages," You pouted, checking your phone for replies or any sign of them being alive.

"Oh I think they've been screaming at their screens since last night. Come in, if you need anything, I'll be in my room," He opened the door and made way for you to enter.

This wasn't your first time at their apartment, especially since you knew the group of men that occupied it. Since you knew them, visits to their apartment was pretty frequent and at times you would even sleepover. So you knew the apartments layout and could basically call it your second home.Well, it was obvious that the boys welcomed your visits since they had officially called you the Godmother of the house, as what Jin had proudly announced when you took care of their meals for the first time.

You walked up the stairs and headed for Jungkook's room, your first victim for your revenge. But once you opened the door to his room, you spotted Jungkook in his chair, snoozing. You wanted to feel furious but you couldn't help it when you saw him snoring in such a calm state, his hair a fluffy mess begging to be tangled in between your fingers.

And you did just that.

 You didn't know how or when you did but once your hand came into contact with his soft brown hair, you melted at the touch. It was just like patting a bunny. And that wasn't the end of it. Jungkook felt the same way too as he nuzzled further into your hand, a little smile tugging at his lips. And that made you burst out laughing from his animal-like reflexes. 

Jungkook woke up from your laughter as you laughed even harder at his shocked expression to see you right in front of him, your hair no longer a mess. You seemed put-together for once in a long time.

"What are you doing here? Isn't it like 1 in the morning?" He mumbled, as he fumbled to check for the time on his phone, only for it to tell him that it was already past 10 am. 

"I must have fallen asleep... Why are you laughing anyway? Did I snore that loud?" He asked, getting up from his seat and stretching every limb of his body from the weird position that he slept in.

"Y-you're just like a dog," You managed to get your words out before you laughed harder, clutching onto your stomach from the stitches that began to settle.

"Like a dog?"

"I was brushing your hair and you were pushing your head further into my hand! You even seemed to like it because you smiled and-," 

"Why were you even petting me?" He was now wide awake from your statement as he smirked. You suddenly became more aware of what you had just confessed and that, turned your cheeks into a bright shade of red. How shameless of you. But you guys were best friends, so wasn't that okay? You were also aware of the distance between you two, another step from either one of you and you would be against his broad chest. So you came up with a lame excuse, fighting back the stutters as much as you could.

"F-firstly, you forgot our plans and I feel betrayed for standing out there like... Like an idiot for 30 minutes!"

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

 You were calculating all of your movements wrong because Jungkook could feel the awkward aura that surrounded the both of you and although he seemed confident when he teased you, he was vulnerable to your shy attitude. The blurred perception of you as his best friend or sibling, began to disappear and saw you more as a mature young adult. And that pulled at his heart strings as he took a closer look at you. Everything became much more crystal clear.

Although you had eye bags from studying tirelessly, he admired them because they were proof that you were studying to achieve your goals. But he also wished that you were getting enough sleep and the thought of you falling sick from not taking care of your health made him upset and angry, and all he wanted to do was tuck you in bed and give you meals to feed you. He always assumed these thoughts was because he felt the need to protect you as a brother and never came to think that it was possible to protect you as his partner.

And those thoughts made him realize that he didn't see you as a sibling figure anymore and he wanted to be more than just best friends. How dumb. He only now realized what his thoughts meant when it came to you and now that he had deciphered it, he was onto the next stage of solving how he had to go about it. He couldn't just confess on the spot, you were probably chanting for your death in your head from the awkwardness surrounding the both of you and he wanted you to feel comfortable first.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. Hey, have you eaten? I'm hungry and the hyungs are probably busy being a 'genius' about music or whatever. You're okay with ramyeon right? Because that's the only thing I know how to cook," He chuckled as he lead the way to the kitchen. This diverted your attention from your pounding heartbeat as you thanked the lords for escaping that treacherous moment.

"I'll help out. There should be something in the fridge I can work with,"

"Thank goodness, I'll probably die from sodium overload without you,"

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

"Keep the compliments coming, Kookie. You owe me a ton for roasting me so much," You finally regained your confidence and managed to collect yourselves and speak to him like both of you always did. Bickering. You heaved a sigh of relief as you checked the contents of the fridge. Both of you were lucky that the fridge had been recently restocked and that it at least had vegetables and actual meat that wasn't canned or dehydrated.

"We can have fried rice if you'd like. Is that okay with you?"

"Is there mutton? Because it's been awhile since I had lamb skewers," Jungkook pouted as he stood beside you, analyzing the fridge as well. He was close, really close. His breath would occasionally brush your neck and it sent chills down your spine. He was driving you crazy.

"D-don't be such a spoiled brat. It's fried rice or nothing," You stuttered. Jungkook pouted, the thought of lamb skewers were thrown in the trash.

Both of you got cooking, all set with matching aprons that Jin bought because he thought getting an apron for you too was mandatory - he was simply coaxing you into cooking for the boys more. You instructed Jungkook to cut the ingredients, in no particular manner and not to your surprise, he had carefully cut them into symmetrical bite-sized pieces. As expected of the Golden Maknae.

You scrubbed the kitchen appliances clean while the enticing aroma of fried rice filled the kitchen and soon travelled through the corridors of the apartment. Not long after, all seven man occupied the kitchen, wanting to take a bite of the fried rice that you and Jungkook had made.

"(Y/N)! You should stay more often, I'm tired of cooking for these boys all the time," Jin joked as he took another spoonful. You knew Jin wouldn't stop pestering you about it until you would move into the apartment yourself and take over the role as Mother. You couldn't blame the poor guy, handling grown man with the souls of children is an exhausting job.

You hear a familiar voice calling out towards you, sweet and soft.

"(Y/N)~ You haven't taken a bite yet, right? Here, the airplane is coming your way!" Jimin chuckled, waving the spoon full of rice in the air while the other boys looked at him in disgust for being too adorable. With a final wave in the air, he fed you the spoonful, as a wide grin adorned his face.

"Yah! you don't look that pretty anymore if you chew with your mouth open you know," Jimin exclaimed.

You hadn't realized that Jungkook had his eyes on you the entire time since Jimin initiated to feed you. His heart felt as if it was on fire and he had the intention of pulling you away and feeding you himself, just like he intended to when he saw your tired expression. But he was just Jimin, your best friend since high school, so these actions didn't mean anything more than just best friends, right? He didn't want to get angry at his best friend either because he knew that Jimin had his eyes on another girl. So why was he so mad? 

Instead of filling his stomach, Jungkook ran upstairs into his room, instinctively rebooting up the system. 

You looked at the happy faces that crowded the dining room table but an empty chair stood out from the rest. You analyzed the faces and one particularly handsome one came to mind. Jungkook wasn't at the table although he was the one that decided to eat. And he would never miss a day to devour your home-cooked meals.

There was something off about it and you were on your way to find out why.

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Finally uploaded part 1!! part 2 coming soon 😉

[prinzitravels-blog]

It has been such a long time since I wrote a blog post. I’ve missed it.

These are always moments for me to sit down and be truly reflective. I spend so much of my time doing science writing. I love it, but it’s cold…factual…to the point. It has taken me a long time to remove the “fluff” from my writing in order to meet my editor’s standards of science blogging, so it feels good to talk about travel again.

We aren’t on a large European trip this time. In fact, today was one of the most laid-back days we have had in a really long time. We decided to ease into my Spring PhD semester with a mountain getaway to Crested Butte, our favorite mountain town in Colorado. This is the town we spent half of our honeymoon in, and it has had our hearts ever since. After several weeks of a MAJOR holiday rush and travel to Las Vegas for our nephew Lane’s 21st birthday, we have been exhausted and ready for a week of relaxation.

2019 was a bitch. Other than the year that I nearly died from a blood infection, the year my dad died or the year my grandma died, this one was one of the worst. There were so many secret battles being fought on the home front. I promised myself not to go into 2020 clinging to all the negative things that happened in 2019, I am exceptionally excited for this new year, after all. Needless to say, 2019 was filled with all sorts of emotional loss, rifts in relationships I thought would never falter (there were several), sadness, exhaustion and misunderstandings. While I had more personal successes in 2019 than I have had in a while, my empathetic soul could not see past the actions and losses of others.

So, here’s to a fresh start.

But…it started a little rough.

Joey and I were about 3.5 hours into our 4 hour drive last night when we hit the town of Gunnison. We were on the final stretch of dark road making our way into Crested Butte when suddenly, a deer jutted out on to the highway and directly in front of my car. I was driving, and hit her at a solid 60 miles per hour. I am still shocked at my reaction; I didn’t swerve at all and did exactly what they always tell you to do…hit the deer…keep driving…slow down…pull over. I was shaking but managed to get the car over on the side of the road. It all happened so fast, Joey had been reading an e-mail on his phone and couldn’t figure out what we had hit. There was a big truck coming toward us in the oncoming lane, and he first thought something had launched off the truck and hit my Jeep. He got out of the car and immediately tried to take pictures of the damage to the front of the car and look down the road to see if he could see the deer. It was very dark, so we couldn’t see her in the road, but cars kept whizzing by us without swerving or stopping so we assume she ran down into the icy ditch beside us.

It looked like everything was reasonably in tact, so we continued driving the remaining few miles to our condo and got the car parked. We agreed to just settle in to our condo and assess the damage in the morning.

We could have spent the night frustrated about the bad start to our trip, the damage to the car, or how much we already have on our “to do” list when we get home. But we didn’t. I couldn’t get over the extreme gratitude I was feeling for how the situation played out. I feel so badly for the deer we hit, but these accidents don’t usually end well for the vehicle operators. I was so proud of myself for keeping so calm…that’s actually very unlike me in a situation like that.

I know it might sound cheesy, but I have been doing yoga religiously to help deal with the stress that comes with juggling a PhD program and struggles I feel as a truly (and deeply) empathetic person. It has helped bring me back to what is most important and how to let everything else go. This has helped me work through the selfish and hurtful things people have done to me in the last year, helped me balance priorities, helped me continuously love myself and helped me maintain calm. While I truly feel that Joey and I have proudly maintained a loving and healthy balance within a meaningful life we have built together, I feel like I am growing more by the day. I can’t help but wonder if all of this yogi-magic helped me out a bit last night.

We woke up this morning and made a delicious little breakfast in our condo. The sun was shining bright here today in Crested Butte, and we got out first look at the beautiful view from our small little deck! Gorgeous! The wind was whipping last night, but the morning proved to be calm and beautiful.

Our condo is situated in a small, private neighborhood 7 minutes outside of downtown Crested Butte. It’s quiet and far from ski traffic (although this town really doesn’t get a whole lot of that compared to our other resorts).

We went out and took a look at the car. Not too bad, actually. It’s bad, but we definitely got lucky. We can’t open the driver’s side door, so we have to crawl in from the passenger side any time we want to get in. The front left side is pretty messed up, but the damage just missed breaking any containers on the inside or interfering with the wheel.

  Joey spent the afternoon on the phone doing real-estate work and talking to the insurance company while I worked on my laptop. The view was great and the coffee was hot…

To add to the already-complicated-nature of this trip, Joey has come down with a terrible cold. He NEVER gets sick, so it’s very weird when he is…I almost don’t know what to do! He slept for quite a while today while I worked quietly on a large national survey I am building. It was actually great. The views were beautiful, I was relaxed and got a ton of important work done. No complaints! Vacations come in many forms!

Because JoeJoe isn’t feeling his best, we decided to venture out to Clark’s market (insert tiny mountain town grocery store here) for some food items and make dinner in the comfort of our little condo. What makes ANY sick person feel better? Soup and sandwiches of course! It totally hit the spot. We snuggled up, had our yummy dinner, drank lots of tea and binged some Netflix.

While this is probably the most uneventful travel blog post you will see from me all year, I think it highlights the beauty of doing nothing…and that’s totally the mood I am in right now. I am so grateful to be able to sit and write this today, to work from such a beautiful location, to have the freedom to relax as hard as we wanted today. It’s all so completely lovely and worthy of appreciation.

I’ll leave you with a quote that I think should carry us all into 2020. It’s going to be beautiful year (because we are going to make it one).

Happy 2020! The year of clear vision!

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”

PS: If you’re interested in what this CRAZY spring semester looks like for me, here it is–

Intensive grant writing class (Jan-May)

Grant review class (Jan-May)

Clinical research seminars (class) (Jan-May)

IHQSE – a year long quality improvement program that is NOT a part of my PhD program. I am on an amazing team of individuals who will spend a year working on ways to improve quality and patient care at CHCO through the use of an intervention we design and execute. We will meet in person for intensive formal sessions every other Tuesday from 1-5 and should expect to have 5-10 hours of homework related to the program on off-weeks.

Writing for the American Society for Microbiology (and being edited by them) monthly

Working PRN at the CHCO micro lab

Designing a large nationwide study asking microbiology labs about how they manage endotracheal aspirate cultures. Analyzing these data and publishing them within the year.

Getting ready for the next big milestone in the PhD program: The comprehensive exam. I am still unsure if I will be ready, but if I am, it will be scheduled for May. This determines if I get to finish my program or not and if I am officially a PhD candidate.

Attending the ASM conference in Chicago in June

XO,

Ap

On Gratitude (2020) It has been such a long time since I wrote a blog post. I've missed it.