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venusguks · 3 years

Text

Solace in Seoul

— Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader (Reader x Kim Taehyung on the side)

— Summary : the falling apart of you and kim taehyung, and the coming together of you and jeon jungkook

— Genre/Warnings : plot driven, angst, smut, fluff, sugar daddy/baby relationship, student/teacher relationship w kth, bsfs2lvrs w jjk, unprotected sex, creampie, degredation, oral (f receiving), jk just wants to love you :(, jk is the absolute sweetest really, spit drinking?, praise ( TW : MENTIONS OF FAMILY ABUSE/BRUISES )

ACT 1. | 134340

The first time you talk to Jeon Jungkook again, your mind is elsewhere, absorbed in the lingering absence of Taehyung.

Spring's gentle breeze carried distant laughter and a faint melody from the music club two floors down. The sky carried drifting clouds, the ocean carried rising tides, and you — You carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Or at least it felt like it.

The piles of envelopes concerning last two months’ unpaid bills have been devouring your dinner table and heart alike. After receiving the countless of threatening voicemails from your landlord, you'd be naive not to expect a visit—but opening the door to Mrs. Joomi’s bitter scorn didn’t make you feel any less anxious. Juggling two part time jobs all the while maintaining A’s and B’s was nothing easy to accomplish. Hell, living wasn't even easy, and yet, it was like nothing you did was ever enough.

Grief was your composer and you were her violin—her cruel euphony reverberated through your tears when you sat on the cold kitchen floor last night, sifting between your savings that barely made up one month's rent. On top of your midnight breakdown, your dad decided to come home yesterday out of all days and, well, you know how that goes.

The door clicks open, interrupting you from your trance. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Footsteps pad closer until Taehyung is right next to you. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans back against the metal railing, facing the opposite direction. It's quiet at first. You've noticed long ago that your relationship with him was one that was filled with silence. “Somethings bothering you,” He’s the first to break it. Neither of you take your gaze off the cerulean blue sky. “You could tell?”

“Of course I can, angel," his voice is cool, gentle, and it carries you away with the wind. "You dozed off through the whole lecture today."

Shame tinges your cheeks with the faintest pink, “oh... I’m sorry. I was paying attention, really, I was just—"

"Love," he saighs, "you have nothing to be sorry about. You could skip to sleep in the nurse's office for all I care. I'm just worried about you."

“What a good teacher you are,” you smile, a teasing one, but Taehyung chuckles dryly. “Trust me, if I was a good teacher, I wouldn’t be doing this," he sounds apathetic, but that doesn't stop you from frowning. You finally turn to look at him, his curls of deep brown swaying. “Taehyung... please don’t say that. You’re an amazing teacher, everyone knows it.”

You hoped he knew how genuine you were. God, you hoped to the moon he knew just how good he was. Taehyung may have already been admired for his captivating smile and his nonchalant energy, but everyone respected him for so much more. He was the type of teacher everyone wanted—the cause of counselor’s headaches every autumn for receiving heaps of transfer requests. Even parents and teachers fawned over him, baffled to see the passing rate in math tests accumulate over the years. It hurt that he didn't see that, and it hurt more knowing he didn't think he was respectable because of you.

The man tilts his head to look at you, smiling softly. “You know I’m only joking, doll.”

“Whether you're joking or not, I still... it just worries me when you talk like that,” you pause, "....do you really feel that way?" Do you really regret this?

Taehyung sighs, and the jeweled rings adorning his fingers are cold against your skin as he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Worrying is my job, angel, so tell me what's been on your mind instead."

If Taehyung noticed the hurt in your eyes, he chose to ignore it. He always did this. You got it, really, you did. There were boundaries for these sorts of relationships. One step closer would bring him one step back, which was why you never probed him any time he disregarded your questions. But a selfish part of you still felt it was a bit unfair, a bit painful to feel him slip away, to realize he was never there in the first place.

It was strange, how he made you feel. His thumb grazed your lips, his breath was light on your skin—if you concentrated hard enough, you swear you could hear his heart beat. He was only inches away.

So why did he feel so far?

Taehyung was your your lighthouse, your harbor, your shore. Through the snowy December nights where his fingers traced sensuous lines down your bare stomach, to the Spring showers of March where his cold lips brushed your inner thigh—Taehyung had always been your solace.

You knew tangling in sexual affairs with your teacher in return for sealed envelopes was wrong, but how could something so sinful feel so heavenly? The unspoken acts committed underneath draped curtains and moonlight's veil felt too dear to you to be called impure. By your sixth rendezvous, you started to wish the intimacy you shared with him could go beyond silk sheets and star speckled lust.

“I want you to confide in me too,” you said one night under the reluctant shadows of warmly lit candles. “I want to help you too, Taehyung. Please, let me help you.” You could tell he's been agitated the whole week, but you'd been too afraid to ask, afraid of him pushing you away. You didn't know where your courage came from then, all that you wished to be more than a distraction. “I don’t need you to help me," Taehyung growled, and you let out a muffled whimper when he rolled your clit with his tongue, your thighs trembling as you reached for his soft curls. "B-But I care a-about—ahn!" You arched your back as he inserted a finger inside of you, curling into your sweet spot with frightening accuracy. "Don’t need you any way else other than this, doll. Just be good and silent for me." That morning, you woke up to a bed void of the man you loved; a white envelope being the only remnant of that night.

You sighed as you recalled that memory, brushing your own fingers over his, tracing the metal bristles of his rings. “Its nothing."

“Don’t say that, angel. I know it’s not nothing."

“Really, Taehyung, i’m fine. Just stressed is all.”

“Stressed...as in financially?” Your sudden tenseness affirms his assumption, making him sigh. "You could've just told me earlier, angel. Tell me how much you need." A repulsing mixture of shame and self resentment brews in your chest, hardening like bitter dalgona. Dirty, despite money sparking your secret arrangement from the very beginning, that’s how you felt every time it was ever brought up. “Hey, look at me doll," as if reading your thoughts, Taehyung gently draws your face close to his with two hands cupping your cheeks, noses barely brushing. “Don’t ever feel guilty about this. Just treat it as an early birthday present, yeah?"

You couldn't help but frowning, your hands roaming the access of his collarbone. "You already do so much for me, Taehyung...I just...I-I feel bad." You failed to notice how rigid he became then, how his eyebrows dipped with evident frustration. "Y/n, you know that—"

Click!

Before you even realize it, you and Taehyung are off each other. When the blue, paint-scraped door opens, sleeked shoes and lively banter are welcomed by two students, diminishing with a glance at the both of you. "Ah, Mr. Kim, there you are! I was looking all over for you. What are you doing here?" A girl's eyes shift from you to the chestnut haired man. Taehyung easy recollects himself as he pats your shoulder, wearing a professional grin. "I stumbled into y/n here, was just giving her some advice but we’ve finished. What did you need me for?”

"Oh...well, about finals week..." You almost let out a sigh of relief as they continued their conversation, but your breath is instantly caught in your throat when your gaze flickers to the boy right next to her.

You were too startled by the sudden interruption that you haven’t completely processed his presence. You almost wish you hadn’t though, now that his doe, big brown eyes mirror your own.

Jungkook was unmoving, and you could've guessed he was conflicted—whether to say hi or to stay silent. Even if you were in the same grade, it was rare to see his face among the carbon copied uniforms. Class C—1 and C—4 were the furthest from each other, and with being the student council event coordinator, you were either neck deep in documents or tucked in the seclusions of the rooftop.

But due to the proud morning announcements and the hushed whispers of admiration, Jungkook never really strayed too far from your orbit. Referred to as the school's golden boy, Jungkook was loved by everyone. He was friends with members from the fashion department to the swim team to the gardening club—Hell, even the occult club. Teachers and students alike wore lenses of adoration for their school’s pride and joy while you tried your best to look away. He may have been in your orbit, but you were two different worlds, encapsulated by the universe but separated by light years of meteors and stars. Jungkook was a nameless planet to you, as you were to him. You never brought yourself to think about it—never had the time for anyway, so seeing him there, floating with the drifting clouds, even you felt a tad bit shaken.

“—kook...Jungkook, hey, Jungkook! I’m gonna go get my assignment with Mr. Kim. Come with?” He blinks profusely, averting his attention from you to the girl wearing raised brows. “Uh, no thank you. Breaks gonna end soon anyways, I think I’ll stay up here. See you after school though?”

“After school,” she clicks her tongue, waving before disappearing down the stairs. Taehyung lingers for a second longer, his eyes flickering to you. “Well I’ll see you next period, Jeon. Bye, y/n." With that, the door shuts behind them, welcoming an air of awkward silence.

Jungkook is the first to clear his throat, “hi, its been awhile," his earrings dangled with his every nervous movement, and you wondered when he'd gotten all his piercings. "Y-Yeah, its been awhile..." you repeat densely as you watch him take the spot Taehyung left, respecting a distance but not standing too far away. He rests his forearms on the metal railing, his elbow barely brushing yours. “Do you usually come up here?"

"Only during lunch."

He hums, "that explains why I never see you."

You frown, both in curiosity and confusion. "You look for me?"

“I-I don’t!” He sputters too quickly. “I just...its just an observation. We’re in the same year after all, and you’re never with the rest of the student council members.” Your brows raise in amusement, “that's surprising.”

“What is?”

“I didn’t think you remembered my name—honestly didn’t think you even remembered I existed.”

“Of course I remember,” he chuckles, “we’ve been friends for 17 years. How could I forget?”

“14 years,” you reminded softly, “we’ve been friends for 14 years.”

A star in Jungkook’s eyes must have died out when you smiled sadly at him. “Oh...right...” he rubs the nape of his neck, sighing. “This is strange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you agree, “strange.” And there it is again. Spring’s momentary silence. You watch as the sun slowly disappears behind sailing clouds. Talking to Jungkook, being alone next to him, was maybe even a little bit uncomfortable. After all, you guys had so much history—where do those film rolls of sun seeped memories go? It was as if they floated all around you, tying your fingers together like the red string of fate. After all those years of suppressing them, it was intoxicating, adamant to be remembered.

“This reminds me of middle school,” Jungkook brings your head back from the sky. “In 5th grade, the highest we could go was at the top of the garden shed. We spent all our breaks there, staring at clouds, complaining about Mr. Lim being too grouchy, or wondering where we'd go after school—what ice cream flavor we’d get at the convenience store. Do you remember?”

"Of course I do," despite yourself, your heart softens to the recollection. It was your secret hiding spot, blocked by the slant of the roof and the trees barricading the other side. The sky, wind, and Jungkook had been your only escape from the problem solving in math and the problem solving you had to do on your own when you were 10, wondering what the budget for that week's grocery would be. “We thought we were so cool, that we were on top of the world.”

“Correction, you thought you were so cool. You even promised to show me your own space ship, remember?”

“God, please don’t,” you groan, covering your face with your palms. You knew exactly where this was going, and you guessed Jungkook still knew exactly how to embarrass you. “You told me you were a space—“

“—adventurer!” You beamed a toothy grin, two hands proudly on your hips. Jungkook looked up at you with sparkling eyes, pupils as large as beloved full moons. “You mean...an astronaut?”

Your smile immediately drops into a disappointed frown. You demanded upmost reverence, so you didn’t really appreciate it when he questioned you. “No, no. Not an astronaut. A space adventure. s-p-a-c-e a-d-v-e-n-c-h-u-r-r. Gosh, Kookie. If you want me to bring you along in my journeys, you have to keep up.” Jungkook only nodded, trying his best to stifle a chuckle. He won the 3rd grade spelling bee, so he was at least 85% confident the word adventurer didn't have a 'ch' in it.

He decided to let it go though. He knew—the same way he knew that you’d certainly cry if he corrected you—that you were afraid of heights. If it took weeks to encourage you to finally climb a roof, he was the certain you wouldn’t be able to handle the height of the galaxy. But then again, he always had a soft spot for you. “I’m building a space ship right now actually! Its called the Bon Voyage. When it's finished, I’m going to Pluto. You won’t believe how big space is. There are strawberries there!"

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your silly declaration, and even then, he felt sad. He knew that being a space adventurer—being able to maneuver gravity and time on your own whims—was only an innocent imagination of escapism, but still. Every single time you’d flinch when a hand was brought up near you, every time you’d pull on your jacket despite it being hot, he wished your imagination could be real. Wished he could make it real for you—keep you safe from earth and all your troubles.

“I’d like to see the strawberries.. with you,” Jungkook smiled softly. You grinned, and it was the most precious thing Jungkook saw as you stuck your pinky finger out. “Then it’s settled, I’m taking you with me.”

“To pluto?” He wrapped his small finger with yours, and you sealed it with your thumbs pressed against each other's. “To pluto!”

Jungkook was in a fit of laughter, and despite burying your face further into your hands, you couldn't help but smile. “I can’t believe you knew I was lying. God, I must’ve looked like a total idiot.” His elbows were pressed against yours now, sending a surge of warmth to your heart at the familiar skin ship. Jungkook must have not noticed, for he only kept giggling, and you certainly wouldn't bring it up. “It was cute, really. The strawberries and everything. It was really cute.”

"Whatever, Jungkook," you rolled your eyes, and uncovering your eyes, you looked at him. Truly looked at him this time. His smooth, unwrinkled uniform. His hair that grew over time, kissing past his eyelashes and swaying with the wind. The tiny mole peeking under his bottom lip, the familiar scrunch of his nose as he grinned widely. The speckled brown of his eyes were so warm, almost dreamlike against the golden sun. Under long years of an uncalled contact, of an untouched hand, of a voiceless wonder—‘how have you been?’ ‘what was on your mind today?’—you saw the Jungkook you once knew, your dearest friend. And with his smile, you found your heart aching and full at the same time.

ringggggg!

The alarm jolts the both of you, severing spring’s heartbeat as loud chatter and footsteps disrupt the moment from open windows.

You only stare at each other for a brief second before you give a half smile, “that's the bell, we should go.” Without waiting for an answer, you followed the pace of the rest of school, but before you could take a step down the staircase, Jungkook takes your hand. His grip isn’t tight or rough. Its gentle, reluctant. You turn around, and the sun is behind him, kissing the back of his head with its golden, stray flakes.

"What is it?" You furrowed your brows. “I...its just..." It takes a moment before Jungkook speaks, cheeks tinged with a faint red. "Y/n I, I miss—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt in masked panic, averting your eyes as you pulled your hand back. In truth, you were scared. Finals week would be soon and you didn’t think you could handle any more mental strain than you already had, especially not with him. “I-I think we’re going to be late.” Jungkook eyes widen for a second, stricken with dejection. He mumbles, “right...”

You don’t dare to look at him, turning away, you say, “it was nice talking to you again. Bye, Jungkook.”

ACT 2. | DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR

The second time you see Jungkook again, the spring showers are sharp against your skin. You had just gotten off from your 6 hour shift, and where the sunset hues of timid pink and vibrant yellow were supposed to be, the overcast sky was instead. It's been about 30 minutes since you clocked off, but you knew your dad was home, so you decided to take the long way back.

It didn't matter that you were a blur of blue walking in grey tainted streets. Didn’t matter that the downpour soaked your clothes or that cars occasionally splashed you with murky road puddles. You could be anywhere, and anywhere would be better than where your dad was.

Droplets drooped down your eyelashes, dribbling down onto your phone. It’s screen illuminated your color drained face. You stared at Taehyung’s contact, biting your lip nervously.

YOU :

hey taehyung, can i come over? if that's possible of course|

hey taehyung, can i come over? i|

hey taehy/

.../

i need you|

Your thumb hovered over the tempting, blue send button. Press it, Y/n. Just press it. (But would he mind?) He said it was okay to ask for help. (But... what if he's busy right now?) It's okay to ask. (You'd just be bothering him. If you're too needy, he'll push you away, you know that.) Just press the damned—

“Y/n!” A hand reaches your back, and although it was a mere brush, you yelp in alarm, instantly stumbling back. When you're sure you're about to be submerged into a puddle, a hand firmly grasps your forearm, steadying you as the said person pulls you closer to them. The rain stops—or rather, patters against an umbrella now hovering over you. Your eyes flutter from the hand holding you to the hand holding the umbrella handle, and lastly, the holder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungkook half laughs. When you don’t reply, your mouth only agape, he adds, “are you okay?” It takes you a moment before you nod. You were close, as close two people could be under a small umbrella (or was it because Jungkook has gotten really big?), so you take a step back. But before you could feel even one raindrop on your face again, Jungkook pulls you back into him, “I don’t want you getting sick, y/n.”

“I’m already soaked anyways,” you frown, but he only disregards you. “Where are you heading?”

“Nowhere.”

When his brows threatened to crease, you add, “Got off work a few minutes ago, I was just taking a stroll.” Jungkook opened his mouth, and you were sure he was going to say something in the lines of, “in the rain? have you gone mad?” But to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers intertwine with yours. “My homes not far. Come with me?”

"Your...home?” You repeat dumbly, disregarding how warm his hand was—how you missed it, how right it felt in yours. “Yeah, if thats okay with you. If not, then mind if I walked with you?” You pause, taking in Jungkook’s attire. What he was doing in a button down, black trousers, and sleek shoes, you didn’t know—but his dry state save for the few droplets on his clothes meant that he'd much rather prefer to be under a roof. You weren’t sure if he was going to take no for an answer, and being under shelter did sound pleasant. At least, more pleasant than being in wet socks. “Okay,” you say, “take me home.”

When you arrive, you're relieved to discover Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are on a business trip. You missed the Jeons, truly—they were the only family you’ve ever known, but you didn’t think you were ready to see them again.

You remembered Jungkook’s house being an absolute palace when you were a child—modernized with elegance adorned with a scenic garden and a clean landscape—but it still didn’t fail to leave your jaw agape. Expansive was always an understatement. “Here, get changed,” Jungkook hands a towel, an oversized sweater and sweatpants, and of course, fuzzy socks. You only nodded as he led you through the familiar halls to his room. “Just call for me when you’re done, kay?”

“Mm,” you mumbled, still in a daze even after he left. Bittersweet nostalgia filled your nostrils with the scent of vanilla and almonds, a soy candle he still apparently loves. It's only been three years since you’ve last set foot on his grey, hardwood floors, but you still noticed the subtle changes. Instead of pokemon action figures—burnished, golden trophies filled his glass shelves. They were only a few Jungkook was really proud of, otherwise his room would be brimmed with his accomplishments.

Picture perfect polaroids capturing euphoric memories and cheerful grins scattered Jungkook's walls. A refined stereo set replaced the bright blue boom box of your childhood, the one covered with doraemon stickers and scratches. Memories of 4th grades' January flooded your mind, when the blandness of the month was disrupted with color as the two of you jammed to Ego by JHOPE on repeat. Jungkook may have added and taken a few things out, but you found anchor in what stayed the same. His plants that hung from the ceiling were still there, ivies draped with growth over the past years. Kim Namjoon, Jungkook’s long time idol, smiled from a framed poster on his wall. Everything was still polished with his neatness, a habit you had always commended him for.

As you dried your damp hair, a photo frame catches your eye, sitting on the side of his bookshelf. Your breath catches in your throat. You slowly walk to the dainty item, painted white and blue to resemble noon skies. In the corner of the frame ignited a bright, pale limerence. Sparks of vivid blue and tangerine whipped through the wooden confines. You felt your heart thump against your chest. It was a—

"Daytime shooting star!" You gleamed, holding a paint brush into the sky, the handle rough from years of dried paint. It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after the end of seventh grade. Cicadas sung adamant songs through Jungkook's cracked open window as the two of you sat on his floor, blanketed with a fuzzy iron man carpet.

He looked at you quizzically, "a daytime shooting star?" As far as Jungkook knew, there was no such thing. "Yeah," you chirp. "That's you, Kook. You're my daytime shooting star." Jungkook nearly dropped his paint brush then, risking his favorite carpet as he looked at you, wide eyed with stun. You were wearing his t-shirt as per usual, your face smudged with blue paint and an innocent smile. Jungkook hated you for it.

It was always your choice of words—my Jungkook, my Kook, my Kookie, and now, my daytime shooting star—that he swore would be the death of him every single time. He didn't even know what you meant, but he didn't care, because being called yours was enough to kill him.

"Th-Thats stupid," he mumbled as he looked away, a futile attempt to hide his burning cheeks. "That doesn't even make sense." When the air shifted to silence, Jungkook immediately regretted his words. He quickly turned back around, fearing he accidentally hurt your feelings due to his own fluster. Maybe that was when Jungkook realized you really had grown up since the 6th grade, because this time, tears didn't drip down your cheeks. Instead, your eyes were curious and doe as you tilted your head to your side. "Does it matter?"

"What?

“A lot of things don’t make sense, but does it have to matter?” You frowned.

“I-I don’t—”

“I like you a lot, Kook,” and though you weren't at the least bit shy saying so, Jungkook’s emotions exploded everywhere. “I don’t think you need reasons to like someone, but you’re my daytime shooting star, Kook, and that's my reason. Can't I just like you? Does it...does it have to make sense?”

It felt like light years as Jungkook stared, red as he looked into the golden specks of your eyes, glinting from the blazing sun. “I-I don't know,” he gulped, his voice small. He was going to leave it at that at first. He didn't know what to say—what he could say. His mind was as clumsy and berserk as a deflating balloon to your previous words, but when he saw your sullen eyes and mopey pout, he felt an inadvertent panic in his gut.

His eyes shifted to his boom box. Etched on the side of the speaker was Doraemon, giving him a childish wink and thumbs up. Jungkook groaned in annoyance and you looked up, curious as he scratched the back of his head. "M-maybe we could...see it," he mumbled, barely grumbling, but your heart leapt with every syllable of his words. "Someday, together. The—"

“Daytime shooting star.”

You jumped, instantly whirling around to see Jungkook leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his torso. His eyes were soft, as if his gaze itself caressed you. “Y-You...” your thumb grazed the flimsy wood. “You still have this.”

“Yeah, and I still don’t have a photo,” he chuckled, making his way towards you. “14 years of friendship and you’d think we’d finally have a perfect picture to put in the frame.” It was pretty silly now that you thought about it. Despite spending a whole summer’s day decorating the item with childlike ambivalence, you never allowed Jungkook to slide a photo in it. No, it couldn’t just be any glossy photograph. You fussed over the concept of a perfect portrait, but nothing ever satisfied you enough, and with each passing year, it must've slipped your mind.

“I don’t get it... We haven’t talked for like, three years, and you still have this?”

"Does it have to make sense that I did?” Jungkook tilted his head, his eyelids lowering to look down at you. You open your mouth to reprimand him for using your words against you, but no words come out. Fuck. You swear it was his eyes—you’ve always said they were full of magic when you were children. It must’ve been that damned spellbinding luster that stole your voice. “What did you mean?” Jungkook takes a tentative step forward.

“Huh?” It came out like a breath.

Maybe it was the dim incandescence of the room, complementing the silhouette of his sculpted physique. Maybe it was the fact that the cloth he wore seemed too thin, too tense around his biceps and broad shoulders. Maybe it was because his first three buttons were left unclasped, teasing the faint outline of his chest. Or maybe it was the fact that you were so used to being in eye level with him—hell, looking down at him in the earlier points of your life. But you realized then, as Jungkook stared at you with a glint you couldn’t seem to quite recognize, how small you felt in front of him. Under him.

“When you said I was your daytime shooting star. You never explained it to me, what you meant,” Jungkook takes one final step forward, and the distance between you is insignificant. You don’t move—didn’t even think you could with your back pressed against his bookshelf. You could only return his gaze, doe eyes wavering beneath his. “What I meant to you...what I still mean to you.”

Your breath hitches, “Kook...”

“Fuck, I missed that,” his voice is low, breathless as his fingers brush your cheeks. “So fucking much, Y/n. I missed you calling my name, whatever you say. Kook, Kookie, Jungkook—I don’t care, just missed your voice, I still do. Don’t you know? Everyday, how much I long for you?”

Your eyes widen at his assertion. Wherever this was coming from, you didn't have the heart to stop it. "J-Jung—"

“—I miss you, Y/n. Any time I'm not around you it hurts and every time I am it hurts even worse.” His voice is so gentle, you fear he could hear the rhythm of your heart beat, palpitating with the heavy raindrops against his window.

“Why....why did you push me away?”

The waves were restless that cold, autumn night—you saw it through the fogged window of the train. Exhaustion tugged your eyes and your muscles screamed with every movement. As the train tracks rumbled beneath you, you wondered if you were even alive anymore, at least, it didn’t feel like it. All that was certain to you was the midnight stars outside, following you no matter where you went.

You didn’t know when the train entered the station, sighing to a stop as the doors slid open with a loud gush. It was probably 2am—Maybe 3, and the carts didn’t hold people this time around. At least you didn’t think it did, you honestly didn’t have the energy to even think about it. You only wondered how further you could go without knowing exactly how far you already went. Your neck ached from your head hanging low, and if it was cold, you didn’t feel it. All you felt was numb. An aching, dull pain eating away at your heart.

It was when you heard rushed heaves and loud footsteps that your eyes widened to see a familiar pair of green converse stop in front of you. You lift up your head to see Jungkook, cheeks red either from crying or the cold, maybe both. His brows were deeply furrowed as he crouched down, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“C-Can you hear me, Y/n? Are—are you okay?” You only nodded. He felt like a mirage, a dream.

You didn’t know what he saw in you that caused the droplets of sorrow to drip from his eye—whether it was the bruises covering your body, or the deep eye bags from restless nights at work—but it made you sad, how he looked at you. You wished he’d stopped. You wished you could be so far away that he didn’t have to look at you anymore.

“You’re, fuck, you’re freezing,” Jungkook quickly pulls his coat off and swathes it around you. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here earlier.” You shook your head, your dull headache being replaced with confusion. “Why are you even apologizing, Kook? H-How did you even find me? Why are you even here?” You had turned off your cell the whole day and gave no indication to where you’d be. You didn’t even tell Jungkook how you were feeling, it made no sense to see him there, holding you.

“We’re soulmates remember? Of course I’d know,” Jungkook tries his best to give a smile. “I’m here because you are. Just—look, lets get you out of here first okay?” Before you can tell him you can walk by yourself, he lifts you up, taking your hand as he leads you out. “The next train back to Seoul arrives in 8 minutes,” Even when Jungkook and you sit down on a bench, he doesn’t let go. He’s shaking, you realize, with his fingers intertwined with yours. It was as if he wanted to hold you tighter, but he was afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of hurting you? Or afraid of you hurting him if you slip out of his grasp any further?

“How did you know?” You begin again. “I told you I was sick, I called the school too. A-and how did you even know where I was?”

“You called in sick for three days Y/n,” he frowns, “and you haven’t texted me once. I was so worried, fuck, I was so fucking worried when I went to your house to see that you weren't there. All my calls went straight to voice mail, and I saw...I-I saw the shattered beer bottles, the blood. I-I panicked, even thought of calling the police,” when your face goes rigid, he assures you, “of course I wouldn’t though, I would never do that you. But anyway, it took me awhile to guess, and I wasn’t even sure—just started running. I imagined you’d definitely be in a space ship to Pluto right about now, but I took a risky bet on the train station. You know, being much more accessible to us and all.” When Jungkook finishes light heartedly, you give a dry laugh, “you know me so well, Koo."

His small grin falls shortly as silence does, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on your hand. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, sad, “You always...you always said you’d bring me. We’re a team aren’t we? You and me, I-I thought...I would’ve been there, Y/n. You know I'd be there for you in a heartbeat. Don't you trust me?”

"Of course I trust you, Kook," you quickly assure him through your thin veil of tears. It hurt too much to know you were the reason for the crack in his voice, for the ache in his heart, for his glazed eyes. You couldn't stand his pity, but you couldn't stand being the source of his grief either. "Then why didn't you call me..? All I ever wanted was to be there for you, all I ever want is to be by your side, y/n. Why won't you just let me help you?”

“Because you don’t understand, Kook,” you croak. “You don't understand how hard it is for me—how hard it's always been. It'll only ever always be like this, and I-I can't just...fuck Kook, I can't just depend on you every time I get hurt. My problems are for me to sort out, I have no one but myself.”

“But you have me, y/n," the tears you fought so hard to hold back falls when Jungkook covers both your cheeks with his hands. The boy inhales sharply, trying to calm himself from crying any longer as he presses his forehead against yours. "It hurts me so much when you talk like that, y/n. You have me, you always have me. A-and it scares me because sometimes it just feels like I don't have you, that I never did and—"

"Jung—"

"You’ve been so distant lately," his breath is shaky and hot against your skin. "....It feels like you’re going to leave me. Please, don’t. Don't leave me behind like this, y/n.” You don't say anything else, too overwhelmed with his heartache beating with yours. In that cold autumn night, all you could do was cry in his arms.

The train arrives shortly.

“Lets go home," Jungkook murmurs sweetly against your skin. He kisses your forehead softly, and when he does, it feels like you already are home.

“Come here,” he grins, standing up with his hand out. You take it. “Have you eaten yet? I can make us food when we get back. What would you like?”

“Honestly? Just ramen.” Jungkook groans as you step inside the desolate train cart. “You know I could cook something way better for us."

"Nothing is better than ramen with eggs, Kook," you chide, giggling when Jungkook rolls his eyes. You take your hand away from him, and Jungkook tenses, only to relax when you cup his cheek once more. “But seriously, thank you, Jungkook. For everything. For worrying, being here for me, for finding me." He smiles, his eyes like crescent moons luminescent with love as he looks down at you, "always.”

"You said you'd do anything for me right?”

“Of course, anything, y/n.”

“Then please stop after this," you keep your small smile even as Jungkook's brows furrowed with confusion. You said it so simply, so plainly that he thought he might have heard you wrong. "What do you...?"

“Nothing will change after this. Nothing. I can't escape from my life, I can't escape from debt or my dad no matter how hard I try—and being the cause of your anxiety won't help me. I don't need a savior, and I don't think you need me holding you back either. We're burdening each other Kook.” With a heavy gush, the train doors start sliding shut and before Jungkook can even comprehend your words, you step out. “Don't have worry about me anymore, okay?”

“W-Wait— y/n—!” He’s quick to run, but it's too late. The doors slide shut, finally severing the thin red string of fate that held the two of you.

The rain falls with your tears as you cry into your hands, guilt washing over you like tidal waves. You remember his face the most, how heartbreak and betrayal etched with the dying fade of his smile. How you left him that day, how you left him everyday after that.

“I-I was just so tired, so tired of everything. I... I'm so sorry I pushed you away. I just didn't want you to worry about me anymore. You were always so good, everything about you, and I was scared I was holding you back and...and it hurt too much to stay knowing I was." Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand gently pulled your head to his body. You're too stunned to move, but when you gather yourself, you decide you don't want to. You just cry, burying your face into his chest, your hands tightening around his shirt.

"I never once stopped thinking about you, y/n," he mumbled into your hair. "I never once not worried, never once not looked for you, and you—god, y/n—you never once held me back. Silly girl, don’t you know you were the only one who kept me together?” Jungkook lets out a noise, somewhere in between a sigh and a groan as he lowers his head onto your shoulder, "I did everything, anything to keep myself distracted from you. Competitions, sports, art, studies, friends.” His soft hair tickled your jaw as he nuzzled closer into the crook of your neck. “But I couldn’t, y/n, it was always you, it was never not you. Do you know how torn I was, watching you and not being able to talk to you? To hold you, be afraid of losing you even more than I already had?"

The pitter-pattering of the rain against the rooftop fills the voice you can’t seem to conjure. "Did you ever miss me?” Jungkook pulls away, and your eyes lock with his under the blue world. You realize then, by looking at him, just how scared he was. If you pushed him away again, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Reluctantly, you bring your hand to sweep Jungkook's tousled bangs away, brushing your fingers against the shell of his ear. "I did," you whisper, and more clearly, "I-I did, of course I did.” When Jungkook doesn't respond, your hand trails down his neck ... to his shoulders ... to his chest. "Do you hate me?"

Jungkook inhales sharply, "N-no." He could never.

"Your heart is beating so fast.... are you afraid?"

"I am."

"I am too," you lift his hand and place it against your own chest, laying it atop your own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, you don’t catch the pink of his cheeks when you’re too busy staring at the sad stars in his eyes. "I was too, back then. I know it's selfish, and i-i'm sorry I hurt you, but I hope you understand what kind of position I was in. I was so young, so scared—I just wanted to be alone, felt like it was a way to protect myself from anything else that could hurt me. I’m different now, I think, more stable—whatever that is," you chuckle dryly. "I can’t promise I won’t push you away, but I won’t leave anymore, really, s-so...."

Jungkook's eyes soften, his lids lowering when you say, "Can you trust me?"

"Of course," Jungkook breathes, “always.”

ACT III. | EPIPHANY

"Just go to sleep already, Jeon."

You've been repeating yourself for the past 3 hours, watching him restlessly saunter around his room. "...swear i’m missing something, I just don't know what..." Jungkook, like the countless of other times, dismissed you as he continued to tap his finger on his chin, mumbling to himself in intense focus. It was only when you’ve finally had enough, groaning and hurling a tissue box at him—which he instantly caught with ease—that he finally noticed your glare. "What was that for?"

"I said just go to sleep already!" You exhaled frustratedly, "you packed your whole room at this point, Kook. I swear you have, like, triple of everything you don't even need—so for the thousandth time, could you please just shut the lights?" It's been a few weeks since that one spring evening, and time started ticking again with Jungkook by your side. It took you awhile to adjust to his company, it was odd—but everything was odd at this point. Odd but comforting when Jungkook started visiting the rooftop every lunch, odd but reassuring when he'd pick you up after every shift, and odd but exciting to spend the night with him before the anticipated field trip to Jeju island. The four days were a granted escape before the tumultuous finals of the upcoming winter. Even you were a bit eager to go, having finally taken a justified leave off work.

"Fine, fine, but if I do end up forgetting something important, I blame you," Jungkook huffs, sauntering to the light switch. “Go ahead,” you roll your eyes, and with a small click!, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. “Finally,” You snuggled into his pillows, but when the bed dips down right next to you, you realized you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to shut his mouth as well. "Will you sit next to me on the way there?" You squinted to the darkness, raising your brows at the silhouette of his figure. "Jungkook, you're literally my only friend, do you even need to ask?" He chuckled, "but will you? We don't have to sit with my friends if you don't want to."

You hummed, thinking as Jungkook carefully brushed loose strands of hair away from your face, the warmth of his fingers trailing down the side of your neck. You were reluctant about being seen with Jungkook at first, but the choice wasn't left to you when his friends spotted you and him at the library sometime ago. It honestly wasn't as bad as you expected, and more surprisingly, you even clicked with a few with them. Seokjin was one you gravitated to the most, being a truly funny and charming senior that you felt you could look up to. "No, it's fine. I like your friends." Jungkook’s head perked up, and the darkness captures the bright twinkle in his eyes. "Really, you do?" You smile, knowing how happy that must have made him. "Really, I do. Now can we please go to sleep? I'd like to be at least remotely awake for the first day."

“Okay, okay, grumpy head," a bunny like grin appears on his face as pinches your cheek, chuckling when you only grumble in return.

He strokes your hair down one last time before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good night, y/n.”

"Good night, Kook," the reassuring warmth of his skin leaves yours, and you hear him shuffle in his own mattress on the floor. It's been awhile since you've felt like this, so safe. Though it didn't necessarily matter, being with Jungkook was different with Taehyung, you noticed. When it came to Taehyung, it was as if all your problems could dissipate with his touch. That for a moment, they could just disappear.

When it came to Jungkook, though, your problems were still there. They existed, they were real, and yet, when you with him, it felt like everything would be okay. He was like a breath fresh air, and you felt like you could get through anything—whatever it may be, as long as he was there. With that thought, you slowly, but surely, drifted to sleep.

ringgggg!! ringgg!!! ringggg!!

What happened afterwards came in fragments of fuzzy memories, distorted with exhaustion. It was the phone ringing first, then it was the shuffle of Jungkook rising from his mattress. The ringing, his heavy yawn, the ringing, groggy footsteps, the ringing, the clatter of the drawer—and finally, silence. "Y/n...?" His voice barely reached where your mind was, deep inside the depths of whatever dream dimension you were in. "Y/n," he said again. No reply. "Y/n... Y/n!"

"What?!" You groaned, lazily sitting up with a snarl and a bed head. The ringing starts again and you rub your eyes to where your phone screen illuminated Jungkook's face. "What is it?" You mumble, a little concerned to his expression. "God, is it Mrs. Joomi again? I just paid this month’s rent like a few d—"

"Mr. Kim."

You freeze. The two, single words are akin to iced buckets of water being splashed onto your face, instantly waking you up.

"Taehyung with a heart and moon emoji—but that's Mr. Kim, isn't it? In that photo? That's his first name." Your heart lurches forward. 태형☽<3, displaying a low quality photo of him that you secretly took while he was preparing breakfast. It was once a happy morning, and this was once a happy night—disrupted by its forbidden rays of joy.

When Jungkook finally looks at you through the stark darkness, you can only stare back, your heartbeats filling the silent stun of your dry throat. The bubbly melody stops, and when you don't say anything, Jungkook's voice grows louder, "Y/n what—what the hell is this? Why is Mr. Kim calling you at 3am? Why do you have a photo of him? Why is his contact—"

"J-Jungkook," You nervously moved to sit on the front edge of the bed, attempting to speak as calmly as you can. Jungkook would understand...right? He wouldn't tell, he couldn't. He knows you, your financial situation. It was okay. "Remember when you asked me not to push you away? Well, this is me letting you in. This is me trusting you Jungkook, so please just hear me out." Under the moonlight's glower, you see the bob of his adam's apple rise and fall. "Taehyung, he—"

"Taehyung?" You wince, the acidity of his voice like bitter poison. "I-I mean, Mr. Kim. M-Mr. Kim, he...helps me."

"Helps you?" Jungkook scoffs. "At 3am? How could he—" Suddenly, Jungkook's eyes go wide. "Y/n, you don't mean..."

You nod stiffly, "he gives me money in exchange for....i-its consensual! He helps me," your cheeks heat up, hating yourself for allowing this to happen, having to explain yourself. “A-anyway the point is, you won't tell anyone, right? You understand, don't you, Kook?"

"Understand?! Y/n—he’s a teacher! He's seven fucking years older than us—are you stupid, what were you thinking?!" The sting of his words ring in your ears like a harsh slap across your face. Throughout your years together, Jungkook had barely had the heart to scold you, so you were more than unprepared for his hurtful words. Your shock quickly subdues into anger though, and you stand up, “what I was thinking? What I was thinking?! I don't know Kook, maybe thinking about my fucking electric bill! Thinking about how to pay off debt—how to buy food for fuck's sake! I've looked after myself my whole life, and this is no different."

"Still—This is wrong, y/n! You know that! There are other ways like, like—"

"Like what Jungkook?!" You're in front of him now, pushing at his chest. "Working my ass off in nine to fives? Well I do that, Kook, every fucking day and yeah, a fucking disappointment for me too that it's not enough. You could never know how its like for me, but out of everyone, you're supposed to...! You’re supposed to understand,” you chuckle bitterly, shaking your head as a futile attempt to shake the hot tears away.

"Y/n...” Jungkook’s anger diminishes into a frustrated panic. He tries to reach for you, hold you, anything to keep you from crying because of him—but you turn away, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He sighs harshly, his voice much softer now, “I just—out of all these years, you could've asked me. I was always there, y/n, and you never accepted me. I know we talked about this already, but the fact that...” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do understand, but I was always here. I was your best friend, why did you have to go to him? Am I...am I that unreliable to you?"

Your own heart sinks for him this time, quickly shaking your head. “No, Kook. I-It's not like that. I'm sorry this has to be so complicated, that i've made you feel small. You are reliable, Jungkook. You're my safe place, my person—always have been. I appreciated you so much but you need to understand how terrible it felt for me back then. I hated being pitied by you. You’re my friend, not a fucking philanthropist."

Jungkook takes your hand this time, "I never wanted to help you because I pitied you, y/n. You were always so strong, I don't think you could ever be someone I could pity. I wanted to help because I cared for you, loved you, and it breaks my heart knowing that you went through such lengths when you could've turned to me."

You sigh, threading your hands over the back of his hair. "It was all just circumstantial, Kook. Taehyung found me at a really low point in my life. I didn't search for it, but he was there and i’m thankful for yim, so please Jungkook, please." Your eyes wavered beneath his sad stare, hoping, pleading. Jungkook bites on his lip, cursing, "look...I won't tell on you if that's what you're thinking. I would never do that to you, i'm just worried. He's calling you at nearly 4am, y/n—shit, h-has he hurt you? Did he ever make you do anything you didn't want to?" Jungkook looks frantic for a second, but you quickly shake your head. "N-no! No, god no, he's never hurt me! You know him Kook, Tae would never hurt me." You miss how you even said Tae or how Jungkook's jaw clenched to it.

"I won't say anything, y/n, at least...not yet. You have to end it."

"W-What?"

"He took advantage of you in a low position in your life, y/n."

"N-No Kook, you don't understand!"

"It's not your fault, y/n, it's completely his. He's the adult here, it was wrong. You have to end this."

"But I can't! The money, Kook, you know I can't."

"Then let me help you," he steps closer. Your hands slide to his chest now, shaking your head. "No, Jungkook, my answer has been no and its still no. I refuse to be your charity case," you scoff. "Then you're not going to be. I'll pay you to sleep with me too."

Your eyes instantly shoot open. What..?

"I'll pay you to sleep with me," he repeats calmly. "Anytime you need it, anytime I want it, and I'm certain I'll be able to give you more than whatever Mr. Kim could." Your mouth only hangs open, words dying in your dry throat.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, taking a step closer. This time, you take a step back. "If you were fine with doing it with Mr. Kim, shouldn't it be fine with me?"

"N-No," your voice is barely a shaky whisper. More clearly, "No, Jungkook. I can't just—we just started talking again. You're my only friend, I won't ruin us just for—"

"I won't let anything happen to us, I promise y/n."

"B-but—"

"You don't have to worry about it, okay? Plus, isn't this situation more ideal? You'd get paid more and you wouldn't have to rely on—"

"I love him!"

Its Jungkook's turn to be silent. "What..?"

"I love him Kook," you croak, heat overwhelming your cheeks.

"Y/n..."

"I know it's wrong, I know he seems like an asshole but he's not. I know him, Kook, and i’m mature enough to know myself too. I made my decision back then, and I keep making it today because...I love him." You can’t help but feel your anguish trickle down your eyes, and you cry into your hands. That’s it then. It’s done. You’ve finally admitted it, yet despite the burden of the untold truth lifting—you felt heavier, worse. By now, Jungkook would’ve pulled you into a warm embrace. He’d hush you with soothing murmurs and delicate kisses on your forehead. He’d trail his fingers through your hair, tell you that he knew, that he gets it, that it was okay. But he doesn’t. He couldn’t. You were crying for another man, and all he could feel was ache.

Your phone rings once more, and from the night stand, you see Taehyung’s figure on the dimmed screen. You reluctantly look at Jungkook, but when he doesn’t say anything, his expression unreadable, you take it. "H-hello?"

"Hey, doll," Taehyung's voice is low. "I’m sorry I keep calling, I feel really shit for waking you up at this time. I know the Jeju trip is in a few hours, but I just needed to talk to you."

"No, no, its fine. I was already awake anyways, um...what is it?" You turned away from Jungkook, nervously biting on your lip. Despite everything that had unfolded between the two of you, it was strange. Taehyung never called you at this time after all—and him saying you guys needed to talk only heightened your nerves.

"It's better to talk in person. Where are you? I can pick you up." You shake your head, despite not him being able to see you. "N-No, i’ll come over...is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course, I'll see you soon." With that, the call ends. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on your back—its overwhelming, and you’re scared to face the definite disgust and judgement in his them, so you don’t look at him when lift your bag across your shoulder. "I’m sorry, I...I need to go.”

ACT IV | LOVE IS NOT OVER

Jungkook hasn't seen you since last night. You never showed up at the meeting spot, never answered his calls or texts—never even once read the 68 of them.

He was certain you came, though—he checked in with Mrs. Yoon before boarding, but you were always good at hiding, and Jungkook was always an impatient seeker. The whole process of arriving, checking into the hotel, and splitting into groups was a whole blur that ended in him never finding you. After spending hours exploring the designated routes through antique shops, cute cafes, pretty sceneries, and meadows with his friends, he started to fear that you didn't come after all—that Mrs. Yoon had made a mistake.

Surely, he would've bumped into you at least once through the whole trip. And where the fuck was Mr. Kim? Jeju was supposed to be the pinnacle of his highschool experience. He’d be elated with the giddiness of being out with his friends, kissed with the gift of delicious freedom. But it was 7:46 PM now, and even when he overlooked the vast beach dipped with sunset's entrancing glow, he felt anything but. Not when Seokjin cracked his lame dad jokes, nor when Eunha got him to bike through scenic trails.

Jungkook sighed as the strawberry milk clattered to the bottom of the vending machine. He spotted it tucked away from the corner of the museum his group wandered into. He excused himself, relieved that their chaperone actually trusted him to be by himself. He needed the space.

He poked the straw through the carton, leaning against the cold metal as his eyes gazed over the glistening waves. He hated you. Always leaving him like this, always making him restless and unsure.

It was when he looked for the moon in the dusk sky that he noticed a familiar silhouette amidst the shore. It wavered with the wind, and Jungkook instantly felt his scorn. The man's jeweled hand was holding a cigarette between two fingers, overlooking the ocean with distant eyes.

Fuck the sand, fuck his expensive shoes, fuck everything. Jungkook doesn't know when he starts running, but he doesn't stop.

It all happened so past—the sun would have missed it if not for the perfect view she had just over the excited ripples of the ocean. When Taehyung noticed his presence, it was already too late. Jungkook had grabbed his collar, and without a second of hesitance, punched him across his face. Taehyung fell into the sand with a grunt, cursing loudly. “What the fuck?!” He turned to his perpetrator, his glare quickly diminishing into pure shock to see his own student right in front of him, eyes poisoned with resentment and hatred.

Taehyung's emotions came whirling at him all at once. The confusion, then the anger, the urge to scream at him and punch him until he was left bleeding on the shore—then the mediating side of him, understanding that he'd done more than enough to get his ass fired, why the fuck would he...?—then the realization. He sighs roughly, shaking his head as he stands. He isn't up for long though, as Jungkook takes another swing. Taehyung’s cheeks scream with stinging pain, but Jungkook’s on top of him, and he doesn’t stop.

"You fucking bitch!" Jungkook seethed, barely feeling his fist continuously bury into Taehyung’s face. He knew. He knew how much you loved him, he knew Taehyung helped you. He knew you'd get angry, maybe even hate him for the rest of his life for this—But maybe that's why he couldn't control himself. He didn't care if you thought Taehyung was some angel. To him, Taehyung was just a disgusting predator who took advantage of your situation, and deep down, maybe it was more for a selfish reason. Taehyung was a man who touched you, who had you—who wasn’t him. "You disgusting fuck. Don't ever fucking touch y/n again, you hear me?!" Another hit, but Jungkook is too blinded with anger to realize the scary amount of blood drooling down his nose and lips, from the cuts of his cheeks. "I know," Taehyung rasps.

"If you know then why did you do it?! You’re a fucking creep, you’re disgusting.”

"I know," another hit, and blood stains his shirt. Taehyung curses and grabs Jungkook's fist before he can throw another punch, pushing him into the sand. "You dick, I swear to god, I swear to fucking god I'll fucking kill you." Jungkook thrashes under Taehyung, but the teacher buries both his wrists into the ground, his weight holding the younger boy down.

“Sh-Shit, Look, I know how you must feel about me, and I know I deserve this, but I would much rather avoid being seen like this so I'm going to say this quick and you're going to listen."

"Fuck you," Jungkook growls, glaring at the man on top of him. His eyes were unreadable, almost enigmatic, and Jungkook hated every unwavering speckle of deep brown in it.

"I don't regret it," Taehyung disregards him. "I liked her—y/n—and no matter what you think of me, that stands true. You must like her too, she told me about you some nights. I have to admit, hearing about another boy when she's laying in my own bed wasn't very pleasant for me, but you made her happy. You mean a lot to her," Jungkook shut his eyes tightly, cursing as he tried to get the image of Taehyung holding you in his arms out of his mind. "I know you don't think I care about her, but I do, so just fucking listen for a second okay? I know i'm no good for her, but you aren't either. You're too immature, we both know y/n deserves way more. See where you are now? Right under me when you could be there for her? Have you even seen her today? Have you asked her how she's been?"

"What... what the fuck are you saying."

Taehyung sighs, and stumbles back to stand, wincing as the harsh winds slap his bloodied face. He nimbly looks for his cigarette, and before he lights it, Jungkook grabs his lighter. "I said what the fuck do you mean?!"

"I ended it with her," Taehyung glares at him, his voice firm, cold as he snatches the lighter back. Jungkook feels his heart drop. “You...what?"

There's silence, and when the man turns to look at the sun drowning into the ocean’s abyss, he lights the cigarette, "the fireworks are starting soon." Jungkook's eyes widens. Before he knows it, he's already running.

You’ve always loved the fireworks.

His footsteps that were submerged into sand were now padding against the concrete of the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his ears. A few cars must have honked at him here and there as he ran through the streets, unknowing of his surrounding because all he can think of his getting to his destination—you. He frantically reaches for his phone, panting.

You

JK : where are you?

my love : my room

my love : 613, 7th floor

JK : on my way.

ACT V. | HOLD ME TIGHT

At least the fireworks were pretty.

Your eyelids drooped, puffed with drowsy red as you watched the sparkling scene on the balcony of the hotel. Evening's cold breeze teased your bare legs, dancing with the delicate ends of your black, satin nightgown. You were hugging yourself yourself, leaning against the cold railings as sparks of vivid red shatter into memories tainted with heartbreak. The red silk sheets that you grasped tightly beneath you. The red lingerie that Taehyung slid off your skin. The red wine he poured into the pan when you told him you were hungry. You liked watching him the most, you thought as he stood in front of the stove, his eyes trained on the steak. You liked watching him unbutton his top, talk about his day, how he let out loud laughter whenever a funny story would come up. You loved when he unveiled himself for you, when he'd strip off his enigmatic persona bare and let you peer into his soul.

But that's all you ever did, you guessed, all you ever could do. You watched him when he smiled down at you, his cold fingertips brushing your waist, and you watched him as he left.

It must've been 4 minutes into the firework show when you heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, you leave the balcony as yellow ignites the night sky. You open the door to Jungkook, his chest heaving up and down, his hair tousled by wind, beads of sweat sticking to his neck.

When he doesn't say anything, and neither do you, you step aside to let him in. You wonder if he was still angry about last night, how he'd react when you tell him—but with the way he looked down at you, tender eyes dawned with sadness, you already understand you don’t have to. "I know," Jungkook steps closer, pulling you into a hug. His warmth embraces you as darkness does when the door clicks shut. "What happened, I know."

You sighed, closing your eyes. The fireworks sounded so distant compared to his heartbeat. Jungkook must've ran for you, you thought as your buried your face into his chest. Of course he would, he always has. Maybe that certainty is what intoxicates you to murmur, "I'll accept it."

"What?"

"What you proposed last night, I'll accept it," you say calmly, quietly. You looked up at him with wavering eyes, "please...I need you right now."

Jungkook's heart practically lurched out of his chest. He knew he should take a step back, tell you that you'd end up regretting it and to take it back before it was too late. He knew, but the devil on his shoulder was much more insistent than his angel, and maybe... maybe his angel wanted it too—so fuck it all.

Jungkook took your lips in a magnetic dance, drawing you closer into him with one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head.

God, you were so lovely. How your head lolled for him, soft, plush lips jarred open. Jungkook has always been good at controlling himself when it came to you, but when he heard the slightest whimper escape your trembling lips, he felt he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He didn't seek for permission to suck your lower lip, didn’t even seek permission to slide his tongue inside your lovely little mouth when you gasped. He held your chin, deepening the kiss. More, more, more—he wanted more of you. He wanted to explore your body, wanted to make your breath tremble, wanted to find out what you liked and disliked under bedsheets. Jungkook wanted to know you better than anyone else had. He wanted you, needed you.

“Kook,” You whimper into him as he pushes you against the wall, holding your thigh up. He grinds his bulge against your clothed cunt, sending wild tremors along your nerves. “F-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He takes your other thigh, and you yelp as he lifts you up. Your surprise quickly washes out with haze when he buries his thick tent further into you. You let out a moan, wrapping your legs around his torso. “I can make you feel even better.”

The explosions of the fireworks are blurred with the palpitations of your heart as Jungkook lays you on the bed, his lips immediately finding home in yours. "Love how you sound for me, love," Jungkook’s wet, needy kisses trail down your neck...to your collarbones...to your breast. “So pretty like this, always so pretty,” his fingers ghost your sensitive nipples, perked from evening's cold. He doesn't waste any time to take one nipple into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other.

His cold hand trails down your stomach, finally pressing it down your soaked underwear. He smirks, feeling the soaked outline of your pussy lips. “Already so wet for me baby? How cute."

His plush lips leave your nipple with a pop, instead latching onto the crook of your neck. Your eyes go wide when you realize what he's about to do. “Wait, d-don’t! Not th—ah.” He doesn't allow you to finish your sentence, swiftly sliding your underwear out of the way before pressing a hard thumb over your clit. “Don't deny me, y/n,” His voice is low over your whiny moans. He sucks on the supple of your skin as he slides one, slender finger into you, smoothly drawing it in and out while he rolls your little bud with his other. “Please, need to show everyone that you’re mine,” he murmurs, licking his work, perfectly tinged with a pretty pink . “Besides...” he trails, taking note of your arousal dripping down his wrists. “You love this, don’t you?”

“N-No..! I...ah, K-Kook, Kookie..!” Your voice fails you, moans escaping from your trembling lips. “Jungkook s-stop..!” Jungkook frowns against your skin, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze. “Why not?” His eyes are dark. You try to fight the muddle of your mind as his slow, tentative fingers continue to work on your cunt. “B-Because...because student c-council. It's inappropriate, and your friends will ask, a-and... mm!—“

“Taehyung?” Jungkook says bitterly, but you’re too indulged with the knot in your stomach. You moan loudly, your hands finding anchor wrapped around his biceps. “I'm sure you don’t want Taehyung to see, do you?” Jungkook's pace is furious now, and you barely make out his words through the thick fog of your mind. You feel so close. “Don’t want him to know that you're with me, hm? That i’m finger fucking you into my dumb whore."

His indecent words paint a wild blush on your cheeks. You never knew Jungkook could be like this, could be so mean.

"You know what I think..."

Jungkook lowers himself down between your sweaty thighs, quivering with painful pleasure. "''Think my dumb babygirl wants me to clean her messy little pussy up. Would you like that, love?"

"Y-Yeah," you moan, desperately bucking your hips up, "p-please eat me out, Kook."

"Needy girl," Jungkook lets out a sigh, his pants tightening around his painful hard on. You were so pretty like this, Jungkook swore he could cum just by watching you.

You almost cry when he pulls his fingers away, instead squeezing around your squishy hips. You do cry, though, when he gives your pussy a tantalizing lick, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Knew my baby girl would taste so sweet," he groans. His tongue circles around your throbbing bud, sucking on it.

"Fuck! K-Kook, I-I can't," you wail, tears falling down your cheeks. Jungkook only flutters his eyes open, watching you with heated eyes as his tongue works on your wet cunt.

"Please, g-gonna cum, please!" Your back arches. Jungkook's hands the only thing anchoring you down.

"Then cum, baby, cum for me." Jungkok's voice is tender, coaxing like warm honey. With his encouragement, your dripping cunt spasms, unfurling your cream all over him. "That's my girl," His attentive tongue takes your sweet release, the embarrassing sound of slurping clouding your brain.

"You were so good for me, baby," He cooes, planting one final kiss on your quivering bud. Your cheeks tinge with a shy pink.

He lifts himself up, carefully laying over you so his forehead is pressed against yours. His eyes search yours under the veil of the moonlight. The fireworks must've stopped along the way, your heavy breaths filling the quiet room. "Tired, love?" Jungkook whispers, and you nod timidly, reaching your arms out to hug him.

Your skin is sticky with sweat like melting ice cream on hot summer days, but Jungkook adores his body pressed against yours. His fingers squeeze your smooth waist, placing gentle kisses on your neck, up your jaw, capturing your lips once more in a slow dance. A thin string line of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls back, and he breaks it off with a gentle graze across your wet lips.

"Think you can continue for me, baby?" Jungkook asks soothingly. "It's okay if you can't, of course. Must've been such a long day for you."

You shake your head, your hand lightly tracing the outline of the small scar on his cheek. You still remember the day he fell off his bicycle, somehow managing to tumble down the hill all the way to the train tracks. It must've been the first time you ever saw him cry.

"I want to."

"Are you sure?" His eyebrows perk up. "Because we really don't have to. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to please me. I know you took my offer, but if you aren't ready or comfortable, nothing has to happen. Believe it or not, pleasuring you already makes me feel euphoric." His words have you melt, gentle as a sweet night's lullaby.

"But I want us to feel good together," you say softly. "Please take me, Kookie. I want you." Jungkook's eyes widen, faint pink blooming on his cheeks, and you watch the stars in his eyes grow brighter with your shy gaze. He lets out a small chuckle, "god, you really don't know what you do to me, y/n."

He places a gentle peck on your lips one last time before rising to his knees, discarding his clothes. You're quick to slip off your nightdress and underwear, and you patiently admire Jungkook's toned physique as he worked to unbuckle his belt. Even the moon was enamored with him, tracing its luminous glow from his broad shoulders to his biceps, wrapping around his slim waist.

Your breath hitches when his dick springs out right in front of you, thick and swollen, oozing pre cum. Jungkook watches you with heated eyes, his hand grazing his dick. "Wow," you breathe, sitting up and replacing his hand with yours. Jungkook's hisses when you stroke his cock, doe eyed to his length that throbbed with neglect. "You're so pretty, Kookie. You're pretty everywhere..."

"I should be the one who's telling you that, darling," he lets out a shaky breath through his smile, his hand finding your cheek. "Now, i’d love for that lovely little mouth of yours to suck my cock, but I feel like i'm gonna explode any minute now, and i'd like to do so inside of you," he chuckles when a furious blush takes your cheeks. You let him push you down, positioning himself in between your legs. He takes his pulsating cock in his hands, sliding his glistening head over your cunt. "Would you like that baby? Want me to cum in this cute little pussy? Wanna take Kook's cum like a good girl?" You feel yourself shy from his words, whimpering, "y-yes please, Kookie."

"Tell me how much you want it, baby."

"S-So bad. Kookie p-please, want you to fill me up."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckled, a cocky smirk on his lips that made you tremble. "Think your tiny pussy can even take my cock?"

"Y-Yes, m'pussy wants your cock, p-please Kook!"

"Dirty girl, love it when you beg for me," he pushes the blunt head of his cock into your swelling entrance, already having you see stars by the time he fills you up whole. "You okay?" Jungkook breathes out, his forehead falling against yours. You nodded timidly, "j-just need a little time to adjust."

"Okay, baby, tell me when you're ready." He pecks your nose, letting out a shaky sigh as your walls clench around him. When you do, Jungkook takes your knees, pushing them on either side of you so your legs are spread out wide for him.

He pulls out his whole cock so he could see the flush tip of his cock before plunging back into you. You moan loudly to his even pace, bottoming you out with every thrust.

"F-fuck, been wishing for this forever. Just want to punish this pussy for making me wait for this long."

Harsh skin to skin contact and the squelch of your juices mixing together fills your fuzzy mind. You felt so full, you could practically feel him in your belly. "Shit, you're practically swallowing me. You like this, don't you?"

"Y-yeah, love your cock, Kookie," you moan, his pace growing faster and more unforgiving. "I'm never letting you go after this, fuck y/n. You're mine, you’re so fucking mine. Say it, say you're mine, p-please."

"Yours," you whimper, feeling the familiar tingling ecstasy overwhelm your stomach. "O-Only yours, Kookie."

"That's right, baby, open your mouth." You didn't know exactly why, but you didn't question him. He could tell you to do absolutely anything right now and you'd do it. Your wet lips jar open for him, and Jungkook spits in your mouth, sending a wave of tremor through your body. "Swallow."

You listen, obediently swallowing. "That's my girl."

"Kookie, kookie...m'gonna cum!"

"Again baby? You’re so easy, barely have to do anything and you're spilling." You moan to his words, thrusting in and out of you in a hypnotic pace. "Go on then, baby. Cum for me, make a mess over my balls."

Your whole body tenses, feeling the overwhelming wave wash over you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you release around him the second time. "Good girl, baby, so good for me, fuck," Jungkook hisses to your tightening walls squeezing around him, driving himself into your belly until he pours all his cum deep inside of you.

You practically drooled, his load coming out in spurts of thick cream. When he pulls out, your pussy twitches, his cum oozing out. He falls onto your chest, and your heavy pants fill the room.

After awhile, Jungkook lazily pulls you to lay over him. "Okay, baby?"

"Mm," you murmur into his sweaty chest, trying to recollect your breath. You open your mouth to thank him, but a loud explosion takes your voice. In a second, waves of yellow wash the room, then blue, then purple. Your tiredness subdues into drowsy awe. You sit up and Jungkook does too, positioning you on his lap. "I think this is the second show. Timing is fitting don't you think?"

You giggle, and Jungkook sees daylight in your eyes. "Too fitting. I'm starting to think that this was all part of some big plan."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, laughing as he tucks a hair behind your ear. "Silly girl, of course it is." You look at him quizzically. "We're soulmates aren't we? The universe is just celebrating us."

You smile, sighing as you lean into his chest. "Whatever you say, my soulmate." Jungkook's eyes widen. He felt twelve again, dumbstruck euphoria overwhelming his love for you any time you called him yours. His shock settles into a soft smile, holding you in his arms while you watch the fireworks. It takes him awhile to realize your eyes are closed though.

"Sleepy, love? Thought you loved the fireworks."

"I do," you giggle, pushing him down onto the soft mattress. You snuggle into his chest. "Just listening to your heartbeat."

Jungkook blushes. He was going to urge you to clean up, but with you looking so cozy on top of him, he knew you'd much rather rest. He sighs lovingly, stroking your hair. He hasn't felt this happy in awhile. "About your payment, I’ll wire $800 just for tomorrow, but we’ll officially talk about the—"

“Shhhh!” You grumble, burying your head further into him. “Don’t wanna talk about money right now, just let me be with you.”

Jungkook blinks, and you look up to him with a pout. Purple lights up the seoul's night sky, casting an soft glow on Jungkook’s face. He chuckles, thumb brushing your cheeks.

"Needy girl.”

a/n : wooooo this took the longest time to write. its pretty bulky so whoevers got to this point i love you sosososo and i hope you enjoyed my work ! feedback is welcome and super appreciated, reading comments really do make my day <3 i was thinking of making a sequel/continuation for this but im not so sure ,, we'll see. anyways, i hope you have a lovely day my loves ! stay hydrated and healthy, i hope you eat good food today. make sure to take care of yourself too !

#jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jk #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook scenarios #jungkook friends to lovers #kim taehyung

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inadaydream99 · 3 years

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Safe

A/N - Hey! This is just something I’ve been slowly working on for a while now. I thought I’d post this while I’m working on requests and also because I think I’m finally happy enough with how it’s turned out ☺️

It’s amazing how something you usually find so causal and comforting now suddenly puts you on edge. Never before had you felt so uncomfortable being so close in proximity to your best friend Juyeon. The way his arm is linked through yours, his fingers drawing delicate swirls along your forearm as you sit closely together in the dark room, the only light coming from the tv.

Subtle skin-ship is something that Juyeon has done since you’ve know him, a mindless habit he has that, although you’ve never bought up with him, makes you feel safe.

Except for right now. And it’s all Younghoon and Chanhee’s fault.

If they hadn’t teased you about your feelings for Juyeon, or so they adamantly believe, you never would have thought so deeply about every little ounce of contact or interaction between you and your best friend. To put it plainly, you’re insecure because of their opinions.

It’s evident you feel tense, the hairs on your arms raised as goosebumps appear in the wake of the patterns he draws. You’re hyperaware of Juyeon’s fingers as they softly trail along your skin but you’re sure he’s none the wiser to your reaction. From your peripheral vision you can see his wide eyes focused onto the movie playing out on the tv in front of you. You, however, couldn’t care less what was going on, the characters so dull and one dimensional and the plot was so confusing that you didn’t want to even try to keep up with it.

You gasp when out of the blue the scene takes a turn for the more romantic, shifting awkwardly and clearing your throat as you shuffle away from Juyeon a little. You were definitely not expecting for the two main characters to suddenly begin ripping each others clothes off in the animalistic fashion they are; growls and gritted teeth chewing away at the other in an attempt to have an interesting twist on the classic passionate love scene.

You shyly gaze to look at Juyeon, his hands now calmly placed in his lap, having drawn away from you when you’d moved. He’s still fixated on the screen, his expression unreadable and his lips etched in a firm line. You can tell he’s suppressing the awkwardness he feels, judging from the way he gulps. Not that that provides you with any more comfort as you flicker your gaze briefly back to the tv to see that it’s only getting more and more intense.

“I-” you begin, your face growing hot as the moans from the tv begin at the exact same time you decide to speak. “I’m going to get another drink.” You squeak, head bowed low as you hurriedly stand from the sofa and rush away into the safety of the kitchen.

For the first time Juyeon’s focus isn’t on the tv, instead his gaze follows you as you get away. He had no idea the movie he’d chosen to watch had a scene of such nature and the fact that it had so clearly made you uncomfortable worried him.

Closing the fridge and frantically opening the can of soda, you quickly chug as much as you can to calm your nerves. You know you’ve made it too obvious now, Juyeon’s bound to have realised how affected you are and yet, you are really hoping he hasn’t.

Why did you have to let Younghoon and Chanhee get into your head like this! It’s not like they know how you or Juyeon feel about each other. You can think of plenty of friends that have loads of skin-ship, theirs being one of them. And you refuse to admit that Juyeon could feel anything for you that isn’t platonic, so where’s the issue with being close?

“Are you ok (Y/N)?” You jump out of your dizzying thoughts, standing bolt upright as your shocked eyes land on Juyeon’s concerned gaze.

“I’m fine, really.” You meekly smile, “That scene just caught me off guard.” You let out an awkward chuckle afterwards. Neither of you are sure where to look, a silence settling between you that leaves you unsure of what to say next.

You’re not sure how you would describe the feeling you have towards Juyeon in this moment; alien-like possibly? Whatever it is, you know something is off between you. You can tell from the way he’s hardly able to look at you, his eyes constantly flickering back and forth between you and the floor.

Just as you notice Juyeon is about to speak up a sudden burst of noise interrupts. It makes you jump as you hear voices echo around you and the sound of the front door slamming shut a second afterwards.

“If I was trying you never would have won.” Eric rolls his eyes, his comment falling on Jaehyun’s deaf ears as he laughs the youngers jealous comment off. It’s apparent that they’ve gotten into some lighthearted dispute between them on their way back home, not that you can keep your mind focused onto their sassy comments.

You do notice, however, that you find yourself unable to wipe the dazed-like look from your face as you watch them both causally stroll into the kitchen where you and Juyeon are stood and begin opening cupboards, retrieving drinks and snacks without batting an eyelid at you both.

It’s not until their talking simmers down that Jaehyun notices you, his brows instantly furrowing in confusion as he eyes your tense posture.

“What’s going on here?” He tilts his head, gaining Eric’s attention from his phone screen as he leans up on the counter next to him.

“We were just watching a movie.” Juyeon responds quickly and it comes out sounding like an excuse when reality is it’s true.

“In the kitchen?” A devilishly cheeky smirk appears on Jaehyun’s face. “Where there’s no tv?” He adds, an amused laugh escaping him.

“No, in there.” Juyeon points to the living room behind him, his expression the complete opposite of his friend’s.

“Why’s it so awkward between you then?” Your attention flickers to Eric as he narrows his eyes in suspicion. You can sense that he’s sussing things out, and knowing that he is usually quite quick to catch onto these sorts of things, it’s only a matter of time before he blurts something you don’t want to hear.

You cast an unsure gaze to Juyeon, hoping he gets the message from you to quickly turn the conversation away from yourselves.

“We were just having an argument.” Your eyes almost pop out of your head with how wide they go at his sudden excuse. That was definitely not what you were thinking he’d come up with, but really you should have known better than to put Juyeon under pressure like that. It’s never turned out well previously. The only response you can give is a forced laugh, hoping you’ll simply come across as flustered.

You watch Jaehyun and Eric exchange glances before the former speaks up.

“Okayyyy, we’ll leave you to it then.” Jaehyun pushes himself off from leaning back against the counter, making his way out of the kitchen. Eric instantly follows without a word; quite unusual for him, but you do notice the sly wink he sends in Juyeon’s direction as he walks past.

You’re officially dumbfounded. As is Juyeon, judging by the way he creases his brows at Eric in response.

“They definitely think there’s something else going on between us, don’t they.” Juyeon rocks back and forth on his feet, hands stuffed into his jean pockets as you notice him trying to suppress the deep blush that begins to creep up his face.

“Probably.” You shrug. “But there’s not, right?” You shoot your friend a questioning gaze, silence once again settling between you. You instantly regret asking that, your hands becoming more and more clammy as the silent seconds pass.

“It feels like everyone thinks we’re secretly dating though. Just yesterday I had Sangyeon asking me about us.” Ah Sangyeon and his love of love, it always brings a smile to your face whenever you see him get excited by the prospect of it.

It’s incredibly endearing how much of a hopeless romantic he is. You even remember when he “accidentally” made Changmin and Eric kiss as forfeit at the last game night just because he finds it so amusing. And you love that about him. Except when it concerns you and Juyeon.

Instead, it makes you feel somewhat queasy… not in the repulsive way that most people associate the feeling with. But, rather, in a stomach twisting, heartbeat racing, head spinning, euphoric way.

“Pft, that’s ridiculous!” You awkwardly chuckle. Now you’re just as flushed as each other. “I had the same thing with Younghoon and Chanhee too.” You add, hoping that if you keep the conversation going then you won’t focus so much on how hot the room has become.

What you don’t notice, while you begin to ramble away about how persistently annoying that had been, is how Juyeon’s whole demeanour changes. He’s no longer feeling timid about sharing how he truly feels about you because now he can see that you feel the same.

“Is it though?” You freeze upon hearing Juyeon’s question, forced smile falling off your face. “Is it ridiculous?” He repeats for clarity.

You notice how his tone, despite being soft, is serious. His expression matching and his eyes now intently staring into yours.

It’s like being in a trance. You can see him moving closer to you and his arm reaching out to touch yours. But you can’t seem to break away from his stare.

“N-no.” You breath. “It’s not.”

You mimic the warm smile that slowly stretches across Juyeon’s face at your confession, simultaneously noticing the little patterns that he draws on your arm with the pad of this thumb. You instantly relax. Just knowing that he’s not scared is all you need.

“Ew! What were they watching!” You hear Eric shout in disgust, Jaehyun’s laughter following after. They must have seen the scene paused on the tv.

“Maybe we should get out of here before they tease us.” Juyeon suggests, grabbing your hand in his with an elated grin when you nod in agreement.

It’s safe to say that from then on neither of you had to worry about any more accusations from your friends. Although, the incessant teasing and pestering might not go way anytime soon.

#the boyz fluff #the boyz oneshots #the boyz drabbles #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz juyeon #tbz fluff #tbz x reader #tbz oneshots #tbz juyeon #kpop fluff #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop drabbles

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kookieswan · 3 years

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“Do you have a death wish?”

Drabble for Jimin and “Do you have a death wish?” -

Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 858

Warnings: Heavy Suggestive Themes, Drinking/Alcohol

It’s a Saturday night that’s sweltering hot, and for some reason Jimin had wanted to go out clubbing. You weren’t against the idea at all, but man there were a lot of people around. Jimin had spotted a few of his friends from the somewhat sticky table you sat at, calling them over to catch up. As lovely as they were, your drink was running dry, and you were quite thirsty. Tugging on your boyfriend’s shirt, her quickly looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. “Jimin, baby, I’m gonna head to the bar and get another drink. You want anything?” Tugging on your boyfriend’s shirt, he quickly looks over at you before his eyebrows draw up. Leaning closer, you and ask again before he lets out a little “ah”. “Yeah! I’ll take another jack and coke. You want me to come with?” Shaking your head, you tell him you’ll be fine and to stay with his friends. Tucking your wallet into your hand securely, you adjust the spicy outfit you're wearing to make sure it's properly placed. Scrambling up from your seat is hard to do with how insanely hot it is, sweat running down the back of your neck. You somehow manage it, pushing against people to make your way over to the busy bar. It’s unbelievably loud, but you manage to tune it out and focus on your current mission. Leaning against the bar, you wait for the bartender to have a few second. There’s plenty of people around, so knowing it couldn’t talk a bit, you pull out your phone to check your socials. There’s suddenly a hand grazing across your Lowe back, dangerously close to your ass, and you giggle a little thinking it’s Jimin. To your surprise, it was not Jimin, but some man you’d never seen before. He circled around you completely and smirks, leaning body against the counter. You instantly take a step back, startled by the situation. “Aw sweet cheeks don’t run away from me. We could have some fun together.” You keep your distance, unsure of what to say. Noticing that he’s leering in a repulsive fashion, you scoff as seems to be trying to catch another glance at your butt. “No thanks. I have a boyfriend.” You start to step away again, intending to go to the opposing side of the bar. You desperately just wanted a drink, not some douche nozzle hitting on you. The man doesn’t allow for that to happen though as he grabs at your hip. “Don’t be like that. I bet I could fuck you better than your boyfriend ever could.” You gawk at the man in disbelief. You give him a look of disgust and turn away from him, fully intending to just go back to your table. His hand on your waist starts to tighten, and you start to panic, but suddenly it’s pushed away. You whip your head over to see Jimin’s pink head and instantly feel relief. “Hey man, pretty sure you were told to back off. Have a good night now.” The man glowers at your boyfriend, looking unbelievably pissed off. Jimin steps directly in front where you're standing, hand resting gently on your shoulder to steer you away. You can tell he’s annoyed, not at you, but at the man. “Aw come on man. I’m pretty sure the slut wanted me to-“ The ugly man tries to grab at you again before Jimin grabs his wrist in a firm grip. His calm demeanor rapidly turns into something dark and the words that come out of his mouth are venomous. “Do you have a death wish? Get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass.” Jimin harshly shoves the guys arm back towards him and he stumbles away, looking a bit like a lost puppy. You know you should be feeling endeared, but Jimin’s willingness to protect you from sleazy guys had you feeling a little hot and bothered. He turns back to you quickly, cupping your flushed cheeks in his hands. “You alright love? I’m sorry to be like that in front of you, but I wanted to make sure he’d leave you alone. I know you can handle yourself, but it didn’t look like he’d take no for an answer.” A wry smile spreads across his face as you nod. Shifting your head slightly to the left, you kiss his hand once, twice, three times before grabbing it with your own. You were appreciative and wanted to make sure to let him know. You look him straight in the eyes, holding the contact as you kiss his fingertips, letting your tongue brush across the top of his pointer finger. His breath bitches slightly, modest smile turning into a broad grin as he lets out a breathless laugh. He runs his unoccupied hand through your hair, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “Take me home Jimin.” He nods before swooping down to give you a chaste kiss. He tastes of whisky and something a little sweet. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you start walking towards the exit. “It would be my pleasure love.”

#jimin #jimin imagine #jimin drabble #jimin writing #bts drabble #bts wiriting #bts imagine #park jimin

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piduai · 4 years

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Q&A corner from the DVD bundle of the 15th volume of Golden Kamuy

this one is also questions from the seiyuus. sharing anyone is fine, but please credit me.

Shiraishi Haruka (Asirpa)

Q1: What does Asirpa have in the bag she's always carrying on her back?

Noda: Condiments such as dried Alpine leeks and soft windflower, cooking oil, winter clothes, tableware, a small pot, deer whistle, punishment rod, etcetera, etcetera.

Q2: What happened to her precious crusty fish cake she thought was what's left of Dick-sensei?

Noda: It's in her bag as well.

Q3: I love the mix of the serious and the humorous in Golden Kamuy. Does the humor come out naturally as you draw? Do you enjoy comedy?

Noda: When there's a stranded serious atmosphere I just feel like destroying it. (crotch shines)

Kobayashi Chikahiro (Sugimoto Saichi)

Q1: If you were to voice someone in the series, whom would you choose?

Noda: Henmi Kazuo.

Q2: Is there a reason to why Sugimoto won't take off his cap even when going into the ocean or an onsen?

Noda: I just thought that keeping the cap on while naked is sexy.

Q3: What was the most impactful thing that you encountered while doing research?

Noda: I talked about deer hunting here and there before so I'll leave it out, other than that, encountering a bear and its cub at Daisetsuzan and being chased by a group of stray dogs in Sakhalin. There are stray dogs the size of German shepherds in there. I got to do a lot during my research and gained many good experiences.

Nakata Jouji (Hijikata Toshizou)

Q1: Do you already know how you're going to end the story?

Noda: I know how I want to end it, and there's not that much left. I want the landing to be akin to one of a gymnastics gold medalist, but I refuse to rush through things and make it ugly just to reach the conclusion, out of both pride as a professional mangaka and responsibility towards my readers.

Q2: Even the villains have their dedicated spotlight and are overflowing with charm. What makes a villain attractive in your eyes?

Noda: Doing their best. No matter how repulsive their deeds, as long as they're showing earnest dedication, I just want to aid them. However, when it comes to ethics, every reader has their own boundaries, so it's hard to know where to stop. I'm sure a lot of readers think that I've already crossed the line.

Itou Kentarou (Shiraishi Yoshitake)

Q: I think there's a lot of other characters who, like Shiraishi, were based off someone. There's a Nihei in both your previous work, Supinamarada!, and this one. Is he based off someone too? Is it possible that they are blood related?

Noda: There's a lot of factors to it, but Nihei's philosophy of the winner being decided in one shot was taken from a real life high school hockey team supervisor who is said to be a big deal. What he meant by that is that there is one decisive moment during a match, and if you play thinking of second chances you're going to miss it. Isn't it mesmerizing? I was told by staff from that school that Nihei looks exactly like that supervisor. It wasn't my intention at all, how curious. And yes, I think the two Niheis are blood related.

Ootsuka Houchuu (Tsurumi Tokushirou)

Q: Tsurumi is so unique and enigmatic, I became a big fan of him upon acting as him. I'm very interested what historical or movie figures served as his models.

Noda: I made the resemblance to Hannibal Lecter and Gary Oldman's character from Leon quite deliberate. There's also Hitler's mannerisms, I used it for misleading, but they're there. I've also been channeling Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds through him. Tsurumi is supposed to be this elegant, intellectual kind of freak. Like Gomez Addams.

Nomura Kenji (Ushiyama Tatsuma)

Q1: Ushiyama seems to have been dragged into the race of gold for the gold itself, but does he have any other goals? Or does he act on instinct? Don't tell me... He's only in there for the women...

Noda: Maybe it will become clear later. I wouldn't call Ushiyama particularly calculating, though. Maybe he really is in only for the women, after all.

Q2: I'm curious about Ushiyama's personality. He doesn't seem to be doubting the people around him much. Does he judge others going by intuition?

Noda: He is very strong, so he assumes that he can just kill the ones who betray him whenever he wants. I think that the stronger someone is, the more lenient. He can get along just fine with someone and then just instantly strike them down if they cross the line, scary guy.

Tsuda Kenjirou (Ogata Hyakunosuke)

Q: Golden Kamuy is a crazy story full of crazy characters. Do you ever happen to think, "wow, that's not okay" about yourself? Or got told this by anyone?

Noda: When I was in Sakhalin, a Nivkh family took me in and let me have a few traditional dishes. There was a high school girl in that family. She seemed to be into Japanese anime, and asked us what work we're researching for. So I kindly told her that it's One Piece. She got so excited. Like, frothing at the mouth level excited. "One Piece really is something, huh", I thought to myself.

#golden kamuy #noda satoru #translation

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bbhyeoliskooks · 4 years

Text

❀.’* 𝟕 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ❀.’*

Wasn’t spending Christmas Eve with your friends supposed to be special?

.’*/ (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)＼*’..’*/ (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)＼*’.

Pairing: Soobin x Reader (female)

Genre 4 cups of fluff ! And perhaps a cup of angst in there too !

Warnings: Jealousy, a toxic friend who does not care about your feelings, unedited towards the end hehe

(Awe, it’s been quite a while since I wrote for Soobders !! Wanted to do a cute thing for a confession, though it turned out a bit angsty with the jealousy :// but i promise the end is so so cute !! Girlie here snapped on this one, i hope you can see the improvement~~ The fact that I had to do research on this is quite... something.)

.’*/ (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)＼*’..’*/ (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)＼*’.

1. He steals glances at you.

Wasn’t spending Christmas Eve with your friends supposed to be special? Wasn’t it supposed to be warm and all with interesting gifts and sugary sweet smiles decorating the room? Yeonjun sincerely promised that upon inviting you that this specific one wouldn’t flop unlike the last where you felt the need to go. As of this Christmas Eve dinner with all of your friends, it simply didn’t feel like it. If any other feeling than emptiness, the strong monster of envy rattled against your ribs as your eyes dart to your hidden phone underneath the table.

Fingers swiping on one video, you come into contact with a cheesy title, “7 signs your crush likes you.” The creature of curiosity pulled strings in your head, and you clicked the video with a small grin painted on your lips. Memories of being a middle schooler flooded back into your head that you couldn’t help but smile because of it. The one that you decided to watch reminded you of the good old days where you’d play mash with Yeonjun and Soobin. They’d always believe they’d get together with their crush in the future as stated on the paper- and you couldn’t lie though; they were such adorable students back then before high school made them grow up with deep voices and long legs for nothing. Nostalgia was really one hell of a drug.

You were sadly snapped out of your trance when said former boy tugged on the sleeve of your stylish red coat.

“Hey, look,” Yeonjun murmured towards you. You glanced to what he was saying, turning your head over to the direction where he was looking at. When your eyes were met with Soobin’s, you sighed out a breath of relief. Thank gosh he made it. Gratefulness poured out of you as soon as your eyes dawned upon him.

Ah wait a second, Soobin really was here! Finally, you were able to wish him a few seasons greetings! Slowly getting up, you were planning to run up and throw him into one of your tight embraces until Yeonjun dragged you back down by the coat. You were going to yell at him to let you go since that boy can choose to be annoying as heck, but he begged you to stay with him. The needy glint in his eye told you to sit back down. Confusion washed over you in waves, yet once you looked at what he was gazing at, you needed to thank him for saving you to a close mistake.

Your delusions of being with that boy were crushed when you saw a chic girl linger behind him, holding his hand with a luminous ring on her index finger. Yeonjun’s breath hitched in his throat upon seeing her, and you felt sick to your stomach. She was the perfect embodiment of what people called Heather- a pretty smile and a charming aura whichever place she entered. Insecurities you tried your best to conceal inside rose back up again, and you felt the need to throw them up on the empty plate before you. Self doubt like these were the worst, especially when it could play a key role in losing the love of your life.

With that being said, it was safe to say that you hated her already.

It’s just... ugh, that girl gifted you with a weird gut feeling as if you’ve seen her before. Morals and views reminding you not to became a greedy monster, you knew you couldn’t hate her without evidence that she was a terrible person, but seriously, what else could that suffocating feeling be? Why did she seem so familiar to you with that long, platinum blonde hair dancing whenever she swayed and deep, indigo eyes who could capture about anybody there?

Platinum blonde hair... deep, indigo eyes.... a pretty face-

Wait a minute... isn’t she your old best friend from sophomore year?!

As if on cue, you watch as Soobin’s hands trail to the back of the same girl, feeling the world you imagined with your unrequited love to crash down on your weak shoulders, harshly and indefinitely.

A blaring advertisement pops up from your phone, warning you that what you were watching made a grand finish. A soft grunt of frustration left your lips. This night was going to be the worst one yet, you felt it resonate in your bones. And the endearing way he chuckles at whatever she says is enough. The video is stupid; you already have enough information to know that he doesn’t like you.

2. He flirts with other girls but when you aren’t around, he immediately stops.

The night was going... so-so.

At first, you planned to dip and make it up to Yeonjun later, but something in your heart urged you in place whenever you stole a glance at Soobin. Maybe it was the way he sent reassuring looks towards your direction, telling you that he’ll be right there later. Maybe it was the way his doe eyes twinkled if you chose to join in the conversation. Maybe it was how you knew deep down inside that no other girl could compare to you. You felt selfish because of these burdening feelings. It was as if fate was making fun of you, mocking you for falling for Soobin. You watched your old friend and Soobin flirt all dinner, so the last thing you wanted to do was eat.

Your attention instantly snaps to the other side of the table where your friend is grabbing a keen knife. Soobin offered to give his to you since there were none left in sight- perhaps a mistake from the waiter, but you declined with a tense jaw from gritting your teeth for too long. The food had already arrived, although you barely noticed due to the envy. Yeonjun ordered fancy steaks for all of you, and guilt seemed to swallow you up from how much you were visibly hesitant to dive into what the others were eating.

A strange, constrained grunt from your old friend snaps you from out of your thought bubbles. You hurriedly glanced in her direction, surely not disappointed at what she was pulling. You swore you almost burst into laughter at what foolery she was showing. Who knew someone could be this- this stupid?! No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t cut through the steak with the knife given to her, causing her a lot of embarrassment. The tips of her ears turned tomato red as she daintily pressed through the meat with all of her might.

Well, wasn’t this certainly a sight to see.

Unknowingly, the corners of your lips curl up into a smirk. Did she know how much of a fool she looked right now? She couldn’t be that stupid, you remembered how smart she called herself back in high school. What’s wrong with her that she couldn’t even cut a measly steak?

...oh my goodness, what’s wrong with you? Your hand flew up to slap yourself in the forehead, but fortunately no one saw. You were crazy, absolutely crazy. Did you deem yourself as a horrible person for thinking about their downfall? ...yes, but it doesn’t matter!

Soobin saw how much trouble she was going through and like a good person, smiled and lent a helping hand. Literally.

He gently placed his hand on top of theirs, guiding the knife so that it could pierce through the meat. She giggled at his kind efforts, having the audacity to move much closer to him by shuffling her chair. You covered your mouth with your hand so that you wouldn’t audibly gasp. Both you and Yeonjun share a knowing look towards each other after that, eyebrows furrowed and all.

Looking back down at your plate, you forced yourself to eat through the situation. But you weren’t able to at all. It seemed the repulsion at how flirty and good looking both of them were made your stomach do flips. Suddenly, the steak on your plate looked disgusting.

In no time, it seemed that all of the appetite you built up earlier somehow disappeared into thin air. You no longer felt like eating whenever your eyes took a look at that new cute “couple” over there. They could’ve been dating for a while now, and you had no clue, like you always did. It just wasn’t your business. You swam a little bit more into your memories with her. She knew you liked Soobin from long ago, and she still did this? Guess who has no intention to get in new touch with an old friend after this “warm, loving dinner” as stated from Yeonjun’s invitation.

Drawing a heavy sigh from your lips once more, your eyes steadily dart to the food on your plate again. In response, your stomach churned as if you were riding a heightened ferris wheel. The feeling of fear penetrated your throat, pulling out a lump you couldn’t control. You had no clue how you were going to finish so much of this Christmas dinner that you sincerely desired to throw up.

3. He gets protective whenever someone he doesn’t like comes near you.

“Hey, you good, Y/N? You’re basically picking at your plate and not eating any of it,” Yeonjun whispers over to you. You look up from the abandoned green veggies on your plate and plaster on a smile for him. Obviously he would be able to tell right away since he was one of your best friends, but that’s what you wanted him to see. Good thing you were close to him so that nobody would be able to hear what you were saying.

With a shrug of your shoulders you inch closer to him, whispering in his ear as well, “yes, I’m clearly doing fine here. It’s not like jealousy is literally eating me alive because he has a crush on my best friend who knows I like him.”

Yeonjun chuckled a little bit at this before punching your shoulder. “Cheer up, bun! I promise it’ll all be alright in the end. After all, I am one of Soobin’s friends who knows everything about him~~” You only smiled at his supposedly sweet gesture. His words were of course comforting, but it did as little as it could to ease your heart.

Placing your head on his shoulder with a timid frown on your face, you murmured a quick thank you to him. One way or another, you were going to have to pay back your debt to him even if he got you all red in the face. “Yeah, you definitely are, bun. You definitely are.”

Little did you know that Soobin was frowning at how you and Yeonjun suddenly went all buddy-buddy with each other before stuffing a few more pieces of bread into his mouth.

4. He gives you a nickname.

From the corner of your eye, you see Soobin shoot you a worried look. His lips are pursed together into a straight line which only makes you roll your eyes. So he was acting like he cared about you after ignoring you for a rat, huh...

“I can see that you’re not eating, buttercup? Is there something that’s bothering you... on Christmas Eve?” That boy did not just- the word buttercup was really not the word you wanted to fall out of his lips right now. He could’ve called you whatever, heck even your name although it wasn’t a serious situation. Buttercup was a cute nickname he gave to you when you first became friends. You tried to convince yourself that you absolutely hated what he called you, but the quick pace of your heart begged to differ.

Choi Soobin is not the boy you love. Choi Soobin is only your best friend! Choi Soobin does not like you! Choi.. Soobin is who you’ll always love, regardless. Your twisted mind kept tugging you back and forth so briskly that you wanted to throw up from all of those flutters. It was clear that insanity was stretching you as if you were a four year old’s putty judging from the sour expression on your face, but of course nobody seemed to notice.

Furrowing your tense eyebrows at him, all of the anger built up from tonight washed over your body like a dangerous tsunami.

“Aren’t you supposed to be courting my old friend right now? I thought you guys were going to be a couple judging from how stupid you two are acting, so don’t worry about lil’ ol’ buttercup me!,” you deadpan, gradually becoming enraged enough through the sentence to slam your poor phone onto the wooden table. It’s like you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your face is furiously burning with anger at the sight of them holding hands, and you happen to sigh exasperatedly which makes all of the customers turn their heads from worry. Some of them were raising amused eyebrows at your attitude so much so, that you wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth.

Crap. You should’ve been watching what you said as to not cause a scene. Did it really matter though? You needed to let out your emotions one way or another! Yeonjun helps alleviate your overwhelming emotions by tightening the hold on your hand under the table but you simply couldn’t help it any longer. Why the hell did you have to have a crush on someone who was too oblivious for his own good? He shouldn’t be that dense! You swore that he was a wall; you couldn’t talk to him about what you felt because for sure, he wouldn’t understand.

And as always, Soobin nods his head nonchalantly at your words- causing the hope that he’d know about what you felt inside to eventually shrivel up and die.

5. He stares at you longingly whenever you aren’t looking.

“Woah, take a chill pill, Y/N,” the girl in front of you croaked out after sipping on a little bit of her special red wine.

You shoot a glare at her, and go back to eat what was expected of your steak- which was pretty much 75% of it left. That was the only thing you could be proud of to arise from this night since you didn’t want to throw up whenever you chose to speak. Speaking of which, there was no point in talking anymore when you knew that everyone would stare at you. Which reminds you. You should probably hide your face now since at least ten people are watching this scene go down. Upon realizing this, you shoo them away with your hands and a few of them awkwardly turned back as if they weren’t watching what happened. Yeonjun chuckles hysterically, shaking his arms around like a lunatic so that the attention would be shielded away from the table.

Under your breath, you mutter a few words lowkey wishing that she would hear. A few words couldn’t her, right? With someone who’s personality was bigger than their plastic lips, you were sure it wouldn’t hurt. “I bet he doesn’t even like you since you keep hogging him all night.”

Something told you she heard due to the sour expression written all over her face.

Immediately, the “kind girl” as Soobin called her started insulting you out of the blue once she comprehended your words. Deeper and stabbing into your heart, her voice was as civil as she could put it to be, but the comments she made were totally out of line. You wanted to respond back with something, however she kept interrupting you with that degrading voice.

“God, it’s like you’re trying so hard to stay with these two! Haven’t you gotten the memo that none of them like you? Who would’ve known that lil’ ol’ buttercup here would be such a slut when back in high school, was the prude of the school?”

You were going to say something- anything to retort back to her until she cut you off again. You really had no power compared to that witch at all, she only made you feel smaller as vulnerability surrounded you, overwhelming your thought process. Her words dripped venom while the anger rose in you similar to that as of a bread rising up under the influence of yeast. It was getting difficult by the minute not to slap her since Soobin was right there and easily unknowingly holding you back.

“After all, you don’t want to embarrass yourself like you do every day. I’m surprised your friendships stayed long enough from high school,” her eyes wandered to your reddening cheeks, feeling much satisfaction fill her for clearly hurting your feelings. “And with that ugly Christmas sweater too? Poor girl, I can see why Soobin would reject you even though I know for a fact you hadn’t even confessed your stupid feelings to him.”

Not a sound of Yeonjun’s endearing chuckles echoed beside you, not a clatter from Soobin’s fork crashed against his plate, and not even a customer’s murmuring voice filled the whole restaurant. All of you remained silent- even the staff and chefs to see what happened next, witnessing that of a melodrama. The only thing repeating in your head was... how could she have the audacity to do that in a public restaurant?

It was like she could see all of your insecurities, both inside and out. The boys couldn’t bring themselves to say anything in fear that it would only do more damage compared to their intentions. Soobin was just as shocked as you were that she would say that aloud where anybody could hear you. Yeonjun shut his mouth, not being able to protect you because he knew the girl would only keep him silent with menacing words. Basically, both of them were wimps who chose not to help you, and that hurt you the most.

As if she could read your mind, she laughed off all the attention towards your table. “Acting innocent now, are you? I’m not surprised. Just leave if you’re not going to let anything come out of that big, stupid mouth.”

That was the final straw.

6. He plays hard to get.

“I-I guess I’m not needed here, then.”

You get up from your spot next to Yeonjun, fumbling to grab your phone on the table. Your eyes are practically brimming with tears as you do your best to hide them with the sleeve of the ugly Christmas sweater she was talking about. Both Soobin and Yeonjun are yelling for you to come back, but you no longer have the pride to see the smirk on that insane woman’s face. If she was going to insult you just to raise herself up, then you could leave one night to save you the embarrassment. She just degraded you in front of everybody, and didn’t say an apology if not more, feel sorry for doing so.

You sprint over to the entrance with tears in your eyes, slamming the door against the brick wall of the building. The customers were gossiping about what just happened, but you didn’t care anymore. All of the emotions were pouring out of you while you pathetically let tears out like a love-struck fool. Now you certainly had no reason to stay, even if the boys were waiting back for you. Good thing nobody was there or else you would’ve gotten angry at them for the littlest of things. Kicking the pile of snow that built up over the events of the dinner, you could see that your frustration was barely restrained.

The crystal snowflakes did little to calm you down as some caught onto the tip of your nose. It had been a while since snow waltzed from up above on this very day, but you couldn’t care less.

A clear night sky is what you’re met with before you feel yourself plop onto the wooden bench. A disappointed sigh is undone from your lips due to the fact that Soobin or even Yeonjun hadn’t chased after you. You made a scene for one of the reasons one of them would chase after you so that one person, at least one would come over and give you some form of attention- unlike what happened all night! Of course you wanted Yeonjun to come so that you could rant what occupied your head, but you bothered him more than enough. He was always one to listen and somehow had a couple pieces of advice every time you asked him for a solution.

You felt your eyelashes flutter by themselves in the frosty air before forcing them shut. You were simply disappointed that the dinner was all wasted because of a stupid crush.

This Christmas Eve was supposed to be special with everyone there... if only your toxic friend chose not to stir up some trouble tonight. Why did Soobin have to invite her anyway? He didn’t know what she could do to sabotage anyone there, including you. For the time being though, you chastised yourself for being so stupid months before. It wasn’t the first time that she made a move on Soobin in order to anger you, but that’s for another day. Foolish enough, you thought back then that forgiving and forgetting would be good to salvage the remnants of the warm friendship you once had.

7. He makes it clear that he likes you.

Perhaps 15 minutes passed before you decided to go back inside and apologize to the boys for ruining the dinner with your temper tantrum. It would be so so so awkward with Soobin, considering that she screamed you liked him, but a little bit of acting would cover it up. Perhaps you were a good actor already! He was oblivious to those warm feelings you owned anyway, and maybe after leaving with Yeonjun you would tell him that none of the things she said was true. Apologies and kindness would be able to make up for it, they just had to. Of course you wouldn’t say sorry to that monster, but hey! It’s Christmas Eve and acting civil is the best thing to do in this situation.

Christmas Eve, and yet you were still disheartened nobody showed up.

Dropping your phone into your purse, you get up from your icy spot on the bench and reluctantly took a few steps to the entrance. The death ring of the jingling bell ceases you in place, and you gasp at the boy who was staring at you with soft eyes. They looked much warmer than earlier when you got the guts to yell at him, so you felt guilty for blaming all of your faults on the boy who was only worried for you.

Breathless, he dashed towards you- heels clicking against the pavement and gently intertwined both of your hands.

“Buttercup, I’m so sorry for what she said. Just please don’t cry. I can’t stand seeing you cry.” With the tip of his thumb, he delicately wiped what was left of your tear stains. Then rubbing both of your cheeks in an attempt to warm your face up, he stared down at you obviously worried.

Seeing how much he cared for you made you grin at his endearment. “Soobders, it’s not your fault! She said things that she shouldn’t have, but I know you guys wouldn’t believe it...” your voice trailed off when you glanced at him, afraid that he really did, “r-right?”

Raising an eyebrow, the tall boy seemed to grow taller in front of you, looming over you in disbelief. You gulped that weird lump in your throat that arose from crying earlier and tried to present yourself as not nervous. Surely, he had to believe you! There wasn’t enough preparation you could do to be rejected from a best friend... Scared and creeped out by how that monster remembered, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to tell them for the second time that you actually really liked him.

The way he remained tall in front of you begged to differ.

Bringing his face closer to yours, a deep frown was etched onto his lips each second he stared at your nervous features. You were grinning awkwardly at how close you two were, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he was more focused on the fact that you couldn’t trust him even if he was one of your confidants. Suspicious, he pulled away at the last second when both of your noses were barely touching. “Something’s wrong with you, and you’re hiding it. You tell me everything and I want to know it, so... what’s on your mind tonight?”

Boy, was he persistent. That caused you to roll your eyes. Couldn’t he just act oblivious for this once? You would gladly get on your knees to beg for him not to barge in your business for the meantime. There’s no way you could confess without preparing first since it’d shatter you once the deed was done.

Unbeknownst to you, Soobin only found this gesture to be confusing since you’d never had an attitude once in front of him. He assumed something was seriously wrong because you tried not to let rude words from others affect you... His date back there must’ve hit a nerve, and done a good job at that. One thing he would do tonight was comfort you until both of you could go back to the dinner table together, plus scare off the woman if you allowed him.

“How about we go back to the table? I didn’t mean to cause a commotion.” Soobin shook his head slowly, his black bangs moving to cover his brown, chocolate eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he presses on further while moving closer to you. It was unbearable- everything. From how near he was to feel his breath fan over your lips, from how his dark eyes urged you to tell him what was going on, to you holding your breath, not allowing to suck in a pocket of air for the pounding beat of your heart. You became flustered at how close he is and backed away into the pile of snow you saw earlier.

Stop, stop! You needed to keep composure!

“Like I said, you don’t have to worry about it. I just wanted to get some fresh air because I felt suffocated in that place where everyone was staring at us. I’m so sorry for making you guys feel embarrassed, this is all my fault.”

“But it isn’t your fault! I should’ve dug deeper into her intentions before inviting her over. You know fully well that nobody will replace you so please, buttercup? Tell me what’s bugging you,” he pleaded, “I know everything about you, but you’re hiding something and that’s making me go crazy.”

Well, that little- of course you had to hide it! Was he that dumb?!

“Are you serious?! You know everything about me?! She said that I liked you since I met you- and hell, that’s true! I just- I really really like you! You haven’t been seeing all the signs I send you, no matter how much I try. It’s clear to everyone that I like you, but you don’t know it- the only person I desperately want to know about how I feel! Something in me must’ve snapped when you flirted with them back there, and I couldn’t help myself! The jealousy just slammed me against the ground and-” before you could speak any longer, Soobin shushed you silent with his lips against yours softly.

It was a way to shut you up; you instantly stopped ranting as soon as he brought you in deeper with his intoxicating lips. He tasted as sweet as strawberries, encouraging you to relish in the feeling of finally having someone you pined for so long. Your words fell into his mouth as you kissed him back immediately, bringing him closer to your freezing arms. His chest pushed against yours until your back hit the cold brick walls.

Warm butterflies fluttered in your stomach, shooting out swirls of what you called fuzzies to run through your veins. It was finally what you waited for.

It’s love.

Soobin’s hand lingers to the one you placed on his chest, clutching it as if it was the last time. You chuckled at his eagerness, but that doesn’t mean either of you pulled away! Because seriously, you don’t have to watch a video to know that he likes you for the nth time. It’s the way that he giggles into the soft yet passionate kiss you both share that you finally know- after all this time, your crush really does like you.

.’*/ (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)＼*’..’*/ (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)＼*’.

Posted: 11/18/20- 1:08am

Tags:

@honeijun-writes !! honeibunch, i finished it after a while !! yayaya, thank you for waiting 🥺<33

#txt fluff #txt angst #txt reactions #txt oneshots #txt timestamps #soobin fluff #soobin angst #soobin ff #soobin oneshot #soobin timestamps #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #txt scenarios

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softsebnbuckystan · 3 years

Text

Souls ties - Part 3 (Bucky Barnes au)

"I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met"

The sun had set a while ago and the band had been replaced by speakers, meaning the party was coming to an end, even though you still hadn't properly talked to Bucky. You knew you probably should've payed more attention to your own husband but Darren seemed to enjoy himself more around his college friends. It would've driven you mad, had it been a regular party. Oddly enough, his behaviour that night didn't bother you as much as it should've. One might say your attention was elsewhere. It was late, and you were thirsty for water after all the champagne and hors-d'oeuvres you'd had. You were positive your rosy cheeks attested for it. At the bar, you took a minute for yourself and sat down, taking this occasion to relieve your feet from your high-heel shoes. The night's fresh air made the hair on your neck stand on end and your body's instinct was to shiver, even though the weather was still quite nice. Your body tensed up as you felt a presence at your side.

"Feeling a little tired there?" he asked. You were starting to know this voice now, and it was like music to your ears.

"I needed to be away from the crowd for a moment," you confessed.

"Oh, I can leave if you want."

This made you look at him instantly. "No, stay." You realised how pressing you must've sound and chuckled at his confused eyes – which had a beautiful shade of blue in the moonlight. "I mean...I didn't want to get away from you, specifically. Sorry if it sounded that way."

"I'd get it, you know," Bucky said. "What happened earlier..."

"...was disturbing for us both, I assume."

Bucky didn't say anything about you interrupting him. It felt natural, actually, almost like finishing his sentence rather than rudely stopping him mid-speech. "Yeah, exactly," he continued. "I'm really sorry if that caused you...any pain or something."

"What? The coffee?" you asked naïvely. "Don't worry, it wasn't that hot," you said with a wink.

A faint smile appeared on Bucky's lips, making you notice both how he hadn't smiled much until then and that it lightened up his face in a touching way.

"I meant pain as in fear, or anxiety. Your wedding mustn't be the place you expected to hear those words." He looked you in the eyes and you shivered once more. "Are you cold?"

You shook your head no before looking down to your knees. His eyes on you were making you feel all sorts of ways you wouldn't dream of sharing with anyone. "No, I'm not," you said. Taking a careful breath in, you decided to glance at him. Your eyes paused at the same time as your lungs, taken away by the beauty of the man's face. Something behind his blue iris was beyond description and drove you even more eager to get to know him, his story, his passions and pet-peeves, his everything. He'd seemed to have stopped breathing for a second as well, but you weren't entirely sure it hadn't been a figment of your imagination.

"Maybe we should go back to the others," you whispered. You tried getting off your stool and slipped next to your shoe. Bucky moved fast to grab you with his arm and prevent you from hitting the ground. His grip was firm – exaggeratedly firm. You brushed off the sensation of his leather glove on your back and thanked him hastily before going back to Steve.

"Are you okay?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Yeah, sure." You knew he wasn't fooled by your answer ; Steve knew you better than you knew yourself. Bucky stayed silent for a while after that, and neither of you seemed to fathom what to do next.

---

"Ready to go, honey?"

You opened surprised eyes at Darren's question. It was barely past midnight.

"Darren, we can't leave before the other guests, c'mon..."

Your husband looked disappointed and now that most of your shock had gone away, his attitude was slowly driving you mad, especially when you gave deeper thought to his actions and words throughout the day.

"Do you even want to be here at all?" you asked him, somewhat dryly.

"Calm down, y/n. We've been here forever and I wanna rest for the night. Is that too much to ask?"

"Resting on your wedding night? Yeah, that's a lot to ask for," you replied. "I thought we were going to party until the end and have fun with our friends before going home. Consensual marriage is supposed to be celebrated, don't you know that? Ugh, you really are a buzzkill sometimes."

"Wow, easy there. If you want to stay, fine. But I'm going home."

"Are you serious right now?" Your stomach was burning with anger and disappointment. You loved Darren, but this kind of behaviour had become a habit of his. "You're going to leave me alone at our wedding party?"

"You're not alone, you have Steve and Wanda and...whoever that guy is over there. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Damn it, Darren, that's not fair!"

Wanda's eyes turning towards you made you realise how loud your voices had been and you lowered yours a notch.

"Fine, go home. But don't expect me to be all smiles when I join you, if I even do."

Upon those words, you turned around and walked away from him. You were perfectly aware that there was no point in reasoning with him at this point. You ended up going back to your group and were surprised to see that Steve and Wanda had walked away as well, leaving Bucky alone.

"Where are they going?" you asked, still angry from what'd just happened.

"They're grabbing more drinks. Wanda said she'd choose something for you since you were...busy."

You brought your hand to your forehead, ashamed that he'd heard you losing your temper.

"Sorry about that. He's just...difficult, sometimes."

"I saw that," he said with his hands in his pockets, "and no need to be sorry." You could see him take a deep breath in before he kept talking, even though he was trying hard to look as calm and composed as possible. "Come, let's take a walk. It'll help you blow off some steam."

You followed Bucky through the garden and as you drifted away from the crowd, hearing less and less voices, a soothing feeling filled your body and mind. You took deep breaths in and deep breaths out, taking in the bucolic smell of the close-by forest. The only thing left bothering you were your shoes, and you made the call to take them off, leaning on Bucky's shoulder without even thinking about it. He stopped to let you do it.

"Here, let me hold them." He gently grabbed your shoes by the heels and carried them for the way.

"Thank you." You took a peek at him and smiled. "How did you know a walk would calm me down?"

"I...I just did," he answered with a shrug. "Did it work?"

"It's starting to." You smiled at him ingenuously, taking in some of his features at the same time. The slight crook of his nose, the rebellious hair on his neck... A question was burning your lips. It was just the two of you, so you might as well just ask. "Did you ever give much thought to what your tattoo said?"

He didn't seem taken aback by your question. At least you didn't think he was, even though his emotions were hard to read.

"Not really. I just assumed someone would pay me a compliment out of the blue and confuse the hell out of me." He chuckled for the first time since you'd met him and you got a feeling that didn't happen often. He stopped quickly, as would a kid caught red-handed. "You?"

"I had lots of scenarios in my head. Someone bumping into me, stepping on my feet or even running me over with a car...I mean, that sentence could've been said at many occasions, really."

"It's true, though I don't think saying 'shit, I'm sorry' would be an appropriate apology after running somebody over with a car."

You laughed at his remark and nodded in agreement.

"True. It is only an appropriate apology for spilling coffee all over someone," you teased.

You couldn't even hear the music the speakers were playing anymore, only the insects buzzing and leaves brushing against each other. As you walked, you got dangerously closer to Bucky. You knew what your body was doing, where your legs were taking you, but you had no idea why they were doing it. You shouldn't have been standing so close to him, especially on your wedding night. Your hand accidentally brushed against his leather glove and he moved away. His movement wasn't big enough to call it an act of repulsion, but you also didn't know why exactly he didn't want to be close to you.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I just..."

"...want to be close. I know." He sighed and stopped walking. "It's a weird feeling and I didn't think you...I thought you weren't feeling it."

"What? The feeling that draws me to you and that I can't control? Of course I feel that. I've...I've met you hours ago, and yet..."

"You feel a connection that dates to much longer than that," he finished.

"Exactly. I couldn't really put words on it but...yeah. That's what it feels like."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Steve wanted me to come here for some reason and I..."

"Don't say you shouldn't have come, please."

He looked back at you and saw you'd been staring at your feet saying that sentence. His face changed in an instant.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Not at all, actually... If I hadn't been there tonight, you might have actually enjoyed your wedding."

"I did enjoy it," you replied in a hurry. "Just not the way I imagined." You stared into his eyes, trying to understand what he was feeling in this very moment. "We'll see each other again, right?"

"That might not be a good idea, as much as I would want to."

"But...as my sister always tells me, soulmates don't have to be romantic. I can be happily married and still get to know you....can I?"

He tightened his lips, thinking about his answer. His face gave you no clue as to what he truly wanted, but the answer he gave you might have been an indication.

"You can try. I can try."

---

Part 3 is where I chose to start the fluff haha! I hope you enjoyed this part. It felt quite cute writing it, so I hope the final result is :)

tag list:

@ginger-swag-rapunzel

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #winter solider x reader #catws #cacw au #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #self insert

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jeogiyall · 4 years

Text

Pas De Deux; H.HJ

Word Count; 9.7k

Genre; Fluff, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Reader X Hyunjin

Warnings; Swearing, Suggestive, I would advise against reading if you have abandonment issues? It’s brought up a few times,,

Additional; Featured Chan, Felix, Jisung, and Minho; Ballerina Reader, Dance Partner Hyunjin, Reid once again writing about something that she has no idea how to do, (Sort Of) Slow Burn

A/N; when i tell u guys that i literally have no self control,, THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS WAS 10.46K ASFDSFS someone save me from myself. i’m sorry if anything’s inaccurate, i haven’t done ballet since i was like five and most of my research is from the unreliable internet,,, so if any ballerinas read this and are repulsed i’m sorry asdfdsa. please leave something nice if you enjoy <3<3<3<3

The last time that you saw Hwang Hyunjin was in fifth grade. You were wrapped up in each other on your front porch, him choking out tears as though it hurt.

“Jinnie!” You cooed while running a hand through his short black hair, “I’m not dying, just going to boarding school!” His cries (along with the ringing guilt in your ears) only grew louder, “You’re really good at dancing, just audition next year!” He shook his head fervently against the crook of your shoulder, wet tears falling onto your skin.

“You know I suck at ballet!” If it weren’t for his palms pulling at his teary cheeks you would’ve giggled, maybe even teased him for the time in class that he almost broke his wrist while warming up at the barre. But he was crying, he was sad, and he was convinced that he’d never see you again. The sight alone was enough to make you pout, which only served to make him cry harder, “You could join my contemporary class for the summer?” He asked with starry, red eyes. It was almost enough to make you say yes.

“You know that I suck at contemporary!” The boy giggled at your counter, a sound that made your heart soar amidst all of the crying.

“Yea, you do...” He brought a hand up to his cheeks, trying desperately to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “Just promise that you won’t forget me! I won’t forget you so you can’t forget me!” His pinky finger extended so it was nearly brushing the spot in between your eyebrows, and you were hit by the whispers of your first crush. With the summer days spent riding scooters in your driveway, and the winter ones spent sledding in it. With the long nights spent giggling about nothing underneath a blanket fort, or the endless days spent climbing trees in the bottomless woods behind the boys house. You were hit with the last five years all at once, and you knew instantly that even if he wasn’t standing in front of you with a teary face that you would still promise.

“I promise.” You answered while hooking your pinky in his as if it were a vow.

The school ended up being a perfect fit, your favorite part being the dorm room all to yourself. Even though it was small, and very ugly, it was all yours. Just like the friend group that blossomed out of your first ever co-ed class (which is sadly not a very interesting story. Han Jisung just made you swear to not dislocate his shoulders during partner stretches, and who are you to break a promise? Afterwards you received an invite to sit with him and his friend at lunch, the rest is history. Loud, annoying history.)

Nothing could’ve made it better... Well, nothing except for your sweet friend who had once occupied each thought in your head. Your sweet friend who’s summers were suddenly too full to see you, even for just a day.

Your sweet friend who didn’t keep his promise.

When it was announced that the contemporary and ballet branches of your dance institute would be merging for a year, your mind immediately jumped to Hyunjin. Despite not seeing him for almost six years. He always had such a passion for the style, making you miss out on hours of homework to watch videos of his favorite performers (it’s not like you minded too much, though.)

Han’s, on the other hand, was pure rage. Pure rage which he was letting out from your bed while watching you unpack.

“I just don’t get why they have to take a ballet class too! I have enough trouble getting solos as is.” The boy pouts while resting his head on your orange wood headboard. You’d feel sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that he was blatantly lying, Han Jisung had gotten nearly every solo since eighth grade. Instead you roll your eyes dramatically and throw him a wadded ball of fabric from your suitcase. Naturally, he screams.

“Shut the fuck up and be helpful.” You scold, earning a childish whine while he sits up to fold the countless leotards.

“Remind me why I missed you?” He grumbles just as your other, much nicer, friend walks into the cramped room.

“Aww, you missed me Sungie?” Felix asks, voice booming deeply through the space. The two of you instantly drop the clothes in your hands and run to the boy, which you should reprimand Jisung for seeing as he just lifted a finger. But you don’t, because Felix is here with more freckles than the last time you saw him and fresh pink hair that’s definitely going to be dyed natural again within the first week.

“Yes.” The energetic boy answers while worming his way into your hug. Felix giggles softly while petting Han’s dark brown hair before pressing noisy kisses all over his cheeks. He pokes Felix’s ribs as retaliation, to which the boy screeches (directly into your ear, might I add,) and it’s back to the normal, loud chaos “I will kill you!”

“Hey! No murder in my room, if you’re gonna do that go in the hallway!” You snap playfully, pushing Jisung away while moving back into the hug, “Help me unpack? Jisung hasn’t done shit.”

“Not fair!” The boy shouts from your bed, which he’s already plopped back down on.

“I’ll help, besides do you even want him folding your clothes?” You look over your shoulder to see Jisung with his hands tangled up in three different leotards, then back to Felix with terrified eyes.

‘No,’ you mouth, eliciting another laugh from your friend. He moves over to the bed as well, then sets Jisungs hands free. The three of you talk mindlessly for hours, rambling on about Felix’s summer home and the month that you and Jisung spent traipsing around the boys hometown.

“How do you feel about the merger?” You ask suddenly, cutting Jisung off in the middle of an embarrassing story about a night spent at his house. Felix sighs deeply while tossing you the rolled leotard (your favorite one, light blue with pearls sewn around the collar,) while Jisung throws a wadded up pair of tights at your face.

“It’s fine I guess, just for a year right?” You shrug while the brunette puts on a grimace, hands suddenly very busy with folding, “They really need that rebuild, building’s falling apart. Ours is way better and we have extra room, so why not share?”

“Tell that to the rat in my mini fridge.” Han grumbles while passing you a pile of black leotards. You laugh and accept, but not before ruffling his stiff hair.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that the next time I’m in your room. Are you done bitching now?” The brunette pokes his tongue out at you jokingly, to which you respond with blowing a raspberry, “Felix is right, besides how terrible is it going to be? We’re all dancers right, and stuff like that is meant to be shared. Who are we to say that they can’t come and learn?” The room turns uncomfortably quiet, Jisung gnawing at his lower lip while Felix picks up his phone.

“Damn it!” The Australian exclaims as his screen lights up. You and Han look at him with furrowed eyebrows before he rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in between your faces, “Administration says I have to fix my hair.”

Han doubles over with laughter, knocking the mountain of leotards (followed shortly by himself) onto the floor. You follow his lead, and before you know it the three of you are clutching your sides and wiping away happy tears. Felix’s hands ruffle into your hair with a hum, “Maybe I can try Jisungs color, hmm?” You duck away with a snort.

“No! I draw the line at matching hair!” The brunette defends, hands moving to cover the top of his head. Felix lunges at him, fully ready to engage in a tickle fight. Naturally, Jisung screams as if he’s being murdered. It should be annoying, any other time you would find it annoying. But these are your best friends, one of which you haven’t seen in over a month, and for some odd reason your heart feels so full that it could explode.

“C’mon Lix, I’ll do your hair. What do you think about blonde?”

And even though tomorrow your school is going to be flooded with new people, and your classes full of students who have probably never done more than basic positions, in the moment it feels okay. Because one of your best friends is screaming ‘NO DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!’ while the other assures him that ‘It’ll probably most likely be okay! Look, she did mine!’ It’s a perfect chaos that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

There have been plenty of strange coincidences in your life. Like how your first dog was named Felix, and it’s now the name of one of your best friends (who’s hair ended up looking perfectly fine, thank you very much.) Or how your usual waiter at the diner in Jisungs hometown ended up being the cousin of your first kiss. Or how your dorm room is the only one on the hall with painted walls, that just so happen to be your favorite color. Plenty of weird things, but none are as weird as this. Because you’re sitting on the floor of your second class of the day, ‘Intro To Pas De Deux,’ and Hwang Hyunjin has just entered through the side door. Two minutes late.

He’s hard to recognize at first, seeing as there’s more than an added foot of height and black hair that’s creeping down the back of his neck, but the more you look the more you recognize. Pillowy lips, full cheeks, a freckle right in the set of his eye bags. You’re not entirely sold until he laughs, a sweet and breathy sound. The laugh that’s always been three seconds away from turning into a wheeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung questions while pulling himself up by your hands, eyes following the line that yours draw to Hyunjin, “Do you know him or something?”

You’re about to answer when Hyunjin finally turns around, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He thinks that you look different, too. Taller and slimmer, everything that used to be squishy replaced with soft muscle. But there’s also the bridge of your nose, your hands that are barely gripping Jisungs, and of course your eyes that are staring at him like it hurts.

“(Y/n?)” He questions, your name falling from his lips as though it’s meant to do so. You nod, mouth falling open dumbly. The boy takes a step forward then freezes.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on? Or at least help me finish stretching?” Jisungs voice reeks of annoyance, you think that if you weren’t in such a state of shock that you’d flick him on the forehead.

“You go to the contemporary school?” Jisung doesn’t take well to being ignored, puffing loudly while scrambling to finish stretching at the barre. Your brain immediately flashes back to Hyunjins second ballet class in third grade, when you were teaching him your favorite warm up stretches. He ended up tangled in between the barre and the wall, which shouldn’t even be possible, but Hyunjin managed.

“Um... Yea.” Every inch of your body is screaming to stand up and engulf him in a hug, but your legs feel like jello. That, and there’s a small feeling of anger rising in your throat, “L-let me help.” He plops down in front of you before you can say yes. You don’t have to though, Hyunjin still knows that you can’t refuse him. You take his hands in yours, definitely ignoring the pink flush to his cheeks, and pull his torso towards you.

“It’s been six years.” The words come out choked, full of the pain from your first summer without him. When you’d spend hours playing out in the sun, knocking on your friends front door every morning. He was never there.

“Sorry.” You want him to show some type of emotion, let you know that he cares. That he’s actually sorry for breaking his promise, “I tried to come and see you in July but you weren’t home.”

“I was at Jisung’s house, we spend the summers together.” If you were more angry and less hurt you would say ‘now that I don’t spend them with you,’ but he’s still Hyunjin. He’s still Hyunjin, and you don’t think that you could handle the way he would frown at your snide remark.

Jisung flashes you a look from his place at the barre that reads ‘Who is this guy and why do you look so sad?’ You let Hyunjin pull you into the stretch while responding with a gaze that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’ Hyunjins grip tightens on your hands as you exhale deeply into the stretch, the light blue fabric of your leotard brushing against the dance studio floor.

“(Y/n,) I-” Maybe it’s the way that he licks his lips before talking, or the fact that he looks so much and so little like your best friend at the same time, or possibly even how you can feel the way that he hugged you at your last meeting sitting on your shoulders like a winter coat, but his hands suddenly feel like fire.

“I have to go!” You exclaim, popping up out of the stretch and onto your feet in one swift motion. The boy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that spark a feeling so intense in you that you have to look away, “I have to go, I-I’ll um... I’ll see you around.” You dash off to the spot in front of Jisung, silently thanking every star in the sky that Hyunjin doesn’t have a chance to follow you. Because just as soon as you get up someone else sits down and begins to excitedly ask the boy questions (he’s short, with a petite frame and an unfamiliar face. Probably another transfer student.)

“Did he say something to you?” Jisung asks as you jump into your favorite warm up routine. There’s not really a right way to answer, because did he say anything just now? No, but six years ago he said that he’d never forget you. He promised as much, and then spent every moment doing nothing but that. You exhale while your feet continue to move instinctively, a slight sense of peace washing over you at the comfort of a routine.

“We should focus, class is starting soon.” Jisung whines and argues, but you just ignore him. Similarly to how you ignore Hyunjins gaze on you for the rest of the class.

Ignoring Hyunjin is much easier than you anticipated. In class you can distract yourself with Jisung before the teacher comes in, and lunch is fine enough. While he is there, sitting at a table that’s painfully close to yours, he doesn’t try to talk. Or worse, come and snatch up the free seat across from Felix. But no, he does nothing of the sort. Just laughs with his friends and shoots the occasional glance your way (the one composed of sparkly eyes and lips that are a breath away from pouting.)

But then there’s now, standing in the doorway of your stage chemistry class and Hyunjin is all that you can see. Hyunjin, standing in the center of the room and pressing play on the terribly outdated stereo. Hyunjin, running a hand through his raven black hair and inhaling deeply with closed eyes. All you wanted was to get your jacket, but now you have enough Hyunjin for a lifetime.

Loud, bass heavy music swells in the room as he starts to move. At first the movements are jerky, awkward almost. But then the music decrescendos every so softly and he exhales, then proceeds to move as if the dance is being pulled out of him. As if this choreo is the way that he was programmed to move. When the song peaks you swear that you feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, because this is so Hyunjin. The way he’s dancing with every bone in his body, the way his hair is now dripping in sweat and flying all around him, the way his plump lips suck in air. It’s Hyunjin down to the core, and you’ve missed him so much.

When the music dies you clap slowly, causing the boy to shoot up like a frightened cat. He whips around to where you stand, softening like butter when he sees your frame leaned up against the wooden door frame.

“You scared me!” He shrieks, bringing up a hand to clutch his chest. It reminds you of your last Halloween with him, when the two of you got to trick or treat alone. Hyunjin decided that it would be a great idea to go to a fear farm, in which he screeched and clung to you the entire time. It wasn’t even that scary, he’s just a baby.

“Sorry.” You answer, mouth going as dry as the desert, “You, um... You’re really good.” He laughs flatly while moving over to his dance bag to pull out a towel. You watch as he dabs the sweat away, something stupid and needy churning in your stomach. You write it off as hunger.

“Thanks, I still suck at ballet though.” It’s a joke, you know it’s a joke, but something about laughing feels wrong.

“You don’t.” You take a step into the room, wandering over to where your windbreaker is piled on the floor next to the boy, “I’ve seen you in class, and you’re not bad. Just out of practice.” He lets out another flat laugh while dropping the towel, quickly exchanging it with a water bottle.

“Yea, about nine years out of practice. I barely even remember how to do a pirouette.” He’s trying so hard to make you laugh, just like the old days. The growing tension in your shoulders and lump in your throat is preventing that from happening.

“I can teach you.” You offer while shrugging the jacket on. Within seconds he’s babbling out excuses, which you wave off, “Don’t even worry about it, I need to practice anyways.” You bend down to untie your sneakers before moving to the center of the room, Hyunjin following in quick succession, “So you obviously know the proper foot technique, pointed toes only and all of that. And the retire position is just your foot in the notch above your knee.” You demonstrate it in the mirror, and even though he’s far from being a ballerina he’s done enough classes to know that you want him to copy it, “Yea, good. It looks good.”

“Where are my shoulders supposed to be?” He asks shyly, not used to questioning such simple things.

“Back, always back. Now check that your hips aren’t tilted, I-I’ve always been told to imagine that they’re a fruit bowl.” You steal a quick glance at the boy while he’s adjusting, heart fluttering the same way that it did so many years ago, “Okay, now um... Now put your feet into fourth position, just like that yea, then bend your knees and push off from your back leg.” You do the turn, a motion so natural that it might as well be brushing your teeth, “Like that, easy peasy!” The boy scoffs while bringing up his arms the same way that you had yours just seconds ago.

“Yea, easy peasy for you!” A soft giggle falls from your lips, bouncing off the walls of the empty studio (as well as Hyunjins ears.)

“C’mon!” You tease while moving around to face him, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You see me mess up in class all of the time, just go for it. The worst that could happen is being wrong.” He nods, then exhales shakily. When he does the turn it’s a bit wobbly, but definitely not anything worse than what you’ve seen before.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) that was terrible like genuinely awful-” The words feel harsh, but he’s wearing a bright smile and laughing like there’s not a care in the world. You can’t help but laugh too.

“No, no! It was fine!” You assure through a laugh as he gets back into position. From the corner of your eye you see him mouth ‘liar,’ which earns him a harsh flick between the eyes, “Just bring your hips a little more forward like...” It’s instinctual for your hand to fall onto his hipbone, something you’ve done to Felix hundreds of times. The main difference is that when you adjust Felix he usually tells you to fuck off, then softly knees your stomach. When you do it to Hyunjin he audibly chokes and you feel fire ignite beneath your fingertips, “Like this. Now go into fourth and try again, but keep your hips aligned!” The boy nods before sinking into position and pushing up into a flawless turn.

“I did it!” He exclaims, hands flying up like he’s about to hug you, “You were right, you were right I did it!” Something about his wide, excited eyes makes every wall built around your heart crumble into dust. So you accept the hug, once again allowing yourself to fall victim to the sweetness that is Hwang Hyunjin.

“I was what, I was... Did you say right?!” He rolls his eyes at your teasing, trying desperately to pretend like he didn’t miss it. It’s useless, because the way that Hyunjin’s holding you let’s you know that he’s missed you just as much as you have him, “Alright big guy, let me go. I’ve got studying to do and shoes to break in.” He whines lowly, arms trying to grab you as you snake away.

“Can we get dinner together or something?” He begs, hand briefly tangling itself in yours. You fight down the blush rising to your cheeks while pulling your hand away and stuffing it into your pocket.

“Not tonight, you have to keep practicing those pirouettes! But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing more of me... Partner.” Hyunjin smiles widely at your words, realization settling in as quickly as they leave your mouth.

“Do you mean...?”

“Yes,” You exhale, mentally preparing for another bone crushing hug, “I’ll be your partner for class.”

Hyunjins hug is almost nice enough that you forget about how annoying Jisung’s going to be when you tell him.

It turns out that the friends Hyunjin made are almost as amazing as the ones that you did. Everyone was a little awkward when the two groups first merged, specifically Jisung who was still butt hurt about you switching partners. But then Felix got to talking with Chan (the person who’s been mothering your friend ever since he started at the contemporary institute. From the way they talk, Hyunjin would’ve both starved and failed if it weren’t for the older boy,) and suddenly everyone was meeting in your room on Fridays for a weekly game of uno.

“Absolutely not, you’re fucking cheating!” Minho (the other new face from your stage chemistry class,) shouts while pointing a finger across the card pile and into Jisungs face. The boy moves to jokingly bite at it, causing Chan’s eyes to go as wide as the moon.

“No, no, no! No murder, and no biting what the hell!” You snort at your new friends bewildered expression while passing a canned sparkling water to Hyunjin. He accepts with a smile before mouthing ‘they’re insane!’ Felix sees and proceeds to nail him in the face with your favorite throw pillow.

“Says the guy who sleeps in socks-” Hyunjin throws the pillow back harshly, causing Chan to damn near pass out. It’s all that you can do to not roll over with laughter.

“My feet get cold.” He grumbles with a pout that makes both you and Minho coo from your spots beside the boy.

“Okay, okay, Minho just pick up the cards and let’s keep going? I’m about to finish!” The boy grumbles angrily, all ‘stupid card game’ and ‘I don’t wanna pick up twenty cards!’ You lock eyes with Chan from across the card pile, taking brief solace in the presence of someone else with a functioning brain.

“So we all know that (Y/n’)s about to win, and that she’s my best friend and favorite duet partner,” Everyone answers him with an immediate ‘rude,’ which makes a girlish giggle bubble up in your throat, “which is why it makes me so terribly sad to do this.” You watch closely as he dramatically pulls a card from his hand then places it on top of the deck, a fat draw four staring you straight in the eyes. Everyone goes silent while watching your face fall drastically.

“Hwang Hyunjin, I am going to-” The room bursts into chaos before you even finish the sentence. In the end there are about twelve fresh bruises, six entirely hoarse sets of vocal chords, and one demolished dorm room. Just a normal Friday night.

Except for the way that your heart stutters when Hyunjin mouths a simple ‘love you’ over the bustling group. That’s not normal, but you think that you like it.

“Hyunjin, if you keep your hands there I’m going to fall.” You say to your duet partner, whose hands are wandering aimlessly up your torso. They’re supposed to be on your hips, serving as an anchor for your body while it dips towards the ground.

“Sorry, sorry.” The boy mumbles, not entirely meaning it. It’s impossible to be sorry when he can physically feel your heart speed up beneath his hands.

“Try to sound just a little bit less convincing next time, okay?” You shimmy slightly in a futile attempt to move his hands, which only makes him laugh brightly. If it weren’t for your less than ideal position (halfway bent into a split with every ounce of your weight balanced on the tips of your toes,) you would hit him.

“Do you want me to drop you, because I can drop you if it’s what you want-” The teacher snaps her fingers, pulling everyone’s attention out of the various warm up routines and to the front of the room. Hyunjins hands pull away from your torso so quickly that it burns.

“No dropping dance partners on purpose, that’s the first rule of building stage chemistry.” She chastises, eyes brushing briefly over your friend which causes him to turn thirty shades of pink. You giggle quietly to yourself before sticking your tongue out at him, “But of course, you can’t truly start to build a connection until there’s material. So that’s what we’re doing today, I’ve assigned each group with a pas de deux, or ‘dance for two’. Whoever I think shows the most promise within the next week will be given the opportunity to enter in the regional competition.” She says opportunity, but the stern tone of her voice means that whoever she picks will definitely have to do the competition.

Everyone floods to the front of the class before she even finishes, Hyunjin moving to do so as well before you quickly grip his wrist.

“She didn’t say to go yet, and if we want to qualify for that competition we’re going to have to start kissing up now.” You keep your face forward, chin up and shoulders back, but even then you can feel Hyunjins smile, “What?!”

“You want to do the competition?” He sounds hopeful, nearly childlike.

“Of course! That’s like half the reason I go to school here, the competitive atmosphere.” People are starting to settle back into place, your teacher wearing a look of utter annoyance. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as his mouth keeps moving.

“I’ve only known how to do a pirouette for a month, and I still can’t really get my double. You’d have a better chance with Han, or-” As soon as the teachers back is turned you whip around to your babbling partner, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders. It takes a second for his eyes to meet yours, but when they do he nearly melts.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to do it with you. And just because your double isn’t perfect doesn’t mean that it’s not good so stop stressing.” He looks down for a second, cheeks growing as pink as your shoes. By force of habit you hook a hand beneath the boys chin and force him to look at you, “I mean it.” He swallows harshly, then nods. With a sigh you let go of the boy and return to your previous (assigned) position. Just in time too, seeing as the teacher turns around right as you settle next to the boy.

“You may check your assignments at the end of class, if you haven’t done so already.” You flash a knowing glance to Hyunjin, almost as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He knows better than to argue.

At the end of class you go up to look with Jisung while Hyunjin gathers your things for you, the short brunette babbling excitedly about the previously mentioned regional’s.

“I thought that you don’t do partner work?” You tease lightly while ducking down to look at the list.

“I don’t, but neither does my partner! So we’ll just be okay at...” He bends next to, head full of brown hair hitting you straight in the eyes, “Romeo and Juliet?” You bite down a laugh while pushing the boy away.

“Don’t try to fight it, you’re such a Romeo. Just like I am such a... Lise!” The boys face contorts with jealousy as he ducks back down, once again knocking your heads together.

“You guys got La Fille mal gardee? And the ribbon dance?!” You giggle back a small yes while pinching the boys frowning cheeks, “No fair! Absolutely no fair, I have to do stupid Romeo and Juliet and you got my favorite ballet, no fair!”

“It’s my favorite too!” You defend, which ends up being pointless because both Hyunjin and Jisung chorus back with ‘not true!’

“Your favorite is swan lake.” Hyunjin states while sliding your dance bag onto your shoulder. Maybe it’s the fondness in his action, or the way that he named off your favorite ballet as though it was a fact ingrained into his brain, but your heart swells so large that you swear it could pop like a balloon.

“Okay,” you exhale, hand moving to the spot where his fingers were ghosting just seconds ago, “one of my favorites.”

At your first rehearsal for regionals you and Hyunjin are given the ribbon to use, seeing as it’s literally the ribbon dance. Practicing without it was honestly getting awkward, which is unfortunate seeing as the boy nearly got it taken away within minutes.

“Look (Y/n,) I’m a present!” He had exclaimed, causing you to whip around to the sight of your partner with a pink silk bow tied around his chin.

“Oh no, Hyunjin!” You whispered through a quiet laugh, moving towards him to untie it, “You are so ridiculous!”

“What? Am I not a gift?” He pouted while trying to pull your hands away, which earned him nothing but a harsh smack on the wrist. You slipped it off his face and behind your back just as the teacher walked in the door to give the ‘your ribbon is not a toy,’ talk.

At the second you describe the plot of La Fille mal Gardee, which proves to be slightly (read: very confusing.)

“Wait wait wait, she doesn’t even like the other guy?!” He asks while shaking his head cutely, black hair bouncing along with the motion. If it gets any longer he’s going to have to start putting it up.

“Nope, not one bit.” His eyebrows furrow as he starts to grumble ‘this is kind of stupid,’ earning a giggle and a push to the shoulder, “No it isn’t! It’s funny, and sweet! I really relate to Lise and her... Character arch I guess.”

“Isn’t she the girl who needed guarding or something like that?” His tilts to the side, teeth catching ever so slightly on his puffy pink lips.

“Yea,” You exhale with a quickening heart rate, “something like that.” There’s silence for a minute, nothing but Hyunjin shaking his head and sighing softly.

“That’s not you. No one needs to guard you.” For some reason your brain flashes back to the third summer alone (that awkward stage where you were too old to make new friends and too young to go see Jisung,) when you spent everyday walking through the woods alone. Sometimes you would just walk until the sun went down and your only company was the stars, but most days you would find a new place to sit down and hum out the motifs of your favorite ballets, “No one.”

For a moment you think that he’s right.

The fourth rehearsal (exactly one week after the first) is when you get to a stage kiss in the choreography, your teacher describing the motions along with a recording that’s projecting on the back wall. It starts with the boy pulling in the girl by the ribbon, then swooping down to meet her lips with a smile. Then she twirls away, leaving your skin hot and crawling.

“We’re um... A-are we gonna do that?” Hyunjin asks through a whisper, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s warm and smells like spearmint.

“We’ll know when we get there I guess, now pay attention!” You push his face away from yours and back to the projection, watching as the couple wraps each other up in the silky ribbon.

When you do finally get there an hour later he looks so nervous that he could puke. Your teacher shouts out the next move, ‘kiss and then twirl away,’ which only adds to the painful drumming of your heart.

“It’s okay, (Y/n,) you don’t have to.” His voice is low, hushed. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“No, no! It’s okay, I’ll just...” You lean forward as much as you can with the ribbon hugging your waist and press a feather light kiss onto the tip of his nose. The teacher coos, maybe even praises the two of you on the developing stage chemistry. You don’t hear it. You don’t hear anything over the erratic beating of your heart, “I’ll just do that, okay?” He swallows dryly, eyes flashing quickly down to your lips then back up to your sweet gaze.

“Y-yea, perfect.” There’s something building up in the space between your bodies, so thick that you could spread it over toast, “You should twirl away, right?” You nod, wanting desperately to stay. To kiss him in an earth shattering way.

A part of you thinks that you shouldn’t. That Hyunjin has the power to ruin every part of you, and that wanting to give that to him after your hearts already been broken is foolish. But you do, you want to. Because loving Hyunjin feels good enough that the pain doesn’t matter.

After the fifth rehearsal the two of you feel as though you’ve torn every muscle in your body. Your teacher decided within the first twelve minutes that the two of you would benefit from some conditioning, which resulted in you and Hyunjin holding side by side planks (as well as other terrible positions) and muttering curses for a solid hour.

“I’m gonna collapse.” Hyunjin whines, plopping down onto the hardwood floor beside his dance bag. Something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh falls out of your mouth before you pull the water bottle from your bag.

“At least you haven’t been wearing pointe shoes all day.” You groan while moving the bottle to your mouth. A mouthful of water slides down your throat right as the boys face twists into one of horror.

“Oh gosh, oh no I’m so sorry!” You try to wave the black haired boy away, which only makes him feel worse, “No, no! I wanna help let me umm... Come back to my room? I can set up a foot bath with...”

“Epsom salts.” You answer after swallowing another swig of water, “But I have all of the stuff in my room, I can take care of it.” Hyunjin whines again while rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, something that you shouldn’t focus on. It catches on the tip before falling delicately onto his collar bone.

“I wanna take care of it,” It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, “just... Here, wear my jacket into the building so no one can see that you’re uh... A girl.” You try to argue again, but then your cheeks are squished in between his hand and his eyebrows are furrowed just enough for it to be cute, “Let me take care of you.”

And really, how could you say no to that?

“Hwang Hyunjin, you are my favorite person in the world.” You sigh, feet dipping into the warm cloudy water. He plops down next to you with a laugh and arms full of snacks.

“Can I get that in writing? You know, just to prove it to Jisung.” Laughter bounces off of his dorm walls, filling the boys brain with childhood memories. Like the time that you two were riding scooters in your driveway and just as the sun started to set you skinned your knee. Hyunjin had thought for a minute that the shaking of your shoulders was sobbing, but quickly discovered by a tilt of your chin and hands wrapped around your sides that you were indeed laughing. Beautiful, clear laughter complete with sunshine dripping from your skin. It was the first time he can remember thinking that someone was beautiful.

“Yes!” You exclaim, effectively pulling the boy from his memory, “But only if you give me food.” He giggles tiredly, a sound so sweet that it might as well be honey, and tosses a bag of pita chips your way.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

You’re supposed to go back to your dorm at eleven, thirty minutes after arrival. But then Hyunjin starts talking about anything and everything, ranging from how he met Minho to the old building of his school. The way he chuckles sleepily while reminiscing on water logged ceilings is enough to make you melt.

Somehow your head ends up pulled against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. There’s an arm tied around your waist like ribbon, lips softly brushing your hairline as he mumbles endlessly about everything, your leg across his lap as though they’re supposed to be.

“What time’s it?” You slur, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt. It smells like spice and fresh pine and Hyunjin. So much like Hyunjin.

“Midnight.” You think to yourself that it’s time to leave, that if any of the staff found out about this you’d be dead. You also think that Hyunjin smells like fresh pine and that he’s holding you in a way that you’ve never been held.

The sound of his even breathing and the weight of his arms on you lulls you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

When you wake up it’s to the obnoxious blaring of Hyunjins alarm. The boy whines lowly before punching it into snooze. It’s enough to make you laugh, then pull your head away from the cradle of his chin.

“C’mon sleepy, it’s time to get up. What do you have for breakfast?” If it weren’t for your hair tickling his cheek or the way your torso writhes beneath his arm he would be annoyed by your chirping voice. After the hundreds of early mornings school has thrown your way you can’t really help but be a morning person.

“More sleep, that’s what I have.” He grumbles as you crack the curtains open, trying desperately to pull the comforter over his eyes.

“You need food to fuel your body Hyunjin-” Before you can finish lecturing him an arm shoots up from beneath the gray blanket, crashing your body onto his with a sleepy groan.

“M’ just kidding.” He pulls you under the blanket with him, mimicking the first time he spent the night at your house. You two stayed up until the sun was rising, hidden away from the world by the fluffy pink comforter of your childhood bedroom, “Protein bars are in the closet and apples’r on top of the mini fridge.

It’d be so easy to skip classes and stay here all day, not a care in the world besides the sweet boy that you’re currently tangled in. A part of you wants to melt away and give in, but a bigger part knows that doing that is a commitment. Like saying that you’re his to hold and break however he pleases. It’s the scariest thought that you’ve had in months.

“W-we should get going. Yea?” The words sound like you’ve been choking on them. A fact that Hyunjin takes notice of, eyes growing sad and attentive as his arms wiggle away from your waist.

“Yea, yea. Minho will be here in ten minutes, we walk to pas de deux together.” Before you can help it your expression turns panicked, eyebrows shooting up as your jaw drops open, “Sorry! He’s not gonna tell anyone or anything I promise!” Something clenches in your chest at the sight of him sitting up in bed, black hair sticking up every way that it can.

“I know he won’t, it’s just...” You look down at your body, clothed with Hyunjins sweatshirt and a pair of his long socks (turns out that he was onto something with the whole ‘sleeping in socks’ thing,) “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, so soft and relaxed that you could cry.

“Which would be?” There’s a pounding in your ears that’s quickly recognizable as a heartbeat.

“That we’re together.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin hears you loud and clear. From the light tremble to the breathy finish, he hears you.

“We could be, if that’s what you want.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, an action familiar enough that it’s normal yet tender enough that your cheeks are flushing pink, “Is that what you want?”

“I-I, um...” Your heart is screaming yes, that you want to be his and only his. That while you aren’t a girl who needs to be guarded, you are a girl who wants to be guarded. Guarded from everything by Hyunjins thin comforter and strong arms.

But then you think about the promise that Hyunjin broke. The promise that he wouldn’t forget you, and then broke less than twenty-four hours later. You think about how badly you’ve wanted to spend the last day of summer with him every year since. Your mouth opens right as a knock sounds against his door, “Can we talk about this later?” Hyunjin nods lightly while getting up to grab two apples off of the top of the mini fridge.

“I’m so sorry for however he reacts.” The boy groans under his breath, offering you a light green apple along with an apologetic smile. You accept, smiling back before popping out of bed to pull your dance bag over your shoulder.

“It can’t be that bad, Minho’s level headed.” If it weren’t for the fact that Hyunjin still has a question lodged in his throat he would’ve laughed.

You’re the one who finally opens the door, interrupting Minho mid-knock. At first he looks aggravated, ready to launch into a long speech about how ‘timeliness is important’ and ‘you always fucking make us late’ but when his eyes meet you his jaw goes slack.

“What the f-”

If the sound of Minho screeching wasn’t telling enough, you were very very wrong.

The next four days are spent dancing around Hyunjins burning question, constantly talking about anything else or switching the topic when it seems like he might bring it up. At first he barely notices, simply assuming that you need time to mull it over, but then Jisung and Chan sit in on a lunchtime rehearsal.

The dance is coming along perfectly, so much so that the boys don’t even notice your hesitations. Hyunjin sees it though. Sees the way that your hands tremble before planting on his shoulders, the way that your face looks sad after pressing the soft kiss onto his nose. While he hasn’t seen you dance as much as Jisung or Felix probably have, he’s still seen enough to know that you’re never like this. Never uncertain.

“What was that about?” The boy asks after the rehearsal, hands crossed against his chest. You’re going to ignore him, focus on nothing other than getting out of your pointe shoes and off to your next class, but then his dark brown eyes catch on yours, “Seriously!”

“What are you talking about?” You respond, fingers working quickly to undo the ribbons around your ankles. A sigh leaves your mouth as one shoe slips off and into your bag, quickly moving to the other one before Hyunjin can continue the questioning.

Turns out that your friend is terrible at picking up on social cues.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your head is briefly pulled up from the floor as his voice grows impossibly soft, your heartbeat faltering ever so slightly. There’s a quiet goodbye as Jisung and Chan leave the studio, “Y-you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, throwing the second shoe into your bag while a lump takes form in your throat. If he wasn’t your best friend then he would think that you’re just tired, or hungry, or anything other than deflecting. But he is your best friend, who knows that being tired or hungry only makes you sad. Your best friend who knows that you’re deflecting harder than you ever have before.

“It’s okay, just tell me. Please.” His last word is so hushed that you can barely hear it, but it’s there. Light, and airy, and perfectly there, “Is this about what I asked?” Before you can help you’re nodding, once again giving this boy every part of you that can break.

“Yea, kind of.” It feels like your mouth is full of cotton, leaving you uncomfortably hot along with speechless. A loud sigh rings through the studio as Hyunjin slides down to meet your height, hands burying into his raven black hair. The sight takes you back to the last day of fifth grade; you and him holding each other on your front porch as if the world was ending, your hands tangled into his hair.

“Is it because you don’t want to?” There’s his eyes on yours, your chest heaving, and nothing else in the entire universe. Just (Y/n,) the girl who wants to be guarded, and Hyunjin, (Y/n’)s beloved.

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Right now feels like when you’re at a competition, in the middle of a variation that’s been giving you hell since you started working on it. It’s seconds before the hardest part, the one that you’re still not sure of. It’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins and the words ‘now or never’ echoing with each timed exhale.

“Because. How do I know that you won’t forget about me when summer comes?” Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, causing his lips to part and then heave for air.

“I-I never forgot about you.”

“Yes you did!” There are tears prickling the back of your eyelids, which you quickly blink away before continuing, “I waited for you outside your house every day! And then, when you wouldn’t show up, I-I’d spend every day alone. Doing what we used to do together, but by myself! I was all by myself and I missed you so much, Jinnie. So, so much.” He’s going to tell you that you’re wrong. That while all of those things happened, he never ever forgot about you.

But then there’s that old nickname, the one reserved specifically for family and you. He hasn’t heard it in months, and when he finally does it’s rolling out of your mouth like a plea soaked in honey. Something that’s going to stick with him for forever.

“(Y/n,) please-” You’re up and out of the door before he can even finish.

It’s a dreary Friday morning, rain trickling down your window and painting your room a gray shade of blue. With a deep inhale you realize that everything is finally smelling like fall, which only solidifies the fact that you never want to get out of bed. Unfortunately you have a class in half an hour that you do kind of need to go to.

But it’s not too terrible. Maybe if you were getting up to go take a math class, or run a marathon, but you aren’t. You’re getting up to go to ballet class, and you can wear your favorite leotard again (the light blue one, with pearls sewn around the collar,) and the rain outside is heavy enough to be calming but light enough that you can fend it off with an umbrella. The only thing that could make this morning any better is your favorite childhood breakfast, honey nut cheerios with strawberry milk.

Which is, oddly enough, sitting outside of your door when you open it to head off to the dining hall. A gallon sized jug of bright pink milk next to a family size box of your favorite cereal, just sitting in the middle of the hallway with a folded piece of paper resting precariously on top. Something about this has Hyunjin written all over it. You lean down to pick up the note, reading it about a thousand times over before rushing back into your room to wolf down the breakfast that you haven’t had in months.

‘(Y/n,)

I never forgot you.

Come to my room tonight after rehearsal. Please.

Sincerely, Hyunjin.’

When you two do the first full run through of the pas de deux that night he holds you extra tight. Maybe because he misses you. Maybe because he thinks that after tonight he’ll never have the chance to do so again.

But when he opens the door to his dorm room you see pink fluffy blankets folded on his bed. On top of them is a basket, filled to the brim with every last one of your favorite things. Strawberries dipped in chocolate like the ones your mother would make on hot summer nights, snickers bars like the ones that you two would share after days spent in your driveway, glass bottled lemonade like you would buy from the stand up the street.

“I may or may not have also bought your favorite movie. Well, if it’s still Barbie And the Twelve Dancing Princesses.” A giggle sounds through the room, bouncing around the walls and then back onto Hyunjins burning cheeks.

“It is, but don’t tell Jisung!” Rain starts to fall again, the soft pitter patter mixing perfectly with the boys soft laugh. His hand grazes briefly against the small of your back as he starts to guide you into the tight room, “I’m serious! Him and Lix will make fun of me!” The pout on your face is enough to melt anyone’s heart, which is why Hyunjin doesn’t even think twice when his knees go weak as jelly.

“My lips are sealed.” He says, walking over the boxy tv (that certainly wasn’t there last week) on his desk and inserting the disc, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

It’s not a hard request to fill, your tired body sinking immediately into the fluffy blankets and mouth watering each time you bite down on a strawberry. Rain continues to patter softly against the window, the sound occasionally being replaced by a loud roll of thunder which makes the boy next to you jump. You had laughed at the action, asking softly if he was scared. It was a rhetorical question, you know fully well that he’s always been scared of thunder.

“No! Yes, shut up.” And if you mind that the boy cuddles softly into your side, one arm wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other holds a chocolate strawberry, you don’t say so.

The two of you stay tangled up in each other like that until the credits roll, Hyunjins breathy sigh hitting your cheek as he shifts to get up. You watch with heartfelt eyes as he crosses the dimly lit room, his black hair briefly sweeping across his eyes. You want to reach up and push it away, but right as you manage to sit up straight he’s done with it and headed back to the bed. With a short laugh you realize that your noses are touching.

“Hi.” The word comes at as a short exhale, leaving a taste on your tongue that’s sweeter than chocolate strawberries.

“Hey.” Your heart flutters at the sound, an exhale laced together with a smile, as his arms return to their previous spot around your waist. There’s probably nothing in the world brighter than the smile he wears for you. Stage lights, the sun, every last star in the sky rolled into one. None of it even comes close to the way that his pink lips stretch perfectly from cheek to cheek, “Do you finally believe me?” He brings up a hand to caress your cheek gently, as though to rub away tears that haven’t fallen.

“Believe wh-”

“Do you believe that I never forgot you? That I never forgot any of you, not even the little things like your favorite color or what you liked to eat for dinner. Maybe I pulled away, but I think it’s because even then I knew how badly losing you would hurt. I-I knew that I never wanted to lose you, which is just what I did...” He swallows harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “But I’ll never do it again. I’ll never lose you, and I’ll never forget you a-and... And I don’t want to remember you anymore, (Y/n.) I’m so done with remembering, let’s just be.” There’s something stuck in your throat, but it doesn’t hurt the way that tears do. No, this is a release gathering inside of you. One that’s waiting for you to finally give in.

“Hyunjin,” His fingers cradle the curve of your jaw, sending goosebumps down every inch of your body, “kiss me.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs to brush his lips over yours.

At first it’s gentle, almost questioning. Like he’s asking one last time ‘Is this okay?’ But then your hands tangle in his black hair, the way that they’ve been aching to since you first saw him, and he knows that you’re okay. More than okay, you’re in love. With every muscle in your body, you’re in love.

Hyunjin’s hand that was previously holding your face drops back down to your waist and pulls you in softly. They then travel down to your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips before he picks you up and guides you onto the bed. Every movement is so perfect yet raw, feeling like the stuff of ballets. Until your back hits an unopened glass bottle of lemonade, that is. The sudden cold is enough to make you jump.

“What?!” Hyunjin questions, eyes shooting as wide as saucers, “Did I hurt you?!” A laugh sounds through the room while your hand detaches from his hair, opting instead to reach around your body and remove the glass bottle that’s poking you in the least conventional way possible.

“No.” You answer through soft giggles, bringing up the bottle to lightly tap his forehead, “There’s just a lemonade poking me in the ass.”

He flushes bright pink before answering with a tiny ‘oh’ and burying his face into the crook of your neck. If you were less malleable you would’ve teased him even more, but then there are warm kisses on your skin and nothing in your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, head slowly moving until his lips are against your jaw. You’re going to answer, really, but then there are soft lips on your chin and a smile ripping through your body, “I love you.”

“M-me too.” You stammer dumbly, body going entirely limp as he (finally) presses another kiss onto your lips. The boy pulls away entirely too soon, but it’s okay. There’s something that you need to finish saying, anyways, “I love you too, Jinnie.”

When you fall asleep that night it’s to the sound of pattering rain, with Hyunjins arms guarding you from the world.

The bus back from regionals is quiet, the few sounds that do come about being Chan and Felix whispering softly or Minho giggling at Jisung snoring. You’re about there too, but who can blame you when Hyunjins hands are buried in your hair (which is both stiff and wavy from a combination of hairspray and braided buns.) If you close your eyes and focus really hard you can even feel the rise and fall of his chest where it’s connected with your back.

“Who’s gonna keep our trophy?” The boy questions, lips moving softly against the shell of your ear. It generates a warm feeling in your gut, one that spreads quickly to your cheeks and ears.

“We’ll trade it off on the weekends. Like divorced soccer parents.” He giggles softly, moving forward to kiss your temple.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” If you were a little bit less tired, or a little bit less in love, then maybe you’d joke back. But you’re wrapped up in him like a ribbon on your waist, foot nudging against a plastic first place trophy while his lips move against you in a way that you could get drunk off of.

“Never.” You answer, hand coming up to wrap around his as if it were a vow, “Never.”

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #writekpop #admin reid #han jisung #lee felix #bang chan #lee know #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #this might be one of my favorites yet... i really loved writing all of them #and researching!!

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gogoseijoh · 4 years

Text

cigarettes - ukai keishin x reader

summary: you make sure keishin knows about your least favorite habit of his, and he thanks the universe every day for bringing you into his life

genre: angst, implied smut, fluff... just throwing everything out there lmao

word count: 1.8k

(a/n): i was not thoughts head empty trying to work on ‘losing’ so i took a break with this :) it’s kinda rushed but i like it and i hope you guys do too... i did not proofread sorry for any mistakes lol

You always waited up for him. It was one of Ukai’s favorite things about you. No matter what type of day he had, he could trust that when he scaled the stairs to the cramped studio apartment above the store, you would be there, in bed with either the TV on or a book in your hand, waiting for him to give you a kiss before you drifted off. You’d wait, even if he was just downstairs, taking care of some final things for the members of the volleyball club and cleaning the store. It didn’t matter how late it was or how many times he told you that you could go to sleep without him, you would always just hum and tell him to mind his own business, and that you would sleep whenever you wanted. Ukai would just chuckle and press a kiss to your forehead, savoring the fact that you cared enough about him to sacrifice your sleep schedule. There had been a lot of late, stressful nights for him lately, but you still kept up your promise. However, he did sometimes forget something extremely important to you.

Ukai had made it a habit since you moved in together to keep a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash or a pack of gum in his pocket, along with a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. You made your disdain for kissing a smoker, and the fact that he smoked in general, clear when you started dating, and before you had started living together, he was largely able to abstain from smoking around you and just keep to vigorously brushing his teeth before any time he was seeing you. Moving in together, though, made it clear to him that he would have to take extra precautions to make sure his breath didn’t repulse you out of wanting to kiss him. He did his best, but sometimes it slipped his mind after he finished off his last cigarette while closing up the store. He’s make the mistake of giving you a deep kiss, just for you to grimace and insist on slipping out of bed to brush your teeth again. This was one of those nights.

You had smiled when you heard the jingling of his keys unlocking the door, and it only widened when the door creaked open and the blonde let out a raspy, “Hey, sweetheart.” Once he locked the door, he made his way over to you with a lazy grin on his face, a sign that his day had been a good one, and leaned down for a kiss, only for you to recoil before his lips could touch yours. Your pointer finger met his lips, and you grimaced, “Keishin.” He instantly backtracked, reaching the bathroom door and grabbing his toothbrush from it’s holder, squeezing a copious amount onto the bristles to make sure the taste of smoke would be gone.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he sighed, beginning to brush his teeth, “One uf deez days uh warnt s’ip upf.” His speech was garbled as he finished his proclamation that you had heard many times before in between strokes of the brush. He turned towards the sink, catching you shaking your head with a concerned look on your face behind him. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. He finished with a furrowed brow, spitting into the sink and washing off his toothbrush. Your face was hidden in your legs as he made his way back to your side, hand coming to the back of your head to stroke your hair, “What’s wrong?” He wasn’t expecting the tears in your eyes when you looked up at him. He instantly toed his shoes off, slipping behind you on the bed and pulling you back into his chest. This was always how he comforted you, knowing that you liked to lean back and listen to his heartbeat and feel the vibrations of his chest as he spoke to you. You nuzzled into his neck, and he could feel your tears wetting his skin. Ukai was completely lost in that moment. When he walked in, your smile had been so bright and contagious, so how had you gotten here within just a few minutes. He turned his head, planting gentle kisses on the crown of your head as you cried. He pushed your shirt up and before you knew it his arms were settled around your waist, knowing that when you were upset, nothing comforted you quite like skin to skin contact. It wasn’t much, but it must have been enough, because your sobbing turned into sniffling within minutes.

You lifted your head from his neck and turned in his arms, straddling his lap and taking his face in your hands. He grinned, pulling you even further into him, “Hi, pretty.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his, just wanting to breathe in his air. Your silence was deeply concerning, because you were never one to hide from your feelings, and he spurred you on slowly, “(y/n), what’s going on? Did you have a bad day?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head, “No, Keishin, I’m just worried about you.” The sadness in your eyes was legitimate, and it only grew as you continued, “I just, I don’t know, you’ve been smoking a lot more than usual. I know you’re stressed, but still, it’s not healthy. You know I hate that you smoke.” Ukai opened his mouth, but no words came out, but yours didn’t stop, “I don’t want to lose you, Kei. We’re getting married. We’re going to be starting a family, and I want you to be around to see all of it. I already hear you coughing sometimes, and it’s scary.”

As he looked up at you, Ukai felt something within him stir. Again, he had known that you didn’t like his smoking as long as he’d known you, but he didn’t know that it was bothering you so deeply. You sometimes made sarcastic comments to him about it, but nothing this serious. You must’ve been holding this in for a long time, and Ukai’s heart fell into his stomach. He didn’t realize how much he was hurting you. One of his hands came up your back to cradle your head, hugging you so closely he thought you might lose the ability to breathe, but you only wrapped your arms around his neck, cheek to cheek with your fiance. Ukai murmured into your hair, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never meant to hurt you like this.” You were so small in his arms, mostly from the emotional exertion of finally letting out your worries. Ukai continued, “I was focusing on the wrong part of the problem. I need to work on it.”

“I do appreciate you taking care of your breath, though,” you whispered, trying to break the tension with an attempt at a joke, “I’ll do anything to help you quit, Keishin. I love you so much.” You pulled back from his embrace, looking in to his gorgeous eyes in wonder.

His lips curled into a smile, “I love you more.” You suddenly leaned in, capturing his lips with yours. It was a slow, deliberate kiss, all of the passion you felt channeled into it. He couldn’t help but groan into it, feeling how soft your lips were against his. You were so sweet to him, so kind and so much more than he thought he deserved. You had assured him multiple times that you were with him because you loved him, and he was the absolute perfect man for you. He had won your affection a very long time ago, but he still found himself wondering at times why you had chosen him. When Ukai had first begun to like you, so had Shimada, and it became a sort of competition to see who could woo you first. It was futile for Shimada in the end, because anyone who came close to you and Ukai could see how much you liked each other. Ukai liked you because you were both strong and soft, keeping him on his toes with your witty comments and drawing him in with every giggle and grin you gave. You were just as whipped. You loved his hair, often helping him with touch ups, and you loved his voice, the tone always soothing you. Shimada had given up as soon as he saw it, that spark between you that lit the world around you on fire. When you were together, your smiles couldn’t be broken, and it was contagious.

Keishin knew he couldn’t let you go no matter what, so four years after you started dating, he proposed. It was simple, just a question he asked so casually that you could’ve missed it. You had been wrapped up in bed one morning, sheets tangled with your legs and your back pressed to his bare chest, soaking in the feeling of his warm skin. It was still dark, but you had woken up when he had tried to get out of bed, and you were quick to pull him back down. He told you that he had to open the store, but he couldn’t resist staying longer when your lips met his, not caring about any morning breath. That kiss quickly turned into his quick hands traveling down your body jokingly saying, “If you’re keeping me here, I gotta get something out of it.” That was just a front. There’s nowhere else in the world he wanted to be. The afterglow was spectacular, both of you breathing deeply and covered in the sheen of a light sweat. You were happy that you got him to stay a little longer, but you knew he had to go, so you turned in his arms and gave him one last kiss. You hummed, “Go get dressed, Kei. I don’t want your grandma to yell at you again, and more importantly, I don’t want to get yelled at.” You went to pull away, but Ukai didn’t release you, looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Before you could question it, he spoke quietly, “Marry me, (y/n).” You froze, eyes wide in disbelief. He continued, “I’m serious. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?” You said yes.

Ukai couldn’t believe you said yes, but then again, here you were moved in to his tiny apartment a few months later with your wedding three weeks out. You did so much for him. How could he not notice how much his smoking bothered you? This is the least he could do, and he logically knew it wasn’t healthy. You were right about the prospect of a family, too. Ukai wanted to be there for you and your future children as long as possible, and if he kept smoking, that wouldn’t happen. He didn’t really care how difficult it would be, because it would be completely worth it to be in your life a long time. What could be more perfect than being able to grow old with the love of his life? The next day when he was researching the best ways to stop smoking, he couldn’t think of a single thing better.

#ukai x reader #keishin ukai x reader #haikyuu!!#ukai keishin x reader

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barnesandco · 4 years

Text

Eat the Rich: Chapter 2

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s Hydra days, and a short mention of dissociation. Disaster Avengers having breakfast.

A/N: I really really really love that people are saying they like the reader bc that’s the character people envision themselves as when they insert themselves into this kind of fanfic. I hope you enjoy what more we get to see of the reader here. So enjoy, and please continue to reblog and comment -- it makes this so much fun!

I’m not doing taglists, but you can follow and turn on notifications for @ayeshaupdates to be notified when I post.

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers!

The dispute that had ensued after Bucky had voiced his wish to Steve had turned to resigned acceptance by the time the first slivers of dawn had started to creep across pristine floors, and Bucky found himself victorious. It's a grim glory that accompanies him down the hall and into the cell you had been moved into for the night. There's no mode of observation for this room, save for the presently closed viewing panel in the door. It's really early, and even though he doubts that you're asleep, given the stressful circumstances, his hand pauses where it's about to knock on the door.

With Steve having left for his run with Sam, and the others asleep or inactive in some way, shape or form, he's alone in the silver hallways of this portion of the Compound. Hand still in the air, tight fist, white knuckles and lip bitten red, and then he composes himself. Stepping away, he sits down on the floor, back against the wall and knees pulled up.

While he waits, he listens, even if all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the faint, collective chorus of the birds chirping. The sturdy walls and doors between your bed and his floor prevent any speculation on your activities, since the only monitoring permitted is that of vital signs so an alert can be raised if there is danger. He could open the panel, but that might wake you and he doesn't want that. Whether this disruption, and how it is sure to initiate the crucial dialogue he’s here for, is undesired for his sake or yours is unclear.

His head meets the metal behind him, and the cold stings at his scalp, but Bucky stays that way. Likes the cold bite of it, on occasions such as these, when he needs the ice-crystal clarity of mind, and he knows it'll warm up soon, under his touch. Likes knowing that Hydra doesn't control him all the time, that he can feel the prickle of freezing skin without having a debilitating flashback to cryostasis is indicative of how far he's come. He's no longer the man Steve flew to New Zealand for a month after he had a hellish dissociative episode courtesy of New York's first snowfall.

The metal thaws behind him, sunlight through the thin sliver of window at the top of the wall slides higher on the door. Opalescent solar glare on silver steel, half a rainbow in his exhausted eyes, and the weight of evaporating dew in the air is what precedes a conversation that has his stomach in knots and crosses.

The digital, holographic clock strikes nine above the cell door.

Rising to his feet, Bucky can feel every single one of his 103 years in his back, the avoirdupois of a century's lamentable events on his weary shoulders. So he does a breathing exercise before he tries the door again.

Allowing his lungs to expand to their full capacity, and then holding that breath there until his alveoli scream, before exhaling in a rush of sweet-cereal scented breath, makes him feel less stone-like. More muscle than metal, soft and pliable and open. Steve would argue that that's perilous, here, in front of a woman who's so touch-and-go, all breakneck smiles, but he's not an Avenger when he enters that room -- he's Bucky Barnes, looking for more pieces of himself, pieces that he'll never find if his eyes are shut tight against the impact.

You answer upon the second knock. "Come in." Your voice lilts to a light taunt, but it’s effect is minimized by the drowsy scratch of your voice. Opening the door after letting it recognize his irises, Bucky thinks that the same can be said about the Christmas-just-came-early spark in your eyes, when they're underlined by dark bags. You're still wearing the green hoodie.

" 'Morning," he says softly, pausing in the doorway. The cell contains a metal chair of the same style as those in the interrogation rooms, and the cot you're sitting up in, back against the wall behind you. There's a small door in one corner that he knows leads to a toilet cubicle.

"To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure, Mr. Barnes?"

"Bucky," he blurts unthinkingly, and your eyes widen in surprise and amusement. His guard is down, and he needs to be cautious. "And you can thank yourself for being so goddamn persistent and getting on everybody’s nerves."

The smirk brought to your face is aimed at your hands, bound loosely in front of you. A more tender expression than most seen before. The long, fretful night seems to be taking its toll on you. Perhaps you’re slipping. Or perhaps you’re pretending to, his instincts warn. He sighs, clenches his hands into fists, lets his nails dig into his palm. Metal whirs, purrs, and he releases when you move both bound hands towards the chair in front of you.

Bucky sits down, rubs his palms back and forth over his thighs, lets the grainy feel of the denim under scratch at his hands. "You know me,” he begins.

"Not nearly as well as I'd like,” you say with a grin, looking up from your hands. He glowers.

"I'm serious."

Your smile widens. "So am I. Come a little closer. I don't bite,” you tease, and he decides to take you up on it. Gets up and sits on the cot a couple of feet away from you, folding one leg up so his foot is under his thigh and keeping the other on the floor. You’re unfazed at having your bluff called. "...Unless you want me to,” you finish, and he ignores it.

"You kept asking for me while you were being questioned.”

“You were watching? Did you like what you see?”

The temptation to roll his eyes is strong, but he manages to hold it in check, and fixes a strong focus on you. This is important. It’s about his life. “You wanted to talk to me, so here I am. Now let’s talk.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“How about your name?”

“Oh, you’ll have to get to know me a little better if you want me to give up that secret. Try again," you urge, and he huffs. Like drawing blood from a rock.

Every question he could ask, every query he needs an answer to is being whirled around in the chaotic storm in his head, and it's so difficult to pick out just one. “Have we met?” He decides upon, momentarily forgoing the alternatives: Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why do I feel like you're important? What part of me do you hold in those bound hands of yours?

Head tilted upwards, you consider the ceiling while searching for an answer. “Briefly.” And then you pause. Bite your lip, look down, make a so-so motion with your head. “Well, I wouldn’t say met, exactly. I wreaked some havoc and you watched.” That tells me jack-shit, sweetheart.

“When?”

“February of 2013," you respond instantaneously. Good memory. That's useful.

“So I was with Hydra," he assumes, instantly going down all the roads he might know you by. A mission, a murder, more violence, another apology. Were you partners in crime, or his target? Or were you just in the way?

“I don’t agree with that phrasing, but yes, I suppose so."

“Did we work together?” He dares to question.

There's a change: a tangible shift in the atmosphere, like the scent of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. The stiffening of your posture, how you sit up straighter but hunch your shoulders against some invisible attack tells him he's touching a nerve, nearing cyclone waters. It takes a moment for the mask to fall back into place over your face, before you're able to answer, with venom, repulsed. “God, no. I would never work for them.” It's the most sincere emotion he's heard from you, this disgust. It eases him to know how strongly you feel about Hydra, but he’s wary of your raw response to it.

So, he treads more kindly. Softly. On eggshells sharp and off-white, feeling his way around the balance of your temper. “Then how did we meet?”

“I was on a heist,” you say, matter-of-factly. In your tone of voice, now even and professional, it sounds like the most natural thing in the world. As though stealing from megalomaniac neo-Nazis is just another day at work.

“What kind of heist? Who sent you?” Bucky observes the way you're pulling the edges of your sleeves over your hands as much as you can with your restraints. At this question, your smile returns, and he relaxes. Can now feel his leg falling asleep under him now that he's not so tense.

“Nobody sent me. I’m a free agent. I work for myself,” you announce, chin up.

“What were you going to steal from Hydra?” He asks, and your head turns slowly towards him, firework sparkle meeting level, cool, sky-blue, a hurricane simmering behind his irises.

“You.”

“We did not sign up for this,” Barton grumbles from his second cup of coffee -- addicts, the lot of them -- adjusting his hearing aid with a frown on his face at the turn of events.

Sam clears his throat, setting down a half-empty glass of orange juice next to Natasha’s espresso on the table and speaks next, “That’s messed up, man, that’s really, really messed up.” This is said with a shake of his head, and Bucky, having no response to either Barton or Sam, addresses Steve.

“There’s something she’s not telling me, Rogers.” He uses the last name to revert to the days of talking shop in green tents with the gravity of impending shelling in the air. Life or death, and though the circumstances aren’t quite so acute right now, this is a grave matter, too. Steve's standing hunched over the kitchen island, arms outstretched and hands flat on the granite surface, studying the pattern like it holds all the answers.

Bucky watches him think, but Stark, in Spider-Man PJs and the bed-head of the century, strolls into the kitchen at a leisurely pace and interrupts. “There are a lot of things she’s not telling you. Who she is, where the money is, wh--”

“She’s not telling me why," Bucky interrupts a tirade that he knows could continue forever, given the chance. “People don’t go around stealing super soldier assassins for the hell of it.”

“Maybe she’s working for someone who wanted you to work for them instead of Hydra," Peter suggests over a ridiculously large bowl of ridiculously colorful cereal at the breakfast nook.

“She doesn’t work for anyone. Says she’s a free agent."

“And you believe her?” Sam wonders. It's a genuine question, curious but not dismissive or doubtful.

“Barnes has quite the built-in lie detector," Nat tells Sam from next to him, her yoga-pant clad legs splayed across another chair. Yeah, he’s good at telling when people are being dishonest, but there’s also the fact this woman is way too fearless, fucking crazy to be made to do anyone's bidding. No chance in Hell does she takes orders.

Tony slumps in an orange loveseat. “Must be a Russian thing," he quips, and then breaks out into a yawn.

Bucky puts his hands on his hips and glares at all of them, by turn, sharply. "Would you let me finish?" He demands. "She couldn't tell me why she was going to steal me from Hydra, but she said she'd show me." One could hear a pin drop in this room, now, the bustle of Avengers replaced by the obviously preposterous proposition Bucky's relaying. "Just me," he adds.

"Me?" He asks, voice rising in pitch and volume, and he fights to control both, rising to his feet. "Why would you steal me?"

"Have you seen you?" You ask back, eyes scintillating, glowing with mirth. "Gorgeous hair, those eyes, and hands that I'm sure know how to treat a girl right.”

Bucky looks daggers at you, and you look back. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were Bucky,” you say innocently, and he thinks he could scream in frustration, but he drops down, kneels just beside where you sit, and holds onto the edge of the cot like it’s the end of the world he’s falling off of.

"I don't think you understand how important this is to me. You know something about me you won't say. I've been trying to put together my past so I can understand myself better and you have a piece of my history. I need to know,” he enunciates each word as if it’s his last. Needs to convey the severity of the situation, how he has been trying to rebuild himself into a new life from the scraps of the old ones. He’s aware that he’s complete as he is but he also makes choices for himself now, and he chooses to know.

You look down, and although it’s your hands that are bound, you offer a golden prayer. "Let me show you." A lifeline, something he doesn’t want to believe and doesn’t know if he can trust. Hence, the question:

"What?"

A sad shrug of your shoulders is the first answer, and it all starts to unravel from there. "I can't tell you, I really can't. It's complicated and a really long story--"

Bucky elevates himself on his knees, his fingers dig in a little tighter, and the metal of the bed begins to creak ever so slightly. "The way I see it, we have all the time in the world, darlin'," he says in a thick voice, emotion simmering at the corners of his lips.

"Darlin'?" You can’t help but ask, without any flirt this time, any teasing, just a question in a tone as surprised as he is at the slip of tongue.

Bucky decides to ignore the interruption. "So let's start at the beginning.”

Fervently, you shake your head. "I can't." At his wide-eyed disbelief, "I mean it, I can't."

"No, you can, you just won't,” he insists.

"We could have a grammar lesson if you want, or I could show you why I was going to steal the Winter Soldier."

"What do you mean show me?" Bucky asks, moving to sit on the chair again. Leaning forward, he places his hands on his thighs, looks into your eyes to pull forth the words you won’t give him.

You blink, unbudgingly. "I have to take you somewhere. It's the only way to explain."

A sharp bark of a laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head as it recedes into chuckles. Your face is now blank and expressionless, gauging how to handle this, and he gives you the first response that comes to mind. "You're full of shit."

"What happened to darlin' ?"

Meeting your eyes, he says, “You want me to let you out so you can escape. A five-year-old could see through that.” Then, Bucky leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other as well his arms. His hooded gaze is at a stalemate with yours, and it’s a hopeless tug of war. So this is how it ends. A night spent sleepless in vain, a few battle bruises and the tug of disappointment in his belly.

A dismal, and last-ditch sigh ripples through the air, from lips dark and worried bloody. Your eyes look overcast and you open and close your mouth repeatedly to say something, but do not voice your thoughts. Giving you the time to formulate whatever perfect sentence you’re trying to utter is torturous, but he waits. Until you stop, speechless, and he gets to his feet. Turns to the door, and then you speak from behind him, while his hand hovers over the handle.

"Let me take you, and only you, to the place you need to see, and I'll cooperate. I'll give you what I have left of the money, and I'll plead guilty in court and serve my time.” Bucky freezes. "Just come with me,” and you’re the one making requests, making pleas now. It’s inexplicable, he knows he should be looking this particular gift horse in the mouth, and he convinces himself that he will, in time, but right now, he accepts.

"Was that an innuendo?" He asks, still facing away, the question indicating a truce.

"If you want it to be," you say, and he turns around to look at you. "What do you say, Barnes, are we going on a road trip?

Hope swells somewhere in him he thought had been long abandoned for darker days and arduous nights. The same intuition that taught him to ask for this piece of himself tells him something is coming. Something that’s going to make a difference.

"Bucky. It's Bucky. And yeah, I guess we are.”

#ayesha writes #jamiesmadwritingbash #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

I’m daydreaming and just imagining reader being self conscious of her body after giving birth and geralt just being fluffy and sweet and not liking her putting herself down and yeh

A/N: This makes me soft. I hope you like this babe!!

Warning: This fic does have quite a bit of mentioning of body image issues and postpartum issues many women face. I did my best to google things because I’ve never had a kid so I don’t know what postpartum is like but I hope I did somewhat decently with it.

You gazed into the mirror, admiring the way the deep red silk material of your dress hugged your chest. You brushed your hand down the material and over your stomach, frowning as your eyes settled there. The little smile that had been on your lips faded almost instantly.

You didn’t like the way the dress looked, the way the material seemed to amplify your slightly sagging stomach. Now that you were focused on it, your stomach seemed suddenly much bigger than it actually was and the thought of wearing that dress in public made you sick. You couldn’t go to Cirilla’s birthday celebration looking like that.

You turned your back to the mirror, biting back the tears as you shook your head.

You just had Bram not even two months ago, Y/N. You just need time to bounce back and everything will be okay!

No matter how many times you told yourself that, there was another voice in the back of your head that spoke up, growing louder and louder as it pointed out all of your insecurities.

The extra weight you’d put on. The way your arms jiggled when you moved them or the way a double chin formed when you looked down. The way none of your clothes fit comfortably, except for your maternity clothes.

You reached behind yourself to pull the ties on the dress, letting out a breath as the material loosened around your torso. You pushed the dress down and let the silk pool at your ankles.

The door to the room opened and you hastily moved to retrieve the throw at the foot of your bed.

Your husband stepped in, brows drawing together as he saw you move quickly, snatching the throw and using it to cover yourself.

“It’s just me, dove.”

You nodded but still kept the throw tight to you, holding it just beneath your chin.

He stood there for a moment, assessing what had just happened. Was something wrong?

“Are, um, Are you ready? Yennefer is growing rather impatient.”

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, dropping your eyes to the floor as you shook your head.

“I-I don’t feel good, Geralt. I don’t think I should go.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt took a few steps towards you but you shook your head, stepping away from him until your back bumped into the wall.

His breath caught in his throat, shoulders tensing up as he watched you carefully. Your eyes were full of too many emotions for him to decipher them all. Fear. Worry. Dread. Concern.

“Y/N.” He murmured your name.

“Just-Just go without me, okay?” You whispered, trying to force a smile on to your lips as you shook your head but the tears in your eyes swelled up and blurred your vision. “Take Bram. I-I know Eist and Calanthe would love to see him and-and Ciri adores him.”

“Please tell me what is wrong.” Geralt quietly begged. “You were so excited to go earlier today. We’ve been talking about going all week.”

“Yes, but I-I just….” You trailed off, unable to come up with a good answer, one that wasn’t necessarily the truth. You didn’t want to tell your husband that you were ashamed of your body, of the body he claimed to love so dearly.

“Cirilla would be devastated if you didn’t come.”

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head as your head fell forward. One hand clutched the throw to your chest while the other covered your face.

“I’m so sorry, Geralt.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m sorry. You deserve so, so much better.”

Wordlessly, Geralt crossed the room. You didn’t even notice this so when his hand took ahold of your wrist to pull your hand from your face, you flinched. He carefully pried your hand from your face and then hooked two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head up.

He used the pad of his thumb to brush the tears from your damp cheeks. His liquid gold eyes were studying you, concerned, worried.

He had an idea about what it was that could be upsetting you. You were holding the throw to your body as if it was your life source. You were shielding yourself from his eyes, from your husband’s eyes. He’d seen you naked before. Hell, he witnessed you give birth to his son. There could only be one reason why you were suddenly hiding your body from him.

“Please tell me why you think that I deserve better?” He whispered, warm breath fanning over your face.

“I-I’m the size of a fucking cow, Geralt.” You dropped your gaze to focus on the wolf pendant. “My stomach is all wrinkly and there are stretchmarks all over me. I-I look disgusting.”

“Y/N.” He said your name with a scolding tone, though he was gentle. “You are not disgusting. You are the woman I love.”

“The woman you love died when she had a child.” You muttered.

Geralt took your chin in his hold once more and tilted your head up.

“The woman I love brought my son into this world.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. How you look doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice, pushing against his chest but you would’ve had better luck pushing a brick wall. “You fell in love with me, why? Because-Because of my charming personality? Fuck that, Geralt! My personality is absolute shit!”

You were just angry with yourself. He didn’t deserve your outburst and you knew this.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. With the stupid jokes you tell me and the way you smile when you see a cow in a field or a children chasing each other. I fell in love with how you treated me when we first met. I wasn’t a witcher to you. You didn’t treat me like some stupid mutant. You are kind and generous and I can’t imagine myself with another.” He shook his head.

“But all of that, all of you falling in love with me…. There’s a sexual aspect to it too.” You told him, adamant on getting him to admit that you were hideous. You wanted the truth. You didn’t want him to lie to you to make you feel better. “You liked me, my body, what I had to offer in that sense.”

He sighed heavily through his nose.

“When I fell in love with you, Y/N, I fell in love with all of you. This body, your body, made my son, and this body feeds him. Now is no different than before. If anything, I actually enjoy this.” He brought his hands up to your shoulders.

“You enjoy me looking like a cow?”

“Stop saying that.” He softly demanded, shaking his head. “No, my love. You are warm and comforting and so fucking sexy. This is bigger.” His hands trailed to your backside, squeezing you firmly. “And so are other things.”

His eyes shamelessly looked down at your chest, which was poorly covered with the throw.

“I enjoy every part of you, dove, and I am in love with you. With your thighs and how warm they are in my hands. With your stomach and how soft it is when I lay my head upon it, and how you carried my son for nine long months inside of you. Nothing could ever change my love for you, Y/N.”

You almost believed him, but then that voice continued to tell you that he was lying. You shook your head, eyes falling to the floor again.

He put his hand on the throw and tried to pull it away from you but you held it firmly.

“Dove. Let me.” He murmured.

You hesitated, still holding the throw with white knuckles. You finally let it go and held your breath, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

You expected a gasp or some noise of repulsion. You expected him to flee even.

But instead, he pulled you in for a hug, large arms wrapping around you and drawing you into his chest.

“You are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen in all my years.” He breathed into your hair.

The breath you had held left your lips and cries shook your shoulders. You melted into his touch, burying your face in his chest.

“You are strong, Y/N. You carried Bram for nine months, and it wasn’t easy. I know it wasn’t. Watching you struggle with the aches and pains and with the loss of balance and the sickness…. I love you.”

“But I’m-I’m covered in stretchmarks. My stomach, it’s-it’s-,”

“It is beautiful, just like you. They make you who you are now. You’re a mother, Y/N.” Geralt pulled away to look down at you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. “And the best one I’ve ever seen.”

You looked down at your stomach for a moment.

“You don’t…. You don’t think it’s gross?”

He gave you a little smile before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“No, my sweet dove. I don’t think it’s gross. And neither should you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“If you truly don’t want to go, then I can take Jaskier and Bram with me.” Geralt rubbed your back with one large hand. “You can stay here and get a bath, maybe catch up on some much needed sleep. Do you want to go?”

“I do.” You nodded. “It’d be lovely to see Calanthe and Eist.”

“Then let’s get you dressed.” Geralt kissed you softly and then picked up your dress that you had discarded on the floor.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye @whitewolfandthefox @ayamenimthiriel @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @crazybutconfidentaf @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @thefirelordm @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @swimswimsubadivehelp @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt #the white wolf #white wolf #geralt fluff #kacey answers #geralt request

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padfootslads · 4 years

Text

Innocent Doodles (part 2/2)

Wolfstar oneshot. First kiss. Very much fluff. And a tiny hint of angst.

Remus’ heart sinks. Sirius’ words bounce around his brain, seemingly not able to find a way out. Don’t flatter yourself. Those words had hurt more than any wound he’d ever inflicted upon himself. The fact is impossible to ignore any longer; Sirius isn’t interested. And he never would be. He can’t grasp how he could have ever hoped for it, even for a second. Of course Sirius didn’t like him like that. He is just a quiet, skinny, scarred up lad with a disgusting habit of turning into a monster once a month. Sirius is tolerant enough being his friend, but the thought of anything more than that would probably make him sick to his stomach, and with all right, Remus figures. He is a nasty, murderous half being, not human enough for the wizarding world. No one should have to submit to being with someone like that. Therefore, Remus can’t blame Sirius for wanting to clearly state his disinterest. But it had stung nonetheless.

“Come on then crup!” Sirius says over his shoulder. Remus follows him, absentmindedly. Any other day and that simple line would have caused a tingle in the pit of his stomach. But now it caused a knot, instead. Truth be told, he’d rather be with anyone else at this moment. His now obviously unrequited longing for the black-haired boy made it too devastating to be around him. Sirius flings his hair slightly as he turns the corner and a faint whiff of his shampoo reaches Remus. He closes his eyes, almost as a reflex, and breathes it in. He would so love to run his hands through that long, dark hair. Tug it back and force their lips together. As he opens his eyes again a slight blush of colour flushes upon his cheeks. He has to stop daydreaming like that. However impossible it will be, he has to. For his own sanity.

“Hey, about the, er, drawing...” Sirius says as they walk down the halls. He appears to collect himself before speaking again. “Do you want it?” Remus had not expected that question. He had been sure that Sirius would pretend it never happened, never bring it up ever again. His surprise must be mirrored in his face because Sirius quickly adds “I know it’s not beautiful, but I just thought-”

“It’s not bad,” Remus interrupts. “But if you wanted it to be beautiful you should have chosen another subject,” he continues matter-of-factly.

Sirius looks stunned for a moment. Remus thought himself see a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes for a moment, but convinces himself that it was only his imagination. In actuality, it was pity. Remus is sure of it. Sirius wouldn’t have any understanding of the word insecure. He had nothing to be insecure about, and he proudly flaunted the fact all across Hogwarts.

“What are you on about? You’re …” Sirius hesitates for a second, surely trying to find a suitable lie, “...strapping,” he settles. Clearly untruthful.

“Yes, strapping, that’s what these scars tell you,” Remus whispers, hoping Sirius won’t catch it. But a forceful tug at Remus’ arm, making him halt in his step, proves the opposite.

“Don’t say that!”

A flash of gratitude wells over him. No one has ever stood up for him like that. With himself being the attacker. His self-deprecating jokes were always just laughed off as if intended for amusement. Remus had always played along, but in reality, he had always meant it. Every last degrading statement. Having someone finally challenge it warmed him deeply. And the fact that it came from Sirius, of all people, touches him so wholeheartedly that he has to remind himself not to cry.

“Don’t act like they don’t repulse you, Padfoot,” he insists even so. Remus can’t decide if Sirius looks more shocked or confused, as he stares into Remus’ eyes. His thick brows are narrowed, harshly, and his defined features somehow sharper.

“They don’t-, How can you-,” Sirius stammers profusely, his eyes never faltering.

“You don’t have to lie for me,” Remus says. Sirius says nothing this time, but his features soften noticeably. His eyebrows now furrowed in concern. His jaw unclenches and his cupid bow lips go plumper and somehow more kissable than usual. A faint frown teases the corner of them. Sirius inhales one long, shaky breath and slowly leans in closer. Remus’ eyes fall to the floor, expecting to be called out, but instead, he feels something soft and damp graze his lips. Remus' whole body freezes. So does everything around them for a moment. With Sirius’ lips pressed against his own, he can’t manage to do anything other than stare straight at him. His shock wears on even as Sirius leans away again. Their eyes meet, and the adorable smile on Sirius’ face vanishes instantly when he realises that Remus isn’t wearing one. “I don’t know why I did that!” He explains. His grey eyes cannot be mistaken for being anything but terrified, and his cheeks are tinted with a charming coat of pink. He takes a fearful step back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Remus closes their distance slightly and his heart starts pounding faster as a result. He summons every last bit of courage he can find before he, in one quick move, places a hand behind Sirius’ head - letting his hair envelope it - pushes him close with the other, and kisses him. This time Remus’ brain registers it all. As the soft skin of their lips meets, his whole body tingles. His legs turn fuzzy and shaky in excitement and his mind numbs away in a euphoric high. Everything is warm. Everything is right. They pull apart somewhat reluctantly, but in dire need of air, and a satisfied and rather mischievous grin spreads across Sirius’ face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he says.

#remus' scars are beutiful *cries*#wolfstar #marauders #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar oneshot #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar first kiss #wolfstar textpost #remus x sirius #sirius black #remus lupin #young marauders #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

Text

talk tonight x noel gallagher

i’m back with another noel fic ;) i know the meaning behind the song is completely different to how this story is presenting it, but i’m changing it up so it can fit the storyline. i don’t know why i always write so much for noel BUT he deserves it <3

Paring: 90s noel gallagher x reader

Warnings: its just really fucking soft okay

Word count: 3.809

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Stop writing so many mopey songs!” Liam yelled, tossing the now wrinkled piece of paper at his brother, containing heartfelt lyrics to another one of Noel’s melancholic masterpieces. “We’re not a sad band, for fucks sakes!”

Sighing, Noel looked away from his sibling’s frustrated stares. Taking a hold of the paper, he unfolded it slowly, attempting to stretch out its unfortunate bruises: formed when gripped firmly in Liam’s palm as he skim read it atrociously. His eyes trailed from the top, all the way to the bottom of the page, examining the lyrics that messily peppered the sheet. He had spent hours, days, relentlessly trying to get the words right; it seemingly sounded better in his head rather than on the paper, his heartfelt remorse towards the amounts of paper he used - and eventually binned - ghosting his mind as he stared at the title of the song. Talk Tonight.

Usually, he would be skilfully speedy with writing such anthems, yet, with this song, he felt it contained more of him than anything else did - his bare heart, unexpectedly torn out of its ligaments, dusted on a random chopping board, framed for the entire world to see. The public would have no idea who it was about and why he had written it, but knowing the obsessive fans that queued for hours just to buy a 7” single, crammed gigantic concert halls, chanted back memorable lyrics, which were either written hurriedly, wanting to complete the song or were age old melodies, well thought out in his childhood bedroom - accompanied by Liam’s occasional interrupting with his rowdy complaints about their mother not allowing him to go out and mess around with his friends at the time. His fans may either be oblivious as to the meanings of the song, or they may be able to depict it as adroitly as a neurosurgeon figuring out the exact muscle which broke apart the spine. You never knew.

Noel stayed silent, not replying to Liam, leaving the standing sibling puzzled by his distanced expression. Expectedly, he assumed Noel would answer him, perhaps with a scolding, reminding him that he doesn’t write the songs, and that Noel’s the mastermind of it all, to which Liam would throw a hissy fit, storming out of the room in anger towards his repetitive comeback. Nevertheless, all that sounded in the room was a light hiss of wind escaping from the outdoors, seemingly into the small crack of the slightly opened window; you couldn’t tell whether it was shut or open. The fresh seeping air felt like it was intruder, like a fox deciding it was their place to rummage through your neighbours’ bins for a midnight snack, and after not managing to find anything, leaving all the bin bags ripped open, the trash every place imaginable in the adjacent front yard. “Noel?” Liam spoke, walking up to where his brother was sat, eventually inviting himself to sit next to him.

Liam’s words snapped Noel out of his ponder over what seemed to be anything imaginable. Blinking a couple times, he rubbed his right eye irritatingly, finally responding to his awaiting brother. “What?” he asked, folding up the paper once again, hiding it from Liam, as if he hadn’t already seen it previously. There was an element of secrecy in this song, something he found himself afraid to admit, even to the closest person to him.

Taking note of this, Liam slowly gained an idea of the reasoning behind his aloof body language. “Who’s it about?” he questioned, snatching the piece of paper out of his sibling’s grip, once again. As he opened the fold, he noticed Noel’s tense body again from the abrupt clutch of his work. He re-read the roughly written lyrics - some endings of the words resulted in being smudged due to the pen his brother was using - this time seeing the lines in a completely different light. Noel was calling out for someone, a hint of plead, offhand desperation, a simple crave for attention, all effortlessly foreshadowed in his words. This wasn’t an ordinary song; this was about someone, someone close to him.

“Who’s it about?” he repeated, his tone on the stretch between rough and soft, like a baby’s screeching, features soft yet voice ever so repulsive. Noel’s dry, lifeless responses began to agitate him, though he tried to hide it, his eyes trailing off to study the older brother’s distinctive features in a midst of the silence, always taking interest into his sibling’s prescence. He took note of his messily arranged mop hair-do, decorated lightly with significant stands sticking out freely; it was obvious that his attention being undivided towards his meaningful lyrics made him feel that he had no need to do himself for anyone else, along with the curved bridge of his nose, morphed in a delicate overlay of skin, a unique microcosm to who he really was. Both Gallagher brothers were pictured in the magazines as loud, condescending, boisterous teenagers from a poor, working class background, each one oblivious to the understanding of how to control (and handle) the spotlight - yet always wanted it to be on them. However, the way the world pictured Noel wasn’t fully correct: yes, there were times he was off of his head, drugged up in all sorts of class A drugs he seemingly was able to purchase from the insane sales their debut album, Definitely Maybe, had scored. Regardless, the world saw Noel as the twin of Liam: the same, when without a doubt both carried such idiosyncratic differences.

Once again, Noel kept quiet, engrossed between his many thoughts and ideations, not knowing whether to answer Liam or keep his silence. Noel felt the strong stare of his sibling being emitted onto his flesh, drawing himself two options: telling Liam and having him shut up about it, although he knew he wouldn’t, or keep his brother asking the same questions, his curiosity - and aggravation - increasing every millisecond as his quietness progressed on. “Is it someone I know?” the sibling asked, causing Noel to swivel his head instantly - locking eyes with him in surprise. Yes, Liam, it is.

Liam was quick to catch Noel's startled expression, immediately thinking of all the girls they had been friends with, or had been working with them within the past year. They didn’t have many girl-friends; when you’re front page on practically every entertainment article about how loud and tatty you usually were tended to result in hatred by the mass population of women. Regardless, there were enough girls to be friendly with; when you’re drunk in a pub at three in the morning searching for a passionate night with someone, it’s less likely you’re going to keep your eye out to not sleep with someone as attractive as the Gallaghers. “Is it Matilda?”

“No,”

“Evelyn?”

“No,”

“Nicole?”

“No! It’s Y/N!” Noel yelled, agitated by his brother's bombarded neediness to know.

“So not Nicole?”

“No,” he repeated, his mind beginning to despise the word after the countless amounts of it rushing off his tongue in the mass of a few seconds.

“Good, because I like Nicole,” Liam mumbled, gazing straight at the window, intently listening to the quiet sound of cars driving by on the road beside them.

Shocked, the older brother bunched his eyebrows together and squinted his eyes. “You have Patsy, Liam,”

“Yeah, but,” the younger brother began, before being caught in realisation. “Wait, Y/N?”

Sighing, Noel came to a conclusion that there was no way of escaping the situation. “Yes, her,” he replied, taking the song out of Liam’s palms. He had stared blankly at the sheet hundreds of times, lost in a dream, yet each time he felt as if he was reading it for the first. Every time his eyes laid upon the first few lines, his heart felt as if it was a balloon being punctured with a toothpick on accident, cascading out of a little child’s hand in the middle of the sidewalk, flying onto the road making it unable to get a hold of it again. The kid cries, but the mother tells him to get over it, you’ll get another soon, she says. Noel rarely spoke to Y/N, and when he did, he either stuttered or was too drunk to finish a sentence. She made his heart flutter, in the most endearing ways, receiving a small smile from the girl brightened his day to the fullest. Sometimes he wondered if he was in love with her, love at first sight when they first locked eyes in the recording studio, the band’s manager introducing them to the band as the recording assistant. She was the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes upon.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam asked, wrapping an arm around Noel. “Or even, why haven’t you gone out with the girl yet? She’s single ain’t she?”

Noel nodded his head, staring down at his fingers as they cradled the sheet cautiously, hoping not to rip it in the slightest. “I was thinking of showing the song to her, since I have no fuckin’ clue how I’m supposed to tell her how I feel,” he added, pulling his hand up to chew on his nails - out of nervousness of the idea of presenting such a heart-wrenching song to her.

“Tell her tomorrow, show her the song after recording,” Liam suggested, slipping his top lip into his mouth, wondering what was battling his brother’s thoughts. He had never seen his brother so naive to how to talk to a girl, tell her he wants to go out for a drink with her, enjoy each other’s company as friends, not co-workers, for once. It was like the entire topic was something so new to the sibling - not even his brother could aid him with directions over what to do, exactly presenting a child the quadratic form, they would never be able to understand it.

A few long, impatient seconds whistled by in the room - the ambience tense yet soft, bubbled to the brim with thought. Liam didn’t want to say anything else, knowing his brother wouldn’t answer; he wanted to wait for a well thought out response, one that would make sense - unlike receiving flat-out no’s, which brought both boys off guard over the repetitiveness. “You think it's good enough?” Noel questioned, locking eyes with the opposing brother once again. Funnily enough, he knew the exact answer he was going to receive; he could hear it in the room, bouncing off of the walls, the exact words rolling off of Liam’s tongue. He knew him so well, he didn’t need a conformation of words as they fell off of his lips.

“Go for it,”

~~~

After another strenuous day of recording, bickering, and a sporadic storming out by the lead singer, they somehow managed to record two songs: Acquiesce and Headshrinker, both songs to be included in their first single release, Some Might Say, for their upcoming album. There was high anticipation for this forthcoming LP - tabloids had the topic stained on their lips, the matter embossed in their heads, it being the only thing they were able to talk about with a such excitement, almost exactly like the buzz the band received with their first album, due to it becoming the fastest selling debut LP in the UK charts. Everyone was shocked by their sudden appearance, and along with their rugged up, tough looks, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. Unsurprisingly, the air in the room was filled with up to the brim in fog - all from the hundreds of joints that were scruffily wrapped up and burnt, all up to its butt to be chucked away in the dustbins. There were ashtrays decorated all around the room; some practically overflowing in dust, others merely sprinkled in ash it could almost present as unused and clean. Time felt distant; with the clock itching to strike hour 5, the atmosphere was left fussy, all five boys drained entirely from the ridiculous amounts of re-recordings they had to do, along with Guigsy being especially annoyed by a decision their label had made for an upcoming gig they seemingly had to start planning for. Bollocks, he shouts, slouching down in his seat, as Bonehead scoffs at his continuous childlike behaviour.

“Right well, I’m out,” Liam yells, his eyes immediately drifting onto Noel. Giving his sibling a nod, he grabs hold of his spliff again, his fingers softly entwining with the roughened fabric, inhaling sharply before exhaling out its poignant contents in front of Y/N’s face. “Bye, Y/N,” he adds, turning his head away and swaying out the door - trying to present a cool-like physique. The rest of the boys follow, except Noel. She laughs at him, whispering a short bye before carrying on with her previous activities. The boys were planning on going to the nearest bar to hang out, we deserve it after all our hard work and dedication to this shitting album, Liam would always repeat. Not like their lives aren’t situated with cigarettes, bars and alcohol practically everyday. I want to find a bird to sleep with. You have Patsy! Oh, yeah.

After everyone had left, it was only Noel and Y/N left in the space. Noel was sat in the recording room, playing around with the strings on one of his many Gibson’s, his fingers lightly tapping on the metal cords, attempting to settle another melody for another upcoming song he had thought about. He was always like this. He was the definition of the I’ll-see-you-guys-there type; he constantly had something to do beforehand. He carried such a creative mind, you never wanted to interrupt him when he was left in his element, you knew he was going to create something amazing - he always did. Y/N currently had her headphones on, her head slowly bopping to the sounds of the music she was playing as her eyes were focused on the controls. Every few seconds she would mess around with the controls, either boosting the bass or lowering the sound of the guitars, continuously finding something fun to do with the tunes. As the song she was listening to had come to a close, she clapped lightly to herself, accompanied with a wide grin plastering on her face. Listening to music was her favourite thing in the world to do; it repeatedly gained her such emotional satisfaction you’d envy it from afar.

His eyes drifted onto stare at Y/N. Every time he laid her eyes on her, he was perpetually enthralled. Enthralled by her presence, enthralled by how much dedication she can hold to one small, simple thing - she never seemed to get tired by anything, even by his younger brother’s whiney behaviour. She was most certainly the best one to speak to him whenever he was pissed, agitated or refusing to do as everyone was telling him to: whether it be because of an argument he had in the midst of recording about how the lyrics sounded, resulting in him storming out, or about a petty comment that was slipped out of their managers’ lips about how hard they are to work with, she consistently knew what to do. Her voice always held this calming tone, almost like she could never shout, get mad, even if she tried to. What made Noel inspired for his songs wasn’t the same, rapid rush of exhilaration that he’d gain as he was nearing finishing the song; it was the Oasis in her eyes that motivated him. She saw them as this power, this light that no one was able to obtain, Noel being the only one able to unlock the true colours behind it. The mastermind. Whatever she said, whatever followed off her tongue professedly felt like it came straight out of a book - no matter what conversation was occurring. Her words would repeat in his head until they became engraved and cherished, saved for another moment to remember. It would never leave his mind. He was constantly captivated by her, in the most desiring ways.

“What are you doing?” Noel asked, attempting to hold a conversation. His fingers were still messing around with the cords, this time his other arm resting on his lap instead of situated on the neck of the guitar. He watched her head lift up, switching her gaze from the controls to instantly lock eyes with Noel, a bright smile now glued onto her face.

“Just having a bit of a play with the controls,” she grinned. “And you, mister Noel?”

Laughing lightly at the tiny nickname he had received from her, his heart warmed by her blissful aura of everything he had wanted to see in a girl. She always carried optimism wherever she went, consistently held her head up high. “Figuring out something for a song,” he mumbled to her, to which she nodded her head slowly in reply, her eyes now staring at the guitar placed on his lap. Her eyes kept switching from to the nape of the instrument straight to its body, practically analysing everything that was on it. This carried on for a few seconds, the air mute until Noel decided to speak up with something he was anxious about bringing up. “I wanted to show you something,”

Building up enough courage, Noel placed his electric guitar on the stand next him, exiting the crammed recording room to quickly enter the lounging space. Y/N’s eyes never left his body; her curiosity stretched out in the masses towards the lanky boy’s withdrawn approach, striking her attention right away. The entire time he avoided locking eyes with her, trotting into the space quickly as he went to grab a random acoustic thrown on one of the couches in the room, knowing his nerves would reach a breaking point soon enough, for even thinking of creating contact with her enticing, sunlit orbs, filled with an itch of interest and consistent undivided attention, would cause him to shrivel back into the young Mancunian boy he once was, before stuttering slightly and rushing out of the room - danced in embarrassment. He had never come across a girl who was able to strike him in such a way his nervous system was at a risk of collapsing, the only songs he was able to write about people tended to either be his brother, or situations with friends - for it was never a girl, he was never like that.

Snatching the previous seat of the acoustic that was cradled in his arms, Noel pulled the instrument closely to his body - the wooden material now in contact with his clothed chest. Inhaling the air as if it were a spliff coiled with weed, he took deep breaths, counting down from the number five before speaking up again. “This one’s called Talk Tonight,” he echoed, before his fingers - as if magically casted a spell - automatically shifted places on the fretboard, beginning to strum the solemn notes, beautified with adoration. At this point, Y/N’s chair was completely swivelled, her gaze fixated exactly on Noel, her heart agape as she marvelled at the boy merely inches in front of her. The heavy strums were the only thing sounding in the room, settling on a peaceful, luscious tone, containing powers to set you in a stupor of harmony, reconciliation, sending you straight to sleep in just a few seconds. It had power to heal you, like an antidote adorning your skin, the pain at first making your face scrunch up in distress, then relaxing after a short while, pleasure washing over your veins to realise you were finally healed.

Once Noel began singing, he became a different person. His nerves were long gone - escaped from his mind, for all tension was now released from his body as his fingers swept across the strings freely. Without even looking at Noel, it was clear that the piece he was performing meant a lot to him, his vocal chords perfecting the notes in hilarity, infatuated by the idea that he was truly presenting it, in real life, to the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about for days on end. He was singing it like he had nothing left to lose, for he was unmasking a side to him he never dared to even think of letting escape; it all his thoughts, his feelings, pouring out in a short 3-minute song, pacified with emotion - it was impossible not to feel an attachment to the music. As he was nearing the last couple lines of the song, he lifted his stare from his instrument, looking to see if Y/N was watching him, and to his surprise, he was instantly met with her gaping at him. Their eyes were glued to one another’s, almost like they were afraid to blink, or do something to prevent not sharing the moment with each other - even if that meant having your eyes burn out of dehydration.

“I wanna talk tonight, Until the morning light, ‘Bout how you saved my life, I wanna talk tonight.”

After the song ended, there was immediate clapping from Y/N. It was the same, quiet clapping she bestowed earlier when she had finished listening to one of their demos by the control centre, but this time for Noel, and only him. “Was that for me?” she asked, her grin blaring out in her words. She knew it was, all from the beginning with his awkward walking to grab the guitar, yet she still asked anyways. Noel didn’t answer, looking away to stare at his free hand stroking the couch nimbly. He didn’t know what to say, slightly embarrassed yet glad he finally accomplished what he was trying to muster out for months. At first it was a quickened heartbeat as she walked past him, him being all flushed out with a simple doing, to not even knowing what to say when she asked him a question about his guitar riff he performed, to which he’d turn to look at Bonehead, asking him to reply a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Because if that’s the case, I feel the same way,” she added, knowing Noel’s head would turn almost immediately. And it did. He was met with her lips, brushing against his teasingly, their noses colliding together, on the verge of morphing into each other. He felt that he had finally found the one person who understood him best among anyone he knew; he felt as if she knew him more than he knew himself, without even communicating. It was a feeling so scarce and infrequent, he finally understood life for what it really was, for he would prefer dying in that exact moment than pulling away, having to endure the ache of realisation: realisation he would never have a moment so perfect ever again.

#noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #liam gallagher #oasis #oasis band #britpop #90s #nineties #imagines #band imagines #fluff #smut #angst #my writing

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