#was part of a discussion on class at my college last weekend and I’m still thinking about it

[nope-body]

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[jeonsjiddies]

Headlights | pjm (m)

Summary- Jimin is a fuckboi, rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Everyone assumes he’s this way because he just wants to have fun. No one dares look deeper, no one sees the haunted look in his eyes, the emptiness and pain that reside in their deep brown depths. Until you.

🎶 Headlights by The Classic Crime - “Please don’t face the headlights of oncoming cars alone.” 🎶

Word Count- 14.7k 🥴

Pairing- Jimin x reader

Genre- smut

Warnings- oral (female recieving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex, nipple piercing? is that warning?, some depression-like symptoms/thoughts, a little self destructive behavior? Kind of.

a/n: Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! This is the longest fic I have ever written and it is my baby. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think!  💕 

Walking up to the frat house was intimidating, and you slowed your stride enough for Hana to reach back and yank you with her into the party. You could feel the bass of the music rattling your bones and couldn’t hear Hana as she shouted over the music to you. 

“I can’t believe you made me do this!” you hissed, twisting your body around just in time to narrowly miss a drunk football player bulldozing his way through the crowd. 

“What?” she shouted back. 

You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head, gripping her hand tightly and following her through the overcrowded living room to the barely quieter kitchen. You took the drink she handed you and nursed it slowly, since you liked a good buzz but still wanted a clear head. 

You felt his gaze before you saw him; you could feel the shivers along the back of your neck. 

You turned to seek out the cause, methodically searching the crowd. Your eyes met the most beautiful pair of brown ones you’d ever seen, the strobe lights from above causing them to almost glow brighter-  but that was the only light in his gaze. His eyes looked… sad. Empty. 

It seemed like everything else turned blurry, and you could only focus on him in perfect clarity, every feature defined and prominent; every move he made, your eyes followed. Everything else faded away, and you only saw him. Him and his beautiful eyes, full of longing and something you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t help but furrow your brow in concern. Your face showed your every emotion like an open book, and you opened your mouth to ask Hana who was staring at you before she squealed, gripping your arm.

“Park Jimin is totally checking you out!” she giggled, tugging on your sleeve excitedly.

“Park Jimin?” you questioned rhetorically.

“He’s famous on campus. He’s hot, rich, and a total freak in the sheets. Rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Every girl on campus is dying for a night with him.” she chattered.

“Oh geez.” You rolled your eyes.

“Seriously. The saying is: once you Jimin, you can’t Jim-out. He’s so good in bed, he’s had to get like three restraining orders against girls who can’t let go. They say once you sleep with him no one else will do.” she continued, waving her hands in the air dramatically.

“I’ll take your word for it.” you giggled, glancing over towards Jimin once again.

He was absolutely gorgeous, with perfectly styled light brown hair, soft, plump looking lips, a jawline that could cut someone. His white t-shirt showed off tattoos that danced down his arms, covering the delicate ivory skin beneath. His thighs alone deserved their own wing in an art gallery, beautifully encased in skin tight ripped jeans. You caught yourself staring, clearing your throat and averting your gaze, but something kept drawing you back to him.

He was surrounded by girls, all leaning forward to give him the best view of their cleavage, all doing their best to seduce him, but he looked bored. Lonely. Lost. He sighed and his eyes trailed back to you. He watched you for a moment, noting how you flushed and turned away looking flustered. A smirk played on his lips and he shoved himself off the wall, making his way over to you.

“Shit! He’s coming over here!” Hana whisper-shouted.

You braced yourself, waiting for him to call you out for staring, or yell at you. Your body seemed to be vibrating with nerves because you could feel him getting closer, like your body had a radar that searched him out. Warm breath ghosted over the back of your neck, right under your ear. You shivered.

“Hello, there princess.” he purred.

You spun around, startled, and came face-to-face with Jimin.

He was even more gorgeous up close. He smelled of alcohol and something minty. You couldn’t help basking in the lovely scent that filled your senses for a moment, before leveling your gaze to his. His body wasn’t even two inches from yours. If you leaned up on your toes, you’d be kissing him. You took a step behind you, your back hitting the island in the kitchen.

“Hello,” you greeted in return, willing the heat in your cheeks to look like it was from the humidity in the room and not Jimin’s proximity to you.

“I haven’t seen you around before, are you a Freshman?” he inquired, sending his charming smile your way and making your knees want to buckle.

“No, I just normally don’t come to parties,” you explained, tilting your head towards Hana. “Hana made me.”

“Why not?” he wondered aloud.

“Just… not my scene.” you shrugged. 

Jimin watched your face, amusement apparent on his features. He seemed to be contemplating something. Apparently coming to his decision, his smile came back to grace his gorgeous face, but it didn’t reach his eyes, a detail you couldn’t miss even if you’d wanted to.

“Sounds like you need to have a little fun,” he smirked, stepping closer to you, his fingertips trailing along your hips and his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered his next sentence, “I could help you with that. My room is upstairs.”

“I… I, uh… no… no thank you,” you sputtered, placing your hand on his (deliciously firm) chest and gently urging him backwards to put space between your erratically beating heart and his warm, enticing body.

“What?” Jimin asked, genuinely confused.

“I’m not that kind of girl.” you said softly, trying to cushion the blow to his ego.

“You really don’t want to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.

“Um… no thank you.” You coughed awkwardly.

Jimin stared at you for a moment, reading you. His eyes searched yours, looking for something. You didn’t know what, or if he found it, but when he looked away, he shrugged.

“Your loss.” he turned to the sound of someone calling his name and left you standing there, heart pounding out of your chest and legs weak.

You watched him walk away, plastering on that signature flirty smile that fooled everyone around him. You watched his animated dancing, life of the party, putting on a show. You watched his eyes search the crowd, like his soul was longing to find something, but you didn’t know what.

                                                      -♡-

A few weeks had gone by since your encounter with Jimin, and somehow he was everywhere. You saw him on your way to class, laughing with his friends by the fountain. You saw him at the coffee shop, exiting the building as you were about to enter. You saw him in the crowded hallways of your university, heard his infectious laugh bubbling from his chest and dancing through the air. 

Even when Jimin wasn’t in your direct line of vision, even when you couldn’t hear the way his melodic voice carried through the air, he was everywhere. Every night since meeting him, you dreamt of sad, empty brown eyes attached to the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. Every other thought that flitted through your mind was about him. What was Jimin up to? Does he look happier today? Was it just that night? Where was he now?

Sitting in the lecture hall next to Hana, you couldn’t pay attention to what the professor was attempting to teach you, a heavy sigh falling from your lips as you doodled a familiar pair of plusher ones. Hana nudged your shoulder.

“What’s up with you lately? You’re like, lost in space or something.” she accused.

“Sorry, just got a lot on my mind,” you sighed, playing with the edges of your notebook distractedly.

“Wanna talk about it?” she wondered.

“How much do you know about Park Jimin?” you asked almost instantly, causing Hana to jump a bit.

“Oh honey…” she sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t go there. Park Jimin is a good fuck if you’re looking to let loose, but I wouldn’t get too invested. Fucking is about all he’s good at. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” 

“Do you really think he’s not good for anything but that? I mean, he’s human.” you defended.

“That’s not what I meant, I just know how you are. Don't go crushing on him, he’ll break your heart Y/N. Park Jimin doesn’t do emotions. He does meaningless sex.” she explained.

“I guess…” you trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

“Seriously. Don’t go looking for trouble.” she warned.

“I won’t.” you promised.

“Good. Now, there’s a party this weekend. Are you coming?” she grinned.

A classmate in front of you coughed obnoxiously sending you a glare. You shot them an apologetic smile but lowered your voice. Hana didn’t lower her volume at all though.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” you shrugged.

“Come onnnn. Live a little!” she encouraged.

“If you two ladies have something to share with the class, I’d be more than happy to give you the podium. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until after class to discuss whatever is so important,” the professor hummed, shooting a glare in your direction.

Immediately silencing yourself, you looked down at your notebook, where the drawing of Jimin’s plush lips stared at you. You stared back, recalling the last time you’d seen him, and how your heart had pounded in your chest violently enough that you thought it was going to come out. 

You decided you needed to see him again, which is how you found yourself completely out of place once again at another frat party. Drunk and stoned college kids stumbled around, grinded on each other, made out in corners, and caused all kinds of trouble all around you as you tried to be inconspicuous in your search for Jimin.

“Do you want a drink?”  you asked Hana and she nodded, so you ventured into the kitchen to retrieve something for the two of you. 

Once you returned, you couldn’t find her anywhere. She had a tendency of wandering off with the first hot guy she set her sights on, but you decided to look for her anyway. You wove between bodies, checking around corners and searching all the obvious places. When you came up empty handed you ventured out the back door, only to notice none other than Park Jimin sitting on the porch swing alone, smoking.

Previous task abandoned, you walked up to him and sat beside him; his eyes lazily trailed up and down your figure as he assessed you, his plump lips turning up into a smirk.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again. Change your mind about my offer?” he smiled seductively.

“No.” you shrugged, offering him the extra cup in your hand, which he took while watching you carefully.

“Seriously? Am I not your type or something? You think I’m ugly?” he wondered, feigning distress.

“That’s not it at all!” you gasped out with a little too much conviction.

“So you find me attractive?” he verified, scooting closer.

“Well, yes,” you admitted, cheeks blazing while you avoided his intense gaze.

“So you do want to fuck me.” He grinned.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Why?” he questioned, letting his fingertips dance along the edge of your shorts.

“Like I said. I’m not that kind of girl. I think sex should be meaningful,” you shrugged, though your body betrayed you with the goosebumps rising at his touch.

“Ah, so you’re one of those hopeless romantics,” he laughed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you giggled. “I’m not waiting for a knight in shining armour. I just want it to mean something.”

Jimin focused his gaze on your face, watching you carefully as you fiddled with a stray thread on your blouse. He knew your body reacted to him, he could see the way you shivered, feel the goosebumps on your skin. He didn’t understand why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to fall into bed with him like everyone else. You were an enigma to him. 

You finally met his gaze, curiosity getting the better of you. You had to know if his eyes still held the same look as before, or if it was a one-time thing. You could still see the loneliness, masked by his overconfident demeanor. 

“What’s your major?” you asked, changing the subject out of the blue.

“What? Oh, um… dance, actually.” he said, averting his gaze.

“How long have you been dancing?” you wondered.

“Since I was little. Why are you asking this?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Just wondering. I don’t know anything about you,” you easily replied.

“What’s yours?” he countered.

“Creative writing.” 

“That’s cool.” he sent you a tentative smile.

“Thanks. So is dancing. I can’t dance to save my life,” you giggled.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” he argued, a smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, you haven’t seen bad,” you laughed.

After taking a moment to wonder why you were even outside talking to him and what you could possibly want from him, he pushed his suspicion aside..Jimin rolled his eyes with a smile and stood up, extending his hand out to you. You sent him a questioning look and he just shook his hand until you grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone, playing a song you hadn’t heard before, but enjoyed nonetheless. It was slow and simple, but still pretty upbeat.

“We’ll try something simple so I can see where you’re at, ok?” Jimin grinned at you, spacing his feet apart and watching your face.

“You’re going to make me dance?” you gasped.

“I’m going to teach you some easy moves. Everyone should know at least one dance move,” he laughed.

“If you watch me fall on my face I can never look you in the eye again,” you grumbled.

“Oh hush. Okay, start with your feet shoulder width apart for balance.” he instructed.

You mimicked his stature, placing your feet shoulder width apart and following his movements that he did slowly so you could catch on. You could tell he was graceful and knew how to move his body, even when he was slowing down and exaggerating his movements so you could keep up. Jimin’s movements were fluid and calculated, each new step had precision but flowed into the next seamlessly. He was made to dance, you decided. And somehow, you didn’t fall under his instruction. He was patient and understanding when you’d mess up, showing you again and praising you when you got it right.

 He seemed to be having fun, his laughter filled you with giddiness and his smile seemed genuine, his eyes scrunched up into little crescent moons and his beautiful pearly teeth on display, his hands wrapped around his stomach as he leaned over in another fit of laughter. You giggled along with him, albeit at your own expense, but you loved seeing this side of Jimin, he seemed… happy, carefree. This was the way Jimin was meant to be.

When you messed up again, Jimin laughed, coming over to you and grabbing your hands, showing you how to move your body to the music by leading you with his own. Your back was pressed against his firm chest as he guided you, his hips flush against yours, causing a blush to creep up your neck. Jimin must have noticed the position he’d put you in, but it didn’t stop him. He only pressed closer, whispering in your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, babygirl,” he purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

You shivered, attempting to turn and pull out of his hold to scold him, but you were interrupted by a loud male voice coming from inside the house.

“Yo Park where the hell have you been? We need help in beer pong! Oh-” a tall man you recognized as Hoseok froze at the sight.

Jimin cleared his throat and stepped away from you. Hana peered around Hoseok from behind him, curious to what was going on. Her eyes widened when she saw you, and she gave you a look of disappointment, knowing you hadn’t listened to her warning. You looked away, avoiding her gaze as Jimin breezed past you to follow Hoseok inside. Hana watched you for a moment before following them inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

                                                         -♡-

It had been a few days since your dancing lesson with Jimin, and seeing him in such a comfortable, happy state hadn’t really done much to take him off your mind, especially not after seeing his eyes glaze over and the mask slip right back on as soon as Hoseok called his name. How he’d breezed past you like you didn’t exist after what felt like a special moment shared between the two of you.

Maybe Hana was right… maybe all he wanted was sex. Your anxiety was telling you he was playing with your emotions, but you knew better. You saw something in Jimin, something no one else seemed to notice. The small amount of time you’d spent with him when he had let his guard down had given you the opportunity to see what potential he had. 

 Jimin didn’t have to be tough and closed off. He could be fun and open and sweet. He could be thoughtful and patient and encouraging. He could be silly and smart and dedicated. He was talented and hard working. You’d spent maybe an hour alone with Jimin at the party that night, and in that small frame of time, you’d seen a glimpse of the real him shine through that facade he put on for everyone else. 

You wanted to see it again.

You took’d taken a trip into the city to do some sight seeing and clear your restless mind, having been driven crazy going in circles. It had taken longer than you’d anticipated, so you’d opted to take a taxi home with the sun having gone down a while ago and the stars making their appearance. You watched the cityscape fly by, lost in your own little world. The closer you got to campus, the more you paid attention, knowing the bridge that overlooked the beautiful skyline would be coming soon. 

You watched the water below ripple gently, small waves dancing across the surface of the river underneath the bridge. It was beautiful, reflections of the city lights shining and shimmering in the water. You glanced up at the other end of the bridge and saw a figure standing there, alone. It kind of looked like…

“Sir, stop the car. Pull over please!” you begged the driver.

He shot you a curious look but pulled to the side of the road. You handed him your fare and dashed away from the car towards the figure. Once you realized he wasn’t going to jump or do anything stupid, you slowed your stride, watching him as you quietly made your way over to him. Jimin was lost in thought and didn’t notice you approaching him. He watched the waves longingly, as if he wished he were floating away in them, part of the nothingness. Like he wanted to disappear into the water and drift away into the sea.

The look in his eyes as he gazed out into the unknown was haunted, and it tore at your heart to see him look so empty. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and if that’s true, Jimin’s soul seemed broken. You wanted to know why. He had it all. He had money, good looks, friends, girls, what could possibly be missing? Why did he look so dejected?

You gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he jumped slightly upon realizing he wasn’t alone, turning to face you. His gaze met yours in silence, he watched your face for a moment, then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I was riding by and saw you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. What are you doing up here all alone?” you wondered.

Jimin turned to face you fully now, looking down at you with a hard expression.

“Why do you care?” he asked, bunching his fists at his side. “What do you want from me Y/N? Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Jimin. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I want to be your friend,” you explained softly, reaching out to touch his arm, which he yanked away.

“You want to be my friend?” he laughed bitterly. “Why? So I can buy you stuff? You want my money? Here,” he took out his wallet, holding out several bills for you to take.

You were shocked, stepping back a little, but looking up to meet Jimin’s gaze. He looked resigned, angry. You looked at his outstretched hand, holding the money out to you and sighed. You reached for his hand, and he thought you’d take the bills, but you only eased his hand back down to his side.

“I don’t want your money,” you told him, trying to keep your voice from sounding as offended as you felt. “I just like spending time with you.”

“Why? What is your angle here? Just take what you want and go, like everyone else does. Everyone uses each other, I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, but just take it and go. Stop acting like you care about me,” he hissed.

You watched him for a moment, chest heaving as he took deep breaths, looking angry and closed off and… scared. He looked scared. He said everyone uses each other, did he really not have anyone in his life who genuinely just wanted him to be happy? 

“I do care about you, Jimin. I don’t want anything from you but friendship,” you said softly.

“Right,” he laughed, “like I believe that. No one just wants to be friends. They want something. Sex. Money. Status. Then they leave, everyone leaves eventually so why bother getting attached and pretending to care?”

“That sounds really lonely, Jimin,” you trailed off quietly.

Jimin’s expression was one of shock. He was expecting some sort of reaction out of you, anger, defiance, maybe admitting you were just after his money. He expected you to try to trick him, to yell at him, to tell him he was an asshole and you never wanted to see him again. Jimin was not expecting you to see straight through him, to see how lonely he was, how much he craved connection.

You terrified Jimin. He’d been drawn to you from when he first laid eyes on you, admittedly it was a sexual attraction at first. When you’d refused him, though, he was intrigued. He’d watched you around campus, how you never sought out to be the center of attention, how you didn’t go looking for drama or clout. Then you showed up on that porch swing at the party, looking into his eyes like you really saw him.

Jimin hadn’t felt so at ease so quickly with anyone in his life like he did with you. He felt like he could be himself, like he could let his guard down. He had fun, really enjoyed himself for the first time in what felt like forever with you. He wasn’t putting on a show. He wasn’t giving the people what he thought they wanted to see from him. He was just spending time with a beautiful girl who made him feel like he was enough.

And that was terrifying.

Jimin couldn’t afford to get attached again. He’d had his heart ripped out and stomped on so many times he’d honestly thought he didn’t have one anymore. Until he watched the way your eyes lit up when you giggled at one of his silly dance moves. Until he felt the giddiness rising in his chest when you smiled especially for him. Jimin almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel so carefree, and he missed it so much. He longed to be free and let go.

You made him feel like he could, and that scared Jimin shitless. He’d spent so long building up this wall to protect himself, so long wearing this mask of indifference to shield his weary and battered heart from another letdown. Another person pretending to care. Another “friend” using him to get something. Another betrayal. But you… you felt so genuine. You were light and happy and kind and you made him feel like he could breathe again. He barely knew you, and already you’d wormed your way into his heart enough to make him feel like things could be different. It scared Jimin just how badly he craved that, the connection, to feel something again.

“I… I guess,” he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping from the confession. 

He looked like he was deflating, the tension falling off his body once he finally let it out that yes, he was so lonely. He watched your reaction, embarrassed that you’d seen this side of him. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of anyone, didn’t want to give them the chance to use him again. But you just smiled sympathetically.  You didn’t push or pry.

Instead, you pivoted. “Are you hungry? I kind of want some ramen. Come with me to the store?” you offered.

Jimin eyed you warily, but nodded, falling in step beside you as you walked along the bridge, the only sounds you could hear were the soft rippling of the waves below and the sounds of the cars rushing past. Jimin was quiet beside you, looking like he was lost in thought. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was stepping, and tripped over a loose brick on the sidewalk.

You saw the headlights of the oncoming car nearing closer as Jimin tumbled into the road, your heart beating out of your chest in bone-chilling fear. You jumped into the street and grabbed Jimin’s hand. You jumped back and yanked him onto the sidewalk mere fractions of a second before the car zoomed past where your bodies had just been, horn blaring obnoxiously. Jimin’s body crashed into yours, sending you off balance and splaying against the sidewalk.

You groaned at his weight being flung on top of you when you crashed into the hard cement sidewalk. Jimin propped himself up on his arms, body still flush against yours as he searched your face, eyes wide.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve been killed!” he scolded, eyes roaming over your face and arms for any injuries. 

“So could you! I couldn’t just sit back and watch you get run over!” you defended. 

“So you risked your life for someone you barely know?!” he hissed, with no real bite to his words. 

Worry and guilt were swimming in his gaze as it met yours. You softened, reaching up to caress his hair gently in an attempt to soothe him and get him to focus on you and your next words.

“Hey, we’re both fine. Everything’s okay,” you smiled.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said more to himself than you, “What even are you?”

“Still hungry,” you giggled playfully, trying to ease the tension surrounding the two of you.

Jimin rolled his eyes but finally, a smile graced his pretty lips. You both seemed to notice your positions at the same time, your cheeks lighting up and the tips of his ears turning red. He scrambled off of you, holding out a hand to pull you to your feet. You both avoided eye contact and he let out an awkward cough, scratching the back of his neck.

“Let’s go get ramen then,” he smiled shyly, motioning for you to go ahead of him.

You walked together in silence, Jimin being much more careful about where he was stepping while you made your way to the convenience store at the edge of the university. Entering and nodding to the cashier on duty, you both made your way over to the ramen. You reached out to grab a bowl, and a gasp left Jimin’s lips.

“You’re bleeding!” he grabbed your arm, examining the scrape on your elbow.

“Oh, whoops,” you shrugged. 

Jimin went to the cashier and requested the first aid kit, then guided you to a seat and gently took your arm, cleaning the cut with an antiseptic wipe. You hissed at the burn, and he apologized, leaning down to blow air on the wound. You watched in awe at the way his lips looked, plump and soft and delicious. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, soothing the burn from the antiseptic wipe. Jimin smiled up at you.

“Better?” he asked.

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded. He took the bandage and placed it over your wound, smoothing it out with a gentle brush of his fingers. 

“There. All better. Let's eat!” he chirped, pushing off his knees to stand.

You both picked out some ramen and drinks, using the water dispenser to add hot water to the dry noodles. Jimin reached for his wallet to pay for you both reflexively. You didn’t put yours on the counter and he looked at you in confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Uhhh… waiting my turn?”

“What do you mean? It’s our turn.”

“It’s your turn. I’ll pay for mine when you’re done,” you shrugged.

Jimin looked shocked and confused, and the cashier looked impatient. You nodded towards the counter and Jimin paid, watching you curiously as you completed your transaction with a smile on your face and thanked the cashier. Jimin held the door for you and you both walked to a nearby park, sitting on the bench to eat. 

You ate and talked and joked and laughed. You both just enjoyed being in each other’s presence, able to let loose and not feel judged. You watched Jimin’s eyes begin to shine for the first time since you’d met him, and your heart swelled with joy. You’d finished eating long ago but neither of you wanted to leave, so you stood up.

“I’ve been practicing, you know.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Practicing?” he echoed.

“Dancing. I’ve been practicing what you showed me. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve gotten pretty decent,” you grinned playfully.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Jimin smirked, leaning back into the bench with his hands folded behind his head, his shirt riding up and displaying his mouth-watering abs, along with the small trail of hair that dipped down underneath his waistband.

You stood with your feet shoulder width apart, just like Jimin had taught you, and started shaking your hips like you’d seen him do that night at the party, giving your best impression of his dance routine for the first minute or two. Then, you grinned at him as he opened his mouth to praise you, before you started doing the chicken dance.

Jimin’s laughter rang through the air and he started dancing with you, both of you making fools of yourselves, your only audience each other and the moon that shone brightly in the sky, illuminating Jimin’s face, highlighting his ethereal beauty. The two of you danced and laughed for a while, before falling onto the bench in a fit of giggles. 

Finally deciding it was time to go, Jimin insisted on walking you home, saying it wasn’t safe for you to be alone that late at night. You agreed, not because you weren’t capable of keeping yourself safe, but simply to stay with him for a little longer. You tossed your food containers in the trash as you left the park. His hand brushed against yours a few times as you walked, talking animatedly about anything and everything, and you figured it was just an accident soyou didn’t think too much of it.

Disappointment washed over you as you walked up to your dorm building and you sighed, scuffing the ground with your foot in an attempt to stall. Jimin made no move to leave either, both of you waiting in silence for the other to say something. Suddenly, you felt warmth surround your frame as Jimin wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had in a really long time,” he whispered into your ear, almost like a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear, though you were alone.

“Me too, Jimin. Thank you for coming with me, and walking me home,” you smiled, returning his hug and placing your head on his shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long hugs between stranger-friends were supposed to last, but you weren’t going to pull away first, not when you felt so warm, so safe, so comfortable. Your heart was racing but your whole body went pliant at his touch, any tension you’d been holding melting away as you melted into him.

Jimin pulled away first, leaving a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning around and walking off, shouting “goodnight Y/N!” over his shoulder as he left. You missed the way the tips of his ears turned pink, and he missed how your whole face turned red. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you crawled into bed that night, your dreams filled with bright brown eyes shining in the moonlight, and a little bit of hope.

                                                        -♡-

After the night on the bridge, you and Jimin began hanging out. He’d wait for you outside the lecture hall and walk you home some days. Others, you’d show up with his favorite coffee and snack in hand before his (regrettably chosen) 8am class. Jimin was different around you, lighter. 

Because he was Jimin, people noticed. Eyes trailed after the two of you everywhere you went, whether you were together or not. Rumors spread, saying that you were using him to gain recognition, saying that he’d knocked you up and been forced to date you, saying that you’d blackmailed him or something. Neither of you paid attention to the prying eyes that seemed to dissect your every move, you were too caught up in each other.

You made Jimin feel like a better person, and Jimin made you feel safe and giddy. But there was no denying the massive crush you’d formed on the poor guy. You did your best to hide it, trying not to make him uncomfortable. You’d told him all you wanted was friendship, you weren’t about to make a liar out of yourself and get rejected, losing your new friend over something so silly as your unyielding yearning for him.

You really tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long when he walked unaware beside you, humming the newest song he was practicing for dance class. You tried not to let your touches last longer than socially acceptable for friends, despite the way your entire body seemed to light up with electricity every time his skin met yours. You tried not to stare longingly at his lips as he told you a story about his childhood or a class he’d taken the day before.

You tried not to fall in love with him.

You tried not to fall in love with the way his eyes formed crescent moons when he smiled, his real smile. The one he used in your presence, not the one he plastered on for the rest of the world to see. You tried not to fall in love with the sound of his voice calling your name, or the way he’d mindlessly sing quietly to himself while doing mundane tasks. You tried not to fall in love with the way he’d already be looking at you when you glanced up to check on him, with the way he’d shoot you a goofy face.

You tried not to fall in love with the way he held you close, the way every hug was just a little too long, the way he’d hold open doors for you or fix your collar, or the way he seemed to be able to make you forget about the rest of the world. You tried not to fall in love with how strong he was, both physically and emotionally, how he’d let you in and trusted you. 

But Jimin was a force of nature, somehow terrifying and comforting at the same time. He showed your heart no mercy, consistently proving himself to you over and over and making you fall harder and harder. How were you not supposed to fall head over heels for Jimin? A few weeks into your friendship and you were ready to throw caution to the wind and marry the man. Or maybe you were a little dramatic, but still. You felt so deeply for him you almost couldn’t stomach it.

Jimin seemed to bounce as he walked in front of you, using his ridiculous amount of coordination to walk backwards so he could face you as he spoke. You giggled at his behavior, keeping an eye out to make sure he didn’t run into anything or anyone. He wove around the crowd gracefully, looking back every so often, but you still watched out for him. Just in case. 

“So then the professor woke the kid up by slamming a book on his desk, I kinda felt bad for him, to be honest. But it was really funny. The kid wasn’t too bothered by it, he laughed with everyone else, and apologized for falling asleep. I don’t blame him though. I nearly lost it when he went into the section on Pavlov,” Jimin recounted, rolling his eyes.

“Poor guy!” you laughed.

“I know, so embarrassing.” he cringed.

“Yo, Jimin!” came from somewhere in the crowd, and Jimin’s easygoing expression immediately morphed into a hardened one. 

You turned to see Hoseok and Hana jogging to catch up with the two of you. Ever since they’d started dating, you’d seen Hana less and less. You didn’t mind much, as your time was mostly filled with Jimin. Hana’s hair had gotten longer and she’d dyed it a light shade of pink. It suited her.

“Hey Hana, I like your new hair,” you smiled.

“Thanks, girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” she grabbed you, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned, shooting an uncomfortable look towards Jimin.

His attention was on Hoseok though. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and you didn’t like it when Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It looked unnatural, wrong. Happiness belonged on Jimin. Hoseok was sweet, he was funny and lively and courteous, you had nothing against him. But you wished he would leave so Jimin would go back to normal. Unguarded. 

“Jimin, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days man. I really need your help. Are you busy? The girls can grab coffee or something and we can swing by the shop?” Hoseok begged. 

“Ooh that sounds so fun! We haven’t hung out in forever! Please, Y/N?” Hana begged, pulling on your shirt sleeve.

You shot a look over to Jimin, gauging his feelings on the situation, but you couldn’t read him. His face was stoic and you couldn’t see his eyes. He shrugged, following Hoseok across the street.  Hana pulled on your arm, directing you to a nearby coffee shop and grabbing a table in the corner by the window. 

“You still like the hot chocolate here the best?” Hana asked, standing up to order. 

You moved to follow but she waved you off, placing your order for you and handing it over once it was ready.

“Thank you.” you smiled, “How much was it? I’ll venmo you.” 

“Don’t worry it was only like two bucks,” Hana shrugged. “Hobi’s been paying for everything lately, hasn’t asked me to chip in a dime! So I’ve saved up a bit.” 

“Oh wow,” you laughed.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Do you remember when we used to come here like every day to do our homework and people watch?” Hana giggled.

“Yeah, it seems so long ago.” you agreed, grinning at the memory.

“Ugh, I still had that poofy curly hairdo and you wore those high school musical shirts all the time? When was that, like 8th grade?” she cringed.

“Freshman year of high school, I think. We met in high school.” you laughed. “Why did your mom let you leave the house like that?” 

“Girl I don’t know!” she groaned, “why did yours?” 

“I guess she wanted me to express myself,” you shrugged with a giggle.

“Express yourself right out of any chance to be popular,” Hana remarked sarcastically, throwing in a playful smirk.

“Hey, I don’t need to be popular. I just need a few good people around me,” you shrugged. 

“Hmmm… So, how’s Jimin?” she asked, glancing away and not meeting your eyes.

“He’s good. We were just on our way back to my dorm to watch a movie when we ran into you guys,” you explained.

“A little netflix and chill?” she laughed, but her eyes zeroed in on you.

“No,” you shook your head, “just a movie.”

Hana sighed, placing her coffee on the table and looked you in the eyes.

“YN, I’m worried about you. Someone like you shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like Jimin. When I invited you to that party, I just wanted you to get out more, not start messing around with someone like him.” Hana explained, attempting to keep her voice soft.

“What do you mean ‘someone like him’?” you asked harshly.

“You’ve heard what people are saying right? They’re spreading rumors about you because you’re hanging out with him. He’s bad news, YN. He only sleeps with girls to get what he wants. I know you’re a hopeless romantic but I can guarantee he doesn’t love you, no matter what he’s telling you.” she sighed.

“You can’t be serious.” you laughed incredulously. 

“YN, I’m just looking out for you. Jimin is-” she began but you stood and cut her off.

“Jimin is kind. Jimin is funny, smart, sweet and loyal. Jimin doesn’t talk shit about people behind their backs. Jimin doesn’t pretend to care just so he can cause trouble. Jimin doesn’t judge people based on rumors. You don’t know anything about him, Hana. You never cared enough to. No one has! You all think he’s some souless succubus who only uses sex to get what he wants, but you’re wrong. You don’t know him at all. Jimin is wonderful and I will hang out with him as much as I damn well want to because you know what? He makes me happy. So you and anyone else who has a problem with that can fuck off,” you seethed, slamming five dollars down on the table to pay her for your drink, not wanting to owe her anything, “Keep the change.”

You stomped away from the table, finally looking up from Hana’s speechless, shocked expression to find Jimin and Hoseok staring at you in mirroring astonishment. You froze for a split second, but in your rage, trudged forward, grabbing Jimin’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.

“Let’s go.” you grumbled, and he allowed you to pull him out of the exit and begin walking down the street, leaving Hoseok and Hana in stunned silence.

You didn’t let go of Jimin’s hand and he didn’t make a move to pull away as you walked silently to your dorm, your anger slowly going from a boiling rage to a simmer. You opened and shut the door with a little more force than necessary and flung the dvd cabinet open with a little too much emphasis. Jimin watched you curiously, letting you have your space and set up the movie before you crawled into your bed next to where he was waiting. 

You laid your head on his shoulder, needing the extra comfort of having him close after your emotional meltdown at the coffee shop. You sighed, letting the tension roll out of your body that you’d stored up from the encounter. Jimin wrapped an arm around you, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, eyes still on the opening credits of the movie.

“No,” you pouted.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, gaze shifting to you.

You sighed and sat up, turning to face him and pausing the movie.

“How much did you hear?”

“Hoseok and I walked in right about where you asked Hana what she meant by someone like me,” he explained.

“Oh,” you flushed, looking away from him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Jimin sighed, turning your shoulders so you’d face him and you gazed up into his eyes as he focused on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know what people think about me. I don’t care about their opinion. I care about yours, and maybe Hoseok’s. Sometimes,” he explained with a chuckle.

“I guess…” you trailed off.

“Thank you,” he spoke suddenly, softly.

“For what?” you wondered.

“For sticking up for me. For believing in me. For having my back,” he told you, his eyes swimming in an emotion you couldn’t place.

“Of course. I meant everything I said. You’re an amazing person and if people would just take a second look and get to know you, look past the wall you put up, they’d think so too.”

Jimin pulled you into his arms, encompassing you in his warmth and comfort, seeming to hold you together when you felt like you were shaking into pieces from the intensity of how strongly you felt for him. You relaxed in his hold, allowing the warmth of his body against yours to soothe your nerves.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispered into your ear, barely audible.

“You’re my best friend too,” you whispered back, hugging him just a little tighter.

Jimin smiled against your neck where he’d rested his head, and you hoped he couldn’t feel how loudly your heart was beating from feeling his lips against your skin, though he probably didn’t mean to do that. You pulled apart and snuggled into the covers to watch the movie, finally completing the task you’d set out to do since mid-afternoon.

Once the credits rolled, you were tucked into Jimin’s arms, drifting in and out of consciousness. Jimin glanced at the clock and sighed.

“I don’t want to leave but it’s getting late,” he looked down at your face.

“Nooo.. don’t go. You’re so comfy,” you whined.

“Are you calling me fat?” he huffed playfully.

“Oh hush,” you giggled, but looked up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“Can you just… stay? Just for tonight? If you want to, that is…” you looked down at your hands.

“You’re not worried someone will see me leave in the morning and start more rumors?” he wondered.

“I don’t care if you don’t,” you shrugged, meeting his eyes once more.

“Scooch over then,” he grinned and you giggled triumphantly, scooting over to one side of the bed so Jimin could slot himself between you and the wall.

He wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you against his chest and sighed contentedly. You snuggled just a little closer, mumbling something about the chilly air in the dorm, but really you just loved being close to Jimin. Butterflies swirled in your stomach, and you listened to Jimin’s breathing begin to even out as he fell asleep. You followed not long after. Wrapped in the safety and comfort of Jimin, you swore it was the best night's sleep you’d ever had.

                                                        -♡-

The second Jimin had exited your dorm that morning, there were about 50 pictures of the incident flooding social media, rumors flying rampant about your night spent together. Every other comment was about how you’d turned into a whore or Jimin was just playing with you or you had to have something on him. You ignored them all. People could think whatever they wanted, but you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

On the contrary, waking up beside Jimin had felt so, so right. You’d somehow shifted in the night, both of you seeking out each other’s warmth and you’d woken up face-to-face, your noses almost touching. You’d opened your eyes to find Jimin opening his and you both smiled at each other, giggling nervously as you broke apart. 

Jimin had gone home to freshen up, seeing as your impromptu sleepover left him without a change of clothes or a toothbrush. You hadn’t heard anything from him since he left, and you were starting to wonder if he regretted staying, if he felt uncomfortable now. Your nerves were eating you up and after your fight with Hana, you didn’t really know who you could talk to about it. You sighed, flipping through a textbook while being unable to concentrate on anything you were reading.

A few hours went by and you were starting to lose your mind from the lack of communication and the anxiety it caused. You picked up your phone to distract yourself with something when a text from Jimin came through. You sighed in relief, opening the message.

Jimin [5:54pm]: The guys at the frat house say I’ve been boring lately and I’m not allowed to skip tonight’s party. Come with me?

Did he mean come with him as in… be his date? Surely not. Right? Your heart hammered in your chest. Sure, people had seen you and Jimin around together a lot, but it was another thing entirely to go to a party together. That was basically announcing that you were dating. Maybe he didn’t see it that way? Maybe he just wanted to bring his friend to the party?

You [5:59pm]: Sure. Meet you there?

Jimin [6:04pm]: Starts at 10. :)

You texted a little back and forth in the next few hours, then you got ready for the party andmade your way over to the frat house, wondering what kind of fresh hell this party would bring. Though, you couldn’t say all parties were bad. You had met Jimin at one of these. That had turned out to be the greatest thing you’d ever done.

You were filled with a sense of nostalgia walking up to the familiar front door and entering into the foyer, greeted with booming music and some cheering from the corner where someone was doing a keg upside down. You were startled by an arm wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into a warm body.

“Y/N! Nice to see you again,” Hoseok grinned, leading you towards the kitchen.

“Hey Hoseok,” you smiled, a little confused.

“Jimin and I were about to play beer pong with Tae, we need a 4th player,” he grinned.

“Oh okay,” you smiled, walking with a little more confidence.

“Y/N!” Jimin grinned, walking over and wrapping you in a hug, “I’m glad you came. You’re on my team, ok?”

“Sounds good,” you grinned.

“Y/N, this is Taehyung, you’ve already met Hoseok. Tae, this is Y/N,” Jimin introduced.

“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung grinned a boxy smile, enthusiastically waving to you from his end of the island. “Sorry we’re about to kick your ass,” he added with an evil chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you giggled.

“Have you played before?” Jimin wondered.

“A few times, not at a big party like this but I’ve practiced,” you mimicked brushing off your shoulders and Jimin let out a hearty laugh.

“Alright, a seasoned pro!” Hoseok chimed in excitedly.

“Is Hana not here?” you asked quietly to Jimin.

“I haven’t seen her, no,” he shrugged.

“Did they break up?”

“I doubt it, but I don’t know.” he answered.

“Alright, ladies! Let's go!” Taehyung shouted enthusiastically.

Hoseok took the first shot, landing it perfectly in a cup on your side of the table, and Jimin took the first swig, downing the cup. Hoseok shot again, missing by a mile. Jimin laughed before tossing his ball across the table, expertly landing it in one of the opposing team’s. Hoseok pouted but drank anyway. Jimin tried again, landing another. You clapped and hooted for him. Jimin got three cups before he missed.

Taehyung got two cups, and you drank both before he grazed the edge of the third, but the ball didn’t go in. You started shooting and got two cups before someone jostled you on your third throw, causing you to miss the entire table. You shot a glare to the offending stranger, who apologized profusely. You sighed.

“Minho is clumsy but he’s sweet. Don’t be too hard on him. He might actually like it. Kinky bastard.” Jimin winked at you playfully.

You choked on your next breath, giggling at his words. Neither team scored anything for a while, too busy trash-talking each other and cracking jokes to concentrate on the game. Jimin’s full smile had yet to appear, but he did seem more relaxed in your presence, so you took it as a win. He wasn’t quite himself, putting on more of a show than usual, but you decided to let it go since he seemed like he was having a good time. Surprisingly, you were too. 

Taehyung was sweet and funny. He was easy to talk to and super charming. Hoseok was a ball of sunshine and energy, and they both seemed to accept you as part of their little group with no effort at all. You were Jimin’s friend, and therefore you were their friend by association. You wondered if these were people Jimin could be honest with, they seemed really genuine, but you knew how guarded he was so you weren’t about to bring it up. They were fun to be around, and that was enough for now.

The night raged on, and your team ended up winning beer pong. You’d both gained a pleasant buzz from the game but Taehyung and Hoseok were absolutely trashed. Jimin explained that they might’ve pregamed a little too hard before the party, so the added beers from their crushing defeat sent them over the edge into utterly intoxicated. They were currently clutching onto each other and singing a very off key rendition of a song you didn’t even recognize.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” you asked.

“Just down that hall,” Jimin pointed, and you smiled at him before making your way there.

You quickly did your business and washed your hands, checking your appearance in the mirror and smiling to yourself about how well the night was going. Everything was perfect and after last night with Jimin, he seemed more… into you? Less platonic. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you were hopeful that maybe Jimin felt the same way you did.

That was, until you walked out of the bathroom and saw him pushed up against the wall with some girl’s tongue down his throat. 

You felt like the room was spinning. Your heart shattered and you found it difficult to get air into your lungs as you stood frozen in shock, eyes glued to the pair like a car wreck. You just couldn’t look away. It felt like years, but lasted only a second before Jimin’s eyes opened and he spotted you. He pushed the girl off of him, taking a step toward you, but you made a beeline for the door.

You weaved your way through the crowd as fast as you could, ignoring Taehyung who gleefully called out for you to join him in karaoke. You begged any entity that was listening to let you hold your tears in until there were no witnesses, focusing solely on getting your feet to move faster and holding your emotions at bay. You heard Jimin calling your name but you only moved faster, sprinting out of the open door and down the empty road.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course he didn’t like you. You were just the first person to show him, real, unconditional friendship. That’s all his affection was. Platonic. He didn’t want you. How could he? That girl looked like a supermodel. Of course she was more his type. How could you even think he would ever want someone like you? Because he spent one night with his arms wrapped around you and brought you to a party in front of his friends? Ugh.

“Y/N! Wait!” Jimin called, and you could hear his footsteps growing closer. 

Damn him and his dancer’s stamina.

You wiped any stray tears from your eyes and did your best to plaster on a smile as you turned around to face him, you couldn’t outrun him. You might as well act normal and pretend everything was fine. Jimin slowed to a stop in front of you, panting a little.

“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly.

“Oh, uh. I’m going home,” you grimaced as your voice cracked.

“Y/N, it wasn’t what it looked like,” Jimin began.

“Oh Jimin, it’s fine,” you brushed him off, using every bit of your willpower to make yourself seem believable. “You can do whatever or whoever you want. It’s not like I own you.”

“I saw the look on your face, Y/N, I-” Jimin tried but you shook your head.

“No it’s fine. I should’ve known you’d want to have some fun tonight. You’re not obligated to babysit me just because you invited me,” you cut him off.

“But I-” he tried again, scratching his arm in frustration.

“Go back to the party, that girl is probably waiting,” you smiled, moving to turn around.

“Would you just fucking listen to me?!” he shouted, making you freeze in your tracks. 

Your eyes flickered up to meet his in shock, mouth hanging slightly ajar. Despite him being covered in tattoos and piercings, you’d never heard Jimin raise his voice or be threatening in any way. His sudden outburst caused your heart to flutter in your chest, both with astonishment and a little bit of arousal.

“She just came up and started talking to me, and she asked me to fuck, but I said no. She kissed me out of nowhere and I froze. As soon as I saw you I knew I fucked up. I pushed her off and told her to get lost. I don’t want her, Y/N. I don’t want any of them,” he nearly growled in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating entirely. 

“I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off. You said all you wanted was friendship and I didn’t want to push you away. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who really sees me, the only one who really cares. You make me a better man. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Everyone leaves but I can’t lose you. Not you. I… I love you. I’m in love with you,” he sighed, taking a step closer and gauging your reaction.

“You… do?” you whispered, scared that if you spoke too loudly he’d vanish and you’d wake up from this dream.

“I love you,” he repeated, placing his hands on your shoulders and running them down your arms to interlock your fingers.

“I love you too,” you choked out, your tears running freely now. “Jimin I love you so much it hurts.”

Jimin lifted one hand to cup your cheek, his eyes full of love and adoration and contentment. His gaze flickered down to your lips then back up to your eyes. You nodded, just barely, and he leaned in. Finally, after months of daydreaming about this very moment, Jimin’s soft, plush lips pressed against your own. Time seemed to stop, and everything faded away but Jimin and the way he kissed you. 

His kiss was gentle, but held so much passion. All the words he couldn’t say, or didn’t know how to, he flooded them all into the way he kissed you, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he worked his mouth against your own. Kissing Jimin felt like coming home, like the first breath of air after being caught in a current and forced underwater until your breaking point. It felt right. 

Jimin’s tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, allowing him entrance. His tongue explored your mouth, sliding along yours and it felt more like a loving caress than horny college kids making out. Deepening the kiss had lit something inside you and you pressed even closer to him, pouring all your love and longing into the actions between your lips.  

Pulling away only when your lungs began screaming for air, Jimin rested his forehead against your own, his breaths coming out labored. His eyes searched yours and a slow smile spread across his reddened lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted breathlessly.

“Me too,” you giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the blush crept into your cheeks.

Jimin laughed and held you tight against him, rubbing soothing circles against your back. You both stayed like that, in the middle of the road, the only light being the stars and the moon, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Jimin loved you. Jimin loved you! And he wanted you. And you were safe in his arms. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Jimin smiled, pulling back to look at your face.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his and walking beside him. Your whole chest felt like it was going to explode. You were elated. You were shocked and excited and so, so happy. You giggled to yourself, hiding your face with your free hand as Jimin walked you home.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe this is real, I’m so happy,” you admitted, biting your lip nervously and shooting a curious glance his way to watch his reaction.

Jimin smiled softly, pulling you closer to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Me too baby. Me too,” he said softly.

Jimin walked you home and you both crawled into your bed. Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and held you close. You felt like you were in heaven. You ran your fingers through Jimin’s hair, then trailed them down his arm, tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. Jimin smiled, rubbing shapes and doodles into the skin of your back where your shirt had ridden up. 

His gentle caresses were soothing, and after the ultra emotional day you’d had, you were pretty drained. You drifted in and out of consciousness, shifting closer to Jimin and he grinned, holding you against his frame and leaving gentle pecks on your neck, your ear, wherever he could reach. You giggled.

“I’m so glad you’re finally mine,” he whispered into the chilly air of your room.

“I’ve been yours, Jimin. From the moment I met you,” you admitted sheepishly.

“I might not have known it yet, but I was yours too,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. “Now go to sleep.”

So you did.

                                                        -♡-

About a week later, the rumors were still running rampant about you and Jimin after you’d both made it official on social media, and were now spotted sharing sweet kisses and tender touches in public rather than just being together. You’d received a fair amount of messages and evil looks, girls upset that you’d taken Jimin off the market and now his skills were “going to waste.” You’d just roll your eyes and hit the block button.

You had been wondering about those skills more and more recently. Once you and Jimin had started dating, he had seemingly become allergic to wearing shirts. Prancing around your dorm room with his toned body on display, delicious ink decorating the surface of his ivory skin… you were frequently having thoughts that weren’t exactly PG. But Jimin hadn’t brought up sexual activity, and neither had you.

You felt like you could cut the sexual tension with a knife some days, but didn’t want to push Jimin into anything, not when you knew that he’d used sex as a way to push people away in the past. You knew you were overthinking, and should probably just talk to him, but you were nervous. But oh goodness did you want him. You’d wanted him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, and rejecting his proposition that first night had been harder than you’d thought.

Now it seemed like every time you looked at Jimin, it became harder to hold back. Knowing that he knew you loved him now, and that he loved you too gave you that level of comfort you needed to be able to finally take the plunge with him. You wanted him to plunge into you. All. Night. Long. 

You shook your head to rid yourself of the dirty thoughts you were having just as Jimin climbed in bed beside you, snuggling up to your frame and pulling you against him. You smiled and ran your fingers over the tattoos on his arms, tracing the designs with the tips of your fingers as lightly as you could. Jimin liked that you were always touching him. Running your fingers through his hair, tracing his tattoos, or just resting your palm against his chest. It didn’t matter as long as you were touching him, he was content. 

He shifted, laying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head, allowing you to rest your head on his chest and trace the tattoos that littered the skin there as well. Jimin closed his eyes and focused on the sound of your even breathing and the feeling of your fingers gently brushing against his skin. He shivered a time or two, and you snuggled closer, assuming he was cold. Unable to rid yourself of the lingering dampness between your thighs, you let your fingers gently graze across Jimin’s pierced nipple.

Jimin sucked in a breath and bit back a low moan, but you heard his chest rumble with the action. You bit your lip and mumbled a quiet, insincere apology. You traced the tattoos along his collar bone for a while before your fingers daringly dipped down, brushing the other exposed nipple, which had Jimin tensing below you and letting out a quiet whine.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he accused, focusing his gaze on you.

“Noooo…” you trailed off, looking up at him with faux innocence.

“I’m trying really hard to be good right now, baby girl,” he breathed out, almost as if he was in pain. 

“What if… I don’t want you to be?” you whispered seductively, letting your hand trail down his abdomen teasingly.

Jimin’s muscles clenched at the movement, and you noticed there was a sizable tent in his sweatpants. Your mouth watered at the sight. He was clearly working with some nice equipment. Jimin shifted so he could put his full attention on you, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? I know you said you were waiting, are you really ready for this?” he asked, concern and a little bit of hope written all over his face.

“I’m sure. I love you, Jimin. I want you,” you smiled reassuringly, leaning in to place a kiss to his gorgeous, soft lips.

Jimin brought his hand up to cup your cheek, working those plush lips of his against your own. The two of you had made out before, but this felt different. You were filled with anticipation and need. You pressed yourself closer to him, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding gracefully along your bottom lip, which you immediately parted for him.

His deft muscle slipped inside your mouth, rolling against yours skillfully. His hand dropped from your cheek and snaked up your side, sneaking under your shirt and grazing along your stomach until he reached your breast, kneading it underneath your flimsy bralette. His thumb brushed against your nipple and your body jolted towards him, seeking more. 

“Mmm… so responsive.” he whispered against your lips with a teasing smirk. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, then let your nail scrape gently along his pierced nipple, tugging ever so gently on the metal ring. Jimin moaned into your mouth, his body arching towards yours. You smirked against his lips.

“So responsive.” you giggled.

Jimin chuckled, pulling back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, the light reflecting off the piercing there as well. His cocky look was gasoline on the fire of your arousal, and you made yourself busy by kissing down his exposed neck, leaving a trail of red and purple bruises in your wake.  Jimin’s low moans were music to your ears. You wanted to elicit more of the beautiful sounds from the irresistible man who had become putty in your hands.

Urging him onto his back, you straddled his hips and ground your covered core down against his clothed erection for a little relief, causing Jimin to let out more delicious noises. You kissed down his chest, bringing his nipple piercing into your mouth and licking around the sensitive area before tugging it gently with your teeth, scraping the flesh just a bit in the process. Jimin’s hips bucked up into yours at the action.

Your fingers teasingly dipped below the elastic of his sweats, running back and forth along the edge while you worked your mouth against each nipple. Jimin’s hands found purchase on your hips, his nails digging in just a bit so he had something to ground himself while you teased him. Your hand slipped underneath his sweats, surprised to find he’d foregone boxers. Your fingers brushed against his rigid length, and he tensed, gripping your hips harder.

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, head lolling back as he tried to restrain himself.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his length and slowly dragging it upwards, letting your thumb circle the tip. You used the precum that spilled out to lubricate your next journey down. Jimin groaned, finally losing patience and effortlessly flipped the two of you over until he was hovering above you. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face and began leaving pretty red marks all over your neck and the exposed portion of your chest.

He sat up momentarily, pinning you with a hungry gaze and fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Off,” he commanded.

You immediately complied, peeling the fabric off your body and tossing it away, revealing your lacy bralette. Jimin’s eyes roamed over your chest and he licked his lips before leaning down and letting his tongue draw a stripe over the thin fabric covering your nipple, already erect and sensitive. Soft whimpers escaped your lips. It felt good, but you needed more.

Jimin’s lips traveled farther down your body, leaving marks all over your skin. He licked and sucked and nibbled in places you never would’ve considered erogenous zones before, but honestly, maybe it was just because it was Jimin. His tongue danced along the hem of your shorts teasingly before he glanced up at you to make sure you were still okay. You nodded breathlessly.

Jimin peeled your shorts down to expose your black satin panties, and you wished you’d worn the lace ones but it could’ve been worse. He brought the little bow tie between his teeth, tugging and letting it snap back against your pelvis. You jumped a bit and Jimin chuckled, mumbling “so cute” under his breath before slipping your soaked panties down your legs and tossing them aside.

“Damn baby girl, you’re dripping,” he grinned triumphantly. “What got you all worked up like this?”

“Jimin,”  you whined impatiently.

“That’s right baby, say my name,” he teased (although he wasn’t really joking), but didn’t waste much more time, lowering his face and licking a bold stripe along your folds to distract you while he snuck a finger closer to your entrance, letting your arousal aid him in entering you. His tongue drew some sort of lost language on your clit with expertise, and it was almost impossible for you to hold still with the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your hips bucked up and Jimin moved a hand to splay along your lower stomach, holding you down onto the bed while he devoured your pussy, slowly adding a second and third finger to stretch you out. It burned for a moment before you got used to it, Jimin’s fingers gliding along your walls and hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Even for your first time together, he knew your body like the back of his hand.

 You could already feel the coil deep inside you threaten to snap at Jimin’s ministrations. You were a moaning mess, babbling his name like it was the only word you knew. His plump lips wrapped around your throbbing bundle and he sucked- hard. You groaned, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you, your vision going spotty. Now you knew why they said he could make you see stars.

Your body fell lax against the mattress as you panted, before pushing yourself up on your elbows to see Jimin’s face lift from your core. He met your eyes and seductively licked your juices off his lips, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of you. Your mouth went dry at how erotic he looked, and he climbed up your body, pressing his lips to yours and allowing you to taste yourself. 

Your mouths worked against each other, and you wound your fingers in his hair, tugging gently on his soft locks, causing him to let out a low whine. 

“Do that again,” he begged against your lips, his voice deeper and a little hoarse, but needy.

You wound your fingers in his hair, gripping it tighter and tugging again. Jimin let out a strangled moan, grinding his rock hard member against your core. Your body shivered at the feeling of his clothed shaft pressing up against where you needed him the most.  

“Jimin, please,” you sighed, bucking your hips up to meet his.

“Okay baby. Oh fuck. Please tell me I still have a spare condom,” he suddenly groaned, reaching over for his wallet on your nightstand. 

You watched him curiously, your eyes lingering on the curve of his plump ass under his sweats. You licked your lips, wanting to bite into the flesh. You’d save that for another time. Jimin let out a triumphant noise and held the condom in the air like a first place medal. You giggled at your boyfriend and rolled your eyes with a smile. 

Jimin slid his sweats off in one smooth motion, kicking them away and onto the floor somewhere before ripping the condom open with his teeth and rolling it onto his length. Jimin paused,  peering at you from his place above you, a small smile curling onto his plush lips, his eyes alight with adoration.

“I love you,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I love you too,” you sighed happily. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, squeezing your hand gently.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Jimin leaned down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss, and slowly slid his rigid length into your honeyed entrance. You gasped into his mouth at the welcome intrusion, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way. Even with the prep from his fingers, his cock stretching your walls burned just slightly. Jimin deepened the kiss in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort, slowly inching more of his length inside until he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours.

Jimin fit inside you perfectly, his thick cock filling you up like he was made for you. He pulled back to look at your face, and you shot him a reassuring smile. He brought your joined hands up to his lips, placing them gently on the back of your wrist, and once you nodded your approval, he slid out until just the bulbous tip was left inside, before sliding back in, setting a slow, torturing pace.

This wasn’t your first rodeo, though you were nowhere near as experienced as Jimin, but no one had ever felt this good inside you. No one had ever felt this right. Jimin reached places inside you that no man had before and you were already falling apart at the movement of his hips. Jimin was definitely a dancer, able to move his body precisely and with precision, angling his hips to hit that soft spot inside you with every thrust. 

“Fuck babygirl, you look so beautiful like this,” he groaned into your ear, his hot breath coming out in short puffs from the physical exertion.

“Ngh. Jimin,” you whined, “Please. More.” 

“Can you handle it?” he wondered, experimentally dragging his cock a little faster along your walls, continually hitting that sweet spot inside you.

“Yes, yes please. Need you,” you whimpered, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Jimin’s brow furrowed in concentration and his hips picked up speed, his sole purpose in that moment to give you the most blinding pleasure you’d ever experienced. His punishing pace had you wailing out his name in ecstasy, clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to ground yourself to something, lest you float away into oblivion from the fire building deep in your core.

“Come on baby, you look so pretty when you cum for me. Let go,” Jimin urged, his free hand slipping between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“Fuck… Jimin!” you cried out, and his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck was the last thing you needed to send you careening over the edge into bliss for the second time that night.

Your breath coming in heavy pants, you were surprised when Jimin showed no signs of slowing down. Your walls continued to clench around his length in the aftermath of your orgasm, and Jimin let our low growls at the feeling of your pussy swallowing up his cock with each thrust. You whimpered, slightly sensitive from your two previous orgasms, but Jimin pistoning himself inside you still felt heavenly. 

Jimin shifted, pulling your leg up over his shoulder, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper inside your core, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull at the sensation of his cock kissing your cervix. You were a whimpering mess, your moans now garbled gibberish, not making any sense. All you knew in that moment was Jimin and how good he made you feel.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh, and you shivered. His thrusts were getting erratic as he chased his own high, but Jimin was desperate to make you cum again first. He pinched and rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, abusing the bundle in the best way, sending you closer to your high once again.

“Fuck, Jimin- I-” you groaned.

“Come on baby, give me one more,” Jimin encouraged, using all his strength to hold back his own impending orgasm as he slammed inside of you.

Your whole body seemed to seize as you came for the third time, this one more intense than the others, making you almost dizzy with euphoria. Your throat burned with the force of your screams, quickly turning raw with use. Jimin didn’t last much longer, your cunt clenching around his length sending him over the edge. His hips stilled as he spilled ropes of hot cum into the condom. You could feel the heat from the thin plastic layer and wished that you could feel his seed shooting into you, dripping from your hole. 

Jimin collapsed next to you, panting. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he looked absolutely edible like this. His plump lips parted as heavy breaths escaped, he turned his head and his eyes met yours. You were both shaking from the intensity of your highs, and you let out a quiet giggle which made a smile bloom across Jimin’s lips. He let out a quiet chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed, turning his body back to face yours after tossing the used condom into the trash.

His arms wrapped around your torso, bringing your naked chests flush against each other as he peppered chaste kisses along your forehead, nose, and cheeks before catching your lips in a sweet kiss. 

“I love you,” you whispered, clinging to his sweaty body like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away, and maybe he was.

“I love you more,” he grinned against the skin of your neck.

“Absolutely not. I love you more,” you pouted.

“Nuh uh,” he teased, fingers poking into your side, causing you to shriek and curl into him.

He laughed and kissed your forehead, relenting from his teasing and tickling. Your bodies spent, you drifted off to sleep together, safe in the comfort of each other’s arms.

                                                        -♡-

Months had flown by in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, it was May and you were graduating. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and they are right. Every moment spent with Jimin never seemed to last long enough. After the two of you started dating, Jimin had slowly begun opening up to other people. He learned to trust Hoseok and Taehyung, and your initial impression of them had been correct: they were people Jimin could count on. 

Jimin did lose a few friends from the frat house when he stopped trying to play the part of the indifferent fuckboi, but he didn’t really count those people as losses. If they couldn’t accept the real him, they weren’t worth it. The two of you had branched out socially, and made new friends as well. Yoongi, the music major, who began working at the coffee shop you both frequented. He was stoic and unapproachable at first, but Jimin had commented on his band t shirt once and Yoongi’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, showing that he was actually super sweet and thoughtful once you got past his icy exterior. 

Namjoon, the business major whom you’d met while browsing the shelves of your university library. You’d been having a hard time reaching the book you wanted, and Namjoon had assisted without you even asking for help, his much taller frame bringing the book down to your level. He’d told you he had read that book at least ten times and you would surely love it. The two of you hit it off and soon Jimin joined you, immediately connecting with Namjoon as well. He was smart, patient, and would make an amazing businessman, just from the way he could read people but never treated anyone any differently.

Seokjin, the culinary arts major who had gone around campus giving out free samples of his work, promoting his new youtube channel “Eat Jin.” One taste of his dasik and you were begging him for the recipe. Jin had lit up and began explaining exactly how to make it and invited you to an episode of Eat Jin.

Jungkook, who hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do yet, had met Jimin at the gym. He was boxing in the practice room that Jimin had reserved to dance. He hadn’t noticed he’d gone over his time, and when Jimin politely entered the room, complimenting his form, he’d flushed and shot him the most adorable bunny smile. Jungkook apologized for running over his time and Jimin brushed it off, but Jungkook insisted on buying him coffee as an apology.

Slowly but surely, your friendship group grew, each new friend weaving their way into your hearts and teaching you something new. They got along with each other as well, as it turned out. You’d thrown a surprise party for Jimin’s birthday and invited them along, Namjoon and Jin became inseparable almost immediately, and Hoseok and Yoongi as well. Taehyung and Jungkook became a dynamic duo, consistently stirring up trouble wherever they went. 

Hoseok and Hana hadn’t broken up, after all. Hana had even contacted you to get coffee, apologizing for judging Jimin unfairly and trying to get in between the two of you. She’d joined your little group of friends, which slowly became more like a second family . Jimin flourished, surrounded by people who loved and cared for him exactly as he was.

He didn’t have to pretend to be anything but himself, didn’t have to please anyone, play any parts. His smile reached ear to ear and his eyes shone with love and light and so much life. Thinking back to the way they’d been dull and lifeless when you first met him brought you to tears as you watched him throw his head back in laughter and wrap his arms around Jungkook, who returned the gesture with similar glee.

Jimin no longer seemed broken. The dead weight resting in his chest had been lifted, and he was free. It didn’t happen overnight, and beginning his relationship with you certainly hadn’t been a magic fix, but it had been a catalyst. You taught Jimin that there were people in this world who genuinely could care for him without expecting anything in return. You showed him that there was still good, and he could trust people. Then, slowly, he’d met more and more people who only validated the lessons you’d taught him.

The more people Jimin met who didn’t use him, the more the ice around his heart began to chip away, giving him the strength and the courage to save himself from the darkness that had plagued his heart and mind for so long. And now, you were all graduating, moving on to pursue your dreams and aspirations. It was the last party of your college career, and you’d all gathered because Jimin had announced he’d had something to say to everyone. You gazed up proudly at your boyfriend.

“Thank you all for being here to celebrate the last night of college!” he cheered, earning hoots and hollers from your friends.

 “I know we all promised to keep in touch, but I just wanted to make sure that you all know how much I appreciate you being in my life. I love every single one of you, and I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing group of people to surround myself with. You all have lifted me up, encouraged me, and given me the strength to keep fighting when times got tough. They say that sometimes when you’re in a dark place, that you think you’ve been buried. But really, you’ve been planted. You just need a little bit of love and patience before you bloom. So thank you for giving me what I needed to bloom. All of you. Especially you, Y/N. You were the first person who really believed in me, and if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve let in any of these guys. I love you, baby. And I love all of you,” he grinned, “So here’s a toast to all of you, may your future be bright and your beer be full!”

Cheers erupted around you and you cheered along, all of you knocking back a sip of your drink to Jimin’s toast. He hopped down and wrapped an arm around you, kissing your cheek as your friends congratulated him on his speech and shared how happy they were to have met you both as well. Your heart felt like it couldn’t possibly get any fuller than it was in that moment, surrounded by people you loved. 

You and Jimin had both grown so much since that first night at the party, you’d fought, you’d cried, you’d laughed, and you’d gotten stronger. You were so proud of him and how far he had come, and you felt peace settle over you knowing the fact that he’d never have to be alone again, and neither would you. No matter what you found on the road ahead, you’d be okay.

You had each other.

[zafirosreverie]

Must be the eyes (Teacher!Agatha x Fem!Student!Reader) part 2

(Part 1)

a/n: this is long, like, really long. Uppsies

- - - - - - - - - - -

Salem ... you were going to Salem !!

Nick laughed at you when you jumped out of happiness, before wrapping your arms around him and spinning him around. You were quite excited.

"I see someone is excited" he laughed as you let him go

"Sorry" you laughed "I just can't believe it! We’re going to Salem, Nick!" you screamed with excitement

"Yes yes, I was in class too, history girl” he laughed again "But it doesn't seem a bit strange to you that just last friday you mentioned that you wanted to go, and today, monday, they tell us that they will take us on a field trip precisely to Salem? Not to mention that Ms Harkness doesn't seem like the kind of teacher who wants to take her students on trips. "

"So?" you asked. You knew exactly what he was implying, but you decided to play innocent "Maybe the universe thought it would be a good time to pay me what it owes me"

"Suuuuure. And Ms Harkness totally wasn't looking at you during the entire announcement" He said

"She wasn't" you agreed, making him roll his eyes.

Except that she totally was. Nick was right. From the moment the older woman had walked into the classroom, you could feel her eyes fixed on you. At first you felt like you were in trouble, but when she started talking about the trip she and professor Maximoff had planned, a part of you (a small and somewhat selfish part) couldn't help but think that maybe she was doing it for you.

It was silly and you knew it, why would a woman like Agatha Harkness go to the trouble of planning a whole field trip, getting a hotel, food and transportation for almost 30 students, just so that you specifically could fulfill one of your dreams? Not to mention, there was no way she knew about it.

But the feeling that you were something special to her, even if it was only in your imagination, was enough for you.

You sighed "Nick, if you're still upset about the project, I'm sorry ok? But don't get me in your business with her"

"Hey! I didn't sleep all weekend to finish it, okay?" he defended himself "I didn't even go to the movies with Dalton, Y/N. Do you know what that means? I missed a date with him!" he pouted, making you laugh

"First of all, you had almost the entire month to do the project, you shouldn't have put it off until the last minute. Second, it wasn't even a date! You haven't been able to confess your feelings to Dalton in two years"

"So? At least I'm making progress with him, you've been drooling over our teacher since the first day of college and all you've done is have these tense discussions with her."

"Shhhhh" you shut him up "shout it out to everyone, would you?"

"Hey, you started"

"It's different and you know it Nick" you sighed "You're only a year older than Dalton. There are at least 10 years between me and Ms Harkness, not to mention that she is our teacher!"

"Pfff, 10 years? Come on Y/N, we both know she's probably twice your age" Nick scoffed

"She's not that old" you blushed "And that's not the point anyway"

"Right" he nodded "the point is that your girlfriend is going to take us all to a haunted town just to make you happy" he smirked.

"My what- she’s not-" you stuttered.

Nick laughed and you flushed with both embarrassment and anger. You ran after him to try to hit him, not noticing the pair of blue eyes staring at you from a window.

________

Agatha sighed to herself as she watched you walk away with that little friend of yours. She had watched all the interaction and when she saw you blush she wished she could listen, but you were too far away.

However, what she did hear were your screams of excitement and she couldn't help but notice that her heart leapt a little at the thought that it was she who had made you so happy.

Again, she would never tell anyone, but the only reason she had agreed to accompany Wanda was because of the conversation she had overheard, when you told Nicholas that you didn't have money for two trips.

At first, it had been easy to lie to herself, saying that she was simply killing two birds with one stone: Wanda could have her field trip and you could visit Salem at no expense, that way you could save up to go elsewhere in summer.

However, when Wanda asked why she had specifically chosen your class, she hadn't known what to answer. She wanted to see you happy, she felt you deserved everything in the world, but she couldn't say that to the redhead, so she had given a bad excuse that your group was the least problematic. Wanda hadn't believed it, but at least she had the decency not to comment on anything.

She told herself that she had to be more careful. She couldn’t let anyone, student or teacher, find out that perhaps it was no longer simple affection what she felt for you.

When she walked into your classroom, however, she couldn't help staring at you from the get-go. She didn't want to miss your reaction to the news. From the sparkle in your eyes, the way the corner of your mouth lifted, how your nose wrinkled, the way your shoulders tensed, and how you clenched your hands to avoid showing your emotion.

She wanted to see all of that.

But that had made her look at you the whole time. She never once had she taken her eyes off you, almost forgetting that it was supposed to be a school trip, for all of her students, not a surprise gift specifically for you.

Even if that's what it really was. As she had told Wanda, she was more than capable of teaching Salem's history without having to take you there, but she did it for you. And a small part of her wanted to tell you, she wanted you to know what she had done, she wanted you to understand how much you meant to her, without having to use her words.

She wasn't sure if she'd made it, but your excitement was enough for her. She just wished she could be the one receiving that crushing hug, instead of Nicholas.

"Earth to Agatha" said a voice behind her, making her jump

"Maximoff" she sighed "No one told you it's rude to approach people like this" she crossed her arms and frowned.

"In my defense, I've been here for about 15 minutes, it's not my fault that you get lost in your thoughts so quickly" the redhead teased as she handed her a coffee "It must be age"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me old, just because of the coffee" the brunette growled, taking it.

"Lucky me" the youngest smiled "So, ready for the trip?" she asked

"There's still a whole month to go, cutie" she said

"Don't even remind me, I was hoping they'd let us go sooner" sighed the redhead.

"Wanda, I know they are university students, but not all of them have the income, no matter how little the school charges them. We have to pay for transportation, meals and hotel, not to mention that many of them will want to buy souvenirs or do another activities" Agatha reminded her

"It's a field trip, Aggs, not a vacation."

"Try to convince 30 students of that" scoffed the older woman

"... fair enough" sighed Wanda "and we still need another chaperone"

"What do you mean?" Agatha frowned "Isn't that why I'm going?"

"Yes, but as we also take male students, by law we must bring a male teacher too"

"That’s bullshit"

"I know, but I'm not going to complain and risk losing my permit."

The brunette thought about it for a moment before sighing. Wanda was right. And she wouldn't risk having the trip canceled either, not after seeing how happy it made you.

___________

It was the longest month of your life! You were too excited, you could hardly think of anything other than the trip. You had worried a bit that it was too expensive, but were pleasantly surprised when you realized that it was less than half of what the trip would cost you alone.

Besides, Nick had told you that he could lend you money if necessary. It wasn't that you were broke, far from it, but being a college student, living alone in a rental department and with a part-time job, was difficult.

However, you had managed to save enough money to pay for the trip and still be able to even spend a little on souvenirs or other things, which would be necessary to thank your boss for giving you permission to be absent for two weeks and your friend Alisha for covering you.

"Hello" you smiled at the secretary

"Good afternoon" she replied, a little serious but at least she smiled back at you "can I help you miss?"

"Yeah, uhm, I'm here to pay for the trip to Salem, group 203" you said

"One moment please" she nodded and pulled out a couple of lists "Your name, queen?" she asked kindly

"Y/N  Y/L/N"

The woman scanned the names with her eyes, searching for the letter of your last name, but you felt your stomach drop a little when she frowned before looking at you.

"Are you sure, dear?" she asked

You blinked in surprise before nodding.

"How strange" she said "it appears that it is already paid"

"W-what?" now you frowned "It must be a mistake"

"No, Y/N  Y/L/N, paid. Are you sure you didn't forget? It usually happens" she assured you, smiling at you.

But you knew that was not the case. You hadn't paid before because you didn't have the money. Damn, you were sure you were the last to pay! You were supposed to leave in three days!

"No" you said softly "I'm sure I didn't pay for it"

The woman was about to say something when you heard a rather familiar pair of heels coming up behind you. You didn't even have to turn around to find out who she was.

Agatha smiled as she stood right next to you, her hand pressed to your lower back. She smiled at the secretary before speaking.

"Good afternoon, Lu" she said to the woman

"Good afternoon, Ms Harkness"

"Is something wrong? Or why the long face, Miss Y/L/N?" she asked, smiling at you

It took you a moment to answer, too stunned by the warm touch of her hand on your back and the smell of her perfume filling your air.

"Someone paid for my trip" you said simply

"Excuse me?" she asked confused

"Someone paid for my trip" you repeated "it wasn't me, miss"

"Well, I still don't see the problem" she smiled at you "maybe that little friend of yours paid for you, or someone is trying to win your heart" she winked

The way she said the last part sent a chill down your spine. It felt too intimate for some reason.

"Either way, I wouldn't worry about it" she said, pulling you out of your thoughts "take advantage of it, Miss Y/L/N, not all of us are lucky enough to be given a free trip, right Lu?"

"Absolutely Ms Harkness"

You weren't so convinced, but you weren't in a position to argue with a teacher and a secretary, they were two against one. That and the hand on your back was too much of a distraction to think properly.

You nodded and thanked them before turning on your heel to go find Nick, hoping it was really him who paid for you. You immediately missed the warmth of the hand on your back.

____________

Well shit.

You cursed yourself while running around your apartment. You were sure you had set the alarm, but it hadn't gone on. If it weren't for the fact that you had left the window open and the sun hit you in the face, you wouldn’t have woken up.

When you looked at the clock on your desk, you jumped up. You noticed that your phone had not charged at all and was, in fact, turned off. Double shit.

You tossed it along with the charger in your backpack, after getting out of a quick shower and bouncing around the room as you put on your floral dress and a pair of tennis shoes. You did not care about the mess you left, you would fix it when you returned.

You had 20 minutes to get to school or you were saying goodbye to Salem.

_____________

Agatha tried to appear neutral as Wanda took roll and Jimmy helped the students put their bags onto the bus as they arrived.

She supposed it could have been worse. Of all the male teachers in the school, Jimmy Woo, the chemistry teacher, was the most educated and one of the few that Agatha actually liked a little. At least the students listened to him.

Not that she was really paying attention to that, if she was honest.

Actually, the only thing on her mind was you. Nothing new, but this was different. You hadn't arrived yet and they were 15 minutes away from leaving. She was beginning to worry.

She didn't understand what was happening, you were the most excited about the trip, she had paid for you, and yet you weren't here? She had thought you would be the first to arrive. Have you regretted it? No, you would have told her or Wanda. Something happened to you? Surely Nicholas would have said something when he arrived.

So why was there no sign of your precious face? The brunette could convince Wanda to wait for you a little longer, but she wasn't even sure you were going to come. That made her sulk quickly.

She had agreed to take this trip, for you. If you didn't show up, she would have done everything in vain! She didn't even want to go to Salem to babysit! So you had better arrive in the next 10 minutes or you would be in serious trouble when they come back in two weeks.

"Smile Harkness" Wanda laughed, seeing her partner with her arms crossed and a frown "We're almost gone"

"Good, because we still have five hours of travel and I'm already starting to get tired of the voices of these children" she growled.

She really did hope her concern wasn't so noticeable.

____________

You sighed in relief when the taxi finally arrived at the school, seeing that the bus was still there. You did it!

You walked quickly, smiling at Professor Woo, who kindly put your suitcase on the underside of the truck.

"We were waiting for you, miss Y/L/N" he said kindly, helping you up the steps.

"Oh no, am I the last one?" you asked, blushing with shame.

"That's right" said Professor Maximoff, smiling at you as you went upstairs.

Well, at least no one had noticed. The rest of your classmates were all talking to each other, laughing and some flirting, not paying attention to the fact that you had just arrived. Excellent.

Except ... oh no.

You looked for Nick, to go sit with him. Sadly, it looks like Dalton was ahead of you and your best friend was too busy flirting to have saved you a spot.

"Take a seat please Y/N" Wanda told you

"Uhm ... where?" you asked, pointing to your companions.

The red-haired woman followed your gaze and realized that you were right. All the seats were taken. That made her frown. They were supposed to have all seats counted, so she, Jimmy, and Agatha had taken the liberty of using two seats each. But it seems they had miscounted.

"Well, I suppose you will have to sit with one of us" she told you.

You nodded, but didn't move, not knowing exactly which of the three to sit next to.

Fortunately for you, you didn't have to make the decision.

Agatha had kept a sigh of relief from escaping her lips when she saw you and Jimmy getting on the bus. She had been biting her nails nervously.

Your choice of clothes had not gone unnoticed and she, taking care that neither Wanda nor Jimmy caught her, let her eyes roam your body. The dress fit too well on you, hugging all the right parts, and ended just above the knees, allowing her to observe your beautiful legs.

She was so busy scanning you with her gaze that she almost missed Wanda's comment. "I suppose you will have to sit down with one of us." Her reaction was almost automatic.

She got up and motioned for you to sit in the window seat. "Take a seat, miss Y/L/N" she said, a little anxious, but with a frown so that the others would think that she was simply desperate to leave.

You blinked before nodding and scooting into the seat. You tried not to show any emotion when the older woman sat next to you and her thigh brushed yours.

You didn't know if you wanted to curse Nick for abandoning you in favor of flirting, or if you wanted to kiss him. You had five hours to think about it from here to Salem.

Wait. Five hours. Five hours trapped between Agatha Harkness and the window and without the possibility of distracting yourself with your cell phone. Oh shit.

___________

"It's not as bad as I thought" said Wanda "You were right Aggs, it's the least troublesome group" she laughed

The older woman rolled her eyes without answering. Her friend was right, most of the students were behaving quite well. There was no excessive yelling, no one was getting up from their seats or causing trouble, everyone seemed more interested in catching up on gossip.

But that didn't mean she liked being there. Her head was already spinning and there were still another three hours to go. The only good thing she had was that you were next to her.

Sure, she had to act nonchalant with you, just trying to get you talking a few times (which didn't work, but at least you had smiled at her and that was enough for her), but she couldn't help stealing glances from you every now and then.

She had given you the place by the window with the excuse that she needed to be in the hallway so she could throw death glares at others and make sure everything was in order, but the truth was, she just wanted you to be able to see everything. So that you don't miss even the entrance to the town.

It had worked for a while, because you looked quite entertained. Until that moment.

When the brunette looked at you sideways, she could see that your eyelids seemed to weigh and how you were starting to nod. Agatha had to admit that a sleepy Y/N was probably the cutest thing she had seen in a long time.

You struggled to stay awake, but after two hours of staring out the window (you were definitely not looking at your teacher through the reflection, thank you very much) your eyes felt tired. Maybe, you could sleep for a while, and hopefully when you woke up, you would be arriving in Salem and you wouldn't have to deal with the blush on your cheeks caused by the mere presence of your crush by your side.

It seemed like a good plan.

Sighing and careful not to kick the older woman, you settled into the seat better, closing your eyes and blocking out the noise around you. It didn't take you long to fall asleep.

Agatha knew the exact moment you had been lost from the world of the living, when your head began to tilt a little. She inwardly cursed you for being so cute.

However, she froze when she realized that little by little, you were sticking closer to her.

At first it was just your head leaning in her direction, but then you were leaning on her shoulder. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling (actually, it was perfect), but it did make her pulse race, especially when you kept falling more and more on her, until you ended up with your head on her chest and basically using her breasts as a pillow.

"Ok, okay, don't panic, everything is fine" she thought "act normal, you are a teacher taking care of her student, nothing to see here"

But she could feel her heart racing at a thousand kilometers per hour and as much as she didn't want to wake you up, she doubted you couldn't hear it, you had your hearing just above it!

She was too busy trying not to move, not to bother you, that she didn't notice the knowing looks and smiles that her two colleagues shared.

When Wanda stood up to supervise the students in the background, she raised an eyebrow, smirking at Agatha. The older woman rolled her eyes and mumbled something about not wanting to wake you up out of mere politeness, but the truth was that her arms burned with the need to hold you and pull you closer to her.

____________

Wanda giggled and motioned for Jimmy to take a look at Agatha's seat. When the man did, he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

At some point during the trip, the brunette had fallen asleep too, probably bored of not moving so as not to wake you up. However, it seemed like her precautions weren't working on autopilot, because the moment she fell asleep, she leaned on you, portraying a cute scene with you on the older woman's chest and Agatha's head on top of yours.

Wanda took out her cell phone and quickly took a photo of you two.

"This is gold" she whispered to Jimmy "this is valuable blackmail material, Harkness will have to do what I ask for at least a month"

"I guess I owe you 10 dollars" said the man.

When they were discussing the details of the trip, the redhead had told him her theory about how the brunette felt about you. Surprisingly, Jimmy hadn't been shocked, he didn't think the other woman had a crush on her student, but he wouldn't look down on Agatha if that was the case. They had both gambled on how long it would take for the woman to start being more obvious.

"And a coffee when we get to Salem" Wanda reminded him.

_____________

Agatha woke up when a particularly loud sound from the movie they were playing in the bus sounded from the speaker above her head. The woman blinked several times, before looking around her.

Jimmy seemed absorbed in the movie and Wanda was asleep. And God knew what the students were doing behind her.

But that was not the important thing. What mattered was the bulge in her arms.

Your hair had fallen over your face, so the older woman gently brushed it away, letting her fingers brush against your skin. You were a beautiful sight. You always were, sure, but just like that, asleep and vulnerable, you were just breathtaking.

Looking at the clock, Agatha knew that they were about to arrive in town, and although she didn't want to wake you up, really enjoying having you like this, she also wanted you to see everything. So she gently started shaking you to wake you up.

You groaned a bit at the annoyance, but in a few more moments your eyes began to open. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, you frowned.

Why were you so low? You remembered falling asleep almost glued to the window, so why weren't you there? And why did you have a pillow? You hadn't brought a pillow with you.

It wasn't until you caught a familiar scent that you realized you weren't on a pillow. You were on top of your teacher. More specifically, on her chest. Shit.

You got up quickly, muttering an apology and trying desperately not to look at her. You just used Agatha Harkness as a pillow! What an idiot! She sure hates you now.

The older woman was a bit surprised when you jumped up, almost hitting her in the process. If it wasn't because you looked adorable with a red face, she would have tried to comfort you. Besides, she couldn't risk any of her colleagues finding out about her feelings for you.

So she didn't say anything, as if nothing had happened. But she was loving the nervous version of you more and more.

_______________

When you entered the city, you completely forgot the whole incident. Your mind quickly entertained with the landscape and you could see how all those witch tales came to life in front of your eyes. Definitely better than Disneyland.

Agatha couldn't help the pang of pride she felt when she saw your excited face. It was a good choice to sit you by the window. If anyone deserved to have the best possible experience in Salem, it was you.

She just hoped the rest of the trip would go without incidents. Not that she thought falling asleep on her was a bad thing, it was just that she trusted herself less and less to keep herself under control.

- - - - - - - - - - -

tags: @midnight-lestrange @everythingmarvelsherlockspn (tag not working) @amethyst-bitch @juliejules-089 @powerfulmagicalgirl (tag not working) @novohyde @annie-mit-ie​ @agentbrownierso​

[shyestofhearts]

Hi Shy~

Sooo, I have this headcanon that Damian is like this wonderful child prodigy genius. Like, super smart. So smart, that when Bruce tries to enroll him in Gotham academy, they tell him that Damian has tests for college level. Which, Damian just rolls his eyes at, because duh. After discussing it with professionals and yada yada, Damian gets enrolled into college. He’s like, twelve-ish. He is STILL bored in class, and knows most of the information they are trying to teach. His advisor is so sweet and invested into Damian though. And observant. After noticing Damian lack of enthusiasm, he asks Damian what the problem. Nothing interests him, none of his classes.this advisor is an old timer, in my opinion, and has seen so many kids pushed to do things they never wanted to do, and decides he can’t let that happen with Damian. So the Advisor pulls out every department, every major, and goes through it with Damian. After a few hours, because it takes a while to convince Damian that it is alright to do anything he wants, Damian has his majors narrowed down to a few things. Art and pre-med. Damian’s advisor suggests he visit a few of the clubs on campus to really get a feel of what he wants. Thing is, even after going to the students’ art club gallery and one of the pre-med club meetings, neither really speak to him. It’s a Saturday night, and he’s alone on campus. Damian is about to call Alfred, when a student from Damian’s organic chemistry class spots him.

“Damian!” Jace, a slightly round student with soft curly hair smiles at Damian. “Are you here for the show?”

“Show?” Damian scowls?

“Yeah, the fashion show. This year’s theme is sustainability,” Jace smiles. They one of the few people who never ogled at Damian for being a Wayne or looked down on him for his age. They are just genuinely nice, and Damian knows that.

“I didn’t know we had a fashion show,”

“Really? I swear I thought I mentioned it,” Jace says, surprised. Jace may have mentioned that, but Damian probably was zoned out during the time.“Tickets are $15, if you wanna come”

“Oh,” Damian frowns, “I used all the money I brought with me for the art gallery and lunch earlier,” He says, cursing internally for not bringing more cash with him.

“If you want to go, I’ll cover you.” Jace smiles, “Think of it as payment for help on our last exam” Damian would usually say no, but Jace is just so nice,

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Besides,” Jace smiles, turning towards the stadium, “I have a feeling you’re going to love it”

And Damian did love it. The designs were amazing, some more haute couture while others were casual, and each designer explained how their designs involved sustainability. Some were statement pieces, designed to address political issues, others were just to demonstrate that sustainability could still be cute, and while others highlighted affordability and sustainability.

Damian wanted to do this. Running through his head were endless possibilities. Perhaps he can enlist the help of Poison Ivy to create a vegan leather that was also bullet resistant, or…

The next Monday he is waiting for his advisor at 7 in the morning, because he spent the rest of the weekend coming up with ideas, sketches, creating a portfolio, and practicing hypothetical arguments as to why Damian should go into fashion. At 7:15 his advisor sees him, and can tell by the light in Damian’s eyes, determination on his face, and the way he’s clutching his sketchbook, Damian has found it.

“I want into the fashion program!” Damian all but bursts, unconsciously on his tippy toes in excitement.

“Okay,” His advisor smiles, ushering him into his office. “Let’s make it happen”

“Just like that?” Damian asks, eyes wide, voice surprisingly small. His advisor smiles at him kindly.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.”

It takes a bit before Damian can actually get into the program, he has to work on some prerequisites, and also create a better portfolio with samples, but Damian is determined. By the end of the school year, he has been accepted.

Damian doesn’t tell his family, not in the beginning. He actually doesn’t want to tell his friends either, unsure of how they’d react. He is still insecure, and just entering his teen years. He worries about what any or everyone will say. Eventually, though he tells Jon and Colin, swearing them to secrecy. They both are excited for him, asking if he’d design their costumes for them. Damian blushes but says,

“Tt, like you can afford me”

He eventually tells Alfred as well, because he needs help learning how to use a sewing machine, and fast. Sure, he can stitch someone up flawlessly, but sewing machines weren’t part of the League’s lessons. Alfred is in charge of the one at the Manor, so it only makes sense to ask him. Even so, Damian is reluctant. When he does finally ask, he nearly gives himself an attack, worrying about being scolded for not using his “full potential”. Alfred simply squeezes Damian’s shoulder, and agrees with a kind smile. The young Master finally seemed passionate about something besides vigilante work and violence. Alfred would do everything in his power to foster that.

“Just,” Damian looks down, hands clenching into fists at his side, “Do not tell the others. I would prefer this between us,” He looks at Alfred, unsuccessfully trying to hide the vulnerability in his wide emerald eyes. Alfred agrees, for now. On the conditions that Damian would have to tell his father and siblings himself, and not to far in the future either.

Damian impresses everyone with his designs, and people learn he is actually quite adorable when he’s doing something he enjoys. His classmates and professors encourage him to join the fall fashion show, which is covering “multiculturalism and the media”. Damian hesitantly agrees, though he has been making designs since the theme was announced. His room is full of crumbled paper on his floor, designs he deigned not good enough. Many of his designs are heavily influenced by his Arab culture, but he also has some Chinese-influenced designs as well. His statement piece is the hardest to get right. It involves a hijab and beautiful colors, but he just can’t get the right patter. Ripping another page and crumpling it,Damian is too concentrated to realized Tim and Dick have been creeping into his room.

“What’s this Dames?” Dick asks, startling Damian, as he looks at some of the rejected designs. Panic makes Damian defensive as he yells at them to get out, frustration fueling the dread of his family seeing such unsatisfactory work. Tim flinches, shocked by the emotion coming off of Damian, rushing out with a few crumpled papers he snuck from the floor. Damian is literally trying to shove Dick out the door. Dick turns around, because he can hear the panic in his little brother’s voice. In his Robin’ voice. “Damian,” he says softly, easily deflecting Damian. “It’s okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around Damian, reversing the situation. “What’s wrong, why are you reacting like this?” After a few minutes of struggling, Damian gives up. Slowly,he explains the situation, how he’s in the fashion program and the fashion show coming up, all the pressure to do well, the frustration of not having his statement piece yet. Dick listens, his hold turning into a hug. “From what I’ve seen,” Dick says softly, “these are all wonderful designs,Dami. Whatever you end up making will look amazing, if they look anything like your sketches.”

“It’s not enough!” Damian complains, eyes burning, but he refuses to cry. “You don’t understand!” He says, frustrated.

“Then explain it to me, why is this so important?”

“Because it is about me!” Damian’s voice cracks ask he turns away rosiness his eyes harshly. “When I was introduced to the public, as “Bruce Wayne’s biological son”, do you not remember how the newspapers reacted? They didn’t know me, or my mother, but because—because of my skin, the country I was born, I was mistrusted. Scorned. Yeah, maybe I’ve killed people, but that isn’t because of my skin color or my culture or the language I speak. I have this opportunity to speak out against that!” Damian turns to look at Dick, “I’ve tried to become better, to do better. It’s hard and unfair that none of that matters, because guests are invited to galas hosted in the house that I live in, only to make snide racist comments about “nukes” or the desert or bombs whenever Father and you all aren’t around me. How can I be better, when I’m not given the chance because people can’t see past my skin?” Dick wraps Damian into a tight hug, as wetness drips down Damian’s cheeks. “I’ve been here nearly four years—and it still happens” Damian whispers.

“Why didn’t you say anything Dami?”

“What could I say?” Damian whispers back,

“Bruce—”

“Invites these people because they are important to Wayne Enterprise.” He scoffs. “What could you do, especially if I have no proof?”

“Believe me, Damian,” Dick says seriously, pulling back to look into Damian’s eyes. “Bruce won’t invite anyone who’s racist or derogatory towards his children, back to a gala, let alone do business with him again.” He smiles a hard somewhat vicious smile. “I know because when I was first adopted, he did that for me” Damian’s eyes widen. “And if Bruce can’t defend you, you can bet your brothers will,” Damian looks unsure, but nods. “But I get it now. You’ve always used art to vent and express yourself. This design is something that would allow you to address what the media has done to and said about you.”

“It’s been,” Damian shrugs, looking down, “therapeutic. In a way I never imagined it would be.”

“Well, I think, whatever you end up designing will be amazing,” Dick smiles, and Damian looks up at the sincerity, giving his own smile smile in response. “And I expect an invitation to the fashion show!” He chuckles, causing Damian to blush. “And I bet the whole family would want to come as well,” Damian blushes, looking away once more.

“Tickets are $15 each, and available online,” Damian replies, making Dick belly laugh. “You can invite the others, if you’d like” Damian mumbles.

“Hmm,how ‘bout I invite the siblings while you invite your dad,” Damian grumbles, but agrees. “Great! Now, take a break. One night not designing won’t hurt you.” Dick says, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulder. ‘Might do you some good, in fact.”

Things get better after that, because after his talk with Dick, Damian gets an idea for his design. Ziba, a Persian student Damian met in his Literature class, agreed to be his model for his statement piece. She wore her hijab proudly, a solid black color, which helped with the down-to-business look the rest of the outfit screamed. Ziba’s makeup was beautiful, as Damian was putting the last touches on her. They both were quiet, nervous excitement pulsing through them both. Ziba had on white trousers that flared out a bit, to give an almost flowy feel, with black basic vegan leather square pointed toe mule flat accented by a silver buckle. Damian had made the top a cross between a tunic, a blazer, and a cape. It is white, and goes over a plain solid black turtleneck. Printed on both the buttoned blazer tunic top and the trousers are past racist articles written about Damian. In red graffiti styled letters sprayed across the news paper articles are phrases like “Lies” “Warped Perception” “Western POV” “Racist” “I was only 10”. The red paint matches the red lipstick Ziba is wearing.

Damian was nervous with his family in the audience, everyone including Alfred was there. Apparently Superman and Superboy were in attendance too, as civilians of course. Colin was there too. Damian had told his father about the fashion show, and was surprised to see how supportive he was about it. Of course that may have been the shock, as Damian had told him that morning before leaving for school. Bruce blinked, stood up and hugged Damian, before saying he couldn’t wait for the show.

Damian’s set is the last, ask the show is in alphabetical order according to last names. When it’s his turn, all of his model’s line up, and Damian is running around making sure everything is perfect. He hears the speaker introduce his collection, inviting Damian to join him on stage. Damian rushes out, brown cheeks turn red. Together they introduce all seven outfits of the collection one by one, as Damian describes his designs, the material, and the inspiration behind each one. When it get’s to Ziba’s turn, Damian’s nearly choked up. He manages to discuss this piece and it’s significance to him. At the end, Damian received a standing ovation from nearly everyone. Looking over at his family, he has to duck from hiding his flamed cheeks. All his siblings were cheering for him, while Bruce and Dick dab their eyes. Alfred has a proud look on his face, and Damian couldn’t have been happier.

He ends up getting second place, but also his own work room at the Manor. Damian begins selling his work after getting it patented (Tim demanded it), and is surprised when a number of orders are for the galas around Gotham. Dick told Bruce and the others about all the things Damian has been hearing at Galas, and they are justifiably angry. Duke begins chants of “Eat the Rich” every time he hears someone says something problematic about Damian, and that because Tim’s signal on who to take down next.

Damian’s designs become more widely popular as his family starts wearing them, as they love talking about it and how he uses sustainable methods and materials. This earns him big named clients, who start wearing Damian’s designs on the Red Carpet and premiers . Damian also likes to do work for charity, often donating dresses to high schoolers who cannot afford prom dresses or making clothes out of extra material to donate to shelters so people have clothes for job interviews and such.

(He also makes his pets clothes when he’s bored, so it’s normal to see Titus wearing a doggy hoodie with slits in it for his ears)

ANYWAYS, this is my headcanon lol

What do think about it?

—🧵🪡

Headcanon?? Bestie this a whole ass au!

As for my thoughts-

💳 💥💥 💳 💥💥💥 💳 💥💥💥💥

[samnyangie]

Hehehehe I was bit hesitant to post this but it’s too gold not to share it! Plus, it’s a great contrast to this interview as he was being mature discussing acting in depth and overall, just serious(but cute haha). This one is light hearted (also bit cringey) as it talks about his past crush, Love letter, ‘snogging’ aka kissing(!!!!) and Romeo and Juliet, it’s more gossipy in a way? But I wholeheartedly love this interview, he’s so adorable.

So, I hope you also like this as well:D

*warning: there’s a slight mention about suicide and shooting!

(Credit)

__________________________________

"Robert Sean leonard's Lip Service..." (My Guy & Girl Interview Feb 1991)

Robert Sean Leonard's Lip Service...

What a kiss-and-tell merchant this boy is!

Robert couldn't wait to talk about snogging...wet ones, ones that make you want to puke! Eee...yuk!

But first we wanted to find out what he'd been up to since Dead Poet's Society and what his new film Mr and Mrs Bridge is about.

So Robert, what have been doing since Dead Poets Society?

"Oh, I filmed that a little over two years ago now. At the moment I'm in the stage production of Romeo and Juliet with the Riverside Shakespeare Company in Manhatten. I've also just made a movie called Married To It. I hope the title will change 'cause I don't like it very much. It's about three couples and I play the husband who's married to Mary Stuart Masterson. Cybil Shepherd is in it too.

"For a While after Dead Poets I went back to college. I took a year off and did some theatre. I also wanted to wait for a good film. A lot of the films that came my way were just typical teenage American junkie films. I waited and waited for something special until Mr & Mrs Bridge came along. I was so thrilled to get it."

What is it about then?

"It's about a family at a time before the war when four individuals spoke up, rebelled. It's sort of the last family unit in America where father knows best. The children don't have any rights-because they're the children.'

I play the strong silent type, who rebels when his father won't let him join the army. Paul Newman plays the father, and he's just such a brilliant actor. To me Mr and Mrs Bridge is about the importance of communication.

Going back to Dead Poets, is it true you got the part because you were unknown?

"Yes. The director, Peter Weir, had the talent and the guts to tell Touchstone pictures that he didn't want any famous actors. I was 19 when I got the part of Neil Perry, but i'd been working on stage in New York for five years before that-I started young.

"I still remember the weekend when we filmed the shoot-it was really depressing, just like the whole film. I'm just glad I didn't have to shoot myself on screen-all that mess!"

Was your school much like Dead Poets? All those stuffy traditions and horrible uniforms?

"My school was very, very, very different. I went to an ordinary public high school. It was much less restrictive. And we didn't have to wear uniforms. At my school there were the metalheads, leatherheads, deadheads and band fags -and I was a leatherhead, wore all the biker gear!"

So you were a rebel just like Neil then?

"Ha ha ha! Well I wasn't exactly a goody goody, thats for sure! I suppose I was a bit of both really. I was so focused on acting I didn't become too rebellious as a teenager. Besides I got to rant and rave on stage every night.

"But I was never at school that much anyway. I had to leave lunchtimes to go to the theatre. Strangely I didn't have many good friends like "The Society" But I did get along with everyone. There were a lot of similarities between Neil and myself, though. His passion for acting and learning. But unlike his parents, mine were, and are, incredibly supportive. The Dead Poets Society still get together you know. Most of the guys from the film live in New York and I've kept in touch with them all. There was a real camaraderie between us on the set that's carried over.

What subject did you hate the most at school?

"Well I loved things like history but my worst subject was gym. I always 'forgot' my trainers. I mean I like sports, but it's just that i'm such a miserable failure at them.

Did you get lots of Valentine cards when you were younger?

"I got a lot of cards at school, but not since. Actually I got a Valentine card last year from a fan, a girl in London would you believe. I don't know if I'll get any cards this year, but it would be nice. Am I sending any this year? Ahh Now that would be telling....!"

Have you ever sent love letters?

"I've never sent a love letter to someone I didn't know. I sent a secret one at school. There was a girl in High School that I had a heavy crush on, for four years! But I never had the guts to ask her out. I wrote her a card and I actually quoted a Blues Bothers song. 'I have everything I need, almost, but I don't have you. And that's the thing I need the most'. But I didn't sign it. She may have thought someone else sent it.

So, who was this lucky girlie, then?

"Her name was Joanna, she was my first big crush. From 13 to 17! She never ever knew 'cause I was really shy...I still am! Her last name was Lenz, so her locker was right next to mine, Leonard. So I got to see her every morning when we got our books. I did talk to her, and tried to make her laugh. Her house was pretty near mine too. I had a few pretty late nights where I'd go and sit on her lawn. She didn't know, but i'd just sit on the grass and think. I suppose that's just a normal thing about growing up."

Have you met her since you've become a famous filmstar?

"Well she moved to Florida when I was 17. It was the last I heard of her. Maybe I'll see her at our class reuinion. In America you always have a five-year reunion when you're 22 and you go back to school. I don't know if I'll still fancy her though..."

What first attracts you to someone?

"When I was 13 it was simply the way a girl looked and talked, and moved. Those things are still important now. But also someone who can make me laugh and talk about the same things and who has the same dreams"

What is your favourite romantic movie?

"It has to be 'Singin' In The Rain' I just loved the dancing and the scene where Gene Kelly sings to Debbie Reynolds in the studio. I'd love to do something like that, but I don't think I'd have the talent for it.

Have you, erm, heard of the word 'snogging'?

"Ha ha ha! That's a really English word. If you had asked me before I'd done Romeo and Juliet, I wouldn't have had a clue! But our stage director is English.

There's this one scene in Romeo and Juliet, the kiss goodbye, and he used to snap his fingers and shout "Come on, come on you two, we don't want this to be a snogging session"."

Do you remember your first snog?

"My first proper girlfriend used to play the piano and I played the guitar...we used to play music together (we'll bet!). That was when I had my first real kiss. I was terrified! She blew me away. There was a lot of fumbling, not knowing what to do. I remember kissing, then feeling nauseous (ie. wanting to puke). I just wanted to go home. I didn't feel pressurised into doing it, or anything. I just felt strange 'cause it was something new. In some ways I wasn't quite ready for it. Like it was something you're expected to do. But it's kinda hard to tell a girl you feel nauseous and you want to go home!!"

What's your biggest snogging turn-off?

"Gosh! Well it really turns me off when girls kiss wildly, when they try to swallow you. Or when their mouths are wet. I prefer it when it's relaxed and tender."

Have you had any other dating disasters?

"Not lately. I'm much to busy for girlfriends just now. But there was something in Romeo and Juliet, though. On the opening night I was in the tomb and I had to kill Paris then go and talk to Jiliet. I realised my dagger was missing, and she needs it to kill herself. So I just had to stop the show. I just looked at the audience and said 'Er, excuse me, but I've just lost the dagger! We'll have to stop until I find it'.

So I looked and looked until I found it...underneath Paris actually, who was lying dead in the corner. So I put it back in my sheath and said 'Okay, move on!"

Are you a good Romeo?

"Yes, indeed. Luckily I didn't have to climb up the wall to the balcony or anything.

Shakespeare really made an error at that point. If Romeo and Juliet touched or kissed in the balcony scene I think Shakespeare would surely have written about it. Whereas there's no indication where they touch at all. Did I have to wear tights? Oh, yes, I had to wear them all right. I've worn them before too. You get used to it. You forget you're wearing them after a while." Could be dangerous that...

[sunshineseung]

Journal Part 3 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 4.3k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!jeongin, “mommy”, shower/morning sex, handjob (m!receiving), cum swallowing, smut within smut [mentions of punishment, spanking, pegging, free use, “mistress”, flogging, chastity], masturbation, brief phone sex, bratty jeongin, punishment, spanking with hand, grinding, overstimulation (m!receiving), PIV (riding, cowgirl/reverse cowgirl), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare… phew good luck

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

The morning sun blinds Jeongin through the curtains, and he lazily rubs his eyes to see steam coming from under the bathroom door. You’ve already gotten up to get a shower, but you so rudely forgot to invite the sweet college boy blissfully sleeping next to you. Jeongin springs out of bed with a little too much energy and sneaks into your bathroom, being as quiet as possible.

“Jeongin, I know you’re there.” You fold your arms as you face the clear shower door Jeongin’s silhouette was on. He freezes, shrugs, and opens the shower door just enough so you could see only half of his body. 

“May I come in?” 

You sigh and swing open the door fully, making sure no water can get out. “Sure, baby.” 

Jeongin gets giddy and hops in, smiling brightly as you continue to lather soap on your body. Suddenly, he hugs you from behind, pulling you as close to his body as possible. You feel his semi-erection on your back, but that’s not your focus right now. You just want to be clean for your day off. 

“Thank you for letting me stay over.” Jeongin nuzzles his head in the back of your neck, cuddling you under the running water. “I really enjoyed last night. Did you?” 

“Yes, sweetheart. I enjoyed it a lot.” Your reassurance makes him blush, and he’s happy you can’t see the flustered expression on his face. He doesn’t know what to do next. Luckily, you have plans. “Hey, Jeongin, do you write… fantasies about us in class?”

“Oh, uh, sometimes. I make sure no one sees, though.” He backs away, leaning on the far shower wall. “I mostly write in my composition class.” 

“Who’s the professor?” You turn around, facing him fully, pinning him to the wall with your eyes. 

“Mr. Lee?”

“Lee what?” 

“Lee… Minho?”

Damnit. Of course. Of course it was going to be your ex husband. Admittedly, this wasn’t the best time to interrogate Jeongin, but it’s still early, and the kids aren’t up yet, so you have time to turn this around.

“Mommy, can you put shampoo in my hair?” Jeongin’s cute little voice almost makes your heart burst, and it’s practically impossible for you to say no now. Jeongin turns around and kneels, patiently waiting for you to wash his hair. You squeeze some shampoo into your hand and spread it through Jeongin’s wet hair, making sure it suds on his scalp. He hums in content, loving the feeling of your hands through his hair. “Thank you.”

“No problem, baby.” You kiss the back of his neck, making a shiver run down his spine. You hear the light sounds of Jeongin touching himself, slowly and quietly enough that he hopes you don’t notice, but you obviously do considering you see his right shoulder moving.

Once the shampoo is finally rinsed out of his hair, you pull him onto you, his back falling against your chest and stomach. You run your hands over his abs before taking a hold of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it gently before slowly jerking him back and forth. Jeongin weakly bucks his hips into your hand, dazed and clouded with neediness. 

“You like when mommy touches you like this, huh?” The water sprinkles down onto Jeongin’s cock, creating a weak lubricant for your hand. He doesn’t answer you; he can only whimper, too far gone to even form a thought. He slipped into this headspace so fast, and it kind of shocks you. Jeongin rustles in your arms, seeming to wish to break free from your hold. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“W-want to see you.” Jeongin squeaks out, prompting you to turn around and pin him against the wall so the water hits your back. You get on your knees, looking up at him as his face is bright red and his eyes are half-lidded. “You’re so pretty, mommy.” 

“Aw, is my little boy trying to compliment me so he can cum?” You go back to stroking his cock, licking the tip once to remind him of how your mouth feels. His sensitive cock begins to twitch, begging to release. Another lick, this time from his balls to his tip, and he’s cumming on your face, shooting his load across your features, mostly in your mouth. 

You wipe the cum from your face to your mouth, swallowing every last bit of his tasty release. Jeongin only watches, eyes glued to your mouth, but he doesn’t know if he can kiss you considering you just ate his cum. 

“Mommy, can I kiss you?” You look up and him and groan as you stand up, your knees feeling the repercussions of kneeling on the hard shower floor. He raises his chin as you grasp his face, pulling his soft lips to yours, kissing you sweetly. You press your body against his, your tits coming in contact with his chest, and he has to fight every thought to snap his neck down to look at your chest. Still, your lips were made for each other, perfectly in sync with every ministration. He’d be a fool to break this kiss right now. 

Nothing in Jeongin’s wildest dreams could have prepared him for being with you, even if it isn’t anything serious. He loved just being in your presence, focused on your every word and every action, mentally taking notes so his memories of his time with you could be as vivid as possible. 

On the other hand, nothing in your wildest dreams could prepare you for your ex-husband rudely coming back into your life only to shame you for possibly having a relationship with another consenting adult. When he called you last night, you had no idea Jeongin was one of your students, but somehow, Minho saw what he was writing in his little notebook, and it all seemed too descriptive to be fake. Jeongin was younger when he saw Minho the most, and there was no way Jeongin could recognize him as his ex-neighbor now. It was all an innocent mistake that cost you a lot of sleep last night. 

You weren’t thinking about that now. All you could think about was what time it was, because your daughters would be awake any minute and you always make them breakfast on your days off. You break the kiss and get out of the shower with Jeongin, graciously helping each other dry off, and you go out to begin making waffles for your kids.

“I didn’t know you could cook!” Jeongin sits at the dining table, full of glee just like a child would be. “Can I stay for breakfast?” 

“Jeongin, you can stay as long as you’d like.” You press the waffle iron closed, beginning to cook the first of three. “But no funny business. I don’t want the girls to know what’s going on between us.” 

“Oh, that’s okay! I just know there’s no fresh breakfast at my house.” He laughs a little, lounging back in the wooden chair. “I’ll leave after I eat so you have a day with your kids, and I also have homework to do.” 

“They give you kids homework on the weekends?” You sound almost offended by the thought of doing any type of schoolwork on your days off. “From what I can remember, we never got homework on the weekends, or if we did, I certainly didn’t do it!” 

You both laugh, then go back to a comfortable silence. It felt right. Having another adult in the house, someone to talk to who isn’t only talking to you because of work. This is what you’ve been missing. 

When your daughters wake up, they’re shocked to see Jeongin sitting at the table, but they’re also happy to see him. They drag him out of his seat at the table so he can play with them before you tell them to behave. 

“Jeongin is a guest this morning. Treat him nice!” 

Jeongin’s embarrassed to admit that he almost said yes mommy, but the glorious taste of the syrup-covered waffles takes his mind off that. You just lean against the counter and watch them eat, sipping your coffee as the sun continues to rise.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“Jeongin, where were you last night?” Felix says through his headset, waiting for his game to load. “We need a team of four!”

“I thought Hyunjin would have been on.” Jeongin yawns, tired after having you wake him so early. “I was busy, sorry.” 

“Busy doesn’t mean writing in your diary, Yang.” Jisung chimes in, calling Jeongin by his family name as if it’s an insult. 

“First of all, it’s not a diary, and second of all, I was busy with a… girl.” Jeongin hesitates to give away too much information, but he folds the seconds he’s brought back to where he was last night: under you. 

“Aw, our baby Innie has a girlfriend?” The group fills with oohs and ahhs as Jeongin groans and rolls his eyes, adjusting his headset out of frustration. “Let us meet her! C'mon man!” 

“You can’t meet her. We aren’t dating.” Jeongin threatens to leave before they drop the topic, but he can’t stop thinking about you, being already semi-hard by the end of their first match. The team berates him for his poor playing, but they can’t even fathom the thoughts going through Jeongin’s head that he can’t wait to put into his journal. 

I want mommy to punish me. Punish me for these thoughts, punish me for touching myself without her, punish me for anything she pleases. Her perverted little boy wants to be ruined, and yet she’s so gentle with me. I don’t care if the sound of her spanking me wakes up her kids. It’ll be worth it just to feel her treat me like I’m her servant who lives to please, because I am. I’m nothing but a vessel she should be free to use at her will. I’m her toy. All hers. 

Jeongin’s phone pings from the other side of his desk. It’s a text message from his favorite neighbor, and what perfect timing too. In your little text conversation, you and Jeongin discuss the babysitting times for the week, and don’t even manage to mention anything about sex. As upsetting as this is, while he waits for your answers, he’s diligently jotting down all of his twisted fantasies. 

“You take my strap so well, honey.” She thrusts into my ass again, this time going even deeper than before. I hold my legs up with my hands around my tights, spreading my ass for her to fuck. My cock is leaking with precum while she strokes it with one hand and plays with my nipples with her other. “Dumb little boy’s being so good for me now.” 

When you finally say goodbye over text, Jeongin shoots back a short “can we call?” As strange as you thought this text was, you press his number, soon to be greeted with the heavy breaths of the young boy. Luckily, the girls were asleep and you were alone in your bedroom, so you could say anything. 

“Aw, is my boy all needy while he’s alone?” You tease him across the line, although you could just yell this out your window to his. Jeongin slips his pants down his thighs to release his cock, playfully touching his tip before gripping his shaft and stroking himself slowly. “Are you thinking about mommy?”

“Y-yes, I’m thinking about you, mommy.” How he got so excited so quickly is beyond his own understanding, but just from hearing your lustful voice, Jeongin’s already brainless, hardly able to utter a simple sentence. 

“Good boy. You’re always such a good boy, huh?”

“Only for you, mommy.”

“Then why does my good boy want to be punished?” Jeongin’s breath hitches, suddenly remembering the short, revealing conversation with you about wanting to be used. “I wouldn’t want to punish you without a reason, my little prince.”

“Wh-what can I do?” He heaves out, quickening his pace on his dick. “Give me rules, mommy. I want to break them.”

“Oh, pretty boy wants rules now?” You take a moment to ponder, hearing the light sound of skin slapping from the other side of the phone. “Stop jerking off. No masturbating without my permission.”

Jeongin freezes, taking his hand off his cock slowly, writhing from the ruined orgasm he was so close to having. He sighs to catch his breath, pulling the phone away so you couldn’t hear how desperate he was to be touched. “What else?”

“Hm,” you scratch your chin in thought, “you have to show me everything you write in your little journal, got it?” “E-everything?”

“Everything.” Jeongin’s focus goes to the journal, looking at the depraved words he scratched onto the page. If he wants to get what he wants, he has to show you just so you know how much he wants this. “Yes ma’am.”

“One more thing, baby.” Jeongin’s worn out just from the first two rules. One more might break him. “Promise to take care of yourself. Brush your teeth, eat your meals, drink water, ya’know, things like that. I don’t want this rule broken.” 

The sudden overflowing of care and wholesomeness makes Jeongin’s face turn red, partially because you’re so sweet and partially because he forgot to eat dinner today. He nods before realizing this was a phone call and squeaking out a meek “of course”. 

“Don’t break these rules, okay sweetheart? Or else you’ll be punished… unless you break the last rule. Then I’ll give you a stern talking to. Got it?” 

“Yes, mommy. I understand.” Jeongin pulls his pants up, cock now fully limp. “See you tomorrow!” 

“Yup, good night.” You both hang up, setting your phones down for the night. Jeongin sits back in his desk chair, feeling victorious after finally cementing a sure-fire way to get his ass spanked. Before he goes to bed, he has to eat dinner. No way he’s getting a stern talking to!

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

When you come home from work on Monday, Jeongin’s watching TV (scrolling through his phone) while the girls were most likely asleep. You come sit next to him, tossing your bag next to the couch and figuratively letting your hair down, unbuttoning a few buttons on your work shirt. 

“Hey, Y/n! The girls were great today.” Jeongin smiles, folding his hands in his lap. “They went to bed like two hours ago. It was an early night for them I guess.” 

“Yeah, they were up early this morning, even before me.” You both laugh, finally being able to get down to business, at least in Jeongin’s mind. 

“I ate three meals today, I drank three bottles of water, and I brushed my teeth this morning.” Jeongin sounds oddly proud of himself for doing what most people think is the bare minimum. “I showered, I took my meds, and most importantly, I didn’t jerk off.” 

“Good boy.” You kiss him on the cheek and pull his head into your chest so he’s leaning on one of your tits. “My Jeonginnie is always so good for me.”

“Can I get a reward?” His puppy eyes look up at you, warming your heart from the long day at work. He looked so sweet and innocent, just pretty enough for you to destroy. 

“Hold on, baby. You didn’t forget the second rule, did you?” You tap the side of his head and point to his bookbag. “Show me your journal.” 

“B-but mommy, that’s embarrassing.” He whines, turning off your chest and to his bag, leaning away before unzipping his bag. “Do you have to?” 

“Don’t be bratty with me. I just called you my good boy!” You reach for the bag, but Jeongin pulls it back to him. He hides it behind his back, putting his nose up at you. “Jeongin…”

“No!”

“Give me the j-“

“Make me.”

You lean into him, suffocating the younger boy with your shadow. Now standing over him, you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks before one hand pulls back and harshly slaps him across his handsome face. He doesn’t whine in pain, though, he just moans. 

“M-more.” 

“What was that, baby?” 

He begins to repeat himself, but you slap him again before he can finish the word. His face is red as a tomato, and you don’t care whether that’s from your hand or his blushing. Looking down, you can clearly see how hard he is in his pants. You remove your hands from his face and press one down onto his bulge, making his face contort into a wince. 

“Does my little boy want me to touch his cock?” You taunt, tilting your head as if the answer isn’t obvious. “Or more importantly, does he deserve it?” 

“I’m n-not letting you read my journal.” 

You huff and straighten your posture, taking his wrist in your hand and making him stand up with you, leading him to your bedroom. You slam the door behind you just quiet enough not to wake the kids. When you turn around, Jeongin is bent over the bed with his pants down to his ankles. He’s shaking. You like that. 

“Take your clothes off, bitch.” He kicks his pants away while tossing his shirt off and pulling down his underwear at lighting speed. You sit on the bed and pat your lap, signaling Jeongin to bend over you, which he obediently does. “My little boy’s being bad today. Why?”

“I don’t want you reading what’s in my journal.” He sounds angry when you know it’s all for show. 

“You don’t think I already know what perverted filth is in there?” You spank him, quickly making a red mark on his pale ass. He groans, bucking his hips into your leg for some friction. “You just want mommy to treat you like this, don’t you?” 

“Yes mommy.” Another spank hits his ass, causing him to jolt forward. You bite your lip looking down at him, just now noticing how muscular he is. 

“Count for me.” You spank him again, and again, and again, as he pliantly counts and whines, his cock dangling below him fully erect. By the end, he’s out of breath, and he isn’t even doing any of the work. 

“Ten.” You pet his back while his ass is red as ever, looking like it can’t take any more hits of your palm. You kiss him on the shoulder, an especially soft moment after what just occurred. “Mommy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I’ll show you my journal now.” He can’t move, but the journal is still out in his bag. 

“I’ll go get it, baby boy. Lay down on the pillows. I want to read your slutty little stories to you.” He gets off your lap and lays back while you go out to the living room to get the journal. You sift through his bag, looking back and forth between binders and folders, but you don’t see it anywhere. You bring the bag into the bedroom, tossing it on the bed. “Where is it?”

Jeongin does the same as you, sifting through the bag with no sight of his precious journal. His heart stops for a minute, beginning to break into a cold sweat. 

“Where did you see it last?” 

“I was writing in it during my comp class.” 

Lee Minho teaches that class. Your ex-husband teaches that class. This feels like the end of the world, and unlike earlier, you’re now genuinely angry. Your face begins to boil as you throw the bookbag off the bed and undress down to your panties. Climbing on top of Jeongin, you press your cunt down onto his cock, applying just enough pressure to make you both moan. 

“Dumb little boy wants to ruin me, don’t you?” You wrap your hands around his neck, not choking him, but rather threatening him. “You want Lee Minho to know about us. You want him to have your stupid fucking diary so he can read all of your slutty fantasies.” Your grip tightens around his neck slightly, and Jeongin looks like he’s in pure bliss. He can’t even defend himself. He loves this too much. 

“I love you, mommy.” He hums, leaning back into the bed as you begin to tease his cock with your slick panties, grinding against him. 

“You don’t love me, Jeongin. You just love when I treat you like my little toy.” You lean down to make a dark hickey on his neck, something his friends will surely tease him for the next day. “All mine. You’re only mine.” 

“Y-yes mommy. All yours. Only yours.” He moans loudly, suddenly nearing his high just from your grinding. The cloth of your panties feel like heaven. He can’t help it!

You look down to see him shoot his load on himself, spurts of his hot cum covering his abs and chest. He looks so pathetic, but at least he’s yours. 

Pushing your panties aside, you slip him inside you, overstimulating him with your tight cunt. You bounce a few times on him before stopping your movements completely, bending over to put your tits in his face. He grabs your tits and sucks them, jumping back and forth between them every couple of seconds. Your hands are still around his neck, keeping him down on the mattress, unable to move. 

“You love being mommy’s toy, huh?” You start to choke him more as you pull your tits out of his face, starting to ride him again. “Ah~ and mommy loves your cock, babydoll.” 

Jeongin’s overwhelmed. He just came but he feels his second orgasm rapidly approaching. He can’t think or speak. All he can do is moan and whine “mommy” over and over again. 

“Let me try something, my little prince.” That was always his favorite pet name you gave him. He thought he was about to cum, but you pull off of him, rotating your body so Jeongin has a perfect view of your ass. You sink back down onto him, his cock filling up your pussy again. 

He felt so relieved being inside your warm cunt again, but now you start riding him harder and faster, his cock hitting so deep inside you with each thrust. He can’t hold it anymore. Jeongin’s cum fills you up, dripping down out of your pussy and onto the base of his cock. 

He feels so weak under you. He’s in pain from the overstimulation, but he can’t deny that he adores feeling like this. The safe word isn’t even in his mind. He just wants you. 

“Mommy’s gonna cum, alright?” You start to tighten around him, your movements getting sloppy and labored. “Hold my hips like a good boy. I want you to fuck me just like this.” 

Jeongin’s hands hesitantly move to your hips, holding you up while his hips begin to stutter and thrust into you, fucking his cum deeper inside you. The convulsions of your dripping pussy is making his head spin. If he cums again, he’ll be so embarrassed, but the more he fucks you, the more his cock twitches. 

“Good little boy. Such a nice cock, baby. Mm, so good.” Words mindlessly fly out of your mouth as you slam your ass against him, forcing him to bottom out. Neither of you move as you cum on him, your cunt tightening its grip on his length. Jeongin shuts his eyes as he ruts into you, cumming the same time as you. It feels euphoric to both of you. Jeongin’s hands move from your hips to your ass, massaging the skin as you come down from your highs. 

“Thank you, mommy.” Jeongin whines as you get off of him, cum dripping out of you onto Jeongin. You hold it in as best you can as you lay down next to him, your legs feeling too fuzzy to get you anywhere. Jeongin nuzzles into your chest, holding you as close to him as possible. 

You kiss his forehead before getting up to clean the mess you two made, mostly the mess between your legs. Coming back with water for your pretty little submissive, you lay back down to cuddle with your sweet boy. 

“You need to get that journal back, Jeongin.”

“I will, Y/n. Don’t worry. No one will read it.” 

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

His finger wraps around the thin paper to flip the page, only getting a fourth of the way through the messy journal. Everything is vile, and more importantly, everything is about his ex-wife. 

Lee Minho’s cock is hard in his hand as he strokes himself back and forth, biting down on his lip so he doesn’t moan too loudly to alert his girlfriend in the other room. He can’t believe the raunchy smut he’s reading can turn him on this much. 

“F-fuck, Y/n. My cock is so much better than this college boy’s.” 

Minho gets vivid flashbacks to him dominating you, tying you up and spanking you with his paddle. Your teary eyes were always his favorite, especially when the tears were mixed with his cum. 

He looks back at the page after returning from his haze of days gone by. His cock starts to twitch as his eyes skim the page, focusing on the parts with your name.

Y/n’s arm enters my peripheral as she hits me again with her flogger, the leather straps leaving red marks against my back. I lose balance, unable to catch myself on the hands that are cuffed behind me. I fall onto my face, and Y/n laughs at my pathetic form. “Dumb slut can’t even stay on his knees for his mistress.” Her heel presses against my spine, arching my back with force. “Ten more, then I’ll remove the cage, got it?”

Minho tosses the book aside as his pace quickens, cumming all over his lap. He looks down at the mess he made, his sweatpants covered in the reminder that he’s still head-over-heels for his ex-wife. 

taglist: @milkym00n​ @sparklysung​ @fanchengsgf​ @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay​ if you wanna be tagged in part four, send me an ask :)

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[literaryfic]

singer!cha-young & violonist!vincenzo au pt.1

don’t ask me why. i have no answer for you okay.

cha-young starts her career when she’s 5, appearing in a yogurt commercial. she’s not exactly a cute child, but she’s enthusiastic and disciplined.

her dad, the retired leader of a rock band who had a few hit songs in the 80s, is the one who introduces her to music.

she learns the piano & the guitar and takes singing lesson. her childhood is guided by auditions and music classes.

when she’s 12, a big agency contacts her and she signs a trainee contract with them. her dad is against it, but her mom and her win him over. she’ll be careful, they’ll look after her.

she starts training after school everyday, on the weekends too. she’s not really good at dance and she gets in trouble a lot but she’s the best singer in her age group, which makes up for it.

time passes by and the company starts to ask her to lose weight. her dance teacher comments on how big her thighs are. she’s asked if she ever thought about a nose job, or an eye surgery. those things happen a lot, and if she wants a sit at the big table, she’ll need to make some decisions.

her parents disagree, of course, but then her mother falls ill. she has to stop working and money becomes scarce. cha-young doesn’t want to bother them with her insignificant issues and so she starts a diet without any of them noticing. she needs to be thinner, maybe she’ll win a scholarship and her dad won’t need to work two jobs anymore.

her dad comes home drunk most nights, as if the sight of her mother made him sick. she was dying and her husband couldn’t even look at her anymore. cha-young doesn’t know who she hates more: her dad or herself for wishing she could escape home the same way he did every night.

her mom dies when she’s 15 and she stops taking lessons. she quits the company after a while too. she wins a scholarship for a good arts high school, known to hone musical talents. she meets new friends there, ones who don’t care about her proportions or her eyelids, and she’s happy in school.

her dad and her starts to argue more and more, until they stop talking. she fills the silence in her empty house with the music she writes.

after she graduates high school, she works two jobs to pay her way through college. all of her spare time is used composing, writing lyrics, singing. she posts covers on YouTube and she starts to gain some followers.

it’s not enough to make money but an independent label that’s been on the rise notices her. she signs with them after reading the contract carefully, when she’s 19. she choses her stage name, NOVA.

her first album is out by the time she’s 20 and she starts appearing on tv. her second album at 23 is her big break. her first hit song “Alone With You”, an upbeat tune contrasted by sad lyrics, stays on top of the charts for weeks, owing her the nickname of “monster rookie”.

people soon start to discover her easy-going, bubbly yet blunt personality and she starts going on more variety shows.

she’s loved and she’s found her sound, profound lyrics with innovative instrumentals, she plays with genres and concepts often, keeping her image fresh.

at 30, she’s one of the biggest South Korean solo act. she tours the world, sells album, holds events for her fans, travels. she doesn’t have to think about money anymore. she lives in a luxurious apartment in the centre of Seoul.

she’s learned that not everyone is going to love her. she’s used to dealing with virulent anti-fans, stalkers and paparazzi.

she has everything her 15 year old self dreamt of, an amazing career and devoted fans, a name people recognise and a wardrobe bigger than their previous living room. yet, she can’t seem to fill the emptiness inside of her.

she calls her dad once a year, for the new year. he still lives in their old house, refusing to move into the one she bought just for him. he teaches guitar to kids at the community center in their neighbourhood. her anger doesn’t seem to fade with the years.

she almost looses everything when her assistant, jung jun woo, leaks the fact that she’s had an abortion after she rejects him.

she’d been dating an actor a few years ago, and they had had an accident. she’d noticed too late that she missed her period since it was irregular and had to get an abortion. she didn’t think any of it now, there’s nothing wrong with a woman making this choice and she wasn’t ready to become a mother. she’d never once regretted it in the past.

however, South Korea’s entertainment industry was not a kind one, and a news like that would destroy her clean, quirky girl-next-door image she’d built over the years. and it did.

she’d never expected jun woo to betray her. he was part of her management team, one of her assistants. he’d always been cute if not a little clingy.

he’d confessed his feelings for her a few weeks back, claiming that he knew they were made for each other and that he would do everything for her and she’d laughed in his face. she hadn’t meant to sound mean or insensitive, she had thought it was a prank he was pulling on her.

turns out it wasn’t, and he had leaked this “abortion gate” to dispatch to get get back at her.

her label had released a vague statement, about “a difficult time in her life”, urging people to stop looking into “her private medical history”.

trashy tabloids and online blogs had had a field day. some people even started a petition to remove her from the industry. the news quickly turned into a social discourse when feminist orgs stood up for her. everyone was talking about it, some claiming she was a slut, others turning her into a symbol for women’s rights.

she felt like neither, it had been too long since she’d gotten some to qualify as a slut, and her label would have never let her discuss politics publicly.

she’d lost dozens of endorsements and deals and had officially decided to “focus on her health away from the spotlight” for a while (another statement from her label)

officially on her first hiatus ever, cha-young was lost. every time she tried to write, nothing came out. it would’ve been the perfect time to work on a new album but it seemed nothing worked in her favour as of late.

it’s 6 am when her father calls her. the last she’d heard of him was when the scandal broke out and he’d sent a vague supportive message to which she had responded “thanks, dad”. it was unusual for him to call, especially so early (or late).

she picks up the phone the second times he calls. “hello?” “hello, do you know the owner of this phone?” the man on the other side of the line is definitely not her father and he sounds rather annoyed. “yes, i’m this person’s daughter.” “great, can you come pick him up from my hotel room?” “your hotel room? is he okay?” “he should be. we drank too much and i have to vacate the room before 8. can you come or not?” “yes.” “I’ll text you the address from his phone.” is the last thing he says before hanging up. what a rude man.

why was her father drunk in hotel room with this rude stranger and why was she the one having to pick him up?

she doesn’t want to wake up her manager at this hour, and so she decides to go on her own. the hotel isn’t too far, a mere 15 minute drive, and soon enough she’s knocking on the door of a very expensive hotel suit, definitely not what one of her father’s friends could afford. who the hell was this guy?

she definitely did not expect Vincenzo Cassano, renowned world class violinist, to be the one opening the door.

[blueskrugs]

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider​ said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened. 

length: 4.7 words 

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture. 

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen. 

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand. 

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him. 

He threw your pen at you. 

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours. 

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though. 

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing. 

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke. 

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver. 

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead. 

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine. 

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago. 

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives. 

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact. 

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much. 

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours. 

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said. 

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND. 

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life. 

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by. 

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?” 

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then. 

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before. 

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock. 

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time. 

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile,  and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly. 

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit. 

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it. 

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text. 

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do. 

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark. 

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table. 

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug. 

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock. 

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again. 

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking. 

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted. 

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?” 

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that. 

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018. 

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores. 

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.” 

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you. 

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have. 

[writtenonreceipts]

I saw this prompt for feysand and i would love to see your take on it - I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

I've really been enjoying your writing!!❤

AN: I took it and ran, and ran, and kept running.  Thank-you so, SO much for sending it my way!  This was a great prompt that had fun with.  I’m glad you’ve been liking my stuff, it means a lot! ~5.5kwords

TW: Brief talk about death, anxiety, depression, fear.

 Worth It

Seated at a canvas with paints or pencils in hand, Feyre was unstoppable.  She could create landscapes with ease or depict a simple still life and turn it into something far greater.  Art was where she lived.

Not in a basement classroom learning about Prythian history.  

There wasn’t anything wrong with history, especially when it was as rich and vibrant as Prythia.  But talking about wars, treaties, and assassinations could only be discussed for so long.

Of course, it didn’t help that Feyre was dyslexic, but she didn’t talk about that.

She glanced around the room, trying to see if anyone else was as bored as she was.  It was the first day of class and she was the only one not taking extensive notes.  Well, she and a guy at the front of the room.  All Feyre could see was the back of his head.  His hair was dark as midnight and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up as he sat at his desk.  He didn’t even have a textbook with him.

Feyre forced herself to pay attention as the Professor finally shut down the slide show presentation.

“Make sure you look of the syllabus,” Dr. Wesson addressed the class.  She was a small woman with rich brown hair and a plain green dress.  “It outlines the schedule of tests and essays.  None of the dates will be altered.  My TA will be at your disposal.” 

Dr. Wesson nodded to the guy with the black hair and gestured for him to stand up.

And just like that, the class was the most fascinating thing in the world. 

He was tall, taller than he’d originally appeared.  His warmly tanned skin made his violet blue eyes bright and eager.  A sly sort of smile traced his mouth as he observed the class.

“Call me Rhysand,” he said, “I’m working on my masters specifically in the historical aspect of how literature was shaped by wars in the land.  I’m always glad to help with your questions.  Just make sure you email me to set something up.”

The girls next to Feyre whispered to each other, exchanging significant looks.  Feyre exchanged a significant look with the amount of reading and writing that was required.

Hell.  It was going to be a long semester.

The class dismissed right at nine o’clock, much to Feyre’s relief.  While most of the students flocked to the front of the room to either gawk at the TA or further discuss issues with the Professor, Feyre left the class.  Already she could feel her dread pooling into anxiety.  Her heart rate quickened and the muscles in her left hand twitched.  

She just needed to get home and sit down with a canvas and paint.

As soon as she made it outside the Humanities Building however, the dread continued to tug at Feyre.  It was far too dark.  With far fewer lights than she’d expected for a college campus.  Or maybe it was because there was a thick layer of clouds sagging down and threatening rain.  

“Feyre!” 

Snapping to attention, Feyre clutched her bag to her chest and found the source of her name.

Her friend, and roommate, Alis waved at her from a path diverging deeper on to campus.  Her dark hair hung in waves down her back and the jacket she wore was flattering against her curves.

Feyre let out a long, releieved breath and plastered a smile on her face.  Quickly, she moved toward her friend.

“Hey,” Feyre greeted and accepted a hug from the smaller girl. “What are you doing here?”

“I know you had a late class,” Alis explained, “and I knew it was with Wesson.  I heard the woman is miserable.  So intense.  But--I mean--you’re going to do great.  Your always so creative with everything I’m sure she’ll love you.  Anyway, I was finishing up buying my books for the semester and thought I’d meet up with you.”

Feyre smiled as Alis spoke, grateful for the small distraction.  Even if it was slightly horrific in thinking about trying to get on a professor’s good-side.

“Thanks,” Feyre said, “I appreciate it.  It was a bit intimidating.”

“I think everyone just likes making freshman miserable,” Alis said.  Alis was technically a junior, but had changed her major four times and couldn’t decide on a minor.  She was not on track to graduate when she’d originally thought, but wasn’t at all concerned.  

Feyre wished she could be more like that than the raging mess she felt she was.

Behind them, leaving the Humanities Building, the TA appeared leading an entire gaggle of girls.

“Let’s go,” Feyre muttered. “I’m exhausted.”

#

By the third week of the semester Feyre came to better understand her relationship with exhaustion.  And it was not a good one.

She was fairly certain her body consisted of ninety percent caffeinated beverages and ten percent hot pockets.  She’d never been one for eating much.  Growing up had always been a struggle in keeping food in the fridge and a decent pair of shoes on her feet.  Feyre knew by now how her body functioned.

It wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest.  And there was a part of her that recognized that.  And another part that ignored it.

Two nights a week, Feyre found herself stuffed in the basement with little enjoyment.  Other than getting to stare and Rhysand when Dr. Wesson turned the class over to him for brief instruction.

And looking at him was enjoyment.  He was far different from any other guy Feyre had encountered.  His hair was kept neat and short sweeping easily back out of his face, a charming smile, and warm brown skin.  Not to mention the tattoos. 

Feyre had never really considered tattoos as being attractive.  Perhaps it was the artistic side of her that couldn’t get enough of them.  On him at least.  The way the black in swirled on his skin and swept up his arms.  It was a shame he never wore short sleeves or unbuttoned one extra cutton at his collar.

Hell.

Mentally shaking herself, Feyre forced herself to pay attention.

Rhysand was discussing scores from the test last week.  And, to put it mildly, was not impressed.  Oh, there was plenty of good to say.  Some of the students were engaged in the topics at hand.  Some of the students displayed an obvious grasp of complicated topics.  Others did not.

Feyre found herself sinking deeper into her seat by the end of class.

He hadn’t called her out by name, but truly--it felt like he had.

“That’s it for today, enjoy the weekend,” Rhysand called out at the tick of nine, “and remember essay proposals are due by the start of class on Tuesday.”

There was a quick rustle of the students getting up and gathering their things.  It was a glorious Thursday evening and Feyre had somehow managed to keep her Friday’s clear of classes.  At least something had gone right.

“Feyre?” She whipped around to meet those stark violet eyes. Hell. “I needed to talk to you about the questions you had on the proposal assignment.”

Feyre bristled.  And not just because some of the girls shot her angry looks for being singled out by the hot TA.  She hadn’t asked any questions.  She was just trying to skate by on this class and be done with her prerequisites so she could get into her Art Major.

She set her bag on the floor once more and went to the front of the class.  Already most of the students were leaving, far too eager to be done with school for the night.

As Rhysand answered a few last questions and dismissed the rest of the students, Feyre approached.  Already she knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t have any questions.” The words fell from her mouth with ease. “I already know what I’m writing on.”

Lie.  But a well-practiced one.

Rhysand’s mouth curled in a smile.  He hefted a small stack of papers in one hand and leafed through them.  Feyre froze realizing that they were the tests from last week.  He pulled one of the stapled bunches out before setting the rest down.

“Honestly, I was surprised while grading this,” he said, “I mean, you’re obviously smart.  I saw that you were awarded the Starfell Scholarship, not an easy accomplishment.  Not to mention your always engaged and taking notes.”

Feyre wished her skin wasn’t as pale as it was.  Her skin flushed under his scrutiny, but she tilted her chin up and met his gaze.

“And?” she asked. “I take my education seriously.”

Somewhat.  When she actually liked the work.

Rhysand handed her the test.  And she saw the grade.

D.

D.

D.

Hell.

Her stomach churned.  Roiled actually.  Maybe she was going to be sick.  That was just what she needed.

“So?” she asked instead. “It was the first test of the semester.”

“And yours in the only outlier,” he replied.

His eyes never left hers and Feyre felt more and more inclined to throw something at him.  Who was he to talk to her about her grade?  He was just the damned TA.

“Dr. Wesson doesn’t like picking up the slack of grading or talking to students about it all that much,” he continued, literally reading her mind. “I’m just concerned about you falling behind.”

Feyre stiffened and pursed her lips.

“I grew up learning Prythian history, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said stiffly.  

Another lie.  She knew enough that basic education taught and what she’d heard and listened to.  But reading about it?  Her mind couldn’t grasp it.  It had been hard enough getting decent SAT scores to get accepted in the University let alone writing that damned Starfell essay.

“Of course,” Rhysand said slowly.

And Feyre had the sense that he was assessing her.  Analytically, carefully.  In the was that one would size up an opponent or scrutinize a strange recipe.  He was trying to understand her.

Feyre handed him back the test.

“Thanks for the concern,” she said, “but I’ll be fine.”

Perhaps he was just being nice.  Perhaps he was merely trying to fulfill his duties as TA.  But she had seen the way he acted in the class.  At times rebuffing boys and girls alike.  Not to mention seeing him around campus tossing a football around with two other boys.  She’d also seen him get kicked out of the library for a parkour prank challenge.  

In all honesty, Feyre had no idea what to make of him.  And she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

He didn’t seem to believe her.  Not with the crease forming between his brow nor the frown turning down one side of his mouth.  

Well, that was his problem.

“Have a good night,” Feyre said.  She spun on her heel before he could say anything and grabbed her bag and was out the door.  

Once she was outside, she could breathe again.  Strange.  She often found the darkness, the night, to be so suffocating.  It wasn’t long before Feyre realized something was off about the night.  And then she realized.  Alis was nowhere in sight.

Feyre dug her phone out of her pocket and found a missed text.

Sorry chica, caught up at study group.  Probs gonna spend the night at Nuala’s too.  See you tomorrow!

Of all the nights Alis could get serious with her girlfriend.

Feyre swallowed stiffly and stared out over the pavilion that stretched between the humanities building and out to the mathematics building.  A few pathways branched off to different parts of campus and then there was the main one that would take her to the dorms.  And of course, most of the streetlamps were barely flickering to life.

She’d never liked the dark.  Never liked what could hide in the shadows.  Nor what could sneak in silence.  Perhaps it was childish to still hold onto that fear.  She was almost nineteen years old after all. Nearly fifteen years later and here she was.

Feyre’s hands shook as she clutched her phone.  She could call Elain.  Nesta.  Even just to talk to as she walked.  Though Elain lost her phone even when it was in her hand.  And Nesta was at work.  

But it was fine.  Feyre knew it was fine.  Because all she needed to do was walk.  And shed been walking for long enough that putting one step in front of the other was natural.  Easy.  Simple.  Yet here she was.  Standing.

When Rhysand spoke, she didn’t even start.  

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

Myself.  “No.”

Silence.

“It’s getting late.”

“I know.”

Silence.

How strange it was, to hear only the hum of crickets and breath of night.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rhysand asked.  

Feyre glanced at him.  Even in the shadows she could see him clearly.  It was like he was made of night, of dark, of the mysteries that she could never lay her hand on.  She shook her head.  Focus, Feyre.

“Of course I am,” she insisted, a little too sharply. “Maybe I like having time to think.”

“At nine-thirty at night.  Outside the least exciting building on campus.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I heard that last year a group of boys nearly got suspended for trying to host a snowball fight, indoors.” Feyre couldn’t help but grin when she saw how Rhysand flushed.

“Technically, I’m not the one who brought the snowballs inside the building,” he said defensively.

“Oh, no, you’re just the one who built an entire fort in front of the main entrance to the building,” Feyre said.

It had actually been pretty hilarious when she’d heard about it from Alis. It almost made her wish that she'd been around last year instead of taking a year off.

“Technically,” he said again, the word making Feyre’s brow arch, “it was my brother who instigated the fight. He couldn’t let his reign be challenged.”

Feyre snorted a laugh and looked out over the quiet campus. It almost didn't look so dark and cold as she'd thought it had.  But still, she felt her heart continue to hammer out unevenly in her chest.  She couldn't walk home alone. Even the thought of taking one step forward had her clench and unclench a fist over the strap of her bag.

Rhysand continued saying something, but Feyre was only half listening.  She was mostly focused on the thought of walking home.  She could cut through the Science building.  If it was still open.  Or she could full out sprint.

“Are you alright?” Rhysand asked.

Flushing, Feyre pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded. “Fine, yeah.” She knew she had to ask him.  Knew that it was her only option despite how embarrassed she might feel. “Could you--this is stupid, so you can say no--could you walk with me to the dorms?”

Rhysand was quiet for a moment.  And in that moment Feyre was certain he was going to sneer at her.  Laugh.  Tell her to get over herself.  Just like the others before him.

"Where do you live?" Rhys and asked suddenly, cutting Feyre off before she had the ch

“The dorms on the west side,” she said.

“Alliance Dorms?” Rhysaid confirmed.  When Feyre nodded, he flashed her a small smile. “Absolutely.”

Relief pounded through Feyre.

“If you tell me what the deal was with that test.”

“You’re an ass.”  The words were out before Feyre could stop them.  Not the best thing to say to the TA of a class she was likely going to flunk.

Scowling, more to herself than him, Feyre started walking towards the dorms.  She was a strong confidant woman.  She did not need him to walk her home.

But Rhysand with those damned long legs kept stride with her easily.  And he was laughing.  Feyre was half tempted to knock an elbow in his side for laughing at her, but his next words caught her off guard.

“I like you Feyre,” he said, “you are rather interesting.”

She glanced up at him.  Was he serious?  She’d insulted him.  She’d barely exchanged ten words with him at this point.  And was scared of walking home alone.  Granted it was a valid fear for a young woman on a college campus these days.

“Insane is the better word for it,” she replied, mostly under her breath.  That’s what everyone back home said at least.  In the small town where nothing was supposed to go wrong.  But everything did.

“Interesting, curious, vibrant,” Rhysand listed off. “Far better words I think.”

Feyre had never been good with words.  Like now.  She couldn’t find the energy to respond to him.  There was a spark in his eye that almost challenged her, begged her to continue the banter, the little game.  

She remained silent.

She’d heard it was a far better mask for her to wear anyways.

#

The first paper she turned in for the History class was returned with far too many red marks.  Far too many question marks.  Far too many.  So Feyre merely folded the thing in half and stuffed it in her bag.

She could burn it later.

Dr. Wesson ended the lecture right at nine and dismissed the class.  Feyre had almost disillusioned herself into thinking she could avoid a conversation with the Professor.  With Rhysand.  But just as she was trying to maneuver around the giggling pack of girls that sat next to her, Dr. Wesson’s voice called out for her.

“Oh Miss Archeron, a word please?”

Feyre froze.  She could feign a phone call.  But then next class session the same thing would happen.  So, Feyre braced herself for what was to come and went to the front of the class.

As usual, Rhysand looked perfectly unruffled.  Despite the fact that Fall was quickly slipping into the winter months, he still wore a simple black button up tucked into slacks, the sleeves rolled up.

“Feyre,” Dr. Wesson said as she approached, she reached out a hand and gave Feyre a firm pat on the arm. “I know Rhysand spoke to you last week about your test.  I wanted to follow up, especially in seeing how this essay went.  Now, there is still plenty of time left in the semester, but I worry you aren’t grasping the things you should be.”

Blood pounded in Feyre’s ears.  She could hear her heart beat throb, feel it in her veins.  Her entire body flushed with embarrassment, stress, horror.  Everything bubbled to the surface even though she’d tried so hard to tamp it down.

She tried to open her mouth but found her teeth were grinding together so bad that her jaw hurt.

“I think,” Dr. Wesson continued, “that you would benefit from spending a bit of extra time with Rhysand.  Just to make sure you’re where you need to be in the class.”

Feyre found herself nodding and agreeing.  Her voice was relaxed, calm even.  But far too close to breaking.

After thanking the Doctor for her uncharacteristic kindness, Feyre stared and the poorly erased whiteboard over Rhysand’s shoulder for a long moment.  With a slow exhale she finally met his gaze.

Rhysand met her eyes with such intensity that Feyre nearly lost her breath all over again.  She shook it off and rolled her shoulders.

“Shall we get started tonight?” she asked. “Or I’m sure you have plans.”

“Nah, only kicking Cassian’s ass at Mario Cart,” Rhysand replied.  He flashed her an innocent sort of smile.  Feyre wasn’t sure if it was one out of kindness or mockery of some sort.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and stuck it out for him. “Just give me your number and I’ll let you know when’s a good time to study.”

Rhysand hesitated on a moment before accepting the phone and adding his details.  As soon as she got her phone back, Feyre changed his name from Rhys to Prick.  It seemed to fit better.

“It’s not a big deal you know,” Rhysand said.  

He followed Feyre out of the classroom.  His steps were confident against the carpet that had to be at least thirty years old.  Truly Rhysand was an enigma with his ease, grace, and elegance when pitted against the drab interior of the Humanities Building.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Feyre said.

Once outside, the cold night air nipped at her skin and even through her jacket she could feel goosebumps rise.  Just like the night last week, Feyre waited just outside the building doors.  She stared into the night; across the courtyard she could see a few pale lights from the Math Building.  None of the lampposts had been fixed which left most of the walkways in shadows.

Nothing about the night was out of place.  It was calm, still, and everything lingered on Feyre’s mind.  And just like last week, Rhysand waited beside her.

Overhead, Feyre could just make out the stars.  Only a thin veil of clouds hung over the sky allowing a small bit of freedom to pierce her heart.  But not enough.

“Could you walk with me again?” she asked quietly, unable to look at Rhysand.

“Only if you talk to me this time,” he said.  That cheeky grin returning.  And despite how much she hated it, it put Feyre at ease.

“Fine.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking. “What made you pick history?  There had to be something else.  You don’t seem the type for old stuffy books or maps.”

“And who do you peg me for, Feyre?” His voice was practically a purr.

“High and mighty sitting behind a desk,” she replied drily. “Running some company somewhere.  You certainly have the personality for it.”

He laughed unamused. “If my father had any say in the matter.  A degree in history only puts off the inevitable.”

“That’s a rather bleak look on things,” Feyre said.  It sounded like something she would say.

“Only if I didn’t enjoy what I was learning so much,” he said.  In the flickering light of the lamps, they walked beneath, Rhysand’s expression brightened. “Between the wars and legends surrounding what shaped the country...it’s always been curious to see what we became.  What we can become.”

His response seemed so honest, so genuine, that Feyre nearly stumbled.  She barely knew him, had barely spent any time with him, yet she was beginning to feel that she knew him.

“So you devote all your time and attention to it?” Feyre asked.

They passed by the last of the campus buildings.  A brisk wind scattered fallen leaves on the sidewalks and crunched under their steps as they walked.

“Don’t you have something you love?  Something that you feel has changed you and you’d never want to give it up?”

A box of paints.  Brushes that she’d had since she was ten.  A canvas only half finished.  She’d thought she could complete the image but it had been almost a year since she’d even looked at it.  But art…art had changed her.  Art had loved her just as she loved it.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.  Tilting her chin up, Feyre caught sight of a small patch of stars amid the inky black sky.  Dim but shining still. “There’s always something.”

If he heard the sadness in her voice, he said nothing.  Which was partially surprising, but Feyre would roll with it.

“The tutoring,” Rhysand began.

“No,” Feyre cut him off.  “Not right now.”

“So you’re just going to ignore your problems?”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Seems to be.”

Feyre stopped causing him him to move a few steps ahead of her.  When he turned back towards her, he waited.  

“I’ll admit to needing a little extra help to help my tests and essays, but I don’t see what else you’d need to know.”

“It’s alright to talk,” Rhysand paused, something else on the cusp of behind heard.  But he restrained, his voice trailing off softly.

Feyre ignored the comment.  Talking had never been her strong suit.  She was more of action.  Less idle, more work.  Ever since she was a child it had been that way.  She knew why, of course.  It was obvious when she thought about it.  So she never thought about it.

“What are you planning on studying?” Rhysand asked when she made no effort to continue on the topic of her test.

“Art,” she replied immediately. “I’m an artist.  But my sister wanted me to get more of an education that could support me.  So I’m just working on my prerequisites.”

“Art,” he repeated.  There was a lilt to his voice as if he really were actually interested in what she was saying. “Sketching?  Sculpture?”

“Paint and canvas,” Feyre said.  “Since I was little.  After my mom died, my sister bought me my first set of brushes and paint and everything I could need.  She was only nine.  I think she stole my dad’s credit card to do it.”

The reality of that had Feyre laughing softly, but Rhysand gave her look that was a mix of horror and confusion.

“It’s fine,” Feyre said quickly, “I’m fine.”

It was a lie of course.  If she really were fine, she wouldn't have asked him to walk her home.  She would better know how to control her fears, her anxiety.  She would be happy.

“My mother died ten years ago,” Rhysand told her, his voice quiet and contemplative. “She’d been sick for a while and we knew it was coming.  But for a ten-year-old boy, it was hard to understand.  My father certainly didn’t.  Still doesn’t.”

They reached Feyre’s dorms then, floodlights illuminated the front street and made it seem as though it were day.  Feyre turned toward him and found herself smiling, just barely.

“Thank-you,” she said sincerely.  “And I’m sorry you have to be a part of the dead mother’s club.”

“You too,” he said.

Feyre wondered if there was something else she should say.  Wondered if he would even want to hear it.  It was strange, that little flame of comradery that she felt towards him.  But it was gone in an instant as Alis came running out from the building.

“Feyre!  Get inside, it’s movie night!”

Shaking her head, Feyre offered Rhysand a small wave and headed into the dorms.

#

With three weeks until the next paper was due in that miserable class, Feyre spent her free time studying with Rhysand.  It wasn’t as miserable as she’d been expecting it to be.  Not when she realized he was far more laid back than she’d assumed.  And then she’d met his best friends who were essentially like his brothers.

It was far easier to study in the relaxed environment that Rhysand created.  And far easier to be herself around him.  Of course, it had taken Feyre a while to decide that maybe they could be friends.  

“Summarize what the chapter from last night’s reading discussed,” Rhysand said one night as they were studying.  It was well after ten o’clock but they’d been given permission to stay in the building.  

Feyre pursed her lips.  She’d done the reading of course.  As well as she��d been able.  Most of had been hard to understand.  No matter how she tried to focus or train her mind, her dyslexia always got in the way.

“Right,” Feyre said slowly. “It was about the last king of Hybern.”

“And?” Rhysand prodded.

“And he was a jerk,” Feyre added.  

Rhysand’s fixed her with a look.  Long and hard but still underlined with compassion.

“Feyre,” he said, just a bit more seriousness to his voice.

She sighed heavily and tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. “I read it.  I just didn’t understand it.”

Silence.

Feyre shot him a scowl but didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m dyslexic.  And History tends to be a bit harder for me to understand.”

Rhsand blinked.  Once.  But nothing else.  No laugh or scoff of scorn.  Instead, he smiled and pushed to text book toward her.

“Then read.”

“Read?”

“Aloud, preferably,” Rhysand said.  He shrugged. “You want to be ready for the paper and subsequent test?”

“Prick,” she muttered.  But she dragged the book towards her and began.

It became habit.  A rhythm they fell into for the next several weeks.  Rhysand helped Feyre study and prepare for the paper, the test.  He walked her home, remaining the perfect gentleman.  And Feyre, Feyre relished the time.

It was because he was genuine.  Honest.  There was something about him, deeper than the intensity he displayed on the outside.  And for the first time in a while, Feyre found herself laughing with him.  For the first time in a while, she was living for more than just expectations.

He was actually turning into her friend and it was strange thought indeed.

“Alright students,” Dr. Wesson announced towards the end of class on the last day before Thanksgiving break. “I have your midterm tests and papers graded.  So now you can either relax or stress even further.  Depending on the grade.”

A weak laugh bubbled around the room.  Feyre gripped the underside of her chair tightly.  She wasn’t ready for this.  Not in the slightest.

Dr. Wesson slowly made her way around the room delivering both test and paper.  Feyre, by some stroke of cosmic affair, didn’t get her paper until last and the entire room was empty aside from Dr. Wesson and Rhysand.  Why was it they always ended up here?

“Well done, Miss Archeron,” Dr. Wesson said.  She handed two packets of paper to Feyre and smiled. “I love to see improvement.”

Gaping, Feyre looked between the two grades.  Heart hammering, she looked over the scores, brilliant red B’s shined up at her.

“I don’t usually offer extra credit,” the doctor went on, “but an exhibit is coming to the University about the Prythian Wall and it’s destruction.  If you can come up with a project to demonstrate what it entails, I might be convinced to help you keep your grade up.”

Feyre could only nod as the professor bid them goodnight and left.

“Well done.”

Feyre looked up to see Rhysand beaming at her and she couldn’t help but grin.  She leapt out of her seat and flung her arms around him in an embrace.

“Thank-you!” she whispered.  It took her perhaps a moment too long to realize that a hung might not have been the best of plans.  She hurriedly pulled back. “Sorry.  That was uncalled far.  I’m just really excited.”

“As you should be,” Rhysand said.  His smile hadn’t dimmed but there was something in his eyes that Feyre couldn’t quite read. “It wasn’t an easy test.”

“And now we have a full week off for Thanksgiving,” she said.  It was the best news she could have been given after getting her grades back.

“If you want,” Rhysand said, “my brother’s and cousin and I are having a game night, with pizza.  If you want to come.”

A spark of excitement ignited in Feyre’s chest.  She didn’t know when she’d developed a stupid little crush on Rhysand, but it was slowly starting to simmer out of control.  She should have said no.  Or come up with an excuse of some kind.  Insead she found herself nodding.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They collected their things and left the building.  Feyre took a few steps down the path they usually took to get to her dorm when she paused.  She turned back to Rhysand and frowned.

“Where do you live?”

Rhysand looked a little sheepish.  “Oh, I live over in the Court Apartments.”

Feyre blinked. “That’s in the complete opposite direction from my place.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been walking me home for practically a month.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Feyre asked, practically waving her hands in the air.  “It’s basically a two-mile walk from my place.”

Rhysand shrugged. “You asked for help and I wanted to give it.”

Feyre stared at him.  Her coat and scarf bunched around her neck, even though the night was perfectly clear.  It was clear enough that she could see the billions of stars overhead.  She could see them sparking in the black night.  And for one she wasn’t overcome with her usual anxiety.  Her usual fears.  Instead, all she would do was stare at Rhysand.

“Why would you do that?” she insisted.

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Because you were worth it.”

His simple words hung between them and Feyre had a hard time knowing what to say or how to react.  So she merely smiled and hooked her arm with his.

“Tell me about game night.  Am I going to wind up on some snipe hunt?”

“Oh no, you and I are going to gang up against Cassian and beat him at Mario Cart.”

Feyre laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

And she realized that she wouldn’t mind if that’s how the rest of her nights played out.  Late hours of laughs and friends, being around people--one person--who made her feel better than she had in a long time.  

No, she wouldn’t mind it at all.

#

thanks so much for reading!

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[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1907 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: What started as an idea back in 2017 is finally here and I’m so excited!! I hope you love it as much as I do! A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ and to Allie @all1e23​​ who’s helped me keep my sanity while trying to write. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

For an August evening it’s surprisingly comfortable, devoid of that awful humidity that leaves you choking on the thickness in the air. Yet it’s still warm enough to quickly melt the ice in your glass; condensation pooling on the outside, leaving a ring of water on the small stack of papers your drink is settled on.

Golden toned clouds cover the sky as the sun begins to fade, each day decreasing its presence by a few minutes before giving way to the darkness that would envelope the evening. It wasn’t a dramatic change, nor was it something most people would pay attention to, though it was something you had been accustomed to taking note of.

You looked forward to seeing the sun, feeling its heat on your skin as you stepped out of the office after a long day of work. As other people on the street rushed towards the subway you stood off to the side, letting your spirit recharge with its warm glow.

These days you seldom had time for yourself, moments when you could enjoy the nothingness, where you could stop and breathe, and take in the world around you. The murmured voices of the passersby, the hissing sound of the bus as it opens its doors, the soft strum of a guitar, the endless car horns and the sound of traffic that keeps this city alive like a beating heart.

The heat of your laptop warmed your thighs as you thumbed through a textbook. You ignored your rumbling stomach that begged you for a real dinner but you were determined to finish up this last part of your paper before you gave in to its whining demands.

You were working towards your Master’s Degree in Social Work but it had taken a lot longer than you expected, and juggling a full time job while taking part time classes made it more difficult but you were determined to achieve your dream.

You thought it would be simple when you first moved to New York; go to college, get your degree and find a job. Well, life has a funny way of doing what it wants despite the plans you imagined. Halfway through getting your undergraduate degree your living arrangements changed. Initially you were sharing an apartment with a few other students but your landlord hadn’t told you he was months into foreclosure and suddenly you found yourself scrambling to find a place to live.

The first instinct you had was to ask your current roommates if you all wanted to find something else together but one of them planned on moving in with a friend temporarily since she was about to graduate and the other wanted to live alone. You scoured the internet for another room rental but nothing looked safe or legitimate, and searching through Facebook groups for student rentals was fruitless. Nothing was available considering it was the middle of the semester, so you quickly began an apartment search.

Your definition of expensive drastically changed since moving to New York. Even simple things like food and coffee had an up charge; a small, no– large price to pay for city living, and rent was no different. You thought what you were paying to live in a small room was a lot, but as you searched for apartments your heart dropped. Even the smallest studio cost thousands a month.

There was one that caught your eye, the price was decent but still more than what you were currently paying. You attempted to work out a plan, thinking you could use some money from what little savings you had to make up the difference for the first month or two and hope your part time job would increase your hours. Things would be tight but there was a chance you could make it happen.

Your hope was crushed the next day when you went to see the apartment, a five story walk up that reeked of musty water. The cracked plaster walls were very off putting as were the suspicious black spots along the baseboards. The bathroom was much smaller than the photos, with hardly any room to even turn around in. Still you debated making this work as long as the suspected mold was taken care of until you opened the kitchen cupboards and screamed. A dark mass of large cockroaches scattered away from the light cementing your decision that you could not live here.

That night you texted your friend from home, Wanda, telling her about the horrible apartment and crying on the phone as she called to comfort you.

Wanda had been your best friend since you met in middle school. You always hoped she would join you in New York but you understood her reasons for wanting to be close to home.

“Wan, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you cried.

The clock was ticking and you still hadn’t found a place to live. Every day you searched through all the listings on Zillow, Apartments.com and Craigslist, and every day your anxiety increased. It seemed like there was no way to be a full time student if you wanted to live in New York.

You called your parents to let them know what was going on and asked for advice. Through many tears you had come to a painful decision, you needed to get a full time job. They offered to help with rent while you finished up this semester which you appreciated, knowing they really couldn’t afford the extra expense either. Your idea was to go to school part time, taking whatever courses you could at night or on the weekends. You were still reaching for your goal, you would just be taking a slower path.

A new listing popped up for an apartment in Chelsea that was about three times your current rent. Walking into the building your stomach was bubbling with excitement. Everything was bright and clean and the moment you stepped into the apartment you were overcome with joy; this place felt like home.

A smile spread across your face as you looked around the studio. Walking in there was a small kitchen to the right, with a slim refrigerator, small stove and just enough prep space beside the sink. Checking the cabinets you were relieved to know it was free of any insect roommates.

The bathroom was behind it, looking newly renovated while still emulating a classic vintage style of black and white tiles. The main room felt large with the window on the back wall letting in a good amount of sunlight. The cream colored walls also brightened the space against the longest wall of exposed, worn brick. The floors were a beautiful dark walnut that made everything feel warm.

You always thought love at first sight was a myth but you were proven wrong, you fell in love with this apartment immediately. You signed a lease and gave a deposit and suddenly everything seemed like it would fall into place. There was still the daunting task of finding a full time job but you felt encouraged.

Two weeks later you moved into your new apartment, and while you should have been studying for a test you were more interested in unpacking and decorating, making everything perfect. With a few nails into the drywall you hung a curtain rod above your bed, stringing fairy lights behind delicate sheer drapery that defined a cozy sleep space.

Laying back against your pillow you imagined what your apartment would look like eventually when you had the money to fill it with furniture, but for now it was perfect.

You had been on a few interviews and nearly had a job or two before they realized you wouldn’t be able to start for another six weeks. It was disappointing but you didn’t give up and that’s when you found yourself interviewing for Stark Industries.

A confident smile held strong on your face when you told the interviewer Ms. Parker you would be able to start when your semester was over. This led you both into a discussion about college as she told you about her teenage nephew who was interested in the STEM field and had begun looking into college options. Ms. Parker liked you a lot, and the job was yours as soon as you were ready for it.

You became the administrative assistant to Maria Hill, Director of Research and Development who worked closely with the senior staff. You had seen the infamous Tony Stark only once, popping his head out of the conference room as Ms. Hill and CEO Pepper Potts continued to chat.

From your desk you admired the women you aspired to be as confident as some day. Social work was a tough field, one where you needed to balance composure and empathy with assertiveness.

While working at Stark Industries you managed to take two classes per semester, fitting them in on nights and weekends. You wished you would have been able to do more but even this was burning you out quickly. You had little time to socialize but knew this would be worth it in the end.

A few years passed and had life not derailed your plan you would have had your Master’s by now, instead you had one last class to finish before you needed to complete 1200 hours of an internship. You pushed that off until the end, knowing it would take you some time to find a place that would accept you. Even though you would be working for free most places wanted you there at times that conflicted with your paying job.

As the sun began its slow descent the noise of the city increased and you had to shut your window to block out the sounds. All but one.

The soft guitar had increased in volume playing a familiar tune you heard every night. It wasn’t a song you’d ever heard before but your neighbor had played it often enough it was in your head. Instead of writing about a social worker’s role as an advocate for protecting human rights your mind drifted along with the melody.

It was a nice song but not one you wanted to hear every night and yet, every night your neighbor played like they were performing a concert instead of being considerate to the fact that they have neighbors, some of whom are trying to write a damn paper!

You haven’t seen this neighbor yet but you heard him moving into the apartment about a month ago. The paper thin walls allowed you to hear everything, from the instruments he played to the various women. Oh yes, he played them too, using a different one each night. Unfortunately you were able to tell the difference between each one by the sounds of the shrieks and moans that were burned into your mind until you decided to wear headphones to sleep.

Any attempts to continue your paper are futile and so you pack up your laptop and books and head down to the cafe a few blocks away that stays open late. It’s unfortunate that on top of the expensive rent and the cost of school you had to leave the comfort of your apartment to spend more money while occupying space in the cafe just to do your homework; all because of that selfish “Music Man” that you couldn’t wait to give a piece of your mind to.

PART 2

[bts-teaspoonff]

Distance pt. 1

Genre: Romance, Oblivious Mutual Pining, Operation:Jealousy, College!AU, eventual smut

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Rating: PG-13 (last chapter - M rating)

Synopsis: You adore Jimin but you’ve kept it a secret from him despite being so close to him. Jimin turns out that he feels the same. Would you be able to erase the distance between you and Jimin when mountains of obstacles come both your way?

Word count: 6.7k

PARTS: 1 | 2 | 3

(A/N) I know I updated you guys about this being a oneshot but as I was writing it, it became a bit long and I was also busy with a lot right now. I will split this supposed-to-be-one-shot into two or three parts. It won’t be a long fanfic.

Loud blasts of sounds coming from the room beside mine woke me up from my nap. My brother’s speakers were on full blast, with no regards for life present inside the house that might be savoring the peaceful afternoon that was once inhabiting this house. I rolled to the other side of my bed and buried my face under the pillow. I really tried to mask the noise but apparently, he shot up the volume twofold. I trashed my blanket away from me and stood up from the bed. Still half awake, I bolted out of my room. Standing in front of my brother’s room, I bombarded his door with loud and mad whacks. He knows I take my afternoon slumber a bit more seriously so he better make sure to expect an earful from me.

“Jeon Jungkook. Open this door this instant!” I brutally murdered his door with knocks and pounds then I was greeted by a smiling Jungkook, as he opens the door with just his head peeking through. “I was taking a nap. Good dream in fact. Give me one reason now, for me not to cut the wire of your speakers.”

“I have a good one actually.” He fully opened the door and then I was greeted by two smiling angels, or little devils depending on their mood. Jimin and Taehyung, my brother’s best friends and also my batch mates in college. I was in awe at the sight of Jimin sitting on a beanbag across the room. Not a moment ago, he was fully occupying my dreams and now, he’s here sitting quietly enjoying his bag of chips. Taehyung still continuing to dance over the songs that, I might add, are making my ears bleed with how loud it is.

“You know I don’t question your music taste, but do you want me to check your ears? Are you deaf that you need to turn up the music this loud? The walls of this house are gonna crumble down any moment with how ground-shaking and deafening it is.” Jimin chuckling while taking a mouthful of chips in his hands from the bag. Jungkook was still wiggling his butt to the music. I was stealing glances at Jimin as Jungkook proceeded to turn the volume of his speakers down. “Thank you.”

“Sorry. I forgot that you were at home. I thought you were at your part time work.” Jungkook leaned on the door with his arms over his head. “Mom and Dad are on a trip so I figured I could enjoy the house.” Jimin stood up from where he was seated and I could feel a small pull from my chest as he fixed his shirt. I admired his skinny but toned arms and ethereal face, glowing from the golden hour just emanating from the windows in my brother’s room. It is not helping that he was wearing a white loose long-sleeved shirt but still shows his amazing physique, which is totally my type.

“Hey.” I could feel the heat inside my body just from this small greeting from Jimin. Gosh, I am so totally attracted to this man. “Sorry to disturb your nap. We really thought you weren’t at home.” Jungkook removed his arms on the door and went back to join Taehyung, who is still enjoying bopping to songs in the background like the comedian he is. Jimin, now leaning on the door in front of me, looked straight into my eyes while smiling. I was taken aback and found my head back up from embarrassment that he might discover the flush stamped on my face.

He threw what seems to be my brother’s heavy blanket over my chest. I looked down and caught the blanket, and stared back at him looking puzzled. “Cover up.” He jokingly grinned. I looked down again and I realized that I was wearing a spaghetti strap tank and boxer shorts. I was beet red from embarrassment. Why did I forget the lack of clothing I’m wearing and here I am still in front of my crush like I’m parading myself?.

Jimin cleared his throat.  “Are you gonna come to the party at Hoseok’s house this weekend?”

“I guess so. Are you gonna go?” I asked back.

“I might. I haven’t really decided yet.” He rubbed his nape and looked at me. It’s as if time slowed down as we both look into each other’s eyes. The tension was slowly suffocating me and I couldn’t muster a word.

“How about you go with us? I’ll drive.” Taehyung slid himself through the small space between Jimin’s body and the door.

“I thought Jimin’s not decided yet?”

“Oh.” Taehyung turned to look at Jimin. “He’s going to come to the party. I’m sure.” Taehyung chuckled.

Jimin just stood there quiet, with both his hands at his side. “Okay. You guys pick me up at 8?” Taehyung nods and proudly places his arms on Jimin’s shoulder.

“Noona, can you order pizza? I’m famished.” I saw Jungkook from behind, sitting down on his bean bag. He was sweating profusely on his forehead and trying to catch his breath. Looks like him and Tae danced their asses off.

“Sure. I was about to ask you the same thing.” I smiled as I step out of Jungkook’s room and hurriedly ran towards mine, Jungkook’s blanket still wrapped around me, to phone the pizza place. However, a part of me also wanted to quickly escape the tension that was brewing in the room.

Taehyung nudges Jimin’s side, warranting an eye smirk from Jimin. “What was that? Getting your tongue-tied?” He whispered as he stood in front of Jimin, just inches away from the open door. “You’re not doing a good job hiding your feelings.” He looked behind Jimin and towards Jungkook to make sure the younger boy doesn’t hear what he’s saying.

“What are you talking about?” Jimin whispered back.

“I’m obviously talking about y/n.” Taehyung poked at Jimin’s stomach, suprising him. “In this situation, why don’t you just confess if you’re going to be so obvious?”

“Am I really... that obvious?” asks Jimin.

“I’m your best friend since high school. I know you like the back of my hand. Besides, it’s like you become this shy little boy when it comes to her. You look so cute.” Taehyung scoffs, rubbing his hand on Jimin’s chin before walking back to Jungkook.

…..

“What was that? I thought he’s gonna hear my heart pounding.” I gently pat my hands on my chest, leaning on the door of my room. I paced around my room to calm down the party in my chest.

I used to just see Jimin as the goofy classmate and a friend of my brother’s. I already kind of know him even back then since he was slightly popular with the girls. Girls tend to ogle and chat whenever Taehyung and Jimin pass by through the halls. Come on, who wouldn’t? I admit that those two really look handsome but it didn’t faze me before. They became friends with my brother when they formed this band together with other boys from the campus.

We were once paired to present a report together in a class that we were both taking at the time when we were college sophomores. I’m not much of a talker especially to strangers. I’m comfortable enough with the company and stories of my few friends. That’s why it surprised me back then that Jimin would keep on making small talk even outside of our class while we were working together on our presentation. I just thought he would make me do all the work and not pay attention. He was really helpful with our presentation, even nitpicking all the small details.

Whenever he and Taehyung would visit my brother at home to do band practice, he would sneak in some moments to work with me on our presentation. I really saw his efforts when the date for their band performance and our presentation coincided on the same week.

“It’s okay. I can finish this. You can go back downstairs.” I was yawning in front of Jimin, while he snuck out from their practice downstairs to come to my room. He was adamant on working on the presentation.

“I want to work on this… with you.” I was sitting in front of my computer while Jimin was sitting beside me. I could feel his eyes locked on me as I let out another yawn. He slid his fingers on top of mine and I looked at him. The air in the room was ghost-quiet but my heartbeat was so deafening. It was the first time I felt shy around Jimin. I pulled my hand away from his. He cleared his throat and looked away. “What kind of a partner am I if I push all this on you? I don’t want my name to be on our work if I, at least, don’t put in this much effort.” He laughed and we both looked at each once more.

I guess I liked him since then. Ever since that night, my heart would jump at the sight of him. It’s like I got this pink sparkly filter in my eyes whenever I would see Jimin. I would become tongue-tied whenever I would be near him. I would be distracted in class, staring at him like what the other girls would do. I kept this to myself and I don’t want to be like other girls who go crazy over him and bother him. I thought to myself that my feelings would just be a waste of his time.

The week of his band performance and our presentation came. He still looks so handsome and perfect when he should be showing signs of stress and overwork. Their band practice would last until past midnight and he would allot at least an hour to work with me. I would sneak glances at his hands while I was typing and researching on the net. Sometimes, his hands would tremble from overwork. He would play the guitar for hours without rest. I could really see that he was tired. I would push him to just go home and rest since our report is almost finished but he would insist to stay in my room for at least an hour. Sometimes, he would nap on my beanbag for a few minutes then sneak back on the chair beside me to discuss our report.

Two days before their band performance, he unconsciously took a long nap on my beanbag. He was curled up like a cat, hugging his legs. He was so adorable like he could fit in my hands curled up like that. I noticed that my room was a bit cold so I took my blanket and placed it around him. As I was closing my distance from him, I heard him whisper my name so softly followed by a smile. My heart stopped and I stared at him. I wanted to caress his cheek. I was the only one to witness the cool Jimin from our campus curled up and vulnerable like this. Even if he wasn’t aware of my romantic feelings towards him, I was content with this distance. He is way out of my league. What would a cool and popular guy want from a normal college girl like me? Then I realized that my hand moved on its own and was now on Jimin’s soft and warm cheeks. I swiftly pulled my hand away and quietly walked back to my desktop.

It was not a surprise that their performance went on without a hitch and they became the talk of the campus. It was funny because Jungkook became a campus favorite as well. It was so funny to see that Jungkook would have eyes follow him wherever he would go. Girls loved his voice during the performance, screaming his name that night. All of them in the band became celebrities around the campus. Despite being the guitarist, Jimin also sang small parts in their songs and belted out high notes. I stayed at the far most corner and watched their whole performance that night. Jimin kept on searching through the crowd the whole night and there was a moment when I caught him connecting his gaze with me. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. You might even think that he was searching for me and was so glad to spot me at the back of the audience. I wish that was the case but there’s nothing bad in imagining it.

Our report was also commended by our professors, even getting praises from our fellow classmates. I was so proud of Jimin that he was able to achieve all of these achievements that week. I saw his hard work and dedication in all that he does. It makes me laugh that I had this former impression from him that he was just a typical popular guy who has no interest in anything but girls and vanity. Well, he really takes good care of himself and how he presents himself so I guess I could call him a bit vain.

The week after our report and their performance, he would still make small talks with me even outside our class. The band also frequently hangs out at our house, which made my college life a bit more chaotic but fun.

During our junior year, we barely had any class together and our schedules don’t match. I would just see him whenever he would visit my brother at home along with his other bandmates. We would occasionally eat together but only when my brother and his bandmates would push their way in my peaceful lunch time. He would sit beside me though, making my inner self very glad. I would, however, make sure that I was not so close to him since I was aware of the eyes of other girls behind him. He would show me a frown every time I would do this but I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. I don’t want him to know how I feel.

Our junior year went on like this. Not much interaction around the campus but I would be excited whenever we would be in the same place outside of school. I grew closer with their other bandmates, especially with Hoseok and Namjoon. The two of them were a year ahead of us and they both became my older brothers in a way. Hoseok would always know what to do to cheer me up and Namjoon would give me the best advices on everything. Although Namjoon is one year older than me, sometimes I feel like I’m the one taking care of him since he’s always clumsy. Whenever Hoseok is not free to offer a ride to Namjoon, he would always text me to accompany him somewhere. I share the same sentiment with Hoseok and the other members in the band that Namjoon shouldn’t ever drive for the sake of world peace.

As months go by, I grew a lot closer with those two than Jimin. We became a bit distant and Jimin would turn silent or timid whenever we would be in the same place. A few exchanges but the tension between us grew bigger. I don’t even know if he hates me, doesn’t want my company or just plain indifference. I couldn’t read him nowadays. Maybe we grew to be different people and I was just lucky that I was his partner for that one specific class report or I was just his bandmate’s sister. That’s it.

Now, we’re in the middle of our Senior Year. Hoseok and Namjoon have already graduated. Namjoon went away to live in another city to work while Hoseok stayed around here to work as an intern at a local subsidiary company of a renowned music label. Hoseok would sometimes visit Jungkook here at home with Jimin and Taehyung or he would ask us, sometimes including me, to visit him at home.

My friendship with Jimin got a little better this year compared to our junior year. Since the band is not active anymore, the three remaining boys relied on each other more. Taehyung would always barge in our house, sometimes un-announced, but not always alone. He would always come by at our house with Jimin. The both of them adore my brother too much to the point that they look miserable when separated from my brother, despite being older.

…..

“What movie do you guys want to choose in Netflix?” Taehyung occupied the far most left spot on the couch in the living room. I was still in the kitchen getting two slices of pepperoni pizza for myself and my brother. Jungkook was standing beside me, waiting patiently for his pizza. I handed him his plate and he quickly walked away to the living room. As he disappears from the kitchen, Jimin appeared. He stretched out his arm to reach for the other pizza box. Once more, the air in the kitchen became heavy.

“I’m glad you’re with my brother. He really needs the company.” Jungkook was just dumped by his girlfriend a week ago. I tried to start up a conversation with Jimin as I couldn’t take the heavy tension in the air.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, we’re here for him.” He closes the pizza box as soon as he pulls out a slice. “…as we are for you. Don’t forget that.” I looked at him and as I was about to say something when my phone’s screen lights up from beside the pizza box. Jimin also looks at my phone.

“Hoseok’s calling me. I should… answer.”

Honestly, I was taken aback from what Jimin said then I began to wonder when did we became this awkward with each other. No matter how much I try to remove the heavy air, it always just comes back up. “Yes?” I answer the call and saw Jimin turning towards the living room. He proceeds to sit in the middle of the couch.

“Y/N!!!!!!” I was greeted with a cheerful shout from Hoseok. “Are you coming to my party tomorrow?”

 “Jimin, do you want some fried chicken?” Taehyung calls for Jimin as he offers his plate. Jimin took one chicken from Taehyung’s plate. “Who is she talking to?” Taehyung points.

“Hoseok-hyung.” Jimin’s eyes still glued to the screen as Jungkook chooses a movie.

Taehyung smirks but quickly erases it from his face when Jimin looks at him. “Hey, do you know that Hoseok-hyung plans to confess to y/n tomorrow?” he whispered and nudges Jungkook who sits between him and Jimin.

Jungkook almost choked on a small piece of pizza that he was eating. “HOSEOK-HYUNG?!”

“Yeah. He called me last night to ask me to at least convince y/n to come to the party. You know how she is with new crowds. He wanted me to make sure that she will come to the party tomorrow.” Taehyung looks at his friend. Jimin was frozen in his place, silent and taken aback.

“I didn’t even know that hyung likes my sister. Wait, eww! He likes my sister. Her?” Jungkook exclaims quietly. Taehyung shushed him and knocks his head. “I’m just joking but seriously? I didn’t even realize.”

“Am I the only one around here who pays a lot of attention to their friends?” Taehyung chuckles as he takes a bite on his chicken.

“Who pays attention to whom?” I noticed Taehyung and Jungkook were laughing and causing a ruckus as I walk towards the living room. I stopped behind the couch as I barely hear what Taehyung just said.

“Nothing. I’m just a good friend to everyone.” Taehyung flashes his adorable good boy smile towards me with his eyes squinted. I giggled.

I sat on the far most right spot on the couch beside Jimin. Jungkook chose Love, Rosie and I turned, in confusion, to look at Taehyung and Jimin’s reaction at Jungkook’s odd choice for our movie night. However, they just stayed quiet as the intro scene plays out. Normally, they would bicker on what movie to play but I guess they’re refraining on doing that today since my brother needs to soothe his heart. I would admit that watching a romantic film with my brother and male friends normally warrants a confused expression from anyone but somehow, this is now our normal situation. It just warms my heart thinking that my brother has got some good friends.

…..

I honestly don’t know what dress I should wear tonight. In the back of my mind, I slightly want to look good in front of Jimin. I barely dress up or even come to a party with him. I’m also kind of tired with our current dynamic. I want to get our old dynamic back. I just want to laugh at his jokes and see him dork off. I want to ease myself around him without getting tongue tied.

I nearly tried on all the dresses that I owned. My bedroom is a mess at this point. I tossed some of the dresses on the bed while a few were on my chair. After an hour, I was satisfied on wearing my trusty red dress. Hoseok told me that some of his friends from work are present in the party and I want to look at least presentable. This is not just your normal college party where everyone would get wrecked and drunk.

I gawked at myself through the mirror. The scarlet red dress hugging the right parts of my body. I could feel fire while I stare at the figure-flattering dress on me. The way the short sleeve hugs my arm and puffs ever so slightly above the cuff up until my shoulder. I trailed my hands along the neckline. I like how it plunges just enough for a peek of my soft twins but still gives off a classy and demure impression. It gives off enough allure but not too much without looking over the top. The skirt, hugging my behind, tapers off just around my mid-thigh elegantly emphasizing my curves. I paired it with an almost-beige beret. I’m going all out here. I want Jimin to notice me and maybe, just maybe, he’ll look at me differently now.

“You look nice. Different.” Jungkook stood at my door. I turned around, alerted at his presence. He was smiling while leaning against the door.

“Really?” I shyly twirled around. I have always trusted Jungkook’s taste in fashion. If he deems my dress presentable then I’m satisfied with it.

“Taehyung’s car is already parked out front. Jimin’s downstairs waiting for you.” My heart jumped a beat from hearing his name. Jungkook walked away from the door. I hurriedly placed my trusty charm bracelet around my wrist and collected my bag from the bed. I slowly shuffle down the stairs.

I slowly noticed Jimin’s silhouette come into view as I go down the steps. He was looking out the door, talking to Taehyung who was leaning against his car out on the street. I was about mid-way down the stairs when Taehyung pointed at me to call Jimin’s attention. Jimin turns around and was obviously taken aback by what he was seeing. I unconsciously fix my posture and the way I tread down. He looking straight at me. I could feel a small ember lit up inside my chest but I was determined to catch his attention. As I put my foot down on the last step, I slightly wobble almost slipping. I quickly reach my hand out on the railing to catch myself. I saw Jimin surprised and shuffling away from the door, as if to try and catch me but stopped when I did save myself from falling.

I wanted to scream in embarrassment but I stayed indifferent. I just continued to smile until I stood a few inches away from Jimin. He was still staring at me, shyly checking me out. He looks rather ravishing tonight as well. He was clad in a white long sleeved button-down shirt tucked in his black sleek pants paired with a classic black belt. His black hair flowing across his forehead. Simple but so Jimin-like. Just the way I like it.

“You look beautiful.” Jimin smiled. I could feel my cheeks burning from his compliment. Much to my chagrin, this small compliment completely erased my inner humiliation from a while ago.

“Thank you. You look nice as well.” I beamed back at him.

We both walked out the door and to Taehyung’s car. Taehyung complimented on my outfit as well. I teased him that his outfit was the only one making his appearance work. The three of us laughed and entered the car. Jungkook soon followed.

I thought I was going to squeeze out at least a conversation from Jimin but he stayed somewhat silent throughout the drive to Hoseok’s. Taehyung was talking to me while peeking from the rearview mirror as I sat behind with Jungkook. Jimin sat in front, making small conversation but he didn’t even stole some glances towards my direction.

We finally arrived at Hoseok’s. The four of us wading through the crowd to look for the host of the party.

“Guys!” A scream came from ahead of us, hidden behind the crowd. We immediately recognize who it is. “I missed you guys!” Hoseok came running, hugging all of us. I almost panicked at the sudden contact and looked for Jimin. I’m glad he was not beside or else, my chest would be buried across his arms. Instead, Jungkook was the recipient of this dreaded moment. Luckily, I pushed the thought aside since it’s just my brother.

“Hyung, we missed you.” Taehyung frowns and hugs Hoseok. He hugs Taehyung back.

“I heard the baby of the group got dumped.” Hoseok releases Taehyung from his arms and looks at Jungkook. Jungkook shyly laughs and hugs Hoseok as well.

“I missed you as well, hyung.” Jungkook lightly punches Hoseok’s arm as a joke. Hoseok does this complex handshake with Jimin from behind Jungkook as my brother is still wrapped around Hoseok’s body. Hoseok finally turns his eyes to me. He smiles and releases my brother.

“Look at you. I haven’t seen you in two months and here you are, looking so wonderful tonight.” He twirled me around, getting giggles from Jungkook and Taehyung. “Is it for me?” I jokingly hit Hoseok’s arm.

“This is a nice party. I gotta look okay so as not to embarrass you.” I swear I could feel Jimin’s stare from my peripheral vision as Hoseok continues to compliment me.

“I have to introduce you all to my workmates.” Hoseok pulls my hand to lead the four of us to the living room. The three boys followed the two of us. He stops just before two men. He calls them out and the two men turns to us. “Guys, these are my college bandmates that I was talking about.” I stood aside as he reaches his out towards Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Nice to meet you.” Jungkook respectfully bows and shakes the two men’s hand. The three of them take their turns in introducing themselves to the two men.

“Guys, these are Yoongi and Seokjin. Yoongi is a producer while Seokjin is an aspiring artist soon to debut under our label.” The three of them bowing once more, as well as myself.

“Who is this beautiful lady beside you?” They all turned to look at me as Seokjin turns the attention to me. I smiled and shyly bowed.

“I’m Y/N. Jungkook’s brother and I suppose you could say I was appointed as their manager when they were still active as a band.”

“So you’re Y/N? I heard a lot about you from Hoseok. He used to…” Hoseok quickly nudges Seokjin’s side and laughed. Seokjin stopped and just giggled.

“I heard a few of your songs. It was amazing.” Yoongi slips in. Taehyung and Jimin beamed at Yoongi. They were now starting to talk about music. Not that I don’t care about it but I don’t understand the technical part of it. I silently excused myself out from their conversation, not telling anyone from the group that I walked away.

I make my way to the mini bar. I could really use a drink and honestly, a time out from the boys. This dress should be making Jimin notice me but I guess I don’t have enough charm. With slight frustration comes a bravery to order two cocktail right away. As I wait for my drinks, I look around the party. I recognize some of the guests but I guess a few of them would be Hoseok’s acquaintances. I’m not much of a party person but it turned out that I only enjoy going to one when I’m with the boys.

“Why are you alone?” I heard a voice from behind me. I turned around and saw Jimin walking towards the bar. He stood beside me, leaning his arms on the bar stool.

“You guys were talking about music and I’m honest that I don’t understand a lot of it so I went to the bar. Also, I figured that I needed a drink.” Because of you but I can’t tell him that.

“Well then, you’re not drinking alone.” He proceeded to order his drink. While he was turned towards the bartender, I nervously fixed my dress and my posture. I slightly puffed out my chest and bent my waist, leaning on the bar stool. “So… there’s something we need to talk about.” I nervously stood straight from his words.

“Okay… What is it?” As of this moment, I felt like I was treading on thin ice. I couldn’t hear the blasting music from the party and the chatter from everyone else here. He was fiddling with his hands, which got me thinking that maybe it got something to do with me. I’m so nervous on what he was about to say.

“Uhhh…. Jungkook, Taehyung and I were planning to perform again at the Gala night.” Okay. I got my hopes up for nothing. “We’re in a slump trying to write a song. The organizers told us that we should at least perform one song about Love. Jungkook was our main songwriter but he told us that he doesn’t want to. We understand why he doesn’t want to but Taehyung and I are really doing our best. We just couldn’t come up with good lyrics.”

“Wait, why are you telling me this? Don’t tell me…”

“We need your help. I need your help.” He stared at me. “You and Namjoon-hyung worked together on one of our songs and it was a hit. Maybe you could do it again this time?”

“Yeah, but that was a song about hardships of youth. I just included my real thoughts into the songs. I guess that’s why the lyrics came easy to me. Besides, most of the lyrics came from Namjoon.” Jimin held my hand, which surprised me. He did his puppy eyes and silently begged me. I could see him grinning and tilting his head. It’s funny because the way he looks right now, it’s like we’re back to normal again. I smiled as I was amused by Jimin’s antics.

“You could try to include your real thoughts through the lyrics. Tae and I will help but we figured that we need another set of brains. We don’t want to make a song just for the sake of performing on the Gala night. We really want to make it good.” I could feel Jimin’s passion for music flowing out of him right now. This was one of the reason why I grew to like him a lot. He gives his all on whatever he does.

“Okay but trust me, I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. My input might not be helpful.” I giggled.

“That’s okay. Neither have I.”

“Really? I thought…” Before I get to finish my sentence, the bartender gives out our drinks. Two for me and one for Jimin. He saw the two glasses I pulled from the bartender’s hands and chuckled.

“Going all out?” He asked, laughing while trying to cover his mouth.

“I told you I really needed a drink.” Even before I got a sip on my liquid courage, I’m glad we’re having this conversation and it’s going pretty smoothly.

“You want to sit over there?” Jimin pointed out a small couch just outside the reception area and beside the swimming pool. I nodded and followed him. We make our way out through the crowd and out the living room towards the pool area. He let me sit on the couch first and sat beside me. I placed my other drink on the small coffee table in front us while I sip on my drink that was in my other hand.

“I can’t remember correctly when the Gala Night would be. Is that… two weeks before our graduation?” I closed my eyes as I try to remember the significant dates.

“Yeah. I guess the Gala night would be… a month from now.” He casually sipped on his drink.

“Oh wow. That fast huh? We’re about to graduate from College.” I looked at him as I try to savor those words. Graduation. When we graduate, I won’t see him around and Taehyung. Jungkook would still be in college as a senior. Thinking about it just makes me sad.

“Wait, what are you going to ask me just before the bartender gave out the drinks?” he asks.

“Oh. I’m just surprised that you haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. I thought that with the abundance of choices around you, you might have your eyes on somebody already. ” We both sipped from our glasses. His gaze lingered on the floor for a second while sipping on his drink before he replied.

“I do actually.” I choked on my drink. “But I don’t think it’s the right time for the both of us. She might not even be attracted to me.” Jimin’s face is now somber.

“Who wouldn’t be attracted to you? Look at you, you’re plenty attractive.” Well, I am but that doesn’t erase the fact the he likes somebody already. He might even be courting her already. I finished my first drink and reached for my second.

Jimin stayed with me until I finish my two drinks. We talked about almost everything and you’ll wonder why we even became awkward in the first place. My heart was jumping all around the whole time we were chatting up. I was conscious if I smelled good or if I still look good. Taehyung gave us another round of drinks and went back inside to chat with Yoongi and Seokjin once more. I wanted my nerves to take a break so I asked Jimin to get me another drink from the bar. He stood up and left me on the couch. As soon as he was out of my sight, I slumped back on the couch.

Normally, I wouldn’t be this nervous talking to any boy. It’s not like I’m a stranger to love. I have one ex-boyfriend and that relationship ended on bad terms. That was in high school and ever since then, I haven’t fallen in love with anyone. Not since Jimin came barging into my life. It was really a push and pull situation ever since then.

“Hey miss. Can I seat beside you?” I heard a male voice coming from my side. I was still slumped back on the couch with eyes closed. I sat up properly and saw a stranger with two drinks in his hand.

“This seat is actually taken. He’s just getting our drinks.” I placed my hand on the space beside me so as to show him that I am not interested in his company.

“But no one is seating there right now.” He proceeded to seat beside me, disregarding my hand that he almost sat on it. “You can have my other drink instead.” He gives his other drink out to my hand. I inched myself away from this guy who’s beginning to irritate me.

“No thanks. My friend would be here soon.” I placed the drink that he handed me on the table. I got a whiff of this stranger’s scent and he smelled strongly of alcohol. Shoot. This guy is very intoxicated.

“Come on. I’m lonely. Can’t you entertain me at least while your friend is not here yet?” I was looking at his face while I wiggled away to the far side of my part of the couch. I didn’t realize that he started wrapping his hands on my thighs. I was shocked by the coldness of his hands and a shiver went down to my spine. I couldn’t think of any words and my hands started to tremble.

When I was about to push his hands away, I was shocked when somebody pulled the stranger off the couch. I looked up and saw a very furious Hoseok holding the stranger by the collar. He pushed the man off and shouted something out. I couldn’t really hear anything clearly right now but I was sure when Hoseok kneeled down in front of me and talked to me.

I looked around and everyone’s attention was now on us. It didn’t register to me yet at how Hoseok shouted at the man must’ve been really loud to get the attention of even the people on the second floor. Some of them were peeking their heads out the balcony overlooking the pool and garden.

“Hey, are you okay? He didn’t try to touch you anywhere?” Hoseok was kneeling down in front me, placing his jacket on my lap.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Everyone was still murmuring and looking at us. I was even more bashful at the amount of attention we’re getting now. Suddenly, my attention went to Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook who were standing feet away from us. Jimin’s face looked so gloomy watching Hoseok and I while Taehyung and Jungkook were visibly arguing with the stranger who just took advantage of me.

“No you’re not. I’ll drive you home.” Hoseok took my hand and stood up.

“Jimin or Taehyung can drive me home. I came here with them.” I followed suit and stood up with Hoseok’s jacket still in my hands placed on my thighs.

“Those two drank. They can sleep here tonight.” A tone so stern came from Hoseok that I wasn’t even familiar with this kind of composure from him. He pulled my hand as we wade through the crowd. We also passed by a stunned and upset Jimin. Taehyung and Jungkook just watched as Hoseok pulled me through the living room and out the house.

Hoseok was silent as we walk to his car. I entered his car first followed by Hoseok. He soon starts the car and pulled away from the driveway. I looked back at his house thinking that I might have lost another chance to fix things with Jimin. Hoseok was visibly irritated about something as he taps his fingers in rhythms on the steering wheel. I don’t dare to speak to Hoseok as I was more nervous now with how he is irritated at something.

After a 15 minute drive, he stopped his car in front of our house. He was not stepping out of the car, still looking visibly irritated with one hand on the wheel. I thought that this was my cue to go out of the car so I opened the door and exited the silence-filled car. I took a few steps towards our patio when I heard a loud sound from Hoseok’s car door. I turned around and he was rushing, still looking very irritated, around the car and… towards me? I prepared myself for a lecture from Hoseok at how I was not aware of my surroundings and why couldn’t I even ask for the guys’ help when I was obviously in a bad situation. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for an earful scolding from him but I was greeted by a tight hug.

I opened my eyes in confusion as he hugged me tightly. My chin was sitting on the crook of his neck and my arms were frozen at my side. He released me from his arms soon after and he gazed at me with an expression I’m not familiar with. It was not from anger but something soft.

“I like you, y/n.”

Next: pt. 2

[heliads]

Of Sorcerers and Spiderwebs Chapter Four: Hopeless

Y/N L/N is a Master of the Mystic Arts, trained by Doctor Strange himself. When she first meets Peter Parker as they fight side by side against Thanos, she isn’t expecting for their brief partnership to blossom into a love that could last a lifetime.

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After realizing that you’re in love with Peter Parker, it feels even harder to drag yourself out of bed to head to school the next morning. Even the sight of him walking towards you from across the crowded hallways of Midtown hurts- you know that no matter how close the two of you become, he’ll never see you as anything more than a friend.

In fact, just the simple act of seeing him confirms that you truly love him. You’re not sure how you didn’t realize it before, but it’s glaringly obvious now. When the two of you are paired together for some partner activity in class, you’re able to laugh and smile with him as if you’ve known him your entire life. 

That’s the easiest thing about Peter- with him, you’re able to just live and be whoever you want to be. There aren’t any expectations with him- no rules or assumptions or anything. He doesn’t presume you to be anything more than yourself. You’re not sure anyone’s made you feel like that in a long time.

However, things aren’t exactly perfect. Now that you’re actually paying attention to how you feel about Peter, you’re also noticing how Peter feels about other people. Specifically, how he feels about one of his closest friends, MJ. Case in point: whatever’s going on with them during this exact lunch one sunny afternoon at Midtown.

Although technically there are four of you at the lunch table, Peter’s clearly centered around MJ and MJ alone. He’s sitting next to her, leaning over to face her in a way that shuts out everything else around him. They’re engaged in some deep conversation about the ethics of neuroscience, something that you happen to know a lot about thanks to Stephen and that you could easily debate along with them. However, you already tried to enter the conversation and were talked over more than a few times, so you’ve given that up.

You can’t exactly blame Peter for being wrapped up in MJ. She’s practically perfect for him- she supports him being Spider-Man, she knows enough about his favorite topics to have discussions like the one they’re having now, and they both have the perfect blend of shy and talkative that makes them equals. The only problem is that she’s not you.

The worst part is that Peter is clearly in love with her. Here’s the thing- nobody looks at a girl the way Peter is looking at MJ right now, with that stupid soft smile on his face as she talks and that unnameable expression his eyes, without being in love. You suppose that’s why it hurts you so much to see him. It shouldn’t, of course, Peter’s known MJ for far longer than he’s known you and you just arrived at Midtown a few months ago. Yet your heart still feels a painful twinge every time you glance their way.

“You good, Y/N?”

You’re broken out of your trance when Ned speaks to you. Blinking once to clear your head, you turn to him. “Yeah, I’m just, uh, considering my plans for the future. I’ve heard about this really cool opportunity within the different international Sanctums to go out in search of people who could potentially become Masters of the Mystic Arts to monitor them and offer aid if they need it.”

What you’re talking about isn’t a lie- you have heard about this program, and it’s been simmering away in the back of your mind for quite some time. You had assumed that you weren’t going to act on it, as your life was going very well over in New York, but for once you might be convinced to move away as a nomad for the sorcerers.

Ned looks impressed. “That does sound cool. So you’d basically get to vacation around the world in the name of the Sanctums?” You incline your head, confirming his words. “That’s the thing- it sounds amazing. The only thing is, I’d have to apply and I don’t know if they’ll let me in or not. And, even if they do let me in, I’m just wondering if I would be able to leave all of this behind. It feels like I just got here.”

Ned nods. “I mean, I don’t really know what to tell you. Wizards-I mean, sorcerers, kind of have a priority of coolness over everything else. I guess you just have to ask yourself what you’d be giving up by leaving, and if you think the pros of the trip would outweigh the cons.”

You look at him, somewhat surprised. “That’s actually really good advice. Thanks, Ned.” The boy smiles. “Hey, if I can’t be a superhero I can at least give out super-good talks.” The two of you dissolve in laughter, but your smile fades slightly when you realize Peter hasn’t even heard you at all. Would he care if you left?

The next day, you slump down into your seat at the lunch table with a glower that could rival the stormy weather outside. Ned raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Well, I didn’t think you could look even more depressed than yesterday, but I guess I was wrong. What, did Sorcerers Worldwide not let you into their program?”

You point a finger at him in agreement. “I showed up and asked if I could go through with their program. I showed them everything I could do, which is more than the average adult at the Sanctum. Even with that, they still won’t let me go. They kept saying something about how I should be finishing school before I go traipsing around the globe. That doesn’t even make sense- they pulled me out of my freshman and sophomore years so they could train me at Kamar-Taj, why is it not okay now?”

Across the table from you, Peter looks stunned. “Wait, what do you mean? You were going to leave Midtown for some errand of the sorcerers?” You nod, staring up at the ceiling bleakly. “It was going to be so cool, too. But no, I have to wait until I’m out of high school or college or whenever they run out of excuses.”

Peter leans forward, and you realize for the first time that he actually seems cross, almost hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you liked it here.” You can’t help but feel defensive at his questioning. “I did. Yesterday, at lunch. I talked about it right here. I guess you weren't paying attention. Besides, I do like Midtown, but are you telling me you’d rather go to high school than travel the world?”

Peter scoffs. “Yeah, it would be fun to leave for a vacation or a weekend trip. You just got here, do you really not care about all of us enough to leave it all behind for some jaunt around the world?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why are you so upset? I just said that I wouldn’t be going anyway. And besides, I do care about everyone here, which is why I talked about the possibility of me going on this trip yesterday to all of you. I suppose you just weren’t listening.”

Peter’s opening his mouth, presumably to deliver a no doubt intense remark, but Ned places his hands in between the two of you, interrupting him. “You know what, I think what Peter means is that we’d all be sad to see you go, Y/N. We’re sorry that you didn’t get into your program, but at least you still have us, right?”

You tilt your head towards Ned, pointedly ignoring Peter. “Thank you, Ned. I absolutely agree. Midtown is, and will always be, an amazing school with amazing people and I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” You and Ned continue to have a conversation in the same forced calm voices, and eventually Peter joins in. MJ arrives later, and joins in the chatter as well, although she does raise her eyebrows at the tension clearly brewing between you and Peter.

When lunch ends, the four of you are heading back to your classroom when you suddenly stop moving. Your friends stop as well, looking back at you in confusion. “Everything alright, Y/N?” MJ asks, but you just shake your head fervently. “Everything is very much not alright. It’s like I can sense something strange in the school. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t human and it isn’t going away.”

Your friends walk back up to you. “Can you tell us anything else about it?” Ned questions. You try and latch onto the sudden feeling, but you can’t sense anything else. “I think I’m going to have to use my astral form to check it out. Can you make sure nobody notices what I’m doing?” Your friends nod their assent, and huddle up around you to hide you from view. If anyone happens to walk by, they’ll just see a group of students clustered around a locker.

You fling your shoulders back, closing your eyes and opening them once more to find yourself in your astral form, glowing and weightless just like normal. As you head off down the hallway in search of whatever malevolent entity is creeping around the school, you glance once over your shoulder and can’t help but feel slightly better when you notice that Peter is the first one to reach out and catch you, despite everything that just happened.

Brushing away thoughts of Peter and the concern clearly written across his face at the thought of you heading into danger, you continue on down the hallways. You quickly check classrooms and halls of lockers, and you notice that the strange feeling of darkness is emanating from a room down a few flights of stairs. The basement. 

Of course it had to be the basement, the darkest, coldest, most formidable place in the whole school. Why couldn’t creepy things just hide in plain sight for once? Why the basement? You shudder briefly, then force yourself down through the floor until you’re standing just outside the basement door. You step forward, walking through the door, and suppress a silent scream when you see what’s inside.

When you suddenly jerk back to life in Peter’s arms, your friends look at you with startled eyes. “What is it? What did you see?” All you can do is clasp on to Peter, who’s still holding you tight. “Something is coming. Something bad.”

tag list: @dude-were-getting-the-band-back​ @xroselights​ @idiotic--punk​

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Any

F/M pairing: Fem!Reader x Felix (SKZ)

Genre: Sugar Daddy AU! Established Relationship

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: mature content, aged-up characters, and alcohol use

Summary: Despite your feelings, you couldn’t help but think that Felix viewed your relationship as nothing but superficial - he wanted a travel companion, and you needed money for your college tuition. But maybe you want more than that, and convincing Felix proves to be harder than you thought...

You were exhausted - an unfortunate result of all those college courses catching up to you at once.

It was difficult for you to open your eyes, groaning because you didn’t feel like dealing with real life. And while you stretched out your limbs across the bed, you wrinkled your nose at the thought of leaving the warm sheets. But a gentle chuckle broke through your reverie, and you followed the sweet sound to an angelic face shadowed by the corner.

“Felix?” you whispered, glancing to the side where the older man was watching you from a comfortable futon. He held a cup of coffee in one hand while his other was preoccupied with a string attached to his pants.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Felix said with a deep morning voice that you could never resist.

“What time is it?” you asked, squinting at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

“8:00 AM,” Felix replied. “Your body isn’t used to this time zone.”

“I guess not,” you said, but it was never easy flying around the world with Felix. There was always the risk of jet-lag, long lay-overs, and the difficult adjustment of jumping between morning and night as you traversed the continents.

“Are you comfortable?” Felix asked. “I can send for whatever you like.”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, and then you eyed the inviting expanse of his lap. “Can I sit with you?” you asked with a smile.

Felix tilted his head to the side as he considered your request. “Of course.”

His easy compliance energized you more than any amount of sleep ever could, and you walked over to where he was waiting. It was the perfect start to your day, and you sat on his lap with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you connected your lips for a passionate kiss tinged with the faint taste of the coffee lingering on his tongue.

It had taken a long time for you to convince Felix that it was okay for him to kiss you. During the first few months of your arrangement, you were lucky enough to even hold his hand, but he gradually warmed up the idea. Even if your very first kiss with Felix was nothing but a chaste peck that ended with you chasing after his lips while he resisted.

But it was more comfortable in the present. He even seemed to enjoy kissing you, and that was enough for your fragile heart which beat exclusively for him. Yet, Felix was still an enigma - a Matryoshka doll with layer upon layer of interesting details. And you were determined to understand him while doing your best to convince Felix that you considered your relationship to be much more than its premise. Back when he found your profile on an online Sugar Daddy website (which was totally your friend’s idea), and he sent you a rather complex email listing out everything that he wanted in a potential arrangement:

- Travel companion

- Confidant

- Event partner

You were shocked that he hadn’t included anything about intimacy because every other person on the site had specifically propositioned you with very explicit things. But sure enough, Felix met you the very next day and reiterated his conditions, and you discovered for yourself that he respected the boundaries he had established - barely even touching you unless it was at a dinner party and he politely kept you away from his much less civil co-workers.

But over time, the arrangement had evolved for you into something meaningful, and you found yourself wanting more as you grew increasingly attracted to him. Unfortunately, everything was playing out at a rather slow pace, and it was always you who encouraged Felix along, but maybe you also weren’t the best choice because you certainly lacked patience. But it was hard to hold yourself together around him, especially when he took the initiative to plunge his tongue between your teeth.

In a rush of arousal, you reached down for the noticeable bugle in his suit-pants, pressing down using the heel of your hand - rubbing generous circles against his erection. Felix moaned at the friction, but a warning alarm at the back of your mind told you that you were moving way too fast considering that Felix still blushed whenever you let him touch your breasts.

And it wasn’t entirely surprising when he grabbed your wrist, breaking the kiss with a wet smack while his eyes stared into yours. “Uhhh...”

“Let’s go downstairs for breakfast,” Felix said, shifting you off his lap and ignoring your pout.

You watched Felix leave the room with a sigh. Because despite all this time that you’ve spent together, Felix still refused to sleep with you, and you can’t figure out why he keeps turning down your blatant offers. He was paying you after all, and he was paying you a lot, so why didn’t he ever want anything more than a comfortable conversation or a gentle kiss? 

It seemed that your progress with him was at a standstill because anything past kissing or touching above the waist always ruined the mood. And at one point, you tried to encourage him to tell you about his interests and what he liked, but Felix never talked about himself. For example, whenever you asked him a question about his work or interests, he always offered you a vague answer before redirecting the questions back to you again.

But maybe there something wrong with you? Did he not find you attractive?

“Y/N,” Felix said to break your self-loathing thoughts. “Are you ready?”

“Give me a few minutes,” you said, and Felix nodded with a smile before closing the door and leaving you alone to consider what had just happened.

In between your travels with Felix, you tried to balance an active social life with a productive college course-load. It was really hard sometimes, especially when your instincts always led you to appease Felix above everything else. You had already lost count of the number of weekend parties and friendly get-togethers that you had missed to join him at the office or cancel plans when he mentioned another overseas business conference.

It was a little desperate on your part, but whenever Felix sent you a text message or called you on the phone, you always answered with a chipper smile and warm tone. You could be having the worst day of your life, but you would never let him know that. 

“Can you meet me at the office?” Felix had asked you earlier, and you agreed quietly before dismissing yourself from a lunch date that you were having with some friends who all whined about you leaving them.

But Felix was your priority, and you were genuinely excited when he pulled you into a hug before escorting you inside his office. “There’s some things to discuss,” Felix said, and you groaned because that usually meant sitting in front of his desk while he insisted on a serious demeanor. “Your classes,” Felix said once he sat down, holding out a hand expectantly which meant you were forced to pull up the grade-book for your courses online.

Felix was incredibly adamant about your grades, and he always insisted on checking-in to ensure that you were performing well. “It’s not completely updated,” you said once he took your phone and examined the screen.

“What happened in your math class?” Felix asked with narrowed eyes. “You told me about this one when we traveled to Europe.”

“Right,” you said with an anxious clearing of your throat. Because on that trip, Felix had insisted that you stay in the hotel room to study while he went downstairs to entertain some business partners. But you only got through the second chapter of your notes before throwing on your swimsuit and sneaking out to enjoy the poolside amenities. “My overall grade is still a B,” you said. “And the professor agreed to give me an extra credit assignment.”

Felix grunted at your words before sliding the phone screen back across to you. “When is next month’s tuition due?”

“At the end of November,” you said quietly, watching as Felix opened his laptop to peruse the bright screen. 

“Send me the bill,” he said. “I’ll have the money transferred.”

“Okay,” you said, wincing when he started frowning at something.

“Your checking account is low,” he remarked, and his fingers moved rapidly over the keys. “You’re supposed to tell me when its below $1,000.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “I guess I forgot.”

 “I’ll fix it,” Felix said, and it always amazed you that he could be so nonchalant with giving you his money. “I see that your rent was payed last week.”

“Everything’s fine,” you said, hoping to cut this part of your conversation short because there was a part of you (growing bigger each day) that regretted the fact that Felix didn’t know your true feelings for him.

He meant a lot more to you than someone who gave you money like it was candy.

“Your meal plan carries over?” Felix asked. “Do you need me to upgrade it? Are you getting enough to eat? Because they have this unlimited plan...”

“Felix,” you interrupted. “It’s just right for me.”

“Well,” Felix said, sitting back further in his chair. “I do have something else to ask you.”

“About?”

“Your birthday,” Felix chuckled, and you were surprised that he remembered. “It’s next week, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said because you weren’t quite sure what to make of Felix’s impressive attention to detail.

“You’ll be turning 21,” Felix said. “I want to make it special for you.”

“We could just chill at my apartment,” you said, and Felix smiled at such a menial suggestion.

“Of course we’ll do that, but I’m sure there’s something else you want?” Felix asked, silencing an incoming call on his cellphone. “I’ll buy you anything.”

“I don’t know,” you trailed off sheepishly before fixing him with a warm smile. “I wouldn’t mind just spending time with you.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, Y/N,” Felix said. “Please let me buy you something.”

“Oh,” you said, caught off-guard by his insistence. “Maybe something that I need for school?”

“Y/N, that’s no good for a present,” Felix said. “Be honest with me. Do you need another computer? Is your apartment comfortable? What about your car, is it still in good shape?”

You hesitated at each of the ostentatious suggestions. “Uh, my phone is fi-”

“Done!” Felix said, and he immediately returned to his laptop screen. “The newest model has amazing storage space.”

“Does it?” you asked, but it was more rhetorical than anything. Because something was bothering you about the idea of Felix buying you such superficial things.

But it didn’t used to? What had changed?

“I know you have another class in an hour,” Felix said, and he stood from his desk with a smile. “My assistant can give you a ride back to your school.”

His hand was warm against you lower back as he led you closer to the door. “I’ll see you later,” Felix said, and he brushed his lips against yours before the office door was closing between you and the frustrating man who was completely oblivious.

For the most part, whenever Felix asked you to come over to his apartment, you often found yourself sitting on the edge of the counter while you watched him cook for you - a delightful combination of pasta dinners, brownies and cookies, and everything in between.

And even though you hadn’t quite turned 21, Felix never minded giving you some of his impressive collection of wine. He even insisted because certain wines complemented his dishes. “Try this with the chardonnay,” he said while pushing the glass closer to your pasta.

You nodded and brought the glass to your lips, watching as he returned to the oven to check on the brownies that he made for dessert. “Tell me about your music, Y/N,” Felix said while jabbing a toothpick into the gooey cake mixture.

“I have another composition in the works,” you said, and it was always really easy to talk about music with Felix. Because he was one of the only people you’d ever met who was so genuinely interested in hearing you talk about music - it’s what you talked about the most, especially in bed together. 

Apparently, Felix had once wanted to study music when he was younger, but his father pressured him into studying business so that he could takeover their accounting firm in the future. It was one of the very few things you knew about Felix, other than his insane cooking talents and sweet personality. 

But Felix loved to hear you discuss your music, and he adored your compositions when you played them for him over the impressive sound system in the living room. Oftentimes, Felix would make copies of your compositions for himself, despite your insistence that they weren’t very professional. He even had entire recordings on his computer that he listened to while he was working.

“It would sound better if I had a good microphone,” you said with a sigh, not really understanding the implications of your words until Felix spoke up again.

“Send me a description of what you need,” Felix said. “I’ll buy it for you.”

“Oh, Felix, it’s really not a big deal...”

“I insist,” Felix said while finishing off his wine. “I’ll have my assistant go out tomorrow and get it for you.”

You knew that it would be impossible to convince Felix otherwise, and there were more pressing things to worry about. Like when you noticed that he had only taken a few bites of his food before leaning in closer to you - chin propped against his hand as he listened to you speak. “Aren’t you hungry?” you asked, pointing to his discarded plate.

“Why? Would you like some more?” Felix asked, and you didn’t even get a chance to answer before he was pushing his plate in your direction. “Take as much as you want.”

“But it’s yours,” you said, even while Felix was already standing up from his chair to retrieve the brownies from the kitchen counter.

“I made these for you,” Felix said. “I noticed how much you liked them last time.”

“They’re amazing,” you said, and you were pleased when he lowered his head to connect your lips together.

“I also bought you something,” Felix said while pulling away from your kiss. “Check the bed.”

“What?” you laughed, and you accepted Felix’s outstretched hand as he led the two of you into his enormous bedroom. And sure enough there was a delicate package waiting on the center of the bed, wrapped neatly in purple wrapping paper with a cute bow on top. “You didn’t need to do this,” you said while reaching down for the gift.

“I thought of you when I saw it,” Felix said, and he lingered close to your side while you carefully discarded the paper and retrieved whatever was inside the velvety black box.

Unsurprisingly, the gift inside was gorgeous - a tiny set of earrings with a diamond center that probably cost him an atrocious amount of money. “They’re beautiful,” you told him, and you smiled when Felix insisted on putting them in himself.

“They complement your eyes,” he said once the earrings were in place.

“Thank you,” you said while holding back the overwhelming urge to kiss him again.

“I should also mention that I have a conference in Seattle this weekend,” Felix said, and he turned you from side to side with a pleased smile. “Are you available to come with me?”

“Of course,” you said, and you gave no thought to any prior engagements, holding out your hand when Felix dropped a ticket into your open palms.

“Let’s lie down for a little while,” Felix suggested, and you nodded your agreement while watching him drop down onto the edge of the bed to remove his watch. 

It was a familiar scene, and you carefully folded your ticket inside your jacket, removing it from your shoulders before crawling onto the bed next to him. “What should we talk about?” you asked around a yawn, snuggling closer to Felix’s side as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Tell me about the internship you’re applying for,” Felix said. “I’m very proud of your ambitions.”

You heart gave a happy flutter at the idea of Felix being proud of you for anything, and there was a deep-rooted desire to move even closer to him despite the fact that it wasn’t possible considering your current position. But you talked about the internship with unrivaled enthusiasm - a spot for a local radio station - and Felix listened as usual while his fingers curled through your own. 

It was incredibly warm and comfortable, and you loved being close enough to him to smell his cologne and connect the freckles beneath his eyes into fascinating constellations. There was nothing but affection in your heart, and maybe your feelings were even deeper than you anticipated, and you longed to go even further - to form a physical connection with him that was just as satisfying as the emotional one that often kept you up at night with dreams of the future.

“Felix,” you whispered, and he hummed in acknowledgement. “Can I kiss you?”

He shifted at your side, finding your gaze with a kind smile. “Of course you can.”

It was the only affirmation that you required to dig your fingers into the well-pressed collar of his shirt, keeping him close as you explored his lips with your tongue, tracing over the seam of his mouth as he opened up for you. And Felix moaned when your tongues met somewhere in the middle, forcing you to wonder if he tasted the chocolate from dinner with his penetrative exploration of your mouth. 

But you were feeling so aroused by his deep moans, and you threw one leg over his hip before grabbing his hand and leading it beneath your skirt. Felix gasped into your kiss when he realized that you weren’t wearing anything underneath, and he quickly snatched his hand away so fast that you almost got whiplash from the jarring movement. 

“Don’t do that,” Felix said, and he intertwined your fingers together before resuming your kiss like there was nothing wrong.

But you didn’t feel the same way, and you broke the kiss because you were suddenly feeling light-headed. Was there something wrong with you? Because his behavior had no other explanation, even as Felix simply continued to leave sweet kisses along your neck - gentle pecks that served more as a reminder of his presence rather than anything sensual.

You could feel your heart twisting inside your chest - a distant feeling of the earlier elation that had sent it palpating against your breastbone. There were also tears in your eyes when your mind instantly thought of a thousand different scenarios that all attempted to explain what had happened. Should you just keeping waiting? Maybe you needed to be more patient?

But you were done with having patience with a man who was almost ten years older than you! He should know how you feel, and he should’ve already recognized the signs you were giving off whenever you lingered in the same room. Instead, it almost felt like he was ignoring you, or choosing to remain in this strange limbo that was starting to become too much for your confused emotions.

“Y/N,” Felix whispered when he realized that you weren’t returning his affection. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you said in return, and it seemed to startle Felix who fumbled upwards into a sitting position. 

“Did I hurt you?” Felix asked, and you could tell that he was worried when he examined you closely.

“I don’t think you’ve realized...” you tried, but the words slipped away because you no longer felt confident enough to say them. “Do you not want me?” you asked him instead, looking at Felix with tears clumping the massacre on your eyelashes. 

“Y/N-”

“No!” You insisted firmly, surprising both Felix and yourself. “I’ve had enough, Felix. I’m going home.”

“Y/N!” Felix said, and his tone was much firmer as he grabbed your wrist and halted your attempts to leave the bed. “This is not how I’ll handle things with you. Tell me what I’ve done to upset you.”

You shook your head, seeing nothing but a hazy image of Felix from behind your tears. “You should already know,” you said while pulling your wrist away from him. “I thought I made my feelings clear, but you keep rejecting me!”

Felix’s eyes widened with the realization of what you meant. “Y/N, that was never apart of our arrangement.”

“Yeah.” You laughed, but it was mirthless. “Our arrangement.”

It was all the confirmation that you needed to understand that Felix would never see your relationship as anything but a man and a woman who met online and decided to try something that was never meant to last.

You had been hurt by men before, but you had also never cared as much about your past boyfriends as you did with Felix.

He had become everything to you, but the realization that your feelings weren’t mutual hurt your heart and spirit more than being left alone by a one-night stand or catching someone cheating on you. “It’s my fault, Y/N,” you friend said from your couch because you had called her on the way over to your apartment in tears. “I should’ve never encouraged you to sign up for that website.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” you said. “I should’ve never involved my feelings.”

“Well,” your friend said. “He’s still an ignorant asshole.”

You smiled at your friend’s defense of you, even if you didn’t agree. Despite everything that had happened that night with Felix, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him. And maybe that’s because the genuine feelings you had for him simply wouldn’t go away instantly.

It would take time to heal.

Closure.

Which is what you thought you were getting when you received a message from Felix later on:

FROM FELIX:

Y/N, I can’t express my thoughts in one or two sentences. Please pick-up when I call you. I feel it’s necessary to address these slights you’ve experienced, and you don’t even have to say a word to me.

You shivered at his request, clutching your phone tightly between your hands before it started ringing to penetrate the silence of your bedroom. “Hello?” you whispered into the other end, and there was a moment of quiet before Felix began to speak.

“This is not how I expected our night to end,” he said. “I’m deeply sorry for the pain that I caused you. I could see it in your eyes, and it hurt me more than you seem to think.”

You swallowed hard when he took a deep breath. “When I first found your profile, I hesitated to contact someone who, in my eyes, seemed like an untouchable slice of perfection. You loved music and dancing, and you had big dreams that you described with such elegant words. Although I was looking for a companion for my travels, I knew you would be so much more than my expectation, but it was hard to ignore how much I wanted to meet you.”

“I thought it would be best to establish boundaries because I initially imagined our relationship as nothing more than me helping out someone who needed the assistance that I could give. I couldn’t imagine you losing the chance to succeed because you weren’t able to afford tuition. When I was a student, I had the help of my father’s wealth, but he forced me to change my dreams because he wanted to mold me into an image of himself. And he was very successful because I used to be more carefree before I was told that I had to takeover our company. But I promised myself that I would help you because I wanted to be everything for you that my father was not.”

There was a shaky exhale, and you could hear the raw emotion in Felix’s tone. “You deserve better than me,” Felix whispered, and you could barely hold the phone as you felt the first tear fall. “I’m almost thirty-years-old, and I’m paying a student to spend time with me because I’m so bad at meeting people. I organized this whole thing to satisfy my own selfish desires to live vicariously through someone else and experience what my father never allowed me to have.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to reassure him that you had never felt like he was taking advantage of you, but the words were caught between your brain and tongue.

“As for your insinuation that I couldn’t possibly want you...” Felix paused, and you could easily imagine that the conversation had ended abruptly. “I chose not to have a physical relationship with you because I could never imagine in my wildest dreams that someone as young and beautiful as yourself could truly want a sexual relationship with an older man who spends most of his time balancing numbers. If we’re talking our truest desires, then there’s nothing more that I want in this world than your sweet touch, but I won’t allow myself to ruin someone as pure and good as you.”

He cleared his throat at that statement, and you wondered what your relationship might’ve looked like if you had been more honest with him from the beginning. “Perhaps I also grew too complacent with what we had because it was more than any scenario I could’ve came up with inside my head. I love our talks together, Y/N, and you can’t imagine how wonderful it is to travel the world with you - to sleep next to you at night and kiss you because I cherish every moment of your time with me.”

“So please don’t feel hurt by someone like me. Because you’re worth more than all the money I have, and you deserve a wonderful life where you become someone who recognizes the greatness that I see in her. But if this is meant to be goodbye, then know that I love you so much, and I will never forget the artist who changed my world.”

There was a click following his passionate declaration, and then you were greeted by the dial tone.

You thought about Felix for the entire week following his unexpected phone call. His words haunted you during your classes, and you could barely focus when you were working on your schoolwork or hanging out with friends. The confession of his love weighed heavily on your conscious, and you knew that you needed to see him again

It was incredibly risky, but there was an even bigger part of yourself that didn’t care about the consequences. And you found yourself taking a taxi to the airport where Felix was set to depart for Seattle, ticket tucked into the back of your jeans pocket while your suitcase rolled along next to you. Of course, there was a small part of you that worried you might not be able to find Felix, or maybe he wouldn’t want to see you.

But you were tired of being cautious, and Felix was worth the extra effort to hand over your ticket to the flight attendant who encouraged you to wait in the first-class lobby. You thanked her quietly, and your hand was shaking when you reached out for the door handle, pushing it open before scanning your eyes across the customers waiting inside.

It was mostly people in expensive suits, looking through their cellphone or reading the newspaper. But it was impossible to miss a familiar mop of blonde-hair, and your eyes met Felix’s from across the room - a moment in time when it felt like you were the only two people left in the room.

And you could tell that Felix was surprised, but he didn’t protest when you sat next to him. “Hi,” you said in a shy voice, fixing your suitcase against the wall while your hands curled together in your lap.

“Y/N,” Felix said with a gentle tone. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I thought you wanted me to come,” you reminded him, and you held up your ticket with a smile. 

Felix visibly swallowed as he stared at you. “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Why?” you asked him. “After those things you said to me...Felix, I only want to see you more.”

He was silent then, contemplative as he took a deep breath. “I hurt you, Y/N. I don’t deserve to be with you.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “Well, maybe I felt hurt, but I think we’re both to blame.”

“You should know that I’ll continue to help you with your schooling,” Felix said. “But the other part of the arrangement...”

“Felix, I insist,” you said while grabbing his hand. “I like spending time with you, Felix,” you said. “You’re a literal angel.”

“I don’t know about that,” Felix said. “There’s a lot about me that you still don’t know.”

“And that’s okay,” you reassured him. “Because I’d really like to find out more about you and everything that you enjoy.”

“I’m still sorry,” Felix insisted. “I’m sorry that I let you get so involved while pushing you away at the same time.”

“I’ll just have to show you that I care more than you think,” you said. “Let me start helping you as well.”

“But you’ve already helped me,” Felix said. “You’ve done so much for me, and you can’t even imagine how grateful I am.”

“Well, I might since the feeling is mutual,” you said. “I don’t want you to question whether or not you deserve me because I love being with you, and this stopped being just a sporadic arrangement for me a long time ago.”

Felix nodded, even if there was still a touch of hesitation. “And how do you feel about...intimacy? I know that’s something you want.”

“I only want it if you’re interested,” I said.

“What if I wasn’t?”

“Then I would respect that,” you said. “It still wouldn’t send me away.”

“That means a lot to me,” Felix said. “I would be interested as long as you’re okay with me touching you,” Felix said, and he was clearly blushing at the idea.

But you found it to be endearing, prodding at the reddening skin of his face with your finger. “Let’s try a normal relationship,” you said. “Like a couple.”

Felix smiled, and he was much more suited for brightness as opposed to the despondency that you discovered when you first arrived. “I like that idea.”

“It seems better for us,” you said before expectantly turning your head in his direction. “Does that mean I can have a kiss?”

Felix laughed at your brazenness, and you were still smiling even while your lips smoothed across his in a passionate display of the secret feelings and affections that had finally been exposed for him to return with equal amounts of love and adoration.

[delos-mio]

Out of the Woods - College!AU - PART 2

A/N: Part 2! I hope you enjoy this chapter. No major warnings apply! Thoughts, feelings, predictions always welcome <3

***

After dropping you off that evening, Nikolai found his mind to be running a mile a minute. It was 1am, relatively early by college standards, but he had no desire to go back to the party and no desire to go home. Instead, he walked around campus until his feet throbbed. He thought about your smile and your laugh, the way you bit your lip and the way you toyed with the ends of your hair. He thought about how you could very well be in the arms of another man right now.

He could have lived without that mental image.

It seemed wild to him that you could make so many feelings flood back to him in such a short amount of time. It hit him like a ton of bricks the moment you locked eyes, and it was instantly like the last 5 years of silence never even happened. God, he wished they never happened. How could he have been so cruel? Who just up and left the person they were very clearly falling in love without a trace? Nikolai, that’s who. And under the penetrating glow of the moon, for the next six or so hours, Nikolai hated himself for it.

Nikolai quietly tried to sneak back into the apartment he shared with Aleks around 7am. Generally, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, so he figured it’d be no problem. As the front door clicked shut behind him, another door clicked open inside the apartment. Alina, clad in only one of Aleks’s shirts, exited his room and immediately jumped upon seeing Nikolai. He quickly averted his eyes and turned his attention to the ceiling, trying to look anywhere but at the half-naked girl before him.

“So, I take it he wasn’t too upset I left the party early?” he asked before she blushed and quickly padded down the hall to the bathroom.

Nikolai pushed his hair back from his face and shook his head. Of course Aleks had company. He made his way to his room and let the back of his knees hit the mattress, flopping onto his back. His eyes fluttered shut as he mulled over the events of the evening. He knew he needed to turn his brain off and actually try to get some sleep, but that was still proving to be rather difficult. As he was getting lost in his own thoughts, he was interrupted by his door being flung open and Aleks leaning in his door frame.

“Do you mind? I’m really tired,” Nikolai grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

“You dog! You got home later than me,” he said with a smile evident in his voice.

“It’s not like that. You’ll notice I didn’t bring anyone home with me, now did I?” Nikolai was starting to get irritated by his roommate’s presence and hoped he’d leave him in peace and quiet sooner rather than later.

“Maybe not. But you could have. Seemed like you and Genya’s new roommate had something going on,” he pried.

“Can you fuck off? Respectfully?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you sleep. But you’re gonna tell me about her when you wake up.” With that, Nikolai heard his door shut again, leaving him in the stillness of his room. He fell asleep half hanging off the bed where he landed with the girl who got away on his mind.

----

When you woke up the next morning, Nikolai was still fresh on your mind. The way he smiled, the way he smelled…everything about him haunted your dreams. It didn’t even take a full minute before the guilt settled in. Jesus Christ, what were you thinking? Did Matt cease to exist because your first love cropped up out of nowhere? You just started flirting with Nikolai again like it was as easy as breathing. But you couldn’t help yourself—Nikolai had worked his way into your head instantly just like he had when you were 17. Like the first time you saw him take off his helmet, shake out his perfect, golden hair, and skate to the bench. It had been a wrap since that moment. You groaned into your pillow, feeling a little nauseous and a lot guilty. After freshening up and pulling a sweatshirt on, you wandered out into the living room of your apartment with Genya where she was eagerly chatting with Zoya over a cup of coffee.

“Fancy seeing you here, ditcher,” Genya teased as you grabbed a mug for yourself.

“I didn’t ditch,” you said. “Nik told you guys we were leaving.”

“Where’d you end up anyways?” Genya asked with a tiny smirk. This line of questioning amused Zoya and she gladly joined in on the antagonizing.

“I can only assume, knowing him, that you ended up somewhere more...private,” Zoya interjected.

“It wasn’t like that. I um, we ended up just going to get some food. Catch up or whatever,” you said while you shot daggers at Genya. You paused to take a sip of the too-hot drink before continuing. “Where have you been hiding Nikolai anyways?”

“He ain’t hiding- have you met the dude? I met him during Freshman orientation. Zoya and I lived in the dorm room next to him and Aleks,” she said as a matter of fact. “We’ve been hanging out ever since. Real good guy.”

“I know,” you sighed, pushing around a pen that was left on the coffee table.

“You like him! Oh man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about him being totally your type. You and your pretty boys. Mhmm, I bet he liked you too,” Genya teased and smiled again.

“No, he’s just an old friend,” you lied. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me,” Zoya mumbled, but you caught it. The comment did nothing to ease the growing knot in your stomach.

“Seriously. He’s my friend. I kinda got carried away with the flirting last night, but I was so excited to see him, you know?” You looked at them both, silently pleading with them to let it drop. “We’re just friends. Nothing else.”

“That may be true now, but the dude has it bad for you. I saw the way he looked at you, dude,” Genya said softly, finally sympathetic to your anguish. “Can I ask how you know each other? Besides ‘high school or something’?”

“We didn’t even go to school together.” You leaned back into the cushions, letting your focus drift away from the girls across from you. “My parents own an ice rink in my hometown and I’d work the concession stand when I got out of school- do my homework and pour hot chocolate or whatever. Nik played hockey with his high school team there.” You smiled to yourself. “I saw him come off the ice one day and thought he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. And one night, he walked right up to me after practice and started talking to me like we’d known each other forever. I didn’t have a ton of friends in school and hadn’t really been noticed by boys like...ever. So to have this super hot dude flirting with me was wild.”

“Oh my god, was Nik your first crush?” Genya squealed.

“I’d had a couple guys that caught my eye before him, but he was the first guy I really liked. First guy I kissed. First guy I…” you trailed off, letting the pause speak for itself.

“No wonder he was so happy to see you,” Zoya said.

“He kinda ghosted me when he left for college and I hadn’t talked to him since the last night we were together. I was too scared to try and find him on Facebook or anything. I didn’t want to see him with other girls hanging all over him and hurt my own feelings, you know?” Genya and Zoya exchanged a sympathetic look. “Anyways, that’s about it. Pretty boring stuff.”

“Babe…”

“I gotta start getting ready for work,” you said, abruptly standing and putting your mug in the sink. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, you shuffled out of the room, hoping neither of them caught the hitch in your voice. So, maybe you weren’t as over that ghosting as you thought you were.

----

The weekend passed with a lot of idle time thinking about when you could possibly see Nikolai again. You were really regretting not scrawling your number somewhere for him. It was torture not knowing how to find him again outside of groveling to Genya, or hoping dumb luck would make you run into him.

You made it to Monday morning and somehow managed to make it to your 8:30 am class on time; a rare feat for you. Thankfully, the class was all engaged in a lively discussion of what constituted a modern classic novel, so it was easy to stay alert and engaged. Before you knew it, your professor was dismissing you and reminding you all about the paper that was due on Thursday. You shuffled down the stairs of the academic building and paused once you got to the quad. Normally, you’d head home for a few hours before your afternoon class, but you had a little time to spare today before your study group. But you also had Nikolai’s face burned in your mind. Would it be totally weird to try to find him?

The building that housed Science and History was only a quarter mile from your classroom, so you made quick work of the walk and tried to hype yourself up, telling yourself that it was normal to want to see him this bad- you’d missed out on a few years there! Of course you wanted to see your friend. When you got inside, you realized you had no idea where you were going. You had yet to take any sort of History class while at school and had absolutely no idea if he was even in class at this time. God, this was seeming like a dumber and dumber idea the more you walked around. After wandering aimlessly for a minute, you saw a familiar head of effortlessly messy golden hair slink out of a classroom.

Immediately, your eye was drawn to him. You were thankful he didn’t notice your presence because you were definitely staring. All weekend, you were sure you had a picture-perfect vision of him in your head, but you were abruptly reminded that he was much more handsome than you could dream up. He had traded in his button down shirt from the other night for a cozy looking grey sweater. You allowed yourself one more moment to admire him from afar before you approached. But Nikolai had turned to face you straight on, face lighting up the moment he saw you.

“I was wondering when you’d come around.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“So, you don’t think I’m crazy for wandering around a building I’ve literally never set foot in, hoping by cosmic timing you’d be here?” you smirked.

“I promise you, I don’t think you’re crazy. I mean, I was considering doing something quite similar myself,” You couldn’t stop the heat that started to rise in your cheeks.

“So, where are you headed now?” you asked, rocking on your heels.

“Well,” he pondered, “I was going to meet Aleks at The Moose if you’re walking that way.”

“I’m not, but I have a couple minutes before I have to be at my study group if you want to sit outside,” you offered.

“Of course, darling,” he grinned, hazel eyes playful as you found a bench next to the bike rack. “How was your weekend?”

“Not bad,” you shrugged. “I had to work both days, but it was pretty slow, so no complaints. I only got grilled by Genya and Zoya a little. It could have been a lot worse,” you smiled.

“They do love any information they can get their little hands on,” Nikolai said, leaning back into the bench. “You...didn’t see Matt at all?” he probed, trying with all his might to look and sound nonchalant, but failing.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Can I not take an interest in you?” he asked with gentle eyes, but you just glowered.

“No. I didn’t see Matt this weekend. We haven’t even talked since Friday, honestly,” you said. Nikolai didn’t interject at all, just looked at you to go on, if you felt like sharing. “We haven’t really been getting along lately. He’s a nice guy and all, but I don’t know how much we have in common. And he never seems to have time for me unless it’s on his terms. Like, he expects me to be available whenever it works for him, but he’s always conveniently busy if I ask him to do anything with me.” You kicked at a rock near your toe, eyes fixed on the ground, totally unsure why you just told Nikolai all that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “I’m saying this as your friend,” he started, making you look in his eyes again. “You deserve someone who understands what a gift it is to spend time with you.” It was so simple, but it made tears instantly spring in your eyes. “Hey. Hey, now. None of that,” he smiled, thumbing a tear away. “Would you maybe want to come over Friday? Get pizza and watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds really nice, Nik,” you nodded. It was then he broke into a blinding smile and you were unable to stop the swirling in your belly.

“Could I—would I be able to get your number? So I can send you my address or whatever,” he added quickly; you were really starting to love seeing him get flustered.

“I think that’s a good idea, yeah.” You reached for some scrap paper and pencil from your bag and scribbled down your number, placing it in the palm of his large hands before standing up. His fingers just barely brushed yours as he took the paper before stowing it away in the front pocket of his jeans. “You can always use that number before Friday too, if you want,” you said with a sly smile and patted Nikolai’s cheek gently. His laugh carried a bit as you walked opposite directions out of the quad, your feet feeling like they were being carried by tiny, pink fluffy clouds.

Fuck. Did you just set up a date with Nikolai? No. No, not a date. Just two friends eating pizza and watching movies. Friends did that all the time.

But as you walked to the cafe where your study group met, there was a crashing wave of guilt that washed over you. What the fuck were thinking? All you were doing was playing with fire, practically begging fate to burn you. You were mentally beating yourself up, feeling like a total shit bag as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, seeing your group already gathered and breaking off into pairs, Matt beaming at you when you came into view.

“Hi, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” you smiled back with tight lips, hardly able to look at him.

You started going through notes for an upcoming Logic and Reasoning exam, but you found yourself unable to process anything you were reading. Your mind was elsewhere and you only managed half-hearted affirmations and hardly contributed any correct answers. Here Matt was, sweet and excited to see you. He was good, he was nice. Maybe you just needed to make more of an effort with him. Should he really want to do the things you wanted to do, or were you being selfish? You weren’t sure.

“Something wrong?” he asked suddenly, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Just don’t feel good, that’s all,” you shrugged, looking back at your notebook and computer. He accepted that answer and didn’t probe any further.

“So, you should come over Friday. I don’t have anyone else to hang out with and thought we could hang out,” he said into your ear, hand gripping your thigh.

“Can’t,” you said with a shake of your head. “I already have plans.”

“Oh there’s a surprise,” he said, half under his breath. And that...that was it. You immediately slammed your pen onto the table and looked at him with hard eyes.

“Would you just say whatever you’re trying to fucking say?” you seethed.

“Just seems awfully convenient that every time we’re supposed to do anything, suddenly you have plans with I don’t even know who” he said, clearly annoyed. “All I’ve done is try to accommodate you and do what you want, but that doesn’t seem to be enough,” he added with a melodramatic sigh, which was more than enough to set you off.

“Oh, that’s a fucking joke, right?” you laughed. “Maybe you’d know more about my schedule if you ever bothered to talk to me more than once a week. And you literally just said I should come over because no one else can! Like, I’m your girlfriend- I shouldn’t be your last ditch option,” you scoffed. “You know what? I can’t be here right now. Call me when you’re ready to rejoin all of us in reality.” With that, you grabbed your bag and stormed out the door, letting your feet take you quickly in any direction that was simply away. No, you were right about what you said to Nikolai- Matt only saw you as convenient.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

[luxekook]

chapter seven.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 3.6k

⇥ warnings: 18+, lots of cursing, general chaotic energy, poly relationship, a short confrontation, mentions of slut-shaming, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, sub!jimin, library shenanigans, an abundance of coffee, punishments, spanking, bad puns (jin is in this chapter, DUH), many nerd references uwu

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Seven

Quinn Library – 3:54pm

The end of September passes in a blur of studying, partying, volunteering, and spending time with friends. The month’s conclusion also includes the increasing presence of seven boys in my everyday routine.

Since giving Taehyung the suck of his life in the bathroom of Hannigan’s, I have been basically fighting off the seven of them for a moment to breathe. But, sometimes breathing is overrated when being smothered by affection.

Going from being single to essentially dating seven people is quite the adjustment. I found myself growing attached to them – something that both excited and scared the shit out of me. We haven’t discussed labels or anything, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. The boys have apparently been planning an elaborate first date for this upcoming weekend, and I feel like they’ll probably ask to make it official then.

My stomach erupts in butterflies at the thought, and I take a calming breath. No need to overthink such things.

While it might be unconventional by some societal standards, polyamory is simply a way to love. Why should love come with confines? With binary expectations? The saying ‘love is love’ gets thrown around a lot, but I believe it bears repeating.

Jenni and Luna have been nothing but supportive to me over the past two weeks. They even came with me to volunteer this past weekend because they - and I quote - wanted to ‘check out our vibe’. But, I wholeheartedly expect that the real reason had actually been for them to feel out the boys’ intentions.

Why did I suspect this? Well, because Jungkook had come up to me within the first fifteen minutes at the worksite quivering in fear over how ‘scary my friends were’ and how ‘Jenni had cornered him to interrogate him while Luna hovered behind her, menacingly holding a nail-gun’.

I had never felt more loved and supported by my friends.

My phone dings, and I quickly hasten to put it on silent, shooting an embarrassed and apologetic look around the library. It seems like most people have headphones in, and I let out a sigh of relief. No one wants to be that one loud person in the library.

Checking my notifications, I smile when I see it’s a SnapChat from Hobi in the group chat the boys created a few weeks ago. My thumb swipes it open, and I barely contain myself from announcing to the whole library how vibrantly handsome one of my potential boyfriends is.

I quickly send a SnapChat back of me and my stack of books in the library with the caption ‘send help in the form of coffee’.

Immediately, Taehyung sends a flurry of heart eyes emojis in the chat, Jungkook sends a ‘noona is so cute’, and Yoongi sends back a picture of a black screen with the caption ‘come nap with me’.

God, I would love to nap with Yoongi right now… Alone time with the older boy is so elusively precious. One day last week at their house, I had mentioned wanting to learn piano. Yoongi had just grabbed my hand and tugged me to his room. We had spent a couple hours together in the small corner of his room playing on his keyboard.

Well, he had been playing; I had been fumbling around like a buffoon - half uncoordinated in general and half flustered by how good Yoongi looked playing. His hands had been so nimble as they flew over the keys, crafting melodies I could only assume he had composed. His focus had been so fucking hot as he nodded slightly along to the tempo in his head, his eyes shooting over to look at me every once in a while.

My hand kink? Activated.

My willpower to not kiss the shit out of Yoongi? Nonexistent.

When Yoongi had paused in between songs, I may or may not have grabbed him by his shirt collar and kissed him. His blushing attempt to dodge me had been so cute; and when I had stopped trying to kiss him, he had pouted and then kissed me instead.

What a cutie…

A giggle draws my attention from my reminiscing. At first, I pay it no mind, taking it as a directive to dive back into my studies. But then, the whispering starts.

“I heard she’s fucking her way through the whole house.”

“Isn’t there a term for that?”

“Yeah, a frat rat.”

I slam my 500-page textbook closed and stand, leveling the duo of gossiping girls with a glare that could make grown men cry. It had before when I had to properly eviscerate my uncle in defense of feminism at our last family gathering. What a time that had been.

“Is there a problem?” I force the question through gritted teeth, stalking over towards their nearby table. I relish in the way they gape at me, eyes wide and pupils quivering, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my complaint jar is at capacity. Please don’t try again later.”

The girl on the right gulps, “No-nope, there’s no problem! We were just leaving. Right, Janika?”

“No,” The girl who had called me a ‘frat rat’ just moments before crosses her arms and stands, “I do, like, have a problem.”

“Janika,” The other girl tugs on the sleeve of the one standing, “Don’t.”

“Yeah, Janika,” I smile, “Don’t.”

I can see the moment she snaps.

“You’re, like, such a fucking bitch! I don’t know what they all see in you. Oh wait, yes I do. You’re fucking easy.”

I consider myself to be a patient person, but having to endure this type of rant against my character - and against women’s sexual freedom in general - has pushed me well past my limits.

“Now, listen here, Janika,” I take another step forward, “You can keep talking your shit. I really don’t give a flying fuck what you think about me. But I really advise you to google ‘how to stop slut-shaming for dummies’ because it seems like you need a crash course.”

Janika’s face darkens, “Whatever. They’ll get tired of you anyway.”

“Yeah,” I let out an amused laugh, “I’m sure they’ll get real tired of me choking on their dicks every night.”

Letting out a gasp, Janika whirls back around to face her silent friend, “Let’s go. I don’t want to, like, be around her any longer.”

“Buh-bye now,”I wiggle my fingers in their direction as they shuffle out of the library.

Smiling in satisfaction, I head back towards my table. Without hesitation, I gather my books and belongings and head upstairs to the quiet floor. Any more distractions or confrontations would probably make my blood pressure pop off the charts.

The quiet floor, as one of my safe havens, is home to several small private study rooms. Peering into each, I start to lose hope that any would be available. Finally, the very last room proves me wrong, and I swing open the door and almost in tears over the sweet, sweet solitude.

This particular study room is tucked away in the very far corner of the library’s second floor. Not many people are aware of its location, and it seems that paid off for me today. Plopping my things down across the table in the center of the tiny room, I follow suit and drop down into one of the two chairs adjoining the table.

What a clusterfuck of an afternoon… This sadly isn’t the first time I’ve heard some comments being made about my association with the BTS boys, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Yet, part of me knew all along that this would be the trade-off.

After all, what are a few irrelevant opinions to seven gorgeous and loyal partners? Inconsequential - in my opinion. That is the reason why I haven’t breathed a word of the backlash to anyone.

Sighing, I flip open my textbook to where I had been before being rudely interrupted.

The amygdala plays a key role in emotion and behavior…

“Noona?”

I jump a half-mile out of my chair, slapping a hand over my pounding heart. Jimin had somehow managed to enter the room without my knowledge. Had he fucking teleported?

Holding a giant iced coffee in one hand and a cinnamon bun in the other, Jimin beams at me and ignores the fact he just scared the living shit out of me. “Hi, noona! I saw your SnapChat while I was in class, and I came here as soon as I could.”

I stare dumbfounded at the angel before me. Jimin is slightly out of breath with reddened cheeks and a sweaty brow. His black track-pants are slung low on his hips, his long-sleeve white t-shirt clings to his torso, his black duffle bag thrown carelessly over one shoulder. He must have run over straight from dance class.

Standing abruptly, I stalk over to where Jimin is still posted up by the doorway to the study room. Toe to toe with him, I blurt out while still half in a daze, “You really brought me coffee and food?”

He eyes me warily like I might suddenly jump on him at any moment. Shifting his weight back and forth, Jimin hesitantly replies, “Um, yes?"

I take the coffee and cinnamon bun from his hands, place them on the table, and then tackle him with the biggest hug. "You absolute sweetheart!" I murmur into the crook of his neck, "This made my day. Thank you, Jimin-ie."

His hands tentatively wrap around me, pulling me closer. "You're welcome, noona. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, baby,” My lips brush over the crevice of his collarbone and relish in his shudder. Bringing my head up to face his, I smile widely at him, “Can I kiss you, Jimin-ie?”

“Yes,” He sighs out, eyes already closing in anticipation. I press my lips to his, still smiling softly against his mouth. His lips are plush under mine, velvety soft. My tongue swipes across his bottom lip and— Is that coffee I taste?

I pull back, “Jimin, did you sip my coffee on your way here?”

The boy looks rightfully alarmed, “I– y-yes. But only a little, noona!”

Cute.

“Hmm,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “I guess I’ll make an exception for you this time since you were the one to bring it for me.”

Jimin relaxes slightly, but his expression is strangely disappointed. I stare at him quizzically, and he blushes.

“What is it?” I lean against the table, facing him.

He clears his throat, staring intensely at the ground, “You can still punish me if you want, (y/n)-noona.”

My eyebrows shoot upwards at his offer, and then I let out a slight chuckle, “Oh, Jimin… That would be a favor to you, wouldn’t it? My baby boy wants to be punished, hm? Did dance practice make you all hot and bothered? Jungkook tells me that has been happening to you lately.”

Jimin’s face explodes in color as he mutters, “That little bitch will pay for this.”

Suddenly, the door swings open with a resounding thud, nearly clipping Jimin in the shoulder.

“Your savior has arrived!” Kim Seokjin announces loudly in spite of the studiously silent atmosphere of the quiet floor. His hands hold two steaming hot travel mugs, which I can only guess are filled with the elixir of the gods (aka coffee).

Seokjin’s eyes glance around the room as he takes in the fact that I’m not alone as he obviously had expected. “Wait, Jimin-ie? What are you doing here?” Jin’s eyes flick down to the coffee and cinnamon roll that lay on the table. “Goddamn it!”

“You were too slow, hyung,” Jimin smirks happily as he takes a seat in the chair I had previously vacated. He slouches smugly as he stares up at the fuming older boy.

“Too slow?!” Jin roars.

“Jin,” I chastise, circumventing around him to shut the door.

“Sorry, babe,” Seokjin says while still glaring daggers at the all-too-pleased Jimin. Suddenly, his expression changes into a sneaky look that makes me both want to run and jump his bones. “Well,” He waves the two coffee mugs around in the air, “I made these myself - with love. I didn’t buy that generic shit; I brewed it, baby.”

It’s Jimin’s turn again to look disgruntled, and I can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Any and all coffee is appreciated and loved by me – the more the merrier. So, thank you both,” You say, taking one of the travel mugs from Seokjin. Kissing his cheek, you turn back to sit opposite Jimin at the table.

“She kissed me on the lips!” Jimin bursts.

“Park Jimin!” I cry as Jin splutters some sort of incoherent rant about fairness and equality.

Jimin holds eye contact with me, still leaning back in his chair like he’s the king of the fucking universe. But, he’s not; I am.

My chair hits the wall behind me with a bang as I stand, planting my hands on the table to loom over Jimin. “Do you think it’s fun to push your hyung, Jimin? Does it amuse you to be a little shit?”

I can see the moment that Jimin decides to be a brat. His eyes heat up in a challenge, and he firmly answers, “Yes, noona.”

“Get up.” The change in my tone is apparent. Jimin gulps. Getting to his feet, he stares back at me expectantly.

“Jin,” I address the older boy while still maintaining eye contact with Jimin, “What kind of punishment do you think I should give our Jimin here?”

Seokjin rounds my other side, grinning, “Well, (y/n) darling, I believe he should get spanked.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmur, turning to face Jin, “That’s what you’re going to get then.”

“What?” Jin squawks, arms waving rapidly around in the air, “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Nothing is what you should have done, Jin,” I push him against the wall, “You know better than to let Jimin rile you up like this.”

Those plump lips of his pout dramatically as he whines, “But, (y/n)…”

“But nothing,” I say and then whirl around to face the other boy. He’s still standing where I left him with his eyes glued to the pair of us. “Jimin,” I hold his gaze, “You’re going to watch. You’re not going to touch yourself, your hyung isn’t going to touch you, and I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes widen comically, “No! That’s not fair!”

“Do you want to be gagged, too, baby boy?” I ask, cocking my head slightly. Seeing his emphatic head shakes, I grin. “That’s what I thought. Now, stay.”

Turning back to Jin, I smirk slightly as I ask, “Punishment now or later?”

Seokjin’s eyes scrunch cutely in confusion, “What?”

“You see,” I move closer to him, my body brushes his, “I think you earned a punishment, but I think you also earned helping me punish Jimin.”

A wide grin crosses Jin’s face as he glances back at the corner Jimin is stewing in. “I would be honored to help you punish him, babe.”

“That’s what I figured,” I smile briefly at him before slowly sliding my hands up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck. Holding them there, I press the lightest of kisses to the corner of his lips.

Jin’s breath hitches in his throat.

I run my tongue against the seam of his mouth, taking my time and savoring the sweet taste of him. His lips part to let me in, my tongue sliding across his. I grind against him as we kiss, moving my hips in such a way that makes him groan and lean back harder against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Ripping my mouth from Jin’s, I turn to face the newcomer.

Namjoon stands in the doorway holding yet another cup of coffee, his face thunderous. "What do the three of you think you're doing? This is the goddamn library, you heathens!”

Seokjin jumps out of his skin in fright, pushing me away faster than I can anticipate. Stumbling back, I crash into Jimin – who apparently had ventured out of his assigned corner. Brat.

“The shades were open!” Namjoon continues to rant as he flicks the aforementioned item down to cover the door’s window, “Did you want people to see you?”

He reads the expression on my face correctly, “Oh, but you did, didn’t you, (y/n)?” Namjoon approaches where I’m still captured in Jimin’s embrace. Glaring down at me, he taunts, “So quick to stake your claim; but, make no mistake, they were mine first.”

Shaking out of Jimin’s hold, I straighten, raising my chin to meet Namjoon’s gaze full-on, “That’s interesting. I didn’t realize you were so lenient with your partners.”

Jimin makes a choking noise behind me. Jin stands behind Namjoon, waving a hand in front of his throat to clearly tell me to stop talking. I keep going, “Perhaps I need to teach you how to discipline.”

Namjoon flips me around, shoves Jimin out of the way, and bends me facedown across the table.

“Jin,” He says, his voice growly, “Stand in the hall and let me know if you can hear us.”

The sound of the door opening and closing alerts me that Jin followed Namjoon’s instructions without a word.

“Jimin,” He continues, “Hold (y/n)’s hands out in front of her.” Jimin ascquieces, staring apologetically down at me as he tugs my hands towards him.

“This is cute,” I say, “I always love holding Jimin-ie’s hands.”

Thwack. The stinging imprint of Namjoon’s palm on my ass burns deliciously. I arch my back, looking over my shoulder at him with a half-smile. “Do it harder, daddy.”

A breath sucks in between his lips as I utter the word I know will get him feeling as hot as me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby girl,” Namjoon grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh, daddy,” I say, “Don’t you remember? I’m the fucking Queen.”

“Was that a chess pun? Nice.” A muffled voice followed by a squeaky laugh sounds through the door.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon seethes, flying over to open the door and drag the older boy back inside, “I thought I told you to let me know if you could hear us.”

I tug out of Jimin’s gentle hold, straighten back up, and then situate myself into a sitting position on the table.

I watch amusedly as Jin shimmies his way out of Joon’s grasp, “Yah! It’s not my fault I get intense FOMO. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. Besides, I only heard you because I had my ear pressed to the door.”

Jimin stifles a giggle. I let out a full-on laugh. Namjoon mumbles what sounds like a plea to some higher power under his breath.

“See what I have to deal with?” Namjoon turns to me, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want to sign up for this?”

“That depends,” I swing my legs back and forth as I stay perched on the table, “Are you going to keep spanking me?”

The boy who had just unhesitatingly bent me over to punish me now blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, probably? You have quite a mouth on you, baby.”

Hopping off the table, I laugh, “Good answer. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Woo!” Jin cheers, “Nice job on the House Points, Joon-ie!”

“I am in love with idiots,” Jimin sighs.

Grabbing my phone from my backpack, I let out a slight yell as I read the time. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I scramble to shove all of my textbooks back into my bag.

“What is it, noona?” Jimin worries, appearing next to me. “Are you late for class?”

“No,” I cry, “It’s so much worse. I’m late for my weekly Animal Crossing discord chat! Heath is gonna kill me…”

“Heath?” Jin scowls, “Who is this Heath you speak of?”

“Chill, fam,” I shrug my backpack onto my shoulders and stare contemplatively down at the three different coffees. “You can’t get jealous every time I mention a new person. What’s next? You’re gonna come for Tom Nook?”

Namjoon - who must play Animal Crossing - stifles a laugh as Jin pouts. “She has a point, Jin.”

“And so does a pencil. Big whoop,” Jin scowls with his arms folded.

“Aw, Seokjin-ie,” I coo, reaching over to pinch his cheek, “Don’t be mad. You’ll get to spend all day with me on Saturday after volunteering! What are we doing, anyways?” I level Joon with my best side-eye as I ask that question, knowing he is more likely than not the mastermind behind our planned date.

“It’s going to be great, noona!” Jimin pipes up, hugging me from the side, “You’re going to love it…You’re going to love us.” He murmurs the last part, probably not meaning for me to hear; but, I do.

God, I do.

“We’ll pick you up before volunteering,” Joon says, “Just bring yourself and a change of clothes.”

“What?” I decide - fuck it - and attempt to grab all three coffees, “No overnight bag?”

Jin, who had just taken a sip of his own coffee, spews it everywhere. “Pack one,” He gasps out in between coughs.

Laughing, I walk to the door, which Jimin kindly opens for me. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Ah, I’m so late. Jimin and Jin, I’ll punish you at a later time. Joon, you can try to punish me at a later time.” Living for their astonished expressions, I wave as best I can with three coffees in hand, “Bye, babes! Text me-e-e.”

As I make my way out of the library, it hits me that I only have one more day to prepare for this date. Fucking hell…

a/n: this is such a filler of a chap with a tinge of drama mixed in, hehe. the next one is gonna be that date tho uwu stay tuuuuuuned and thanks 4 reading

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