#welcome new little life readers and hello to past readers n rereaders

[goeasyonjude]

here’s a list of spoiler free a little life findings & anecdotes

• JB’s grandmother sang to him in French.

•During their sophomore year of college, Malcolm, Jude, and Willem visited JB everyday while he was in the hospital with a broken wrist.

•Jude is compared to the sea, for his everlasting presence.

•Willem can speak two languages.

•Jude was the first to arrive in their dorm, Malcolm was the second.

•Harold never imagined he would have a child.

•Jude learned to drive in Harold’s car.

•Andy has a twin brother who is also in the medical field.

•Late October is Willem’s favorite time in the city.

•Malcolm’s gaze is described as a lighthouse’s beam, when inspecting spaces.

•JB once carried Jude into the hospital following one of his episodes.

•There are 3 books that Jude read that are mentioned, Emma, On Narcissism, and The Hobbit (which is read to him).

•Willem is an avid coffee lover.

•Malcolm gifted Jude one of his miniature houses for his seventeenth birthday.

•Willem once moved Jude out of the way of an oncoming bike.

•Both Jude and Willem are characterized as optimists.

•One of Jude’s favorite streets is also a street in which Harold lives.

•Willem retaught Jude how to shave in college.

•Jude’s smile is compared to the moon.

[hwaightme]

Family for Hire (Ch3.5)

(family for hire ml) -> blurb and general tags in series ml

☀️ pairing: single dad!seonghwa x business woman!reader ☀️ genre: romance, family, domestic, fake marriage, slice of life ☀️ ch. summary: adult to adult conversation should be easy, except when it is with someone who you are definitely not indifferent about, and who you had just spent a family-style day with. what will a conversation under the stars bring? ☀️ ch. wordcount: 5.3k ☀️ ch. warnings/tags: language, hwa being tactless, late night stargazing, banana milk hours, some mysterious texts, implied past family issues, fears, children, mixed up feelings, lmk if anything else! ☀️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ☀️ series taglist: @yunnierights @moniesmoon @jackinmyarea @hwalysm @sankatchu @hijeongguk @likexaxdaydream @treasure-hwa @paralumanniluna @naiify @dementedaly @lilactangerine @ameliaag1117 ☀️ a/n: Hello there! big hugs and much love, hope you enjoy this chapter~ (p.s.: who else will never recover after the hwa madrid live? xD)

Chapter 3.5: Starting Something

After dinner, much of the time was spent with you three chatting away, until Nari, who was sat between you on the couch had begun to doze off and knock either into your or Seonghwa’s side. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, with a sleepy Nari who was clinging onto his neck in his arms, you fished a long-forgotten phone out of your pocket. You saw that you had a few texts from Yunho, which clearly showed his progression from worry to 'don't have too much fun' with a series of wink emojis, making you roll your eyes. If only he knew what kind of a battlefield being in a closed space with a toddler was - even when said child's parent was the most attentive being you swore you had ever met and the little girl turned out to be infinitely precious - unpredictable and blunt, but still a wonder.

In addition to the cheeky messages, there were of course the classic out of hours work emails, which you, on any other day, would have probably gotten to answering that instant, but it did not feel right to do. Some strange desire to be respectful of family hours that were not even yours had overtaken you, and with a swipe, you removed the notifications. Stock markets were not going to crash if you were to delay responding to a basic question about plugging in random numbers into a spreadsheet until they looked right - may the internet be ever in their favour. What had caught your attention was something else entirely. An excited, friendly greeting, followed by a rather odd request - you would not put it beyond the author of the message to be rather bold on his asks, but considering your present plans, it was less than welcome.

>> heeyyyyy Y/nnnnn boss lady~~~ quick q, can I give your number to someone??? They're cool I promise :))))

You narrowed your eyes, rereading the notification. It would not hurt to have another networking opportunity, right? Wooyoung had never provided you with a faulty connection before, with some even having led to obtaining a new loyal client for the company, and others, like a certain Choi San, having become a reliable source of information, both in business, and in socials. But there was something almost unnatural about how he had approached the matter. First of all, he asked for your permission to send your contact, which is something that he had never done before, and you had never expected him to. Second of all, what was the promise for? Was it necessary? Since when was coolness a measure of influence that one had if all that was to come out of your communications was a new to connection on a professional site? A deep frown had etched itself onto your face as you took a screenshot of the message to send to Yunho for evaluation. An uncomfortable fuzziness occupied your head, and you could not help but want to stop thinking altogether. At least about people.

"Hey, Nari's all tucked in and dozing off... so... oh sorry, am I-" Seonghwa froze in the middle of the living room, which still bore a couple of signs of playtime chaos. He had wanted to take a seat beside you at the kitchen island that served to separate the two conjoined zones of the house’s base floor but refrained once he saw you glowering at the screen of your phone.

"No, no, I am just, uh, you know how compliance people are, email after email from them and nothing concrete." You were quick to brush off the suspicious message, wanting to feel confident that it was nothing important and was just Wooyoung being Wooyoung ‘in the best way possible’, also known as him having the spirit, but going about making good things happen in a very roundabout way. The last thing you could possibly wish for at this fragile moment at the beginning of your grand scheme was any kind of social disturbance.

“Here’s to you saying you wanted to do that back in first year!” Seonghwa chuckled and made a cheers motion with his hand in the air, manoeuvring around you to head into the kitchen.

“Yep… and now I am arguing with them basically every week, they really should learn to elaborate and explain…” you commented vaguely, choosing to not spend any longer on the peculiar message, closing the matter by tapping out a question mark and sending it to Wooyoung, followed by your trusty switch to ‘do not disturb’. You would rather have your attention on the dark-haired man next to you, who was currently appearing to look for Narnia inside of the refrigerator.

“And not email you on the weekends. That’s a crime. Milk?” he agreed and reappeared with two familiar plastic bottles, one in either hand.

“You have banana milk?” the surprise on your face was evidently clear enough for Seonghwa to be entertained, as he was motivated to continue.

“You know it. This is how dads get lit, I’ll have you know.”

“Wild and absolutely radical. How do you live like that?”

“Live fast. Here,” he passed the drink to you, pointing out the attached straw, “let’s go on the front porch, the neighbourhood is really nice at night.”

He was not lying about it being ‘nice’ - the term appearing to be a Park family favourite. In fact, it was much more than that. Perhaps picturesque or idyllic would be the right word. Sleepy houses under a blanket of a deep navy blanket, decorated with bright glittering stars, and not a cloud to remove the illusion of it being endless. Seonghwa had insisted that you wore your blazer again, while he had tugged on a zip up hoodie, insisting that this was so you would not get cold and scolding you when you initially had said that ‘it was no big deal'. Though now, you could not be more grateful for the well-meaning nagging as the chilly evening breeze caressed exposed skin, and you pulled the piece of clothing tighter around you.

When was the last time you and Seonghwa had shared a moment, any moment, alone together? Oh, that was right. You bit your lower lip, accidentally having retraced your memories. Now that you were more or less aware of his side of the story with regards to the confession, and it was easy enough to process; the opportunity was there to forget one entry in the series of misfortunes. However, prior to this final cry, there had been a build-up of occurrences in your life that had led you to grow more desperate, and, whilst you hated to admit it due to your work-pride you had cultivated, grow lonelier. And this build up was not something you would be capable of neither erasing, nor revealing any time soon. In hindsight, Seonghwa’s rejection could had been a better choice for the past you, too.

At least now, with a steadier foot on the ground as both of you began to walk your paths, you were able to enjoy their crossing. And now, as you were peering out beyond the refurbished fence gate and well taken care of greenery, you caught yourself wishing that your experiences and the years of being strangers would not weigh down so heavily on you. You had an inkling that perhaps that was why you could only register today as a billow of emotion – challenge, after challenge, and generally, not something you pondered at all. At best you thought you would just shake hands with Seonghwa, agree on terms and conditions, and be done with it. But here he was, welcoming you into his space, his life.

“This is all… a little crazy, isn’t it?” the question was a natural conclusion to your internal blur, which you physically accentuated with a particularly sharp stab of the milk’s metal film that served as a lid.

“I’ll be honest, for me this is the first ‘crazy' in a long time that isn’t about getting shots, bed times, or proving to strangers that no, I am not ‘some dude’, I am actually Nari’s father. So, if you were wondering why I even agreed in the first place... I guess part of it is that."

Seonghwa informed and lowered himself to occupy the space beside you. 'Part of it', huh. Keeping his secrets, then. The lamp above you flickered a couple of times, though upon closer inspection, with you tilting your head back and resting on your free hand, it was a small group of moths dancing around the illumination. As soon as your partner sat down, you reached out and offered to clink bottles, which he readily accepted with a shy smile.

“Wait, they do that?” after taking a sip through the tiny straw, you inquired. Seonghwa squinted, confused as to what part of the discussion you were referring to.

“What?”

“Like, strangers… asking you-”

“Ah, yeah. It has happened a couple of times. Not so much around the neighbourhood, since people know my daughter and I, but outside…” he trailed off, not knowing whether you would be interested to hear about his experience. Since you had proposed this family deal in a more business manner, he was not sure where that ended and relations that were too personal began.

“…outside?” you urged him on, eyebrows knitted, and concern growing clearer on your face by the second. 

“We went to a playground out in the centre once, by the Han river, and this one lady with a pram and a kid, about Nari’s age, right by her side decided that it would be a good idea to ask my own daughter: ‘is that really your dad?’.”

“No way…” you uttered, growing irritated at the well-meaning, but insensitive action, “Do people like that exist?”

“Yeah-”

“So, what did you answer?” you hoped that at least a sliver of university-Seonghwa had remained for that; alas, there was not a trace.

“I just left. Calmed down Nari and left.” he elaborated. What could have he done, anyways? He understood why the woman had been concerned, and it was not the question itself that had internally set him off, but the fact that she had approached his daughter to ask it.

“Fair, but I want to find that mother now and see how she is doing. Just want to talk.” you hissed, pinching some of the grain that had eroded away from the steps on which you were sitting, rolling it between your fingers before angrily flicking it away.

“Ominous.”

“Just talking.”

“You verbally throw hands, Y/N, that much I can remember.” he retorted, with an out of place fondness, not dissimilar to how one would look over a photo album and reminisce.

“Verbal cosmetic surgery, Hwa, it can be more than helpful sometimes. Though honestly she should go get her eyes checked instead if she can't see the likeness." You concluded, taking another sip and looking up at the starry night sky. Now this was something you could get used to, instead of the fine dust particles that slammed against your nearly always closed windows.

A warmth spread over Seonghwa as he listened to you. It was not the first time he had heard about Nari being a mini version of him, but the first time he wanted to ask for an elaboration. In addition to that, you had used his nickname, which he did not realise he had been missing hearing as much as he actually did. Not finding any reason to filter his amiability, he inquired into what you meant.

"What exactly?"

 "Oh, come on, it's easier to say what isn't." You retorted, feeling Seonghwa's gaze on you.

"No, really."

You were not sure why exactly he was so bent on hearing you list off random features that had stood out to you but were too tired to resist what probably was just standard father behaviour.

"Well, there's the eyes, of course." You began, imagining the two faces as if they were drawings set out in front of you.

"No way." He intentionally disagreed, biting back a cheeky grin as he saw you scowl and raise an eyebrow, still trained on something invisible ahead of you.

"Yes way!"

"How can you say when you're not even looking at me?"

"How can I say when Nari is in bed, asleep?" You shot back, finally turning to face him, almost gasping because of the intensity with which the man was openly gawking at you. The movement, however, appeared to break his boldness as he lowered his head and glanced at his Crocs - as he had explained, they were the most effective footwear to put on if one needed to pop out of the house for a short while, but you were sold when you saw the Star Wars themed decorations on both pairs which he had presented. So very Seonghwa - some things did remain.

"Fair point... but still, for reference." Barely a mumble reached your ears, but you preferred it, for the sake of your own heart. It did not overpower your strict convictions by volume.

"Right then, mister hypocrisy, the side profile of your singular sensory organ that is reactive to visible light, and your daughter's looks pretty similar if I do say so myself." You deadpanned, listing off what little you could remember from secondary school biology.

Seonghwa nearly choked on his milk, making it bubble as he snorted in response to your unexpected observation. Your hand instinctively moved to pat his back but retracted as he raised his own to show he was alright. Quickly enough the cough was replaced by a chuckle, utterly confusing you.

"Don't mean to be that person, but what's so funny?"

"Ahem, just thought of something totally tactless, don't mind me." He elaborated, mumbling.

"Okay impress me."

"No, no, it's fine."

"If it's a dad joke, I'll just give you an imaginary gold star.”

"Seems, I," he lightly punched his chest a couple of times to get the last of the fit out, "lose my breath around you." You erupted into a loud groan and demonstrative rolling of the eyes, secretly loving the phrase, and how Seonghwa's ears burned up into a bright pink.

"Damn, thanks for the warning, otherwise I would have lost my breath."

You did not think much about what you had said, considering the sentence to be innocent enough and far removed from emotional involvement, however it appeared that Seonghwa was on a roll, or lacking in oxygen as he followed up with a total breach of reason, forcing you to put physical effort into restraining yourself from destroying the plastic bottle with an untimely hand crush.

"Lost mouth to mouth opportunity...” 

"NOW MISTER PARK SEONGHWA THAT IS ILLEGAL." You squeaked, unsure of how to handle Seonghwa suddenly leaning closer to you, looking you up and down asking:

"What, conflict of interest for our little business deal?"

You were lost for words, so automatically fell back on highly effective defence tactics:

"What if someone was saying that to your daughter, hm?"

Whatever he wanted to say was lost to his dominating creativity. You observed his expression turn sour as he visualized the scene, but with Nari in the starring role. A good dad, through and through, after all.

He need not explain himself, though to reassure Seonghwa that you meant well and this was lighthearted, you gave him a quick squeeze on his lower arm. In acceptance, he covered your hand with his, keeping it there for as long as he could. It was still a challenge to process that what was happening was real, and not a vivid dream. The day was a journey through time, making him realise just how much his life had changed and took a radically different turn compared to his peers. In all honesty, he had never expected to have any ability to return even a tiny fraction of that reality, and chose to assume that with his new role as a father, he had no right to reminisce. Especially at the beginning, that was almost true - he had no time to think, let alone take steps into the past. But now, when his regrets of his past had transformed into his present opportunities, Seonghwa felt like something in him had woken up after an impossibly long hibernation. If only every tomorrow that was to come, were to be like this.

"Ahem, okay, okay. So, uh, you said eyes? What else?" He tried to return to the previous conversation, and thankfully, you were equally as eager to move on from the unexpected moment of toeing a line that had been drawn by the years and uncertainty.

"There's the nose shape... at least the baby version of it if you get what I mean."

"Definitely would be strange to have an adult nose on a kid's face, yes." Seonghwa agreed, tapping his nose a couple of times for emphasis.

"I am glad we are on the same page there."

"And, what else?"

"Eyebrows for days, oh! And your smiles. Congratulations to her for winning the genetic lottery." You wondered whether the phrase was too much, but Seonghwa's proud grin dissipated your concerns.

"I'll save that for when she is a teen so I can remind her. "

"Oh yeah... that's going to be a thing..." you mused out loud, failing to conceal a twinge of pity as you recalled your own adolescence: not particularly enjoyable for any parties involved.

"Yep. Barely out of the woods ourselves, huh?"

"Yeah... but I think you'll handle it. Of course, I don't have much data to go off, but my first impression is that you are... you are doing a good job, Hwa." 

"Thanks... though, Y/N... can I be frank?"

"Yeah, Frank and Frederick and Ferdinand." Mainly for the sake of lightening the mood, you threw out the random garble.

"I am winging it so hard it is unbelievable. And unacceptable."

A regular occurrence for everyone - for as long as one is alive, they continue to learn, absorb the world and patterns around them until they create what is called an identity, and then keep growing the embellishments. Simultaneously, Seonghwa sounded anxious, possibly wishing that he was a parenting pro from the get-go. As someone who had to reevaluate all priorities and step into a caring role, it was an unfortunate side effect of doing things objectively right, to feel as though the best, the real way to address one's kid's needs was always just out of reach.

"Same."

It was a struggle to fully relate, but that did not mean that you would stop trying, if at least for your own benefit. With all your might you tried to conjure an analogy, but the only thing to come close was standard perfectionism and religiously abiding by deadlines. Enough to say 'same'.

"Would have never guessed that was the case." Seonghwa, ever so supportive, despite the fact that you were, unknowingly making him regretful of his sudden career change. 

You seemed to be doing well enough, and if the few years of intensive corporate grind had not made your drive and opportunity-seeking nature fizzle out, then combining family and a better paid and degree-based job would not be a problem. Some kindergartens he had considered had extended hours on offer for kids of working parents, with pickup times being later after work; had he gone down that route, he would not be suffering the judgmental gazes of the other kids’ mothers who likely assumed the was an unemployed leech. Admittedly, he had felt a certain level of satisfaction when observing the stunned crowd as your very obviously expensive car rolled into the parking lot to pick up Nari from the activity centre, especially since many of the kids, and thus the parents, were connected to the same school.

He wondered how quickly would rumours spread, and could already imagine himself wearing a satisfied grin as he… technically he could not say anything, could he? Since this was all an elaborate plan and would be over at some point? Well then, he would just have to remain mysterious and let the gaggle come to their own interpretations after seeing an attractive young woman step out from the driver’s side, stylishly dressed in Forbes-chique, and carrying herself like you knew what the future held. In other words, you could threaten them, with a confidence which he could not find within himself.

"Same. You are a natural." You returned the kind words, wishing that it was not such a hard feat for you to do. Conveying numerical fact and artistic white lies was easy enough, but sourcing feelings from the bottom of your heart… problematic.

"If only I felt that way too..."

"Then maybe you would be less careful and therefore less of an amazing dad. It kind of reminds me of the interns at work - the more confident they are, the more likely they are to commit an error." You gave Seonghwa a light pat on his upper arm as you attempted, in your own special say, to comfort him.

"Are you saying people should have low confidence and self-esteem?"

"No, what I am saying is that unshakeable confidence that is beneficial to a person is one that is built through experience. Many, many years of it. I bet you know the car thing." Anything to make the topic relatable to you; you were searching once more for any way to remove yourself from the concept of family, make it more 'user friendly', but this only served to add to the confusion.

"Car thing?”

"You know, the whole thing about some of the most reckless drivers being those who already have a license, have driven just enough to think they are the shit - so like, one or two years, and then... get to experience the joys of insurance, in the best-case scenario."

"Hah, noted. So, basically, stay alert."

"Guess so, but with a kid a lot of it is just a constant learning journey, isn't it?"

"Yep, just people constantly figuring things out. From fees to Nari suddenly not liking a food she was obsessed with for a year to her wanting to try doing something independently when we are running late..."

"You have the patience of a saint, Hwa."

"Job requirement, no?"

"I wish it was."

Silence fell over the two of you as you let the phrase slip. Seonghwa was not sure about how to respond, and you were not sure how to change the topic of conversation without making it sound too jarring.

It was obvious that your mind had gone elsewhere, miles, or perhaps it was more correct to say decades, from the conversation. You were looking inwards, searching for something, trying to clamber up your barriers. But it appeared to be a fruitless venture, as you repeatedly tried to start a sentence, words on the tip of your tongue, only for it to go dry and sabotage you at the last second. This turn of the discussion had striken a dissonant chord with you. Even though Seonghwa would not dare begin to guess why, he knew that it was essential he lightened the mood. It just felt right.

"Then you would be walking on thin ice, Y/N." He leaned over and whispered into your ear, beaming.

"Hey! I'll have you know I am a professional!"

"Yeah, yeah... sure. I have no doubt your market forecasting capabilities."

"Backhanded, but I'll take the compliment... you're right, not with kids." You huffed and took one final slurp of your drink. Compared to your relative optimism a couple of days ago, you could only perceive yourself as a trainwreck.

"I am only joking though, I think you have some talent. You say that but at the same time, Nari really took to you. I can see it. What we have to work on is you not getting jump-scared by everything she does and relax. We will help each other. We're husband and wife after all."

The phrase made you freeze in place. Right. That was exactly what you had signed up for. That title so you could flex it in front of your colleagues, and most importantly your bosses so that you would have a shot at bigger money, bigger dreams. Was this fair on Nari? Was this fair on Seonghwa?

You hummed in half-hearted agreement, tuning into the atmosphere surrounding you and Seonghwa. A myriad of questions glimmering above you like the stars dotting the sky. Constellations of misconceptions and miscommunications that were yet to be put right, or learned to be ignored for the better of you both. As you felt the presence beside you lean forward and sigh, breath abandoned to an infinite expanse of anxieties and hushed ruminations, a morbid curiosity began to plague you. Was it too late to do anything? What was it that you were actually trying to achieve here? Was a promotion the result, or the pretense? You rubbed your temples, with your inner wrists, disconcerted by the audacity which your inner conscious seemed to have. If you had said: goal, it meant goal. Funny how you needed to remind yourself of it, even if you had deemed it so important.

After a few more minutes of staring out into the dark, in silence that was filled only by the rustling of the tree leaves, you felt that it was time to leave, if you wanted to remain level-headed and prepared for an interrogation from Yunho. With a stretch, you pushed yourself off the steps and wobbled into a standing position, much to Seonghwa's surprise. Though that did not last long, and his face relaxed in recognition. Turning back, you were about to pick up the empty bottle, but he quickly intercepted, not giving you as much as a chance, only mumbling 'I've got it, don't worry' on repeat.

"But I feel like I have not done anything to help you today?"

"There will be tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. Don't worry, if you want your hands full, I can organise that pretty fast."

"No doubts about that. Once events coordinator, always events coordinator, right?"

"Absolutely. And organising a bunch of frat bros is a very good parent prep experience, I’ll tell you that one for free."

"Welp, I hope I won't be as much trouble..."

"I'm not too worried for the beginning, it's once you get comfortable..."

"Right, okay, same rule applies to me then: stay alert."

"In a meerkat fashion." With astonishing speed, Seonghwa rocked forwards and stood up beside you, running a hand through his locks to smooth them down after being rashly disheveled. Then to imitate the furry animal, he bent his arms at the elbow and wrist, earning an amused chuckle from you, along with a grin which you hid behind a closed hand, with a knuckle pressed to your lips.

“And to think you’re a grown man with a kid.”

“To be a good parent, you need to be a little bit like a kid, Y/N. Not through and through, but a smidgen is enough.” When you did not answer, he added more encouragement, hoping that his promises were significant enough to leave a positive effect on you.

Seonghwa would not want to admit it to you just yet, seeing how you were still adamant on abiding by business restrictions, albeit loosely, but throughout the day, he was hesitant to treat your appearance as something temporary. Ignoring time restrictions, he had indulged in fantasies of ‘what could be’ if you were to stay even for just a bit longer. But that was only natural to do after meeting someone from the past, right? To add, he did not want to regret his decision to introduce you to Nari, and Nari to you. If you two were to bond, and then you would take your leave… Seonghwa would never be able to forgive himself for letting you into the little circle he called family. The signs were already there, of his daughter quickly warming up to you, and it was only a matter of time until the point of no return would be reached.

You had heard of the notion that Seonghwa was explaining to you before this – to understand a child you needed to have an ability to tap into an inner child, a healthy, happy and nurtured one, that was. That was where your comprehension stopped, and you had previously ceased to bother. But now, as you were about to part with today and step into tomorrow as a changed woman, you guessed that this might be something worth learning. So long as you could sustain the belief that this was for a role than a calling.

“Right, so, um… I better get going… it’s getting kind of late…” you cleared your throat and announced, stumbling over your words slightly as Seonghwa would not take his eyes off you, following all your gesticulations and reading nuance.

“You sure? I can organise something for you here, so you don’t have to travel. I’d be more than happy to.”

“See, I have this thing tomorrow, and um, before that need to, you know, do some human things and uh, change and stuff…” your rambling did little to make you appear convincing, but Seonghwa was kind enough to not inquire further – you were sure that if he did, you would have cracked. When it came to him, you had always struggled to make up excuses and fables, even if sometimes that could have saved both of you from hurt.

“Okay.” What was new in your dynamic was how accepting and empathic Seonghwa had become. Or who knew, maybe he had always been that way, but in university had tried to hide himself away in the effort to appear ‘cool’.

In a spur of guilt as you followed Seonghwa back into the house to fetch your shoes, you spontaneously offered to drive him and his daughter to kindergarten on Monday morning. You could see the young man hiding his reaction from you by appearing busy.

“And what makes you think we couldn’t find a place in the local one?”

“Because the activity centre was hell knows where?”

“Fair point. And you’re right, kindergarten is equally far, so I’ll gladly take you up on that offer.” He agreed, and provided you the details of timings, and promised to send you the address.

Fumbling for a way to say goodbye, Seonghwa and you stood on either side of the doorframe, knowing that this should not be as hard as you were making it out to be. It was only once you recalled the message you had received sometime earlier that you quickly made your exit, acutely aware of his gaze trailing your journey away from the front porch to the fence, and disappearing behind the bushes. For some time after, he remained in the same place, letting himself come down from the paradise he had invented as slowly as he could, to return to functioning as a single, independent unit, at least until the dangerous play pretend were to continue on the early Monday morning.

Heart beating wildly, you crashed into the front seat of your car and sank deep until you were half lying down and able to look up at the sky. Not that the action helped distract you. Your mind was struggling to process why you were so on edge, and you desperately wanted to replace the sensation with the usual emotional numbness you associated with the concept of familial closeness. What was happening to you? You reached for your phone again, switching the mode back to see more texts flooding in both from your best friend and from Wooyoung. And the implied meaning of messages from the latter were everything but what you needed.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Fools who dream #Writer Wednesday 07/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape that creates the masterlist every week. Thank you for the amazing work to both of you!!

Paring: Javier Peña xf!reader (addressed as you/she)

Summary: Long time ago, Javier met a girl full of dreams living a hard life. One day, driving around town he finds out that maybe, dreams do come true.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, +18 SMUT not very descriptive sex but it’s there, allutions to prostitution.

A/N: This is the lovechild of: me being angsty, listening to Lalaland’s soundtrack, and rereading a novella I wrote a long time ago about an escort girl that I was planning to rewrite (I thought that it could be an interesting Javi’s fic, but I don’t know). So to conclude: a mess, voilá! bear in mind, there’s mention of sexwork and we respect sexworkers in this house.

Sorry for any mistakes and bad grammar!!

Fools who dream

She turns and faces the camera, they make a dramatic zoom on her while the orquestra rises in a beautiful romantic crescendo. With pink parted lips she smiles at the protagonist, her eyes glow and shyly she lowers her gaze.

Back to the male lead he’s looking at her like there’s nobody else in the room, the camera blurs everything except his face and hers. Love, romance.

The movie was not really interesting until the moment she appeared. Same old story about a guy in search of that perfect girl, his life is miserable; making him fall into very comedic and not very surprising adventures and misfortunes on a very normal life up until she appears and then she shows him the meaning of life and live life to the fullest or some bullshit.

Javi didn’t pay a ticket for a good story, fuck he didn’t even read the plot before buying it. But he saw the sign while he was waiting at the traffic light, the local drive-in cinema and its yellow lights against the night presenting:

The right one (or something like that) starring some guy and then her name.

So he drove in and asked for a ticket, probably looking a bit weird being just a guy alone buying just one ticket to a romantic comedy surrounded by couples. It looks fucking sad, Peña he thought. But he has to see her, he has to see if it is true.

“Hi”

she says on the screen and it takes him away from his thoughts. Hearing that voice again after many years hits him so differently. To think that those sweet lips moaned and called his name pressed against his skin, so close that he can almost feel the heat of her body on him in his cold lonely car.

The guy smiles at her and makes a fool of himself gaining a sweet giggle from her. And it reminds him of the times she danced in his apartment or made fun of him for being such a grump.

Deja de fruncir el ceño, Javi, que se te va a quedar así (Stop frowning, Javi, or it’s gonna stay like that) she used to say, brushing her index finger over her nose giggling just like now in the movie.

She said something back, but he’s not listening. Javier just puts the words he remembers she said to him on her lips. A fantasy within a fantasy.

What is more real? those intimate moments years ago or him watching her on a movie alone in his car?

He has lost the plot, but who cares? She laughs and pushes the protagonist's hand to the empty streets of New York and the lights shine on them, and as the world perfectly bends to lovers in movies, it starts raining and she receives the drops with open arms and a wide grin. And they kiss, a perfect one, soft lips over the other. Nothing like the kisses they shared

Their kisses were hungry, knowing that they were borrowed and paid in time, rushed sometimes, others slowly and messy pouring all the heat and the pain and the adrenaline in which he lived in those years.

Now he wishes he could have kissed her once last time, just like that, softly, the world far away from them. Perfect just like a movie.

The audience claps rejoicing in this celebration of love, some young couples are celebrating love in some different kind of way, the movie merely an excuse to have some time alone under the stars.

And Javier is suddenly aware of his loneliness of the empty space by his side, he’s the antonym of what he’s seeing on screen, of having the luck of finding the one and being delighted in love.

He could’ve been in love, once. He certainly felt something growing and shattering the hard shield he had on his chest when they were together.

And now watching her mimic those feelings, those desires, he feels jealous, of what? he doesn’t know, it’s not like they had a chance...did they?

Colombia, 1984

“You’re going to laugh” you say the fan above your head blows waves of hot air that still smell of sex and the cigarette Javi’s smoking languidly over the window.

He has barely put his jeans on, the zip and top button undone. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes are way more visible today than ever. You can even see the weight on his shoulders, he’s hunching, his neck curved down as he smokes.

He doesn’t say but you know there’s something bothering him, he’s quieter than usual, rougher.

He called you late in the evening, paid a taxi to get you to his house and you barely made it to the door when he grabbed you by your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kiss was ardent, his tongue invading your mouth in a mix of coffee, whiskey and smoke and need. You tried to push him and talk, just maybe say hello how was your day but he whimpered, he’s dark eyes pleading while he caressed your cheeks. And you let him, you know what he needed so you said nothing when he impatiently fisted your skirt up your navel and pushed your panties to the side so he could bury himself in you.

Covered in the dim lights of the scarce traffic in the middle of the night, silent apart from the rhythmic thumps of your hips hitting the door and both of your whispers and moans, Javier performed his usual rite of expelling his demons away on you. Each thrust, each second he was in you, the world became nothing, just white noise, there was only you and the primal need of achieving pleasure skin against skin.

Your soft voice, those sweet lips gasping brushing against his ear, he thinks it’s the only time he likes to hear his name being called or actually being aware of himself. With you there’s no Javier running to and from monsters and there’s no brutality or violence.

There’s only your soft hands locked on his neck, fingers curled in his hair and when you smile at him, eyes up the sky, lost in pleasure, he feels good and the world seems a little bit better.

“I even didn’t offer some water before…” he said after he recovers his breath still inside you

“I’ve never had a warmer welcome in my life, Javi, it’s alright” you laugh with legs trembling

“Still” he kissed your wrists and held you close, walking slowly towards the bedroom.

You barely made some small talk before his eyes grew darker, lost in something that chokes him, and he quietly covers you with his big body

“I just need to make love to you...please” he said with his forehead on yours. And here you are, body exhausted and numb, cooling the sweat with the sweet waves of air from the fan.

“I won’t laugh at you” he answers resuming the conversation, you were lost in your thoughts but when you look at him, you see he watches you intently and you believe him

“I mean it’s so cliche how I ended up doing this...it’s ridiculous” you shake your head

None of your clients has ever asked you about how you ended up doing this. None of them are really interested in you anyway, they prefer a fantasy, a character. But not Javi, and that scares you. He sees right through you.

“I wanted to get out of my small town, I had big dreams, big plans” you smile “I came to the city and I tried and tried to succeed but...well, long story short, a friend proposed it once and the money was too tempting”

“What did you want to do in the first place?” Javi approaches the bed. His skin shines against the moonlight, his disheveled hair makes him looks younger

“Now you’re going to really laugh” you cover your face with one of his pillows

“C’mon tell me” he smirks squeezing your tight

“I wanted to be an actress, do novelas, films, everything” you shyly confess. For a moment, you don’t look at him, expecting him to chuckle at your stupid little dream, but seconds pass and he doesn’t

“ I think you could do it” Javi’s hands draw small circle over you hip bones

“You think?” you bite your lip

“I do” he shifts position, resting his back on the bed and you open your legs so he can rest his head over your belly “Would you send me a dedicated picture once you made it?” you brush his hair out of his face and you see he’s smiling

“Of course, To my very first fan, who always believed in me” you wave your hand over the imaginary paper “And a kiss just under it”

“Would frame it and put it in my office...nah” he shakes his head “I put it right here” he motions towards the nightstand “I don’t want my colleagues greasy hands over my picture”you laugh out loud at his comment

“Sure, so you can dream about me” you joke stealing his cigarette and smoking a long drag

Present day

You don’t know how many times he has dreamt about you.

How many times that stupid movie has played in his house late at night, he bought it, foolish at it may seem, he has rewatch every frame, stopping to admire you.

You look happy now, your sweet eyes shine more and he’s happy, really is, that you have made it, but deep down, he wonders, as much as it makes he’s heart ache, Do you think about him? surely you don’t.

Probably you left that part of your life buried somewhere in Colombia. You changed your name, your past, everything, how could you think about him?

You’re probably living your best life, full of glamour, opportunities opening just in front of your eyes. How could you remember him?

You don’t (surely) so he has to content himself with the fiction. He replays that scene where you turn to the camera, smiling

Hi

and just for a second, he thinks, he dreams, it’s for him.

[yandere-ac]

Apollo

Birdcage

Warnings: Swearing, possessive and controlling behavior, reader is cheesy and lame.

I may have gone a little overboard whilst making the banter between Apollo and the reader. But I do want to have a little bit of variety when it comes to Y/N. They can’t always be the same so I think making them an adorable smartass made this a lot more enjoyable. With that in mind, please enjoy (and I’m sorry that it took so long)

Alone, that’s What the bald eagle had been for a large part of his life. It’s not that he didn’t have friends or something. It’s just that most of the time, or at least nowadays. He’d prefer to be on his own. Sure, every once in a while he’d go out and interact with the world outside. But mostly, he’d prefer to sit alone by the beach or by himself at a cliff side. Because of his scary demeanor, not a lot of people approached him, but that was fine with Apollo. He didn’t exactly put in effort in getting to know people so why should he expect them to put in effort with him.

It was an ordinary day, Apollo was standing by his garden, reading a book about how to take care of his many different specimens of flowers. When he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him. Turning around to look at whoever ran up to him, he let out a barely audible exhausted sigh. It was you. You had certainty been very stubbier during these past days. Every now and again, you would walk up to him and try to talk. At first he payed no mind to it, but it had started to get a little annoying. He didn’t understand you, you were only wasting your time trying to befriend him. There were so many other villagers that you could spend your time with, so why would you take the time out of your day to talk with him? An old eagle who never even really engaged much with your conversations.

Although, as much as he hates to admit it, he found your determination kind of endearing. It don’t make it any less annoying, but at minimum he found it cute how you thought you could break through to him. He had made it clear to you that he didn’t want to become closer to you, yet you kept returning to him. If it were him he’d have given up by now. But I guess that’s the difference between you two.

This time you had started talking about your day, about all the different people you had interacted with, any fossils you had dug up and your plans for the island. When you asked him about these things he’d simply reply with: “the usual” and nothing more. This is how most of your interactions had gone. Short and sweet, or at least on his part. But this time, you had done something new. You had given him a present. It was wrapped with a light blue paper and bound together with a dark blue ribbon. It looked awfully adorable and Apollo already knew he wasn’t gonna like it. Or well, so he thought. As he opened the present he was surprised to find an aran-knit sweater and a student cap, both in the lovely shade of black. These clothing were...they were simply great. He really liked the combination. But he hated the fact that he liked the gift. But, he was an up front eagle, if he liked something, he’d thank the person giving it to him.

“...thanks puh” he said, giving you a small pat on the shoulder. As he did this your eyes lit up and he could see a goofy smile form on your lips...god dam it. He could feel something arise in him, a warm sort of feeling. Even if he hated to admit it, you were starting to grow on him. Apollo had some problems, especially when it came to stepping out of his comfort zone. Everyone saw him as a stoic and scary person so he never tried to be anything but that. But, seeing you smile like that, running off with glee. It made him feel...something? He wasn’t sure what, he told himself that it was pride, pride for being able to make someone smile like that. But he knew himself that it wasn’t that simple. He would have to keep an eye on you.

A couple of weeks later he woke up with some new letters, most of them were ordinary, just some letters from Nook inc and happy home designer. But then he got to the last letter of the pile. It was from you. As he opened it up he felt himself become skittish. Curiosity started to arise inside of him, this had been the first time you had written him a letter. Sure, talking with him was one thing but writing him a letter? You don’t just nonchalantly write someone a letter. It could be about nonchalant stuff, but for you to have sent this to him, you’d have to go through a lot of unnecessary work instead of just talking to him.

“Dear Apollo, Hello!” Great start.

“I wanted to write this letter to let ya know about the concert that’s gonna be held on our island. You never really talk to a lot of people so I just wanted to make sure you knew of it.” Ah yes, the concert. The one and only K.K. Slider was going to preform. It hadn’t been easy to get him to come, the island had to have a 3 star rating. Of course, you had been the only one to actually help with getting the rating up, but Apollo did contribute a little bit. While you had been running around, crediting outdoor furniture. Apollo had been tending to his garden, one time you had come up to him and asked where he bought all his flowers. He of course told you and sure enough, a couple days later he had found a bunch of new flowers growing on the island. You had good taste in flowers, he had to give you that. He’d started to dig up some of the flowers just to be able to inspect you whilst you planted new ones. He found you very fascinating. Your careless nature made him believe that you would t be able to handle growing flowers. But you were surprising delicate when handling the beautiful plants.

“It’s on Wednesday, I hope to see you there! Yours truly, Y/N”

Hmm, intriguing. For whatever reason, Apollo had found himself reading the letter, over and over again. Something about it, the handwriting, the wording, even the faint smell of what appeared to be some sort of herb. It was driving him nuts, he couldn’t figure out what about the letter that made him feel so strange. “Yours truly” what a formal way of ending a letter. Elegance he hadn’t expected from you. Yours truly, that was the part that he reread the most. Well, that does it. he’d made up his mind. At first he doubted if he would even go to the concert, but now he’s certain he’ll go.

Wednesday had arrived. The whole day Apollo had been strangely excited. It was gonna be nice to hear some tunes from Slider, he actually liked his music more than he’d like to admit. So really, getting an opportunity to hear some of his other stuff was gonna be nice. K.K. Slider had appeared at dusk, although he took some time unpacking his stuff. By this point, everyone had gathered around the plaza. Everyone but him. He was standing a bit away, inspecting what was happening. He hadn’t seen you at the plaza, which is what confused him. Wouldn’t you be there? You were the one who had worked so hard to get him here?

He pondered going back, but his thoughts were interrupted by someone laying a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he was reviled to find that it was just you. Not that he wouldn’t be able to take down potential threats, but it was much nicer to find a small human instead of a potential danger. You were wearing very casual clothing, a pair of shorts and a flowy Hawaiian shirt. Everything about you said “relaxed”. From your clothes to your posture to your chill smile. “Whoops, haha. Sorry if I scared you Apollo, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that” you had said, a slight smirk creeping onto your mouth. Apollo quickly puffed up, returning to his normal state.

“Don’t flatter yourself kiddo. You couldn’t scare me if you tried” Apollo said, looking at you. In response you pulled your hand up to your chest and let out an exaggerated gasp. “Kiddo? I’ll have you know I’m an adult, my good sir!” Your tone was very playful as the previous smirk had turned into a full-blown smile. Apollo could feel the corners of his lips twitched slightly as you did this action. It was very childish, but it was kinda charming. “Really? You could have fooled me, puh. You’re very short” he retorted back, letting out an amused chuckle. This made you quirk and eyebrow, shit-eating grin still very persistent on your face. “Ha! You’re smiling! I got the oh so stoic Apollo to smile! admit it, you like me” You said as you wiggled you’re eyebrows as you scotched closer to him. Apollo rolled his eyes, his smile still remaining. “Tsk, at most I tolerate you” As he said this, he ruffled your hair. You pushed his hand away as you gave him an annoyed look. “Ach! Not the hair! You know how long it took to make it look this nice?” You took some time to fix your hair, but the damage was already done.

“Should we go to the plaza?” Apollo asked you. “Pff, nah. Let’s just stand around here like a bunch’a schmucks” you said as you grabbed a hold of his arm. “Come on!” Apollo let out a dissatisfied grunt as you pulled him along to the concert.

The concert started with a song called “Welcome Horizons”. While it wasn’t exactly Apollo’s favorite type of music, it was a cute little tune. However, in the middle of the song he could feel you gently grab his hand. It surprised him as he hadn’t really payed any attention and hadn’t expected you to do that. When he made eye contact with you he could see the small panic in your eyes. Your face flushed red and you hastily pulled your hand away. You turned your head away from him out of embarrassment, not daring to look in his eyes. Apollo felt a gentle smile bracing his lips, how cute. This time, it was his turn to be persistent. And so, without a word, he took your hand in his. He felt your entire body jolt at the contact but soon you relaxed into the grip, even beginning to stroke his feathers with your thumb.

After that, the concert continued. People requested songs and for the most part, you and Apollo stayed close as the music played. After a while K.K. looked at Apollo and asked him for requests. To which Apollo happily replied with “K.K. Rock”. All in all, the evening went swimmingly. After an hour or two, everyone departed. You and Apollo walked home together, talking about your favorite songs and such. As you got to his house you stopped him.

“Wait, Apollo. Would you like to, I don’t know. Hang out for a little bit? We could go to the beach if you want-OH! There’s this tree growing at the top of a mountain, and it’s growing these great apples that are soooo good! Like they’re really sweet but at the same time kinda sour. Of course we’ll need a latter to get up, unless you can fly. Which by the way, can you fly? It’s been on my mind since like...forever-“

“Y/N” Apollo disrupted your big speech, feeling like his nonexistent ears were gonna fall off. Realizing that you had babbled your face turned scarlet. This made Apollo chortle, if it had been anyone else he would have found it annoying. But when you did it, it was quite endearing. “I guess I should start calling you blathers now eh?” He quipped, wrapping a wing around your shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”

In the end, you two had decided to go for a walk around the island. It had been very pleasant, the two of you were talking about life. And that included Apollo, while he didn’t tell you everything, he actually engaged in the conversation. Soon the sky had turned dark and you followed him home.

“I had a lovely time Apollo. Thanks for hanging out with me” you said as a cold wind swept through the area. “Are you cold, puh?” He had asked you. “Hmm? Oh, yeah kinda. I probably should have taken a jacket with me huh?” You said as you gave him a sheepish smirk. “Why don’t you come in for a while? I can make some coffee and you could continue to tell me about how you broke your arm when you were younger?” Apollo had suggested. He’d tried to be slick, but to you it was very obvious that he wanted to continue talking. “I’d love to”

The next morning, you had woken up to the feeling of sunshine on your face. It had leaked through the blinds of Apollo’s bedroom and you let out a couple of dissatisfied groans as you slowly rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Grumbling to yourself you tried to get up. Only to have yourself pulled down towards the bed once again. You looked back to see Apollo, wrapping his big arms around your waist. He too let out a grumble as he buried his beak into your neck, brushing his feathers against your soft skin. You let out a soft sigh as you smiled. “Good morning handsome, slept well?” In response to this, Apollo simply hummed a little to confirm it. “Hey? Since we’re...ya know...could could I call you Polly? Get it? It’s like a play on your name but also the classic parrot name? Do you get it? I’m so hilarious” Apollo simply dragged his wing over your face sluggishly, as to find an off switch.

The two of you laid there, talking to each other for a couple of minutes. Soon you started to wriggle out of his grip. Apollo wasn’t having it and pulled you closer to his body. “Hey, Apollo. I have to get up, I still have my duties as island representative. We can still hang out later” You once again tried to get out of the birds grasp. “No” Apollo had said sternly. Now his grip on you became even tighter. “How about this, I can stay for breakfast. But then I have to leave. However, once I’m done with all my tasks, we can hang out. Maybe go on a real date? If you’d like” you tried to bargain. But your words fell on deaf ears. “You’re not leaving me Y/N” now he was starting to push you of.

“Hey! I have a life outside you know. You can’t just ignore me for months and then turn around in a couple of days like we’ve been together for weeks! I’m gonna go, you’re not gonna stop me” this time you didn’t wiggle it move gently. You shoved him away from you and stood up from the bed. But he responded with the same level of aggression. Just as you rose up you felt something attach itself you your ankle, it was one of Apollo’s claws. Before you could think, he stopped the sharp talons upwards, effectively tripping you up and made you land on your face. “OW! APOLLO WHAT THE FU-“ “I SAID YOU AREN’T LEAVING! AND THAT’S FINAL!” Apollo had now raised his voice. Making you coward in under his gaze. After a few seconds, Apollo’s eyes softened. He let out a low sigh as he once again pulled you into his arms.

“Look what you made me do, I didn’t want to shout. But you gave me no choice, puh. Let’s just continue to rest for a while now” Apollo pulled you both down, he began softly stroking your arm whilst he preened your hair. At this point your heart was beating faster then the speed of light, you felt so powerless. Apollo was much bigger than you, was much stronger than you, plus he had those sharp claws and beak. You felt trapped in his arms.

Like a bird in a birdcage

[seapandora]

Commemoration｜ One-shot

Steve x female!Reader

A/N: This set out to be a fic losly based on the song Daddy Issues, but it just didn’t really fit in or work out so this is a different story than the one I had planned. However, it discusses heavy objects so if you are triggered by any of the warnisng please don’t feel like you have to read it, or if you decide to, please be careful. Enjoy! Please reblog and like if you liked this short one-shot. GIF-cred to owner.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death of parents (hints of suicide), mentions of war and death, sad, fluff, (please feel free to tell me if I missed any)

Summary: Y/N and Steve are so unlike each other. He´s a superhero, she´s the neighbourhood librarian. One thing they have in common is the loss of their fathers before either of them were born, maybe they can connect over that.

Words: 1904

~Keep reading~

The library was Steves´ newest favorite place. He had been reading up on history and also the big reads of the 1900s. Mostly he just borrowed the books and took them back home, but sometimes he would take his due time and sit in the library and read.

It wasn’t a huge library, just one floor with cramped sections of books. One of the best things had to be the little coffee machine that had been installed a few weeks ago. When it came in Steve had decided to spend more time in the library instead of at home.

The cute librarian made it easier to stay as well. She was silent, but always happy to help him to a new book or new genre. Her latest recommendation had been Lord Of The Rings, a series he had already read. However, he had humored her and reread it considering she talked about the books with so much passion and love.

Steve was the only one of the former avengers who had found the library, or at least he hoped so. It was his little corner of the world. This particular Monday morning had been hard. He had been reading some letters his father had sent to his mother during world war 1.

His father had died before his birth, and Steve was sad that he had never gotten to meet the man, and he kept wondering how different his life would be if he had. His mother had done well raising him on her own but he had often noticed how she would read the letters he had held this morning.

He kept his eye on the librarian the whole morning, which was crazy. He didn’t even know her name, but the way she rearranged her books and cleaned up the sections was a welcomed habit to watch. It was consistent. Steve felt comfort in it is the same movement every time he came to visit.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice the man who had been visiting her library in the past few months. No one could miss him. He towered over most people and could barely fit through the old door that leads into the little library. He also happened to be a famous super-soldier, one of two, so it was hard to miss him.

She hadn´t said much to him. The usual hello every time he came by, asking if he wanted coffee or help to pick a new book, but she had never actually introduced herself, and he hadn´t asked her about herself either.

Steve wasn’t usually a very observant person. Bucky would claim he was the most oblivious man he knew, but Steve wouldn’t take it that far. Especially not when it came to people he had come to care about. The librarian was one of them. She was looking quite down this Monday, and instead of her normally let down hair she had it in a messy bun and she was wearing headphones, which was very much out of character for her.

He frowned at her behavior and, against his better judgment, decided to walk up to her. He tapped her on the shoulder gently as to not scare her, which failed, resulting in Y/N jumping a bit and dropping the books she had in her arms. “I��m so sorry,” Steve quickly said and began to pick up the books.

Y/N had pulled off her headphones and looked fairly irritated with being scared, which Steve could understand. “I didn´t mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure you´re alright. I mean, you know I´ve been coming here for a few weeks, but I´ve never seen you with headphones, you usually hum for yourself” he explained and reached up rubbing the back of his neck.

She stared at him for a bit before she sighed and began to pick the books from his arm to place them where she wanted them. “That’s very observant, borderline creepy. But yeah no. Today is not really a good day. It´s an annual thing,” she explained and pushed some books in one of the shelves to make space for three of the smaller books Steve held.

Steve nodded understandingly and made sure he kept some space between the two. “Well, hey, if you need anyone to talk to, I… well I can volunteer,” he said and gave her a small smile. Having been friends with Sam for a while, he had learned a few things about supporting others.

Sam had the shield now and Steve had taken over Sams support groups. He could do more help there than with the team anyways. Y/N frowned but bit her lower lip. She used to go to regular therapy sessions but she hadn´t been in a while considering her library had taken up so much of her time.

“I… I´d like that. I´m closing down in half an hour to go get some lunch, there's a good salad bar just a block from here,” she explained and picked the last book from Steves´ arms to get it onto a shelf. He nodded as a reply and smiled, not having thought she would agree to talk to him.

Half an hour later Steve met up with Y/N outside the library which she locked up before she slowly began to walk towards the salad bar. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked beside the supersoldier. “I´m Y/N by the way,” she said with a small smile figuring they should at least be introduced before she spilled her story.

Steve smiled and introduced himself as well. Y/N smiled knowingly and nodded. “I know, being Brooklyn born and raised, you're the ultimate hero,” she said and laughed softly. After all, Steve was the reason for a lot of things in Y/N´s life, whether he knew it or not.

The salad bar was almost empty as they entered through the simple diner door and walked over to the disk. Y/N ordered her usual chicken Ceasar salad and waited for Steve to choose something as she got her wallet. “My treat,” she said and got them some utensils and napkins as well as a glass of water for herself.

Steve also grabbed a glass of water and followed Y/N over to a table where he sat down in silence. Although he had taken over Sams job he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to have a one-on-one type of session. Y/N sat down in front of him and looked at him for a while.

“Today is the 19th, this day 28 years ago my father was killed in Bosnia in the war,” she said softly and looked down at her hands. “I wasn’t born and it took a lot out of my mother. She… she never moved on and two years ago she...,” Y/N swallowed and took a deep but very shaky breath.

She didn’t have to say the words for Steve to understand. He reached over and took her hand. “Hey it´s okay, you´re here, you´re safe.” He said softly trying to make her feel like she was in a safe company and that she could talk freely. Y/N smiled at him, well the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

“I lost my father before I was born too and I lost my mother when I was 18. It´s very hard, and it doesn’t really get better, but we keep fighting. We keep fighting because the option is to stop everything.” He said softly and stroke the back of Y/N´s hand. She nodded and reached up with her free hand to wipe away some tears.

It had been long since she spoke so freely with, well with anyone. She had her library, she didn’t have friends or any other family. “My parents met in the library so once I learned it wasn’t doing too well I bought it. I´ve been filling it with my favorite stories ever since.” She said and sighed softly.

“It´s sort of my way to honor my parents,” she continued and tugged at the sleeves of her shirt. “You´ve done something extraordinary with that place Y/N. I don’t really like to leave my house much. People still consider me Captain America even if we have a better one now. But your library is just a piece of the world where I can be myself and where I don’t have to hide. I´ve also seen some families come in regularly and the kids light up every time.” He said and slowly released Y/N´s hand.

Y/N looked up at Steve and smiled softly. She could feel her face heat up quite a bit. “I have special deals with military families. Most people only get to check out two books at once but being able to escape from the world can be so important to kids who miss a parent and I instead allow them to check out as many books as they like. I also keep book circles for them. That way they can meet others in the same situation,” she said and leaned back as the owner of the salad bar came out with their salads.

Forty-five minutes later Steve and Y/N were back at the library. She sighed as realized she had a lot to do, she also had some paperwork to file and sign off on. Three or more deliveries were arriving in the coming week and she was behind on her chores in the little library.

“Do you work all alone here?” Steve asked as he looked around. It wasn’t big at all, just a few sections, mostly kids' books and fantasy books with a small seating area. The reception was pushed as far into a corner as one could possibly imagine and it was overfilled with paperwork and books that needed to be tagged or taken out into the library and placed on shelves.

Y/N shrugged. “yes, but it isn´t very big. It’s the area you see here and a ten square-foot room in the back with empty boxes and such, mostly storage and dust. It looks a bit like a mess now, but I´m so behind on making all the payments and stuff and around this time of the year I can only do so much,” she sighed and shook her head at her own behavior. Normally she was a very clean and organized person.

Steve looked around once more as he thought for a few seconds. “Would you be cool with me helping out a bit? I only do the VA-meetings twice a week and I have a lot of free time on my hands, plus I really like being here,” he said and looked over to Y/N with a smile. “I´d love the help, but I´m not sure I´d be able to pay you. It isn't exactly a lucrative business, running a library.” She frowned and pulled a face.

He shook his head. “I volunteer, please, it would be a pleasure to help you out here,” he said and walked over to her. “Plus then I wouldn’t feel so bad about drinking so much of the coffee either,” he added with a smirk.

Y/N smiled and nodded. Maybe this was the universe telling her to get some help and not having to go through her emotions alone. After all, she had met Steve where her mom met her one true love. Fate doesn’t always show itself that clearly.  

[scandeniall]

dive deep //ch.4

pairing: akaashi keiji x reader 

Chapter 4: writing blues  | prev | next | masterlist

wc: 1436

The days came and went as per usual. Try to write, trash said writing, a glass of wine, eat, sleep, repeat. This had been the writer’s life since the start of the project, and at this point the days seemed to all blur together. The only disruption to the writer's poorly designed schedule were the occasional intrusions of her friends. Kenma had dropped off food on more than one occasion, not even surprised when he’d come by to see her in bed. The awkwardness surrounding the writer and Kuroo dissipated shortly after he had dropped her off. An apologetic text from both adults brought them back to normal and he resumed his presence in her life. 

The ending of the week neared, and so did another meeting with the newly found editor. A meeting in which no progress on the manuscript had been made. Monday had been spent uninspired and in bed. The writer had no desire to write, and promised to get to work tomorrow. Tuesday, the writer managed to get out of bed, set up her desk to write and nothing. Instead, she found herself rereading earlier chapters and criticizing every character. One character’s description was off, and she hated the name of another. Then the dialogue felt forced at one part. The critiquing prompted another headache, causing the writer to head back to bed.  

Wednesday came with a text from Akaashi, confirming that they were all set to meet on Friday. That sparked the slightest bit of urgency as the writer attempted to crank out something. Something is better than nothing, is what she told herself. But it's useless if it's no good also plagued the back of her mind as she eyed the handwritten words and began to transfer them onto her laptop. A few paragraphs here and a few paragraphs there, until she forced out her second chapter for the day. Two chapters to make up for zero progress in almost a month. It felt fair enough. As she continued transferring the newest rushed words, the clock at the bottom of the screen read 2am. The sun had long gone down, and the world had long settled. Everyone except for her. It was almost sickening at how long it took her to come up with the newest words. 

Thursday became another useless and unproductive day. The early hours were spent in bed, a possible side effect of having stayed until nearly sunrise. She attempted and failed to push out a third chapter, but the words just weren’t coming. However the writer welcomed the presence of Kuroo who’d stopped by in the early evening. This time the man had forced the two of them on a walk. “Seeing the sunset might inspire you.” He claimed following her out of the apartment. “I wish the sun was all it took for me to finish this book.” 

“Well then you could use some vitamin D. Cheer up would you,” The pat he placed on the woman’s head caused her to recoil in annoyance, telling him he didn’t have to pet her like a dog. The two settled into a leisurely pace as soon as they hit the sidewalk. “How’s work been. I feel like we haven’t talked about you lately.” The writer prompted the conversation this time.”That's because you’ve been worse than usual,” Kuroo shrugged. “Clinicals are kicking my ass, but it's fun. Neurology, is pretty cool, but brains are fucking gross” The writer laughed as her friend slightly gagged at the memory. “I can’t believe you're actually going to become a doctor. Promise to take care of me when this agency fries my brain.”

“I think you're a little too old for pediatrics.” (Y/N) could only respond that it was a pity. The two continued the walk in silence only breaking on ocassion to point out an animal they’d seen along the way, or maybe a funny looking cloud. As the writer kicked a pebble along the pavement she felt at ease. Sure the feeling was temporary but her friend always seemed to know what she needed. “Hey, you're meeting with Akaashi this weekend right?”

The writer nodded as her friend took a quick glance at her. “Yeah, tomorrow. I’ve been trying to write all week.” The words came out bitterly, an indication of the failure she’d rather not voice aloud. A weight around (Y/N)’s shoulder caused her to shift her focus towards her taller friend. The male only returned a slight smile. “Come on.” With that the two of them were off their path. The walk had been longer than the writer bargained for as they strayed off their initial path. However, she couldnt find it in her to be upset as the two neared a place she hadn’t been in so long. 

“Kuroo, what are we doing here.” The writer followed her friend’s motion as they settled onto a giant rock. “Figured you needed some peace of mind. Remember how much we used to come here after classes. Me, you and Kenma. Catching the sunset and just being happy.” Kuroo breathed out. The place in question had been a relatively secluded part of a lesser known park in the area. Two giant rocks, slightly hidden in the trees. However, beyond overseeing a beautiful lake. One where birds would come to play, and they’d watch the way the ripples in the water cause the trees' fallen flowers to just float. It had the perfect view of the sunset. During their university days, the three found themselves there to regroup, and hide away from the rest of the world and their responsibilities. The writer hadn’t been there in months, partly due to the snow that had covered the winter group, partly due to her own lack of action. 

“Stop that. We can't both be emotional disasters.” The words were accompanied with a smile, and a silent thanks towards the man.

----

“Hey.” Another person’s presence setting in front of her caused the writer to jump in surprise. She quickly moved the sheet of paper she’d been scribbling across to the bottom of the stack, offering a curt hello at the editor as she removed her earbuds. The sound to the paper knocking against the table as she straightened the stack blended into the background of the coffee shop’s noise. “How long have you been here?” 

The writer only shrugged, taking a glance at the wall clock past Akaashi. “Maybe like an hour. I felt like writing,” she spoke politely. She noticed Akaashi start fiddling with the bag on his shoulder taking out his own belongings. She couldn’t help but watch him in curiosity. “So you know Bokuto too huh?” The words came as she noticed a singular sticker on his laptop case. The mascot of the MSBY Black Jackals. Akaashi offered her a kind smile before nodding. “I take it you’ve met him too?”

“Yeah, a few times back when I was in university. He came down to visit Kuroo.” The editor nodded in understanding. Of course you knew Bokuto through Kuroo. “We played on the same team in high school. It’s how I know Kuroo and Kenma too.”  He responded after (Y/N) asked about his association.

“So I read what you had so far,” the man started before pausing. “Well, it just seems different from what you’ve written in the past.” The words caught her off guard, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes only for a moment. “I’m just trying something new. That’s all.” The words came calmly however the editor knew better. He easily caught the quick reaction change. Something seemed off, however it isn’t his place to pry. At least not yet. The writer and editor relationship is a delicate one of trust, and as of now he didn’t know his writer at all. 

Akaashi could only reassure her that the words weren’t bad, just not what he had been used to reading from the writer. “I’ve made some edits, however it seemed like someone had gone over it before.” The words were laced with confusion. Akaashi remembers when he’d gotten the files and how from an editorial standpoint, the work thus far was near perfect. If this writer was so good on her own, he wondered where he’d even fit in.

“I had another editor before you. Well a few of them for this project. Things didn’t quite work out.” The editor ignored the ice lacing her words as his own posture stiffened. If this writer had gone through multiple editors for a single project, just how hard is she to work with.

a/n: mwah im back after taking the past 3 weeks off from fics (but in my defense in between everything going on and needing that break and how i wrote 8 fic chapters in literally 1 week. i deserved. Just a reminder that my intention is for this to be slowburn so um yeah.

taglist: @alloverbutterflies @astronomyturtle @officiallykuute @beanst0ck​ @marvels-supernaturalsherlock​  

wanna be added? just hit a girlie up

[xbaepsae]

heartbeat | part two (m)

“You want to be angry with him, hate him; but you can’t. And why is this? It’s stupid, but the truth—because your heart still steadily beats for him, despite you not wanting it to.”

[musician!yoongi x reader | jeongguk x reader]

genre: angst, smut

word count: 13.5k

a/n: & here is part twoooo. the final part of heatbeat. going back and rereading this series has made me get the feels all over again lmao. i hope you guys enjoy this and thank you to everyone who left messages on part one--they were all really sweet! xoxo

part one | part two

To say that confusion plagues your mind would be a total understatement. Because honestly, what the hell was your life?

You think about the cards fate has dealt you and you’re speechless; life was absolutely cruel and merciless in the way it had treated you. First of all, you were cursed to love someone who did not love you back. But secondly, you learned to move on and you met someone else who made you smile. However, and thirdly, life wasn’t done with you yet and now has you questioning everything you’ve believed for yourself.

Although you aren’t sure about many things, one certain thing is that you love Jeongguk—you really do. He is the sun and so, so good to you. But as present as the sun is in your life, there is a shadow that is Yoongi. And with him, comes the love that you thought you had buried long ago.

It has resurfaced once again.

***

“What time do you get off tonight?”

You turn around and see a disheveled Jeongguk standing in the doorway of your bedroom. As he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, you can’t help but briefly think about how adorable he is. “My shift is short today; I get off around four.”

He nods, “Want to grab an early dinner?”

“Don’t you have a job of your own?” you muse, reaching to grab your house keys.

“All I do is program computers and shit all day,” he says taking steps closer to you. “Besides, I’d rather hang out with my favorite person.”

You smile when he’s close enough to wrap his arms around your waist. “And who might that be?”

He smiles down at you and leans to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “Her name is y/n, have you met her?”

“Lucky girl,” you say and look at the clock to see that you’re already running late. “I’ve got to go. But if I see her, I’ll make sure to let her know.”

Jeongguk kisses you one last time before letting you walk out the door.

Your walk to the music store doesn’t take very long and you make it there just as your shift is about to start. Clocking in, you greet your manager before walking out into the front of the store. There, you begin to organize the various music racks and add the newest CDs in the standing displays. You’re nearly done when you hear the door chime open. Looking in the direction of the door, you smile widely.

“Hello, welcome—” you begin to greet whoever walked in, but you suddenly stop and find that the words are lost to you when you see a flash of pink hair.

“Y/n?”

You struggle to breathe properly, “Y-Yoongi.”

He lets the door close behind him and walks closer to you. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” You point to the nametag on your shirt for him and offer an awkward smile. He stares at your nametag for a brief second before raising his eyes back to yours.

“Have you been working here long?”

“Just a little over a year,” you say, playing with the album in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to buy a few of my albums,” he says, and your immediate response is to ask why. “Because everywhere I go I like to buy a few, sign them, and give them to fans who maybe don’t have the money to purchase one. You know, especially since those fans used to be me.”

You watch as Yoongi walks to the alphabetized racks and grabs every one of his CD’s off the shelf. He walks to the checkout desk and you follow, ringing up the albums. You let him know the total price and he hands you the money to pay for it. Throughout this entire exchange, neither of you really talk. And although you don’t know what to say, you wonder what is rolling through his mind right now.

“Can I have a sharpie?” he asks and you rummage through a few containers and hand him one.

As he signs each album with his stage name Suga, you can’t help but ask, “Why are you here?”

He stops writing, “I’m buying—”

“No,” you interrupt, “why are you here? Why are you home?”

Yoongi caps the sharpie and looks at you, “Why? Am I not allowed to come back home?”

He holds your gaze for what seems like an eternity. And under his scrutiny, you feel so incredibly exposed. Yoongi has always been able to read you well; from all the years of your friendship, no one knows you better than him. Whether that was a good or bad thing, you really didn’t know anymore.

“That night in the club,” you begin and his eyes darken, “you said that you missed me, is that true?”

“I told you it was true,” he sighs.

“Then why didn’t you call me?”

You don’t remember how many times you asked him that question when you saw him for the first time again, but you just wanted to know exactly why.

He runs a hand over his face, “Because I was a coward, is that what you want me to say?”

“But you promised me,” you say through shaky lips.

Yoongi looks away from you, down to the CD in front of him. “I’m not proud of many decisions in my life, but I’m not lying when I say I regret not calling or coming back to see you.”

And as much as you try to suppress the growing pressure in your chest, you struggle and sense the overbearing urge for tears to spill over. You clench your hands into tight fists and feel the beginnings of deep crescent indentations in your palms.

You wanted to believe Yoongi, you really did. But you remember how hurt and depressed you were when he left; it’s an experience that you’ve tried to put behind you, but it never seems to go away. His departure from your life has changed you immensely, and you aren’t the same person he once knew before.

“You can say that you miss me all you want, but I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’ve moved on. I really did get tired of waiting.” Yikes. Even your own words sound harsh to your ears.

He looks back up, jaw tightening. “Yeah, I saw you leave with that guy.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you correct him.

“I thought you said that you loved me,” Yoongi says, slamming the permanent marker down on the counter.

“I thought you said that you didn’t feel the same way.” And your words cause him to stop, taking a step away from you. Just as Yoongi moves away from you, you hear footsteps coming close and you turn to see your manager. You bow immediately, preparing to be scolded.

“Y/n, what is going on out here?” your manager asks, crossing his arms. But before you can explain the situation, Yoongi speaks up.

“It’s my fault, sir,” he says with a bow. “Y/n didn’t do anything wrong.”

Recognition spreads across your manager’s face, “Aren’t you Suga?”

“I am,” Yoongi nods and holds out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

“I can’t believe Suga is here in my store,” your manager looks down to see the signed CD’s in front of him, “and you’re signing albums!”

Yoongi smiles, “It’s nothing, really. I actually like to purchase my albums and give them out.”

“It’s everything!” your manager smiles before turning to you. “Y/n, you can leave.”

Your mouth drops, “What?”

“I think you have caused Suga enough trouble for the day.”

This is unbelievable. What did you do wrong? If anything, he should ask Yoongi to leave since he was distracting you from work. “Then, who is going to work?”

“I’m thinking a last minute meet-and-greet, what do you think Suga?” your manager looks at Yoongi expectantly. But you see that his eyes have gone wide. “Therefore, I can handle everything.”

“Wouldn’t a meet-and-greet mean needing more help?” Yoongi suddenly asks. “I mean, you can’t possibly do everything on your own.”

For a moment, you think that maybe his mind has been changed; however, your manager just waves him off, “Nonsense, I have a new hire coming in today around two.”

“Is that why my hours have been shit?” For the past month or so, you’ve started noticing that you haven’t been working as much as before. You thought that maybe it was because business was just slow, but now you know the real reason.

“Your per cap sales have been declining lately y/n…”

You nearly fall back from this news. Ever since you started working here, you have given it your all and this was how your manager repaid you? How unfair. And now you were being replaced with a new employee. Your hands begin to tighten again before a string of words leave your lips. “I quit.”

“Y/n!” Yoongi calls your name, sounding concerned. But you don’t even look at him. Instead, you rip the nametag off your shirt and drop it on the floor before running to the back to grab your things.

With your bag in your hands, you briskly walk towards the front doors and push it open. You are greeted with bright sunshine, but you feel like shit. Pulling out your phone you press the messenger app and begin typing.

10:58 AM | You: i just quit lol

Within seconds, you see the text bubble pop up.

10:58 AM | Jeongguk: WHAT

10:59 AM | You: long story…heading home

10:59 AM | Jeongguk: want me to head over?

10:59 AM | Jeongguk: i can bring some take out

You smile at his message.

10:59 AM | You: nah it’s okay

11:00 AM | You: you’re probably busy

11:00 AM | You: come over after work

11:01 AM | Jeongguk: okay babe. hope you’re okay

And then he proceeds to send a bunch of emojis that have you laughing. Your only reply to them is a smile and you stick your phone into your bag.

You find yourself waiting at a stoplight when it suddenly hits you: you don’t have a job anymore. This was definitely reckless and totally unlike you—at least, the person you were trying to be now. You haven’t always had your life figured out, but at least you kind of had a direction you wished to go in. Now, you were simply headed into the unknown. The light is still red when you suddenly feel a hand press onto your shoulder. You turn around and realize that Yoongi is inches away from you.

“Why did you quit?” he asks, breathing heavily.

Your eyes are wide, but you just shrug. “It just felt right, I guess.”

“God, y/n,” he sighs, dropping his hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be there? I mean, you know for the impromptu meet-and-greet.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his ear, “I may or may not have cursed that guy out for letting you just walk away.”

“You did what?” you ask, not really understanding him.

“Let’s just say, I’m never going back to that music store again,” he shakes his head. “I also kind of stole these.”

You look down and see a few albums in Yoongi’s other hand. At first, you want to remind him that he already paid for his albums; but then you realize the albums aren’t his own—they’re from different artists and were on the standing displays. Suddenly, you don’t know what comes over you but you burst into laughter. In fact, you laugh so hard you nearly fall over onto the pavement. But fortunately for you, your body doesn’t hit the floor; Yoongi catches you before you can.

“I’ve missed your laugh, y/n,” he says, eyes boring into yours.

Your face flushes and words are lost to you. And you swear Yoongi is leaning closer to you, but he freezes when a phone begins ringing. He pulls away and you realize that it’s your own ringtone and frantically search your bag. Once you find it, you realize Jeongguk is calling you.

“Jeongguk?” you answer and Yoongi visibly tenses up in front of you.

“Y/n, hey. Are you home yet?”

You scrunch your eyebrows once, “No…not yet. Why?”

“Well,” he breathes, “you said we should just meet later, but I couldn’t help it.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“Turn around.”

You hesitate, not so sure what he means; but you do end up turning around and see Jeongguk standing on the other side of the street. He drops the phone from his ear and waves to you with a bright smile. And although you should be mad that he’s ditching work to see you, you smile back anyway.

The street lights end up turning green and he jogs over to you. Once he reaches you, he pulls you into a hug and presses a kiss against your forehead. Warmth fills your insides immediately at his touch and you squeeze him back, but you’re pulled back into reality when someone coughs behind you. You move away from Jeongguk and look at Yoongi; in a short span of time, his eyes have narrowed into slits and his jaw has tensed up.

“Jeongguk this is Yoongi…” you hesitate, “an old friend.” At that moment, you realize you’ve never mentioned Yoongi to Jeongguk before. “And Yoongi this Jeongguk, my boyfriend.”

Both men look at one another before Jeongguk’s eyes round in interest, “Hey, aren’t you that rapper Suga?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi’s body becomes a little less tense. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Jeongguk replies, looping an arm around your waist. He looks down at you with a smile, “Ready to go?”

You blink, “Sure.”

With that, Jeongguk tells Yoongi goodbye and pulls you away. You look back at Yoongi once and see that he has already begun walking in the opposite direction. So, you look forward and try to shake this entire situation away. But if you would have looked back again, you would’ve seen Yoongi stop walking and turn around only to meet the gaze of Jeongguk.

If you would have looked back again, you would’ve seen the two of them share a look that screamed whatever just happened between the three of you, was only the beginning.

***

Jeongguk ends up taking you to his place, where you know for a fact that there is no food at all. The reason you had this knowledge was because if he was hungry, he ordered pizza or came over to your apartment. He didn’t cook very much, so why need food at all?

“Damn, we should’ve grabbed food on the way here,” you say as you step through his front door.

“We can grab food later,” he says, throwing his keys onto a table next to the door.

You shut the door behind you with a nod and proceed to take your shoes off. Just as you kick your shoes to the side and place your bag next to Jeongguk’s keys, he picks you up as if you weigh nothing and throws you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eye-to-eye with his ass—it was a very nice ass, by the way.

But your boyfriend doesn’t say a thing and before you can become too lightheaded, you’re suddenly flipped onto his bed. You lean up on your forearms and blow a few strands of hair out of your face. And as you do so, you notice Jeongguk leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. It’s a bit unexpected, but not unwanted; you respond back and move your lips against his own.

He lifts his lips off of yours after a bit and begins trailing kisses down your chin, to your jaw, and then to your neck. Jeongguk begins to softly suck on the skin below your ear before whispering, “I want you.”

And although his voice does send your body into a frenzy, you’re confused. “It’s literally noon, Jeongguk…and you’re horny?”

He doesn’t say a thing, only softly nuzzling his head against the crook of your neck.

“Jeongguk,” you say his name again, “what the hell?”

With your words, he stops and roughly snaps his head up. The sultry eyes that had stared at you just moments before have now narrowed, becoming closed off and cold. Jeongguk separates himself from you, moving a few steps from his bed. This newfound space allows you to sit up and fix your shirt that has unknowingly slipped up a bit. As you fix your hair, you realize that Jeongguk is still giving you that look. You ask him what’s wrong and he rolls his eyes at you.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he scoffs. “You should be asking yourself that.”

You scrunch your eyebrows. “What?”

“Why don’t you want to have sex?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Like I said, it’s noon…and I’m hungry,” you widen your eyes, not understanding him right now. Jeongguk and you have never argued about being intimate with one another, so you’re confused as to why it has suddenly become an issue.

“Is this because of Yoongi?”

Now your eyes are really wide, “What the fuck, Jeongguk?”

“How do you even know him?”

You can’t believe that he is really bringing Yoongi up right now. “I told you that he was an old friend of mine.”

Jeongguk’s hard gaze doesn’t waiver, “Then why have you never talked about him before? I mean, I’ve told you about all my friends. I figured you would tell me about yours too, considering the fact that he’s kind of famous.”

“I haven’t talked to him in years; why would I bring him up?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” he begins to raise his voice, “I just want us to be honest with one another.”

You clench your fist into the bedsheets. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Really?” Jeongguk stares at you like he knows you’re hiding something from him, and you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. He needs to let this subject go.

“I’ve already argued with Yoongi today, I don’t need shit from you too.”

“Oh,” you can hear the mockery in Jeongguk’s voice, “so the two of you have that close of a relationship.”

“Why do you even care?” you practically yell, feeling frustrated.

Not only are you becoming increasingly mad at him, but you’re also mad at yourself. Why can’t you just tell Jeongguk everything? What is holding you back? Everything was becoming too much, and you don’t know how much longer you can suppress the growing turmoil inside of you.

“Because you’re my girlfriend,” he says it like it’s so simple, and it honestly should be. You don’t know why it feels so complicated to you.

“Then you should care about me, and not us having sex or Yoongi.”

His jaw visibly tightens, “Well, that’s kind of hard when I saw the way he looked at you.”

Your breathing stops momentarily; he saw that? When? You think back to your interactions with Yoongi and when Jeongguk could’ve possibly seen anything, and you realize he must be talking about when he met up with the two of you on the street earlier. And suddenly, you feel embarrassed at how wrong things must’ve looked to him—how close Yoongi had been to you, and all.

“It was nothing,” you say, getting off the bed and walking out of the room.

Jeongguk follows you into the living area. “It wasn’t just nothing, y/n.”

“Let it go, Jeongguk.”

“I’m not fucking blind, y/n,” his voice getting louder by the minute.

“I said let it go!”

“It wasn’t nothing because it’s the same way I look at you.”

You stop where you are and nearly fall to the ground at his words. You feel dizzy, disorientated; like you can’t see anymore and the world has just collapsed onto your shoulders. You can barely breathe. You can’t think. It’s like everything you have been keeping buried inside has suddenly exploded.

Silence seems to pass infinitely between you and Jeongguk, neither one of you know what to say. But you do turn around and see all the emotions that pass through his eyes—anger, confusion, hurt. And you can’t begin to catch them all.

“I…” you don’t even know how to begin to explain everything. You bring a hand up to swipe a few loose strands of hair behind your ears and notice something hot and wet pooling beneath your eyes and down your cheeks. How pathetic of you to be crying right now.

“What is he to you, y/n?” Jeongguk’s eyes are wide, voice demanding to be answered.

You try to find the words to say that Yoongi means nothing to you anymore, but they’re completely lost to you. Besides, it would be a lie to say that you no longer harbored feelings for the man who once broke your heart. Everything was too confusing and you just don’t know what to do. So you run. Slipping your shoes on, you grab your things and bolt out of Jeongguk’s apartment. And as you run, he calls out your name but you don’t stop to hear what he has to say or if he’s even following you.

As you make it onto the street, you’ve nearly forgotten the reason you ended up there in the first place: you don’t have a job anymore. And the reality of how fast everything has changed in the last few hours is enough to make you curse the world and horrible it is.

***

You don’t answer any of the phone calls from Jeongguk.

But it’s not like you really even know if he calls anyway, especially since your phone ran out of battery two—maybe three; you’ve lost track—days ago and you haven’t bothered to charge it. If you were being honest with yourself, you haven’t been doing much of anything at all. Day after day, you find yourself stuck in bed. You can’t remember what day it even is, how much time has passed—or the last time you even showered. It’s like you have lost all motivation to do anything, and that includes talking to your boyfriend…was he even that to you anymore?

From the closed door of your bedroom, and underneath all your covers, you swear you hear knocking at the door at least three times a day. Do you get up to answer it though? You don’t budge a muscle. Although you don’t see who’s at the door, a part of you knows that it’s Jeongguk; however, you can’t bring yourself to face him.

You feel stupid, really. Mainly because somewhere in your mind, you thought that you could just live your life with Jeongguk. It seemed simple in your head; he obviously loved you and you felt the same way—so why was it suddenly not what you had previously imagined? This game of house the two of you have been playing for the past few months did not include Min Yoongi walking back into your world.

Yeah, you feel really stupid. And you’re such a coward. Yoongi had called himself a coward earlier, but now you believe that perhaps you’ve been the real coward all along.

Also, it didn’t help that you quit your job at the music store—that move was even stupider. Now, you don’t have a thing to do; it was both a great feeling and the absolute worst thing ever.

“Great job at fucking everything up, y/n,” you say to no one but yourself.

Although life was currently pretty sucky, you had much to weigh on your plate. You kind of need another job; you had some money saved up, but that can only last so long. Also, you realize that you can’t stay cooped up in your room forever. Eventually, you have to talk to Jeongguk again and sort out what happened.

So you finally pull yourself out of bed and plug your phone to its charger. Walking to the bathroom, you switch on the lights and proceed to strip out of your clothes and hop into the shower. You let the hot water wash away whatever has been plaguing your mind these last few days. And when you’re done, you get out and brush your teeth. As you do this, you stare at yourself through the fogged mirror; despite being in bed for the past however long, a person with dark eye bags stares back at you.

Who have you become?

You barely recognize this person you see in the mirror.

But before you can stare too long at yourself, you hear a series of rings and vibrations coming from your room. Your phone has turned back on and those are all the messages and missed calls you’ve received.

Walking back to where your phone lays on the floor, you sit down and pick it up—that’s when you notice that it’s just past eight in the morning. And this morning alone, Jeongguk has called you five times. You scroll through the older notifications and see that he’s called and texted every day since you ran out of his apartment, which was almost five days ago. Fuck—you were MIA longer than you originally thought.

You click through the messages and notice that they’re all pretty much the same.

11:08 PM | Jeongguk: i’m sorry

11:09 PM | Jeongguk: call me back

12:01 AM | Jeongguk: i miss you

02:22 AM | Jeongguk: i fucked up

All the messages revolve around those four phrases and you’re speechless for a second. It seems like there are hundreds and hundreds of messages from him. You switch to the phone app and realize that there are equally the same amount of voicemails waiting for you.

You listen to a few of them before deciding that you should probably just call him back. The phone rings only twice before he picks up, “Y/n?”

His voice sounds melancholic and rushed, and your heart aches a bit at the fact that you’ve hurt him.

“Y/n?” he repeats your name, much softer this time.

You clear your throat before answering, “Hey.”

“I was beginning to think you’d never call.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, bringing a band up to run through your damp hair. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything!” he immediately says. “I shouldn’t have brought that subject up—you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me knowing.”

Fuck, why is he like this? Always so good to you. “No, I should tell you things like that. I was wrong for not saying anything and overreacting.”

“Forgive me?” he asks you.

“Of course,” you reply, “the real question is: will you forgive me?”

And for some reason, you know he’s smiling on the other side of the phone. “Always; I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat, “Love you too.”

“Hey, meet me for coffee in an hour?”

“Sure,” you say, nodding even though he can’t see you.

He suggests a café that you’re familiar with, which you agree to meet at, and then says he’ll see you later. You return the sentiment before hanging up the phone. And after you do, you drop the device from your ear and release a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

You take a minute to compose yourself before getting up. As you do this, you suddenly remember you’re still only wrapped in a towel. You quickly move towards your closet and open it up. Jeongguk wanted to meet in an hour, which really didn’t give you much time to get ready at all. You get the chance to glance through all the various clothing items in your closet once before you hear your phone vibrate again.

A curse leaves your lips at the fact that Jeongguk probably texted you again. Did he change his mind? Did he still want to be mad at you? Rushing back to your phone, you pick it up and the name that lights up your screen isn’t the person you thought. It was actually a text from Yoongi, which makes you want to curse even louder.

You contemplate about what to do before deciding to see what his text says. It was shocking enough that he even still had your number saved onto his phone. You thought that after he made the move to Seoul, he would’ve gotten a new phone and number. That would’ve made you feel better about the fact that he never contacted you. Pushing past that fact, you swipe at his name and read over his text.

08:36 AM | Yoongi: hey y/n, idk if this is still your number…but if it is, watch channel 4 tonight around 9 if you want a better explanation than the shitty ones i’ve given you.

A better explanation.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t even vaguely interested in whatever Yoongi was trying to pull by sending this text because you really want to hear what he has to say. Even though you keep questioning why and begging for answers that aren’t being given, a part of you has already forgiven him for doing all of this to you. You want to be angry with him, hate him; but you can’t. And why is this? It’s stupid, but the truth—because your heart still steadily beats for him, despite you not wanting it to.

***

This feels so weird. Your nerves are buzzing and you can’t seem to stop fidgeting with the cup of coffee in your hands.

The fact that you’re even nervous annoys you; this is Jeongguk—the person who has seen all sides of you. You shouldn’t feel so anxious, but you are and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Checking your phone, you notice that it’s just a bit past nine-thirty; which is the time Jeongguk wanted to meet up.

You arrived at the quaint little café earlier than you were supposed to, ordering two coffees and settling yourself in a small corner of the room. Business is relatively slow; there isn’t anyone else here besides you and the barista—except for the random person that walks in, ordering a coffee to-go. So you sit there and stir your coffee, waiting for Jeongguk to walk in. And every time the door chimes open, your eyes fly to where bits of sunlight pool in and expect to see him there but he isn’t.

Soon, nine-thirty becomes nine-forty-five, and nine-forty-five becomes nearly ten o’clock. And he still isn’t here. You’re becoming more and more restless at this point.

Then, your phone rings and Jeongguk’s name lights up your screen.

“Where are you?” are the first words out of your mouth as you accept his call.

You hear him sigh on the other side, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” you aren’t sure you’re hearing him right.

“Something came up and I can’t make it to the café.”

Jeongguk begins to explain that he has to go to work to fix an issue, which means you’ve been waiting at this café all this time for no reason. He apologizes profusely, promising to meet you another time. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you try to force a smile through your words, although you can feel your body trembling a bit. “That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he apologizes again before hanging up, and you’re left feeling even more alone than before.

You set your phone down and bury your face into your hands. This day was not turning out the way you had hoped. You imagined yourself spending the day with Jeongguk, explaining your entire situation to him. And in your head, he takes the whole conversation well and everything is okay. But now—now you don’t know if you’re going to get to explain yourself at all.

The anxiety you felt just minutes ago is now replaced with a tinge of annoyance—you’re annoyed at Jeongguk, but mostly at yourself for finally getting out of bed and coming here only to be disappointed.

After finishing up your coffee, you throw the second wasted cup away and bid the barista goodbye before walking out of the café. You could stay annoyed and disappointed in that café, but the day was rather beautiful so you decide to leave.

Maybe the day will turn for the better.

***

You end up taking a walk by the river for a while before going into the city to scout for new jobs.

Although you don’t find many openings that interest you, you pick up a few brochures detailing a life abroad which you do find rather intriguing.

By the time you return home, the sun is just beginning to set and you feel much better than when your day first started. You make yourself dinner and then settle yourself on your couch, switching your tv on. That’s when you remember it’s Tuesday, the day you and Jeongguk usually dedicate as movie night.

This thought pangs you a bit and you briefly consider calling him, but you stop yourself and pick a random movie to watch instead. As the movie rolls through the previews, you take a moment to scroll through your phone and delete all the notifications from Jeongguk that you haven’t touched. And as you’re about to delete the ones from today, you see Yoongi’s name in bold and remember that he wanted you to do something.

Checking the time, you’re relieved to see that it’s five till nine and you have time. You change the TV from movies to regular cable and scroll until you find the one he was talking about. And when you find it, your eyes go wide and you immediately turn the volume up.

It was a music show in your city that many other famous artists have gone and performed on, and now Yoongi was a guest. You vaguely remember him talking about the show years ago, and how one day he wanted to perform on the same stage as so many have before him. The fact that he has achieved this brings a smile to your face.

Is this what he wanted you to see? How leaving for Seoul was actually the best for him?

Suddenly, you feel a bit selfish for your thoughts. All you’ve ever wanted was for Yoongi to reach his dreams; how could you be mad at him for leaving to pursue that?

You watch as he lifts the mic to his mouth and begins to speak, “Good evening, everyone.”

The audience in that room cheers for him and he smiles wide, the curve of his lips revealing his gummy smile that you haven’t seen in forever. You can’t help but smile wider too, the joy blooming from him is contagious.

“I’m going to be performing a new song,” the crowd screams louder, “and I wrote it for an old friend of mine…who means the world to me. I was just bad at expressing how I felt, and I hope you will forgive me.”

As Yoongi says this, he looks straight into the camera and in that instant, you can’t look away.

“I’m also going to invite a singer because you know, I rap,” Yoongi says as someone you don’t recognize walks on the stage, settling into the far left. “This is Seokjin, a friend I made in Seoul.”

You watch the young man, who has wide eyes and an angelic smile, wave to the crowd. And then the music begins.

“I empty my drink but it gets filled with loneliness. I should’ve just given in, why did I argue all the time?” Yoongi raps, voice filled with passion and you can’t look away from him. He has you trapped in his spell. “I can only see you. I can only see you alone.”

Is Yoongi talking about…you?

“Hold me tight, hug me. Can you trust me? Can you trust me? Can you trust me?” Seokjin sings. “Without you, I can’t breathe. I’m nothing without you.”

And immediately you flashback to reckless eighteen-year-old you running down by a bridge, with Yoongi trailing behind you. He was laughing his ass off at you and god, who even remembers what bullshit you were spewing. But what do you remember is that you wanted to feel the breeze in your hair. That meant you had to climb on the railing of the bridge, yet you hesitated.

“I’ll help you,” Yoongi offered and you slowly climbed up.

“I better not fall off into my death, Min Yoongi.”

“Can you trust me?” he whispered as he clutched you tightly. And you also remember that you felt extremely flushed at that time, warmth pooling through you from his touch.

“I think of you without stopping. I hate it all, I hate every single day. It makes me cry,” Yoongi raps and your mind focuses back on the present time.

For some unknown reason, you begin to feel tears pool underneath your lashes. Were you seriously crying right now? It was just the lyrics that are making you emotional…right?

“If there’s a chance, I’ll catch you. I’m running, it’s starting, count down. I’m ready to be cut by your rose-like embrace,” he continues and your heart is pounding against your chest.

As much as you want to, you can’t tear your eyes away from him. Even when Seokjin sings, you can’t spare him a single glance. Yoongi has your full attention and you breathe in his words like they’re a drug.

“But I can’t let you go. Don’t talk, don’t leave—just quietly hold me,” he practically whispers these words out.

You listen as Seokjin finishes up the song with a final, so I can feel you, hold me before the stage goes black. Immediately, the crowd erupts in cheers and screams. Tears are still streaming down your face and you can feel a sob threatening to make its way out of you. Gradually, the lights flicker back on, and Yoongi and his friend bow once before exiting the stage. Quickly, you wipe the tears from your face and search frantically for your phone. You have to call him. Now. Dialing his number, it rings a few times before he breathlessly answers.

“Y/n?”

You swallow, “Was that song for me?”

He sighs, and it sounds more like relief than anything. “You saw it.”

“Yoongi…” you start, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“The fact that you watched it means everything to me,” he tells you. “I’ve never been very good at explaining myself. Music is what I know best.”

You understand that now. “I’m sorry.” For being so angry, for not listening.

“I had to perform that song before I went back to Seoul,” Yoongi says. “It’s you, y/n. It has always been you.”

“You’re going back?” It feels like you just got him back, and he was leaving you already. But you guess Min Yoongi was never really yours to begin with.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re quiet at this news. Yoongi just spilled everything through a song and he was leaving like he never came home at all.

“Come see me tonight before I go back,” he breaks your thoughts and your breath hitches. “Please.”

And you don’t know what makes you say it, but you do. “Okay.”

***

Come to the old studio.

After you showered and made sure you looked decent, you walked somewhere you never thought you would be again—Namjoon’s studio. Since Yoongi left, you haven’t had a reason to be here. But despite the time away, you still know exactly where it is; the location is forever ingrained in your memory.

Walking past the ramen shop and down the stairs, you stand in front of the studio and breathe once before pushing the doors that are never locked open. Inside, the studio looks the same as it always has—that dingy old couch still sits by the window. The only thing missing is Namjoon. For a brief moment, you wonder how the guy is doing but that thought fades when you hear someone shuffling in another room.

You follow the noise and find Yoongi in his old room. The second you step through the door, he looks up and stops whatever he is doing.

“What are you doing?” you can’t help the small smile that lights your face.

“Just looking through old stuff,” he says, mimicking your smile. “You actually came.”

You walk closer to him. “Of course.”

“I just—I didn’t expect you to. You know, since you have a boy—”

“Did you mean everything you said in that song?” you cut him off. You watch as Yoongi sets down the papers in his hands and looks into your eyes.

He nods once, “All of it.”

And then before you know it, you close the distance between the two of you and kiss him. You can feel your heart pulsating through your chest.

With Yoongi’s lips against yours, you’re on top of the world—floating above the clouds to pure and utter ecstasy. He responds the second you make contact with him, magnets seeming to pull the two of you closer together. With gentle hands, he brings one to cup your face and another to curve around your hips.

And he begins to push you backwards, until you feel a wall pressed firmly behind you. Here, you move your hands from his waist, feeling the hard ridges of his body, up to his pink hair. You fist his soft strands in-between your fingers, tugging gently; and when he moans, you can’t help but smile into the kiss. Yoongi lifts his lips off of yours, letting you breathe for a moment, before leaning further down to press kisses to your jaw and neck.

“I could fucking kiss you, everywhere, forever,” Yoongi breathlessly whispers against your skin, raising the hairs on your body.

All you can feel is heat, all over your body. His words ignite this flame inside of you and it’s incomparable to anything you’ve felt before. You’ve shared this experience with many others before him, but you never thought that you’d actually be here with Yoongi right now and it’s already better than you’ve imagined.

And you’ve imagined it a lot.

He continues to press the slightest of kisses all along your skin while you become putty in his hands. You feel his lips everywhere, until he reaches the top edges of your shirt—there, his fingers maneuver their way down your body and underneath your shirt. The fabric lifts over your head and falls to the floor. And with only your bra covering the top half of your body, Yoongi begins to piano his fingers all over your abdomen; wherever his fingers graze, his lips do the same.

You expect him to suddenly take you there against the wall, it’s an image that has burned hotly in your fantasy, but he doesn’t move; he just stares at you. His eyes leave a trail as they begin slowly from your toes all the way to your eyes. And the look Yoongi gives you makes you feel wanted; he looks at you like you’re Aphrodite herself. The blush that suddenly pinks your cheeks can’t be stopped and he presses another kiss to your lips before leading you away from the wall and to the black loveseat further into the room.

He sets you down on your back and proceeds to take his clothes off. As Yoongi lifts his shirt over his head, you see black lettering etched onto the skin above his left hip bone and you gasp. “You have a tattoo?”

You can barely make out what it says, the majority of the tattoo still concealed by the rest of his clothes.

Yoongi chuckles, pulling the waistband of his underwear down. “For the last year, yeah.”

Sitting up to get a closer look, your fingers lightly press against his skin, and your eyes narrow at the tattoo. They were numbers, and you read them out loud. “What does it mean?”

Looking up at Yoongi, he smiles a bit sheepishly before bringing a hand to caress your face. “It’s kind of silly, really.”

“What?” you smile. “Tell me.”

“Well…” he bites his lower lip, “these numbers represent my heartrate…how fast my heart beats…when I think of you.”

Your mouth drops. “Really?”

He nods, “I had to go to the doctors a few months after I got to Seoul, nothing serious, but they ran some tests and had me react to different words—like sadness or music. And when they said the word love, I immediately pictured you in my mind and,” he laughs, “my numbers were off the charts.”

And you suddenly don’t know why, but you cry. You just can’t believe that this has been bottled up inside of Yoongi for so long, and you never had a single clue. He wipes your tears away and presses more kisses against your lips. You both take the opportunity to peel the rest of your clothing off—your jeans become discarded on the floor and he languidly slides your underwear down your legs. The entire time he does this, his eyes don’t dare to stray from yours and you swear that nothing this hot as ever happened to you.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name once you’re completely bare to him. A part of you should feel awkward being so naked, but you’re strangely not.

You undo his jeans and slide them down his legs and then pull his hard member out, eagerly taking him into your mouth. Yoongi hisses at the way your lips envelop the tip of his cock, gently licking and sucking. “Fuck, y/n.”

This goes on for a while before he hastily pushes you back down and whispers that it’s his turn to please you. The moment his lips latch onto your sensitive clit, you nearly scream. Your hands immediately reach for his hair, moving your hips against his tongue for the most amount of pressure you can get. Moans leave your lips like a song and that only pushes Yoongi to work his mouth harder and faster along your core. But just before you topple over the edge into paradise, he stops and raises his head.

Your juices coat his lips and it’s the most arousing sight you’ve ever seen.

His lips find your own again and you taste yourself, pushing him closer to you. The two of you mold your bodies together until you can feel his erection graze your stomach. Yoongi lifts his body off of you for a moment, sliding a condom on, before aligning himself at your entrance.

Biting your lip, you both don’t say a word as he begins to slide in. There was no need for any extravagant words at this moment—you just wanted him inside of you already. And the stretch feels amazing; you can barely contain the breathy moans that leave your mouth as Yoongi moves himself in and out of you. His pace is painfully slow, dragging this moment out for as long as possible. And he also doesn’t hold himself back vocally; he isn’t afraid to tell you how you’re making him feel.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” Yoongi flicks out his tongue to wet his lower lip, beginning to move a little faster. You offer another moan as a response.

Soon, he begins to build a faster pace; your hands run along his back, nails marking little crescents into his skin. You tell him that you need more, feeling your orgasm approaching. But instead of doing what you say, he pulls out and you’re confused. “Yoongi…”

He doesn’t explain what he’s doing, but suddenly flips you over so you’re on your stomach with your ass in the air. And then without a warning, he enters you again and begins slamming into you. Yoongi’s hands dig into your hips, you’re almost positive there’s going to be marks there in the morning, while simultaneously squeezing your cheeks together. Another string of curses leaves his lips and he tells you again how great you feel wrapped around him.

With each thrust of his hips, you moan and tell him that he’s making you feel so good.

“Yeah? It feels good, baby?” he practically coos to you.

And you almost want to cry at the pleasure, “S-So good.”

Before you know it, that same overwhelming pressure begins to build inside of you again. Your hands fist whatever you can of the couch as your head begins to spin. You tell him that you’re close, feeling your orgasm approaching, and he presses a few gentle fingers on your sensitive little nub. His touch is all it takes to send you over the edge.

“Yoongi!”

With tightly shut eyes, you scream out his name. You lose the strength to hold yourself up completely and fall into the couch. Behind you, you can feel Yoongi continuing to thrust into you and you turn around to see him smirk a little at you. “Did you think we were done already, love?”

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi’s pace slows. He slows down to the point where his cock pulls out of you and then pushes into you, completely bottoming out each time.

“I’ve been waiting forever for this moment,” he grunts before flipping you back onto your back.

At this point, you don’t think is possible for you to come undone again but you see the determination in Yoongi’s eyes. He begins moving his hips faster, hands latched onto your breast.

“Oh my god…” you moan, “I’m close.”

“Come on, baby,” he says, his cock deeper inside of you.

His body lowers down until his head is nestled into the crook of your neck. And he continues to fuck you like that until you reach your climax and let out the most beautiful sounds Yoongi has ever heard. After a few more strokes, muttering fuck, fuck, fuck, Yoongi also reaches his own climax.

For a minute, all that can be heard are the both of you trying to catch your breaths. Once your breathings become even, it’s quiet in Yoongi’s old studio.

Suddenly, he gets up and you turn your body asking him where he’s going. He offers you a smile, telling you that he’s just grabbing a towel to clean up the mess. And as he walks over to the other rooms, you can help but stare at his cute ass.

“So why did you dye your hair?”

Yoongi laughs as he walks back to you, “You literally just gave me the best fuck of my life, and you’re curious about my hair?”

His words flush your face pink, “I-I mean…I’m just curious.”

You watch as Yoongi wipes you down, looking into your eyes the entire time. It’s a simple act, but the thought of him being inside you again crosses your mind more than once. Unfortunately, you suppress such lustful thoughts and keep your hands off of him. After he’s done, you slip on his discarded shirt and sit up on the couch. He settles next to you, pulling his jeans back on, and pulls you into his arms. And as cliché as it sounds, being in his embrace is the best feeling ever.

“Well,” he begins, “I was actually blonde for a while before I decided to go pink. Let me show you.”

Yoongi fishes in his pockets for his phone and pulls up a picture; and sure enough, he’s platinum blonde. You voice that he looks good with that color, but he just laughs.

“Why pink?” you ask.

He shrugs, “I guess I just wanted to do something a little different.”

“I’ve always loved you with your natural black hair too,” you smile. “But seeing you with all these colors makes me realize you’d probably look good in anything—just don’t let all your hair fall out.”

“Of course,” he says and then leans down to presses the faintest of kisses on your forehead. Suddenly, a yawn escapes your lips and you realize how late it must be already. You’re exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions you’ve had. “Sleepy?”

You shake your head, yawning again, “No…”

He laughs, “Sure…go to sleep, y/n.”

And you do—you fall asleep to the steady beating of Yoongi’s heart.

***

You wake up in tangled limbs and a blanket over the two of you.

As you open your eyes and look around the room, Yoongi is still peacefully asleep next to you. His lips are slightly parted and a gentle snore is released with his inhales. You smile at how soft and sweet he looks here, at this moment. The number of times you’ve imagined waking up beside him are countless; you wish that things can always be like this.

But that’s not realistic and life isn’t how you imagined.

It never really is.

Despite sharing your soul with Yoongi last night and his love confession, you’re unsure of everything. Life might be perfect right now, but what happens when you walk out of this studio? What happens when you both return to your lives?

In the back of your mind, hidden away the moment you turned on the TV last night, Jeongguk’s name is lit up brightly—flashing like one of those neon signs. Your stomach sinks; do you regret what you did with Yoongi? You look at his beautiful sleeping face, your heart clenching a bit, and you know for sure that there are no regrets there. A part of you does feel for Jeongguk, but you will never regret anything to do with Min Yoongi.

After all, he is the reason your heart beats.

You stare a little longer at his face, trying to carve it into your memory. And after you’re nearly positive that you’ve memorized every little freckle and perfect imperfection, you gently lift his arm that’s laying over your waist up and off your body. You get up from the couch, put your own clothes back on and search for your phone.

When you find your things, you quietly begin to walk out of the room. You only look back once, to make sure he isn’t awake yet and thankfully he isn’t. When you’re out of the old studio room, you run out of the building and into the early rays of daylight.

You let out a deep breath and wipe the single tear that falls from your eye.

This is the best thing. Besides, isn’t Yoongi leaving for Seoul again anyway? What were the odds of seeing him again before or after that? Seeing him during his short stay back home was just a small gift life decided to give—it’s not going to happen again. While you are here, still trying to figure life out…Yoongi was successful and would be just fine without you. And you finally understood that.

Life gave you what you always wanted—for Yoongi to love you back. And now that you knew, you’re good. That was all you needed.

As you walk back to your apartment, you pull out your phone and see a series of messages from Jeongguk. Your eyes scan their contents, the majority of them apologies again for the no-show yesterday. And as you pull up the most recent one, you notice that he asks you to come over today if you’re free. You text him back, letting him know that you’ll be there as soon as you possibly can.

You continue home and once you get there, you immediately walk into the shower. While you wash off Yoongi’s scent that still lingers on your skin, you try to clear your mind and think positively. You weren’t sure of many things, but you knew that you had to tell Jeongguk everything today.

He deserves to know.

Quickly, you get out and dry yourself down before slipping on some casual clothes. You head over to Jeongguk’s place, feeling anxious and nervous. And you don’t really know why you’re feeling this way; it wasn’t like you two were strangers. Yet somehow, it feels like it’s been so long since you’ve seen his face.

What are you even going to say to him?

Are you going to hug? Kiss?

All of these normal things the two of you did now feels foreign. But before you can ponder further about seeing Jeongguk, you’re at his front door. You hesitate to push the key you have into the door—do you even have that right anymore? So instead, you ring the bell.

Jeongguk answers within seconds, pulling the door open to reveal a rather disheveled version of him. He looks…tired; there’s no better way to describe it. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“Hey,” he says, scratching the slight stubble that has begun to grow along his chin, “come in.”

You awkwardly duck underneath his arm and take your shoes off. “Hey.”

“How are you?” he asks, and shuts the door behind you.

“I’m…okay,” you turn around and offer a small smile. “You?”

He smiles back, “I’m doing okay, too.”

The two of you walk into the space where his couch and TV are set up. He tells you to go ahead and sit down, while also asking if you want anything to eat or drink. You tell him the usual and watch as his eyes light up for a brief moment before he leaves you sitting there alone. The usual is the little cans of coke you placed into his fridge—you know Jeongguk never drinks those because the first time you did it, he drank them all and you were mad at him for a week. The memory must’ve crossed both of your minds just now.

As he leaves you there to stare at blank white walls of this room, you can feel that anxious feeling returning.

Footsteps paddle across the wooden floor of Jeongguk’s apartment as he walks back to you—a coke in one hand and his own drink in the other. Before he is even beside you, that pressure reaches its max. And when he is beside you, you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

He must notice how tense you are because you don’t even move. Jeongguk brings a hand down to your shoulder, but you flinch away. He retracts his hands away instantly, taking a step back from you. As a sigh leaves your lips, you muster up what little ounce of courage you have and look at him.

When you look at him, you see the dark circles that taint his wide eyes; he looks restless and it’s all because of you. You’ve changed him, and not in the good way.

“Jeongguk…we need to talk.”

“If this is about yesterday…I said—” he begins, but you raise a hand to stop him.

“No…it’s—it’s more than just that,” you try to get the right words out, but fail miserably.

“Is it him?” Jeongguk asks, dropping the drinks and fisting his hands. “Is this all because of Yoongi?”

You finally look at him, “Of course not!”

“Then what did I do wrong, y/n?” he falls to his knees, reaching for your legs. “Tell me how to fix this…”

You try to pry his hands away from you, because it will only make this all harder. “There’s nothing you can do, Jeongguk.”

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” he says, eyes swelling with tears, “and don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me bullshit. I love you...don’t you love me too?”

Tears begin to swim in your vision, “I do…I care about you deeply. You make me smile, but I can’t love you the way you deserve to be. Jeongguk, you’re too good for me…I-I am a shell of the person I used to be. I gave myself away to someone who didn’t love me back and then you came and—and I thought it would be fine. Enough. But…”

Jeongguk grabs your hands, “No one is too good for you, y/n.”

“You are,” your tears are no cascading down your cheeks, “you’re way too good for me.”

He drops your hands and begins to wipe the tears away from your face.

“See!” you exclaim, showing him that everything he does for you is something you can’t give him.

“It’s called being a nice person,” he sighs.

You shake your head, “Not everyone’s willing to love a girl who can’t give her whole heart to them.”

“So, who has the parts of your heart that you can’t give to me then?” You don’t even have to answer him; Jeongguk is no fool. You watch as his jaw begins to clench. “Over and over again, you say that he’s not the reason why…but he is.”

He was partially right, but there was still was something he didn’t get.

“When you met me, I became this person that I wanted to be for you. I wanted to be as good to you as you were to me,” you say, “but that girl you fell in love with…wasn’t genuine. And you don’t deserve that.”

It’s quiet in the room after that.

“Are you…” Jeongguk takes a deep breath, “breaking up with me?”

You swallow the tears that are threatening to spill over and look away from him. Why was this suddenly so difficult? “You deserve someone better than me.”

“Are you choosing him over me?”

“I’m not choosing anyone,” you tighten your hands into fists.

Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair, “So after this, you’re not going to run to him?”

“No,” you look back at him, letting the tears escape freely.

Suddenly, he pulls you into his arms and you crumble. Your sobs make themselves apparent and you let out everything you’ve held inside of you since Yoongi left you for Seoul. As Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, he whispers continuous words of comfort until you’ve said everything you needed to say and the tears subside.

And for a while, the two of you just stay like that—you wrapped in Jeongguk’s arms. It’s comforting in the most platonic way and also bittersweet; when will you ever get to be like this with him again?

“I’m sorry,” you break the silence.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk replies, “if it’s meant to be, it will be…right?”

You take a deep breath, “Right.”

***

You leave Jeongguk’s apartment with a final hug.

The embrace the two of you shared probably only lasted a few seconds as most, but it felt like one of the longest moments in your life.

Even though you’ve accepted everything, you are surprised that Jeongguk let you go without another objection. You were sure that he was going to beg you to stay with him; but as you make your way home, you realize that Jeongguk was just being himself—even after all this, he was still too good to you.

The moment you walk back into your apartment, it’s like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You fall onto your bed with a deep sigh, feeling very different all of a sudden. For the first time in what seems like forever, you feel…okay. Nothing is plaguing or filling your mind with anxious thoughts. You feel free, and you never thought that you would feel this way.

And Jeongguk was right, what is meant to be will be. You weren’t lying when you said that you weren’t choosing anyone.

Being with Yoongi in that emotional way was enough for you; you didn’t need anything else from him. And the fact that he loved you too was all that you needed to live a happy life. But you couldn’t be with Jeongguk after everything either. It would’ve felt like a lie. Both of them deserve the best things in life, and that is more than you can offer.

Now, instead of worrying about both of them and how the hell your life tied into theirs, you’re ready for the next step.

First things first, that job situation. Pulling yourself off your bed, you grab your laptop off the floor and begin to scroll through different job listings. What did you even want to do? What could you even see yourself doing? Working in that music store was a way for you to connect with Yoongi, which now seemed honestly so silly of you, but it was all you could ever really see yourself doing.

Just as he crosses your mind for the briefest of moments, your phone begins to ring somewhere. You ignore the call, mind preoccupied already. But it doesn’t ring just once. It doesn’t take you much to guess who it must be. You get up to check anyway, finding your phone sandwiched between some clothing, and see Yoongi’s name lighting up the screen.

You could answer the phone—god only knows how shocked he must’ve been when he woke up and you were gone—but you ignore the few phone calls he makes to you because you can’t talk to him. If you hear his voice again, you’ll run back to him and that would not be the greatest idea.

Was this too cruel of you? To just suddenly ignore him when all you’ve wished for these past years is to have him in your life? Turning your phone off, you chuck it somewhere and find those brochures you grabbed absentmindedly yesterday. Looking at the brochures again, you see the traveling abroad ones at the very top. For a second, you imagine yourself somewhere else other than here. Because what did you even have here in this small town?

Leaving has never been on your agenda. It wasn’t like you hated living here, but there really wasn’t anything for you. Granted, some of the best things have happened to you here…but perhaps, a little change would be okay.

Perhaps, it could be even great.

***

two years later

“I can see your passport is nearly full, ma’am.”

You offer the airport attendant a smile, “I’ve been…busy these last few years.”

She stamps one of the few empty spaces in your passport before handing it back to you, “Last stop in your journey is South Korea?”

“Just going back home,” you say.

“Well, I hope you have a great flight there.”

You walk further into the airport and to your gate, handing the flight attendant your boarding pass. And as you walk into the airplane, you settle into your seat and let out a breath you’ve been holding.

After that rather eventful day, you decided to make something of your life. You sold almost everything you owned, except for a few things you could carry in a backpack, and bought a one-way ticket to Paris. It was reckless and honestly so unlike you, but it was also one of the best decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

Even though there was no real destination or course you were traveling on, it was still a wonderful experience. You kind of liked the fact that you were not on a specific schedule. Because of this, you’ve been able to go all over the world. You were able to spend a few weeks in Paris, a month in London, another month or so in Cairo. It was absolutely wonderful.

On the few phone calls you made back home, mainly calling to appease the worries of your mother, everyone said you must’ve been so nervous about the uncertainty surrounding your trip. But you assured everyone by saying you weren’t worried—you just lived.

As you fly home, you stare out the windows of the plane and remark on all the different places you’ve been. It has opened your eyes to realize how small you really are compared to the vastness of the world. And you have also met a lot of interesting people. For one, you met that adorable couple in Rome and that boy in San Francisco who also spoke Korean. What was his name again? Jimin, you think.

Things between you and Jimin had been strictly friends with no benefits, but he reminded you so much of Jeongguk and Jeongguk always made you think about Yoongi.

You often wondered how they were doing. One of the phone calls you made abroad were to Jeongguk, which surprised even yourself. It was probably six months into your trip and you just called to see if he was okay. And he was great—more than just okay. You two couldn’t talk forever, it’s fucking expensive to make calls overseas as someone with no money, but what you did talk about was extremely reassuring. He was over whatever tides had risen between the both of you.

“I don’t hate you, y/n.”

You remember just letting out the biggest sigh of relief, “Really? You’re one-hundred-percent positive?”

“You’re quite possibly the greatest person I’ve ever met…how could I hate you?” he said.

You probably could’ve cried at that moment. The phone call ended with you promising him a coffee date once you returned from your spontaneous trip. “You have to promise me.”

“I have no idea when I’ll be back,” you told him honestly. “You can’t possibly wait forever.”

“So, what? You’ll come back home eventually—I want to know what you’ve seen and been up to.”

“What if everything’s different then?” you asked.

He paused for a moment before saying, “The only different thing is that we’ve changed. But we’re also still the same—I’m still the same Jeongguk you met at the music store.”

Jeongguk was contradicting himself, but making some sort of sense still. He was right, you guessed; the two of you had changed a lot, you’ve grown in these last two years and you’re sure he’s moved on with his life as well. But inside, you both are still just y/n and Jeongguk.

You haven’t talked to him since then, but sometimes you managed to get hold of the internet and search up his social media. You deactivated your phone before you left, so you just purchase a phone card when you need it. The last time you looked, he posted a picture with the prettiest girl—a potential girlfriend, perhaps? Whoever she might be, you’re happy for him.

He didn’t need you to breathe after all.

***

The moment you land and walk onto Korean soil, you see his pictures taped on nearly every wall. You have no idea how old they are, but they can’t be too old since his hair isn’t pink anymore.

Since you deactivated your phone, you have no idea what’s up with him anymore. Granted, you have looked up Yoongi’s name online and from what the internet told you, he was doing quite well. But you kept things extremely surface-level—no digging into his personal life like you’ve done with Jeongguk.

You also didn’t call him while you were away, and you don’t know why. Maybe it’s fear? You’re not entirely sure. But what you did know was that these last two years seemed to go by faster than the previous two years. Wasn’t it a bit ironic that you were now the one who left him after he left you?

Walking through the airport, you call a taxi to take you to the train station.

On the train back to your hometown, it feels surreal that you’re actually back after so long. What are you supposed to do now? For one, you managed to call your old landlord and rent out your apartment again. It was a relief actually; when you decided to come back home, you were kind of freaking out about where you were supposed to live again. Thankfully, since you’ve been gone, no one else has rented out your small place. Or if someone did, they didn’t stay for long.

So, at least you have a place to live.

That was a start, right?

After a few hours, you begin to see the scenery of your hometown. And surprisingly, you begin to feel a bit nostalgic all of the sudden. As much as you don’t really want to admit it, you missed home while you were away. Two years isn’t that long, but at the same time, it is.

Getting off the train, you walk down the familiar streets you grew up on and can’t help but smile. Everything looks different, new buildings and streets, but feels exactly the same as it did when you left.

And although you’re somewhat unsure what lies in the future, you honestly are excited to see what life has in store.

***

A few days after you get situated back into your apartment, you finally decide to hop on that phone situation.

Since you’re back, for now at least, you might as well get a phone. On your trip, you were able to save what little money you made from taking on miscellaneous jobs. It wasn’t much, but it’s brought you this far. You get the first phone the worker tries to sell to you and all is well in the world.

And with a phone back in your life, you give Jeongguk a call to fulfill the promise you made him a while ago. Thankfully, his number hasn’t changed at all and he’s more than excited to meet you for coffee. The two of you decide that tomorrow afternoon will be a good time and you swear that you can’t sit still until then.

Jeongguk tells you the name of a shop for you to meet him at and you arrive there first, getting a coffee for the two of you. When he arrives, you are equal parts surprised and relieved. He hasn’t changed at all. The moment he walks into the café, your eyes meet his and it feels like two years haven’t gone bye. It feels like you never left at all.

You don’t even know what you both talk about—probably nonsense—but you’re there for hours. And you guys laugh…a lot. It’s something you didn’t think you’d be able to do again with him. While you’re at the café, you learn that he is dating again and all you can feel is joy for him. He deserves someone good; someone who can give him the world. Jeongguk also asks about your love life, to which you say is nonexistent.

“I’m sure he’s out there.”

You laugh, “I’m actually super content with being single for the rest of my life. Like, these last two years have really shown me how to properly live and I don’t think I need someone to do that.”

“Have you called Suga—I mean, Yoongi?” Jeongguk asks, rather out of the blue, and you’re surprised.

“No,” you tilt your head to the side, “I haven’t.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, “Dude’s making it big these days.”

That was an understatement. In the time you’ve been back, it seems like you can’t escape Yoongi. His pictures are everywhere; he’s in his music prime. Every girl is obsessed with him, and every guy wants to be invited to his parties or be his friend. You can hear his music being played all over town as well. It’s absolutely crazy.

“I’m happy for him.”

“I think you should call him.”

You stare at Jeongguk for a moment, wondering why he is so intent on you calling Yoongi. “Why do you care so much? From what I remember, you weren’t fond of him at all.”

Jeongguk feigns indifference, shrugging. “I’m not his biggest fan, but I figured since we’re talking…you should try talking to him too.”

A part of you wonders if something went down between Jeongguk and Yoongi while you were gone. The moment from the street, the only time you remember both of them meeting, flashes across your mind for a second. You can still feel the tension rolling through the air from that day; you could tell that every word had been forced.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, and the conversation about Yoongi ends there.

***

Life works in mysterious ways.

About three weeks after your homecoming, there are three precise knocks on the door. Without even thinking, or looking into the little peephole of your door, you just open it. And time seems to stop. You didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t this.

“Hi.”

You stare at him before rubbing your eyes to make sure this is reality. Are you dreaming? When your hands fall from your face, he’s still there.

He looks a little different; dark hair lays tousled on his head instead of the pink you remembered. Damn, you were just getting used to it too. In fact, you kind of miss it now that you’re thinking about it. But it seems like time is on his side—he doesn’t look like he aged at all. It doesn’t even seem like fame has fazed him either.

“Hey,” to your own ears, your voice sounds off. Do you always sound like this?

“How have you been?”

“I…” As much as you’re still in mild shock that he’s standing in front of you, you’re confused. What is he doing here? Why is he here? How did he even know you were here in the first place? “I’m good…you?”

Yoongi smiles, “Better.”

“So…uh…what are you doing here?”

“Heard from someone that you’re back home,” he shrugs, “and figured I would come by. I can’t believe you live in the same apartment still.”

You roll your eyes, “This place is functioning, okay? Besides, I’m just thankful the landlord let me have it back.”

It’s quiet between the two of you after that. Yoongi just stares at you for the longest time before reaching out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Why did you leave?”

“Are you talking about that night or Korea in general?”

“Everything,” he says. “Do you know how many times I called? I was so worried. I was so desperate for an answer I even called Jeongguk, and when he told me you broke up with him…god…I was so fucking happy—is that wrong?—but then when he said he had no idea where you went off too…I-I can’t even explain how I felt.”

“Now you know how I felt,” you mutter under your breath.

But Yoongi hears you, “Is this to get back at me for going to Seoul?”

“Of course not!” you tell him. “I’m not that crazy. I left because I thought it was best—I told Jeongguk that I wasn’t going to choose between the two of you.”

“Are you stupid? In what world did you think I would okay if you’re gone?” Yoongi asks and your mouth shuts. “Did nothing I say to you mean anything?”

“It meant everything.”

“But you still left.”

You rub your forehead, “Yoongi, I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left so your life would be better. You don’t need me. Jeongguk didn’t need me. I was okay with loving you from afar and—”

You stop talking when Yoongi’s finger moves to your lips.

“Shut up,” he says.

All you can do is nod.

“You’re wrong,” he begins, “I need you in my life. I’ve been miserable for years without you…and I was a fool to believe otherwise.”

You nod again, “Okay…but let’s start over, yeah?”

With all the stress and heartbreak surrounding the two of you over these past years, it feels like it would just be better if you both begin this new chapter in your lives fresh. You want to get to know Yoongi again—not just who he used to be, but who he is now. Has his favorite food changed? How is Seoul? What does he do now during his free time?

Thankfully, a smile stretches across his face. “I would love that.”

“So, if that’s the case,” you return the smile and stretch out your hand, “I’m y/n.”

“Hi, I’m Min Yoongi.”

The moment your hands touch, you seem to feel everything. Blood rushes through your body, heart beating erratically. You’re excited about the future—a future with Yoongi was something you didn’t think was possible. And whether or not the two of you will be together romantically, who even knows, all you care about is the fact that he wants you in his life.

That in itself is the greatest feeling ever.

***

“Wait…aren’t you supposed to be in Seoul?”

“…Maybe.”

“Don’t tell me you took the train here. That must’ve caused an uproar since you’re oh-so-famous now.”

“I’m not that famous…and I took my private plane.”

“…you have a private plane?!”

“I’m kidding; I drove my car. Want to come with me to Seoul?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Min Yoongi?”

“I think I am.”

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (3)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. Chapters 1 and 2 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Language and sexual implications.

Word count: 2.8k

Before we go on this adventure together, you need to experience some things first. Don’t scroll past them. Really treat yourself. I love you. Happy Friday. You’re welcome.

“Son of a bitch.” The copier is jammed again. You try desperately to remember how Brendon fixed it last time (there’s been at least four times in between the first day of school and this moment where he has come to your rescue) and you remember watching his arms and fingers working but you can’t recall what they were actually doing. Fuck. You manage to find the front panel but it’s a maze of knobs and pulleys and trays and knowing your luck, you’ll just screw it up more. You stand up and cross to the bathroom. Hair is okay, it’s pulled back in a loose bun. Makeup is fine, you look a little tired but that’s to be expected. Outfit is your normal sleeveless blouse/skirt combo. Okay. You look presentable. Time to head to the band room.

When you arrive, the door is shut and you can hear a heavy bass sound coming through the door. You think about knocking but know he won’t hear you, so you try the knob. It opens and you make a mental note to teasingly (but not really) reprimand him for violating the school safety policy but all thoughts leave your head and your mouth goes dry when you see him behind the elaborate drum kit, playing like his life depends upon it. Holy shit. His shirt sleeves are rolled up (you’re beginning to think this is his norm and you like it) and there’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead and fuck, he is good. He looks up, his eyes narrowed in focus, and then he spots you. He drops one of the sticks, it seems accidentally, but then drops the other on purpose. “Well hello, Ms. Milton.” He wipes his brow and stands up with a broad smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It takes you a moment to form a coherent thought. “What are you doing?” You finally manage and he raises an eyebrow, amused. No, you didn’t come to ask him that and it’s obvious anyway, focus. “I mean. I’m here because the copier…” you trail off feebly, still looking at him. Is his shirt clinging to his chest? Jesus. No. You’re imagining that. Right?

He grins. “And you’re in need of my particular set of skills. Got it.” He flexes his fingers and is crossing the room when he answers your first question. “I was playing to blow off some steam. Drums always help me calm down.”

“What were you - never mind, it’s none of my business.” You wave your hand in the air as if to shoo the question away and hope he’ll ignore the awkwardness. He opens the classroom door for you and, following you out, answers.

“My second period music appreciation class was just a collective pain in the ass today. I think they realized they actually have to do work to get course credit.”

You roll your eyes. “What a novel concept, right? My first block was like that actually. I had to remind them that English is a requirement to graduate. They have to pass. But no, they just kept -“ you cut yourself off, frustrated.

He looks at you curiously and opens the lounge door for you. “What were they doing?” He drops to his knees in front of the copier and fuck, his shirt is clinging to his back so it was definitely clinging to his chest.

You roll your eyes but it’s solely for your benefit; he has his back to you. “They kept asking questions that are not relevant to my class. How old am I, am I single, what’s my favorite movie, what music do I listen to, where do I buy my clothes, oh god it was awful.” You slump against the wall and he looks up at you. You’re suddenly aware that today’s skirt is slightly shorter than the others and at his angle, he might be getting some serious thigh.

“Well, if they get to be too much, send the worst one on a special errand. You need new expo markers, you need a note delivered to a teacher, you need Diet Coke from the vending machine because you’re feeling a migraine coming on, something. You’re welcome to send me decoy notes.” He’s gone back to focusing on the copier.

“That’s a good idea. Thank you. I’m gonna keep that in mind, actually.”

He grins, meeting your eyes again. “And I’ll stall them by writing a decoy note back. Keep them out of your hair.”

You laugh. “This sounds like a great plan. All I need now is to figure out how to fix the damn copier. Can you teach me?”

He looks affronted and places a hand lovingly on the front of the machine. “Be nice to her! And why on earth would I teach you the one thing I know that you don’t and keeps you coming to my door?” He raises an eyebrow, obviously expecting an answer and you will yourself not to blush.

“I, well, I don’t want to keep bothering you is all. And I don’t like depending on people.”

He stands up and pats the machine. “You’re not a bother. And you can depend on me.” He pauses in the doorway to look back at you. “They’re good questions by the way.” You look confused. “How old are you, are you single, what’s your favorite movie…”

“Oh.”

“You’re great with words Milton and you’re real smart; you know that’s not an answer to the question posed.” He leans against the doorway and grins, waiting. “Ah, this is a test Milton. I gotcha, it’s the old scaffolding model. I do, we do, you do. We’ll just skip the middle step though. Here. 28, yes, Inglorious Basterds. See, not so hard.” His tone is playful and you aren’t annoyed at the teasing at all - particularly not after that second answer.

“27, yes, Little Miss Sunshine.” He smiles at you approvingly and you grin. “Do I get a sticker for doing a good job, Mr. Urie?” You flutter your eyelashes at him before you both start laughing.

“We don’t give stickers in high school. Now let’s go.” He walks out the door and you scurry after him.

“Where are we going? We don’t have duty this week.”

“I know.” He turns to look at you and you can’t quite read his expression. “Yep. Come on.” You don’t know what he saw in your eyes but you’ll follow. He stops short and you look around.

“Brendon, this is the cafeteria.”

“Y/n, I know.” He smirks and grabs your hand and pulls you through the doors. Second lunch is ending so you’re swimming upstream and when he finally comes to a stop, it’s at a door on the other side of the room, opposite the doors to the arts hall. He carefully opens the door and slips through, and because your hand is still (still!) in his, you go too. It’s dark. For a split second, all you can hear is his breathing and you can feel his hand gripping yours. What the fuck are you about to d- he turns on the light. Well, damn.

“What is this?” You look around, very confused. He chuckles, dropping into a chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“The student council meeting room. They do a fundraiser every Friday where they bake fresh cookies in that,” he gestures blindly behind himself, “and sell them to the students. Two cookies, one dollar.” You follow his flailing hand and see a branded Otis Spunkmeyer cookie oven. You wander closer and see that it claims to make delicious cookies in just five minutes when used with genuine Otis Spunkmeyer dough. He’s turned in his seat to watch you and he chuckles. “So if I’m ever craving a cookie, I sneak in, bake two, and leave a five dollar bill. Debbie almost definitely knows it’s me but she hasn’t said anything yet so,” he shrugs. “I keep them in dough. Literally.” He laughs at his own joke and you do too.

“So...why are we here?” You think it might be a dumb question but he stands briskly, walks to the freezer, and pulls out a bag of frozen dough.

“I said we don’t give out stickers. But I will give you a cookie.” He grins, flicking the switch to ‘on’ and dropping blobs of dough onto the baking panel. “And now we wait.” You sit side by side on top of the table opposite the machine in comfortable silence. Internally, you’re amazed. It’s never been this easy or natural with anyone. And his hand holding yours. Damn. Your thoughts continue to wander and you’re fighting it. No. Focus. Cookies. It’s no use. Shit.

He carefully opens the door and slips through, and because your hand is still (still!) in his, you go too. It’s dark. For a split second, all you can hear is his breathing and you can feel his hand gripping yours. What the fuck are you about to d- he crushes his mouth over yours, pressing you to the door. “Been wanting to do this for awhile,” he says hoarsely, and you moan. “Had to be sure you were single. Interested.” He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you nod. His lips are back over yours and his tongue is in your mouth when he slips a knee in between yours and tries to spread your legs, but the cut of your skirt prevents that. “Love this look on you. So fucking sexy,” he groans, tracing a finger from the center of your chest down to the waistband of your skirt. “But I need you to start wearing things I can work with.” You nod and gasp as his full lips move down your neck, leaving hot wet kisses as he goes. “I know I’ve been coming on kinda strong. Not real subtle. But fuck, I’m into you. So I’m not sorry.” This is murmured against your skin and you whimper, rocking your hips up, seeking.

“Brendon,” you murmur and he looks at you, eyes heavy.

“Yes?” Fuck. His voice isn’t muffled by your neck and shoulder. It’s beside you. Fuck. He looks at you curiously. “Uhm. Thank you for this. All of it. The copier, the fish fry, the advice, this. You’re being really nice to me.” He smiles softly.

“You need to reread your fairytales Milton. I’m a hermit, not a troll. I can be nice.” He doesn’t sound offended though. Just amused. You laugh, protesting.

“I just mean...thank you. Really.”

He places a cookie, wrapped in wax paper, in your hand. “For doing such a good job earlier,” he winks at you playfully and hands you another. “And for when you realize that Brendon Urie just made you the best goddamn cookie you’ve ever had and you find yourself needing another.” He wraps up his own, powers down the machine, wipes a damp cloth over the baking surface, and turns to the door. “But they’re best enjoyed hot. So don’t wait too long.” And with another wink, he holds the door open for you and you walk through to head back to your respective rooms.

He stops at the band room door. “Well, this is me. Thanks for being my pseudo-drum kit. I feel a lot better.” He grins and you return it.

You can hit this anytime. No, brain. Bad. No. “Well, it’s the least I could do, all things considered. Seriously.”

“Don’t give it another thought. I’m happy to help you.”

You smile and wave, before heading back to your room. Once you’re inside, you stop. “Wait. He said ‘happy to help you.’ That’s not the saying. It’s just ‘happy to help.’ And he said not to wait too long with the cookie. Is the cookie a metaphor? Fucking hell, I think this cookie is a metaphor.” You’re speaking out loud, pacing. “He is flirting with me.” You say it decisively and grin giddily. “Hell yes.”

The rest of planning, lunch, and fourth block all fly by. You’re in a great mood. You might stay for a little while and get some work done, but you’re not sure yet. What you do know for certain is, it’s hot as fuck outside and it’s creeping in and you want a water bottle. You get up from behind your desk and head for the vending machine, cash in hand. You can already feel the Dasani as it hits your tongue. Cash goes in. Button is pressed. Nothing happens. You groan. You hit the button again and to your joy, you hear the promising rumble of a bottle. To your surprise, two fall out. You’re standing there with both icy bottles in your hands when it hits you. Of course.

You set off at a brisk pace until you’re crashing through the side doors of the school. “Agh! it’s bright!” You shield your eyes and scan your surroundings. Yep. Practice field to your right. It’s down a steep hill, which you manage pretty gracefully all things considered, until his voice crackles through the air.

“Welcome to practice Ms. Milton!” You jolt in surprise. Oh. The electric megaphone. Yep. Your band director had one too. No sense straining your throat from the top of the band tower when megaphones exist. Shockingly, you don’t trip down the rest of the hill - but you’re far happier once you’re on flat ground. “Hold. Take a water break everyone. You’ve got five minutes.” You hear the sighs of relief from where you are and walk briskly to the base of the tower. He leans over and looks down at you warmly, megaphone at his feet and sunglasses glinting. “Well hello again Milton. What brings you to Urie’s Torturedome?” You look confused and he chuckles. “They don’t like practicing outside. They like winning, but they don’t like practicing. So until the school builds us an AstroTurf gymnasium, they refer to marching practice as the torturedome.”

The young woman clamoring down from the drum major’s podium protests. “We don’t mean it Mr. Urie! We really are grateful you hold us to such a high standard. Superior ratings aren’t given, they’re earned.” She looks at you earnestly. “Really.”

“All good Marissa. I’m just teasing because I know you can hear me. Get some water and you can extend their break.” She salutes and you don’t think it’s ironically. She’s definitely an honors kid. You relate to her so hard. You just want to please him. Fuck. Phrasing. He looks back down at you. “So. What brings you here?”

You hold up the bottle of Dasani. “The vending machine gods blessed me with a fruitful bounty this harvest. Figured you could use this more than me.” His eyes light up.

“Most definitely. Come on up.” You look warily at the ladder. “You don’t have to come up if you’re afraid of heights though. I’ll come to you. Hold on.”

You laugh a little. “It’s not the height. I’m just in a skirt, that’s all.” He nods in understanding and within mere seconds, he’s down the ladder and leaning against one metal rod of the tower with the bottle in his hand.

“You are an angel. An absolute angel.” He declares, twisting the lid off. You smile and shrug and he looks at you appraisingly. “You’re sure it’s not the height? It is the tallest marching tower in the state.” He isn’t even assuming his faux-humble look and tone. He’s actually proud, and you’re actually impressed. You shake your head as you take a swig from your water and gesture at your skirt as you swallow. “Well, I need you to start wearing things I can work with.” You freeze - those words sound familiar. Fuck. Student council cookie fantasy. That’s a coincidence, surely. But he’s still talking. “You’re a former band kid and I want a second pair of eyes. I need you on my tower. You did volunteer to help in any way you could,” he reminds you. “This is how you can help. Climb the tower, Milton.” You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses and he’s taking a slow sip of water and you can’t tell if he’s flirting or is totally unaware of the sexual euphemism he’s created. There’s a single drop of water clinging to his lower lip. Fuck. His tongue flicks out to collect it and while you’re not sure, you feel comfortable guessing that he’s watching you steadily.

“I’ll do my best to remember.” There. Solid answer that fits both scenarios. “I’ll let you get back to practice.” You aren’t wearing sunglasses so you can’t hide the long look you give him from head to toe but you don’t want to. You want him to see you looking. He’s changed from his usual uniform to another band shirt, a white tee this time with the current show design on the back, and black shorts. His hair is contained by a black, backwards snapback and you can’t lie, it’s a good look for him. Really good look for him. Damn. You take another sip of water, letting your eyes meet his.

He’s been watching you scan him, and his voice is lower now; students are starting to head back over. “Taking notes on what is appropriate band practice attire?”

You grin. “Nope.” And with that, you turn and head back up the hill.

[yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend]

Dear Friend - Part 4

Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean meets a girl on a new hunter website and begins an online romance. The only problem is, they don’t know who the other person is. Could their love for one another last only in the confines of the computer screen or will their desire for something more lead them to finally meet?

Warnings: Dean says “ass”. A bit more of a slow burn but we’re getting closer!

A/N: This is part 4 of my little series based on “You’ve Got Mail” and “She Loves Me.” I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. A big thank you to the wonderful @hannahindie for betaing this for me. I’m loving all the feedback y’all are giving me on this and welcome more of it. Thanks for taking the time to read my words!

Series Masterlist

“No offense, but I hope I never see you again,” she said.

“Likewise,” was all he managed to say in return.

Do you ever feel like you’ve become the worst version of yourself? Like all the things you’ve been keeping in just flow out of you one day, like a giant Pandora’s Box being opened? All the hate and spite and nastiness just pouring out from deep within you? Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on with life, you zing them. I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about.

No, I do and I’m completely jealous. What happens to me is I become utterly tongue-tied. I can’t think of a word to say in the moment, then I just spend the night tossing and turning, playing the situation over and over in my head. I always come up with great things to say about four hours later, but by then it’s too late.

Wouldn’t it be great if I could just pass you all of my zingers? Then I’d never be an ass and you’d be an ass all the time and we’d both be happy. But fair warning, when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean the moment you mean to say it, you regret it immediately. Remorse always seems to follow.

Do you think we should meet?

Y/N read the last sentence of BabyDriver67’s message. “Meet?” she reread aloud to her empty room. Suddenly the air around her felt too hot and she couldn’t handle it. She shut her laptop quickly as if he could somehow see her reaction. She stood from her desk and paced the room as his words replayed in her head.

Days passed on as she thought over her response. To fill her time and keep her mind busy, she took on another case with Christina. It was a simple vengeful spirit that only took a couple days to handle. Afterwards, the ladies found themselves in the familiar scene of the local bar, sharing a couple beers.

“He wants to meet,” Y/N fiddled with her bottle as it sat on the table in front of her. She moved it ever so slightly to the left.

Christina swallowed hard at her friend’s words, “Mystery guy?!” she asked excitedly.

“Yeah. Ugh, I don’t know what to do!” Y/N buried her face in her hands.

“Well, do you want to meet him?”

Y/N thought for a moment. Part of her did want to put a face to the name, but what if it didn’t turn out like the fantasies in her head had played out? “I mean, yes, of course I do. I’ve been talking to him for the past eight months. But what if he’s unimpressed with me?” She moved her head to rest in her hands on the table. “I don’t think I could stand to be rejected.”

Christina gave her a long look. “He won’t reject you. How many times do I have to tell you you’re gorgeous? And you’re a badass hunter who doesn’t take shit from anyone. The only person who’s a better catch is me.” She gave a wink as she took another sip of her beer.

“You’re too kind,” Y/N said as she rolled her eyes.

“Just meet in a public place. And bring your gun,” Christina stressed her the last sentence with a point of her bottle.

That night Y/N sat at her desk in front of her computer, biting her nail as she stared at a blank new message.

Do you still want to meet me?

I would love to meet you. Where? When?

“So she’s just waiting there with a book and a flower?” Sam questioned as he and Dean walked down the street to the rendezvous point – Café Laszlo, a quaint little café in a small town off the interstate. HellsBelle25 had apparently been there once during a hunt and fell in love with it. They had given each other vague and nondescript ideas of their locations and from what they gathered, this was a good halfway point.

“A red carnation,” Dean nodded and held up one of his own.

“Have you thought about the fact that she could be catfishing you? She could be an eighty year old grandma for all you know.”

Dean stopped in his tracks as his brother continued on a few more. He was right – she could be eighty, or unattractive. He did some soul searching. Was he really that shallow to let looks get in the way of his feelings towards this woman? Suddenly his palms were sweaty, “I’ll just stay ten minutes. Just ten minutes, then I’ll go. I’m gonna say hello, have a cup of coffee, then split. That’s what I’ll do.”

He began walking again and Sam matched his stride when he caught up to him. Dean continued to mutter thoughts out loud to himself. “What if she has a weird voice? What if she has a weird laugh?” He stopped again and grabbed his brother by the arms. “Why am I doing this? What was I possibly thinking when I thought I should meet her?”

Sam gently lowered Dean’s hands from his arms, “I think I might not be the best person to give relationship advice. My past flings haven’t really turned out so well, if you remember correctly.”

Dean took a moment to think on his brother’s words. “You’re right,” he groaned and continued walking up the street. They finally came up on a small building framed with trees and hedges adorned with delicate twinkle lights that glowed in the cool night air. Dean noted the magic of the whole scene. “Café Laszlo, we’re here.” He glanced at his watch – eight p.m. exactly – the time they had set to meet. “We got here fast, didn’t we?”

“Dean, I think you’re stalling now.” Sam gave him a look.

“Sammy, this is the most incredible woman I have ever been in contact with. What if she meets me and is unimpressed? What if she’s gorgeous? I think I’ll have to marry her.” He dragged his hands down his face.

Sam clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder and leaned into him, “She could be Garth.” He laughed and gave his shoulder a couple pats.

He turned to try to walk away but Dean caught his arm, effectively halting his escape. “Could you go look for me?”

“Me?” Sam pointed to himself.

“Yes,” Dean nodded emphatically. “Just go to the window and check her out.”

Sam ruminated on the request for a moment. “Alright,” he gave a small nod and a slight frown and began to walk up the steps to the front window. “You’re pathetic, though,” he said, turning back to look at his brother.

“I know, I know,” Dean grumbled as he sat on a nearby bench. He wrung his hands together as he eagerly awaited Sam’s reconnaissance. “Well? Do you see her?”

“No,” Sam frowned again, but then his eyebrows raised. “Wait, I see a very beautiful girl.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Very beautiful. Gorgeous even,” he sucked in a quick wince and turned to Dean, “but no flower.”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, “Come on, man.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam raised his hands in apology and turned back to the window to search again. “Alright. Alright, there’s a book with a red flower, so that must be her.”

“And what does she look like?” Dean was becoming exasperated.

Sam shrugged again, “I can’t see her. The waiter’s in the way.”

“Damn it!” Dean groaned to the sky.

“Wait, he’s moving.”

Dean held his breath as Sam squinted and leaned in closer to the window. “Can you see her?” He was answered with silence as his brother cupped his hands and continued to peer in. “Can you see her?” His tone a little more demanding.

“Uh, yeah.”

“And?!”

Sam thought for a moment and looked at his brother, “She’s very pretty.” His hands stretched out the words.

“She is?!” Dean’s fist pumped in the air and he jumped up from his seat. “I knew she would be. She had to be. She. Had. To. Be.” He gave little claps in between each word.

“You know she looks –” Sam searched the street as if the right words would walk past him. “She almost has the same coloring as Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, the hunter?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Well, yeah. You did say she was attractive.”

Dean waved his hands out in front of him in confusion, “Well, sure she is. But who cares about Y/N Y/L/N?” He went back to his celebration.

“Well, if you don’t like Y/N Y/L/N, I can tell you right now, you aren’t going to like this girl.”

Dean stopped the little dance he had been doing and turned to his brother in confusion, “Why not?”

“Because it is Y/N Y/L/N.”

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