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folkloreguk · 3 years

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French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

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mashiraostail · 3 years

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please momnight conent? Like student reader is upset/struggling with the material and goes to her for help or something literally please momnight im begging u

omg u do not have to beg kind anon i am happy to write momnight

“I’m sorry I feel really stupid..” You scrub at your face sitting in front of your teacher, she’s crouched down to eye level, one arm draped across your desk. “I just don’t understand this part at all..” You set your pencil down to use both hands, scrubbing at both of your eyes now. “Hey come on, don’t say that!” Nemuri squeezes your wrist, “you’ll hurt yourself, just try reading it over again, sometimes that’s all it takes to get it to click.” “I’m wasting your time, you have way more important things to be doing.” You mutter, “I’m sorry Midnight I think I’m a lost cause.” She lets out a loud gasp at that. “Don’t say that sort of thing! NO way are you a lost cause!” She closes the book between you, “look at me.” “I’m embarrassed. I know I’m strong but when it comes to bookish stuff I’m totally useless. You must think I’m an absolute moron-” “No, I think Present Mic is a total moron.” She rests her chin in her hand as you finally look at her, chuckling to yourself over her jab at your English teacher. “There we go. A little smile helps you feel much better huh?” She nudges your calf underneath the desk, you nod meekly. “And anyways... I don’t think you’re a moron, I think you’re a kid. A student with a lot to learn. But you’re learning, even if its hard. Honestly, that's commendable, if this doesn’t come naturally to you putting in all the work to still do well is admirable, you don’t have to be the best you just have to do your best.” “But I-” “No buts.” She frowns, “don’t talk back to your teacher.” “Ow did you just pinch me- stop!” You pull your legs up into your chair as her attack on your leg continues. “No one is good at everything. And yes I mean no one. Not a single person.” “Well... what about All Might?” As soon as you finish she’s rolling her eyes. “He can’t even make a cup of coffee, and he’s never sent me a text that doesn’t have some sort of spelling error.” “Principal Nezu?” “He’s not a person he doesn’t count.” You snort at that and rest your chin against your bent knees. “Well what about you? It sure seems like your good at everything...” You hug your legs to your chest and she pricks up a bit as you continue, “I just wanna be like you. You’re strong and smart and everyone likes you and you’re reliable and even if people underestimate you you always prove them wrong, even when you aren’t in the spotlight you’re doing the most to help...I... I wanna be like that, I wanna be just like you Miss Kayama.” “Oh god I...I think I’m gonna cry.” She sucks in a deep breath. “What? Why would you do that dont-! Don’t cry!” You fumble as she sits back on her haunches. “Well then don’t be such a little cherub!” She argues and then sighs, “look, I’ll be honest with you okay?” She reaches out and takes your hand, “it’s a really long time coming. Three years is a lot longer than it seems, and you’ve got a lot to learn. But you’re right, you are strong, and you are smart, smarter than you think.” She promises as she rests her chin on your desk, “even by coming to me for help you’ve proven how much you want this, how much you care about getting to your destination and..you know between you and I..you really do remind me of myself when I was your age.” She sighs wistfully and you grin at her, “yes you do, we’re practically spitting images of each other.” “Shut up Midnight.” You chortle, unfolding your legs. “Ouch! What happened to Miss Kayama?!”” She pouts, picking her head up, “I’ll report you for insubordinance.” “No you won’t.” You cheese at her and she shrugs, waving her hand. “Ehhhh, yeah I guess you’re right. I won’t. especially not after you said you think I’m perfect.” “Well are you or aren’t you?” “Hm...I’d like to think I am.” She taps her bottom lip with her free hand and you snort, “though Mic says I have a terrible music taste, and Eraser says my sense of humor is shot...once Vlad told me I’m the worst driver he’s ever had the displeasure of accompanying on a grocery run, All Might says I’ve got one of the messiest cars he’s ever seen...oh Hound Dog also told me once that I make the worst cup of coffee on the planet and Cementoss agreed with him. But those are just opinions and they’re subjective so I’m...subjecting them to the trash.” “I don’t think that’s how constructive criticism is meant to work.” You grin at the thought of her fellow teachers digging into her though. “Ehhh..you say tomato..” She waves it off and then piques, “now I’ve got a question.” “if it’s about this material then sorry because I’m really shot for-” “No, no. You really want to be like me?” You flush, you can feel it in your ears, you murmur, “...yes...” “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you-” “Yes!” You shout it a little louder than intended but she’s just laughing. “Really? Me?” I didn’t think I was exactly childhood role-model material.” “That’s why I liked you..” You pluck at the fabric of your shirt, “everyone always wrote you off, but you always came through in the end, you always proved you were a lot more than your branding. I thought it was cool...that you didn’t try to be one dimensional, that you could be pretty and strong and smart.” You look up at her, “everyone likes you, everyone relies on you. I want to be that sort of strong. Forget picking up cars, forget punching in villains..I want people to need me like they need you. Like I need you.” “Wow, I’m really gonna cry.” “I told you don’t cry!” You snap, “you’re embarrassing me.” You cross your arms and she gasps. “You’re the one who went on the wild tangent!” Her laughter fizzles out and she stands, “come on.” She offers you a hand, “I think you get to call it for the afternoon, you’re probably the last student left here.” You let her pull you out of your seat, she wraps an arm around you and squeezes you into her side, “how about an extra day to work on the assignment?” “Are you playing favorites?” You ask her wearily. “No. If someone else needs an extra day all they need to do is ask.” She hums, “try rereading the chapter tonight, and writing a summary of it. Give that to me tomorrow and I’ll let you know if you’re on the right track.” “What if I’m not?” You gnaw at your lip nervously. “That’s what I’m here for, duh. Now let me walk you back to the dorms.”

#platonic midnight x reader #nemuri kayama x student reader #nemuri kayama #midnight #midnight x reader

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dreamties · 4 years

Text

Slashers W/ a Soft Pastel S/O

A/n - So this one actually wasn’t requested, I just thought it would be super cute. And what I mean by “Soft Pastel”, I mean being into soft/pastel/kawaii fashion, I just didn’t know how to phrase it. Since there’s so many subcultures.

Trigger Warning: Slight Cursing (I say f*ck)

Also- these are gender neutral, but a few describe you in skirts/dresses, so if you’re not comfy with that, just skip that part or the whole thing?? :/

I might do more like this for other types of alternative fashion- like punk or something? Or a S/O who has a lot of body mods, I think it would be fun.

Characters: Billy/Stu, The Lost Boys, Helen Lyle, Daniel Robitaille/Candyman, Brahms Heelshire, and Amanda Young.

I didn’t add Michael Myers, but can do so if y’all want it. I just think he’d be very indifferent about it...didn’t think that would be very fun to read.

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

Stu would be the most like into your outfits

Billy? Not so much. he just thinks you look cute in everything.

but if you did more guro-kawaii looks? they would both be all over that shit.

it combines more of the grotesque in with the cute- which is just perfect for the boys. they get to see you dawned in all sorts of blood, guts/gore, bandage patterns/aesthetics.

and maybe even tying in different monster-ish elements.

like wearing funky white or other unnatural colored contacts, really intense makeup(especially around the eyes), and fuck it, maybe you’re wearing faux demon horns.

I think they’d find it kinda hot. if we’re being perfectly honest here.

Now- would you able to get them into it as well?

Stu will ask you, with excitement reverberating throughout out his body and his voice. of course he want’s to at least try it!

so many clips in Stu’s hair. you haven’t even had that many in your hair before!

he may also wear rings sometimes. he thinks all the colors and designs are just so fun!

and on the other hand...

Billy, the guy that basically wore the same outfit for an entire movie? who’s closet only contains jeans and white t-shirts? trying out your style? i don’t think so lol

if you do- somehow- get him to try...

then you might have pressured him into it a bit? very jokingly, of course.

“C’mon, humor me, babe. Stu’s already dressed and everything!” You try giving him puppy eyes to seal the deal.

“Fine!” Billy says, grabbing the garment and a few clips from your hands. He shuts the door too harshly behind him.

A short silence is shared, before you and Stu burst out laughing. “Do you think he’s mad at us?” You’re hardly able to get it out. Of course he was, but in his own odd way appreciated this adventure.

He comes back a moment later, his white t-shirt replaced with a pastel red one, an especially gory character printed on the front. and a red clip barely hanging on to one of the side pieces of hair in front of his face. You try to suppress a giggle at Billy’s messily put together look.

for the love of gosh- don’t actually laugh when he appears. he is very outside of his comfort zone, and he’s only doing this because he loves you and Stu, and just,, don’t add this to his list of reasons not to try new things.

whatever your reaction ends up being, you’re absolutely obligated to tell them how attractive they look in it(even Billy who looks hella dorky).

(my art)

The Lost Boys

the comparison between their dark, punk-ish style and then the sweet baby pinks and blues, and soft lavenders that adorned your form??

it’s just too sweet.

they are completely enamored by your style- even if certain vampires (and I’m not naming any names, but I definitely mean David) may not show his love for your look as openly

Marko- he’d get one cutesy patch for his jacket, so he has like a little piece of you everywhere he goes. also...he genuinely ended up really digging your style? but not enough to abandon his punk look completely. he is still totally dedicated to that.

the other boys will absolutely mess with him about the patch though

all in good fun!

David’s not letting you near his hair with any extra clips or accessories.

Dwayne enjoys the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you. just sitting together, you might be styling his hair( super loose ponytail or braid- admit it, it would be so cute! and helpful so his hair isn’t always in his face!)...anyways, you’d use a colorful hair tie, and a few clips to help pin back his hair.

he probably won’t go out with the clips in, but if it’s just the five of you at the cave? he’ll keep it in until it’s time to sleep.

he loves seeing how happy and accomplished you look after finishing with his hair tho.

Paul is hands down the most likely to get into the whole look and go out in public with it on.

makeup? hell yeah. it won’t be as intense as yours, and he probably only does the eyes and maybe some shine. sparkly vampire time

hair accessories? all of them

would try combining his look with yours, to have a perfect mess of it.

a light, light blue mesh top, slightly darker blue jacket(with slight accents in pink, purple, white or black), and his usual sort of white jeans(?) would still look great with it. he’s absolutely rocking that look.

you are ecstatic to finally have someone else to share your passion with! (much harder to find similar folks when you’re a vampire,,)

Helen Lyle

she’s so used to the plain life around her, and she’d been living before you- you were such a breath of fresh air.

of course, you’re darling personality also drew her into you- but your fashion sense? it fascinated her.

she’s not trying it herself anytime soon, but she appreciates the fact that you enjoy it.

the most she would ever try is a very natural makeup look. and a coat or two of a pastel color of her choice.

she would love watching you get ready. not so much help out though- she just likes seeing the way you approach things. how you choose to pair certain pieces with one another.

she’ll ask questions to better understand your interests! not that it’s weird or wrong that you’re into it, she’s just a very inquisitive person.

you’d wear a lot of blue though- because you know Helen likes that color.

imagine wearing coordinated looks for different events and such. so, when you go with Helen to help out with her Candyman thesis, you might wear candy-themed attire. (of course in this universe,, she wouldn’t die! so no worries of that! you get to keep you’re gf).

if you do gift her something, she keeps it on her bedside table(or dresser). so she can still admire it, and still serves a purpose. fun décor!

all around though- Helen would be very chill, but captivated, about you’re interests.

Daniel Robitaille - Candyman

his life is so dark and gruesome, and he loves seeing you all dressed up.

and while he’s dead- long dead- and isn’t really apart of the world in the same sense that you are- it gives him this happy sense of hope for the world.

because there’s this very small thing, that you hold close to your heart, that makes you smile.

Also!!

even if they’re apart of a super awful, traumatic, part of his past- the bees are just a part of the family now.

so cute yellow/spring/bee themed outfits?? yes. ohh definitely, yes.

As for him dressing up? He’d feel hesitant.

he’s filled with immense joy around you, but is almost scared with someone altering part of his attire or self in any way(rooted back to, again, past stuff).

but part of loving is to take the person as a whole, bad parts, good parts- insecurities- the entire package. and trusting one another.

he has his whole faith in you not to do anything bad.

and so, it becomes a habit for the two of you to spend mornings together, chatting and getting ready. well, you’re getting ready, it’s more for the quality time together for him.

things are little different for Daniel. for many reasons.

one, he has very short hair. so the clips don’t really work there..

two- he only has one hand, and he’s “working” a lot with the appendages he does have. rings won’t work out because they might fall off- and he’d hate to lose something of yours.

three- he’s not a big makeup fan. he’s happy enough watching you put it on.

and then for his actual attire- he needs the coat to cover his insides. it’s also, in a way, his uniform.

you’ve settled on two things.

making homemade necklaces that can easily hide under his big coat (either sweets or honey/bee themed).

and sewing little patterns on the inside of his coat. other’s wouldn’t be able to see it, but he would know it’s there.

Brahms Heelshire

imagine being super into sorta ‘sweet lolita’, pastel/soft colors, bows, the big skirts, all the sorta ruffles(?)

and then especially if your shorter than Brahms(which is really,, not hard to do unless you’re insanely tall cause he’s,, 6 foot 3.)- and he thinks you look like such a doll?

but like,, in a nice way.

I think he’d get pretty excited if he got to help you set up your outfits!

especially if you praised him for picking out a good combo, or organizing correctly.

and some of Brahms movements are a bit awkward, he’s spent most of his life in the walls and the attic...but imagine turning on his music, and just dancing with him. having him twirl you in his arms a few times.

Brahms loves having your hands through his hair. and if hair accessories means he gets more of that love and attention? then yes,, yes he will wear them.

he just likes feeling taken care of, and along with your usual duties, you help him figure out the soft fashion styles, and how to make it more appealing and suitable for his own tastes.

because- as you insist- you want it to be something he enjoys just because he does, and not just for the closeness. though you can’t deny you love that aspect, too.

i can tell you one thing right here, though. you’re never getting makeup on him. he does not like taking off his mask, even if you’ve been in a relationship with him for a while, he still hides his face a lot.

you’d offered to do his makeup once, since he was staring so intently as you did yours. you’d made the mistake of reaching for his mask. you’d usually ask before doing so, but sometimes you’d slip up.

You apologize profusely, offering your arms out to him for a hug. “There, there, Brahms.” You smile, giving him a slight squeeze of affection.

he does take your stuff sometimes.

it’s a little annoying when you think you’ve lost your favorite accessory or dress or etc and then you just realize,, oh, it’s my favorite wall boy again. thank gosh you love him, so you’re not really upset or anything.

he just likes having little reminders of you, it gives him reassurance. upon other warm and fuzzy feelings.

if you’re able to find time in your day though, you’ll make cute little trinkets or bracelets for him. you’ll gift them or purposely leave them out for him- so you’ll still have some of your stuff when it comes to getting ready the next day.

in short- he’d much rather look at you than partake on his own.

Amanda Young

she’s never seen anything like this! :0

everyone she knows, herself included, tend to wear more dulled, plain clothes.

she’s immediately very intrigued by your attire...sort of want’s to try it, but is a bit self conscious and embarrassed to ask.

So!! you start out with small things, and fairly early on you both realize that she loves when you decorate her hair with accessories.

gifting Amanda a pair of little pig clips!!

or little stud earrings- those would be fricking adorable on her!

and she’s just so happy,, wtf

you dress mostly for yourself, but the more you’re in a relationship with your gf- the more you want to dress for her as well.

you can see this little sparkle in her eye when she sees you, and you want to keep seeing that look for as long as you can.

you slowly get her into it. your relationship and Amanda’s interest in your style just gives her so much light in an otherwise dim world.

if she did get into it, I think she’d do more creepy/cute. as a way to sort of cope with past trauma. that this sort of “bad” thing (the creepy) can still coexist with the good (the cute). she admires that quality.

just very sweet partners, who happen to love similar types of fashion

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hisunshiine · 3 years

Text

Escape ✈︎ Chapter 9

✈︎ chapter 9: Save Water, Shower with Me | ✈︎ Escape Series — 18+, Mature

✈︎ genre: smut, fluff, angst? but not really

✈︎ word count: 3007 words

✈︎ pairing: jimin x reader

✈︎ warnings: alcohol consumption, tipsy, unprotected sex, shower sex, fingering, handjob, kissing, teasing, dirty talk, praise, blow job, swallowing cum, feels like infidelity but its not

✈︎ summary: After trying everything to capture his attention, you finally get what you've been after.

It’s your third week in Bangtania since you were given the option to stay and you eagerly accepted. It has been the most amazing experience, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Well, maybe you would trade it for one night with your ultimate bias, Jimin , if you can ever catch him. You have had drinks with him, danced at parties, even played video games all night in the dorm with Tae, because you were sure that would get you close to him. Of course, he didn’t even return to the dorm that night, and when you headed back to your temporary room, you saw him walking with someone to his private bungalow. You just know that the next time you get a chance, you are going to have to be quick and aggressive about the situation. This afternoon the guys are throwing a pool party at their dorm, and you are going to make sure you get his attention today.

“Hey girl, I see you over here sitting all pretty...what are you up to?” Rosalie asks, with her thick southern US Georgian drawl. You give her a devilish grin.

“Just trying to get somebody's attention, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Darling, it’s not hard to get any of their attention here. Did you ever think maybe you’re trying a little too hard?”

You know she’s not being rude, she’s just extremely straightforward with her opinion. You have gotten to know her rather well, considering her room is next door to yours, and she is remarkably observant.

“So, I’m going to take a guess… Jimin?”

Your jaw drops.

“What? I would never… I…” you sputter, failing miserably to hide your true intentions, “ugh, yeah, how can you tell?”

Your shoulders drop in defeat, and you take a sip of your fruity cocktail.

“Well, first of all, sitting here looking pretty is not going to get his attention. He likes to be engaged, or maybe you can do something to draw his attention… I suggest you make it happen quickly, because I heard there are plans for a bonfire beach party when the sun sets.”

Bonfire beach party, you think to yourself. “I’m going to go grab another drink, come with me?”

Rosalie is always down for another drink, she can drink everybody under the table; said it’s because she grew up with five brothers. You both head over to the tiki bar Yoongi put up a few weeks ago with a couple of the other girls. Just as you start to circle around behind the bar to fix drinks you hear an easily recognizable voice.

“I would never let a lady make her own drink. What will you two be having?”

You turn around to see Jimin standing there. You’re stuck, speechless, possibly blowing your moment.

“Whatever you decide to make us.”

“I have the perfect drink, it’s fruity and strong.” He smiles as he starts grabbing bottles of juices, two different clear liquors, and the sweet grenadine for color and flavor.

“So, you decided to stay permanently?” He asks as he hands you your drink. “You’ve been enjoying it that much here?”

“How do you know that this isn’t my first week here?” you say in a bratty tone.

He smiles, ignoring your question as he uses that signature smile that makes his eyes turn into half moons and his cheeks turn into mochi to evade. “Drink up, tell me what you think?”

You can’t believe your taste buds, this is your favorite drink! You were so busy admiring his beauty, that you didn’t notice he made you your favorite drink - a Dirty Shirley! Your eyes light up and he starts laughing.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed you? I see everybody, I watch everybody; I’ve watched you watching me. You like me, don't you?" He raises his eyebrows, covers his mouth, and begins to laugh, dropping into a squat from laughing.

“I-I haven’t been watching you like that,” you laugh nervously, “you make me seem like a stalker.” You take another gulp from your drink, trying to get rid of the nervous tension in your stomach.

After his laughter subsides, he stands up and walks around the bar, leaning up against it. You can smell his sweet cologne, you discreetly inhale a little deeper to take it all in.

"So, are you coming to the bonfire beach party with all of us? I mean, only if that's something you'd like to do." He suddenly is acting shy and nervous.

"I'll be there," you say, as you drink the last of your beverage, and shake the empty cup at Jimin, "can I have a refill bartender?"

You both giggle.

"At your service, madam." he says in a horrible french accent, but you find it irresistibly cute.

You spend the rest of the time laughing and talking with Rosalie, while Jimin had to tend to the other guests. Plus, Talia said they had some things they had to get ready for the party later, so he left a little early with her.

It's getting close to dusk and you're feeling pretty buzzed, you decide to head over to the beach early with Rosalie and a couple other girls.

"Maybe you ladies shouldn't be trying to operate this golf cart, driving under the influence can be dangerous," Taehyung says, his deep voice startling you.

"Aww, that's so sweet of you doll. Y/N, move over and let him drive, he can be our handsome chauffeur," Rosalie giggles and Tae begins to blush.

Using a mocking tone, he speaks.

"Where to madam," he intones, trying not to laugh as he looks at you. You can't help but to burst into laughter; you have spent many nights playing the game with Tae and know that he has quite the sense of humor.

"Take us to my house so I can grab some beach blankets from the closet. Please and thank you." You smile at Tae and he begins the drive to your place.

You and the girls get your blankets setup near the bonfire, which is already warming up the cool breeze coming in from the ocean. Yoongi walks over with cups and a bottle of honey colored liquid.

"Shots?" is all he says and you all know it’s rude to turn down a drink when it's offered.

"Whew!" Rosalie exclaimed. "Now that's a shot! I haven't had whiskey since I was 18 from my Daddy's liquor cabinet!" You all laugh, your belly feeling warm from the alcohol. You swore you could feel it flowing through your bloodstream, and mixed with the drinks from earlier, your buzz was enhanced quite a bit.

Amongst all of the laughter and banter, the music playing over the Bluetooth speaker, you hear the voice of an angel. You stand up to get a better view of the crowds that have gathered at the bonfire, drinking and socializing.

Then you notice him, he's standing with Vanessa, Talia, Jungkook and a couple other residents from the island. You wonder what the conversation is about, eyes focused on him as he laughs, covering his mouth before he brushes his hair from his face with his fingers.

"Soooooooo, are you just going to stand there staring at him? Or are you going to go speak?" Rosalie asks as she begins giving you a little push to move your feet.

You grab two wine coolers from the ice chest as you walk over, knowing exactly how to approach Jimin. When you get near him, you twist the top off of one.

"Jimin, you shouldn't be empty handed at a beach party." You hand him the open cooler, he smiles and excuses himself from his group conversation.

"Let's walk."

You follow behind him, opening your cooler, taking huge gulps until it's halfway gone.

"So where are we going?" you ask.

"Just walking. It's a beautiful night, and I like to enjoy the final setting of the sun in peace." He takes your free hand and pulls you closer to him; you walk silently for a while, holding hands.

"Right here," he says. He stops suddenly, and sits in the sand, facing the west as the sun continues descending until it's unseen. Then he points at the moon, which is now much easier to see now that the brilliant indigos and violets have taken over the sky.

"It's such a bright and clear--"

You interrupt his sentence with a kiss, moving mid-sit towards him. His lips part slightly to allow your tongue to explore his warm wet mouth.

His hand reaches behind your head, entangled in your hair, he pulls you closer with his other hand on your lower back. He turns you from your kneeling position in front of him and slowly lowers you onto your back, letting his body rest between your legs. His hand explores underneath your shirt, sliding his thumb over your aroused nipple through your padless bra. A tiny moan escapes your lips, and you feel his hard member grind against your hot core, his mouth catches the next moan as he kisses you passionately. Somehow you have set aside the half empty bottle you were drinking from, the bottom half buried in the sand and lost to you in this heated moment.

You reach into his shorts, grabbing his erection; you have been longing for this moment. He rocks his hips, using your hand for his pleasure, pre-cum leaking out as his moans deepen. He nibbles at your clothed nipples, sucking your neck, leaving marks, his soft lips causing your body to shiver with pleasure when they touch your skin.

Sliding your bikini bottoms over, Jimin uses his forefinger to separate your lips, he hisses as he feels the wet slick coating your warm hole.

“Maybe we should take this someplace a little more, how do you say, comfortable and clean? This feels dirty, maybe we should go to your place and get a little more relaxed.” You could see his devilish grin in the moonlight, and for the moment, you knew he was yours.

He gets to his knees, adjusting his hard member in his shorts, and helps you to your feet. You walk with him back past the bonfire, noticing Rosalie give you a wink and a thumbs up, then she continues on dancing. You climb into the golf cart with Jimin, and drive to your place. The whole ride over, he rubbed your leg up and down, making sure his fingers would gently brush across your moist bikini bottoms. He knew what he was doing to you, he could feel the goosebumps he was causing.

As soon as you entered the front door to the empty house, Jimin began undressing you, pulling your top over your head, dropping it to the floor. He untied your bikini string as you unbuttoned his shorts, both items of clothing dropping to the floor in the hallway. Breathy, passionate kisses stolen in between him lifting his shirt up and off over his head, his erection coming back into full salute. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him as he enters the bathroom, walking directly into the large shower stall.

He turns on all of the shower heads, there is water misting your bodies from every direction, the sand flowing down the drain with the water. He pulls your body close by your waist, grabbing your breasts with his hands, suckling and nibbling at your nipples. You stroke him while pulling him closer, leading the dripping head of his cock to your warm, wet core. He lets out a breathy moan as his lips make their way to your neck, sucking and leaving a mark. He lifts one of your legs up and lets it rest in the crease of his elbow, bends his knees so he can get the right angle and finally penetrate you. His eyes go dark as he looks into yours, you help guide the tip into your core, and without warning he thrusts his hips up, plunging deep into you. You can’t control the sounds that come from deep within your stomach, pure ecstasy travels through your body as he thrusts in and out, making you cum quickly. He slows his stroke as your slick juices lubricate his member.

“Turn around,” he says, in the deepest tone you have ever heard from him.

He pushes your body up against the wall of the shower, spreads your round bottom while lifting at the same time. He slowly enters you again, letting you feel every inch, every ridge and vein along his shaft. He is now in the perfect position to stimulate your g-spot, causing you to reach your climax again within minutes. He remains inside of you and pulls you away from the wall, giving you a slight push on your upper back to bend you over. You hold on to the water nozzles to keep your balance, which was the go ahead for him to completely destroy you. He pounds in and out relentlessly, smacking your ass.

“Feels good doesn’t it? You’ve been waiting for this moment, and it’s everything you ever wanted, right Y/N?”

You scream out a “Yes!” as you cum all over him again. His stroke slows down, and he pulls out of you, despite the pulsing of your walls that wants to keep him inside. Grabbing your shoulder to turn you around and push down, you kneel in front of him.

“Now make me cum, please,” he says with a pout as he strokes his large cock in your face.

Without hesitation you take him into your mouth and all the way to the back of your throat; you grab his ass and move him to thrust in and out of your mouth. He takes over and begins rolling his hips back and forth, fucking your mouth, your tongue swirling and licking, playing with his balls in your free hand.

“I-I’m cumming!” He lets out a loud moan as he begins to pulsate in your mouth, the weight of him on your tongue fluctuating, and you take him all the way in just as his hot cum begins to drizzle down your throat. You continue sucking until he goes limp.

He helps you to your feet, then he takes the loofah and gently begins washing your body; he even shampoos and conditions your hair. The soft side of Jimin comes out with these caring acts, and it makes you feel good. Once he has you all clean, he tells you to leave him a clean towel and he will be out in a minute.

You go to your room and put on the cutest Chimmy pajama shorts set you have, because you want him to see how much you really like him. The shower turns off and you hear his footsteps coming down the hall. You are laying in your bed, attempting to model pose, as he walks into the doorway of your room.

“Well, that was fun,” he says. He does that laugh you love again where you can’t see his eyes. You laugh with him, then you hear a familiar voice.

“Jimin-ah, here are your clothes you asked for earlier, are you almost done?” It was Talia and you are slightly confused.

“So, wait... you’re not staying the night?” You ask.

“I already had plans for later, with Talia, which is why she brought a change of clothes. I’m sorry, did you think I was going to stay?” He asks with a genuinely apologetic tone.

“Well, I mean I have seen you go to your private bungalow and spend the night with someone, I just figured you would at least stay the night with me.” You feel a little used, but you don’t let him see. “It’s okay though, I can go back out to the bonfire party, I’m sure Rosalie is waiting for me.”

He stood there getting dressed, listening to you, but not really focusing on you.

“Okay, well enjoy the rest of your night, and put on a sweater, I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He walks over to the side of your bed and gives you a surprisingly passionate kiss.

“I truly enjoyed tonight, and it can happen again, just not now.” He kisses your forehead before walking out of your room.

You hear their voices speaking quietly, then something that sounds like an ass smack and a kiss. You throw a hoodie on and head back to the beach and when you look down the street, you can see Jimin and Talia, walking hand in hand to his bungalow. Things click in your head and you realize that she was the one he was walking with that day, and she is the one he is always with.

You are still confused as to why she wasn’t upset when she arrived with his clothes and maybe one day you can talk to her about it. For now, you go to find Rosalie and tell her about how much fun you had with Jimin.

As you get closer to the bonfire and the crowd, you think about how you felt used at first by Jimin, but how he took the time to explain to you that he did have other plans that night. You hadn’t asked him before about staying over, you had only been focused on getting him between your legs, which was successful.

And that kiss? You inwardly swoon as you make it back to Rosalie.

“How was it?” She asks you knowingly, passing you a red solo cup.

“It was honestly perfect?” You say, surprised to hear those words come from your lips. But as you reflect, you realize that it's true. He didn’t oversell and under promise. He made sure you got off, and took care of you after. He may not have stayed the night, but you had friends to still party with.

“And I will definitely take him up on the offer to do it again.”

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lillianofliterature · 4 years

Text

marvel preferences || 1/?

this is the first of many preferences I will start writing over time. if you have any preference requests, send them in via my inbox! i’m not writing full fics for anyone right now but I would love to take requests for preferences! check my masterlist for lists of fandoms/characters. happy reading!

DO NOT REPOST.

p.s. loki’s will probably always be the longest. he’s my comfort character and precious soul who deserves the MOST.

if gifs not sourced, they were found on google, lmk if they’re yours!

(more below the cut-off)

what made them fall in love with you

Steve Rogers

Your smile. Steve never thought he could find comfort in another person after he woke up in a brand new world. He had lost everyone he had ever known and everything he had been familiar with all of his life. But there was something in your smile that took him right back to 1942, to rich blackberry pie in his mother’s icebox, to the melodies that would play over the static of his old radio, and the alluring feeling of being at home again. He thrived off of your smile - so much so that he could scarcely go a day without seeing it.

Tony Stark

Your sass. Tony thought Pepper was the only one who could keep up with the quick-witted nonsense that rolled of his tongue until you came onto the scene. You were not only just as sharp as he was and kept pace with his attitudes and references, but totally ruthless in your quips which even left him speechless on occasion. Life was never dull around you and he didn’t feel like he needed to try and sensor his remarks or his frequent rudeness - he knew you could understand the reason or the emotion behind it and often even find his sense of humor in all of it. When he had seen you roll your eyes for the first time mid-conversation, Tony knew he was in too deep - especially when he realized your reaction was aimed at Steve.

Clint Barton

Your sense of humor. To anyone who really knew the famed archer, it was basic knowledge to know that Clint had an affinity for a good sense of humor - believing himself to have one of the best. When he had gotten to know you a little better, he was ecstatic to finally have someone to joke around with and not have to worry about poor timing or moody reactions. You were always willing to have a laugh, especially in the midst of a serious or daunting situation. You had your share of dad jokes, cheesy puns, borderline offensive nicknames for everyone on the team, and so many other quips that Clint thrived off of. He found himself eager to be around you whenever he could, ready to bounce his latest joke off of you and just enjoy your company.

Natasha Romanoff

Your leadership skills. Natasha had saught a sense of security all of her life, especially since she had turned her life around and joined S.H.I.E.L.D.’s forces. When you later joined the team, you were able to bring each Avenger together and help them through their many differences - even Tony and Steve. Even out in the chaos of a mission, you had the ability to wrangle the team and find a way through every unforeseen situation. You had established a strong definition of unity for the team, determined to keep everyone together, and she loved you for that.

Bruce Banner

Your intelligence. Bruce loved the fact that he could carry on an intellectual conversation with someone who could keep up with him when he was in his zone. Whether it was science, technology, or just the elaborate store of vocabulary you kept under your belt, he adored every bit of it. You didn’t even need to know all that much about his field of work to seem genuinely interested in his passions and he loved entertaining your interests as well.

Peter Parker

Your nerdiness. Peter couldn’t believe he had met a girl who was just as obsessed with Star Wars as he was. Sure, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that girls could be nerds, but he had just never met one in person - at least not one as full of so many amazing qualities as you were. You were kind, funny, sharp-minded, and totally enthralled with anything to do with your fandoms, and never missed a beat when he used one of his many fandom-related references in day-to-day conversation. Not to mention you were downright beautiful. He enjoys nothing more than the hours he spends with you and Ned talking about movies, comics, and music, and especially the times you help them build their limited edition LEGO sets without a hint of judgement. You were something special.

Scott

Your laugh. Scott couldn’t get enough of it. Since the first moment he had heard your real laughter, unkempt and wild, he had been finding ways to bring it out of you - which he succeeded at more times than not. There was something about the way that expression of joy left you breathless for air with little crinkles at the corners of your sparkling eyes. It was adorable. Being able to have that effect on you was one of the few things he could truly take pride in, and he would happily spend the rest of his life doing just that.

Heimdall

Your eyes. He is always careful to study a person’s eyes upon meeting them, knowing them to be the window to a person’s very soul; their innate being. When he looked into yours, he saw a mix starlight and wonderment. He could see from the very start that you had an honest soul - you sought no ill will upon anyone around you. You were good, passionate, and pure. You had captivated him with just a single glance and he found himself relentlessly drawn to you.

Loki

The way you speak to him. Loki had spent a lifetime surrounded by voices fueled with negativity and condescension, apart from the voice of his mother. He had been the brunt of cruel jokes from the Warriors Three, blamed for his brother’s numerous misgivings as children, and forced to accept Odin’s distaste for him. When you came along, he had expected no different from you - but you proved him wrong. You spoke to him in a way no one, save his beloved mother, had ever spoken to him.

You regarded him with respect as a noble, which most people had try to strip from him all of his life. Your kindness, which overflowed in abundance around him, warmed his soul with pleasure. Your tone was never anything less than sincere. Even when you grew frustrated with him, you were mindful to respect his triggers and could express your anger truthfully in love, without malice or hatred. When you laughed, you laughed with him, and not at him. Your compliments and endless affirmations of his worth gave him a since of residual positivity about himself. He found himself eager to see you and speak with you - he knew you would never dismiss him or abandon him. Because of you, he had begun to like himself as he was, not for what anyone told him he could never be.

Thor

Your compassion. Thor had known a great many people in his lifetime, noble and ordinary, and had yet to meet anyone with a heart as big as yours. You had seen him as more than just a stuck-up prince from the very beginning and had helped him see past himself and shed his arrogant scales. You never asked for anything more than simple kindess and in return, you gave your heart so fully to every cause. In many ways, you had taught him how to see with his heart and not so much his power or his royalty. You’d shown him how to see through the eyes of his people, and not just as their ruler. He wishes he could be as compassionate and selfess as you are.

Brunnhilde

Your combat skills. To say Valkyrie was impressed the day you slayed three Sakaar Imperials with one clean swing of your blade was an understatement. They had been looming in the distance, their weapons aimed for her head, as she fought of a hoard of junk hunters. The imperials had been out for her for a few weeks, ever since she had gained the special favor of the Grandmaster for her delivery of new gladiators or scum. Your swift decision to aide her saved her life. She hadn’t trusted the sword of anyone other than herself since the massacre of her fellow Valkyrie until she met you. She admired your skill and determined demeanor in a fight, as well as your ability to sense a sour situation. You had grown on her.

Peter Quill

Your taste in music. Peter wasn’t used to having a receptive audience when it came to sharing his mix tapes with the Guardians. It took several weeks - for Drax, it took months - for them to begin to appreciate the songs he blasted through the sound system of the Milano. When you arrived on the scene, he was more than ecstatic to find your Zune hidden away in your things after Rocket, who had yet to trust you, had convinced him to search your bags for any incriminating evidence. It was loaded with many of the same songs he had spent his life memorizing and dancing to. From then on, after you got over the snooping through your things in secret, you and Peter would share your music. Whether it be oldies, new discoveries, or absurd alien songs that came through the radio frequencies, Peter couldn’t be happier to finally have someone who understood the power of music the way he did.

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sonnetsnerdstuff · 3 years

Text

✧ Got7 as random boys in your town pt.1 ✧

✧ pairing (memberxreader) ✧ genre (common people!AU, fluff)

Jackson Wang (잭슨)

Owner of your fave café

There are two reasons why this is your favorite place to buy coffee: the first one is that it's so stylish -in all matte black and sharp lines; the second being its owner serving you just now. Golden skin, bright hair and shining smile- you could say he resembles the sun itself at the center of this black space. The passion for his work overflows in making his customers feel loved, sometimes with him acting a bit over the line as you think to yourself just now noticing the free puppy-shaped biscuits and flowers he's given you along with your order. You go sit down and casually consider permitting yourself to fall for him just because of the free food. You glance back at the counter and now he's sitting on it, laughing to a girl wearing a hoodie with the logo of a university at least 30 minutes away from here. You ground yourself: you knew you wouldn’t be mature enough for a relationship with a grown man like him. You could already anticipate all the unnecessary quarrels caused by you being constantly confused about his gentleness, getting that displeasing burn in your belly as he smiles fondly to his beloved costumers and the jealousy eating at you each day. You shake your head and decide to concentrate on the coffee. Taking a few sips of it you savor it on your tongue and can’t help but consider: despite it being bitter, it’s still extremely addicting, deep flavoured and hot.

✧ ✧ ✧

Mark Tuan (마크)

The skater boy in your neighborhood

You’ve known him ever since elementary and went to the same schools for all your lives, but never really talked to each other. He's high-key an introvert with a really small circle of friends and you low-key never liked his attitude towards school: always sleeping at first period because he'd been up late at night gaming or skating down the streets near you house (as you could clearly hear). One evening you’re going home and you pass by him with his friends: seven hooded figures laying on grass, the sunset making the bottles of beer gleam and shading their faces in black. You’re still able to recognize each one of them from their skateboards though, especially Mark’s flaming red one. You have a test tomorrow but he doesn’t seem bothered by it; as you cross the flowerbed where they’re lying you hear him laugh and your head turns by itself: you meet eyes and his sweet smile for a moment seems for you. For unknown reasons, it makes you remember random notions about him like that he’s been the one leaving pet food anonymously at the local shelter for years, or that time he cried in class watching Dead Poets Society. You look away and he goes back to the little flowers he’s been threading in his hands, as if you didn’t know each other. Later on at night he pops in your mind again and you innocently conclude that, in the end, you can’t really despise him as a person when he feels like such a sweet guy.

✧ ✧ ✧

Kim Yugyeom (유겸)

The mutual friend

“What did the pepperoni say to the cheese? Slice to meat you!”. You close your mouth, having lost the chance to say the same exact pun and put down the pizza in your hand. It had been Yugyeom, yet again. “That was my line, sir”. Your best friend covered her eyes with one hand in response: "God, how could I have thought that getting you two to meet was a good idea… now we’ll be stuck with lame jokes all the damn time”. Situation explained, your group of friends had decided to expand their circle and merge with the other one from their friends in common. So now you were there, eating pizza all together at the school canteen and it was going really good: sharing foods, bursting giggles and loose conversations. “I have the feeling you’re going to regret it more and more” he says laughing. The other thing being, both groups had been anticipating for you two to meet and you didn’t disappoint: everyone had been enjoying each other's company, but yours and Yugyeom’s chemistry hit off the roofs. Each of you being extreme dorks and having similar tastes -starting from music to sense of humor- you end up creating a synergic chaos taking on the job of mood makers of the new group, as everyone had wished it to be. “I’ll regret it only if you don’t end up together though..” your friend whisper to your hear and you choke a little. Let’s start with best friends, you think, that looks a lot more likely.

✧ Part two ✧

Masterlist ツ

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angelic-serenade · 4 years

Text

Alastor + disaster cook! S/O

headcanons

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

you could not cook to save your life

any attempt at cooking would result in certain failure in the best case scenario and 5.4 magnitude earthquake damage in the worst

sure, you could make edible pasta and if you really put your best efforts into it, acceptable omelette too

but anything past that level of complexity was simply out of your league, a lost cause to put it mildly

don't you even think about making a cake, that shit's dangerous

as they say: as above so below

when you landed in Hell and found yourself joining the Happy Hotel soon after, you came to find out your culinary skills had not magically improved

which is quite ironic since Charlie had made you head chef of the hotel

the string of curses which had left your lips upon hearing the news had been legendary, even for Hell

you adored the demon princess with your whole heart (or whatever was left of it anyway), bUT REALLY CHARLIE? YOU DO NOT GIVE A GUN TO A CHILD AND EXPECT CASUALTIES NOT TO HAPPEN

at this point you were certain she was subconsciously auto-sabotaging

either way, you didn't have the heart to tell her no, so you decided to put your heart and soul into trying to learn how to properly cook, which didn't turn out to be the ideal choice of words since you were in Hell and your soul was probably rotten to the core

at least, nobody could say you hadn't tried your damn best

and hey! some days your cooking hadn't even been completely sickening

you decided to stick to easy, “safe” dishes though, you know, just to be sure

so pasta and eggs were definitely a thing

a constant and repetitive thing to be precise

you were trying your best, okay? nobody in your place with your limited set of skills would have taken the job, but you did and you deserved recognition for that feat alone

or a fucking donkey hat for your skyrocketing dumbness levels

things were not so bad at first

both Charlie and Vaggie were very supportive, each one of them in their own way - even though you had totally seen Charlie trying to swallow pure unadulterated fear that one time you had announced you wanted to try to cook something more elaborate

Angel Dust on the other hand... hadn't been as considerate as to lie to your face about what he thought of your cooking

"fuck me doll, this shit's disgusting"

*insert the I don't have friends they disappoint me vine here*

Vaggie had proceeded to give Angel quite the earful while Charlie tried her best to cheer you up

you went full hermit mode on them for two days after that

you were proud of yourself, handling criticism so well

anyway, the cycle kept repeating, with the only difference that most days Angel would grab something to eat outside of the hotel and join you during meals only to blankly stare at the plates and silvery

Charlie had tried to shield you from the truth, but you weren't that stupid

you respected Angel's choice, really, you did, and you had decided to be the bigger person among the two

that's why you began to put a lil bit of laxative into his portions whenever he decided to grace your efforts and actually eat your "disgusting cooking"

y’know just to spicy things up a little

at least now he had a valid reason to complain

with the whole fiasco on live TV and the sudden and suspicious appearence of the one and only Radio Demon at your doorstep, however, things started going haywire

Alastor's presence was eeirly demanding and unsettlingly charmimg at the same time

so it was only natural for you to gravitate the fuck away from him whenever you could

you always acted politely, greeting him whenever you bumped into him through the corridors of the hotel, but you only went as far as to appear courteous because you didn't want for him to go Hannibal Lecter on you. thanks, no thanks

“and what can you do my feminine fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!”

you had snorted a bit at that which immediately shifted the strawberry pimp's attention to yourself

“and what about you, pretty dame? I take it you're in charge of the kitchens around here?”

dressed in your chef attire, you were going to meekly answer him, but before you could, roaring laughter erupted in the room. it belonged to the one and only slutty spider you found oh so irritating

in the fraction of seconds, Alastor snapped his neck at an unnatural angle to stare at the spider with a strained smile on his face

needless to say, the cursed image would forever haunt your traumatized psyche

“hasn't your mother taught you it is rude to interrupt a conversation which you have no part in? that just won't do!”

static filled the air and you feared you were going to implode if the heavy pressure didn't lift off soon enough, so you decided to take action

“ugh... yes, I'm the head chef! but, well, I... could actually use some practice and proper training?”

you hated how uncertain you sounded, but Angel's comments and your own dissatisfaction with your culinary products made you quite self-conscious about your skills

“don't fret your pretty little head about it, my dear! I, for one, am a culinary connaisseur and wonderful chef, if I do say so myself. I'll be ecstatic to guide you through your training!”

how you'd be able to handle his booming voice during hours and hours of practice was your first and main concern, but you had never been one to refuse the chance to finally prove the people who had criticized you wrong *cough cough* Angel Dust

since that day, Alastor began to personally give you cooking lessons

he was exuberant and pretty sly when it came to veiled jabs about your dreadful cooking, but he really took his time to help you out

which you had been both grateful and suspicious about

“now, we can't have our future patrons starving to death, can we?”

he was strangely patient and an overall good teacher too (emphasis on overall)

he guided you step by step through each dish, simultaneously showing off his own flawless culinary skills

you hated that you daily found yourself boosting his already GIGANTIC ego, but you couldn't help it. you could only dream about reaching that level of artistry in cooking

he always came up with creative recipes to test your limits and cooked for you in order to make you more familiar with different tastes. his mother’s were your favorites, jambalaya being his one true specialty

he had blindfolded you once and proceeded to present you with various samples of spices, oilments and all kinds of food so that you could acquaint yourself with the smells and flavors of the ingredients and figure out yourself which ones would best suit a certain dish

saying you were hesitant at first was an understatement, because you know? being completely at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer who had terrorized the seven circles of hell? not even being able to see him? not on your bucket list

he had tried to ease your nervousness with the whole “if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already” thing, but it was getting kind of old pretty fast

“if I had been one to play with fire, I'd have joined a circus”

he found your sense of humor as endearing your sheer presence

(when he rolled up his sleeves to cook, you felt like you could catch fire any minute, you were a slut for strong skinny arms)

yes, Alastor had always loved to show off his own impeccable skills but he unexpectedly found himself enjoying the moments spent in your company too

he relished in seeing you fail again and again, but he also admired the way you always managed to bring yourself back up to your feet each time

he had yet to fully understand if it was foolishness or stubbornness to guide your steps

either way, you turned out to be his favorite form of entertainment in the hotel!

no matter how many slights would he send your way, you'd always manage to find an appropriate remark that made his permanent smile stretch a little more in sheer amusement

“oh dear, this beef is so undercooked one could still hear the poor beast’s lament”

“the only noise I hear is the obnoxious ramblings of an arrogant boomer”

he wasn't technically a boomer but it was always so satisfying to irk him with terms he had no knowledge of

during your cooking lessons, when the only thing left to do with a dish was wait and pray for the best, you'd come to talk about everything and anything

he'd talk to you about his precious New Orleans as he remembered it and you'd fill him in on recent historical/social developments of your time

he always looked so taken when you shared with him that modern knowledge and it made you feel useful for a change

it was, dare you say it, almost adorable how he'd ask you countless questions about your home town, the catastrophes of the last century and had there been any other war since his death?

the topic switches almost made you dizzy though

once or twice, when the timing allowed, he'd even indulge in a musical show to pass time

on the days your mood soured because of a particularly complicated recipe or bad result, he'd drag you along and dance until you were so distracted by the absurdness of the circumstances that you forgot about your previous sadness

with time, his musical shows became more frequent as he realized you'd always offer him a genuine smile after his flashy performances

it was out of personal indulgence, not because he liked the way his music always seemed to cheer you up

he'd not been vocal about the way he tried to comfort you, but you were grateful nonetheless

the first time you managed to succesfully complete one of his complicated recipes, you had almost cried

“now, now deary, under my watchful eye, it was only a matter of time until you'd finally blossom into a fine cook!”

“Alastor can I... can I hug you?”

and how could he say no to such an adorable expression? he found himself stunned into silence, not being able to tell you yes either, therefore you slowly came closer as if trying not to scare a wild animal away

when Alastor passively stood before you, not moving away, you wrapped your arms around him

he really was such a dorky noodle

he didn't relax into the hug, but he kept still as you relished in the moment and let the pressure you had hoarded for months now loose

Alastor proceeded to show off your dish during dinner and even Angel Dust could do nothing but shut up and dig in

The all powerful Radio Demon was simply so proud of your progress - not that he doubted you'd prevail in the end, thanks to his expertise and guidance

from that moment onward things only got better and even if you didn't necessarily need Alastor's help anymore, neither of you ever mentioned going your separate ways

you were both secretly glad for the silent agreement

friendly banter and dad jokes were a daily occurrence and with your new-found confidence in the field, you'd always bite back showing off new delicious dishes instead than words

you still had trouble every now and then, but Alastor was always there to help you out

not that you'd ever hear the end of it if you actually asked him for help

“what was that, my darling? is the mightiest chef in Hell having trouble in Paradise?”

you had noticed however that he'd started sneaking glances your way more than usual lately and he also started following you around wherever you went in the hotel. he became your shadow both inside and outside of the kitchen

the attention soon became unnerving, even more so when you'd go in the kitchen only find a different flower on the counter each morning

you came to realize that Alastor's advances were rather old fashioned, but you would amuse the dork and yourself for a while before taking charge

gifts became an ordinary occurrence as well as praise and you preferred not to think about what praise could do to you when it came from Alastor

he enjoyed your reactions to his flattering words a little too much, he had to admit

you had had enough of his childish antics one day and you decided to finally put your plan into action

“Al, can you come here for one sec?”

he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, but you just loved to get under his skin as much as he did when it came to you

“what can I do for you, my darling chef?”

“here, I have a gift for you”

he looked uncharacteristically unsure of what to do but slightly amused as well. in the end curiosity took the best of him and he finally decided to open the box you had handed to him rather unceremoniously

“what is this dear?”

the apron you had chosen was a perfect fit for your long boi

“read it, please”

“kiss the cook? well, if you ask me so nicely, I just might have to”

he then proceeded to peck your cheek and you swore you could have fainted right there and then by the sheer sweetness of the gesture

it hadn't exactly been what you had planned, but you weren't going to complain

your relationship was bound to be full of surprises apparently

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jovalencia · 3 years

Text

we all knew this was coming and I’m a sentimental bitch. I just wanted to write all my mutuals some little messages about how much I love you. you guys have changed my life and I am so grateful for each and every one of you!!!💕💞💓💗💖💘 anygays have fun searching for yourself in this mess and I’m sorry for any typos, I’m illiterate (and if i forgot you it’s because i lost my brain in 1912)

@cr1spyy fernanda, my first ever mutual. who would have thought that your 5th wave posts would have brought one of the most amazing people in my life to me. your posts always make me laugh and your dedication to the good morning asks is admirable (fr I could never have that much consistency) you’re so kind to everybody and you’re absolutely beautiful and incredible and I fucking love you so much. I honestly don’t even want to think about what my life would be like if I had never met you, MWAH💕🤍

@sundaymorninghangover I remember you being my first ever note!! you liked this post I made that was a reblog of a “uquiz” that was actually a rickroll lmao. you didn’t even follow me back then but whatever. Then I remember waking up one day to see that you had tagged me in a bingo ask game and I was like “ummm tf is an ask game” but I do still have a bingo card for it that I never used ekenksjs. anygays, you have good opinions on everything and you’re absolutely fucking hilarious. If you told me back in may that I would be friends with you I wouldn’t believe it bc you intimidated me but regardless I’m glad to be an arson gang member with you. your memes are god tier and so is your music taste. I love you whore!!!!!🖤💜

@sound-and-colors ma’am you’re so nice and for what??? the aesthetic stuff that you reblog is *chef’s kiss* and nobody else is out there doing it like you. we’ve never talked but I just know that you are absolutely incredible mwah❤️💛

@embeddedinmybrain tasfia you are the nicest person on his hellsite and you know it (I hope). It was so much fun being your secret admirer anon while it lasted, like fr I loved it. Your art is beautiful just like your heart and i honestly don’t know what I did to deserve such a kind soul like you in my life. You’re always there to hype me up and ily (also just cut your own hair already I believe in you)🤍💙

@gumptin you hooked me with your suus icon and reeled me in by being the coolest and funniest person ever. your posts are consistently hilarious, accurate, or relatable and I admire that. I mean it when I say you’re one of the coolest people on here. idk what I did to have you think I’m cool but I’m honored nonetheless. also you have really awesome style and hair jdnjdjdjd mwah💚💛

@nori-in-pink first and foremost, your blog always has a very nice aesthetic and I feel like I need to acknowledge that. anyway, you are so kind and supportive and you don’t take any bullshit and that is absolutely amazing. you are absolutely iconic and always reblog the best stuff so I know I can count on your blog to be fantastic. you used to scare me (idk why don’t ask) but now I know that you’re just a big teddy bear ily💗💜

@matteohnora my slurpee queen and my mememate!! you always send me the funniest shit and it doesn’t go unappreciated. You’re always there for me with a silly meme or emotional support and I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am for that. whenever you stalk my blog it makes my heart go whooosh and I feel so special. Ily and I am so glad to have met you💜❤️

@lieverobbe ah yes, the girl with the impeccable music taste. that’s what I know you as, oh well. you are more talented and kind than you could ever believe and your edits are amazing!!! whenever I see you on my dash I get all happy bc I’m like “em’s here!!!” I love all your lil posts and I am so glad that you are my mutual ilyyyyy💙🤍

@ironymane you’ve watched limitless which automatically makes you amazing. you’re an absolutely incredible and amazing person and even tho you aren’t on here as much anymore, I still love youre lil posts. And one time you kept me entertained on a 6hr car ride so you deserve some kind of award for that. ly🧡💛

@kingarthurpendragons okay the obvious thing to talk about here is your incredible talent when it comes to gif making. Like how in the hell- but you are also so kind and loving and it doesn’t go unnoticed. You don’t have to send nice asks but you do and ily for it mwah!!❤️💗

@engelkeijsers the skam nl stan that we all deserve to have in our lives. you are so fucking hilarious and relatable and all around amazing and for what? your posts always put a smile on my face and it is so much fun to clown with you. ilyyyy💚💛

@happiness-isin-you let’s ignore the fact that it took me forever to realize that this was your main lmao. your art is some of the most beautiful shit I’ve ever seen. like your style is so cool???? I could literally go on about this for hours don’t test me. the cute animal pictures are the absolute best and you’re always there for emotional support. Ilyyyyyyy💛❤️

@isakyaqi fiz you are so kind and talented and cool and I really do mean all that. You reblog always the best of content so I know I can trust it. you always put nice tags in the things you reblog things and it’s fun to read what you write because it’s almost always you hyping up the creator or the thing itself. you are awesome jdjdjdndjjd mwah🖤🤎

@cash-queens sam oh sam. Idek where to start with how much ily. You’re my famous mutual which is very iconic of you and you put up with my cat pictures and my silly antics and my riverdale posts. You’re so kind to me and everybody and whenever I make a post when I’m having a mental breakdown you’re always there to make sure that I’m doing okay. That def doesn’t go unappreciated. You’re legitimately one of the kindest and most amazing people I’ve ever known and I love you so much, more than you could ever know💛🤍

@welcometo-saturn çağrı you’re so cool. end of statement. that’s all I have to say about it. your gifs are so beautiful and you don’t take shit from anybody. you’re so down to earth that it makes it seem like you’re somebody who I’ve just always known (even tho we’ve never talked sjdjdjdjdj) so yeah anyway, you’re are a really awesome person with really good opinions and I am so glad that we are mutuals🧡❤️

@amifeelingokay it’s difficult not to start with your url bc it’s amazing and I love it. your skam posts are always so nice and cute and positive (just like you!!) and I love them. the content you reblog is always aesthetic or a nice text post and I just love your blog okay. ily💜🖤

@isthatelpome you’re so nice that I’m willing to overlook your opinion on salt and vinegar chips (they’re not good I’ll fight you on that) your dani icon is beautiful just as you are, mwahhhh🧡❤️

@earthling-isa babe you are so cute with your lil edits and your clowning. the near constant black and white aesthetic is very iconic and i love it. you’re a suus stan so I have no choice but to love you for it. i absolutely adore your gifs, especially the ones with the lil squares in the middle fygzbgut. you are absolutely beautiful and incredible and kind and I love you MWAHHHH🖤💙

@grey-mist-exist okay we’ve never talked but you seem like such a rad person. not cool but like rad (there are are subtle differences) your art is beautiful even tho idk the quotes (go off smarty pants) and overall you are just really rad, idk how else to say it mwah!!!🤍🖤<pretend it’s a grey heart

@fatoudixon hey look it’s one of the most talented people here!!! You’ve always been so kind and supportive of me and I really really do appreciate it. you have good opinions on everything and did I mention that you’re talented?? cause you are, very. Your reaction videos are amazing and not to mention iconic, just like your hair. anyway, ily and I am so glad that I have somebody as amazing as you as my mutual💙💛

@sander-klaas you are so kind and and you have so much passion. I can always trust you reblog only the best of wtfock and sobbe content which I am very grateful for. you literally just started making gifs and they are so beautiful (okay it was like months ago but whatever dkdjdjjdjdj) anyway, thank you so much for being my mutual mwah❤️💛

@jusdekiwi okay we’ve never talked but you genuinely seem like such a sweet person??? I love the stuff you reblog, it’s always the best gif sets. idk I can just tell you have good taste. I hope to get to know you better in the future, but for now I am very grateful to have you💚💙

@kritiquer my twin!!! you and I have a lot in common so ofc I love you. I’m joking obviously.... anygays you are always so supportive of everybody and you are so sweet. I love all of your personal posts, it always makes me really happy to see what you’re up to and how you’re feeling. I also like the aesthetic stuff you reblog, I have bad taste in all that, clearly you don’t. I am so glad that we started talking and I hope that we continue! ily kit!!!!💜🤍

@bleachblondebitches you aren’t on here that much, but whenever you are I get so happy! Your gifs are beautiful and I think about your sobbe and booksmart parallels gifset every day. you have amazing taste in movies and I love you!💜💙

@lesbeanfatou clara!!! bitch!!!! You already know how much I love you but I guess I’ll reiterate. I honestly don’t know what I did before I knew you. I always remember looking at the no idea blog with the Nora icons like “who is this?” Little did I know back then that you would be one of my closest friends. your support of me means the world and I am so grateful for you. I’m so glad that I have somebody in my life like you to talk to and be friends with. you are one of the funniest people in and I just love you so much I could burst mwah❤️🧡

@gucciboner okay hiii ypu are literally so fucking kind and funny, i admire your sense of humor sm. your art is so beautiful and you are so goddamn talented, it never ceases to amaze me. I also love all the little funny posts you make and reblog!! ily💙💗

@helmtaryn even though you put supernatural on my dash, I am willing to forgive you bc I love you so much. your gifs are so beautiful like ma’am didn’t you just start?? icon shit. your hate for photoshop is iconic and you are awesome. you’re always sending me asks and responding to my posts and you’re so nice and it makes my heart go whooosh. anygays you’re cool and ily💙🧡

@starmansander nina when I tell you that you give off the best vibes- okay sorry I had to start with that. I love how you are so nice and supportive of me, it really means a lot. I really like the stuff you reblog like,,, cool art? pretty women? those hopeful little posts? iconic. also youre a noor stan which is a sign of good taste. love you🤎❤️

@ijzermanora daniiiiiii madam you are so epic and iconic and I really could go on about that forever. you are so kind and you’re following all my joke sideblogs (even the ch*cken l*ttle hate blog??? why???) which is very brave of you. I love reading all of your lil wholesome posts and hearing about school and how much you hate chemistry (even tho you like sushi???) anygays we were already sending memes 10 hours into our mutualship so I think we were soulmates from the very beginning. I love you so much and I have no idea what I did before i knew you💜💗

@alwaysin-myhead okay, you give off cool person vibes and I had to acknowledge that. your art is so beautiful and you are so incredibly talented!!! I hope to get to know you in the future🧡💛

@alexiaugustin here she is!!! the queen of good opinions!!! you are such a smart cookie and you use that power to make long paragraph posts that I can actually read without falling asleep. which is impressive honestly. never has a person been so kind and funny and genius in such a well rounded way (that makes no sense) I’m so happy that I have you in my life ilyyy💚💗

@ijntba hihi you’re such a sweet person and I literally love your skam blog sm. I am so honored that you’re using one of my icons you have no idea. even though I’m confused when you post about anime, I still appreciate your passion lmao. mwah💛🧡

@hidden-joy liz!! you are such a kind soul and I absolutely love looking at the things you reblog and reading all the nice things that you put in the tags, it’s always so sweet and supportive!!! we’re relatively new mutuals, but I do hope to get to know you better in the future!!!💚💛

okay sorry to group y’all together but @fudgetunblr and @alexiswoke I like just became mutuals with y’all but I do love you and I’m glad you’re here and I hope 2021 treats you well and that i get to know you better!!❤️❤️

aaand one last final message for max and sarah, i know yall wont see this but ily🧡 💜

okay yeah I know I already said this but I really do love each and every one of you so much and I am so lucky to have so many amazing people in my life💕💕💓💕💖💖💕💘💕💗💞💓💕💖💖💘💕💓

#MWAH💕#my mutuals are pretty fuckin rad #also don’t tell anyone but the hearts at the end are the colors I associate you with #or they’re as close as I could get #*makes this post*#*goes back to sleep*

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Promise

Anthony (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Death scenes, Grief, Housefire, Angst, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance

Summary: Sneaked glances and pass-by smiles are often times the start of the most beautiful of love stories. Sadly, many of those stories end too quickly, too soon for the souls in love to be able to enjoy them. This is the story of Y/N and Anthony. The love story that started with a promise and ended in flames.

Requested by @niksoiio Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I apologize for taking so long, but here it finally is! I know how excited you were for this fic, so I hope it fulfills your expectations and doesn’t let you down! Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Never is a love story as pure as one long awaited to commence. The souls patiently waiting to intertwine, the emotions dying to shine through more than just glances and secret smiles. Feelings to mix, collide and dance together, creating a symphony of a lifetime. The symphony of love that lives beyond the end of the very souls that sparked it.

This is a love story, a story of loss, and a clear example, proof that a love simply doesn’t die. It’s an everlasting flame - burning brighter than the one that attempted to destroy it.

~~~

“You seem restless tonight.“ Anthony walks into the living room, placing a cup of hot cocoa on the coffee table in front of Y/N who’s reading the back cover of the book he has been keeping himself busy with lately.

Y/N has been Tanya’s friend since they met in middle school. When their friendship carried over into high school, that’s when her and Tanya’s adoptive brother Anthony met. They instantly became friends, sharing their love for thrillers and murder mysteries, similar taste in music and relatively similar personalities - the quiet peacemakers. The lovers, not fighters. Well, not fighters unless necessary. They are both protectors with many people they care about and would do anything to keep them safe. The two of them are pretty similar that way.

Very compatible, as some would say. Tanya being the first to notice the connection between two of the closest people in her life. Knowing the shyness of the two and their self-doubt, she chose not to speak up about it until spoken to, expecting them to take ages to finally see what’s been going on between them. Guess she wasn’t far from the truth.

On this night Y/N and Tanya were supposed to spend their time studying together for the last exam of the semester before Christmas break began. They have agreed to meet at the Clarke house at six PM in the afternoon which has long passed and Tanya is still yet to return from the date she went on with her boyfriend Vince. She promised Y/N she’d make it home by six, but now it’s eight and there’s no sign of her whatsoever. A snowstorm started slowly taking over the town approximately two hours ago, probably the reason behind her friend’s absence, but to Y/N’s dismay, also the reason she’d have to spend the night at the Clarke household because her parents wouldn’t be able to collect her in this weather, especially not with the run-down car they drive.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She nods in gratitude at the boy who sits down on the couch next to her as she takes the mug containing the hot beverage with as firm of a grip as she can muster with her shaky hands.

She has indeed been restless since she arrived. Walking into the house, apart from Anthony who had let her in, the first person she saw was the youngest member of the family - Megan. The little girl has never done anything to her in particular, but there has always been something about her that has unnerved Y/N. Something in her eyes and demeanor, how empty and hollow her gaze was, almost like she was looking through people and objects instead of at them. The smile she sent her as a greeting sent chills down her spine, leaving her hands and knees shaky and her body jittery as if the house was colder than the outdoors. The thought that she’d have to sleep in this house made her stomach clench with discomfort, a sickening feeling of wrong taking over her mind and body.

“Maybe it’s the exam. You know, if Tanya doesn’t make it, I can help you. It’s not a difficult subject, after all.“ Anthony attempts to reassure her, giving her a sympathetic look as he takes a sip of his own cup.

She gives him a soft smile and another nod of appreciation for his offer, “No, it’s not that. Or at least I think it isn’t. Exams don’t make me nervous until after I’ve finished them, if that makes sense.” She giggles weakly, basking in the warmth of the porcelain cup in her ice cold hands. It doesn’t have much of an effect though - instead of warming up her skin, her hands are basically cooling the drink and she still feels as tense and endangered as ever. “But a study partner could be pretty useful, thank you.”

After finishing the rather disappointing movie they found on TV as well as their drinks, they make their way to Anthony’s room to actually get some studying done because, judging by the nearing of nine PM and the constant lack of her friend, she wouldn’t be returning on time. Anne attempts to offer them before they go, an offer which they turn down in favor of making the most of the time they have left before their brains would require rest for the day.

“You see, I get that it’s far less complicated than it seems, but I’m terrible at paying attention in classes, let alone at taking notes.“ Y/N admits while they take a short ten minute break between note-reading and revising the chapters they’ll have an exam on the following day.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that? I mean, the professor isn’t boring. Not to me, at least.“

She shakes her head, “No, no, far from it. The rare time’s I’ve managed to focus I quite enjoyed the lectures. But I tend to get too stuck inside my head to hear anything else. My brain gets overwhelmed by the future, by what’s gonna happen five minutes, five days or maybe even five years from the present moment. I sometimes get so lost in those thoughts that I end up...this is gonna sound weird, but I feel like I end up living them.” Somewhere along the lines she could no longer hold his gaze, embarrassed and afraid of how his opinion of her might change with this newly revealed information.

However, much to her surprise, when her eyes meet his again he’s looking at her with nothing but intrigue and child-like curiosity. No amusement or humor or mocking, just wondering, hoping to find out more. Little does she know, that’s how he always looks at her when she is facing the other way. “That’s so interesting. I guess the real question is: Do the things you imagine ever end up coming true?” It was said with a lighthearted smile with the intention of easing the tension in her, calming her nerves, but he had unintentionally struck a chord.

She nods her head, her eyes widening slightly, “Well that’s the weirdest part - they do. Almost all the time unless I do something to prevent it. It freaks me out every time.” An aura of fear surrounds and inhabits her as her gaze wanders away from his again, this time subconsciously, “It scares me so much, Anthony. I know something’s terribly wrong with me. I’m a freak of nature or...I don’t even know what. I just know it’s bad. And I probably shouldn’t have told you all of this cause you now won’t ever look at me the same, you will avoid me. Call me crazy behind my back. I see why but-...”

Before the petrified girl could continue rambling, Anthony takes hold of her hands, firm and comforting. The sudden, unexpected contact of their hands silences her, freezing her eyes on his as she breathes heavily in hopes to stabilize her rapid heart and far worse shakiness. With his hands holding hers, she feels protected, guarded from whatever the future may hold and from the very fact that she could probably find out if she tried. For once though, she doesn’t feel like she has to. She doesn’t need to see what will happen and prepare, she trusts it won’t be so bad as long as she has this boy holding her by the hands, looking at her with such softness in his green orbs staring back at her.

“But that’s all nonsense, Y/N. I’d never say something behind your back, especially not something meanspirited or ill-willed. You...“ he trails off, hesitating for just a moment longer, deciding against prolonging this grey area his feelings have been locked in for far too long as it is, “You are very important to me, more than you know. I could never see you as anything but amazing, mesmerizing. You’re you, Y/N. And that’s why....“ Hesitation and doubt make one final attempt at beating his courage bloody. Much like last time, they fail and Anthony carries on, “That’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N. Quirks, oddities, they are all beautiful cause they are yours. And I love them cause they make you who you are.“

He has somehow managed to turn the tables on her, leaving her to be the speechless one despite her having just revealed her freaky ‘abilities’ to him. What looks like a fiasco in her mind he’s made seem like a perfectly put together kaleidoscope. Like every piece of her shattered courage and bravery is back in it’s spot. Although he’s somewhat managed to put her together, she’s still a long way from being whole, which is why words have failed her now. She hasn’t felt so complete in so long, and now the final piece missing is that response that just refuses to leave her chest.

Seeing her stunned as she is, Anthony feels the need to apologize, justify his out-of-the-blue confession that startled her so much, “I know I should’ve you sooner, or at least picked a better moment but-...”

It’s her turn to cut him off though her method is much more efficient - silencing him by pressing her lips against his. Though caught off-guard, Anthony is quick to respond to it, kissing her back with the same amount of love she’s put in on her end.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sor- WHOA!“ The two pull apart at the sound of the familiar female voice that has suddenly filled the room. Tanya has picked the worst of moments to be coming home, and she’s more than aware of it. Despite feeling guilty for interrupting her brother and best friend’s moment, she’s also glad she didn’t miss it. After all, she’s been watching the two suffer in silence, pining for each other since the start of their high school freshmen year and even now that they’re in college. They’ve been quiet about their feelings for more than four years and she can’t be happier to finally see the prophecy fulfilled. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for you two to finally succumb to your hearts and turn those lame brains you have off?! Oh this is a relief like no other.” The older girl laughs, pleased with the outcome of four years of looking on at two very important people in her life adoring one another and not saying a word. Needless to say, she’s proud of them.

“Do you know what knocking is, Tanya?“ Anthony is the first to recover from the initial shock of his sister’s appearance.

“Only in theory. Not in practice.“ She replies sarcastically, giving a pleased smile that speaks volumes of how her spirits have been lifted all thanks to them. “I’ll go downstairs, pretend I didn’t see what I saw, make myself a cup of tea to warm up and when I come back I want to see that you two have pulled yourselves together. Your faces are burning red.” She instructs, backing out of the room but not before fixing them a narrow-eyed warning look.

She wasn’t wrong - they are indeed blushing a deep red and all they can do is smile when they look at each other, giggling a tiny bit.

Suddenly, Y/N’s eyes widen as though she has just remembered something of great importance. “Wait.” She mutters, more to herself than to Anthony. Her hand swiftly slides the ring off the middle finger of her left hand and offers it to Anthony, “Here.” The boy takes it hesitantly, turning it between his fingers as gently and cautiously as he can as though the ring would crack if his grip became any firmer. “By taking in, you’re making a statement, a promise. A promise that you won’t change your mind about me...about us by tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or by next week.” She’s unable to look at him yet again, instead focusing on her fidgeting hands rested in her lap.

After a brief moment of contemplating, Anthony hands her back the ring, “I don’t need to make a promise, I know I won’t change my mind. You could look into the future and see for yourself too.” He tells her reassuringly, a sweet smile on his face to show the lightheartedness of what he’s said, afraid it might be offensive to her if he didn’t clarify.

She shakes her head, “For once in my life I don’t want spoilers for the future. I’ll just let it play out. I’ll see it when it happens.” She pushes the ring back to him, “But I still want you to keep this. A reminder, if not a promise. A reminder that I promise to love you for a very long time.”

A warmth spreads throughout his chest, the wholesomeness of the moment having reached to his heart and soul. He curls his fingers over the ring protectively, “Alright, I’ll take it. As a promise that I too promise to love you for even longer.”

The strings of emotion connecting them are slowly being pulled, bringing them closer once again. They both lean in, ready to feel that incredible magic of a love-filled kiss another time.

“Consider this me knocking! My hands are kinda full so just open the door if I can come in!“ Lips less then an inch apart, they’re interrupted by the shout coming from the other side of the bedroom door.

The young pair laugh, accepting that their moment will have to be postponed before Anthony goes to let his sister, who’s carrying a cup of tea and some snacks, in. All Y/N can think about is how much happiness she’s found so unexpectedly, in a place she was all but willing to stay at. Life is full of surprises and unforeseen moments, so many things one can never predict. And even though Y/N can predict them, now she’d rather not. She now understands the importance of surprises in life and she wants to cherish them properly.

* * *

Flames, fear, screams, shouts, cries. All painted on the backs of her eyelids. The mortifying images playing out in front of her jolt her awake.

A nightmare, it’s just a nightmare, she tells herself.

But upon opening her eyes she is met by the misty darkness of the smoke-filled room her and her best friend are currently in.

A nightmare that she could’ve predicted and warned the others about.

“Y/N, get out of the window! I need to find Megan!“ Tanya tells her urgently, ushering her towards the windowsill, “Go! Anthony will catch you!“

Looking down at the snow*covered yard below, she sees Anthony’s figure, motioning for her to jump. She can barely hear him over the ringing and thumping in her head but she trusts him. She believes she’ll be ok if she chooses to rely on him. So, following both his and his sister’s instructions, she jumps, falling into his arms. For a few moments it’s all blank around her and in her head. She wonders if it’s just the feeling of the fall or the fact that she could’ve died so easily. Or maybe the close proximity to Anthony. Either way his whisper wakes her up from the blank trance she has fallen into.

“It’s ok, I got you.“ He steadies Y/N on her shaky feet, taking her head and leading her to the front of the house.

The next few minutes are a show of nothing but horror and pain. Her and Anthony witness it together, unable to do anything but look on as ever member of the Clarke family, one by one, has life escaping their bodies in the most brutal of ways: Tanya and Megan never made it out of the house; Mr. Clarke was caught under the fallen ceiling in the living room and Dennis was the worst, having impaled himself on the fence below the attic window.

They saw it all happen. They couldn’t do anything. Fear-ridden, powerless and helpless, frozen in their spots by the horrifying scenes playing out in front of them. With tears brimming her eyes and blurring her vision and her knees almost completely giving out, Y/N felt a little bit of her die with each member of the family. A large chunk of her died along with them. She can only imagine how Anthony feels.

“Mom...“ The distressed boy mutters, “Mom’s still in there! Mom!“ Before she could stop him, he’s running towards what used to be the front door of the house and into the burning hallway.

Y/N’s heart drops, adrenaline and the primal instinct to save the person she loves kicking in bringing her legs to life, carrying her forward. “Anthony no!” A loud cry of desperation leaves her aching chest.

She too enters the hallway, surrounded by the overwhelming heat that feels like it’s burning her skin off. She doesn’t dwell on that though, instead she lunges forward, hands grabbing at Anthony’s arm with all her might and yanking him back with as much strength as she has left. Thankfully, it’s enough to send the boy stumbling back, falling on the snow out in the yard, falling to safety just in time.

Just when the ceiling in the hallway collapses. Directly on top of Y/N.

Like the last breath had been drawn out of Anthony’s lungs. Like his last hope had just been shredded to pieces.

Like his life ended along with her, his heart severed and plucked out of his chest, thrown into the flames.

He bows his head, uncontrollable cries leaving his body, each feeling like a punch to the gut - oh so painful and oh so dreadful. As though his very soul is draining from his body with each scream of agony. Then he spots the shimmer in the snow, the twinkle in his darkened vision.

The promise ring that had fallen out of his pocket, its smooth, gleaming surface unharmed, reflecting the raging flames in front of him. Its statement, its meaning standing stronger than ever - an everlasting love. A brightly burning flame ignited by two souls so adored by each other. And even though one of the flames that started the fire has been extinguished, the fire of love hasn’t wavered.

The ring is sending him a message:

This is far from the end of his love. Far from the end of hers either. When two souls intertwine the way theirs have, the bond cannot be broken.

* * *

Half a century has passed and Anthony has never missed the day - each year gracing the town of Little Hope with his presence to commemorate his late family and loved one, bringing a flower to each of their graves.

Survivor’s guilt still haunts him. That night’s events still keep him up at night and the images still seep into his dreams. However, now he has a way to cope with it. He writes. He writes in a diary but in such a way that it’s composed of letters. Letters addressed to different members of his family though the majority are love letters for Y/N. He tells her about his day, how he wishes she were by his side, how he whishes they had more time or acted on their feeling sooner.

How he loves her even more now, how they have remained connected.

“Funny how we haven’t run into each other before. Fifty years and this is the first time I’m seeing you here.“ The deep male voice startles him, “I knew we’d run into each other eventually.“

It’s Vince, Tanya’s boyfriend - the person who’s been placing the flowers Anthony find on Tanya’s grave every year. He always assumed it was him, another man forever in love with the soul that is left to linger after its body vanished. Another man chained by a memory, one he wouldn’t escape even if he could. He still loves Tanya, no doubt about it, and he wishes to never stop loving her. Him and Anthony are rather similar that way.

“Though it was you. No one else knows Tanya’s favorite flowers.“ Anthony motions to the bouquet of white flowers in Vince’s hands, “Surprised you’re still here.“ He knows it’s not the wisest thing to say to a man who’s suffering down the same road of guilt and grief - the road only lit by the everlasting love that has remained in his heart as well as Vince’s.

“Surprised you haven’t stopped coming around.“ He replies though they both know what’s insinuated - they understand why neither of them can let go. They’re bound to bodiless souls that reside here. They are both more than determined to stay as close as possible to those souls they are so hopelessly in love with. Vince’s eyes trail down to Anthony’s hand which is holding the bouquet he was going to place on his sister’s grave. He catches the glint of a ring on his finger, “You’re married?”

The promise ring. He’s chosen to wear it in place of a wedding ring. It is not only a way to cope but it’s exactly what him and Y/N agreed on all those years ago - a reminder that they’ll love each other for a very long time. For forever.

“Yes. I’m married.“

He indeed is - to Y/N and the memory of her. To her soul that his will forever be connected to.

@artlovingbre @sparrow-gg @megandaisy9

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rexscanonwife · 3 years

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hi brie!!! love to see that you have a sweet golden retriever boyfriend!!! they r the best aren’t they? 🥰🥰. anyway,, what was the moment where you realized that you had Feelings for paul?? what about him for you? :-)

AAAA THANK YOU FOR SUCH A SWEET QUESTION LYS 🥺💕💕 ok so for me realizing my feelings for Paul, its actually different irl from in my self insert!

In real life it was because I've been reading the novelization of The Lost Boys (just very slowly) and it got to Star describing Paul as the goofy one who she's always been able to talk to and that hes always making jokes and that he probably remembers what it was like to be human and I got so warm and giddy thinking "yeah, he is really great isn't he??" And I got kinda confused honestly, cause I normally don't f/o multiple characters from the same media? In my weird brain I can't justify it or I'm afraid of feeling like I'm favoring one or the other but with some encouragement I've accepted it because I think we'd be happy together, yanno? 👉👈

In my self ship, I think it would be one night in the cave where for some reason or another its just me and Paul hanging out or the others are around doing their own thing. Normally David wouldn't tolerate not having me in his sights at all times but he was probably busy with something, maybe seducing someone on the beach into being their next kill ajfjfkg. But me and Paul are doing what we normally do, smoking that ganja and making each other laugh a whole bunch! And he'd turn to me and smile in a way he's never smiled at me before...and when I asked what was going on he'd say something like "I just like looking at you, actually I like everything about you! I wish we did this all the time" and my heart would skip a BIG beat, and I would probably be just as confused then as I was irl haha,,

For Paul, we'd always been really close! We have the same sense of humor and we quip back and forth a lot, and we have the same taste in music! I gave him my Walkman and some old tapes so he could listen wherever and whenever he wanted, which he appreciated a lot. But one day I also gave him a mixtape I made with what I knew were his favorite songs and some thrown in I thought he might like. I handed it to him with a warm smile and when I walked away with David's arm around me he realized that the closeness had turned to fondness and he had a BIG crush. Its almost a sad moment for him, but it ends up having a happy ending still!

#brie babbles #self insert talk #total eclipse of the heart #paulyamory #tw drug ment #tw drugs #ahfkgkg its brief but!! come on paul is the stoner boyfriend #but SOBS!! THANKS FOR GIVING ME AN OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT THIS #ilusm 💕💕💖💖#also sorry mobile users i cant put it under a readmore :'3

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applejongho · 3 years

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a vampire's guide to blood dealing | bang chan

genre: humor, supernatural, adventure, dumbassery

pairing: vampire!chan and female vampire!reader named Mei (platonic)

description: Newly turned vampire Chan and old vampire Mei form a friendship through their shared hunger for blood, but can’t help but get into wildly bloody situations as their friendship blooms.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: mentions of blood, vampires, swearing, (a small amount of) violence

author's note: SURPRISE, I'M YOUR SECRET SANTA @meiiyue!! Did you guess me correctly when you had a hunch as to what my identity was at the beginning of the month? ;) You've made my month of December so much fun and I can't wait to start talking with you not behind my chanon pseudonym >:) anyways, chan and mei being dumbasses together, I had a HELLA fun time writing this and I hope you smile when reading <333

masterlist here!

SHE HAD KNOWN when the tea on his desk, next to the scattered medical papers and signatures that bound people to donating blood, was just a bit too red for any normal tea.

There was also the fact that the tea smelled like blood, but then again, everything smelled like blood at a blood drive. Being a vampire, Mei had to pinch herself every few minutes so she didn’t salivate all over the floor and reveal her bloodthirsty identity. She had no idea how the biology major that was running this drive, and also clearly a vampire by his red tea - Christopher “Chan” Bang - was holding himself together. Perhaps the tea was what kept him tethered to reality. But a vampire running a blood drive - that was the act of a being who had lost his mind.

Mei sat in Chan’s desk chair in his office - a white, cramped, doctor’s office that smelled like hand sanitizer - waiting for Chan to realize she was there. She had her feet propped up onto the table, black boots obscuring what seemed to look like calculus homework or chicken scratch. She couldn’t tell. So he studied here as well. Mei couldn’t help but laugh as she looked around his office: paintings of instruments that looked like they came straight out of a museum adorned the walls, a printer sat in the corner that looked like it would fall apart if it was asked to print one more paper, and a coffee pot with stains that would likely never come off. This was most certainly the living space of a tired and stressed college student - he had hidden his vampirism well. She doubted he even used the coffee pot anymore, Mei herself couldn’t bring herself to swallow anything except for blood.

She wondered how she hadn’t noticed the other vampire sooner. But now that she had found him, she was determined to befriend him and possibly help him; he couldn’t have been a vampire for too long. Mei shuffled her feet so they sat over some chemistry homework instead. She hoped she looked intimidating because it would have been embarrassing for a two-hundred-year-old vampire to not strike some sort of visceral and primal emotion into a baby vampire.

Like on cue, Chan entered the office with such frantic movements that she swore he would trip on himself. He had tousled black hair and a white lab coat snug on his shoulders that looked a little too perfect to be a real lab coat, like one a small kindergartener would wear on career day. He also carried a clipboard, and seemed to notice his franticness before he noticed Mei because he made eye contact with her but was much too delayed in his reaction to say anything until at least a few seconds later.

“Hello?” He said after a few seconds, staring at her. He looked like he was going to pass out with her feet on the table, or maybe he was just startled that someone was so confidently intruding on his space. Mei kicked her feet back onto the ground.

“Hello,” Mei said in greeting, then gestured to Chan’s cup of tea on his desk. “May I ask what kind of tea this is? It has such a wonderful taste. I couldn’t help but have a taste.”

He looked like he was going to pass out. “It’s a really, um, exotic flavor,” Chan said, placing his clipboard down on his desk. Mei glanced at it. It looked like a medical form. “You wouldn’t like it. Or, no, I’m really surprised you like it.” His voice had a clear accent - British? Mei was slightly surprised he wasn’t asking why she was in his office. He was probably too worried over the tea.

“Oh, it was bloody delicious, whatever it was,” Mei said. Chan looked like Mei had just found his illegal drug stash. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing. I’m a vampire. And I’m going to be terrified if you’re not also a vampire because it would be weird if you were a human drinking blood.”

Mei hadn’t realized Chan was on edge until his shoulders shrunk down a few inches and he gave a small smile. He was refreshing to see at ease - Mei was far too used to people being scared of her. “You are?” He asked in that hopeful fledgling tone that made her heart clench.

She nodded. “For two hundred years. I’m assuming it’s hardly been a month for you.”

She could tell he tried not to be phased by her age. It was routine for humans and young vampires to not be able to comprehend her age. “Three weeks, actually,” he laughed nervously. “I signed up to run this a few days before I got turned. I would have never accepted had I known...”

He trailed off, but Mei understood. “Baby vampires are usually more thirsty than adult vampires, and even I felt a little unhinged walking by all of the vials. I can’t imagine how you feel.”

Almost on cue, Chan reached for his tea cup and took a long, quenching drink. Mei watched him drink. He let out a breath after he finished, and his hair flopped in front of his eyes. “It’s painful,” he said simply. He let out a nervous laugh and scratched his head. “I was going to come in here for a break from the smell. But you’re here.” He stared at her for a moment, and Mei could see the gears turning in his brain. “Can you help me?”

It was such a vague question, but Mei nodded with certainty. Can you help me be a vampire? Can you help me not kill everyone in this blood drive, because I seriously might? “Let’s first give you a mask to wear. Like one of those disposable doctor masks?”

“I already thought of that, it doesn’t work,” Chan groaned, but Mei shook her head at him.

“Do you have gum?” She asked. “Peppermint flavored?” He wordlessly gestured to the main drawer in the desk, confusion etched onto his face.

Mei pulled out the gum. “I know you don’t want to eat it, and you don’t need to.” She unwrapped a piece, but threw out the gum, holding out the wrapper for him. “Stick this into your mask. I don’t think it will mask the scent completely, but it will certainly be a distraction.” She raised her eyebrows at him and urged him to take the wrapper. He took it, looking at her with wariness stretched across his face.

“Really?” He asked, pulling a blue mask out of his lab coat. He grinned and slipped the mask on, sticking the wrapper in it.

“Absolutely,” Mei said, not absolute at all. She had thought of this out of the blue. He seemed to relax at her certainty.

“Thank you,” he said. Even with a mask on, Mei could tell he was smiling. It was a smile of gratitude, a smile of being seen. “It’s... it’s so relieving that there’s another vampire on campus. It’s nice to know you’re here. Even if you broke into my office and ominously waited for me in my office chair.”

“That’s what I’m here for, I suppose,” Mei laughed. “I would say that I’d help you with the blood drawing, but I’m a music major. I certainly don’t have any license to perform anything related to human health.”

“Can you help me pack up the vials after the blood drive is over?” Chan asked quickly. “It’s just me and two more people, and they’re assigned to clean up. I’d trust you to, you know, not tamper with them.” Mei noticed he avoided saying the word blood. He must have been fighting his thirst harder than what he was letting on.

“Yes, and take another sip of your tea,” Mei recommended. He did so, rather rushed. He wiped his mouth and pushed his mask back on when he was done and gave a cooky grin that she could see through his eyes.

"I have to get back to... the blood tests, but I suppose you can stay here." He stood, silent for a moment. "Feel free to do my chemistry homework if you're bored."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mei said sweetly, causing Chan to give a snarky eye roll. Then, he exited the room to continue with the blood drive.

Nearly six months later and with another semester gone by, Chan and Mei had formed an unlikely, yet close friendship. Mei preferred to say they were blood-bound because between Mei's music theory classes and Chan's cellular biology homework, the two of them had no academic similarities. They had first hung out together in the library of the university, both always carrying opaque flasks of blood that felt like an inside joke between the two of them. They had upgraded to spending a few weekends together, and now they were practically inseparable. Chan knew all of Mei’s quirks, like how she had to practice guitar in the mornings and piano at night, or how she had to always be in the same practice room to get anything done. Mei knew Chan’s sense of humor, which was essentially knowing his entire personality - quick puns that could slip by as casual comments, or teasing that was prolonged and never-ending. He had gone an entire month speaking in a British accent when Mei had mistakenly called him British. There were certain phrases he had taken upon himself to abuse profusely.

“Bloody hell, I’m Australian!” He had told her, giving a teasing grin. “Aren’t you old enough to have traveled to other countries to know their certain accents?”

“I’ve been all over Europe,” Mei had corrected. “Mostly Spain, Portugal, and France, and not so much Britain. There are so many different dialects of English in Britain that I had just assumed that your accent was from there, so shut up.”

Chan had taken a sip of his blood tea and had given the evil look of a taunting younger brother. “Then I suppose your mind isn’t as sharp as you thought it was. It makes sense, considering you’ve been un-alive for more than two centuries.”

“I’m going to stake you,” Mei had said sweetly.

Another fond memory was when they had gone to a museum so Mei could narrate what actually had happened in history as they walked through exhibits. What they discovered instead was a love letter Mei had written to a female lover when she was a young vampire that had an entire exhibit to itself. And, as historians usually were, they had erased the gay undertones of the note. Chan had to stifle giggles as he read an excerpt from the exhibit’s description that very proudly declared the note full of heterosexuality, while Mei had to hold back on murdering every employee in the museum. Mysteriously, that was the last time they had ever gone to that museum.

Yet none of these experiences or moments could top the underground blood ring.

Mei and Chan, during the semester, stole small amounts of blood from the monthly blood drive a few biological science majors held, enough to keep them satisfied for at least until the next blood drive. But now the spring semester was ending, and unlike winter break, summer break was much longer and hotter. Neither of them loved going outside because, as vampires, too much time in the sun would make them thirstier and sometimes blister.

“So what should we do?” Chan asked, sitting with his legs crossed on Mei’s couch in her apartment. “You’ve been a vampire much longer than I’ve been one. What have you done in the summer?”

“Back when I got my last degree, cameras were really terrible and too weak to see me,” Mei said, squinting while reading something on her computer. Mei had gotten a creative writing degree back in the 80s in Spain, and a history degree in the 60s. She liked to point out frequently that she would have gotten many more degrees, but sexism prevented her for a long time. “Which had made it much easier to steal blood or drink from a sleeping person, regardless of the season. But cameras are much better nowadays, and while they still wouldn’t be able to see either of us that well, they would see things being moved around and possibly changes in shadow. And we don’t want that. Also, with you being a new vampire that’s not an expert at stealthily drinking blood from someone, we can’t just have you slinking around peoples’ houses at night.” She sighed and shut her computer, then gave Chan a look that made his spine dance.

“I have a few ideas, but none of them are that ethical or easy,” she said, grimacing. “Do you have any?”

Chan pursed his lips. “I could try hosting another blood drive?” Chan suggested, then discarded the thought. “Or we could go to the hospital I intern at and steal blood from there.” He said that calmly, normally, and Mei was a little shocked at how nonchalant he had become regarding blood acquisition. He used to cringe when Mei gave crazy stories of how she had taken blood from people.

“Hospitals should keep their blood, though,” Mei said, ignoring Chan’s surprised expression. “It’s one thing to take a few blood vials from healthy college students. It’s another to withhold a hospital’s stock that could potentially save someone’s life.” Chan wanted to mention that the blood collected from the university’s drives eventually made it to the hospital, but he didn’t want to create an ethical debate. They were already unethical as it was, being undead beings that drank blood.

“Okay,” he said, sighing. “So what are your ideas? Because those are mine.”

Mei gave a little smile, and Chan got nervous. “Mei, what are you thinking?”

“I was thinking of an illegal blood ring,” Mei said casually, then folded her arms over her chest and frowned at him when Chan gave an expression that was equivalent to her saying she had murdered someone. “I know your track record is perfect, but as a desperate vampire, I don’t know what else to tell you. Would you rather starve?” Chan opened his mouth to speak, but Mei held up a hand. “Hear me out.”

A million thoughts were running through his head, but Chan did as she said. She was right, he did have a perfect track record because it was imperative for someone that wanted to go into medicine that it was spotless. A blood ring was the perfect addition to his record if he wanted to throw away his degree and any chance of employment.

“There are more blood rings than you’d think, and a lot of them aren’t nearly as scary or dangerous as you might think,” Mei started. “Think of doctors that are fed up with blood donation regulations because certain people, such as gay people, can’t donate blood. Think of psychopaths that want to sell tainted or drugged blood to scrape a profit. Think of people without ID that need blood but can’t get it through lawful means. These are the types of people we’d encounter, and considering that we’re both strong and smart vampires, being friendly with them, stealing blood, and then jetting wouldn’t be hard. We’d only have to do it once,” she said as Chan’s expression darkened with doubt. “I don’t love the idea either, but I think it’s doable. Allow me to ask around, and I should be able to find a place for us to go and get our blood within a week.”

“And what about next summer?” Chan asked. “And the summer after?”

“By then, you’ll hopefully know how to take blood from humans in their sleep,” Mei said evenly. “I should have taught you earlier, but I didn’t. Please, Chan,” she said and gave a look. “Just go with me. I promise things will be fine. And if it doesn’t, we can just change our names and go to university somewhere else.”

“You’re insane,” Chan groaned. There was nothing smart about this plan. Chan could name several things that could go wrong off of the top of his head: the blood they could get would be so drugged that both of them would kill someone in their insanity, they could get caught or ratted out and lose their place in the university, or they could simply get killed by the blood dealers. But Chan begrudgingly agreed with Mei because it was the only plan they had. And blood, as delicious as it was, was slippery to deal with. This was simply one shady deed in a life that would last an eternity. He was too young to understand the small weight of this blood ring that would carry on his immortal life. He had to trust Mei.

“And besides,” Mei said, climbing off of her bed to grab a bag of blood from her fridge, “you can think of it as a heroic job. Maybe we can rat out the blood dealers to the cops, steal their blood, but then tell the police they destroyed it all in a hairy crossfire. You’re not the bad guy, Chan, nor a vigilante. You’re just a vampire that needs his needs met.”

So a little more than a week later, Chan found himself in the passenger seat of Mei’s Toyota, Mei driving like she was on her way to the grocery store to pick up some eggs. “Mei, I don’t know if we should do this,” Chan said, shifting nervously in his seat and rubbing his hands together.

Mei turned smoothly to a dirt road. The highway they had been on before had been smooth, so the new bumpy terrain made the two of them bounce around in the car. It just made Chan even more nervous - this was territory that wasn’t crossed often. “Chan,” Mei said in the same way a mother would soothe a child, “we’ll be fine. Like I said before, I wouldn’t be able to do this alone. You’re here for backup. I told the dealer you have a black belt and can make shit fly if things don’t go as planned.”

“I don’t have a black belt,” Chan felt he had to point out.

“And they don’t need to know that,” Mei said calmly. She turned again. Somehow this road was even bumpier. Chan felt like he was going to throw up. “You’re here for looks and intimidation. And if things do go awry, you look strong enough to do damage.”

Chan groaned. It was night out, and Mei turned off her headlights. It wasn’t a problem because both of them could see fine during the night; it was so no one else could see them. “Just relax,” she continued, which made Chan even less relaxed. “Think of the blood.”

Thinking of blood did make him feel better, much to his relief. He sat dazed while Mei navigated through the dirt path, thinking of the result rather than the work he had to do to get there.

Mei parked the car in between some trees and the two of them got out. Mei adjusted her hoodie and sunglasses, which made Chan pull out his sunglasses as well. He felt like a fake criminal putting them on. They only did this in movies. “This way,” Mei said, her voice amplified because of the silence that hovered around them. Trees were everywhere and Chan had no idea how Mei had managed to maneuver the car into the forest. He hoped a quick escape wasn’t going to be needed.

Mei trudged through the forest, Chan following. She led him to an old shack that looked like it was one breeze away from toppling onto itself. Chan had to duck to not hit his head on the door frame. The inside smelled exactly how a dilapidated and abandoned shack should smell like - grimy, slimy, and dusty. Then, of course, there was the smell of blood. He knew Mei could smell it too by how she stood straighter, or perhaps that was to seem more intimidating, because Chan had just noticed a few more figures already in the shack.

“I presume you’re Em and Bert,” said a cool, feminine voice across from them. The blood dealer.

“Bert?” Chan growled, quiet enough so that only Mei could hear, but she only smiled.

“That’s us,” Mei said, her voice devoid of the humor and carefreeness it usually held.

Even in the shadows, Chan could see the other woman give a smile. Despite the hood and mask she wore, the blood dealer wasn’t too incredibly intimidating. Chan thought she was sitting at first, but she was just short. A small lock of curly and blonde hair stuck out from her hood, giving the illusion that she was a small child. He almost snickered, but he was nervous himself.

Then he paid attention to her bodyguards. Three bodyguards were surrounding her, all tall, dark, and intimidating. The one to her right looked like he had muscles that could clock him into next week, while the one to her left had eyes of steel that he could feel scanning him. The one in the middle, right behind her, had the veiniest hands he had ever seen. He imagined them choking Mei or himself and he shuddered. Like the girl, they all had hoods and masks to conceal their identity.

“And do you have the money?” The girl said, a lilt to her voice. Mei nodded and pulled out enough money in cash to pay for an entire semester of school. Chan was amazed at his self-control to not do a backflip in the middle of the shack. Where had she gotten so much? He decided he’d have to ask later, or never.

The girl’s expression didn’t change at the sight of the money. “Put it on the table,” she said, then waved a hand to a three-legged table that sat in the middle of the room. Mei placed the wad of cash onto the table, then swiftly stepped away from it like the table was going to suddenly grab her hand if she didn’t move fast enough.

Chan was hit with a pang of anxiety. Why hadn’t Mei asked to see the blood first? The bodyguard to the girl’s left pocketed the money. They could be murdered right there, and Chan still had to study for his anatomy final. He glanced over to Mei, who appeared to be unfazed. He gave her a look that he hoped she interpreted as, “do you still have an ounce of sense rattling in that brain?”

He didn’t need her to answer, however, because the girl motioned her hand. The buff bodyguard to her right bent down and picked up a box - Chan’s heart sank - a small box. His vampire senses started screaming because now the scent of blood had a visual paired with it, but there wasn't even that much. At most, this box of full blood vials would last Mei and Chan a month, which was less time than the two of them had for summer. The bodyguard placed it onto the same table where Mei had placed her money. This time, Chan took the case of blood. It was heavier than he had suspected, but it was still so little.

“You promised more,” Mei said evenly, echoing Chan’s worries. “I brought the money you wanted. Where’s the rest?”

“This is all we have left,” the girl said smoothly, and Chan had read enough crime novels to know that was a twisted truth. Likely, someone else had outsold them. And based on the amount of money Mei had given, that was an accomplished feat.

But even so, Chan could smell more blood somewhere, much like a human could smell both cookies and brownies being baked in a kitchen. Was it the blood from the girl and her guards? He didn’t think so, because that wasn’t the case when he was surrounded by fellow university students.

He didn’t have to look at her to know that Mei had smelled as much. Mei’s mouth twitched. “I see more right there,” she said, pointing vaguely towards the girl. The bodyguards stiffened.

“We have no more,” the girl repeated, her tone stricter than any of her bodyguards’ body language. Her eyes narrowed, and Chan caught the hue of them - blue. “Perhaps if you had offered more money, or if you were a bit more reputable, I would have-”

The girl was unable to finish her sentence, because Mei had darted forward, faster than any human could have ever moved. Before Chan realized what she was doing, Mei already had a hold on a second box, identical to the one he was holding. It must have been hiding somewhere, and for whatever reason Mei had managed to see it.

Chaos ensued. The girl screamed, Chan screamed too, and Mei had delivered a blow to the muscular bodyguard, sending him to the floor. He realized that he was supposed to act the part of the strong sidekick, but Chan’s rationality and legs had a different idea. He was not fit to fight. While Mei sized up another bodyguard, Chan took off running. He ran out of the shack, blood vials rattling violently in his hands. He realized too late that under no circumstances could he drop the box of blood - it would defeat the purpose of Mei’s inception.

To his chagrin, he realized one of the bodyguards, the one with veiny hands, had taken off running behind him, and Chan deliriously wondered if he was good at playing piano as he dove into the dark forest around the shack.

“Stop!” The bodyguard yelled as if Chan would obey. He ran further into the forest, grateful it was nighttime. He could see easily, and based on how the bodyguard faltered around the frequent trees, he didn’t have the same advantage. Chan slowed his running when he saw how far behind the bodyguard was and crouched by a particularly large tree, cradling the vials of blood like they were a newborn baby.

He heard the bodyguard come closer, but Chan had faith that he was hidden and quiet enough to not be noticed. “Shit!” The bodyguard swore when he must have been about ten feet away. Chan remained perfectly still, crouched low, not breathing. He was dimly aware of the spiraling and sharp pain coming from his toes because of the way he was sitting, and he decided to ignore it. Then, without warning, Chan lost his balance and toppled onto the forest floor, the vials crashing into each other and creating a cacophony of noise. It was Chan’s turn to swear.

The bodyguard was upon him within seconds. Chan had barely gathered himself and the blood, and was still struggling miserably on the forest ground, pain exploding from his toes. “Are you insane?” The bodyguard growled, his voice rough. Chan squirmed away from the bodyguard and barely missed the bodyguard’s lunge towards him. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to reach for his neck or the blood.

“Yeah,” Chan answered him, tripping into a standing position, but the guard was too close for him to make a run for it. The adrenaline racing through his system had adrenaline, and briefly he wondered how Mei was doing. Could she hold off two bodyguards and that girl on her own? He wasn’t doing well even with one. His knees began to shake, and for a moment he wished he had never become a vampire - he wouldn’t have ever been in this situation. He wouldn’t have been moments from death or capture.

“You must be truly desperate if you’re willing to steal from people like us,” the bodyguard snarled. “What were you gonna do with it all, resell it? Give it to authorities to rat us out?” He backed Chan into a tree. “Or fucking drink it?”

Chan’s eyes widened, and a lightbulb glowed in his mind with a ridiculous idea. For the past few months, Chan had adjusted to being a vampire, but he couldn’t help but often felt alienated even with Mei being a new addition in his life. He avoided drinking blood in front of a human and even broke out into a sweat when it was in a concealed and opaque container in fear of their terrified reaction. Now, Chan took this opportunity to turn the tables in his favor. He just hoped he wasn’t the greatest fool for doing it.

“It tastes like cranberry juice,” Chan said in a voice that was much too cheery for how unhinged he felt internally. Then, without warning, he uncorked one of the vials of blood and chugged it. He let it slosh around in his mouth as a red sea, he gurgled it, he let it run over his mouth and onto his chin, and he prayed to some god, a god that likely had damned him already, that this plan had an ounce of sense. At least the blood tasted good.

“What the fuck?” The bodyguard choked, which was precisely the reaction Chan had hoped for. Chan kicked out and slammed his leg into the bodyguard, causing him to sputter in surprise before falling to the ground. His head connected with a tree and the sound was sweetly sickening. Chan stood, staring at the man lying unconscious on the floor, staring at his hands, staring at the blood. He must have stood there for a few minutes in stunned silence, before being interrupted by screams and shouts coming from the old shack.

“Seungmin!” A masculine voice shouted, and Chan assumed the voice was referring to the knocked out man lying on the forest floor in front of him. Unfortunate for both of them. A few more screams, and then, “-in the building!”

He heard a crack, and the most horrible, loud sound of splitting wood, metal chafing, and tile cracking overcame all silence in the forest. Chan cringed as he ran back towards the shack, fearful of Mei’s safety.

He emerged from the forest, only to have Mei dart in front of him to seize his wrist. Her hair, done in a ponytail under her hood, had become exposed and frazzled, but otherwise she seemed fine. She was carrying the second box, that special box, under her arm, and Chan wanted to cry with relief. They were both okay, they had done what they had come to do. “Car!” She huffed, then took off running, still gripping Chan. He felt like a rag doll being yanked by his five-year-old owner as Mei dragged him towards their escape.

He threw himself into the car, Mei already driving before his butt hit the seat. He placed his box of blood at his feet and felt out-of-body as Mei drove like a demon out of hell out of the forest and onto the gravel road. Chan had never felt so happy to feel the motion sickness that came from the rough terrain. He glanced over to Mei, who had ripped off her sunglasses. She looked like she had just slain a dragon and was glowing with adrenaline. Chan was filled with the happiness of knowing her. How could he ever have gotten so lucky? He broke into a grin, then began crying with laughter.

“We did it!” He cried, and Mei joined in with him after a few moments. He could hear the tension, fear, and anticipation leave her body as she laughed - a joyful, boisterous, and relieving laugh that seemed to be perfectly in rhythm with the car bouncing on the gravel road.

“We did, didn’t we?” She choked out after her laughter subsided. “But God, Chan, you look like you were shot in the mouth. What happened?”

Chan suddenly remembered his silly vampire distraction, and he burst into laughter all over again. “I scared the daylights out of the bodyguard that chased me by chugging some of the blood,” he giggled. His head was going to fly off of his head in the next few seconds. “It was all I could think of to distract him.”

“Oh my God, Chan,” Mei laughed. “That’s brilliant.” Mei turned, and the car gave a few jolts as it tore into another dirt road. “I destroyed the shack. It was sort of an accident, but it was only a matter of time.”

“And how’d that happen?”

Mei chuckled. "Throwing a bodyguard enough times against a wall causes a lot of strain on the house. I think I crushed everyone in the shack. Oh!" Chan's mouth dropped open as Mei reached into the center pocket on her hoodie and pulled out the wad of cash that she had used to pay for the blood. “There’s this.” She threw it into his lap, and Chan jumped as it touched him.

"Mei!" Chan gasped, unsure whether to laugh or be terrified. "We literally stole from them, and now we cut them short of-"

"Yeah, and they cut us short too," Mei shrugged, having an ethical compass of a seesaw. "Their leader, the little girl, promised me a second box. I was essentially paying for two boxes and she only gave me one. It's only fair. Well, at least for us." Mei stared off into the distance as she drove. "And I bet you smelled the blood of the second box, too. Perhaps she thought she could undercut us. Either way, I hope all four of them are screwed either financially or physically. Honestly, I might have killed the ones in the shack. But now I can pay for my next semester and not die of thirst over the summer."

She said all of this causally, and Chan didn’t feel like lecturing her. He had sins too, lying unconscious in the forest. Chan also decided not to ask where Mei had gotten her money. He didn't want to, because he knew she didn't have it before this. "I mean, they're blood dealers," he said instead. "I don't think they care about laws or rules. But still..."

"Still nothing, Chan," Mei laughed. "We did it. Can't we celebrate?"

"Ah, two vampire college students stealing blood from a shady group of people that we might have killed. Congratulations to us," Chan said in a mocking voice, but smiled. "We certainly did it. Let's never do it again."

"You can say that again," Mei agreed. Her mouth quirked upward, and she barely suppressed a giggle. "Honestly, I thought we were screwed the entire time," Mei said carefully. "I thought they'd have backup in the forest or around the shack. Me reaching for that second box - that was pure stupidity."

"But we got our blood," Chan said with a note of finality.

"We got our blood," Mei echoed. Against all odds, they had pulled off a plan only a college student could conjure. "If we can do this, finals will be easy."

"Are you sure about that?"

Chan and Mei bickered back and forth over if finals or stealing illegal blood from shady vandals was harder (finals won) until Mei got onto the highway. Homebound and their goal accomplished, the two vampires laughed all the way home. In the sky, the moon's white rays glowed on them, the foil of the sun that they had grown to love as creatures of the night.

#skznta2020 #stray kids #stray kids fic #skz #bang chan #vampires #vampire au #platonic #x female reader #college au #staysource #cb97net #my writing #stray kids oneshot #bang chan oneshot #stayheavennet

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cle1024 · 5 years

Text

erubescent | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: angst, fluff

summary: why are my cheeks erubescent? i shouldn’t be feeling this way about you; i’m not supposed to trust you. bad boy!au, florist!au, high school!au, enemies to lovers!au

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, cigarettes

a/n: it’s big cliche teen romance hours. i’ve been working on this for a while so it’s kind of long, i also apologise in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors. enjoy!

Monday, 2:35am.

Music blasted from the garage down the street, as it had been for the past four hours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a huff passing your lips before you shoved the covers off of your sleep-deprived body. The house was on the other side of the road, three houses down, yet the sound it emitted was still agonisingly clear. There wasn’t a party or get together going on, it just served as the background noise for some boy who decided to do god knows what at two in the morning. ‘Some boy’ referred to the devil incarnate. Personally, you had your own bad traits and habits, and you were willing to acknowledge that. The boy, on the other hand, was not as willing. He was cocky, self-absorbed, arrogant, and many other synonyms. Students at your school found him annoyingly charming and attractive, parents found him to be deceptively charming and a total sweetheart, you thought he was a dumb prick. A self-absorbed, untrustworthy, dumb prick. A no-good, rudderless, troublesome bum. Hwang Hyunjin was the bane of your existence without even trying.

Luck was never on your side, evidently. The bus ride to school took fifteen minutes at the least and school started at 8:00am sharp. Your bus was intended to arrive at 7:40am, but eight minutes had passed and it vehemently refused to show up. A groan bubbled in your chest, prepared to be expressed through your soft lips and into the crisp morning air, but the chance was cut short, much to your dismay.

“Doesn’t school start at 8:00am?” As if your morning couldn’t get worse. The distinct voice of the boy, who’d managed to keep you up all night with his music, echoed from beside you. As far as you were concerned, he had no clue who you were: no name, class, nothing. You’d prefer to keep it that way.

“Yes,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue before shoving his hands in his pockets. You weren’t sure if he was expected more of a conversation from you, perhaps some stuttering and blushing on your behalf, which you most certainly weren’t going to provide. Your morning had already gotten off to a shit start due to his behaviour, no need to make it even worse. As the clock ticked to 7:51am, the bus finally pulled up in front of the two of you. Hyunjin made a beeline to get on first, almost knocking you out of the way in the pursuit. You rolled your eyes: what on earth did people see in him?

Wednesday, 1:22am.

You banged your head against your desk continuously. Life was an unpleasant, torturous ride that you could not get off of. Hyunjin’s music was blasting from down the street, this time accompanied by the obnoxious laughter of his friends, all the while your chemistry report sat unwritten in front of you. Of course you had the scaffold and results you needed, but none of the motivation to write a full scientific report. What was the point? You didn’t wish to pursue a career that had anything to do with chemistry. It infuriated you immensely, the way adults dictated what was and wasn’t important to learn, even if you had no intention of applying it to your life later. You allowed your head to rest on the desk solemnly, the pain forming from where you’d hit it repeatedly - not hard enough to do any damage, but enough times for it to cause some pain. That, partnered with the lively sound of Hyunjin’s house, was enough to give you a killer migraine. You rubbed your temples tiredly, trying to recall if there was any panadol stashed in the cupboard near the kitchen. Much to your displeasure, you were almost certain there wasn’t. You sighed as you refocused your eyes on the bright laptop in front of you. With an exasperated sigh, you let your fingers wander over the keyboard to write the stressful report. You had roughly seven hours until you had to be at school and subsequently hand it in, going one more day with a few hours of sleep should be fine.

It was absolutely not fine. You had fallen asleep at your desk after printing out the report and stapling it together, waking up with a major neck cramp and back ache. Furthermore, you only managed to catch your bus by a second, any later and you would’ve been forced to watch the bus roll away and catch sight of Hyunjin’s smug face as he sat at the back of the bus. Though you were glad you wouldn’t be subjected to such a look, you were stressed out of your mind. Stupid fucking chemistry report. As soon as you made it off the bus you muttered a thank you to the driver, speed-walking in the direction of your school. Hyunjin dawdled behind you, a fairly large distance between the two of you. He didn’t understand why you were in such a rush to get to that hell hole. He’d only noticed you for the first time on Monday at the bus stop, but now he saw you everywhere. Every time he wasn’t in class on Monday, either because he was skipping or because it was break time, he managed to catch a glimpse of your face.

And you always looked like you wanted to die.

It was quite humorous to Hyunjin, almost paradoxical in a way. You appeared to pay attention in class from the glimpses he got, dedicated to your studies he could assume, yet there was never an emotion other than stress or distaste creasing your facial features. He didn’t blame you, though. As soon as he could get out of that school he would run off to become a choreographer at the same studio as Minho. If he was old enough, he would do it now, but Minho said the company was strict on the ages of choreographers: “I’m not fucking around, Hwang. If they find out you’re still in school, they’ll come into my house and cut up all my clothes while I’m sleeping. I don’t have the money to buy new ones!” It was a very specific, unrealistic threat, but Minho could be very persuasive when it suited him.

Friday, 1:41am.

How anyone in the neighbourhood got any sleep was beyond you. Every night the Hwang house pumped music, different genres but none that piqued your interests or matched your tastes. At this point, it had been a week since it had started - you believed that was when his parents left town for a trip to visit relatives, at least that’s what you’d heard around school. People had been buzzing with excitement when they heard that Hwang Hyunjin had an empty house and could, as a result, throw a rambunctious party. Of course you weren’t as keen on the idea, but nothing you could do would stop it from happening. The party, thankfully, hadn’t happened yet, and you were secretly praying it never would. Though, now that you thought about it, could it be any worse? You already lacked sleep due to his deafening sound system, would the rambunctious sounds of teenage laughter really add to the noise? The only times you could make out the noises of his dickhead friends was when the music had been turned down significantly so they could hear one another yelling and hooting. Your eyes rolled at the thought, imbeciles. In their defence, the group had never directly done anything to you that made you feel that way. Rather, the way they acted left a bad taste in your mouth and a ringing sensation in your ears. Just like Hyunjin, they exuded an inflated sense of entitlement and were noisy beyond belief at school―at least when they were together. When they were apart, some of the boys were more quiet and mainly threw dirty looks or dropped an occasional comment. You weren’t sure whether Hwang Hyunjin classified as one of those boys as you’d never seen him alone at school, there was always someone matching his footsteps and snarky remarks. Come to think of it, the only time you’d seen Hyunjin stood alone was when you’d been late to catching the bus or the bus had showed up ten minutes late. Regardless, you had your reasons for wanting to stay as far away from them as possible.

You sigh at the bright screen of your mobile, the energy draining from your body at the thought of working through the weekend. There was nothing wrong with the florist your family owned, you were merely unsatisfied with being paid the minimum wage of nine dollars and thirty cents an hour. Majority of the customers you’d had the duty of serving were restaurant or cafe owners, people with sick friends or family, lovesick teenagers, or middle-aged women who wanted to spruce up the dining room. Your mother often spoke of an elderly lady who came in with her handsome grandson, though you’d never been working when she frequented the store. You supposed the store was easy money, just neatly wrap some flowers with an adequate meaning and smile as genuinely as possible. There was never any displeasure from customers or passing civilians, but standing behind a counter for nine hours was less than stellar―and it was only for the grand payment of $135.40, that was better than nothing you supposed. You rested your head against the cool glass window of the bus, the cold air frosting the surface temperature. Grey clouds loomed across the autumn sky, the transition to winter becoming clearer each day. Autumn was usually a blue-skied sunny time, though as it faded into the crisp winter everything became abysmal. The sky took on monotone greys and watered the grass every now and then, it became dreary and people lost energy simply by looking at the dark weather. Though it was a small motivator for some, signalling that winter break would approach in a months time. Late November, always so deplorable. That was usually the time you had the most people coming into the flower shop looking for some bright arrangement to make their home feel less cold and dull; they cared not for the meaning but for the colour, even if it meant throwing together flowers of hatred and passion to achieve such a look. You wanted to laugh at their ignorance, but how could you blame them? Everything just felt so cold at this time of year.

Sunday, 5:36pm.

Rain gently pattered the glass windows of the store as you swirled the straw poked in your strawberry milk carton. The pink liquid followed the movement of the straw in a slow swirling motion, twisting in currents of dairy as a form of entertainment for your exhausted self. Business had been slower than yesterday, likely due to the ugly shades of grey and sharp rainfall haunting the sky, but you didn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing. You’d been standing in one general area since nine in the morning and your feet were aching. Your eyes drifted from the liquid inside the carton to the white clock on the wall―6:00pm wasn’t that far away. You were down to your last few sheets of the brown craft paper used to support the delicate bouquets, perhaps you could just restock that in the meantime. A cracking noise sounded from your back as you straightened your posture, rolling your shoulders from their previously hunched position. Your legs moved slowly in the direction of the staff only area of the shop, walking through the opened door in search for new paper. As you sifted through the craft paper, debating whether you continued with the tan brown colour or switched to an opaque blush pink, you heard the faint echo of the bell from above the door and the sounds of the rain grew heavier momentarily before the door shut. Your ears could just make out the sounds of quiet muffled talking, two voices evidently present, though you couldn’t pinpoint the exact words. With a stack of new pink craft paper in hand, you exited the storage room and returned to your usual spot behind the checkout, placing the newly gathered paper underneath the leftover brown sheets. From your position, you could clearly spot the two customers studying the large vases of fresh flowers, the taller and younger of which with their back to you. They had short yet messy black hair, slightly growing into a mullet from a lack of trimming, a white hoodie and light jeans. Their companion was much smaller, an elderly lady with grey hair and a soft smile. Perhaps this was the grandmother and her charming grandson that your mother spoke so fondly of―though that thought was immediately dismissed when the two figures turned to approach the table you stood behind. Hwang Hyunjin, of course it had to be.

You weren’t the only one who felt less than stellar about the situation. As soon as Hyunjin laid his eyes on the person behind the counter, you, he groaned internally. He hadn’t a clue what your name was, nor had you done anything to him, but he distinctly recognised you as someone from his school. This was going to be beyond humiliating―surely you would taint his infamous reputation at school, or at least blackmail him to avoid doing so. His grandmother smiled warmly at you as she placed the yellow flowers on the counter, “hello, dear. Just those ones today,” you nodded with a small smile, your fingers working carefully to wrap the bouquet in shades of tan brown. Hyunjin tried to avoid looking at you entirely, though he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the lady who usually ran the store―you did bare a striking resemblance to her, so he just made the assumption that you were related by blood, just as he was to his grandmother.

“Any special occasion for the flowers?” Your soft voice floated to his ears as you tied a silk ribbon around the paper.

“Oh no, my grandson just likes tulips,” his grandmother chuckled as he forced an embarrassed smile, “though it would be nice to have some colour in this dreary weather,” you nodded understandingly. That was always the case in such weather. Hyunjin’s smooth hands placed the money in yours as he picked up the bouquet, praying to escape the store as soon as possible even with a growing storm outside. As soon as he heard the register close, he made his way to the front door of the shop while his grandmother shouted a quick thank you from behind him. You watched in amusement as the infamous Hwang boy exited the dainty little shop. You certainly never took him for a lover of flowers, let alone tulips. Then again, you only knew his reputation. You didn’t know Hwang Hyunjin.

Monday, 3:51pm.

Hyunjin glanced at the clock dreamily, feeling very resemblant of Britney Spears in her Baby One More Time music video. Only nine minutes until he could get home and prepare a half-assed meal, then ditch his after school study groups for some time with friends, as he always did when his parents weren’t able to monitor him. It was always a paradise when they were gone―no fighting, no classes until ten o’clock at night, no demands to turn his music down when it wasn’t even turned up halfway on his phone. He much preferred his grandmother. She was wise, sweet, gentle, and always prepared him hot chocolate and biscuits in the winter. Although now that he thought of his grandmother, he couldn’t help but cast his mind back to the flower shop and how you had served him. An internal groan erupted in him at the thought. He didn’t care that it was you who served him, he had no clue who you were, though the knowledge that you had some sort of leverage over him bugged him greatly. You knew he wasn’t all parties, unsafe drinking and scoffs, you knew he was a sucker for tulips and accompanied his grandmother to a warm little florist. The bell rung right as his eyes rolled subconsciously. He could only hope that your interaction at the flower shop wouldn’t synchronise with his visits to the store.

Hyunjin glared at the cracked screen of his phone, furrowing his eyebrows at the text message from the girl in the year below him. If it hadn’t been for the persistence of the girl, he would’ve completely discarded her name from his memory. Son Bongcha, the way she squeaked it vivaciously was an earache and a half. The boy didn’t really know when Bongcha started her quest to ‘win his heart’ or whatever the fuck she was trying to do, he tended to not take much notice of her in hopes of getting her to realise that he was far from being interested. Though it seemingly never worked. Everyday, or everyday she could find him, she’d have another sickly giggle and batting eyelashes prepared in advance. At this point, his friends ridiculed him relentlessly for it―just as they planned to do now. Hyunjin felt the phone being snatched from his grip suddenly, causing him to swiftly look up and meet the sight of Jisung sprinting in the opposite direction as his other friends followed behind. The tall boy groaned at the thought of their teasing, “Ji, give it back.”

“Why, so you can be harassed by…”

“Bongcha!” The boys mimicked her voice in unison as the huddled against one another in the distance. Hyunjin rolled his eyes with an amused half-smirk. He initially felt bad for mocking the girl, but the memory of her desperate flirting seemed to rid of the guilt―he still vividly recalls the time she caused a scene in the hallway, loudly demanding he admit their relationship (which didn’t exist) to the rest of the school. That all happened when he was in his third and final year of junior high school, aged fifteen while she was only fourteen―Chan would’ve been in his final year of senior high school at that point. The thought felt odd; Hyunjin had only met Chan through Minho last year, the idea of the eldest being in school felt… wrong. His attention fell back to his laughing friends as they read over Bongcha’s irritating messages. Changbin rolled his eyes before taking a swig of his beer, “I don’t get why you haven’t blocked her number yet.”

Minho laughed, “who else will be a loyal booty call?”

Hyunjin sighed heavily, “not all of us rely on booty calls, Minho,” the older held his hands up in surrender as the others cheered Hyunjin on, “besides, a blocked number doesn’t stop her from approaching me at school.”

After the words left his plump lips, Felix came running up to him and tugged on his arm before whining, “oppa! Why haven’t you texted me back?” The group laughed at his impression of the girl, the alcohol pumping through their blood seemingly hyped them up and amplified the humour of the situation. Jisung tossed the cracked phone back to Hyunjin.

“Chan and Minho have no other way to experience her cringiness, don’t delete her number,” Hyunjin took the younger’s advice. No one would know about how they flamed the girl, and it felt like a good form of redemption for the way she had humiliated him in junior high school. It took months for those dating rumours to die down―although Hyunjin still isn’t one-hundred percent sure people knew the truth of the situation. Then again, the truth of a rumour always turned out to be the version people wanted to believe, no matter how much evidence proved otherwise.

Thursday, 7:38am.

Hyunjin’s feet slapped against the pavement gently as he strolled to the bus stop. He never usually took the bus to school, at least not since the first year of junior high when his parents last went on a holiday―some sort of romantic getaway bull shit, just as they were this time. Although he was used to the sound of honking horns and road rage from his short-tempered mother, even if short lived, he much preferred the journey from the bus. The walk was always comforting even in the depths of winter and swells of summer, and there was something about sitting on a bus with two other people that was oddly comforting to the boy. Perhaps he was just odd―no, if he was odd then no one would understand him fully, yet there were people who did, friends no less. A sigh escaped his lips as the bus stop entered his sight, as well as your figure sitting on the furthest end of the bench. He didn’t see you here every morning, likely because he took much more time to dawdle here than you did, though you were there on mornings where the bus was inexcusably late or you had woken up on the wrong side of bed far too late. It seemed like one of those mornings. As Hyunjin drew closer he could make out the dark circles under your dull eyes, the messy strands of hair that carelessly fell in your face, eyes half-shut as you looked ahead in a trance. He wondered how long it took you to get here each morning, perhaps you rarely ran into each other at the stop because you lived closer than he did, or perhaps you just had a more sensible understanding of time and its value. The thought seemingly left his mind not long after it entered. He hadn’t a reason to care for how you got to the bus stop, nor did he take much notice of you when you did happen to cross paths―except for at the florist. The dark-haired boy was close to forgetting that incident when it resurface with the sight of you. Sighing softly, he leaned against the poll of the bus stop sign and gazed in the direction the bus would usually come from.

You picked at the mini pajeon on your food tray, only slightly listening to the conversation of your surrounding three friends. You could make out the sound of disgust made by Seungmin as Jeongin appeared to eat a chunk of rice whole, “Jeongin, you need to chew,” his nasally voice sounded diagonally to you. There was no need to look at the first year to know his response, you could practically hear the over exaggerated eye roll he often did at one of Seungmin’s critiques. Although they bickered a fair bit and tormented each other to no end, you knew it was out of non-blood related brotherly love. Yuqi chuckled from your left, nudging you gently to engage in a conversation outside of the two bickering boys.

“How’s the noisy house going?” She smiled playfully before popping a piece of nori seaweed in her mouth. You mimicked Jeongin’s eye roll on a smaller scale.

“Awful. Still staying awake until four or five in the morning after bashing my head against a wall,” Yuqi laughed at your dramatic words. Her elbow rested on the table as she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just say something to him about it. You’re not even neighbours and it keeps you up!” You sighed gently, knowing she was right. Of course the confrontation would be more beneficial, but it would also be your worst nightmare. You never wished to interact with Hwang Hyunjin. Besides, you knew complaining about his behaviour would only gain a scoff and door slamming in your face, perhaps a friendly “go fuck yourself”.

“I just don’t want to complain about something when I know it won’t change.”

Saturday, 1:43am.

The buzz about Hyunjin’s potential party while he had the house to himself morphed into a nightmarish reality at ten o’clock, Friday night. He threw ‘everyone is invited’ type of parties, which only served as a way for desperate girls to throw themselves at him and blame it on alcohol the next day when he inevitably rejects him. You could remember Yuqi saying she would go, only because her boyfriend didn’t want to get wasted without someone reliable by his side―although you were pretty sure Yuqi just wanted to hear him drunkenly ramble about how she was the love of his life or some crap. Jeongin had been begged to go by one of Hyunjin’s friends, Felix. You hadn’t a clue how they met but Jeongin said he was a good guy, even when Hyunjin was near him―in all honesty, you’d never spoken to Felix in your entire life, you just knew that he and Han Jisung had gotten more detentions in one semester than you’d gotten in your entire time at school. Seungmin detested the idea of parties, way too many “loud and sweaty barbarians in one cramped space” as he once said, and you were in a similar boat. You didn’t know anyone at the party who wouldn’t be dragged away by someone giggly and drunk to leave you standing awkwardly, and you didn’t want to be in the same cramped house as Hyunjin―let alone his own house. You didn’t really want to think about the fact you could almost feel the vibrations of the bass from across the road, two houses down, though it was almost impossible when it was the main cause of your splitting headache. You sighed before grabbing your phone from the nightstand beside you, squinting at the brightness of the screen in your dark room. Yuqi’s simple text message, signifying her ending the night, appeared on your screen in the form of a blinding notification: xuxi is pissed off his face and telling me to never leave him, i’m really dating an overgrown child huh. A small chuckle escaped your lips at the thought of the six foot teenager babbling about loving Yuqi―you couldn’t blame him, Yuqi was practically perfection personified. Love and alcohol can make a person do crazy things, admit all their secrets and give everything away. Yukhei was just lucky Yuqi was willing to make the same sacrifices for him, regardless of his sobriety at the time.

The clock on your phone displayed the early time of 2:46pm, eliciting a disapproving groan and eye rub from your tired form. You supposed it was catch-up for all the mornings you’d woken up with four hours of sleep. A satisfying crack sounded as you arched your back and stretched your arms, pulling the covers from your pyjama-clad body to make your way to the window. The weather was far more bright today, blue skies and fluffy marshmallows speckled around against the cool colour, though you could still feel the frosty nip of the air as you opened the window. You were met with a gust of wind and voices, indistinguishable but strong. Your eyes cast downwards towards the road right outside your house, immediately spotting seven boys in the area―you could easily tell who they were. You noticed Jeongin first, watching from the gutter as he laughed from beside another boy you hadn’t seen before. The dimpled boy, evidently older, had slightly curly brown hair atop his head and a cheerful grin on his pale face. In the road was Jisung and Felix, both in your year and far too loud for your liking―though Jeongin had defended them numerous times saying they were ‘funny and wholesome dudes’. Then you spotted Lee Minho with his head turned sideways and his back to you. A graduated boy with a permanent smirk and never-ending collection of flirtatious comments, that was the best way to describe Lee Minho―based off everything you’d heard about him, at least. He oozed sleaziness, though his smile in that moment seemed so genuine and pure as he laughed at the younger boys in the road. Seo Changbin sat nearby the elder male, his feet resting on the tar road as he sat on a skateboard identical to the one Jisung had almost fallen from moments ago. The most you knew about him was that he had a permanent glare, unwanted opinions to share all the time, and bangs that would seem annoyingly ticklish on your eyes. Directly across from you, supporting his outstretched body on his elbows, was the boy you had been running into far too often for your liking. There was a cigarette twiddling between his long fingers, though you could tell it was unlit and seemed to be staying that way. His gaze drifted, tired of absentmindedly looking up the street, to look straight ahead of him. He cocked his head at you almost teasingly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he maintained your gaze. Nothing was different about his appearance: same dark eyes, same dark messy hair, although slightly longer at the ends now. You pushed yourself away from the ledge of the window to avoid the shivering breeze and invasive gaze of a certain Hwang.

Monday, 12:54pm.

Yukhei leaned his head on Yuqi’s shoulder as he shovelled rice into his mouth, the minor display of affection earning a disgusted look from Seungmin. As they did every year, Yukhei and Yuqi marked this as their week of public affection in the lead up to their anniversary. It baffled your mind to think about how the pair had been together since the second year of junior high, four years on Sunday. You could never imagine yourself tolerating anyone in a romantic sense for that long―then again, you’d never had any romantic relationship in the first place. The idea of shy smiles and reddening cheeks made you sick nowadays, even though it was an ideal you once yearned for. The sound of Jeongin forcefully sitting down broke the concentrated gaze you had on your own food tray, glancing up at him momentarily to smile. Your eyes lingered for a second―the boy was positively beaming, braces and dimples on full display as he grinned enthusiastically. Seungmin studied the younger male beside him, “did you ingest the sun?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, though his smile remained, “no, I just had a good weekend and got a good mark on my chemistry report.”

Yuqi smile supportively at the young boy, “good job, Innie!” He usually hated that nickname, but he seemed okay with Yuqi using it occasionally―she was like an older sister to him, even if they hadn’t known each other for decades.

“I take it Hyunjin threw a good party.”

“Yeah, we hung out the next day too,” the comment garnered a teasing “don’t go replacing us” from Yuqi, though you couldn’t really focus on that. The only thought on your mind was the heavy eye contact you held with Hyunjin, while he had that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. One incident at the florist couldn’t undo the cockiness that he exuded at all times. You hated self-righteousness―Hwang Hyunjin just so happened to be the walking form of such an undesirable trait.

Saturday, 5:46pm.

Your hands nimbly wrapped the bouquet of pale pink azalea flowers, they were the perfect decision in your eyes. They expressed fragility, gratitude and passion, all of which Yukhei harboured towards his long-time girlfriend Kim Yuqi. There was a goofy, dazed smile on his face as he undoubtedly allowed his mind to travel along a road structured by thoughts of her. You shook your head lightly, tying the bouquet with a delicate white ribbon before handing him the bouquet, to which he slid over the adequate amount of money and left with a thank you and a smile. You sighed as the door slammed shut behind him, squeaking slightly on its hinges―you had to remind your mum to get some WD-40 to fix that up. Glancing at the clock, you mentally praised the swift movement of time as you relished in the fact you only had fourteen minutes left. You allowed your head to roll forwards, stretching your cramping neck before rolling it all the way back, fixating your gaze on the white ceiling of the store. The bell sounded from the door causing you to return your gaze to looking straight ahead as your neck pushed your head back upwards. The familiar back of Hyunjin greeted you as he sifted through the display vases, clearly in look of a certain type of flower. You heard him curse under his breath before awkwardly turning to make his way to the counter―you could see that the feeling of wanting to avoid the other was mutual. He cleared his throat slightly before speaking with a soft voice, a tone that shocked you as it came from the typically rebellious boy, “uh―do you happen to have any yellow roses left? Maybe in the back or something?” You watched him fiddle with the ring on his right index finger before you quietly made your way to the storage room in search of the sunny roses; a symbol of joy, friendship, of get well. To his luck, there was a fresh display vase of the yellow petals waiting to replace the last one.

“How many were you hoping for?” Your voice sounded as you reappeared from the nearby room. His head shot up towards you as he fixed his gaze on the roses.

“Just a dozen, grandma only likes receiving flowers in groups of twelve,” he mumbled the second part more to himself than you, though you still made out the words. With a silent nod, you plucked twelve of the roses from the glass vase, wrapping them delicately in the pink craft paper before handing them to the tall boy.

“I hope she gets better soon,” you offered as he took the bouquet. His hand was outstretched towards you to offer the necessary payment, though you shook your head in refusal. Hyunjin studied you for a second before shoving the money back in his pocket, only to turn and leave without even thanking you. A scoff passed your lips as he left the store. You didn’t expect much from him, but certainly he would have the common decency to thank someone for saving them thirty-six dollars―three dollars for each stem, though you didn’t particularly agree with the price. Regardless of the cost, Hyunjin should’ve thanked you for saving his money so he could spend it on more cigarettes that he wouldn’t smoke, or whatever the fuck he spends his cash on.

Wednesday, 12:33pm.

Hyunjin had essentially gone M.I.A after the flower shop incident, though you were certain it wasn’t related to your involvement. You chalked it up to taking care of his grandmother, or at least being by her side while she was sick, though other people didn’t seem to think the same―then again, other people didn’t know about the health of his grandmother. The only reason you knew was because Hyunjin wasn’t as quiet as he had hoped when he spoke to himself, you were never meant to know. You poked at your rice with your chopsticks in an attempt to rid the vague memory from your mind. Your eyes glanced around your surroundings, noticing how pathetically lonely you looked. From what you knew, Yuqi was studying in the library, Seungmin was at some student council meeting, and Jeongin was always late to lunch: “I have a full hour until lunch ends, why can’t I be twenty minutes late?” That always earned an eye roll from Seungmin, a boy who highly valued punctuality and reliability. In your opinion, he could go a little overboard with his withering patience, but you supposed there was nothing he could really do about it. Especially when Jeongin tested it every other day.

A carton of strawberry milk was slammed on the table in front of you, though not with enough force to break the carton and allow the milk to spill everywhere. Your head rose, as did your gaze, in order to figure out which of your friends had decided to interrupt your pondering. Instead, Hyunjin stood with a hand in his trouser pocket and the other by his side, backpack slung over his shoulders as he looked at you with a blank expression. He gazed at you for a moment, breaking the contact to walk in the direction of his friends’ lunch table, somehow ignoring the gaze of every fucking person in the lunch hall. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you reached out to take hold of the milk, unsure as to how he knew to go for strawberry rather than chocolate or banana. There was a small sticky note, pale yellow, stuck to one side of the carton with messy handwriting scrawled on its surface. You dropped your chopsticks to peel the note off and decipher the words ‘now we’re even’, right above much smaller writing. You squinted involuntarily as your eyes traced the lines, struggling to make out the simple ‘thank you’ he’d, probably shamefully, written. A small smile graced your features before you opened the carton; you didn’t think about the fact people had watched the whole thing, not in that moment at least.

“What was that all about?” Changbin questioned as the younger sat down at the table.

“I owed her something,” he explained with a small shrug.

Jisung scoffed in disbelief, “yeah, because you’re so giving, Jinnie,” the words earned a glare from the taller boy, but it went unnoticed by Jisung as he happily munched on his food.

“Doesn’t matter, no one’s gonna see it that way regardless,” Felix commented absentmindedly before swiftly transitioning to another topic. Hyunjin drifted his eyes towards you, watching as you sipped from the milk carton and nodded slightly in acknowledgement as Jeongin approached your table. He furrowed his eyebrows, how had he never noticed you around Jeongin before? You placed the carton down momentarily before glancing around the lunch hall, eyes landing on the Hwang boy who was already staring into you. Though you didn’t react the way most people would—no flushed cheeks or shy smile, just a blank expression as you internally questioned why he was blatantly staring at you. The feeling it gave him was strange. It almost felt like you treated him like a human being, not a reputation or status to ogle at. He smirked slightly at you, causing you to turn away with an unimpressed expression. You were an enigma in the cafeteria; he knew so little about you, yet knew exactly how you felt about him with a few facial expressions.

Thursday, 7:36am.

People seemed to have a fucking field day with your little — very little — interaction with Hyunjin in the cafeteria. Numerous people, majority of which gossiping girls you’d never cared for interact with, questioned you about your ‘relationship’ with Hyunjin. It made you agitated beyond belief, almost in a way that was unjustified. No, actually, it was most definitely justified. If you had a dollar for every time someone approached you to ask whether you two were dating, how you knew him, why he gave you milk, why you’d never spoken before, or anything that could get even a little bit of information — which would inevitably be the victim of manipulation and embellishment as it passed through the school — you’d no longer need to be working for your parents in that dingy old florist. You groaned slightly at the thought of the store. You knew you’d inevitably return whenever your parents told you to, until you got another and higher-paying job, and that would mean possible interactions with Hyunjin—with or without his smiling grandmother. Perhaps it was that thought that, unbeknownst to you, summoned the boy to your vicinity. School shoes slapped against the concrete pavement, smoothly approaching the bus stop. You could feel the sharp sensation of someone’s prominent gaze fixated on you, yet you waited until the approaching person had halted their movements to glance at them. You had intended to keep a blank expression on your face, though couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sight of his smug face. Hyunjin towered over your seated form with a faint smirk dancing on his lips. His smugness was likely prompted by your eye roll, or the fact he bought you a fresh carton of flavoured milk—not that it meant anything, he was repaying you after all. Hands in pockets and backpack slung over his shoulder casually, the consistent styling of the consistently careless Hyunjin. You diverted your gaze elsewhere, refocusing on the road ahead of you. His eyes were still trained on you, you could sense it. There was no watch on your wrist, nor did you know how to tell the time based on the sun’s position in the sky, but you could estimate at least two minutes passed before Hyunjin opened his snarky mouth.

“Tutor me.”

An exasperated sigh passes your lips, your gaze shifting up toward the cloudless blue sky, “what do you need tutoring for? Your grades are fine.”

A noise escaped his mouth at your words, a mix between a scoff and a chuckle, “no, not school,” you didn’t like the tone he used in that phrase—as if you were a pure moron for even entertaining the idea of school tutoring. He continued shortly, breaking your irritated thoughts, “flowers.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned your head to look at him, evident puzzlement tracing your features. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, diverting his gaze momentarily to the pavement beneath him. You appreciated his shift in tone as he spoke, a softer and calmer, almost soothing, sound.

“Teach me about flowers.”

And so you started working every Saturday, dedicating two hours of your shift to teaching Hyunjin the meaning of flowers that caught his eye, sometimes helping him decently wrap a bouquet of flowers. It was odd how you saw the gentler, less cocky side of him when in the quaint store, yet couldn’t even glance at him on the grounds of school without copping a greasy smirk—you liked to assume they were directed at someone stood behind you.

Saturday, 1:06pm.

The hand of the clock ticked silently with each movement, mixing with the bustling volume of passing cars and pedestrians. Although your gaze was fixated on the time-telling contraption, you didn’t absorb the numbers the hands pointed to, completely zoned out as your mind drifted to other thoughts. There were few of significance, but there were many roaming your head. They were distracting enough to stop you from recognising and acknowledging the sound of the bell above the door. Unbeknownst to you in your distracted state, Hyunjin shuffled into the store with a black hoodie pulled over his unkempt hair, a carton of strawberry milk contained in his right hand. The sound of the carton being roughly placed on the wooden countertop was enough to break your trance, giving you a sense of déjà vu as you shifted your gaze to meet Hyunjin’s, “what’s got you in a trance?”

You sighed as you fiddled with the sealed carton, “the three hours of sleep I got because of your party last night—so nothing new.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny—”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“—For your information, that was just a get together with the guys. The party’s actually tonight,” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t care what he wanted to call it, it was still way too loud, “you should come.”

A scoff passed your lips at his suggestion, “I’ll pass, I’d rather not go deaf from how excruciatingly loud you play the music,” he shrugged nonchalantly before snatching the flavoured milk from you, taking a small swig of his own while his eyes darted over the fresh flowers.

“What do coral roses mean?”

“Friendship, modesty, and sympathy,” you mumbled in boredom.

“Perfect!” He exclaimed, waltzing over to the display of coral roses to pluck one up. As he reapproached the counter, he shoved the flower in your face, “if you value our friendship, you’ll have great sympathy for me and make my party enjoyable by being there.”

You watched him in bewilderment. Part of you was confused as to why he wanted you at his party so desperately, while another questioned whether he really just called you friends. You didn’t want to dwell on it too much—Hyunjin was friends with lots of people, you weren’t significant to have that title. At the same time, you couldn’t help but question the meaning of his words. Had Hyunjin ever outright called anyone his friend, other than the group of boys he seemed to be physically attached to? The taller boy watched you in amusement as your cheeks tinted a soft pink colour, deciding to take your silence as a yes.

“Great, it starts at nine.”

Saturday, 9:35pm.

You absolutely did not want to venture to Hyunjin’s house, regardless of the situation. The fact it was for one of his ‘raging parties’ was no better. Nine o’clock had passed thirty minutes ago and the party was well on its way - you could already hear faint retching if you strained your ears enough - and yet you remained in the warmth of your bedroom. If Hyunjin hadn’t directly asked you to come then you wouldn’t be sitting in your room, dressed for a party. If that little shit hadn’t made out like your presence was vital to the party, you wouldn’t have to ponder intently over reasons to bail. You cursed Hyunjin under your breath as you threw on a pair of shoes—he insinuated that he was expecting you, and now you felt like you were obligated to go.

As soon as you opened the front door, a tsunami of regret washed over you, along with the stench of sweat and alcohol. You had taken one step inside and already felt overheated, overwhelmed, over it. You’d caught sight of some familiar faces — most of Hyunjin’s friend group surrounded some curly-haired guy, Jeongin was chatting with Felix near the group, Hyunjin was nowhere in sight. You weren’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing—on the one hand, Hyunjin was someone you knew. Jeongin was wrapped up in a conversation with Felix, and you didn’t know the freckled boy well enough to insert yourself into that conversation. But at the same time, Hyunjin was probably half-past wasted right now with an amplified ego — if that was even possible — and even more unbearable cockiness. A sigh passed your lips as you began to push your way past the sweaty bodies—why was everyone so fucking sweaty?—to escape to a less crowded area. Truthfully, you had no clue where you were going. Of course you didn’t, this was a house you’d never had the desire to enter. Gosh, why did you even come? It wasn’t too late to turn back around, walk out that door and return to your semi-quiet bedroom—only semi-quiet due to the deafening volume of an infamous Hwang party, even from houses away. That would be the better option in this moment, partial deafness seemed better to deal with than complete deafness.

“Y/N!”

You take it back. Complete deafness was far better, especially in this moment. Perhaps if you kept walking he’d think it wasn’t you and give up, right? No, of course not. You’d never be that lucky. You’d made it ten more steps before the boy grabbed your wrist and spun you around, beaming at you with his childlike grin. You loved Jeongin, who didn’t? But all you wanted was to go home, this party was a mistake and you already knew it. A small smile graced your face, “hey, Innie.”

Jeongin was one of those people who were always happy, always smiling and living their days without any problems or bothers. He was persistent, persuasive and currently dragging you towards the group of people he previously stood near. You didn’t want to go over there, but if you refused Jeongin would look at you with a tiny hint of sadness in his eyes and you’d feel a tonne of guilt land on your shoulders—he didn’t mean to guilt trip people so easily, he was just one of those people that never deserved to be sad. Thankfully, Jeongin knew better than to throw you into a sea of strangers and expect you to survive, opting to drag you over to Felix, who snacked on a plate of colourful macaroons. You’d never spoken to Felix — the most you knew about him was that he was Australian, Hyunjin’s friend and had freckles — but you had a gut feeling he wasn’t as bad as his association with the delinquents would suggest. The boy smiled brightly at the two of you, seeming to emit rays of sunshine through the toothy grin; he seemed sweet and friendly. You should really just trust Jeongin’s judgement at this point, he always managed to construct more accurate judgement on an individual’s character than others, “hi, Y/N!” Felix was very bright and cheerful, it came across in his sober voice—at least you assumed he was sober, he didn’t reek of toxic alcohol like most of the party goers. You smiled slightly in response, waving in what you deemed an awkward fashion. Jeongin easily continued his previous conversation with Felix, one you tuned out for the most part as you instead focused on the suffocating and humid atmosphere, until Felix suddenly bid goodbye to the younger, disappearing into the mass of people. The remaining boy contentedly munched on a pastel pink macaroon, eyes sparkling and widening slightly under the hazy lights of the room.

“Jeongin, do you know where I can get some fresh air?”

The boy nodded swiftly, directing you to walk up the stairs, down the hallway and onto the balcony, away from the vomiting and skinny dipping teens. You nodded with a soft thank you before happily following his directions — if you couldn’t leave this wretched atmosphere, for no reason other than your own fabricated obligation to be here, then you might as well get as far away from it without leaving the property.

The moonlight glistened against the chlorine water, music pumping through the building and teenagers yelling to hear each other. Oddly enough, it was peaceful. Even with the splashing, drunken giggles and what you think is people having a sloppy makeout session, the atmosphere felt calming — the visuals of party goers vomiting and skinny dipping didn’t assist in building that atmosphere, but you supposed there was nothing you could do about it. At least, not until a hand tapped your shoulder, breaking you from your trance of observing people on the grass. You turned your head, met with the sight of Hyunjin with his hands in his pockets. He gestured for you to follow him and, for some reason, you did, leaving your spot on the second floor balcony.

It was quieter on the roof, somehow, despite the worrisome journey. You were thankful for your shoe choice, anything too uncomfortable or without proper grip would’ve had you tumbling to the ground below—that would’ve been embarrassing, painful, and potentially lethal if you landed on the concrete. The stars glimmered against the dark night sky, seemingly closer than most other nights. Hyunjin hadn’t spoken to you at all, even during the difficult climb to your current spot. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d escaped his own party, or why he’d taken you with him, but you weren’t mad about it. The silence was nice, and you were certain that opening his mouth would dismantle the tranquillity. If he was as wasted as most of his other friends — specifically Jisung — then he’d certainly come out with some horny bull shit. You weren’t in the mood for that, not now, not ever. The music softened in the background and a loud voice ordered everyone out of the house with a short “party’s over”. It seemed sudden, but you supposed it had been going on for a while. And Hyunjin had disappeared. What time was it?

“Can I ask you something?” Ah, shit, he actually wanted to talk. You mumbled a word of confirmation, waiting for Hyunjin to come out with something you could answer with sarcasm or an eye roll, “what do you think of me? Honestly,” you weren’t expecting that one. You could feel Hyunjin train his eyes on you with intent, curiosity, perhaps hopefulness. What were you supposed to say? Was he hoping for something other than the typical ‘bad boy’ description? You couldn’t provide.

“I think you’re… confident,” uncertainty laced your tone, “and curious. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, but I don’t think many people see that part of you. And- I don’t think you want them to,” you turned your gaze to him. His eyes seemed to be glazed over, his mind in a distant land of existential thoughts or offence at how you perceived him. His brown orbs shifted to his lap while his lips stumbled over words, seeking a way to carry on the conversation—or end it, you supposed.

“I…” he trailed off hesitantly. This was a side to Hyunjin you’d never seen. Sure, you’d seen his confidence and cockiness at school, his laidback humour at parties and the admiration his eyes held whenever he was among flowers, but you’d never seen him look so confused. Lost, rather. He seemed anxious, on edge and scared. He didn’t want to confront the words forming on his tongue, didn’t want to break down his walls for someone who saw him every Saturday and taught him about flowers. He couldn’t help it, though, the words seemed to slip out without permission, “I feel like no one truly knows me.”

Hyunjin’s words hung heavily in the air as a hush fell over the neighbourhood, “I just―” he paused slightly as his breath hitched, raising his gaze from his lap to the starry night. His eyes were glossy, the stars twinkling against the water forming around his orbs. His walls were breaking, “I just wish I could go somewhere no one knew me,” as the sentence progressed, his voice shook. It was getting harder to keep it all in. For once, he decided to let it all go. Allowing his walls to crumble, the dams in his eyes broke too, tears glistening on his smooth cheeks as he choked up a sob. You watched him with pity, subconsciously moving to wrap your arms around him in a comforting hug. He sobbed into your chest, “I just want people to know who I really am.”

All your perceptions were based on falsehoods, fabricated rumours and retellings of old stories. He used his tough exterior to hide his crumbling contents, any traits that could be taken as weakness or fragility. As the boy ― because that’s what he truly was: just a boy ― cried under the stars, only one thought could cross your once racing mind. Hwang Hyunjin’s very existence was a lie. Hyunjin’s pained sobs were reduced to soft sniffles after what felt like a long time, though tears still soaked his cheeks. You couldn’t tell how long it had been since everything still looked the same, almost like time didn’t move. A shaky breath passed Hyunjin’s lips, his head raising from your shoulder.

“You know, I always thought you were really interesting. And pretty.”

“Hyunjin, you don’t mean that,” you dismissed. Your head shook slightly in disagreement, you didn’t want Hyunjin to tell you that you meant something.

A humourless laugh echoed in the night, “yeah, I really do.”

Hyunjin looked at you with intent. How did the night get to this point? There was a part of you that wished you stayed home, just so you didn’t have to feel these butterflies in your stomach. He must’ve been drunk―was he drunk? Were you drunk? Memories of the night had slipped through your fingers like warm brittle sand. The night sky danced on his cheeks, reflecting against the salty water his eyes had unleashed previously. His eyes stayed on your face, flickering from your eyes to the lower part of your face momentarily. Then, he was leaning forwards, closer and closer. Closer until his lips were pressed against yours in a piteous kiss. His hand moved from his side to touch your arm, just above your elbow, as if he was making sure you didn’t slip away from him. It was like he wanted you there, but you couldn’t believe that. Salty tears stained your lips in the midst of pitiful desperation, until Hyunjin pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. His breathing was sharp as he choked out a whisper, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to feel alone anymore, even if it’s only for a moment.”

You could’ve sighed in disappointment, but you stopped yourself. That’s all you’d ever be to Hyunjin: temporary. A last resort, even. You didn’t mind―no, you didn’t want to mind. As the moonlight danced along your skin in hues of blue and grey, the epiphany of falling for Hyunjin sank in. Damn it, you really fucking minded.

Tuesday, 7:57am.

You’d made a point to avoid Hyunjin since the incident at the party ― or, rather, after the party. Every time you glanced his way in the hallways, he was already staring at you with enough intensity to make you shift uncomfortably. He’d tried to approach you during break yesterday, but you bolted with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom before he could open his mouth. You left a disheartened and anxious Hyunjin behind, as well as a confused Jeongin and querying Seungmin. A sigh passed your lips at the thought; you’d probably have to face him on Saturday, regardless of whether you did or didn’t want to. Hyunjin was persistent, after all.

But he was also a liar. It became most obvious when you were approaching the classroom with your locker hurriedly, attempting to sort your belongings out before morning roll call began. Glancing absentmindedly down the hallway, you halted in your tracks with a double-take as you processed what you’d seen. Hyunjin, the boy who claimed to find you pretty and interesting, leaning against a wall as he sucked face with Son Bongcha. She was in the year below and had an annoying voice, that’s all you knew about her―she also had an iron grip on his wrists, but you didn’t see that. You glanced away dejectedly, rushing away to save yourself from further embarrassment. What did you expect? Hyunjin said he just didn’t want to feel alone, you didn’t actually mean anything to him. How could you be foolish enough to let yourself fall for him? He played you, in more ways than one. He acted like he cared, claimed he was different, and kissed you as if he was actually attracted to you―and you made the mistake of kissing back the same way.

Hyunjin fought against the grip of Bongcha, shoving her away with a mix of disgust and anger across his features, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” He hollered. Her eyes held innocence, satisfaction, delusion. The girl’s face faltered with confusion, her mouth opening to spit an excuse in that unbearable squeaky tone. Hyunjin didn’t want to hear it, even if he’d questioned her, “stay the fuck away from me.” With one last seething glare, Hyunjin stormed away from the younger girl. He was just thankful no one was around to see it and spread rumours about what they saw, the last thing he needed was a school full of people convinced he was with Bongcha―at least, that’s what he was telling himself to stay calm.

Nothing was out of place at lunch. Everyone sat in their regular seats, having the same conversations and engaging in the usual banter with their friends―your friends were no different. Jeongin was encouraging Seungmin to meet his other friends, namely Felix, while Yuqi smiled softly at their trivial bickering. Things were different for you, though. They were bad. You had too many thoughts racing through your mind, as they were in a sprinting race with no determined finish line. This day sucked, but things could only get worse with your luck. A throat cleared behind you, “Y/N?” You turned around lifelessly, meeting the gaze of Hyunjin while the rest of your table―and the surrounding tables―watched the scene unfold silently. It was none of their business, they knew that, but no one cared, “can I speak with you? Alone?” With a slight nod, you stood from your seat and followed him into the hallway.

“I was just wondering if we could do the tutoring on Thursday instead of Saturday? I’m busy this weekend and we don’t have after-school studying on Thursdays,” he rubbed at his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah, fine.”

A relieved smile graced his lips, quickly falling at the memory of the other thing he wanted to talk about, “and―uh, about the party… I didn’t mean―”

“Forget it, Hyunjin. I know what you meant,” you tried to suppress the stinging bitterness that leaked through your tone, you didn’t want Hyunjin to know your true feelings on the situation. It would’ve worked if you were as good at lying as he was, but you weren’t going to say that. Hyunjin understood why you felt the way you did ― or, how he assumed you felt. After all, he brushed you off like you meant nothing to him. Just something to fill the void of isolation growing in his heart; the kiss meant nothing. Gosh, he was such a liar. It was an opinion the two of you unknowingly shared―for different reasons, of course.

Thursday, 7:25pm.

An awkward two hours had passed inside the florist. Hyunjin had sensed something was different about you, chalking it up to his careless actions on the weekend. He’d been beating himself up about it since he did it, and he knew you didn’t want to talk about it, but he felt as if he owed you an explanation. One you hadn’t made up by yourself, based on his poor choice of words after it happened. Your delicate hands fiddled with the stems of three white flowers while Hyunjin formulated the right words to say. He didn’t want to mess it up again.

“Y/N, about Saturday ni―”

“God, Hyunjin, just forget about it!” The boy was startled into silence by your outburst, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was a mistake!” Frustration and betrayal laced your tone, your cheeks reddening slightly as your face flushed in annoyance.

“I wasn’t―”

“I won’t tell her, okay? But stop lying to me,” Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed with perplexity. He couldn’t figure out what you were talking about; he wanted you to listen to him.

“‘Her’? What are you talking about? I’m not lying about anything,” a pit formed in his stomach as anxiety pooled his chest.

“Bongcha,” the name was barely decipherable due to how quietly you spoke it, as if saying it any louder would summon her on the spot. Hyunjin’s face fell, for fuck’s sake, “stop acting like you genuinely care, it’s obvious you don’t.”

Silence settled into the air before a sigh escaped your lips. The flowers slipped from your fingertips as you moved away from the table, “I have to go.”

“Y/N!” Hyunjin spoke desperately, thankful no one was in the shop to see your dispute or his despair.

“Just… don’t talk to me anymore. Please,” with one last sorrowful look, you turned on your heel and exited the store, the sound of the little bell ringing throughout the now empty store. Hyunjin watched you leave, hopeless. How did he fuck it up this badly in such a short amount of time? He hung his head low, eyes glancing towards the flowers you’d dropped moments before.

White chrysanthemums; the truth.

Such a bitter irony, if only you’d stayed to hear it from him. Hyunjin couldn’t help but scoff.

Wednesday, 10:21pm.

Life ― at least, almost two weeks of it ― had been hell for Hyunjin, to put it dramatically, since your confrontation at the flower shop. Every time the two of you met eyes at school you’d quickly divert your gaze, rushing away before Hyunjin could even process what was happening. He never ran after you, partly because he knew you wouldn’t listen to him and partly to avoid other people seeing the interaction. People struggled to mind their own business, he supposed it was human nature for many. Bongcha had made the wise decision of finally listening to Hyunjin and staying the fuck away from him; it was too late, you’d already seen enough to misunderstand his relationship with the younger. He hadn’t understood how he became so attached to you without noticing. That fateful night, when he stumbled over his words after molding his tear-stained lips with yours, he finally realised it was an attachment he feared. When moonlight shone on his salty tears and stars flickered at him with lost hope, the words simmered in the air with a false certainty. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol pumping through his blood, he was completely sober that night. No, it was his own fault. It was his slip up, his fabrication that came out sounding more truthful than it was. You weren’t just temporary, a spur of the moment decision he’d never talk about. You meant so much more, that kiss meant so much more. Would you ever see it that way? Hyunjin doubted it. When you told him how you saw him, as per his request, you were slightly inaccurate in your description. Now, your perception had changed, there was no doubt in his mind it had. You saw him as a liar, didn’t you? He could accept and admit that, but not for the wrong reasons. When it came to you, he’d only lied twice: the night of the party and the morning of the party, when he called you his friend. You were so much more than that.

The following afternoon, the universe delivered Hyunjin the perfect opportunity to explain himself to you—even if just partially. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you walking home from school, he assumed you missed the bus or something. With the encouraging words of his friends from the night before echoing in his mind, Hyunjin jogged in your direction, “Y/N!”

Your footsteps sped up, unsuccessfully attempting to keep distance from the long-legged boy, “leave me alone, Hyunjin.”

His hand grabbed at your wrist, “no! Not until you listen to me.”

You sighed exasperatedly, “what do you want?” Your exhausted voice made Hyunjin falter slightly, but he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

“I’m not with Bongcha, I never was, okay? I wouldn’t waste someone like you for someone like her!”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

So you did see him that way: a liar. He couldn’t blame you, and he didn’t know how to prove you wrong. Why didn’t he think about that? A tugging motion made him snap out of his trance, your wrist leaving his clutches as you turn away and speed walk home.

Thursday, 9:52pm.

Rain pattered against the glass pane of your window. Your eyes followed stray raindrops as they cascaded down the surface, dripping away and out of your sight. The vibrating of your phone rippled across the table, the sound causing your eyes to snap towards the device in a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Lifting your head from the desk, the screen glared at you brightly, causing you to squint to become accustomed to the brightness. There were six messages from Jeongin, an Instagram notification and reminder to take out the trash at 6:00pm. It was now 9:52pm, you needed to mark that reminder as complete. Your finger swiped the messages from Jeongin, opening the conversation and being met with five screenshots. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

| innie ☼ : these are messages between hyunjin and bongcha, please don’t misunderstand their relationship

| why couldn’t hyunjin send these himself?

| innie ☼ : you blocked his number

| innie ☼ : please, y/n, just give him a chance

Your stomach did flips as you read through the messages. Some were from last month, some from last week, some from the day they kissed, but they all conveyed the same message. Hyunjin wasn’t attracted to her, not in the same way she was attracted to him. There was a screenshot of an argument they had on Thursday, after you confronted him at the florist. With furrowed eyebrows, you processed the revelation. He didn’t kiss her? Your expression fell. Gosh, you’d really fucked it up, hadn’t you? He wanted no part in that kiss, and what right did you have to be jealous anyway? You were meant to be friends, after all. His temporary. Even if that title hurt, you still had to take back the words you said, fix whatever relationship you had left with the boy. It was raining outside, of course it was, but you didn’t care. You pattered down the stairs, unlocked the front door as quietly as possible before running out into the rain, fully intending to run over to Hyunjin’s house. There was no need. The boy sat on the curb outside your house, black strands of hair and black attire a void in the dim streetlight. At the sound of the door closing, he turned to see the cause. He was soaking wet, probably cold, and had a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Black strands of hair were splayed against his face, dripping with rainwater as he continued to be pelted by the droplets. His head turned away from yours, returning his gaze to the moonlight; you two were making an awful habit of meeting under the moonlight. Parting your lips, you prepare to spout heartfelt apologies, even if you don’t completely forgive the words he spoke to you.

“Were you going to come looking for me?” His words escaped before yours could.

“Y-Yeah, I wanted to apologise,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue in disapproval, producing a ‘tch’ sound.

“What for? You don’t owe me shit,” the cigarette found home in his lips, breathing in the toxins with desire.

“For making assumptions about you and Bongcha. I owe you that.”

The cigarette drops against the dark road, soon being grinded into the surface under the sole of Hyunjin’s scuffed sneaker.

“It’s fine, I would’ve made the same assumption,” the boy stood up, his legs straightening with a satisfying crack. How long had he been sitting there? “Are we back to being friends?”

You nodded hesitantly, “yeah. Friends.”

Hyunjin had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him, on more than one occasion now. He could sense the unease in your voice, as if you were hoping for him to say something more or re-title you as something other than a friend. There was nothing more that he wanted, but he didn’t deserve it. You were too good for him, far too good for him. He was a liar, a delinquent, a bad influence. All he could ever do is hurt you. Even if it pained him to hide it, some things had to be left unsaid.

“Can we—talk about the party?”

The boy looked away from you momentarily, rethinking his decision. It’s for the best, “no. I don’t want to talk about it.”

His tone was icy, brushing you off as if that night meant nothing, “Hyunjin, you bugged me to talk about that for days.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter anymore,” he was exasperated. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, it would mean revealing his true feelings or making you feel worse. All Hyunjin wanted was to keep you safe and happy; getting wrapped up in him would be your downfall, he just knew it.

“I need to know why you did it.”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

It was a warning you didn’t listen to, “please, Hyunjin.”

“I said, drop it.”

“Why did you do it?” You hadn’t intended for your voice to be so loud, you didn’t mean to shout, your walls broke down involuntarily. The world blurred around you, salty tears forming in your eyes as you thought back to the night, “why did you kiss me when you clearly didn’t feel that way about me? I don’t want to be something to temporarily fix your loneliness.”

Hyunjin kept his eyes down guiltily. He didn’t want to say anything, but your words kept pressing him to speak up. Your voice was echoing around him, cutting through the night sky and tugging at his ears. The sobs that formed in your chest were bubbling out; the rain was mixing with your tears. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t escape what happened. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel it slipping out.

“Why would you do that, Hyunjin? I—”

“Because I love you!” The shout rang through the cold air like a lone gunshot, “I love you and it scares me!”

A poignant silence settled around you, the words sinking into your chest and pumping your heart to beat faster. A slip of the tongue and here you were. Days of sadness, anxiety and insecurity, all over Hyunjin’s unknown fear of his feelings. Could that be worth it? “Hyunjin—”

In swift motions, the boy paced towards you to grab your face in his hands. Tilting your head upwards, his lips collided with yours in a show of passion, with every emotion Hyunjin could muster. Thumbs rested gently on your cheeks, laying against the few escaped tears and fallen raindrops, as his lips moved against yours. As the rain pelted your skin, running through your already soaked hair and tickling your exposed skin, words didn’t need to be spoken. When those lips moved against yours, you finally saw the hidden emotions Hwang Hyunjin was so afraid of.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin scenarios #bad boy au #kpop #high school au #florist au #i don't know how to tag #hwang hyunjin scenario #hwang hyunjin scenarios #angst #fluff #skz

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bangtan-madi · 4 years

Text

546 Days Without You — Eight: Day 225

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader, platonic!Namjoon x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 4.4k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 8 / 15

Warnings — minor language

A/N — Taglist is open! Comment or submit an ask if you want to be added :)

Previous — Next

Once Bang PD gives his blessing on the next Tour, everyone at the company hits the group running. Choreography is created, photography and promotional material are completed, tour dates and locations are worked out, and the final details are worked out for the album. Everything is coming together beautifully, and about time, too! The release of Map of the Soul: Dream is less than six weeks away, and the excitement is only growing.

All of this is over your pay-grade, and gratefully so. You've spent most of the past month gawking over the wild success that your song Silhouette has been on Soundcloud. You had millions of plays by the end of the first day, let alone the impressive amount you have thirty-five days later. Your pride and joy has been in the news, on tons of fansites, and all across social media. No one expected the youngest Min sibling to do anything solo; you've taken the world by storm, rivaled only by the boys themselves. The overwhelming consensus is that you blew it out of the park.

"It's actually worked out perfectly from a marketing standpoint," Bang PD said at a meeting recently. "Your fame is only going to fuel the fire of the comeback since we've been radio silent since December. Thanks to you, we've been given a little push that we needed. But you know what would be even better?"

You knew what he was going to suggest, and you scoffed when he said it aloud.

"Put your song on the album as a feature and tour with the boys. People will lose their damn minds, I know it."

"The only person who's lost his mind is you, PD-nim."

While you'd teased him at the meeting with the boys, the idea has pricked your interest. While the thought of performing in front of tens of thousands of people terrifies you in a way you can't explain, it also gave you a sense of excitement. Your anxieties are holding you back, you know it, but what can you do against your own dread?

"That must be a pretty interesting batch of ochazuke."

You smirk and turn towards the leader of the group, lifting the bowl of green tea on rice. Or, as it's called in Japan, ochazuke. "Made enough for two. Want some?"

Namjoon's dimples deepen as he sneaks around the corner with a giddy grin. "You're the best. Jin and Yoongi's cooking skills have rubbed off on you."

Due to the busy schedule, you've temporarily moved back into the dorms to be closer to the madness. You've done similar things in previous comebacks, and the boys always loved having you around 24/7. This is never more true than around mealtime. With the two oldest members gone, aka the only ones that are qualified to operate anything in the kitchen, there have been weeks at a time where takeout is the only thing the group consumes. As your workload has lessened due to the nature of being a music producer, and their's has gotten heavier, you've taken it upon yourself to make home life a little more normal.

"I asked Yoongi to send me the recipe last time I wrote," you reply, pouring a serving of green tea over Namjoon's portion of the fish and rice. "I got it yesterday with his letter. Figured it would be a nice pick-me-up."

The member agrees and takes the dish with a slight and grateful bow. "Eat with me? I have to run back to the studio after, but the summer day is gorgeous, and I feel like we haven't had alone time in a while. Just you and me?"

You grip your lunch between your hands and nod eagerly, allowing Namjoon to lead the way to the expansive balcony of the dormitories. Being several floors off the ground and in the heart of Seoul, the area around you is gorgeous. The buildings stretch tall and imposing, casting shadows across the space as the mid-day sun streams through the light cloud cover.

He's right. The day is as close to perfect as you can imagine.

Once you both settle into the chairs in the corner of the balcony, under the wood and vine-woven covering that shades a little of the harsh sun out, you start to dig into the meal. While it doesn't taste exactly like when Yoongi makes it, you're elated to have a piece of him back.

"If you ever get tired of producing, you can always open a restaurant," Namjoon chimes, clearly enjoying himself as he scarfs down the dish.

You chuckle, replying, "Thanks, but I think I'll leave that to Mom. Music is my life. I can't imagine doing anything else. Ever."

"Actually...I wanted to pick your brain about something related to that. You mind?"

Taking another big bite, you shake your head. There are very few times you're not excited to have an in-depth conversation with Namjoon, about everything or anything. "Shoot."

Namjoon leans back in his chair, resting the bowl against his thigh as he chews lightly on the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit. "With the comeback and album release just around the corner, I've been thinking..." He turns to face you. "I'm not sure if Bang PD was kidding or serious when he offered to put you on the album that first time, but I talked to him about it after you shot him down...and I think it would be a really cool idea."

Your stomach does flip-flops at the thought. Instantly, you're shaking your head fervently and placing your bowl on the side table. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"'Cause."

Namjoon gives a disappointed scowl. "Not good enough, [Y/n]."

"I just don't want to, Namjoon," you retort, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "If my song goes on 'Dream,' then it has to be performed. By me. On tour. In front of fifty-thousand people. I'm...I'm just not ready. I put out one song to exercise a creative outlet, not to get famous or perform life or anything like that. It's like 'Mono.' I never intended it to get this much attention."

"If I had the chance to perform 'Mono' on stage with the members, I would fucking take it," he replies wholeheartedly.

"That's you, Joonie. That's not me."

Breathing a soft sigh, Namjoon takes another bite of his lunch. "Look, I've told you all this before. So have all the other members. We're not here to force you to sing in public or do anything you don't want to do. I just wanna be sure that you're not hiding behind your fear."

It takes every fiber of self-control not to roll your eyes. "Of course, I'm afraid."

"Of what? Not living up to BTS? Your brother or boyfriend?"

"Maybe at one point that was it, but no. It's not that anymore."

"Then what is it?"

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you hug them tightly as you try to vocalize your fears. "You guys know me. The real me. I'm sarcastic and snarky. I make inappropriate jokes and I use humor to mask my pain. I'm a little on the abrasive side and I like to pretend I'm the toughest person in the room. But when I'm in front of crowds or around people I don't know, I shut down. I get quiet. My inner lioness quiets and turns into a mouse. I just...Thinking about getting on that stage to sing and rap in front of thousands? That's probably my biggest fear."

Namjoon listens patiently, just as he always has. He's never rushed you or interrupted you; it's one of the many things you adore about him. As dorky and destructive and silly as he can be, above all else, Namjoon is the one person in the world you can go to about anything. This includes your brother boyfriend, best friend or childhood friend. Namjoon will give you the facts, an outside perspective, and a logical solution. He tries to be as objective as possible and not let emotions get in the way, all while being a gentle and caring soul.

"So, stage fright?" You nod a wordless reply. "That's completely normal, [Y/n]. We all started like that, and we all still get nervous when shows begin. And this isn't me trying to convince you, but I hope you realize that those anxieties are an outdated form of self-preservation. Those fears you have about being in front of crowds, it's leftover from a time when humans had to hide. Your brain is trying to keep you safe, but you can reprogram it. You don't have to live in that place of irrational fear forever. You don't have to let your mind keep you there. You can be stronger."

You crack a smile at his comparisons. "Of course you'd look at it that way."

"Well, it's true." He shrugs his shoulders. "Again, not trying to convince you otherwise. I just...Don't live in fear of others for the rest of your life, [Y/n]. Our time is short, and the time we have together—in front of the spotlight—that's even shorter. You have a chance. If you take it, you know you have all of our support. And if you don't want that, for a reason other than fear, you have it then, too."

Both of your phone's buzz. As you look at yours, you see an unknown number pop up on the screen. Figuring it's probably a spam call or journalist or someone else you really don't want to talk to, you ignore it.

Namjoon groans lightly at the text he's received. "Someone mixed up the names of the songs for the final version of the album. I gotta go fix this before they send it off. That's the last thing I need." As he stands, he gives you a grateful smile. "Thanks for the lunch and conversation. Always can count on both of those to be good with you. Sorry to leave so quickly."

You return the expression, waving your hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. Go take care of business, boss."

The leader rolls his eyes and heads towards the door. He turns and points at you, still walking backwards, and says, "I meant what I said! If you want to include Silhouette, let me know. I send off the final version later tonight, say eight. Let me know before then? Just give me a call, and you're on."

"What would you do?" you shout after him, fingers playing absentmindedly with each other. "If you were in my shoes?"

Namjoon stops in mid-step, grip on the doorknob and eyes settling somewhere on the Seoul skyline. He takes a moment to think, then turns back to you with the response, "I'd go for it. What do you have to lose but the chance of a lifetime?"

Sometime after Namjoon leaves for the studio, you're sitting alone in Genius Lab, a pad of music sheets in one hand, a pencil in the other. Your mind continuously shifts back and forth between a wholehearted yes and a horrified no. Every possible angle replays over and over in your mind, including your conversation with the true middle member from earlier.

Glancing at the clock, you see the minute hand tick past the twelve. You've been here for hours, trying to bury your mind in writing another melody, but nothing is coming to you. You even went through Yoongi's unpublished works to see if anything your brilliant brother came up with would spark something. To no avail, the time has ticked past seven.

"Another hour," you murmur. "Gotta make up this damn indecisive mind."

Knowing you're not going to get anything else done tonight, you set the writing materials aside, stretch your legs, and make your way to the door. Tugging the hoodie over your hair, you shuffle back towards the balcony with the intention of getting some fresh air. The sun has yet to set, and the majestic hues that cascade across the tall buildings remind you of the first date you had with Seokjin all those years ago.

It brings a smile to your face, and you settle your front against the edge. Arms resting against the solid railing, your eyes focus upward. The moon is full and shining, and ever since the last album, it's a constant reminder of the man you love most.

Your phone rings again in your pocket. Retrieving it, you see the same number as before. It had called you again earlier in the afternoon after Namjoon had left, and you'd ignored it again.

Huffing an annoyed breath, you swipe the answer key and place the phone against your ear. "Okay, what the hell? How did you get this number and why don't you give up on trying to sell me shit I don't want, nor need, and I'll have you know that I—"

Obnoxious, hiccupy, overly familiar laughter comes through as clear as day. It cuts you to your core, stunning you enough to spur you into a sputtering silence.

"Holy hell, Jagiya, that's some way to answer the phone!"

Your knees buckle, and you have to trip the railing to stay upright. Lower lip quivering, body trembling, eyes watering, you slide onto the ground and pull your legs to your chest. The free hand cups over your mouth as you try to hide the whimpers that escape.

"Jagi?" he murmurs, his voice softer than before. "Hey, are you okay, [Y/n]?"

You swallow hard and close your eyes, allowing the tears to fall. God, his voice sounds just as calming and perfect and lovely as ever. Despite the eight months of separation, it's the one thing that can bring you back to the last time you heard it—on that training field right before you said goodbye.

"S—Seokjin...is that...you?"

The love of your life gives a small, breathy chuckle. "I told you I'd see you soon, Jagiya. Have you ever known me to be a liar?"

A laugh slips out, tumbling past your weak sobs, and you finally allow him to hear your emotions. "God, yes! You lied about that horrid dress I wore to the MAMAs that one year. I looked terrible, and you looked like a King. You lie all the time, you big oaf."

"Excuse me, I thought you looked like a Queen!" Seokjin scoffs. "That's the last time I try to compliment you."

The lightness in his voice brings a smile to your face. Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie, you ask, "Wait, how can you call me? I thought they didn't allow cell phones for Privates."

"They don't, not for Second Class at least. Guess who got a promotion and some special perks along with it?"

You gasp and wiggle in your seat from excitement. "You're First Class now? That's amazing, Jinnie! I'm so damn proud of you."

"I was hoping you'd get all excited," Seokjin says, elated at your response, "but I was starting to think you'd moved on after you wouldn't pick up."

"I didn't know the number, idiot! You know how many scammy calls we all get. Trust me, the last thing I felt like dealing with today was a journalist prying into my love life or asking about my future as an artist."

Your boyfriend makes a sound of understanding, then shifts the conversation. "I know I've written to you before about your song, but I have to tell you now. Jagi, I'm completely serious when I say I've never heard you so excited about anything. Or more passionate. Or sounding more beautiful. Silhouette is a masterpiece. I'm so proud of you." After saying such sweet words, he tosses in a playful scoff. "Although, I have to admit I'm a little pissed I didn't get to hear the process of you making it. And I'll have to ignore the fact that Taehyung-ah got to do that with you. Should've been me!"

You lean your head back against the railing, flashing an infamous smirk. "I know, I know. Believe me, when you get back, we'll compose plenty of music together."

"About damn time!"

There's a lull in the conversation as you stifle your laughter and Seokjin brings his voice down to a normal volume. "So, these phone privileges, how long do you have?"

"A half-hour or so," he replies. "I have my own phone for work at the base. To communicate with my team, that kinda thing, but we're allowed a half-hour a day after shifts to talk to our families. I knew my first call had to be to you."

"Not even your mother? I'm honored."

"Yeaaah, I'll hear about it when I call her tomorrow, trust me."

Sentimentality tugs at your heart strings at his confession. "I appreciate it, Jinnie. I could use a pick-me-up."

"That reminds me..." He pauses, and there's shuffling on the other line, as if he's getting comfortable and settling in for a long talk. "How have you been, [Y/n]? I know we talk through letters all the time, but..."

"Just not the same?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "Exactly."

You bite your lower lip in anticipation. Half of you wants to tell him everything that's going on. The other half is fighting so hard against it. You just got him back after over half a year. Do you really want your first conversation to be about you? There are so many things you want to hear from him, about his life in the military. Even just to hear his voice would be a relief. Who knows how regular these talks can be.

But the things floating around in your mind have to settle soon, otherwise you might regret inaction.

"So...this can be a regular thing?"

"As regular as every day, if you want it. When I get a new phone, one maybe not made by the military, we can even facetime. How does that sound?"

An immense wave of relief washes over you, causing your to sigh, "God, Seokjin, that—that sounds absolutely perfect. I've missed you."

There's a smile in his voice; even over the phone, you've always been able to tell. "I've missed you, too, [Y/n]-ah. So, tell me. How's life been? How's the album coming, and tour? The boys? Anything on your mind?"

"Awww, but I was going to ask you the same thing. I wanna hear about the military and your work with your new team and how things are going."

"Next time," he laughs. "Promise. I've been dying to hear about the outside world, more than just bits and pieces through letters and word-of-mouth. Tell me what's on your mind; that'll make me so damn happy, you have no idea. And you sound a little pre-occupied. Is there something on your mind?"

Taking his words at face-value, you decide to relent and bring up the subject that's been occupying your mind all afternoon. "Well...if this is going to be a regular thing, I could actually use your advice right now."

"About what?"

"I'm torn, and I've talked to Namjoon, but there's still so much I need clarity on. If you're up for listening, I'd love you a million times more."

"A million times more than infinity? How can I resist such a pretty lady's request?"

You tell him everything. All your fears, all your dreams, all your reservations and wishes, everything you discussed with Namjoon, and your own thoughts. Seokjin listens intently for the next few minutes, drinking in your words as if they're the last he'll ever hear.

Even with nearly eight months of separation, with nothing but letters to connect you, you pick up on caring for each other as if no time has passed at all.

When you finish your explanation, you wrap up with, "I just—I'm so torn. Like I said, I think deep down I want to do it. I wanna have Silhouette on 'Dream.' I wanna tour with our boys. I wanna live that secret dream and show the world my creativity and work and eight years' worth of effort. I'm just...I'm so terrified, Jinnie. It makes my skin crawl thinking about the stage, the audience, the crowds..."

As you trail off, Seokjin speaks up for the first time in nearly ten minutes. "I know how you feel, better than anyone I think, but I think you're underestimating just how much you've grown and changed. Even, and especially, since December. You've become a lot bolder, a lot more sure of yourself and your music, and a lot more willing to share. This time last year, would you even have thought about releasing your own song? Let along contemplating its addition to our next album?"

"No," you reply, stifling a laugh at the idea of your former self. "Definitely not."

"See? That's exactly what I mean. You've changed, Jagi, in all the best ways. I've seen it. The boys see it. Clearly Bang PD sees it, too. Why else would he ask you several times to join them on tour? It's just been a gradual change, so slow and sneaky you didn't notice it yourself. But look back on the last year. You've come such a long way. I bet, if you wanted to give it a go, you'd find tour invigorating."

"You live for tour, though."

"I didn't at first," he admits. "I was just good at hiding it. As the oldest, I felt it was my job to put on a brave face for the other members." Seokjin groans a little bit at the confession. "You know me. You know how introverted and private I am. I have come to love performing, but there were shows where I almost died of fright. I had to grow and change, just like you are now. It's growing pains, but it will only do you good in the end."

"You really think so?"

"I do." There a hint of pride and warmth in his voice, one you've surely missed. "You asked Namjoon what he would do if he were you. He's as honest as they come, and I have to agree. If I were you—because at one time, I was you—I would take the leap of faith. What's that quote you love so much? 'Take the leap of faith. Aim for the moon. Even if you miss'—"

"—'You'll land among the stars," you grin, mumbling the remaining portion of the saying.

Seokjin gives a deep and amused chuckle. "That's my girl." A beat of silence fills the space. "What're you thinking about, Jagi?"

"That it's been too many damn days without you," you admit, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. "I've counted every one."

"We're on Day 225," your boyfriend agrees. "Don't worry. I've been keeping count as well."

"Only 321 more to go. Didn't think I'd survive 546 days without you, but we're halfway there, so there's hope I suppose."

"You know, that's what I wanted our song to be called originally, but I chickened out and forgot to give it an actual name."

Your eyes open. Staring up at the sky overhead, you see the stars start to twinkle, the moon rise over the buildings, and the sky shift from warm hues to cool tones. "Our song?"

"The one I left you, the one Namjoon gave you. I know we agreed to put it on 'Dream,' but don't you think it should have a proper name?"

"I agree. What was it? '546 Days Without You'?"

Seokjin scoffs at the English phrasing. "Or the Hangul equivalent."

You burst into laughter, hearing him laugh right along with you. "You're such a hopeless romantic."

"Only for you."

"That's a damn lie, Kim Seokjin."

"Okay, okay, Min [Y/n]," he confesses, and you can almost see him lifting his hands in defense. "Caught me in a lie. But I do love you, and that's not a lie."

Your tone softens at his adoring words. "I love you, too."

"So, when do you have to let Namjoon-ah know of your decision?"

"Um..." You pull away from the phone, looking down at he digital clock. It reads just after seven-thirty. "Like, right now? Shit."

"No worries, Jagi," Seokjin says with casual ease. "I'm at my daily limit anyway. I'll text you from this number tomorrow, okay? You'll have to let me know what you decide. Just know, whatever you choose, you have me in your corner."

You pull yourself up from the ground, brushing off your pants and pulling yourself together. "I adore you, you know that?"

"I do," he laughs. "Goodnight, [Y/n]."

"Goodnight, Jinnie. Sweet dreams."

The call ends, and you lower the device from your ear. Your heart is at ease for the first time in what feels like months. The conversation you so desperately needed to have with the person you yearned for most has settled your soul. The restlessness you felt today has subsided, and in its place is certainty and resolve.

Quickly calling Namjoon, you get him on the second ring. "Put it on." It comes barreling out of you like an instinct. Because of that, you know you've made the right decision. "Add Silhouette to 'Map of the Soul: Dream.'"

Namjoon hesitates before asking, "Are you sure? I mean, I'm thrilled! But don't let anything I said pressure you."

"I'm sure," you nod, even if he can't see it. "More sure than I've been in a while."

"All right," he relents, sounding more excited than anything else. "Track thirteen is all yours! Gotta say, cutting it a bit close."

"I know, I know. I'll explain when you get home." You push back into the dorms, leaving the balcony and your fears behind. "Also, is it too late to change a track name?"

"Um...technically no? Which song, and to what? And while I'm at it, why?"

You huff out a sigh, having too much energy to stay home any longer. "Screw it." Grabbing your scarf, you dance towards the door. "I'm coming down there. Give me five."

"Um...okay, but [Y/n]—[Y/n], are you still there? Helloooo? You didn't tell me why we're changing it? What the hell, did I break the connect—"

Taglist — @joyful-jimin, @gracehiii, @live-2-fangirl, @rjsmochii

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