procrastination-queenie

[procrastination-queenie]

It's just an inchident | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Synopsis: you love dotting on Lando

Or

Lando doesn't appreciate you over-feeding him.

Warning(s): Takes place during the car crash at the Vegas GP. Lando is self-critical. Toothrooting fluff, isn't that what you call it? High Lando, don't ask me, but he gave me high vibes in those photos after the crash (hope he's feeling better tho. 🥹) Hints of reader being a foreigner (dunno if this should be put as a warning!)

Author's note: I don't know anything about health care or medical field, so just excuse my lame ass medical justifications. Also some of the comments mentioned in the Smau and the story line are 100% from real life.

"Oooh, yellow flag at turn 14"

"It's a red flag now."

"Is that an accident or .... oh it's an accident.

"Oooh my God. Is that Mclaren?... It's Norris."

"That's lando Norris. Oh my... what an ..."

You heart was beating so loudly in your chest as you kept monitoring the small screens closely waiting for Lando to get out.

Eyes wide, hands covering your mouth to prevent yourself from screaming as you looked at his engineer. "Is he okay?" His engineer was trying to reach him "Lando are you okay?" There was no answer for a few seconds. The cameras of the F1 monitoring your response to the accident closely. Just when you were about to lose it, take off your headset and run to the crash site, lando's mic started working. "I'm fine" you immediately looked back at the screen, not believing him because it showed; it was obvious in his voice that he was not fine, the way he grunted in pain and how his hand was shaking when using the buttons on the wheel of the car, all of it told you that he was not fine.

You were still frowning deeply when they replayed the moment the car was almost on fire and how he was trying his best, very quickly, to control the steering wheel, but in vain. You felt helpless watching as you tried to imagine the gravity of it and how he must be feeling right now.

"Y/n" you looked away from the screen about to ask them where Lando is, so you can go see him. "Y/n, they're going to take lando to the medical centre." You were about to panic even more when his engineer assured you. "It's just for check up, don't worry. They said he's fine. They just want to make sure," you nodded; however, this didn't calm you one bit. What if they checked and turns out there's actually something to worry about?

You grabbed your jacket and bag and headed to the hospital right away. His coach, Jon, went with you to the hospital. You were anxiously waiting in a room until they rolled lando on a bed into the room,with machines and wires attached to his upper body.

"Hey baby" he dragged the last syllable, which made you look at him funny then turn to the doctor. "Ugh, he's on some medications to get him relaxed,he was shaken up from the whole thing." You looked back at poor Lando to find him nodding in agreement with the doctor. "Okay, then I'll leave you to it, he shouldn't be staying for long anyways. We will keep him for like an hour maximum to make sure there are no side effects after the accident."

"Why does he look ... loopy?" You gently hit Jon's shoulder who chuckled lightly at your cute way of reprimanding him. You shook your head as you sat next to Lando. "Are you okay, baby?" He nodded looking up at you like a baby that needs attention. You chuckled at his behaviour he was definitely acting loopy.

"Does anywhere hurt?" You inquired trying to get him to talk. He nodded. Your face fell for a second, worried that the doctor might have missed something when checking on Lando. "Where?" You scanned the rest of his body quickly before looking back at him for an answer. "Here" he said pointing at his heart. You frowned in a are-you-serious-mannar that got Jon erupting in laughter at Lando's lack of awareness due to the meds. "Shut up!" You said shaking your head as you looked back at lando who was all pouty, yet had this look in eyes that was expecting something from you.

"No, lando. I am being serious." You held his hand while the other played with his hair which got his eyes fluttering a bit. "Is there anything that's hurting you?" You leaned into him whispering. He huffed in annoyance. "YES, yes there is. Your lack of affection is hurting me woman. Just give me a kiss and I'll feel better." You were surprised with his behaviour, what kind of meds did the doctor put him on?

Again you heard Jon try his best to supress a laugh, but you ignored him this time, rolling your eyes. You were really worried, usually when things like that happened during a race, Lando doesn't take it easy on himself and he jumps right away at any opportunity to criticise his performance;however, you were thankful that the meds have eased his nerves a bit for him to actually think about what happened. "Am I going to keep on waiting for too long?" The bratty side was starting to show which made you laugh.

"What are you laughing about?" He asked in amusement totally unaware of the presence of his coach in the room as well. "Nothing,... you're just ... I don't know. You're acting like a baby." You answered between fits of laughter. "Yeah, but I am your baby right?" His tone completely changed from sassy to worried which made you look at him in awe. You couldn't deny him any longer, honestly who would? You leaned into him slowly only to see him close his eyes really fast preparing for your kiss. This made you find difficulty in holding your laughter back, but lando has had enough so he pulled you in for a kiss that literally almost took your breath away. His hand was warm over your cheek. He let go and removed his hand from your cheek and leaned on his back to rest, leaving you speechless. "Wasn't that hard was it?" His sassy side was back.

You blushed while laughing, which in return made lando beam at you in happiness. You rested your head on his shoulder, "I was so worried about you." You said. "I know, but I am fine now" he said planting a kiss on the crown of your forehead. You tried to shake away any thoughts of a more aware lando that you will definitely have to deal with later as you lost yourself to sleep.

True to his words, the doctor returned back with the news of releasing Lando from the hospital. You were helping lando put on some clothes since he hadn't changed out of his race suit, yet. He was pulling his grey hoodie over his head when he winced, "What's wrong?" You asked, concern evident in your voice. "Nothing just remembered I have to comment on the crash." It was evident from his tone that he was starting to sober up from the meds. You dreaded what he was going to go through. "Lan, please take it easy on yourself,hm?" You said patting his cheek before giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek. He nodded with sleep glossing over his eyes, he must be really tired; he also didn't get to rest well because of the jet lag.

"Lando, lando, lando"

There were some reporters waiting outside of the medical centre for lando as you both exited along with Jon and the security team.

"Lando what do you think of today's incident?" One of them asked putting the mic as close to Lando as possible.

"An unfortunate end to our Las Vegas GP weekend," he said. "I just bottomed out on the restart, lost the rear and hit the wall. Not the way we wanted the weekend to end, especially considering the pace looked promising on Oscar’s side."

Jon queued that it was time to leave, so lando gave them a final word before heading off.

"Big thanks go to the medical staff for checking me over, and to the team for the work they’ll now put in on the car. One week to reset and go again for the season finale in Abu Dhabi.”

"Of course, thank you for you time Lando. Hope you feel better, mate." Lando nodded as he got escorted away and into the car with you. He rested his head into your lap the moment he got into the car.Your hand immediately took place between his soft curls. Lando hummed quietly dozing off to sleep since he was super tired.He had to be woken up again when you both arrived at the Hilton. He refused to let you go, even during the lift ride, almost most of his weight was on you as he leaned into you. You reached your room quickly, and helped him into the bathroom. "Lando, baby please wash up first while I get you something to eat yeah," you gently requested of him before you let him go. He wanted to protest, but you were not hearing any of it; not only was he jet lagged but he hadn't had any proper meal today.

It seemed that Lando opted for a quick shower since you heard it running as you changed out of your clothes. He finished by the time the food arrived to your room. You both ate in bed under the covers, the t.v on for background noise, none of you paying attention to it. You tried to talk with him, not wanting to leave him to his harsh and self critical thoughts. "feeling better,baby?" Lando nodded quietly munching on his fries as your fingers coiled his curls in place. You didn't miss the way a small smile made its way on his lips, he loved it when you played with his hair. It just made him weak.

"I am sorry you couldn't be proud of me tonight. You didn't even get to enjoy the race." You frowned at his words that he said after a few seconds of silence. "Lando," you placed your plate aside and turned to him fully so you can face him. "You know that you always make me proud. Always. No matter what the result is." You looked into his eyes to show him how sincere you were. "Lando, even if you weren't an F1 driver, I'd still be proud of you no matter what." You tried to comfort him. He didn't deserve it. What happened wasn't even his fault, and Andrea mentioned this to the media, as well. "All I could think about when that accident happened was your safety." You almost teared up thinking back to how he must have felt in that moment and the panic that showed through his hand and head movement, how he must have been taken aback by it all. "Baby, don't cry now," he said, putting his plate aside as well. "No, Lando, don't. Because it really tears me up inside how you can be so judgemental towards yourself," you said, gently moving his hand away from your face that was trying to wipe away your tears. "Baby, you're amazing, and I am sure that one day you'll be as amazing as all the drivers you have ever looked up to and even more. I just know it. Just please don't do this to yourself. It's always a team effort, not just one person, and I know that you always give it your all, so just please don't be so harsh on yourself because you don't deserve it." Lando nodded as he came closer to give you a hug. "I am sorry, I didn't know I was being such an ass." He said. "You're not being an ass to me. You're being an ass to yourself, and I really hate it when you do that." You sniffed, hugging him back and hiding your face in his neck. Warm breath teasing his neck, which made him giggle a bit, made your heart flutter. "Ah, how did I get so lucky," he said under his breath, but you heard him. "I love you so much." You said, looking up into his pretty eyes. "I love you too, baby." He said before kissing you.

"Now, eat." You said gesturing with your head towards his plate. "Nah, I wanna cuddle instead."

"Lando, eat first and then we can cuddle."

"Ugh, fine. So bossy," he muttered.

"Ugh, so sassy." You copied him as he gave you a side eye.

You both erupted in laughter. "Love you," he said focusing back on his food.

"Love you to the moon and back," you said

"Love you more,"

"No, I love you more,"

"No, I love you even mo-" he was not giving up, but you had to make sure he was well fed. "Lando, finish your food, or I swear to God..."

"Fine, fine woman jeez... why can't you just reciprocate my love," he mumbled again.

"Landooo,"

"I am eating, I am eating, see," he said with a mouth full of fries. You laughed and shook your head. How did you even end up with this dork, you thought.

________________________

Instagram

LandoNorris

Liked by Your Username and 1,950,465 others.

Rough day. Big impact. But feeling okay! Thanks for all of the messages ❤️ See you next weekend

Comments:

Mclaren: 🧡🧡🧡

Zedd: Glad you're alright brother!❤️

Charles_leclerc: Feel better mate!

Maxverstappen1: why do you look like you're high?

↬Your Username: that's because he was indeed high 🥴

↬Landonorris: I was not 😳😳😳

↬Your Username: yes, you were. I have proof. Jon has a video of you.

↬FanUserName1: I wanna see it sooo bad.

↬FanUserName2: me too.

↬Danielricciardo: me three. 👀

↬Landonorris: Fuck off, Daniel.

Y/UserName

Liked by landonorris and 1,783,631 others.

He's feeling better and that's all that matters. Always proud of you, love.💋

Comments:

Carlossainz55: yeah, right feel better, love 💋🙄

↬Your Username: Carlos, I swear to God, i will not tolerate the attitude just because you're Latino.👊🏼

↬Carlossainz55: oh no I am so scared. 🙄

↬Your Username: @iamrebeccad come get your boyfriend.

↬iamrebeccad: Carlos, I've had enough. Honestly stop it. I have to run around in the comments to stop this nonsense more than I run around from one city to the other for your races.🤦🏻‍♀️

↬Carlossainz55: mi amour, not you too.🥲💔

↬iamrebeccad: feel better guys, hopefully it won't happen again.🥹 @landonorris @/your username.

FanUserName1: oh my God, Rebecca dragging Carlos through the comments.😂😂😂

adam_norris_pure_electric: ❤️

*your username and Landonorris reacted to this comment *

FanUserName2: take care of him please.🥹🙏🏼

FanUserName3: We love you landinho, get well soon 🇧🇷 💛💚💛💚

OscarPiastri: Feel better, Lando🥹

↬Your Username: dw, I am taking good care of him.😁

↬LandoNorris: yeah, she's keeping me well fed.

↬FanUserName4: I knew it!! y/n's type of love is acts of service. Imagine her feeding lando and how she would act if he said that he's full.

↬FanUserName5: I don't wanna know tbh. The paps got a photo of her this one time when he refused taking any more food when they were out on a date,and she looked like she was one minute away from smashing the plate over his head.

↬Your UserName: in my defense he was not eating well, and I couldn't leave him like that without food.🤷‍♀️

↬LandoNorris: WITHOUT FOOD?!!😳😳😳 Babe you made me eat my whole plate and half of yours, i wouldn't count that as no food.

↬Your UserName: Sweetheart, back in my country this counts as a little girl's appetite.

↬Danielricciardo: hahaha she just roasted you on national t.v.🤣🤣🤣

↬LandoNorris: @Heidierger_ come get your bf. 😑

↬FanUserName6: What's with athletes having their gfs come collect them from this comment section ?! 😂😂😂😂

Mclaren: Take a deserved rest. We still have Abu Dhabi coming up. 🧡💪🏼

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x oc #lando norris x female reader #lando norris mclaren #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smau #lando norris fluff #max verstappen #oscar piastri #f1 wags #las vegas gp 2023 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 #just an inchident #formula one #f1 x female reader #lando norris drabble #f1 drabble #f1 x reader

[procrastination-queenie]

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem! Actress! Reader.

Synopsis: you express your love for Danny's nose.

Or

Daniel is your favourite pickle.

Warning(s): rude interviewer, mentions of insecurities, very mild smut.

Contains a short smau at the end.

Daniel never gave much thought to how he looked in general, not the physical aspect at least. Style wise, yeah, of course, as a world-famous athlete, he has to take care of how he looks, but that's mostly up to his stylist, especially during important events; such as this one.

Daniel was currently attending one of the most famous awards shows in the entire world, the Oscars, with you, his girlfriend. And never had he thought that someone, particularly an interviewer, would be questioning you about his looks, his physical look, specifically his nose.

"I am sorry, what?" You questioned with a frown on your face. "I just wanted to know what you think of Daniel's nose? Isn't it ... ugh I'd say too big? Has he thought about plastic surgery before?"

You continue to look at the interviewer in disbelief as you try to remain professional. Your facial expressions are not really your best friend. It has betrayed you many times on numerous occasions.

Throughout your entire career, you have learnt that interviewers like these with questions like that are trying to do two things: either provoke you to try and give something to the audience, which is most likely the aim of this question, or they just take the liberty of seeing you as a close friend who they can nag for information about your life. However, even your closest of friends never asked a question like this.

So, as a professional actress and a very loving girlfriend, you played out this situation in a smart way... by truly telling the interviewer how you felt about Danny's nose.

"Oh," you took your time to look at the interviewer before turning to Daniel, who you felt started to withdraw his grip over your waist. Daniel saw nothing in your eyes except love. Your brows were raised in concern and your lips pouty. "Baby, what's wrong with your nose?" You faked concern as you put both of your hands on each side of his face as if inspecting it. Danny chuckled at your adorable act. You asked him in a voice that he heard all the time when you were playing with his nephew. His eyes only focused on you, still holding his face between the palms of your hands, you turned to look at the interviewer with a funny look, as if the man was seeing things.

"I see nothing wrong with him," you almost whispered, turning to look back at Daniel as you stood on your toes to reach him. Daniel thought that you would give him a peck on the lips. Instead, you went for his nose and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood there in awe, looking like a love sick puppy that was wagging its tail happily while looking at the owner of his heart.

"He looks perfect to me. Actually, his nose looks like the Greek status that we see in museums," you said looking back at the interviewer who now grew annoyed by the fact that he couldn't get a reaction out of you or Daniel. "In fact, I think you're jealous because you wish you had a nose like his," you stated as a matter of fact.

The interviewer growing more uncomfortable by the second tried to end the conversation, seeing that you saw through him and did not give him what he wanted.

Daniel, on the other hand, couldn't keep his hand off you all night wanting nothing than to keep you in his arms, loving you, away from any preying eyes. It did not help after you had won the best actress award for your recent film, making him feel like he had won the world championship again.

That night, you straddled Daniel's naked waist wearing nothing but your undergarments and the chemise he had for the Oscars. Both of you, hair looked wild after all the love making you spent doing, feeling so proud of each other. You were staring at his face while your hand was tracing his cheeks softly. "You didn't have to answer that guy tonight, you know." Daniel said, feeling that it was not worth your effort to speak to someone like him. Your hands halted their soft tracing as you looked at him, listening to what he has to say on this. "I've dealt with interviewers like him before. He was not worth your time," Daniel said as his lips kissed your palm that rested on his cheek, eyes refusing to look at yours.

"Hey, look at me," you gently kept his head in its place, preventing him from moving it anywhere. Daniel raised his eyes to meet yours as your fingers continued to trace his cheek again. "I meant every word of what I said that night." Your fixed look on his eyes reflected nothing but sincerity. "Danny, if I could spend the rest of my life listing what I love about you, I'd do it, and it would never be enough," your eyes glistening as you recalled all times that you felt unworthy of his love, and because you didn't want the comment of a stupid ass interviewer to make him feel what you felt at your moments of insecurity. Daniel deserved to be loved for everything that he is. He will always own your heart in a way that no one has ever, or will ever do.

"Baby, what are you tearing up for now?" Daniel hated himself for ruining the mood. He wiped your tears as he took you in his arms. "It's just... I- I love you so much, and I would hate for you to be brought down by someone like that asshole," you sniffed as you hugged Daniel tightly. Daniel sighed as he hugged you back, putting his chin on top of your head.

"And I wanted everyone to know and for you to know that no matter what, you're pretty in my eyes,"

"even if you're turned into a jar of pickles, I would still love you the same," Daniel stiffled a laugh as he moved his head to try and get a look of your face that he's sure is all pouty.

"Yeah, but you'd still love me because you love pickles,"

"Yeah, well, I love you more, though." Daniel laughed so hard as he kissed your forehead. "Oh, wow. I feel special,"

"You should,"

Y/UserName

Liked by danielricciardo and 173,487 others.

Y/UserName Forever, my favourite pickle.🥹✨️🥒

danielricciardo love you, too sweetheart ❤️ why the teary eyed emoji tho? 🥹

↬ Lilymhe @/danielricciardo, come get your gf. She's drunk and won't stop talking about pickles.🫠

↬danielricciardo omw 🏃‍♂️💨

FanUser1 I am feeling more and more single with each post 🙂

FanUser2 @/FanUser3 wake up. Mum is emotional and drunk, again.

FanUser4 We appreciate a drunk girlfriend in love 🤌🏻❤️

landonorris Did she just call you a pickle? 😂

↬maxverstappen1 I'm intrigued 👀

↬danielricciardo y'all just jealous you don't get to have cute pet names like me. 🙄

FanUser5 not Daniel actually taking the pet name seriously 😂

georgerussell63 @/carmenmmundt why am I not your pickle, too? 🥹

↬carmenmmundt George, you hate pickles. 🌚

*danielricciardo liked your comment*

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo one shot #dr3 #dr3 x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 smau #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo angst #f1 drivers #daniel ricciardo drabble #f1 drabble #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x oc #daniel ricciardo x female reader #lando norris #george russell #alex albon #max verstappen #f1 scenario #daniel ricciardo social media au

[procrastination-queenie]

Uhhh ... sir!

WTF!!!!

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #grand prix #singapore gp 2023 #gp 2023 #f1 lockscreens

[procrastination-queenie]

🩵✨️

hice un edit de daniel con la temática de un poster de taylor y the eras tour que vi en blanco y negro y me encantó muchísimo, probablemente me ponga a hacer los de otros pilotos y los mande todos a imprimir porque posta lo amé

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #f1 edit #f1 lockscreens #red bull formula 1 #daniel ricciardo red bull #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #honey badger #formula 1

[procrastination-queenie]

My mom crocheted a blanket, and one of the cats kept trying to lay on it the whole time she was working on it and every time she put it down.

So she used the extra yarn to make him a tiny one and he loves it so much 😭

[procrastination-queenie]

shout out to tewksbury who is one of the most eligible bachelors at a huge party and inspecting the houseplants. iconic

[procrastination-queenie]

My life is forever ruined 🥲💔

Pairing: Immortal!Jung Hoseok x Fem Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Angst, Hurt

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, themes of loss and descriptions of death, depictions of violence and blood, historical inaccuracies galore.

Summary: A woman living in Portland, ME comes across a peculiar man she feels like she’s met before, perhaps more than once.

Disclaimer: HISTORICAL FICTION. This was only for fun. I fully admit that I did not conduct thesis level research on the details of this story. That being said, the last thing I ever want to do is be insensitive. If you find something so incredibly incorrect it’s offensive - please ‘write’ to me and I will do my best to correct my mistake.

WC: 16K

T H E P R E S E N T – P O R T L A N D, M E

“May I sit here?”

You look up at the man staring down at you with a steaming mug of something in his hands.

Two thoughts pass through your mind: One, this man is incredibly handsome. Jet black hair with eyes almost as dark, honey-gold skin and a smile that could light up the whole downtown area. He looks as though he’s far away from home in this cold, gray city where it’s been raining for weeks on end. The second thought you have is that you know him, his beautiful face is so familiar, but you can’t think of where you’ve seen him.

“Um, everywhere else is full…” he continues off of your silence.

“Sorry, yes, please sit,” you gesture to the chair across the tiny table and smile warmly as he settles into the seat.

You sip your coffee, unsure of what to say or do. Diving back into the pages of your book, shielding yourself from him, feels like the natural thing for you, so that’s what you choose. Occasionally you peer up at him and every time this happens you find him still staring at you, studying you.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” you finally ask. Perhaps you’ve had a class with him, or seen him at some event around campus.

The smile that spreads across his face is something between amusement and melancholy. He looks as though he could laugh or cry and you’re not sure how to react.

“You ask that every time,” he says softly, distantly. If you weren’t already hyper-aware of his every breath, you’d have missed it entirely.

Your face scrunches with confused embarrassment, and maybe a slight sense of unease. Okay, so clearly you have met him and just don’t remember. He obviously does though, and you hope your lack of recollection isn’t coming off as offensive.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to jog my memory I’m afraid,” you shrug apologetically.

He shakes his head, “Don’t fret over it, my name is Hoseok Jung, it’s nice to meet you,” his sunshine smile returns as he sips his beverage.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you too,” you hold out your hand to him and he takes it with a gentle squeeze. When he does, something odd happens in your mind, it feels an awful lot like déjà vu but the sensation passes so fast that you instantly let it go.

“Lovely to meet you Y/N.”

“Meet again, you mean?” you joke and he laughs with a nod.

“Always lovely to meet you again,” he smiles warmly.

“So, have we had class together or do you work on campus or something?” you inquire curiously. He looks so smooth with his long legs, perfectly styled hair, and trendy, expensive looking clothes – he has to be a professor or administrator – students don’t typically look so put together.

“No, I’m not really from around here,” he says, taking another sip.

You find this information a bit bewildering. You’ve lived in Portland your whole life, so if he’s not from here – how is it exactly that you’ve crossed paths?

He must see the confusion on your face. He grins, looking down at this lap then leans over the table, folding his hands together as if he’s about to have a serious discussion.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise, but not today,” he chuckles, “today we’ll sit here and talk for a bit longer. I’m going to ask you for your telephone number, and then before you even make it home I’m going to call and ask you out to dinner,” he leans back, resuming his relaxed position and taking another gulp from his mug.

You should be appalled at his cockiness. You should be creeped out by his odd, cryptic behavior. Instead you just stare at him, perplexed. Perplexed because you’re not creeped out, but rather very intrigued. Perhaps it’s his innocent looking face, his bright smile, or the hint of something deliciously wild behind those pretty dark eyes. Whatever it is, you can’t find it within yourself to be offended, instead you want to know everything.

“Oh? Then what happens?” you ask him as if you’re simply asking for him to recount a movie he’s watched or a book he’s read. It’s absurd, the entire conversation, but you feel entertained and drawn in by him.

He leans over the table again with narrow eyes, “Do you really want to know?” he asks in a low timbre, much deeper than he’s spoken so far, like he’s about to tell you all his beautiful secrets. So you nod in response, at a loss for words because as intriguing as this man – Hoseok – is, he’s just as handsome too, and the way he’s staring at you with his dark eyes and speaking in his deep voice feels incendiary.

“Hmm,” he draws out the noise, pretending to be giving it some real thought, then he plasters a mischievous grin on his lips and leans back with a slight shake of his head, “I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath in. Not until it escapes in a disappointed sounding harumph. He chuckles a little and you feel silly, pulling your elbows in and fidgeting with your hands on top of the table.

“Don’t look so sour, this is the fun part, getting to know each other,” he reaches out and pats your hand lightly. It’s an innocent gesture, but that same feeling of déjà vu hits you like a jolt. It feels frustrating. Like a song you’ve hummed a million times, the notes right on the tip of your tongue but still you can’t recall them. Whatever the song is however, you remember it fondly.

“Right,” you nod, still fighting to place him, “So, Hoseok, if you’re not from here what brings you to town?” you ask, deciding to play along.

He doesn’t answer at first, and you watch his animated eyes get a little narrower as if he’s fighting with how to answer you.

“Oh now come on, that was my easiest question,” you joke, attempting to ease his sudden apprehension.

“I’m here, for,” he looks up at you with a puzzling expression, and for a solid moment you think his answer is you. That he is here in town for you, but that’s crazy talk. He seems to realize this, and his face changes back to the easy-going man that asked you for a seat.

“I’m here for work,” he smiles and sips his drink.

“What do you do?” you continue.

“I suppose you could say I’m in environmental protection,” he responds.

“Like, the EPA?” you assume.

“No, I’m not with the EPA. I work for a much more private entity,” he smiles slyly.

“So then what do you do for this private entity that protects the environment?” you wonder.

“I scout areas that I’m sent to. I remove any unacceptable…variables. Then I leave when I get a new assignment,” he explains minimally.

“Leave?” you slip, an absurdly unwarranted disappointment dripping off the word. It’s embarrassing, really, that you should care whether a stranger stays or leaves.

“Don’t worry, time is an irrelevance in the grand scheme of things. It could be years before my employers contact me again,” he shrugs, preening at the way you seemed upset by his departure.

“Oh cool, that’s cool,” you attempt to sound casual, but you don’t. You clear your throat, regroup. “Anyways, give me an example of what an ‘unacceptable variable’ might be, that sounds interesting,” you divert the conversation back to him.

He laughs lightly, but you detect the hint of nervousness under the surface regardless.

“How about I ask some questions? Like…What do you do for a living?” he asks, and you allow him to turn the tables to you, for now. You’ll finish his interrogation another time. Maybe over that dinner he was talking about earlier. Your stomach flip flops at the thought.

“I’m a student,” you say plainly, “I’m majoring in English Literature, but I do work at the local library on Saturdays.”

He smiles warmly, “That suits you.”

“Does it?” you chuckle, “How would you know what suits me?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I just think it would, considering you’re a literature major,” he shrugs, looking very interested in his mug.

You take the opportunity to look at the time, speaking of school; you’ve got a lecture to get to in twenty minutes. You wonder if he really meant what he said, would he really ask for your number?

“I hate to cut this short, but I have to get to my class,” you put your belongings in your backpack and give him a sad, but hopeful smile.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks as you stand from the small table. You look down at the surface, seeing nothing that belongs to you. You look back up at him blankly.

“Your number?” he grins. Right. You try to conceal the way your lips want to grin from ear to ear as you retrieve a Post-it from your bag with a pen. You scribble it out for him and slide it across the table. When he goes to pick it up you hold it in place with your finger and his bewildered eyes meet yours from under thick lashes.

“I don’t like games, so I’m going to just ask you up front,” you tell him, trying your best to sound intimidating, “you say that we know each other, but I don’t recall ever having known you. So, are you, like - some sort of stalker? Or a rapist, or some other unimaginable monster because if so, you picked the wrong girl.”

Hoseok stares at you so admirably, like he’s proud of you, and you release the note from your grasp.

“I am none of those things, and I wouldn’t hurt you Y/N. I never have and I never will.”

“You are so weird,” you sigh, “but I’m curious.”

With that he shoots you one last sunshine-bright smile and it’s enough, you think, to get you through the rest of the week.

“See you soon,” he says, sending you on your way.

You buckle in and you’re about to start the ignition when your cell begins to ring.

You already know.

“Hello?” you try to feign casual indifference as you answer the new, unknown number.

“So, I was thinking about this date you insisted on,” Hoseoks voice carries through the speakers.

“Date that I insisted on? A few moments ago it was just dinner, at your suggestion no less,” you remind him playfully.

“Semantics,” he dismisses, “I was wondering what you think about boats?”

“Boats? I’m not sure I have strong opinions of them. What were you thinking?”

“I’d like to have dinner with you, on my boat,” he suggests.

“That sounds…suspiciously dangerous.”

“Ah, but we’ve already established I’m not a stalker, rapist or murderer,” he emphasizes.

“Mm, I don’t think we ruled out murderer…”

“I’m not a murderer.”

“Well then, dinner on your boat sounds great,” you laugh.

“Good. I’ll text you the rest tomorrow. Have fun in class,” he finishes and you’re positively giddy as you end the call.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

Hoseok smiles as he pockets his phone and begins walking down the street.

“You’re a long way from Vermont,” the deep, gravelly voice manifests from nowhere.

Hoseok stiffens, then relaxes as he turns to face his mentor, Ethelred.

“That depends on perspective,” he says coolly, “for example one could say that I’m far from Vermont, if you think three hours is far. I would say though that you’re much, much further from your post. Last I heard you were supposed to be in Japan.”

The older man laughs with little amusement.

“You and I both know why I’m here,” he retorts, “and we know why you’re here too.”

He nods to the right a bit and Hoseok watches as you pull out of the small lot, unaware you’re being watched.

He turns back to the man, “Leave her alone, I just got here, we just met!”

“Yeah? How many times is that now?” the man grumbles.

Hoseok watches as your vehicle disappears into the crowd of traffic.

“Let’s go have a drink, old friend,” the man sets a meaty fist on Hoseoks shoulder and pulls him forward down the sidewalk.

Possibly one of the worst things about being immortal was the close knit community of other immortals. Inescapable, they are.

Ethelred was one of those inescapable nuisances. Though Hoseok did have to admit he was one of his only friends, if you could call it friendship. Ethelred had been his mentor for centuries, up until Hoseok had decided going it alone was less troublesome. Going it alone meant he had no one to justify his choices to, no one he had to explain decisions to. Which was extremely beneficial when his decisions started becoming all about you.

Hoseok watches as Ethelred sips on the smooth amber liquid in his glass. He twists his own beverage impatiently around the table, moving the little ring of condensation all over. He wishes the elder would just get on with it and go.

“What’s the status report from Roxbury?” Ethelred finally asks.

“Cleared,” Hoseok says simply.

“Cleared entirely? Why is this news to me?” He asks.

“Do we have to do this Ed?” Hoseok rolls his eyes, finally taking a rather large gulp of his scotch on the rocks.

“It couldn’t be that you…intentionally skipped your report so you could prolong your time in the area?” Ethelred scoffs.

“I do my job,” Hoseok seethes, “I do my job well. So why the fuck do they always have you breathing down my neck?”

Ethelred looks at Hoseok for a moment, wondering if he’ll ever not have to have this discussion.

“You know why, don’t play dumb. It’s not a cute look on you.”

“I’ve never broken the rules,” Hoseok smirks.

“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face kid, just because you found a loophole doesn’t mean you’re not in danger,” Ethelred snaps.

Hoseok huffs, “Danger. Right.”

“She’s in danger then,” Ethelred shares, unsurprised when Hoseok makes a guttural noise in his throat.

“She’s done nothing, she never has,” Hoseok growls.

Ethelred sighs, “I know, but the Elder Court grows tired of you making a mockery of their most absolute rule.”

“I’m not! She’s not an immortal, trust me. I’ve endured her death enough times to know the agony. To know that she isn’t, in fact, an immortal,” Hoseok seethes. He can’t help but detach himself from the current discussion, mind wandering back to you. Now that he’s found you in this lifetime he wonders how long he’ll get to keep you this time.

“She’s not an immortal, but she is an Infinite. There’s no denying it at this point,” Ethelred points out.

An Infinite Soul. Not an immortal body, but an immortal soul that will keep coming back, making you the same person over and over. Reincarnation, some call it, but in that regard people come back as different people, entities, different beings. Somehow you always come back as…you.

Hoseok has known it for a very long time, and he always wondered what would happen when the others realized it.

“The rule forbids me to love another immortal. She isn’t one, so there’s no quarrel,” Hoseok shrugs.

“The rules were formed before they knew what an Infinite was! It’s a technicality at best, you arrogant bastard,” Ethelred laughs.

“A technicality is still a plausible exemption,” Hoseok mutters bitterly, not really believing it himself.

“You act as if our highest court is the same as the humans. There is no such thing as getting off on technicalities, kid.”

Ethelred takes in Hoseoks uneasy expression. He hates when the kid isn’t his usual ball of sarcastic sun.

“It really is a shame,” Ethelred empathizes, “that out of all the people on this planet an immortal fell in love with an Infinite. The odds are astronomical, really. Only about a dozen of each on this moss-covered shit hole and you two found each other somehow.”

“Life’s a bitch that way,” Hoseok mutters, gesturing to their waiter for another drink.

“Why?” Ethelred wonders out loud, “why don’t you just let her be? Save yourself all this trouble, save yourself from watching her die - does she ever even reach old age with your ass in the picture?”

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok freezes his drink halfway to his mouth.

“You're an immortal kid, your very existence is a crime against nature. So nature tends to try and work you out; a stray car, a bolt of lightning, an illness - ‘cept none of those things can get you, but they sure can get the ones closest to you, right?”

Hoseoks grip tightens on the glass as he agonizingly considers all the ways he ever watched you die. His eyes screw shut at the memories.

No. Deny, deny, deny.

“She’s reached old age plenty,” Hoseoks brows furrow as he resumes drinking.

“Indeed,” Ethelred nods, “but tell me, weren’t those the lives that someone else got to her first?”

Hoseok winces again. There were the occasional lives in which he took a little too long to find you. When he finally did, you were with someone else. Married, sometimes with children. He would watch, broken hearted, checking in occasionally to see if you were happy, treated well. There were even a few times you weren’t happy, and though he was ashamed to admit it, he’d spent his fair share of days with you in some secret spot. He would fuck you in the ways only he knew you wanted. Making you call out his name, relishing in what little time he was given with you before you had to go back to your partner. Your life without him.

However, this new theory that he was somehow the reason behind the times you died unreasonably was causing a very different type of agony and shame. He was beginning to feel ill. It was absurd, wasn’t it?

Hoseok gulps his drink harder.

“Am I being summoned or what?” Hoseok asks dryly, his cheeks feeling warm from the alcohol already. His stomach churned over the thoughts that now violated his head.

“Not today,” Ethelred shrugs, “but they want you to be aware they know. The court has become more and more lenient over the years, but this they cannot allow. So, you might want to make this time count, because it’s your last time together.”

It’s not a suggestion, or a request. Hoseok scoffs again, swiveling in his seat to flag the waiter down for their checks.

When he turns around, Ethelred is gone. Didn’t leave any money either.

“Asshole.”

Hoseok is left alone with the bill, but also left with the most dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach. The realization that he may actually have been causing you great harm over the years, and the promise that if he continued seeking you out, the elder court would involve themselves.

In a moment like this, what he really needed was you. Your warm embrace, the feeling of your soft lips dusting the sides of his face in the gentlest kisses. Your body wrapped around his.

Now he was rethinking everything. He’d already had lifetimes with you, was he being selfish in wanting more? Was he putting your very life in danger? Was he even capable of staying away?

Questions that indeed needed answers.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

Call him a sap, but one of Hoseoks favorite things about re-meeting you was getting you to fall for him… again.

It only came second to the moment. The moment it all came back to you, the lifetimes you’d shared, the love you had. Sometimes it took days, weeks - sometimes it took years. There was always a moment though, when your gazes would connect, and you’d usually start sobbing. The trigger each time was different, that was something Hoseok could never pinpoint. If he could, if it was as simple as uttering a phrase or showing you a specific photo - he’d lead with that. He’d tried in the past, to tell you everything up front, but it only ever frightened you. So while he waited for you to come around, he got the privilege of trying to get you to love him. Again.

This time, as he stared at his phone apprehensively, things felt different. He was supposed to be texting you, flirting with you, getting you excited for your ‘first’ date. All he could think about though was if he was risking your life.

He felt such a strong desire to protect you. He had to. He’d protect you this time. It was his duty.

He picked his phone up and hit the call button. It rings several times before he hears your delicate voice.

“Wow. Here I was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination,” you tease, a bit disheartened sounding. He winces.

“I’m sorry, I know I told you I’d get in touch with you sooner. I had a work thing come up,” he lies. He hates lying. He hopes you don’t take as long to remember this time.

“It’s okay,” you relent, “you called, by today’s standards that alone puts you at the head of the game.”

“I didn’t realize we were playing one,” he says.

“We are when you don’t call when you say you will,” you jab.

“Ouch, but okay that’s fair. Let me make it up to you tonight?”

“I’m listening,” you reply casually.

“Do you enjoy sushi?” he asks, but he already knows you love it.

“I’ve been known to indulge occasionally. Are you going to take me to eat sushi?”

“No. I’m going to order a ridiculous amount of very expensive sushi and we’re going to eat it under romantic lighting on my boat while we watch the stars,” he corrects you.

“Oh, that sounds…” romantic, sweet, sexy, awesome, “pleasant.”

Hoseok guffaws. “I’m glad you think it sounds pleasant. Would you like me to pick you up or would you prefer to drive yourself? Keep in mind there will be wine and I simply refuse to let you drive intoxicated.”

“Mm, I’ll take my chances with my own car,” you inform him. Partly to give yourself a getaway just in case, but partly because you wouldn’t be aggressively opposed to being stuck, slightly intoxicated, on a boat with his hotness.

“Suit yourself, I’ll text you the address,” he says and he can feel your hesitation through the phone. Would he really? Or would he ghost you again?

“I swear,” he promises.

When you hang up you’re pleased that your phone dings within a minute.

<Meet me at the docks, 47 Shorline St. it’s just the lot, I’ll be waiting for you around 7pm. See you soon beautiful.>

“Okay, wooooow.”

Tessas voice tears you out of your giddy thoughts. You look up, watching as your roommate - the personified antithesis of yourself - removes her wireless headset and pauses her Overwatch game.

“What?” you play it off with a shrug.

“Yo bro who got you smilin’ like that?” she cackles.

“Shut up!” you toss a Yoda shaped throw pillow at her.

“Seriously, who’s texting you?”

“Just this guy I met at the café a couple days ago, it’s not a big deal,” you blush wildly.

“At the café huh? You literally could not script a more rom-com meetcute. Very 90s.”

“It was kind of romantic, like something that only happens in movies,” you agree.

“‘S he hot?”

“Uh, yeah, like really hot,” you smile, then suddenly overcome with panic, “do you think he’s tricking me?”

“Tricking you? Like, in what way?”

“Like he’s way too hot for me Tess, and you should see him - how he dresses. He’s obviously loaded. Like, I’m pretty sure he had a Louis Vuitton trench on, and he’s supposed to be taking me out tonight on his boat. Who has a boat?”

“Dude, this is Portland. Land of port? Like, everybody has a fucking boat,” she rolls her eyes.

Okay that…that’s true.

“I don’t know, he’s different. He talks funny,” you add.

“Talks funny like with an accent?” Tess is back to playing her game but is at least giving you 40% of her attention.

“No, more like, he talked like we’d met before, but we haven’t,” you explain.

“Like a romance novel ‘lovers traveling through time’ thing or like he’s been ‘stalking you for years and knows you but you don’t know him’ way?”

“Not exactly the first one…” you scrunch your nose up and Tess pauses her game again.

“So are we really going with option two: crazy super stalker? Did he give you creep vibes?” she asks, voice dripping with merited concern.

“See that’s the thing,” you sigh, “he didn’t give me creepy or weird vibes at all. Don’t get me wrong, it was a weird conversation, but the whole time I kinda felt like he was…right.”

“Right? About what?”

“Like maybe I do know him, but I just don’t remember. I had weird déjà vu shivers like twice,” you share.

“Uh, yeah déjà vu isn’t real dude. That was probably your brain trying to tell you to run.”

You say nothing.

“Y/N…have you or have you not met this dude? Yes or no answer.”

“No…,” you admit miserably.

“Then my best advice is to steer clear,” Tess says. When she looks at you she purses her lips, “you’re not going to though, are you?”

“I just…want to know him,” you say dreamily.

“Oh lord. Who are you and what have you done with Y/N? She’s never made a risky decision in her life!”

She’s right. Risk taking was not part of your routine. When you were younger, you decided you wanted to try gymnastics after watching the Olympics. You did alright, until your coach wanted you to try flips without a spotter. The words “broken neck” kept flashing in your head. So you quit. Naturally.

“I really don’t think it’s a risk. He was really nice,” you assure her.

“Really nice looking you mean?” she counters with a scoff.

“I’m going to go get ready,” you grumble.

“Fine but write the address on the fridge so when you go missing I can give the cops a lead at least,” Tess calls as you exit the room.

“Har, har,” you mock.

Then again…you do, in fact, write the address on the white board, and Hoseoks name. It’s the least you can do just in case. You overhear Tess talking to her gaming crew as you ascend the stairs,

“Yeah, just my roommate. She’s gonna get murdered ‘cause she’s horny.”

Maybe.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

Hoseok is standing against the wall of the fishing shack that overlooks the parking lot of the docks, waiting for you. He’s not seen or heard from Ethelred since he disappeared at the bar, but his words linger, bouncing around Hoseoks head.

A car pulling into the lot refocuses his attention and he smiles when he sees it’s you behind the wheel.

“Hey there,” you suddenly feel very shy as you climb out of your car.

“Hi gorgeous,” he greets, fighting the urge to kiss you. Not yet. Not until you want him to.

Instead he places his hand on the small of your back, a safe distance from your ass but still enough to give you butterflies.

“You smell good,” you blurt out, unsure of what to talk about. It’s the first thing that popped into your head because he really does smell divine. Your inner feminist is cringing but god, he smells like a man and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Thank you!” he laughs. He slides his arm up and around your shoulder so he can pull you in just a bit as you stroll past the boat slips. You smile broadly at the sensation.

There are several boats lined up on each side of the wooden walkway that sways gently in the wake of the water. Though classifying some of them as mere boats feels like an understatement. Some of them loom above the water like floating mansions and some look tattered and torn, used and abused by fishing or trapping.

When the two of you are nearly to the end you catch sight of a lovely mid-sized sailboat with hanging lanterns casting a romantic orange-gold glow on the deck within the mist.

“That’s your boat?” you ask, pointing.

Hoseok grins excitedly, “How did you know that?” he asks. The amount of times you’ve been on this boat were immeasurable and he can’t help but feel optimistic that something within you knows it.

“I mean, there’s a candlelit table for two on the deck? I guess someone else could be dining out tonight but I mean, pretty clear isn’t it?” you grin.

“Ah,” Hoseok stiffens, “right.”

He steps onto the boat. It really is pretty. He turns around and lends you a hand, holding you steady as you step on as well.

“It’s lovely,” you tell him, running your hands along the well maintained wooden rails and structures.

“Thank you,” he responds, looking around proudly. It’s clear he’s taken great care with it, his attachment to it evident in the way his eyes sparkle with memories and fondness.

“Does it have a name? Don’t most boats have names?” you wonder.

Hoseok smiles, “Wendy.”

“Wendy? Like, from Peter Pan?” you raise a brow.

He chuckles, and shakes his head, “No, Wendy as in the woman I loved when I bought this boat,” he says, though he supposed Wendy was such a popular name at the time he purchased it because of the one from Peter Pan, it was all the rage in 1904 thanks to the play.

“That’s…very romantic,” you smile, “and where is Wendy now?” you wonder, swallowing down the very irrational spark of jealousy you feel for no reason.

He looks at you, sadly, and you can feel his gaze penetrating your very soul. You wish to any God in existence you knew what he was thinking behind those heartbreaking eyes.

“She passed away a long time ago,” he shares, and his eyes lock into yours to gauge your reaction.

“Oh God,” your hand flies to your mouth, “Hoseok I’m so sorry, that’s awful.”

Your mind flashes to different versions of him sitting on this very deck, mourning a woman he loved who had to have been taken very young.

He smiles, though it looks a bit sad, and shrugs, “It’s okay,” he says softly, “Grief is the price we pay to love.”

“Yes,” you agree, “I suppose it is.”

You stare at each other for a few silent moments, then he stands, clearing his throat.

“Do you want to see the cabin?” he asks, more cheerful.

“I would.”

The cabin is narrow, but surprisingly roomy. The design laid out clearly and concisely so as to make the most of the smaller space.

“It’s cozy,” you compliment, “Do you live here?”

You note the small closet filled with clothes, the bed that’s made but clearly used, and other tell-tale signs of a permanent inhabitant.

“I do, it’s cheaper than renting,” he laughs.

“Um, where should I put my coat?” you ask, sliding the camel trench off your shoulders.

“Oh, here,” he shuffles behind you, his warm hands coming down on your upper arm. He slides the coat off, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in his wake.

You fiddle with the hem of your shirtwaist dress bashfully.

“I wasn’t sure if a dress would be appropriate boat attire,” you chuckle.

“You look stunning, you’d look stunning in anything, but you look good enough to eat in that dress,” he whispers.

Oh.

You swallow and lick your lips nervously.

“I’m sorry,” he says guiltily, “I didn’t mean-,”

“Yes you did,” you say softly and smile at him, trying your best to exude seduction, “You meant it, and it’s okay. I don’t mind,” you explain, taking a few brave steps toward him.

You cannot, even if your life depended on it, explain why you are so attracted to this man. You don’t even care why, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he smiles playfully, his breathing a bit heavy as you look up at him, barely any space between you.

“I don’t want you to be,” you respond boldly.

That’s all Hoseok needed to hear. He tucks his hand underneath your chin and pulls you into him. If only you knew how desperate he’s been to kiss you, to touch you. He’s been aching for it for what feels like forever, which considering he’s immortal, is a big deal.

When his lips collide with yours he moans, immediately pushing his tongue in your mouth. There won’t be any chaste first kisses this time, no timid boundary hunting, he just wants you - and you want him. You hitch your thigh around him, pulling him against you as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He kisses you against the wall, then spins you against the tiny little countertop, then he pushes you down onto the bed and kisses you there, his hand trailing up your thigh. Your arms never unwrap from around his neck, you never once stop trying to pull him into you. You don’t want it to stop. Ever.

Then your stomach growls. Loudly.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, pressing your lips together as he pulls off of you with a giant grin.

“Hungry?”

“I skipped lunch today,” you say sheepishly as he rolls off of you.

“The food is in the mini-fridge. I wasn’t sure when you’d want to eat and I didn’t want it to spoil,” he says, helping you up off the bed.

“That’s very practical,” you comment, still reeling from embarrassment. You also take note that your underwear feels exceptionally…wet…and you wonder, quite irresponsibly, if that will be all for this evening.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

He had promised a ridiculous amount of sushi and boy, did he deliver. He unpacks a giant platter of wicked looking sushi from the tiny little fridge. You’re actually quite surprised it fit in the first place. You grab your coat and follow him back up onto the deck to the small table he’d set.

“It’s a little colder than I had anticipated,” he apologizes as you pull your coat tighter between bites of food.

“It’s the rain,” you tell him, “cold front came in and evidently doesn’t plan on letting up. It’s okay though,” you smile with a shiver, “the wine is cold at least!”

He stands and blows out the candle, “Let’s go back below deck,” he smiles as you both gather up the meal and take it down into the cabin.

“This is by far the coolest date I’ve ever been on,” you reassure him, tummy stuffed with delicious food. He still looks disappointed that he couldn’t capitalize on the promise of a candlelit dinner beneath the stars. “I’ve never been on a boat so nice, it’s a lovely date,” you add for good measure.

“Have you ever been serious with anyone?” he asks. Oh, okay, right into the roster then.

You think about it for a moment, meeting his gaze and suddenly you don’t feel confident in your answer of “no.” You’ve never really had a serious relationship, but sitting here, looking at him makes you unsure for some inexplicable reason. This has happened, you realize, several times over dinner. Him asking you a question about your life that you should be able to answer easily, but for some reason you can’t. For some reason the answer feels fuzzy on your tongue, like your memories are mixing together. Damn, you’ve barely even had a full glass of wine. What is going on with you?

“Uhm, no,” you finally say, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know?” he laughs.

“I don’t know,” you reply, but he can tell you want to say more. “I don’t want to be weird and scare you off,” you laugh miserably.

“You couldn’t scare me off, I’m the weirdo, remember?”

You both chuckle and it makes you feel a bit more comfortable.

“I just don’t know how to explain it,” you begin, “but everytime I open my mouth to answer a question you ask - I’m not sure I’m answering right.”

“That’s okay,” he says, “I just love the sound of your voice.”

God. Swoon.

“You are so smooth,” you laugh, pouring a bit more wine in your glass, “too smooth.”

“You think I’m smooth?” he grins, shifting in his seat. You soon feel his hand on your thigh underneath the tiny table. Good.

You take a healthy gulp of wine and swallow it down with a shrug.

“I think if you keep saying things like how stunning I am, how you love my voice,” you put your hand over his under the table, “and keep doing that, then I’m going to act very unladylike on our first date.”

He scoots a bit closer to you, “Do you want me to stop? I will, if you tell me to,” he whispers and his breath near your neck sends goosebumps across your body.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reply, turning your face up to his.

He kisses you, not as desperately this time, though you’re certainly not complaining about the way he ravished you earlier.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispers, practically dragging you from your seat at the table.

Maybe you don’t have any idea, but you also can’t begin to describe how much you want him too. You can’t remember a time when you’ve been so enamored by a person. You can’t explain why when he presses his body against yours, it feels like you’re home after an exhausting journey. Can’t explain why when his hand cups your sex, rubbing his palm against you, you moan loudly, desperately wanting more - okay, maybe that one is easier to explain.

You untie the belt around your waist, beginning to work on the buttons down your dress. Hoseok pulls his sweater off, then happily assists you with your task.

When you’re only left in your underwear you crash your lips against his again, “What are you doing to me?” you can’t help but wonder between breaths.

He pulls away, caressing your shoulders, “I can’t explain it, just know I feel it too, I feel it,” he pants, he holds your palm to his chest and you can feel his heart pounding.

“Do you have condoms?” you ask, dragging him back down on top of you.

“Y-Yes,” he mumbles against your mouth. He could explain that it really wouldn’t matter if he had them or not, that his semen can’t bear children, that he can’t contract any disease that could do either of you any harm. Not that it matters, he made a vow to you centuries ago and he’s always stayed true to his word. Still, he rifles around the drawer under the bed sightlessly until he feels the square foil with the familiar ring inside.

“Are you sure? You know we - we don’t have to do this,” he says cautiously as he watches you fiddle with the mechanisms on his pants.

You look up at him, one singular moment of clearness sets in, “Do you think we shouldn’t?” you ask miserably and he shakes his head back and forth but you don’t let him answer, “I hate to kill the mood, but even I have to admit that I’m being very irresponsible right now. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I can’t explain it.”

You sit back on your knees and he grabs your hands.

“You don’t have to feel irresponsible with me. Not in the slightest. I lo- I like you so much, I’m not here to hit it and quit it, I swear,” he holds you at arms length and looks at you seriously. Another moment and the clearness is gone…you laugh.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard someone say ‘hit it and quit it’ since I was a kid. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-eight,” he answers quickly.

“Mm, seven years older than me,” you chuckle, crawling over to straddle his lap, “that’s kind of hot,��� you whisper against his ear, pulling him so you can kiss his neck.

“Glad you think so,” he replies tightly as you grind down on his lap.

He scoots the two of you back as you wrap your legs around him, his hand brushes over the condom wrapper, he picks it up between his middle and index fingers.

“Do you still want…or should I put it away?”

You take a steady breath and pluck the package from his hand. Scooting down his legs a bit, you place your palm against his chest, gently pushing him down onto his back. He complies easily, lifting his hips as you tug away his remaining clothes, eyes on you hungrily.

“Impressive,” you smile, teasing kisses over the delicate skin of his hard erection.

“Oh God,” he smiles wickedly as you descend your mouth onto him, his head falling back on the pillow. Fuck, he always forgets how good it feels.

You continue, trying to keep your mind blank - lest you allow yourself to realize how uncharacteristic you’re being. You love watching him clutch the sheets and the pillows in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling apart inside your mouth.

“Please, I need to feel you, please,” he whispers, rather breathlessly.

You rip into the foil wrapper and cautiously roll the latex down his throbbing length, still dripping with precum and spit.

When the condom is in place Hoseok wastes no time flipping you over, sliding his body between your legs, caressing and kissing every exposed inch of your flesh.

He slides your underwear down your legs as you toss your bra into the floor. He pauses a moment, his eyes roaming your body.

“You are so beautiful love, so fucking beautiful,” he says, biting his tongue so he doesn’t tell you how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you. Hoping he doesn’t cry when he pushes into you. The last time you’d been together was 1992, nearly thirty years missing you. Thirty years of trying to guess where you’d turn up this time and trying to gauge when to seek you out.

You’ve never had someone look at you like this. It nearly brings tears to your eyes, how genuinely in love he looks, hovering above you. It puts such a warm, happy feeling in your chest that you choose to ignore how ridiculous it sounds for him to love you. How ridiculous it sounds that you kind of, maybe, feel like you love him too.

“Hoseok…”

“Shh, let me savor this,” he whispers. “You’re so wet baby,” he smirks, twisting his fingers around your folds sinfully.

“Oh!”

Hoseok sinks his middle finger into you as he leans forward and teases your clit with his tongue.

“Mmmm,” he moans into your flesh. “Fuck it’s so good,” he groans, ceasing his finger pumps to focus solely on tasting you. The way he slowly teases your slit then brings his tongue to your sensitive nerves in quick, pressured strokes makes your insides twist up. If he’s this good with his tongue, what’s his dick going to feel like?

“Oh my god Hoseok,” you whine, “fuck me.”

He lifts his face from your sex, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as he lines himself up with you. He pulls your leg up, resting your knee against his shoulder as he plunges his cock into your heat.

You both cry out at the sensation. He stills for just a second, catching one of your nipples gently between his lips, flattening his tongue over the sensitive nerve endings. Then he starts again, fucking you at a curious angle, but god is it getting the job done. Little do you know just how long Hoseoks had to know exactly what feels good to you.

“What the fuck…” you cry, unaware that you’ve even said it out loud. Hoseok knows what he is doing. You’ve rarely ever had an orgasm from just penetration, maybe twice your whole life and one of them was your vibrator. He’s about to make you come absolutely undone.

“You like that baby? Tell me how much,” he growls.

“So much, so, so…oh fuck…”

“I’m not going to last, it’s been too long…” he pants, “trust me.”

He lifts your hips up off the mattress and fucks into you hard and fast, another weird angle but it doesn’t matter. He could twist you up like a pretzel and you’d still be seeing stars. You bite down on your lip as your orgasm hits you in waves that synch up to the rhythm of his cock still fucking you. He finally stills, deep inside your canal, as he spills himself into the condom.

You lay there several moments, stunned. Hoseok continues to pepper kisses across your neck, chest, and shoulders. It’s not until after he disposes of the condom, coming back to the bed with some water for you, that he speaks.

“I’m trying to be calm,” he laughs nervously, “but your silence is making me freak out a little on the inside.”

You sit up, pulling his sheet around you for warmth and coverage, and politely sip the water. A million thoughts are racing through your mind as you try to consider what to say.

You’d love to simply relish in the fact that this incredibly attractive, sweet guy is also amazing at sex and you feel like you may have struck the boyfriend lottery. The part of your brain that consistently chooses violence against your happiness, however, is screaming at you that you shouldn’t feel so strongly about someone so fast. That this closeness you’re feeling is curiously abnormal.

“You’re still not saying anything,” Hoseok says softer, his hand lacing into yours.

“Why did it feel like that?” you ask quietly, your gaze fixing on his dark eyes.

“Was it not…good? Or?” Hoseok fumbles over the words because he knows precisely what you really mean but he hasn’t prepared an answer.

“It was… the closest I’ve ever felt to another human being in my life. And I wanna know why I feel like this around you,” you push.

Hoseok searches your features for some mercy, he finds none, you’re not going to let him dumb his way out of this. You’re smart, always much smarter than him, and as the centuries roll by you only get more intuitive, empathic, and sharp.

He gives you a resigned sigh, “It’s…complicated.”

“You told me at the coffee shop we’ve met before, let’s just start there,” you suggest.

“Y/N…”

“Please, Hoseok,” you look up at him, “please.”

“You’re not…it’s not…fuck,” he whispers.

“Just tell me about when we met, it shouldn’t be complicated,” you give him an assuring warm smile.

He bites his bottom lip, let’s out a long sigh, then grabs your hand in his as you both lay back, he pulls you in close.

“When we met, the first time, I fell in love with you the very first time I spoke to you…”

Kingdom of East Anglia, 9th Century

He’d seen you before, the beautiful girl from the barley fields. He’d spent several afternoons listening to your songs. He was soothed by the melodies you hummed because you thought no one was near. It reminded him of the songs his mother used to sing while she also worked, when he was a small boy, before he was chosen to drink from the spring on his 28th year.

He watched as you walked through the dense forest. He gathered you needed some relief from the heat, the thick of the woods providing an air that was significantly cooler. He’d never seen you this close, and he watched cautiously as you dabbed at the perspiration on your face and neck with the sheer veil that adorned your head, fastened with a pretty band. He wished so badly to just speak to you, to know you.

It’s not that he was explicitly forbidden from conversing with the mortals, he and Ethelred had spoken to plenty on their travels. God knows Ethelred, familiarizes himself with plenty local women when they stay somewhere a while.

What he is forbidden from doing is revealing himself as immortal, interfering the humans in their business, telling them about the poisons that endanger their worlds - the things that the Elder Court keeps hidden.

“Oh!”

Hoseok refocuses at the sound of your voice. He watches, an alarm growing in his chest as you retrieve your basket to pluck the medium sized, midnight-blue berries from the bush you had just stumbled upon.

You couldn’t know it, but the berries were poisoned. It’s The Venome poisoning this forest, breaching the roots of the greens and contaminating the life out of healthy vegetation. It’s happening all over the world, and Hoseok is tasked to stop it. He’d been searching the woods high and low trying to find the source.

He bit down on his lip as he watched you make the biggest mistake. Those berries would kill anyone who tasted them before they could swallow it down.

It’s not until you pluck one particularly juicy looking berry off the bush, and begin to bring it to your soft lips that he chooses to disregard every rule he’d been given.

“STOP! Don’t eat it!” he yells, holding a hand up. He couldn’t explain why, but the thought of existing in a world you no longer lived was unbearable.

You opened your mouth to scream but Hoseok clamped his palm over it faster.

“Please don’t scream, I mean you no harm, I swear by my life I mean you no harm!”

Your hands wrapped frantically around his wrist to tug his hand away.

“Are you going to make a ruckus because if you are I’m not letting you go, in fact I’m quite happy to remain like this forever,” he teases.

“Erenmtgrmm.”

“Hmm, I did not quite get that,” he laughs. “I think I’ll free you but please don’t scream…or run away.”

You nod in agreement and slowly he removes his hand from your lips.

You’d never seen anything like him before. Everything from the way he dressed to the way his skin looked kissed by the sunlight. His differences scared you, and yet, you couldn’t look away or wish yourself to be anywhere else.

“Do not be frightened,” he says warmly.

“I am unafraid,” you lie, stiffening your stature and looking him directly in his dark eyes, a solution your father taught you for facing fears.

“I’ve seen you,” he says, “in the fields. What’s your name?”

“Odd,” you cross your arms, “I’ve never laid eyes upon you. Perhaps you should introduce yourself to begin with.”

He smiles broadly, a gesture that immediately puts you at ease as you had never seen such a beautiful smile.

“Of course my lady,” he bows before you dramatically. “My name is Hoseok, and I hail from Baekje, in the Far East, and I’m very happy to know you,” he looks back up with warmth and something deep within you stirs.

“My name is ___, and I hail from the Kingdom you stand in, and I’m not sure if I’m happy to know you yet or not,” you tease playfully. “Why have you come so far away from your people?”

At this, Hoseok falters. Ethelred will be most unhappy with him for this. He departed to assist in an urgent matter for the Elder Court, only to be gone for one lunar cycle. He’s due back any day.

“I - I am just traveling the world,” he explains.

“Oh, that sounds like the most exciting adventure. I’ve never left the village I grew up in, what is it like? To see so many places?” you ask curiously.

“It’s interesting,” he laughs, “To see how different the people are, how different the laws and villages are, the different customs, stories - then to look a bit closer and see there’s really not many differences at all.”

“Surely there are some?”

Hoseok shakes his head, “Not truly. We all just want health and happiness, wealth drives us, love intrigues us,” he looks at you slyly, “though I will admit that I’ve never encountered quite as beautiful a maiden as you.”

“You have some bravery,” you scoff, though you secretly admit that you’ve never been so enthralled. “If someone walked into this forest right now and saw me speaking to you alone…” you trail off, cautiously glancing at the break of trees behind you.

“What would happen?” he asks with an arrogant smirk.

“I’d be whipped, ruined, and forced into the altar room for God only knows how long and you…well, I imagine you’d end up hanging from a rope.”

“Ruined?” Hoseok prods, he could not care less about the thought of himself hanged. It would not bother him in the slightest, he’d wake up the next day with a sore neck perhaps.

“My reputation of course, no man will want me if I’m known to wander through woods alone with other strange men!”

“I’m not strange,” he refutes, “and I can’t imagine you’ll have a problem finding a match. Your beauty is unparalleled.”

“It isn’t, but thank you for saying so,” you sigh, “A much bigger issue is my lack of wealth. My father studies the skies, not a high stationed occupation, not even as much as a farmer or a merchant. I work in these fields to earn what his salary can’t afford,” you explain.

“You shouldn’t disparage your father,” Hoseok says darkly, his own yearning for his mother and father, his sisters and brother bubbling in his heart. They’ve long been gone now and his heart aches for them.

“I do not disparage!” you snap, “my father is by far the most intelligent man in our village and I’m proud of him. I only speak the truth plainly because I do not dwell within a fantasy of what my life truly is.”

Hoseok smiles at your defense, most women just stay silent, staring at the ground. He likes you more with every passing moment.

“You are a feisty one, do you suppose a bigger issue in your ability to match might be that sharp tongue of yours?”

You sigh and nod, “Quite possibly, yes.”

Hoseok laughs and it’s such a lightness that you can’t help but join him.

“What about you, then? A man your age and as fit should be married, where is your wife? Somewhere jumping at strangers for eating berries also?”

“A life of travel doesn’t suit marriage so I have no wife, and those berries would have you lain on the forest floor dead, so you should be thanking me,” he explains.

“Dead? I don’t think so, these berries have always grown on the skirt of the forest, never this big, but we’ve eaten them as long as I can remember and beyond. Someone who hails from the Far East wouldn’t know, would he?” you challenge.

“They’ve been poisoned,” he explains, “do not eat them, I beg you.”

“Fine,” you sigh, still not believing him, “for a stranger you seem to care very much for my well-being.”

“I do care,” he admits.

“Because you find me beautiful? How perfectly shallow,” you tease him.

“I do, I also like your wit, now that I’ve been introduced to it. Also I find your working songs to be pleasant and soothing. I wish I could listen to them forever.”

“I wasn’t aware anyone was listening,” you squeak, heating with embarrassment.

“Don’t look so alarmed, I love your voice, the way it sounds. On windy days it carries through the wind, whispers through the trees to me.”

“Are you a romantic? You sound as much like one as I’ve ever heard.”

“Only with you,” he smiles.

“You don’t know me.”

“Let me know you then,” he reaches his hand out to brush a bit of dust off your cheek. The gesture is obscene, truly, and you ought to slap him for being so forward. Instead you do something equally obscene and lay your palm over his hand.

“Are you a demon? Trying to tempt and charm me?” you wonder.

“Not a demon, no, of that I’m sure, but I can’t reasonably describe what I am to you,” he admits.

“An angel cast down then? Not pure enough to stay in heaven but too beautiful to burn in hell?”

“No, I’m not an angel either. I’m…between.”

“But not human?” you question nervously.

“I once was.”

“Y/N!?”

The both of you twist toward the voice calling your name, your heart nearly thumps out of your chest.

“It’s the woman I work for. I have to go.”

“Tomorrow then? Can I see you tomorrow? Right here?” he begs.

You nod, opening the pouch that hangs from your belt. You retrieve a blue bead you’d been meaning to add to your necklace but hand it to him instead as a token, “Tomorrow, I want to know everything.”

“Y/N!?”

“I’m coming,” you yell, you turn to tell him to depart, lest you be seen alone with him but he’s gone.

“What are you doing in there?”

You clear your throat as you come out into the clearing, holding an empty basket, “I needed to cool down, felt dizzy.”

“Aye, bring the handcart in, I got your supper ready to take to your father.”

“Yes’m.”

⏳⏳⏳⏳

It’s the horrific screaming that wakes you, and nearly the entire village, out of sleep that night. The lot of you run outdoors toward the wails until you stop dead in your tracks.

“Egric! My boy!”

Laid on the ground in front of their family home is Egric, a boy you’ve grown up with in the village, dead. The frantic screams belong to his mother who continues to scream for help though there is nothing that could help him now. That much is certain judging by his blackened lips and bleeding ears. It’s the most grotesque way you’ve ever seen someone die.

The entire village stands in shock at how such a healthy man as Egric had come to this. Your eyes fall onto the basket near his hand, spilled over into the darkness out of the sight of others. The same midnight-blue berries you’d eyed earlier rolled out onto the ground around him. Hoseok had been correct in his assumptions after all, and you shiver thinking of how close you’d been to the same fate.

“The berries!” you say louder than you mean to, “It’s the berries!” you point at the ground near Egric, pointing at the round balls strewn about.

Egrics father, bewildered, picks one up to inspect, “These are the wild berries we’ve eaten for years,” he shrugs tearfully. As if to prove his point he brings the berry to his lips and you lunge for him.

“No! Do not eat them!” you scream, slapping them from his hand.

“Y/N!” your father pushes through and pulls you away from the terrified man. “What causes you to believe they’re spoiled?”

…Because Hoseok the Angel nor Demon says they are poison now…

“Earlier I took shelter from the heat in the forest, I saw a similar wild berry bush in the wood but upon coming closer I saw dead animals on the ground under it, I knew something was wrong with the fruit,” you lie.

This seems to appease the crowd, who now murmur amongst themselves in frightened frenzy. Tossing all kinds of berries into the fire pits. Egrics father tosses the murderous berries into a nearby fire as well.

“Call for the priest, God rest his soul,” your father says solemnly, then pulls you away from the crowd.

“Dead animals beneath a berry bush?” your father questions when you’re safely inside your own home.

“Yes.”

“Seems odd, they all died so suddenly. A poison berry is more like to ferment in the belly, days of agonizing gut pain before the mercy of death.”

“It’s what I saw, then seeing the same berries in Egrics basket. It cannot be coincidence,” you continue to lie.

“Suppose it isn’t. Get to bed then, and stay out of the forest tomorrow mind you.”

“Yes papa.”

⏳⏳⏳⏳

The old shrew you farm for takes what feels like ages to leave you to your work in the fields the next day. The topic of Egrics death on everyone’s lips. You hope to see Hoseok again, because the village will mourn Egric the next two days, burying him on the third. The entire village will cease work and study. You won’t be able to get to the forest. You won’t be able to relish in how beautiful and exotic he is.

Finally she departs and you strategically work for the longer hour so as not to be suspicious. When you’re sure she isn’t watching you and that you’re alone, you wander into the wood again.

“Hoseok?” you whisper when you come upon the same bush as the previous day.

“Y/N!” Hoseoks voice is laced with concern as you feel his hands draw you into him. You startle, but ease into his embrace within seconds. Propriety be damned.

“I heard the villagers screaming last night, I had to wait until the village was quiet to sneak into the borders but I could not find your dwelling,” he explains frantically.

“It was Egric,” you sniff, “you were right about the berries. He ate them, and now he’s dead.”

“When my elder returns we’ll eliminate the danger, then you won’t have to be burdened by it. I swear you’ll be safe.”

“Where did this poison come from? Where did you come from? What are you?” you fire off the questions that have been weighing on your heart since seeing Egrics lifeless body.

“I told you I’m from Baekje, and the poison comes from deep within the ground. We aren’t sure what brings it to the surface but we notice it’s prevalence in areas where people settle. It’s almost as if it’s trying to control the population,” he says.

Fine, it feels like nonsense, but it isn’t the question you’re most curious over so you accept the answer.

“And what you are?”

Hoseok sighs, leaning against a tree. “I’m a human Y/N. I just can’t die.”

You blink, “Everyone dies, that’s the way of things.”

Hoseok shakes his head, “Not me. In my 28th year I was selected to drink from the springs in the heart of the Baekje mountains. I’d heard legends my whole life about the magic they possessed, but they were childrens stories. That’s all. As I grew into an adult, the battles between the Three Kingdoms raged and brought devastation to nearly every village, including mine. The Elder Court sought me out after my family was slaughtered, and they led me to the springs, but that was the year 590,” he looks out into the distance. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“That would mean you’re nearly into a third century of life,” you challenge.

“I didn’t even realize anything about me had changed until years started turning into decades, decades into a century and I never altered. Never aged. Never became ill,” he looks at you, still unbelieving.

Hoseok unsheathes his blade and opens his palm to you, dragging the edge of it across his own flesh. You watch, horrified, as the blood pools and trickles off his hand onto the ground. Yet when he rips a piece of his linen shirt and wipes the blood away, no cut remains.

“This is unnatural,” you shake your head as you back away from him.

“Yes, but yet you remain. You’re special, I knew it from the moment I saw you. You’re unafraid of the unnatural, you won’t turn me in, you’ll keep my secret because you’re kind and curious - and because you feel the same pull between us that I do, don’t you?”

“I…” you do feel it, but your stubbornness is too strong. “I don’t know you, I only just met you-,”

You’re about to begin a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t be anywhere near him but his arms wrap around you and he brushes his lips across yours softly.

“How dare you…” you whisper, your voice so soft and your protest weak.

“How dare I,” he grins, pressing his mouth to yours again, and again. It sets your skin alight, and you feel it everywhere. Hoseok feels it too and has no intention of stopping.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

The days pass, with you and Hoseok always meeting in the forest after your work is completed. You lay together on the mossy ground talking about your drastically different lives. Your hands are always touching, with frequent pause in conversation for kisses.

Ethelred never returns, despite Hoseok having hunted and eliminated The Venome completely by himself, for the first time. He worries about his elder, yet is grateful for the extra time. Three lunar cycles have passed, and he’s spent them with you. It also gives him confidence that he can be on his own, which will make you easier to conceal.

“Will we marry?” you wonder aloud one humid afternoon.

“We will, there are things I need to figure out first though,” he kisses your temple.

“What things?”

“How to make you like me. How to keep you forever,” he answers.

“I don’t want to be like you,” you sigh lazily.

“What?”

“I don’t want to live forever, I just want to love you as long as I can with the time I’m given,” you reply.

“You don’t understand, I have to remain hidden, my kind can’t be found out. I wouldn’t be able to publicly love you unless you too were like me, hidden from the mortals.”

“That sounds lonely,” you roll into him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“It has been, until I met you,” he smiles, “you’ll age and I won’t, you’ll get sick while I remain healthy, you’ll-,”

“I’ll die?” you finish for him, “As I’m meant to.”

“I can’t exist in a world where you no longer live,” he admits, a heavy feeling in his throat at the thought.

“Nonsense. You’ve lived many lifetimes in which I did not exist,” you refute. “I’ll hide with you, but only as I am. I don’t need immortality, I only need you.”

Hoseok wants to convince you but he forgets his words when your lips dust the side of his neck.

“I love you,” he says, “More than I’ve loved anything, I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you.”

You chuckle, a hint of sadness there, “You say that now, but when I’m long gone you’ll find another woman to love.”

“Never. I’ll keep loving you until the sun falls out of the sky,” he promises.

“It’s getting late,” you notice after mention of the sun, “I should go,” you say, kissing him once more. “Tomorrow?”

Hoseok nods, “I will be here.”

Except, he wouldn’t be.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

Hoseok wakes in the middle of the night with a meaty hand clamped over his mouth and the weight of Ethelreds upper body on his chest.

“Quiet, I have only a few seconds to get this out, three members of the court are travelling to our campsite,” he whispers frantically and Hoseoks eyes widen. “I’ve been watching your progress in secret, how you handled the Venome and I know about the girl. I know you told her about our immortality, that was a mistake on your part lad, but they don’t know about it. Not yet.”

Hoseok twists and writhes but Ethelred persists.

“Stop, stop fighting, they draw near and I’m running out of time,” he shushes the younger man. “I won’t tell them about her, I won’t tell them you revealed our deepest secrets - they’d go find her. They would kill her and anyone she’s ever spoken to. They expect us to leave with them, there’s an urgent situation in the Southern forests, that’s why they’re here. Let’s be sure that’s all they know.”

Hoseok pushes him off, “I cannot leave! Not without Y/N!”

Ethelred grabs his shoulders roughly, “You do not have a choice! If you don’t want her dead you walk away with us tonight and act as if you never met her. Then hope we can settle the South quickly and you might see her again one day. Don’t be a fool!” he hisses.

Hoseok doesn’t get a chance to respond, run, or do anything as three Elders descend upon the campsite.

To protect you, Hoseok stays silent as they all pack up and make the grounds look as though they were never there. Tears silently sliding off his face as he tries desperately to stifle his cries.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

Five years pass before Hoseok can safely and confidently travel alone back through the valley where your village lies. His only hope is that you’ve not been married off.

However when he finds himself standing in the charred ashes of where your village once stood, nerves prickling across his body - panic sets in.

It begins as a brisk walk, but when he’s traveled nearly to the next village without a single sign that your people have settled elsewhere, he breaks into a run.

He runs for miles in nearly every direction before he comes across another human being. A small boy lounging in a clearing as he watches his flock.

When the boy finally sees Hoseok it’s too late for him to run. Hoseok grabs him up by the shirt.

“The village East of here, what happened?” he demands in the darkest voice he can muster. The boy silently stares in terror until Hoseok pulls his blade out.

“The Vikings sir, they burnt it to the ground, others too. They’ve murdered thousands,” the boy trembles.

The Danes. Hoseoks heard of their pillaging in quest for land and power.

“The villagers then, where did they go?” he presses.

The boy just stares at him, fear in his eyes.

“I said where did they settle?” he shakes the small boy who begins to weep.

“They did not! There were no survivors m’Lord. The Vikings forced the able-bodied men to their armies, the rest were murdered and the bodies burned!”

“What of the women and children, what of them?” Hoseok chokes.

The boys lower lip trembles, “There were no survivors m’Lord.”

Hoseok releases the boy with a thud as the world spins around him. The boy fights the urge to run and instead elects to share just one more piece of information.

“After the Vikings left, my people carried the remains of those that were slain to the barrow a few hilltops over to give them a true burial. We marked the grave with a large stone, it’s just that way,” he points, “I’m sorry sir.”

Hoseok stands for minutes, hours perhaps, before he begins to wander to the burial site. He finds it easy enough, he brushes his fingers over the stone - the emblem of your people carved sloppily into the abrasive surface.

He chokes out a sob, digging his fingers into the soft, cold ground. He curls into a ball at the base of the stone as he sobs, crying out your name over and over in an agonizing apology. He thought he had time. He thought he’d be able to make you understand why he did what he did that night - he knew you’d hate him for it - he’d been prepared to spend the rest of your life seeking your forgiveness. He never expected your life to already be over. He should have been there to protect you, should’ve never left in the first place.

Now it was too late.

The Present - Portland, ME

You sit still and quiet for several minutes waiting for him to laugh. He doesn’t. In fact you’ve never seen someone look more serious in your life. His eyes are even filled with tears, as if he’s reliving the details of his delusion. You stare at him a few more seconds, then you press your lips together in a tight line as you silently get up, putting your clothes back on.

Oh fuck. Fuck! You just had sex with him. He’s delusional. Of course he is, of course you’d fuck the delusional hot guy on a first fucking date. FUCK!

“I know it’s hard to believe-,” he starts and you let out a cackle. Better to laugh than cry, you think bitterly.

“Yeah, Hoseok, it really is,” you continue to crack. “You’re insane! That’s just…fucking perfect. I fucked a lunatic. Love that for me.”

You shimmy your boots back on and grab your coat.

“Y/N…please! Baby…” he reaches out to you but you jerk away.

“Don’t! Don’t call me baby and don’t touch me,” you snap. “I don’t know what’s crazier Hoseok,” you cross your arms over your chest angrily, “the fact that you made up a story that takes place in fucking midevil times in which I fucking die at the end - or - OR the fact that you seem to fucking believe it!”

“Y/N, please!” he calls out, “let me show you…” he fumbles into the closet pulling out boxes frantically.

“Don’t bother! I don’t want to see anything you have Hoseok. Lose my number, forget we ever met, okay?” your lower lip trembles as you ascend the steps to the deck - you can hear him dressing himself, still tangled up in the sheets you’d made love in earlier. You shudder, disgusted with yourself.

You should’ve listened to Tess. The fact that he “knew” you? Ugh. Red. Fucking. Flag. You knew better than that.

You practically break into a run for your car, then fly out of the lot before he can catch up to you. Your phone begins to ring almost immediately but you silence it. When you come to a stop at the first traffic light you pick it up and hit ‘Block’ before tossing it back into the passenger seat.

You slam through the front door to your apartment, stomping up the steps to your room.

“Y/N? How’d it go?” Tess calls, unsurprisingly still sitting on the couch with her headset on, controller in hand.

“Don’t want to talk about it!” you yell back, voice finally cracking.

You shouldn’t be surprised when Tess barrels up the stairs and follows you into your room but you huff out a frustrated sigh anyways.

“Hey, whoa,” she stops when she sees the embarrassed tears in your eyes, “Are you okay? What did he do? I’ll call the cops, I swear to God if he touched you…” she growls.

“Don’t bother,” you laugh dryly, “nothing happened Tess.” Well - that’s a lie. However, you can - unfortunately - say that nothing happened that you didn’t happily reciprocate.

“Then why are you crying?”

“You were right,” you sigh, “he’s just…not what I thought he would be.”

Tess goes quiet for a few minutes as you flit around gathering up pajamas.

“I can run out and get booze, we can get drunk and watch all three Lord of the Rings…I’ll do my impressions and everything,” she offers. You smile a bit but shake your head.

“I just want to get in the shower, then go to bed and pretend like I’m not a fucking loser, okay? We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Tess nods and quietly shuts your bedroom door. When you hear the bottom stair creak, signaling she’s back downstairs, you allow yourself to cry.

You had such an unbelievably good feeling about him. You felt so drawn into him, so safe, so at ease. The sex…good God. The sex was emotional and attached and passionate and your insides clench up just thinking about how hot it felt, how bad you wanted it. How stupid can you be?

Very, it turns out, very stupid indeed.

⏳⏳⏳⏳

When you wake, sitting straight up in bed, the clock reads 3:55AM. You remember getting into bed, though you don’t remember falling asleep. The entire world feels as if it’s in slow motion and fuzzy.

Had you even been asleep? You must have been. That’s the only way to explain the lapse in time. You don’t remember dreaming. Don’t know why you’re dripping in sweat. Can’t explain why your heart is racing.

The only thing you do know, the only thing you can think about, is Hoseoks story. Except…it’s not his version of the story that’s playing in your mind right now. It’s your version. You remember everything. How you felt when you met him in the forest that first day, how it felt watching Egrics body laying on the ground. The way your heart broke, turning you into a desolate shell when you realized Hoseok had abandoned you - and everything else that happened in between his absence and the Vikings that burnt your village to the ground. You shudder at the memory, feeling sick.

But you remember much more than that. Like how, in the year 1327, a man approached you while you dried laundry on your familys farm. How he told you he’d seen you in the village, thought you were someone else - someone he used to know and how you fell in love with him almost instantly. In fact you remember every lifetime you’d spent with Jung Hoseok.

You sit, shaking in the bed, as your chest heaves with the weight of all these memories. Your memories with him.

Hoseok.

Like lightning, you throw the blankets off of you, slide into your slippers, and grab your purse as you fly out the door.

You should be grateful that there seem to be zero police out as you speed down the highway, paying very little attention to traffic lights or stop signs. Your tires squeal from slamming the brakes as you pull into the parking lot of the docks, and you don’t even shut the drivers door as you sprint down the wooden walk. Halfway down you lose your shoes, but you still don’t stop, just kick them all the way off so you can keep running. Tears are streaming down your face and you can’t be sure if it’s because of the cold wind whipping your face, or the fact that you’re about to see the love of your existence.

Hoseok sits on the deck of Wendy in the chilly mist, a pint of whiskey in his hand that he’s been sipping on for hours. He hears your steps, of course, and stands on alert as you skid to a halt, your lungs burning, a few feet from his boat - your boat. Of all the names you ever had, you hate that one the most, you think.

“Hobi…” his nickname comes out in a sob.

His own eyes swell with tears as a broad smile spreads across his face, “Oh my love, there you are.”

You leap over the side of the boat and he catches you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry!” you continue to sob into his shoulder as he holds you close.

“Shhh, shhh. We’re together now, that’s all that matters,” he soothes.

“I love you,” you pull his face to yours, unbothered by how cold and wet from tears it is.

“I love you too, so much, until the sun falls out of the sky,” he smiles.

Folly Beach, SC - 2032

The sun feels magnificent on your skin as you and Hobi sit on the pier, listening to the ocean hitting the shore, lapping at the wooden beams.

You had been sailing the East Coast, and stopped here for a few days due to a predicted storm. Right now however, it was crystal clear.

“It’s quiet here, compared to some of the other beaches,” you comment, sipping a fruity drink as Hoseok maps out the rest of your route.

“Mmm. I like it, probably busy in the Summer. Seems perfect right now though,” he agrees.

“We should buy a beach house,” you sigh, tilting your face up to the warm sun.

“Would you like that? I wouldn’t mind, you know I love the water,” he nods.

“Which beach though? They can be so busy, noisy,” you reason out loud.

“Let’s buy our own,” he shrugs, marking a point of interest on his atlas.

You laugh, “Why not? How about a private island even?” you tease.

“That could be fun.”

“I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” he looks at you devilishly, “that way we can’t bother any neighbors when you scream my name.”

“Mm, call it the exhibitionist in me but, I kind of enjoy the thought of people hearing,” you place your hand on his thigh beneath the table you’re sitting at, “Want to know a secret?”

Hobi licks his lips as he nods.

You lean close to his ear, “I’m not wearing anything under this sundress.”

“Get up,” Hoseok commands. Quickly ushering you down the pier.

“I thought we were going to get an ice cream?” you half-whine.

“Only if I can let it drip onto that tight fucking pu-,”

“Hoseok!” you scold him with a laugh.

“…then lick it out,” he finishes, closer to your ear.

“Are we going back to the boat then?”

“Mmhmm.”

⏳⏳⏳⏳

You look over the top of the book you’re reading at Hoseok, who’s leaving a wet trail of kisses up the inside of your thigh.

“Again?”

“It’s your fault,” he mumbles against the fleshiest bit of your thigh, “you decided not to put your clothes back on.”

You drop the book with a chuckle, “How dare I.”

You listen to the thunder roll, the rain hitting the deck above you as Hobi licks your cunt with the tip of his tongue.

You bury your hands in his hair, bucking up to his mouth a bit, however, instead of pulling him into your slit further, you gently tug him up.

“Fuck me,” you request - and Hoseok never denies you.

You flip onto your stomach, lifting your backside and gently laying your face against the mattress.

Hoseok bites his lip as he positions himself behind you, grabbing a handful of your ass in each palm.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, hm?��

“Idunno,” you grin, “slap it.”

His palm comes down fast and strikes your backside. You suck in a breath as his fingers dip down and rub your clit.

“Ready?” he asks and you nod frantically.

When you’d returned from the pier earlier that afternoon, the sex had been slower, peaceful even. This time, with the rocking vessel and raging storm outside, Hoseok fucks into you relentlessly. His steady hips are sharp, quick, and frantic as he grips your sides so he can pull himself flush into your pussy.

You groan with every thrust, fisting the soft pillows roughly. He continues, occasionally smacking his palm on the fullness of your ass.

“I’m close, just a little faster, please,” you cry.

“Come for me, my pretty little whore, let me feel it,” he growls.

“Oh god…” you push against him as your legs stiffen, your cunt contracts rhythmically around his length.

“Good girl,” he gasps, his own orgasm peaking as well.

You both collapse on the bed, panting. He recovers quickly enough, and although it rarely crosses your mind at present - the pressing fact at the back of your mind surfaces as he springs up effortlessly.

“What?” he asks at your intent stare as he shimmies back into his underwear.

“Will you still want to call me your pretty little whore when I’m old?”

“Oh hush,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ll want you always. You know this.”

“I won’t always look like this, I’ve already passed you in age.”

“Uh, I was born in the 6th century. I’m older than almost everything that exists my love,” he laughs.

“Yes, but you won’t ever look older than 28, you lucky thing,” you chuckle but it does make you feel embarrassed. What will people think when your twenty-eight year old husband is pushing your wheelchair around?

“Hey, what do we always say? Don’t worry about the future, we’ll figure it out. Just worry about today,” he leans down and kisses you tenderly. “Worry about what you’ll feed me for supper, I’m hungry,” he pouts his lower lip out and you can’t help but crack up.

“I think we can scrounge something up in here. I’m not going out in this weather,” you tell him, “Let’s do lunch tomorrow at that little bistro in the plaza near the pier. It smelled delicious when we walked by earlier.”

“Anything you want, baby.”

⏳⏳⏳⏳

The next day at lunch you sit, bellies full, enjoying the cooler temperature the storm left in its wake.

“I think we could spend a few more days here, then sail out on Friday. Looks like perfect conditions,” Hobi looks up at you from his phone.

“Sounds good to me.”

Hoseok is about to add something when two men across the Plaza start belligerently yelling at one another. You purse your lips as they shove each other around, screaming profanities, and grabbing the attention of other diners and shoppers.

Hoseok rolls his eyes, “Classy.”

“Gotta love the South,” you laugh.

Hoseok smirks as he tosses more than enough cash on the table, so you don’t have to wait for the waiter to return to get the hell out of there.

Suddenly, several people start screaming as one of the men draws a handgun from the back of his jeans.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim.

“Get your bag, hurry,” Hoseok shields you as you both try to escape the plaza, the fight escalating past just two stupid rednecks now.

When the gun goes off, Hoseok pushes you to the ground, throwing himself on top of you. People start screaming louder and running in all directions. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the two men disperse, probably knowing law enforcement will now be showing up.

He rolls off you, about to stand when he feels the front of his shirt soaked. He looks down and a magnificently red stain causes the fabric to stick to his stomach.

“Hobi…” your voice is barely a squeak as his mind catches up to the moment, and he watches as a similar red strain grows across your own clothes, pooling beneath you as your body shakes.

“Oh God, Y/N,” Hoseok chokes. He lifts your shirt but there’s so much blood he can’t pin point where the bullet hit. No, not again, please not again.

“Hoseok…” your voice is laced with fear now.

“Shh, Y/N, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay baby,” he pushes his forehead against yours, “It’s going to be okay.”

You nod, tears pooling and slipping down the sides of your face into your hair line.

“Help! Someone help us!” Hoseok screams into the crowd. “Please!”

You sputter beneath him, and he presses his hand into what he hopes is your wound, to stop the bleeding.

“I’m so sleepy,” you slur, eyes rolling back into your lids as they flutter shut.

“No! No, no, no! HELP ME!” he screams again, “Baby, please, please don’t close your eyes. Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Y/N, don’t leave me again, please,” he begs through the sobbing.

“Someone help me!” he yells louder, his body heaves with wails as he feels the life drain from you, his hand is soaked in blood trying to keep you with him.

Suddenly the world around him goes silent, and he looks up to see it totally still. No one moving, no one talking, everything only looks frozen. He blinks rapidly, completely sure he’s now hallucinating - God, he hopes he is and this is all a nightmare.

“Jung Hoseok,” a voice manifests behind him and he swivels around, hands refusing to leave your pale, lifeless body.

He blinks a few times, he’s not sure what he’s looking at, or maybe who? It’s not a man, or a woman – not a creature he’s ever seen. Yet it’s beautiful, hauntingly so, and it makes him uneasy and uncomfortable.

“Who are you?”

“Different people call me different names, it doesn’t matter though, who I am. That is not as important as who you are,” it says, it’s voice sounds like different wind chimes all blowing around at once. It then looks down at your corpse, “It is not as important as who she is.”

“Can you help her? Please?” he begs.

“I can,” it replies, “I can fix her, like this never happened. I can make it so.”

“Then please, please do it, I’m begging you,” he cries.

“I’ll need your help,” it goes on.

“Anything, I’ll do anything,” he says without hesitation.

“If I erase this moment, then I erase the last several years too. I make it so she never knows you, and you must agree to stay away from her in this lifetime, and in every lifetime after,” it explains softly.

A new wave of tears fall from his eyes as he chokes out a sob. He places his bloody hand over yours.

“I can’t,” he cries, “I love her.”

“Then look at her Hoseok,” it gestures to your body, and he flinches, “Look at your love and know that every time you enter her life, you cut it short, you cause this.”

“No,” he sobs, shutting his eyes tight, his head shaking back and forth.

“Did you know that she’s so very special? Did you know that I’ve seen every life she’s ever lived and every life she ever will live and I know, for a fact, that she is always meant to live a long, happy life?” it asks and Hoseok looks up into its eyes. “The only time she doesn’t is when you intervene.”

Hoseok rests his head on yours, his body heaving with sobs.

“If you truly love her, then you need to stay away from her so she can live the lives she was meant to.”

“How do I know you’re not just lying to keep me away from her?” he demands.

“You’re an immortal Hoseok, you can check in on her anytime and see for yourself – as long as you keep your distance from her.”

“Why?” he sobs, “Why can’t we just be together?” he demands cruelly.

“Nature requires balance Hoseok, and your existence already upsets that balance,” it looks back down to you, “but her existence - while unique - does not upset it. You placing yourself in her life repeatedly, lifetime after lifetime, rips holes into natures balance and I can no longer allow it.”

“So you are from the Elder Court?” he accuses.

It shakes its head, “No. I’m much older than the Elder Court could ever dream to be, and I do not answer to them. I’m time Hoseok, that’s the simplest way I can put it. I am the past, present and future - and I am trying to save her.”

Hoseok looks down at you, dead on the ground, surrounded by your own blood. Your eyes are lightless, looking at nothing, yet somehow they bare into his very soul.

You never deserved this and he never deserved anything as good as you more than once. He knows what has to be done. He kneels over and kisses your cheek, already growing colder, and a new wave of tears spill down his face onto yours.

He finally nods, “Alright. I’ll let her go,” he promises, though he can barely get the words out between painful cries.

The creature stands up and Hoseok follows.

“Come,” it extends its hand to him and the moment he touches it, he’s blinded by white light. Simultaneously, a sharp pain immobilizes him, and it is more excruciating than any pain he’s ever felt, he wonders if he’s finally dying.

The Present - Portland, ME

“Did you need a place to sit?” you ask the handsome man holding a coffee in his hand, standing over your table. He seems so familiar…

Hoseok looks around the crowded café bewildered, then back down at you. The creature is nowhere to be seen. His clothes are different, there’s no blood anywhere. Also, you’re alive. You look as beautiful as ever as you smile politely up at him. Everything is the same as it was that first day you met him in the café. Except…He looks at the plastic lidded cup in his hand and smiles sadly, his eyes stinging with wet tears.

“No,” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, “No thank you. I got mine to go,” he holds up the plastic cup. The only difference from that day, a subtle change in cups, but a clear message from the creature who called itself Time.

“Oh, alright, well,” you smile awkwardly, “Have a good day then.”

“You too,” he forces a smile, “Have a wonderful day.”

He turns towards the exit and adds, under his breath to be sure you can’t hear, “goodbye, my love.”

T H E E N D

Endnotes:

(1) I’ve been writing this story for a long time. When I finally ended it - I had no clue what to do with it, so I made this account so I could start anonymously posting fanfiction. That’s why my Tumblr is empty, save for this. More to come, I hope lol.

(2) This story was inspired by: this YouTube Video (seriously their content is so neat); a bit of 11/22/63 by Stephen King; a little bit of A Great & Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray; tons of odd and outlandish theories about immortality and soulmates I’ve heard through the years.

(3) Title board was created by me using design apps I have on my phone, and images I found online that were usable under Title 17.1.107 of US Code.

#JHope #JHope fanfic #Jung Hoseok #Hobi #hobi x reader #romance #hoseok x reader #BTS fanfiction #BTS smut #bts romance #BTS fanfic #In Lifetimes Before

[procrastination-queenie]

boyfriend-jungkook things.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: fluff rating: g word count: - tags/warnings: a list compiled of all the fluffy things i’ve made up about jk and forced upon my bestie while she was out here visiting me (and more…)

a/n: for @btsroyalwilds​, thanks for spending the last three weeks with me. i’m going to pretend i’m not sad about you leaving. can’t wait ‘til we can sing our lungs out at a bts concert together one day~

- he would have a folder on his phone named, ‘pics my baby took,’ & they would be candid pics you’ve taken of jungkook when he was either sleeping or not paying attention that you sent to him later

- make a highlights reel on ig just for you and it would have a ♥︎ for its title

- he would pull you by the strings of your hoodie to bring you to him just so he can kiss you or hug you (giggling while he was doing it)

Keep reading

[procrastination-queenie]

Fahrenheit 451 - FANCAST

A short one. I basically inhaled this book; Bradbury’s a master.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

- GUY MONTAG -

- CAPTAIN BEATTY -

- MILDRED -

- CLARISSE -

- FABER -

- GRANGER -

[procrastination-queenie]

A.N.G.E.L 😍💖✨

hello yes all i would like to do is talk about these pictures thanks

[procrastination-queenie]

*sighs lovingly with heart eyes* 😍😍😍😍😍

mr. handsome is so cute

#bts #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook

[procrastination-queenie]

🥺 [trans cr. doolsetbangtan, ryuminating]

[procrastination-queenie]

Bunny-like Nose 🐰

This is a drabble for the love of Jungkookie's nose. 💕

Pairing: Jungkook x fem. Reader

Warning: none.

Genre: Fluff, kinda comedy?!

A/n: this is super short and not really edited but thanks for reading.

It was a day like any other day you and Jungkook had off. The summer days were getting too hot for you both to go outside for any activities before sunset, so you opted for a lazy day in the comfort of your air-conditioned apartment.

Currently, you were laying on the sofa, head laid in your boyfriend's lap, him watching the t.v and you reading a book. You decided to take a break from reading, to rest your eyes since your doctor has advised you to do so. You closed your eyes for a while after rubbing it gently. Slowly you opened your eyes to fix them on your boyfriend's angelic face only to realise something. Something that painted a big fat smile on your face which made Jungkook notice your current state of staring, making him fidget a little bit.

"what?" He said looking down at you. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Kookie!" You uttered his name swiftly as your hand traced his cheeks softly making him smile at you in admiration. With that look on your face Jungkook expected you to tell him something chessy which by the way he wasn't against, in fact as cheesy as it was, it made his heart beat faster in his ribcage.

"I just realised something," you said still holding his cheek. "What is it, love?" He asked running his fingers through your hair while his other hand adjusted your reading glasses on your face, the ones you two chose together after your visit to the ophthalmologist. His smile never leaving his face as his eyes drank in your smiling face, ...until you said the next words that made his smile fall into a poker face.

"your nose looks big from down here!" You said as you laughed at his seriously? type of look. You doubled over in laughter as his tongue rolled on the side of his cheek, probably thinking of a comeback but couldn't.

And that's how a usual day was for you and your boyfriend who has a bunny-like cute nose; nevertheless, a nose that looks big when looking at it from downwards.

#jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts jk #jk x reader #jk x y/n #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jk imagine #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook fiction #jk fluff #jk aesthetic #jeon jungkook aesthetic #jungkook aesthetic #jeon jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkookie

[procrastination-queenie]

Snaps – jjk

Summary: A tale of you as Jungkook’s assistant while he goes around with a camera strapped to his neck. More accurately, you being annoyed at him treating you like a mini helper and him cheekily taking more than six months to admit he loves you.

Genre/warnings: photographer!Jungkook, assistant/music producer!reader, neighbours au, pure fluff

Word count: 10,359

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Author’s note: This is my very first JK post! I won’t call it a birthday present since I’m publishing it in July. I do have something planned for his actual birthday, so stay tuned. Thank you for reading!

Your ringtone and alarm must have decided to conspire together the night prior since both were screeching at the unconscious depths of your brain to bring you back to reality. Checking the caller ID wasn’t required – there was only one person who would give you such a rude awakening.

“Hel-“

“Snow! Finally! What took you so long?”

“... it’s seven thirty. In the morning. You told me to be up by eight.”

“But I’m hungry,” his whining on the other end was nearly as bad as the alarm, one you shut off with a slam. “I want bean sprout rice with kimchi, galbi and cold cucumber soup. And pork tonkatsu.”

Your face took on the same expression as an emoji with three short lines for its eyes and mouth. “Will that be all?”

“One cappuccino too, please.”

“Alright Jeon, thank you for ordering room service,” sweet sarcasm dripped from your tone like honey, “your food will be delivered shortly.”

Unbeknownst to you, your muffled groan was audible through the speaker, making him chuckle.

***

A white pot of violet orchids perched on the small corner of your designated desk reminded you that your boss wasn’t as annoying as you thought. Jeon Jungkook didn’t buy gifts for you often, or even at all, so to say you were surprised by it six months into your time as an assistant was an understatement.

It confused you from the very beginning as to why a professional photographer had placed a job offer for someone to be his administrative assistant. You had soon discovered the reason after taking a curious peek into his online portfolio and resume – the number of pictures and videos he had taken during his time as a freelancer, all organised under specific categories you might add, starting from before college to various art galleries he had featured at, had made him one of the most sought-after photographers in your small town.

Weddings, parties, galas, magazine covers, news coverage, birthdays, family portraits, Christmas or Halloween... the list was seemingly endless. For someone at the tender age of twenty-two, he had a dream he set out and accomplished, but with the rise to fame came hectic schedules and tight deadlines, which was the entire reason you were there.

Saying “no” to events meant denying himself the source of his rather large income. Jungkook became aware with his increasing popularity that he needed someone to manage his time for him, answer calls for commissions, pen down his arrangements on a planner, freshen up between shoot sessions and made sure he ate three square meals a day. In essence, you felt like weren’t his secretary so much as you were his maid. You just thanked your lucky stars that your uncle’s chef expertise had rubbed off very well on you before you moved out of your home.

A combination of convenience and cooking skills were the main selling point for him to take you in immediately, not the degree you had in music and composition you actually poured your blood, sweat and tears into for four years. “Convenience” referred to the fact that your new apartment sat directly opposite his, yet his still insisted you go over five days a week to keep him, more correctly his kitchen, company.

Metal creaking jolted you out of your thoughts, stare shifting from purple and white petals to the figure gliding past your desk after Jungkook exited his studio, coming to a stop in front of you to shoot his smirk your way.

“Ready to go, snow?”

Your compulsion to roll your eyes at the nickname was overpowered by shoving a planner you used for him into your work bag. The only time you remembered him calling you by your actual name was when you had first met him along the corridor. Winter had overtaken autumn in November, the same month you moved in, snowflakes stuck themselves into your eyelashes and hair, refusing to melt and causing him to call you out for it.

You reviewed his schedule for the day after slipping into his car. Words you’d scribbled in black informed you of the location you were headed for the day; a magazine shoot for three important businessmen, who had gone from creating codes for protecting computers from malware to developing an artificial intelligence personal assistant to help the disabled, particularly those who were illiterate.

“Did you bring everything?” Jungkook spoke over the classical music streaming from his speakers, casting a glance at you briefly.

You peeked into a backpack you always brought along with you. “Water bottle, fan, spare batteries, extra SD card, and–“ you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder “–your tripod’s in the trunk.”

“And my camera?”

“Back seat. Or attached to your neck.”

He chuckled at your bluntness, “You know me too well, snow. How about lunch?”

“Lunch?” The grip you had to hold the book open went slack, thoughts picturing his fridge that you knew could use refilling, “I didn’t have time to cook this morning. You’re almost out of food, by the way.”

“Hm…” four of his fingers drummed in a wave pattern on the wheel, eyes fixated on the road, “then let’s eat out for today. Oh, and we’re going shopping after this, so add that in.”

“Shopping?”

“I’m attending a gala one week from now,” the words had you scanning the calendar for the exact date to write it down, “I need a new suit.”

“If you say so. Where’s the gala going to be held?”

“Luxe Resort.”

The five star hotel’s name would have made anyone else choke on air, but not you. Accompanying him extravagant places were something you had gotten accustomed to in knowledge of his line of work. He could knock on your door with tickets to New York, Milan or Paris and you wouldn’t even blink.

“Got it.”

Sky blue reflecting off the glass panels of the building’s exterior with steel lining the edges greeted you upon stepping out of the outdoor, sheltered carpark. Still, your time to admire the company’s name etched in gold on the glass double doors was cut short in order to pull the backpack and tripod, both of equal weight, over your shoulders, trudging behind him while frowning at the black leather strap he slung around his neck. His camera was the only thing he willingly carried with him.

Entering the reception with his long strides paired with his usual confident swagger caught the attention of the lady behind the counter, and this time you did roll your eyes at the wink he gave her in thanks for confirming the appointment. A fake smile pulled the corners of your lips when he slipped the guest ID lanyard over your head with an affectionate ruffle of your hair.

“There you go, snow. Now follow me.”

Once you reached the studio, you fell into your usual routine – Jungkook shaking hands with the set designer and models, you setting up the tripod where the camera was fitted on top. There were no interactions with anyone except those who approached you first. The models were especially off-limits, as well as those with a higher-up position who visited the set just to monitor the progress.

You positioned yourself in a corner at a distance from the rest of the staff where you didn’t bother them, but close so you could help your boss. This was him in his element, peering through a lens, directing the positions of the models in that polite yet slightly authoritative tone, making requests for adjustments to lighting, searching for the perfect angle and shot size.

Tripod standby came next, the part of the shoot where Jungkook transferred his camera to and fro from the stand to hand-held shots, you adjusting the height according to what he wanted, then pulling it away entirely if he didn’t need it.

It was in the switch from group to solo shots did he need you to be on what you deemed “assistant duties”, because nothing irritated you more than him snapping his fingers at you, a sign he wanted a drink from his water bottle. Gazes of those around you burned the same way your cheeks did watching you wait on him to finish taking a gulp, a second pat on your head prompting someone to murmur behind you Is she his assistant or his girlfriend?

You weren’t sure which was worse.

The end of the shoot came precisely when the hour and minute hands signified one on your watch, everyone thanking each other for their hard work, models clapping Jungkook on the back or shaking his hand as he promised them he could be back the next time they needed him. None, save a mussed-hair stressed intern who gave you a thumbs-up, spared you a glance while you packed up, trailing behind him to the car after depositing the lanyards.

“Where to now?” You sighed at him settling in the driver’s seat, placing the tripod in the backseat carefully.

“Shopping, remember? Seokjin said Jewel Mall sells the best suits.”

Three digit numbers slashed across price tags in bold set alarm bells off in your head, but it was his bank account taking the hit and not yours, so you voiced out, “Okay. You’re the boss.”

***

More concerned stares were thrown your way, this time by the attendants stationed around the suit shop who watched the sole patron place blazers and pants over your outstretched left arm. After six, you lost track of the number, busy hoping your glare burned through his button-down shirt every time he had his back to you.

The fanciful changing rooms gave your feet welcome relief as you sank down into one of the cream couches, all of his choices laid out next to you to be handed to him one by one. Jungkook wasn’t kidding about the whole “personal assistant” deal. You just hadn’t see it coming that it included this, not as you picked at the gold fabric lining the exterior of a throw pillow.

You should have felt out of place in your casual attire – white shirt, light wash jeans, sneakers and clover green jacket – though you learnt three months into the job that the workers cared more about the person with a heavier wallet and sparkling credit cards filling the spaces between them. Piano music streaming through the speakers softly, a song you recognised to be Nocturnes in E Flat Major Op. 9 by Chopin and Rubinstein, relaxed your stature that little bit more into the back rest and had your hands gently tapping on the top of your jean-clad knees to the rhythm.

Till the curtain of Jungkook’s changing room was yanked aside with a dramatic flourish.

The number one reason females you met in his photo shoots stayed was because they were makeup artists, but being in the background, you observe their eyes trailing onto your boss and staying there, whispering to each other behind cupped hands to hide flushed cheeks. Because of one simple fact, a fact your imbecilic heart couldn’t deny since the first day you met him in the corridor.

Jungkook was undeniably more handsome than you gave him credit for. Watching him then, donning a navy blue blazer and matching dress pants in the same white button-down, your vital organ couldn’t help its little stutter. How he hadn’t dated anyone was a mystery to you; he had the ability to charm anyone into falling for him.

“How do I look, snow?” Long, slow steps accompanied the equally dramatic sweeping of his hair away from his forehead, coming to a stop inches away from you with a smirk.

“Try the rest of them on and we’ll see,” your flickering gaze was in time with mentally counting those laid on the couch. “You still have eight more to go. Yay.”

“Aww, come on,” the jut his lower lip paired with large puppy eyes almost had your heart doing another flip, “would it kill you to admit that I look good?”

“Probably. But…” against your self-control, you got to your feet and helped insert the sole button into its little placement, “you’ll have to find someone else to be your assistant when I die, and I don’t want them to go through that sort of pain, so yes,” you sighed, “you don’t look half bad.”

The effect of his scoff was diminished by the smile perking the corners of his lips up. “Half bad? Please. I’m handsome. Say it.”

“For real?”

“Say I’m handsome.”

“Why?”

One tug on your waist had Jungkook’s breath fanning your face, any distance between you eliminated, “Say it.”

His touch seared through your clothes, translating into rose clouds traitorously dusting the apples of your cheeks, silence stretching for a prolonged period of time where none of you were able to break eye contact, you being much too distracted by the sudden deafening pound in your ears to do anything.

When your brain could resume its normal function, you quipped, “You look better in a hoodie.”

His groan and complaint about your stubbornness made you beam for the first time that day.

***

Twelve straps threatening to pierce through the sleeves of your jacket had the glare returning to the crease of your eyebrows. Jungkook had finally made his mind up to buy three suits. The first in navy blue you refused to admit he looked half-decent in, the second in black and the third in sea green which many other guests who weren’t him couldn’t pull off, according to a cashier who dared to blatantly flirt back.

His shopping trip didn’t stop there, evidenced by three bags decorating each of your arms like they were branches of a Christmas tree. A new winter coat, a flannel, a couple shirts, and two pairs of jeans nestled themselves in soft white tissue and weighed you down. Your own bag was the lightest thing on you, resting on your back so it didn’t get mixed up in his purchases, jostling between your shoulder blades with every movement.

Plastic bags hanging off the crook of his fingers soothed your annoyance just a little. He was nice enough to carry his own groceries but busy enough to let you organise them for him in his refrigerator, tapping a finger to the space between your narrowed eyes for you to loosen up.

You took the liberty to pour your irritation out on the stand-up piano back in your living room, taking full advantage of the forte and crescendo printed against the score sheet stored in the back of your memory, then disregarding them altogether in the next few bars in your refusal to play softly. Only by propping your phone on the leather bench beside you were you able to hear it buzz over the keys, eyes widening at the notification that wasn’t from Jungkook.

It was your other source of income – people who commissioned you to score their published, online comics or animated videos for YouTube videos where they credited you at the end – a job where your college degree came into play. A quick jab of the pad of your thumb to the fingerprint passcode later, you were reading the author’s stamp of approval of the music file you had sent to him two days ago, the first draft he referred to in the current message asking you to finish it quickly because he loved it and wanted to listen to the whole thing.

You abandoned the piano, tucking white jade keys beneath a velvet cloth, in favour of the keyboard in your studio. The same file the author cited on your monitor hiked up against the wall displayed colourful round-edge rectangles while you triple-checked the plug connecting your keyboard to the recording app.

Hours into the process of playing around with your equipment and instruments, hands only leaving both when you made notes to a hardcopy sheet music for piano you’d edit digitally on a later date, a melody one notch louder than the violin strings through your headphones and coming from behind you had you spinning in your swivel chair, just to receive a full frontal of Jungkook’s smoulder where his shoulder braced against the door frame.

“You look adorable while you’re working, snow.”

How he took advantage of you leaving your gate open for him wasn’t surprising anymore. “Exactly how long have you been standing there?”

“Five minutes,” the photographer crossed the distance between you in three long strides, but your gaze trailed to the bay window where sunset painted the sky in streaks of gold, realisation hitting you of how late it had become.

A ceramic turtle paperweight almost toppled over in your frantic scramble for his notebook lying on a file of old score sheets. Scribbled in neat handwriting on his to-do list was Complete video of photo collage for a young girl’s birthday, whose parents had kindly requested of him through a phone call you received.

“You’re done with work?”

He was a blur of black in plopping down onto the cream love seat, leaning against the L-shaped corner of the desk. “Yup, are you?”

“Almost.”

The notebook was discarded back on the wooden surface to unplug your headphones and switch to using two speakers resting under the monitor when you saw his curious eyes wandering to the play button.

You merely gestured to the mouse in silent agreement, wheels of the chair moving you aside so he’d have space to sit in front of the screens. It was the first time you could actually see how someone reacted to the music and nothing else besides it, rather than just give you feedback in the body of an email, and it had butterflies flitting around inside the confines of your stomach.

A worse reaction came three minutes and forty-five seconds later, which was the entire duration of the song, your pencil clattering to the pieces of paper as a sudden weight dropped itself onto your shoulder.

“It’s amazing,” he grinned, fluffy locks tickling the exposed skin of your neck and shell of your ear you failed miserably to ignore, “you’re amazing.”

You managed a short huff, “Compliments won’t make me cook your favourite.”

“I mean it,” Jungkook punctuated each word more firmly. “You’re talented. Always have been.”

You barely dared to move. Eyes flickered around the room like candlelight to find something interesting to watch but they fell on his hand, noticing how it lay limply in his lap, fighting the sudden urge to slot your fingers through the gaps in his digits to see whether they’d fit by gripping the edge of your table till white formed around your knuckles.

Then, quietly, “I still want curry, though… can you cook curry?”

The usual annoyance in your sigh was gone thanks to those butterflies perching on the edge of your heart, “Okay. For you, Jeon.”

He lifted his head with a smile you couldn’t see, “Snow?”

Three inches separated your faces when you turned to him, shutting you up for a second. You were so close, his charm took effect in the way you could almost count each of his midnight lashes the edges of his dark bangs fluttered against, the adorable slope of his button nose leading to his petal lips that you would kill yourself to admit appeared tantalising.

“Y-yeah?”

“You know you’re my plus one for the gala, right?”

That, you didn’t, but it sent a shockwave through your vital organ for the butterflies to jolt away. “You… could have told me that sooner.”

Jungkook had the audacity to shorten the gap by an inch for you to see stars glittering in his chocolate irises, “Why?”

“I need a dress.”

Crystal chandeliers, glass flutes of champagne and small portions of fine dining on china platters flashed through your brain as fast as camera shutters clicking at the remembrance of the five-star hotel’s name. Nothing in your wardrobe was even close to their standard of formal attire.

“Alright, we’ll go back to Jewel tomorrow,” his smile was a little too easygoing compared to the slight furrow of your brows.

“I can’t afford that type of dress.”

“Then I’ll buy it for you,” a casual shrug, “no big deal.”

“I can’t let you do that either,” your frown deepened. “Never mind. I probably have an old dress somewhere I can–“

His warm lips chastely pressing themselves to the middle of your forehead came without prior warning. You went silent for a different reason this time, completely, utterly speechless in the wake of his actions, capable of doing nothing except stare at him with your mouth identical to that of a goldfish.

If Jungkook was affected too, it didn’t show in the smile dimpling the sides of his cheeks, “I’m buying it for you. End of discussion,” his large palm ruffled your hair affectionately, trailing down to ghost against your jawline. “Gosh, you drive me crazy sometimes, you know that, snow?”

Only after he exited the room did the person manning the controls in your mind thaw from the frozen state his kiss rendered it in, his words registering within five seconds and it took you half that time to leap out of your seat after him, your indignant yell echoing down the hallway,

“I drive you crazy?”

***

Jungkook pulled your hands away from the price tag you’d snatched up the moment you approached the first gorgeous garment on a rack an attendant led you to, turning your widened eyes from the three digit number to his.

“I already told you I’d pay, didn’t I?” A nonchalant tilt of his head towards the dresses was useless in soothing the nervous thrum of your heart, “Go ahead. Try them on.”

He settled on a white leather couch in the middle of the circular changing room, the effects of the role reversal crashing over you like tidal wave to freeze you in place between the floor-to-ceiling mirror and the door. Three beautiful pieces hung from hooks nailed into the wall on transparent hangers, waiting for you to try on, though the soft, pliable material between your fingertips nearly had you bolting out of the mall in fear of ruining their luxuriousness.

The first you pulled on was a black off-the-shoulder with a pleated skirt, the top half hugging your silhouette not tight enough to suffocate but not loose enough to enjoy parading around in it for a whole evening. Looking at your skeptical expression frowning down at the garment told Jungkook all he needed to know. The second one was white and had thin spaghetti straps pressing themselves into your shoulders, flaring out to an A-line skirt from the waist down, yet your boss ushered you right back into the cubicle on account of getting something that could keep you warm so no additional jacket was necessary.

All doubts gathered from the first two garments erased themselves when the final one settled around your form. Pale blue was calming to the eyes of everyone who you’d come across two weeks from now, lace going over your left shoulder to give the illusion of a strap, the rest of the smooth fabric modestly covered your chest down to your knees. The only part of the material that cinched around your waist flowed down the skirt in the same direction as the lace.

“Um…” you squeaked in the silence, a tad louder than the classical music streaming through overhead speakers, “Jeon?”

Footsteps shuffled on carpeted ground, two gentle knocks against the closed door separating him from the view of you that he probably wouldn’t recognise, “Everything okay, snow?”

Fabric pinched between your thumb and index fingers reminded you that this wasn’t a dream. “I think this is it… yeah. This dress will do.”

His chuckle was sweeter than the B major key still playing above your heads, “Are you gonna show me?”

Panic had you whipping around, one hand flying to the handle to double check the lock, the other grasping the hem to pull it up and off of you, “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“But that’s not fair, snow,” being temporarily blinded by the blue coating your vision in tugging the dress over your head didn’t stop your mind from seeing the pout in his whine, “I let you see me in a suit.”

“Too bad,” your giggle resonated with the clang of hangers together as you hid the garment between the first two you tried on. “Be patient.”

You sped past him the moment the lock clicked open and granted you access to the outside world, heading to the attendant who had helped you out earlier where she waited by the counter. Long strides quickened your pounding heart – you wouldn’t be surprised should Jungkook manage to catch a glimpse of the blue fabric she was carefully tucking into a black and white shopping bag.

“I should at least know what I’m paying for,” his quipped, eyeing the black satin straps gripped in the curve of your left palm and then the playful smile pulling at your lips, making one dimple into his own cheeks, “but okay.”

“Thank you,” you meant it with all the sincerity you could muster, the second part as well, “you can take the amount of my pay check if you want.”

“What? No way.”

“I’m not sure how else I can repay you, Jeon.”

Fingers softly grasped the edge of your chin to tilt your head up where you were granted a full view of the constellations in his irises, “First, call me Jungkook.”

You hoped your mute nod would suffice.

“Second,” he let go but intwined his digits in the spaces between your free hand to lead you both to the exit, “you can cook curry tonight, after the shoot.”

The tingling spreading up your arm affected your brain’s regular function, though it pulled up the schedule you were filling in that morning for him at your usual desk that he had a wedding shoot in the late afternoon in time for you to mumble, “Sure, okay.”

***

A combination of overhead and umbrella lights reflecting off the chandelier strung above your head cast silver flecks onto your bare arms where you bent to adjust the height of the tripod legs. What shadowed them caught your attention midway through unscrewing the tight leg locks, gaze trailing up midnight blue chiffon where it flowed from the bride’s waist like a waterfall up to her gloved hand that was sending you a small wave.

“Hi, sorry,” her name surfaced in three seconds for you to match it to her face, Jiyeon, “I saw you come in with Jungkook and I was wondering; are you two a couple?”

Scorching heat coating your face a rosy red appeared to contradict the next words spoken in a rush to amend the misunderstanding, “Oh, no, we’re not. He– he’s my boss.”

“Ah,” Jiyeon giggled delicately, pearl pink lips hidden behind her white satin-covered palm, “I see. Apologies, Joon didn’t mention anything about him having an assistant so I thought, well…”

You shook your head, “It’s okay.”

Her heels clicked against the marble floor en route to a sofa set up in front of a white wall, though she looked back at you, a gleam in her eyes made verbal in expressing an afterthought, “You two look cute together, though.”

For once, you were grateful for the distance separating you from Jungkook, leaning against a corner of the studio with his bag clutched in knuckles whitened due to your harsh grip. This wasn’t the first wrong assumption you’d experience, definitely one of the bolder ones where the models asked about your relationship status outright, but compared to the whispers of the makeup artists in the last appointment her comment had your head spinning.

Couple, dare you say it aloud yourself, had numbness returning to where Jungkook sponged his lips to your forehead the night prior. An impulse decision on his part that kept jolting you awake just before dreams could overtake your subconscious. You didn’t know what it meant, too indignant because of his final statement to question his intention behind it, not to mention the normal bickering you went back to after it happened.

A sudden possibility crossed your mind, instantly spinning the room and adding a slight stumble in your step over one of the stray wires from an extension cord on set when he called for you, ignoring his gaze searing through your skin as you hoisted the tripod away from his spot.

There was no way he liked you. You blamed the ridiculous thought on the theme of the photoshoot getting to your head.

Jiyeon’s groom, Kim Namjoon, was the next to approach you when you retreated back into the corner to tick Indoor studio off the top spot of the to-do list, your eyes scanning Beach as the next location before his polished shoes came into view.

“You must be _____,” He stuck out a hand, flashing adorable dimples straight at you, “I’m Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “and congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you. Just curious, you’re really Kookie’s neighbour?”

“Yup,” a chuckle made its way past your lips, “crazy coincidence, huh?”

There was a teasing sparkle in his eyes, identical to his fiancée’s in her last comment, “Does he treat you well?”

You hummed in pretend thought, though you stuck to the truth, “If you consider going shopping with him, cooking for him everyday and managing his schedule as him treating me well, then yes.”

Loud and unabashed laughter startled you slightly, “You sound more like his wife than his assistant.”

Time was cruel in not giving you enough seconds to find a suitable response to the second romantic reference of the day, as well as not telling you that the guy in question would wrap his hand around your waist.

“Don’t worry, hyung, I’m working on that,” Jungkook shot you an equally unabashed wink, reaching out to shove his friend’s shoulder. “Not everyone decides to tie the knot as fast as you. Anyway, we better get to the beach.” A quick tilt of his head to the first hues of orange that had begun to streak through the azure sky, “Don’t want to miss golden hour.”

Said golden hour was a term photographers used to describe the sunrise and sunset, one of the perfect times during the day to capture aesthetic shots behind the click of his camera shutter. It was a silent fifteen minute drive where you perched next to him, piano keys from a song you knew to be Clair de Lune the only thing that settled comfortably in the air around you both, though you knew your boss was never one to listen to this type of music lest he was subjected to it by hearing you play from across the hall.

Your fingers itched for your stand-up instrument, but you clamped them down on a tightened grip on the bag you hugged to your chest. Noticing one of his hands resting unoccupied beneath the steering wheel left deep crescent moons from your short nails on the black straps.

Wind picked loose flyaways up where you’d gathered your hair into a ponytail upon opening the car door, and you could almost taste the saltiness of the water spraying upwards where it crashed against rocks near a harbour to the far end of the beach. Overwhelmingly bright sunshine had you facing sideways to switch your view from the magnificent blend of gold and blue to Jungkook, crouching carefully on the sand with his camera angled towards the couple, directing them in different positions with compliments you could hear over the gentle lap of waves against the shoreline.

Asking Namjoon to hold Jiyeon by the waist, then brush his hands over her cheeks, pretend to dance on the shifting sands, then dip her but nearly topple over entirely did nothing to steal your attention away from him. It took Jiyeon tapping your shoulder, asking you to help hold her bouquet of assorted flowers, that made you realise you were staring at the way light made the outline of Jungkook’s figure glow for more than five minutes.

You quickly found a distraction in white petals of lilies curving beside periwinkles and daisies. Pink and white seemed to be the theme for their ceremony even if the pictures they took had the bride dressed in blue. The soft texture and sweet smell messed with your imagination, crafting a scene in your mind in which a boy you liked in the future would present you with a different bouquet, holding it out to the shy smile that would adorn your lips.

But the fake bunch of flowers soon changed into a tiny white vase of orchids identical to the ones growing on your desk.

You blinked in time with a familiar camera shutter going off much louder in your right ear, bringing you back to reality, but seeing Jungkook’s pointing it at you had you second-guessing.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned, cheeky bunny teeth and all, “What does it look like?”

“Wrong subject, Jeon.”

The white light of the small, digital screen added an extra star to his pupils, seasoned thumbs fiddling with the buttons to present you with the one snapshot he wasn’t paid to take, “Can’t help it. You look too pretty.”

You willed yourself not to bite your lip or break eye contact, or worse, admit that it was a nice photo despite being unplanned.

“Does that mean I have to pay you if I want it?”

It was his turn to hum thoughtfully, leaning down so your faces were nearly as close as they were that night. “Just this one? How about the others?”

“There are others?!“

“I’m a photographer. What did you expect?”

His fingers brushing lightly against the shell of your ear to tuck a stray lock away sent shocks through your skin, “You’re my favourite thing to photograph, snow. I thought you knew that by now.”

Any sort of response died in the back of your throat when he turned tail to jog back to Namjoon and Jiyeon, sand kicking up in the wake of where he had been but you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed.

Not when he took your heart with him.

***

Soft, golden lighting from the sconces in the corridor provided some clarity for your blurry vision to make out the outline of the keyhole, jamming the key in after three failed attempts. The sound of metal clicking was somehow louder that the muffled patter of rain against the building, loud enough to have the door behind you slamming open to see Jungkook, hoodie ridden up and revealing a lick of skin where his hand combed halfway through mussed dark locks of hair.

“Snow?”

Rubbing your eyes spread a dizzying array of colour behind closed lids. “Hey,” you brought your hand up for a wave, though a small yawn had the back of your wrist covering your mouth instead.

He made his way over in four strides, worry replacing the usual stars glinting in doe eyes, “You’re back late.”

A client who wanted his soundtrack to be finalised had called you in for a personalised visit in the early afternoon, unlike the usual customers who stated their comments in a bulleted point list in an email. Jungkook had understood that you were going to be gone for a couple of hours once you were done answering a few phone calls for him, half of them to arrange future shoots, the other half to confirm those you already jotted down in the calendar.

The laptop, keyboard and MIDI device tucked carefully away in your backpack weighed heavier courtesy of the rain you had been caught in on the way home. You were too tired to be irritated at the memory of said client who had fiddled around with nearly every button, more out of insatiable curiosity than the desire to find the right sound for his comic strip. You were exhausted at yourself too, for giving into replaying the main melody of the song on the keyboard each time he discovered a new sound, just to endure him saying nope, not it, next two bars into the score.

His resulting indecision had layers of additional sound you hadn’t planned to add into the music at random, though appropriate, points in time. The multicoloured rectangles on your editing software blurred together to give you a headache that didn’t leave, instead manifested further in a dull ache in your fingers from over-exertion and the chill of the storm battering against your glass windows.

A lock of your hair, slicked down by droplets of rain, was plucked off your shoulder, gripped by the pad of his thumb and index, “Have you had dinner?”

You were, honestly, too worried about the client’s greasy fingers pressing down on your precious equipment too hard to remember to eat, so you shook your head. Jungkook sighed in tandem with guiding you through the door, hand not leaving your shoulders until you passed the threshold of your bathroom and he aided you in slipping your bag off.

“Go take a shower,” it was a gentle request from concern you could now hear in his voice, “I’ll see if I can find something to eat.”

Twenty minutes later, when you had scrubbed out the rainwater from your hair and soreness from your muscles, you stepped out into your hallway, lavender and vanilla scent of your soaps overwhelmed by that of something delicious wafting from the other end.

You found Jungkook walking to the dining table, a bowl of curry from a day ago when you cooked it for dinner and another of rice placed gently beside a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He turned to grab something else but paused in looking at your pyjama-clad self, your grey shirt advertising a black cat sticking out of a small pocket and white shorts peeking out beneath.

“I hope you don’t mind, I, uh…” a quick gesture to the food, “I heated the curry from yesterday, but if you want something else, I can order in–“

“It’s great, Jungkook,” you slid into the chair, offering him a small smile, just the tiniest quirk of your lips upward, “thank you.”

He joined you after a quick trip to your kitchen island, returning with a mug of hot chocolate brewed by hand and not the coffee machine you used for making his drinks. At this hour, food didn’t re-energise you, just warmed you up on the inside to lull you to sleep later. Yet the tiredness clinging to your half-open eyelids didn’t help in pretending that he hadn’t taken his gaze off of you.

Maybe breaking the silence would help in distracting you from that little detail. “Did you eat?”

“You came back late and you’re still worrying about me? I’m touched, snow,” he chuckled, tugging on your shower-fresh hair. “How was your meeting?”

Your shoulders slumped, recalling how you needed to clean each crevice of your equipment still sitting in your bag. “He was being… difficult. Not because he’s a perfectionist; he kept changing the sound to what he thought was nice,” you sighed. “It’s completely different from the original now, and he wants it by tomorrow night.”

“I mean,” fingers gently rubbed your eyes that had you seeing stars, “I know I shouldn’t complain because it’s work, but-”

An equally gentle tug on your wrists had you seeing those same celestial bodies in his irises, paired with an equally brilliant smile though it was meant to comfort you more than stun you into silence.

“That’s not true. You’re allowed to complain. You were there to see me ranting sometimes too, remember?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t help the pout that pulled at your bottom lip, “but it feels… wrong. I love music. I’m supposed to love my work, too.”

“I’m sure you still do,” one of his hands left yours to cup your cheek, running his thumb over the pink blush that began to spread under his touch. “It’s okay to feel stressed at times, especially when you deal with difficult people. Sure, they make your job harder, but that doesn’t mean you love it any less. Just don’t keep it to yourself.”

The downpour had quietened down to a drizzle, soothing ambient music in comfortable silence that had settled around you both that had your tired stature leaning into his warm touch, absently wondering when it had begun to feel like home.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that…” your own voice was soft, mind hazy, “makes it hard to find you annoying.”

Jungkook laughing merely added to the ongoing music, “You think I’m annoying, snow?”

“Not…” your eyes drifted close for longer than a second, “…not right now.”

Feeling yourself being lifted off the chair and braced against the broad planes of his chest, his arms supporting you so you didn’t fall, garnered zero protest from you as you succumbed to the sleep taking over your consciousness, not before the warmth of a blanket tucked to your chin registered in your brain.

A dip in the mattress beside you preceded his hand caressing your face again, “What do you think of me then?”

Right in that moment, the answer was simple, feelings you’d thought about all day escaping your lips in a sincere whisper meant for him, and him alone.

“You drive me crazy, Jeon.”

***

Piano keys in C major streaming through the car speakers had you perking your head up where you were flipping through the schedule for that day, soft pattering of rain in the background of the track causing memories to resurface.

Jungkook’s smirk was directed at you, despite his eyes fixated on the view beyond the windshield, “Recognise this?”

It was a playlist of lofi songs you had mixed together from your high school days, per your friends’ request to make one for them to study or chill to. The earliest ones had been when you were experimenting with new equipment you were now familiar with, should muscle memory prove anything; the ones in the middle were created with inspiration from your surroundings, proven by titles such as Autumn Leaves, Train by the river and Winter Nights; those near the end lasting three minutes or longer after more thorough training from two years in college.

Uploading it to your personal Spotify account granted your friends easy access, though you didn’t know that those who followed were still listening to it in the years that had passed since you’d gone back to it, and certainly hadn’t expected Jungkook of all people to find it. Yet the melody was unmistakable and filling the chilled air around you as you continued to stare at him, unsure of what to think.

A clack of his phone resounded next to the gear shift, screen showing the first of one hundred and fifty songs out in green font while the rest were white and waiting for their turn, “I wish you told me about it sooner. It’s my favourite thing to listen to while I work.”

You fiddled with your fingers, “I forgot I had it.”

Juggling doing covers of songs with friends for their YouTube page as a pianist or drummer, preparing for finals, and creating original compositions for an incredibly talented and hard-to-please lecturer, you’d barely had time to get back to producing your own beats. Back then, you had been more worried about getting sufficient hours of sleep.

“Like I said, snow, you’re talented,” he reached over, patting the top of your head without the usual roughness. “Seriously, how’d I get so lucky…”

You pondered on what he meant by that for the rest of the trip, settling on him appreciating you as his assistant and his friend despite the corner of your heart that stood up to protest otherwise.

The adorable glass bell in the shape of a fish chimed to announce your arrival at Manggae Bakery but Jimin was already at the door to pull it open for you, excited at the sight of the camera slung around his friend’s neck.

“JK!” Said camera thankfully wasn’t squished between their chests in the hug they exchanged. Crinkled eyes turned to you over Jungkook’s shoulder, widening at your small wave. “Hi, _____!”

Jimin all but dragged the two of you over to a table in the middle of the shop, treats on display. Bright colours of the rice flour cakes resting on their stands, particularly the rosettes, were the first to overwhelm you then draw you in by eliciting hunger in your stomach currently filled with the sandwich you had for breakfast. A reminder in the form of a lilac sticky note pasted itself in the forefront of your memory to ask him for one before you left, while a real sticky note in the pages of his schedule told you that the gala was just two days away.

“You can start with these,” Jimin swept his hand in a wide semicircle towards the treats. “I was thinking you could take a pic of all of them first, maybe from different angles. There’s a wall there too–“ he pointed to his left where the tables for customers to sit had been removed, leaving space before a white brick structure with a brown window and tendrils of curving ivy from the top, “–if you want to use for individual shots.”

“Got it, hyung,” he was already fiddling with the plastic buttons beside the screen, the familiar mechanical sound of the lens zooming in reaching your ears.

A couple of red roses adorning the top of a white cake behind the glass counter had caught your eyes, till you saw the gradual approach of bakery owner through its reflection, the same grin you dared to believe was permanently etched on his lips fully directed at you.

“I’m glad you’re here, _____,” over the shutter clicking away, you heard a rustle of paper within Jimin’s pocket that he soon produced to you, save the flourish from earlier. “Do you know the company Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung work at?”

You nodded; it was hard to miss the skyscraper high glass and steel building whenever you drove to town for a shoot.

“They have a job opening for a music producer,” his index tapped the large black words printed on the top of the page. “Details are all here. You can try applying if you want. I’m not sure if you get to- wait, Yoongi-hyung said you will get to collaborate with them if you get it. Pretty cool, right?”

Silence overtook the bakery to allow you time to process this new information as well as allowed the words on the page to look like they would jump off and swallow you whole. You were blind to everything else except the feeling of Jungkook’s gaze searing a hole through your cheek, neurons in your brain screeching to a halt in their tracks the longer you stood there, numb.

You barely registered Jimin snapping his fingers alongside an excited comment of retrieving more of his creations from the back room, your eyes accidentally flickering down to the business email in (thankfully) smaller font at the bottom left of the page even though it froze your vital organ up all the same. A soft call of your name, quiet footsteps, and warm fingers softly touching the underside of your chin to lift your face up was what it took to break you out of your trance.

“Snow,” Jungkook’s voice was as gentle as the twinkle in his chocolate irises, “are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh…” you blinked, “yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed. “Can you help me move that table? I need to start on those individual shots now.”

“Sure, of course.”

You placed the paper deep into the pocket of your jacket, thoughts swept by an imaginary broom to clear them to the back of your mind for future contemplation, or better yet, to be forgotten.

***

The fluttering of paper caught your attention when you shoved your jacket aside. Just looking at those words on the shelf of your closet made a boulder press itself against your ribcage, threatening to crush the air out of your lungs until you hid the gift from Jimin away from your sight in a drawer. Two days had passed since you’d visited the bakery, however, another planned event scheduled precisely half an hour from the present time preoccupied your concerns more than the job opportunity.

A final check in the mirror atop your dressing table confirmed that you had put on the most expensive thing you owned, the blue shimmering beneath your warm bedroom lights. Thin, silver drop earrings sparkled in your ears, another check of your hair assured you that no flyaways were sticking at odd angles outside the intricate bun you wove your locks into, and the snow white asymmetrical peacoat made sure your boss wouldn’t have the chance to even peek at the dress before you got there.

The pound of your heart had you tripping into the short pair of white heels you pulled on for the night. If your feet were going to behave this way, you honestly couldn’t imagine spending three hours or more in those shoes on sleek, polished marble floor, but it was too late to consider changing into another pair upon hearing the door opposite your own click open.

Jungkook, somehow, appeared more handsome now in the black suit he’d chosen than he did in the changing room, or perhaps it was his effect on you that had changed from annoyance to something else entirely. It was the cliche feeling of time standing still between the two of you where you openly stared at each other, your eyes tracing the ethereal glow of his figure to the contours of his face lit by a combination of soft lighting in the hallway and the evening sun.

His fingers slid in the gaps of your left hand as if they were meant to fit perfectly, raising it up to his petal lips to sponged the back of it, “You look beautiful, snow.”

You couldn’t fight the upturn of your mouth, “I’d tell you that you look handsome, but I already did, so…”

“You said I didn’t look half bad.”

“And you don’t,” his playful scoff was in time with you looping an arm around the crook of his elbow, leading the way for him to his car.

Opulent couldn’t begin to describe the inside of the hotel when you arrived. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, light reflecting off each crystal onto the sand-coloured walls. White marble tiles beneath you were polished to the point where you could see your reflection. There was a waterfall with the name, Luxe Resort, written in golden cursive font against the black wall, where a few children were peering into.

A coat collection area had you pausing to remove yours, finally revealing the blue dress as you turned to face where Jungkook was waiting for you in front of the grand double doors. The gala was one of those rare occasions where he didn’t need to work – it was merely an extravagant party he was invited to, a night of fun and celebration of someone’s anniversary whom you knew to be the parents of his friend, Seokjin. Although, you doubted his friend would have the same reaction as him at the moment, the starstruck look he had on in the corridor returning to his features.

You tried to play it off with your own quip, “Alright, I admit it, you look dashing. Happy?”

Tingles spread where he slid his arm across your waist, never once taking his eyes off of you, “I’m happier that you’re here with me, gorgeous.”

A teasing smack to his chest didn’t stop his next words, or the heat rising to paint pink clouds onto the apples of your cheeks, “I mean it, snow. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Tables of fine dining lined the sides of the room boasting a chocolate fountain and fancy cocktails and other finger foods you weren’t able to name. Sparkles reflecting off an even bigger chandelier combined with other priceless gems strung on necks or circulating fingers covered by satin gloves were blinding to the eyes. Your brain reeled in thinking that the price of all the designer dresses could pay your tuition statements at least twenty times over, even as you tried to keep your eyes from widening to rival the moon each time you passed a guest with a spiderweb of jewels attached to her neck.

The grip you had on his arm was the sole thing anchoring you to reality. It felt like this place was a whole other realm of its own purely because of the grandiose facade it had, and maybe your vision was starting to get hazy from the splendour as you spotted a whole ice sculpture near the middle of the ballroom. Distracted by the decor, you startled at the call of Jungkook’s name, amusement lining his smile dimpling into his cheeks.

“Jin-hyung!” He exchanged a quick hug with Seokjin who beamed at you in acknowledgement of your presence, already tons better than the other guests who knew were silently judging you over the edges of their champagne flutes.

“JK, _____, glad you could make it. So,” a wide sweeping gesture to the rest of the room you were still trying to get used to, “what do you think? Fancy, no?”

“Very,” you nodded, “your parents really went all out.”

“Well, my dad wanted to make it special,” he turned in the direction of an older couple who, even from that distance, you could tell were looking at each other with unadulterated love. “There’s also going to be a dance later. Not just for them; anyone can join in.”

“Are you dancing?”

“Me? No,” Seokjin chuckled a little at Jungkook’s question, proceeding to eye you and him with a mischievous glint, “but I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, no,” you were firm down to the shake of your head, “I don’t dance.”

Music that suddenly began to stream from the small band you just realised had gathered on stage caused the surprised ah that left Seokjin’s mouth, glancing back at his parents who were making their way to the dance floor, among other people who were intrigued by the music.

“Well, I better go help my brother take some nice pictures of them,” the elder winked at your boss, straightening his blazer. “They won’t turn out as well as yours, but I’ll try. Enjoy the party!”

You were in the middle of wondering how a pair on the dance floor managed to pull off a flawless spin and dip when a hand came into your line of sight. Jungkook’s smoulder was purposeful this time, a butterfly fluttering around your stomach prior to his next request.

“Shall we?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier?”

“Just one,” his arm and gaze were unwavering, “I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, “Does that mean you were planning to?“

“No. I plan to sweep you off your feet instead. Now,” he peered just that little bit closer, “may I have this dance, snow?”

It was the chance to hold his hand again, you tried to convince yourself, that you found yourself being led to and then around the marble floor. He was gentle in the way he held your hand and waist, guiding you into a twirls, some with the full extension of his arm before he was pulling you back in. You should have known the stars on the horizon making an appearance in his doe eyes would be the only thing that was able to outshine the costume jewelry in the room – you weren’t physically capable of looking anywhere else.

Neither was he, for that matter, both of you openly, willingly, gazing at each other for an indefinite amount of time.

“You’re not half bad at dancing,” Jungkook teased with a pinch to your hip, eliciting a bout of giggles from you rather than the usual irritated frown.

“I said I don’t dance, never said I couldn’t.”

“Good,” he winked, “because we’re gonna do this at our wedding.”

You would have landed another smack on him if your hands weren’t intwined, “Don’t joke about stuff like that.”

A quick twirl, then a tug of his fingers to draw you closer till the distance between your chests was thin enough to fit a piece of paper, “I’m serious, snow.”

“Is that so?”

“As serious as me saying you should send in an application for a producer.”

The room was the one spinning now as you broke eye contact, “Oh.”

He halted in his administrations, jabbing a thumb over to the outdoor balcony. “Do you want to talk outside?”

Leaving the ballroom brought back some semblance of normalcy. Jungkook guided you with a hand pressed to your back to a marble bench wrapped in fairy lights, reminiscent of your own at home, though more romantic since you weren’t alone. He made sure you were looking at him, serious in his tone but gentle in his gaze.

“You know something?” His hands were placed on his lap, inches away where yours lay on the seat. “I always meant it when I said you were talented in music. You’re passionate about it too, more than the job I offered you.”

“I’m a photographer because I love the art of taking pictures, but you,” only then did he intwine your hands, “you love music. And I don’t think what you’re doing now is as fulfilling as it can be. You definitely weren’t planning on being my assistant forever, and quite frankly, I don’t want you to.”

“Then…” you bit your lip, “why did you hire me in the first place?”

His smile had never been more beautiful under the light of the moon, “Because I’m in love with you, snow. I always have been. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on by now, but I guess it’s my fault for taking so long to admit it,” he sighed, genuinely apologetic. “That, and using the whole assistant job thing as an excuse to spend time with you.”

Your heart was about to burst, fingers tightening in his grip to remind you that he was real, and so was all of this.

“Promise me, when we go back home, you’ll write in to them?”

A pinky was held up to you with his free hand, and you held up your own, though you didn’t link it through his yet.

“As long as you promise me something in return.”

“Sure.”

“If I get the job–“

“When you get the job.”

You laughed, “When I get it, will you take me on a date?”

“Of course,” Jungkook wrapped his finger with yours, “but honestly, I already consider all the time we spent together as unofficial dates.”

“That’s just it,” your shoulders slumped, leaning your head on his arm, “I’m not sure if we’ll spend so much time together if I become a producer.”

Lips pressing to the crown of your head had you looking up at him again, “We can still, snow. When we both work from home, or when you have free time, you can come with me to shoots. It’ll be like nothing has changed.”

“I’ll cook for you. You won’t eat anything otherwise.”

“Good,” he leaned his forehead against yours, noses brushing, “I love your food. It’s way better than the steak portions they’re giving out in there.”

Another peal of laughter bubbled past your lips, “Jungkook.”

“Seriously, have you seen them?”

***

You had expected Jungkook to pull you in for a passionate kiss once you stepped through the doorway of your home, but you hadn’t expected to see an album that you recognised on the dining table, gleaming within its plastic cover and waiting to be unwrapped.

“How was your day?” He spoke between sponging more sweet affections down your jawline, “Did you get the new flowers I sent you? I specifically asked the delivery guy to bring it up to your studio–“

Your lips on his cut him off for you to giggle, “Yes I did, Kookie. They’re lovely, now–“ an index finger was shoved in the direction of the table, “–what is that?”

Laughter filled the air around you, leading you by your entwined hands over to it, “Oh, I think you know.”

The protective plastic covering was ripped away by muscular arms in three seconds, tossed aside on the wooden surface before he was unveiling the CD you knew Namjoon poured his heart into, removing the little book inside with eager fingers turning to a specific page.

“How can you expect me not to buy an album that my girlfriend-“ a step to close the distance and peck your forehead, “-has producing credits on?”

“Aw, I’m sure Namjoon would appreciate you supporting him.”

“Snow–”

You slung your arms around him in half the time it took to tear the album open, “Just kidding, babe. Thank you.”

In the months that had gone by since you were hired by the panel of interviewers for the job, you had gone beyond making music for comic strips or small production videos (though Jungkook would disagree in the making of the small collage for your hundred-day anniversary), and you had never been happier. There was a plus side for the both of you; the money he had previously been wiring to your account was now used to treating you both to dates, or cooking him homemade meals that he insisted were better than the food at the gala that had brought you together officially.

“Kookie,” you rested your chin on his chest to stare up into his chocolate doe eyes, “do you like his music?”

“Of course I do, but,” he kissed the pout of your bottom lip, “I love you more.”

Your smile shone as bright as the stars glittering in his eyes, “I love you too, you dork.”

[procrastination-queenie]

Sanity || jjk.

Summary: Everyone knows his not-so-little- crush on you, even his own students. In fact, his huge crush is driving his students insane when all they want to do is pass finals. (Request by @jookiemonie) Genre: fluff, professor!jk x professor!yn Word count: 2.8k Warning(s): swearing, flirting during work, work stress/overload

You loved your profession. You loved being able to make college life slightly better in any way you could, even though you still had to give stressful exams. Not only did you love your profession, you also loved your colleagues.

The accounting department was filled with friendly and approachable professors. The dean for the school of accountancy was Kim Namjoon - a very intelligent man who was also very amicable.

Every school would also have the most popular professor. For your school, it would be Jeon Jungkook. He had been a professor at the college for slightly longer than you. He was also the first colleague you befriended.

It was lunch and your faculty’s dean, Namjoon, would use that opportunity to introduce any new staff or bid farewell to those leaving.

“She’s our faculty’s newest professor, yn. She’ll be teaching the year 3 modules.” Namjoon turned to face you with a warm welcoming smile, “We hope you’ll like it here.”

“Thank you, Namjoon. Nice to meet you all.” You gave a slight bow to the small group of professors before you and Namjoon walked away from the centre of attention.

“That was worse than teaching a full lecture.” You breathed out, feeling tense from being under the gaze of the other professors. Namjoon handed you a bottle of water, “I feel the same way too every time I stand there.”

You laughed, accepting the bottle. It was that moment that you knew Namjoon was a very caring colleague. You knew of deans who were too intimidating to approach for even a casual discussion. It felt relieving to know that this faculty’s dean was not one of those.

“Yn, am I right? I’m Jungkook.”

A young charismatic voice spoke behind you. You turned to face the man who introduced himself as Jungkook. Clean shaven, donned in a business casual outfit and his hair pulled back, Jungkook extended his hand out for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you.” You reached out to shake his hand. “I’m the professor teaching the year 3 modules. Well, not the only one anymore.” His grin grew slightly wider, and you noted how inviting his gaze was.

“Glad to take off some of the load.”

“I’ll let you two get familiar with each other, you’ll be working together quite often.” Namjoon took his lead, patting Jungkook on the back as he walked away.

Jungkook’s attention quickly went back to you after saying goodbye to Namjoon, “Would you like to have lunch together now? I can be your personal tour guide.”

You chuckled as you accepted his offer.

—

You slumped in your chair, taking a big gulp of water. “I can’t imagine how you managed the entire batch of year threes.”

“I had other professors to help me too but we’re all mainly in charge of different batches. So I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

You were still adjusting to the campus grounds, occasionally forgetting which lecture hall was located at. Jungkook always offered to be your tour guide whenever he was free.

“Prof Jeon!” A couple of seniors approached Jungkook, waving their hands widely at your colleague. “How’s senior year going for y’all?”

The two of you stopped as Jungkook conversed with his ex-students. “Stressful, we’ve been busy applying for jobs.”

“Right, you guys are graduating soon. Hope you manage to secure them by graduation!” Jungkook cheered them on with sincerity in his voice.

You admired how Jungkook interacted with his students, past and present. He never forgot their names, the rowdy and the quiet ones. He was patient and understanding with all of his students. Jungkook was definitely a professor with a genuine passion to teach and help others.

That, of course, would mean he was well loved by his students. Even after his modules, his students would approach him for help, be it academic or career wise.

He was the popular professor in your faculty, there was no doubt about that.

“You’re really good with them.” You commented as you both walked towards your lecture hall. Jungkook smiled, “I try my best.”

“Well, you’re definitely doing something right.”

“Feels nice to hear that from you, yn. I appreciate it.”

You felt your heart rate quicken with his soft smile, you blinked as you looked straight ahead. “Thanks for walking me as well. I’m getting used to the layout, you don’t have to bring me around now.”

He shook his head, “It’s fine, I love walking with you anyway.”

This time, you froze, your eyes shifting to your students passing by the two of you to enter the lecture hall. You were sure they overheard what Jungkook had said as you saw their giddy smiles and looks as they passed you.

Clearing your throat, you bowed your head slightly to say bye to your really handsome colleague. “Thanks again Jungkook.”

—

“I already bought you your favourite drink. I’m sure you’re super thirsty after teaching for 3 hours straight.” Jungkook’s raised his arm to show the drink in his hand.

“Were you,” you looked around to see other students walking down the corridor, “Were you waiting outside?”

“Yea, I thought you ended at 2.30pm but I forgot you told me you end at 3pm on Thursdays.”

You smiled as you unlocked your office door, entering with Jungkook. “You didn’t have to wait out here, could’ve just texted me.”

“Didn’t want to disrupt your focus during lecture. Plus, I don’t mind waiting for you.”

Maybe it was the way he said it, the tone or the cheeky grin on his face. You weren’t sure what it was, but it felt as if there was another meaning to it.

“Thank you for the drink anyway, I actually am pretty thirsty.”

He flashed a toothy grin as he took the seat opposite your desk - the seat where your students sat at for consultation. “How’s midterms season going?”

You sighed, “Tiring. I’m booked almost every free slot for consultations now.”

“I have a few extra slots, if the workload is too much, I can take some of your consultations. We’re teaching the same syllabus anyway.”

You shook your head as you took a sip, “That’s alright! I can manage.”

Jungkook nodded his head, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m fully aware of your capabilities. Just want to be there for you when I can.”

Feeling your cheeks grow hot, your eyes locked on the drink as you placed it back on the table. “That’s really sweet of you.”

Just then, there was a knock on your office door and Namjoon’s head peeped in. “Am I interrupting?”

“N-Not at all! Come in.” You cleared your throat as Jungkook straightened up in his seat, turning away from you.

“Just wanted to let you know about the midterms meeting tomorrow morning. I’ll be sending out an email invite later as well. I’ve just been checking in with everyone individually first.” Namjoon’s eyes trailed off towards Jungkook and he let out a short chuckle to himself.

“But I guess I’m interrupting you two lovebirds.” He teased and you nearly choked on air. “N-Namjoon!”

He bellowed in satisfaction, “I’m kidding, you two look like teenagers that were caught sneaking around.” He made his way to the door, “Pretend I didn’t come in! Bye!”

A thick awkward silence engulfed the two of you as both your eyes fixated on the area that Namjoon had just been.

Jungkook broke it, letting out an awkward laugh, “Joon’s a real funny one, isn’t he?”

“Y-Yea he is.”

—

“Hey Jungkook, these were the papers you wanted right?”

That voice.

In an instant, Jungkook had straighten his spine and adjusted his tie as he looked up to you with the practice paper he had asked for. He had been engrossed in his work that he didn’t see you walk over to where he was eating.

“H-Hey, yea,” He reached out to take the paper from you. “Thanks yn. I owe you one.”

With a smile, you reached over to give him a light pat on his shoulders before walking away from him, “It’s fine, I’ll just look for you the next time I need help.”

“R-Right of course, y-you can!” He nodded his head as he watched you walk back to your desk, grabbing your laptop and heading off to your next class.

Jungkook was smitten.

And he was doing a bad job at hiding it.

“You look like you just drank 10 bottles of alcohol, why is your face so red?” A voice beside him made him jump in his seat as he turned to his to smack his colleague with the practice paper in his hand. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was having lunch with Namjoon at the dining hall.

“Shut up, Namjoon.” Jungkook cleared his throat as he reached out for a bottle of water to calm himself. Namjoon chuckled, “My dear friend, even a blind person can see your huge crush on yn. Do something about it.”

“I-I can’t…” He sighed dejectedly, “We’re both teachers and colleagues. We need to be professional… Besides, I doubt she sees me the same way.”

Namjoon only shook your head, “Yea sure, keep telling yourself that.”

—

Jungkook loved to pass by your classes. He was thankful for the windows along the corridors that allowed him to take a glance at you teaching your class.

He admired your passion for teaching. He admired how you always managed to find a way to connect with the students. He admired how you could be firm and strict with them, without going overboard.

He admired you.

A lot.

He hated how he would stumble over his words when you would approach him without notice. He hated how he felt his cheeks go burning red when you compliment him or smile at him. But he loved it at the same time.

Jungkook loved being around you, during lunch breaks, during the nights where you had to work over time, during training workshops. Being a college professor was not easy feat but you always made it a lot brighter.

“I’m swarmed.” You sighed as you opened a can for a refresher. “It is finals season after all.” Jungkook offered his snack of chips to you which you happily took some.

You were lounging in his office, your only break before you had back-to-back consultations with your students. Jungkook flashed an encouraging smile, “You’re an amazing professor, you’ll survive.”

“Thanks Jungkook, but I’m only as half as good as you.”

“That,” He pointed at you, shaking his head, “Is utter bullshit.”

You let out a laugh, making him melt as he composed himself while you weren’t aware. “I-It’s true.” He defended himself, a little bit less confident this time.

“You’re cute.” You nonchalantly commented as you got up, ready to head back to your office to start consultations. “See you around when I get to breathe, Mr. Jeon.”

Cute.

Absolutely lost it.

Jungkook couldn’t remove the smile on his face even after you left his office. He even talked himself to calm down and get over it. But you had stunned him for the rest of the day.

—

You and Jungkook hosted had back-to-back finals review workshop in the same lecture room. Jungkook had booked one of the lecture room or his review lecture right before yours, unintentionally of course.

However, he had overran and you were waiting outside with your students. With a gentle knock on the door, you peeped in to draw his attention.

“Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook nearly dropped his pointer when he heard you call his name.

“Miss yn!” His eyes darted to the clock before back at you, “I overran, I’m sorry about! I-I’ll quickly wrap it up.”

“No worries!” You smiled at him before closing the door.

His class erupted in murmurs as a couple of girls were giggling amongst each other. Not only did the professors know about his ‘tiny’ crush, so did his own students.

Clearing his throat, he gathered the attention of his class to wrap up his session.

“I’m sorry about again, Miss yn.” He bowed apologetically.

“N-No, it’s alright! Don’t worry about it!” You smiled as you connected your laptop to the screen. “W-Well, I hope your review lecture goes well.”

“Thank you Mr. Jeon.”

—

A frustrated groan rang through his ears. A familiar familiar sound he had been hearing the entire finals season.

“I don’t get it Mr Jeon. Why is this the amount adjusted during consolidation?”

Jungkook paused, trying to figure out a different way to explain the consolidation. “Okay, it might be easier if you compare what entry should have been passed under the Group level versus what has been passed under the legal entity. For example, if—“

Jungkook’s eyes had shifted from the paper to the door when there was knock. “Come in.”

“I’m sorry to disturb,” you spoke apologetically, “Namjoon asked me to pass this to you as I was passing by. I’ll just leave it here.” You quickly dropped the folder on the coffee table before closing the door behind you.

Even though you were gone, Jungkook’s eyes remained on the door to the glass window as he watched you walk away from his office.

“Mr Jeon,” his student whined once again, “I’m this close to losing my sanity with this question. Can you please make googly eyes on Miss yn some other time?”

His cheeks felt hot as he had just been caught by his student drooling over you. “R-Right,” He flashed an apologetic smile, “Sorry about that.”

He knew he had to ask you out once finals season was over.

For his own sanity as well.

—

“I’m glad the long awaited break is here.” You said with a big sigh of relief as you left the campus with Jungkook. “Thinking of just sleeping for a few days straight and just laze around.”

Jungkook laughed, “You sure you don’t want a more fulfilling or exciting break?”

“Leave the adventure to the kids. I’m just ready to bum around.”

This was it.

His chance.

“H-Hey yn…”

“Mmm?” You hummed, your eyes shifting to look directly at him. He felt his courage dwindle just from locking eye contact with you but he had to do it. He didn’t want to waste his summer regretting that he was a coward.

“Would you perhaps… Like to go on a date with me?”

The corners of your lips were pulled upwards as you broke into a wide grin. “A date?”

“Y-Yea… I like you and if you feel the same way, I’d love to take you out on a date.”

You let out a light laugh, shoving him lightly as you replied, “I’d love to. Thought you’d never ask.”

His eyes widened, “R-Really?”

“Yes really.” You smiled at him. Jungkook was definitely on cloud nine. His smile reaching from ear to ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

You happily wrapped your arms around his torso, your head leaning against his chest as you savoured the moment. “I’m so relieved to hear you say yes.” His voice muffled as he buried his face in the nook of your neck and shoulder.

Reluctantly, you pulled back slightly, “How about we leave campus this instant and get some good food?”

Jungkook nodded his head, “Sounds like a great plan.”

With your fingers intertwined, you made your way to Jungkook’s car as you both buckled in and headed off to enjoy your first date.

—

It didn’t take long for news to spread, after all, some of his ex students followed him on his Instagram and some of yours followed you as well.

You spent most of the summer together with Jungkook and it was one of the best summer breaks you had, including your student years.

Namjoon was one of the first few who learnt about your relationship and he was ore than supportive of it. “Glad to finally see the two lovebirds in real life.” He extended out his arms to pull both of you in for a hug.

“Ready for a new semester, dean?” Jungkook asked, patting Namjoon’s buff shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He chuckled.

After a short catch-up, Jungkook walked with you to your office. You were certain that most of the students, especially those in the cohort you’re both assigned to, knew of your relationship.

“Nice one prof!” One of his ex students hollered, throwing a fist bump in the air as he approached Jungkook with his group. Jungkook laughed, “Tone it down, we don’t have to announce it to everyone—“

“Everyone already knows.” Another student giggled, “You two look great together.”

Jungkook shook his head, his grin not leaving his face, “Well now that we’re together, you guys can stop wasting time on rumours and start focusing on your modules yea?”

You laughed along with Jungkook as you both head off, leaving the students to grumble about the modules.

“We’re definitely going to be bombarded during our first class.”

Jungkook nodded his head, quickly leaning in for a swift kiss, “Doesn’t matter, it’s worth it.”

[procrastination-queenie]

sweet on my lips

✗ requested by @momolovesfanfic for my 1.2k follower event, and based off prompt C10. → pairing: barista!jungkook x reader → genre: fluff → word count: 1.1k → warnings: none! → summary: your regular barista likes to torment you by calling you weird names.

“One caramel macchiato for Pepper?”

You roll your eyes down at your phone, pointedly ignoring the voice that’s calling out your order as you try to quell the irritation simmering beneath your skin. It’s not worth it, you remind yourself. He’s doing it on purpose. At first it seemed like an honest mistake when the doe eyed barista made a slight change to your name as he called it out. You supposed it was pretty common to mishear a name over the loud sounds of steaming milk and coffee, so you easily brushed it off the first time. And the second time. And the third time. But the more you came back, the more bizarre the alterations to your name became, and barely two weeks into your daily visits for coffee the barista had seemingly given up on it entirely. Normally this wouldn’t really be much of a problem – it’s not like he’s obligated to get your name right, and you figured it was just something he was doing for fun to pass the time.

So yes, normally you would’ve just brushed it off, but then the barista decided to make it his personal mission to embarrass you with the increasingly weirder names he came up with. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to forgive him for making a long line of customers believe that you willingly gave your name as ‘lord farquaad’ (sure, you had made the bad decision to cut blunt bangs when you were drunk and had accidentally made them way too short, but he didn’t have to add on to your trauma and be mean about it).

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[procrastination-queenie]

Imagine Rock!Jungkook performing at an underground club. Singing a cover of Paralyzed by Finger Eleven.

Graffiti covers every inch of the club’s walls. Neon lights and signs strung about.

He’s quick to notice you standing amongst the crowd, and his eyes never left yours as he continue to effortlessly perform.

A sense of infatuation began expectantly creeping up inside of him.

Once the song is finally over, he doesn’t hesitate to hop off the stage, zigzagging through the crowds of people until he reaches you. Then with a smirk tugging up on his lips, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a marker. All before grabbing your wrist.

On the exposed skin of your arm, he writes down a phone number followed by the words ‘Call Me.’ Jungkook then shoots you a wink and wordlessly whirls around on his heel, sauntering back to his band mates on the stage.

~

// This idea was plaguing my mind for days. The edited image sadly isn’t mine, but full credit for the lovely individual who made it! 🍄 \