#ficscafe trope event

[bonvoyagenoona]

Wavy | MYG

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature / Explicit

Synopsis: You, your younger brother Namjoon, and his best friend Yoongi have all moved back home to be closer to your families. Unfortunately, Yoongi’s mother failed to tell him that she is selling their house, and Yoongi now needs a place to stay while he figures out his next step. Funny, you don’t remember Yoongi being this… cute…?

Word Count: 11.4k (read on ao3)

Genres, Content Warnings, & Themes: Friends to lovers, slow burn, brother’s best friend AU, slice of life, lots of weed use, fluff, smut

Author’s Note: For @ficscafe’s trope event! (trope: quiet and experienced x clueless and clumsy)

Permanent Taglist (add yourself here): @purpleheartsfortae @btseditsworld @greezenini @missbickerbocker @dearbambideer @helenazbmrskai @morti13 @skyys-universe @somewhereofftheglobe @imaginativedreams @dreamamubarak @m-yg93 @elyte @awinkies @yuugehn @jkkit @lynnloveslokiredacted @sunnietee​ @effielumiere​

“It’s just been sorta up and down for him,” Namjoon explains.

It’s been a hard time for everyone, so the explanation isn’t really warranted. It doesn’t bother your parents. It doesn’t bother you, either. In fact, the three of you kind of wish your brother had done something sooner.

“You should’ve offered our place up right away,” your sensible father replies. “That’s a lot to deal with so suddenly.” He blinks. “Why is his eomma giving up the house?”

“Yoongi doesn’t know,” Namjoon sighs, eyes falling down to his bowl as he stabs his chopsticks this way and that. “He hasn’t gotten a clear answer. But it sold fast.”

“Well, he’s welcome to stay for as long as he’d like,” your accommodating mother agrees. “Let us know when he plans to move in.”

There’s only you and Namjoon, but there are three bedrooms on the second story of your childhood home. Your bedroom is near the back of the house. It’s technically the guest room, but you quickly snagged it because the en suite bathroom meant not having to share precious counter space with someone who, at the time, fully believed that body spray could be used in lieu of baths.

Your younger brother’s bedroom is near the front of the house. Luckily, he has since evolved, trading body spray for body wash, ratty sheets for higher thread counts, and a janky drum set for a killer sound system that doesn’t block his window’s view of the front driveway. You stand there now, nodding your head to Namjoon’s trademark hypnotic, flute-and-vibraphone-mediated melodies, and smiling as you notice Yoongi pulling up. “I think he’s here,” you say, though, after all of Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s years of friendship, there’s no mistaking that black truck, engine purring and chassis turning like a jaguar slinking home.

“Oh, shit.” Namjoon’s eyes peer up at you from behind the half-completed blunt balanced on his fingers. “Uh… could you bring him up here? I don’t wanna spill anything.” He smiles. “We can smoke it before we help him unpack.”

Is this an inconvenience? Only a mild one, and easy to suffer in order to help someone you actually like. Yoongi has been there for Namjoon time and time again. Your family has had so few opportunities to reciprocate.

The promise of one of Namjoon’s expertly rolled blunt helps, too.

You bound down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last stair and crashing into the wall if not for your quick-thinking fingers wrapping around the banister. You swing around the end of the banister to propel you away from the wall. And once you’ve collected your clumsy yourself, you pull on the blinds in the tall, skinny window by the front door, just like your mother showed you on the first day she left you and Namjoon at the house alone.

Yoongi sticks his tongue out at you, and you giggle as you open the door. Your laugh mixes with the alarm chime, both bright and friendly in greeting, letting you know that everything’s safe.

It’s a nice way to welcome someone home.

“Hey Roomie,” Yoongi says, grinning while squinting in the midday summer sun.

“Hey,” you laugh. “It’s good to see you.” It comes out automatically. Most small talk phrases do. But you realize that it’s more than just small talk. It actually is quite good to see him after all this time, as your eyes eagerly lap up more of his face.

It’s… different.

Fuller, yet more structured somehow.

Better defined. More certain.

And strong. Strong brows. Strong nose. Strong jaw. Strong features on an even stronger frame. One that apparently has no trouble carrying boxes stuffed with thick books. One that knows a little more of life’s weight. One that now knows how to throw his own weight around when needed. And, yet, soft enough to tell you that he doesn’t particularly like doing so.

What he does seem to like doing, though, is reading your curves with the same surprised charm. He mumbles something, echoes of whatever it was that you said, and you know that he’s just told you, but the enticed expression on his face clinches it.

It is absolutely good to see you, too.

Blinking quickly, as if each touch of your lashes could rewind time by a second, you say “Uh, Joon’s upstairs.” Your eyebrows raise, remembering your task. “Wanna smoke?”

“Sure,” Yoongi laughs. He joins you in the front room, backpack jostling behind him, and moves to set his box on the floor before pausing and straightening abruptly. “Actually,” he counters, “before we do that, could I go ahead and just—”

His eyes flick over to the staircase.

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “C’mon. Uh, let me help…”

You aren’t sure what you’re reaching out for, and Yoongi laughs as you pull a face. Appreciating your hospitality, he shifts his weight left, gripping the box with one arm as he slides one backpack strap off, then mirroring the same movements after shifting his weight right. Having taken the initial cue, you’re already gripping the handle at the top, and as he resets his grip on the box, you wriggle your arms into the backpack’s straps.

Yoongi smiles at you as you pull your hair and hood out from behind you, letting his bag rest against your favorite hoodie, and letting your hair fall on your shoulders.

“Like old times,” he comments.

When he looks down to kick off his shoes, you smile to yourself.

It is like old times. Not just now, as you and Yoongi mumble more kind pleasantries with each step up the stairs, but throughout your home town. Since moving back, you’ve bumped into tons of people from your past. Aunties and uncles who are glad to see you home with your parents again. More of your and Namjoon’s high school buddies. Some college friends who still live in town. Among that group, some gal pals you haven’t seen in a while. You found it weirdly comfortable, visiting one of them at their new house for a group dinner. Their faces, which you know must have changed with work and marriage and parenthood, still seem identical to those of the girls who taught you how to blend different drug store foundations to get the perfect color match, or which convenience stores would still sell you beer for 3 AM heart-to-hearts in empty parking lots. Everything is seemingly nestled warmly in this blanket of nostalgia. Perhaps the general doom and gloom that has gripped the current era has everyone in the world slowing down, retreating inside, and finding comfort in the known.

Maybe it’s this shared understanding that makes even the unknown feel comfortable.

Yoongi now occupies the bedroom that would have been yours, had you not staked your earlier claim. He hasn’t been inside that room before, but his presence there still feels familiar, given that the walls probably still have a layer of smoke in the paint, streams of it billowing from toilet paper roll tubes through five or six dryer sheets before creeping across the floral shower curtain in the bathroom linking this room to Namjoon’s. It makes sense that Yoongi would take your intended spot; Yoongi was more Jill to Namjoon’s Jack than you ever were.

Yoongi’s backpack looks at home there, resting on the end of the bed perfectly made by your mother that morning.

Touched, he asks, “Did she get new sheets just for me?”

There are several reasons Yoongi is your mother’s darling out of Namjoon’s bunch. He shares her love language, and Yoongi’s always shown appreciation for these small acts of kindness. “She got new sheets for all of us,” you say, “in honor of you coming to stay.”

Laughing fondly, Yoongi crosses the room and sets his box down on the empty window seat, the one thing you might regret giving up the room for. He dusts his hands off on his green t-shirt as he looks out and down the side of your house, at birds nesting in trees, and kids biking in the empty street. He turns back to you with charmed stars in his eyes.

“That’s really nice of her.” He smiles softly. “This is really nice… of all of you.”

Even Yoongi’s voice feels so natural in your home, muted a little by the relatively unused carpet of the guest room, soft like your shared gaze.

Which only breaks when Yoongi’s eyes grow big and shift their focus to something behind you.

“Yooooooooo!” Namjoon cheers as he walks into the room, pushing past you and making a beeline for Yoongi.

They hug and happily slap each other’s backs before starting to wrestle with each other a bit.

“You look good, bro!”

“Not bad yourself, bro!”

“Every time you see each other, it’s like you haven’t seen each other in decades,” you remark, smirking and folding your arms as you lean in the doorjamb. “Didn’t you spend all of yesterday playing Splinter Cell? I heard Namjoon randomly yelling tomoe nage every twenty minutes.”

Yoongi lets out a loud laugh, which dwindles down into a fond and tiny, soft and low sigh of, “tomoe nage.”

“But that was online!” Namjoon whines. He turns back to Yoongi. “Every night apart from you sucks, bro.”

“The coldest nights, bro,” Yoongi agrees, grinning openly.

Namjoon’s eyes brighten. “Don’t worry, though. Now, we’ve got something to warm us up.”

His jaw hangs open in a giddy smile as his fingers reach behind his ear and produce the fattest blunt that you’ve ever seen.

It takes about three really well-placed and hilarious tomoe nages to finish the blunt, twenty-odd more minutes to remind yourselves of what you were doing before you started playing Splinter Cell, and a couple of only slightly clumsy hours to clear out Yoongi’s truck. Somehow, even after arranging everything into the proper places, Yoongi’s bedroom still looks quite sparse.

“That can’t be everything,” Namjoon remarks, using his wrist to wipe sweat off his brow before taking another look at the room.

“It’s not,” Yoongi admits, placing his hands on his hips. “I threw a lot of old things out, but I need to make one more trip.”

“We’ll come with!” Namjoon pipes up.

“Only if you’re sure.”

Yoongi looks over to you as you push down your over-sized sleeves, unrolling them to your middle knuckles. When you look up and nod happily, he smiles.

“Alright then.”

He leads you both down to the truck.

“Noona, sit up front,” Namjoon instructs.

“And tear you two lovebirds away from each other?” you joke. “I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Well, it’s just, uh, the air conditioning isn’t working,” Yoongi explains. He rubs the back of his head, hanging low. “I haven’t gotten around to fixing them yet.”

You shrug and round the hood of the car. “No worries, really—”

Namjoon races around the back and opens the passenger side door.

“But Joon.” You speak quietly. “You always get so sweaty.”

“You’re the one wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer,” Namjoon points out. “I’ll be fine.” Namjoon mumbles something about you being such a noona, as Yoongi laughs softly, getting into the truck and closing the door behind him.

Though you try to snake around, Namjoon just smirks as he leans on the truck, pressing his side — and then, as you move, his back — onto the door in order to shield you from the handle, blocking you from climbing in anywhere other than the front seat.

You narrow his eyes at his continuing insistence, just like your mother will narrow her eyes at his aggressively sweaty clothes tossed haphazardly into the hamper and sharing the signature stench with whatever else happens to be inside .

Giving up, you reach up for the handle above the passenger seat window to have something to hold onto as you hoist yourself up to get into the truck, and it’s only after this turn of your attention that Namjoon throws open the back door, mockingly wide.

Just before you and Namjoon climb into your seats, you stand on the end of Namjoon’s shoelace, the floppy bow coming undone as he lifts his foot to get in.

He scoffs. “Wow.”

You giggle as you plop into the passenger seat, smiling at Namjoon’s reflection as he returns to the ground, bending over slightly as he rests the arch of his foot on the truck floor, re-tying his shoe as he hums along to the song that Yoongi has put on the radio.

After closing your door, you turn back to grab the metal tongue of the seat belt, hanging neatly, just behind you.

When you turn back around, your lips nearly graze Yoongi’s upper arm. You press your back into your seat, startled at how close he is. But he needs to be this close, and his arm needs to surround you as he grips the left shoulder of your seat, so that he doesn’t fall on top of you as he leans down and cranks the window handle to give you a bit of air.

“Whoa, hey there, Roomie,” you joke.

You hear a scoff, and you think you catch a smirk on his face.

But he turns away too quickly for you to be sure.

The heat from his body lingers, even as you pull out of the front driveway and onto the main road.

Summers are always brutal, and you personally prefer to stay inside at all times. But it’s been a good while since you’ve been on a drive. And it’s been a good while since you’ve seen people other than your immediate family. There are all sorts of people. People sitting. People chatting. People walking. People existing in pods as they go about their business on your suburban sidewalks, everyone wearing masks and surrounded by uniform, invisible, universally-agreed upon bubbles.

“You think things are gonna go back to the before times?” Namjoon asks, taking a hit on his vape pen as bubble after bubble goes by.

“No,” you say.

Feeling Namjoon’s hand just by your ear, you take his vape pen without needing to look, lost in thought as you remember staying up late, getting high, and hanging out in Namjoon’s room the weekend before, quietly watching him and his friends playing Fortnite, the safe, purple bubble shrinking steadily over time, but never really disappearing.

“The before times are over. This will be a new normal.” You take a long hit before exhaling, your breath mixing with the cool air flowing in through the window. “Everything that’s happened has forced us to let some things go.”

“Maybe that’s OK,” Yoongi says thoughtfully. “I’d kinda been having trouble letting some things go, to be honest.”

You see the friendly, warm Min residence grow nearer and nearer. It’s been a while since you’ve seen it last. The rose bushes are more stem than leaf or petal. The mailbox is still blue but a little off-kilter. If you looked a bit longer and deeper, you’d say that everything seems practically identical.

Save for the SOLD sign out front.

Namjoon meaningfully pats one of the brick columns at the front as you head inside.

There aren’t too many boxes left. The time it takes to get the job done is sped up when placed in six hands rather than just two. Especially now that those hands are sober. Even with how big Namjoon’s blunt was, its high has faded, just like the exposed parts of Yoongi’s bedroom wall that previously housed all of his posters and frames.

Their ghostly outlines haunt you.

Before you can call attention to them, Yoongi says a quiet, “Let’s go,” as he turns and heads out the door.

He does the same as you pass by his older brother’s room, and their older sister’s room. No one has lived there for years. More ghosts for Yoongi to ignore as he leads you and Namjoon down the stairs.

As you pass through the kitchen, thrown by the sudden lack of Yoongi’s eomma’s gorgeous copper cookware, you notice Namjoon eyeing the door to the backyard.

“Yoongles.”

Yoongi looks back and frowns. “Yeah?”

Namjoon points his vape pen to the backyard door.

“One more?” he asks. “For old times’ sake?”

This time, Yoongi doesn’t turn away, and you feel the spell cast by his full, meaningful smile.

The three of you step outside, under the awning, sitting on the no longer furnished, concrete slab, nearly eye-level with the abandoned grass of the unkempt lawn.

Yoongi takes a long, needed hit from Namjoon’s vape pen.

“I’m gonna miss the twinkle lights,” Namjoon says.

As Yoongi nods, Namjoon meets your look of pleasant confusion with a heartwarming grin.

“Two years ago, Yoongi’s eomma put twinkle lights up for Christmas.”

Namjoon draws the line of lights in the air with his index finger, tracing the awning columns and ledge.

“Yoongi and I were playing video games and smoking in the basement as usual, but when we came upstairs for snacks, we saw the lights. They were so pretty to look at, all soft and hazy. So we took our snacks outside for a bit. Chatted. Listened to some music. It was so fun. Just super chill. We asked if she could keep them up, and from then on, we’d smoke out here instead.”

Twin jet streams of vapor billow out from Yoongi’s nostrils before disappearing into the summer air.

“She liked that we weren’t smoking in the house anymore.”

You and Namjoon watch quietly as Yoongi takes in the rest of the yard. You can see his roving eyes moving back and forth, like sweet puppy Min Holly’s paws as he ran sprints alongside Yoongi, or Yoongi’s yellow frisbee that was eventually lost to the wind, or the old lawnmower, in neat, parallel lines, not across this slightly dead plot of land but rather the lush, green utopia Yoongi will forever remember.

Yoongi smiles sadly.

“I’m gonna miss the twinkle lights, too.”

Namjoon still cackles like he used to when he was a kid.

“Did you see that?? I got him with my Tomahawk! In the head!”

Namjoon clips the past 15 seconds and plays it back for you. As the Tomahawk sails through the air, he laughs, “C’mere, Yoongles, I just wanna—”

As the blade hits its target, Namjoon giggles with glee.

“—axe you a question!”

All Namjoon had to go off of is a small puff of smoke in the distance. Being out of ammo, Namjoon aimed toward that puff of smoke and let his weapon loose. And Yoongi’s username popped up in red in the bottom left corner of the screen.

Yoongi groans and sticks his left hand up the short sleeve over his right bicep, scratching an itch just under his shoulder. Namjoon takes a celebratory puff off of the blunt you’re passing around before leaning over in his desk chair to hand it off to you. You reach over for it, but you let your arm dangle down over the foot of Namjoon’s mattress, passing the blunt to Yoongi without taking a hit for yourself.

When he doesn’t notice, you tap him on the shoulder with the side of your wrist.

“Psst. Hey. Roomie.”

He looks at it, and then you. “You done?”

“No,” you say, smirking, “just thought you needed it more than I do, what with the head wound and all.”

Namjoon cackles again, as Yoongi lowers his chin, hiding his smile behind his arm. His eyes narrow playfully as he stops scratching and pulls his hand out of his sleeve to accept the consolation prize.

Your fingers touch.

“I think the gummies are kicking in,” Namjoon observes, and as your eyes linger with Yoongi’s, you agree.

Namjoon turns to you abruptly. “What’s Eomma making for dinner?”

You sigh contentedly.

The steaks already looked massive and extremely delicious in the cellophane-covered tray, but the full, blossomed beauty of the meal is presented to you when the three of you scamper down the stairs and see the steaks stacked on your mother’s nicest serving platter. Your father has outdone himself this time, and he knows it. He chuckles happily as he places the last steak, branded with perfect grill marks, on the platter in the center of the table, which is also decorated with all sorts of side dishes. There are many that you love, but you know this table is set with one key person in mind.

“Aw, Mrs. Kim,” Yoongi sighs, his eyes swelling with emotion at the sight of all of his top choices. “You’re already spoiling me, and I’ve only been here a few hours!”

“What are you talking about?” your mother replies, as she also sets a big pot of seafood ramen on the table. “We’re just having dinner.”

You smile to yourself as you see Yoongi quietly pull your mother into a side hug, and your mother tap the bulb of his nose with her pinky.

She pats him twice on the butt, like she does with you and Namjoon. “Go sit,” she instructs him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

While growing up, and even after you and Namjoon moved back, you have claimed the same seats: you and your father on one side, and Namjoon and your mother on the other, all of you within comfortable reach of each other, and of every platter. Years of family dinners, perfectly in tune, and perfectly symmetrical. You wondered what it would be like, having an uneven number of people for a meal. But after he takes his designated place, Yoongi kinda looks like he’s always belonged there, at the head of the table.

Your mother stands beside him and fixes for Yoongi what is objectively the best plate.

“How are you settling in?” your father asks, as he dips his spoon into his ramen.

Yoongi answers quickly and respectfully. “Really well. Thank you, sir.”

“We’re happy to have you,” your father replies, grinning. And, before he happily slurps his soup, he adds, “And don’t do all the sir or ma’am stuff. We’re family.”

Your mother sets Yoongi’s full plate down on the place mat in front of him and ruffles his hair.

Everyone grows quiet as you begin your meal, voices and ears too overwhelmed by scrumptious sights, smells, and tastes. The only things louder than your silverware clinking are Yoongi and Namjoon noisily and hungrily stuffing as much food as they can into their gullets.

About halfway through the meal, you’ve made enough room at the table for more conversation.

“You found a buyer quite quickly,” your mother observes.

Yoongi nods as he drinks his soda. After he swallows his sip, he smiles a little sadly and answers, “We ended up selling to a couple that just got married. They said the house was a steal, but they also said the house was a fixer-upper.” He sniffs. “They were wearing boat shoes.”

If you weren’t looking at Yoongi’s face, you’d miss his disapproval of the comment. And the couple. His eyes meet yours, and you know that you’re thinking the same thing. That young couple is going to peel off Yoongi’s mother’s darling, black and gold honeycomb back splash and paint all the walls some blue-toned gray. But even if the couple kept everything the same and walked around the house in Air Jordans, they wouldn’t have won Yoongi over. None of that changes the fact that the kitchen is no longer his.

“Well, maybe it makes things easier, that it happened so fast?” your mother says.

She reaches for the ladle to serve Yoongi more ramen, but he stands and crouches a little, shaking his head and grinning, taking the handle of the ladle and picking up his empty bowl to serve himself.

“Is she excited about her new place?” your father asks.

Yoongi mulls his thoughts over for a while, the sound of broth hitting broth filling the room. He’s careful not to spill when he sits back down. “I think she’s excited to stop seeing him all the time,” Yoongi surmises, scooting his chair in again.

Mr. Min’s belongings had long been absent, given that the dramatic and devastating divorce was decades ago. But with more ghostly outlines creeping up over time, like those of grown children, or of items suddenly moved and revealing reminders of times past, or the pandemic forcing Yoongi’s mother to spend more time at home, or the fact that with every passing year, Yoongi looks more and more like his father but actually decided to stay, it makes sense that she needed a change of scenery.

You can tell by your father shrinking in his seat that he feels bad for having asked the question.

So, you place a hand on his shoulder and lean forward to catch Yoongi’s attention.

“At least you can smoke in any room you want now, right?” you try, with a foggy grin.

Your father sighs, and your mother scoffs.

But it’s worth it to see Yoongi laugh so brightly.

You wring the sponge out and set it in its holster before picking up the last fancy plate for the final rinse.

And then you drop the plate in the sink, shattering it by accident.

“Motherfucker.”

“Is everything OK?” you hear your mother call from her room.

“Yes!” you call back. “Sorry! I-I broke another plate!”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No!”

“Be careful!”

You nod, even though your mother is already under her covers and deep into her word puzzle game. Doing the dishes is meant to help ease the daily burden of running a home, and though no one has said anything about it, you feel that your gawky ways seem to be tripping things up.

Luckily, plastic bags are kept under the sink. You take one and open it in the empty side of the sink, carefully moving the broken shards inside. You tie the ends together and head to the backyard to try to catch your father as he’s hauling trash bags out to the bin.

“Appa?” you ask, his top half bent down and hidden by the side of the bin.

“Mm?”

“What are you—”

He straightens, and you see the unlit cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

“Appa,” you chide.

He smiles. “What? You three can smoke in any room, but I can’t even take a quick break in the backyard?”

“That’s different,” you say pointedly, as you march toward the bin and hand him the bag of broken porcelain.

“I know,” he tells you gently, as he takes the bag from you. “I’m trying to cut down. Swear.”

He keeps hold of the bag and squints into the bin.

“I might stop altogether if I don’t find my lighter. Dropped it by accident.”

You roll your eyes and fish a lighter out of your pocket.

He’s not happy about having to bum a spark off of you either, but you eventually just smile at each other as you hold the flame toward him.

The porcelain clinks against the black plastic of the bin as your father lets go of the bag.

Both of you walk back to your patio, and you watch your father take a seat on one of the wicker chairs. You feel the warm, summer air on the back of your neck, and you think to lean down to the table to light the citronella candle next to your father’s ashtray.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks.

You take a seat. “Upstairs, playing video games with Yoongles.”

Your father grimaces. “Do you think I offended him earlier when I—”

“No, no,” you say reassuringly. “Yoongi’s just… adjusting. Y’know. Like Namjoon said.”

You father looks out at the night sky as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. It’s a nasty habit, but it’s also comforting, the way his profile softens against the smoke, momentarily lit by the embers as he draws in air, and then bleeding into the black again as he pulls the cigarette from his lips to exhale.

Just in case, you speak very, very quietly.

“Do you ever get tired of seeing me and Joonie?” you ask.

“No,” your father says simply. Lightly. Truthfully. You like that he says these kinds of things so neutrally. Water is wet. Night is dark. Your father will forever be fond of you, because he loves you.

“I don’t know. I know I’m home all the time, even with things opening back up again. Namjoonie’s dating that girl.” You press your lips together. “And, like, when I was washing the dishes, I was thinking about the couple that Yoongi mentioned. How they’re probably around my age.”

You’ve had these conversations with your parents before. How you’ve shared your worries about living at home and being single. Not because you long for commitment. But because you worry that there’s something wrong with not wanting it at all. You worry that enjoying time with your family, choosing to spend the bulk of your time with your family, means that something inside of you is stunted. Another plate that you’ve unwittingly broken.

“Do you want a house?” your father asks, just as simply as before.

“No.”

“Do you want boat shoes?”

You laugh. “No.”

“Well,” your father shrugs, “OK then.”

You smile. “Yeah. OK then.”

He grins and turns to you. “You’re the kind of person who knows what they want, and who goes after it. Keep trusting yourself. Your voice. Your gut. Your heart. If you continue do that, then you’ll at least know that whatever you’re doing at that time is truly what you want to be doing. And don’t worry about the rest.” His face grows lighter and warmer as he leans forward to ash his cigarette in the tray. “Not like you have control over much else anyway.”

You never know when these conversations are going to happen. They sneak up on you. Sometimes, they’re like this, in the quiet of night, a chill conversation to go along with a nice, chill breeze cutting through the stifling heat. Sometimes, they’re in the middle of the day, when you chat with your father as you help him figure out how to print an email for some reason. Whenever they happen, you’re reminded of why you love being at home so much, and everything else falls away. They help you breathe. They help you get out of your own head. They help you see outside of yourself.

As the citronella flame dances, your eyes follow the line of the posts up to the awning on your patio.

“Hey,” you say, “what do you think about putting twinkle lights out here?”

Working from home really means working from anywhere, which really means working from nowhere.

On Friday afternoons, when you don’t have anything going on, you, Namjoon, and Yoongi take long lunches in Namjoon’s room, you and Yoongi trading off between Namjoon’s bed and the floor, and Namjoon captaining your troupe from his desk. All of your laptops are kept nearby in case you’re needed, but, luckily, for the most part, your hands stay busy with controllers instead.

“Noona,” Namjoon complains from his desk, as you’re downed by another sniper. He scratches at the neck of his polo shirt, irritated by the collar. “You have to get better at building. You can’t expect to outrun or out-shoot anymore. The audience has moved on.”

“Sorry,” you apologize. You rub your sweaty palms on the carpet next to where you’re sitting. “The controller… I keep pressing the wrong, like, I’m just, like, bad at—”

“You need to be methodical about what you keep in your inventory!”

“OK, Joon.”

“You also need to stick with us when we run! We can’t keep backtracking to save you!”

“OK, Joon.”

“And you need to be more tactful about finding cover! You keep giving away our position!”

“OK, Joon,” you stress.

“Oh, and another thing!” Namjoon exclaims. “When you’re at long range, you don’t want to waste your efforts by…”

Under Namjoon’s droning, you hear a low murmur that resonates in the root of your ear drum.

“Roomie. Here.”

You feel a gentle nudge on your shoulder, and you find yourself nearly bumping the bridge of your nose into the right shoulder of Yoongi’s black hoodie. You hadn’t felt his weight shift on the bed, and you don’t know how he got down on the floor next to you so quickly. You both giggle a little when Yoongi jokingly redirects the tip of the vape pen toward your nostril. Your eyes shine into his, and you sigh gratefully at him while you take the vape pen in your fingers. He watches as you wrap your lips around the mouthpiece and take a long, happy drag.

“…a better strategy than what you’re doing now,” Namjoon finishes. Your hit softens his punches. But his exclamations still have a bite to them. “Shit!” He snaps his head to his flashing work laptop screen while he reaches for his remote to turning down the music on his speakers. “Hang on. I’m being pinged. I think have to jump on a work call. 30 minutes?”

“Should we leave?” Yoongi asks, starting to fold his legs underneath him to prop himself up.

“No, I’ll just go to the office downstairs. Should be quick.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Unless Junghoon ends up being on the call. That dude goes on and on and on…”

Namjoon closes the door behind him, and his voice fades, giving way to the slow trap beat just loud enough to cover up the game that you’re watching others play.

“On and on and on,” you echo.

Yoongi chuckles. “He gets intense, huh?”

“Gaming is intense,” you say. “I’m exhausted. I don’t know how you play multiplayer for hours on end.”

“We stayed up until 4 last night,” Yoongi laughs. “Or, well, technically, Namjoon stayed up until 4, and he woke me up every now and then to participate when I needed to.” He scratches his eyebrow. “I was purposely dying at one point so that I could grab a nap here and there.”

“You really can’t say no to Namjoon, can you?” you tell him.

“Can you?” Yoongi reflects.

Both of you hang onto each others’ gazes as you hand the vape pen back to him. You feel your bones sinking into that cottony blanket of comfort, and your gazes go with them, pupils trailing down each others’ smiling cheeks… then clenched jaws… then angled necks… then flexed arms… then rising chests… then—

“Anyway,” you say, clearing your throat and looking back to Namjoon’s TV screen, “I think I’ll probably duck out after one more round. I should finish up some reports. Get a head start for Monday.”

“Always on the grind,” Yoongi remarks, following your gaze back to the screen.

You see the trademark purple bubble shrinking. A few characters make it through the border. And the rat race starts all over again. You kinda like it when the bubble shrinks. There’s less of the world that you have to consider, and the pressure changes. You huddle closer to your people. Strategy goes out the window, and gameplay becomes more about responding to the moment.

“Y’know, I was thinking about this game the day we went back to my—” Yoongi grunts. “I mean, the day I moved out.” He takes a deep breath. “Do you remember the drive? Starting to see people out in the world again? Everyone’s little groups?”

You laugh. “I was thinking the same thing, actually. Some of our neighbors sitting on their front porches, and then some of them walking on the sidewalk.” You smile. “The three of us, in the car.” You turn back to him, eyes landing on the apple of his right cheek. Where they would land if you were in his truck. “All of us in our own little bubbles.”

Yoongi half-smiles.

“I like being in your bubble.”

Namjoon probably forgot to pull the blinds back down after checking at the front door for his expected package delivery.

That’s how you notice that Yoongi is outside in the front driveway, wearing a white tee, sleeves rolled up into his armpits and over his shoulders, biceps taut, forearms getting covered in motor oil.

He’s frowning at something, lips gathered to the left, teeth biting down on the skin inside. Chewing.

He pulls his phone out from his back pocket and seems to check something. He keeps chewing as he reads.

You head upstairs and, instead of grabbing your vape pen, you grab your dab pen. You feel like a bit of a mechanic yourself, unscrewing the top and painting the wax onto the coils. You’re obviously not very handy, and you’ve definitely broken a few of these pens by not maintaining them properly, but when you take your time, you understand what Namjoon means about the ritual of it. The preparation of ingredients and tools. Trusting the process. A sort of meditation. Very calming.

Though, not as calming as actually enjoying the fruits of your labor.

You head outside, your outstretched arm grabbing Yoongi’s attention.

He beams at you fondly as you make your way toward him. “Aw, Roomie. For me?”

You laugh softly as you both seem to misjudge the target, though something tells you that maybe you were the only one expecting something other than his sure, strong hand wrapping around your wrist.

He doesn’t let go.

Not until he runs his thumb down the slight dip that extends past where the two halves of your palm meet, and you bite your lip as you catch his eyes.

A smudge of black motor oil remains on your wrist when you both pull away.

Yoongi inhales strongly, not just to take as much of the marvelous marble of a dab you’ve prepared for him, but also at the sight of your shirt creeping up your back as you leaning over the exposed engine to investigate his work.

“What are you working on?” you ask.

He tilts his head as he licks his lips and exhales, lips rounded and angled down, to make sure he doesn’t blow vapor into your face. Even with as huge of a hit that he took, he doesn’t need to cough, just clears his throat and hands you the dab as he explains.

“I was doing a routine oil change, but I’ve also noticed that it’s been running pretty rough for the past week. I think it might be a common issue with these trucks, a faulty powerstroke.”

“Mmm, powerstroke? Say more,” you joke, grinning.

Yoongi chuckles and squints at you, lips prying apart to reveal a toothy smile, one that breaks as his tongue pushes forward and his jaw hangs open. He looks down at the engine, head hanging lower than his shoulders, and then peers back up at you through his eyebrows.

“How’d you learn…”

You gesture vaguely to all the strange tubes and screws and boxes.

“Oh.” Yoongi straightens a little, and his smile fades a bit. “My dad taught me some stuff while I was growing up. Whenever I got to see him.”

You feel a stinging pain around your ankle. Like the teeth of a bear trap. Like you’ve stepped on a mine.

“It’s OK,” Yoongi says quickly. “They’re nice memories.” His smile strengthens again, so much so that you feel warmth coming off of it. “Actually, the more I think about it, they’re pretty formative memories, too.”

“Inspired a love of cars?” you ask. “Gave you something to connect over, seems like.”

Yoongi nods, his smile looking even prouder. “And, like… it taught me how to take care of myself? Not to be too reliant on others, but also to be mindful of when to ask for help. Some things, I know I can do. Other things, I’ll need help on, but I also know what to ask for and how to make sure I’m getting what I’m needing. But sometimes I have trouble asking.”

He cocks his head to the right.

“Is that something you struggle with, too?” he wonders. “Asking?” He pouts. “Needing?”

The black paint of Yoongi’s truck is absorbing heat from the midday sun. The warmth from Yoongi’s curious pout radiates just as strongly. You feel the heat surrounding you like vapor blown from Yoongi’s angled lips, making you too stunned to answer.

Vibrations start to tickle you. Namely, the vibrating hum of a van driving down your street, and the vibration of Yoongi’s phone in his back pocket. Yoongi keeps his eyes on you as he reaches for it, his arm flexing, and his chest broadening. His eyes fall away to search his phone screen, and he picks up the call. All you can do is watch.

“Hey bro, you still at the gym?”

As Yoongi listens, his eyes float over to the van, which is parking and idling curbside.

“Yeah,” he says, “actually, I think it just came.”

You (2:41 AM): TOO. STRONG.

You assume from the lack of response that Namjoon is either out cold, or also lying in his bed in agony, way too stoned to gather his thoughts about what might have gone wrong in his latest batch of cookies. He’s usually so precise in his measurements.

You need water.

You head down the back staircase in search for it.

By the third step, you know you’re going to collect more than just that.

There are some leftover egg custard buns from dim sum; those are definitely going in your tummy. As will your mother’s almond biscotti. You’ll finish the last of your father’s pistachios and buy more for him tomorrow. Is there enough deli meat to make a sandwich? Ooh, and ice cream. Rocky Road ice cream. Three scoops should do it.

You nearly fall off the fifth step when you see Yoongi in the kitchen, opening the cupboard for a bowl. You scramble for the railing and let out a nervous, “Roomie?”

Yoongi ducks quickly and looks around for the source of sudden sound. When he finds you righting your balance and taking the sixth through tenth steps slowly and awkwardly, he flashes a gummy simper.

You fight a smile and join him on solid ground, though both of you aren’t quite sure what that really is at the moment.

“This is nuts, right?” he whispers, eyes growing wide.

“I think I can hear my LED light thingies changing from pink to purple to blue,” you say, “and I see fractals in the popcorn ceiling in my room.” You play back what you just said in your own head. “Ooh. Popcorn. Yes.”

He shakes his head. “You’re getting visuals??” Then, he frowns. “Shaking my head like that was a bad idea.” He groans. “And I’m so hungry.”

“We’ve gotta have water first,” you say wisely, though it takes you a couple of failed tries to get to the fridge. You pull a couple of bottles of water out, shivering at how cold they are.

You hand one to Yoongi, and then, since you’re there, you start putting your snacks together.

He leans on the kitchen island, amused by your seemingly methodical approach to snack assembly being tripped up by the cloud that has seeped into even the deepest wrinkles of your brain.

“Where is the popcorn?” you mutter to yourself, as you dig into the utensil drawer.

Yoongi lets out low giggles as he crosses the room and opens the pantry, grabbing the popcorn, as well as a box of Corn Flakes, and chocolate syrup.

“Syrup on your cereal?” you ask.

“Hang on,” he replies.

He opens the fridge again, this time pulling out the jug of milk, and then finally finds a mug after opening three of the five cupboards. He pours the Corn Flakes into the bowl that he had found earlier. Then, he makes chocolate milk in the mug.

“Oh, for some reason I thought you were gonna drizzle it on to—”

You watch as Yoongi does not pour the mug’s contents in the bowl, but instead, lets a spoonful of dry cereal soak for a little bit in the mug in order to get his perfect crunch ratio.

“I’m sorry,” you reply.

“What?” Yoongi laughs, bits of chocolate milk splashing onto his chin.

“Why the—” You mime his movements and exaggeratedly hold your eyes open when you mime the part where he dips his spoon into a mug of chocolate milk??

“So the entire bowl doesn’t get too soggy too fast!” he mumbles through his next bite.

“Incredible.”

“It truly is,” Yoongi insists. As he feeds himself another spoonful, he reaches for his phone in his back pocket. “Look, Kendrick Lamar has a video on the perfect milk-to-cereal ratio, but I humbly believe that I’ve improved upon it.”

He pulls up the video, and the two of you huddle together, shoulder-to-shoulder, to watch how the master describes how to create the perfect bowl of Fruity Pebbles.

“I’m sorry, I… I disagree with both of you,” you admit.

“Well, now, the 60:40 soggy-to-crunch ratio is the golden ratio for Fruity Pebbles in regular milk,” Yoongi explains, “but with chocolate milk, you need something plain to balance the flavor, and this mug delivery method makes it feel like you’re eating a new concoction altogether.”

“Are you judging this based on novelty or quality?” you ask. “Because you could eat it all out of a sock and that would be novel, but it would taste pretty terrible.”

“OK, present your counter-argument then,” Yoongi says. He glides his upturned palm toward you. “Go ahead.”

“I, for one, believe in what Danny Brown has to say,” you explain. You take Yoongi’s phone and search for his video, and both of you can’t help but laugh throughout the entire thing.

“Facts!” you exclaim, holding Yoongi’s phone up in triumph. “Don’t get me wrong—” Your hands wave around for effect. “—I love cereal, but, his incredulity at, ‘I gotta rush to eat this shit before it gets bad’? I feel that,” you say.

“Uh, aren’t your three scoops of Rocky Road melted by now?”

“Don’t try to distract me. The perfect ratio is  20:80 soggy-to-crunchy. I want a touch of milk. A whisper.”

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who likes Cap’n Crunch,” Yoongi comments.

“Yes!” you exclaim, setting Yoongi’s phone down on the kitchen island. “And none of the Oops All Berries! shit. The original bricks.”

“OK, that’s blasphemy,” Yoongi says, outraged.

“What can I say? I like it rough. Shred the roof of my mouth. I don’t give a fuck.” You sigh. “Shit. Do we have Cap’n Crunch??”

Still laughing, Yoongi walks over to help you find it. When he sees it on the top shelf, he reaches over you to grab it. He holds it up a little higher, just out of your reach.

“Hey!” you huff.

You tiptoe to try and get your hands on a corner of the box, but then you stumble into Yoongi’s body. He grabs onto you so that you don’t fall. And then he leans back and presses the box of Cap’n Crunch into the frame of the pantry door, so that he doesn’t fall.

You look into each others’ eyes.

He smells like chocolate milk.

When you get back to your room with all of your snacks, you see that you have three unread texts.

Namjoon (3:07 AM): I ordered from a new dispensary. Now I know how to adjust the dosage.

Namjoon (3:08 AM): Hey, are you and Yoongles in the kitchen? I think I hear you talking.

Namjoon (3:08 AM): If you are, can you bring me up a snack? I’ve got the munchies BAD.

“And make sure to set the alarm,” your mother reminds you.

You chuckle to yourself. “Yes, Eomma.”

“I made some sandwiches and put them in the deli drawer of the fridge.” She scowls. “Please don’t get too stoned again.”

“I won’t.”

Your mother digs into one of the front pockets of her scrub top. “Oh, you won’t??”

You shoot her a cheesy, squinty grin. “Joon figured out the right dosage.”

She sighs. “Where’s my badge?”

“Yeobo, your badge!”

Both of you turn as your father joins you near the garage entrance, also dressed in his hospital blues. He hands your mother her badge before opening the door to grab shoes from the shoe rack, walking past you and your mother again to sit at the bottom of the back staircase to put on his sneakers.

“I really don’t want to go back to work,” your mother sighs, clipping her badge to her collar. “My sleep schedule was just about to become synchronized to the sun again. Like a normal person.”

You watch as your father ties his laces. “Then retire,” you say simply. “Or switch to day shifts.”

“I can’t do that yet,” she sighs, yet again. “We just haven’t found a strong enough hire to take my place as charge nurse.

“Always on the grind,” you fondly mumble to yourself.

“Hmm?” your mother asks.

“Nothing,” you tell her.

As your father stands, you wrap your mother up in a hug, kissing her on the cheek to say goodnight. You do the same with your father, and he gives you a smelling kiss on the top of your head.

“Make sure to set the alarm,” he reminds you.

“Yes, Appa.”

You hold the door open for them as they step into the garage, and once they’ve gotten in the car, reversed down the back driveway, and closed the garage door, you set the alarm, as you had been instructed throughout your childhood.

You aren’t sure what Yoongi is up to tonight, but Namjoon is out on a date that may turn into a walk of shame. You smirk as you plot ways to embarrass him in the morning, and as you take one of the newest batch of chocolate chip cookies.

Your night is just kicking off. You’ve got your lights set to the exact vibe that you want. One of your favorite movies is queued up on your projector. And the slight high that you’ve started off with is going to grow into a full glow, especially after having that cookie on an empty stomach.

You’re about to get comfy under the covers when you hear a quiet knock at the door.

You get up from your bed and open the door to find Yoongi in an adorable pink sweater holding up his loaded bong and lighter, and holding a sly grin on his face.

“Up for a smoke, Roomie?” he asks.

“Yoooo!” you laugh, opening your door wider.

Yoongi smiles as you do. “I’ve never been in your room before.”

“Huh,” you say. “I guess I haven’t been in your room since you’ve moved in, either. We’re always in Namjoon’s.”

“Or the kitchen.”

“Or outside.”

You share a grin, and then Yoongi sets the bong and lighter down on your work desk. He smiles at the way you’re haloed by neon shades of every color. He didn’t think you could look softer than you already do. He didn’t think that he could feel softer than he is beginning to feel about you, either.

“So, what are you up to?”

“About to watch a movie,” you say. “You wanna join me?”

“What movie are we watching?”

“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”

Yoongi smiles. “Ah, cool.”

“I like watching Gondry-type stuff when I’m high. The visuals he uses, and knowing that they’re all practical effects? Trippy but chill,” you say.

Yoongi looks around your room a bit more. Seeing your closed laptop and no evidence of any other kind of screen, he asks, “And where are we watching it?”

You grin and turn your projector on using your phone. The movie comes to life on your ceiling, the projector sitting on top of your two-in-one headboard and bookcase, its brightness and contrast settings strong enough to negate the effects of your ceiling’s popcorn texture.

“C’mon,” you offer, walking back over to your bed. “Make yourself comfy.”

Yoongi picks up the bong and lighter and joins you on your bed, sitting cross-legged and leaning back against your pillows, sheets, some blankets, and a hoodie or two.

He likes the way the neon colors wash over him, too.

“You get greens,” Yoongi says, handing you the bong.

“And you get comfortable,” you say. “Really.”

As you take the bong with one hand, you pull back the far corner of the duvet and tell Yoongi to lie back.

He smirks a little funny as he climbs under the covers with you, and after you take your hit, you cough a few times when you exhale.

“Oh shit,” you say, feeling it right away. “Yoongi.”

“It’s covered in kief,” Yoongi replies, voice low and excited. “Had a ton saved up.”

You smile. “What’s your green-to-kief ratio?” you ask, handing him the bong back, and making him laugh.

He takes a hit, and then, both of you ease back into the comfort of your perfect mattress.

Like your neon-set LED lights, the movie washes over you both, sweeping you up into magical effects, as well as the story. Not just the one you’re watching, but the one you’re building together.

For instance, the way you both laugh, full-bellied, at the scientists dancing in Joel’s bed. The way you now smoothly pass the bong back and forth without even needing to look at each other or ask. How far you’ve come, to be this comfortable with each other.

As Clementine and Joel lie on the frozen Charles River, Yoongi turns to you with a long, yearning look, emotions kept just under the surface by a question he’s been wanting to ask. But he forgets it immediately when he sees you completely enamored with the scene.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “I also love trivia, and a bit of trivia about this movie is that if you pay attention to the note that Clementine writes Joel about that night, you find out that they had sex on the ice.” You shiver. “I can’t imagine having sex on ice. Apart from it being freezing, wouldn’t it be too… I don’t know, sharp?”

Yoongi smiles so genuinely and fully at you, but with your eyes glued to the ceiling, you miss it. It makes sense that you’re not open to sharp, jagged edges in the piercing cold. All he’s ever felt around you is the feeling of being in a soft, warm, welcoming dream.

A different question comes to mind. “You… you ever have sex while high?”

A smile starts on your lips but ends on his.

“Been a while since I’ve had sex, what with all the craziness going on. And, actually,” you say, “I don’t think I’ve ever even made out with someone while high before.”

He sits up and stares at you. “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” you share. “Always been completely sober.”

“Well…”

Yoongi looks so shy when he finishes his thought.

“…would you ever want to try?”

Your voice. Your gut. Your heart. They’re telling you to go with it. That whatever happens, you’re already doing exactly what you want to be doing, with the person you want to be doing it with.

You turn onto your side, and Yoongi does the same, facing you, both of you tucking your hands under your pillows.

Yoongi’s original question needs to be addressed. “Is it weird that we’re talking about this?” Yoongi asks. “Y’know… given…”

“A little,” you admit.

Yoongi’s momentary embarrassment is immediately soothed by you reaching out for his hands, resting your index and middle fingers on his knuckles.

“But I like it,” you say. You smile. “I feel nice when I’m around you.”

“Same,” Yoongi says, grinning. “Things were so uncertain. And then… I don’t know. Coming here, being with you, feels… easy?”

You nod. “No worries. We just let it ride.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” He hums. “Ride.”

Yoongi’s face morphs from neon green to yellow to purple, but the glimmer in his eye remains unchanged, save for the fact that the shine is getting closer and closer, as Yoongi’s lips approach.

They land on your shoulder.

You laugh, which makes him chuckle.

“Kinda missed, there,” you say. “Usually, I’m the klutz.”

“Mmm, no, my aim is always spot-on,” he replies. He kisses the round of your shoulder, and then, he travels up the side of your neck, his tongue sneaking tastes of you.

You take deeper and deeper breaths, starting to squirm against him, gasps turning into little moans.

“Let me taste all of you,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

You succumb to the wave, rolling onto your back, letting him surround you and nestle into you, journeying tongue first, past the neckline of your shirt.

His hands massage down your body, fingers teasing you through what you realize is the worn silk of your pajamas. You’d forgotten that you were still clothed. Your high led to hypersensitivity that you’re not used to. His lustful stare alone is enough to make you feel completely naked, absolutely seen, encouraging you to bare even more to him, helping you believe that someone, anyone, would want that from you.

Those hands help you out of your now-tangled top, taking care to make sure your hair doesn’t end up in knots as he wrestles you free. And those hands find their way to your bare chest, nipples sensitive after being teased not just by those fingers, but by yours, for weeks now, painfully imagining what his might feel like. You had tried to sense how the pads of his fingers might feel, compared to his knuckles, to his palms, which are now curved under your breasts, pushing upward, and then outward in circles, making room for his lips and nose to feel down the line of your breast bone, kisses equal parts stolen and buried there, ones to take for now, and ones to leave for later.

Yoongi’s mouth moves left to take your right breast inside of it, tongue swirling as your nipple hardens, lips coming together and suck, and then, lips coming apart to make room for the broadening tongue to lay flat against you, pressing your nub deeper into you, and moving up and down, something that might’ve been gently stimulating if you were sober, but now, something making you whine.

“Too hard?” he whispers.

All you can do is shake your head. That might’ve been a bad idea if the dosage on the cookies were wrong, but now, it lifts you into the stratosphere, clouds and fog hiding everything that isn’t Yoongi and you.

“Tell me what it’s like,” Yoongi urges. “How’s it feel?”

“Can’t describe it,” you say, puzzled. “Can only…”

You do what you try to do when you’re trying to understand something. You mirror it.

Rolling left, you straddle Yoongi and fumble to get his sweater off, pulling his hair up into messy, static-filled spikes. You laugh and smooth his locks down before planting your lips on his broad chest, thick and built purposefully, over time. You’ve already memorized every single swipe and lick, promising yourself that you’ll never forget, eager to show him, recreate it for him, thank him for sharing something you didn’t know you were missing out on.

“Ooh,” Yoongi mumbles, fisting your hair as you work. “I’m good.”

You scoff and sit up, brushing your hair back and feeling Yoongi buck his hips up, his thick length full woken and bumping up against your ass.

“I must be, too,” you giggle, reaching back for him.

You watch his face soften, and tighten, and awaken as you start to grind your hips against his, your hand fondling his crown through his basketball shorts. You peel the layers  around his left thigh away, finding that his boxers are all too happy to fall back.

“Want this in me,” you tell him.

“You want that powerstroke?” Yoongi says, with a wink.

You let out a good belly laugh. “You know it. But first.”

You snake down his body, letting your tits drag against his toned and writhing abs, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his bottoms and ridding him of them completely as you kiss his exposed thighs. He inhales sharply as you tentatively lick around his base, spots along his shaft, and dip back down to lather his balls with your tongue, planting little flags, staking little claims. This part is mine. And this part. And this part.

He rises his hips to give all of him to you, and you swallow him, slowly, watching him gaze at you as you widen your throat, and then squeeze his eyes shut as you clamp down around him and begin to bob.

The high releases something for him, too. Already knowing that something is going to be incredible takes the pressure of performance off. He grabs onto your hands, which are running up and down his torso, gently scratching with your nails, able to focus completely on the moment because he knows he’s sharing it with you.

When he tightens his grip on your wrist, thumb sliding into what became his first favorite part of you, you somehow know to back off.

“If you had stayed there just one more second, I would’ve come apart,” Yoongi tells you.

“I should’ve stayed, then.”

“No,” he protests, “didn’t want it like that. Not the first time. Want this next.”

He lays you down again, the backs of his fingernails roaming down your arm and making your hairs stand on end. He kisses that dip in your wrist, and then his chin lands on your thigh, traveling across and leading his lips to the waistband of your silk pajama shorts. He clamps his teeth around the band, tongue feeling to make sure there are two layers in his jowls, and he drags them both down to your knees, finally letting go of your wrist so that both of his hands can grip the soaking fabric and set you free.

He wastes no time, placing his palms on your knees and spreading you open.

Lying here, the tip of his nose rubbing against your folds, Yoongi spends some time getting to learn you. What you look like. What you smell like. How it sounds when he touches. How it sounds when he tastes.

You’re forced to cry out, when your muscle walls spasm around a single finger, trying much too hard and getting way too tight for very little satisfaction.

Yoongi scoffs when he recognizes the sound. He circles you around, as if pointing at you while in you. Your hips mirror the motion, swirling as he talks.

“I could hear you sometimes,” he tells you, his voice like velvet against your velvet. “Late at night. After we said goodnight. Those cute little gasps and whines.”

“Couldn’t help myself,” you moan.

“Neither can I, for much longer,” he whispers. And then, he arches an eyebrow. “Should let you know. Like your man, Danny Brown, I don’t like to rush when eating.” He smirks. “But I happen to love eating things that are wet.”

You groan as Yoongi’s tongue laps up your drenched folds, his lips working to bring passion to the surface of every swelling inch, your core tightening and heating as he moves. His fingers start to gather together, and when they start to pump inside of you, your high catapults you, groans unleashed and unabashed.

“That’s right, tell me,” Yoongi grunts.

You come undone, barely able to stitch together the mere two syllables of his name. “Yoo… huhhhh… ngi…” You try again. “God, Yoo… ah, fuck!”

“Not done,” he tells you, leaning back down, fingers stroking as tongue dances, the sound of your arousal sharp and piercing, almost like snapping.

You would have gladly taken the orgasm that washes over you on its own, but your heightened state sends you overtones, layers upon layers above that orgasm that make you shudder and squeal. Your throat gets raspy from all of the rough, desperate gasps of air.

“Fuck, Yoongi, give me that powerstroke, now, please,” you tell him desperately, through grit teeth.

Yoongi chuckles and presses kisses onto your thighs before standing and lining up with your entrance.

He slides in, little by little, mirroring the way you had swallowed him into your throat.

And even though you clamp when he expects, you still make his neck droop forward and sink below his shoulders. “Shiiiiit.” He temporarily removes his hands from their death grip on your still-shivering calves to drag his sticky fingers through his sopping wet hair, brushing his locks back, uncaring that your arousal is mixing with his sweat, or even happier for it.

He gazes at you, the inner corners of his brows slightly pinched. “Wish we could’ve done this sooner.”

You nod, holding your breath until his hands find their way back to you, this time onto your hips. They pull you down onto him, base meeting base, skin slapping skin, and you both let out guttural groans.

He moves slowly at first, easing the deepest parts of you open, making sure that you feel safe.

But then, when he sees you biting your lip, he gives you the power in that powerstroke, cadence solid, volume nearly irresponsible. Your voice bounces the way your ass bounces against the mattress, jigging with each pound of force. You feel heat, like the heat off his truck in the sun, or the heat of his lingering stare, starting to pool in the most hidden cave within you. It will need somewhere to go, or you will burn alive.

First, it travels through your limbs, as you thrash through the strongest, highest orgasm that you’ve ever known. Then, it travels through Yoongi’s juices, starting to flow.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” Yoongi asks.

“Come on my stomach,” you tell him. “Through my thighs, if you want. Just drizzle it all over me.” You smirk. “Like syrup.”

Yoongi laughs and bends down to bite your kneecap, grunting as he licks the soft impressions that his teeth make. “Really killing me tonight, Roomie.”

A few more pumps, and then, Yoongi slides out of you, sliding the underside of his cock against your shaved skin, your thighs surrounding his shaft, knees crossing to make it as tight as possible.

He holds onto your wrist.

Your free hand reaches down for him, cupping around his crown, thumb gliding over his dripping slit.

When you tighten your hold, at your thighs, and in your fingers, his eyes shut tight, and he throws his head back.

He moans as he covers you, decorating you, aim still true as ever. He sinks slowly to the mattress as you gently release him, and he lets out a couple of shaky breaths, a hand reaching up to his chest to check if his heart is still there, before sliding up to the base of his neck for a soothing squeeze.

You watch in awe as he sleepily licks your stomach clean, intertwining your fingers with his to ensure that you do nothing but lie there and enjoy more of his tongue as it washes you.

When he’s done, he lies on top of you and smiles.

His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking for permission to come inside. You smile tightly, giggling as his cheeks do the same to your cheeks, and his nose does the same to your nose.

He looks at you for a moment.

And then he presses a kiss onto your closed lips, a first peck so innocent that you could have shared it in this room back when you were teens, and people would have found it to be wholesome and sweet.

You run a hand through his hair, and he closes his eyes at your caring touch.

When his eyes open again, he takes a deep breath through flared nostrils.

“Are you smelling me?” you whisper-laugh.

He grins and bites his lip.

“Honestly, yes,” he says, “but also, I just wanted to make sure I was ready.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, furrowing your brow.

You feel his thumb finding its home in your wrist.

“Ready to give you your first high kiss.”

His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it. Soft in tone, soft in volume, soft in texture, even as the notes make their way through his hoarse, nervous throat.

“And ready for the spectacular fall.”

You smile and feel something break free within your chest.

And you both plunge each other into a surreal, seemingly everlasting kiss, completely covered in the warmest, nighttime neon.

#bts fanfiction #ficscafe #ficscafe trope event #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #ksmutclub

[nctinthehouse]

come back and love me!!

PAIRING: fem!reader x idol bf!Doyoung

GENRE: fluff, suggestive, crack, established relationship!au

SUMMARY: The first thing Doyoung wants as soon as he’s back home at your place after practice is a hug. But, you refuse to give him one, even if it’s the bunny boys’ birthday.

WC: 1.2k

⚠️ WARNING(S): mentions of sex, language

A/N: This fic is written for @ficscafe trope event (i used no.8) #ficscafe trope event + in celebration of Doyoung’s birthday! Happy Birthday Doyoung!! 🥳

“My love, I’m home!” Doyoung shouts out as he takes his shoes and coats off, placing his bag down on the floor.

Doyoung had just come back from evening practice with his members. It’s his birthday today, and his members offered to treat him to a few rounds of drinks after practice. However, Doyoung declined as the members had already treated him to food earlier, and practice had drained him out for the day. He told the members he would be heading to yours for the night since you had planned a day out with him tomorrow.

As Doyoung walks into the living room, he grins as he sees you sitting snugly on the sofa. Your attention is focused on the book you’re reading, but you soon turn to Doyoung as you see his figure approach you.

"Hey baby, happy birthday!" beaming out to him with the biggest smile on your face.

‎

Doyoung leans down with his arms wide open, about to embrace you in a hug, but you fling your book to the other side of the sofa and quickly get up and back away from him. "Ah-ah-ahhh, what do you think you're doing?" squinting your eyes at him.

Doyoung leans down with his arms wide open, about to embrace you in a hug, but you fling your book to the other side of the sofa and quickly get up and back away from him. "Ah-ah-ahhh, what do you think you're doing?" squinting your eyes at him.

"Giving my loving girlfriend a hug?" Doyoung says before giving you the biggest grin he could show you.

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes at him. "Doyoung, we've been through this before. No hugs until after you've showered on practice days."

"Oh, come on, it's my birthday! Can't you make it an exception?" Doyoung groans as he throws his head back.

"Nope." shaking your head. "No can do boo," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

"Give me a hug", Doyoung pouts as you stand there, not budging to hug him anytime soon.

"No. Go shower first." crossing your arms, like you're scolding him.

"I thought you loved everything about me." Doyoung takes a few steps towards you, but you take a few steps back.

"Hey, you can't use that against me! You did that last time!" raising a finger at him while you protest.

"Damn", Doyoung grumbles to himself as you snicker at him. "So you won't give me hugs after practice, but you'll cuddle me after we have sex."

"Doyoung, you're not this sweaty after sex," you swear you could feel yourself blushing a bit. You tend you get a little shy whenever Doyoung mentions anything to do with sex.

"Are you saying that I don't fuck you hard enough?"

Your eyes instantly widen at his words. "Wait, what?! N-No! I-I didn't say anything!"

Doyoung smirks and winks at you, knowing you didn't expect those words from him. But he loves it when you get flustered over his words. Especially now that you're currently standing there, face turning into a tomato. He knows he has that effect on you, and you swear you want to smack that smirk off his face. So, you direct the conversation to what you were quarrelling about in the first place.

"I-I promise to give you all the hugs you want after shower."

Doyoung knows you too well to see what you're trying to do. He wanted to tease you even more but decided to let it slide for now because he's very adamant about you giving him that hug he so badly wants.

"And if I refuse?"

"My love, you gotta shower at some point. It's not like you're going to bed with all that sweat anyway." Doyoung's expression changes to a cheeky one, which hints that he's seriously thinking about it. "Hey! Don't even think about it!"

Doyoung sticks his tongue out playfully at you.

"If you refuse... no sex for a month."

As soon as Doyoung hears those words, his head hangs low as he makes his way to the bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

Usually, Doyoung would try to argue his way around in situations like this. He can often get somewhat competitive and likes to push you until you admit defeat. It worked wonderfully for him last time, but unfortunately, not this time around. Not only because he's finally come to realise that he's just wasting time trying to get hugs from you when you could've given him one a while ago, but also, no sex for a month? That's a complete no-no for Doyoung. Also, somehow Doyoung has convinced himself that he genuinely hasn't been fucking you hard enough, and so, he makes a mental note to himself to show you what he can do in bed another day… or later.

A while later, you’re preparing a little surprise for Doyoung in the kitchen until you hear the shower stop running. You quickly turn all the lights off and sprint to the bedroom, turning the lights on in there. You sit up on the bed and pretend that you’ve been mindlessly playing on your phone while waiting for Doyoung to come out.

In the corner of your eye, you see Doyoung popping into the bedroom. A smile appears on his face, thinking that he can finally hug you all he wants. As soon as Doyoung climbs onto the bed, you toss your phone to the side, legging it towards the kitchen. Doyoung closes his eyes for a few seconds and groans loudly at your actions. “Hey, Y/N! Where are you going?!” Doyoung whines out to you. “Come back and love me!!” Doyoung opens his eyes and puffs his cheeks out. He makes himself get up from the bed and out of the room to see what you were up to.

Even though it’s nighttime, the rest of your apartment isn’t dark at all. The lights from outside provide subtle lighting throughout the apartment, so Doyoung didn’t need to turn any lights on for him to see what you were doing. He didn’t have to as he spots you in the kitchen, holding up what seems to be a cake with a few candles on the top. As Doyoung approaches closer, you start singing to him happy birthday in the most soothing and sweetest voice. A gummy smile is evident on his face as he tears up at the gesture.

Doyoung is already standing in front of you as you've finished singing. "Make a wish," you say to him. You watch as he does so, admiring his perfect and natural features. Doyoung opens his eyes after a while and blows out the candles; both of you cheer in celebration.

You gently put the cake down on the table beside you, careful not to drop it before you open your arms out wide, grinning at Doyoung, welcoming him to your embrace.

"Finally!" Doyoung says so excitedly. You chuckle at him.

Doyoung hugs you tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face on your neck, taking in the lingering strawberry scent of your shower gel that you use. His breathing on your skin slightly tickles you, which makes you giggle. Doyoung then starts placing little kisses here and there, making you laugh even more.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” you say, cherishing the quiet but cosy moment in the kitchen right now, slightly swaying side to side as if there were music playing.

“Thank you, my love,” Doyoung says. You gently rub the nape of his neck in response.

“I’m going to show you how hard I can fuck you later.” Doyoung whispers in your ear.

You gasp in shock and playfully slap his shoulder. “Kim Doyoung! Don’t ruin the moment!”

masterlist

© 2022 nctinthehouse — All Rights Reserved.

#ficscafe trope event #ficscafe #neoturtles #klibrary #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 #nct #kim doyoung #doyoung

[woobly]

FLOWERS AND FILM . . . 박성화 !

PAIRING. florist! seonghwa x gn! tourist! reader GENRE. strangers to lovers, implied star-crossed lovers au, college au, fluff, poor attempt at angst WARNINGS. cursing, partial nudity for a split second WORD COUNT. 7.7k

𓂋˚˖ SYNOPSIS. after going through several breakups, you've finally learned that constantly looking for someone to be in a relationship with only ends in heartache. but when you find love again in someplace unexpected, does it also lead you to the same unhappy ending?

𓂋˚˖ A/N. happy valentine’s day! i didn’t actually plan this specifically for today, but here it is anyway :D also im not sure if the pacing is too fast so lmk if it is i guess. and quick fun fact! while writing, i kept seeing concert vids of seonghwa dancing dlbw, his happy song while on tour, so i just had to include :3

𓂋˚˖ EVENT. for @ficscafe’s trope event! i used the trope the epitome of elegance x clumsy mess, or at least i attempted to </3

“GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, AND WELCOME TO HEATHROW AIRPORT. local time is 8:06 in the evening, and the temperature is 15°C or 59°F. for your safety, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the captain turns off the fasten seat belt sign. on behalf of AZ airlines and the entire crew, i would like to thank you for flying with us, and we hope to see you onboard again in the near future. may you all have a pleasant stay here in london.”

you look out the airplane window to your left and try to look through the mist that has built up on the thick glass. a few planes of different sizes are lined up beside the one you’re currently on. the moonlight faintly shines on the airport right in front of you and the buildings in the distance, although they really only look like a blanket of lights bunched up together.

you look back into the plane as a yawn takes over your body. the captain has already turned off the seat belt sign, so some passengers have already begun standing up even if the doors haven’t been opened yet. when they do, you turn off the movie you’ve been listening to for the past hour (which you’ve already watched multiple times before) and take off the headphones provided by the airlines. you pack away the rest of your things and finally stand up to stretch. the passengers a few rows in front of you have already left, so you move out of your seat to take the rest of your hand-carry luggage from the overhead cabin.

the walk through the airport, through immigration and baggage claim, was pretty much a breeze. after you realized that there were too many people and that it would probably take a while to get through all that, you decided that you were tired and would rather listen to music. once you’re done and walking through the final gate, you hear a loud scream for your name that you recognize almost immediately and suddenly you’re no longer so tired.

you don’t even have to see her face to confirm who she is. without realizing it, you start picking up your pace, frantically searching for the person who called you. once she was finally in front of you, your things are suddenly on the floor and your arms are tightly wrapped around her. “mimi!”

“bitch, i can’t breathe,”

you release your older sister miyoung from your hug attack to cup her face instead. “how have you been?”

“i literally called you before your flight- what are you on about?”

“right, but it's been too long since we last talked talked,” you pout as the younger sibling role settles in you while in her presence.

“let’s talk later. right now, i’m sure you’re starving coz i’m starving since you took almost an hour going through immigration. and don’t touch my face again unless you have clean hands,”

“yes, mom,” she takes your wheeled luggage while you pick up the rest of your bags. “where are we eating?”

“i’ll take you to my favorite, it’s only 30 minutes from here,”

the ride to the restaurant in mimi’s car was surprisingly just as loud, with you bombarding her with questions about her life here in the bustling city. your conversation crosses over to dinner, from talking about your sister’s job and your college professors to sharing stories from your past relationships that you've never told and almost crying over old memories.

ever since someone confessed to you for the first time, the timeline you live in changed tremendously. you felt the need to be in a relationship and be around someone all the time. you convinced yourself that it wasn't because of the pressure among people your age to be in one (although it is true), but because it felt nice to have a favorite person and to be someone's favorite person. you were either constantly looking for someone who you could call your ‘significant other’, or entertaining someone who wanted to call you exactly that.

unfortunately, this came at a high price. it’s not an uncommon notion that many couples break up at some point, whether it's after a few months or a few years. you weren't unacquainted with this either. you've had your fair share, with numbers rising up to two hands (not that body count matters). and since you hardly had anyone to turn to, you've learned to deal with the post-breakup process mostly on your own. over time, it became easier and faster to move on, crying less each time. you avoided giving your entire being into the relationship, giving less and less of yourself so as not to break too hard in the end.

“honestly though, i’m tired. i’m gonna stop looking for someone to like and just focus on college. whether i get into a relationship again or not, that's no longer my problem,”

“stop lying to yourself. you know you’re gonna jump the person you like, even if it's only slight, the moment they confess to you,” miyoung chuckles as she takes a scoop of her mashed potato.

“you know me so well,” you give her a strained smile. “but shut the fuck up anyway,”

this is why you will always be grateful for your one and only sister. although you didn't have people to turn to when you needed comfort, she always helped you pick yourself back up. you may have lost numerous people in the span of only a few years, but miyoung was the only one who stayed constant. although she was the more hard-working one in your duo, she never failed to make time for you.

before you know it, you’re back in the car, and she’s driving you to her apartment, your jetlag slowly sinking in. once you arrive, you don’t even bother to unpack some of your things and head straight to bed.

the blaring of your alarm, unfortunately, disrupts your deep sleep. you pick up your phone which is right beside your head and turn it off to see that it’s already 11 in the morning. when you walk out into the living room to find no one around, you assume that your sister has already left for work.

after you make yourself brunch with whatever was in the kitchen, you take your time getting ready, unpacking some of your things while you’re at it. it’s really refreshing to finally have absolutely nothing to worry about that the worst thing that’s running through your mind is what to do next. you didn’t really want to create an entire itinerary for every second of your stay, but your sister did send you a list of places she thought you might want to visit. today, however, you just wanted to relax and go wherever your feet take you.

although the city doesn’t seem so special at first glance, you take time to observe all the buildings and establishments you pass by, from houses to bookshops, and all the people walking around with you. when a little flower shop comes into view not too far away, you decide you want to buy some flowers for your room and for your sister.

when you enter, no one was around, not even behind the counter. still, you slowly walk around the shop and see which ones you should buy. you don’t notice that someone was already standing next to you until he spoke up.

“hi, is there anyone you want to give flowers to?” you were so startled by the low voice that you somehow manage to lose your balance as you turned towards the pink-haired man who thankfully catches you by the arm. “woah, sorry i didn’t mean to scare you,”

“it’s fine. i guess i could never go through my day without tripping over my own feet at least once,” you look up again to the man beside you and wow you never thought pink hair could suit someone so well.

you didn’t realize you were staring when he spoke up again. “so, may i help you?”

”oh! well, i’m buying for my sister and for myself, but i’m not really sure what’s appropriate since i’m not familiar with the messages behind these,” you reach out for the flowers labeled ‘white carnations’.

“those can represent innocence, purity, and luck,” he says as he watches you move around and lightly brush the flowers in front of you.

“then maybe gratitude? for my sister,”

the man doesn’t even need a second to think and immediately turns around, to which you follow. he picks up a few flowers from the ‘hydrangea’ basket and hands them to you. “hydrangeas can also mean grace and beauty,”

“these are perfect,” you smile at how they truly remind you of your sister.

“then what about for you?”

you look up at him and notice his big curious eyes waiting for what you might want. “surprise me,” you quickly look at his nametag. “..seonghwa,”

he takes a hot minute to look into your eyes as if that could help him find out more about you, find out which flowers suit your style and personality. after he goes around the shop for a while, he comes back with two types of flowers.

“couldn’t choose, so i got both. these are asters and white camellias,”

“and is there a reason you got me these?”

he takes a moment to look at you again, opening and closing his mouth, seemingly trying to decide whether he should tell you or not. “...secret,”

“you- why not?”

“flowers are meant to deliver messages that you can’t really say out loud,” he shrugs and flashes a shy smile, and you debate whether you should tease him about it and push him to tell you, or just leave the mystery be. “alright, fine, i’ll tell you. but you have to spend the rest of the day with me,”

“and why would i do that?” you smirked at his indirect attempt at what you assume is asking you out. although i would gladly do so anyway is what you want to say next but obviously, you don’t. “google doesn’t exist for nothing,” you declared.

“well, i think you’d miss out on a good time and google isn’t always right, you know,” he grins like a child and continues to look at you expectantly. you still take some time to think about it since he is still someone you just met ten minutes ago, but ultimately, you come down to fuck it.

“fine, deal,” for a split second, his eyes widen with shock for accepting his condition at all. “i mean, i don’t really have any plans since it’s fall break. you don’t seem to be a dangerous person either, so … but if you’re planning to take me to the woods, then think again coz i learned judo in freshman year,”

he brings his hands up and uses his left palm and right pointer finger to mimic writing on a piece of paper. “no woods, judo, noted. could you wait for me then? i’ll just arrange and wrap these flowers for you then i just need to tell my boss i’m leaving,” you nod and he takes the flowers from your hands. “we can come back for these later so that you don’t have to carry them around all day,”

you watch as he carefully arranges the flowers he suggested to you with different materials and other smaller flowers with ease. once he’s finished, he sets them aside and goes into the room at the back while you walk towards the window to watch the cars and people passing by.

“where are we going?”

“the national gallery,” you think you’ve heard or read it somewhere, probably one of the things on the list your sister gave you.

“why there? if i may ask,”

“you seem like someone who truly appreciates art, and there’s also a new exhibit i’ve been meaning to visit,”

“okay, but what makes you think i like art?”

“for one, you’ve got a camera hanging around your neck. two, you seem like a thoughtful person. you entered the shop wanting to buy flowers based on their meanings, which not a whole lot of people really do. but honestly, it was just a hunch. am i wrong?,”

“oh no, you’re not. i guess the camera gave it away,” you give him a small smile as you follow him to the art museum, walking side by side. “how about you? are you a botany student or something? you know a lot about flowers,”

“actually, i’m a dance major,” you quickly turn your head in shock as you don’t see any correlation between the two, except maybe when you use flowers as props.

“i didn’t peg you as a dancer,”

“then what did you peg me as?”

“i’m not sure actually. i thought you could be a model, but then i thought maybe you’re taking something biology-related?”

“a model?” he chuckles at that, and his cheeks turn a gentle shade of pink, which you just pass off as due to the cold weather. “i did actually consider bio, but in the end, i went with dance. i work at the shop because i wanted to do part-time, and my aunt owns it, so i help out. she told me i should at least learn a bit about floriography, so i did,” you turn your head to him, silently asking what the word means. “floriography is the language of flowers. it comes from the victorian era,”

“oh, so that’s why you could just tell your ‘boss’ you were leaving as if you were just asking your mom if you could go outside to play. i thought they were just really nice,”

“that’s what you’re hung up on?” he turns to you and chuckles breathily. “you could come work with me at the shop, then .. uh i just realized-,”

“it’s y/n. and you just broke my record for the longest time it takes for a stranger to ask my name,” the both of you laugh as you enter the museum.

after walking through different exhibits for a while, you finally arrive at the one that he wanted to see. when you enter, you are delighted to see that there are quite a few more people looking around. you notice that seonghwa seems to be looking for someone in the venue. “do you mind going around by yourself for a bit? i’m just gonna greet my friends,”

you shake your head and watch as he walks towards a few guys, suddenly hearing loud banters from them. after looking at the artworks alone for a while, you feel someone walking towards you.

“you ditch all your dates like this?”

“you guys are on a date?” you turn to the man beside you and realize that’s not seonghwa.

“and you are?”

“name’s hongjoong. i’m a friend of the man you came in here with,” hongjoong? you check the description of the sculpture you were just looking at to see the same name. “yep, i also made that,”

“woah, you sculpted this? you’re really good! i love the perfect balance of intricate details and the serenity that seems to flow from it,”

“thanks. at least someone knows how to appreciate my work,” he rolls his eyes and looks at seonghwa as the man in question approaches the both of you.

“you said you wanted constructive criticism, so i gave you exactly that,”

“saying i need to do it all over again is not constructive criticism,”

“you were making a portrait of me, and it didn’t look like me, what did you want me to say?” you lightly chuckle at their bickering and pull them away from each other before anything happens.

“anyway, i think my prof might be calling me. it was nice meeting you, seonghwa’s date,” you smile and bow as hongjoong jogs away.

“date?”

“oh, that’s nothing. take it as you will,”

after a few moments of silence, you try to strike up a conversation again. “so hongjoong .. is he an art major?”

“yeah, we go to the same college. his prof decided to showcase their sculptures for their final last sem, but today was the only day available, so here they are. what about you? you seem to be a long way from home,” you frown at him in confusion, spurring him on to explain what he meant. “you said earlier that you’re on fall break right now, and it’s definitely not fall break here in london. and you were taking pictures when we were walking outside,” he blurted as he pointed towards your camera.

“damn, how did you even pick up on that? and here i thought i was doing an excellent job at pretending not to be a tourist,” you chuckle as you pick up your camera from hanging it around your neck and examine it as if you don’t already know how to use it. “i’m actually a photography major. i came here to visit my sister, but i also hoped i could get some inspiration and good pictures while i’m here,”

“that’s really cool. if you want to take pictures of me, you don’t need to ask- i’d be most honored,” he smiles and bows like a prince, with one arm across his stomach and the other behind him.

the rest of the night continues like a breeze, with seonghwa agreeing to meet up with his other friends later in the night, saying he’ll be “a little late”, and you feeling a little bad that you’re probably the reason behind it. the both of you also decided to get some dinner together, and the entire time, it just felt like you were catching up with an old friend.

when it was getting dark, you both head back to the flower shop, which was already closed. seonghwa opens the doors with his keys, grabs the flowers he wrapped for you earlier and hands them to you.

“may i walk you home? it’s dark out now,”

“it’s fine, you’ve got your friends waiting for you, and the apartment’s only a few blocks away,”

“please, it’s the least i can do for asking you to spend your day with me so suddenly,” it takes you a solid 5 seconds to remember the whole deal you made this afternoon.

“oh right! yes, you definitely have to walk me home,” you say as you start walking. “so tell me, why did you choose these flowers for me?”

he stares at you for a moment, but instead of replying, he turns to the satchel bag slung on his shoulder and fishes for a small pocketbook from one of the compartments, which he hands over to you. you read the title in your head as it says ‘the language of flowers’.

“look for asters and white camellias when you get home,”

“you’re still not gonna tell me?”

he simply shrugs. “i still stand by what i said about delivering silent messages,”

all you could do was chuckle at the man’s antics. you can’t really blame him anyway because it seems impossible to be angry with him and because you surprisingly enjoyed the time you spent with him today.

as if on cue, the building of your sister’s apartment comes into view. “well, this is me. see you around?”

“yeah, you know where to find me,” he smiles, and you turn to enter the building, but not before waving one last time. as you walk towards the unit, all you can think about is the flowers in your hand, the little book, and seonghwa.

once you enter the flat, you are greeted with the sight of takeout and a zombie of a sister, who hardly even noticed you arrive, combined with a sitcom playing on the tv.

“these flowers are for you, mimi,” you place the hydrangeas on the small round dining table.

“thanks? what for?”

“nothing, just felt like it. i’ll just put my stuff down then i’ll eat with you,”

you hear a tired ‘okay’ as you enter your room. the moment you closed the door, you open the floriography book to find that asters represent love, wisdom, faith, and daintiness, but you notice a little note written by who you assume is seonghwa, saying that they were also used as offerings in the altar of the gods in greek mythology. a few more flips of pages and you find that white camellias symbolize adoration, and that in the victorian era, it roughly translates to ‘you’re adorable’.

if you weren’t blushing like a little schoolgirl earlier, you definitely are now.

the next few days were spent either with seonghwa or your sister miyoung. however, because miyoung has a 9 to 5 job, usually working overtime even on saturdays, you seemed to be around seonghwa a lot more, not that you’re complaining.

when your sister was free though, she would either take you to her favorite restaurants for dinner or you both just stayed at the apartment and binge watched an old cartoon series you used to watch together as kids. meanwhile, when seonghwa wasn’t busy attending lectures or working, he usually took your afternoons, bringing you to different tourist spots and smaller establishments like a tour guide. and on days when he can't accompany you, he makes sure to call. he’s even introduced you to his other friends, the ones he talked to when you went to the national gallery, and you found them to be a chaotic but welcoming bunch.

one time, after taking you through the hampton court palace, you stepped into the nearest gift shop right after. on the numerous times you asked to go to a gift shop, he noticed that you usually only bought a postcard with a photo of the place you just visited. and every time before he walks you back to your sister’s apartment, you always ask to stop by a cafe first where you take out the postcard and quickly write on it. this time, curiosity got the best of him.

“why don’t you buy anything else aside from a postcard? i’ll pay if you want,”

you look up from the card you were busy writing on and at seonghwa who is sitting in front of you.

“oh no, it’s fine. postcards are really all i need. not those shot glasses or bottle openers,” you chuckle as you go back to writing.

“then let me rephrase my question. why do you buy a postcard every day and also write on it hurriedly in a cafe every day?”

you look up again, and you guess it showed a bit of hesitancy because then he was suddenly waving his hands.

“oh! no, if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s fine. i was just curious,”

“you’re gonna laugh,” you give him a reassuring smile and look away.

“i won’t. scout’s promise,”

you look back at him and switch between his eyes, but you only found sincerity in them. you sigh as you finally tell him that you write on postcards like a diary, going through everything that’s happened on that day because you unfortunately have a poor memory.

“really?”

“yeah, i treat it like a travel journal. it’s so tedious to actually maintain one, so i do this instead,”

“who do you address them to?”

“... myself. i write them to myself .. from myself,”

he smiles fondly at the hobby of yours that he just discovered. “that’s cute. then, will you also mail them?”

“yeah!” you beam when he didn’t show any signs of feeling somewhat appalled or make any jokes. “it’s really cool to find them in your mailbox at home too. sometimes they even come home wet from rain,”

you go back to finishing on your postcard, but not without noticing the eyes that are constantly on you.

today wasn’t any different. it’s a saturday, and seonghwa promised to take you around the city again after meeting up in the morning with his group to work on a presentation. you accidentally woke up a little earlier than you intended, so you decided to surprise him at the college library.

you weren’t very good with directions, so it took you a while before you found his university. when you arrived, all your frustrations from going around in circles were suddenly washed away as you took in the beauty of the campus. most of the buildings looked a bit old, probably at least 100 years old, with distinct old english decorations half covered in vines. of course, there were still some more modern buildings, but there was a good balance between the two that makes the school feel homely.

a few students were coming in and out of the gates when you facepalmed yourself once you realized that there was no way of you getting inside without ruining the surprise.

seonghwa, on the other hand, was busy working on the slides for his group’s presentation. one of his groupmates who hasn't been helping also didn't show up today, so he now has to do their parts as well. he was starting to get fed up with the stress he was feeling, and being unable to let it out in a library was not helping- until he received a message from you.

y/n: hey

y/n: so uh

y/n: the stupidity kinda came out today

seonghwa: good morning to u too

seonghwa: did something happen?

y/n: im kinda outside ur school gates rn

y/n: but i realized i don’t have a student card lmao

seonghwa: WHAT .

seonghwa: stay right there

finally having an excuse to take a break, he told the rest of his group that he just needed to pick something up. he brisk walked towards the library doors and quickly ran across campus to where you were waiting.

“what are you doing here?”

“i was supposed to surprise you coz i woke up too early,” you slightly sulk as he ushers you into the campus. “now i made you leave your group. sorry about that,”

“don’t be. i needed a distraction. plus as long as it's you, i don’t mind,” he declares as he turns to you with a small smile on his face.

there he goes again. his words are so simple, but the way he says them with an air of grace and confidence makes him seem so dignified and somehow out-of-reach, yet it pulls you to him even more.

when you reach the library, he asks you to wait for him as he goes back inside to grab his things and take his leave from the group.

“where are we going, dora the explorer?”

“what do you mean, i’m just the monkey or the map at best,” he chuckles as you walk side-by-side with a distance in between you that may or may not be a little too small. “actually since you’re here, i thought we could go around campus for a while,”

“i’d like that. everything about it is so beautiful and enchanting, almost like castles pulled straight from fairytales if they were real,”

“they don’t compare to you, though. you’re at the center keeping all this beauty together,” again with the genuine smile and calm tone.

“stop being so cheesy without being a tease. it’s so hard to get annoyed with you like that,” you lightly punch his arm and he dramatically feigns pain as he rubs the spot you just hit.

“you’ll just have to get used to it,”

after walking around for some time, you find yourselves alongside a river where seonghwa sits under a tree, watching you take a few photos of the scenery and buildings.

“i have an idea. do you think you can do one of your routines here?”

“here? right now?”

“yeah i mean there's no one else here, and i wanted to take pictures of you,” you slightly blush as you realize what you just said.

“okay, i guess i can do one or two. but you’re only allowed to take good pictures,”

“even if i tried getting a weird photo of you, you’d still look good anyway,” you scoff, sitting down in the shade and leaning backwards on your hands to take a good look at him.

“take a picture. it’ll-”

“that’s old, seonghwa. try it on someone who’s not a photography major,” he laughs breathily as you take off your bright purple cardigan. “wear this,”

“while dancing? also i think my hair alone is already bright enough to stand out in a crowd,”

“just trust me,”

he mutters a small ‘okay’, removes his own cardigan and tie, and unbuttons his shirt before taking your piece of clothing.

“what are you doing?” your hands slip on the grass and you fall sharply on your elbows and back when you turn to see him shirtless.

“i don’t think your cardigan goes well with what i’m wearing,” he said with a teasing tone and a smirk plastered on his face.

once he’s fully clothed once again, you take the matching purple handkerchief wrapped around your hair and wrap it around his neck like a choker. you were so focused on tying the cloth properly and so closely that you didn’t notice the way seonghwa stared at your concentrated face and held in his breath.

“okay! now play a song and dance right there beside the river. just be careful,”

he walks over to the spot you pointed at and plays a melancholic song just loud enough for the both of you to hear. the moment you hear the music, his face contorts into something of pain and longing, and you were immediately enthralled.

a rush of a feeling you can’t quite place surges through you as you capture the man before you, pushing you to amplify all the emotions flowing through seonghwa as he seemingly floats on air. you were so entranced by the scene that you hardly registered the sound of your camera clicking and your body subconsciously kept moving around to find the right angle.

you didn’t even realize the song had already finished until he bent over on his knees panting. you get up and slowly walk towards him.

“seonghwa…”

just as you were about to shower him in compliments and admiration, another song started playing, this time more upbeat. he immediately looked up at you while stars seemingly twinkled in his doe eyes. “one more,”

you smile at how excited he looked and how he doesn’t seem to lose energy and walk back to where you were taking pictures.

a completely different person was dancing this time. he no longer looks like a man who’s lived 20 lives and experienced heartbreak in all of them. no, his inner child seemed to come to life as he danced in a different, more sharp style with a smile that almost hid his eyes. if just a while ago, he was a swan full of grace and poise, now he was a butterfly who is finally free and couldn’t have a care in the world.

by the time the first chorus of the song finished, you suddenly remembered that you brought your film camera with you today, so you rush back under the tree to grab it. you weren’t even sure if there was any film left inside. since you’re trying to capture a moving subject, you could only hope that the photos you’ll take with it will come out fine.

once the song finished, you immediately started clapping and cheering as he staggers towards the shade.

“that was so good! the stark difference between the two dances– and yet you expressed both emotions so well! i don’t know how you did it, but that was beautiful,” you beamed in awe as seonghwa lays flat on the grass with an equally radiant smile on his face.

“thanks. i haven’t had that much fun in a while. it felt kinda .. freeing,”

you put away your cameras and lay beside him, elation still coursing through your veins. you turn towards him to see that he’s closed his eyes in hopes to gain back his energy. his breathing matches yours as you both bask in the cool breeze.

“i have a question, which by the way you don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable because i’m just cu-,”

“y/n, i promise i’m comfortable with you, but what is it?,” he chuckles slightly.

“is there any particular reason you chose to pursue dancing?”

he opens his eyes to stare at the leaves trying to block the harsh sun. “this might sound a bit cliche, but i used to watch my mom perform. she was a very graceful dancer until she suffered from an injury that stopped her from dancing. that didn't discourage me from pursuing it though. i always wanted to be like her, and i found that it was easy for me to express emotions when dancing. i also just enjoy the fulfillment that choreographing and learning routines give me. doing them with other people is also really fun,” he smiles as he stares into the distance longingly. “your turn,”

“me?”

“yeah, i’m curious too,” he turns to his side, props up his arm and leans his head on his hand while gazing at you. this time, it was you who stared up into the half empty sky.

“i got my first camera when i was 16. it was a simple disposable film camera, and i didn't wanna waste any film, so i tried teaching myself how to take good pictures. i really liked how you could tell stories and also show the beauty around me that only i could see in just one picture alone, but i was mostly into the idea of immortalizing memories and moments into a piece of film. i already told you that i usually have a hard time remembering things in the past, so the pictures i take are always dear to me,”

a comfortable silence takes over, so you turn your head to find seonghwa simply staring. “are you gonna say something?”

he goes back to lying on his back and sighs. “i was just thinking about what you said. i must have saved a kingdom in my past life for me to be among your pictures then,” he smiles and turns his head towards you.

you chuckle as you both continue to look into each other’s eyes, both wanting to say something but tongues seemingly caught in their throats.

“i have an idea,”

he gets up and pulls out his phone once again, making you sit up as well. “aren’t you tired?”

“nope,” he pops the ‘p’ as he scrolls through his phone. “i could never be tired of dancing,”

once he finds and plays the song he’s looking for, he sets it down and slightly bends over to bring his hand out in front of you.

“may i have this dance?”

“i don’t know how. plus you’re really sweaty,”

“c’mon, don’t ruin the moment,”

you reluctantly place your hand over his, and he helps you up. he places your left hand on the upper part of his arm, then he places his right hand behind your shoulder, his arm supporting yours up. he takes your other hand and clasps them together as he brings you closer to him.

“i never learned how to waltz,” you look down as you whisper sheepishly.

“look at me,” you do as he says and you find your breath caught in your throat as you stare into each other’s eyes. “relax, i’ll guide you. right foot forward first,”

you take your time trying to move around without stepping on his or your feet, which you do a few times, but he doesn’t even look the least bit annoyed. by the time you reach the last leg of the song, you finally get the hang of things, and you’re grinning with satisfaction.

at the end of the song, he spins you around, and you manage to stumble on your legs. you almost fall on your back, but he’s quick to hold you up, albeit a little too close to his face.

“hi,” he chuckled with childlike wonder before he helps you to your feet.

although the song is over, neither of you move or say anything, unable to leave the gaze you held upon each other.

“i think we should .. get going?” you ask as you look away from him upon sensing the growing tension. he simply nods as he takes off the clothes you gave him and changes into what he was wearing earlier.

“i’ll take these with me and wash them first,”

you can only agree as you remain in your flustered state. you both take your leave from the university campus, and seonghwa steps back into his tour guide character.

the rest of your time here in london was pretty much the same, a cycle of spending time with miyoung or seonghwa, and occasionally his friend group. however, the day you had to fly back home was slowly coming around, haunting you each day it does. you’d very much hate to leave, not when both miyoung and seonghwa are here.

miyoung knew that your last day in london was nearing, so she tried to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you, in that time, she noticed that you always had flowers when coming home, and now she knows that you’ve been ‘seeing’ a guy, although you've reminded her countless times that you and seonghwa weren't like that.

she then asked to invite him over a few times, wanting to meet and ‘approve’ or ‘disapprove’ of him. you were thankful that seonghwa was a good sport about it and even made your sister head over heels for him (in an approving ‘he’s too good for you!’ type of way).

on the other hand, you were too afraid to tell seonghwa that you were going back home in a few days. it was stupid, you know, but you couldn't find the right time to tell him.

that was your first mistake.

because when he appeared on your doorstep, flowers in hand and about to actually ask you out (but you didn't know that), he was more than devastated.

“you’re leaving?” you saw how his usual twinkling eyes suddenly looked empty, and it twisted something painfully inside you.

“yeah,” you whisper as you look away from him. “i’m really sorry i didn't tell you earlier. i couldn't bring myself to tell you,”

you take the flowers from his hands and open the door even further to let him inside the apartment, and he tries his best not to look too dejected.

that was your second mistake.

you offer him something from the kitchen, which he declines, and you wonder how long you'll be feeling guilty like this.

your flight is in a few hours, so you go back to your room as miyoung tries to strike a conversation with him to lighten the mood.

after a while, as you fold the remainder of your clothes, he knocks at your door, and you allow him in. in the corner of your eye, you notice him walking to your messy study table.

“are these .. all the flowers i’ve given you?”

you know exactly what he's talking about, and for some reason, it hurts you even more.

“yeah, i wanted them to last so i took a few and dried and pressed them,” you wanted to tell him that you wanted to keep every reminder of him that you could have, but you don’t.

“what about the postcards?”

“i already had them mailed this morning,”

“oh,”

you take in a deep breath and sigh shakily. you know exactly how you feel about the man, and what you wished you could say to him. your sister even helped you realize that last night. and you also reluctantly came to terms with the fact that you can’t be with him because it would be hard to maintain a long-distance relationship while it's still fresh.

and you cursed the universe for letting this happen to you.

just when you finally decided to stop actively looking for love, seonghwa casually enters your life and gives you exactly that.

it was scary how easily and quickly you became comfortable around him, so much so that you have never been so willing to give your whole self to someone in such a long time.

you may have been a tourist here in london, but he made you feel like your home belongs here, with him, in his arms.

“and these are the pictures you took of me?”

your head snaps up because you thought you already packed them.

“.. yeah,”

“they're beautiful. may i keep one?”

“of course. i still have the soft copy, so don’t worry,” you finish folding and packing your clothes, so you move to your table.

he watches as you clean up and pack the things on your table, carefully placing the dried flowers inside a notebook and the photos inside an envelope.

“do you mind if i drive you to the airport?”

“are you sure? are you not busy?”

“yeah, i’m sure. i wanna maximize my time with you,”

you slightly freeze at that and take your eyes away from his because you feel like you'll start crying if you keep eye contact with him.

before you know it, seonghwa’s already driving you and your sister to the airport, the flowers he brought earlier on your lap.

unloading your luggage and taking you to the entrance was faster than you would have liked.

you turn to your sister first, and she starts crying.

“stop crying. you know i’m just as emotional as you are,”

she cups your face and places your foreheads together, something you did when she also left your home for london.

“call me when you arrive, okay? and don’t you dare avoid my calls whatsoever,”

you smile and a tear falls from your eye as you hug her tight.

you then turned to seonghwa. you couldn't bring yourself to look up at him because you knew that the tears would never stop if you did.

“hey, look at me,”

you did exactly that and found that he also shed a tear, and now you really couldn't hold it in. you wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head in the crook of his neck.

“don’t miss me too much,” he chuckled as he stroked your hair to calm you down. “call me too when you’ve arrived, okay? i promise we'll keep in touch coz i’m not going anywhere,”

you nod as you try to stop crying. before you released him from your hug, he whispers, “i wish you could stay,”

you finally break, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to recover. i would if you asked me to, but it’s too late for that now.

unable to do anything else out of fear of also breaking, he takes one of your hands gently as if they would break and kisses the back of it.

if you stayed in his presence a little longer, you knew you wouldn't be able to leave, so you took your luggage and went through the gates. you turned back to them once more to wave, and that was the last you saw of seonghwa.

two weeks after you arrived back at your home, you finally received the postcards you mailed. you found yourself smiling as you read whatever you wrote, your heart stinging at every mention of seonghwa.

in the first few months, you and seonghwa kept in touch pretty often, as he promised. although it was difficult to do so due to the difference in timezones and college work, you both tried to find time for each other.

however, it became more difficult as time passed. during calls, one of you would either fall asleep or end the call early. over time, you somehow felt like you no longer knew the man you fell hard for all those months ago.

just as quickly as you met and found love in him, he simply became a distant memory engraved in pictures and flowers.

it was now more than a year since your trip to london. you graduated a few months ago and were finally having your very first exhibit. it wasn't too crowded, but you were grateful for all the people who were interested in your work.

you were talking to one of your old college professors when one of the security guards told you that there was something for you at the lobby. you excused yourself and made your way to the concierge.

“hi, i was told there was something for me?”

“ah, miss y/l/n! yes, this bouquet is for you,” they hand you the bouquet they were talking about, and you check the tag for the sender.

there was no name written on it, but you noticed a familiar logo. you look again at the flowers, and you realize what combination they are- asters and white camellias.

you didn't need a second longer for you to know who this was from.

without even sparing the lady at the concierge a simple ‘thank you’, tears started threatening to fall, and you immediately ran back to your exhibit. you frantically searched for any pink-haired man that you might've missed, but to no avail. you tried to calm yourself down and slowly examined the side profiles of the people around, or what you can see of them anyway.

that's when you finally found him, looking at an all too familiar picture that you could recognize even if you were tens of feet away. this time, however, he dyed his hair black, and you thought it made him look even more regal and ethereal.

bouquet of asters and camellias in hand, you slowly make your way to the man as you wipe whatever tears had escaped. you stopped right behind him and sighed.

“hey, stranger.”

© woobly, 2022. all rights reserved.

#ficscafe trope event #ficscafe #8makes1teamnet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #kflixnet #koffeenet #ateez #ateez au #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa au #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #seonghwa oneshots #seonghwa imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez oneshots #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop college au #kpop fluff #kpop angst

[postalenha]

worth waiting for % jungwon

pairing: bestfriend!jungwon x reader genre: angst-ish word count: 1.3k words synopsis: jungwon’s confession to his longtime crush went downhill, you know you should be happy. but how could you when your heart is breaking to see the love of your life break his heart for someone else? a/n: hii this is my second entry for the @ficscafe trope event! the trope i chose this time is heartbroken x patiently waits for them to heal hope you like it and tell me about it on ask!! [ps: italicized text = flashback | also, there is no portrayer for any characters other than jungwon being himself. the rest of the characters are up to you. ]

your heart dropped the same time the flowers did from jungwon’s grip. just as the laugh from everyone wasn’t enough, leo, the douchebag patted jungwon’s shoulder before saying, “that’s okay dude, i admire the courage though.”

his statement was followed by loud laughter of the students who, by chance, were able to surround the area to watch what was happening. you tried to reach out for jungwon’s hand, “let’s just go.” you whispered.

he shook your hand off before running away, “jungwon!” you tried calling him. “well that goes for his self esteem.” leo cracked. that’s it, that was your last straw.

“wow leo, so much for a guy who thinks so high for himself huh?” you said, “excuse me?” he blurted. “you do know that most of these people are laughing at you and not your jokes right?”

he was about to say something when you interrupted him, “or maybe not. cause your balls replaced your brain.” you dropped, that made the boy zip his mouth shut.

before walking away, you locked eyes with the person who’s root of this all. kim haneul. only if she knew how lucky she was to have jungwon’s heart.

you ran all around campus trying to find your best friend. and you knew that there is one particular place where you can certainly find him. as you open the door of the 8th grade building’s rooftop, you see jungwon staring into nothingness.

“wonie.” you quietly called him. he lifted his head to face you, trying to smile but his cheeks would just not let him. “you found me.” he whispered as you sat beside him. immediately resting his head on your shoulder.

he let out a very heavy sigh, “well that didn’t go as planned, huh?” he laughed without humour. you didn’t say nor do anything. you just sat there. because that’s what friends do.

though it wasn’t the same when it happened to you. well, it was foolish if you expect the person you confessed to to comfort you when he turned you down.

“y/n, why are we here?” jungwon asked as you dragged him to the 8th grade rooftop. your lips wobble a little as you feel your heart beat so fast from nervousness. “there’s something i have to tell you.”

he just raised one of his eyebrows, not taking you seriously. “this, is where we first met. right?” you asked him, holding both of his hands, “yeah, that was when you had that side bang.” you slap his arm as he laughs.

“stop, it’s not about that.” you said, “that was the first. the second time we met was when our biology teacher told me to bring the books back to her office as a punishment. and no one was willing to help me, but you stood and took half of them from my hand.”

“i mean- that’s what a decent human being would do, right?” he said, which just made you think that you’ve fallen for the right- scratch that, the perfect guy you could ever like.

“we’ve been friends since then. but then it started to change.” he gave you a worried look, “i don’t want to be friends anymore.” his grip on your hand became tighter. “why? did i do something wrong? y/n when i told you that your side bangs was awful, i didn’t really mean it.”

you laughed at his statement, “i know, silly.” you told him, “but why are you telling me this?” he asked, “i don’t want to be friends anymore because i want an upgrade.”

he looked at you confused, “huh?”

“i like you, jungwon. and if you give me a chance, may i be your girlfriend? not just a friend who’s a girl. but a girlfriend.” his eyes widened at you, slowly dropping your hand.

your smile fades away at an instant, you feel your stomach drop. this is it. this is where all those sleepless nights thinking what would happen if you confess to your bestfriend turns out to be.

“y/n, i..” he stopped, trying to construct a better sentence in his head. what you said just caught him off guard. and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt your feelings. “y/n, you’re very dear to me. i would never want to hurt you. you know i love you, right?”

you looked at your shoes, “just not as much.” you whispered. “it’s fine.” you plaster a smile as you look at him, “it’s not like i expected you to like me in return.” yes you did. “i just had to let that out, you know?” you laughed trying to stop a tear to fall from your eye.

jungwon looked at you. you’re not the only one hurting. he is too, and he feel more awful knowing the fact that he’s the reason of your tears. “sorry y/n. i really loved you as a friend. but you know i have feelings for haneul, right?”

the mention of her name felt like a knife stabbed straight to your heart, “yeah. and i understand. she’s pretty, kind, smart. i mean, she’s everything anyone would want to have.” you said, telling the truth.

haneul really is that perfect girl, the walking angel around the campus. you can’t say anything bad about her because there’s just simply nothing to say. “bold of me to even think i’m worthy enough to compete.” you said before running away from jungwon.

the memory of that day made you smile bitterly. but after that, jungwon called and everything became normal. or that’s what you pretend it is.

jungwon became more cautious of talking to you about the person he likes and all that stuff, because he never wants to see you hurt again. but little did he know, your heart tears apart every time you see his eyes sparkle whenever haneul is around.

he was hesitant at first but last week, he asked you to help him out. he figured that after four years of liking haneul, he should finally confess. before any of you go to college.

and he thought that no one could help him better than you. his best friend, who also happens to like him. of course the idea sounded like noise in your ear. but what could you do, right? you’re in no place to get angry. all you could do was cry yourself to sleep.

he lift his head from your shoulder. you can feel his eyes stare at you, “stop staring.” you told him not meeting his eyes. “don’t even try to blame it on me, i tried my best to find a shop where they sell the flowers you told me to buy.” you said. he remained silent, not saying a thing.

“plus, we both didn’t know that leo was also interested in her- well that was a given considering who haneul is. but then again, who would’ve thought that haneul would want him as her boyfriend?” you questioned.

“like for god’s sake. they’re total opposites, she’s an angel and he’s satan’s pet sent from the ground. if i didn’t care less i would say that you and her would have looked so much better-”

jungwon stopped you mid-sentence asking, “why can’t it be you?” you looked his way, confusion evident on your face. “what do you mean?”

“why can’t you just be the one i like?” not really able to say anything, tears started forming into your eyes. well maybe because sometimes cupid runs out of bows and just shoots one person and not the other.

but you know better. love takes time and no matter how long it would take, you would wait for jungwon because he’s a person worth waiting for.

#enhypen #ficscafe trope event #ficscafe #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcannon #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #jungwon angst #enhypen jungwon

[sunlightwoo]

2:05am

pairing: boyfriend!taehyun x g.n reader

genre: established relationship, humor, fluff | no warnings, rated pg-13

wc: <1000

a/n: this is actually for @ficscafe​’s ongoing trope event with the trope “1: has trouble sleeping x stays up for them”. i personally wanted to write this because i wanted to be self indulgent (being a person that always has trouble sleeping and i was like oh!! it’s also taehyun’s birthday <333 so i hope you guys like this little drabble for taehyun day!!

You envied your boyfriend. 

He was an absolute menace when he was asleep for the sole reason that he was a pretty sleeper. And was able to actually sleep at this hour. 

You weren’t sure how long you were awake for, nor did you know what time it was, however the fatigue that was hitting you earlier when Taehyun had mentioned that the two of you should sleep was no longer there. Instead held the fast beating of your heart as you stared at him for a bit, tracing with your eyes the shape of his nose and listening to his soft breaths that were on top of your head. 

By the time that you decide to shift a bit in your position of where you were in his embrace, you can hear his breath hitch for a moment and slightly turn to see that his eyes were squinting into the night. Eyes finding yours, his eyebrows raise for a moment as you give him a sheepish smile back in response, and you were ready for what could be the longest night of his life. 

“Have you been awake this whole time, instead of sleeping?”

The tiredness in his voice makes your knees weak and you could only feel guilt while you stared at him with a pout that now draws itself upon your lips. Taehyun knew that there was often nights that you wouldn’t be able to sleep and he sensed that tonight must’ve been one of them when his eyes were now able to see the pout that was on your face. 

Placing a small kiss against the pout, your cheeks flared up with heat and the sheepish smile from earlier returns as you place multiple kisses against his sleepy ones. He smiles through his eyes and holds you close to him, hoping that his heartbeat could calm you through the night. 

“Taehyun?” You mumble quietly once you found yourself cuddling him with your head on top of his chest, and you hear him hum sleepily in response as he brushes his fingers up and down your back gently in order to help you fall asleep faster. 

“Did you know that if we removed all laws, the crime rate would be zero percent?” 

He looks at you in amusement and there’s giggles ready to escape your lips, but he takes this opportunity to hug you even closer to his chest and rock you back and forth in his arms. There’s little giggles that escapes from your chest as they get muffled into his embrace, but you knew that it was times like these where you were grateful that even though Taehyun was sleepy, he was willing to make sure that you fell asleep first before he could go back to sleep.

“Go to sleep, pretty. Your brain is making up ridiculous stuff, which means that you should sleep.” He grins and presses one more kiss to the crown of your head as you let out one large sigh before you could feel yourself growing sleepier. 

“I love you, Taehyun.” You mumbled quietly, pressing a small kiss on his exposed neck and started closing your eyes as you attempted to fall asleep this time, and it wasn’t until he could hear your soft breaths that he could tell that you were finally sleeping. 

“Love you too, pretty. See you in the morning.”

permanent taglist: @allyg-onz @viastro @bbanghoonie @wooyoung-a @pwttychannie @sunwoahkim @karsohn @escapewriter @awfullytiredbuthealing @fylithia @i4deonu @flrtsbin @lilyluvsgyu @whereisgyu @myluv-yeonjun @allorysayshi @nlnkm @jannine00742 @id0ntunderstand​ (add yourself to my permanent taglist here!)

#ficscafe #kvanity #ficscafe trope event #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt x reader #tomorrow by together #kang taehyun #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #taehyun fluff #taehyun drabbles #taehyun x reader #pls i absolutely loved this idea and wished that i had a taehyun to cuddle with LOLOL

[byeolhyesisi]

EXCEPTION; LEE DONGHYUCK

troublemaker!lee donghyuck x reader

The school's troublemaker, Donghyuck, realizes that the reason why he can't bring himself to be an asshole to you is because he likes you.

genre: fluff, slight crack????, oneshot, short fic, highschool au

warnings: use of profanity ><, not proofread!!!, things may be too fast, flow may be off, might not be a good fic so im sorry in advance:(

words: 1.2k+

tags: @angel-hyuckie @joker0705 @bbjisungg @mmarrie @jwoos-colored @deysii @trashlord-007 @intokook @neotechhsworld @kjpmin @i-aecrysture @je4nsv @whatsa-bi-as @daegall

a/n: hello this is my entry for the @ficscafe trope event! the trope i chose is angel x asshole that's mean to everybody except angel BUT i feel like i didn't pull it off because haechan isn't technically mean here i guess? but i hope y'all still enjoy it >< + special part two here!

How do we put this in a clear way.

Lee Donghyuck is an asshole. Hands down. More like a jackass but you probably get the point. He'll annoy the shit out of you and if you think getting angry at him would make him stop oh no no no, it won't. He'd actually enjoy it more (his friend Renjun can confirm that). It was like his sole purpose in this world is to irritate everyone he feels like irritating. He's not a bully, he really just like getting on other people's nerves.

Yes, he does have limits and lines he wouldn't cross but it is a universally known fact that he's the student that just wanted to cause mischief, a frequent visitor of the detention room because of all the pranks and tricks up his sleeves.

Donghyuck has some exceptions though when it comes to the people he'd target. The list consists of people he's wise enough not to bother; most likely adults, certain teachers and maybe some relatives as well (not his siblings though lmao poor kids). However, there was an odd addition to his list of exceptions and it was you. Donghyuck doesn't know why he can't bring himself to mess with you. There was this invisible forcefield that was stopping him and it renders him confused. He attempted so many times but in the end, he just couldn't do it that's why he just gave up and left you alone. Donghyuck didn't want to think much about it but alas, he thought about it day and night.

What made you so special that the angel on his shoulder is stopping the devil from the other to cause trouble when it comes to you?

He tried to look back to when you were just a new student who transferred from a small town. He remembered that he felt giddy because there's a new person he can annoy the shit out of but the way you politely approached him made him have mixed feelings about his plans. The first time he attempted to provoke you he "accidentally" spilled water on your notes, knowing that you always wanted everything to be clean and perfect as possible however all you said was "It's alright don't worry, Hyuck. You didn't mean it." and you even said it with a smile instead of retorting at him. It took him aback because of the absence of the emotions he was expecting you to at least have. The boy felt guilty afterwards, eventually buying you a juice box and and a bag of chips from the vending machine to make up for it despite your protests.

The next set of attempts followed the same sequence: he'd do something that is supposed to be annoying, you don't react the way he expected you to react and then he feels guilty resulting to him making it up to you.

It was a cycle. It just had the same results that's why he just decided to stop.

It was lunch time and Donghyuck was conversing with his friend, Mark, when he saw you walked in the cafeteria and he eventually zoned out halfway through the conversation. Allured by the way you seemed like a girl who was modelled to be perfectly kind and pure. Almost innocent, even. You were such a sweetheart how can someone even be like that? "Hey are you even listening to me, dude?" The sound of Mark's voice slowly became clear to Donghyuck. He blinked repeatedly before looking back at the boy in front of him. "Yeah I am." He answered nonchalantly. "Oh really?" Mark crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. "What did I say then?" He questioned Donghyuck. "Uh... That you look like chicken little?—" He replied, pursing his lips afterwards. A sigh escaped from the older boy. Mark adjusted his glasses into place, eventually saying, "No. I was informing you that you're in trouble. You can't just fill the school's pool with thousands of orbeez!" "Why not? It was fun. Plus it's not like they'll know it was me. How am I in trouble." Donghyuck cockily stated, but that cockiness quickly faded away just like how he quickly acquired it when he saw the look on Mark's face. "You do realize the school has cameras, right?" Mark mentioned with this matter-of-fact tone and with that, Donghyuck knew he fucked up with the small mistake of forgetting to disable the cameras. So that's why I felt like I forgot to do something. He thought.

The troublemaker already had a plan to avoid detention since it was already his third one this week and he was getting tired of the boring hours he would have to spend. Donghyuck was ready to sprint off the classroom and get out of the campus, the only thing he was waiting for was his cue which was the bell to finally ring. He waited impatiently, staring at the wall clock hanging on the wall at the front; he was wishing for time to go faster. Until it finally happened, the bell rang and it was his cue. Hastily he stood up and bolted out of the classroom, sprinting towards the exit when an impact made him fall to the ground with a grunt. Donghyuck heard a quiet groan and he cursed under his breath as the hall was slowly getting filled by students. He looked at the person he supposedly crashed into with a glare but his deadly gaze soon melted and softened.

"(Y/N)? Oh god, are you ok?" He brought himself closer to your figure, a concerned expression enveloped his face. The polite smile you always flashed is now plastered on, "Yeah I'm good." You responded. Donghyuck stood up, offering his hand to help you get up on your feet; You hesitated at first but you still reached your hand out to his. There was a sting on your elbow, wincing slightly when Donghyuck pulled you up. He noticed the small movement and saw that your elbow was bleeding faintly which was the result of the sudden friction when your elbow made contact with the floor. "Let's get you to the clinic—" "Lee Donghyuck." A stern voice called out. He clicked his tongue before facing the direction where the voice came from. "Yeah yeah detention I know." The boy spoke with a snarky tone. "Can you just wait for a minute, thanks." Donghyuck told the faculty member to which the faculty member raised an eyebrow on. He pulled out his wallet, opening it to find a certain thing. A small "aha" escaped from Donghyuck's lips when he found what he was looking for.

"Here take this. I'm really sorry, I hope you weren't too hurt..." He said apologetically before handing you a bandaid that had cute bears as its design. He approached the faculty member and is now being escorted to the detention room. He glanced over his shoulder to see a bewildered (Y/N) seemingly looking at the bandaid with a smile. Your soft smile was contagious and soon enough there was a grin on his face that he didn't notice spread throughout his lips.

Then it hit him. It hit Donghyuck hard while he was cleaning the detention room as punishment. He likes you. He literally almost fell down the table while he was dusting the ceiling when he realized it.

"OH MY GOD I LIKE HER." Donghyuck exclaimed upon comprehension.

You're an exception to all his troublesome extravaganzas because he has feelings for you and maybe you like him too.

#ficscafe trope event #kflixnet #neoturtles #nct #neo culture technology #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #nct 2021 #nct haechan #nct 127 haechan #nct dream haechan #haechan #nct donghyuck #lee donghyuck #nct fluff #nct soft #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct haechan fluff #nct haechan x reader #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #nct smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #kpop #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic

[daybreakx]

pairing: gryffindor! jaehyun x optional house! (gn) reader.

genre: hogwarts au, fluff. 

summary: jaehyun loves to hear your voice, no matter what you’re saying.

word count: 436 words

warnings: none.

a/n: this is for @ficscafe​ trope event! trope #25: book lover x doesn’t read books but asks them to read it out loud because they like the sound of their voice. feedback is greatly appreciated, please let me know what you think, and please reblog♡

membership holders: @pinutbutterjelly @moonbaesic, @milkybonya, @kristyxoxo​💚

The weight of your book bag bouncing against your right leg was comforting, just like the light swoosh your steps raised from the grass. It was a nice spring day and you wanted to enjoy it best as you could, although you had assignments to do.

“Where are you going?” Jaehyun’s steps were in direct contrast to yours, heavy and rushed as he tried to catch up.

“I’ll go with you!” He offered instantly, still making lots of noise although he’d caught up with you already. 

“You’re not even carrying your books,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re not even carrying your books,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“But I have you,” he winked, almost tripping you as he pulled you closer to him by wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You let out a short laugh, letting him give you a light squeeze.

You found a spot by the shade, the glimmering surface of the lake broken every few minutes by its inhabitant moving around. 

“This isn’t homework,” Jaehyun read the back of the book you got out of your bag, chuckling. 

You shrugged, taking it back. “Do you want to stay or not?”

He made show of zipping his mouth with his left hand as a reply.

The cover of the book was worn out, yet the figures could still be made out. A heart, a witch and a man poiting at her accusingly. Even wizards had a flair for the dramatic, and it showed in their romance novels.

Jaehyun didn’t care what type of book you chose, he paid attention all the same the moment you cleared your throat and started reciting its contents. 

You lifted your arms slightly, giving him enough space to occupy his usual place. His head resting on your lap as he looked up at you, although most of your features were hidden behind the book. 

“Are you ready?” you asked, lowering the book just below your eyes. 

Jaehyun nodded, arms loosely crossed above his chest.

“Chapter one: Stake of love,” you began, interrupted immediately by a short laugh coming out of both of you. 

“I have a feeling this is going to be a good one,” Jaehyun commented, eyes fixed on the cover as if he could see your eyes beyond it.

“Me too,” you lowered the book one last time, running a hand through Jaehyun’s hair. He smiled softly, closing his eyes as you continued to read out loud. 

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#ficscafe trope event #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct au #nct imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #nct fluff #nct x reader #kpop writings #kpop writing #kpop writers #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop x gn reader #kpop x gender neutral reader #kpop x y/n #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #kpop hogwarts au #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop blurbs #nct

[gamerwoo]

Seungmin: Won’t Go Home Without You

Characters: Seungmin x female reader

Genre/warnings: demon au, fallen angel au, angst, fluff at the end, minor religious themes, seungmin’s an ✨asshole✨, and things in italics are memories

Word count: 2,539

Summary: It’s not over tonight, just give me one more chance to make it right. I may not make it through the night. I won’t go home without you.

a/n: this is for the ficscafe trope event!! i used the trope ‘tells them to go away but doesn’t actually mean it x actually goes away’ and i started listening to won’t go home without you by maroon 5 for some reason??? and may have inspired a skz song series

Black boots hitting the wet pavement, Seungmin’s eyes darted around the vacant streets. Everything seemed so quiet -- too quiet for this city. His hair was dripping from the rain that only recently stopped, water droplets still falling down his leather jacket and soaking into his black jeans. He didn’t care about how wet his clothes were or how cold it was walking around at night. His mind was only racing with thoughts of you.

‘How could you be such a fucking ass?’ he asked himself as his eyes scanned back and forth for any sign of you. ‘Why couldn’t you just tell her how you feel? Why’d you have to fucking tell her to leave?’

Admittedly, Seungmin thought you were the most annoying thing on the planet when he first met you. You were trying too hard to make him look on the bright side when there literally wasn’t one. He wasn’t even thrown down from Heaven to be a fallen angel like you. Oh no, he skipped that level of the elevator and was banished straight to Hell as a demon. He’d never tell you what he did to deserve such a harsh punishment, but honestly, if he could just find you now, he’d tell you if it made you come back home. He’d tell you anything, even how he actually felt. He’d try to work on himself. He’d get his shit together. He’d get better at expressing his tangled-up emotions instead of just getting frustrated and taking it out on you, who was just assigned to help him. He’d do anything now that he’d realized how fucking awful he felt without you around; now that he realized how much he missed you and how much he needed you.

He realized how much he loved you. He never ever wanted to accept it, but fuck, he loved you. You pushed him to keep going. You made him get out of bed everyday and live his life. You let him stay at your apartment just so he wouldn’t have to suffer an even bigger change staying in Hell. You didn’t pity him like the other demons, you just had a heart and wanted him to feel even just a little bit better. But what did he do in return? What did he do every goddamn moment you tried to help?

He yelled at you.

“I get you’re mad,” you’d always tell him, “and that’s okay. Emotions are a lot.”

“I don’t have emotions,” he almost growl in annoyance. “Can you stop trying to like, disect me or whatever? You’re not a therapist and I’m not your patient. I’m -- unfortunately -- your roommate, so shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

You’d shrug, “Well, if you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”

But this time was different. He crossed a line this time. But he had no idea how to talk about his emotions, and on top of that, he didn’t even know what his emotions were. He had no idea what he was feeling because he was feeling too many things all at once and it was just too much for him.

Was that an excuse, though? Absolutely not.

“_____, just fuck off!” he burst after you trying to console him when you caught him crying in his bedroom.

Seungmin never cried when he thought you were around to hear it. He thought you were asleep since you weren’t up giggling at YouTube videos at 2am like usual -- he always yelled at you for being so loud later when you’d apologize in case you kept him up, but he always liked falling asleep to the sound of your laugh -- but apparently you weren’t in a deep enough sleep to not hear him in the next room. The apartment walls were paper thin anyway.

Your sleepy voice took him off guard and made him jump since he hadn’t heard you open the door. You tried to ask him if he was okay, and it set him off. He was embarrassed because he got caught crying and he wanted to be left alone.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I don’t care!” he spun around in his desk chair, wiping tears from his eyes as he glared at you. “God fucking damn, _____, can you just mind your fucking business? You’re always so fucking nosy!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” you sighed, giving in like you always did.

 But for some reason, he just kept going.

“Y’know, I don’t bust into your fucking room when you’re throwing yourself a pity part. ‘Meh, why me?’ _____, you broke the rules; you did it to yourself,” he stated. “You can’t cry ‘why me? why is everything so hard?’ when it’s your own goddamn fault!”

To that, you were speechless. All you could do was stand there, frozen, and stare at him.

Seungmin stood up and walked toward you, his eyes shifting to black, “You’re a fucking baby about your issues when you literally fucked yourself over. On top of that, you try to force yourself on me and pretend we’re friends. Face it, _____: you don’t have any.”

He leaned in toward your face, his inches from yours. He could hear your heart pounding in your chest as you just stared silently, eyes filling with tears. But he couldn’t shut up.

“I’m someone Minho dropped on you. I’m only here because I have to be. I only live with you because I have to. I don’t like you, _____ -- nobody does.”

You blinked and tears slid down your cheeks, your lower lip quivering. It only made him more angry. He was angry at you for making his heart break seeing you so sad, but he was also angry at himself for having these feelings toward you. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get them to go back to normal as he stomped back to his chair and turned to face his desk like you’d found him.

“Get out of my room,” he mumbled, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

It was silent for a moment before you quietly asked, “What did I do to you?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked a little forcefully.

“Seungmin, I’ve only been nice to you,” you continued, your voice still just above a whisper. “Why do you hate me? What did I do?”

He hated you because he loved you. He was afraid of that. Everything he knew and everyone he knew that was safe and stable was gone. Seungmin was terrified and confused and overwhelmed. But how could he say that? How could he just...say all of that?

“You fucking exist, _____,” he spat. “Ugh, can you just fucking go away?!”

He didn’t mean it and he knew it, but he wanted to mean it. He craved for you to give him a hug like you always did even though he never returned them. He desperately wanted you to rest your chin on his shoulder and tell him it was okay. He wanted you to reassure him that you would be the one person who wouldn’t give up on him or abandon him or throw him away.

How could he say that, though?

But this time, he heard you sniffle before you whispered, “Okay. Sorry...”

He heard his door shut and his heart ached. That only made him more angry.

Then he heard the front door close. And that’s when he lost it.

In the morning when he woke up, his room was trashed. He’d thrown and knocked over everything he could reach in the dark until he inevitably curled up in bed and fought back tears until he fell asleep. But he figured he’d clean up his mess later as he glanced at the clock on his nightstand and closed his eyes again.

But then they snapped open. It was noon? How was it noon? You always woke him up for breakfast and made him eat something. You made sure he was out of bed before late afternoon.

Confused, Seungmin got out of bed and padded to his bedroom door. He opened it and looked around the short hallway. The bathroom across the hall was unoccupied, and your bedroom door to his left was wide open with the light off. Still, he wandered over and poked his head in.

Empty.

Even though there wasn’t any noise coming from the living area, he went toward the kitchen and living room. As he suspected, you weren’t there either.

His heartbeat picked up as he started to worry. Had you not come back last night? Where did you go? Were you okay?

‘Relax, idiot,’ he told himself, ‘it’s not a big deal. She’ll be back by tonight.’

But there was nothing for him to do to stay occupied while he waited. What was he supposed to do? Without you, he would just hole up in his room. He only did things because you made him -- not that he’d tell you that he enjoyed himself whenever you had him sit down to watch Disney+ movies or go grab a bite to eat. There were moments that the two of you got along and could have normal conversations, but when he’d go back to his room at the end of the night and realize just how much he liked you and cared about you, he’d go back to trying to push you away again.

Seungmin went on a walk for a couple hours. He wandered the city aimlessly until the sun had gone down, and then he went back to the apartment and hoped maybe you’d be there.

He was met with darkness and silence.

He gave it another couple hours, turning on the light in the living area and sitting on the couch. He scrolled his phone -- he’d sent a couple texts trying to ask where you’d gone off to, and he also left you 2 voicemails trying to seem totally not worried -- to pass the time until his phone said it was 10:47pm. That was when he saw lightning light up the sky outside, followed by a crack of thunder that seemed to shake the apartment. He knew you didn’t like being out when it was raining --  especially if there was lightning -- because you hated being damp and cold. He gave it another ten minutes, waiting for the moment you’d teleport into the living room and shake yourself dry with a huff.

And now here he was.

Why did he say that to you? Why didn’t he just keep his stupid mouth shut? You were just trying to help. All you ever did was try to help. Ever since he was banished and Minho took pity on him and gave him human-world duty, all you’d done as his ‘overseer’ and roommate was try to help. Even with your shitty circumstances, you tried to be there for Seungmin and put his feelings over yours -- yeah, he heard you sobbing in your room some nights about “why did this happen to me?” even though you tried to appear like you were always looking on whatever ‘bright side’ you tried to get him to see. But you were right, you really were nothing but nice to him.

Finally, his eyes stopped on a form curled up on the bus stop bench, trying to stay out of the rain that had just stopped. He sprinted the couple blocks, the form becoming more and more detailed until he could make out your profile. Your eyes were sad as you went from looking straight ahead to down at your feet. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself before standing up and going to walk the opposite way when--

“_____,” was breathed in your ear as you were nearly knocked on your face, arms tightly winding around you. Your entire back was suddenly soaked and freezing cold, but you didn’t pull away.

“Wh--” you turned your head as best as you could with Seungmin’s face buried in your neck. “Seungmin?”

He lifted his head and looked at you with glossy eyes that made your brows furrow in confusion.

“_____,” he repeated your name, still breathless. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

You weren’t sure what was going on or what he was doing. This was all so unlike him, so unsure what else to say, you repeated, “S-Seungmin...?”

“_____, I-- Um...I’m...” he struggled to figure out how to apologize, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t let you go again. “What I said...to you... I-I didn’t mean it. I-I-I’m just-- I’m scared that-- I-I...I’m scared.”

“Scared?” you quizzed, stepping away from his hold to turn and face him.

“I, um...” Seungmin began as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His eyes looked down at the sidewalk. “I-I love you, _____. And...I’m terrified.”

His confession made sense. You could see why someone in his position would be scared to get attached to another person. It was why his emotions were so flick-of-a-switch. It was why he was so mean to you.

You shook your head and walked toward him, trying to turn him and push him toward the apartment building, “Can we do this at the apartment? You’re soaking wet and--”

“No!” he interrupted, whipping back around. He cupped your face between his hands and forced you to look in his eyes. “I can’t lose you again. I need to say everything so I can’t fuck up again. I don’t understand anything I feel, a-and there’s just...so much shit in my head -- too much. I don’t know how to explain any of it, but I know I love you, and all of this scares the shit out of me, _____. But...I-I’m tired of pushing you away because I really just...want you...to...”

As he got less confident with his words and his eyes began to cast downward, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. For the first time, Seungmin hugged you back, clinging to you like you were the only thing holding him to the Earth. His body started shaking slightly with silent sobs and you shushed him softly, rubbing his back.

“Don’t worry,” you told him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let him stay like that as long as he wanted. But he felt a shift and pulled away, seeing the inside of the apartment. It was your bedroom.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” he asked, trying to pull himself together -- he had to admit, he was still embarrassed that you were seeing him cry.

"Yeah,” you admitted, “but...I love you, too, Seungmin. I planned on coming back, but...only if you wanted me to.”

“I don’t want you to come back, because I never want you to leave,” he stated, cradling your face in his hands once again.

He swears up and down that you leaned in, but you know it was him. Your lips met in a soft, sweet kiss as he held you as close as he could, promising himself silently that he would change for you.

#ficscafe #ficscafe trope event #stray kids #seungmin #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #seungmin au #seungmin imagine #seungmin scenario #seungmin oneshot #seungmin fanfic #seungmin x reader #stray kids aus #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshots #stray kids fanfics #seungmin aus #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #seungmin oneshots #seungmin fanfics

[wingsofimagery]

ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

✦ Summary: He never understood why you were so adamant on being by his side. He does not talk to people often, not until he met you. You changed his life and he's happy with the change but the thought never left him as to why you chose him of all people. ✦ Pairing: Seungmin x GN!Reader ✦ Genre: Fluff ✦ Warnings: N/A ✦ Word Count: 1275 ✦ A/N: I keep not doing the fics I'm supposed to do but... this is for ficscafe trope event using the prompt: shy nerd x excitable puppy~ Hope you guys enjoy!

“Seungmin!” you shouted the boy’s name in glee, tackling him down with a hug.

Said boy could not find his balance quick enough; he fell down in a swoop motion and, in toll, took you down with him. Readjusting his glasses, he sighed while he pulled his arm out of your grasp, his textbook in hand. He was thankful the both of you were uninjured and you were not carrying anything on you.

He called your name, “you’re not a kid anymore. Tackling me into a hug will not do us good…”

He sighed at the sight of your pout, looking away to not fall for your cute face. A blush surfaced his cheeks as he continuously avoided your eyes.

“Seungmin~ Can you help me with my homework? I’m doing my best to understand it but I can’t and need your help!”

Your plea and smile made him weak. He could not say no to you but he also has his own things to do. The frown on his face soon exchanged for another opened mouth sigh. Pushing his way back to sitting up, your body now sat on his lap, he nodded his head in resignation. You cheered out of victory and pulled him into a tight hug with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Seungminnie, you’re the best. You know that?”

He fixed his glasses again and grumbled, “yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

Seungmin pulled you along with him to the library. You two settled at a small table in a secluded area. In the midst of studying, whatever you guys were going over was no longer on his mind. You were fully occupying his thoughts. He did not get why you constantly looked for him for help. He was always secluded to himself and preferred to stick his nose to his books. You were the exact opposite of him. He wished he was more like you, able to talk to people without feeling bad about yourself when you made mistakes, help people in an instant without hesitating, and, in general, be a people person. Yet you stuck to him like glue.

He could understand a lot of things, scientific theories, mathematical equations, even literary topics were his strength. The only thing he did not understand was you. You were a complete mystery to him. And it is not that he does not like it but he was confused on so many levels.

The two of you were polar opposites. His past self would have laughed at the thought of being someone akin to your friend. Yet here he was, spending days together with you. The two of you had library dates, cafe dates, even hung out at the student center by the food court while you ate and made conversations, casually asking advice for classes.

Your friends greeted him whenever you were with him but they would always talk to you only before taking their leave. Aside from hellos, they were not interested in interacting with him. Although Seungmin tried to speak up multiple times, he could not find the courage to actually hold up conversations with them. You were the one to always include him in your conversations with your friends. He was thankful for the effort. It was thanks to your inclusion were he able to show just how brilliant of a man he was and show his intelligence to the world. Your friends became familiar with him in due time and learned to ask him for help. Of course they always came prepared with offerings in exchange.

That did not go to say that Seungmin did not have friends of his own. The little friends that Seungmin had also became your friends very quickly. You were quick to befriend his friends, unlike him. Wherever he went with his friends, you were usually there to have fun as well. It was times like this where he found himself truly at bliss. You were the sun that created a rainbow after the rain where the air was refreshing. Whenever he was with you, all his worries washed away; it was as if everything was going to be okay when you’re by his side.

“Hey, Seungmin!” you called out to him with a wave of hand. He was spaced out while recounting your time from when you first started talking to now. The smile on his face was stupid yet filled to the brim with fondness. He slid his hand underneath your palm, raised it to his lips, and pressed them against the back of your hand with love.

“Yes, darling?”

“What were you thinking about? I need help with this analysis,” you said with a laugh that brought butterflies to his stomach. Enjoying the sound of your laughter, he wished you would laugh forever. It was not humanly possible but if it was and it did not hurt you, he could listen to it all day.

“Why did you choose me,” he had asked, straight to the point as it was. A chuckle bubbled from your chest before you burst out laughing. Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. Your hand rose up to glide a finger over the tear to wipe it off.

You kept giggling as you apologized. You could not help it. His question sounded so out of the ordinary. He was a smart person so you had thought that would be the last thing he would ask you. It seemed you gave him too much credit. He was just like any other person, insecurity had lied somewhere deep in his heart.

Your eyes were filled with fondness for him as your hands brushed against his cheeks. They caressed him with warmth, causing him to lean into your touch with a blissful smile and closed eyes. He was completely vulnerable to your touch.

“You’re silly; despite being so smart, you still can’t see the reason why?”

He stared at you blankly, then tilted his head. He was more confused now.

“It’s ‘cause I like you. Liking someone doesn’t always warrant a proper reason. You just make me happy and you’re always there when I need you. Even when my requests are… improper, you’re there to help me.”

He pursed his lips, pondering on how to reply to that. His heart felt full from your love-filled words. The grin on his lips says it all.

“Anyway, what do you say to a date at the aquarium next? I want to see cute sea animals.”

He squinted his eyes at you suspiciously, “weren’t you just asking for my help just a bit ago?” “Just answer me! I won’t be able to study or process anything else until the date is all planned.”

He heaved a sigh, albeit playfully. He was not tired of you. In fact, he was already looking forward to this date. The two of you began to make plans but the more you discussed, the more you two realized how busy and unaligned both your schedules were.

“How about you just come over to my house? Today. Forget studying. We have time.”

And time you both had. He was in the same class as you for this course so he had everything down pact.

“Deal!” you declared with a loud, boisterous voice, “Let’s go! Chop chop! Puppy is waiting for us. Oh! Can we drop by the pet store? I want to get him some treats.”

Seungmin hummed in agreement. He was packing both your items. You went over to his side of the table. You turned his head toward you and leaned in to steal his breath away with a kiss.

“I just really love you.”

#ficscafe trope event #ficscafe #seungmin scenarios #seungmin x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader

[pinkheadflowers]

🍄 non-request (event fic): yeonjun wants to bring you out for Valentines Day but you forgot about it, being too caught up with homework 

always my valentine -yeonjun-

 >> trope: “tells them to go away but doesn’t actually mean it x actually goes away”

 >> lil angst ⚡️ + lil sad 🌧 + fluff ☀️ , fem reader , established rs

 >> word count: 1464 

[ hello,, happy valentine’s day everyone!! this is a quick one i wrote for this special day and for #ficscafe trope event. I went a little MIA due to school but i do have some WIP so keep a lookout for that! enjoy~💓 ]

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥   ♡

You were supposed to go out on a date with Yeonjun today but your professor had just assigned you some last minute homework that was due next week. You weren’t one to procrastinate or drag it to some other day, knowing well that you might forget about it. 

Yeonjun actually had a whole day planned for the both of you, only for them to be thrown out the window when he received your text, “Hey baby, I’m sorry I can’t make it today :( Professor gave us homework. I’ll be in the library the whole day trying to complete it. But I’ve eaten lunch already, don’t worry about me! Take care, love you! Muah”

He rolled his eyes at your text, “Stupid Professor.” He muttered underneath his breath. Despite the cancelled plan, he wanted to stay by your side on this special day, Valentine’s Day. Yeonjun was one to fully believe in the joy of this day, he loved how the air would be full of love. Therefore, he stopped by a florist and bought a bouquet of different coloured tulips. “Ah, young man, who are these for?” the cashier questioned him. He replied proudly, “For the one who captured my heart. I’m lucky to have her, ma'am.” She gave him a sweet smile, “Young love… A whole experience, isn’t it? Hold on to it well and strong darling. While some relationships don’t last, many are worth fighting for. Not all young love is mere puppy love. Last forever, you two.”

With that, she gave Yeonjun his change and packed the bouquet in a transparent plastic-boxed bag. Yeonjun thanked her and stepped out of the shop. Something about her words made him feel touched. He didn’t understand what it was about so he pushed them aside and made his way to the library.

You, on the other hand, were already pulling your hair off. You could definitely earn a hundred dollars should you get a dollar for everytime you groaned. The homework given was brain-wrecking which made you thankful that you decided to start on it now rather than suffering a little too late. A few pages later and you felt a presence beside you. You turned to your right to see your boyfriend towering you, showing his bright smile. You looked a little downwards and saw his hands reaching out to you, except it was filled with flowers of different colours. You gasped, “Yeonjun, these are so pretty.” Yeonjun spoke, “They’re for you, baby. Tulips. I love you so much.” You accepted the bouquet and stood up, giving him a tight hug. “I love them. Thank you Junnie. And I love you so much too.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. 

Straight after, you placed the bouquet beside you on the table and went back to your homework. Yeonjun watched you as you went back to giving your full focus to the work in front of you, as if the whole flower-giving action didn’t happen. He simply thought that he came at the wrong time and that you probably had a whole train of thoughts aligned perfectly for your productivity stake. He understood that and took a seat beside you silently. Yeonjun simply stared at you - from the way you sat up straight to the way your lips mouthed the words you were reading and your eyebrows being furrowed from focusing too hard. Even in this state, he thought that you were such a perfect piece. Yeonjun gently patted your head, “Have you taken a break baby?”

You were unresponsive. Yeonjun chuckled lightly before pressing on, “Baby… Come on, take a break hmm? How long have you sat here?” Again, you didn’t reply. This time, however, you sighed a little too loudly.

Yeonjun turned concerned. You were definitely pushing yourself too hard and he did not like that the slightest bit. “Aren’t you going to take a break?” Yeonjun moved closer to you.

“Stop Yeonjun. Please, go away… Gosh.” Your eyes still stuck on the paper in front of you, you raised your voice at him a little. To you, you did not at all intend for your words to come out harshly. To Yeonjun, you completely did not want him around. His smile faltered and he moved back. With a really upset tone, he whispered “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”.

He left quietly and before he walked out the doors, he gave you another glance and yet you still had your head down, completely unfazed that he was no longer by your side.  Yeonjun sighed in defeat and headed out. He went wherever his legs led him. Not only was his heart shattered but he also wondered, should your professor not assign you any homework today, would you be as excited as he was for Valentines? 

A few moments later, he felt like cutting his legs off for bringing him to the park where tons of couples were seen showing off their love. That could easily be you and him but no. You would rather spend Valentines with that homework of yours. He continued walking until he found a secluded spot, away from everyone else. Although he felt that he was being childish, he could not understand why you had to shoo him away so aggressively. It wasn’t his fault you were given a difficult assignment neither was it his fault that today happens to be a special day. 

Yeonjun has always been so fond of Valentines because he saw how his father went all out every Valentines Day for his mother. He would take the day off and come up with a whole-day plan, especially for the both of them that he would have to bring Yeonjun to his grandparents’ place to babysit him. The couple would pick Yeonjun up at the end of the day with such elated expressions on their faces, telling him how they did some terrible job at painting, went cafe hopping and had dinner at a quiet diner. Whatever they did, there was definitely something special about this day and Yeonjun promised to treat this day as a special one too. He too would want to make his partner as elated as his mother was. 

Yeonjun stared at the sky and inhaled deeply. He wanted to beat himself up for feeling this way - feeling badly about this day. This day was supposed to be super enjoyable that every other day you and him had before could never compete. Soon, he received a call from you. The truth was, he didn’t want to answer it because he did not know what to say. Yet, he had no intention of leaving you hanging, “Hello?”

“Hey, Junnie… Where did you go?” You asked, packing up your papers. Yeonjun wanted to lie and said that he had an emergency to attend to but the words of the florist from earlier rang in his head “While some relationships don’t last, many are worth fighting for.”. There was no way he was going to let something minor hurt your relationship.

“I’m at the park. You know the bench a little behind the fountain? I’m right here.” “Got it, I’m coming. Wait for me please!” 

Yeonjun sat there and waited for you patiently. He did not want to go ahead with his plans anymore, thinking that he simply wants you by his side. He wouldn’t exactly say that he felt numb, but more disappointed that today did not go smoothly at all. He worked so hard to make sure everything wrong would go right, except he didn’t factor in that you would be given homework. 

A few minutes later, you arrived and sat next to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out on you like that.”

He smiled at you, “It’s fine. Do you know what’s today?” You checked your phone, “Fourteenth February? Oh wait, Valentine's Day!”

You smacked your forehead. How could you be so ignorant? You knew how much Yeonjun loved this special day yet it slipped your mind. Yeonjun took your hand from your head and intertwined them “Those are tulips. Tulips represent deep love, just like how I’m so deeply in love with you.” The both of you locked eyes. The gaze exchanged was full of affection, no words were needed for the both of you to reassure the other that you’ll always be there no matter what. “Be my valentine?” Yeonjun asked.

“Will you be mine though?” You questioned playfully.

“You are always my valentine.” He brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it. Your heart melted, what did you do to deserve him?

You stood up and pulled him along with you, “There’s this cafe nearby that I really wanna try!” He grinned at your excitement, “Lead the way, baby.”

#ficscafe #ficscafe trope event #author.autumn #pinkheadflowers #txt request open #txt prompts #txt one shots #txt drabbles #txt imagines #tomorrow by together #choi yeonjun #txt angst #txt sad #txt fluff

[ichorai]

GALVANO ; the first war.

pairing ; winter soldier!40s!taehyung x reader (gender-neutral)

chapter summary ; falling in love with kim taehyung was surely a pleasant surprise, but never had you imagined your tiny friend, jungkook, to become the world’s first superhero.

words ; 19.3k

themes ; marvel au, superhero au, winter soldier au, 40s au, scifi, action, romance, angst, fluff, slowburn, drama

warnings / includes ; war/violence/death, mentions of n*zis, cursing, lots of angst ;-; i'm so sorry, jungkook is captain america in this fic and he's a dumb fuck just like steve !!, this is a tae fic but jungkook is in it more i hate it here, irene is super cool, oc can't catch a break honestly

a/n ; this chapter follows the movie captain america: the first avenger! upcoming chapters will follow the general mcu timeline !! this is also for @ficscafe​’s trope event, using trope number seven :D

series masterlist. series playlist. bucky barnes version.

The city streets smelled of smoke, heavy in your lungs and stinging in your eyes. It didn’t help that a car blew its gaseous exhaust into your face as it sped down the damp road, leaving you to turn over with a grimace while waving your hand over your face. Amidst your discomfort, there came the clattering of trash cans in the dark alleyway behind you, followed by a groan of pain.

Now, your ma always told you to stray away from danger. Keep your eyes straight and your feet marching along, she used to say with a stern tone.

You always had a hard time following directions.

Cobblestones slid beneath your black shoes as you shuffled forward cautiously, eyes wide and bottom lip caught between your teeth.

A scrawny mousy-haired man appeared in your line of sight, no more than a couple inches above five feet tall. A sheen of sweat painted his skin paler than it already was; a sickly hue that was most definitely not a healthy look. Was that a trash can lid he was holding between his trembling fingers?

Another person—a raven-haired man five times his size, by the looks of it—cocked his fist backwards, propelling forwards to launch a nasty punch into his face.

“No!” you shouted just as the hit painted itself black-and-blue on the smaller fighter’s face.

Neither of them paid much attention to you.

He was sent sprawling into the trash bags, but scrambled to his toothpick legs less than a second later, raising his arms in a defensive position. Stay down, idiot! You can’t take him!

“You just don’t know when to give up, do ya?” he spat out, a scowl marring his brute features.

The brunette bounced on his heels as he gasped out, “I can do this all day.” With that, he launched forward with as much energy as he could muster (not much), and arced his own fist towards the other man. This proved to be a futile attempt, because he somehow ended up back on the ground with trash bags obstructing his breathing once more.

Oh, enough was enough.

You grabbed at the man’s shoulders and yanked him towards you, using the momentum to shove him lower while you raised your knee to lodge painfully against his nose. There was a bilious yet satisfying crack that echoed in the alley. You just broke this man’s nose!

An additional black eye wouldn’t hurt, would it? Not you, at least.

Blood dribbled down irregularly from his nostrils as he wailed out a song of confused rage, but you thrust the ridges of your knuckles into his eye with a frown. You let go of him as he collapsed onto the ground with another shriek, dusting your hands off with an air of nonchalance.

“Pick on someone your own size,” you simpered, toeing at his writhing form. He scampered away with a metaphorical tail between his legs.

A new pair of footsteps running towards the two of you had you whirling around, prepared to confront another bully. The moment your gaze fell upon him, you could immediately detect the genuine concern etched in his hazel irises. Your fists dropped immediately. He shot you a slightly confused, slightly appreciative glance before rushing to help out his friend.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” he commented suavely, shaking his head and clicking his tongue while helping him back up to his feet.

“I had him on the ropes!” the smaller one squeaked out in reply.

Yeah, right.

“I doubt that, punk. Did you even say thank you? I’m Taehyung, by the way. This is Jungkook.” He angled his face towards you with an ever-so-charming smile dancing across his lips, sticking a hand out for a shake. Your eyes leveled with his pretty ones once more, and you could feel a tremor dance up your spine.

You slipped your own palm into his grasp. “Y/N. Pleasure to meet you. And it’s a pleasure to save you, Jungkook.”

He tipped his head to you in gratitude, brushing the trash off of his clothes. “Didn’t need to be saved,” he muttered nonetheless.

The scoff that rumbled from Taehyung’s chest was accompanied by him bending down to pluck papers that had fallen out of Jungkook’s jacket during the fight.

“Seriously? How many times is this?” His pupils darted as he scanned the displayed information. “Oh, you’re from Paramus now, is it? It’s illegal to lie on the forms, Jungkook.”

Completely disregarding Taehyung’s lighthearted reprimanding, Jungkook shook his head with a disdained sigh. “I just wanna go home, Tae. Try again tomorrow. Erm, thanks again, Y/N.”

“It’s no problem,” you said quietly. “Men like him deserve to get knocked down a peg or two every once in a while.”

A ghostly smile crossed Jungkook’s lips and a smirk curled at Taehyung’s. “I like you,” the latter spoke out with a certain confidence you were envious of. Heat flourished upon your skin and you parted your lips to say something in reply, but found that you had little to speak of. So you shut your mouth and nodded once with a slight grin. “Hope to see you around, darlin’.”

Darling. You were never quite fond of the pet name, but the soft way he uttered the word, as sweet as buttered honey, made you reconsider your stand.

With an awkward wave, the two boys left you alone in the trash-strewn alley.

‘See you around’ grew to be the understatement of the year. The world truly was smaller than you initially reckoned; you saw Taehyung and Jungkook every which way you went. The second time you bumped into each other, it was at a little diner where the pair were enjoying slices of apple pie with two girls sitting across from them. One looked particularly excited to be talking to the Kim Taehyung, animatedly chattering with wild gestures of her manicured nails. The other looked ready to march straight out, not even bothering to glance at Jungkook (whom you presumed to be her blind date).

You had slanted your lips to the side with a slight pout of sympathy. Alas, you hardly had any time to loiter, so you leaned over the counter to order supper. Soft music echoed from the jukebox and you gently bobbed your head along to the jazzy beat.

A shriek erupted from you as a figure appeared on your side out of the blue, and that piercing, handsome gaze of his didn’t help your thrumming heartbeat whatsoever.

“Hey! Y/N, right? What’re you doing alone on a fine Saturday evening like this?”

It was safe to say that you weren’t alone on a Saturday ever again.

Taehyung and Jungkook grew to be a constant in your life after those first two meetings, and you honestly forgot what things were like before the two of them permanently stamped themselves into your daily routine. It started slow and tentative; you weren’t quite sure what to think of the unusual pair at first. However, Taehyung seemed to beam brighter than the sun every time he spotted you, constantly asking you to join him and Jungkook on a night out. And how could you say no to such a pretty smile? Expectedly, it didn’t take you very long to warm up to them either; they were very likely to be the two kindest souls in all of Brooklyn.

When Jungkook wasn’t obsessing over enlisting, he was actually quite a sweet, starry-eyed man with an affinity for drawing and reading. The two of you often went on library trips so you could read while he drew.

And Taehyung. Oh, Taehyung.

You never thought you’d find yourself falling so quickly. You tried, did you try to stave those feelings away. After all, it’d only been a couple months since you’ve met. Practically every living soul in the city was in love with Kim Taehyung; how could you let yourself fall into the mix?

It happened on a warm night. Swing music blared far too loudly for your liking, standing with Jungkook at the side of the dance hall as the two of you nursed watered-down beverages. Taehyung had a pretty dame melting on his arm as they danced with jubilant expressions. There was a distasteful sensation in the back of your throat while watching them, so you averted your gaze.

“Next time, we should just say no to him,” Jungkook grumbled. “He’s the only one that ends up dancing, anyways.”

A laugh twisted its way out of you. “Neither of us can really say no to him, you know that, Guk.”

“Say no to who?”

“Speak of the devil!” You practically flinched out of your own skin, landing a smack to his shoulder once you recovered from your initial shock. Taehyung chuckled mirthfully. “You gotta stop doing that!”

Shooting you a mock-apologetic quirk of his eyebrow, Taehyung extended his arm so it just barely brushed against your hand. “Hope you don’t mind me stealing Y/N for a song, Jungkook.”

For the first time that night, Jungkook appeared somewhat entertained. “Go ahead.”

“Me?” you questioned in befuddlement as he tugged you to the center of the dance square. “Taehyung, there’s so many other people who want to dance with you.”

“You being one of them, I hope.”

The way he curled his arm about your midriff sparked a fire somewhere within your lungs. “What—?” He smelled of peppermint and something else so purely Taehyung that it made your heart ache.

“Because I just want to dance with you now, darlin’. You look real good tonight, you know.”

It was hard to reply when you were out of breath and spinning along to the fast tempo of the song, but you craned your neck to face him once more. “You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?”

He shot you a wink that had your insides turn into complete mush. “Just for you.”

The song ended before the both of you knew it, and you found yourself stumbling back to Jungkook, giggling lightly and shoving at each other’s grappling arms.

“It’s late,” the brunette said. “I’m going back home to get some shut eye. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, arm slung over Taehyung’s broad shoulders. “You say that every time, Jungkook. You gotta—”

“Good night!” Jungkook started walking away at a pace that was startlingly quick for someone of his stature.

Both you and Taehyung exchanged half-worried, half-amused glances.

“The night’s still young. You wanna go to that park you’ve been itchin’ to go to?” he asked.

You bit at the inside of your cheek as you mulled the idea over. “I wanted to go with Jungkook, though. He’s been dying to draw the trees there.”

Fingers combed through dark tresses as he chuckled out a breathy laugh. “You can go with him next time, darlin’. Just you and me tonight, how does that sound?”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage so hard you were partially surprised to find that it hadn’t fallen out. “Sounds great, Taehyung.”

Quiet was rare with Taehyung. He liked chattering; he liked music; he liked laughing; he liked noise. Silent moments like this… only came after you entered his life. It was different, intriguing, so very refreshing. You were a change that he never knew he needed.

Taehyung realized that he enjoyed the quiet just as much as he enjoyed the racket.

The grass fell soft upon your backs as you sank down with a sweet sound of relief falling graciously past your lips. His arm found its way beneath your neck, and your eyelids slowly shut at the feeling of his lips pressing against the side of your temple.

“There’s no stars out today.”

“There’s no stars out ever, Tae,” you whispered with an air of amusement. “It’s called light pollution. Us city folk have a hard time seeing the stars.”

He hummed, a gentle sound that reverberated pleasantly in his chest. “I’ll take you out to the country one day. Get you a house. A farm with as many cats as you’d like. Maybe there’d be a pond out back, we could go fishing—!”

“Woah, woah, woah.” You placed a palm on his abdomen, pushing yourself up to look at him clearly. “Where’s this coming from? A house? A farm? What’s going on, Taehyung?”

Worry danced through his cerulean irises, an expression that you were none too fond of.

“I’m just…” he sighed, tugging you back down to lay beside him. You reluctantly complied, intertwining your fingers with his. “I dunno. Scared, I guess.”

Kim Taehyung didn’t get scared. No, it wasn’t in his nature. Hearing him admit this was such a brazen feat that it took several moments of shocked silence before you found the words to respond.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you mumbled, angling your face just slightly so your nose brushed against the nape of his neck, “I’m scared, too. For you, for Guk, for the country. War makes monsters out of us. Not only the Nazis. All of us. We’re reduced to primitive animals, marching along to a trumpet of death. It’s not natural… none of this is.”

Each time you spoke, Taehyung found himself more and more drawn in, a poetic melody that he wished to never cease. He wasn’t sure how you were able to spin words so eloquently on the spot, but what he was sure of, however, was that he never ever wanted to stop listening to you. Your voice was most probably his favorite thing to hear in the whole universe, in fact. His heart ached for you, begged to be set free because he belonged to you, and only you.

“We’ll be okay,” was all Taehyung said.

“I hope so.”

“I know so.” There was a firm tonality to his voice, a tenacious determination that you’ve always admired in him. You couldn’t tell if he was being hopelessly optimistic or plain stupid. Knowing him, it was probably a queer amalgamation of the two.

That very unwavering attitude of his was what pushed him to tell you; he needed you to know. He’s never needed anything more in his life, he reckoned. “Darlin’, I know this is out of the blue, and this is probably the worst timing a man could have, but… I’m in love with you. I think that’s why I was scared. Because now I have something to lose.”

A part of him thought it’d play out like a cheesy film. You’d leap up with a lovesick smile playing at your lips, yanking him towards you by the collar kissing him silly until the sun rose back up. There would even be fireworks and everything.

No, real life was a lot quieter than Taehyung’s imagination. And he didn’t mind that one bit.

The smallest of grins danced along your mouth as you tightened your hold on him ever so slightly. “I need to know that this isn’t the war talking,” you whispered out, wrinkling your nose at the thought.

“It isn’t. I think the war made me realize, yeah, but I’ve felt this way long before now.”

His heart leapt into his throat when you uttered, all hushed and gentle, like the soft pattering of rain during a spring afternoon. “Me too, Tae. I love you, too.”

It took him not another second to shuffle your positions and maneuver you with desperate touches, making up for all the lost time, all the time that he’ll be gone, away from you. He pushed the thoughts away because all that mattered right now was you, and only you.

Kissing Taehyung felt as if there were galaxies exploding within you; red hot crimson, the sweetest of purples, muted greens, flashing ambers, diaphanous blues. He was gentle with you, raw affection emanating from his every touch.

It was moments like this you wished to relive a million lifetimes.

A shame that you couldn’t even have him to yourself for just the one.

The next morning, you should’ve been happy to see Taehyung standing in front of your door. You would’ve kissed him over and over again, maybe told him about the new library that just opened up on the other side of Brooklyn that you’d like to visit.

Come to think of it, you never did get around to telling him that.

No, your mind was far too preoccupied with something else. That being the uniform that Taehyung donned, a dark olive hue, pressed and void of any wrinkles.

“You got your orders,” you whispered.

“I did! Great, isn’t it? I’m a sergeant now.”

A smile, a faux one that left your eyes untouched, graced your mouth and you drew him into a close embrace so he wouldn’t see the tears pricking your eyes. “So great, Tae.”

The Namjoon Expo was everything you ever dreamed of and more. To be frank, you were well aware that Jungkook and Taehyung could give half a rat’s ass for all the fancy technology and upcoming innovations. But they’d do anything for you, and the look of pure awe on your face was enough for the boys to hold in their complaints and follow along behind you. After all, this was Taehyung’s last day before being shipped out to England. You wanted to make the most of it with him.

It was ever so crowded, but you managed to maneuver through the throng of tightly-packed people to get a better view of Kim Namjoon on stage. You were moving so quickly that Taehyung would’ve lost you if not for your tight grip around his wrist. The touch left a smile tugging at his lips.

“Tell them to slow down, will you?” Jungkook panted. “Namjoon isn’t going anywhere.”

“I can hear you!” you said over your shoulder, unfazed by his less than pleasant disposition. “And he’s just about to start showcasing his anti-gravity technology! I actually read a paper about it just—! Oh!”

Your shoes skidded against the floor as you stopped abruptly, watching Namjoon kiss the bright grin off of one of his pretty assistants, before dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief he fished out of his pocket. Your nose wrinkled at the crude gesture and Taehyung chuckled at your reaction.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began with a flourish of his hands, gesturing to the sleek automobile situated behind him, “what if I told you that in just a few years, your car won’t even have to touch the ground at all? With Kim Gravitic Reversion Technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” While he spoke, his lovely assistants removed the tires from the car.

With the crank of a lever and the twist of a couple knobs, the vehicle slowly began ascending into the air, albeit only being a couple centimeters.

“Holy cow,” Taehyung mumbled beneath his breath from beside you.

Kim Namjoon wore a smirk of arrogance, but it was quick to falter when clementine sparks erupted from the car and it came crashing back down onto the stage. The quirk of his lips reappeared almost instantaneously as he crooned out into his microphone, “I did say a few years, didn’t I?”

The audience burst into raucous applause, you along with them. Taehyung clapped along as well, turning around to quip something to Jungkook. He blinked with confusion upon noticing that his best friend wasn’t there. Noticing his befuddlement, you swiveled your gaze about to look for him.

Ah, there it was. A recruitment poster stood just a little ways away from a display of a super suit that could make you invisible, directing your gaze out of the expo and towards the station for war recruitment.

War. A frown formed on your face at the unpleasant reminder. You were already losing Taehyung to the wretched fight, and it wasn’t exactly fun watching Jungkook’s desperation to leave as well.

“I think I know where he is,” you mumbled, tugging at Taehyung’s sleeve.

The two of you found him staring at a poster just outside the office, depicting rows upon rows of saluting soldiers, their expressions grimly stoic.

“Jungkook,” you called out with a hint of despondency lacing your tone. “Come on, we’re missing all the cool stuff Namjoon is presenting.”

“You two go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

You and Taehyung caught onto the lie, plain as day.

“Don’t you pull that one again, Jeon,” Taehyung admonished. “You really gonna do this?

“I’ll try my luck.” The man across from you shrugged his shoulders, the battered jacket he wore ridiculously large over his shoulders. Finding men’s clothing his size had always been a pain.

Your palms found purchase on your hips as you raised a quizzical eyebrow. “As who, Jungkook from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Worse, they’ll actually take you!”

“Look—!”

“No, you look, Jungkook,” you gritted out, knowing full and well that you were unfairly taking out a lot of your pent-up frustration onto him, “this isn’t a back alley where you get punched once or twice. It’s war, for pete’s sake!”

The arm Taehyung had around your waist tightened.

“I know it’s a war,” came Jungkook’s defensive reply.

Taehyung also threw in his two cents; the idea of his tiny best friend having a gun shoved into his hands and pushed into a battlefield did nothing short of terrify him. “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many other important things you could be doing!”

“Like what? Collecting scrap metal in my little red wagon? I’m not sitting in a factory, Taehyung, come on. There are men laying down their lives.”

This made you sharply inhale. Taehyung shot you a worried look.

“I have no right to do any less than them. That’s what you guys don’t understand. This isn’t about me!”

“Right. Because you definitely have nothing to prove.”

Over the course of your friendship with Jungkook, neither of you really ever got angry with the other. Annoyed, most definitely. Angry? No, you could never get angry at Jungkook.

But man, did he look livid right about now.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

He waved it away, but you could tell that your words had impacted him more than he would care to admit. “It’s alright. You can’t stop me from going in there, though.”

“I know. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“I’m going in there with you, Guk.”

Taehyung shook his head with a sigh, clasping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was a shame the night had to end here, but when push came to shove, he would have supported Jungkook through thick and thin, no matter how dangerous. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

A scoff fell out of Jungkook. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

The ghost of a smile danced on Taehyung’s lips. They embraced each other warmly, Jungkook affectionately clapping your boyfriend on the back. War was a cruel thing, you thought as you watched two of your closest friends bid each other adieu.

“You’re a punk,” Taehyung whispered.

“Jerk,” Jungkook replied wispily. “Be careful. Don’t you win the war until I get there!”

After snorting at Taehyung’s mock salute, he nodded at you when you repeated that you’ll meet him inside, and turned to enter the station.

You were left alone with Taehyung, and you’ve never been more terrified of a goodbye in your life.

“Say, when I come back,” his words were sweet and cautious as he looped his arms around your waist once again, tugging you closer, “I was thinking we move out of the city. Get some real peace and quiet somewhere out in the country. We could get a cat.”

Gentle was your touch as you pulled him towards you, landing a feather-light kiss onto his lips. “Come back to me in one piece first. And I want two cats.”

“I’ll get you anything you want, darlin’.”

Loving somebody wasn’t supposed to hurt you so. Love was a beautiful thing; a rose amongst wintry weeds or, perhaps, a warm drink in front of a fireplace. Not the thorny brambles caging your heart, nor the sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. It ached knowing that he wouldn’t be here tomorrow.

His palm rose to your cheek, swiping away a stray tear that you hadn’t even noticed falling. Your gaze lifted to look into his, noting the glassy sheen that coated his mahogany irises.

“Come back to me, sergeant. You come back to me safe and sound, you hear?” you mumbled when he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. You had half the mind to cling to him tight and never let him go.

When Taehyung started crying, you knew you couldn’t hold yourself back. Your lips found his tear tracks as you kissed his sadness away. Of course, it was all temporary. He’d be sad tomorrow, and the day after that, and most probably the month after that too.

“I’ll come back to you. I promise. Wanna name our cat Alpine.”

The last kiss he slanted against you was earth-shatteringly desperate, all the time you knew you wouldn’t have with him compressed into this one singular moment.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you more.”

“Doubt it, darlin’,” he hummed. With that, his warmth retracted, his touch left your skin, his scent faded away. The wink he tossed you almost had you crumbling into a fit of sobs.

Then… then he was gone. Off to fight, off to battle, off to war.

You stood stock still for a few moments, inhaling deeply to steel yourself. Blinking away the remaining tears, you rolled your shoulders back and pushed the doors open to find Jungkook.

“They know I faked the documents,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, which made your eyes flick away from the faded newspaper, observing him with curious eyes. The examining room was cramped, but you set the paper to the side and shuffled closer to him on the medical bed. “I can feel it.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Jungkook! Maybe just jitters.”

It most definitely wasn’t nothing, nor was it anywhere close to jitters.

The beige curtains parted to reveal an unfamiliar older man, dressed smartly with a dark coffee-hued suit and round glasses perched at the end of his crooked nose. This obviously wasn’t an enlistment officer.

“So,” he started with a slight grin playing in his mouth, “you want to go overseas and kill some Nazis, hm?” You recognized that he had a thick non-American accent, but couldn’t quite pinpoint where in Europe it originated. The file in his hand flicked open as he scanned Jungkook’s (false) information.

Your friend blinked in slight bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine,” he explained, stepping closer and sticking his hand out for a shake. “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

Standing up, Jungkook took the offered hand. “ JeonJungkook.”

The scientist then directed his gaze to you and you chewed at the inside of your cheek before hesitantly responding, “Y/N. I’m Jungkook’s friend.”

A salt-and-pepper eyebrow arched at your statement. “They don’t usually let friends into the examining quarters.”

“They’re stubborn,” Jungkook found himself chuckling out, and you nodded along, opting to stay quiet. What did this man want?

“I can see that.”

The niceties were making you antsy. “Where are you from?” you found yourself asking, narrowing your eyes.

“Queens. Seventy-third Street, Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.”

Both you and Jungkook glanced at each other.

“This troubles you?”

You shook your head a firm no, and Jungkook followed suit.

“And where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” A heady exhale left your friend as the scientist rattled on. “Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? I have here five different exams in five different cities.”

A loose excuse fell out of Jungkook, but the scientist waved him off.

“No, it’s not the actual examinations I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.”

Gulping you crossed your arms and said in a quiet tone, “I was with him. All five times. Earlier he called me stubborn, but he’s a million times worse.”

A bony elbow found its way into your side but you ignored him.

Erskine obviously wasn’t looking to punish either of you, for a smile painted his face golden. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Jungkook looked to the side, then leveled his gaze with the taller man again. “Is this a test?”

Yes, you thought.

“Yes,” the scientist said.

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” uttered Jungkook, confidence permeating every word. “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they come from.”

A queer sense of pride flourished within you. How’d you end up so fond of a scrawny, ninety-pound blonde that threw himself into every fight he possibly could?

“So many big men fighting this war,” Erskine hummed. “Maybe it’s time we bring in the little guy, hm?”

War may have taken away your best friend and the love of your life physically, but the both of them always managed to send you letters as often as they could. Jungkook detailed his campish stories with the brute men in the military, the challenges of constantly being the smallest and the weakest (but always the smartest, much to your delight), along with sprinklings of a mystery woman by the name of Bae Irene. If you didn’t know any better, you had an inkling that Jungkook had himself a little crush.

Taehyung, on the other hand, often skirted around the topic of war in his writings to you, opting to tell you about his plans in the future. Promises of taking you dancing once this was all over, ramblings of how he missed you, daydreams of what he wanted to name your future cats. Strange, you were almost certain that Taehyung was a dog man before he met you.

You missed both of them dearly.

So now, as you were strapped into the taxi besides Jungkook, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to wipe the jubilant grin off of your face. Granted, you had no idea what was going on (only that Jungkook had asked that you accompany him, and how could you say no to that?) other than the fact that it was official military business. Beside your friend sat Agent Bae Irene, a beautiful woman with mahogany curls framing her face just perfectly, lips tinted a sweet shade of carmine. You wholly understood what Jungkook saw in her.

“I got beat up in that alley,” he said while pointing out to the passing streets. It took everything in you not to scoff out loud. Way to play it cool, Jeon. “And that parking lot.” Another moment of stagnant silence passed, before he piped up once more, “And behind that diner.”

You stole a glance towards Irene, curious to see her reaction.

“Did you have something against running away?” Her voice, a mellifluous tone that rang clear and true throughout the car made Jungkook sit up straight.

Oh, he most certainly did.

He seemed to carefully consider his words before saying, “You start running, they’ll never let you stop.”

What Irene uttered next shocked you enough to stop slouching against the car door and turn to look at her fully. “I know a bit of what that’s like. To have every door shut in your face.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d want to join the army if you were a beautiful dame.”

Your elbow found its way into Jungkook’s ribs at the speed of lightning.

Coughing in slight embarrassment, you winced as he attempted backtracking. “Or a… a woman. An agent. Not a dame, er, I mean, you are beautiful but—!”

“Jungkook!” you hissed out, unable to bear the weight of the second-hand embarrassment any longer.

The slightest bit of amusement stained Irene’s intonation as she hummed, “You have no idea how to talk to women, do you?”

You scoffed out loud at that, waving Jungkook’s panicked glare that he shot your way.

“He can’t talk to women, much less anybody that isn’t me or Taehyung! Probably the longest he’s ever been able to hold a civil conversation with a stranger, to be honest. And, no, Guk, I know what you’re thinking. You were just as bad when we first met. Couldn’t properly look me in the eye for weeks!”

A smile graced her visage at the sight of Jungkook’s flustered expression.

“Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on,” Jungkook mumbled piteously.

You slanted your lips to the side and nudged him softly in silent reprimanding. You never did like it when he berated himself so.

“You must’ve danced,” Irene said, incredulous.

“Asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying. These past few years… it just didn’t seem to matter much. I figured I’d wait.”

“For what?” the gorgeous agent inquired. You were keen to know, as well.

One of his shoulders lifted up in a half-shrug. “For the right date.”

It wasn’t long until the taxi pulled up onto a damp curb, stopping right in front of a musty looking antiquities store. You swung the door open to step foot on the cobblestone sidewalk, taking a moment to soak in your surroundings.

“What are we doing here?” Your question was left unanswered, but the two of you followed Irene into the store nonetheless. The store you walked into was full of dusty shelves holding lamps of various sizes, ticking grandfather clocks, and fraying books that looked to be held together by a single thread. You had half a mind to ask to stay and peruse through their selection of old literature.

But you wanted to be there for Jungkook. The poor guy was practically trembling in his boots next to you.

“Come,” Irene called for you, and you snapped out of your stupor, pulling yourself away from all the book titles. The three of you filed into a secluded room hidden by maroon curtains, walls lined from floor to ceiling in more ancient collectibles. A low gasp emitted deep from your throat when the shelves cracked open and smoothly parted down the middle to open a secret passage for you.

The musty store gave way into a sleek military-style hallway, leading down into a large laboratory. You blinked in surprise, Jungkook mirroring your astonished gaping. Soldiers lined by the walls, and an inkling of nerves clutched at your abdomen.

When you walked through the final set of doors, two dozen pairs of eyes landed on you. Well, not you specifically, but the man that stood just a little to your right. Scientists in lab coats stared at Jungkook with something akin to a conglomeration of doubt and awe.

Just what on earth was going on?

Down the steps you went, finding yourself in the center of the lab. There was a large, strange contraption that you eyed suspiciously, completely unaware of the fact that Dr. Erskine was holding out an extended palm towards you, having just shook Jungkook’s hand silly.

“Nice to see you again, Y/N,” the scientist said in a humorous manner. “I’m glad you’re here. Jungkook will need all the moral support he’s going to get.”

This made your worry increase a thousand-fold.

“What does that mean? What are you doing to him?” You reluctantly shook his hand.

Before he had the chance to respond, the blinding flash of a camera went off, leaving blotches of faint colors dancing about your field of view in its wake, no doubt snapping a picture of you and Dr. Erskine.

“Please, not now!” An apologetic grimace made its way onto the Dr’s face and he turned to face you once more. “We’re turning your friend into a hero. You ready?” The last question was directed towards said man, and he nodded stoically in reply.

Utterly dumbfounded, you could only place all your trust in Jungkook; you didn’t necessarily need answers as of now, you just wanted to know if he’ll be okay.

“Good. Take off your shirt, hat and tie.”

He shot you a semi-reassuring look before shyly glancing at Irene just behind the pair of you. Slowly, he started shedding his attire and climbed up to the contraption to lay down.

“You okay, Guk?”

Squirming a bit, he managed to send you a meek grin before mumbling, “It’s a bit… big.��

Erskine barked out a laugh, nodding slightly. “Mr. Kim, how are your levels?”

Kim? Kim Namjoon was here? The Kim Namjoon? Your knees almost buckled when you whirled around to see the renowned billionaire stride up just beside you to observe Jungkook.

“Good. Levels at a hundred percent,” he said. “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be.”

Oh, you don’t think you’ve ever been more nervous in your life.

Dr. Erskine seemed to notice your jittery disposition, because he gestured to the overhead booth and told you, “Agent Bae, Y/N, don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in the booth?”

“Yes, of course,” Irene immediately made her way back up the steps, but you hesitated, laying a gentle hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Jungkook?”

Never have you ever seen him more determined in his life. “I’m sure.”

With a nod, you hopped off the platform and up the stairs. The booth was crowded, full of anticipating men, but you weasled your way through to stand next to Irene. She looked composed on the outside, yes, but you could tell that she was every bit as nervous as you were.

The PA system whined as Erskine tapped his finger onto the microphone. “Today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace. We begin with a series of microinjections into the subject’s major muscle groups. Serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change.” You watched anxiously as a nurse placed vials of electric blue liquid into the contraption. “To stimulate growth, the subject will then be saturated with Vita-Rays.”

Vita-Rays. You’ve done your fair share of research on that specific electromagnetic radiation; it had a certain wavelength that allowed for better stabilization. This seemed to calm you down somewhat, but you still couldn’t fathom just how Jungkook could handle that much energy stuffed into him.

“Serum infusion commencing in three…”

Your hands balled up into fists.

“Two…”

You bit down on your tongue.

“One.”

Immediately, the blue substance disappeared from the vials and into Jungkook’s scrawny arms. There was a pang in your chest upon seeing his face twist in pain.

“Now, Mr. Kim.”

You blinked as the contraption began moving upright, different compartments moving so it encased him in a large sort of pod.

With a crank of a knob and the twist of a wheel, Namjoon began the Vita-Ray saturation. You pressed yourself against the glass, squinting your eyes at the bright light emitting from the window of the pod.

At seventy percent, Jungkook started screaming. Your heart lurched at the sound, and you found yourself scrambling out of the booth, Irene following suit.

“Shut it down!” she shouted, leaning over the railing.

“Jungkook!” Your voice was hoarse, and you would’ve been embarrassed at the harsh crack of your tone if not for the situation at hand.

Erskine called out his name as well, banging on the pod to make sure he was alright. When no response came, he turned hurriedly. “Kill the reactor, Mr. Kim!”

Then… Jungkook surprised you for the millionth time that day.

“No!” he yelled. “Don’t! I can do this!”

Was that funny feeling in your stomach pride or more worry at his brash determination? Probably a queer amalgamation of both, come to think of it.

At his confirmation, the wheel was twisted all the up to a hundred percent. The light was so bright that you had to angle yourself away so as to not blind yourself. Sparks of electricity flew every which way at the overwhelming energy pouring into the contraption.

By the time you’ve come to, the light had dimmed down to blackness. The compartments slid apart to reveal… who the hell was that?

He had Jungkook’s face, but the body was… not the scrawny boy you knew so well. Bulging muscles shone with a thin film of sweat, body almost twice its original size. Erskine and Namjoon helped him down with saucers for eyes, shock painting their features red and blue. With not a second thought, you flung yourself down the remaining steps, hurrying to greet him.

“Jungkook!” you whispered, eyelids blown wide. “Oh, I…” At a loss for words, you just gestured to him vaguely, a bright smile appearing on your lips. Still a bit disoriented, he could only barely replicate your joy. You wondered what Taehyung would think of this.

Slightly breathless, Irene joined you and asked, “How do you feel?”

“Taller.”

You could only cackle at that, shoving at his (buff) shoulder. Irene handed him a thin shirt that just barely fit over his taut form. It was hard not to notice her flustered expression. You even caught sight of her fingers reaching forward, as if to brush against his swollen pecs, but she managed to draw herself back just in time.

Looks like Jungkook’s little crush wasn’t one-sided, after all.

It happened so suddenly.

You heard the explosion before you really felt it. Shattering glass and the stench of smoke overwhelmed your senses as you were blown forwards, careening to the ground with a groan. Crystal rain pelted you, cutting every inch of exposed skin.

Vaguely, you spotted a man grab at the last vial of superhuman serum and pull out his gun. Before you could even blink, gunshots rang out through the lab and the man was sprinting up the stairs. Irene shot at him, only managing to graze his shoulder before he was gone. Jungkook cast you a hurried glance to make sure you were alright, but hurried to Erskine, who, much to your horror, was the one who got shot.

There was a bitter taste that crawled up the back of your throat. No time to mourn, you thought just as you saw Irene dash up the stairs.

Seems like you’re just as recklessly stupid as Jungkook. You followed after her just in time to see the agent aiming a firearm in front of a fast-moving car going straight towards her. At this velocity, she’d get hit before she could properly shoot the assailant down. Acting upon pure adrenaline, you propelled yourself forward and shoved her to the side, falling onto the uneven road with a groan. Your skull rattled at the impact.

“I had him!” she shrieked angrily, springing back up immediately. You hadn’t the heart to tell her you just saved her life, preoccupied with watching Jungkook streak past the two of you, chasing after the car at an inhuman pace.

Blood trickled down the side of your temple. Maybe you’d lie down a little while longer.

The nurse told you that you had a minor concussion and to take it easy. You thanked her as she moved away to treat other wounded men. Jungkook sat beside you, nurses drawing the umpteenth vial of blood from him.

“Think you got enough?” he asked almost bitterly. You grimaced at his intonation, placing a hand onto his shoulder. It was still hard to get used to this new Jungkook.

Irene shook her head. “Any hope of replicating the serum is locked into your genetic code. Now without Dr. Erskine, it’ll take years.”

“He deserved better than this.” Sorrow played its hollow song in his voice.

With a final pat to his arm, you mumbled something about waiting outside so he could have some privacy with Irene. He looked like he wanted to protest, tell you to stay, but you were already striding away.

Just outside of the infirmary, Kim Namjoon was tinkering with parts of a fighter jet hoisted into the air by chains. In fact, dozens of jets were scattered across the room, and you marveled at the genius infrastructure. It felt like you were at the Kim Expo all over again, but better. Your heart clenched at the memory; that was your last night with Taehyung.

“Jungkook told me you’re a big fan of mine,” Namjoon called out, which made you practically jump out of your skin. He stood just behind you, wrench in hand and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “He also mentioned you’re wicked smart. Know a thing or two about jets?”

“Not much,” you replied after overcoming your initial shock. “Just that these could use a little greasing up, is all.”

A laugh escaped him, and he beckoned you forward to take a look at what he was doing. “I’m thinking of installing a thruster here. Get this baby moving faster than the speed of sound. What do you think?”

Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you stepped forward, gently taking the wrench from his hand to point from where he had initially positioned the thruster to further down the sleek jet’s abdomen. “Here should be better. Less friction, better angle. If you really want to amp it up, you can change the thruster material to something lighter. I know of a special tool they’re developing that can slice metals into fractions of a micrometer and hold up its structural integrity.”

Kim Namjoon eyed you with something akin to amazement. “Jungkook wasn’t kidding, huh?”

You were about to chortle out a response, but military officials strode up to talk to him, effectively cutting your conversation short. He handed you a couple tools and gestured to the jet, as if to say ‘go crazy’ and you graciously took them with a grin.

They spoke as you tinkered. It was only minutes later when Jungkook walked out of the infirmary with Irene. You stuck your head out of the jet just as the Colonel stated, “As of today, the SSR is being retasked. We’re taking the fight to Hydra. Pack your bags, Agent Bae. You, too, Namjoon. We’re flying to London tonight.”

“Sir? If you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

Fear struck at your chest. You knew that Jungkook was now some sort of crazy enhanced superhuman, but just the thought of having the two people you were closest to in Europe, in the heart of the war, rang alarm bells in your head.

“You’re an experiment. You’re going to Alamogordo.”

Jungkook glanced around incredulously. “The serum worked.”

Your jaw clenched at the colonel’s following words. “I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.”

At that, you stuck your head back into the jet. You were less than keen on listening to men beat down on your best friend all over again.

After the colonel left, taking Kim Namjoon along with him, you overheard another official offer a promotion to Jungkook. One that required a roadtrip across the country. A smile touched your lips upon hearing his acceptance.

He looked silly in the suit. Of course, the audience sure seemed to adore him. But you never let him hear otherwise; it looked downright ridiculous. You weren’t quite sure who to look at; Jungkook stuttering over his bond-selling speech or the gorgeous girls covered in stars and stripes dancing around him.

“Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun.”

It was hard not to roll your eyes to the heavens.

Life went on like this for a couple months. Jungkook performed on stages all over the country with that stupid star-spangled get up, took pictures with strangers, and the two of you traveled all over the country. You were really only there for moral support, but Jungkook always told you that this’d be all the worse if you weren’t there. So you stayed.

Never in your life had you imagined that you’d end up following Jungkook out of the city, much less out of the country. Much less out of the continent! You were in Italy, only five miles away from the warfront. Your mind was muddled with thoughts of Taehyung; it’d been a while since his last letter.

Here you were now, watching Jungkook ‘perform’ for the military in Italy. You crossed your arms, grimacing at the negative reaction of the audience.

“How many of you are ready to help me sock old Adolf on the jaw?” Jungkook spoke into the microphone.

Crickets. You deftly ran a palm over your face in second-hand embarrassment.

“Okay,” Jungkook choked out awkwardly. “Uh… I need a volunteer!”

Someone from the crowd proclaimed, “I already volunteered! How do you think I got here?” The crowd erupted into jeers at that.

“Bring back the girls!” Another man yelled. The rest of the men then erupted into pandemonium, demanding the women and for Jungkook to get off stage. You had half the mind to march up to each one of them and knee them where the sun didn’t shine.

“Come on, guys. We’re all on the same team here.”

Someone climbed onto a pile of crates to pull their pants down to show off their rear end to Jungkook. Disgusting, the lot of them. A couple started throwing rotten tomatoes and produce of all sorts, Jungkook managing to block all of them off with his striped shield.

“Nice boots, Tinkerbell!”

Oh, hell no! You were the only one that was allowed to make fun of Jungkook’s outfit. With a distasteful expression plastered over your features, you marched onto stage, much to the coordinator’s mislike, and yanked at Jungkook’s arm to pull him off, shooting a middle finger to the booing crowd.

“Don’t worry, Guk. They’ll warm up to you.” You patted his despondent shoulders as the two of you tread down the stage’s steps. He didn’t reply.

It started raining soon after, sweet droplets of rain morphing the packed dirt roads into sludge-like mud. You managed to find a shaded area to keep dry, sitting beside Jungkook, who had taken to silently sketching in a book you had given him for his last birthday.

“What’re you drawing?”

“Me,” came his stout reply.

You arched an eyebrow and peered over his shoulder to see that he was drawing a suited monkey dancing on a stage. A frown twisted your lips.

It was nice to spend time with Jungkook and just Jungkook alone. It reminded you of how things were before all this happened; when the two of you would draw or read together. You yearned for life to be as uncomplicated as it was back then.

“Do you miss him?” Jungkook queried as he erased a stray line on his drawing.

You shuffled so your head rested against Jungkook’s hunched form, shutting your eyes. As of recently, you haven’t been sleeping very well, worry eating away at your insides at night, leading to you staying up until the latest hours of the night with bloodshot eyes.

“Who?”

“Taehyung.”

Your heart lurched at the name. “All the time. Do you?”

“Like never before. I wish he was here.”

“Me too, Jungkook. I miss him so much. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’ll be alright. Taehyung’s strong.” You could only hope Jungkook’s wishful thinking led to fact. “I’m glad you’re here, though.”

“I’ll always be here for you.” Slowly, you lifted your hands to cradle his face, pulling his gaze from the drawing to you. You spoke seriously, with not a fraction of humor in your tone. “You know Taehyung’d be so proud of you, right? I’m proud of you, Guk.”

A dry chuckle left him, and your grip on his jaw loosened. “Taehyung never shuts up about you, you know. Sometimes he’d talk about the war in his letters, but mostly it’s just how much he misses you and home. Even mentioned something about a farm?”

Before you could formulate a coherent response (because, let’s face it, you were trying your darned hardest not to burst into tears), the sound of footsteps made the both of you straighten up like metal rods. It happened to be Irene, and you immediately pushed yourself onto your feet to give the two privacy, shooting Jungkook a wink.

You ran through the rain to make it back to your tent, shivering at the cold seeping into your bones. For the trip, you packed a light suitcase of few clothes and essentials, making sure to stuff all of Taehyung’s letters he had sent into the cramped space as well. You unfolded the most recent one, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes upon seeing his untidy scrawling. You missed him so much it hurt.

It seemed you'd reread the letter a million times before Jungkook thrust his head through the flaps of your tent (which made you squawk out an unattractive screech of surprise), and urgently ordered you to follow him. He gave you no time to question what was going on, because he was already dashing away to the heart of camp. You quickly put away Taehyung’s letter and hurried after him, ignoring the slight sting of frigid rain pelting you until you were practically drenched.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan,” the colonel drawled out as you, Irene, and Jungkook made it to the tent, dripping rainwater all over the place. “What’s your plan today?”

You glanced at Jungkook curiously. What was going on? You were getting tired of being kept in the unknown all the time.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” Jungkook said, a certain stiffness to his tone that you misliked.

Casualty list… a sick feeling melded its grimy hands over your heart.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.”

“I just need one name. Sergeant Kim Taehyung from the 107th.”

A sickly terror—one like you’ve never felt before in your life—seized within your ribcage and your mouth dropped open to sputter out, “What? Jungkook, what’s going on? Is Taehyung okay?”

The colonel seemed to clearly ignore you, rounding a piercing glare on Irene. “You and I are going to have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.”

Anger, white hot rage took over your soaked form and you slammed your palms on the table, leaning forward to growl out, “Tell me if he’s alive, or I swear to God—!”

Jungkook’s calming hand on your shoulder made you pause for a moment.

“Please, sir. It’s T-A-E—”

“I can spell!” the Colonel barked, still deathly calm. You swallowed down the urge to sock a punch to his nose. Reluctantly, the older man pushed himself out of his seat and turned to flick through files. “I’ve signed more of these condolence letters than I would care to count. But… the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.”

“No,” you whispered, shuffling backwards. Your back hit Jungkook, but you shrugged off his attempt to hold you. Tar, as black as death itself, filled your lungs. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?”

A scoff left the Colonel. “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

“But if you know where they are, why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines,” the Colonel cut Jungkook off with a stern look, “through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re just a chorus girl.”

It took all you had in you not to spit straight in his face.

“I think I understand just fine,” Jungkook said in a straight tone. A part of you marveled at how he managed to steel in his anger so well. Then again, he’s been dealing with people like him all his life.

“Well, understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters right, you have somewhere to be in thirty minutes.” The colonel finally had the gall to face the three of you once again, striding away with not a word more.

Between the three of you, Irene seemed to be the most distraught. Granted, you’ve had far more experience with Jungkook’s recklessness than she did. Then again, you paralleled his insane thick-headedness with your own stubborn disposition, if it weren’t already more of a force to reckon with.

“What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?” Irene exclaimed as Jungkook threw his suit on and shoved his feet into boots. You helped him speed up the process by stuffing the rest of his gear into a knapsack. With a quick glance to her, you noted the damp tendrils of hair sticking to her head; she had run here without another thought to get to Jungkook.

“You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead.”

A part of you stiffened at her statement, and you rounded onto her with a sNamjoon expression. “You don’t know that.”

She pursed her lips. “Even so, they’re devising a strategy! If they detect—”

“By the time he’s done that, it could be too late,” Jungkook interjected while shrugging on a brown leather coat you tossed his way. The two of you hurried out of the tent, throwing his bag into the trunk. Irene called out your names in exasperation.

You clambered into the passenger seat while Jungkook paused to properly face the agent.

“You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

“Every word.”

“Then you gotta let me go.”

You almost snorted at how cheesy that sounded.

What Irene said next made your heart leap into your throat. “I can do more than that.”

“The Hydra camp is in Krausberg, tucked between these two mountain ranges, see?” You overheard Irene explain to Jungkook, pointing at a faded yellow map that creased between her firm hold. “It’s a factory of some kind!”

From beside you, Kim Namjoon said, “Should be able to drop you right on their doorstep.”

Thunder billowed through the clouds, rattling through the atmosphere. You could swear you felt the jet jostle with the grumbling sky. The window pane showed very little; obstructed by darkness and fog. Even this high up, the stars were invisible, as if they turned their faces away, unwilling to witness the downfall of mankind. A part of you wondered if this was a good idea; would things be different if you weren’t here in Italy? What would life be like if you were stuck back in Brooklyn?

Jungkook had told you not to come onto the plane with him. Begged, even. It was too dangerous, he had told you, face flushed with worry. You only leveled him with a steely gaze and softly asked him not to underestimate you just as people had him in the past. The guilty expression that momentarily crossed Jungkook’s features was almost enough to make you laugh.

“How do you know so much about this?” Namjoon asked curiously as you helped him navigate through the haze.

A smile graced your face. “I read books, Kim.”

The laugh that he barked out was cut off by Jungkook saying, “Just drop me off as close as you can! The three of you are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land.”

You ignored the quivering of your hands and focused on scanning your surroundings for any potential landing sites for Jungkook.

“If we’re not in too much of a hurry,” Namjoon leaned closer over the dash with a slight smirk, “I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for some late-night fondue.”

You scowled, brows knitting together. It wasn’t unknown that Namjoon was a notorious playboy, but you didn’t think he’d be this forward with you. Rolling your eyes to the angry clouds, you responded, “I’m in love with another man, Mr. Kim. A man Jungkook’s going to go down and save.”

Noticing your foul demeanor, Namjoon quickly backtracked, “Sure, sure. Should’ve expected someone like you to be taken already.” Then, he twisted in his seat slightly to glance at Irene. “What about you, agent Bae? How does fondue in Switzerland sound?”

You almost chuckled at the palpable silence.

“Namjoon is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s mad enough to brave this airspace. We’re lucky to have him,” came Irene’s hasty explanation for a flabbergasted Jungkook.

“So, are you two… do you…” your friend stuttered to find his words. “Fondue?”

At this point, you didn’t bother holding in your cackles, only increasing in volume when Irene pointedly ignored him and pulled out a transponder. Man, Jungkook was in way too deep for this woman.

“Activate it when you’re ready, and the signal will lead us straight to you.”

It was your turn to twist in your seat as you called out to him, “You keep that thing safe, Jungkook! It’s the only way we can reach you.” When you righted yourself back up, you looked to Namjoon. “Maybe once we get back, I can show you how to build a transponder that isn’t so… clunky.”

The man beside you shook his head with a loose grin. “And people call me the cocky one.”

“You sure this thing works?” asked Jungkook.

“Tested more than you, pal!”

The words only barely left him before explosions clattered all around you, throwing you into the side of the plane as you clawed onto your seat. Panicked, you checked the radar with blown-wide pupils; there was nothing on the scanner! Hydra’s technology was far more advanced than you first anticipated.

Despite the extreme turbulence of the jet, you clambered out of the seat (almost falling flat on your face in the process), and made your way to Jungkook standing in front of an open door. Everything was so loud, happening too quickly. Irene was yelling at him to sit back down; that they’d take him all the way there.

You knew Jungkook wouldn’t listen, so you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, grasping him with a horrid desperation that curdled your insides. Who knows, it might be the last embrace you’d ever have with him.

“Good luck, Guk. Find Taehyung for me, will you?” you whispered into the smooth blue material of his suit. “Something tells me he’s still alive and kicking.”

He nodded grimly before offering you a slight smile. Then, he yelled out over the vibrating plane’s metals and resounding booms of explosions, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!”

“You can’t give me orders!” Irene shrieked, panicked consternation weaving through her words.

“The hell I can’t!” Jungkook replied with a playful smirk. Who was he and what had he done with your best friend? “I’m a Captain!”

With one final salute, he pushed off the platform and streaked down, down, down. You watched with bated breath as he only barely evaded the grenades and bullets, parachute launching only seconds later.

The plane turned back not long after, and Jungkook plunged into the fog, disappearing from your view.

Cold chewed at your skin, settling frost into your blood, icing over your bones. The frigid temperature numbed the physical pain you felt from getting jostled about in the plane, but left your emotions untouched.

It was hard not to cry. You missed your family, you missed home, and you missed life before all the chaos. Most of all, you missed Taehyung. What you wouldn’t give to have him in your arms, his pretty brown eyes gazing at you with raw adoration.

His last letter you received was months ago, but you refused to believe he was gone. Jungkook was going to find him, and you’d see him again.

You have to.

The makeshift bed they had given you was not unsimilar to a medical stretcher. It was so narrow that your limbs dangled off the edge, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. No tears leaked from your sore eyes, but dry sobs still rumbled away within your chest, a symphony of sorrow that was lost to the rain.

The sky cried for you instead, constant pattering against your tent that accompanied you the rest of the night. You weren’t quite sure at what time you drifted off to sleep, but you found yourself jolting awake when the sun painted the horizons golden and the rain dwindled down to meek drippings down the side of your tent.

You freshened yourself up, then pulled out Taehyung’s letter to give it another read. Before you could begin scanning the scrawls of ink, large thumps of footsteps thundered just outside your quarters. Hollers of excitement rang through the forest. Your heart leapt into your throat. Hurriedly, you stuffed the letter back into your bag and rushed out of your tent, eyes blown wide. Men streaked past you, chattering excitedly. You followed along with the ocean of military persons, weaving through the crowd and mumbling out quiet apologies when you accidentally tread on boot-clad toes.

And then… then everything went still.

Taehyung was there, in the flesh, a grin brightening his grimy features. He looked as if he’d seen hell and back, bright eyes accompanied by dark eye bags. His hair was mussed, clothes tattered to a fray, hands clutching so tightly onto a gun that his fingers turned pale.

Jungkook stood beside your boyfriend, looking just as banged up. He noticed you first, exclaiming your name and waving you over.

Suddenly, you choked out Taehyung’s name and you launched yourself forward, throwing yourself into his arms. The delight that painted itself sweetly so across his dirtied features wasn’t hard to replicate. You didn’t care at all that he smelled of gunpowder, neither did you care that men were ogling the two of you. You grasped at his jaw and yanked him towards you with a desperate ferocity, landing your lips against his. The cold metal of his dog tags grazed against the bare skin of your flushed neck.

When the two of you parted, it was slow and gentle and you felt whole again, after so, so long. He knocked his forehead against yours with a foolish smile that could’ve lit whole cities.

“Oh God, darlin’,” he whispered against your skin. “I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea.”

A watery chuckle emitted from you. “Oh, I think I have an idea.”

From beside the two of you, Jungkook coughed into his fist. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking, Y/N!” You turned to him with a sheepish grin and threw an arm around his shoulder as well.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Laughing slightly, he patted your back affectionately. When your grip loosened, he turned to the Colonel that marched up to him.

“Some of these men need medical attention.”

Your concerned gaze ran over Taehyung’s form, looking for any major injuries. He shook his head gently with the fondest contemplation, pressing another delicate peck to your temple.

“I’d like to surrender myself for disciplinary action.”

The grip that you had on Taehyung’s bicep tightened. If they dared lay a hand on Jungkook—

“That won’t be necessary.”

You blinked in mild surprise.

A proud grin curled at Jungkook’s mouth as he mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

Irene stepped forward when the Colonel disappeared, eyeing Jungkook with an unreadable expression.

“You see those two?” you said whilst leaning closer to Taehyung. He hummed in acknowledgement. “They’re in love.”

Shooting you an amused look, he shook his head with a faint laugh. “About time Jungkook found someone.” Then, with a grand flourish that made your eyes roll to the side with an entertained scoff, he exclaimed over the clamor, “Hey! Let’s hear it for the Captain!”

The crowd erupted into cheers. You clapped with them, yelping out a distorted noise of shock when Taehyung tugged you close once again to slant his lips to yours, smiling all the way.

The dingy orange lights of the bar only barely illuminated your boyfriend’s handsome features, just enough so you could make out the sweet look he was casting your way.

“So you’re telling me Jungkook has been dancing with women on a stage the whole time I was gone?”

You snorted. “More or less.” Gentle was your touch as you laid your hand over his, lacing your fingers. “It was hard without you. I stayed up most nights worrying my head off. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. For a moment, I thought you were dead, Taehyung.”

Twisting in his seat so he could properly face you, his free knuckle found its way beneath your chin, affectionately nudging at your jaw. “I’m here now. Right in front of you, darlin’. Here, I wanna give you something.” He released you to reach up around his neck, pulling away one of his dog tags, glinting in all of its metallic glory under the clementine-hued luminescence. Watching with round eyes, any and all protests sat heavy on your tongue as he hooked a foot to your stool, dragging you closer by the seat. He looped the cold tags over your own decolletage, pressing his thumb against your sternum. Raw sentiment blurred his vision. He was so in love with you, he couldn’t think straight.

“I love you,” he found himself mumbling. When you smiled, he knew he’d rope down all those invisible stars for you, swim across tumultuous oceans, rip galaxies apart with his bare hands, anything to keep you smiling like that.

“Oh, I’ve got something to tell you!” You clapped your hands together, a playful expression clouding your once-flustered features. “Kim Namjoon—yeah, Tae—the Kim Namjoon offered me to work alongside him! Said he needs a fresh brain to pick. Granted, he did come onto me—”

“He what?!”

“Hush now, I’m telling you a story! Well, the military had a few gunked up tanks, and their vehicles were making strange noises, too. So I stepped in and fixed it all up for them; even expanded on that Kim Gravitic Reversion prototype we saw at the expo! Remember that?” Taehyung only stared at you with unabashed wonder. Taking his silence as a cue to move on, you continued, “Well, at first I was going to say no to Namjoon because I didn’t really want to help develop weapons, but I realized his technology can do so much good as well. I couldn’t say no to that, you know?”

Your boyfriend blinked, before leaning back in his seat whilst carding a hand through his hair. “Namjoon came onto you?”

You shook your head in mild amusement. “Out of all of what I said, that’s what you take away?” At Taehyung’s embarrassed demeanor, you nudged at his shoulder. “I told him I’m already in love with someone else.”

It almost shocked you how quickly his features morphed from shy to teasing. “Oh, you did? Who’s this ‘someone else’ you’re in love with? Anybody I should be worried about?”

“Oh, yes. Awful, awful man. Keeps running off into war with his dumb friend, too. Has eyes to die for, though. All warm and brown, like a good coffee in the morning.” You wrinkled your nose as he bent forward to lean his forehead against yours.

Somewhere further into the bar, someone was playing a jaunty tune on a rickety piano. It brought you back to all the times Taehyung would drag you and Jungkook along for a ‘dance’. With a whisper of his name, you tilted your head slightly to land a light kiss to his cheek, sitting back just in time to see Jungkook walking in with a dopey smile.

Usually, you’d be more than happy to see your best friend again. This time, however, you knew that he came with news of leaving. Again. There was a sharp ache to your ribcage, but you kept silent, opting to only knock your head back and down your beverage.

“See? I told you,” Taehyung hummed to him, picking up a shot of alcohol from the bar counter. “They’re all idiots.”

Wrinkling your nose, you quipped, “As if you aren’t.”

“You ready to follow the Captain into the jaws of death?” Jungkook asked as he took a seat beside you. His words made your stomach lurch uncomfortably. “Not you, Y/N. You’re staying here with Namjoon, aren’t you?”

“Did you know Namjoon came onto them? And you didn’t do anything about it? Some friend you are,” Taehyung mumbled with a ghost of a leer, though it lacked any true venom.

“I know Y/N can handle themself just fine,” quipped Jungkook with a roll of his eyes.

“Thank you, Guk.”

“Oh, so we’re ganging up on me, now is it? What a way to treat the man who just came back from war.”

You slapped at his hand when it reached up to pull at both you and Jungkook’s cheeks. “Stop being dramatic, jerk!”

“And, to answer your question, I’m not following a Captain,” Taehyung pointedly said. “That little city boy who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

A comfortable silence settled over the three of you. You tried not to think about how this was most likely the last time you’d be together for a long while.

“You’re keeping the suit, right?” asked Taehyung in a suggestive tone.

You wheezed out a bark of a laugh. “It’s horrendous, I’m telling you. It looks like something you’d wear when you go swimming! Are you going swimming, Cap? Wouldn’t blame you, the beaches are lovely this time of year—!”

Both you and Taehyung dissolved into a fit of laughter, Jungkook watching along in humored exasperation.

“Oh, hardy har har. Make fun of it all you want, but I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

Suddenly, the ruckus from the other side of the bar dwindled away concerningly quickly, making the three of you crane your necks and glance towards the doorway. Irene Carter walked in, looking as if she were carved from pure angel’s light. She wore a dress of deep vermilion, matching the even hue of her lips. With rounded eyes, you jabbed Jungkook in the side, forcing him to his feet.

Oh, if you weren’t utterly smitten with Taehyung, Jungkook might’ve found himself some competition right about then.

“Namjoon has some equipment he wants you to try,” she said to him after giving you a nod of acknowledgement. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds good,” choked Jungkook.

Humming just slightly Irene remarked, “I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”

“You don’t like music?”

“I do, actually,” Irene murmured. It was like watching a romance film unfurl right in front of your own eyes. Your grip on Taehyung tightened in excitement. “I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing.”

Much to your surprise, it was the man you were holding that asked her, “There’s a jukebox right by the bar. What’s stopping you from doing so now?”

You watched as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, unbreaking her gaze from Jungkook’s flushed features. If what they had wasn’t love, you weren’t quite sure what was.

“The right partner,” she whispered.

You’ve never seen Jungkook smile so widely before.

“Emission signature is unusual. Alpha and beta are in neutral,” you said from beside Namjoon, nose twitching in slight amusement. “Doubt Jungkook picked up on that, though.”

The billionaire threw his head back and guffawed, but you were quick to placate him, urgently reminding him not to make any sudden movements. Who knows how dangerous this thing was.

“Seems harmless,” Namjoon said with a roll of his eyes. “Hard to see what all the fuss is about.”

That was the last time you took the word of stubborn, reckless men.

There was a sharp electric zap when the metal pincers grazed the glowing source, sending a pulsating wave of energy so strong that it completely shattered the glass barrier and sent both you and Namjoon hurtling backwards.

He was lucky enough to have landed on the floor uninjured, save for the small nicks littering his skin from stray glass pieces. His dark hair haphazardly stuck up in a disarray, which made him look not unsimilar to a mad scientist. To be fair, Kim Namjoon was probably the closest person you knew to a mad scientist.

“Y/N? You okay?” he wheezed, pushing himself to his haunches. His gaze swept over to you, slumped against the wall and clutching your side with a grimace.

“I’ll be fine,” you hissed out whilst patting away fragments of glimmering glass, catching the unnatural azure light of the source. “You better write that down so you don’t make that mistake again, Namjoon, or I’ll skin you alive.”

Yesterday, Jungkook was all rainbows and sunshine, grinning so wide his face almost split in half. You and Taehyung teased him until the sky turned golden with the rising of the sun.

Now, it was evident that he was feeling the exact opposite. Downtrodden, frowning, and ever so serious. He hadn’t even offered you a pity smile when you joked about his silly little suit (and how you’ve made some upgrades)!

“Fondue is just bread and cheese, my friend,” Namjoon postulated, clapping a hand to Jungkook’s back.

Oh. You put two and two together; something happened between him and Irene after you and Taehyung left the bar.

“Really? I thought—”

“Did you, though?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. “Have you ever considered that whatever is going on between you two, it’s not always her fault? She’s not responsible for your insecurities, Guk.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “Did something happen? Why’ve you got bandages on?”

Ah, you forgot about the little incident earlier today.

“Don’t change the subject.”

In no mood for a lecture, Jungkook turned to Namjoon with a sigh. Namjoon only looked around and shrugged with a twisted expression. “They’ve got a point, Jeon. The moment you think you know what’s going on in a woman’s head is the moment you know you’ve fudged things up. Now, as for me, I concentrate on work. Which at the moment entails me and Y/N making sure your men don’t get killed.”

The three of you walked through the lab, dozens of other scientists scrambling to fix, repair, build, and everything in between.

“You gonna show him the shields, Namjoon?” you asked as you squatted by the bike you had initially started working on before Jungkook arrived, noticing a few gears out of place. “I built up quite a few of those, so don’t listen to Namjoon when he says he did that all by himself.”

Said scientist rolled his eyes to the buzzing lamps above. “Nobody likes a know-it-all, Y/N.” With that, he whirled across a table, gesturing to all the different shields laid out. He pointed to a dull grey one. “Carbon polymer. Should withstand your average German bayonet. Though, Hydra’s not going to attack you with a pocket knife.”

After tweaking the metal parts back in their rightful positions, you smiled upon the brand new motorbike you fixed up, eyeing the glossy new additions you installed. Namjoon knocking his fist against another stars-and-stripes shield snapped you out of your state of admiration.

“I hear you’re attached,” Namjoon commented, sending you a meaningful look.

Jungkook seemed to stand up straighter, defensive. “It’s handier than you may think.”

A grimace etched itself into your lips at that. You came to stand beside him, looking down at the shields with grease-slickened fists propped up on your hips. “I know you liked the original, but it’s a lousy shield, Jungkook. The shape is awful, the material is easy to break, and not to mention the design.” You faked a shiver crawling up your spine, which only made him grin a little bit before it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

“Y/N wouldn’t stop complaining, so I took the liberty of coming up with some options,” said Namjoon.

“We came up with options. Namjoon just scrapped most of mine, the bastard.” You shot him a mock glare, before turning back to your friend and sweeping your arms out, gesturing to the multitude of shields displayed on the table. “Oh, this one has built-in flamethrowers, you can give the Nazis a good face-barbecue with the push of a button. I also made one for you that can turn invisible when you—!”

Much to your dismay, Jungkook seemed not to be listening to your words at all, instead bending down to pick up a shield below the table that was covered by a sheet of cloth.

“What about this one?”

“No, no, that’s just a prototype.” Namjoon grimaced when Jungkook completely disregarded his precautionary words.

The round slate of lustrous metal gleamed beneath his touch. “What’s it made of?”

“Vibranium,” you replied, watching curiously as Jungkook spun it in his grasp. “Far stronger than steel and a third of its weight. Completely absorbs any and all vibrations.”

“How come it’s not standard issue?”

One of your shoulders lifted in a piteous shrug. “Rarest metal on Earth, Guk. What you’ve got there is all we have.”

“That being said,” Namjoon leaned against the wooden work surface, “you sure you don’t wanna take another look at all these other shields? Y/N spent a lot of time on this one; it’s curved just right so it comes straight back to you when you throw it away!”

Before you could pipe up about how that one was yet to be tested, Irene strode into the lab, expression sNamjoon. “Are the two of you quite finished? I’m sure the captain has some unfinished business.”

Jungkook whirled around with a sheepish grin to his face, holding up the vibranium shield with a puffed chest. “What do you think?”

With not a word, Irene turned to pluck a gun from the desk beside her, raising her arm and shooting off four bullets at Jungkook, giving him just enough time to raise the shield with a startled expression painting his visage. They rang clear and true against the shield, bouncing off the metal with not even a dent. Namjoon had taken to using you as a human shield, peeking his eyes from over your shoulder when the shots stopped.

“Yes, I think it works,” she uttered with an ever-stoic demeanor, before marching away, heels echoing in her absence.

Someone started laughing. Delighted peals of unrestrained laughter resounded within the lab. It took you a second to recall that the sound was, indeed, coming from you. You wheezed out incoherent rambles of how hilarious that was, slapping at a concerned Namjoon’s back in amusement.

“I don’t know what happened,” you choked out once you got a grasp of your own breathing again, “but I know damn well that you best apologize to her soon, Jungkook.”

An amused frown danced across his lips; he was upset that the woman he had a crush on almost left bullets within his intestines, yes, but the pure happiness that you displayed was infectious.

“I had some ideas about the outfit.” He fished out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

Namjoon, still stiff at the startling show Irene put on, plucked the sketch from Jungkook’s fingers. “Whatever you want, pal. Whatever you want.”

“Watch over Jungkook, okay? He has a tendency to run head-first into trouble.” The crown of your head was lodged in the junction between his chest and his chin, lips pressing sweetly slow on his pulse point, along his grizzled jaw, and over his throat. You particularly enjoyed when he spoke, the vibrations of his voice soothing against your skin. This was the first moment of privacy the two of you have had in a while; despite the only barrier between you two and a hundred dozen men being a flimsy tent flap.

When he chuckled, all gentle and honey-like, you practically melted in his hold, clutching onto him all the tighter.

It felt like deja vu. You’ve done this before, sure, but the hollow pain had only amplified with time, plucking a song of sorrow with your heartstrings.

“I’ll watch over him as long as you promise not to accidentally burn, cut, or lose any of your limbs while I’m gone, okay? I know you’re a genius and you like tinkering but I get worried for you. Remember that time you fractured a rib because of Namjoon’s recklessness with that glowy blue thing?”

You rolled your eyes to the side, pulling away from his neck to tug at the collars of his jacket. “That was one time. I’ve come nowhere near close to breaking any bones. Except that one time I—”

“Darlin’,” Taehyung groaned, “you’re killing me, come on.”

With nimble fingers, you threaded them towards the back of his neck and affectionately scratched at his head. “I’m gonna miss you, sarge. Come back to me properly this time. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about Jungkook having to go back and save you.”

“I love you, darlin’. More than anything in the whole world.”

“I love you, too,” you slanted yourself forward to land a swift kiss to his lips. He obviously wanted to hold you for longer, but dramatically pouted when you pushed him away with a mischievous grin. “They’re waiting for you, Taehyung, you have to go! Jungkook’ll have my head!”

Scoffing out a curse word, he gathered you in his arms despite your meek protests, freckling kisses over the dip of your nose bridge, up to your eyes, his lips warm against your forehead.

“Bye, darlin’. I’ll see if I can bring back a souvenir for you.”

The tent flap lifted as he sent you a wink. Then he clambered out, jogging to catch up with the rest of the Howling Commandos.

He was gone. And now everything was cold.

It’s been a whole fortnight. Time slipped past your fingers like water through the cracks of cupped palms. Taehyung and Jungkook came and went at the speed of lightning, destroying Hydra bases left and right. You’ve never been prouder, and more terrified, in your life.

The only thing that really took your mind off of the tense situation was burying yourself with new projects. Even Namjoon told you to slow down, but you never paid him any mind, tinkering from before the sun rose to hours after the sky bled dark ink. Making things helped relieve your tension. Solving problems made you feel a sliver of what life was like before the war.

“Good as new,” you mumbled tiredly, swiping a patch of grease from your cheek.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “You installed three fire boosters and a voice recognition system. Not to mention you were able to program the jet to fold itself into half? That wasn’t fixing, that was… Y/N, what are you doing?”

There was a lump in your throat. You weren’t going to cry, were you?

Frustrated, you threw down your tools and shrugged off your work coat. “My job.”

“Your job is to help protect these men, which you are, but I don’t think self-folding jets are going to stop Hitler from shooting at us.”

When you finally turned to look him properly in the eye, Namjoon could only shake his head. You looked to be a complete mess. Glistening eyes were practically sunken in from lack of sleep, darkened rings adorning your skin, and bruises from physical overexertion littered up and down your arms. You shrunk under his gaze, stepping backwards.

“When was the last time you got sleep?”

“You don’t get to ask me that.” Your brows furrowed, as if taken aback. “You rarely ever leave the lab, much less get proper shut eye!”

“Seems I’m being a bad influence then!” His voice raised just slightly, and you wrinkled your nose. You hated when people got louder than necessary.

With a discontented sigh, you shot him a pointed look and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Before Namjoon could protest any further, Jungkook wandered into the lab, fresh grime marring his handsome features, a frown creasing his lips. You blinked in surprise; you hadn’t expected him and Taehyung to be home for another day or so.

“Jungkook!” you exclaimed with a bright smile, skirting around a confused Namjoon to jog to your best friend. “I’m glad you’re back! How was the mission?”

You should’ve noticed something was off the moment he didn’t reply. You should’ve known just from the way tears laced the lower half of his eyes, glistening white from the lamp, like snow atop a wintry tree branch. You should’ve been able to see when his grimace only deepened.

“Guk…” you mumbled, reaching out so that your fingers gently touched his arm. “Where’s Taehyung?”

Whilst Taehyung always seemed to like silent moments with you, savoring the sweet taste of quiet, Jungkook was the exact opposite. He enjoyed idle chit chat with you; it was a nice change in comparison to constantly being surrounded by thick-headed oafs. Remaining in the shroud of muteness seemed to be a waste to him.

Now, however, Jungkook found himself voiceless to you.

There was a sickly beat of silence that hung between the two of you; palpable, irreversible, flagrant in nature. At that moment, you were reduced to raw blackness, waiting in the shadows for words to fall upon deaf ears. You stared at Jungkook like a wounded animal would a hunter, and it just about broke him to be the one to tell you.

But you knew. Oh, you could tell just by the look on his face.

He didn’t speak, no. Instead, he shook his head as a tear slipped from the built-up moisture of his despaired gaze. His arms raised, to pull you into an embrace. Warm, very warm, then all of a sudden, bone-chilling frigidity.

You shivered violently in his hold as a tremor spidered up your spine.

A piercing wail warbled throughout the lab, dripping with raw pain like you’ve never heard before. It took you a moment to register that the horrid noise was one that you were eliciting, tearing apart your lungs and throats with a ferocity of a cruel beast greedy for your heart.

Your head found itself buried into Jungkook’s chest. The coarse material of his suit, rough Taeles and harsh leather rubbed your skin raw, painfully digging at your cheek as you sobbed empty cries. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care much.

Jungkook kissed the top of your head. You barely registered his voice, a frail and broken thing that was whispered into your hair. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Shh, I know.” Although he wasn’t sure if it was any comfort to you, Jungkook found himself mumbling out with a newfound determination surging through his veins, “I’m not gonna stop until all of Hydra is dead or captured. I’m going after Schmidt.”

He held you for a little longer, waiting patiently until your cries died down to gentle hiccups and labored breathing.

“I’m going with you,” you croaked out, twisting your face uncomfortably from your raw throat. You didn’t give him any time to protest, because you pulled away and stared him dead in the eyes, brows furrowed. “And I don’t care if there’s a million soldiers out there trying to stop me.”

You misliked all the pitying looks people were throwing your way. All pursed lips, drawn brows, and warbling glances. You were sick of it.

This was a professional meeting, not a funeral! Read the room, people, you thought bitterly as you leaned forward on the table. Namjoon sat beside you, noting your bristly demeanor and affectionately patting your shoulder.

“Schmidt’s working with powers beyond our capabilities,” he said.

With a nod, you added on, “If he gets across the Atlantic, then he’ll wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour. Namjoon and I have run tests on the power source; it has the potential to end humanity as we know it.”

“Hydra’s base is here, in the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface.” The Colonel pointed to the map unfurled over the large meeting table.

“What are we supposed to do?” a sergeant asked. Your eyes flickered upwards to look at him, spotting the way he clutched at his dog tags. It reminded you of the cold metal around your own neck, and the dead man they originally belonged to. You swallowed down the newfound urge to cry.

Irene, who had been studying the map terrain, finally spoke up, “Well, we can’t just walk up to their front doors and knock, could we?”

At the head of the table, Jungkook’s voice resonated throughout the room. “Why not?”

Though your heart had shriveled and froze over the few hours of grief you were supplied with, that familiar stubborn idiocy that Jungkook radiated was nostalgic. You let yourself flash him a meek quirk of your lips.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

You marveled at how well Jungkook was handling the loss. After all, he had just lost his closest friend. He was certainly doing better than you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about that. The rest of the meeting eventually blurred into one long ringing tone in your ears until you grew fed up, excusing yourself gently whilst rushing out of the room. You could feel the burning of Namjoon’s curious eyes in the back of your neck.

“Ran out on me there,” he said, his words reverberating throughout the empty lab. A frown lined your mouth and you rolled yourself out from beneath the car. “Missed half of the briefing.”

With a sigh, you grabbed a handkerchief from the table and wiped your hands clear of oily gunk. “Oh, please. Jungkook already ran me through everything ten times over before the meeting. I’m well aware of what’s going to happen.”

“Look at you,” Namjoon muttered, ambling forward, to which you cocked an eyebrow. “One moment, you’re a lost soul in Brooklyn, and the next you’re in a different continent inventing gadgets people decades in the future still won’t be able to do.”

That was strange. Kim Namjoon, complimenting you without a motive?

“I have something for you.”

Ah, there it was.

“I know you’ve got plenty of your own little gizmos and trinkets to help you fight, but… er, Taehyung mentioned you’d like this.”

The air in your lungs froze. Your mind wailed crimson, sobbed cerulean, mourned ebony at the sound of his name.

Namjoon spoke slowly, as if consoling a deer in headlights. “Now, I don’t quite know if you remember, but I first presented it at the expo. Been working on it ever since.” The scientist brandished a sleek metal device, as small as his pinky but just by one glance you could see how complicated the new technology was.

“Kim Gravitic Reversion Technology,” you said, the ghost of a nostalgic grin almost curving your lips upward. Nodding, he tossed it towards you, and you fumbled forwards to trap the small thing in your hand before it could shatter on the floor. “You spend weeks working on your project and you throw it around like it’s a playtoy!” you scolded with a glare. The man across from you only shrugged.

“It’s yours now. I want you to wear it while you fight. Gives me some peace of mind.” Hesitant, he added on, “Though, it’s still a prototype. Don’t you try to float for longer than ten minutes, it might overheat—”

What he was saying immediately died on his tongue as you shoved the device into your trouser pocket and surged forwards, wrapping him into a gentle embrace. You knew that this was unprofessional in several different ways, but you didn’t quite care.

Kim Namjoon might’ve been your superior at first, but now… now he’s a friend.

His hand came up to awkwardly pat your back. Sure, he was used to flirting around, but he’s become accustomed to your distance that it was a shock to have you so close so suddenly. “When this is all over and we go back to America… maybe we can start working on real projects together. Kim and L/N partnership. How does that sound?”

Pulling away from him, you gave him the best wobbly grin you could muster, given the circumstances. “L/N and Kim partnership. I’m looking forward to that, Namjoon.”

The motorcycle you had fixed up and upgraded just a week prior purred to life beneath Jungkook’s grip. You climbed on behind him, straddling the seat backwards so your back pressed against his.

“You sure about this?” Jungkook asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

You responded with a gruff, “Just drive, Guk. You trust me, don’t you? I’m ready.”

Before you knew it, the two of you were streaking down a pathway through the forest at a speed that made your heart rate spike, emerald greens and muted brown of the trees blended into long streaks of color. Just as you expected, the growling of Hydra pursuers rang throughout the woods. They came into view only seconds later; a dozen or so of them hot on your tail.

“I got this!” you barked at Jungkook. “Keep driving!”

With nimble fingers, you pulled out a dual-roped grappling hook contraption that you had made, pressing a button so that tensile strings shot out and embedded themselves into the trees. You watched with a sick satisfaction as the first two got caught, falling off their vehicles with choked noises of surprise.

Much to your dismay, the rest of them caught on and ducked the rope just in time.

“It’s gonna get a little hot, Jungkook!” you yelled just as you uncapped a lighter with your teeth.

“Be careful!” he shrieked when you leaned further down the bike and manually lit the flame thrower. Orange fire billowed out in an instant, almost singing your eyebrows straight off. With a smooth exhale, you watched as it took out more of the Hydra pursuers.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jungkook suddenly swerved, and you clutched at the seat with a deathly grip. “Two on your right, Y/N!”

While Jungkook found himself caught up with dodging bullets, you slid out three daggers from their designated scabbards on your hip Taeles and threw them in quick succession at the chasers. One struck the tire dead and true, sending the motorcycle flipping up into the air. Another grazed the man’s shoulder just slightly, but was enough to send his pain-ridden form careening into a tree trunk. The last blade skidded against the metal of the wheel spokes. No matter, it was going to explode anyway.

“We’re going up!” yelled Jungkook.

“What? Oh!” A startled yelp fell out of your lungs at the sudden change in angle as he accelerated up the ramp; which you presumed to be Hydra’s barrier for their base. Time for phase two of the plan.

“Good luck!” You patted Jungkook’s shoulder before pushing yourself up and launching yourself off the motorcycle just as it flew off the ramp. The strange feeling of floating encompassed your form and you blew out a sigh of relief. Seemed like Kim Gravitic Reversion Technology didn’t need a couple years to work, after all. Suspended in the air, you hurried to press the button on your bodysuit, effectively turning on the reflective panels to conjure the illusion of invisibility. You turned off the anti-gravity devices and descended to the floor with naught a sound thanks to your silent shoes.

You made quick work of the men shooting at Jungkook; after all, it was hard fighting a ghost.

Rolling beneath a tank when someone started shooting your direction, you stuck an explosive beneath the large vehicle and shuffled out just in time before it blew up into smithereens, finding yourself beside Jungkook. You turned off the invisibility, which made your old friend gratefully clap at your shoulder, a nonverbal way of asking if you were alright. So far so good, Guk. Hurriedly handing you the vibranium shield and cupping his hands, Jungkook hoisted you up into the air to curve the metal disc across the grounds, effectively disarming two Hydra personnel and most likely breaking the noses of two others. A smile creased your features when it came zipping back in an instant.

All of a sudden, there was fire everywhere. Tangerine flames licked at the air greedily, and you hastily scrambled backwards, yanked into Jungkook’s side as he pulled you from harm’s way. Strings of curses danced its way out of your mouth.

You could only pretend to look disappointed when around a hundred Hydra men surrounded the two of you with ten dozen gun nozzles aimed straight at your foreheads.

Time for phase three.

The Red Skull was exactly what his name entailed. You growled out obscenities when he landed blows to Jungkook, forcing him to his knees. The men holding you shoved you to the ground as well, being none too gentle with their touch.

“I can do this all day,” Jungkook panted out from beside you, blood dripping from the corner of his lip.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” the Red Skull sneered with contempt dripping off his words. “But, unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule.” He pulled out a glowing gun and pointed it at Jungkook’s temple.

Anytime now, you thought in agitation, fidgeting on the spot.

The thudding of grappling hooks against stone walls rumbled throughout the room. Ah, there they were.

You grinned a sharp, cunning thing. “So are we.”

With that, both you and Jungkook broke into action; he punched at the guards holding the two of you and you turned invisible, pressing a taser gun up to the backs of Hydra personnel. The Howling Commandos broke through the windows, raining shards of glass everywhere. Bullets fell quicker than breaths. You caught sight of Red Skull managing to scurry away, so you picked up the fallen shield and tossed it in Jungkook’s direction, scoffing at his bewildered expression. You forgot you were still invisible to the naked eye.

For somebody who loathed war, you surprised yourself with how easy it was to fight these men. They took everything from you. They took your normal life away, your home, the love of your life. They took Taehyung from you.

All these gadgets you spent time tinkering were all worth it in the end. You were barely getting hurt or detected; praise whatever lord was out there for making you take the meticulous time to build a bullet-repulsion suit. And you supposed a thanks was in order for Namjoon—the anti-gravity device proved to be useful. Definitely so when you dropped from the suspension, using the momentum to kick two Hydra agents in the skull.

Explosions. Fire. Screams. Past you would’ve been horrified at the sight. Now… now this was your reality.

You eventually found Irene and the Colonel in a car, and so you blasted over, turning off all your gadgets and dropping into the backseat beside Irene with a pained grunt. Alright, so the bullet-repulsion suit maybe needed more tweaking. They barely seemed surprised at your presence, and Irene rotated in her seat to tell you that Red Skull was in a jet about to take off.

No, you thought. No, he can’t get away.

The automobile came to a sudden halt by a panting, bloody-blue Jungkook.

“Quick, get in!”

Wind whistled in your ears. The jet was so close, right there. The sky bled a harsh golden with the rising of the sun, cascading honey-amber light over the snowy mountains. It would’ve been a beautiful sight to behold if not for the situation at hand.

Clambering, Jungkook stood up on the seat to leap onto the plane just when the car grew closer. Much to your untimely delight, Irene yanked him down for a kiss and you averted your gaze with a snort.

“Go get him,” she said with a smile.

“I’m not kissing you!” The Colonel barked when Jungkook hesitated for a millisecond longer.

“Neither am I,” you quipped, but pushed yourself up nonetheless.

The three of them were concerningly bewildered at your actions. “Y/N, what are you doing?” Jungkook asked with a hint of urgency.

“I’m going in there with you, Guk,” you said, swiping away at a trickle of blood running down your nose. In a way, this was just like olden times. Back when Jungkook was still scrawny and you were adamant on going with him on every recruitment examination. “Taehyung told me to make sure you don’t do anything stupid!”

His expression softened, and he nodded once. He trusted you with his life.

With those damned superhuman abilities of his, he managed to jump from the car to the jet with mild ease. You wobbled at the sheer velocity of the car, but pushed yourself up with the Anti-gravity thrusters, propelling yourself forward and grappled at the large tires with a yell. Jungkook offered his hand, and pulled you up into the plane. There were a couple men that greeted you with guns to your faces, but you quickly pulled the magic invisibility trick once more while Jungkook took care of the rest.

You were busy for just two damn seconds, and Jungkook managed to fall out of the plane, attached to a smaller drop jet. You raised an eyebrow, watching them from a dirtied window before ducking the round of bullets that the Hydra fighters blindly shot. With an annoyed snarl, you launched yourself forward and threw a punch to his nose, using the butt of the soldier’s gun to slam against his jaw, dislocating it in the process. He fell down in a mess of snot and whimpers. You grimaced at the ugly image of his loose-hanging mouth.

Relieved to see Jungkook clamber into the jet after ejecting the original flier, it quickly morphed to panic when he redirected its path of flight straight towards where you stood. You dove out of the way just in time, flying metal shrapnel bouncing off of your suit, leaving you relatively harmless. You shot Jungkook a half-hearted glare when he clambered out.

“Could’ve crashed literally anywhere else, Jungkook,” you hissed while nodding at the last few remaining men. “Go after Red Skull. I’ll take care of the last of them.”

It was a quick job done, as it turned out. One of them even surrendered, dropping his gun just as you were about to throw another electrifying blade. Then, the plane started sharply descending, and you found yourself thrown to the ceiling before you could stop it from happening, back slamming into a metal column. You slid down with a groan just as the plane righted itself horizontally, shutting your eyes tight from the searing pain flowering up your spine. What the hell was Jungkook doing in there? Gulping, you limped to the cockpit where Red Skull and Jungkook were, ambling in just in time to see Jungkook throw his shield hard enough to send the monster of a man careening backwards, breaking the infrastructure of the energy source.

Blue sparks flew everywhere, and for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw a galaxy materialize right in front of your eyes.

“What have you done? No!” the man of crimson bellowed, staggering up to grasp the cuboid of raw blue energy in his hand.

Bad idea. Awful idea, in fact.

Flashes of blue lightning shot every which way, rivulets of cobalt streaking around him like the Northern Lights in wintry lands. With a brilliant ribbon of luminescence, a universe of stars and planets materialized just in front of him. You stared with wide eyes, meeting Jungkook’s equally stunned gaze, before turning to watch with agape lips.

The energy source glowed brighter in his hands. It grew and grew in luminosity, swallowing him whole and streaking up into the galaxy as he caterwauled in agony. Then… then Red Skull was gone.

As if it never happened, the portal to outer space closed in on itself and the cube dropped to the floor. It melted through the metal of the plane’s grating almost immediately. You could only helplessly watch as it burned a hole in the ground and plunged into the ocean, far, far away from anybody’s reach.

You released a bated breath, shutting your eyes and slumping against the wall.

Oh, you hadn’t realized just how tired you were.

Jungkook was by your side in an instant, scanning you for any immediate injuries.

“The plane, Jungkook!” You shoved at his shoulder. “I’ll be fine, I promise. We have to contact Namjoon or Irene.”

He helped you up, and the two of you made your way to the dashboard together. Thank your lucky stars you knew how to fly a plane. Jungkook unclipped his helmet and flung it off to the side. Strands of his blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, grime, blood, and everything in between. The both of you squeezed onto the same chair—he started working at the radio while you triangulated your exact coordinates.

“Come in. This is Captain Jeon. Do you read me?”

It was Irene who answered, her voice crackling with feedback. “Jungkook, is that you?”

“Irene!” he exclaimed, relief in his tone. “Schmidt is dead.”

“What about the plane?”

You grimaced. “That’s a little bit more complicated,” you replied before Jungkook could, motioning to the map. The plane was heading straight for New York.

“Give me your coordinates. I’ll find you a safe landing site.”

Horror curled at your gut when you pulled up the vitals of the large vehicle. “I may be able to fly, but there’s no way we can get this thing down safely.” Jungkook’s brow furrowed from beside you. Sick to the bone, you shook your head and softly uttered, “We have to force it down.”

“I’ll get Namjoon on the line! He’ll know what to do!”

Oh, you wished Namjoon was here. Maybe you’d tell him that his anti-gravity gadget worked like a charm. On second thought, that’d just give him a big head. Lord knows that was the last thing that man needed.

“There’s not enough time!” said Jungkook. His voice broke, and your heart shattered into infinitesimal pieces along with it.

You hadn’t even noticed the trembling of your hands until Jungkook laced one of his with yours. This was it. This was acceptance. No amount of tinkering or inventing in that dingy war lab would’ve been able to prepare you for a situation like this.

“I gotta put her in the water.” Jungkook exhaled a slow, painful thing.

“Please, don’t do this. We have time. We’ll work it out!”

A tear trickled its merry way over your blood-crusted cheek as you shook your head. “Right now, we’re in the middle of nowhere. If we wait any longer…” You paused to furiously wipe at your blurry eyes. “A lot of people are going to die.”

With that, you pushed away from the console, letting Jungkook take over. You heard him speak to Irene, something about a dance, but it faded into background noise.

He set a compass against the dashboard, one that held a photo of Irene smiling, radiant in nature.

Death stared at you in the form of ice; creeping closer and closer at a rapid speed. You didn’t have any photos of Taehyung. All his letters were safely tucked in your suitcase, back in the military camp. And so, with nothing left, you found your hand wrapped tightly around Taehyung’s dog tags, frigid in your palm to the point where it felt scalding. You shut your eyes as more saltified emotions leaked from your tear ducts, a feeble melody of tentative anguish playing hollow within your chest.

Then… then it all went blue.

Strange, you always thought death would come black, shadows and darkness its trademark. No, that wasn’t it at all. Death came blue like the ocean and the sky. Like Taehyung’s laugh, his wide smile, his favorite pair of jeans. Yes, that explained why.

It was blue because you were thinking of Taehyung.

The man with the cool eyepatch was someone you were supposed to respect out of fear. He was tall in stature, grizzled in demeanor, and his tongue was sharper than both yours and Namjoon’s combined which said quite a lot. And he had an eyepatch, for crying out loud!

But for the life of you, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to be scared of him.

He approached you with a scowl on his lips. Most people would’ve panicked, trembled, bolted for the door. Thankfully, you weren’t most people. You didn’t cower, no, but merely arched an eyebrow his way. For the short time (a week at most) you’ve been awake in this strange new world, Min Yoongi had only come to you once before, and that was to get you situated with SHIELD (which you were still slightly lost on, but to be fair, you were catching up on decades worth of information). So now that he was back, sitting down across from you in the quaint cafe while you sipped at your cup of tea, you almost snorted at how out of place he looked.

It took only four words to get you bolting out of your seat.

“Your friend is awake.”

The drive was a short one to the center of the busy city. There were already several cars there, forming a circle around the subject, dark skid marks indicating their paralleled rush.

You and Min Yoongi pushed through the crowd.

“At ease, soldier!” Yoongi ordered.

You crumbled into utter relief upon seeing Jungkook, as lost as ever, in the center of the circle. His chest heaved as if he’d been sprinting a marathon, obscured only by a thin t-shirt and dark cargo pants. Your eyes widened when you saw that he was barefoot.

With a shout of his name, you ran forward and enveloped him into a tight embrace. There was so much you wanted to say, but your tongue was heavier than lead in your mouth, so you kept quiet and clutched onto him tighter. It took him a moment of genuine shock before he reluctantly returned your hold.

Director Min strode forward, features set grim. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show we put on back there. We thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

You grimaced at that. Waking up to a completely different world with only a baseball game to soften the blow definitely didn’t help whatsoever. You had panicked upon startling into consciousness, ignoring the throbbing of your head and aches of your muscles and ripping your bedsheets to shreds, tying up loose ends to form a rope; or, to you, a makeshift weapon.

The strange look on Jungkook’s face contorted. “Break what?”

As gently as you possibly could, you raised your arms to graze the pads of your fingers over his tense face. You did it to console him, yes, but a selfish part of you just needed to feel him—make sure he was real. This all still felt like a dream to you. One where you’d wake up back in the forties in a small apartment in Brooklyn, nestled in bed with Taehyung’s arms draped over your figure, enjoying the delicate silence that laid dormant over the two of you.

No, turns out it wasn’t a dream. Taehyung was gone and you were here seventy years in the future.

You shook your head, blinking back the stinging prick of tears. You were well aware of the bustling city around you, the SHIELD agents pointing their guns at him as if he were a threat, Min Yoongi’s one good eye glaring a hole at the pair of you, but you focused on Jungkook. Under that confident facade of his, you knew he was scared out of wit’s mind.

“Guk,” you began in a hoarse voice, just loud enough so he could hear over the overwhelming bustle of the city, “we’ve been asleep… for almost seventy years.”

#ficscafe #ficscafe trope event #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x you #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung fanfiction #bts series #bts marvel #bts superhero #bts scifi #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts action #taehyung action #how to tag things idk how to tag things

[pufflix]

comforting hugs

pairing: idol!bang chan x gn!reader

wc: 0,2k

genres: fluff, established relationship, idol!au

tw: just love, man

note: “give me a hug x go shower first” trope from ficscafe’s trope event (again, sorry i’m late)

networks: @ficscafe @k-radio @kflixnet

it had been a long day of practice for chan. minho had made them kids go through a few hard choreographies, in addition to the reviews of some title tracks.

he was exhausted.

when he came home late, you were already on the couch watching a series on tv while waiting for him. chan laboriously walked in your direction, opening his arms for a hug, his sweat still evident on his clothes and forehead.

"no," you held your hand up as you paused the episode, "don't come any closer."

he stopped but whined tiredly, opening and closing his fists as if grabbing air. "give me a hug, please."

a loving smile adorning your face, you gently grabbed his wrist to rub it with your thumb.

"go take a shower first babe, i see you're in desperate need of one," you chuckled, "then i'll give you big, comforting hugs. promise."

chan smiled, eyes half closing, and hummed in contentment. "kisses, too?"

"as much as you want."

he nodded, then walked to the bathroom a little faster than when he came home. a well deserved shower and fresh pajamas on later, he found you in your shared bed, opening your arms when you caught sight of him.

without hesitation, he came under the covers and hugged you tightly, kissing your temple. once you both were comfortably lying down, you talked about your respective days, caressing his nape with your fingertips. his body relaxed in your embrace.

it was his favorite way of falling asleep.

#ficscafe #k radio! #kflixnet #kpop writing #bang chan #stray kids #skz x reader #imagines #scenarios #lee minho #idol au #gender neutral reader #fluff #established relationship #blurbs #drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz chan #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff

[postalenha]

babysitting's fun! % ni-ki

pairing: nonidolbf!ni-ki x reader genre: fluff!! word count: 0.6k words synopsis: babysitting while being a baby yourself is not so bad after all. a/n: hii this is one of my entires for the @ficscafe trope event! the trope i chose are don’t touch that x touches anyway and stubborn x even more stubborn i can't really choose so this fic is somewhere in-between??? but yeah hope u like it!!

you and ni-ki were out in the park, babysitting your youngest niece. you both know that you should’ve been the last person your cousin asked you to babysit her daughter but the damage has already been done and now you’re here, babysitting two babies.

“ni-ki don’t-” before you could even warn him, he had already lifted the little girl to his shoulders. “what?” he looked at you as he firmly held your niece. “please just make sure not to drop her.”

“noted.” he said as the three of you continued walking. you worryly throw glances at them each time ni-ki takes a step. “ni-ki, i don’t think that’s a good idea.” you told him, trying to reach for areum, but she keeps her little arms away from your reach.

“no!” she screams. the side of ni-ki’s lips rose as he heard the little girl fight. “i don’t think you can let her down that easily, love.”

you sigh in defeat, pulling the last card you have left “areum, go down, we’ll buy some cake puffs.” you told her, areum’s eyes grew bright with the mention of her favourite snack. “really?!” she happily asked. you just nod your head.

areum softly taps ni-ki’s head, signalling him to put her down and that’s what he did. he carefully squatted and put areum down. taking your niece’s right hand while ni-ki holds the left one, he slowly leans closer to you, “wait, wasn’t that on the forbidden list?”

“what list?” you asked him, knowing fully well what that list is, “the one your cousin gave us? she told us we cannot buy her any sweets.” you just shrugged your shoulders, “she said that?”

“yes? didn’t you hear? areum is scheduled for a dentist appointment this week.” he scratches the back of his head trying to remember what your cousin’s instructions were, “will it be this week or next week?”

reaching in front of the shop, you answer him “probably this week.” ni-ki opens the door for the three of you, “are you sure about this?” he skeptically asked you.

shrugging your shoulders, you order a box of cake puffs enough for the three of you. ni-ki lifted areum and whispered, “okay, so we’ll keep this a secret from your mum okay?” the little one nodded her head enthusiastically.

“promise?��� the man asked, areum showed her pinky and the two sealed a promise. “okay, i’m trusting you with my whole life, areumie.” ni-ki said.

areum just giggled and cheered once she saw the box of cream puff on your hand. “give me! give me!” she exclaimed, “wait babe, we have to find a table first.” you tried to calm her, looking around for a table to eat on.

“here.” ni-ki carefully puts areum on a chair, before preparing a chair for you to sit on. “thanks.” you smiled at him before opening the box. areum quickly grabbed two puffs and shoved one in her mouth.

“ areum, eat slowly please.” you plead, knowing well that this kid doesn’t listen to anyone. “you do know that the words you tell her come in one ear and out of the other, right?” ni-ki laughed at you before eating one puff himself.

“yeah, kinda reminds me of someone i know.” you raised an eyebrow at him before eating too. ni-ki just rolls his eyes at you, his hand reaching for your face saying, “yeah but you love us both.” and wiped the cream off of your lips.

you just slapped his wrist and said nothing more, cause you know very well that he’s right.

#enhypen #ficscafe #ficscafe trope event #enhypennetwork #enhypenwriters #enhypen oneshot #enhypen drabble #enhypen headcannon #enhypen imagine #nishimura riki #ni-ki #ni-ki imagines #ni-ki oneshot #ni-ki headcannon #fluff #ni-ki as your boyfriend

[itsapapisongo]

transformations [part one] | j. wooyoung

starring: jung wooyoung, choi san, park seonghwa, choi jongho & @applejongho

concept: spider-man!wooyoung | harry osborn!seonghwa | flash thompson!jongho

genre: short-story | superhero

tropes: non-idol au | superhero au

word count: 3.3k

warnings: language, mentions of bullying, and suggestive themes

rated: pg-13

synopsis: a run of the mill tour to a kimcorp lab leads to the something daunting but equally spectacular . . .

note: this is a fictional story and doesn't represent who wooyoung, san, seonghwa, and jongho (or the rest of ateez) are in real life.

taglist: @ficscafe | @houseofincantations | @blossom-hwa | @applejongho | @masterninjacow | @taecup-fics

THE SPIDER—THE smallest of the smallest—spun a web high above of what used to be its home.

It had always been independent and lonely, and was now free to do as it pleased. The smallest of the smallest had left its enclosure after discovering a break in the seal, and hadn’t looked back. Below itself, forgotten and never to be visited again, was the glass house that contained its kin.

The others wouldn’t remember it and it wouldn’t remember them. The small spider lacked a strong memory nor did it care for recalling past events. It did, however, move and act purely on instinct, on the muscle memory that had been hardwire into its very being by its bestial nature.

And thus it spun delicately a new home for itself, a new life of its own.

Yet something was missing. It didn’t know what, but it was certain something was out of place. As it finished spinning the web, which was quite a beauty, the spider waited in the middle of it and clicked its mandibles as if in deep thought. Then it dawned on the smallest of the smallest that it was hungry, and that this was what was missing all along.

Nourishment. The small spider knew why it was missing. A hazy recollection was pushed into the forefront of its primitive, albeit conscious mind. Once, though not long ago, something provided food on a consistent basis. Now that it had left its enclosure, now that it was on its own, this mysterious benefactor was no more.

The spider twitched. The hunger was increasing, driving it to give into its more primal impulses. The spider glanced below, way past its web, and saw that it was time to hunt.

Right below, standing perfectly under its web, was its prey. Without wasting a second, the spider positioned itself above its intended source of sustenance . . .

“MR. JUNG!”

Wooyoung snapped into attention without meaning to, almost dropping his camera and catching it by pure reflex. He was jolted from his reverie by his teacher’s nasal voice, which was accompanied by a perpetually exasperated tone. He cleared his throat and quickly turned to Mr. Chung, afraid that the teacher would reprimand him further.

Mr. Chung approached him, his bald head gleaming, his brow furrowed. He was a man in his mid-forties, stocky, average in height and appearance, and was nothing more than a glimpse—a warning, of sorts—into a dark, twisted future Wooyoung desperately wanted to avoid.

“Are you paying attention?” Mr. Chung asked, raising his left eyebrow.

“I am, sir. I’m just taking photos.”

“How can you be paying attention if you’re doing something else?”

Wooyoung blinked and absentmindedly said, “I can multitask, sir.”

Mr. Chung stared and Wooyoung couldn’t tell if he heard him or was simply taken aback by a student giving him sass. The man was as slow as a snail race, but he sure as hell picked up on a student being a wiseass fairly quickly.

“What was that, Mr. Jung?”

Wooyoung feigned a smile and bowed ever so slightly. “I’ll be more attentive, sir,” he whispered.

“Just—ugh—just pay attention, will you?”

He gave a polite, if curt nod. “Will do.”

Truth was, Wooyoung was really paying attention. The tour guide had shown them various conference rooms, offices, and working areas but now that they were in one of the laboratories—where the magic really happened—he hung on to the guide’s every word.

The guide, a woman in her late-twenties, spoke with authority yet carried herself aloofly, as though giving a tour to a bunch of college kids was a chore she preferred to not put much enthusiasm in.

“She probably has better things to do,” said San, half-smiling to indicate his sarcasm. “Like, say, finding the cure for aloofness.”

Wooyoung had chuckled at that but he stopped cracking wise the moment he stepped into this lab. Here, in this cavernous and overwhelmingly lit room, KimCorp was pioneering new technologies and applications for biomedical engineering. The objectives varied from curing and eradicating diseases to new kinds of prosthetics and even tissue engineering.

For someone who had grown to be fascinated by science, this was heaven. And, granted, Wooyoung wasn’t a genius, but he was certainly interested in what science could do.

“Are you here or are you all the way back in La La Land?” asked a familiar voice.

He didn’t have to turn to know that San was whispering in his ear. He felt his friend’s warmth as he leaned forward to flick his earlobe. Wooyoung bit back a groan and tried to smack his hand away only to hit himself on the shoulder. Behind him, San stifled a chuckle.

“Easy there, Bruce Lee.” San smirked. “You might chop off a limb.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, failing to fight a smile that spread across his face. San was a source of levity, comfort, and strength. Friends since middle school, they had grown to be inseparable. He had a total of two close friends and he was eternally grateful to both of them for being patient with him.

While San was quick to tease and run to his side, Yeosang was subtle in his affection. It was a shame that Yeosang, who had a last minute shift at the diner, wasn’t on this trip with them, though he had promised to treat them to lunch afterwards.

“Are you paying attention?” Wooyoung asked, raising his left eyebrow.

San scoffed. “Are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“What is the guide talking about, oh most attentive one?”

“She’s mentioning the different genuses of spiders they have here and how they’ve been splicing DNA to genetically engineer new species for—” Wooyoung stopped speaking, becoming instantly hyper-focused on the back of Mr. Chung’s head as he felt him glance in their direction.

The teacher looked over his shoulder, saw that most of his students were either idly looking at the guide or pretending to be observing the lab’s equipment, staff, and/or subjects, and heaved a sigh so heavy that Wooyoung felt sorry for him.

San psst-ed him, shoving his index finger on Wooyoung’s waist. “Are you going to leave me hanging in suspense?” he whispered, standing way too close for anyone’s comfort.

Wooyoung relented form rolling his eyes and settled for lifting his eyebrows in an oh, boy sort of way. “Not now,” he replied in a soft, strained voice. “I’ll bore you later.”

“I’d love it if you bore me now. It might give me the urge to actually pay attention.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue, gently shoving his friend forward.

“Go to hell.”

San smiled that wicked, irresistible smile of his. “Only if you go with me, bud.”

“Pfft.” Wooyoung shook his head, cringing. “Cheesy.”

“Alright!” exclaimed the tour guide, startling them both. “Moving right along! Please stay close and keep your distance from our staff and any and all instrumentation.” She leaned in and politely glared at a familiar face standing way too close to the spider enclosure, tapping the glass with his index finger. “That applies to all displays, too.”

“Did she—” San began, gasping.

Wooyoung was equally aghast. He blinked and saw but didn’t believe. San smacked him in the shoulder once, twice, thrice, then bit his knuckles to keep from laughing.

“She just glared at Choi Jongho,” Wooyoung whispered, though not low enough because Choi Jongho turned in his general direction and glared at him. “Ah, shit.”

San clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Here comes trouble.”

“Anything you want to say to me, Jung?” Jongho crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, pushing his tongue against cheek. He looked between Wooyoung and San and lifted his eyebrows as an invitation to be defied.  “It’s rude to talk behind someone’s back.”

San chuckled and shrugged. “It’s also rude to eavesdrop,” he shot back.

Jongho invaded San’s personal space, narrowing his eyes at him. “Laugh it up,” he whispered in a take-no-witness voice. “I’ll deal with you outside.”

“Jongho, please—” Wooyoung gulped and placed a hand between them, slowly but surely separating them.

“Whatcha gonna do?” Jongho snapped at him, not even turning to look at him. “So what’s it going to be, Choi?”

San simply smiled, shook his head, then nodded as if to maintain himself calm instead of sucker-punching him. Outside, he seemed calm, cool, and collected, but Wooyoung knew his friend wasn’t keen on picking a fight. Not with Choi Jongho.

“Sure thing, buddy,” San exclaimed with a tone of finality, sidestepping to put some distance between himself and Jongho.

He noticed he had done so on his own. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know his friend had stayed behind, no doubt paralyzed by fear and indecision. San’s heart leapt as he turned and immediately noticed that Jongho turned his sights—and thus his anger—on the nearest target: Wooyoung.

Turning on his heel and deliberately bumping into Jongho, San reached out and pulled his friend by the wrist, dragging him along with him. “If I move, you move.”

Wooyoung nodded sheepishly, grateful he’d got to live another afternoon.

“WHAT’S WITH THE long face?”

Jongho cracked his knuckles and clicked his tongue in irritation. He saw her staring at him through his periphery and immediately softened.

She was all attitude, blond hair, red-blood lipstick, leather jacket, and steel-toe boots. And she was always by his side, ready to kick, punch, and shove down anyone who dared mess with her, their crew, or Jongho himself. He appreciated her more than he could care to admit, though he couldn’t really bring himself to say it out loud.

Anne was frowning at him, her lovely features disfigured by worry and indignation. She was far too pretty to be frowning, let alone be worrying about why he was suddenly all worked up. He smiled instead, pushing aside his anger with that smug piece of shit that was Choi San and the weakling of a doormat that was Jung Wooyoung.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged. “I’ll handle it.”

“Did those idiots give you trouble?” she asked, smirking.

“Not trouble. Never trouble.” Jongho chuckled, though it was forced. She couldn’t tell the difference, but she was sure it wasn’t entirely genuine. “Those idiots aren’t worth my time.”

Anne poked his right cheek when he smiled. “Damn right.”

THE SPIDER SAW its prey be overwhelmed by two figures.

One seemed to be familiar with its would-be quarry whereas the other seemed to be a predator cornering it. Though it couldn’t feel anger, the spider twitched as it continued to lower itself; it felt possessive of its prey, as though it was the one and only thing within its reach that it could feed on.

Its prey moved—correction: it was moved by its kin—and the spider moved faster. As its prey was dragged away, soon never to be seen again, the smallest of the smallest leapt off its web. Through the gifts granted to it by the strange giants that once fed it, the spider’s leap was not only impossible but impressive.

It landed gracefully and silently on the shoulder of its prey and quickly moved out of sight, concealing itself on the back of its giant’s neck . . .

WOOYOUNG FELT THE hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He shivered and reached to scratch an itch that he couldn’t describe or explain. He clicked his tongue and titled his head, muttering “aish” to himself as he did so. A second later, he felt something scurrying through his right shoulder and down his elbow . . . his forearm . . . then his wrist. He gently clapped his entire arm—from shoulder to wrist—and furiously rubbed his cardigan’s sleeve as if to shoo away any bad vibes.

Wooyoung cringed at the thought of having some mutated bug crawling through his body before it—squish—invaded and consumed his flesh. You need to stop believing what you see in movies, he told himself. San noticed him squirming and narrowed his eyes at him. He didn’t have to ask him what was going on because he was giving Wooyoung the what-are-you-doing look?

“Nothing, I just—cramps.” He lied, offering a small, unconvincing smile. “I’m fine.”

“Oh-kay.” San lifted his eyebrow, slowly turning to face forward. He glanced back, mumbled “hmm”, then decided he wasn’t going to inquire further.

They followed the group, keeping themselves to themselves in the back, when Wooyung felt someone staring at him. He hesitantly followed the gaze and held back a gasp as his eyes met those of Jongho’s confidant and right-hand woman. Anne was glaring at him, though stopped when Mr. Chung tapped her on the shoulder. She stared at him for a second, rolled her eyes, and matched her stride with that of Jongho’s.

“What did you do now?” cooed the familiar, if alluring voice of Park Seonghwa.

“Nothing,” said Wooyoung, confused as to how he’d gained the ire of yet another bully. “I’ve done nothing.”

Seonghwa shrugged as he threw his hand over Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Nothing to them is the same as something.”

Wooyong smelled something off him. Something . . . sterilized. “Where have you been? You reek of sanitizer.”

Seonghwa half-smiled, as if to say oh, you know. “Oh, I was taking a different tour.”

“Who did you snog now?”

“A gentleman never tells.” He winked. “But then again . . . I’m no gentleman.”

“M’kay . . .”

“Her name’s Allie. She’s an intern here.”

Wooyoung gaped, unsure of how to respond or what to think. “Good Lord,” he whispered.

“She’s nice.” Seonghwa nodded, smiling to himself. “Has a gentle touch, too.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to tell me about that . . .”

Seonghwa giggled. He was proud of his allure and the effect he had on people—he often said he loved everyone equally—to the point of being not only a shameless flirt but apparently quite the casanova. He was lean, ethearly handsome, fashionable, and had a considerable amount of male and female admirers. The son of a fashion icon and a former idol singer, being adored for his good looks was a given and he seemed more annoyed by it than anything else.

Wooyoung didn’t envy his good looks or his privileged upbringing, but the ease with which he carried himself despite the reputation he’d earned by his the sins of the parents and inadvertently standing in their long shadows. Through it all, Park Seonghwa held his head high and smiled in the face of adversity. Wooyoung knew it was a façade, but he maintained it well with the dexterity and transparency of a chameleon.

“When are you going to settle down?” Wooyoung coaxed him with a small, playful smile.

Seonghwa shrugged his left shoulder. “One of these days, I suppose,” he replied, smiling back with a mischievous glint in his eye. “When the right person pulls the rug right under me.”

“Slow your roll, Billy Shakes!” San exclaimed, feigning to be smitten. “Say no more. I’m already under your spell.”

Seonghwa winked, caressing San’s chin with his index finger. “Will you be mine?”

Wooyoung slowly and painfully rolled his eyes, groaning through the corner of his mouth.

“Can we schedule this drama for another time?” he deadpanned.

San nodded. “Sure.”

“Is Friday night good for you?” Seongwha quipped.

“Mr. Park! Mr. Choi! Mr. Jung!”

The three of them stilled and feigned cheerful smiles at Mr. Chung. He approached them and ignored the remaining group walking past him while they followed the guide out of the lab. He crossed his arms and took a second to glare at the trio, then pointed at the group with a curt nod of his head.

“Get a move on,” he hissed.

Seonghwa bowed. “Certainly, sir.”

San walked off mid-bow as Wooyoung quietly followed Seonghwa. They quickly joined the group and decided it was best if they met in the middle where neither Mr. Chung or Jongho could pay them any mind.

Wooyoung was relieved to notice that Jongho was distracted by Anne but couldn’t shake the feeling that his bully wouldn’t forget about exacting disproportionate retribution on him and San. He shook his head, lifted his camera, and took some pictures of the best and brightest KimCorp had to offer working a little closer to a scientific achievement.

“Seeing how shiny his bald head makes me sad,” he heard Seonghwa say to San.

“Don’t worry, Hwa, if you begin to lose your luscious head of hair, I’ll be there to shave it off.”

Seonghwa feigned a gasp. “You would?”

“Without question.” San chortled. “What is baldness if not hair giving up?”

Seonghwa snorted at how ridiculous that sounded. Yet Wooyoung could hear the amusement in his friend’s voice. He closed his eyes and stifled a chuckle to not call attention to himself. He decided it was the perfect time to take more pictures. He was relieved that he could actually do so without being interrupted or needlessly reprimanded.

The pictures were more for himself rather than academic or professional interest. He loved to save a moment in time within a frame. It was something Uncle Beom had imparted on him: to keep and cherish memories of moments in his life, to remember what was and appreciate what is. He made sure not to take a photo without the consent of his subjects, which is why San and Seonghwa were usually in them.

And today was no different.

“Is that a bearded dragon?” San piped up, his voice laced with curiosity. “Youngie! Here!”

Wooyoung giggled at the sight of San posing in front of the transparent enclosure where a bearded dragon seemed to stop, look at them, and pose for the camera. He snapped the photo, saw that it was surprisingly wholesome, and showed it to San.

San was beaming. “Nice!”

“We’re not going anywhere until you take my photo,” said Seonghwa, dragging Wooyoung along with him.

He posed with a perfect smile and the perfect posture. Wooyoung felt jealous for a brief second as he snapped the perfect photo. He was analyzing it—look at that, the bearded dragon was clearly posing—when he felt a sharp, pulsing pain in his right hand. Instinctively, he snapped his wrist and shook it mid-wince.

“Shit,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

Wooyoung held up the back of his hand and noticed two tiny marks flaring up on it, his skin beginning to bruise. He felt a surge of panic as his mind went wild with possibilities concerning what might have bitten him. He was in a room with all kinds of critters and it wouldn’t be out of the question that one of them might have escaped its enclosure and thought he was one hell of a choice for dinner.

Whatever had bitten wasn’t any run of the mill critter. No, whatever had left its mark and possibly passed on a viral infection, poison, or progeny was undoubtedly touched by man and thus far removed from the natural order of things.

Wooyoung sighed and rubbed the bite, trying not to worry about being poisoned. The image of him frothing from the mouth as he convulsed on the ground terrified the hell out of him.

He anxiously shook his head, willing to dismiss any and all possibilities of a slow and painful death.

THE SMALLEST OF the smallest bit more than it could chew.

As its prey shook it off, the spider unceremoniously fell to the ground. Too small to be noticed, the smallest of the smallest landed on its back and twitched in place. It spent its last seconds blinking at the giant beast it had thought of as its would-be quarry, wondering if it would have been possible to devour it.

It unfortunately would never know.

The spider spasmed, its legs moving at an uneven and desperate rhythm.

It saw its prey leave, move away at an unnerving pace for such a big creature, and then everything turned dark as something—someone—absentmindedly crushed it beneath their stride.

It would never know its bite would lead to something daunting yet equally spectacular . . .

#ficscafe #houseofincantations #ateez x marvel #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung fic #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung au #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #spider-man!wooyoung #spider-woo #spider-man au #spider-man fic #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fic #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa au #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa #choi san #san #san imagines #san fic #san au #san scenarios #ateez san

[carat-archive]

bitter/sweet

➝ prompt: 

“You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

“Well, I suppose I have to kiss you, then.” 

➝ pairing: prince!kevin x gn!reader

➝ genre: fluff, angst

➝ themes & tropes: royalty au, secret relationship(?)

➝ warnings: none

➝ word count: 466

➝ notes: i’ve been watching the irregulars and these two lines have not left my mind since. i know i said that under all this would be the last piece i posted before i move blogs sometime over the summer, but i lied. this was also written for @ficscafe’s royalty drabble event! special thanks to @wonwooslibrary​ for beta-reading this and helping me come up with a title 💖

➝ tagging: @haechanblr​

He meets you on the bridge next to the pub, like he does most nights. He hasn’t even bothered to wear a suitable disguise tonight, his court garb still visible underneath an oversized coat, and his sketchbook is noticeably absent from his side. 

He looks like one of those runaway princes from the storybooks, stealing away from the palace to woo his beloved—a star-crossed love for the ages. 

(Kevin may be a runaway prince, but your lives are nothing like the storybooks.)

“What are you running from this time?” you ask, staring down at the streets beneath you. 

“Nothing new,” he shrugs. “Another dinner, another banquet, another ball. They all start to blur together after a while.” He pauses, taking the time to study your features, an artist studying his subject. “You’re very different from anyone I’ve ever met.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You have something about you.”

“And I take it you won’t tell me what it is?” 

“That would take the mystery out of it,” he teases, winking in your direction. 

You purse your lips, letting out an exasperated breath. “You know,” you start, turning to face him. “I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.” 

Kevin’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. If it weren’t for the catch in his breath, you would have missed it. He briefly glances at your lips before his eyes flicker down to his hands, the tips of his ears suddenly red. 

“Well, I suppose I have to kiss you, then,” he mumbles. 

And he does. 

First, it’s a featherlight brush of his lips against yours, as if it’s his first and last chance to do so. When you don’t pull away, he places a hand on the back of your neck, drawing you deeper into the kiss. You grab the front of his jacket, pulling him into the shadows until your back is scraping against the brick wall of the pub, his hands settling on your hips. You only kiss him harder as your hands start to wander over the fabric of his shirt, fingers bumping against elaborate buttons, tracing patterns onto his skin. 

You’re interrupted by the sound of a bell tolling nearby, signaling the late hour. Dread pools in your stomach as Kevin pulls away from you, his eyes apologetic. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers, “Meet me back here in two hours.” 

You nod silently, feeling a tightness in your chest as a part of you wonders when he’ll wake up from this dream, when he’ll return to reality and realize that the comforts of the palace remain far superior to whatever fleeting escape he may find in the twisting city streets—far superior to whatever he has with you. 

And yet, despite all your doubts, you’ll wait for him. 

You always do.

#ficscafe royalty drabble event #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #kdiner #ficscafe #kevin moon imagines #kevin moon scenarios #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #kevin imagines #kevin scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #kevin moon x reader #tbz fanfic #kevin moon #eun writes #tbz au #the boyz kevin #kevin moon fanfic #kevin moon fluff #kevin moon angst #the boyz fanfic #the boyz au

[serialee]

◈ Bow & Arrows ◈ Hyunjin

◦◦ instead of enemies to lovers, have a taste of its evil twin; lovers to enemies. one misunderstanding - perhaps abandonment - and a pair of exes.

◸ Ficscafe Dialog Prompt Event ◿

◤ "Did you miss me?" "Huh? Didn't even know you were gone" - 8

◤ "I know you're ignoring me, you're reading the paper upside down" - 22 |

genre: sfw - angst, sport au [2K]

pairing: athlete.hyunjin x fem.character || trope: ex-lovers

warning: fainting - infirmary || swearing

○ 'DREAMLAND MASTERLIST' || 'NAVIGATION' |

"Ok I'm just going to say it ... he's back!" your friend's voice interrupted you, "and i think we'd have to hire -"

As head of the student body, the month of August meant that the head student worked closely with the sports club to organize the grand sports week. The dean personally visited during the council meeting to cheer you on, encouraging you to do the best and make sure things went smooth and using the pride you had in you, you were determined to not let them down.

So there you were in the campus auditorium with several of the members of the sports club discussing the details of the event like what were the official colours this year, which sports team would play on which day and when, where would each team be stationed on campus, how would the star player be called if needed, who would be assigned to stay with in contact between each team and the head student in case the players were needed and such.

"-yes?" your friend walked in and smiled sheepishly at the strangers in the room with you, a little embarrassed with themselves. She continued to smile at them while getting closer to you and tugged at the side of your sleeves,

"could you spare a minute?" she whispered. You sighed and excused yourself to be dragged to the side by your friend.

"This better be super important" you stern over her. She clapped her hands together and took a deep breath,

"Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin .... he's back" she revealed the name. You stood there stoned, believing that you heard your friend wrong but your friend knew you better,

"yes the Hwang Hyunjin ... your Hwang Hyunjin girl".

"...lies"

"no, I'm serious! Look! I event captured him" and sure enough your spy like best friend pulled up her phone where Hyunjin was displayed on the screen, bright and clear as if you saw him with your own 2 eyes in the flesh.

'Curse this forsaken phone and it's high quality pictures' you thought, failing to keep a 'tsk' to yourself. You wanted to run out of that auditorium. If you had to scout the entire grounds of the campus to pin the tall boy down, so be it.

"Is everything ok over there?" one of the boys called out to your corner and helped you out of your trance like state, though more so state of silent fury.

"Yea..yup. All is fine and danddy...I'll be right there!" you hollered back. You turn to face your friend again and held your finger against your lips,

"don't say anything, don't do anything alright? Go home and forget you ever saw him" you instructed her and she listened. You regained your composure and rejoined the group to finish off the meeting.

You sighed loudly for the first time of the day, looking over to your wrist watch '9:23pm' it read. You've been in the auditorium since afternoon and it surprised you that you lasted the meeting till this late into the night but at least you and the team got many things sorted out. If it was one thing you stuck by, it was that you preferred to get things done as soon as possible - this way flexibility and adapting would be in your control. It wasn't easy to organize and figure many things in a short amount of time, but you did it. There were several other things needed to be done but you were happy with today. Thankfully tomorrow was Saturday and that meant you could rest in.

Even though you were interrupted in the middle of your meeting, you managed to calm yourself and carried on, simply forgetting the news that your best friend broke to you.

You didn't mind walking alone at night, it wasn't like the lights weren't on because they were bright and you could clearly see all the cctvs installed all around. Your mind finally caved in and began to wander about the fact that Hyunjin came back. What he came back for? Beats you. You were getting closer to your car and the closer you got and squinted your eyes, you saw a male figure standing near it. It didn't take a genius to know who it was.

The famous Hwang Hyunjin, in the flesh, leaning against your car with grape juice in his hands. He saw you coming from a mile away and never took his eyes off of you, staring you down, just like you were to him.

"Did you miss me?" there it was. That silky voice you last heard 2 years ago. It never changed but it became more mature sounding - complimentary to his looks.

You should've been shaking out of anger. You should've ran into him and push him away from your car the moment your brain registered who it was. Yet there you were, several feet before him looking right at him, deadpanned in the eye.

"who are you?"

"Hyunjin. Did you miss me?" he asked again. 'Is he playing with me?' you asked yourself, unsure why he repeated himself.

"Huh? The hell are you talking about? Hyunjin? Didn't even know you were gone" you answered, mirroring the same monotone as his.

Your patience was being tested. His eyes shifted down to your hands, lingering on them for what seemed to be like a solid minute and you couldn't figure out what was running on his mind. You scoffed to the side and snapped your fingers, bringing Hyunjin back to reality, "this wasn't a pleasant meet. Move, I need to go home"

Your tone was harsh and that was how you intended it to be. You were no longer looking at him but to the night sky above you so you missed the way his eyes softened at your words, rather sadden at your words.

"I just want to tell you that I've returned"

"did I ask?"

"ouch ... ok..". You didn't buy it, you couldn't buy it. You didn't know if he was being serious or not.

"Can you move? I need to head home. I don't really care that you're back. Ok, so what about it? Move!" your voice boomed, rattling the few birds that settled in first seats in the trees.

Hyunjin frowned in disappointment but he knew you better than anyone else. He knew you were over this sudden reunion so he complied and stepped aside. Finally, you were allowed to unlock your car and opened the driver's door. When he stopped you in your tracks, hands inches away from the steering wheel,

"I'm participating in the archers team". That was the last thing you wanted to hear from anyone, especially him.

2 years ago, you and Hyunjin were the star athletes, ace archers of your sports team. Whenever you wanted to celebrate, you would always drag each other to a friendly match and whoever won would end up paying for dinner. You moved from friends to lovers when you accepted that you both enjoyed each others' company.

Your body filled with pride whenever you saw Hyunjin with his bow and arrows, whenever he managed to score bull-eye, whenever he would turn around to the team and send you his crescent eye smile - famous for making girls swoon over him. Spending time with Hyunjin during archery was what brought you the upmost happiness.

Until he decided that the team simply wasn't enough. He had greed for more. He wanted better. So he picked up and left. You managed to see him one last time at the airport, grabbing his wrist as tight as you could. You begged him to not leave you alone. He said he was sorry but he still left. The ace couple of the archery team was no longer. He left and so did your happiness in competing.

You breathed in and entered the safe confinement of your car. You sped up home, leaving Hyunjin to fend for himself at 10pm.

Monday greeted you with a slap of thunder, thankfully no rain. You woke up and prayed it was just the sky feeling a tad bit grumpy and that it'll soon stay sunny for the rest of the day. You got up and got ready, sporting a short sleeves top and pleated short skirt that mimicked the look of tennis outfit. You grabbed your things, keys, tied your shoes securely and headed out.

Standing on the podium of the arena, you officiated the start of the Grand Sports Week of the year. Nearly each of the sports team had seen and greeted you as you checked in with everybody and made sure the staffs remembered their tasks - the last thing you needed was a group of fanbase crowding over their crushes and disrupting the mood of your athletes. You made sure the athletes always had snacks on their table and plenty of water - a well hydrated sportsmen is what you needed.

You were so caught up in your role as head student that you forgot you too needed to hydrate. Under the hot sun, beads of sweat were running down your skin although you weren't paying attention to yourself. Your checkboard read 'trackers team' and that was your next stop.

What you didn't realize was that someone was watching you ever since your body came into view, even if you were meters away. He saw you walking across the field and followed your every step with his eyes. His surroundings drowned out as his sole focus was on you.

It didn't sit well with him. He didn't like the way you were walking with your head facing the grass. You never walked like that, not even if you were angry or upset. You always masked your face and walked like everything was alright. So the difference in walking style had him on alert with his hands gripping the arm rest of his chair. He was ready to discard his seat.

And he was right. Your pace slowed significantly and eventually you stopped walking. Your body only slightly swayed as it tried to get you to get a grip of yourself. In seconds your body met the ground as your surroundings black out and you lay there under the sun unconscious.

He would win the gold medal against the trackers if he were up against them. The speed when he came rushing to you, to hold you up against him and made you sure you were ok, was as fast as lightning. He picked you up in his arms and carried you to the school's infirmary, mumbling strings of curses. He was sad that you upheld your defense against him but it upset him more that you forgot to look after yourself.

When regained your consciousness and took in your surroundings, you were confused. No one was there, so how did you end up in the infirmary? You asked yourself what happened as you tried to recall your memory and all you remembered was walking across the field, checking teams to teams. Then it came to you that you must've fainted from the heat.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from the hallways and it was getting louder by the second, meaning you were able to see who it was.

'Him?!' No way.

You were not about to face him. You had no reason to. So you picked up your checkboard and pretended to be immersed in it.

"I know you're ignoring me, you're holding that upside down" he stated, as a matter of fact.

"Please look after yourself better, y/n" he spoke softly and it irritated you.

"What's it to you? I know how to care for myself, you may leave ...the same way you left 2 years ago".

Silence. He didn't really know what to say. He didn't regret joining a different team but he regretted leaving things, you, behind so suddenly without much explanation.

"Go away, Hyunjin" you shooed him, waving your hands in front.

"I'm not leaving you until you're ok" he stated in his seat. Your patience ran thin.

"Not leaving? No problem. You can stay, I'm leaving" you ripped off the IV drip and stormed out. In the same style you experienced 2 years ago. Anger, frustration, hurt, sadness and confusion, all of you, unknowingly you left bare to him.

He left you first so returning the act is only polite, no?

◦ No outline, this was shit writing. It's cliche and cringy, i know. I'm sorry.

author's note: I know I said I would write a pt2 to this, but I truly can't think of a good enough continuation plot. If by any chance inspiration strikes me, I'll make a pt2.

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