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oubliette-odette · 6 months

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The Reluctance of Love Pt. 8

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Word Count: 2606 (20 min avg read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

Altan POV

I was escorted immediately to the great hall where my father was waiting for me. The commander who found me, Commander Gaius Gideon, was walking briskly ahead and I struggled to keep up with his pace, especially since two pairs of hands had me on each shoulder. I glared at each armoured soldier. Trying to shrug them off was no use as they were much stronger than I.

The walk to the Great Hall was long, humiliating and I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead to avoid the stares from those inside. Dignitaries and Ruling Officers of Berdusk idled as I passed. I caught from the corner of my eye the way they stared.

They had always stared. They had stared at my mother too. Alway remarking on her dark skin, her flaming hair. She was beautiful, but to them - she was exotic and foreign and something to ogle at. I knew why my father had always liked having her around. But it left a sour taste in my mouth. And now those stares were mine to deal with.

My father was poring over a map spread out on a table, his back to me. His head, with dark hair, growing just past his shoulders was adorned with a bronze circlet. I rarely saw him without it. He was dressed in rich crimson robes, and I knew that the insignia of the phoenix was embroidered in gold on his chest. My father was guardian of the province of Berdusk and he oversaw all of the politics and commerce that happened within his province. I knew that he was well-liked by his equals and by most of the upper-class. I didn’t know what anyone in the general populace thought of him. And seeing how he didn’t want me around them, that was answer enough.

I watched him from my place where the soldiers had stopped me and I waited - impatiently - for my father to look up and acknowledge me.

“Your Grace,” Commander Gideon said, standing at the bottom of the small set of stairs that would lead up to where my father was. He waited, straight and tall and austere. Commander Gideon had been a silent companion on my travel back to Berdusk and I wanted to respect him for his strict obedience to his creed, but gods he annoyed me too.

There was no answer.

“Your Grace.” Commander Gideon repeated. “Your son has been returned to you.”

My father’s only response was an inconvenienced hum. I felt the blood in my cheeks as the anger rose inside me.

“The least you could do was acknowledge me after sending your men all the way out to the Sword Coast? Why bother spending all that manpower if you can’t even look at me?” I shouted.

I caught the flinch in his back, and I saw his hand tighten into a fist. I felt a lingering swell of pride at getting under his skin, but then felt the cold dread as he slowly raised his head and turned to look at me.

“Take him to his rooms, Commander. I will summon him when I am able.” He was unwavering and I felt naked under his gaze. He found me disappointing, disgusting, and intolerable. He hated me as much as I hated him.

“Why keep me if I’m no use to you?” I yelled, even as I was being dragged away. “What do you want from me?”

My father did not look away from me even as I was dragged from the Great Hall. I kicked and struggled, giving the men hell. I probably looked like such a fool. I was a grown man acting like a child. I knew that. But I hated this place. I hated the way everyone looked at me, I hated my father most of all.

My room was just as I had left it three months ago. I was ungracefully tossed in and Commander Gideon spared a moment to give me a pitying stare before closing the door behind me and locking it.

I wanted to pound against the door and scream to be let out, but instead I laid where I was left on the ground and breathed slowly. It felt like the only thing I could do at that moment. Everything had become so wrong. I kept thinking of Drun and wishing I could have seen him one last time, even if it was just to say goodbye.

I was still there when I heard the click of the lock being released and the door opening. I heard the soft, slow footsteps as someone walked towards me and stopped right above me.

I blinked up and saw the looming gaze of my father.

“You have forgotten your place here, Altan.” He said, his voice soft and level. I knew it was an act, just to get me to listen to him. “Get up.”

I felt like being a rebel and not listening to him, but being at the feet of my father and knowing I could not go any lower than this made me climb up to my feet and stare at him, level and even. The words of my mother echoed in me, “Your father is not one who knows how to love easily, he prefers to possess the things he wants, even if it causes him pain to do so.”

I knew that to be true. He had wanted my mother the moment he saw her. Had promised her the world and tempted her with his honey words. She was promised so much by him, but ended up being nothing more than his consort, a bedwarmer and a trophy. She bore him the sons he so desired. I remembered the way he looked at me when I was young, so proud and delighted in teaching me how to hold a sword, chasing me around the gardens pretending to be a dragon that I was meant to slay.

I remembered when things changed for the worse when he took me hunting. He had spoken to me of that day for so many years and I was eager to please him. He gave me his own bow from when he was a boy to shoot with. I remember my father’s hands were over mine as he drew the arrow back in my bow and the tears that escaped as I watched the arrow loose and sink into the chest of the boar. My father only comforted me until he realized that I would not shoot another creature again, nor eat their meat and then his disposition towards me changed.

The more I followed in the ways of my mother - in gentleness and the arts - the more he grew to resent me and her.

“What are you teaching him?” He yelled at her once. “Our son has no friends his own age, they say he is too strange. He won’t hunt. He won’t fight with swords. He’s an embarrassment. He plays with rabbits in the garden. He sings to the flowers to make them happy. Telmira, whatever you’re teaching him has to stop. He won’t be fit for running this province with such a backwards upbringing.”

“He is no less for being soft, Taliesin.” My mother had said, in her same soft, gentle voice. Oh how I missed her voice.

My mother bore him two more sons, who were immediately taken from her arms and raised the way my father wanted them raised, her interactions with them far less frequent from my time with her. They grew to be more like him, more active, more driven, to strive for a level of excellence. I loved them for their spirit, but they were loved by my father even more.

But I was always my mother’s son, and my mother protected me as much as she could from the cruelty my father held in his gaze for me not being the son he wanted.

When he found me kissing that boy - that stupid stablehand boy with the sandy hair and green eyes - he wrenched me away and I remembered the stinging of his belt against my back as he called me filth, perverse and tainted. He blamed my mother for it all. Blamed my elven blood for how mixed up I had become. He struck my mother next, it was the first time he had ever struck her. One sharp slap across her flawless face and we all stood in the silence of that moment. Even my father looked stunned at what he did and he left without another word.

I hated him from that day on. Not for what he did to me, but for what he did to my mother. He would never understand her and therefore never understand me. He never truly loved her, which meant I could never be the son he wanted, nor did I want to be.

The memories faded from my mind as I returned to where I was then, staring at my father, seeing him aged and human before me. He was only human. Nothing impressive really. But I felt a fear for him like no other man. My life was in his hands, and I knew that he was capable of ruining it.

“Duke Hilmar” I said, my voice level.

“You do not call me father.” He said. He did not seem surprised or even upset by it.

“I do not see you as one.” I said. “Now that my mother is dead, you are nothing more to me than the man who has made my life a living Hell.”

“I can easily make it worse, son.” He warned. “Talmira is no longer here to protect you like she did before.”

“Why do you need me so badly?” I asked. “I had no intention of using your name, no one would have ever known where I was from. We could have pretended I died and we both would have been happy to be rid of each other. Why did you bring me back?”

He smirked at me, the deep lines in his forehead deepend. “You are still so young, Altan. I promised myself after your mother’s passing that I would right my wrongs. I would teach you better.”

“You needn’t be so generous with your time, your grace.” I said, my tone sarcastic.

“You are my heir, Altan. I am honour bound to see that you are capable of upholding yourself as a righteous duke.”

“Why not give it to one of my brothers? They seem to be better suited for it.” I offered.

He shook his head, and he brought a hand to his forehead, pinching it. “Altan, it doesn’t work like that. I can’t just conveniently pretend you don’t exist for our convenience. You are my son. As much as you resent me, I will not shirk my duty to raise you as you should have been.” He took a step back and started to circle around my room, “Commander Gideon tells me you were found in a small fishing town on the Sword Coast. The innkeeper said you had been there for a number of weeks. What kept you there for so long? I certainly hope you did not do anything…unsavory while you were there.”

Like I would tell him, I thought. My mind strayed to Drunrag, and the number of nights I found myself whispering his name as I touched myself. Heat blossomed in my cheeks at the memory. I turned my face away to hide it, but I knew my father wouldn’t miss it.

“Who was he?” He asked, his tone became dark.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone.” I said, my voice quickening. “I swear.”

He stopped and studied me. “Your body is pure?” He asked.

I nodded, the heat in my cheeks was becoming unbearably hot. I hated the way he looked at me.

He hummed and turned towards the door. “You will rest tonight, but tomorrow we will begin your private studies.”

I scrubbed myself clean in my private baths after being manhandled so much since leaving the Sword Coast. I found an old pair of nightclothes to sleep in and I wished that I had the small comfort of seeing Drun in my dreams, but I knew already that he would not appear.

I found myself swimming in the silken sheets of my bed, but they did not provide for me the comfort that they used to. I knew all of these small comforts came with the price of being my father’s prisoner. I was not truly free as long as I was under his watch. I would have gratefully taken Drun’s meager pile of blankets over this.

I was about to fall asleep, when I heard the door open once again and the padding of bare feet raced across the floor before two bodies crashed into the sheets around me.

“You’re back!” My younger brother, Selhar, was starting to mature into a man. In the last three months since I had last seen him, his face had hardened and his body was tall and lithe. But he still grinned at me boyishly and had an arm around me.

Taliesin, my youngest brother, was still just a boy and the one my father loved the most. Selhar and I both were accustomed to calling him Robin, because for so long he was small and chirpy just like the bird. I still loved him too, despite his increasing tendency to think and act as my father did. I felt relief when I saw his own face and seeing delight. They both held me and expressed such excitement for my return.

“Where all did you go?” Selhar asked, Robin crawled his way through the sheets until he was able to sit upright and listen closely. The two seemed eager to hear of my adventures away from home. Being away for them sounded exciting and thrilling, nothing like the fear of being chased down as it had been for me for so many weeks after I ran away.

So I told them all of my stories. Of the places I saw, the people I met. I told them how I made money through my music at all of the taverns I stopped at and how I was able to work for my money. They had never heard of such a thing yet in their lives and the concept was foreign and bizarre. They were so sheltered here. I remembered a time I had been so sheltered.

The two eventually snuggled under the sheets with me and the two of them were slumbering on either side of me. Such days were numbered, I knew, before my father would expect them both to grow up and be men. I hated the idea of their kindness leaving their eyes. I whispered stories that mother told me into their ears, wishing and willing them to remember everything she had taught them when she had the chance. Never forget the one who loved you most.

I couldn’t sleep then, caught between so many feelings. I was grateful to see my brothers, but I knew all of this came at the greatest cost. My freedom. My ability to choose for myself.

To choose. Wasn’t that what Drun had wanted all along? I hummed, wishing I could have spoken to him one last time. I would have told him so many things had I known it would be the last time. But now all I wanted to tell him was that I understood him. I knew how important it was to be given a choice.

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jksangelic · 5 years

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peaches & piercings (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, sub/dom themes, casual sex, be t r ay a l, alcohol (and weed? idk) consumption, oral sex (male receiving), squirting, thigh-fucking, kind of exhibitionism?, jimin is pierced (that’s all i’ll say), just expect the worst from me tbh

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: i reallyreallyreally hated this fic. loved the idea, hated how i wrote it. i’ve had this bad boy sitting in my archives for months and months and months and couldn’t gather the courage to post it until NOW! partially because this is an apology fic for my inactivity and more so because i just think i’ve read it too many times that at this point, i’m just being nit-picky and need to move on.

a special thanks to the lovely @14statelier whomst unwillingly received dong pics for the sake of this fic. i’m so glad i found someone as sweet as you to beta for me + become an even better galpal! love u always xx

also thanks to my gal @jungshookz, i’m pretty sure (78% positive) i sent her my idea via snapchat and was probably inspired by her in some way, per usual.

OKAY i’m done you can read now hehehe

↳ words: 11.6k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

“Jungkook, if you’re not going to throw it then get your grabby hands off my waist,” you warn, eyeing him as he stands behind you and delays in one-manning you into an extension or ogling your ass in your skirt.

“You’re just so wobbly today, I’m waiting for you to chill out a bit,” he lies with a smirk. You smack his hand but exhale deeply as you firmly grasp his wrists and count.

“1, 2!” With mutual timing, Jungkook dips down with you before heaving your body above, squatting to catch your heels mid-air, and pumping back up into an extended position. He’s right, you wobble a bit, calling out, “Bail!” and feeling his hands disappear beneath to re-catch your thighs and bring you down safely on your toes. You curse silently under your breath but pat Jungkook’s shoulder as a symbolic “thank you”.

“It’s too fucking early for this, I’m tired,” you say, only making excuses for yourself.

“Well, liven up. The doors are going to open soon and no freshmen want to join a failure of a cheer team.”

“Hey, stop bickering,” the captain, Suzy, orders, “Y/N, you’re fine to just handle the flyers, I’ll stunt with Jungkook.” You squish her into an exhausted hug.

“This is why you’re captain,” you coo.

With that, some of the staff open the gym doors, welcoming an intimidatingly large group of people in with smiles. You fake one yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible so you can go back to your dorm and sleep. Within ten minutes, you had a group of girls and a handful of brawny guys already watching Suzy and Jungkook’s exhibition, a mixture of oohs and ahs being rewarded. You handed each of them a thin, poorly-made flyer with pixelated clipart of a girl doing a toe-touch before they scrambled.

After a while, most of the initial commotion dies down and you people-watch each clueless face, thinking how adorable they are, so young and so lost, as if it weren’t you only a few months ago. You’re only a sophomore, but in your head that gives you enough authority to judge the freshmen.

You snap out of your daze upon boots clicking in the distance, soon revealing a man seemingly darting through the crowds to exit across the other side. You would’ve ignored him if it wasn’t for his peachy-tinted hair, long and slicked back atop and close-shaven near his neck, his thin but fit stature dressed in all-black, and the glint of metal, that you soon realized was a septum piercing, in his nose. He has a dark sleeve consuming his right arm and you wonder what eighteen or nineteen year old has a fully-developed sleeve.

Although his eyes were covered with chunky black sunglasses (in the gym, at that), the rest of his appearance sent your pierced-and-tatted-hot-boy alarm berserk. Suddenly awake, you wait for him to head closer to your booth before hopping next to him.

“Hi there, freshie. Care to take a tryout flyer for this year’s cheer team?” you ask with a pitch that’s much higher than your own, kindly handing him one of the shitty-looking papers. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch but speaks before you can ask him to clarify.

“Not a freshman. Do I look like someone who cheers? I’m just looking for the counseling center to turn in my transfer papers.

“Also, can you, like, give me some personal space?” he continues in a mock valley-girl tone.

You jump back, completely caught off guard with his sudden hostility and attempting to regain your composure by clearing your throat. Someone must’ve shoved a stick up his ass this morning.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Once you leave the gym, you head right, pass two sets of restrooms, head left, and it’s behind the big statue where the foyer is.” Your voice sounds much better.

His eyebrows rocket upwards over his glasses, completely frazzled by the number of directions you gave him, “Shit, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you,” you say, not giving him any time for him to probably decline. You don’t even question if he’s following you or not, the obvious clunkclunkclunk of his boots giving it away.

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t try to talk to you on the way to the counseling center. At most, he walks side-by-side, at least three meters between you for good measure. And even though it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk, you ring him out a little more anyway.

“So, you’re not a freshman. Underclassman or upperclassman? And you’re a transfer? From where?”

Pass two sets of restrooms and head left.

“Senior. From Busan.” He doesn’t even show a hint of feeling. Emotion. Does this guy even breathe?

Straight until the statue in the foyer.

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, senior from Busan. I’m Y/N. If you ever need help or anything, feel free to ask me,” you deadpan, swiveling on your feet to salute him.

He leans on one hip, taking a hand with an incredible amount of rings on it and pushing his sunglasses over his hair like a headband. You certainly weren’t expecting a reveal of the kindest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He almost looks permanently sleepy—eyes drooping flat on the lid. Your trance distracted you from his brief once-over, unpredictably impressed by your looks, if he had to admit it.

“It’s Jimin. Jimin, senior from Busan. See you around, cheerleader,” he says with a sly tilt of his lips before swinging the door open and slithering into the office. Past all the glitter and bright colors that poured out of that hideous uniform of yours, Jimin found you really cute.

Jimin waits patiently for the front desk to call him up, lounging in one of the hard, black plastic chairs that never failed to give his ass cramps. Though he didn’t seem like it to new faces around the campus, he was ecstatic to be starting college again in a whole new atmosphere. He even got to room with another male originally from Korea, Min Yoongi, in a small condo not too far a walk from the area.

He could even prospect cuties like you during his year, undoubtedly positive he could busy himself judging by the attention he’s attracted so far. All it would take is a hungry stare, a lick of his lips, an all-knowing smirk. It was easier here than it was back home, if not child’s play. He could have you in three hours flat. But then he thinks of you choosing the obnoxious cliché of college cheerleader and cringes at the idea of associating himself with such… American-ness. He could at least go for some sort of indifferent, grunge hipster that might actually have some thought to her. Yeah, more his style.

The woman at the front finally calls for him, so he arranges his papers and shoos away any daydream of hooking up with the girl in a tight skirt and ankle socks.

Taking the long route back to the gym, your imagination sputters through all the possible reasons why you should hate that guy, bad-guy radar ringing and shrieking and threatening to punch you square in the eye if you even think about it. Eventually, it comes to the conclusion that he was just new, he was probably having a rough moving-in, and you shouldn’t judge a transfer by their hair. Book by its binding? You don’t really remember how the saying goes in this situation.

“Hey, good job on snaking yourself out of flyer duty. What, did you bang Asian Hot Topic on your way?” Jungkook snickers.

“And did Cait break up with you because you can’t dom for shit? Hand me my jacket.”

He guffaws, practically throwing the clothing at your face, “We didn’t break up, asswipe. How am I supposed to act when she suddenly calls me ‘daddy’ without previous warning? I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Kook, you’re dumb as shit. Maybe I should bang Asian Hot Topic and give you pointers of how a real dom works their magic.”

Jungkook crosses his arms in denial, “Pfft, you don’t even know him. He could be a receiver for all you know.”

One, two, three seconds. You both chortle at the impracticality.

You take one final look in the body mirror, adjusting the slinky grey dress and hanging an oversized burnt-orange corduroy jacket over your shoulders for that final touch of unnecessary, but fashionably-adept, garnish to your outfit cupcake. Not having enough time to do your hair, you sweep it over to one side and leave it as is.

“You look fine and you’re ten minutes late so get out already,” your roommate, Sara, whines. She practically pushes you out, slamming and locking the door for emphasis.

Waving off your discombobulated roommate, you start your trek to the humanities building (which is so far away) with a skip in your step. A new school year meant new people, new classes, more lunchtimes with subpar food and occasional parties that could potentially lead to you getting arrested. Who knows!

A new school year, however, didn’t mean that you would know your way to your new class apparently. Bummer.

It’s only by your fourth circle and a glance at your phone that you panic, fifteen minutes somehow passing in the midst of your scrambling. Pace quickening, you pull out your paper with sloppily written notes of what class room number was at which time, simultaneously half-jogging past classrooms and—

“Oof!”

You land straight on your ass.

“Ow, watch where you’re going stu—oh, it’s you.”

You look up groggily, pain stinging through your legs from the brunt of your fall and lazily making eye contact with a pair of puppy dog eyes. Jimin stands above you, rubbing his chin where, you suppose, your forehead made rough contact with and indiscreetly staring at your bright blue panties where your dress failed to cover.

Hopping up and dusting yourself off, you pick up your fallen bag and paper before glaring at him, “Sorry, I got lost and wasn’t paying attention.”

He scoffs, “Aren’t you the cheerleader? You’re supposed to be, like, the girl scout of the school, right? You shouldn’t be lost.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well. I am,” you mutter to yourself, “I don’t even think there’s a 207 in this building…”

“Oh, 207? Intro to psych, right? That’s where I’m going too,” he admits, eyes blown wide. Welp, certainly not the highlight of your morning.

“Great. By the looks of the current time, we’re both lost and,” you wave around the empty corridor, “there’s no one who’s going to help us.”

“I’m not lost. I just woke up late,” he answers nonchalantly, a warm glow to his face like he couldn’t give two damns about his class.

“W-What? Then let’s go! Where is it?”

Jimin twirls and walks a different direction, mumbling, “I’m not your escort, rich girl.”

You prattle at his comment but follow him anyway. When you find the correct lecture hall, you groan at the fact that you already passed it several times. He opens the door quietly, not even bothering to hold it for you as you scramble to catch it. A couple of the back rows look back at you two, annoyed by the minor inconvenience.

“Well. Welcome to my 10AM psychology class at,” the professor booms through the hall and peeks at his wristwatch, “10:36. Go ahead and take these two free seats.”

Jimin shrugs and walks towards the front of the room, a quiet and embarrassed you tiptoeing behind him. Being this late and having to sit next to this ass wasn’t how you wanted your first day to go at all.

For the remainder of the 24 minutes until the first break, you skim over the contents that you missed in the syllabus and want to ram your head into the closest wall. Participation and attendance by themselves are 30% of your grade, homework and assignments (thank god) being a measly 20%, and the final plus tests and quizzes a hunking remainder of 50%. What even was this system?

During your ten minute break, you silently scroll through your phone notifications, setting it down irritatingly when the hall refused to grant you enough service to respond to any of them.

“Don’t have LTE, princess? Might as well watch paint dry without your phone to entertain you,” Jimin snickers beside you. You scowl menacingly at him and he giggles more.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but back off, Jimin. Sorry I don’t, like, play the electric guitar in my free time or whatever.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, still smiling and blowing bubbles with his gum, popping them quite obnoxiously, and quite intentionally.

“What, do you think I play the electric guitar? Are you stereotyping me as some sort of garage band drop-out punk?” he jesters.

“And do you take me for some sort of pink fuzzy consumerist? You don’t know me. Buzz off.”

Jimin had definitely tucked you into his mental folder of “tough gals”; his aloof tactic of flirting not seeming to penetrate that pretty skull of yours. He could just take the path of least resistance and approach you normally, but where was the fun in that? You were too interesting a specimen to just use-and-discard.

Jimin suddenly thinks you look attractive with furrowed brows and pouted lips. It was most definitely working for you, so he lets it slide for now. When class ends, you all but bolt before Jimin can even look your way, sure he’d find another surface flaw to pick at.

You suddenly think of what all of the adults in your life have said during your upbringing: people that went out of their way to bully you were either jealous or had an embarrassingly crushing “thing” for you. Jimin, on the other hand, was just annoying.

Of course, to your dismay, class isn’t the only time you ever saw him. You weren’t totally stupid. The campus didn’t stretch for miles and you were bound to see him sometime and have to deal with the efforts of avoiding the man at all costs but fuck were you praying to whoever controls your Sim above that they would grant you some mercy.

“Just tell him to fuck off if he’s so far up your ass,” Jungkook argues, crushing his juice box in one gulp and biting his massive cafeteria burrito.

“You don’t get it, Kook. I have. So many times, in so many different instances. Did I tell you about the time I thought he was helping me get a textbook from a tall shelf but he ended up taking that last one for himself?” You angrily rip a bite from your limp sandwich. You really did hate Turkey Thursdays.

“Eh, first come, first serve. Maybe he didn’t know you were trying to grab that one.”

“My ass, Jungkook. He claimed that if I really wanted it, I would ‘do something in fair exchange’ for it. I’m not looking to going into prostitution anytime soon.”

“Respect sex workers,” Jungkook criticizes.

“Oh, no, totally. Sex work just isn’t my forte.” Kook shrugs.

“Okay,” you continue, “how about the time I went to IKEA to buy that ceiling lamp and was obviously struggling to one-trip everything from my car? The dumbfuck passed by and asked if I needed help, so I was like, ‘Yeah! Sure, it would definitely make up for the time you asked for sex in lieu of my psych book,’ but instead of helping me carry anything he took my coffee, drank some, and left.” Jungkook starts a rebuttal but you cut him off short, “Then he showed up to my work the other day, god knows how he even saw me in there, and started taking a video of me when I wasn’t paying attention!”

“What the hell,” your friend sports a face of disgust, “like, he’s stalking you?”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Well, not exactly? I think he was just maybe—see, A$AP Rocky may or may have not been playing on the speakers, and I didn’t know anyone was in the shop! So. I don’t know. I started—”

“Started rapping with a rolled up poster as your microphone,” he deadpans. Finishing your horrid sandwich, you crumple the saran wrap and chuck it at his eye, satisfied when we wails exaggeratingly.

“Maybe that’s just his way of flirting with you, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“I think he just hates my guts and thinks of me as an equal to the gum under his thick, goth boots,” you mumble.

“Does it matter? So what if Danny Phantom doesn’t like you?”

“He’s causing a problem though. Besides, everyone cares if someone doesn’t like them. It’s bullshit if they tell you otherwise; bullshit or a lack of sympathy.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Because I’m totally your friend and all but I don’t necessarily want to hear about your boy problems all the time.” You harrumph at his negligence and slump back into your seat.

There really wasn’t anything you could do about it; it wasn’t bad enough to the point of distressing tyranny. You simply couldn’t befriend the guy, it was obvious he didn’t want that. You would just have to pray to all things good that he would eventually lose interest, stop harassing you out of kindness, or have a change of heart and treat you like the saint you were.

If only it were that easy.

Sylly-week kicked ass, to say the least. Even two days prior the hectic week from hell, your body aches from partying while your wallet cries from all the textbooks and supplies you paid for.

Sara slept beside you, forehead stuck to the desk with her laptop stuck on some sort of half-assed document and you couldn’t fathom a better picture to represent college.

Although it was already around 11, you hop out of bed and throw on your windbreaker from cheer and some spandex, shuffling into a pair of your sneakers and bolting out of your room with your bag. The amount of sodium and sugar you consumed from Cup-O-Noodles and off-brand cookie dough bites made you feel disgusting, and you know running a quick mile at the gym would get your blood pumping enough to make you: 1) feel better about yourself and 2) put your ass to sleep.

The walk is short, the air still a little heavy with heat but cool enough for you to be comfortable in a long-sleeve. Some tired students exit the library, really the only other people you see at this hour. You would’ve thought it creepy if the campus wasn’t so well-lit and played background music through the announcement speakers. If you died or got kidnapped, at least it was to some groovy jazz.

You swipe your card across the sensor beside the athletic building door, waiting for that subtle beep before the gears clank and allow you to heave the door open. Immediately, the smell of sweat poorly masked with air freshener fill your nostrils and your adrenaline builds. You’re no body builder, but a run certainly sounded nice right about now.

You practically skip through the halls, rounding a corner to enter the weight room before you stop in your tracks to see someone in the room across. You squint suspiciously, peachy hair striking a very strong familiarity to…

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at the gym, but you are because he isn’t. He’s in the dance studio. Before you bolt, your eyes glue to his sensual movements, legs gliding across the floor and body free-flowing alongside the bass-filled music. No previous bias could deny that he looks like an angel in his room, dancing smooth as meringue and practically skating across the floor despite those clunky black boots of his; and powerful, hitting every note and beat with intention and vigor. You’ve never seen anyone dance like this.

After a few seconds, you render that you’re spying on him and continue walking, nervously scuffing your sneakers down the linoleum and immediately, and unfortunately, catching his attention.

He first sees you in the mirror. Ignores you. Then realizes it’s you and turns into the most ungraceful bag-of-bones as he scurries to pause the music and chases you down the hall.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing your elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” you strike back, jerking your elbow out of his grasp and staring him down.

He looks apologetic, genuinely worried for a second before he breathes deep and tries again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Um, why are you here?”

“Um, because I can be? I was going to go to the gym, dickwad.”

It takes all of his patience not to insult you, “Okay. You’re right. Were you… were you watching me?”

You give him a sickeningly-sweet smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just passing by.”

He nods solemnly, straightening his tank as if it wasn’t already wrinkled and damp with sweat, “Okay. Okay, cool.” He starts to turn before he keeps going in a 360.

“Can you keep this between me and you? That I was here? That I was here and I was—”

“Dancing?” you ask quizzically, “Why does it matter?”

His eyebrows stitch together in frustration, “Y/N, do I look like I’m a dancer?” He gestures to his piercings and his sleeve, waving his hands about in so many different places that your lewd curiosity wonders what he looks like naked—for the sake of knowing how many piercings and tattoos he has though, obviously.

“I think you look like a dancer. Just not a contemporary dancer. Did you take ballet?” you half-tease, crossing your arms and beaming slyly at him.

Jimin huffs, impatient, “Will you just keep it locked somewhere in that airhead of yours?”

“What’s in it for me, Jiminie,” you pout, “what do I get as reward for keeping your secret?”

He falters a moment, licking his plump lips and walking dangerously close, “You want a reward? I don’t take you as that kind of girl, Y/N.”

He must be delirious, eyeing him so and shoving him away, “Ew, no. I just meant, like, be nice to me from now on. And help me with psychology. That class is nothing but a memory test.”

He blinks dumbly from your rejection; who ever rejected him? He waves it off.

“Okay. I can be compliant. I won’t treat you like the rich bitch you are, and I tutor you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

“I’m not a rich bitch. I have student loans like the rest of the student population, thank you very much. Deal.”

You smile at each other devilishly, ready to part ways before bursting out with an instant, “Wait!”

Jimin looks over his shoulder curiously. Damn, you could really see how toned his shoulders were in that shirt.

“There’re dance majors here, is that what you transferred for?”

He turns all the way, leaning sideways against the wall and sighing, “Honestly, yes. But my family thinks I’m transferring to finish my business degree and that I would have better opportunities here. I really did it because there’s some great studios in the area but—” he catches himself rambling, “I don’t know how they would feel about my grand decision.”

You shrug, “You’re a great dancer, Jimin. Honestly, you could open your own studio here if you wanted to. You do have great opportunities.”

His sleepy eyes stare you down, a half-smile drawing itself out before he can take it back. “Give me your phone,” he orders.

You don’t know why but you do.

He dials into it with his overly-accessorized fingers, giving you a moment to get a closer look at his septum and the abundance of ear-piercings he sports before he hands it back. You’re pretty sure one of them is Gucci and you bite back a chuckle. Rich bitch.

“That’s my number. Text me when you’re free on study days.”

And with that, he re-enters his room and resumes the music.

The first time Park Jimin meets with you at a Starbucks on a Tuesday, like he instructed, you thought you somehow managed to get yourself stuck in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. My last class ends at 3 on both days and there’s already a quiz this Friday. Help.”

You sent the text without emojis. He didn’t deserve any.

You had barely got to Instagram before he texted you back. With multiple messages.

“u text like a gramma”

“but ok”

“starbucks at 330? i’ll buy”

You giggled to yourself at his joke, sending a single “(:” and putting your phone to sleep.

To your disbelief, he really did buy you a cheese danish and a tall, iced, caramel macchiato. You sip it gingerly while he pulls his things out of his bag: a couple mechanical pencils (the industrial, expensive ones), a 1-inch binder organized by subject with dividers, and notecards. You grab them and hold them up like it’s evidence from a leading murder case.

“Notecards? You are way too organized and functional.”

He snags your pastry before you can grab it and takes a huge bite, “Yeah, but ih’s gonna het you a bedder ghrade.”

Whining, you get it back after his second bite, somehow only half remaining.

“Okay. Let’s get started. It should only be a vocab check because that’s really all he’s asked us to study so far. We’ll start with my wonderful notecards,” he waves them in the air for effect, “and see which ones you do and don’t know.”

You nod, waiting for the chaos to begin. Who were you to tell him that you haven’t actually studied any of the vocab yet? He holds the first one up. Abductive reasoning.

“Uhh… is that like, something detectives use on kidnapping cases?”

“Wh-What? No. Well—are you thinking of ‘abductions’? Abductive reasoning is being able to use the two states of induction and deduction alongside your intuition to reach a conclusion,” he pauses and tilts his head a little, “ I guess the best analogy is giving out a verdict on a criminal case. Without being 100% sure, they use the evidence to tie together as many different points as they can to come to a conclusion. So, I mean, you got it wrong, but you can easily remember the definition with that.”

You’ll take what you get (majority of his reasoning went through one ear and out the other, anyway), wiggling your eyebrows in justified approval. Jimin laughs at you, eyes squinting to slits and shaking his head. He takes notice that you aren’t wearing much makeup today, your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a tad red with irritation and a bit dry where the sun burnt and eyes daintier without so much eyeliner on them. You threw on a tank and some workout shorts and look like the epitome of… comfortable, in your head. Jimin thinks you look effortless.

“Park?” you wave your hand in front of him.

He catches himself staring and jumps out of his seat, chair screeching across the tile.

“Sorry,” he coughs, “I’m going to take a whiz.” Stupid. He practically trips over himself to get to the restroom.

You watch him hurry to the back. He probably had much better things to do than help you study in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of younger girls watch him as he passes, giggling like a pack of fangirls and combing their hair out of their faces. If they only knew.

Did he even have a girlfriend? Most likely not, right? He only just transferred here and despite his well-endowed looks, he was still intimidating. Like a giant “don’t touch, I bite” sign constantly hung around his neck.

He comes back shortly, and before you can deduct that you would rather save the embarrassment than to quench your curiosity, you ask, “Are you dating anyone?”

“Because you get a lot of followers,” you reason, shamelessly pointing out the girls who ogle his tattooed biceps. They giggle again when he looks their way. God, so many giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and that intrigues you, “No, I’m not dating anyone. I think if it weren’t for my… accessories? And the fact that I’m foreign, girls wouldn’t like me as much.” You find tiny comfort that he’s single but squish the thought away.

“How ‘bout you? Dating that guy on your team?” he retorts.

“Who, Jungkook?” you snort, “No. He has a girlfriend and he’s all brawn over brain. I’m not dating anyone, actually. I don’t like guys that are so competitive to win females strictly for the points, and there’s a lot of that here. S’gross; we’re not animals.”

“We kinda are,” he argues, but smiles understandingly.

“Okay, but not in the way where your possible significant other has to perform an instinctual mating dance?”

He juts up an eyebrow, “Really? Because I could easily arrange that.”

For the first time, you both laugh. At the same thing. Who knew that Jimin could dance of all things? And pay for your food? And actually be a nice guy who’s really smart? Thinking about it, today has gone so polar-opposite of what you expected that you contemplate if this is Jimin’s identical twin that just happens to have the same piercings and ink that bully-Jimin has.

Twilight Zone.

“Okay, let’s continue,” he says, resuming the queue of notecards.

“Define abulia.”

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved a hand in your face.

“Hm? Sorry, say it again.”

Jimin packed up his supplies, then grabs yours and tucks them into your bag, “I said, ‘Are we going to your place right now?’ You said you picked up Black Panther on DVD so I want to watch it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cats and shit.”

You both stand up and stretch, the rest of the students in the lecture hall slowly filing out. Midterms were already approaching, which meant that you and Jimin had known each other for quite some time now. His tutoring was ditched weeks ago after you were finally comfortable with the material and able to comprehend what the professor was saying without Jimin to interpret. At first, meeting up stopped completely. You two would talk occasionally during class break and that’s all, and after a while, you just figured your deal was completed and Jimin finished his case and you both separated onto your different ways.

But then Jimin had asked if you wanted coffee at the same Starbucks you had first studied at, but for no specific reason. Just to hang out. So, you did.

Hanging out once or twice for coffee turned into twice getting lunch turned into four or five times lazing about your dorm, and now, you were just completely, wholesomely, friends. It was hard not to be on edge at the contrast of current Jimin to hell-on-earth Jimin, but you took what you could get.

“Is something on your mind? You’ve been spacing out for a long time,” he prods, taking your bag himself and throwing it over the same shoulder his own bag was on. The

walk to your dorm building was short but you could feel your feet dragging from sudden exhaustion.

“I think I’m just tired? I’m fine. Ready to Black Panther it up and all that jazz,” you chuckle. He takes the hint and resorts to quietly humming to your room rather than talking. That’s one thing you liked about him, he always knew when your mind just needed simple white noise.

Unlocking the door and jostling it out of its stickiness, you make a running jump to faceplant onto your bed. The mattress dips next to you when Jimin sits.

“I know you like cheer and all, but I think you need to take a break,” he says.

“Easier said than done. And I have mandatory captain conditioning in 3 hours,” you groan, propping your head on the palm of your hand to watch Jimin as he eats a stale bag of chips that he found on your nightstand. His face contorts in repulsion and throws the bag away.

“Okay, well, you’re not going. Tell them you’re sick. Let’s watch some DC movies and eat popcorn and have, like, a girl sleepover but I’m not a girl and I don’t want to spend the night,” he says, counting each point on his fingers.

“First of all, you lunatic, it’s Marvel not DC. Second, I don’t have popcorn. I can’t just skip conditioning because if I gain one pound Jungkook will sense it with his nose or something and attack me.”

“What,” he says in disbelief, grabbing your waist with one hand and squeezing a little, “you’re fine. You’re not going today and that’s final.” It’s not very often he touches you and as much as you try not to show it, you feel your face heat and mouth gape open and closed, ready to combust. You don’t particularly know why; guys touch you all the time (not in that way, thank you very much) but when it was Jimin, it was like you had been raised feral and failed to receive any means of human interaction.

He notices, taking his hand away as quick as he placed it and looking at the floor. Despite your lack of proper reaction, you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little twinge of disappointment. God, you’re so confusing to yourself.

“How about you? Your vampire ass won’t dance in sunlight so you must be tired too. How long do you normally dance for when you’re in the studio?”

“Well,” he lays flat on his back and stares at your popcorn ceiling (your dorm building was extremely outdated), “I try to workout at the actual gym in the morning before I get ready for class, and then I dance from 11 to whenever I feel is enough during the weeknights. That is, if no one’s there.”

“Why do you even follow this whole path of disliking mainstream trends and ‘rebelling against the world’? Isn’t that tiring? Aside from dance, do you, like, make your own skateboards and go to secret underground bars or something?” you tease. He rolls his head towards you in annoyance and mouths a “ha ha”.

“No, I just. I don’t know. I don’t like people telling me what to do or where to go or how to look,” he showcases his tatted arm. “This is all mine. I don’t want to be another puppet controlled my whole life to consume and work off a never-ending debt just so I can only live comfortably when I’m old but too old to actually live.”

“Wow, bro. That’s deep,” you pretend to smoke a pretzel stick. He continues anyway.

“Recently I made some friends that are in one of my labs. They’re from Korea too. If I’m not studying or working or hanging out with you, I’m probably with them. Partying or something,” he says, stealing away your “cigarette” and crunching on it loudly.

“Woah, you work? How do you find the time to do that?”

“Kinda. Nothing official, I just tutor people sometimes. Charge them by the hour and make some decent pocket change for food or whatever.”

You contemplate. How come he’s never charged you for your tutoring before? You ask him, studying his side profile and admiring his jawline when he talks. Flexing then easing; taut then relaxed.

“Because we had a deal. We agreed that I would help you in psych as long as you kept my secret, in which you did, so I figured that was good enough. Besides, you’re too cute to charge. I look like a bad boy but I’m not evil.” You giggle, resembling a middle-school fangirl and exaggerating a flattered stature.

Jimin laughs again, light and refreshing staccato notes that you could honestly listen to all day. It was therapeutic in its own crackhead way.

You’ve been unintentionally staring at him more and more often, Jimin finally taking notice within the last few minutes. He knew how to read a girl; how revealing they make themselves to impress him or how their eyes dim in any sort of suggestion that his hands should somehow find place on their body. But with you, he has no idea what that stare means. For the most part, you carry yourself so independently to the point of being standoffish and Jimin just can’t figure you out. He sought the day you would give in and beg for a night with him just like most of the other girls in his classes did, and when you didn’t, he wanted to know why. Not out of inflated ego or need to get into your pants—okay maybe because of that initially—but even more so that he just needed to dissect you. Know how to get you going, what kind of person you really are, which was completely different from what he originally imagined.

You were talking amidst his thoughts, not paying attention to the strings of sentences that fell out of your lips and before he knew it, he held himself directly above you, hands on each side of your head and staring right down into your disordered doe eyes.

“What makes you so different?” he asks aloud, more to himself than you. Puzzled and not under the impression that it was a rhetorical question, you shake your head.

“I don’t u-understand. What are you doing, Ji—”

He tucks a loose strand of yours out of your face, causing you to hiccup. “I feel like when I think I know you, I’m actually far from it.”

You don’t particularly know what you’re supposed to say to that.

“You didn’t ever need to get to know me. You just needed to make sure I kept your secret,” you play along. Knowing it wasn’t really the whole case, your own statement stings a little. If it weren’t to save his own ass, would he even be here right now?

Like he read your mind, he answers, “Why would I be here? I haven’t needed to help you in weeks. I’m with you all the time because I want to be. Because I—”

“Because you…?” you trail on, heart beating so hard you swear he can hear it. You wanted him to say it, maybe that’s what was keeping you from confirming your feelings. You needed validation; that this wasn’t just you or that this was some one-sided longing because you doubted someone like him could ever like someone like you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead, so hesitant and delicate and worrisome all in one question and you ponder if this is the same boy you first met at orientation.

“Please.”

He dips down slowly, eyes half-closed in anticipation of what your face looks like so close, pausing an inch away when you shut your own. You feel his warmth near your mouth, waiting for that first touch, any contact, until it seems like it’s been far too long. When you peek, you see nothing but his perfect… cheekbone? He stares, jaw stuck open and eyes fluttering, at the intruder in the door before swinging himself off the bed and coughing awkwardly.

“Oh, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming home so early today,” you squeak out. You sit up yourself, brushing off nonexistent dust from the bed and watching Jimin gather his things in a rush and squeezing past a concerned Sara in the doorway. He doesn’t even turn back, ears stinging red and peeping a quick, havetogotextyoulater. Great, the asshole left you to face your roommate alone.

“Was that Jimin? Park Jimin? The fucking transfer student?”

“Oh my god, Sara, what’re you freaking out about?”

Dropping her stuff in the middle of the room, she shrieks annoyingly and grabs your shoulders, “Are you seriously fucking with the Park Jimin? Y/N. Nuh-uh. No way. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Chill out! We’re just friends. He tutors me sometimes.” Not quite a lie.

She eyes you and deadpans, “Yeah, I didn’t know tutoring also included a one-on-one session of how to have sexual intercourse.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you remove her hands, which were digging crescents into your skin, and pretend to arrange your bed, “we haven’t even kissed. You just walked in at an inconvenient time.”

Sara sighs, rubbing her temples and sitting on your bed, “Look, babe. Just be careful. I’ve been to parties with him and have heard some awful things. Shit you expect from a movie where the girl gets fucked over because the guy doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I just want the best for you, okay? He’s not as sweet as you might think he is.”

He isn’t sweet at all, you said internally. But still, your heart clenches at her words. Sure, he acts like a dick, and you shouldn’t be surprised if he really does get around as much as Sara suspects; but there was just some sort of denial that lingered. If he really was such a player, why would he have stuck around with you for as long as he has, as platonic as it has been until now?

“I… I didn’t know that. I’ll be careful,” you assure her.

All it took was a squinty-eyed smile and a tiny caress to the small of your back on the way into the lecture hall for you to completely melt into his hands. You were simply putty, magically molding into some gross, odd-smelling ball of love just because of the almost-incident yesterday. You can practically feel the radiating disappointment from Sara if she knew how easily you gave yourself up for him.

His face reoccurs in your daydreams for days, all the way up until the weekend comes up from behind and smacks you on the ass.

“Focus,” Jungkook taps you through you skirt again. Oh, or maybe it was Jungkook.

The stadium speakers blared with announcements and you’re brought back to the world of clashing helmets, captain’s orders and Jungkook’s strong hands residing on your waist for partner stunts.

You didn’t need to be reminded, you were much more stable than you were weeks ago. He throws you in the air during the signaling note of the band and catches your right foot with ease above him, keeping you stable as you pull a heel stretch and present a pretty smile. The crowd roars along, inspiring the team and singing along with the cheers.

By the end of the game, you’re exhausted, tearing down paper signs from the concrete walls and shuffling your poms into your bag in a hurry.

“Hey, are you going to the feed after? Everyone’s going, I could give you a ride,” Jungkook offers, but you shake your head.

“I’m pretty beat. I’ll go next time.” He shrugs, finding more interest in catching up to someone who is interested than trying to convince you otherwise. By the time your clean-up is done, most of the fans are gone, the stadium a comparable difference of quiet than how it was only twenty minutes ago.

“You’re sure taking forever,” a sudden voice pipes up. Outside the gate stands Jimin, all-black tank and jeans, per usual. “You looked great out there.”

You smile, suddenly awake and jogging towards him, “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football.” During all your rushing do you realize that you relax around Park, time always seeming to slow down in his presence and you dissolve into his effect.

“I don’t. Such an American moneymaker. They’re all cons.” He takes your bag like he always does, leaning against the gate and looking excited, “Mind if we stop by my place? I have something to show you. It’s not far, probably only a 5 minute walk from here.”

You nod before he even mentions how long it takes to get there, heart palpitating at the thought that he’s inviting you over. You’re sure you smelled from cheer and you probably looked like the opposing team warmed up suicide runs over your sweaty body, but you nod.

“Were you here the whole time? Or just towards the end?” you ask, slightly insecure towards the fact that he could’ve been watching you cheer.

“Was here since halftime. Got Yoongs to watch with me at the gate where I was before for the most part. He left halfway through fourth quarter though, said he got tired from seeing others exert themselves so much,” he chuckles at the thought, eyes squinting and crooked tooth visible from the side. Your heart swooned, you were even starting to notice the little things. How he acted. His habits. What he did and didn’t like.

You were in fucking deep.

“I did get to see you cheer though,” he answers your unspoken inquiry, “you looked pretty, Y/N. It’s like watching a whole ‘nother person compared to how you act outside of uniform.” You’re still stuck on the word “pretty” and nod along like you’re listening.

“You should see how people look at you,” he draws on, “like they’re entranced. Even when you were just relaxing on the sideline, not doing anything, you stand out.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, where is this even coming from? One more compliment and the world might explode from the paradox you’re creating.”

He shoves your shoulder lightly, laughing at your tomato-red face, “What do you mean? I can’t compliment you?”

“No that’s not—I just mean. You know. You used to hate me and now you shower me with praise like I’m the best person in the world. It’s just crazy how much our relationship has changed. And… And yesterday—”

“Yo, can’t believe you really stayed for the rest of the game,” a raspy voice outbursts. You just realize that Jimin stopped you in front of a house, presumably his house, as a mint-haired ball sits on the porch. He inhales from his cigarette and exhales through his nose before throwing it underneath his boot.

“Hey, Yoongs. This is Y/N. Y/N, Min Yoongi, my roommate. Has a bad smoking habit and have only recently gotten him to smoke outside.” Jimin snickers, offering a hand to lift Yoongi off the step and welcome him into some bro-hug.

“You smoke too, bastard. Just did it ‘cause I knew you were bringing someone home tonight,” Yoongi retaliates, eyeing your figure. Shivers run down your spine at the comment.

Jimin coughs unexpectedly, then anxiously laughs as he pulls your arm behind him and into the house, “We’ll be in the living room. Go sleep or something.” Yoongi only clicks his tongue in response.

“Sorry,” he says once your inside, “he can be a little too personal sometimes. He’s really nice once you get to know him.” You shake your head, giving him a comforting smile that eases the tension in his shoulders.

He settles you on the couch, host-like politeness apparent when he asks if you want anything to drink, tells you where the bathroom is, and hands you the tv remote before disappearing to find his laptop. His home was cozy, minimalist furniture often in gray, black, and an occasional blue spread throughout the rooms. You weren’t sure if the boys were attempting to be modern or if college tuition only allowed them this sort of set-up, but nonetheless, it was way nicer than you expected.

“Back,” Jimin plops onto the couch right next to you, Apple laptop unlocked to a default background. He looks to you briefly before setting up some page on Google, “Have you signed up for your classes for next quarter yet?”

He looks different, your eyes scanning over his face to figure out just what it is, “Basically, just gotta confirm and pay and whatnot. Have you, Jimin?”

It’s his septum, you discover, that he’s taken out. He looks handsome either way. Propping the laptop suddenly on your lap, he beams, “Yeah, go ahead and take a look.”

You scroll through the page, humming to yourself, “Mhm… Mhm… Accounting, business 101, contemporary repertory… God, you’re going to hate sociology with Doyard, she’s a complete psycho!” You trail, giggling at his misfortune. Once you’re done, you meet his discontent face.

It takes a few takes from his face to the screen, back to his face, until oh shit!

“Wait does ‘contemporary repertory’ mean something important?” you squeal in rushed excitement. “Is that a dance thing? Are you taking a dance class here?” Before he can even explain, you shut the laptop and safely place it on the coffee table before tackling the man, withdrawing an oof from his lips.

“Easy, girl. Please don’t break me before I even get to show up on the first day.”

“Jimin, this is amazing. You’re finally doing something you want to do, during regular hours, at that!” You nuzzle into his warm chest, “I’m so happy for you, Jimin. I hope you have fun.” His heart clenches at that; how could you be so fucking caring about him? He knew you’d be surprised, but not genuinely happy for him. His hand glides over the skin between your midriff and skirt, an inkling of a gasp floating out of your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand higher and locking eyes with yours. Time is always slow with him but now, it’s like it was screaming at you to take the opportunity. Unwinding one of your arms from around his neck, you smooth his hair up so you can see those prepossessing eyes.

“You can touch me,” you confirm just as softly. His features harden and you hope you didn’t read the situation wrong.

“I… I never got to kiss you that night.”

“Then you can kiss me now, if you’d like,” you say, pleading in your voice and it’s all he needs to hear before he burns his lips into yours. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted this,” he pants between suckles to your bottom lip. He kisses like he dances: powerful and in perfect control with his body, molding it to yours and massaging the skin he just apologized for touching only seconds ago.

You cup his face and look down at him with sultry prowess, “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always thought about this, hoping you would just make a move, idiot.” You dive back into him, his moans prominent when you lick and nip at his lip. He lowers his grip to your ass, squeezing and pushing his hips into your own.

“Well, I’ve always thought about fucking you in this cursed uniform,” he growls, forcing a giggle out of you. Grinding down into him for effect, your mouth travels to his ear so you can state a small confirmation.

“I’m flexible, babe. I’m all yours.”

He hums his praise, latching his mouth onto your neck, laving and peppering blues into your skin before he carries you off the couch. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, “Where are you taking me?”

Heading into a hallway and taking a sharp left, he kicks his door open, “I don’t know about you, hot stuff, but Yoongs doesn’t need to see you getting dicked down in our living room,” he jests. When he lays you back onto the foot of his bed, you briefly scan his room and find it hard to believe that it’s relatively clean, the posters on his walls the only thing that seemed cluttered. This guy was your high school self’s wet dream. Scanning him promiscuously, you chuckle.

“I can be into it,” you drawl playfully.

Earning an unimpressed scoff, he fingers the hem of his shirt, “You’re mine,” he sheds it in a swift pull and throws it to the side cockily. Marveling at each detailed divot and curve of muscle, you can’t help but bite your lip in frustrated anticipation. “Unless, you don’t want me,” he finishes with a tilt of his head. He knew what he was doing, simulating innocence to draw you out of your transfixed stupor to hear those three words string from your mouth. You reach out to touch his abs, tracing over linework of ink and watching him shiver from your touch. Knowing exactly what he wants to hear, you gaze into oblique eyes and mouth the words, “I do want you”.

Goading him on, you lay back and extend your legs above you, shuffling your spandex tantalizingly slow over your skin. Jimin whistles at your show, staring at the white g-string you sported under your skirt and wandering his hands over the supple skin you expose.

“Jesus, you fucking tease. Leave the skirt.” Tittering at his request, you dig your heels into his back to propel him down towards you, his ringed hands keeping himself afloat and a winning smile winking down at you. Bless your heart you didn’t faint right then and there.

He kisses you like a man starved, lips burning hot with desire and aching to be bit—so you give him that. Sinking your teeth gently into the flesh, he punishes such action with a slap to the underneath of your thigh, then holding it close to the side of his abdomen and rolling over with you on top. Practically suffocating from lack of air, you dislodge yourself, quite reluctantly, from his mouth and soothe his complaints with brief kisses to his thick neck.

“Why didn’t we do this—ah, before?” he pants. Sucking a particularly tender spot of his jugular, he moans out and bucks into your hips. You continue your way down, leaving no inch of skin untouched until you reach where his skin ends and the nuisance of clothing began.

“You don’t make things very easy for me. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. Just do it. Turn around, though, I’ll finger you at the same time,” he offers, propping himself up on his elbows as you readjust yourself with your head towards his bulge and your ass facing him, knees keeping you up on one side of his torso. “Perfect,” he commends.

Unbuckling his ridiculously tight jeans, you hook your thumbs under the denim and whisper a quick, “Up,” to pull them off when his hips lift off the mattress. Your pride inflates at the sight of his bulge resting in the crook of his thigh, adorned by simple black boxers that hugged him in all the right spots. All but drooling at the member, you place a loving kiss where you know his head resides, mouthing at it gingerly and soaking the material with your saliva.

He ruts into your face as he watches such indecency, “You know, I should probably tell you something,” he says rather seriously, shuffling your skirt up above your ass and mischievously prodding at your sex with his thumb.

“Hmm,” you mumble, sliding his boxers down enough to suck at the pink tip that oozed of precum and spreading the liquid around with your tongue. The bitterness that came with it was all welcomed, slightly sweeter than others you’ve ever tasted and you appreciated it much more when a man this good-looking was laid out before you.

He groans, “Ever heard of a Jacob’s Ladder? Fuck, right there, underneath a bit…” You suck and nip at the skin of his frenulum, knowing he was bound to like small dosages of pain mixed with his pleasure—a guess all too correct when he cries out in ecstasy and gives your ass a light spank.

“A Jacob’s what?”

“Just—just look at it. If you don’t like it then I can just take them out,” he sighs, all too impatient to give you a rundown of whatever a Jacob’s hoo-ha entailed. You perk a brow at his vocabulary, halting your mouth and sliding his boxers the rest of the way down.

If you weren’t riled up before, you were hot, ready, and willing to beg on your knees to be stuffed with Jimin and his… accessories. You understand the term “ladder” now, three rungs of metal pierced on the underside of his shaft and glinting up at you with intimidation. You hope Jimin can’t see the now overflowing amount of arousal oozing out of your pussy, squeezing thighs together in a useless attempt of hiding yourself.

“Fuck, didn’t that hurt?” you question, hovering fingers over the balls of silver that protruded on each side in complete awe.

“Of course it did, honey. It’s all worth it, though. It’ll make you feel good too. Need me to take them out?” You shake your head a little too vigorously, earning a chuckle and his middle finger to slide in between your folds unexpectedly. Yiping at the sudden entrance, you cast a glare over his shoulder with his only response being the curve of his digit.

“C-Can I lick it? Can it get infected if you don’t use a condom?” you bombard him with questions, entirely unfamiliar with the subject and entirely enamored by it.

“It’s all healed up, baby. You can do whatever your little heart desires with it. And I would oh so much prefer going bare,” he confirms, and your heart flips at his pet name for you. That, and the thought of his thick, pierced cock penetrating you condom-less.

You wrap your lips around him once more, unafraid to take more and more of his length until you feel the cold metal—your stopping point. Call it your lack of experience, but you prefer not to catch your teeth on those piercings today. You make up for it by sliding a hand back under his scrunched boxers, fondling his balls as you bob diligently. He curses and struggles to keep his body still, digging another digit between your legs to slow your own ministrations. When it works and you moan around his cock, Jimin can’t help but want to play a little game.

“Should I give you a challenge, babe? It’s super simple. Whoever makes the other cum first gets to request something. Anything. Deal?”

“Deahl,” you muffle, swirling your tongue lavishly around his crown. Everything with Jimin was much more… intriguing. Even your first time having sex was turned into some lusty escapade of unexpected metallic embellishments and cheeky gambles. It made you feel something in your veins, wanting more and more of whatever poison Jimin was.

Taking a breath, you lick broadly over his entire shaft and scarcely taste the titanium—more than anything, it was just cold. Jimin shudders at the feeling, punishing you with a third and final finger and pushing downdowndown into a spot all too sensitive for you to focus.

Try as you might, your now pathetic attempts of sucking him off is all forgotten in your own haze of chasing your orgasm. Instead, you rest your head on his hip and writhe against his hand, fucking back onto it while he simultaneously prods your g-spot over and over again until you see stars.

“Giving up already? You were doing so well for a while, you could’ve won,” he lilts.

“Jimin, please make me cum. Oh god,” you wail, legs straining for just that final push…

“Is this what you want?” He slides his thumb across, swiping whatever he could collect and using it to knead at your neglected clit. It’s all you need, pleasure washing over you in tandem of near oversensitivity, a near scream tearing through your lungs that only comes out in ragged whines against his leg.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re ruining my sheets over here,” he criticizes, removing his hand with an obscene squelch and moving around in the bed.

The torpor you caught yourself in didn’t render what he was saying, just letting him move you about so your head rests on his pillows while he places himself between your legs.

“Jiminie,” you babble, “fuck me.” He strokes your hair away from your face and smiles, that cute puppy smile that turns his eyes into crescents. The rest of him, though, is purely sinful. Hair sweaty and pieced to perfection as his body taunted you with toned muscles.

“I don’t think you’re ready, honey,” he answers, “even though you’re dripping in your own cum.” He leans back and stares at your pussy without embarrassment, pulling your knees together and watching the juices flow even more. “I should put it to use.”

You peer up at him, curious as to whatever the hell he’s dreaming of over there and inexplicably stunned when you see his dick between your legs. “J-Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just keep them closed tight,” he orders, fucking himself between the lips of your heat and the warm skin of your thighs. You can’t help but ravish the sight of him as he slicks himself up, eyeing you down as his hips roll into you agonizingly slow. His piercings graze against your nub occasionally, warmth once again growing in your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so soft and so wet. Who did this to you, hm?” You moan maniacally, angling your hips as to catch him and push inside, but he only laughs degradingly and intentionally misses.

“You think I’m going to fuck you if you can’t even answer this simple question?” he sneers. “Answer like a good girl, then I’ll fuck you into oblivion.”

You scramble for words, initially incoherent and struggling. “Jimin! Shit, Jimin. You made me this way. Ah, you m-make me so wet, so please put it in, put it in and—ha, aah!”

He shoves his length in like it’s all he knew what to do, your ankles to his shoulders so he can drink up your moans with his reddened lips. He was right—the piercings didn’t feel like any dick you’ve received before, it was so much better. This was pornographic, it was so good. He all but pistols into you, his cock grazing places previously untouched. Indulging in his heaven sent strokes, you cry and groan at each relentless thrust.

“Hush, baby, Yoongi’s going to hear your pretty self,” he warns, but you don’t give a shit. If anything, you moan louder with a know-all glint in your eye, testing Jimin’s patience. “Brat,” he spits.

He pounds into you repeatedly, completely removing himself before filling you up again and again and again. Between the pressure to your g-spot and the added stimulation from his Jacob’s Ladder—your stomach heaves, an unfamiliar feeling washing over your abdomen contrary to anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh, Jimin, wait!” you sob, halting his hips from another brutal shove a little too late. The second he pulls out, your second orgasm (and first ever untouched orgasm) of the night reigns over, briefly showering his lower stomach in your own wet arousal.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Did you just… squirt on me?” he growls, not taking the time to hear your answer as he lifts you into his lap, legs wrapped around his muscular back and arms gripping around his shoulders for dear life.

He sinks back into you deliciously, filling you to the brim with your added weight and rutting up into you to chase his own release. Everything is soaked and sticky, Jimin’s ragged breathing and groans so close to your ear that you’re sure it’ll be engrained into your memory forever, his thrusts so deep inside you wail once more.

Consequently, the banging on the wall next to you comes as no surprise, Yoongi’s angry, “Shut the fuck up!” clear as day. Jimin waves it off.

“Don’t listen baby. Moan louder for me. Tell me where you want my cum.”

The slaps of skin become louder; it wouldn’t be long before Jimin came. “Inside, Jiminie, please. Cum inside me, pump me full,” you squeal, lust sparking inside you knowing that his roommate could hear you getting fucked senseless.

One, two, three more aching pounds before he spills into you, his pretty moans music to your ears. You flop back as soon as he takes himself out, suddenly aching all over from how much he stretched your legs and groaning at the pain.

You slap his eager hand away when he fingers his cum back into your abused lips, “That hurts, idiot.” He smiles and sucks your intermingled cum off his fingers with a pop.

“We taste good together,” he husks. Fuck. “By the way. You came first. Stay the night?”

You oblige with or without the pressure of the bet, dog-tired from your beating and not even fathoming the trek back to your own room. Jimin takes charge in your state of haziness, washing you off in his shower, replacing your uniform with a t-shirt of his own and laying you beside him on his mattress (sheets replaced and refreshed).

“You have piercings in your dick,” you state in the middle of the quiet.

Jimin snorts at the outburst, looping an arm around your side and melding his body to yours, “Yeah, is it weird?”

“… Robot dick,” you whisper, words cracking at the face of your laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“So, when you’re going through metal detectors at airports and whatever, do you have to tell them that the metal’s in your penis? Do they have to check?” Titters are awarded with light jabs to your side, which are then led to screams and kicks to his legs.

Yoongi bursts through Jimin’s door, brows stitched together in heated anger parallel to the flames of hell, “I swear to fucking god, if you two don’t quiet down I’ll mount your heads on my wall, it’ll make a great decoration.”

“What the hell, what if we were naked? Don’t just go busting through—”

“Yeah because you obviously care if I know you two are fucking. ‘Don’t listen, baby! Tell me where you want my cum, baby!’” Yoongi mocks. Pillows are flying and insults are thrown as you watch them bicker sleepily, all fading into white noise as you begin to drift off.

Sleep itself feels like a blink, so exhausted that you don’t dream. Waking in the same position that you were last conscious in, the only difference in picture is the fact that: A) the sun is shining through Jimin’s skylight and B) Jimin is no longer in bed with you.

But before you can even question where he’s run off to, his sly self sneaks back into the bedroom, shirtless and face clean from washing up just now. You don’t even hide the fact that you look down to check out his tight briefs, metal detector in your brain trying to scope it out.

“You’re awake. Sorry if I was loud,” he smiles, crawling on top of you as you stretch out like a mangled cat. You shake your head, combing his hair back with your nails as he dips down into your chest. “I like when you wear my shirts.”

“That’s pretty stereotypical,” you whisper out, voice low and raspy from your slumber. This isn’t fair, you think, he got to brush his teeth already.

He sits up and gives you A Look, making you giggle and giving you the leverage to feel up his abs as he flexes haughtily.

“I can get used to this,” you purr.

“I bet you could,” he mumbles into your neck, nipping at the places he already marked last night. He doesn’t push, just relishes in your warmth and fondles you carefully as you continue to wake up and it makes you shiver.

“I wish you would’ve done this a long time ago,” you sigh.

“You hated me.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me to like you,” you retort, gasping when he bites your collarbone, “Now—Now I like you.”

He stops abruptly and pulls away, landing on his side with an elbow and tilting his head towards you, “Well, I hope you don’t start liking me too much.”

You squint, “W-Why? Don’t tell me this was just a one night stand or anything.”

“No! I mean, not just one night or whatever. I just—this is just casual, right?”

You all but bite your tongue to keep from lashing out, “What do you mean ‘casual’? You didn’t say anything about ‘casual’.”

“Oh, Y/N, c’mon. Did you really think we should date? Look at us, baby. We’re just not… each other’s types, you know?”

It’s about time you get up, shoving aside his warm blankets and grabbing your soiled uniform from the floor, “No, Jimin. I don’t know. I thought you were being genuine with me.”

“Hey, no, don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you leave his bedroom, “Okay, there was some miscommunication. I’m not trying to be mean. Can I just… I don’t know, think about it? I’m just not used to this.”

Looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, your tensions subside. “I’m not a toy. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.” The hurt he feels in your tone breaks his heart, for once. Would he really be willing to try something he knows won’t work?

For you, maybe.

“I do like you, Y/N. Just give me some time.” He pulls your arm once more, hoping you’ll stay. But you draw the line and pry his hand off politely.

“Of course I’ll give you time. I’ll see you later, okay?” He nods understandingly. He can’t feel butthurt when he’s the one putting you on ice, he knows that. So Jimin watches you leave in his shirt, mind clouded more so than when you arrived.

a/n: yay! you made it through the first part! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, selene

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wuxian-vs-wangji · 4 years

Note

As someone who works in tv do you have any tips or tricks you could share? Just about like being on tv and such?

Well, I can give some tips, but I work on crew, I actively avoid being turned into Cast (yet somehow I’ve been on air more than the crew members who WANT to be on tv). Here’s what I can give, but it’s probably not what you were looking for:

If you’re being interviewed in any situation, try to answer questions in complete sentences. For example if you’re asked about your favorite color say “My favorite color is _________”, not just the color itself.

This gives them the option of cutting out the interviewer in edits, and just overall makes it easier on the producer and editor to use the footage as they need. Generally speaking like 85% of what you say will be cut anyways.

Unless it’s a live interview, don’t hesitate to stop yourself and re-state something in a different way. Editors will want you to sound good, so they’ll help you a lot.

I once spent a solid month editing audio for an interview with a Buddhist monk because he kept sucking his teeth and it made a weird sound. The length of the piece kept changing (2 min, 5 min, 4 min, 7 min, 9 min, 4 min) so I had to just edit the audio on the raw interview so I could make each individual edit faster.

Makeup isn’t as complicated as people think. The blunt truth is that TV lights makes E V E R Y O N E ‘ S skin look greasy and oily, no exceptions. Still, you can buy a $3 compact of what looks like white powder (Probably called HD or Photo-Ready). Don’t spend a lot of money on it, don’t let Revlon convince you you need their $12 version. It’s all just talcum powder.

The powder breaks up the light so your skin looks like skin on TV and not a swamp monster thing.

Any makeup beyond that is what we call “beauty makeup”. That’s like if you contour, put on lipstick, eyeliner, etc. Do all that as you wish, then put the HD/Photo-ready powder on top.

Especially focus on forehead (double-especially at hairline), beneath your eyes, nose (double-especially the tip), upper lip, and chin. Cheeks as needed, but that area tends to see less direct light and so it doesn’t look as oily.

In general, unless you’re reading off a teleprompter directly into a camera, just pretend it isn’t there.

This goes for news interviews, general interviews, etc.

As we say at the station “Keep calm and don’t look at the camera- look anywhere but the camera.”

If you DO NOT want to be on camera (if a crew is grabbing general shots on the street or something)—

Just go up to the camera man, patiently wait while he finished his shot, and then say ‘Excuse me, I’m going to be over there, can you please try to avoid getting me in the shot?”

99% of the time they’ll just say “Oh, yeah, sure, that’s fine” and even if they do get you in the shot, it’ll be super wide so there are a ton of people and you aren’t featured. Or if they’re also editing the piece (like news cameramen), they’ll cut around footage of you.

OR if confrontation makes you uneasy, just stare dead-eyed directly into the camera (bonus points for not blinking). If you make them uncomfortable, they won’t use the footage.

OR go up and tell them you DEFINITELY want to be on camera (or behave in a way that suggests it). If someone is too eager for attention they’ll specifically cut you out of the shot.

You can also just hold up a branded item (like a Starbucks cup or shopping bag) and prominently feature it along with your person. Unless that company is one of the sponsors of what they’re shooting, the camera guys will avoid it.

If a microphone is being put on you (properly), the crew is going to be all up in your space.

My general policy (since I’m the one who mics everyone) is that I will talk someone through exactly what I’m doing as I’m doing it so they don’t feel uncomfortable.

I ask them to please put the microphone up under their shirt and out through the neck, then say “Alright, now I’m just going to clip this right here and then pull the cord a little bit to get some of the slack out… And we’re done!”

If the lady has a dress on I warn her I’m going to be clipping the mic to her neckline, then pushing the cord down into her collar and around to her back, where I will use a little bit of (gaffers) tape to pin it in place.

I’ve trained the guys I work with to also speak like that rather than just grabbing people’s shirts and moving stuff around, if the person putting a mic on you just reaches for you ask them to please let you know what they’re doing at each step.

Just a note– don’t wear clunky necklaces that sit at the neckline, you’re an audio person’s worst nightmare.

If the mic is put on WELL, it will go under a layer of clothing to hide the cord. If the program is more lax or the audio person is lazy, the cord will just be left hanging out (which looks sloppy).

If you are putting a mic on a dress that has multiple layers/textures, clip the mic to the most fabric-esque of those layers.

I had to mic Natalie Cole (daughter of Nat King Cole) for an interview and while I went for the fabric of her dress, the other camera crew clipped onto a plastic petal she had. Their mic fell off 4 times because of the slippery material and the final time she snapped at them and then (nicely) asked me to fix the mic since mine hadn’t fallen off.

Natalie Cole was such a nice lady.

Celebrities aren’t as scary as they’re made out to be, UNLESS–

Generally it’s their manager who is a dick (so they don’t have to be because Image).

As long as you are professional, most celebs are normal people. Don’t ask for autographs or photos if you’re there to work (why I don’t have pics with most people I’ve worked with ), don’t shirk duties to stare at them.

Job first. Ogling second. All celebs respect that.

They tend to have pretty packed schedules, so if you’re delaying them you are directly screwing up their day.

That being said, most still understand accidents on set happen with audio or video and won’t bite your face off if there’s a slip-up.

The meaner a celebrity is, the lower-level they are.

I’ve worked with sports stars, television stars, even an ex-President of the United States (Jimmy Carter, who I DID get a selfie with because he offered), yet the absolute WORST ‘celebs’ I’ve ever worked with are the ones you’ve never heard of with niche or tiny fan-bases.

Generally speaking, Celebrities didn’t get their status by being dicks (I mean legit celebs, not reality tv people). As long as you’re professional and treat them with basic respect, they’ll be cool. If they were impossible to work with they wouldn’t make it so far.

They also tend to be very well behaved when cameras are around.

That was probably both way too much info and not at all what you wanted to know, but I’m a camera woman, audio director, field director/producer, and now graphics operator. I’ve been on TV often but never intentionally~~~

#i was even on CNN in junior high #a little puff piece about a space simulation facility that has since shut down #they heard me say something; wanted to use it as a quote; and got a shot of me without me realizing it for the article #so yay?#i'm always UNINTENTIONALLY on tv #almost weekly now #they like to show off the one woman they have that works there as if they are sooooo progressive #casually leaving out all the sexism and harassment #anyways #ask

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fullsunhyuckie · 5 years

Text

lost in osaka(’s beauty)

uber driver!yuta

in which you needed a plus one for a work event and yuta was conveniently there to aid you,,and maybe even more.

a/n: i’ve officially gotten out of my slump (i hope hehehe) so this is pretty long. oh and i swear this fic sounds better than you think. enjoy!

12.19am

if anyone knows you, they’d know how much your work means to you. everything else comes second to your work. your family complains about how you take it too seriously most of the time and that you should consider taking a break. so when the day comes that you finally decide to bring yourself on a vacation, they might as well mark it as a public holiday.

as you were packing for your trip in the two hours you had left before you had to depart, you received a call from your boss. a part of you was glad because maybe you could, in fact, ditch this trip and get back to work. the other part of you was a little disappointed because you did plan the whole trip by yourself.

'' y/l/n, i need you to stand in for me at the Japanese Media Conference in Osaka, the night after tomorrow.'' your boss ordered casually. ''and do bring a plus one. that should suffice. you'll need to prepare a sum of money enough for a pair of outfit for you and your plus one. please be there by 8 and dress nicely. thank you.'' he added only to hang up abruptly.

though you were shocked, you were more frustrated because how in the world are you going to find a boy willing enough to go to a conference all the way in Japan. just as you were about to deliver the news to your parents, you saw them come in with a bag of medication and toiletries with wide smiles on their faces.

so when they asked you, " where's our baby going? you haven't told us yet!", you softly replied to them, "i guess i’m going to japan!" they cheered and your anger washed away. it was one thing to have tiny accomplishments celebrated by yourself, but to see your loved ones do it, they seem ten times more valid. so without complaints, you rushed out the door waving to your parents, with the boarding pass you printed at most 20 minutes ago.

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5.48 pm.

pacing about door 27, you were frustratingly waiting for your uber that was said to have arrived 5 minutes ago. well, whoever Nakamoto Yuta was, he should have a valid explanation as to why he was late. but in that exact moment, you saw a black sedan car appear in front of you.

the windows of the car were rolled down and you see a man with purple hair greeting you with a rather attractive smile but you had to keep your cool.

"are you miss y/n?" he flashes you the smile once more.

"yes and you're late. i'm rushing for something here." you responded almost simultaneously to which he nodded and rolled up his windows. but before he did it fully, you stopped him.

"aren't you going to help me with my bags? i cant possibly carry it myself.” you gave an exasperated sigh. he chuckled and rolled the windows back up, with no intent of helping you out. 'asshole', you thought. but the truth was that's what yuta thinks too, because he was sure your screen said arriving in 5 mins...but sure he'll let you have it.

you took the seat diagonally behind him and sat quietly for at least 20 full minutes through the ride, occasionally looking at his prettily coloured hair. he was the one to break the silence.

"so your bag isn't that heavy after all?" he mocks you.

"well, isn't it basic courtesy to have a driver help you with your bags?" you heard him huff in an annoyed manner, causing your ride continue its silence until you arrived.

upon arrival, you immediately changed out to your more appealing outfit so that you could head to the pub, in search of a plus one. but the longer you stayed at the pub, you remembered exactly why you’d rather be a workaholic. so you gave up and decided to book an uber back home. too tired to bother, you went into the car that stopped in front of you, hoping that it was the right one.

"must be a tough day for a prissy princess like you, ey?" you hear a familiar voice from the driver's seat. your head shot up and you saw from the rear view mirror, the last face you'd wanna see. "oh piss off, nakamoto."

"call me yuta."

"i'm not in the mood." you replied, before glancing to the front to steal a peek.

if you were being honest, you were really bothered by yuta on the ride home. you began noticing the little details about him. like the shape of his button nose, and how his hair isn't just purple, it's a really pretty ash purple. 'he's okay looking, huh?' you processed. and then it hit you. a decent looking man, who by chance you have been acquainted to, who is also a fluent japanese speaker and ,fortunately, owns a car. a sleek one in fact. and so you made a decision.

as he drove to the front of your hotel, you stayed still in the car with no intent of leaving. he turned around and lifted his eyebrows at your antics. you took a deep breath, thinking 'here goes nothing'.

"i have a proposal to make in which i am expecting you to accept. i need someone...okay looking, especially with a car, to be my partner for a day...or a few." you started. "you dont have to do much. just sit still, look pretty."

"why would i need to help you? i'm working tomorrow. besides-"

"i'll pay you."

"i'm all ears."

" i know you need the money, considering this job," he narrows his eyes at you. "so i'll give $600 for this event you attend and you get to keep the suit." his previously narrowed eyes now widened all the way at your offer. you gestured for him to give his phone. "i need you to pick me up tomorrow by 8am so we can go get your suit and my dress. don't be late.”

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8.07 am.

of course he's late. even though you were afraid he'll decide not to turn up, you had to remain cool. but exactly 5 minutes later he arrives, in a floral print shirt with light brown bermuda shorts and a pair of slides, hair unkempt. ugly, you thought. but as you thought so, he winks at you and it crossed your mind, well maybe not at all.

"you're seven minutes late. how am i supposed to trust that you'll reach on time tonight?" you complained. he just shrugged and proceeded to lead you into his sedan car.

the both of you headed to the nearest shopping district to run your errands. after a few hours of shopping, your hands were filled with shopping bags yet you still weren’t sure what yuta picked out. he insisted that you should trust his sense and let it be a secret. yuta was leisurely walking with just a bag of items while you were struggling to balance with all the stuff you bought.

"if only someone was gentleman enough to help me carry my stuff especially since this man beside me, isn't one." you said it a little too loudly in hopes that it'll embarrass him.

yuta laughed it off, completely unphased by your actions. so you continued walking at a fast pace until you heard him jog towards you and felt his hand brushed against yours, causing you to pause. he somehow managed to maneuver the shopping bags so that it would rest on your interlocked hands, so it looked as if the both of you were carrying the bags together. he brushed his thumb against your fingers, which made your heart do a thing. he gave a smug look and you let go, leaving him to carry it instead.

you got in the car, avoiding any form of conversation with yuta, but on the way back, he kept stealing glances at every stop he took. his actions made you nervous, which wasn't super abnormal as you're never usually affected .

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7.48pm.

you could tell it was him by the way he knocks on the door. you opened the door slowly and-

holy freaking grail.

he was stunning. oh so beautiful. you were in awe. he wasn't lying about his sense of fashion. maroon velvet suit with black innerwear which complements your black seude midi dress. his hair parted just enough to showcase his glowing forehead. earrings, 3 on one side and 2 on the other, contrasting his well-groomed look with a little bit of rebel. how intelligent.

"aren't you gonna let me in or are you not done ogling me?"

"n-no let's just uh- let's leave now. we're..ahem.. we can just be early..." you stuttered, pushing him out.

you arrived at your destination 20 minutes later and was astounded by the beauty of it. you turned to your left to look at osaka’s skyline, what a beauty. you turned right to look at yuta and you started to wonder, maybe everything in Japan is stunning. yuta offered you his arm and you slid into it like it was made just for you.

the whole conference was pretty boring but you had to keep yourself awake for your boss's sake. it wasn't until the dinner when you actually had a lot of fun. although yuta wasn't exactly a gentleman that night, you could tell he was trying. like when he took his food, it was a portion just enough for two. or when he pulled the chair out from the table intending to sit there but acting as if it wasn't a good enough spot so he offered you instead. you appreciated the subtlety more than you expected.

you noticed the speaker from earlier approaching your table and you stiffened.

"you know if you keep doing that, the whole hall will be able to tell that i'm a stranger to you." yuta whispered.

before you could answer him, you felt his hand rest on the crook of your back. he knew you were nervous so when you felt him caress your back gently, you appreciated it. he left as you were speaking to your boss’s clients, taking down notes for his future plans. the night wasn’t that bad, here and there you heard whispers about how gorgeous your boyfriend looked unlike you, but thats about it. after your exchange session, you searched high and low for yuta, silently hoping he wasn’t somewhere trying to hook up with some woman 10x richer or better looking than you are.

after searching for a good 15 minutes, you saw him near the fountain talking to someone. although you felt obligated to get annoyed, as your plus one, you felt warm. he looked way too engaged telling a story to a 7 year old girl. he turned to see you staring at him. he waved at you, at the same time getting the little girl to do the same. she didn’t seem too keen to do so.

“i think we can leave now. we need to prepare for tomorrow’s event.” you said, grabbing a hold of yuta’s elbow.

the little girl tugged at yuta’s sleeves and she whispers, “i don’t like her very much. mr nakamoto, can you continue the story?” to which you frowned and rolled your eyes, unintentionally. your actions caught yuta off guard and he burst out laughing at your child-like behaviour. or cute behaviour but yuta wont admit it

“i’m sorry, princess, but my grandmother here has forced me to leave with her or i won’t be able to return home for tonight. i’ll see you around!” the little girl chuckles and wave at yuta, not before giving you a glare.

“i hate kids.”

“are you jealous because a seven year old has more game with me than you do?”

“don’t flatter yourself, nakamoto.”

“count yourself lucky that i think you’re cute.”

well yeah, that stuck on your mind the whole night.

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9.36am

who in the right mind would have a formal event at 9 in the morning? there you were half awake, engaging with 10 people at one go, when its barely noon while yuta was at the back treating himself with the pancakes served. he was dressed formally as if he was supposed to attend a Sunday morning tennis match, when everyone else was in a polo tee and jeans. you’re sure he bought that outfit just so he could use it for another day, knowing he was able to keep it.

on that particular morning, you met johnny, the son of the CEO of a well-known entertainment company in Chicago. he’s tall, lean, very attractive, funny and the list goes on. if you weren’t married to your career, you’d so be into him. but you want to know who isn’t? nakamoto yuta. the moment he heard you burst a giggle instead of a laugh, he lifted his previously buried-in-pancakes face to scan across the crowd, seeing you with johnny.

he almost immediately threw away his half-eaten pancake and strut his way towards you but before he could do anything to get at johnny, you and johnny part ways much to yuta’s relief. throughout the whole event, you could feel his eyes on you, unconsciously looking out for any competition. it was funny though because when you try to look back he’d act as if he’s much rather be somewhere else. what a fool.

the event took up more than half of your afternoon so when you returned from it you were dead tired. yuta sent you to the door but seeing how GONE you were he needed to make sure you were fully awake while cleaning yourself. you took more than an hour as he waited on the sofa, he did sleep though. you sat beside him and watched him peacefully. his hair covering both his eyes, you were so tempted to touch it. purple never looked so good on a man. despite hesitating, you brushed his hair behind his ears, causing him to rest deeper into your palm. a soft smile crept up your lips as he did so.

“you should smile like that more often when you look at me. my heart does things when you do that.” he says with his eyes closed.

stunned, you pulled your hand away, forcing him to scram. he left with a smile on his face, satisfied with how flustered you were.

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7.49pm

“what do you mean you cant make it? it’s the last event. i need you to be there with me-“

“i need to run some errands. i’ll try my best and make it in time.” yuta replies.

you weren’t gonna lie but a huge part of you grew dependent on him so when you were forced to attend it alone, it felt foreign.

and indeed it was. the entire time you were there, you started missing him. when things got awkward you realised there was no one to turn to. or when the speaker said something unfunny, you’d laugh, thinking about what yuta would say in response. it was as if the entire night revolved around him and you hated it because you only realised his importance when he wasn’t around.

as you were eating, you felt someone approach you, deeply hoping it was yuta. but as you turned, you saw johnny. he was dressed in a sleek black suit with a bow tie. what a heartthrob.

“where’s your lover boy?”

“he’s busy running some errands. such a momma’s boy.” you said while unintentionally sulking.

understanding that you were bored at the event, johnny decided to accompany you. for a moment you forgot about yuta and you were thankful for that. but as you were intending to grab a quick bite with johnny, you heard johnny saying something and before you could ask him to repeat, you peeked behind his tall figure to see a good looking japanese man looking at you. seeing that you were comfortable with johnny, he approached you and gave you a kiss on your cheek, lingering longer than expected. to say your heart skipped a beat would be an understatement. it was as if it your heart entirely stopped and then you were resurrected by the touch of his lips.

“you smell...nice. i’m sorry i’m late.” he pulled away and wrapped his pinky around yours. “oh, johnny! didnt see you there. if you dont mind, y/n and i have somewhere to be.” and then he led you away.

“why didn’t you call me?”

“surprise, isn’t it? i was intending not to come but i knew someone would want to hit on you.” he replied casually, pinky still wrapped around yours. “let’s get out of here while we can.”

as the two of you walked out, he put on a jacket, that smelt like him, on you. you gave him a look of bewilderment.

“yuta, it’s 30 degrees. i dont need your jacket.”

“just take it. this is in case i need an excuse to see your face again in the future.” you heartily laughed at him.

you would think he brought you to somewhere romantic, as you ran away from a formal event. instead he took you to a nearby fast food restaurant, claiming that that was the essence of a japanese trip. as he indulged himself in the cheeseburger, you felt a pang in your chest remembering how your journey with him had to end in a few hours. it was as if he could sense that you felt down. so being yuta, he tried turning the atmosphere around.

“this cheeseburger would taste wayyy better if someone wasn’t staring daggers onto the top of my pretty head.”

it didnt work, in case you’re guessing. it just made you feel worse because, damn you’re gonna miss this idiot. so in response, you shoved your milkshake away and groaned, so loudly it’s possible that the whole diner went silent because of you.

you peeked up and you saw him staring down at you with an eyebrow raised. you were so close to risking it all and confessing your feelings towards him but your ego wouldn’t let you do so. instead, you calmed your face and pretended as if nothing happened. it’s hard to do so especially when you saw how comfortable your legs intertwined under the table. even your sub-conscience wanted the both of you close.

the whole night was a blur. you remember subtle hand touching and embracing from both parties but nothing major happened. to be honest, you were beyond grateful. just a few more seconds before the coast was clear. you waved your goodbye to him. you tried to shut the door before you did anything stupid. but...you were too late.

“seriously? our last night together and that’s how you end it? do you have no heart or-“

“i’m sorry excuse me?”

“i think i was being pretty obvious with how i feel about you. i wouldnt have let you hold my hand for a prolonged period if i didnt like you, dont you think? if you expect me to give you a heartwarming confession, about how i’d love to spend more time with you and how i wouldnt mind if you’d like to date me, then you thought wrong.” you said in one breath.

“...”

“an ‘i like you too’ would help me not feel like an idiot.”

“urm, look, there’s a lot of things that i do like about you but i just dont think i can respond to your confession right now. i’m so sorry.” yuta replied softly.

and he left. this time he wasn’t late to leave.

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1.27pm

you still felt like an idiot. the moment you woke up, as you ate your breakfast, when you packed your luggage, the whole time you felt like one. and you couldnt blame anyone but yourself. when you looked around, it was as if japan was stripped off its beauty, now that the one thing you associate that with is no longer within your reach.

even as you were on the way to the airport, you felt like a complete fool. when you arrived in japan and got your uber, the first thing you saw when you lifted your head was a pretty shade of purple. your uber back to the airport had a view that was an awful scene of badly dyed hair. how in the world were you going to forget the fact that you ever met nakamoto yuta?

as you arrived at the airport, you were so reluctant to leave. every step you took felt like there was an anchor weighing you down. of course, you were being dramatic because all you did was give him a confession. but believe me, because its someone with an ego like yours, it’s the end of the world.

you were waiting for the lift when a man with blonde hair grabbed your luggage from your hands. and he began saying something incomprehensible. so you let out a loud ‘hmm?’.

“i need to return some of your things and take back what’s mine.” you hear a familiar voice. you didnt want to believe it but the minute you turned your head, there he was. nakamoto yuta. but being you, the first thing you responded was, “why are you blonde?”

he groaned and pulled you to the side before you could say anything else. instead of responding he returned the suit that you gave him, as well as the sportswear and even his headband. he took out his wallet to return you the money you paid him for the events. he rummaged through his bag to ensure he returned everything you gave him and then he paused, as if trying to process whether he was going to do it and he gave the look of surrender. he opened up your suitcase to take back his jacket and a part of you broke. you felt as if he didnt want to see you again.

but before you could even begin to feel sad, you saw him crouch in front of you, hands on your back and your calves. suddenly, you were lifted. you hit yuta’s chest and he calmly responded.

“i told you i’m taking back what’s mine.”

“did you suddenly watch a rom-com last night and decide that this is the best way to win back my heart? because it’s not working.” you sulked but he gave you an innocent look. you finally understood what being wrapped around someone’s finger felt like.

as you were nearing the exit, he put you down and held you with one hand, the other on the suitcase as he led you to his familiar car.

“i have a proposal to make in which i am expecting you to accept. i need someone...okay looking, who doesn’t need to have a car, to be my partner to introduce to my family.” yuta mocked. "you dont have to do much. just sit still, look pretty, so you might want to try a little.” then he looked at you and gave you his biggest smile as he mouthed “i’m sorry. please be my girlfriend.” there was no way you were able to say no.

and so he drove into the city of osaka, and you looked around only to realise, japan had never been stripped off its beauty. all that you saw was filtered by yuta, causing it to look ten times as beautiful. but thats the beauty of getting to know yuta because now life has never been more full of colour.

fin.

#nct scenarios #nct au #nct imagine #yuta scenarios #nct angst #nct fluff #nct 2019 #nct 127 #nct #yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct fic #yuta fic #ahhh i'm back!!#please give me love and enjoy this #i'll be back with more #thank you loves

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sugas-kookies · 7 years

Text

Cosa Nostra (Pt. 7)

Summary: You were just a girl who took some odd jobs from the Min Syndicate to make some extra cash. When Min Yoongi himself sends a request for you to come to his mansion, any semblance of your normal life gets thrown out the window. What sort of dangers will face you once you become associated with one of the biggest mob bosses?

Mafia!YoongixReader

Drama, Fluff

Word Count: 4.7k

Part [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

“(Y/n), (Y/n)…..” You heard a distant, undistinguishable voice call out to you in the unending darkness of wherever you currently were. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but there didn’t seem to be any particular reason why; you just felt dreadfully anxious at the calling of the voice.

“Is….Is anyone there?” You shouted into the darkness, but no response returned, not even an echo. You did happen to see a faint, dim light at the end of the dark abyss, so you began to make your way towards it.

As you drew closer you began to hear murmurs of conversations, most of the voices you didn’t recognize but there was one that was faintly familiar. You got to the light only to discover that it was just some sort of large peephole, opening onto a scene that was the last thing that you wanted to see. It was…you, dead on the pavement, with a group of police gathered around and setting up a crime scene. The one that stood out to you was Kim Taehyung, kneeling down and inspecting your dead body with a solemn look.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Taehyung suddenly turned to face you, glaring into your eyes through the hole you were watching the scene through. He looked absolutely disgusted when he said, “I warned you, (Y/n), I told you that Yoongi would kill you. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Tears began to prick in your eyes, “No, no, I-I trust Yoongi, he wouldn’t…” You felt a pressure around your throat and began to thrash around, desperately trying to break free from the unseen attacker’s grip. Just when you thought you were going to pass out, the pressure released, and you fell to your knees gasping for breath.

“(Y/n), it’s okay, it’s alright,” You heard a voice whisper to your right. You turned to see Yoongi, wearing the outfit he had worn on your first date with him, but with a strange glow surrounding him that made him almost look angelic. You were speechless as he pulled you in closer for a warm embrace, immediately erasing all of your feelings of unease and anxiety.

He gently tilted your face so that you were looking deep into his dark irises and murmured, “Don’t worry, I’m going to protect you…” Yoongi’s face slowly inched toward yours to the point where your lips were almost touching, and you could feel the warmness of his breath caress your face. You let your eyes flutter closed and went to close the gap between your lips and Yoongi’s.

You awoke with a start when a sudden knocking on your door jerked you out of your dream. Your mind needed time wake up for a minute, but the knocking grew louder and more impatient. In a daze, you scrambled up to answer it, finding Jin on the other side smiling.

He blinked at you a few times before asking, “Hey, (Y/n), are you feeling alright? Your face is all red and you look a little out of it. You don’t have a fever, do you? Yoongi would be irritated that you got sick before he taught you how to shoot.”

You stared blankly for a few seconds before registering what he had just said. You vainly tried to cover up your flushed face as you replied, “N-No, I’m fine, really. What is it that you need, Jin?”

“Uh, Yoongi wants me to show you where the shooting room is in the mansion, since you’ve never been there before…but I’ll wait outside until you’re ready,” Without waiting for your response, Jin gently closed your door.

With Jin outside you finally had the chance to sit down and think about what the hell you just dreamed about. You let out a puff of air as you sat back down on your bed, staring off into space as you replayed your dream in your head. ‘I don’t know what concerns me more, the fact that I just dreamed that Yoongi murdered me or the fact that I ended up kissing him.’ Just remembering how soft his lips looked and how nice his breath felt against your skin made your face practically burn. You didn’t want to disregard any subconscious worries about putting your life in Yoongi’s hands, but all your brain seemed to want to do was replay the last few minutes of your dream on repeat.

“How the hell am I supposed to face him normally after a dream like that?” You muttered to yourself as you got dressed in a pair of shorts and an oversized flannel shirt. You gave yourself a quick one over in the mirror to confirm that you at least didn’t look like you had just rolled out of bed. Satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed the gun Yoongi had given you yesterday and opened the door, seeing Jin leaning up against the wall in the hallway.

He looked up as he heard the door open and smiled brightly, “Ah, that was quick. Are you ready to go then?”

You simply nodded, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you followed him through the almost identical corridors of the mansion. The weight of the gun in your hands didn’t seem as impossibly heavy as it did yesterday, but the cool metal still made your hand tingle a bit. You were pretty nervous about the prospect of using a gun. Even if it was just for target practice, the idea of using a lethal weapon didn’t really settle well with you. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice though, since Yoongi was determined to give you something to defend yourself with. You just hated the fact that Yoongi seemed to feel that you would potentially need to use a gun in the future.

“You know, you’re pretty lucky Yoongi didn’t decide to kill you yesterday, or punish you at all really,” Seokjin broke the silence, snapping you out of your thoughts, “As angry as he was at us for letting you slip away, I thought for sure you were a dead man- er, woman, walking.”

You winced at the thought of Jin and Hoseok getting into trouble because of your actions, “I’m really sorry, Jin. I swear I didn’t mean to be a brat and get you and Hoseok in trouble. I just thought I could get some useful information…”

Jin shook his head, “There’s no need to apologize, I completely understand. If any of us were in your shoes we would have taken the risk for Yoongi as well.” He cleared his throat for a second before continuing, “Needless to say though, none of us would have gotten off as easily as you did. Yoongi has a soft spot for you, (Y/n).”

Your face flushed beet red for a third time that day as you stuttered, “S-Soft spot? What do you mean, soft spot? He practically chewed my head off yesterday.”

“Please, don’t take me for a fool, (Y/n). It’s obvious that there’s a little more to you and Yoongi’s relationship besides being coworkers,” Jin laughed at your astonished face before his smile fell a little as he muttered, “Although I just hope that Yoongi isn’t getting in too deep with his plan…”

You gave Jin a concerned look, “Getting too deep into his plan? What do you mean by that, Jin?”

A brief look passed over Seokjin’s face, almost like he regretted what he had said before he continued, “I-It’s nothing to be worried about. It’s just….It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Yoongi warm up to someone who wasn’t me, Hoseok or Namjoon. I’m worried that he might…try to rush his plan or something so he doesn’t have to get any closer to you, and rushing this sort of thing would be extremely dangerous for you.”

“You think he would do all of that just to not get closer to me? I wasn’t even aware that we were even getting all that close…” You frowned at the thought of Yoongi trying to push you away, but you especially didn’t like the idea of him putting you in danger in the process. Yet the part about you being in more danger didn’t really bother you as much as it should have. In fact, the possibility of Yoongi closing himself off and pushing you away seemed to hurt more than the prospect of getting put in harm’s way because of his actions.

‘Stop it, (Y/n)! I can’t be feeling these stupid things just because I had a semi wet dream about my boss last night. I need to get ahold of myself. I’m just feeling like this because of that stupid dream…’ Despite your best efforts, deep down you knew that writing off these feelings as a byproduct of your dream wouldn’t change anything, but you forcefully pushed those thoughts aside. Focusing on these conflicting feelings would only make them intensify.

Jin sighed as he stopped in front of a heavy looking door, “I honestly hope he doesn’t, but…I think he gets scared about having anyone genuinely close to him. Yoongi would more than likely try and get rid of that opportunity for people to hurt him before it had the chance to grow.” He pulled open the heavy door, revealing a steep staircase leading downwards to where you figured the shooting room was. Seokjin motioned you to follow him as he continued, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to get close, I’m just telling you to be careful about doing so.”

“Thanks for worrying Jin, you’re a sweet guy,” You flashed him a small, appreciative smile before saying, “But what makes you think that I want to get closer to Yoongi? You know as well as anyone that I’ve only stayed this long because of the debt I’ve racked up.”

He shrugged as you two descended the stairs and reached another heavy door, with muted bangs sounding from within, “I guess I can’t really say why I think you’ll stay. You just seem to be pretty attached to Yoongi already, so I have a feeling that you’ll be sticking around for a while despite his… career choice.” Jin pulled open the door to reveal Yoongi in the room, soundproof earmuffs on and a bag of ammunition at his side, shooting at some targets set up at the end of the long hall.

You stepped into the room and ogled Yoongi as he held his handgun steady and shot at the targets. It most definitely wasn’t the most appropriate time for you to be admiring how good he looked with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing off his lean muscular arms underneath, but you found yourself doing so anyway. Your mind flashed back to your dream and how gentle his hand had felt on your face, making you curse yourself for thinking about that dream again.

After Yoongi had unloaded his clip into the unfortunate dummy at the end of the hall, Jin shouted, “Yoongi, (Y/n) is here!”

The blonde man paused and turned to see who had just yelled for him. Seeing you and Jin standing there, he nodded and put his gun and earmuffs down on the table in front of him, “Thank you Jin, you can go back to arranging the distribution of our products. Make sure you give the goods to a more reputable seller this time.” The other man nodded and turned to leave, but not before grinning and giving you a thumbs up, to which you replied with a sheepish smile.

“So, did you get used to the weight of the gun, or is it still uncomfortable for you?” Yoongi asked as he motioned for you to come up to the table where he was.

You nervously approached and put your gun on the table gently, “Y-Yeah I think so. What was that about though? The distribution of your products?”

He didn’t look at you as he took an ammunition clip out of his duffle bag and inserted it into your gun, “That’s none of your concern, (Y/n). We’re here today to teach you how to shoot, not to talk about my illegal activities of the day.”

“Yoongi, remember that whole conversation we had about trust yesterday?” You chided as you crossed your arms over your chest, “You said you wanted me to come with you when you did some sort of business deal with Jungkook, but how do you expect me to go when I don’t have a clue what you do? I mean sure, I have a few guesses, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

Yoongi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine, you’re right, you deserve to know what’s going on. I don’t want to get into this discussion right now though, right now I want to focus on teaching you how to protect yourself.”

You weren’t happy that he was putting off this discussion, but you figured it was best not to push his buttons today, especially after he had let you off easy for the shit you pulled yesterday. Your heart was hammering in nervousness, partially about the prospect of shooting a gun, but partially because you were completely alone in the room with Yoongi. And damn if he didn’t look more handsome than he normally did.

“Here, I want you to watch me load and unload the clip for this gun, then I want you to copy it,” Without giving you a glance to see if you were actually watching, Yoongi’s hands grabbed your gun and an ammunition clip from his bag and assembled and disassembled it in what seemed like a blink of an eye.

‘He expects me to be able to follow whatever the hell he just did?’ You thought to yourself as your stomach churned in anxiousness. You knew you weren’t going to do well, and you dreaded having Yoongi getting frustrate with you.

He looked back up at you and held out the gun and clip towards you, but upon seeing the look on your face he sighed, “Do you need to see it again, (Y/n)?”

You nodded in response, but jumped a little when he suddenly slipped his hands on top of yours and began to move them toward the gun. “W-What are you doing?” You stuttered, trying to keep the blush on your face under control.

“I’m guiding your hands. I’ve found that physically doing things helps me remember things better, so I’m trying that method with you,” Yoongi said as he moved your hands slowly to reload and unload the clip carefully. It was hard for you to concentrate on what he was making your hands doing when you could feel his warm breath against the side of your neck and in your ear.

It took you a total of seventeen times to finally get to the point where you could somewhat reload and unload your gun without the assistance of Yoongi. Yoongi complained about how slow you were at doing it, but he did seem to be slightly amused at your struggle to follow his instructions. You couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn about his complaints, you were using most of your brain power to not turn into a puddle of mush any time Yoongi got a little too close.

“Alright, we’ll practice reloading another day. The most important thing for you to learn is how to shoot your targets, and to do so accurately,” He went to the other end of the hall and drug one of the targets a little bit closer and walked back to you. “There, we’ll start with a close target to make it easier on yourself. Now show me your shooting stance, I want to see if you have a natural stance or not.”

You bit your lips you hesitantly raised your gun and aimed at the target in front of you. You had thought that your stance wasn’t that bad since it seemed like you were aiming at the thing based on the sights of your gun, but the laughter bubbling from Yoongi certainly wasn’t one of praise.

You frowned at him as you lowered your gun, “Y’know, for a teacher, you sure are an asshole to your students.”

He grinned as he stepped forward to help you, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just….obvious that you’ve never held a gun before. I’d hate to see you in a gun fight with your current knowledge.”

“Well, since you’re “the master”, why don’t you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?” You put your hand on your hip, getting irritated with Yoongi’s teasing.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi stepped behind you again and lifted your arms, “The main problem was that you locked your arms at the elbow. The recoil is going to hurt like a bitch if you have your arms that way, and it makes your accuracy and mobility decline. Keep your elbows slightly bent, but your arms still need to be out and away from your body so you don’t hit yourself in the face with your gun.”

You nodded, eyeballing Yoongi’s hands as they grazed over your arms to bend them at the proper angle. They looked strong and were warm, just like how they felt in the dream this morning. You harshly bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep your mind off of that stupid dream and trying to keep yourself from blushing in remembrance.

Yoongi stepped away when he was satisfied with your shooting stance, “Alright, now you should be ready to shoot. Aim down at the sights of the gun, and be sure to prepare for the recoil. It’ll be more of a kick than you probably think (Y/n), so be careful.”

“Y-You want me to shoot this thing now?” You thought as you looked at him wide eyed in horror. You had sort of expected these lessons to go fast, but you didn’t think that he’d have you shoot this soon.

He nodded, “You need to get a feel of shooting a gun eventually, and I’d rather it be sooner than later.” Yoongi picked the soundproof earmuffs off the table and walked over to put them on your ears, “Oh, and wear this. Eventually you’ll have to get use to the loudness of gunshots in this business, but for now I think you’ll appreciate me saving your hearing.”

You let Yoongi put on the earmuffs and step back, leaving you open to shoot the target some distance in front of you. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you aimed at the chest with the gun’s sights, and pulled the trigger.

BANG

Yoongi was right, the recoil of the handgun was more than you had been expecting and made you stumble back a step as the shot rang out in the room. You looked over at Yoongi for approval, “Did I hit it?” You half shouted, trying to hear yourself through the earmuffs.

He gestured for you to aim your gun at the ground as he walked over to look at the target. “It looks like you just barely grazed it,” Yoongi called back to you, pointing to the left side of the cut out target where there was a thin slice, “Not enough to stop anyone really, but not bad for your first time.”

“That’s not very comforting since I was aiming at the middle of the chest,” You sighed as Yoongi made his way back over to you.

“Here, let me show you how to make your shots,” Yoongi said as he stepped behind you, chest pressed against your back and hands lightly pressed over yours. The heat that was radiating off of him was intense, or maybe that was just the feeling of your whole body flushing at the close proximity. Either way, you felt your heart catch in your throat as he guided your hands to aim at the head of the target.

“So since you seem to shoot wildly to the left of your aim, you’re going to want to try and compensate for that. You’re going to want to aim on the left side of that target about where someone’s ear should be.” He took a side glance at your face and asked, “Are you with me, (Y/n)? You seem to be flustered.”

You bit your lip and tightened your grip on the gun nervously, “I-I’m fine, j-just tell me when to shoot.” If you didn’t hurry up and learn how to shoot, you felt like you would do something embarrassing that you’d probably regret.

You could have sworn that you heard Yoongi give a small chuckle before steadying your hands again before tapping your finger that was laying on the trigger, signaling you to shoot. With another deep breath, you shot at the target once more, the sound of the bullet ripping through the target echoing in the chamber as you were pushed back into Yoongi’s chest due to the recoil.

Yoongi smiled brightly as he looked at the hole that was blown in the dead center of the target’s head, “Well how about that, you’re second shot is a bullseye. Good job (Y/n), you’re going to be shooting on your own in no time.”

You found yourself not really able to say anything, and you could only manage to take your earmuffs off and give him a shy smile in return. It certainly didn’t help your heart calm down with Yoongi’s hands still holding you steady long after the recoil of the gun pushed you back.

Noticing your silence, Yoongi’s smile fell as he looked at you, “Where is your mind at today, (Y/n)? Are you still thinking about the whole product distribution thing you heard about earlier? I swear to you I’ll tell you later…”

“N-No, that’s not what’s on my mind…” You stuttered as you moved out of his grasp, trying to at least spare your heart a little strife, “I-It’s nothing I promise. Let’s just get back to learning how to shoot, because I still need to learn how to do all of this by myself.”

Yoongi was silent for a second before he gently took the gun out of your hands. Before you could protest, he said softly, “A huge part of being able to shoot well is being focused. Now tell me what’s wrong, (Y/n).”

Your face flushed at his intense gaze, “I’m telling you, i-it’s nothing! You’d just find it to be stupid anyway…”

He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning, “You’ve certainly done some stupid things in the past, but you don’t have stupid thoughts. Don’t go back on your whole “two way trust” thing you were lecturing me about earlier.”

You sighed in defeat, knowing that he was right, ‘But how the hell am I supposed to tell him that I think I’m developing a crush on him?’ You thought to yourself, looking down at the ground so you wouldn’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes, ‘I doubt that he’d be happy about it. After all, Jin did say he pushes away people who get too close…’

Yoongi thumped your forehead, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Earth to (Y/n), you there? Start explaining or…or I’ll stick Seokjin on you for two whole weeks. His protective instincts will drive you crazy after a while I promise.”

“Your presence makes me feel weird,” You blurted out, your hands fidgeting with the edge of your shirt out of nervousness. ‘Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe I just said that out loud to Yoongi of all people.’ At the moment you would give literally anything to have the world just swallow you up then and there.

His face looked sad for a brief second before going completely expressionless as he said, “I understand that you don’t completely trust me, because I wouldn’t either. I’m sorry that you feel so nervous and unsafe around me, and I’ll try to avoid contact with you if that’s what you need, but-“

You shook your head vigorously, “No, not that kind of uncomfortable Yoongi, it’s…you know this is why I didn’t want to say anything. Just drop it, Yoongi.”

“I need to understand what’s making you space out so much, (Y/n). If you feel like you can’t tell me that you’re uncomfortable with me because you fear me, then I need you to know right now that’s something I want to try and fix or at least minimize with less contact.” The look on Yoongi’s face was one of complete confusion and concern, a look which made your heart flutter a little bit. He had that look on his face because of you. He was concerned for you, and you both loved and hated it.

You might have just brushed off the topic again and resumed your shooting lesson had you any self-control in that situation, but naturally you just had to notice again how handsome he looked. His flawless features, his shaggy blonde hair in his face, and his oh so kissable lips. You didn’t even realize what you were doing as you surged forward until you felt your lips make contact with Yoongi’s.

They weren’t like how you had imagined them being in your dream. They were even better, albeit slightly more chapped than what you were expecting. He tasted…well, very much like how you expected him to taste. You would have kissed him more to decipher all the different intimate aspects of him, but your mind finally came back to you and had the sense to yank you away from Yoongi.

He stared at you wide eyed and mouth slightly agape, stunned at the sudden kiss. Hell, you were pretty stunned at your actions yourself, ‘Fuck, why did I do that, why did I do that, WHY DID I DO THAT?’ You screamed at yourself.

You noticed that Yoongi was opening his mouth to speak, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear whatever it was that he was about to say. Jin’s words echoed in your head, about how Yoongi would push away those who got too close, and you just knew that was exactly what he was about to do. Something inside you just knew that you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, deal with that.

You ignored Yoongi calling your name as you raced up the stairs and through the maze of hallways until you finally found yourself in your room. After locking the door, you stood in silence, blankly staring at your door, wondering if Yoongi was going to come rushing up to your door any second or if he wasn’t even going to check on you at all.

After a few minutes, you determined it was the latter, which made your heart drop to your stomach. ‘I just royally fucked everything up,’ You thought to yourself as you leaned against the door and slid slowly down to the floor. ‘Why did this have to happen? Why did I have to start developing feelings for Yoongi? Hell, I should have just kept it do my damn self instead of kissing him and running off like a young schoolgirl.’

Naturally, everything that you should have done came to you in an instant as you replayed your actions in your head, but there was nothing to be done about anything now. You sighed as you ran your hand through your hair, wondering what the hell you were going to do about the situation you had gotten yourself into.

But after hours of thinking in solitude, you only knew two things: You were falling for Yoongi, and you still had to play your part to worm your way in Jungkook’s sphere of influence. Where along the way you started to fall for your criminal boss, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that despite the arguments and fights the two of you had, he treated you fairly and was always concerned for your safety. It gave you the sense that he’d always have your back, and that thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

One question still floated around in your mind though no matter how much you tried to dispel it, ‘How well will Yoongi’s plan work now if I’m weren’t pretending anymore?’

#bangtan bookclub #kreativewritersnet #cosa nostra #yoongi #min yoongi #suga #xreader #yoongixreader #self insert #bts #bts fanfic #mafia!au

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astrofireworks · 7 years

Text

ok listen i’m working in a radiography clinic over the summer and last week the most beautiful doctor came in and immediately my mind went to doctor!Eunwoo and i broke down today at @nataliekaytbh so buddy thank u for crying w me today over Eunwoo

are you ready

because i’m sure as hell not

i’ll be crying over doctor!Eunwoo this whole summer

intern Sanha

relegated to the registration counter

meaning that when patients come into the radiographer's he takes their name and phone number and puts it into the system and gives them a waiting number

also meaning that when five patients arrive all at once he's up to his eyes in names and numbers and trying not to go cross eyed my poor child

here to make money not to learn so he doesn't mind doing registration and being busy anyway

highkey me

nurse Jinjin

reads out said waiting number and then brings patients into the x-ray room

and has to confirm they're not pregnant or anything that makes them unable to be exposed to X-rays and stuff in general

also helps sanha do registration sometimes when the queue gets a bit too long

radiographer Bin

most of the time sleepily mans the x-ray machines

sometimes the patients ask him if their x-rays are okay or if there's anything wrong with them

what the hell

Bin's not a doctor he wouldn't know

And so tells them that

And gets whacked on the head by nurse Jinjin who comes to escort out the mildly shocked patients with a forced polite smile on his face @ the patient & a glare @ Bin

Shakes his fist indignantly at Jinjin when he leaves

Lab tech MJ

has the lab right next to the radiographer's clinic

Usually collects blood samples from patients

is very good with needles

is also very good at laUGHING and telling jokes in order to make people forget they're here to get blood sucked out of their souls with a giant needle

sometimes laughs really loudly and makes the radiographer clinic patients wonder what's going on

sometimes makes jinjin wonder what's going on too

not that he gets jealous or anything

not at all

coughs

Nurse rocky

Eunwoo's runner, mostly

Sometimes for the urgent cases that need to be processed immediately rocky doesn't wait for the computer system (which takes centuries) to receive the x-ray

He goes down immediately to bin's and asks whoever's at the registration desk to print it out

i.e, Sanha

i.e., the intern without the password to access x-rays

which means he has to go to jinjin or bin for them

after which he hand-delivers them to Dr. Eunwoo

a lot of staff now know Rocky by name simply because he's always running up and down from Eunwoo's clinic to different departments trying to get stuff for Eunwoo

a sweetheart, really

charms the pants off of all the female nurses

also charmed MJ enough to get MJ to call him whenever MJ's done drawing blood samples from someone from Eunwoo’s clinic

Efficiency™ because that's the way Eunwoo works

ok so mostly because Eunwoo always sends Rocky down he's never been to the radiographer's

Until one day

Sanha messes up

It isn't really a bad mess up !!!!

He just keyed in someone's identification number wrongly

But the thing is that he's been doing that quite a few times

I mean to be fair he's just an intern

And also because he's just started the job !! He makes a couple mistakes sometimes

can you tell I'm basing Sanha off of me and just trying to defend myself rip vivi get ur shit together ;;;;;;

But every time Sanha messes up and Jinjin doesn't manage to check on it and correct it properly the report with the mess up gets sent to Rocky

And Rocky has to waste time trying to fix the mess up

Which takes Rocky away from the important things !! Eunwoo needs him to do !!

But also when Rocky fixes the reports he has to slide on his glasses and it makes all Eunwoo’s patients swoon a Little

Before they go into Eunwoo’s consultation room and swoon a Lot

And so Eunwoo is mildly frustrated and decides to go down during one of his breaks to find out why the radiographer has been messing up the reports so much

And so he swishes his lab coat on & swings his stethoscope off & polishes his glasses and heads downstairs to the radiographer's

Only to see poor Sanha piled underneath a stack of registration forms full of names and phone numbers

Okay

So that's why

And nurse Jinjin is running around like a headless chicken trying to shuffle the right people from the X-ray room to the waiting room and vice versa

And Bin is slumped in his room giving instructions in a monotonous voice to the patients

"take a deeeeep breath"

"don't think of elephants"

"sike lmao I bet u did"

“stOP LAUGHING OH MY GOD YOU’RE GOING TO MESS UP THE XRAY”

"oh my god I didn't tell you to stop breathing you can breathe now"

And the phone is ringing wildly ("so that's why our calls are never answered," Eunwoo thinks) off the hook but nobody can respond because they have like 50 million people in the queue

no lie today i had 50 patients come in over the span of 2 hours it was truly a mess

And so Eunwoo waits for a while

until Jinjin notices that everyone hasn't been speaking for a while and instead staring at a certain corner of the room

in which Eunwoo has been leaning on the wall tapping away on his phone, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose

Looking very much like an angel !!!!!!!!!!!

If angels came with lab coats and glasses

And there's some gentle tittering from the older female patients and some not so gentle whispering and giggling from younger ones

Sanha hasn't even looked up from the registration desk poor dear but if he did he would have-

"oh my god"

Oh well there's sanha looking up then

I mean to be fair jinjin's thought process is somewhere along the same line

But he also has a job to do and no insanely attractive doctor will distract him from it !!!

I mean, an insanely attractive lab tech might but

You know what I mean

Responsible™ Jinjin

So when Jinjin escorts the last giggly girl out of the X-ray room (to be fair the radiographer AND the nurse are both very attractive so really what are the patients to do?) they both finally turn to Eunwoo

And Eunwoo looks up from where he's playing angry birds on his phone to Jinjin smiling politely and Sanha just plain out staring

"hi why are u here where's Rocky"

Jinjin, smacking Sanha on the head: "don't be rude son but yes why are u here where's Rocky"

Eunwoo, smiling that really cute crinkly eyed smile: "nah I just came to see what the situation was with the radiography room since Rocky always has to correct stuff on the reports you guys send up"

Sanha, alarmed and scrambling to defend himself: "djkshdks I-"

Jinjin, pressing his hand against Sanha's mouth: "ah yes it's me I've been the one messing up sorry about that I'll be more careful in the future"

Sanha, confused bc jinjin's covering for him?????

literally me when my boss kind of did the same thing??? guilt x100

Bin, coming out of the X-ray room: "are u covering for Sanha??"

Jinjin spluttering because he's trying to be nice but they're both exposing Sanha

Bin also spluttering because

Wow

Holy shit

Is that a real doctor

Probably not

Eunwoo also spluttering because

Wow

Holy shit

Is that a real radiographer??

Because hi he would like to quit his job and intern at the radiography clinic please

Bin seriously reconsidering his career choices and wondering if it's too late to replace Rocky as a nurse in Eunwoo's clinic because wow

Sanha turning to Jinjin and saying in a very low, serious voice: "while they're ogling each other I think we should escape"

Also Sanha: talk shit get hit gets hit on the head by Bin who coughs grumpily and says

"Listen I don't know who you think you are but here at the radiographer's we're very busy with um like X-rays and radiography and like uh x-raying people and stuff so like"

"could u like move along"

Eunwoo: "it's your lunch break rn"

Bin, defensively: "weLL YES jinjin apologised for his (Sanha's) mistakes so move along now"

Bin avoiding all eye contact by staring at Eunwoo’s lab coat

Which fits Eunwoo very well, he thinks

Doesn't need to be buttoned but hugs him in all the right places

Which is just as well since eunwoo's in a boring (very well tailored) dress shirt and boring (very well tailored) slacks

And very nice glasses he looks very smart and handsome and

Wait I mean

Bin, turning bright red & coughing: "wow yes we gotta gO"

And ngl eunwoo is a little hurt because there are Very Little people in this world who deny eunwoo's small crinkly smile

And there are Even Lesser people who become grumpy when eunwoo smiles his sunshine beam

And this really cute radiographer with black square glasses too big for his face and a small pout is being very grumpy indeed

So eunwoo smiles at Sanha and Jinjin, takes his leave and wanders out of the clinic back upstairs to his own, wondering what he did wrong

And so when Eunwoo leaves, Jinjin immediately whirls around and hits Bin on the shoulder

"WHAT WAS THAT"

(smack) "WHY DID YOU TELL HIM TO LEAVE"

(more smacks) "HE WAS EYEING YOU UP"

(smacks again) "YOU COULD HAVE BAGGED THAT SWEET CANDY"

Bin, sulkily: "like you could have bagged MJ hyung?"

Jinjin, turning red and mumbling under his breath and stalking away

Sanha, thoughtfully: "am I the only one here without somebody to bag"

And so life goes on in the radiography room, with MJ popping in and out to collect blood samples from patients who need Labstix and are in line for their x-ray and Jinjin blushing every time MJ so much as beams in his general direction

Sanha snorting because wow could they get any more obvious

Bin bet Sanha 5$ that Jinjin would make the first move but at this rate Sanha thinks Bin might have to pay up because there's no way in hell Jinjin can form a coherent sentence with MJ's Beam on Full Blast

But then

Eunwoo pops in again

And immediately all activity in the waiting room is halted to stare at this beautiful beautiful man with beautiful glasses and a beautiful focussed look and a beautiful smile

Bin, coming out to see why jinjin hasn't brought his next patient in & ready to give a piece of mind to whoever interrupted jinjin's clockwork routine

Also Bin: stutters and flushes at the sight of eunwoo

"Uh ok what do u want"

Eunwoo, smiling at Bin: "I'm here to collect the X-ray film of patient 777"

Bin, blurting out in confusion: "where's Rocky?????"

Eunwoo, frowning a little because all this poor angel wants to do is see the cute radiographer pout again but all he's doing is making this poor confused face which i mean,,,, ngl,, is kinda cute too,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

until he realises that all of them are waiting expectantly on his answer (except Sanha, who has reverted to frantically pounding on his keyboard in a desperate attempt to reduce the stack of registration forms beside him)

And he says: "I let him rest????"

Jinjin squinting because as long as he's worked here he's only talked to Eunwoo on the phone because not once has this doctor ever let poor Rocky rest

There has to be an ulterior motive

And that motive (insert mental image of lightbulb going off over Jinjin’s head) is Bin

So he beams at eunwoo and shoves him into the X-ray room with bin and says "YES DO THE MEDICAL TALKY TALK IN THERE GO DO THAT SHIT YOU GO BOYS"

Sanha sighing internally because it just means their queue will be held up rip

Eunwoo, flustered and blinking rapidly because wow now he's in a small, semi-dark kind of enclosed room with a really cute radiographer who's self consciously pushing his glasses up and pouting to himself

Wow

Really cute

"Um"

Bin, floundering: "UH YES 777 RIGHT" & bounding over to the computer to print out the report right away mmhmm yes sir

Eunwoo frowning a little because this boy seems like he's trying to get rid of him fast????? But this radiographer’s also really cute and he sees that this boy keeps eyeing Eunwoo so Eunwoo is seriously getting mixed messages?????

So he takes a step forward to bin's table and -

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME"

Oh shit unconscious eunwoo blurting strikes again

Rocky always said it'd hurt him one day

I mean mostly it's been harmless things like "I REALLY LIKE YOUR SCARF" @ a patient and "wow did you do your hAIR THAT'S A REALLY NICE COLOUR"

But shit shit shit he's said it in front of this cute guy

Who's gaping at him?????

Bin, ultimately, in a really small voice because he's confused and also Eunwoo is standing really close to him and all he can think about is that if he cranes his neck out a little he can touch Eunwoo’s nose with his nose and-

Ok Bin focus

"I don't hate you?"

Eunwoo, floundering a bit because ???? IT REALLY SEEMS SO >;(

"PROVE IT"

Oh good job eunwoo

Way to go

Cute radiographer boy probably is going to kick him out of the room

Call security on him

Never see him again

What for have a nice face if you can't woo peopl-

Wait

Cute radiographer boy made a sound

"Wait what"

"I SAID DO YOU HAVE A PLATE ON YOUR KNEE"

wait

What

Eunwoo just blinks in confusion and like

Damn Eunwoo for being so cute just blinking because Bin is going to lose his goddamn mind

He's so embarrassed rn he literally asked angel doctor to "go on a date with me" and now he's messed up and angel doctor is looking at his knee in confusion and really he's messed up he'll never see angel doctor again he'll never go on a date with this beautiful beautiful doctor and -

"uh I don't have a plate on my knee but uh,,,,,,,,, I have,,,, a date??? With uh,,,,,,, thee??????"

Cue grimace from eunwoo because wow he could never rap

Mostly because he cannot come up with things on the spot

Like this

Wow eunwoo good job congratulations

Also grimaces from jinjin eavesdropping outside because wow truly this doctor might look like an angel but his wooing skills seriously need some effort

Bin squeaking slightly because wow he might look all grumpy and tough and a lil shit but

He’s such a smol marshmallow inside

a small harshmallow that’s melting because Eunwoo’s decided to heck it and hit bin with his Full On Angel Smile

you know the one

yeah this one

wow my mum looked over while i was pasting this picture in my working doc as reference and went “WOW I LIKE THIS BOY”

same ma same

so does Bin, too, actually

and so he squeaks out a little, “yes?”

“yes as in yes you’ll go on a date with me?”

smol Binnie squeak: “yes?”

and so they stand there and grin all silly at each other until Jinjin, knocking on the door: “IS EVERYTHING OKAY WITH THE REPORT NURSE ROCKY IS WAITING”

oh shit

ok no but for serious the doctor that came in looked 100% like gong yoo he had the hair and the soft sweater and worn jeans and beautiful smile and everything

listen i’m just so weak for doctor!Eunwoo

doctor!Eunwoo bringing lunch for radiographer!Bin and them eating in the empty waiting room during their lunch break

Bin dropping by Eunwoo’s clinic during his breaks and waiting for Eunwoo to finish his consultations just to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek

wow ok I’m saving this fic idea for another time or I’m truly going to kill myself with feels and tears

#astro #astro fic #astro fanfic #astro hospital au #????? idk #vivi shoots #uh yeah so #i'm working at a clinic rn hi guys #i have been a MESS #because there are some truly cute guys coming in #because right now it's freshman medical screening season #so all the new university freshmen are coming in to get screened #and idk i'm a rising sophmore but in singapore #the guys go into university after serving two years in the army #so all the guys are older and are hella fit just saying #and idk some doctors walking in are hella hot too like wow get me some of that #and naturally #my binu trash mind #went: ok u know what vivi #DOCTOR EUNWOO AND RADIOGRAPHER BIN #time 4 death #no ok but i just was thinking about eunwoo in glasses and a dress shirt and i nearly cried #it's basically the baby outfits but with glasses and a labcoat #are you crying yet #because i sure am #i cant believe im going to spend the rest of the summer thinking about doctor eunwoo shoot me #ok anyways #if you read my tags wow that's some dedication right there hello #but if you reblog it i read every single tag too so there's that #anyways

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