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darling-dontforgetme · 5 years

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Wilhemina Venable x Reader

- Reader helps Venable after she falls in the hallway. Mostly fluff, and hurt/comfort (of course because I never ever write anything else)

- Hello, yes, I am so bad at summaries. I also want to preface this by saying I have not seen season 8, so yeah.

- And I've seen her name spelled both as Wilhemina and as Wilhelmina so what am I supposed to do about that

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As she passes by the library, Wilhemina’s face is soured, dark brows drawn together and lips pursed into a frown. You know it has been another hard day, and while you are used to her irritation and can recognize it immediately, there’s another emotion mixed in that you can’t quite place. With the only exception being her anger, your girlfriend has a face of stone when it comes to displaying her feelings, and something new, something slipping, is like a blaring red warning call.

Sliding out the door, you fall into step a good distance behind Venable, knowing her rules and how you can’t be seen together in public. You study her backside and realize that her gait is different. It’s not necessarily unusual, for she is constantly adjusting her steps to accommodate her twisted spine, but there’s something about this new walk that is worrisome, wrong even. Wilhemina is leaning on her cane more heavily than is typical, feet shuffling forward slowly, but barely even leaving the ground. You want to pull her aside, kiss her cheek, and demand to know the cause of this new type of suffering, but pushing her, especially in a communal space, has only ever caused her to shut down with frustration.

But something is definitely off, and as Wilhemina lifts her foot to step over the threshold separating one hallway from another, that something makes itself known, viciously. You watch as the toes of her shoe bump into the tiny raised portion of concrete and then just stick there while the rest of her body continues forward. Venable falls hard, hands splaying out to catch herself before her face can make contact with the ground, and oh, if your heart doesn’t just break. That unidentified emotion on her face just grows and grows and grows until you think it might burst out of her and consume the whole of the compound within her personal misery.

There’s the sudden sound of running footsteps and a male gray appears from around the corner, already bending towards Venable to help her as if she isn’t the most feared person to call Outpost 3 home.

“Don’t!” You shout, darting forward as Wilhemina recoils from the gray’s outstretched hands. “Don’t touch her!”

The man looks up, startled, but you shake your head as you slip in between him and your girlfriend, shielding her from this stranger. You can hear her harsh, anxious breaths below you, and you reverse your steps until the backs of your ankles are touching her side, letting her know you are here, it’s okay, you’ll take care of her. You have only seen her fall once before in the privacy of your bedroom, so you know without asking that she is afraid for her inability to defend herself in such a fragile position, and she is embarrassed about being unable to lift herself up off of the ground without assistance. Mina is nothing if not stubborn, and she would rather her heart stop beating than she be seen as weak. She detests help so much that you rarely get to see a glimpse of her unguarded, and foreign hands helping her in this small moment of human vulnerability would be the worst possible thing to happen right now.

“Go on,” you encourage the gray, sweeping your hand in front of you to point in the direction he appeared from. “It’s alright. Go back to your duties.”

The man glances between you and Venable, then nods, slowly walking backward before turning and heading off out of sight.

You crouch next to Mina and help her sit up, stroking a hand across her cheek for comfort. You can’t do much more out here in the hallway, so you pull her up, press her cane into her hand, and change direction, heading left to your bedroom instead of right towards her office.

You walk near her, hands ready to reach out should she stumble again. Her head is held high and proud, as if nothing has happened, but the second you shut the bedroom door behind you, her shoulders sag and she drops onto the bed.

“Mina?” You question gently, moving to sit cross legged beside her. You reach into her lap for one of her hands, but she still won’t look at you, so you are forced to stare at the side of her downturned head. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Wilhemina says. Her voice is much stronger than you expected, but really, you should have known she would still be hiding.

“V, baby, no.” You scoot closer and pull her against you, gently taking her hair down so you can brush your fingers through it. Wilhemina isn’t big on affection, but that doesn’t mean you won’t try. “Something happened today. I can see it. Please let me help.”

Venable sighs, breathing out another assurance that she is fine, but this time it sounds more tired, pained even. She wiggles in your grasp, her free hand moving around to rub harshly against the small of her back, and it’s like that red warning light blares again. You realize that the drawn face you glimpsed from the library was one of pain. You’ve never seen it before because she works so damn hard to hide it.

Wilhemina thrives on control, but the misshapen status of her spine is the only thing in her life that she can’t gain dominance over. She considers it the weakest part of herself and even snarls at the slightest mention of her disability, so when it fights for some of her power, she ignores it and pushes on with her day. You can’t imagine how bad it must be hurting for some of the pain to slip out onto her face.

“Oh, baby. Oh, Mina.” You pull her into your lap and lean back against the headboard, refusing to let go when she tries to pull away. “It’s alright, you know?”

You tilt her chin toward you so you can meet her eyes, and she stops fighting you to feign confusion. “What? Of course everything is okay.”

You shake your head and kiss her cheek. “You work so hard on being strong every second of every day, but baby, it’s okay. It’s okay to be human sometimes. I know you don’t like for other people to see, and I get that, love, I promise I do, but look at where we are, Mina.”

Her brown eyes track around the room and then back to you, glossing over, but the tears never come.

“This is our bedroom. OUR bedroom. It’s just you and me here. No one else. This is a safe space, sweetheart. You are safe with me. No matter what it is, you are safe with me. Do you understand that?” You pause, letting the words sink in as you grasp onto her hand. “Do you think any less of me when I’m afraid or upset?”

Venable shakes her head and averts her eyes to her lap, hiding again, not wanting to meet your own eyes. But that’s okay, and you gently urge her to lean against you so that her face is cradled in the crook of your neck, her hot breaths tickling against your pulse point.

“I know it doesn’t make sense to you, baby. I know you don’t like it. I know it makes you feel fragile, and scared, and like something can get you at any second if you aren’t on your guard, but V, you have me for life. Nothing will scare me off, especially not human emotion and clumsiness. I am here for you, Wilhemina. I promise that, and I will never ever leave you. It’s okay for you to talk about things with me, and that won’t make you a burden. You could never be, baby. It won’t make you any less of who you already are, it won’t make you any less safe. Whatever negative consequences you think might happen because you decide to share things with me is wrong, sweet girl. I won’t hurt you, I won’t love you any less. I’m right here-.” You point at her heart with your joined hands, circling your finger around on her chest. “-For forever. And this, this safe space we have, it’s with the both of us, wherever we are. I want to hear about your day, and what Miss Mead did to piss you off, and how your back hurts, but you think a massage or a bath might really help. I want to hear about what makes you sad, what makes you excited, what you love, V, because I know you have a heck of a lot of love inside of you even though you are hesitant to let it show. I’m not asking you to change, baby. I would never. I’m just asking you to let me love you like you love me. Openly, and deeply. Don’t hide anything, no matter what. Even if it makes you feel small to admit, or embarrassed, or like you want to hide. Tell me, Mina. Tell me everything and never, ever stop. I love you, baby.”

Venable’s chest heaves, and you know this is it, this is the moment where the day’s events have finally built up into too much for her, and that maybe, just maybe, you might have gotten through to her a little. She breaks out in a loud sob, clutching onto your shirt, and you wrap your arms around her, cuddling her close. You just let her cry. It doesn’t happen often. You’re actually not sure you have ever seen her full on cry, as she typically never progresses past the watery eye stage. Occasionally, you kiss her forehead or her hair and murmur reassurances, fingertips tracing soothingly up and down her arm. After a while, you think she might have actually fallen asleep, ear resting upon your heartbeat, but then she shifts ever so slightly and winces.

“What can I do to help you, baby?” You stroke back her hair so you can see her face.

Venable shakes her head, then closes her eyes like she’s pulling herself together. “My back hurts, and I think I scraped my knees.”

You don’t dare do anything without asking permission first, not wanting to break this fragile state Wilhemina has allowed you to see her in, not wanting to scare her after so much progress. “V, would it be okay if I looked at your knees?”

Mina nods softly, and you tug up her skirt to see that she did much more than just scrape her skin, but even admitting to her pain is a start. Numerous scratches stretch across her pale knees, already beginning to bruise, and pathways of blood trickle down her legs.

You kiss Venable’s temple and murmur in her ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You ease her off your lap and wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her for the short walk to the bathroom. After filling the tub, you help her balance as she steps out of her shoes. You unbutton her jacket for her and slip it off her shoulders, and she shimmies out of her long purple skirt. You start to reach for the hem of her undershirt, but Wilhemina shies away, wrapping her arms around her torso and gripping tightly onto the fabric to prevent it from being removed.

“It’s okay,” you promise, holding up your hands in surrender, in I love you, I won’t hurt you. Her head is tucked down, but her eyes peek over the rim of her glasses to look at you. “It’s okay,” you repeat. “You don’t have to hide from me. But your back is yours, baby, and you don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to, either. Your body, your choice, love. What you want matters. You know that, right? But I also want you to know that it doesn’t make you any less. It’s a part of you, and I love every bit of you. Every. single. bit.”

Wilhemina sniffles and tears start slipping down her cheeks, dripping onto your toes. You would do anything to make this easier for her. You take her face in both of your hands and smile softly.

“Look, baby. I know it’s not the same, but look at all of these stretch marks I have- on my hips, on my thighs, my arms.” You know she has seen them, but you tug your shirt over your head anyway, revealing the thick scratches that look like something clawed its way down your body. You bring her hand to your side, and she traces her finger up and down the puckered skin. “These don’t make me ugly, V. Your scoliosis doesn’t make you ugly, either.”

Wilhemina nods and bites her lip, something you have never seen her do before. “You’re so patient with me.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” you reassure her. “You deserve everything I can give you.”

“Will you… umm.” Venable pauses, uncertain, and you wait patiently, giving her the time and space to find comfort with you. “Will you take a bath with me?”

Your heart swells so big for everything she is giving you, today, for all of this trust. “I would love to, Mina.” You strip off the rest of your clothes and wait as she hesitantly removes her undershirt, then you guide her into the bath. Settling against the cold porcelain, Mina uses the sides of the tub to balance as she lowers herself between your legs and stiffly leans back against you. Wilhemina hisses as her knees hit the water, pulling them back up into the air to ease her burning wounds.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you soothe, stroking her shoulder, but being careful to avoid her back. “I know, love, I know. It will sting for a minute, but I promise it will help.”

V’s face is so open right now, so unguarded, and it takes you by surprise when she looks at you with eyes full of trust. You catch her lips with your own for a quick kiss, so proud of her.

Wilhemina grimaces as she drops her knees below the water again, but then her face smooths out and she finally relaxes against you. “I love you,” she whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

You wrap your arms around her, holding her tight, and smile into her hair. “I love you, too, V. So, so much.”

#do you ever get stressed because people spell her name both Wilhemina and Wilhelmina and like how am I supposed to pick one #wilhemina venable x reader #venable x reader #wilhemina venable #ahs #American horror story #American horror story apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine #American horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse imagine #venable imagine #wilhemina venable imagine #ahs imagine #wilhelmina venable x reader #wilhelmina venable

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honestsycrets · 6 years

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Irreplaceable PIX: Spoken Words

See my masterlist for the rest of the series.

A/N: When your wives are acting crazy. XD Gif belongs to kimskew. This is the last thing I’m posting tonight, I’m sorry for all the tags. It was requested early.

For all of Ivar worried that you may have injured your womb, the rest of your pregnancy progressed as easily as your first. Perhaps in a way, he was more aggressive about your care after this scare. You expected him to be. But if he was aggressive… it also meant that Kitta was more aggressive as well. Especially when the Queen was rejected from helping you through your labour.

“You don’t want Kitta here?” Ivar’s hand is at your back, rubbing you through another set of contractions. The pain that sears your legs apart was nothing like the anger that built up in your heart over the last few months sharing your life with Kitta. First, she humiliated you. Second, she spilled the secret of your first love. Now you were not even sure if Ivar knew who it was.

“Why would I want her here? She has made a fool of me!” You push down on a contraction.

“She was here last time.” Ivar says. Your heart is closed, knowing Kitta is with Uxi while Ragnhild stays with you. In a way, perhaps you were punishing her. She must have known so as well. That was why she insisted that Ivar could not let you do this. Sorrily for her, he was too weak to do anything with the wrath of Frigg threatening to overcome him.

“The gods know and see how she has changed.” You hiss, back curling upwards. The contractions came closer and closer-- and you knew this is the stage of true labour in which there are no true breaks. All you want is to be able to labour in peace on all fours without Ivar insisting on Kitta being there in the room. Ragnhild is between your legs with an older thrall, learning the fine art of being a midwife. Dropping the issue, Ivar grimaces and sits helpless to change anything. It was better to stay quiet than incite your rage when you were in labour. Any man knew that.

At the end of it all, you gave birth to his second son, a healthy baby boy. He was a hungry thing, bonding to your breast quicker than Uxi had. By no time at all, you were in bed with your husband. Two years was a long time to be without a baby in the home. Or so Ivar thinks when he finally has his son on his tattooed chest, tiny hands on his body. He's never felt broader. The Great Hall is quiet again and with it, the peace of the moment. He looks over to you, clean from your warm bath that scrubbed away the pain of labour.

"He does not look deformed." He lets his hand come to his son's back. By the gods-- the little boy looks like Uxi had during birth. "He's healthy."

"Maybe I am descended from the bride of the Vanir." You snuggle your way closer to him, taking the one hand that is not on your shared child. Ivar affectionately runs his fingers over your knuckles like he so enjoys to do with Kitta.

"Maybe." He agrees.

Little Veifnr is a slight and handsome boy. By now Ivar had learned to shift days, giving you four while Kitta had only three with her husband. Though if you didn’t sleep because of Veifnr, he quickly went back on his word to her to bond with her son. Kitta didn’t understand. Wasn’t that Ragnhild’s use?

Of course things couldn’t stay so perfect for you. From the steps of the throne you watch the Yule log crinkle and pop while Uxi jumps beside it like an eager dog, listening to the oaths of men. Veifnr long since fell fast asleep in a bassinet beside you as you enjoyed the vigil to your ancestral goddess on Mothernight.

“You’re enjoying yourself, my wife?” You glance over to your husband as he leans over his armchair towards you. It has been bizarrely quiet. Kitta, who does not sit in her throne, almost a pleasure that night. You sit on furs slung across the steps by his chair, drinking of the horn he hands to you when you hair his following request.

“Good. Then as the gods have given us another son, I want to take Kitta to see the lights of colours that I’ve heard such things about.” Ivar proposes.

Of course you know what he means. He means the sky that lit up in brilliant greens, heavenly blues and nearly fragrant purples, painting the sky like wisps of the gods chariots. It was rumoured, or so you thought, that Freyja would ride her kittens in the lush green stripes. That was the streak your father always told you about and the one that you eagerly you wanted to see. To see if your mother Freyja really did ride the heavens. But it is Kitta’s moment to be spoiled.

“Ah… then you would like me to care for things?” You suggest.

Ivar brings his horn back from your fingers and presses it up to his cracked lips. “Yes, Princess. I’m sure you’ve done it for Faksi.”

“Of course.” You nod— of course you had. You had done it more than once as he raided frequently. The public of Kattegat seemed to enjoy you enough with the births of Ivar’s sons. It would be fine. You would just be at home like you always were.

“Hvitserk will stay behind to care for a portion of the army.” Ivar leans down, taking your chin in his palm. “So I better not hear that you’ve betrayed me when I come back.” He gives you a clear warning, but to you, it is a message. Ivar doesn’t trust you.

You pull your head free from his palm. “I’m not a loose whore to be sleeping with your brother.”

Kitta comes from the crowd, pushing past the clusters of drab woolen clothes until she finds you both speaking. Ivar drops the conversation quickly-- seeing his jewel coming forward. He reaches for the hand she extends for a kiss, falling into Ivar’s flirtatious tug closer. She drops into her chair almost as if she’s cocky of what she is doing. Your eyes fall away to Veifnr’s bassinet, acting as if you are rocking it.

“Are we going?” She’s almost gleaming in excitement-- and in response, Ivar seems to glow. His skin, cleansed before dinner, brightens.

“I told you I would take you.” For his efforts she gives him a kiss, sliding onto his lap with her slender toes in black laced flats nudging you just slightly to move a step or two lower. You slide closer to Veifnr instead; nudging his little cheeks with your fingers. He’s fast asleep.

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” She says. “I haven’t had him alone in years. It will be perfect for so many years!”

Maybe her words are genuine— but as a woman that never had her husband to herself, you snort. Your teeth knit into their grooves, disrupting an otherwise peaceful moment when you swipe back at Kitta.

”I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a man to myself.” You say.

Kitta’s joyful moment is cut short with her hand in his hair and lips against his. Her momentary smile against his lips quickly turns dark. She pulls away long enough to stare at you– because you’ve just disrupted something beautiful.

But you don’t honestly give a fuck. They would go and have fun, bathe naked together in the rumoured hot springs or lay under the glittering stars at night while you stay nothing more than a mother with Ragnhild. Ivar turns his gaze to you slowly, fiddling with the strings of Kitta’s dress. Here it went again.

“What, are you jealous that you can’t whine your way out of this one?” Kitta snips back, beginning to rise. Ivar pulls her back onto him by her slender hips. Kitta huffs as Ivar combs his hand through her flaxen hair and worships her lips in kisses to keep her tranquil.

“Not at all.” You say and look between to the king and his queen. “I know he feels bad that you are soo alone. So go.”

Dully you raise your hand as if to metaphorically shake her off. Yes, she watches Uxi. In the day she could pretend like the little boy was hers. She would be dragged to see this, that and the other by him. She would feed him foods familiar to her and sing him songs. But at the end of the day? He came to you to sleep because he was your son.

“I think it is that the second wife is jealous of how he spoils me. You get shiny gifts to be shown off as his trophy wife– but I get him to my own to see wonderful things that you will never.” Kitta nudges the silken ties of your back with her foot. Ivar throws his head back, rolling on the axis of his neck until he looks down at you.

“I will take you next time, wherever my princess wants.” Ivar speaks as if you should ignore anything his bitter queen was saying. Before you could really even smile at him, Kitta stands off his lap and ambles around you. She bends in front of you and reaches out to cup your chin.

“Oh, he will… after he takes his Queen. Because his second wife will always be second best.” Those words are the last words you could take and strictly on instinct, you slam your head forward into hers, tumbling her down the steps of the throne room. The room drops its liveliness. The loud cackles die down into nothing more than strangled gasps to the tune of the crackling yule log. Shooting out from the silence though, a dull crack. It was your fist meeting the side of Kitta’s face, yanking your skirts up to straddle her in place. Her legs thrash underneath you and yet-- even the call of ma! ma! Does not shake you.

“(Y/N).” Someone calls out.

You hear your husband falling off of his throne, dragging himself down the steps until he climbs over you like a tree, yanking you back. You knew he was going to so you wound your palms tight around Kitta’s sputtering airways. A hiss tears through your lips as Ivar pulls you by the waist and chest.

“She’s choking her.” Hvitserk comes to Kitta’s side, unpeeling your fingers to the best of his ability. To no avail, Hvitserk uses the assistance of a sharp knife that would slice you just enough to shake you. The shock is enough for Ivar to yank you to the side off of his first wife. As Kitta flings herself into the opposite direction, Uxi breaks from the hold on one of the thralls that watches him to doddle up to his other mother.

“You’re insane!” She coughs and coughs. But you didn’t give a shit anymore, pushing off Ivar’s firm arms.

“What the hell was that?” He ask. You stand, staggering until you gain your balance. Then as you look at Kitta, your eyes narrow. Your breath is uneasy and sharp, rubbing away the blood from one sole punch that hit your lip in the flail.

“May Frigg smite you Kitta… for, for how you treat the woman you claimed to bring in with good heart. I pray that Loki will bring you ill repute and Skadi will give me my revenge, you… you snake!” You spit, the words becoming more venomous than the last. You feel your husband’s eyes wandering up to you in what might have been wonder or horror. Whichever one it was, you aren’t sure, but, you know that the hate you feel right raging in your stomach.

You look up to Ivar and scan him, your tongue against your raw lip. “Look at the woman you’ve made me.” You exhale, shifting around the bassinet as Kitta turns herself to Ivar.

“You aren’t going to let her do that to me!” She yells at Ivar. “Pick one of us! It’s her or I!”

You glance to Ivar as if to ask someone to help– but in his place, Hvitserk jogs forth to help you lift the bassinet. You both lift it high while Ivar turns his eyes away from you, thinking slowly of the words you spoke moments ago.

“(Y/N).” He answers, looking back to Kitta.

“You’re choosing HER!?” His Kitta bellows. Ivar twists on his forearms to drag himself out of the Great Hall.

“If you make me choose!”

“It is funny.” Hvitserk laughs, arm slung over your shoulder as you waved in bed. “She thought she would put you in your place and you put her in hers!”

You quickly escaped the Great Hall hours ago. Ivar and Kitta's screaming back and forth eventually died off. Now Hvitserk finds it all too funny that you had not only cracked Kitta’s head with yours but cursed her with something so dark and heavy. Not that he thought the gods would really do anything about Kitta! While usually you might be straight laced and tense– the booze down your throat for the last few hours left you giggly. Your head rests on his shoulder.

“Only a little.” You slur.

“Only a little, she says.” Hvitserk laughs.

The days that had pass are like this. While Ivar took Kitta out to see those beautiful lights, Hvitserk fills you with booze and you look would both look at the heavens. It’s a good distraction when Hvitserk sleeps in your bed and wakes up to little Uxi climbing over his body. For all that the young boy has seen, he is resilient. It shames you, in some way, to know that Uxi saw you beating his other mother. At this age, you hope he won't remember. Another one of those drunken nights passed when you wake to shouts throughout the Great Hall. There was a great deal of stomping and yelling by Ivar's warriors. You recognize the favourite of his men responding to Ivar's calls. He must have been home from Kitta's wonderful trip. Hvitserk rolls to sit up in the bed, shirt out of sight.

“What are they doing?” Hvitserk pushes his loose hair from his eyes. You consider what might be going on when you heard his booming voice rippling in through the other room– waking both babies at once. You stumble through the darkness looking for a shawl to pull over your naked shoulders, knocking your foot against carved wood.

“(Y/N)!” The King calls again.

You take Veifnr to Ragnhild as Hvitserk lifts Uxi up onto his slender hips. Then as you step out of your chambers, you realize something. It was Kitta’s cool body over a stretcher, contorting painfully as she stares– but does not speak. It is a better look for her.

“What is it?” You come close. Ivar’s hands sweeps over Kitta’s pale cheek.

“You cursed her.” He says. And as you remember it– you did.

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#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar imagine #vikings/reader #vikings reader insert #ivar's heathen army #ivar's sister wives #irreplaceable update #honestsycrets #vikings multipairing #ivar the boneless imagine

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taeken-my-heart · 7 years

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Independent {f} - Chapter 2

Summary: Your mom calls you stubborn, your friends call you wild, and the boys you’ve left in your wake call you a frigid bitch. You’ve built a life of independence and you like it that way. Kim Taehyung, however; might just change your mind.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Light fluff

Word Count: 3436

Another week passed after your last meeting with Taehyung and you neither saw nor heard from him since then. You knew logically that this should make you happy, this was exactly what you’d wanted, but for some reason all you could think about was the uncomfortable clenching in your gut each time you thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t actually interested.

You sat at the back of your Photojournalism class staring wistfully out the window as your professor droned on about your latest photography project but you were hardly paying attention. The syllabus had given you all the details you’d needed at the beginning of the year and you already had a plan mapped out for what you wanted to photograph and submit.

You sighed, wondering absentmindedly if you were losing your touch with men, maybe Taehyung wasn’t chasing after you because you’d lost your charms. You weren’t doing anything differently from before, though, so you couldn’t understand the change. You ran a hand through your hair in frustration; why was this occupying so much of your attention? You’d never sought men’s attention before and in fact had found it rather annoying and a hindrance to your overall lifestyle.

The professor released the class and you began to pack your bags. As you walked through the lecture hall towards the door your teacher called you over and you hiked your bag higher on your shoulder. It wasn’t very often that Professor Schultz called someone aside and when he did, it usually meant a special assignment. Your stomach clenched in irritation at the thought. You already had enough on your plate, an extra assignment wasn’t all that inviting at the moment.

“I’ve got an assignment for you to do,” He smiled. You tried your best not to sigh.

“Is this on top of the current project?” You asked, as calmly as possible.

“Actually, in your case I want you to make it your assignment. It’s rather time consuming and I don’t really trust anyone else with it.”

You frowned in confusion. What kind of an assignment would he give you that made it important enough to change your entire plan? You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked.

“Well,” he said, packing some of his books into his brief case, “we need someone to cover the front-page story in the school’s paper. The Winter Recital is happening in 2 weeks and a lot of recruiters are coming so it’s a pretty big deal for our school. We need someone who can document the whole preparing process through to the performance. The Dean needs someone reliable and you’re the only one I trust with this assignment.”

You were currently kissing your plans and good sleep goodbye as you internally screamed. It was flattering to be thought so highly of and you knew this would look good in your portfolio, but The Winter Recital was the last thing you wanted to be spending time focusing on. You were a purist in the sense that you wanted to work on the things you felt passionate about…and this was not one of those things.

Despite all your reservations you found yourself nodding, “I understand. Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll do my best to make sure we are well represented.”

“Thank you, y/n,” Professor Schultz smiled, snapping the clasps to his briefcase closed and lifting it off his desk, “If you just follow me to my office, I can give you a paper with all the information you need.”

Half an hour later you found a quiet spot in the back of the library and sat down in the plush cushions to go over your new assignment and make some notes. You had intended to go home, make some ramen and veg in front of your laptop for the rest of the night but now you had to get ready to go to the first rehearsal in two hours and that left you grumbling in irritation.

According to the paperwork your professor had given you, this assignment would occupy nearly every night of the next two weeks and you bemoaned the loss of your free time. The Winter Recital was for anyone in the humanities field that could perform. Only the best were selected to participate and each year recruiters from top talent agencies and specialized academies would come to recruit the cream of the crop.

Your friend Eleanor had been recruited for her incredible singing last year and was now in the process of producing an album under one of the most popular labels in the country. It really was the opportunity of a lifetime for any college student to be able to document the recital because the pictures always made national headlines. You just didn’t find it particularly exciting. You prided yourself on capturing beautiful little moments that people often overlooked and what kind of small beauty could you find in this type of performance that wasn’t altogether over the top?

After finishing the plans and moping for the last five minutes, you stood up to make your way to the concert hall. It had grown a little chilly as the afternoon progressed into early evening and you were glad, you’d thought to bring a coat. You slipped through the front doors of the performing arts center quietly and looked around in curiosity. If you were being honest, you’d never actually set foot in this building, though you probably should have due to the nature of your degree, but most of your photography classes had been thrown into other random buildings like an afterthought and there didn’t seem to be much of a point in visiting the stomping grounds of the performing arts kids.

You could hear soft music wafting from somewhere in the building and you allowed it to lead you to the main concert hall. Stepping through the doors into the dimly lit hall, you watched as some of the actors stood talking to their professor at the edge of the stage as he gave them general directions. You held your satchel awkwardly in front of you as you waited for the professor to notice you and took the opportunity to glance around the concert hall. It wasn’t really anything special, you had sort of expected it to be a little grander and in line with its general purpose, but it was very simple.

It was a large hall filled with simple adornments and chairs stuffed into every corner. The stage was the most beautiful part of the entire room and that was partially due to the set design, which they were still setting up behind the actors as they began to talk amongst themselves.

“Y/n, I presume?”

You jumped at your name being called and looked down to the director, a middle-aged man with glasses, a slightly rounded tummy, and long khaki pants with a tucked in button up.

“Yes, that’s me,” you said, stepping forward quickly and making your way to him through the maze of chairs. You extended your hand and shook his once you’d reached him and shook the hand of his assistant, Michael, as you made introductions.

“Professor Schultz has high praise for you,” Professor Brinkerhoff mused, “I hope you’re as good as he said because we need this production to be the talk of the town.”

You bristled at his inference. A show should be the talk of the town all on its own and your pictures would have nothing to do with whether or not they were successful. Despite that, you bit your tongue and smiled.

“I hope I can do his praise credit.”

Professor Brinkerhoff nodded and motioned for you to follow. “I don’t really know your method or style, but we’ll be running through different parts of the show tonight, mainly focusing on our theater production and dance, but you’ll need to capture each portion. It’s a given that not every picture will be selected for print, but if you could make sure to have a few pictures of each performer so we have a large selection to choose from, that would be great.”

You nodded along in turn as he recited all the things he wanted you to do that were part and parcel for this sort of assignment. For someone with less experience, the reiteration would have been helpful but to you it was just a broken record. When Professor Brinkerhoff finally let you go to attend to the actors you set your bag down with a sigh and began to riffle through for your equipment. The practice started and you began taking pictures of each individual making sure to pick up any small details you felt would contribute to the beauty of the pictures. Pictures of the actors, pictures of the set artists, and pictures of Professor Brinkerhoff and Michael deep in conversation about possible improvements.

You sat a few rows behind the professor flipping through your pictures and waiting for the next set to take place. You’d already gotten a lot of pictures and were now wasting time sitting around waiting. You tried not to be bitter because you had prepared for this, but preparing and surviving were two different things.

You sighed in boredom and stared absentmindedly at the stage as the dancers filed on, stretching and preparing for their set and that’s when you saw him. Taehyung. He was dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants that were just a little too baggy for his lithe frame. He stood staring down at the professor, hands on hips and nodding in turn with whatever the professor was saying, but you couldn’t hear him. Your head was fuzzy and felt like it was filled with the sharp whistle of a speeding train all at the same time.

You couldn’t remember when you stopped breathing, but you coughed and spluttered uncomfortably as the music started and you watched in awe as they began to dance; as he began to dance. He moved with a gracefulness and fluidity that made sparks nip at your spine. He was beautiful and you found yourself raising your camera quickly to your eyes, snapping picture after picture of just him.

You barely came to your senses enough to snap a few pictures of the others before the dance number ended. You stood in a trance off to the side watching as Taehyung and the other dancers talked in a huddle. You knew you should scurry off somewhere to hide before he noticed you, but your feet were rooted to the floor. Despite all of his father’s apparent reservations, Taehyung had definitely chosen the right career path. You glanced down to look at the pictures you’d just taken when you heard someone shout your name.

“Y/n!”

You looked back up to find Taehyung looking at you, smile nearly splitting his face in two. He raced to the end of the stage and jumped off the edge coming to stop right in front of you. You stood in confusion, trying to say something, anything that would sound more dignified than silence but nothing came.

He didn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing here?” He beamed, chest still rising and falling from the dance.

“I-” You cleared your throat awkwardly trying to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tickle, “I was asked to photograph The Winter Recital.” You said simply.

If it was possible, Taehyung’s smile grew. “Wow, what an honor. I know what a big deal this recital is to us, I can only imagine how much something like this could help in your portfolio.”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was true, this was a big deal. Other schools had concerts and recitals but because of your school’s location and prestige this was like the GRAMMYs of recitals. This would probably set you up for something really amazing, but you couldn’t think of that now, not when Taehyung was standing right in front of you smiling so brightly you thought you might go blind.

You tried to remind yourself of your life goals and a man was certainly not part of them. You rounded your shoulders preparing to give him a simple compliment and return to your seat but he spoke first.

“What do you think so far? I love the scene before ours, I don’t know if you know any of the actors in the group but they’re really talented. My friend Jin is among them, right there,” he said, pointing off into the distance at a tall, dark haired young man in the corner of the stage. “It evokes a lot of emotion and really sets up our dance number perfectly.”

“To be honest, I’ve been so focused on taking pictures I haven’t really paid much attention. I’ll have to watch more carefully tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Taehyung asked, “You’ll be back?”

“Yeah,” you said, doing your best to keep your sigh in, “this is my photojournalism assignment courtesy of my professor. I’ll be here all the way through to the end of the recital.”

“Wow, so I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he smiled. Just then the professor called him back over to rehearse again and he left you with a smile and small wave. You returned to your seat and flipped absentmindedly through the pictures you’d taken. There were a lot of good candidates for your project, but none quite as beautiful as the ones you’d taken of Taehyung. You’d never admit that, of course. At least not to anyone outside of your own head.

By the time rehearsal was finished you were decidedly sapped, a raw mixture of hunger, exhaustion, and just plain irritation at being stuck with this assignment. It had been a beautiful display of talent from all ends, but it’s not what you wanted to be doing. You nodded to the professor, bidding him a good night and headed out of the concert hall and into the main rotunda that held the doors to your freedom.

You stepped out into the cool night air and took a deep breath in, eyes closing in a moment of simple bliss. You stood still for around 10 seconds before hearing a door open beside you and you opened your eyes to look to your right.

“Hey,” Taehyung smiled, “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

You stuck your hands into the small pockets of your sweater and shook your head, “just leaving now.” You took the steps down two at a time in an effort to put some space between you and the young man that was making your heart beat loudly in your ears. You heard his soft footsteps behind you before he fell in time with your own. He’d pulled a beanie over his head and tucked himself into the hood of his navy-blue hoodie. He smiled down at your questioning gaze and then looked straight along the path.

“My apartment is in this direction so I figure we can walk together for a few minutes.” He said, nodding his chin in the direction you were both walking. You shrugged your shoulders but couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word.

“So, have you been back to the little coffee place I showed you last week?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” you said simply. Truthfully, you wanted to go back but you were always afraid you’d run into him and that would send you running off to Starbucks for an overpriced latte in an effort to avoid the feelings growing out of the center of your heart and winding their way down into your stomach, disturbing the long dormant butterflies from their sleep.

“Ah, I thought you liked it,” he said.

“I do, I just haven’t found the time recently.” You weren’t really sure why you were explaining yourself to him, but the words kept tumbling from your mouth in quick succession before you could stop them.

“I understand that. This recital has kept me so busy but it’s such a great opportunity I can’t help but throw myself into it.”

“What if a talent agency notices you? You’re really good so they just might.” You wanted to bite your tongue in punishment for how loose it had become but you couldn’t take it back now so you brace for impact.

“Thank you,” he smiled, “to be honest, I haven’t really thought about it. There’s a lot of talented people up on that stage with me. It’s just an honor to participate. I’m not dancing for the prestige; I just do it because it makes my heart beat from one moment to the next.”

You found yourself nodding in understanding. Your mother didn’t understand your passion in photography, she always made some side comment about finding a job better suited to your skills and that always made you wonder bitterly what skills she seemed to think you had outside of pictures. Despite your mother’s reservations and your own doubts at the sensibility of your chosen career path, photography is the only thing that makes your heart beat; that gives you purpose, and quite honestly, it was the only thing that could get you out of bed the first few months after your dad died.

“I get it,” you said, “that’s how I feel about photography. Sometimes it’s the only thing keeping me glued together.” You stopped walking as you stepped into the driveway of your home. Taehyung looked at you in confusion and you thrust your thumb back over your shoulder.

“This is me.”

Taehyung looked at the house and smiled brightly. “Oh, so you live in the house with the little yellow duck mailbox.” You smiled in bemusement.

“I’ve always wondered about this house,” Taehyung began to explain. “I’ve walked past this door every day for the last year and I always pause to pat this little duck on the head,” he said, smiling wistfully as he stroked the head of the yellow duck mailbox. Of course, you knew about this, that is how you came to know of his existence. You’d been standing in the living room, shoving your books in your backpack as he’d walked by that first day in late summer to stop suddenly at your mailbox, smile in childlike wonderment and pat the ducks head enthusiastically before continuing on his way.

You had never seen anything so bizarre and so beautiful in all your life and in that moment, you determined to avoid him at all costs, his sincerity and enthusiasm so alarmingly attractive. You’d spent many hours since that day awkwardly trying to avoid him while still stealing private moments to peer at him through the books in the library as he studied or watching him eat lunch with his friends in the school café.

You nodded, rubbing your lips together in order to avoid saying anything you’d regret. “It came with the place. I’m just renting the bottom apartment with a few other girls.”

Taehyung nodded looking at the house, eyes wide as he scanned the peeling white paint of the front porch with the dark blue rocking chair and flower boxes hanging from the sides of the railings. It was a small, quaint house that you’d rented a room from with three other girls, two of whom were sisters. You loved it so much that you’d rented it for an entire extra semester and at this point you planned to do the same thing again next year.

It was the type of quiet beauty that you liked; soft, a little rough around the edges and completely unassuming. You watched Taehyung finish his scan of the house as you shifted from foot to foot. You didn’t know why you hoped he would like it; it was precious to you and any rejection given felt personal.

Finally, Taehyung looked back at you and smiled, “I like it; it feels like home. Seems like it is the type of place that holds a lot of good memories.”

Your tongue scanned the inside of your bottom lip as you looked down at the sidewalk and nodded. “It’s been a very comfortable home.”

“Anyway,” Taehyung sighed, tugging his backpack higher on his shoulder and looking back down at you. “I’ve gotta head home, homework is calling my name, but thanks for the company; this walk was pleasant for once, thanks to you. See you tomorrow!” With a final wave, he spun on his heel and walked into the darkening evening and you watched until you could no longer see him with a tightening in your chest that was completely unfamiliar to you.

Thanks again for reading! Feel free to send me comments and ask questions. Have a nice day!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #BTS v #bts scenarios #bts #v #taehyungfluff #romance #taehyung x you #bts fanfic #bts fanfction

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