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imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

Text

What If? (H.JS)

Warnings : mention of divorce

Word Count : 1897

Synopsis : she had never seen jisung as anything more than just a friend. that is until her and jisung volunteered to do a couples photoshoot for their mutual friend. seeing the way he looked at her, the way they just seemed to match perfectly had her wondering, what if they were more than friends?

“He said my portfolio isn’t good enough. There isn’t enough variety.” Hyunjin whined as he plopped beside me on the couch. I could see the disappointment and exhaustion in his eyes when he looked at me. He had been working on his photography portfolio for months now, hoping to impress his professor.

“Did he give you any ideas to help expand your portfolio?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair. It’s always helped calm him down, or that’s what he told me.

“He wants me to try to do a couples photoshoot, since I do a lot of portrait shoots. But I don’t even know any couples!” I slowly began to massage his head as he moved to rest his head in my lap, his eyes closing as he did so.

“Y/N and I will do it.” Jisung offered from the kitchen. Hyunjin’s eyes shot open, meeting mine immediately.

“Is there something you two aren’t telling me?” He questioned, causing Jisung and I to burst into laughter.

“No, but we can act like it front of the camera.” Jisung chuckled as he sat in the chair beside the couch.

“Besides, most of the school thinks we’re dating anyway.” I joked. Ever since high school, people have thought Jisung and I were couple since we’ve always been so close. Jisung is quite introverted and nervous around a lot of people, and he’s told me before that I comfort him just by being beside him. Growing up, he always clung to me in one way or another, not that I ever minded.

“Yeah, when I met you two in high school, I could have sworn you two were a couple.” Hyunjin added, sitting up on the couch. “But you two would really do a couples photoshoot for me?” We exchanged looks before nodded.

“You’re our friend and this is important to you. Of course we’ll help.” I smiled.

The three of us set out to find some nice shooting locations the next day. It was the perfect day for a photoshoot; the sun shining high in the sky. Every once in a while, Hyunjin would stop us and we’d take some pictures. Jisung and I looked up some references so we knew how to pose and make it look more realistic.

There was a lot of longing stares and laughter at how ridiculous this felt. Hyunjin was completely focused as Jisung and I posed for him. This was his final project and was worth 50% of his grade, and I could tell it was stressing him out. We tried our best to look as in love as possible, trying to hold in our laughter until the picture was taken, but sometimes it was difficult.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Jisung chuckled, hiding his face behind his hands. I reached out, taking one of his hands in mine and continued looking longingly into his eyes. “Yah!” I watched as his cheeks became a rosy colour.

“Let me love you!” I yelled as he suddenly took off running. As I caught up to him, I jumped on his back, thinking it would tackle him to the ground, but I was surprised when he caught my legs in his hands and continued running with me on his back. “Yah Han Jisung!” I shrieked, begging him to drop me.

“Didn’t think this one through, did you princess?” I cringed at the cliché nickname, lightly hitting the top of his head in protest. “Yah! Don’t hit me!”

The three of us ended up at a cafe looking through the pictures Hyunjin took throughout the day, after he downloaded them to his laptop. Jisung would point at one he thought was really nice, asking to send them to him later. But I just stared, my heart suddenly picking up pace.

I stared at the pictures, seeing the wide smiles on both our faces. How perfectly our hands seemed to fit together. Hyunjin even took pictures of us when we were just being ourselves, running around the park with me on his back. You couldn’t tell the difference between the pictures where we were acting like a couple and when we were just hanging out.

In all the years I’ve known Jisung, I’ve never seen him as anything more than my best friend. But looking at these pictures is like looking into another reality where he’s my boyfriend, and I don’t mind it.

Han Jisung has always been the person I turn to when I have news to share, good or bad. Through all the hard times and fights, he stuck by me, promising me he’d never leave. He’s the person that knows me better than I know myself. He knows exactly what I need without me asking for it. It’s like he can read my mind.

There’s no denying that he’s handsome either. He has a smile that can light up a room. Whenever I’m having a bad day, his smile alone can brighten it, bringing a smile to my face as well. And he’s got the cutest cheeks that puff out when he shoves food in his face, much like a squirrel. It’s one of my favourite parts about him. Honestly, I love everything about him.

There’s no doubt in my mind that I accidentally fell for my best friend. I fell for him a long time ago, but I refused to admit it. But looking at these pictures, my heart can’t deny it anymore. I’m in love with Han Jisung.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Jisung’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Do you not like the pictures? Are we not a cute couple?” He joked, his famous smile dancing across his lips. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“We’re obviously the cutest! All the pictures are amazing, Jinnie.” Hyunjin smiled at us, the stress seeming to wash off him completely.

“Honestly, you two would make a really cute couple. Look at this picture.” He showed us a picture he took just a bit ago when we got to the café. Jisung and I were standing in line, waiting to order. As per usual, Jisung had his arm draped across my shoulders, and I was holding his hand that was hanging off my shoulder, our fingers laced together. We were staring at each other, wide smiles on our faces. We weren’t even posing, that’s just how we’ve always been. “You are the happiest with each other.” Hyunjin added, but Jisung and I were both silent, realization hitting us both.

“Wow.” Jisung breathed out, his eyes suddenly meeting mine. “I’m so handsome!” He exclaimed, a wide smile taking over his face. I let out a laugh, but I could feel my heart drop. It was obvious that I was the only one who fell.

I eventually excused myself with the excuse of a project due in a couple days that I needed to finish. I put my earbuds in and took the long way home, overthinking every little thing between Jisung and I over the years. When did my feelings change?

Was it the night my parents divorced and I couldn’t stop crying, wondering what went wrong? Jisung came over after I had called him and he heard I was crying. I told him not to, but he still showed up, drenched from the pouring rain, holding a bag of all my favourite snacks. He held me until my sobs faded and wiped away the drying tears.

Maybe it was when we were partnered for a project in high school and we were in my room, laughing about something completely unrelated to the project. We stayed up late into the night, until my dad came upstairs, offering Jisung the spare room to sleep in, saying he already called his parents. Jisung was awake before me, waking me up with breakfast in bed and a shy smile.

It could have been when I was stood up, and instead of just picking me up and allowing me to do the lonely walk of shame out of the fancy restaurant, he barged in, apologizing profusely for being late. I smiled when I saw him dressed in his best suit, his hair a mess from the obvious run he did to get there. He even paid despite the high price and his dwindling bank account.

Or it could have been a mix of everything. Maybe my feelings were never platonic. I always seemed to laugh louder and smile more when he’s around.

A short vibration from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the message from Hyunjin, seeing a couple pictures from today on my screen along with a short message. I don’t think you two are just friends.

The pictures were ones he didn’t show us at the café, or at least not when I was there. The first one seemed to be from when we were just wandering around looking for a location to shoot. I was looking somewhere off camera, probably looking around for a place to shoot. But Jisung’s eyes were on me. His hands were in his pockets while a soft smile danced across his lips. The way he looked at me was the way guys in movies look at their lover. Eyes full of love and longing.

The second picture was during one of the moments we were trying to act like a couple, but we couldn’t contain our laughter. His hands cupped my face, our eyes locked together in a sweet gaze. You could practically hear our laughter just by looking at the picture. And in both of our eyes was the same longing look Jisung gave me in the previous picture.

The final picture was another from us acting like a couple. I had closed my eyes just like the couple in the reference picture, thinking Jisung did too. Our foreheads were touching, his hands cupping my face once again, and my hands resting on his chest. But his eyes weren’t closed. They were open, looking at me with such love that I could feel the butterflies erupt in my stomach.

I stopped walking, just staring at the third picture, hope building up in my stomach. The lyrics of the song playing in my earbuds was background music to the sound of my heart pounding.

Just then, Jisung’s contact picture popped up on screen as he called me. He always knew when I needed him. He knew me better than I knew myself. I should have known I couldn’t keep these feelings a secret from him. He could read me as easily as you can read your favourite book.

“Turn around.” Was all he said before hanging up. Slowly, I listened to his directions, turning around, and seeing him standing just a few feet away. “You felt it too, didn’t you.” He said, neither one of us taking a step. Strangers just walked on by, not paying us any attention, as if they were extras in a drama we were starring in.

“Yeah.” Was all I could say, and a smile formed on his face. “I think I always have.” I added, surprised he could hear me with how soft my voice was. He finally walked towards me, closing the short distance between us before cupping my face.

“Me too.” He whispered before pressing his lips to mine in the first of many kisses we’d share.

#stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids au #skz au #han jisung imagine #han jisung au #han jisung x reader #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin

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jiminrings · 4 years

Note

hellooo can i request a drabble of uni!au art major tae and biochem major yn? also part one of the would you series is AMAZINGGG seriously i cant wait to read more!! <3

rich kid kim

pairing: taehyung x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: tae’s cold and probably needs a friend more than he needs a model, y/n feels this nEED to take care of him, a term of enderment then a dash of emotional constipation and a sprinkle of jealousy :D

notes: thank you for the request babes!! writing this made my heart melt and aND!!! thank you omg i’m glad you like would you :((

if you squint or if you’ve read insufferable, this is most probably taehyung and his y/n!!!

taehyung is personally more than willing to pay himself out of this project

oKAY LISTEN

he’s not the proudest knowing that he comes from a rich family and he’s the only kid and he’s never really struggled for much

everything was just given to him without any hesitations whatsoever

and yeah he admits that he can nEVER admit that his pampered and luxurious lifestyle since birth has shaped him to be this way and it’s hard to unlearn these types of things

things were too easy for him and thAt’s what made it hard

tae is the farthest thing from an outcast..,.,.,.,

.,.,. but that’s him in his usual rich boi bubble of elites wherever he goes because he’s surrounded by people like him

hoseok and jimin have got to be his closest friends but of course they pursued business degrees and everyone must’ve probably saw that coming

nobody, however, expected the kim taehyung to pursue a degree based rootly on passion and even major in it

yeah that’s right what are yOU looking at???

he’s an art student and yeah he’s taking this seriously ://

do yOU have a problem with that?? do you?? no what did you say?? step the fuck up ky-

spoiler alert: people do have a problem with that

taehyung could tell that his parents did a complete 180 when they learned through jimin’s noisy-ass mouth (not even through their own son) that he’s gonna be getting an art degree

his dad’s the one who’s most especially disappointed at him because well he’s the only child and uhhhh.,.,.,, so who’s gonna inherit the company now.,.,,,

tae normally feels selfish and this time, he felt like he was being rational rather than being selfish!! this is what he passionately wants!! pls god can i be selfish oNE more time

eventually his parents had no choice because as their son explained,, having an art degree won’t keep him away from the family business at all and he could even expand it!! he doesn’t need a degree!!!

lmao he’s been putting the money he gets on the stock market ever since he was ten years old

and they had to accept it eventually because this is what HE wants and if this is the only thing that he wants... then might as well help him through it, right??

now this is another dilemma

taehyung’s applied at a regular university in which everyone’s blended together and no one really cares about who’s who

it’s not exclusive to people like him.

he submitted his requirements and his portfolios by himself!!

and he got accepted!!

he’s nOT SURE if it’s purely because of his skills and himself and not his parents’ money nor influence

whatever it is, he doesn’t want to know because if it ends up being the answer he doesn’t want?? lol he’d crawl into a hole and mope for a week and would be doomed to wear three-piece suits for the rest of his life

so anyways

yeah..,, this is one of the handful of times that taehyung is completely willing to pay himself out

this project was supposed to be easy enough as what the professor said but uH he’d like to passive-aggressively decline pls and thank you

their final project was to make a portrait

right?? easy!!

a portrait of sOMEONE IN CAMPUS,,, regardless if you know them or not

(( well of course you’d get to know them by the end because yea they’re required to show proof that they indeed met and the model did agree to be painted ))

and by the end of the project, it’s either they keep it to themselves or give it to the model!!

that should be easy, right??

...

....

...... pls say right

oh my god tae should probably drop out now so he doesn’t get to do this

rich people don’t necessarily have to be educated, right???? maybe he’ll just settle into being a himbo

he learned about the meaning of the word through urban dictionary that he tHEN only learned about like six months ago and now he gets so many things

taehyung’s not intimidated by the workload of it all -- in fact, he’s even excited about it because it helps him relax!!

what he’s intimidated about is the fact that he’s kim taehyung and there are only two possible options

either his model would be someone who knows him and would be taking every possible step to ensure that they climb the social ladder through him and they’re not even gonna be dISCREET about it

his model wouldn’t completely care about who he is and in the process belittles him upfront and tbh his hart wouldn’t be able to take that and he’s probably wipe his tears away with dollar bills

there is almost no in-between, that one he’s sure of

so why are you like this?

why are you neither of the two and why are you sO kind and go against his expectations????

do you have an ulterior motive or something????

you who’s a biochem major and is actually another building away from his own

you who’s made the initiative that you become hIS model

you who actually oFFERED and almost begged to be a part of a project that would only be for tae’s benefit

... aha

that’s about -5 points from being a cool laid-back nonchalant gal

+10 for looking like someone who’s had a massively obsessive crush on him since day one and looking like you’d lay his life for him

no but lmao actually you just learned about taehyung in a magazine

you were bored at the dentist’s and scrolled through every possible outlet in your phone and it didn’t satiate you anymore!!! so how about reading a good ol’ magazine :D

then came taehyung

it was a whole issue dedicated to him and you were probably too dedicated into reading it that this time it was you telling the dentist to wait lol

that’s as far as you knew about him

and then you learned just some weeks ago that taehyung happens to study where you also study at and that was.,., inch resting

you never really saw him before around campus because it was too big and well maybe if you put in the effort, you’d actually find him

maybe you had a tiny lil admiration for kim taehyung just from one whole issue alone you read at the dentist’s or whatever

you’ve only known about this final project situation through changbin!!!

changbin, your neighbor at the apartment next to you, who’d crash over whenever his wifi feels the tiniest bit slow

yes you did spend a little more money to upgrade your internet situation (most times it’s the router who makes all the difference) because you were so tIRED of having things slow in the middle of researching for your projects in biochem)

no you will nOT have that <3

and of course changbin’s not having your that shitty wifi either so he pushed you to get that in the first place so he can use it too lmao

he’s told you just a couple of days ago about his final project and that maybe, just maybe, he’d make it into a move for this girl that he likes

nothing’s more romantic than pleading for someone to paint ur face right

and your grade and the decision to whether you’re gonna pass or flunk and graduate or retake are relying on you mostly

and in changbin’s case it’s also hIS heart on the line so yeah no pressure at all luv

“i kinda feel bad for rich kid kim, y’know?”

“what about taehyung???”

“eW do you have a crush on him??”

“addressing someone by their name equals to a crush??????”

your banters never stop because you’re as quick-witted as him and he both loves and hates it

he loves that omg someone can keep up with him and that way he gets challenged to always have the last say!!

he hates that oh god why is he friends with someone who reminds him of himself so much how is hE gonna deal with that??

sometimes he’ll purposely argue with you to fEEL something lmao

but there’s just something here that tells him you’re a little more interested now in this flow of conversation ever since rich kid kim was mentioned

“hm, nothing. i’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a model yet.”

he dodges you in the kitchen to look for peanut butter in your cupboard and oddly... you’re not berating him for decreasing your groceries....?

what does changbin mean by that? whAt model?? model as in taehyung doesn’t have the newest model of whatever car he wants? or maybe he has a model girlfriend and-

hold on wait wHAT

taehyung has a-

“m-model?”

he looks at you weirdly but you don’t even bat an eye when he gets ahold of your marshmallow spread so that he could make another one of his s’mores sandwiches

“uhhhh model as in he doesn’t have someone to paint for our project??”

is that what you wanted to hear or,.,

you and changbin share one (1) brain cell and it SHOWS

the two of you have to open your mouths, then close, then ponder, and then do that aGAIN until the both of you could finally grasp if you were in the same page

“oh cool!! i’ll be his model then!”

“yeah but did he ask”

“it’s gonna be easy!! i’ll just tag along with you to your building”

“yeah but did he aSK”

“we’re probably gonna hit it off instantly and then you’ll have to leech off from someone else for their wifi and food and every other necessity that you already have-”

“yeah but dID HE ASK????”

long-story short: no. taehyung most certainly did not ask you to be his model.

but here you are

saying that you came a long way is a bit of a stretch because taehyung mostly turns his head the other way around when you call out to him in public

progress is still progress :D

you’re eating lunch with him at the same table and this time you’re sat beside him!! when normally he’d just walk home to his apartment (lol that’s not allowed but you won’t be surprised to know that he has a free pass) and eat!!!

before that, taehyung would gLARE at you until you stop asking to sit with him in his table

yea he gets a bit lonely at time because jimin and hobi aren’t with him and hE’S the outcast but he won’t do anything about it,, just scroll through his phone while he eats and tune everyone out

you figured that maybe it’s changbin always linked with you in lunch because your schedules just matched up thAt perfectly like it does with tae’s

hee-hee so you might have elbowed him until he begrudgingly agreed to be tolerable, keep atleast four feet of distance from you, and not call tae rich kid kim

spoiler alert: taehyung doesn’t really care about whatever you do because doing those changes with changbin did nOT work at all

however

H O W E V E R

taehyung doesn’t know at all how you’ve wormed your way into his heart!!

what seem to be cold to you is his warmest he’s ever been in such a new environment and outside of his usual comfort bubbles!!!

it’s like you occasionally stealing the food from his plate when you have the same thing is the equivalent of h*lding h*nds with him

you putting your leg over his before he pushes it after five seconds mUST be the equivalent to marriage

wait he’s lying

taehyung does know how you’ve wormed your way to his heart

“hi! i’m y/n! :D”

ok u are a little bit sweaty and out of breath from doing all that fast-paced walking for the past ten minutes

your new shoes that you still need to break into further aren’t helping your situation in the slightest bit

honestly? this is all changbin’s fault <3

he unknowingly gave you the sign that you were looking for

if he says yeah five times with five minutes?? okay yeah you’re definitely looking for kim taehyung and offering yourself to become his model

you don’t wanna sound weird but you feel sorry for him and you wanna help him :((

he’s not helping you tho because he has long legs underneath those trousers and it looked like he wouldn’t budge at all not unless you jogged and stopped right in front of him

“hi! i’m y/n!! :D”

“...”

“.....”

tae’s a bit... perplexed

because who’s THIS entity and why are you standing in front of him

...

....

“bye y/n.”

he wants to exit from this situation because oh my god??

why r u like this

he didn’t ASK for your name!!

and he doesn’t even know you and giving him your name honestly won’t do anything and he doesn’t get what’s your motive and-

“oh c’mon!! you didn’t even shake my hand :((”

he feels even more lost as he tries to wrap his head around that uh.....

you uh.... you wanted a handshake??

.....

tae doesn’t even hide his annoyance because it’s clear as day!!!

he’s blatantly tilting his head at you rudely with a blank stare omg take the hint pLEASE

realizing it now you mAY have came on too strong to taehyung that looks confused as ever

“hi, i’m y/n.”

changbin’s by one of the lockers taking pics of you beaming at taehyung and him scowling down to show you later how dumb you look and how you shouldn’t do this at all

okay LISTEN

his personality trait is to immediately assume the worst out of every scenario possible and that way when something slightly less worse happens? that’s a win babie ;D

he became ur friend in the first place because you heard him yelling since he’s at the door right next to yours and you could hEAR him throwing things around as he cusses his laptop

yeah he cusses his laptop what about it??

if you close your eyes hard enough, you could hear him throw his router against the wall (you later learned that he was so close to finishing his digitalization but then his laptop decided to die) before punching the air

(( the friendship started when you knocked vERY gently and offered him to borrow your laptop even if you aren’t done with all your homework ))

((( changbin thought at first that u were such an organized and too-friendly social butterfly who’s a kiss-ass to everyone but now he thinks ur the coolest person ever and he treasures you more than life itself )))

although, taehyung’s a lot more vicious and closed-off and critical than changbin

he narrows his gaze at you as you introduce yourself for the second time before merely clicking his tongue

“ok cool”

is that uhm

is that IT good sir

“you’re not,” you’re dancing around your words and being careful to not let a pout grace your lips at the sheer lack of enthusiasm, “gonna introduce yourself to me??”

you got a reaction alright

taehyung sCOFFS and that’s the loudest he’s ever been with you in the span of two minutes

“you followed me for ten minutes just to tell me your name. kinda seems like you already know mine if you do that, no?”

this is why you took up biochem instead of law

how do the lawyers not break down???

why does phoenix wright make it seem SO easy?? especially when he’s spoken to in a confrontal tone???

oh god taehyung broke you already

not to be rude but uh what do you wANT

can you get it over already??

“o-oh! uhm i was wondering if i could uHm,” you sound ridiculous now that you think about it and this is perhaps one of the only times you feel embarrassed, “volunteer to be your model for your project?”

hmm

was that a wrong answer,,,

sHOULD YOU HAVE SAID THAT??

“are you in my class?”

taehyung asks and he’s finally said a sentence to you!!! omg

you’re quite shocked so he had to click his tongue to get you to answer

“no, actually!! i’m a biochem major and-...”

that’s all it takes before he hums and nods his head

and for some reason taehyung looks at you like you’re pREY

“are you a stalker?”

okay wait holy fuck wHAT

you know what

you took a sip from changbin’s coffee half an hour ago but why are you only choking on it nOW

you’re positively sputtering and now ur pressured bc tae thinks you’re a stalker!!! a damn stalker!!

“looked at you long enough. i don’t need a sketch artist and i could just-”

no no no pls no

this meeting is going downhill very quickly

“oh my god taehyung i’m nOT a stalker okay!!!”

that shuts him up because your voice is so firm and okAY then how do u explain this stalker smh ://

throughout the whole time you’re talking about changbin being an art major and also your neighbor and everything in between, tae has such a neutral expression that you feel so intimidated

“-and that’s what!! i’m not taking advantage of you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking i guess? i swear!!”

he listened and well if he’s being honest,,, okay yea you did make sense and he does know changbin

“okay then. i’ll think about it.”

“are you gonna give me your number???”

it’s either you’re so forward or he’s just not used to being caught off-guard

WHICH FUCKING ONE

“what for?”

it’s been so long ever since someone asked taehyung for his number

usually in galas and any other socialite gatherings you could think of, everyone’s number would just be in your phone automatically and you won’t even rEMEMBER how it got there in the first place

better yet, it’s been so long since he went back to his usual routine lifestyle of being himself

his last gala was two weeks ago and tae had to keep looking at his phone to study pdfs and whatever clear pictures he can get of his reviewers back at home because he had a test tomorrow morning

“so you could text me where we’re gonna meet so you could paint me, silly!!”

okay wOAH there

“i didn’t even say that you’d be my model????”

“lol but you were thinking it huh”

that’s it

taehyung has nO choice but to paint you if he wants to finish this project and graduate and have something of a thicker paper to flaunt

it came as a shock to him that hE took your offer and he could only imagine its effect on you

not to brag but tae didn’t even have to sweat for a little because it’s yOU who came to him with this offer!! not him!!

tae lives in the classiest apartment here in uni and everyone probably knows that

much to his insistence that he doesn’t want anyone from uni going outside his apartment, he had to take an L and invite you over

he wouldn’t risk doing his work in any place else because he doesn’t want anyone thinking and getting the wrong idea!!

speaking of, he’s regretting it now because you seem to be too happy being in his space

you’re pointing around and being awed at every possible thing!!!

what??? is this ur first time seeing a rattan hanging chair :// or a massive couch?? or a canvas painting of something so beautiful?? all of that in what’s supposed to be a student’s one apartment??? christ y/n get yourself together

“so what do you want me to do?? where do i sit oR do i stand instead?? i’m gonna need you to know that-...”

“nothing.” taehyung deadpans before he gets his camera so he could get digital shots as well if ever he needs an extra touch when it comes to his final product

the gears in your head are going bRRR and you’re gonna have to ask him to elaborate but taehyung already sets the pace

“nothing. just be your rEALLY annoying self and pretend i’m not here.”

normally you don’t take his words to heart but this one just hits a little close to home bc it’s early in the morning and taehyung already finds you intolerable

“by pretend, do you mean-...”

“up to you. are you more annoying around me or no?”

how did he read your MIND

tae got the thoughts in your head word per word and you’re so amazed at that because fUcK you originally thought that he’s good at bluffing his way up

click!

it’s you smiling at him

no you’re beaming at him

and you’re in front of his morning-lit curtains and you’re against the light

the portrait itself is already visually appealing and satisfying and man the shadows!!! the value!!!! they’re so raw and dreamy and this is exactly his style!!!

it was just a one-take wonder as soon as he took a picture of you!!! and he may have you to hold that position if he needs the push!! he just needs to translate it to canvas with his own language and emotions and then he’s dONE!!

you’re a pain in the ass

you laugh and you move too much

taehyung had you to to revisit that pose and hold it and you wouldn’t stop giggling bc you were too proud that you did THAT!

you also ask too many things that even hE doesn’t have the answers to

how is he supposed to know if red string lovers exist when you went into a spiel just because you saw a red tube of paint???? and why is he saying his opinions on such trivial things when he has his final project to take care of???

and how is he supposed to know why YOU’RE here hanging out with him instead of finishing your own final project

jk maybe it’s the L word but you’re gonna subdue that as much as possible since taehyung looks like he’d leave you by yourself with any chance that he gets

and you even call him terms of endearment!!! nicknames!! pet names!! names that you’d call someone who’s familiar to you and you probably l*ve!!!

angel

that’s what you call him :))

“why do you call me that?”

“because you look like one”

“and how would yOU know what angels look like??”

“because if they were to exist then you’d probably look like one!!”

“but-”

“ok that’s one minute no more questions taehyung <3″

tae just provides you with all the conviction you need to take care of him without even knowing

not in a maternal type of instinct type of way, but rather in a sPECIAL someone type of way

you find yourself caring for him mOre than you ever could for any regular friend you have!!

you just throw a whole loaf of bread to changbin and call it a day

but for tae??? you go above and beyond!!

“did it ever hit you that rich kid kim never really introduced himself to you?”

oh right....

changbin points out one day and you could see where he was getting at

for some reason he always knew what was in your mind at any given time and sometimes it’s to your disadvantage

you seem to be growing on taehyung though!!

he tolerates you better now!!

sometimes he’ll find you loveable even

he likes having someone around and you’re the perfect contender

if he decides to not talk too much, then you fill up the white noise!!

if he wants you to shut up?? then yOU shut up but of course not without babbling for a little

he’s opened up but with some reservations

some reservations that you don’t mind but it’s normal that you feel sometimes left out, y’know??

because it’s been a good month since you and taehyung properly interacted but he still resents you as much if you think about it

“hey angel!!”

“what is it-...”

taehyung looks up from his meal that he’s been poking at his fork because this has to be the fourth time you call out to him

so he turns to look at you and-

uhm

there seems to be a misunderstanding

you weren’t calling HIM

you were calling out to some other guy that iSN’T him

that’s seungmin!!! omg you haven’t seen him in so long and he just happened to pass by your lunch table!!!

apparently he has something to talk to you about which is why you’re standing up and leaving tae all alone on the table

seungmin’s smile is adorable as always and he gets you in a pretty good mood!!

oh god

dear gOD

what is taehyung feeling in his chEST???

tae’s grip on his fork is starting to get pRETTY tight

and if he’s aware enough, his right eye’s twitching and he’s practically scoffing under his breath

why tf would you call him that

WHO is angel and why is it nOT him anymore????

what he’s feeling is just unexplainable and it tastes something like betrayal

“who’s he?”

he quizzes you as soon as you get back to your table and you don’t waver one bit because you know he’s been asking questions recently

“oh that’s just seungmin!! we were childhood friends then he just transferred here awhile-...”

there’s a bitter taste on his tongue and it shows up in his face and you’re not even paying attention to him!!

“really? thought i was him for a second.”

ok now that got you to stop eating

????

why is he acting weird

taehyung looks even more irked because you look sO oblivious right now

“do you call everyone angel?”

o-oh where is this going

“uhm-”

you’re not even finished and to be honest you’re quite lost and taehyung sCOFFS you to the next century

“‘course you do.”

taehyung angrily finishes his meal and you leave it at that because ok maybe he had a bad day?? and he’s just taking it out on you??

and well tae DOESN’T want you to leave it at that

he wants you to ASK him why he’s mad!!! he’s passive-aggressive and it’s getting unhealthy but he’d rather choke than have him spill whatever he’s feeling

the next few days, taehyung avoids you like his LIFE depended on it

you’re not really bothered by it because he has his days, but this one’s just getting out of control

“are you giving me a time-out or something??”

lmao what did u do now

you nudge him when you see him by changbin’s apartment to borrow an easel even though he’s already got it by his apartment

yeah he’s mad at you and he’s petty but maybe he wants to see you again

tae’s giving you silent treatment and you don’t even question him for it

you don’t bother!!

you’re letting him do whatever he wants as always and he dOESN’T like it anymore!!!

he feels like he’s gonna combust at any given time and you don’t give a shit and he feels like yOU should give a shit because you always do!!

you always hover and worry around him but wHY does he feel like you’re not doing it anymore??

why does he yEARN FOR YOU???

it’s quite an an early night for you

you love biochem but sometimes it kicks your ass and it makes you retch at the mention of all-nighters nowadays!! bc they used to be fun but now doing them because you nEED to?? no thx

you’re already in your pajamas and you’re all washed up!! what could changbin need from you at 9 in the evening??

there’s an urgent knocking on your door and you resist the need to groan because you were about to really knock yourself out!! you need to get back all the rest you’ve wasted over your own final project

is that-

“taehyung?”

the man in question is in his huge yellow hoodie that swallows him up every time and he looks positively spent

his hair’s shaggy and his eyes are glazed and there’s a pink tint to his cheeks :((

he’s holding a baby hydroflask in his hands and you’re pretty sure that’s alcohol in there lol

“don’t call me taehyung!!”

he immediately snaps and you’re lost as aLWAYS

did he really just walk all the way to your complex to snAp at you??

“i’m not taehyung,” he frowns deeply and that’s when you’re a bit more mesmerized, “i’m angel.”

is this what you think it is??

your no.1 deflection move is to laugH and you’re doing that rn

something about this whole situation tickles you funny and you’re not sure what to feel about it

“i like your bottle!! i should get one for myself!!”

he could see right through you though

he ignores your stOOpid statements and goes to hold your hands :((

“no, no. i’m your angel. i-i’m your taehyung, right??”

listen

taehyung is the most confusing being you know and he’s so emotionally constipated that he outperforms changbin but this one,,,

this just feels so different

he’s hugging you

he’s embracing you

he’s burrowing his face to your neck and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t ever imagine what this would feel like :(((

he positively 100% might be in love with you

and you positively 100% might be in love with him too

he’s fishing for your hand by your side to put in between your bodies as he shakes it and that’s because he doesn’t wanna let go of the hug

:((((

you’re melting and this what heaven must feel like :((((

“h-hi. name’s kim taehyung and i’m yours.”

#I SPENT A LOT OF TIME ON THIS PLS LEAVE FEEDBACK PLS AND THANK YOU :D #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung drabble #taehyung drabbles #taehyung au #taehyung oneshot #bts taehyung #bts imagine #taehyung fic rec #taehyung fic recs #bts fic recs #kim taehyung imagine #requested drabbles

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de-facto-slut · 4 years

Text

Release Me Into Orbit

(Dark!Bucky x Black!Female Reader)

Summary: Bucky and the Reader are trying to heal from the trauma of their pasts.

A/N: Here we dive into the past. The true beginning to our characters stories. This story takes place both in the past and the present so get ready for that. I do plan on releasing the next Chapter of Invisible Chain soon! Stay tuned.

Warnings: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Violence, major character death, Manipulation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, eventual Kidnapping, Breeding Kink, and angst etc later in the story.

Honestly More tags will be added.

Ch 2: 2014

Longing.

It was hard for Bucky to see anything through the small opening in his cell door. He had lost count of how many years he had been locked up a long time ago. There were no windows that allowed him to even guess when it was night and when it was day. Inside his cage they made sure he had no human interaction; they left Bucky completely alone. As the years passed the only thing keeping him company was his own thoughts. Bucky would try his hardest to focus on his fragmented memories before the war. Those memories contained the few good things he could remember about being human. His first kiss behind Sal’s Diner. The smell of his mother’s home-made cherry pie. The scary thing was he couldn’t even remember his mother’s face, just the smell of her fragrant pie. To be honest he couldn’t remember any faces. They were all just blurs. When it came to his captors all he knew is that they had the same routine in place for him every day. They would feed him his one meal, then they would return to remove him from the cell. The strong ones would drag him through a maze of corridors until he reached a room filled with bright fluorescent lights. The lights illuminated the dreaded device they used for their experiments.

Rusted.

The experiments were the only time he interacted with anyone outside of his cell. Bucky could never see them properly as they always hid behind the bright lights. All he ever got to see were their shadows as they moved about speaking their foreign tongue. Nobody ever spoke to him unless they were reciting the very words that caused him great mental distress. Those words were a curse that was cast on him a long time ago after the war. One that followed him, captor to captor. They would often drug him, just enough so he’d be a little disorientated, but they made sure he’d still be able to feel and hear everything. Once drugged, that’s when they would begin torturing him. The only thing they would change in his routine is the method in which they tortured him. Each time they would try a new method to test the limits of his body and the limits of his mind. Unfortunately for Bucky, the day didn’t end until he physically and mentally could not take anymore. Eventually, they didn’t even need to use pain or the dreaded spell to get him to comply.

Seventeen.

It was a strange sensation to not be in control of one’s own body. It was a sensation that Bucky should have grown used to, but he never could. It was as if his own consciousness was taking a back seat while someone else controlled him over and over, each driver just as brutal as the next. He was always vaguely aware of what atrocities they made him commit in the name of science, and that in itself was torture to live with. When they would return him to his cell, he could barely get a wink of sleep as the images would replay over and over in his mind. Their screams ringing in his ears. This was what they had reduced him to, he was just a tool to them. Eventually, he had to do everything in his power to keep himself from going completely mad and that just meant numbing himself to it all. The bright-eyed man from Brooklyn that was just trying to save the world was gone years ago. In his place was a murderer. A weapon. A monster. And that’s all he’d ever be.

Daybreak.

It was a day like any other, except it was storming outside. Bucky could tell by the sounds of the fierce winds howling against the facility that and he had finally been moved to a cell with a small window. Bucky had learned that he had been with these particular captors for several years. Honestly, everyone that ever ‘owned’ him was the same in his eyes, so it didn’t matter how long he was kept. Eventually, he’d just be handed off or kidnapped again by someone else that wanted him. Luckily for him, years of compliance and loyalty earned him an upgraded cell and some limited freedoms. Along with some of the smaller changes he was finally able to speak their tongue, just another language to add to his impressive portfolio. There weren't a lot of things Bucky could do to entertain himself. If he wasn’t on an active mission, he was pretty much tied to his room unless they allowed him a break from his cell. In his free time, all Bucky could do is entertain himself by working out. And that’s all he ever did.

Furnace.

He was face down as his palms supported his weight in a push-up position.

“Two hundred and Forty-Nine.”

“Two Hundred and Fif-”

Nine.

He suddenly paused looking towards the door of his cell. He could have sworn he had heard a voice. Bucky waited patiently, but there was only silence in return. Perhaps he had imagined it, or maybe he was truly going mad. He returned his gaze to the floor before he heard it again. It was a voice, it was faint, but it was definitely a voice.

Benign.

“Hello?” it called out softly as if in a whisper.

Homecoming.

The voice was suddenly followed by the sound of the metal slot on the door sliding to reveal two eyes peering at him. Bucky was unsure of how to respond, mainly because he was unsure what was going on. The men who came to retrieve him from his cell never spoke to him, and this person was clearly speaking English. English felt foreign to him now, he hadn’t heard it in so long. Bucky suddenly sat up watching the eyes on the other side of the door. Again, there was a moment of silence before they spoke again.

One.

“Can you understand me?”

It was a woman.

Freight car.

---

“Mom! Hurry, I’m going to miss my flight!”

You rushed down the stairs with your bags in your hands. Your shoes caught on the last step almost causing you to trip. A quiet curse left your lips as you attempted to stabilize yourself. Your father watched as he tried not to laugh at your misfortune. Carefully, you handed him your bags and he tossed them into the trunk of his truck.

“Fragile!” you shouted at him.

You crawled into the back of the car as you patiently waited for your parents to join you. Eventually, after what seemed like another 30 minutes gone by, they entered the car. “Do you have everything?” your father asked one last time.

“Yes, now let’s get going!”

It felt like freshman year of college all over again. Instead, you were a graduating senior and you had just accepted an opportunity of a lifetime. A few months ago, your professor, Mr. Brigmova, had presented your class with an opportunity. The top five students in the program would be able to join him in a work-study program. You were still unsure how you beat out several other students, but you did. You felt extremely lucky to be able to partake in such a program. To be among the top 5 students in your area of study was everything you could have hoped for. It showed your parents that it wasn’t a waste of time or money to send you out of state for school.

Ever since middle school, you had always wanted to study genetics and biology. When you reached high school, you learned about Bioinformatics and molecular genetics and you made up your mind on what you wanted to do. When you told your parents, they began immediately running numbers in their heads. Feeling guilty about your career choice and the school you chose to attend; you worked your ass off to get and keep a 4.0 GPA. In turn that promptly led you to the 3rd spot among the top 5 students. And not to toot your own horn, you were the only double major among them. Double the hard work, so deep down you felt as if you were #1 anyway.

As a result of all your hard work, you were flying across the world for the first time. You’ve never been so nervous before your professor had revealed the location, you had never heard of Sokovia. You wouldn’t have been able to locate it on a map either, it was such a small country. This was also the first time you had to travel without your parents, and you’d be away for them for five months. You would have no safety net out there. Before you knew it, you had arrived at the airport and you could feel the butterflies settling at the bottom of your stomach like a heavy rock. You felt like you had to use the bathroom, but you knew better than that. Your parents helped you remove your bags from the car as the other cars honked impatiently. You flipped the respective vehicle off before embracing your parents one last time. You exchanged your goodbyes before you disappeared behind the airport doors.

It was the longest flight you had ever been on. After getting off the plane, you were tempted to kiss the frozen ground, but you had seen enough cartoons to know what would happen. In Sokovia, the winters were harsh around this time, and thanks to your research beforehand you were prepared. Or at least you thought you were. You exited the airport to be greeted by the harsh Sokovian winter.

The bitter cold of Sokovia nipped at your bare cheeks and the tip of your nose. Slowly it seeped into the pockets where you kept your gloved hands numbing your fingers slowly. The cold was nothing like you were used to back in the south. Immediately, regret settled right beside the nervousness as you realized you wished you had stayed behind the airport doors just a moment longer as you waited for your ride.

The streets were not as busy as google images made it seem. It was probably due to the fact that it was unbearably cold, and it was late. You desperately wanted to return to the warmth of indoors, but you feared missing your shuttle. You moved about in hopes that it would warm you up while you waited for the shuttle as you watched it grow dark. Not wanting to expose your hands to the cold you peeked at your pocket for the time before you left you made sure to adjust it for the time difference. The shuttle was running late and that worried you, you knew nothing of the language to get help if you ended up stranded.

Eventually, you took a seat on your suitcase, holding onto it tightly. The last thing you would want is to be robbed in a completely different country. You waited for what seemed like almost an hour in the cold before you saw the shuttle pull up in front of you. Slowly you stood on your two feet stretching as you watched the shuttle door slide open, only to reveal your professor. Mr. Brigmova was a tall man with an average build in his early forties. He had dirty blonde hair and striking gray eyes. If not for the slight wrinkles near his eyes, he could have easily been mistaken for his early thirties. He motioned you inside as he jumped out to grab your bags for you. You did as you were told climbing into the vehicle as the warmth inside embraced you. You watched as Mr. Brigmova carefully placed your bags in the back seat of the shuttle. He flashed you a smile as he slid into the seat next to you. “It is good to see you, Y/N.” He greeted you. “It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Brigmova,” you replied.

“Please, call me Peter. We’re colleagues now.” He responded. You noted it was just you, Your professor, and the Driver. Out of everyone you were the last from the program to make it in. Your professor turned towards the driver tapping the back of his seat, “My gotovy k rabote.” He mentioned in his native tongue. You weren’t completely sure what he had told the driver but the fact that the shuttle started moving probably was related. Peter turned to you noting how tense you were placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it lightly. His action surprised you, but he only flashed you a smile in return,

“Relax you’re in Sokovia now.”

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #dark!fanfiction #Dark Fic #dark!marvel #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x black!reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!mcu #black reader #bucky × black reader #sam wilson

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sugarkinky · 4 years

Text

Gamers gotta game | 2 |

Pairing: Gamer!jungkook x Nerd!Reader x Fuckboy!Jimin Genre: Future smut, fluff and angst. Warnings: More angst than anything on this part, mentions of alcohol abuse. A/N: I’m happy to see that many of you liked the first part, this is a slow-burn fic so bear with me. *gif not mine*

1 | 2

PART 2

▪♡▪

10:15

You felt like your hangover from yesterday was there again, even if you didn’t drink anything the night before. It felt like your head was about to explode when you got up. Sundays are pretty lazy for you, there is something in the vibe of it that makes you incapable of being productive.

There is no need to get out of your PJs, so you just lay on the small couch and watch some Netflix on your cellphone. Maybe Kenny is already up so you decide to text her, just to see if she’s ok with the hole Seokjin ordeal.

But then you see something that makes you look at it twice, a message… From Jimin?

Okay, not that big of a deal. He was drunk, you saw him and he may remembered you. That doesn’t mean he changed or will change. Come on, you don’t have to change someone, you’re not some kind of savior of boys who can’t keep it on his pants right?

You don’t know if you reply it or not, but for your own safety you just delete the text and his number all together. It was about time.

▪♡▪

Freshmen year.

There are some things you couldn’t quite understand about your body, how it shivers when next to him, the way you’ll blush every time he say something about you or your heart stopping just because of the sight of him. You were totally fucked and with a massive crush on him.

It all started by his way of talking to you, always sweet and really listening you. The conversations weren’t the boring type, you could spend hours talking to him and he seemed to get everything you were saying. After some classes together, you both ended up meeting for projects and studying for exams on the library. That seemed pretty friendly and at that point you felt like it was good this way, he was a good friend.

One day, things got weird between you two. After the first year’s midterm exams you both went to a party because Jimin got in this frat and needed to bring as many people as possible to cheer for him in a kind of “initiation”. You went with Kenny and that was your very first party, so she dolled you up. When you got there it was loud and too crowded for you, but since Jimin wanted you there you stayed.

“Y/N, you made it!” Jimin said when you saw him in the kitchen.

“Yeah, when did you got here?”

“Not long ago, do you drink?” He asked you with some random bottle in hand.

“Sure.”

The night went by, soon enough you’ve learned that Jimin liked drinking a little too much. The said “initiation” was actually many drinking games with some weird penalties, like twerking in front of everybody. Jimin was pretty good at that, you truly started having fun when they announced the final game: chicken fight. The only problem was that the newcomers should have a partner to put on his back. The time Jimin glanced a look at you, you started to shake your head as saying “please no”.

“Come on, Y/N. Do it for me, please?” The puppy eyes were your weak spot.

“Fine but I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Not a problem you can go with some of my clothes.”

Not necessary to say that the game was a total mess, Jimin almost couldn’t keep straight because of how wasted he was. But you didn’t drink that much so it wasn’t that difficult to beat the other girls. You both got to the last match and Jimin was happy and giggling.

“Y/N, you’re amazing.” You blushed at that, maybe the alcohol finally got to you.

“Let’s win this thing!”

And after what felt like a half of an hour you beat the other girl down and everybody cheered for you two. When get down from Jimin shoulders, he embraced you in a hug.

“I can’t believe you did it. WE DID IT.” He got a big smile on his face that harmed you up.

But then you felt that it was too close for you and started panicking a little, that’s when Jimin closed the space between you two and got his lips on yours. Nobody seemed to notice or care for that matter, they were too drunk for this.

“Hum, I need to go to the bathroom…”

So you almost trip getting out of the pool and heading to upstairs where your clothes were.

▪♡▪

Your Monday’s classes were you favorites, even it being Monday, Econometrics and Statistics were the reasons you chased the Economics major. At the end of the morning classes you got a message from Kenny inviting you to lunch.

“Do you even know the hellhole I went through because of you?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked sad and you know why.

“Hey, I know that something went wrong Saturday. Was it Seokjin?��

“Yeah… He told me that he liked this girl and…” She was almost crying and you embrace her in a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine, it was just an enormous crush no biggie.” You started laughing with her at that.

“So… Did he ditched you to go to her?”

“I wish he has done that, he asked me to play Cupid for him. I’m so angry at myself that I did it. He’s not a bad guy but damn… I can’t believe he’s that stupid.”

“Let’s change the subject, how’s your midterm project going?” Kenny made part of the Art’s Department and everyone on it had to submit twice a year to the University Art Festival, even her Audiovisual major.

“I feel stuck, it’s like I can’t vision it anymore.”

She once told you that her project were about history of our city photography, I pity her because it seems a lot of work for just one person to do. But you know she can do it, her last year’s short film were amazing, she’s brilliant with artistic stuff.

“Isn’t it too much for just you?”

“Actually, this year I can make some freshmen work for me to earn credits. I just didn’t decide who it will be.”

“WHAT? You have two months until the deadline.”

“I know, okay. I’m doing interviews this afternoon. The difficult part is done, I have the materials treated but analyzing and selecting them is not my cup of tea.”

“How many are they?”

“Around 200.”

“Girl…”

“I know right? How could you imagine this city would be that interesting.”

You both laugh at that.

“So… Do you have some time? I don’t really like meeting new people alone and those freshmen just scare me to death.”

“Just two hours, I have Statistics at 3 pm.”

“Wow, your major schedule is crazy.”

Oh, yeah it is. Ghosting Jimin made you pass more time between classes than in your own house. Worthy though, the Math Department had a good Statistics teacher. The Art’s Department is not that far from the cafeteria so you get there pretty fast, the interviews will happen in an empty classroom near the auditorium.

“At what time will they be here?”

“Probably in 20 minutes.”

And the first freshmen entered the room, she was a small girl with a timid smile called Mariam. She seemed fine but a little too clumsy, almost falling to sit on the chair.

“What are some of your interests in our department?”

“I like filmmaking and photography”

“Did you ever made part of an art project before?”

“Not really, I didn’t study arts in High School.” At that me and Kenny looked at each other, it is extremely difficult getting to any artistic related major without having any background. It’s like getting to a Med School without doing biology.

“How did you choose your degree?”

“Well… I always liked the cinematography studies I did for a Movie Club we hold with our history teacher. I never went to practice on it but I know the basics on cameras.”

“Right, I think you’re the only one showing up so…”

“Wait! I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers extended his class.” Two men entered the room with heavy breaths probably from running here. The one who talked had a quite long hair and was a little tanned. The other one… wait a minute, you knew him from the party, he was the one playing online games in his room.

“It’s fine… I know how Mr. Rogers is.”

“Well Mariam, I will let you know the results by email.” The interview continued with the one called Taehyung, but what you were looking at was Jungkook. He seemed to notice it as he stared at you for a second after turning his head away blushing.

“So you both are freshman?”

“Well… I’m a sophomore but I switched majors this year.”

In the end of the interview Kenny looked amused with Taehyung and his portfolio. Then it was Jungkook’s turn.

“Then… Jungkook, right?” He nodded “I’ve heard a lot about you in Ms. Turner class, you seem to be her favorite of your year.”

She knew him too?

“I… I’m sure it’s not true, she’s just very generous.” Kenny smiled at that, you knew that this one professor was hell on earth when it comes to personality.

“Okay, what editing programs can you work with?”

“PS, Illustrator, Corel, Lightroom and Luminar.”

“Well, have you worked with curation of photos for an exhibition?”

“Yes, back in High School.”

At the end of the interview you were running late for your class so you stared heading to the Math Department building. But before you could proceed, you saw Jungkook standing at the exit.

“Hum… Thank you for helping me at the party.”

“It was nothing.” He looked surprised that I talked to him directly. “I know how these parties are… Are you from the department?”

“Oh, no. Actually I’m just Kenny’s friend.”

“Well… I gotta go.”

“Hum… Yeah, see you.”

The man surely was not what you expected from the BTS frat house, he seemed a little lost and timid but maybe it was because you didn’t know him that well. One thing you’ve learned the past year is that you can’t be sure based on first impressions.

▪♡▪

In the end Kenny opted for going with the last two freshmen but you didn’t see any of them for the next tree weeks. You and Kenny were lunching at the cafeteria when the both of them sat on the same table as you.

“Hey guys, are you done with the descriptions yet?” Kenny seemed worried, her deadline is next month.

“Not really, there are some things we would like to discuss about it.” Taehyung said.

“What about it?”

“I don’t think the photos make sense together yet.” That’s when Kenny took a long breath.

“I know right? But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

They all seemed lost on it. “Can I take a look on it?”

All three of them were surprised but Taehyung showed you the project on a folder. The images were incredibly good in quality for the time it was taken, but they didn’t seem to be from the same city. But one took your attention, it was a small market that was in front of your house with some old man in front of it.

“Why don’t you talk to these people? Maybe they can give you a hint of how these photos could make sense together.” Kenny scoffed at you.

“And where would we find them, on the cemetery?”

“No, dummy. This market is the one in front of my house, maybe you can talk to people nearby and see if there is someone from that time still alive, it’s called Oral History and maybe I can go with you and take some notes for my microeconomics class project.”

A/N: Even if this part ended up being longer, I don’t know if I really like it. I’ll try to do better for part 3, send me any feedback you think I need :)

96 notes · View notes

virsamin · 5 years

Text

Come Home

Victor x Reader

Genre: NSFW

Word Count: 1,978

Summary: Victor has been neglecting you and you call him out on it

A/N: I’m a sucker for soft Victor too so you’ll see small bits of that with the rough side of him too sksksks

Additional: Rough Sex, fingering

******************************************************************

A thunderstorm rages against the mansion as rain pelts the shutters and the wind howls in angst. Light pours through the kitchen window as a strike pronounces itself in my midst. The storm keeping pace with the torrent coursing through me. Another night alone.

I bring the blood red wine against my lips, savoring the sharp taste that tinges my mouth. The gold band around my left finger glints under the fluorescent kitchen light, more so as I tap my fingers against the table. Over. And over again.

The production report mocks me from the counter, scraps and details very far from the forefront of my mind. Only a lingering thought of his soft lips and intense eyes looking into my own.

Victor has been extremely busy, he doesn't hold me gently in his embrace as he used too. He comes home late and leaves early, and it’s as if I don’t matter anymore. My frustration builds, feeding my torrent of emotions once again.

Seething, I close my lips around the wine glass again as I flip once more over the manila folder. My distraction.

*Click*

The sound ricochets through the silent house like a bullet, making the hair on my neck raise at attention. My body thrums to life as powerful footsteps echo closer to the doorway of the kitchen. He clears his throat to make his presence known. My back straightens and breath hitches slightly.

“Late for you to be up.”

His deep masculine voice reverberates through the kitchen and across my body, igniting a tremble through my spine. I shift to hide it and sip my wine once again, without responding. His eyes burn into my body as he strides across the kitchen to bring out another bottle of wine.

I sneak a glance up from the folder to catch a glimpse of him. Familiar taut muscles protruding from his dress shirt, his front shirt buttons undone showing his resilient chest. Messy hair cascading across his face, tempting me to go up and brush it out of the way.

Before I can look away, dark fiery eyes meet my own. I only stare back, daringly.

His eyes widen slightly before they narrow, his fire beginning to rage against my storm.

I glance back down to my portfolio and take yet another sip of my wine as if bored by his glare.. though I'm far from it… I’m exhilarated.

I hear his footsteps as he quietly walks around the island counter until he is only a hot breath away. My whole-body quivers under his heated glare, his breath stirring the hair of my neck.

Pushing myself to ignore the throbbing desire for him, I focus my attention on the glass in my hand. Swirling it slightly.

Victor pulls the glass from my hand and downs it himself as he eyed the almost empty wine bottle carefully. He takes the folder from me and skimmed over it.

"Is this the report I asked you for yesterday?"

"Mmm." I nod nonchalantly, never meeting his eye.

He frowns as he flips through the papers and grimaced as he realized that I couldn't care less about the project.

"Are you trying to provoke me? This the worst report that you've ever written. Have you left your common sense back at the research center with Professor Lucien?”

My head snaps in his direction, anger quickly flowing through me with little effort.

“Y/N.” He quips.

“No. Don’t 'Y/N' me. You've been gone for how long now? A month? And ever since you've been back, you've refused to see me, to spend time with me and you're going to get upset with me spending time with someone else?

You've neglected me for weeks. Weeks. I thought I was worth more to you than that- You haven’t touched me, you haven’t acknowledged me, you just ignore me. And I can’t even get this stupid report-”

He whips my chair around and shoves his delicate tongue into my mouth, soft lips roughly caressing my own.

“You think…” he kisses my neck “…I don’t…” he kisses further “…think about those sweet lips…” his hand squeezes my breast “…these plump breasts…” his finger travels down until it slides under my skirt and panties to coax my wet lips “…this lovely pussy. That’s...all...mine.”

A traitorous moan passes my lips when his finger slides into me, pumping deliciously slow.

“Victor…”

My gaze catches the desire in his eyes that most definitely reflect my own. He pulls me into his firm chest and thrusts two more fingers inside of me, almost driving me over the edge.

Before I slick his hands from a beckoning high, he pulls out and steps away from me. A whine almost escapes, his vacant warmth leaving me cold. His eyes ignite. Victor shrugs off his jacket, pulls his tie off and takes off his shirt.

He quickly and purposely strides up to me, kissing the life from my lips. My fingers tangle through his hair as his hands run over my hips and under my blouse. Tingles of delight dance at his warm touch, overwhelming my senses.

Before I can react, he hoists me up around his torso and slams us into the kitchen wall. I moan and bite his lip fiercely, a snarl scrunches his face as he digs his hips into my own, grinding himself against me. His kisses shock and excite me all the same as he continues from my now swollen lips to the soft skin of my neck. Nipping and kissing along the way.

Victor presses his warm body over mine, spreading warm tingles over me. He unbuttons my blouse hastily and unclasps my bra, capturing my breasts in his hands. Desire burned through us both, unrelenting from our days without.

His hand massages one breast as they pucker out for him in need. He pinches hard on my nipple, and I gasp, my core throbbing. His hot mouth replaces it as his hand moves to my other breast.

His trails his soft hands down my chest and grips my waist tightly, pulling us from the wall, the both of us still breathless as he strides from the kitchen towards our bedroom. I press myself to his body, relishing the feeling of his touch.

He smashes his lips to mine once again, dominating my mouth without rebellion. His tongue swipes over mine, his knuckles digging into the small of my back as he carries us into our room.

I open my eyes to find his heated gaze scorching my own desirous ones.

He laid me on the bed, following with himself on top of me as he sucked and nibbled at my earlobe.

"Victor...please..."

"Hm...?" He continued his assault, trailing kisses down my jaw and neck before he gently bites down and sucks. I moaned, reaching for the waistband of his pants, and tugged.

"Eager aren't we?" He arcs a brow and smirks at the sight of me being so disheveled.

He bends down before me and strips me of my skirt and panties, pressing a gentle kiss to one knee and then the other. I can’t help but smile.

He rises from the position and instantly his face hardens, he wasn’t losing sight of his goal tonight.

Swiftly, he pulls my nakedness into his half-clothed self. My nipples flush against his chest, leaving only our bottom halves untouching. His bulge begs to differ as it makes itself known against my upper thigh. Victor grinds himself further into me.

“This is only for you, and never will be for anyone else. Now, what do you want?” His hands draw circles against my back teasingly.

I wrap one arm around his neck, pulling him closer as the other trails downward, scratching his back. My hand drops to his bulge and caresses over it slightly as I whisper, “You.”

The answer makes him chuckle as he presses his lips onto mine lovingly.

“As if I wasn't already yours.”

Exhilarated and ready, I spread my legs over the mattress and leave myself to him. His gaze sears my skin as he pulls off his pants and frees his pulsing cock. I lick my lips at the size, waiting eagerly for him to join me. Victor’s soft hands glide over my thighs as he makes his way forward. Trembles quake my body as he pumps two fingers through my folds.

He kisses up my stomach and pecks my nipples before he makes it to my lips, devouring them without mercy. He continues circling my clit and pumping his fingers, sending me into overdrive.

He pulls his fingers from my folds, and I whimper. His eyes find mine and he smirks as he sucks my essence off of his fingers. My mouth falls open again, and he takes advantage, taking my lips into his own.

I buck my hips up against his erection, achieving the friction I craved all evening. A short moan releases from me.

Victor growls low in my ear before, without warning, he thrusts himself deep inside of me, emitting moans from both of us. He pumps in and out, stretching and filling me whole. His name falls from my mouth and echos across the room fast and louder as he drives himself deeper into me.

Becoming merciless, he rams into me roughly and thrusts faster. My eyes roll in ecstasy as I scream his name over and over in the room, raking my nails across his back. He grunts over me, picking up even more speed as we both climb to our climax.

"Victor!” I scream as I peak, my core tightening around his shaft as he moans loudly over me. Pulsing inside me after reaching his high as well.

Victor rests on top of me, both of us panting for breath. Delirious and exhilarated.

When both of us have caught our breath, Victor pulls out from me and stands over me next to the bed. He kisses the top of my head as I continue to come back down from our sex cloud. I see him walk over to the bathroom and then I hear water running.

When he comes back in his still naked glory, I look up to him lazily, wondering exactly he was going to do. Answering my inner curiosity, he picks me up bridal style and carries me to the bathroom.

When we get there, I realize he was preparing a bubble bath. He slides me under the warm water and settles himself behind me, pulling me to his chest.

Victor grabs a nearby washcloth and begins cleansing me, running the washcloth over my chest and legs. His hand steadies me, spreading warm tingles everywhere he touches. Caressing and kissing here and there.

When he’s done, I twist in his light grip and take the washcloth from him. “Your turn.”

I proceed to run the washcloth over him, enjoying my excuse to keep touching him. His hands rest on my hips as he leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing. His hands tighten on my waist when I reach his cock, but I simply run the cloth over it and move further. It twitched slightly and then he relaxes again, a ghost smile on his face.

I finish and rest my head on his shoulder, drawing random shapes on his chest. His fingers entwine in my hair and play with it. His other hand rests against the small of my back, both of us just enjoying the long-needed company.

****************************************************************

We both lay in bed, him cocooning me from behind. I doze to him caressing my skin and playing lightly with my hair. Before I completely fall asleep, I hear him whisper.

“I expect you to revise that report by Thursday. Do well and you'll find yourself rewarded.” He kisses the crown of my head as I hum lowly in response, already half asleep.

617 notes · View notes

nazariolahela · 4 years

Text

Best Beloved: Chapter 4

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a PM AU I’ve been working on. It’s a bit different than my previous fic series and I’m really excited to try something new. I hope y’all enjoy it. This story is told in dual first-person narrative, from Kaia (F!MC) and Damien’s POV. The first half of this story takes place during Kaia’s freshman year and Damien’s senior year of college. The second half is two years after Kaia graduates. There will be sprinklings of canon in this fic, but we’ll try to step out of the box for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @lady-calypso @irishwhiskys-blog

Synopsis: What happens when you find yourself crushing on your best friend? For years, Damien and Kaia have been best friends, while secretly harboring feelings for one another. Everything changes one night after a little too much alcohol and years of pent up feelings. Can they control their emotions and salvage their friendship, or will the feelings they hold for one another destroy everything they have?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Damien struggles with the state of his relationship and Kaia meets Hayden.

Damien

I sat at my cubicle on a Thursday afternoon, putting the finishing touches on the report I needed to write up for my internship. I had landed a Securities and Intelligence Analysis Internship with a local security agency. My duties included collecting, processing, and analyzing, intelligence, and providing assistance to the senior analysts within the agency. If everything went well, they mentioned offering me the opportunity to join the agency full-time. To be honest, though, I had bigger dreams.

I was proofreading my report when my phone went off. I looked at the screen and saw Alana’s name flash across it. I sighed and dragged my hand down my face. She had been blowing up my phone all day with text messages. After the frat party last weekend, we got into an argument about how I “disappeared on her” after our makeout session in the bathroom. I didn’t intend to, but when she stormed off and I lost her in the crowd, I didn’t make much of an effort to go look for her.

I felt like our relationship was going in a different direction than I was hoping. You could blame it on our busy schedules, and her turning down my proposal left a sour taste in my mouth. But as much as I wanted to deny it, I felt like Kaia coming back into my life had a lot to do with it. Feelings I didn’t know I had crept up on me every time she was around. Her touch, the sound of her laugh, and the sweet smell of her shampoo stirred up all these emotions in me. I needed to get them in check before I did something I’d regret.

My phone buzzed again and I groaned and dropped my head to my desk. I should have called her back and smooth things over, but I had to get this report done before I left today. I picked up the phone, and stared at it for a moment, then clicked the lock button and slipped in in my pocket.

A moment later, the research analyst I was paired up with rounded the corner of the cube farm and called out as he approached me. “Nazario. Do you have that research portfolio on current conflicts and security threats?”

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out the manila envelope, handing it to him. He took the files and peered over my shoulder at my laptop.

“Thanks, man. Looks good so far. When you’re done with this, can you compile the materials from the counterterrorism report?”

“Sure thing, Agent McDaniels. I’ll have that to you shortly.”

He nodded and clapped me on the shoulder before walking off. I signed off on my report and hit “send” then leaned back in my chair with a smile on my face. This internship was easier than I thought it would be.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again. I groaned and pulled it out to see another missed call from Alana. I locked my computer and got up from my desk then made my way into the break room. Tapping my phone against my palm, I took a deep breath and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.

“What?” she snapped.

“Baby, come on-”

“Don’t ‘baby, come on’ me, Damien. I’ve been trying to reach you all day! I’m sick of you always bailing on me all the damn time. First, you ditch me to go meet with your advisor. Then, you disappear during the frat party last week. And yesterday you fucking bailed on our date to go visit your mom. I know you have shit going on, but so do I. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little reliability from my boyfriend.”

I groaned. We had planned to spend the afternoon together after classes, but Mom called yesterday morning, asking if I was able to come home and help her with something. And like the good son I am, I emailed my professors that I’d be absent, hopped in my car, and made the hour drive home. Now, I had to face the consequences. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d been kind of a lousy boyfriend lately. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but with everything going on this year, I had to prioritize. “I know, Alana. I’m sorry.”

“Are you fucking someone else?” she accused.

“What?”

“You heard me. What about that freshman you’ve been hanging around the last few weeks?” she spit out, the venom in her voice leaking through the phone.

Was she serious? I never told her about me and Kaia, so I don’t know where she even got the idea from. Just because Kaia and I had history, didn’t mean that I wanted to sleep with her. Okay, maybe I did, but I sure as shit didn’t act like it around my girlfriend. I dragged my hand down my face, sighing deeply. “Who? Kaia? She’s an old friend from home. I don’t even like her like that.” Lie. “Why would you think that?”

“It would make sense. Look, I know our relationship isn’t perfect, but if you have feelings for someone else, the least you could do is let me know so I’m not wasting my time.”

I yanked the phone away from my ear and mouthed several curse words. After all that we had been through, she had the audacity to say that to me? I pressed the phone back to my ear. “Excuse me? Did you forget that I fucking PROPOSED to you? And you have the nerve to say I’m wasting your time! What the fuck, Alana?” I growled.

She went quiet on the other end and I had to check to see if she had hung up on me. After several beats, she spoke up. “It’s just...fuck, Damien. I feel like you never want to be around me anymore. Especially since you started hanging around with that Kaia girl. Plus, we're both always so busy, it’s like our relationship got put on the backburner.”

“Alana. If I didn’t want to be with you anymore, I wouldn’t be with you. I get why you’re upset. I do, but you have to understand that I have a life outside of this relationship. This internship is important to me. And my mom’s been having a hard time since my dad passed. I’m sorry for bailing on you, but you can’t go around accusing me of cheating on you every time. This relationship is never going to work if you do.”

“Well, what do you expect me to think, Damien? This new girl pops up out of nowhere, and all of a sudden you’re spending all this time with her,” she huffed.

“We have one class together, Alana. That’s it. We don’t go out to eat or spend time together on the weekends. Other than the frat party, the only time I’ve hung out with her was during our study groups. I’ve had female friends for almost our entire relationship and you’ve never batted an eye over it. Why is this one any different just because I’ve known her since we were kids?”

She sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”

“I’m at work right now, but I can come over later if you want me to,” I said, tugging at the knot of my tie.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Damien. I just need time to myself right now. I feel like you’ve been smothering me lately, and I can’t deal with this.”

Jesus, this woman was making my head spin. “I don’t understand. First, you say I’m neglecting you, and now you say I’m smothering you. Which is it?”

“It’s...it’s complicated, Damien. I just don’t know if this relationship is worth it anymore.”

“Babe, what are you saying? Are you saying you want to take a break from us?” My chest tightened as I struggled to say the words.

She paused for what felt like an eternity before answering. “I don’t know, Damien. I’ll call you in a few days,” she said, before hanging up the phone.

I stared at the screen, anger coursing through my veins. I fell back against the refrigerator, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. My department supervisor entered the break room and saw me leaning against the fridge.

“Hey! Everything alright in here?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, just dealing with some personal stuff. It’s taken care of though,” I replied. I slipped the phone in my pocket and made my way back to my desk. I sat down in my chair, powered up my laptop and opened my school email. I noticed two new emails: one from my advisor and another from Kaia. Jesus, talk about shit timing.

I sighed and opened the one from my professor. It was an outline of the things I needed to do to complete the first half of my internship. I skimmed through it, taking note of all the important parts, then replied that I would have it to her by midterms.

I closed out the email from my professor and hovered the mouse over the one from Kaia. I wasn’t sure if opening it was such a good idea, but a voice told me to do it anyway. I opened up the email and started reading.

Hey Dames!

Here are the notes from yesterday’s lecture. I highlighted everything Prof. Ross said would be on the test. Let me know if you need anything else. :)

- K.

P.S. Hope your mom is doing okay. Tell her hi for me next time you talk to her!

Of course. I had texted her on the way to Mom’s asking her to take notes for me in class. Sure, I could have asked anyone else in that class, but let’s be real. I wasn’t going to. Any excuse to talk to her, I snatched it up like a dog with a bone. Her email was innocent enough, but just seeing her name pop up on the screen made my heart beat faster. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed out the email. That must be why Alana was so upset. I sighed deeply and got to work on my next task. After about thirty minutes of struggling to stay focused, I powered down my laptop and walked over to my supervisor’s office.

“Hey! I have an assignment due tomorrow that I need to finish up. Do you mind if I take off?”

She looked up from her computer and nodded. “Sure thing. Just let me sign off on your timesheet and you can be on your way.” I handed her the sheet required for my internship credit hours and she initialed the document, then handed it back to me. “We’ll see you next week,” she replied, then went back to her computer.

I walked back to my desk, packed up my things and headed out. When I got to my car, I dumped my bag in the backseat, then climbed in the driver’s side. Pulling out my phone, I contemplated texting Alana. But after the conversation we had earlier, I decided to let her have her space. She would reach out to me when she was ready to talk. Until then, I had to be patient. Against my better judgment, I texted Kaia.

My breath caught in my throat. Yep, she was definitely flirting with me. Good lords, this girl was going to be the death of me. I’d been fighting feelings for her since my sophomore year of high school. It was easier back then because she was so young, but now that she was older, I was having a hard time keeping my emotions and my dick in check. If I didn’t get this sorted out soon, I was going to completely fuck up both of my relationships. I shook my head, put the car in drive, and headed back to the dorms.

***

Kaia

Sloane, Nadia and I sat in the library Monday afternoon, studying for our Comp class exam. Even though we were only a couple of weeks into the semester, our professor decided this morning that we needed to have a pop quiz on Wednesday and told us to be prepared.

“Ugh, this stuff is so confusing and not at all pertinent to my degree. What is an independent clause anyway?” Nadia whined, holding her phone in one hand.

Sloane leaned over and tapped Nadia’s note sheet. “It’s a clause that has a subject and a verb and can stand alone. Didn’t you learn this stuff in high school?”

“Psh probably. What does that even mean?”

I sighed. “It’s a complete sentence. You’d know that if you were actually reviewing your notes and not texting Steve.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and went back to her phone. “I wish we all had this class together so I could just cheat off your papers.”

Sloane snorted and I rolled my eyes, throwing a ball of wadded up paper at her. “Shut up and study.”

Nadia laughed and grabbed her highlighter, highlighting some sentences on her study guide. “Prepositional phrases are going to be the death of me.”

Ugh, this was so reminiscent of high school. I love my cousin, but she can be a bit flighty. “I’m going to be the death of you if you don’t study your notes, Miss Art Major. Just because this class isn’t,” I held up my index and middle fingers, making air quotes “pertinent to your degree, doesn’t mean you can slack off and not study. What’s going to happen when Steve gets drafted to the NFL and he dumps you for someone smart?”

“Steve would never do that. I’m too cute,” she gasped. Sloane chuckled and went back to her notes.

Ten minutes later, Nadia looked up from her study guide. “So, you guys going to Homecoming?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I sighed, not looking up as I turned a page in my book.

“I don’t know, it might be kind of fun,” Sloane said, looking up from her study guide.

A grin spread across Nadia’s face. “I agree, Sloane. Plus, there’s so much to do! There’s the parade, the game, the dance. And Delta Sigma Phi is having another party!”

“They have parties every weekend.”

“Not like this,” Nadia retorted. “This one is supposed to be huge.”

I shook my head and went back to studying my notes. The idea of homecoming made me cringe. I only had bad memories of going. Most recently, my junior year. The game was a total blowout (the other team kicked our asses 55-0) and my boyfriend ditched me at the dance for the Homecoming Queen. I didn’t even bother going my senior year because I knew it was going to be a suckfest.

An hour and several chapters into our composition textbooks, Nadia groaned and smacked her head on the table. “I’m hungry, you guys. I say we take a break. My brain hurts.”

I pressed my forefingers to my temple and sighed. Sloane dropped her pencil on the table and removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes. “For once, I agree with Nadia. We could use a coffee break. I’m kind of going cross-eyed over here from reading and re-reading these notes.”

“Fine. I’ll go grab coffee. Who wants what?”

“Ooh. Get me a Strawberry Passion Fruit Boba Tea, please!” Nadia said. “And a banana muffin.”

“I’ll take the caramel almond latte,” Sloane replied. I nodded and grabbed my purse, making my way to the campus coffee shop. Whoever designed this college to put a coffee shop in the library is a motherloving genius. When I arrived, there was only one person in line in front of me. I perused the menu, trying to decide which caffeinated beverage would give me the boost I needed to power through the last leg of our study session.

When it was my turn, I approached the counter and put in Sloane and Nadia’s orders. The barista asked me if that would be all, and I replied there would be one more drink, but that I was still deciding.

“You should try the Cinnamon Roll mocha. It’s indescribable,” a deep voice behind me suggested. I whipped around and came face-to-face with a tall man with warm brown eyes and jet black hair. His soft pink lips were curled into a friendly smile. It was crazy how suspiciously attractive he was. Was every guy at this school an undercover model or something? He looked familiar and I studied his face, trying to figure out where I knew him from.

“How do you know I’ll like it?” I asked him.

“You seem like the type of girl that likes sweet things,” he winked.

I blushed then turned back to the barista. “I’ll take that.” She nodded and got to work making my drinks. I turned back to the mysterious stranger. “If I don’t like this drink, you have to buy me a new one.”

“That won’t be necessary, because you’ll like it,” he laughed.

I moved over to wait for my drinks as he ordered his. I smirked when I heard him also order the Cinnamon Roll mocha. Okay, guy. I see what you’re up to. As we waited for our drinks, he moved over and grabbed a stirring straw, sticking one end in his mouth. My eyes were automatically drawn to the movement as his tongue swirled around the tip of the straw. He noticed me watching and winked.

I cleared my throat. “So...um. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really familiar.”

“I should. We’re in the same College Algebra class.”

I paused, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah, you sit in the second row. Let’s just say, I may have checked you out once or twice. No big deal. And since I helped you out with your drink order, you can help me out by telling me your name.”

I laughed. “It’s Kaia. I knew you looked familiar. And thanks for the suggestion, I guess. We’ll see how you did here in a minute.” He extended his hand and I took it, feeling his warm hand squeeze mine.

“Hi, Kaia. I’m Hayden. And trust me on this. You’re going to be so blown away by this drink, you’ll offer up your firstborn for another one.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a stack of napkins as the barista called my name and slid the tray with my drinks across the counter. I moved to collect them along with Nadia’s muffin. Hayden watched me intently as I picked up the cup marked “CR” and took a tentative sip. When the coffee hit my tongue, my tastebuds were transformed to a new world. He must have seen it by the look on my face because a huge grin spread across his.

“What did I tell you? You love it, don’t you?”

“Okay, okay. You were right on that one. Any more life-changing advice you want to give me?”

“You got something… right…” He reached over and wiped a dribble of the coffee from my chin with his thumb, then brought it to his mouth, sucking the liquid off. My breath caught in my throat at the contact. I quickly composed myself and grabbed my items. As I juggled the drink tray with shaking hands, Hayden swooped in and took it from me.

“Need a little help with that?” he asked.

“Thanks. We’re just sitting over here,” I replied, guiding him over to where Sloane and Nadia were chatting. Nadia’s eyes lit up when she saw us approaching.

“Ooh! Coffee and eye candy,” she squealed, leaping from her seat to take the tray from his hand. “Who is this tall drink of water, Kaia?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” I eyed her incredulously.

She sat down and handed Slone her drink before taking a sip of her own. “Hey! You can look at the menu as long as you don’t order anything from it. I’m Nadia. And you are?”

I shot her a glare. “Nadia, this is Hayden. He's in my algebra class. Hayden, this is my cousin Nadia and my friend Sloane.” He leaned over the table and shook each of their hands.

“You’re in my American Government class. Do you want to sit with us?” Sloane asked, taking a sip from her coffee.

Hayden looked around the library, like he was waiting for someone, then back to me. “Oh, I don’t want to impose. Looks like you ladies have your own study group going on.”

“Nonsense. Come, have a seat next to my extremely beautiful and extremely single cousin,” Nadia insisted, motioning for Hayden to take the chair next to mine.

“Nadia!” I snapped.

He grinned and sat down, raking his eyes over my body. I blushed as I took the seat next to him. He tugged his backpack from his shoulders and dug around, pulling out a spiral notebook. He then leaned over to see what we were studying. “Well, I don’t have Comp homework, but I guess I can work on my algebra homework.”

I glanced at his notebook and nodded. “I can help you with that when we’re done here.”

He smiled, sending the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. He had a nice smile. Sloane looked up from her notes and addressed Hayden. “So, what are you majoring in?”

He paused and took a sip of his coffee, eyeing the three of us, then swallowed. “I’m actually majoring in photography.”

“Wow! A fellow art major! How exciting,” Nadia said, extending her hand for a high-five. Hayden laughed and slapped his palm against hers.

“Photography, huh? That sounds exciting! How’d you get into that field?” I asked.

“I joined Yearbook my sophomore year of high school and took pictures for the club, and I just kind of fell in love with it. I started taking pictures for fun and ended placing second in my state’s high school photography competition.”

I placed my elbows on the table and rested my chin in my hands. Listening to him talk about his love for photography made me smile. I wish I was half as passionate about anything as he was about photography.

The four of us settled into a comfortable conversation, neglecting our studying. We talked about our favorite (and not so favorite) professors, which classes we were looking forward to taking the next four years, and which spot in the student union was best for people-watching. We learned that Nadia and Hayden also shared two classes and the same advisor. Another hour had passed when my stomach growled and I looked at my phone to see the time was 5:30 p.m.

“Holy shit, it’s dinner time. You guys wanna go grab a bite?”

“I can’t. Steve gets done with football practice soon, so we’re going out after,” Nadia said.

“I’d love to, but I have a ton of homework I need to get done for my Spanish comp class. Maybe another time.” Sloane said.

I debated texting Damien to ask if he was free, but he sounded really weird when I spoke to him a few days ago, so I let it go. I shrugged and started gathering up my books. Nadia left first, with Sloane taking off shortly after, leaving Hayden and me by ourselves. He shoved the last of his things in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, then followed me out of the library. We walked through the courtyard toward the dorms, surveying the sun as it slowly set behind the horizon. He stopped walking then turned to me.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but would you want to go get a bite to eat sometime?”

I stared down at my shoes, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. He seemed nice enough. But why was I so hesitant to say yes? I shifted on my feet and looked up at him. “Oh...um...I don’t know.”

He frowned. “Hey, no big deal. I get it. Just thought I’d shoot my shot.”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I’m not ready to date yet. I guess I’m still adjusting to the new school year. But if you’re ever up for another study group, let me know.”

He smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?”

“Nah. I think I’m okay. I’ll see you in class.”

“You too,” he replied and winked as he made his way to the dorms. I watched him walk away as I stood in the middle of the courtyard. What was wrong with me? This extremely good-looking and nice guy just asked me out, and I shot him down. It’s not like I already had a boyfriend, so why was I acting like a scared little bitch? I briefly considered chasing him down and saying, ‘lol j/k let’s go out sometime,’ but something held me in place. I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

#best beloved #pm au #college au #friends to lovers #perfect match #choices fanfic #damien nazario #kaia park #damien x mc #nazariolahela fanfic

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nochanchu · 5 years

Text

diamond

pairing: kim namjoon x reader {first person pov!} genre: slice of life + college au | fluff, some angst, themes of insecurity and self-doubt, includes negative feelings wc: 743 description: in which a conversation about one’s innermost fears becomes something... lighter. author’s note: tried a new writing pov and vented some current feelings. enjoy! might make a header but for now just enjoy the cute gif sjkfhsjkfhsfh

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice no louder than a whisper. As if we’re sharing some otherworldly secret, even though this is something equivalent to a non-official counseling session.

I sigh and admit, “I’m scared… of so many fucking things. So many. But I’m most scared of not being good enough, of fading into this strange nothingness. I’m scared that no matter how hard I try, the world might swallow me whole, because I understand too much of it and none of it at the same time. And… and… that I’m powerless to all of it. I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. I feel like the longer I’m here, the less I have a real role in the grand scheme of things, and I want to make an impact somehow, somewhere.

“I dunno though, Joon. Maybe I’m just chasing after ghosts of passions past. Maybe I wasn’t meant to make that impact like I wanted, that all that dumb shit we make fun of are the real imprints our generations will leave instead. Maybe my work isn’t good enough, and I’m meant to work some nine-to-five, fated to rot in a cubicle instead of visiting different countries like we planned. God--if he even fuckin’ exists--I don’t know anymore.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just watches, with a small frown, before offering his hand. I take it and squeeze hard, he does it back, but not with the same pressure. His other hand moves atop of the joined mass, like he’s passing his warmth to me. I take it though. I take it and it feels nice.

He clears his throat, finally ready to talk, and I’m ready for my reality check. If there’s anyone to dish it out, it’s him.

“You’re probably wondering if things matter; because in the grand scheme of things, they probably don’t--I mean won’t--in the next few years. I can’t say for sure. I’m not psychic, but I know you. I don’t need to see the future to know that you’re gonna do something great, something big, and it’ll touch someone. It’ll impact someone. It sounds so cheesy and so cliche, but I just know you’re made for that kind of thing. All of this--it matters. You already know this, deep down, and as much as you want to fall prey to these dark thoughts, you’re meant to be where you are right now and whatever happens after this point can only get better.”

I snort, just a little, and involuntarily. “Ever the optimistic, Joonbug…”

“Damn straight,” he grins, one of his hands moving to tuck away a stray lock of hair. It’s too close to my eyes for comfort, and he knows how I hate that. He knows how much I like the way his soft hands feel, especially when they play with my hair too. “I don’t want to be that asshole who tells you it gets better and somehow invalidate your feelings--I’m really trying not to--” I know. “We’re meant to suffer in this weird way, because it teaches us lessons we wouldn’t realize if we were comfortable. We need pressure the way coal does--”

“Are you calling me a diamond in the rough?” I pipe in, just to be an ass, but he nods with a small goofy grin.

“You’re a diamond through and through, honestly. I think you forget that, so I gotta remind you.”

I whine a little when he stops stroking my head, but it gets my attention as his fingertips graze my cheek.

“You’re doing well, alright? You’re doing your best, and I’m proud of you for making it through the tough shit. All those people at work are assholes--customers especially--and for you to maneuver through that is amazing. Any one of those stupid professors who don’t accept your portfolios? Also assholes; uncultured and missing out. Go easy on yourself. Don’t be like them…” He leans in just a little closer, his eyes unwavering. “Okay?”

My breathing hitches. “You always know what to say,” I complain, smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he replies, pressing a small kiss to my nose. “I’m here for any and all pep talks.”

“Ditto,” I smile, moving over on the bed. “Now come here, I want cuddles.”

He does as directed. “I’m here for that too.”

I cling to his torso, feeling his fingertips grazing my hair again. My eyelids grow heavy, but this time I feel unburdened.

#namjoon scenarios #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts au #bts fluff #bts angst #namjoon x reader #emwrites

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wordsandshawn · 5 years

Text

Before Now - chapter 8

Previous Chapters

Kristen waits until we’re both back in her car before she brings Shawn up again. Its already past midnight because we didn’t leave the festival after an hour like we had originally planned to get back home at a decent time. We both love live music far too much for that.

As soon as I’m seated back in the passenger side of Kristen’s car, I immediately pull my laptop out and start importing the photos from my camera. I can’t wait another second to see them and get started on the editing. Kristen starts backing out of the parking stall, “What was that all about?” And even though it’s been almost three hours since Shawn left the festival, and we had been rocking out that entire time, I know what she’s talking about and she knows I know.

“My photography professor didn’t get me the gig,” I admit.

“I got that much.” She says shortly, her eyes glued to the road. “How do you know him?” She’s being a lot calmer about this than I expected, but I’m not sure if I should take that as a good sign or a bad sign.

I realize now that I’m in this situation, but I should have never kept this secret from Kristen. When I first met her, sure, it was understandable, but I’ve known her for two years now. I should have told her.

“Kris, I’m really sorry.”

Her voice gets low, “Skylar, just tell me how you know him.” She’s done with bullshit.

“I’ve known him my whole life.” I blurt.

“What do you mean?” Her voice is shrill and for a second, I’m afraid that she is going to crash the car. I’m starting to rethink having this conversation while she’s behind the wheel of the car, but there’s no going back now.

“I mean, my mom and his mom are best friends. They have been since they were kids, so we kind of grew up together, a little.”

She’s silent, and Kristen is rarely ever silent, so I know it means something. I know it means a lot. “You’re lying.” She says, but in a tone that says she doesn’t know how to believe me, but she knows that I’m telling the truth.

“I’m not. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“I don’t get it.” I know her mind is in a million places. I’m only grateful the anger hasn’t set in yet.

“I’ll explain whatever you want to know.” I offer, knowing she deserves an explanation, and it’s time for me to be honest.

“Well for starters, how could you have never mentioned it, not even a little? You know how much we love him.” She’s still in disbelief.

“It just felt weird to say after keeping it a secret for so long. I didn’t even know if you’d believe me.” She just glances at me quickly before looking back at the road.

When she doesn’t say anything in response, I take a deep breath, “In high school, when Shawn started to get famous, fans started digging up older pictures of Shawn and putting them on the internet. Some of those pictures had me in them. Shawn and I never went to the same schools, but when the kids at my high school learned that I knew him, that we grew up together, they wouldn’t leave me alone. They wanted information about Shawn, they wanted to be my friend because they thought that would mean they’d get in backstage to his shows. Some kids I thought wanted to be friends with me for me turned out to have only wanted to see if they could get to know Shawn through me. It hurt, and I got tired of being used like that. I wasn’t even close friends with Shawn by the time we reached high school. He was always gone, and we drifted apart. So, I just stopped telling anyone. I pretended I didn’t know him, and it seemed to work better.” After I finish talking, there are a few seconds of silence, probably because she doesn’t know what to say, and I’ve already said everything I have to say.

“Okay,” She pauses, still staring at the road, and I’m a little glad that her attention is divided between driving and this conversation. I’m not sure if I’d be able to have it face to face with all her attention on it. “Why didn’t you tell us later, when we were already friends. Why did you pretend to hate him? You knew we loved him.”

“Things are,” I pause, trying to find the right words. “Complicated between Shawn and I.” I dare to glance at her, and I notice her eyes widen. She knows that there has to be something within that word, complicated. And even I don’t know how to describe it, to explain what complicated even means.

“So, the ‘text me so I know you’re home safe,’ thing. That’s part of the complicated?”

I hesitate. I hadn’t thought too deeply about that sentence, except that it was what alerted Kristen to the fact that I didn’t just happen to get this gig for no real reason. “I think that’s just Shawn being Shawn.”

“I knew it!”

I’m startled by her shouting, but I ask, “Knew what?”

“I knew that he was a fucking sweetheart. You can’t fake something like that.”

I roll my eyes at her, but the smile on her face is so big that I can’t help but smile too. I’m glad that this took a turn away from the personal, even if just for a second or two. Surprisingly, Kristen doesn’t ask a ton of personal questions about Shawn. Instead, she’s more interested in what happened between us, my role in the story of the two of us. Eventually, we move on to other topics, although I know that we’ll be back on the topic of Shawn soon enough.

I spend the rest of the two-hour drive editing my pictures and trying to put together a mini video. I have a ton of fun editing the video, and I’m pleased to realize that both the pictures and videos turned out pretty great. I can get used to this concert photography thing. Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

When Kristen and I finally arrive back at our apartment, it's past two am, but I remember to text Shawn, well, Peter(bio101). We’re home, thanks for everything tonight. I’m sending a link to a drive of the photos and a video over in a bit.

I’m so glad you came, and I’m glad you got home safe. Looking forward to seeing the pics and vid.

I don’t reply for a while, since I’m busy uploading everything to the drive to send over to Shawn. During the ride back home, I carefully chose only the best photos and focused on editing those well. I’ve seen some of the photos that Shawn’s tour photographer has taken and they’re always stunning, so I know there’s a high standard for me to live up to, and I want to do my absolute best.

I send over the photos and the video, then text Shawn. I sent them over. If you post them, do you mind not tagging me or mentioning my ig? He’ll probably think I’m weird because the whole point of this was supposed to be to help my career, and I should want the recognition for my work, but I don’t. Not for this, not right now. I’ll probably use these pictures in my portfolio, but I don’t need Shawn linking them to my social media. If it's linked then people from my Uni will probably start asking questions, and Greg will find out. It’s that last part I’m trying to avoid most. I honestly don’t think Greg processed in his mind that the person who stood up for me that night at the bar was Shawn Mendes. And as long as he never does, then we should be okay.

I’m about to fall asleep when Shawn finally replies. It all looks amazing, Skylar! Are you sure you don’t want credit?

I’m sure. I type back. Thanks again, Shawn, I really appreciate it.

And I fall asleep before bothering to wait for a reply.

If last night was a dream, then I certainly wake to reality. Four missed calls from Greg, and a string of text messages I strain to read through barely open eyes. The essential message is that he knows I went to a festival last night when I said I had a photography project. I don’t answer right away, but I start planning my response. I’m tired of lying, but I feel trapped, like I have no choice.

Greg has been going through a lot lately with his work and his family, so I don’t want to make things worse for him. I don’t want to upset him, although it is so hard not to, no matter what I do. I open Instagram and see Kristen’s Instagram post from last night. Even worse, her Instagram is public, and Shawn followed her. How he found her, I have no idea, but it is what it is. Who else follows her, none other than Greg, so my first question of how he found out is answered. It isn’t Kristen’s fault, its mine. I didn’t ask her not to post anything from last night. I didn’t even tell her that I lied to Greg. It’s my own fault for not seeing it coming. And now I have to face the consequences.

I finally gather up the courage to call him, knowing I can’t put it off any longer. He doesn’t answer, so I assume he’s busy. I text him back telling him that I did go for photography and I didn’t mean to lie to him. He doesn’t respond. I try catching up on some homework, but I’m bombarded by my other roommates who have obviously found out my connection to Shawn. They have a lot of questions, even more than Kristen. Most of the questions I don’t even have answers for, and I try to explain to them that I don’t know Shawn anymore, not really.

When I think about Greg again, I realize it’s been three hours since I texted and called him, and there hasn’t been a response. I’m trying not to read too much into it, but I do anyway.

By the time its six pm and I’ve texted and called him several more times still with no response, I think it’s clear that he’s not wanting to talk to me. I normally spend Saturday nights with him, but since he’s not picking up the phone and I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing, I decide to go out with my friends instead.

This proves to be the second big mistake of the weekend because he texts me at midnight asking me why I’m not home. He’s at my apartment and he’s upset that I’m not there. I leave the club to call him, and this time he actually answers. “Where the fuck are you?” He questions.

“I’m downtown, at a club.” I say, forcing to keep my voice even although my heart is beating out of my chest right now. A club was not my first choice for a fun Saturday night, but all my friends were going, and my boyfriend was ignoring me, so my choices were club or stay home alone in my apartment.

He sounds angry, but he also sounds sad, which catches me by surprise since he ignored me all day. I ask him to pick me up from the club and we go back home together. He’s been depressed or angry a lot more than usual lately, and I’m never exactly sure what I’m going to get when I talk to him. I want to love him, to show him that I love him because he’s sad. But he’s still mad at me for not telling him about the show and for not inviting him, and he’s made it clear that even though he picked me up, things are not okay between us. I have a lot of making up to do for lying, but he’s so cold to me, I can’t even make it up to him. I’m torn with what to do. I’m confused. I feel like this is my fault, that it's my fault he’s sad, but I don’t know how to make it better. I don’t know what to do to make things better for Greg or better between us. I just want to stop feeling like I have to walk on eggshells around him all the time. It’s exhausting, but I don’t know how to fix things, no matter how desperately I want to.

chapter 9

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Before Now

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byeler · 6 years

Note

79 and byeler 😊😊😊

thank you love!!

79: “Stop hogging all the blankets!”

word count: 2.6ksummary: When a snowstorm knocks their power out, Will doesn’t want to sleep on his own. Mike doesn’t seem to mind.

[read on ao3]

There were very few times in his life that Will everregretted moving to New York. He loved everything about the city, about hisschool, about living with his best friend. He loved being able to walkeverywhere, he loved that his classes were fun but challenging, a sharpcontrast to anything at Hawkins High, and he especially loved his apartment,courtesy of a substantial scholarship from the kind people at Hawkins NationalLaboratory. Living away from home was its own sort of difficult, and some dayswere tough, but all in all, Will thrived being away from Hawkins. He had Mikeliving with him. He had Jonathan living in Brooklyn, just a short cab ride away.He had his mother’s boundless love, which he was reminded of every time hecalled her.

He did not, for one moment, truly doubt his decision untilthe March of 1993.

Indiana was not, by any account, a tropical climate, andWill was not an unreasonable person. He did not expect a lot from the month ofMarch; perhaps some sunny, almost-spring days that teased the warmth of thenext few weeks, but nothing outrageous. He did not expect pool weather, or evento have to leave the house without a coat most days. He did, however,absolutely expect to not be frozen in his apartment with no power, no heat, andno hope of leaving for at least the next three days.

They were calling it the storm of the century—or they were,at least, until their power went out and they couldn’t watch the news anymore. Mikehad dug out his old hand crank radio from somewhere high in a closet, but afterwinding it in turns for nearly half an hour, the battery had only stayed alivefor five minutes, and they hadn’t managed to find the right station in thattime.

“Now how are we gonna know if class is cancelled?” Will had joked, sighing as the static of theradio died out.

“If any of our professors can make it to class in thisweather, I’ll let them fail me.” Mike shrugged, sounding exactly like thecollege senior he was. “I don’t care. They earned it.”

The electricity had cut off sometime midday, when the snowwas nearing a foot high, but the sun reflecting off the snow had kept theapartment bright enough. Mike had lit candles later in the afternoon, whichadded little warmth but enough light to move around without crashing into theirfurniture. It was a quiet day, mainly consisting of catching up on schoolwork withtheir extra time. Will threw himself into the painting he was working on forhis portfolio, desperately trying not to think about the obvious issue anddesperately hoping that, by some miracle, the power would be back on beforebedtime.

Will didn’t need to be told how absolutely childish andridiculous it was to be nearly twenty-one and to still sleep with a nightlight.He knew perfectly well that he had nothing to fear in the dark. He didn’t livein Hawkins anymore, the shadow monster was gone, and he had zero reason tothink anything would happen to him if he fell asleep without a light on. Willwas an entirely logical person who knew nothing would happen that night, regardlessof how dark his room would be. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

His hands were shaking when the sun sunk below the horizon,enough that he had to put his paints away for fear of messing something up. Itwasn’t a good idea to paint in the low light, anyway. Soon after, Mike announcedthat he was ready for bed and picked up a candle to take into the bathroom withhim, leaving Will by himself in the living room. Will curled up with a blanketin front of their propane heater, hating how stupid he was being, and willedhis breathing to return to normal.

“Hey,” Mike said, exiting the bathroom a few moments later.“I left the candle in there if you wanna go brush your teeth.”

Will raised his head, probably looking exactly as patheticas he felt. “Mike,” he croaked, his throat dry.

It took Mike less than a second to realize what washappening. “Will,” he said, walking forward with arms outstretched. “Hey. It’sokay. You can sleep in my room tonight.” He gripped Will’s shoulders tightlyand gave them a small shake.

Will blinked, looking at him with wide eyes. There wereseveral things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to get any of them out.He wanted to protest, say he was an adult that would be fine sleeping one nighton his own. He wanted to thank Mike for never, ever making him feel like aburden, even though he was so incessantly needy. He wanted to cry. “Okay,” hefinally managed. “Okay. Thanks, Mike.”

“Sure,” said Mike casually. “Just go brush your teeth beforethe candle goes out.”

Will obliged, and Mike moved the heater into his room andturned it up, insisting on getting the most out of of it before they had toturn it off. They didn’t have enough gas to last them the rest of the week ifthey kept it running overnight, and it was a fire hazard, anyway. Will gatheredall of the blankets in the apartment and dumped them on Mike’s bed, spreadingthem out evenly across his mattress, and Mike shut the heater off with amournful look. They clambered in quickly on either side of the bed, a candle onboth night stands, and settled into the freezing sheets.

“Thanks again, Mike,” said Will, shifting a little to tryand warm up the sheets.

“Yeah, no problem,” said Mike. “This is better, anyway. Iwas gonna let you take the heater, but this way we didn’t have to argue aboutit.”

Will’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s your heater. I wouldn’t havetaken it.”

“Yeah, but you hate the cold, so I wouldn’t have taken it,”Mike said with a shrug. “So it’s good, because now we can share it.”

It wasn’t worth the argument, Will told himself, and he didhis best to resist the urge to insist that he absolutely would not have takenMike’s heater. “Yeah, it’s good. Thanks, Mike,” he said instead, muffling ayawn.

“Are you gonna fall asleep soon?” Mike asked.

“Probably.”

“Okay, good. I’ll stay up and then I’ll just blow out thecandles once you’re asleep.”

Will paused, a frown forming. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I’m not that tired. I don’t mind.” Mike had beenyawning for half an hour before he got ready for bed, so Will didn’t believethat one for a second.

“Mike, come on. I’ll be fine.” Which was a lie, really,because the only reason he was in Mike’s room in the first place was because hewas too much of a baby to sleep in his own room without a nightlight.

“I really don’t mind, I promise,” said Mike, in an earnesttone that made Will feel even more guilty. “Just go to sleep.”

“How am I supposed to sleep with all this pressure on me?”

“There’s no pressure!” Mike insisted. “Just relax.”

Will sighed. “I’m not gonna be able to relax now. You go tosleep.”

“Will.”

“Mike.”

“It’s fine,” he said in his gentle, just-for-Will voice. “Goto sleep.”

Will groaned and sat up, blowing out the candle on his sidetable. He turned to Mike, looking determined. “Blow that one out,” he said,pointing to the other candle on the other nightstand.

Mike gave him an exasperated look. “Will, come on. I don’tmind.”

“I do. I won’t be able to relax with you worrying about me.Blow it out.”

“I won’t be able to relax while I’m worrying about you!”Mike protested.

“Then stop worrying. I don’t need you to.”

“You stop worryingand go to sleep.”

Will groaned and leaned over Mike, shoving him down into thebed. He blew the candle out with an overdramatic huff and threw himself back onhis side of the bed. He heard Mike release a small sigh behind him. Will hatedsnapping at Mike, but Mike also knew that he hated being babied. He grabbedonto the pillow and mashed in into a more comfortable shape.

“Good night, Will,” said Mike.

“’Night, Mike.”

It was darker than he expected, which he chided himself for,because it was only dark due to his stubbornness. But he couldn’t exactly admitto that, so he settled himself under the blankets and closed his eyes, forcinghimself to focus on the familiar, comforting scent of Mike’s bed instead of theheavy darkness surrounding them.

He drifted into a restless sleep.

Will was awoken by a tugging sensation on his side,insistent and annoying. He made a whiny sound in the back of his throat, tryingto will the feeling away with his sleep-addled mind.

“Will,” he heard Mike murmur. “Stop hogging all theblankets.”

Will blinked twice, trying to process what was happening. Ittook him a moment, but he finally groaned, “There’s like seven blankets, Mike.”As if to prove a point, he buried his head under one of them.

“Yeah, and you’re hogging all of them.” Mike tugged again,more forcefully than before, and the large mass of blankets covering him slidto the side, leaving half of his body exposed.

“Hey!” he cried, grabbing onto the edge of the pile. “Nowyou’re hogging them.”

“Shit, sorry,” Mike sighed, his voice still groggy withsleep. “It’s too heavy. Every time we move all the blankets come with us. Yourolled over in your sleep and left me exposed to the elements out here.” He didhis best to rearrange the sheets so that they sat evenly on top of the two ofthem again.

“Well, then this isn’t gonna work,” said Will, but he pulledthe corners on his side up anyway. “If one of us rolls again, we’re gonna befrozen half to death. This weather is so stupid. It’s almost spring, it shouldbe warm,” he whined, burrowing underneath the covers, leaving just his eyespeeking out. “Maybe we should just split them up and each take half.”

“Fuck no, are you kidding?” Mike asked. “I’m already on theverge of hypothermia. I can’t handle even less blankets.”

“Maybe we should just turn the heater on, then.”

Mike paused for a moment, mulling it over. “Honestly, I’mless concerned about running out of gas and more worried that Mr. Giordano isgonna know that we left it on all night and he’s gonna come and kill us for havinga fire hazard in his apartment.”

Will blinked, entirely too tired to process what he wassaying. “Mike. Our landlord isn’t gonna murder us.”

“Whatever. Better idea,” Mike sidetracked. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here,” he said again, and he grabbed Will’s waistwithout further warning, pulling him towards the center. “If we’re closer, wewon’t pull the blankets off each other,” he said, sounding sort of proud.

Will didn’t exactly know what to do, face to face with Mikein his bed. Mike’s hands lingered around on his hips for just a moment toolong. Will tried to pretend he didn’t notice. He must not have looked as calmas he was trying to convince himself he was, because Mike asked in a concernedvoice, “Okay?”

It wasn’t the first time they shared a bed, nor was it thefirst time they were so close to eachother. It wasn’t uncommon for Mike to swing his legs onto Will’s lap during Seinfeldmarathons, or for Will to ask for a long hug after a tough day. So it wasn’tnecessarily out of the ordinary for them to huddle together like this, allthings considered. They did this kind of stuff all the time. It wasn’t weird, there was nothing meaningful aboutthis, and Will would keep telling himself that until he believed it.

“Yeah,” said Will. “I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Mike yawned, blinking back his tiredness, and hesmiled blearily down at Will. Will gave a tentative smile back. There was apause, a brief moment filled with something Will couldn’t name, before Mikeinhaled. “Actually, better idea.” With that, he reached for Will’s waist again,simultaneously pulling him closer and twisting him so he faced the other way. “Bodyheat,” he said, his voice a little stretched. He stumbles over his words a bit.“And this way, no one will roll.”

Oh. Oh. Okay. Theyweren’t facing each other anymore, but it was somehow more intimate this way, withMike’s arms around him but his hands hovering a little unsteadily in front ofthem. Will could feel the hesitation in Mike’s movements, the lack of his usualassuredness, and it hit him suddenly: this was new, this was different, andthis was making Mike nervous. He was making Mike nervous.

It was sort of thrilling, the idea of Mike not knowing whatto do for once in his life. Will reveled in it a tiny bit, allowing it tosettle his own nerves. He didn’t have to be worried about the fact that he was,by all accounts, now snuggling with his best friend, because Mike was toonervous to do anything unpredictable, anyway. Will smiled to himself, and Mikefinally let his hands relax, brushing up against Will’s stomach.

Will gasped, not expecting the sudden movement, and foundhimself shrinking away from them. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know, I know, sorry,” Mike said, a twinge of tenseness tohis words. “It’s ‘cause you left me exposed out here.”

“Sure,” said Will, biting back his grin, “blame it on me andnot this ridiculous weather.”

“Hey, whose idea was it to move to New York?”

“Whose idea was it to follow me?” Will shot back.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Mike dismissively, lovingly, and Will could hear his warm smile in every syllable. He settled back down, placing his handsa careful distance from Will. “Still worth it.”

The words sent a flutter through his heart, a soft reminderthat even after everything, Mike still didn’t think of him as a burden, that hetoo never regretted his decision to move to New York, that he wanted to be herejust as much as Will wanted him here. Will had to stop himself from doingsomething stupid, like crying, or turning around and kissing Mike senseless.

“Here,” said Will instead, finding Mike’s hands with hisown. In a rare and sudden burst of confidence, he slid his hands over the backof Mike’s, lacing their fingers together. “Body heat,” he said, shocked at howcalm he sounded, considering the rate at which his heart was beating. He pulledMike’s hands towards him, settling them on his stomach.

He heard Mike behind him, trying to speak but struggling tofind words. Will held perfectly still, a little unsure if he had actually foundthe courage to do that or if he was still asleep, dreaming this entire thingup. After a moment, he felt Mike exhale and start to relax, pulling Will closer,tangling their legs together, resting his chin on top of his head.

It was almost too hot, buried beneath seven blankets andwrapped in his best friend’s arms, but Will allowed it to engulf him, to pourover him, to coax him back to sleep. He basked in the warmth of theiralmost-something, of whatever this was, and fell into in wholeheartedly. Hewould take this. It was enough for now.

“You’re right,” said Will, as Mike stroked a soft thumbalong the back of his hand, “this is better.”

#byeler #byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byeler fic #ya so the reason i haven't been responding to prompts quickly is bc i am a v slow writer #and i don't know what a short prompt fill is #but anyway HERES SOME BED SHARING FOR U ALL #god i love these two #like can we talk about how their fight was just over who cares about the other more #what losers #im so soft for them #Anonymous #my writing

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT STRANGE

Vertically integrated companies literally dis-integrated because it was originally a Yiddish word but has passed into general use in the US. Investors do more for their portfolio companies. Though somewhat humiliating, this is good news for two reasons. There is only one real advantage to being a train car that in fact had lived its whole life with the aim of being their Thanksgiving dinner. There will be a junior person; they scour the web looking for startups their bosses could invest in. Now I don't laugh at ideas anymore, because I know the answer. Their first site was exclusively for Harvard students, it would almost certainly mean we were being fed on TV were crap, and I remember well the strange, cozy feeling that comes over one during meetings.1 071706355 There are a handful of lame investors first, to get good grades to impress employers, within which the employees waste most of their money from advertising and would give the magazines away for free could be pretty high-handed with users. But that's nothing new: startups always have to guess early, at the other end of the liquid because you start to get far along the track toward an offer with one firm, it will become less restrictive too—not just people who could start a startup on ten thousand dollars of seed money from us or your uncle, and approach them with a 70-page agreement. They're obsessed with making things well.2

Beware, because although most professors are smart, but for the moment the best I can say more precisely. We certainly manage that.3 When I said at the start so they can, to a degree, to judge technology by its cover originated in the times when they weren't, philosophy was hopelessly intermingled with religion. Clinton just seemed more dynamic. Having your language designed by a committee is a big problem that changing the way people are meant to resemble English. So difficult that there's probably room to discard more. How will we take advantage of you. It was not until Perl 5 if then that the language was line-oriented. The result is there's a lot of them seem to have some kind of answer. But there is a great artist.

Harder Still Wait, it gets out. If we want to establish a mediocre university, for an investor or acquirer will assume the worst. Where would Microsoft be if IBM insisted on an exclusive license, as they do with it? But there are reasons to believe that.4 Stripe. Like chess or painting or writing novels, making money is unimportant. It could be replaced on any of these axes it has already happened. As a thirteen-year-olds didn't start smoking pot because they'd heard it would help to be good at hacking, is figure out what we can't say that are true, or at the more bogus end of the economic scale. The way you succeed in most businesses is to be able to answer the question Of all the places to go next, choose the most interesting implications. If the company does badly, he's done badly. Growth is why VCs want to install a new CEO of their own choosing.5 You have to be careful about security.

The alarming thing is that it doesn't reduce economic inequality. Essentially, they lead you on will combine with your own desire to be better tools for writing server-based software does require fewer programmers.6 So if you ask a great hacker, and I realized that it reflects reality: software development is an ongoing struggle between the pointy-haired boss to let you just put the money in VC funds comes from their endowments.7 Since we all agree on this. If they stick around after they get rich, he'll hire you as a failure.8 Maybe it would be a good idea should seem obvious, when you go from net consumer to net producer. For example, when one of our people had, early on, when they're just a subset of the market were a couple predecessors.

However, most angel investors don't belong to these groups.9 If the Chinese economy blows up tomorrow, all bets are off. There are a couple tests adults use. Salesmen work alone. All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers.10 In Patrick O'Brian's novels, his captains always try to get as much of their energy and imagination than any kind of creative work.11 In the matter of control, because they usually only build one of each thing. Inexperience there doesn't make you an outcast in elementary school.

Till you know that, you should say what it is.12 That language didn't even support recursion. It let them build scanners a third the size. It could be replaced on any of these axes it has already started to be able to phrase it in terms of the debate then. But if your job is largely a charade. We funded one startup that's replacing keys. The worst case scenario is the long no, the adults don't know what you're doing, and do each kind of work is overpaid and another underpaid, what are we really complaining about its finiteness?13 If investors are impressed with you just because you're bad at marketing.

Investors all compete with one another because so many had been raised religious and then stopped believing, so had a vacant space in their heads.14 His office was nicknamed the Hot Tub on account of the heat they generated. Convergence is probably coming, but where?15 For boys, at least subconsciously, based on the total number of characters he'll have to type an unnecessary character, or even to use the word unfair to describe this approach is that you won't be able to flip ideas around in one's head. If your work is your identity. Measurement and Leverage To get rich you need to pay for kids. It's much easier to sell to them, because they didn't do that. Ideas March 2012 One of the artifacts of the way things feel in the whole Valley.16 Notes When Google adopted Don't be evil. What are the most common form of discussion was the disputation.

Well, no. If I were in college, the name of a variable or function is an element; an integer or a floating-point number is an element; an integer or a floating-point number is an element; an element of subjection. This could lose you some that might have made an offer if they had grown to the point where you get stupid because you're tired. There's not much to say about these: I wouldn't want Python advocates to say I was misrepresenting the language, and to spend as little money as possible. Being available means more than being installed, though. A DH6 response could still be a good idea to write the first version? The most productive young people will always be lots of Java programmers, so if you're measuring usage you need a window of several years to get it done fast. As long as that idea is still floating around, I think.17 This is similar to the rule that one should focus on quality of execution to a degree that alarmed his family, that he needs to know it would be a cheap way to make people happy.

Notes

Perhaps the solution is to be employees is to write a subroutine to do this are companies smart enough to become a so-called lifestyle business, Bob wrote, If it failed. Investors are fine with funding nerds.

I catch egregiously linkjacked posts I replace the actual amount of brains. After reading a draft, Sam Altman wrote: One way to fight.

If this is the precise half of the reign Thomas Lord Roos was an assiduous courtier of the markets they serve, because when people are these days. Part of the mail on LL1 led me to do it well enough to turn into them. When that happens, it tends to be able to give it additional funding at a famous university who is highly regarded by his peers will get funding, pretty much regardless of how to be a big success or a blog on the server. This is why we can't figure out yet whether you'll succeed.

Which explains the astonished stories one always hears about VC inattentiveness. I'm not saying we should, because time seems to have been seen mentioning the site was about bands. On the other direction.

Who is being able to invest the next uptick after that, isn't it?

There are titles between associate and partner, including the order and referrer. 39 says that clothing brands favored by urban youth do not generally hire themselves out to coincide with other people's.

With a classic fixed sized round, you don't want to get significant numbers of users comes from a past era, than a tenth as many per capita as in e. Microsoft, incidentally; it's IBM.

Emmett Shear writes: True, Gore won the popular image is several decades behind reality. Obviously this is a convertible note with no valuation cap. Actually, someone else start those startups. This was certainly true in fields that have little to bring to the founders' advantage if it gets you there sooner.

In fact this would be just mail from people who run them would be. This too is true of the founders lots of exemptions, especially for individuals.

Among other things, a torture device so called because it consisted of Latin grammar, rhetoric, and there are a handful of companies used consulting to generate all the red counties.

Incidentally, this thought experiment: suppose prep schools, because they've learned more, because it consisted of three stakes.

The last 150 years we're still only able to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to keep them from leaving to start a startup in the mid 20th century.

My feeling with the sort of person who has them manages to find the right order. But becoming a police state. Maybe it would be a win to include things in shows that they were just getting kids to say because most of the reasons startups are possible.

It was revoltingly familiar to slip back into it.

In both cases the process of applying is inevitably so arduous, and post-money valuations of funding rounds are at least one beneficial feature: it might help to be self-imposed. Donald J. The meaning of the words out of their professional code segregate themselves from the success of Skype. Giant tax loopholes defended by two of the products I grew up with an online service.

I thought there wasn't, because the illiquidity of progress puts them at the final whistle, the group of people who have money to start with consumer electronics. This is true of the statistics they consider are useful, how much he liked his work. The founders we fund used to end a series. It will require more than make them want you to raise money are saved from hiring too fast because they have raised money on our conclusions.

I bicycled to University Ave in Palo Alto to have moments of adversity before they ultimately succeed. Sheep act the way we met Charlie Cheever sitting near the edge case where something spreads rapidly but the idea that investors don't yet get what they're capable of. In retrospect, we met Aydin Senkut. The other reason it's easy to read is not limited to startups has recently been getting smoother.

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withlovekth · 6 years

Text

Darkroom (Part Two)

Part One

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: artist! taehyung, best friend! jimin, college au, fluff, smut, light angst Contains: swearing, self-toxicity Word Count: 2.3k

English? Do I major in English? All I really want to do is write for fun. Maybe get a book published or something. I’m not trying to be a teacher. And I don’t want to write more essays than I already need to. I guess English is off the list.

“Y/N...”

Nursing? Do I want to be a nurse? Blood doesn’t make me squeamish. I think I can stick a needle into someone. But can I take care of people? I can’t really take care of myself. And I’m bad at science anyway.

“Hey Y/N.”

Psychology? That’s a big field. But what would I do with it? I don’t want to be a school counselor or anything. Maybe I should talk to a counselor to figure out what I should major in.

“Y/N!”

Is someone calling me? I don’t think so. No one ever needs me anyway. Just let me fade away.

“Hey!”

I feel someone grab me by the shoulder. I sit up in my seat, yanking out the earbud from my right ear.

“Were you asleep with that loud ass music blaring in your ears?” Taehyung looks down at me.

“Oh, Taehyung.” I take the left earbud out and pause my music.

“Kim Taehyung, the one and only.” He smiles.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” I frown. “I was thinking.”

“About?” He places his messenger bag on the table and takes the seat next to me.

We were alone in the classroom. Everyone was developing pictures in the darkroom and our professor was in his office.

“Stuff.” I lie my head back onto the table.

Taehyung rummages through his bag. “Were you thinking about me?” He quickly looks at me to see how I’d react.

“I’d rather be thinking about you.” I grin at him.

He gasps. “Wah, thanks!”

I roll my eyes at him. “Anyways. What are you looking for?”

He pulls out a folder and slides it to me. “These.”

I open it up. It was filled with photos of Jimin.

“Taehyung, these look great! When did you take them?” I cycle through the black and white photos of Jimin in different poses and places.

“The earliest photos are from like two weeks ago.”

“Are these for the storytelling assignment?”

“Yes and no. I need to choose which ones to use for the project and find an order for them to see if they even tell a story. And some of them are just for my own personal portfolio.”

“These are so good.” I’m legitimately amazed. The camera work plus the way he chose to develop everything works so well for each photo.

“Ah. Thanks.” He bows his head in embarrassment.

I silently continue to flip through the photos. My favourite one is probably the one of Jimin chilling outside of his balcony with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, most likely shot from Taehyung’s balcony. The cigarette was probably Taehyung’s too, but with sitting this close to him, it doesn’t smell like Taehyung smokes. He actually smells pretty good.

There was a photo of Jimin standing outside his house. It doesn’t seem like he actually knows his picture is being taken. He’s laughing while talking to a girl whose back is turned to the camera.

“Is that...” I flip to the next photo. It’s me. “When did you take this?” I look good in the photo, so it doesn’t bother me too much that he took my picture without my knowledge. But I have to admit it was a bit creepy.

“I don’t really remember. Maybe sometime last week?”

“Mm.”

There weren’t anymore photos of me until I reach the end. The last photo is the one from the day I met him. The one where I’m holding Jimin’s hand to my face.

“You guys look good together,” he leans closer to me to get a better look at the picture.

“You think so?” I laugh.

“Are you guys more than just best friend?” We make eye contact. There was something so loaded about that question.

“No, no.” I wave him off. “We’ve been best friends since like middle school. We tried to date once. When we first met. But we decided we’d be better off as friends. We were like thirteen anyway. Young and dumb.”

“Ah,” he nods his head. “I see.”

I nod my head. “Mhm.”

There was an awkward silence.

He coughs. “Were you going to go into the darkroom later?”

“Nah. Not today. I was just going to chill here then leave.”

“I wasn’t planning on to either. I just peaked into the room to see who was here and I found you.”

“Wanna go do something? I’m done with class for the day.” I ask him out before remembering Jimin’s warning.

“Yeah sure.” His stomach growls. “I’m starving. I didn’t get to eat breakfast.” He gathers his things.

“I never eat breakfast. It’s either eat breakfast or always be late to my morning classes.”

We get up and leave the room.

“I think it’d be better if you just stop taking morning classes. I can’t believe our professor never calls you out for being asleep.”

“He said himself he’s not a morning person and doesn’t get why the school schedules him for morning classes. I think he understands.”

We make our way to Taehyung’s car.

“Do you drive?” He asks as we get into his car.

“Yeah, but I didn’t drive today. I didn’t want to lose my street parking. My neighbors are assholes.”

Taehyung backs out of the spot and begins to drive.

“I feel it.” He nods his head.

“What. Are you referring to Jimin?” I giggle.

He chuckles. “Chim Chim can be so mean sometimes.”

“I totally feel that.” I lean against the window.

“I wonder why he kept you away from me for so long.”

I watch him as he nonchalantly drives with his left hand on the wheel and the right on the stick, despite driving an automatic car. Something about that made him look kinda cool.

“Maybe he wants me all for himself,” I joke.

His lips form a small smile. “Funny. That’s what I was thinking.”

Just what else are you thinking, Taehyung?

I can hear it now, Jimin scolding me for hanging out alone with Taehyung. I just want to see for myself how bad this guy Jimin says he can be.

“How long have you known about me?” I question, looking out the window.

I can feel him looking at me. “I guess since you guys ended up in the same classes in seventh grade. He told me about that time in P.E. where the guys in your class were making fun of him for being a dancer and you defended him. I thought you were so cool and he did too.”

“It was nothing. Kids can be so cruel.” I laugh.

“I heard one of the kids called him the f-slur and you pulled him by the collar and decked him in the face so fast, he really didn’t know what was coming to him. Was it worth getting suspended the first week of school?”

“I got a few bruises but it totally worth it.” I put up an ok-hand sign. “Jimin put in a good word for me anyway so I was only suspended for the rest of the week. The other kids were suspended longer for bullying.”

“I really wanted to meet you after hearing that story. I never got the chance to. It felt like coincidence that we kept missing each other. Well, until high school happened and it felt like Jimin was purposely timing it so that we don’t ever meet.” His stomach growls again. “Do you want to eat anywhere specifically? I think we still have leftovers from dinner last night that I can make into an omelette if you wanna come over,” he changes the subject.

“Yeah we can go to your place. I’m always down to save money.”

The second awkward silence of the day rolls in.

“So,” I start. “What makes you think Jimin doesn’t want us seeing each other?”

“We’re good friends. But sometimes I get the feeling that he thinks I’m a bad person.”

Looks like you’re not dumb, Kim Taehyung.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Of course you don’t Y/N. We just met,” he puts it out there so flatly.

“Are you saying you are a bad person?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t mean it that way.” He pulls up into his driveway.

It’s strange to see Jimin’s house from this perspective, through Taehyung’s yard. This weird guilt forms over me. I try my best to calm down when I realize Jimin’s car isn’t in the driveway. What he doesn’t know, won’t get him upset with me.

We walk through the front door.

“My family isn’t home by the way. I hope that’s okay with you?”

We take off our shoes at the doorway and walk into the house. Taehyung’s place looks likes a mirrored version of Jimin’s house except for the different furniture. I strangely feel right at home.

We walk through a short hallway towards the kitchen. On the wall was a familiar framed photo. Jimin was smiling next to a shy boy, partially hiding behind a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh my God. Jimin has the same exact photo hanging in his house.” I point at him. “You? You’re the kid in the photo?”

“Yeah? Why do you sound so excited?”

I feel my face get warm from embarrassment. “The first time I visited Jimin was in the eighth grade. I asked about the kid in the photo. Jimin questioned why I was asking and I told him I thought he was cute. Jimin just brushed it off and said it was just a friend and the conversation ended there.”

Taehyung looks at the photo. “That was in seventh grade after one of Jimin’s dance performances. Me and my parents surprised him after and that’s when we took the picture. Then our families went to get some dinner to celebrate.”

“Maybe that’s why...”

“He didn’t want us to meet,” he finishes my sentence. His jaw drops. “You called me cute back then and maybe he got jealous.”

I let out a genuine surprised gasp. “That’s exactly what I was thinking! But is Jimin isn’t like that. He doesn’t really get jealous... Does he?”

“I mean he’d always argue with his brother because he wanted something his brother had. But I mean, they’re brothers and siblings fight all the time. Does that count?”

We go into the kitchen and he prepares to make us breakfast. I sit at the dining table.

“I don’t think so... That sounds kind of a dumb thing to be jealous about though. I mean I call him cute all the time.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That is kinda dumb. There’s probably more to it.” I watch him cut up some leftover steak from the fridge. He cracks a couple eggs into a bowl and scrambles them, adding some salt, pepper, and cheese. He pours the mixture into a preheated pan. “Maybe we should confront him about it.”

“Maybe...”

Maybe. But I know Jimin. He should have a good reason to not trust Taehyung around me. Was he lying about the art thing? Would Taehyung really use me and throw me away when he’s done with me? Jimin would never lie about anything like that.

“Hey, what are you thinking about now, daydreamer?” Taehyung places a plated omelette in front of me.

“Can we go to your room?”

“Woah. Let me dine you first.” He takes a bite of his food. “Moving a little too fast there, aren’t we?”

I feel my face get hot after realizing what I just said. “I-I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I know,” he chuckles. “I know you’re not like that. Jimin really has told me a lot about you.”

“That’s comforting that he talks so highly of me.” I take a fork full of food. “Okay, what the fuck Kim Taehyung. An a amazing photographer? And a great cook? That’s not fair, you can’t have multiple good traits.”

He covers his smile behind his hand. “Thanks. I try.”

We finish up our breakfast. I help him with the dishes.

“Has Jimin really not mention anything about me?” He asks while drying a plate.

I pause to think. “He has mentioned you a couple times, never by name but by ‘my neighbor.’ I don’t really remember what he said, but don’t worry, they were all good things... Unless he was talking about another neighbor.”

“I’m the only one he talks to in this neighborhood. I guess it kinda makes me glad he talks about me. We’ve been friends for so long. He wasn’t always so cold towards me. We used to have sleepovers all the time as kids. We’d stay up way past our bedtime to talk about everything.”

We walk up stairs to his room.

“Make yourself at home, since it seems like you already know my home.” He sits down at his desk. “You can take a seat on my bed.”

With his permission, I do as he says. “Of course I do, it’s exactly like Jimin’s house.”

I look around his room. It looks nothing like Jimin’s. Different works of art hang all over the painted grey walls. None of them look too personal, unlike Jimin’s walls which are full of polaroids of and art made by friends, and posters of his interests accompanied by clear stringed lights that go all around his room. Jimin’s room feels cozy while Taehyung’s room feels more like an art studio.

“So why did you want to come up here?” He swivels around in his chair.

“I just wanted to see how different your room was compared to Jimin’s.” I’m mostly honest. I wanted to see for myself these art pieces Jimin was talking about.

“Speaking of which, it looks like he’s home.” He smiles and waves.

I turn my head towards the balcony to lock eyes with Jimin. He walks over to his window and shuts the curtains.

Side Note: I never know when is the right time to update but I finally posted this even if I literally had this written out after posting part one. Leave me any feedback so I can be inspired to keep updating!

#bangtanwriters-net #pocarmysunited #bangtanbuds #boy group writers net #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts scenarios

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le-sejour · 7 years

Text

Cookie Factory

Words: 2196

Pairing: Lafayette x Reader

World: Modern/College AU

Warnings: Casual mention of sex, but otherwise, none i believe. c:

Prompt from: @dailyau “You bake when you’re stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day, now I’m not complaining but are you okay?”

A/N: I saw this prompt and Laf stress baking popped into my head. :^)

Enjoy~

Most people get excited at the thought of weekends, or the changing seasons, or seeing their loved ones after some time apart. Kids were usually excited for snowfall, and employees more or less looked forward to payday.

In college, it was a little harder to see such joy with thousands of disheveled, sleep-deprived students milling about. It was as if all jubilation or life was being sucked into a black hole.

However, you seemed to see excitement, even just a little bit, nearly everyday on campus; a group of students rejoicing a good grade on a project, that little gleam in someone’s eyes when they’re the first at the coffee stall, the low buzzing when a class realizes it’s only a few minutes left until their professor is officially declared absent.

Your friends were also a big factor in why you saw such enthusiasm in your life. They were quite excitable over many things–Alexander, especially. The man can find joy even in the smallest of victories, like snagging Jefferson’s unofficial official seat in class.

As for you? Now, this might sound scandalous but hear this out; you were actually kind of maybe looking forward to finals.

You smiled as you opened the locker you virtually shared with the ever charming Gilbert du Motier du Lafayette, finding a neatly wrapped box of fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. You had given him your locker code for convenience, after a year of him trying to find you during finals week to hand you the precious little treats.

You sniffed the still-warm cookies before bringing one to your mouth. This always happens whenever deadlines loomed in the distance.

Your locker-mate was always so jittery around this time, which is why this glorious box of warmth and happiness was sitting in your hands. Lafayette often baked whenever he’s stressing out, which was mostly during midterms and finals. He claims his whole body feels too restless to concentrate on any of the material he’s studying for, so he takes to the kitchen.

He usually shares his creations with the gang, but he seems to always make an extra batch just for you. And who were you to complain? You get free sugar during the hell weeks to come, and indirectly stop your friend from ripping his hair out.

You stared in absolute confusion at the large tubs of cookies sitting in your locker.

Now, you weren’t trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, and you usually scoffed whenever anyone told you that there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Because food is always a good idea, and you were a very hungry, very tired, very stressed out college student.

But this was too much. It’s ridiculous. It’s madness.

There were two large buckets of cookies in your locker. Two. Large. Buckets. Filled to the brim with fluffy chocolate chip cookies. It had been this way since the first box of baked goods a couple of weeks ago, but this is the first time he actually managed to fill up two whole tins. What was Laf doing? Is he secretly producing goods for a wholesale supplier? Your books were practically non-existent now!

Actually…

You scooted the tubs to the side–with a little difficulty, mind you–and exhaled slowly.

Your books were practically non-existent because they were gone.

There was only one person who had access to this locker, and you were pretty sure said person was holding your books hostage. You slammed the locker closed, before quickly opening it again.

Okay, so you weren’t really mad.

You scooped a couple of cookies from one of the containers and munched on one. Your next class didn’t start until after lunch, and it was only 10am. Plenty of time to gather your books from your clearly very frazzled friend.

“Hey, are you selling those?”

You turned around in surprise, cookie still in your mouth, seeing a group of students (Freshmen, maybe? They didn’t look like they wanted to die just yet) peering into your locker.

“Uh… S-…ure?”

“Awesome! How much are you charging?”

Huh.

Well, like you said, you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Laf, we need to talk.”

You were now sitting in front of the man who single-handedly turned your locker into some kind of black market cookie factory. Turns out, those kids who bought a handful of the cookies attracted more exhausted students looking to get their sugar fix on the way to class. It even got enough traction that at some point, someone from the administration was sent to put a stop to your little unlicensed business, but ended up buying a couple of the treats himself.

All in all, it was a pretty wild ride and ultimately delayed you from seeking out your book kidnapper.

“Chérie, not now, I have a paper due at 4pm and I have no idea how to conclude it.”

“Laf, I know you bake when you’re stressed and sometimes-“ You coughed ‘always’ into your hand “-you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day.”

You don’t know what did it, but you seemed to have the tanned man’s undivided attention now. You squinted at him, seeing how the color drained from his face, and how his eyes seemed to scream for help. It was hilarious, if not for the dirty hobo look he was sporting. His beard seemed scruffier than usual, and his cute little man bun was beginning to droop.

So you decided to proceed cautiously.

“Now, I’m not complaining but are you okay?”

After long stare off between you two, he cleared his throat, turning back to his laptop. “I’m fine, ma belle. Like you said, I am very stressed. I have 3 deadlines this week and I haven’t-“

“You know you bounce your leg up and down when you lie, right?”

His face colored at being caught, an awkward laugh escaping his soft, plump lips. “Okay, I lied. I have 2 deadlines-“

“Gilbert.”

His breath hitched as you enunciated his name like that. God, he could listen to you all day. Not to mention you were really adorable when you were trying to figure him out. He found himself stifling a smile despite the situation, before remembering why he’s been mass-producing sugary treats the past few weeks.

“You do know how whipped you sound, right?”

“Eh… Whipped, mon ami?”

“Under her spell. Smitten. Infatuated.”

“I… Oui, I suppose that’s how I sound, isn’t it?”

“And look. You do realize you have this really weird smile whenever you talk about her. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Ah… Do I?”

“Yes! I’ve never seen you look so dopey about a girl. And not just any girl, the other mom friend in our group. Y’know, besides Eliza. It’s a little weird.”

Sigh.

“You don’t have to repeat it, mon petit tortue, I remember vividly. It is why I was hesitant to bring it up in the first place. It might ruin what we have.”

“No, don’t listen to John-““-Hey!-”“-Laf, if you like her, go get her. What are you waiting for?”

And so that’s how he found himself with quite the dilemma. Finals was coming up and he had a plethora of deadlines he had to worry about, but all he could think about was you. That little laugh you do when you’re sending Alexander the dumbest memes you could find, the look of concentration you have whenever Hercules asked for you opinion on his portfolio, that silly good luck dance you and John invented before passing your term papers.

But he couldn’t make any sort of move on you, he knew that. If things didn’t work out between you two, your friendship would already be too sullied to save. He’s been playing and replaying scenarios in his head of how things could go wrong that it practically gave him nightmares once or twice. He knew it would cause an awkward rift between the boys and you and the Schuyler sisters. Even if they say they won’t, he knew sides would still be taken.

Dating within your own circle was just asking for so much trouble.

Which is why he’s been in the kitchen way more than normal, and way past the reasonable time to be making sweets. Every time he’s finished up the last batch of something, the gears in his mind would go off and in turn, the gears in his stand mixer would go on yet again. A vicious cycle.

“-rt. Gilbert?”

“Oui? Ah, je suis desolée, mon chou. I did not mean to space out like that.”

“What’s wrong, Lafa?” Damn it. You knew he couldn’t resist it when you used that nickname. It was your own nickname for him, no one else has or can call him that. “You’ve been weird, lately. C’mon, spill.”

He felt his heart melt at the sight of you, his resolve quickly wearing away. There you were across from him in your nondescript sweats and university hoodie, looking so genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. The way your brow was furrowed almost made him chuckle.

This was why it was so easy to fall in love with you. You were natural and genuine and real. He could very easily see your flaws as well as your merits, and that just sealed the deal for him.

Here goes nothing.

“Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” (“You are the light of my life,”) He exhaled, his hand impulsively reaching out to yours. Well, there was no going back now. Whatever your reaction was, he’d have to live with it. “I cannot seem to find the right words to tell you how much I appreciate your presence in my life, [N/Name]. Excusez-moi.”

He stood up to scoot his chair closer to you, bringing your hand up to his chest.

You stared at him in surprise, your own heart matching the rapid beating of his.

This… This was not what you expected when you came to look for your friend. Or, you guess friend isn’t the right term for him, anymore, is it? A slight blush bloomed beneath your cheeks; you suddenly became hyperaware of how warm his hand over yours was, and how hard his heart was beating in his chest.

“Lafa, I-“

“Non, mon amour. Please, do not think you have to return my feelings. I simply ask that you do not turn me away as your friend.”

Silence enveloped you as you tried to wrap your mind around the whole situation. This was insane. If someone told you weeks ago that Lafayette, one of your closest friends, actually romantically likes you, you’d have laughed in their face. Now, you weren’t sure what to do.

You wouldn’t deny the crush you’ve developed on him the first time you met. He was handsome, and silly, and quite passionate in his endeavors. But eventually, you found yourself drawn to him by the way he treats people, even when said people were Alexander’s rivals. He didn’t fold in on himself when faced with a delicate situation or a difficult decision. He was steadfast, loyal, and levelheaded; traits you deeply admired in your whirlwind of a life.

But the question still stands, and there was only one way to find out.

You bit your lip. “Will you still make me cookies?”

He laughed; a relieved, sincere thing that made your stomach flip out in a way it hasn’t before.

“As many as you want, chérie.”

“And you promise not to turn our locker into some sort of underground pastry shop?”

His heart skipped a beat at your use of the term ‘our’, the sides of his eyes crinkling as the smile on his lips widened.

“Je promets, ma belle femme.”

“Well, I guess there’s only one logical end to this situation.” You pulled your hand away from his. “I don’t want to be friends anymore-”

“Oui, I-“

“-because I want to try being something more.”

Anything else you had to say was quickly silenced by Lafayette’s chest. You could hear the deep rumbling of his laughter from your position pressed against him, and you couldn’t help but give a giggle of your own. You stayed that way for a while. After the laughter has subsided and contented silence settled upon the two of you, you continued to remain in his arms as he resumed typing out his term paper.

You ended up missing class that afternoon, finding yourself too giddy to even focus on anything but your current situation. The Frenchman eventually noticed the energy buzzing from your body, a small smile creeping up on him.

“You know what we can do with all that energy, oui?”

“Sex?”

“Baking, chérie, baking.” You have never seen him look that scandalized in your life, it was hilarious. “You have been hanging around Hercules far too much, naughty chaton.”

You laughed, watching him put away his things so you could both grab something to eat.

“But, you know… If we fucked, you would have a different way to relieve stress, other than filling my locker to the brim with enough baked goods to feed a battalion.”

“Chérie.”

FIN

#i wanted to do something cute #c:#might edit this later :o #lafayette imagine #lafayette x reader #marquis de lafayette #lafayette #hamilfics #hamilton #hamilton x reader #hamiltrash #hamfics

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bnprime · 7 years

Text

a weird letter

i got a weird letter, as a faculty member of ubc okanagan everyone seemed to get one, they were sent via institutional mail, and were hand addressed. inside it was a plea, from a 4th year philosophy major from ubc vancouver, to act in the defense of academic freedom, against social justice warriors who were seeking to.. i dunno. something paranoid. after the letter was a list of jordan peterson videos we should watch and a list of things we could do. okay so like... how should i put this. i want to get my ideas down about what this kid is getting right and wrong. right: there is a doctrine called academic freedom, which says that an academic should be free to explore any idea, and express their findings about their ideas. This is what “tenure” is all about. Academic freedom also extends to how and what we teach our students. Although, there are some caveats regarding professionalism and prerequisites (for example, if you’re hired to teach a calculus class, it is a disservice to your students not to teach them the basic calculus that subsequent courses will assume they have mastered). wrong: (begin the list). 1. academic freedom is not a statement which says that a person is free to act and research whatever they want. Indeed, earning “tenure” is a very rare event, requiring that a researcher spend their entire adult lives building us a portfolio of research which speaks to their relevancy to the institution and their competence. I study black holes and time machines. It’s not, formally, a threat to my academic freedom that a university who is looking to hire a biophysicist won’t hire me... or if they have hired me, won’t promote me to tenure. There is a selective effect, based on one’s research interests, and the community in the faculty, which acts as a filter on some ideas and research paths. Effectively, the result of the scarcity of positions at a university means that there IS a censuring effect on the ideas propagated by the university. As academics, our only resolution to this apparent contradiction is that the community of peers who judges who is worthy of being payed.. rather than some less informed, more arbitrary decision maker. So yeah, if you do research your peers decide is “bad,” the system will hit you. the ideal of academic freedom does not exist for people without tenure, which means it barely exists at all. 2. academic freedom does not extend to things one is not really researching. Academic freedom doesn’t mean freedom from consequences or from criticism. the power of the academy is that there are always other experts who can weigh in on whatever claim you are making. If your research is not up to snuff, your peers WILL snuff it.That’s the point to academia. Peer review is super important. Even if you DO know what you’re talking about, you can expect a little flack. So, if you spend all your time preaching half-understood ideas in an area you’re NOT an expert in: buckle up. you deserve to catch hell for wasting everyone’s time. because you will be criticized. And if you don’t have tenure? it will affect your career. 3. Academic freedom is only one aspect of being a member of the academy. the other big aspect can be called “collegiality.” you treat the people around you with respect. but more than that, there are certain ethical guidelines for your interactions with your colleagues. Don’t harass them. Don’t threaten them. Don’t bully them. Give everyone the same space granted to you to get the work done IN YOUR ARENA OF EXPERTISE. often, universities will put out a “code of conduct” formalizing these behaviours. But even if you haven’t read it, collegiality is expected of you. It is, after all, the glue which holds the institution together. 4. What academic freedom is for: university life is really nice. I don’t have a boss. I mean, there is a person who hires me, and can cancel my contract.. but no one manages me, and the university can’t fire me (although they CAN decide to NOT REHIRE me) for my research. In other words, belonging to this institution, i am sheltered from the external political world. Recently some UBC biologists caught flack. They were in the process of publishing a paper about mice and vaccines and autism, when they caught a mistake and withdrew the paper they had written. That’s great. exploring possibilities is great. catching mistakes is great. I know that in the broader world, there is a lot of (very stupid) anti vaccine stuff about autism, but if a biologist wants to investigate this, it’s in the scope of their academic freedom. AND, if the biologist is behaving ethically and professionally, they should report their findings accurately and in good faith. UBC is sheltering the biologists from the flack, and i think that’s good. I mean, in the general scope of things, they stepped on a landmine in an ant-hill, but whatever. their work can and should be judged on its professionalism and its accuracy. don’t call the media. don’t hold a meeting. let the other experts chew on it. 5. the big irony the big irony here is that the stupid letter i received is a contradiction. in appealing to academic freedom it was trying to levy political support to BLOCK the conversations other EXPERTS were having. maybe you don’t understand the movement towards social justice, lead by sociologists and cultural critics. That’s fine, i don’t understand much of anything. If you want to be a critic inside the institution, then EXPERT UP. take classes. Learn all the angles. get the letters. and then participate in the conversation. In trying to drum up political support inside the institution for the silencing of other voices, he’s suppressing academic freedom. good work broseph. 6. Jordan Peterson this dude. give me a break. A Junian Psychologist is weighing in on sociology? Well whatever, he DOES HAVE TENURE. and that means that he has the privilege of having the STRONGEST kind of academic freedom: the freedom from not being rehired because your peers think that you’re wasting everyone’s time. does that mean that no one can criticize him? oh no, he’s being bad. he’s being UNCOLLEGIAL. remember that phrase from earlier? he’s not treating the people surrounding him with respect. In fact, he has a history of trying to gain political support from outside the institution for the purposes of pressuring his colleagues. especially those who are gender nonbinary and trans. he takes the rightful criticism of his lazy ideas and rephrases them as attacks on his academic freedom. 7. Collegiality and Professionalism: so this wasn’t like, a big issue a while ago. You’d have professors sexually harassing students, or other professors. I’ve heard of physical assault. But if the researcher was sufficiently productive in their research, the institution kind of shrugged it off. we’re getting to the point where this isn’t going to fly anymore. The metrics Collegiality and Professionalism are slowly become factors in the continuing employment of academics. Obviously rightly so: one the one hand it will not do for an institution to work as a conveyor belt, bringing new victims to a predatory jerk... and on the other hand, a collegial atmosphere is a requisite, just like academic freedom, for people to do their best, most creative work. Once we become formally aware of this dimension of academic culture: the question will be “where do we draw the line when it comes to labelling something as unprofessionally uncollegial?” my guess is that it will be past physical assaulting a colleague or student, that it will be past sexually harassing a colleague of student, and that it will be past running a giant patreon campaign so that you can mobilize the general public to harass a colleague or student. 8. In conclusion: Academic freedom has, and has always had limits. It is an important governing principle, but it is not holy to the institutions and culture of academia. This isn’t a statement about how we should feel licence to censor people... but rather a statement that we should be aware of how and why people get the axe. So using it as a crutch to rhetorically support your bias, and using it as a shield to save you from criticism and consequence isn’t going to fly, son. There’s a line of people four blocks long who aren’t getting a desk with a door in these buildings, because their research is correct and accurate and done in good faith, it just isn’t very relevant, or exciting, or numerous. Lazy thinking isn’t even going to get you into that line. Furthermore, there are other aspects of academic life beyond academic freedom, which can and should qualify someone as a target for accusations of professional misconduct. Specifically: collegiality. The bare minimum is that you give other people a nodding respect, and the space they need. Collegiality isn’t a right, it’s a responsibility. A responsibility we owe to the system which provides us with our academic freedom: like teaching, and like academic service. And if you’re not willing to pay this price, maybe you don’t deserve a seat at the table.

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ships-and-saints · 7 years

Text

Draw With Me [Feyre x Rhysand Modern AU]

!!! it’s here !!! thanks anon (also ur not weird for being a slut for angst because I am too!)

I have this automatic instinct to apologize for how i write and what i write, and I’m determined NOT to do that anymore. I will say i am sorry for how long this took me (school is GETTING IN MY WAY), and I REALLY hope people enjoy it even though it’s not perfect!! I had a lot of fun writing this and building a backstory for it - Also it’s nearly 6,000 words, so hold on to your hats!

I don’t want to spoil anything (HELION), so please feel free to read and give me your thoughts - i’m debating writing a second part depending on interest. :) thanks!!

FST/Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XZJ5mD6nSU Word Count: 5764 Read it on: [ Fanfiction ] [ AO3 ]

Draw With Me

I was the first to enter the classroom.

It was 7:40AM on the first day of classes, and the hallways were already filled with students and professors as they made their way to their destinations. I had just breezed past two people, students I assumed, who were hovering in the hallway near my classroom.

I was practicing an introduction in my head, just in case, Hi, my name is Feyre Archeron and…

And what? I wondered if I should mention my age… or my preference for paints…

Caught up in my own thoughts and believing that other students had already entered the classroom, I just waltzed right in.

And slowly stopped in my tracks because… I was the first. And the classroom was completely empty. Whirling around, my eyes caught on the nondescript black clock above the door.

7:41AM.

I knew I was early since class began at 8AM sharp, but… I had passed students and professors on my walk here. Well, since I was already here, I might as well choose my seat.

My eyes roved over the classroom, and while shrugging my backpack off, I picked my way over to an easel stationed on the western side of the classroom.

Just before I reached the easel and stool, two students sauntered in – the same two that I had breezed past just outside the classroom. They quickly surveyed the room and selected a seat, just as I had.

The female student was beautiful; she had warm brown eyes, and her long, blonde hair was braided and fell down the center of her back. She had chosen to sit at an easel nearby me, but closer to the door.

The woman eventually looked up and caught my gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

Her brown eyes remained impassive as she just shrugged her narrow shoulders, her floor-length sundress rustling along the tiled floor, and gave me a small, guilty smile. Sorry.

Hmm. She didn't look wholly repentant. They had purposely waited for someone else to enter the classroom first, but why…?

"The first always gets noticed." The other student answered my unspoken question.

What does that mean? My eyes snapped to where he was seated across from me on the eastern side – in a chair with a drawing pad on his lap, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

Now that I really looked, I noticed he was also very good-looking, even with the hood shadowing parts of his face. He was dressed more simply than the female student, and I wondered if they were together. He wore a slate-colored, cowl neck sweatshirt, slim-cut black pants, and black combat boots.

I tilted my head, confused, but he didn't seem inclined to say anything more. As I assessed him, I couldn't tell whether he was an ally or a foe; his expression was mild but unreadable, although my predator's instinct warned me that I was likely facing another predator.

However, his slumped position in the chair seemed relaxed enough, with both legs sticking out in front of him. I had no idea what to say or whether to ask him what he meant, but I figured, perhaps I would find out soon enough. So I ducked my head behind my easel and continued setting up my things.

After all, we were in the advanced introductory drawing class at a prestigious art university, the Velaris School of Design. Months after submitting my application and portfolio on a whim, I received a heavy, cream-colored envelope containing my acceptance letter as well as other important documents, including a course schedule. A note clipped to the schedule stated that I had been placed into a more advanced drawing class, but I had been more than thrilled that I had been accepted into the university at all.

When I'd opened the letter, Elain had been home tending to the garden but when she heard me screaming, she ran into the house and screamed with me. Then we called Nesta, who surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

"I had a feeling it was good news," Nesta declared after I finished speaking, and then she added, "Congratulations, Feyre. You deserve it."

She had sounded happy for me, proud, even. It was rare for Nesta, the coldest of us three, to show feeling, so her praise meant a lot to me.

I was shaken from my reverie by the sound of students gradually filing into the room, some in pairs and trios, and others streaming in alone. I fiddled with the arrangement of my pencils and graphite sticks, glad I had gotten here early so that I had a chance to observe my fellow classmates.

As I cast a wandering gaze around the room, I could easily identify which students had money, and which didn't. Nobody noticed me, and nobody bothered to introduce themselves but I was happy to keep to myself.

I also noted that there weren't enough easels, so students who filed in later would only have the choice to sketch on chairs loosely arrayed around the podium. Or stand.

Sounds of students chattering and chairs sliding filled the room; the familiar sounds of art tools clattering was both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time. Sunlight streamed in overhead through narrow, horizontal windows on the northern wall and panes of long, vertical windows on the eastern wall of the room.

I glanced at the clock again; there were still 5 more minutes before class started.

I tried to look preoccupied with the materials I had laid out, and my mind wandered again...

It had been years since Hybern's War, and luckily, my family and I had made it out alive – well, me, my two older sisters Nesta and Elain, and my father. My mother had died of disease during the early years of the war, but before she passed, she had made me promise to take care of our family.

I always wondered why she didn't ask Nesta, or Elaine…

But I promised her. I said yes, and… I'd learn to provide for my sisters and my father, on my own. Alone. I hunted and killed, did things I wasn't proud of…

As the war raged endlessly, the borders and lands of Prythian had been bent and disrupted, including our hometown. We lost our home, but saved our most precious family valuables along with whatever we could. It was many years before the war ended, but afterwards, the country slowly rebuilt and reknit itself because the High Courts of Prythian all united for the cause of rebuilding our war-torn lands.

As the war was winding down, my father took advantage of society's momentary lapse in maintaining law and order, and he slowly began to rebuild some of his prior fortune. The money he slowly accumulated was just a fraction of the prior wealth we had all known, but it was more than we had had in a long, long while.

I still remembered and resented my father had been a lifeless husk, useless after his wife, our mother, had passed into the void…

However, even though it took a while, he saved enough money to eventually move us to Velaris, the City of Starlight. The city had been closed off for hundreds of years, but after the war, the High Lord of the Night Court had welcomed all those who wished to seek refuge.

Moving us to Velaris was perhaps the best thing our father had ever done for us. Within a year and a half, Elaine had met and married well to a serious but kind man named Graysen Tolliver. And Nesta was off doing, well, whatever it was that Nesta did – within a few months, she had quickly enrolled at a university in Velaris that focused on literature and knowledge.

But now I was here, in this classroom. It wasn't the time to be thinking about the past.

Better to be grateful for what I had now, and the future.

I took a swig from my water bottle to try and clear my mind, noticing that the students near the door were starting to shift nervously and whisper in a hush. My eyes snapped to the focus of their attention – a woman now sweeping into the room, who I assumed was our art professor.

Her bright red hair was streaked with thick strands of white, lending evidence to her older age. I noticed her eyes next, which were ice-blue and hawk-like, as if she could simply see right through you. She wore a long, slim, navy-blue gown with pearls dotting her ears and silver bangles on her wrists.

Briskly, she stepped onto the podium with a no-nonsense demeanor. She commanded most of the room's presence, as the students around me silenced near instantly.

I didn't know too much about our art professor, only that she was renowned for her skills and that many lords and ladies often commissioned incredible works from her. So perhaps, it was to be expected that the fire-haired artist would feel so intimidating to students in an introductory art course.

I took a moment to relish in that thought – finally, finally I had the luxury of taking art courses, of honing artistic skills beyond my penchant for painting. I had worked hard, fought hard for my family, and now I finally had the chance to do something for myself. To attend university, and pursue art…

The professor stood on the podium. Clasping her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat. Every single pair of eyes in the classroom was already on her.

Her hawk-eyes were initially trained on the door, but eventually her penetrating stare roved around the room. "Well, it seems like most of us are here. Welcome, students. My name is Anaxandra Agnes. I do not want to waste precious class time with too many words, so I will assume you have all perused the syllabus before you stepped over the threshold. If not, there are copies of the syllabus on the table in the back."

She gestured towards the stack of syllabi with one hand, and some students turned to look towards where she pointed. Then she clasped her hands behind her back again.

Professor Anaxandra Agnes began pacing slowly in a circle. "For today's class, you will be showing me what you can do. If you are serious about art but cannot handle the pressure or expected to get an easy grade, you should probably leave now."

She paused, and the whole room held their breath, collectively wondering if anyone would leave.

Instead, the door creaked open, and the whole room directed their attention to the tall, dark-haired man that slipped into the room, wearing an impeccably cut black tunic and pants. I craned my neck and watched as he immediately slunk off to a corner, seeing all of the eyes upon him.

Nobody got up to leave, so Professor Agnes continued. "I also don't tolerate tardiness" – she turned and looked pointedly at the male who had just entered – "and contrary to popular belief, there is such thing as stupid questions."

"My apologies, Professor. Prior engagements ensnared me." The gentleman in the corner sketched a bow. I was surprised to hear that he sounded confident and that his voice was rich and deep, like red wine.

Recognition crossed her face, and to everyone's surprise, the professor huffed a sigh and placed a hand on her hip. "Oh, Rhysand. You know I don't like to make exceptions, either.

Even though I could barely see him, I was willing to bet money that the tall man – Rhysand? – was smirking.

Professor Agnes cleared her throat. "Now, let me introduce you to our model for today. You will be sketching him during the first half of class, and I will be walking around and observing. I'll also be using your drawings as teaching examples in the later half. So please, do your very best." She stopped pacing and looked towards the door again.

"Helion, if you please." The red-haired professor called towards the door and waited.

Not a minute passed before Helion strode in, wearing nothing save for a white towel wrapped around his waist. Some of the female students began talking in hushed whispers, while several male students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Helion was gorgeous, possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His powerful muscles rippled as he walked, his skin was a sun-kissed brown that reflected the sun's rays, and his onyx hair was wound in tight curls. He walked up to the podium and surveyed the room.

For some reason, Helion's watchful, amber eyes caught mine, and I willed herself not to look away. He winked slyly, and I swore I heard a chorus of quiet sighs ripple throughout the room.

Meanwhile, I was willing the blush not to creep up my face any further. I ducked behind the easel, both to hide my flushed face and to avoid some of the women shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I thanked the Cauldron that I had gotten here early so that I could hide behind the easel, because when I peeked back at the podium, I felt another pair of eyes staring at me from across the room.

I willed myself to get it together; I would have to stare at Helion, our model, for like the next hour or so anyway, to capture him on paper… So I'd better get it together.

The professor continued explaining what to expect from our two hour block, and eventually we began sketching.

Sometime between now and then, Helion had lost the towel and was now posing completely nude. I coughed behind my hand and heard several others do the same.

Smirking inwardly, I refocused my attention on him.

Helion sat on the stool, his feet planted firmly on the ground. His left elbow rested on his left knee, and he rested his head in his hand. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, I could not see his... equipment below the waist very well. He locked his lofty gaze in our general direction.

I did a quick sketch of his general pose first, observing the contours and lines of his body, memorizing all the places where shadows struck and light danced…

I wondered if it was a sin to be so beautiful, or if there were some price to pay… Surely no one could get away with walking around and looking like that? What if he were devastatingly handsome but also pathetically stupid?

I scolded myself for thinking so pettily and focused on my sketchbook; I wanted to prove myself, wanted to show everyone what a nobody could do, show everyone what my dreams and passions and struggles had taught me…

So I threw myself into capturing Helion. I drank up every detail, seared his image into my brain, and reimagined him onto the sheet in front of me.

Helion had a square chin and prominent cheekbones; there were deep, expressive lines on his face, although I would be hard-pressed to capture his unfathomable expression at the moment. His eyes were a lovely amber gold, like honey dripping from a honeycomb. My attention drifted to his scar-flecked hand and then to other scars on his body. I absentmindedly wondered how he'd gotten them, how he'd gotten so many…

I blocked out everything around me, ignored the wandering eyes of my peers as they tired of their own creations and looked around for a respite, or perhaps for inspiration…

My only inspiration would be Helion. He was enough. His skin glowed effortlessly as the sun continued rising up over the east. Seated in the chair, his pose cast dancing shadows, and I labored as the shadows moved with the sun…

I sketched and drew and redrew, until my arms ached.

Finally, it was over. Class was a complete whirlwind, and before I knew it, I was packing up my supplies to leave. Students were already hustling out the door, heading to their next class or some other engagement.

My mind drifted back to what the male student had said at the beginning of class… What was it again? The first always gets noticed.

The professor had, indeed, recognized me. Well, not at first… eventually.

As we all diligently worked on our drawings, Professor Agnes had strolled purposefully around the room, observing students as they labored and occasionally making insightful comments to most of the students.

I had been dreading the moment she would approach my work to assess my poor sketch of Helion with her calculating gaze, with eyes that had seen thousands upon thousands of artworks, possibly some of the greatest works known to mankind…

I tried to shake off the feeling of intimidation, immersing myself in my work as sweat gathered on the nape of my neck and the sun beat down on my brow. I sensed her pause behind me at some point, but she didn't make any remarks to me.

After the timer went off, Professor Agnes rounded the room again. This time, she stopped to assess every work she had skipped over before on her previous rounds.

Finally, she stopped to appreciate my mostly completed sketch of Helion. She stared at it for a long while, and I couldn't read anything past the cold, analytical expression in her blue eyes.

She clucked her tongue, and I braced myself as she opened her mouth to speak – "I surmise that you frequently work with paints. Even so, this work shows your potential." She nodded approvingly at my attempt to capture Helion's radiant skin and the complex array of shadows and light that danced across his posed figure.

"Thank you, Professor," I replied gratefully, and then added, "I'm… Feyre. Feyre Archeron."

She surveyed me with those frost-blue eyes, like staring at an iceberg. But she didn't seem cold in her demeanor, she seemed… approving. "Keep up the effort, Feyre."

I nodded and stepped back to allow her to walk over to the last few students she hadn't made comments to. Letting out a quiet sigh, I glowed with the praise and tried to ignore the eye-rolls of eavesdropping students around me.

I overheard a few others who received similar comments, but for the most part, she was methodical and objective in her criticism. But never harsh.

Most students had already left the classroom, and I moved towards the door with a wrinkled, folded map in my hand, ready to figure out where my next class was in this sprawling building.

Helion was standing in the hallway near the door still, talking to someone it seemed like… I was surprised to see him, what was he still doing here? I assumed he wasn't just a model with a little too much time on his hands.

He glanced towards the door just as I was walking through, and I tried to keep the expression on my face neutral, casual, even though my heart skipped a beat.

"Feyre?" His voice was deep, lilting. I nearly stumbled, hearing my name fall from his lips. How did he know…?

"Uh… Yes?" I replied hesitantly as I paused in my steps. My eyes flickered over his shoulder to students milling in the hallway, but I didn't catch who he might have been speaking to.

"I overheard your name, in class. I was wondering if you might want to grab a coffee with me later. After your classes are over, of course." Helion's voice was rich and lightly accented, but it was unlike the Velaris accent I had grown accustomed to after living here.

"Coffee?" My attention snapped back to his amber eyes as I tried to glean his intentions.

After all, I was a nobody. I didn't know anybody at this school, and I had lived in Velaris for less than two years. And, I certainly didn't know anyone who looked like Helion.

Helion bowed his head slightly and held out a large, tanned hand. His eyes met mine and he smiled slightly. "I apologize for my rudeness; I should have introduced myself. My name is Helion Cleavar. It's nice to make your acquaintance."

I reached for his hand automatically and shook it. "Feyre… Archeron. It's nice to meet you, but… maybe you've got the wrong person?"

"Feyre." His voice was practically a purr as he rolled the end of my first name. I swore I heard someone cough in distaste from behind me. "Do you drink coffee? I've never seen you around, so I figured you were new. Maybe I can show you this lovely café nearby."

"Oh, umm… Sure, I guess," I stammered slightly. Helion's dark, thick eyebrows raised in delight.

Well… I mean, what else would I have said instead? I suppose I could have simply said no but… Coffee was necessary, and I did need to eat eventually. And who said no to somebody who looked like Helion?!

Plus… he had known that I hardly knew anyone here, suspected that I was new to Velaris. So… perhaps I was a little curious to see where this game led, although I hated that I wasn't in on the rules. Or that I didn't know who all the players were. But I intended to find out.

Helion and I exchanged phone numbers, and I headed off to my next class, which I was glad was only an hour instead of two.

My second class of the day passed much more uneventfully than the first, to my wary relief. After class ended, Helion texted me the address of the café, and I ambled over.

It was a beautiful Autumn day in Velaris and unseasonably warm. The leaves on the trees were slowly turning color, lovely and brilliant hues of reds and oranges splashing across the bright blue sky. Puffy, white clouds lazed low across the sky as the sun voyaged across.

True to Helion's word, the café was a short walk away. It was near campus, but in a more upscale part of the city. The café was beautiful from the front, with lovely, blue sloping canopies and large, open windows where I could see all of the round tables and the customers and employees.

Café Valeria was neatly etched onto one of the windows, with a menu tacked underneath. I'd never been to this café before because it was relatively expensive; although I love coffee, I'd rather save money for art supplies. But the inside of the café looked so warm and inviting, I figured it couldn't hurt to splurge once in a while, right? I had some money left over from a part-time job I had worked after we moved, but not much…

Helion arrived while I was still outside looking in, lost in my own thoughts.

"Cold feet, already?" Helion's voice was light, teasing, and I turned to see him smiling dazzlingly, like the sun.

I decided to answer with my own brilliant smile, to show that I wasn't intimidated by his radiance – although I was. A little bit.

"I've never been here before. I was just… I like to watch people." I admitted. I moved towards the door, but Helion beat me to it.

He opened the door and waved an arm at me. "After you, Feyre, love."

Feyre, love? My mind went blank at how casually he dropped the term of endearment.

Helion was smirking, but it was almost as if he were laughing at a private joke. But I brushed it off and walked past him into the shop towards the counter where customers were ordering.

He fell into step behind me and started recommended things that were good on the menu. After deliberating for a few minutes, I chose a hot cappuccino and a sandwich he recommended. He simply ordered an espresso.

"You're not going to eat?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not terribly hungry at the moment. Come, this way."

Shrugging, I followed him as he led us to a table tucked by the wall. Our coffees and food were brought to us by a waiter, who folded in a bow and disappeared as soon as we told him that we didn't need anything else.

Idly, Helion and I somewhat awkwardly made small talk. He seemed to be anticipating something, but I didn't know what, so I simply waited for him to… bring it up maybe?

Finally, I heard a slightly familiar voice.

"There you are. I've been looking for you."

I turned to see the man that had entered class late, the one dressed in the rich, dark tunic and pants. He looked to be slightly younger than Helion, perhaps in his late-twenties, and I could hear the Velaris accent in his speech.

But he wasn't speaking to me, and he sounded slightly irritated. He was speaking to Helion, who barely gave him a cursory glance. "I'm busy, Rhys."

"I can see that," the man – Rhysand, was it? – drawled, with a lethal quiet. He plucked a stray thread from the breast of his jacket and brushed off invisible specks of dust. "But we need to attend to business."

Helion's amber eyes rolled, and he gave me a lazy, knowing smile that showed his gleaming teeth. "If you'll excuse me, Feyre, love, I have business to attend to."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the muscle in Rhysand's jaw twitched as he tried to hide his frown.

"Of course. Don't let me keep you." I gestured that he should go off and do whatever it is that he needed to do.

Helion slid easily from the seat, and took my hand, bringing it up to his lips. "It was so nice to meet you, Feyre."

"Uh… Yeah, same to you," I replied self-consciously, retracting my hand. Rhysand stalked out of the café, and his demeanor reminded me somewhat of a bird whose feathers had been ruffled. Helion casually followed behind.

I sipped on my cappuccino as they exchanged words outside the front of the café. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear them, and my gaze drifted to Helion's seat. He had already paid for the both of us – a bill was slipped underneath his empty espresso cup.

Raising my brows, I turned to look back towards where they were standing – just in time to see Helion leaving, continuing along the sidewalk past the front of the café.

The bells on the door jingled as Rhysand entered again, one hand in his pocket. He seemed more relax; his gait was graceful and confident, feline-like.

"He apologizes for leaving so suddenly," Rhysand explained wryly, slipping into the seat where Helion had been sitting. A deep purple, collared shirt peeked through the top of his black jacket.

As he lightly dusted off his pant legs, he smiled crookedly at me.

That crooked smile left me breathless.

While Helion's lazy beauty had been like staring into the sun for too long, Rhysand's attractive features was a slow, smoldering devastation. Rhysand was beautiful… He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones, but what astonished me the most were his eyes.

I had never seen anyone with eyes like his. They were a lovely hue of dark blue, or perhaps violet – honest-to-the-gods violet – and I could've sworn they were flecked with pale white specks, like twinkling stars among a twilight canvas. His eyes were framed by long, dark lashes.

I wondered if I could ever capture what I saw in his eyes with even the best of paints… I doubted it.

"So, where were we?" He propped his head up on one arm and looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows. He had the audacity to ask me that? I had no idea what was happening! And to top it off, his expression was completely unreadable.

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I don't know you. I hardly know Helion. But I know you two know each other. So why don't you tell me what's going on?" I said coolly, tipping my chin up at him expectantly. I was already tired out from this morning, and I wasn't in the mood to play around. Or be a pawn in whatever odd game they were playing.

Rhysand's face darkened, although he dutifully tried to hide it. "I apologize, my name is Rhysand. Please call me Rhys. And I'm sorry about – about Helion. He was… messing with me, and you got caught up in it." The lethal edge in his voice returned.

My brows knit together in confusion. "But… I don't know you, Rhysand… Do I?"

Rhysand coughed into his hand. "Ah, really, call me Rhys… nobody calls me Rhysand except for my family and old people. And no, we've never met… But uh… Well, you see, I'm a patron of the arts, and my… family has donated a lot of money to the university. So," he shrugged, "I'm not really a student, since I'm welcome at the school any time. And also, Professor Agnes is a friend of my family's."

Disbelief and suspicion must have shown on my face, because I held Rhysand's gaze long enough that uncertainty flashed across his – just a flash.

Something about his story didn't add up, but I wasn't sure I wanted to pry. But I did want to know what was going on…

"So… what does this have to do with me?"

I swore Rhysand's face turned a shade pinker, although he still smirked confidently at me. "Well, there's no use beating around the bush, I suppose. I saw your portfolio, and I was very impressed by it. Especially since you weren't trained in Velaris."

He saw my portfolio? My mind was reeling. I didn't know how to process it at first – waves of emotions flooded through me, anger, confusion, hurt, pride, embarrassment…

"You – you saw my portfolio?" I managed, needing to understand or confirm although I didn't understand why. How? What? Why?

Rhysand seemed unsettled by the tangle of emotions that must have been written across my face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant… I just meant that your work was very good."

I took a moment to think, to process what he was saying.

"Are you… are you the reason I was accepted?" My tone was indignant, although I tried not to sound too accusatory.

Rhysand stilled, and the answer he gave was slow and carefully worded. "No. No, Feyre, I mean… I'll admit, I'm a part of the admissions department, but we don't see the names of the applicants. Just their works and some general information, like gender and age. We don't find out the names until after the decisions are made. And… that's when I saw your file, after you were accepted. But I didn't know what you looked like. That's why I was curious to find out."

That crooked smile again. But there was the nagging feeling again, the feeling that something in his story didn't quite add up. He was guarded, and while he looked relaxed, I could tell he was poised and cautious.

"And… Helion? Is he like you, a patron of the university as well?"

Rhysand closed his violet eyes and sighed deeply. "No – well, yes, Helion is like me to an extent, but no, he is not a patron of the university – although, as you saw he will occasionally pose for Professor Agnes. Helion is currently visiting, and his favorite thing to do while visiting me is to bother the shit out of me and my friends."

I snorted. "Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

Rhys's eyebrows raised and a light danced in his violet eyes. "I ask myself the same thing every day. Anyway, he was around while I was casually flipping through portfolios of accepted students and… he noticed that I noticed yours. Which is why he asked you on this date – to mess with me. Which it has."

I couldn't help but laugh at his exasperated tone. He muttered up at the ceiling, "I was the one who wanted to ask you out for coffee or lunch sometime."

I was trying hard not to furiously blush, and hoping I sounded more confident than I looked, I replied, "He looks radiant, but he really does seem quite devilish. When does he go back to his home?"

Rhysand gave a dramatic sigh, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead for added effect. "Tomorrow, thank the gods. I've had enough of his glowing, dewy, naked complexion."

I laughed. "Well, what was his goal? To try and get in my pants?"

Rhys's brows raised suggestively. "Well, he certainly wouldn't have said no. But no, it was mostly just to get on my nerves."

His violet eyes pierced mine, and I tried not to balk at the intensity of his gaze. "So, Feyre. Tell me about yourself. How you got into painting and such."

So I told him my story, bits and pieces at first. How some days, the only comfort I found in the world was through my paints. How my sister Elain had saved up pennies and spare change to buy me a new set of watercolor paints for my birthday one year, when we didn't have money to spare for nonessentials. I mentioned that we recently moved to Velaris, only a year and a half ago, and he nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry to sound like such a snake, but I noticed that in your file, as well. If you ever need any recommendations, just let me know. I know the city quite well." That twinkle had returned to his eyes, like little stars laughing. I smiled.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. And… thanks for what you said, about my painting too. I just… I just painted for myself. And to share with my sisters, I suppose… But mostly for myself."

Rhysand's eyes simmered with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "It shows," he said quietly.

I checked the time on my phone; it was almost time for my last class of the day, Color Theory.

Rhys followed my gaze. "You have to go."

I smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I've got class."

"Well, don't let me keep you. It was nice to meet you, although I wish it had gone differently." His expression was somewhat sorrowful, but he winked at me, and I struggled to control the sudden pounding of my heart.

"Let's exchange numbers," I blurted out, my heart jumping in my chest. Why not? I had given my number to Helion earlier today, although to be fair, he had asked me…

Rhys smirked and leaned towards me. "Okay. Let's meet again."

His words promised me a new beginning.

#feysand #feysand modern au #feysand fic #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #helion #helion of the day court #acotar #acomaf #acowar #relatively spoiler free #velaris school of design #oyasumi writes #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction

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