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persona-ego-shadow-soul · 5 years

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Ships in the Night Chapter 1 - Serendipity

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Pairings: Yoongi x Hoseok, Seokjin x Jungkook, Namjoon x Jimin

Summary: Life is full of moments and choices. What happens when you suddenly meet the one, but you weren’t ready? Do you seize the moment or do you pass each other like two ships in the night?

Word Count: 12K+

Author’s Note: This is a joint collaboration with @caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma_________________________

Our meeting is like a mathematical formula Commandments of religion, providence of the universe The evidence of destiny given to me You’re the source of my dream Take it, take it My hand reaching out to you is my chosen fate Don’t worry, love None of this is a coincidence We’re totally different, baby Because we’re the two who found our destiny ____________________________

Chapter 1 - Serendipity

Jimin groaned with annoyance into his pillow as he snoozed his cell phone alarm for the umpteenth time that morning. He had not been getting enough sleep the last few days now that the semester is in full swing. Already, he was starting to feel the combined stress of classes, assignments, exams, and on top of all that, he was preparing for his sophomore dance recital at the end of the semester. Before he could even open his sleep-heavy eyes, his best friend and roommate unexpectedly burst into his tiny dorm room.

"WE HAVE A GIG!" Taehyung screeched as he jumped on top of Jimin and excitedly rattled the boy fully awake.

"What's goin' on?" Jimin mumbled as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light coming through his window while Taehyung continued to shake the entire bed in excitement.

"We have a gig! Friday night at the coffee bar!" he eagerly exclaimed as Jimin attempted to sit up, feeling all of his muscles scream in protest. Taehyung finally got off of the bed and continued to squee with delight while Jimin stretched out his aching limbs.

"Yoongi-hyung was able to work out a deal with the owner of the coffee shop since he started teaching piano to the owner’s younger son! We didn't even have to audition! Apparently, his son is doing so well in his piano lessons, the dad was happy to offer his coffee shop to us for the night. If he makes a profit during our set, he says we can play there whenever we like!" Taehyung explained with the biggest grin on his face and then he began to do his signature celebratory dance. Jimin looked at his best friend, and even though it aggravated all of his muscles, he stood up and started gleefully dancing along with Taehyung.

"That's awesome, Taehyungie! AND I don't have anything Friday night, so I will definitely be there to buy as many coffees as I can during your set to make sure you get weekly gigs!" Jimin promised.

They both bounced and danced around in Jimin's tiny room until his alarm rang yet again. This time, when he turned it off, he saw that he had less than 15 minutes to get ready and head over to his first class of the day, which was all the way across campus.

"Oh crap, I'm going to be late for class!” Jimin blurted as he rushed to put on his baggy sweatpants and overflowing hoodie and sneakers. “But we'll celebrate tonight, ok, Tae? What time do you get out?"

Tae was still jumping and dancing in celebration as Jimin rushed to get all of his things into the dance bag where he carried all of his class materials and dance clothes.

"I'm not sure, Yoongi-hyung may want to call us for practice today since we now have a gig!" he said, his tone on the last five words escalated so happily that he practically shrieked.

"Well, it doesn't matter how late you get back because I'm going to go buy us a bottle of Prosecco so we can toast to your first gig, Taehyungie!" Jimin announced cheerfully as he unplugged his phone and started heading out into their very small open living room/kitchen. He rushed over to the counter, pulled out his thermos from the sink, rinsed it quickly, and poured coffee into it.

"Yeah!" Taehyung cheered as he followed Jimin while still dancing and jumping around. Jimin was quickly splashing some cream into the thermos and stirring in some sugar. He turned and hugged his best friend for a second and then dashed out the door while hastily yelling out "love you, see you tonight!"

Jimin rushed frantically down the stairs and ran as fast as his legs could take him. He was definitely going to have to do a recovery warm-up after so much exertion without properly warming up beforehand. Nevertheless, he was absolutely elated for Tae and his jazz combo. They had only just formed at the end of last semester and already they had a gig lined up. But how could they not? With Tae's skills with a tenor saxophone and that caramel-molasses-like baritone voice accompanied by the top piano student, Min Yoongi, they were sure to be a hit.

Jimin eventually made it to the Humanities building where his literature class was held. As he jogged up the steps, he realized that he didn’t remember grabbing his dance notebook from his bedside table. As he pulled the front door of the building open, he swung his bag around him and started searching for it in a panic. Fortunately, he found it and pulled it out with one hand, while still holding on to his thermos and backpack with the other. As a result of his intense focus in locating the notebook and maintaining his balance, he was distracted as he rounded the hallway corner and suddenly crashed into a powerful force much stronger than his own.

Jimin was suddenly thrown off balance, and instinctively, he dropped his thermos and notebook and turned to brace his fall. Before he fell to the floor, someone caught him in their arms and was holding him right above the ground.

Jimin opened his eyes and noticed the long strong arms around his body holding him steady. One arm was grasping the back of Jimin’s neck and the other was holding him around his waist. Anyone passing by would’ve assumed this person was dipping Jimin into a tender embrace. Jimin gingerly placed his hands on the chest of his unintentional savior. He felt a warm tightness underneath his small hands, and the taut muscles almost rippled beneath his fingertips. He shifted his eyes up to the person holding him with such care and his eyes widened as they gazed upon the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

He was wearing a white shirt underneath the softest, royal blue cardigan, he wore thick black-rimmed glasses, and he was so tall compared to Jimin. Even in the awkward position in which they found themselves, Jimin could feel the sizable height difference between them.

“I am so sorry,” the beautiful man spoke in a low husky voice while holding Jimin below him. He stepped back and pulled Jimin closer to him to bring them both upright. Jimin shifted his arms around the man’s neck to assist him. Once they were fully standing, Jimin realized he still had to stretch up a little more on his toes to keep his arms around the man, who was still holding on to Jimin’s waist. Both of them stepped back a little, but their hands remained on each other.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he apologized to Jimin. “I hope you’re ok.”

Jimin noticed that the man was blushing profusely and he shot a tentative smile back at him.

“It’s ok, I was distracted too,” Jimin replied trying to keep himself from blushing in return. They chuckled awkwardly and pulled their hands away from each other. Jimin ran his fingers through his hair and looked more closely at the gorgeous man standing before him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and was incredibly attractive, and the slight indentations in his cheeks were so cute that they prompted Jimin to shyly bite his lip.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You were very close to hitting your head on the floor,” the man asked Jimin while moving closer to inspect him for any damages. The man’s fingertips ghosted over Jimin’s forehead, moving a few strands of hair away from his forehead while looking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jimin smiled, ducking his head down coyly. “Luckily, you caught me before I fell.”

Clearly, the flustered man still did not believe him and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He pulled his hand away and seemed to struggle for a moment, not knowing what to do with himself. Jimin noticed his flustered state and instinctively stepped forward to put his hand on the man’s arm in reassurance.

“Really, I’m fine,” Jimin assured him sweetly. “I was just startled and then surprised at how quickly you caught me.”

The man breathed out in relief and offered Jimin a blinding smile. Jimin noticed the indentations morphed into the cutest deepest dimples on both cheeks that literally had Jimin swooning, his knees weak from the adorable sight.

Oh, that’s just not fair, Jimin thought as the man caught him once again as he swayed towards him.

“Whoa, are you sure you’re ok?” The man asked with deep concern in his voice attempting to assess Jimin’s condition better. “You look a little dizzy.

The guy was getting so close that Jimin had to tilt his head up to look up into his warm chocolate brown eyes. Jimin took a moment and sighed airily, then snapped out of it so he could properly collect his thoughts.

“Seriously, I’m good,” Jimin said looking down at himself. “Not a scratch on me.”

He noticed his thermos was still on the floor next to two identical black notebooks strewn against the wall. Before Jimin could reach down to pick up his things, Mr. Tall, Dimpled, & Gorgeous had already bent down and picked everything up for him.

“Again, I apologize for almost giving you a concussion. Here you go,” he said giving Jimin his coffee and notebook. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

With the mention of time, Jimin quickly remembered he was already running late to class, so he squeaked out a hasty “Oh no!” and rushed past his attractive rescuer, running quickly up the staircase and making it to class just in time. He shoved his dance notebook into his backpack and pulled out his laptop for class.

It’s a shame I couldn’t stay to talk to him some more. It’s not every day you meet an actual bronzed god on campus. Sigh. Maybe some other time?

Jimin struggled to pay attention to the professor as his thoughts lingered on the strong hands and firm chest of the mysterious man who swept him off his feet.

———————————— Namjoon wandered back to his apartment in a complete daze. He felt like such a bumbling idiot. He had already been running late when he woke up, and he only had time to put on his favorite cardigan and some jeans and grab his poetry notebook and phone.

He had failed to read the email he received late last night explaining that his class had been canceled today and Friday. When he had arrived at his class in the Humanities building, he read the sign on the door which was just a facsimile of the email. He quickly decided to head back to his apartment and get some more sleep. Then he ran down the hallway and rounded the corner way too quickly, striking the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on like a freight train.

I’m just a clumsy stupid giant who couldn’t control his body any more than he could control his life. He thought as he continued to trek down the sidewalk like a mopey Sasquatch.

The younger male had reassured Namjoon several times that he was indeed fine, but Namjoon couldn’t help but feel concerned after the living angel smiled and swooned dizzily into his arms. It had been exceedingly difficult to let the younger man leave, but before Namjoon could carry the conversation any further, the most magnificent human being he’d ever laid eyes panicked and scampered past him like a spooked gazelle up the staircase.

God, those lips and that smile. Wow.

Namjoon’s steps slowed as he desperately latched onto the memory of that boy’s delicate fingers clinging to Namjoon’s shirt as he caught him just a few inches from the ground. His lips twitched as he remembered the way the ethereal man looked up at him with his wide eyes full of wonder and how Namjoon had panicked and stumbled through his words after that. It didn’t help matters much that Namjoon’s eyes tracked the man’s bottom lip as it was pulled up and held captive by his teeth. That one small gesture annihilated Namjoon’s composure completely and left him an awkward mess of a man.

Before he realized it, Namjoon had reached his apartment and his front door was opening and Yoongi stood in front of him.

“Joon-ah?” The elder asked with concern. “You alright, man?”

“Huh?” Namjoon said not really hearing Yoongi. Namjoon was still miles away at the Humanities building with that boy in his arms, still trying to figure out what to say to him to keep him there.

“You have the goofiest smile on your face, man,” Yoongi asked eyeing Namjoon more closely. “Did something happen in class?”

“Oh, nothing… uh, my class was canceled” Namjoon said trying to hide the awkward blush he could feel creeping across his face. He walked passed Yoongi and went straight to his room without another word.

Namjoon walked into his very dark and stuffy room, placed his notebook on his desk, and looked at his bed. He quickly realized he was not going to be able to go back to sleep. He felt so energized and alert after that encounter with the living male embodiment of Aphrodite, which he realized he had not felt in a very long time. With a sigh of resignation, he left his room again and headed into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He couldn’t explain it, but he had an overwhelming urge to write, so he took his coffee and made a beeline back to his desk and opened up his laptop. Namjoon’s fingers stayed poised above the keys and he willed the words to flow, but he couldn’t bring himself to type a word. He’d been having a case of serious writer’s block, but now he felt energized and motivated, and he still couldn’t write a word. He looked around and groaned in frustration. Namjoon decided that maybe changing the lighting in his room would help get the creative juices flowing. He walked over to his window to open the heavy shades and let some of the daylight in. Once the room was bathed in the warmth of the sun, he went back to his desk and just stared at the screen unable to make any thoughts coalesce. His eyes landed on his poetry notebook, and he thought perhaps he could write a poem about his encounter earlier. He opened it and gasped.

This isn’t mine.

Then he remembered that when he bumped into the boy earlier, they had both dropped their notebooks, and when Namjoon had picked them up, he noticed how similar both notebooks looked, but he assumed that the one closer to the thermos belonged to the other boy.

He decided to look through the notebook in his hand, hoping to find a name. He felt nervous and as if he were going through someone’s private thoughts. He quickly gathered that this was the boy’s dance journal.

He had written about choreography, titles to music, and he had sketched out figures dancing around on the pages. There were notes from what Namjoon assumed had been his critiques. Namjoon was captivated by the drawings and elegant handwriting, but he felt wrong about reading it, so he stopped looking through it after he found no name or personal information to tell him who the boy had been.

Namjoon wondered if he should make his way back to the Humanities building or if maybe he should go by the Music and Dance building. Perhaps someone there could tell him the boy’s name. He began to get really excited about seeing that magical smile again, so he gathered up his things and headed back to campus with some definite pep in his step.

____________________________________

Jimin had felt rushed since his hectic morning, so once he arrived at the dance studio after his literature class, he took his time to finally do some proper stretches and properly warm-up all of his muscles and joints. There was still an hour before his contemporary class and he had the studio all to himself. He took it slow, the run from his dorm to the other side of campus was still straining his calf muscles. He began to stretch out his legs, feeling the tightness sting at first and then slowly ebb away. He made sure that he didn’t stretch too far because he was certain that they were doing a lot of floor work today. He needed his muscles warm, but not feeling like noodles.

When he finally felt all of the stress and stiffness vacate his body, he slowly made his way to the barre. He looked out of the massive wide window on the fourth floor of the building which overlooked the largest lawn on campus. It was not too cold today despite it being almost February, so there seemed to be more students on the grounds lingering on their way to classes. He looked away from the window and began to do some light barre work, paying special attention to his technique and form.

When Jimin finally felt warmed up, other dance students started filling in. He went to the front of the studio to pick up his bag and moved his things toward the side of the room in front of the mirror. It was then he realized that his friend Hoseok was late. Usually, Hoseok arrived just as early as Jimin, so it was odd that he hadn’t arrived yet. He’d been hoping to dish about his handsome savior from earlier to Hoseok, knowing that he would be the perfect person to gush with over a cute boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. Jimin reached into the front pocket of his backpack and was about to text Hoseok when the door open and his friend walked into the room.

Hoseok sauntered in and Jimin noticed that he was wearing his sunglasses. That struck Jimin as odd since there was not much sunshine outside; in fact, there was a gloomy late January sky outside. Jimin was about to greet him when Hoseok removed his glasses and Jimin noticed that Hoseok’s eyes looked gaunt and bloodshot. This was not the usually bubbly Hoseok that Jimin knew and loved, so something was amiss.

"Everything ok, hyung?" he asked tentatively trying to keep the worried tone out of his voice.

Hoseok nodded nonchalantly, took off his jacket, and placed his bag next to Jimin's bag. He offered Jimin a weak half-smile and turned away to start warming up, so Jimin took that as a “please don't ask” gesture and he let Hoseok warm-up in peace.

The room was now full and their instructor walked in, greeted them warmly, and began calling places for the opening group warm-up routine, so Jimin and Hoseok didn’t talk for the entirety of the class.

___________________________________

"You're doing great, you just have to make sure to count through the movement and hit here on two and here on four," Jimin explained, moving his arms in tempo to the counts.

As per usual, Jimin had stayed behind after class to tutor one of his struggling classmates in the day’s choreography. As one of the top dancers in the class, Jimin was often sought out to help the other dancers with their routines. It didn’t hurt that Jimin was also an excellent instructor with a sweet, but firm teaching approach.

"Ok, I think I got it Jimin-ssi," his classmate said, trying out the move from the top of the routine and Jimin watched closely.

"Two and Four! Yes! That's it, you got it!" Jimin said reassuringly. They hugged and his classmate walked away to gather up their things at the front of the class.

"Thank you, Jimin-ssi! I feel so much better about this now," they grinned at Jimin while looking at their watch. His classmate gasped and rushed off thanking Jimin over again while they ran out of the studio late for class.

Jimin decided to practice that section of the choreography himself, and as he turned into the last pirouette, he noticed that Hoseok was still in the studio staring blankly out the window. Jimin stilled and began to walk towards him tentatively. He didn’t want to pry, but he was now rather concerned. Hoseok had been very quiet and unresponsive throughout class and now he looked like he was miles away drowning in a tangible sadness that was breaking Jimin's heart.

Jimin stood next to Hoseok and looked out the window, allowing his presence to be perceived, but not looking directly at Hoseok so as not to make him feel uncomfortable. If Hoseok wanted to talk, he could, but Jimin only wanted his friend to know that he was there for him.

A few minutes passed and Hoseok finally turned to face Jimin. Jimin looked at his friend, realizing Hoseok was crying quietly, the tears staining his pale cheeks.

"Oh, hyung!" Jimin sighed while pulling Hoseok into a hug as tenderly and fully as he could.

Hoseok began to sob softly into Jimin's shoulder, hugging the younger boy as tightly as he could. Reciprocating the pressure, Jimin held his hyung until his sobs calmed and quieted completely. Finally, Hoseok breathed more steadily and took a long deep breath to clear his shaky lungs.

"It's stupid," he said, pulling away from Jimin and cleaning his face with his sleeve. “Ugh, I shouldn't be crying over this anymore.”

Jimin kept his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder and kept slowly rubbing comforting circles on his back. He noticed that Hoseok looked exhausted and it was obvious that the guy had been crying for a couple of days. He waited patiently for Hoseok to speak again. Hoseok sighed in exasperation and then spoke in a broken voice.

"It would have been our one year anniversary on Friday," he finally said. Clearly annoyed with himself, but also with a heart-wrenching cry of frustration, Hoseok threw his arms around Jimin's neck again in despair.

"Oh, Hobi-hyung, I am so sorry!" Jimin said hugging him as tightly as he could. “Why didn’t you say something to me earlier?”

Hoseok had been in a committed relationship for the last year with a now graduated dance student. Over the winter break, Hoseok had caught his ex-boyfriend cheating on him with a freshman dance major who had been fawning over him all of last semester. Hoseok had been so in love and now he was absolutely heartbroken. When the semester started, Hoseok had managed to pick himself out of the depths of despair and had finally begun to be himself again. The looming anniversary-that-would-have-been obviously caused Hoseok to relapse back into his depression. Jimin continued to hug his hyung until he calmed down again.

"I should be over this already, Jimin-ah. I should not be shedding any more tears for that asshole," Hoseok finally groaned, pulling himself up from Jimin’s embrace and walking towards the window. He wiped his tears away more angrily than before. Jimin followed him rubbing his back as soothingly as he could.

"Hobi-hyung, it's ok to be sad and angry. You went through a difficult and traumatic breakup and with a reminder of that relationship coming up, it's completely understandable that you would be triggered. Just breathe through it, and eventually, the pain will dissipate, but for now, just don't fight it. Release it so it doesn't stay bottled up inside of you."

Hoseok nodded and silently cried some more as he looked out the window with Jimin by his side comforting him. By the time Hoseok had cried as much as he could, the next dance class had begun to file in. The two of them silently picked up their things and walked out of the studio.

They walked out into the hallway and headed towards the staircase. They both had their next class downstairs next to each other so they walked together in comfortable silence. Jimin pushed the trepidation he felt aside and decided to make an extra effort to help Hoseok through this troubling time. When they arrived at Hoseok’s classroom, Jimin pulled him to the side before he could enter the room.

“Text me when you get out of class, Hobi-ah,” Jimin requested gently. “You can help me run a few errands and then maybe we can get something to eat. What do you think?”

Hoseok nodded slightly and offered Jimin a small smile. Jimin squeezed his friend’s shoulder and then quickly decided to give him another bone-crushing hug. It was enough to earn Jimin a humorous squeak from Hoseok, and they both laughed a little at the funny noise.

“Thank you, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok replied, eyes glossing over once again. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hoseok entered his classroom and Jimin walked over to his own class while quickly texting Taehyung about what had happened.

___________________________________

Jimin was drinking water as he was putting away his things, and he was going to head to the nearest store to buy a bottle of Prosecco for Taehyung’s celebration. He texted Jimin back about what was going on with Hoseok. Tae, being the sweet loving friend as always, told Jimin to invite Hoseok to the show so that he would not be alone on the night of what would have been his anniversary.

Taehyung immediately started coming up with ideas to keep Hoseok in good spirits for the rest of the week. By the time Jimin’s dance class had ended, Taehyung had made plans for every night that week to keep Hoseok distracted. He had listed going to the movies, museums, bars, and dance clubs. Operation: Help Hoseok Forget About His Douchebag Ex was officially in full swing under the supervision of Captain Tae.

That's what Jimin loved about his best friend. When Taehyung knew one of his friends was hurting, he would drop everything and think of a hundred different ways to make them feel better. It was one of his more charming qualities, and it was severely underrated.

Jimin made his way out of the class and waited for Hoseok to come out of his. Eventually, Hoseok walked out looking like a pale ghost, eyes glazed and unfocused.

“Would you still like to accompany me to the store around the corner, hyung?” Jimin asked. “I want to get a bottle of Prosecco for Taehyung. He and Yoongi-hyung just booked a gig at the coffee house and we want to celebrate.”

Hoseok just nodded and whispered a barely audible “ok.” He followed Jimin out of the building with his head hung low and his feet slightly dragging across the concrete. Jimin picked up Hoseok's hand and held it firmly while they made their way out onto the busy streets to the only grocery store nearby.

As they make their way to the store, Jimin decided to put Taehyung’s plan into effect. It was best if Jimin broached the topic instead of Taehyung, since Tae had a habit of trying to force people into situations instead of gently coaxing them.

“Hey, hyung, would you like to come with me to Tae’s gig on Friday night?” he said trying to keep his voice light and inviting. “It’ll be nice to have some company, and Tae and Yoongi-hyung need all the support they can get. Plus, you can have a little distraction from other unpleasant things that may try to ruin your night? What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok sighed heavily. “It sounds like fun, but I’m not really in the mood for something like that. I wouldn’t really be good company. I don’t want to show up and then end up ruining your night with my gloominess.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, hyung,” Jimin admonished. “I think it would be really good for you to go out with us. It will be a good distraction for you and I know Tae would be really happy to have friends there to watch.”

Hoseok considered Jimin’s offer, but Jimin could tell he was still hesitating because he was afraid of unnecessarily burdening his friends. Resolute in his desire to lift the rain clouds from his Hoseok’s world, Jimin tried a new tactic.

"You can say no, but I honestly think it might be good to be around people and not alone and cooped up in your apartment with your annoying roommates, hyung," Jimin said careful not to make Hoseok feel pressured. “You know that smooth jazz would be a hell of a lot better to listen to than that depressing emo music your roommates listen to all night.”

Hoseok considered Jimin’s truth-facts and rolled his eyes at his friend. Jimin always instinctively knew which buttons to push, and Hoseok had no other choice but to accept Jimin’s invitation.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Hoseok relented. “But you’re buying me drinks all night, and I expect you to come over and help me pick out something cute to wear. If I’m going to be seen in public, I better look devastatingly handsome while I’m out and about. Agreed?”

“Of course,” Jimin cheered. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do I get to dress you up like my own personal doll?”

“Why not?” Hoseok agreed. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find myself some hot guy to help me forget about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned-By-Name.”

The two of them giggled, and Jimin beamed at the flush of life blooming on Hoseok’s cheeks. A little bribery and some hope for the weekend was all he needed. It would still take some more distraction to keep Hoseok’s spirits up, but Jimin and Tae were totally up to the task.

They chose a nice, but inexpensive bottle of Prosecco, picked up a few groceries for dinner, and made their way to Jimin and Taehyung's dorm. By the time they arrived at Jimin's dorm, Hoseok looked to be in better spirits, but Jimin knew that his emotions would be all over the place for the remainder of the week. With some help from his co-conspirator Taehyung, Jimin was determined to help Hoseok find his sunshine again.

_________________________________

Taehyung had packed up all of his paints, brushes, and supplies and placed his canvas to dry at the back of the classroom. He was supposed to meet up with Jimin and Hoseok at his dorm for dinner after his rehearsal with Yoongi, but as he walked out of the classroom into the hallway, he heard someone calling out his name from the other side.

Jungkook was jogging up to him with his tablet and binder in hand.

“Hyung, I’ve been looking for you! I wanted to show you my winter project now that I finally have it completed.” he blurted with an abrupt halt in front of Taehyung. Jungkook fumbled a little with his tablet and binder, but eventually passed the binder to Taehyung.

Taehyung took it and delicately opened the portfolio to see a beautiful selection of winter themed photographs. As he flipped through the pages, he closely admired the angles and filters Jungkook had used to capture the beautiful transition from autumn to winter. Every now and then, he released sounds of complete astonishment or just moans that turned into wows and gasps.

“Jungkookie…” he said in a whine several times. “Wooow.”

Jungkook must have traveled to several remote places to capture beautiful ice and snow patterns. There were gorgeous sunsets and snow storms that had happened in late December and somehow, Jungkook had managed to capture it all. The violent storm that had hit looked like the most serene and peaceful thing Tae had ever seen. There were even a set of photos of animals like deer, squirrels and snow birds coexisting in the midst of the icy tempest. Jungkook also had a few photographs of the people at the ice rink skating and smiling, and Taehyung felt the absolute joy and happiness of the holidays streaming from the glossy pages as if the winter months were here again.

When Taehyung had eventually finished examining the portfolio, he lifted his eyes up at Jungkook who had been watching his every reaction and anxiously awaiting his hyung’s critique.

Jungkook, the young photographer, had taken design classes with Taehyung last semester. That’s when Tae had realized that this young boy had so much potential. He had known about the winter project, but what he had looked at in this binder was far beyond his expectations, though they were already incredibly high for Jungkook to begin with.

“Kookie, this is...these are so… just,” he had managed to finally say to a very bashful Jungkook.

Jungkook withered slightly at Taehyung’s ambiguous assortment of comments. He couldn’t tell whether this was a good or bad reaction, so he braced himself for disappointment.

“Kookie, they are so wonderfully beautiful,” Taehyung eventually sputtered in excitement. “The angles, the filters, the colors, and landscapes. How did you manage this much work in only a few weeks?”

Jungkook smiled so wide from all the compliments from his hyung, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“You really like the series, hyung?” he finally asked. “It took some time to get to those different places, but I think it was worth it to get those shots. I had a lot of fun working on it.”

“Jungkook, you seriously need to switch majors or at least try to double major,” Taehyung pressed on. “You, my young friend, are an artist. You should consider showing these to Professor Gilsang-nim and maybe submit a portfolio for the Spring showcase. You never know, the department may even agree to put them up in the gallery now with the Winter showcase.”

Jungkook was suddenly and inexplicably nervous and couldn’t look Taehyung in the eye and he kept shifting from side to side on his feet.

“Ah, hyung, I don’t know if they’re that good,” stated Jungkook dismissively. “It was just a series I had been wanting to do, and after everything I learned in design last semester, I just wanted to try it out, y’know?”

Even if Jungkook was going for humble, he couldn’t hide the cutest smile and nervous fidgeting Tae had ever seen. He reminded Tae of Jimin whenever Jimin blushed at being complimented after his dance performances.

“Jungkookie, you didn’t just try, you succeeded,” Taehyung insisted. “This winter portfolio is at a level I haven’t even seen the senior photography students do!”

Tae opened up to the landscape photo of a winter storm at a lake, and his face lit up with wonder. Seeing his hyung’s expression made Jungkook secretly proud and he was blushing from head to toe and trying to disagree with Taehyung. Nevertheless, Tae looked back at him and realized the boy was going to be in denial unless he heard it from his photography professor. So without any explanation, Tae closed the portfolio and gave it back to Jungkook, then grabbed his things and Jungkook’s hand and pulled him through the hallway to the photography professor’s office.

“Where are we going- oh no, hyung, no!” Jungkook began to pull back and tried to fight Taehyung the whole way, but Tae had an iron grip on the boy’s arm. Eventually, they both arrived at the faculty offices on the side hallway and found Professor Gilsang's office. Taehyung knocked on it while he pushed Jungkook in front of him. They heard a resounding “come in” come from behind the closed door and Taehyung opened it while shoving Jungkook inside quickly before he could escape. As Taehyung closed the door behind him, Jungkook admitted defeated and exhaled deeply, allowing his cheeks to puff out. His hyung had given him no other option.

__________________________________

“Then he said, Jungkook I can’t convince you to change your major, but I am going to suggest you allow the department to showcase these in the photography section of the campus art gallery,” Jungkook finished his story, beaming at Jimin and Hoseok who were sitting in the living room eating dinner. He was gripping the binder and showing them his favorite photographs with an immense amount of pride dripping from his tongue.

“That’s amazing, Jungkookie!” Jimin squealed. “Congratulations!”

“These are amazing photographs, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok admitted. “Maybe you should take the professor’s advice.”

Both Jimin and Hoseok continued fawning over Jungkook’s portfolio while Taehyung was shouting incoherently from his room.

“No one can hear you, Tae,” Jimin shouted in annoyance. “If you have something to say, come over here and say it.”

Taehyung stomped over and huffed at Jimin cutely. He was still trying to figure out the best outfit for his gig and was methodically trying on everything hanging in his closet. His latest ensemble paired a pair of mustard yellow slacks with an emerald print button up. The three boys couldn’t resist looking Taehyung up and down and humming in appreciation, but he just rolled his eyes in response.

“What I was saying, Jimin-ssi, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Taehyung expressed comically. “Was that I was right all along, as per usual, and Jungkook should definitely follow his passion and talents. The world could use his unique perspective through a camera lens instead of another guy in a cubicle running spreadsheets and boring meetings around a conference table.”

Taehyung looked down at his outfit and groaned. He started unbuttoning the shirt as he walked off, giving them all a glimpse of his honey kissed skin as he pulled the shirt off his shoulders once he crossed the threshold to his room. Jimin and Hoseok looked at each other and grinned. When they looked back at Jungkook, their expressions shifted to sympathy. The furrowed brow and indecision etched across Jungkook’s features was something they were familiar with, so they knew the internal struggle raging within Jungkook’s mind.

Jimin and Hoseok both knew not to push the college major issue as much Taehyung would. Jungkook’s dilemma with his major and future were a constant stress and anxiety for the young boy and they didn’t want to make him feel pressured. Jungkook sighed and passed the portfolio back to his hyungs as Taehyung came out of his room for the fourth time with a new outfit.

He had been trying out outfits for most of the evening after eating his dinner, attempting to find the perfect combination that would be both sexy and “jazzy.”

“Ok, I think this is the one, this is the one” he said with the same confidence he had with the other three outfits he had tried earlier. Jimin and Hoseok did not bother to look up this time as he looked at himself in the full body mirror they had on the wall near the front door. They continued to look at Jungkook’s portfolio while Tae continued to change his mind over and over again about his outfit. He turned around and looked back at the mirror over his shoulder before leaning down and changing into another pair of shoes that were laid out before him.

“What do you guys think?” he asked with a confident smile. “Is this one better than the last?”

“You look amazing, Tae,” Jimin muttered without energy. “Very sexy, very jazzy.”

The sheer amount of frustration bubbling beneath Tae’s confident exterior threatened to explode upon Jimin’s head, but Jungkook was quick to diffuse the situation.

“Maybe you could try a different belt?” Jungkook suggested quickly. “That other one you had on earlier felt more jazzy, don’t you think?”

Taehyung was still glaring in Jimin’s direction, but couldn’t resist looking down at his belt and then at the mirror. After striking yet another pose, his boxy grin returned and he winked at Jungkook.

“You’re right, Kookie-ah,” Taehyung admitted. “That other belt is definitely more jazzy. You have such an eye for design. Are you sure you don’t want to be an art major?”

Before Jungkook could respond, Taehyung bounced off down the hall to make yet another wardrobe adjustment. Jungkook sighed and shook his head with a chuckle. Tae wouldn’t let up about the art major thing, and he probably would keep bringing it up until Jungkook gave in. There was too much to consider right now, and Jungkook couldn’t justify the big change just yet.

Most of the evening passed with everyone admiring Jungkook’s work and Taehyung changing into a hundred different outfits. The rest of them would offer occasional suggestions and praise for his fashion choices, but eventually they gave up completely when they started to notice repeat ensembles parading in front of the mirror.

Jimin was doing his best to make sure to keep Hoseok distracted and laughing as much as he could, and with the help of Tae and Jungkook, he managed to get him to laugh and bring back the bubbly Hoseok they all knew and loved.

________________________________

Namjoon was back in his room tapping away at his keyboard when he suddenly heard the squeaky laugh of Seokjin over his music, so he hit pause to see what was going on. He then heard Yoongi groan loudly and start complaining about a horrible joke that Seokjin made. Namjoon checked the time on his laptop and realized it was getting late and he hadn’t eaten all day.

He had come back to his apartment after a failed search for that magnificent boy. He went to the Humanities building and looked in every classroom on the second and third floors. Namjoon figured that the boy must have been sitting too close to the wall for him to see. He continued his search in the Music and Dance building to wait and perhaps ask around. But he had been too nervous to ask any of the dance students, and they all looked at him like he was an alien. So Namjoon had just come back home and decided to go early to the Humanities building on Friday to wait for the boy, since he didn’t have class.

He stretched out and rubbed at his eyes, realizing that he’d probably been looking at the computer screen for too long. He checked his phone for any notifications and saw that about two hours ago, Seokjin had called him and left a voicemail. Yoongi had also texted him asking what he wanted for dinner. Since Namjoon hadn’t responded, Yoongi had ordered him some pasta and chicken and then put it in the microwave for later. Namjoon also noticed a few emails from the writing center where he tutored at in the university library, he assumed it was new students booking him for a tutoring session, but he could look at that later.

Namjoon’s stomach grumbled in protest and he could now smell the food waiting for him outside the room. He clicked “Save” on his laptop and removed his glasses, noting that the thick frames left a permanent indentation into his nose bridge. He sighed and pinched it as he closed his eyes, willing his retinas to adjust to the darkness of the room now that he was no longer staring at his laptop. He had been writing for hours since he had come back home, mostly class assignments. He stood up and stretched again as he noticed the stress and tension in his lower back from sitting at his desk all day long. With a final groan, he shook his head and walked out of his room into the living room where Yoongi and Seokjin were eating their dinner and watching YouTube videos on the television.

“Hey there,” Yoongi exclaimed. “We were starting to think you were never gonna emerge from your dark cave. You hungry? We ordered you some pasta and chicken from that Italian place Jin-hyung loves so much.”

Yoongi’s eyes lingered with concern as he looked at Namjoon, who was still blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the light, thus proving Yoongi’s point about his “dark cave.”

“Thanks, hyung,” replied Namjoon as he pulled the to-go box out of the microwave. “That sounds wonderful since I forgot to eat today.”

Namjoon shot them a guilty glance and walked around the couch to sit on the floor next to them to eat his dinner. Both Yoongi and Seokjin shook their heads in disapproval. Namjoon could swear he heard one of them grumble out the words “not again” as he opened up the covered dish in front of him.

“Ah, Joon, you need to eat something during the day, you can’t just lock yourself in your room and forget that you need food!” Seokjin said in his whiny voice, though there was real concern in his tone. Namjoon avoided looking at his hyungs as he began to eat his dinner and tried not to look too guilty.

“Well, since you’ve been in your room most of the day,” Yoongi began. “Now I can tell you both, Sejin-nim has agreed to let our jazz combo play at his coffee shop on Friday night. If things go well and he makes a profit during our set, he promised to let us play there as often as we’d like when the place isn’t booked for other events.”

Yoongi shot Seokjin & Namjoon a confident smirk as he shoved a large spoonful of food into his mouth. They dropped their jaws in astonishment at this sudden newsflash, and their smiles widened as they took in the satisfied gummy smile spreading across Yoongi’s face.

“Yoongi-ah,” Namjoon exclaimed while leaning over to give him a high five. “Dude, that’s awesome news! Congrats, bro! I can definitely be there.”

“Congratulations, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin smiled. “You’re gonna sound great! I don’t know if I’ll be able to attend though. I have rehearsals that night.”

“That’s okay, hyung,” Yoongi replied. “I understand how crazy your schedule is. How are rehearsals going so far?”

“They’re going fine,” Seokjin muttered with a sarcastic tone. “It seems like the rest of the ensemble finally realized they need to learn their lines so that rehearsals go more smoothly.”

“Are you still having problems with the lead actor?” Namjoon wondered aloud. He knew Seokjin was still upset about not getting the lead roll in this latest theatre production.

“No, I’ve decided to be the bigger man and just learn my lines and outdo him on stage with my marvelous talent,” Seokjin informed them. “In fact, I just learned that Adam-ssi also wants to audition for the same acting company that I do in the summer after we graduate. It’s actually perfect because now I can really prove that I’m better than him outside of the theatre department.” Seokjin’s voice was laced with a cockiness that only Kim Seokjin could pull off without sounding like a complete ass. It was a talent he had a tendency to flaunt, but he had more than enough talent to back it up.

Namjoon and Yoongi gave each other a knowing look while Seokjin got up from the couch to go to the refrigerator for a refill. He continued to talk about his ingenious plans to demolish the competition, and his friends just sighed and chuckled lightly at his overwhelming arrogance.

“Which reminds me, do either of you know a good photographer?” Seokjin continued as he poured out some soda and retrieved a bottle of strawberry soju from the back of the fridge. “I need new headshots and I don’t want to work with the theatre department’s go-to photographer because he loves Adam-ssi and I refuse to listen to his fan-girling drivel during my shoot again.”

“I don’t know any, since that guy also works with the music department for our headshots.” Yoongi told Seokjin with a shrug. “I’ll ask Taehyung-ssi though. He’s in the art department, so he probably knows some good photographers.”

“That’s a good idea, hyung,” confirmed Namjoon. “The art department is full of photographers and I bet you could ask if they have any senior students or professors who could do it for a reasonable fee?”

“Ah, you both make compelling arguments,” Seokjin admitted. “Maybe these artists can truly capture my natural beauty so that I can outshine my rival once and for all.”

“Let me ask Taehyung-ssi first though,” Yoongi argued. “He might already know which photography student would be best or maybe who I could direct you to.”

Seokjin continued to contemplate their suggestions and walked back to the couch to sit down. He knew he could count on his friends to help him out when he was in a bind but he wasn’t sure he wanted to rely on an amateur photographer for his headshots.

Meanwhile, Namjoon continued to eat his dinner and tried his best not to look ravenous because he knew Yoongi and Seokjin would make him feel worse about not taking better care of himself. Luckily, Yoongi was distracted while looking for a video on the television.

“You guys might be right,” Seokjin finally admitted. “Go ahead and give Taehyung-ssi my contact info and hopefully he knows someone who can do the photo shoot. With any luck, I won’t have to deal with fanboy again.”

“I’ll text him right now,” Yoongi offered. “I’ll tell him to call you for details about what you’re looking for.”

“Tell him I want someone who can capture all of this beauty and handsomeness without making me look old,” Seokjin added while throwing a ridiculous kiss out to Yoongi.

Yoongi was already typing out a message to Taehyung and he looked up just in time to see the ridiculous behavior displayed by Seokjin. He made a disgusted face in response and mimicked the act of vomiting over the side of the couch. Namjoon watched this hilarious interaction and fell to the floor laughing. His best friends could be so ridiculous, but he loved them nonetheless.

“I sent him a message with your phone number attached saying that you need a photographer to do your headshots and that you want someone who can capture different sides of you since you need them for auditions,” Yoongi said after typing on his phone. He then added before Seokjin could even say anything, “I am not going to repeat the absurd words that come out of your mouth.”

Seokjin just looked at Yoongi in disbelief and then scoffed. “Fine,” he huffed. “But I am the most handsome student here, aren’t I, Joon?”

Seokjin looked over at Namjoon who had a large portion of chicken and pasta in his mouth. Yoongi and Seokjin both looked at him and laughed while Namjoon nodded enthusiastically and chewed the food puffing out his cheeks.

Namjoon eventually finished his food and hung out with his friends, realizing that this was the most social interaction he’d had in a few days other than this morning when he had made a fool of himself with the most gorgeous boy ever. He tried not to think about it too much as he was planning on finding the mysterious dancer on Friday and he was already nervous about it.

As he hung out with Yoongi and Seokjin, he realized he really needed to learn how to take breaks every once in a while. He had been working on his poetry and on his novel, attending his classes, and working at the tutoring center nonstop, and that was it. There was definitely a lack of human interaction in his life.

Maybe I should change that?

Occasionally, Namjoon felt Yoongi or Seokjin look at him a little too long, and he knew it was only out of concern, but it still made him feel anxious. He knew he needed to take better care of himself, get enough sleep, remember to eat, but sometimes he would get too carried away writing that he tended to miss a lot.

What he had not told them was that recently he just stared at a blank page unable to put coherent thoughts into words. He was experiencing writer's block like never before. It had begun last semester, and he’d slowly written less and less, but he had assumed it was a result of the stress from the end of the semester and final exams taking up a lot of his time.

Then the winter break came, and he slept through most of it, unable to get up for more than a few hours. He lost quite a bit of weight too, and Yoongi mentioned it at the end of the break and asked Namjoon if he was feeling ok. Namjoon just equated it all to finally being able to rest after a grueling semester. With the block he was currently having, he wondered if it was more than just stress or lack of inspiration. Whatever the case may be, he was not ready to talk about it yet, and he wasn’t even sure if it was truly anything other than just having a regular mental block.

Eventually, Yoongi said he needed to go to bed because he had an early class, and Seokjin also muttered something about wanting to get his beauty sleep. Namjoon cleaned up after them and made it back into his room. He wanted to write, but he knew that he would just get nowhere. Instead, he took a shower and lay in bed for what felt like hours. At some point, he drifted into an uneasy sleep fraught with fitful dreams.

______________________________ [Min Yoongi, Wednesday, 9:47 pm] Hey Tae, my friend Kim Seokjin is an actor (contact attached) and was wondering if you knew any photographers that could take some headshots. I should add that he is pretty fussy and picky, so don’t recommend people you like. LOL

[Kim Taehyung, 10:02 pm] I do know a photographer who has done amazing portrait work. I’ll pass along the along the info to him. His name is Jeon Jungkook (contact attached). He’s a freshman, but he’s incredibly talented. I can schedule a meeting between the two.

[Min Yoongi, 10:08 pm] Thanks for the quick reply, I’ve passed the info along. Like I said, Seokjin is rather particular, so he says he wants to see some of his work before he meets with him. You know, actors (eyeroll emoji). ______________________________ [Kim Taehyung, Thursday, 11:23 am] Hey Seokjin-hyung, I can meet you at the art gallery around six in the afternoon after my rehearsal with Yoongi-hyung. I can show you Jeon Jungkook’s work.

[Kim Seokjin, 11:36 am] Sounds like a plan. I’d apologize for being so particular about this, but I need this to be spectacular. Thanks! See you later.

______________________________

It was late afternoon and the sun was setting as Seokjin was heading to the art gallery on campus to meet up with Yoongi’s bandmate Kim Taehyung. From what Yoongi had told him, Taehyung was pretty eccentric and very “artsy,” but the guy had come through by recommending a photographer to Seokjin. The photographer Taehyung had suggested was a freshman who was not majoring in photography, so Seokjin was having doubts about this whole affair.

Taehyung agreed to show Seokjin this young photographers’ work, and he needed to see it before he met up with the boy. He arrived earlier than he anticipated, so he decided to walk around the gallery while he waited for Taehyung.

As he walked into the gallery, he noticed beautiful sculptures and canvases. He quickly learned that there were sections to the gallery, and it was divided by art mediums. On one side were the sculptures and ceramics, and on the other side were the paintings and sketches. Behind him, were the film and photography rooms. He walked through the hallways, stopping here and there when he saw something that caught his eye as striking. He had never really been into art, but he knew what he liked and what he didn’t.

He continued to walk around and eventually made his way to the film section. Since he was already there to decide on a photographer, he might as well look at what other photography students had to offer.

Seokjin could compare whatever Taehyung was bringing to show him to what was already in the photography section of the gallery.

How would this boy’s talent fair against that of junior and senior students?

Seokjin continued to muse over the supposed genius that could exist in a freshman as he walked around looking at the photography work around him.

As he walked around, he marveled at the beautiful photographs and videos on the walls. He recognized some of the work of the filmmakers he sometimes worked with in the theatre department. As he walked through the next entrance into a smaller room reserved for larger projects or series, his attention was drawn to a captivating photo of a winter storm engulfing a lake. The photographer had enlarged and mounted the photograph. He was about seven or eight feet from it and the scene did not look real. The photographer had somehow captured snow and sleet falling majestically on a lake that was frozen. The wind was so thick with snow and ice that it looked like a cloud of ash moving through the trees.

It seems to be in motion, but how?

When he finally looked away, he realized that all around him was a series of photographs that captured the transition from autumn to winter. All of the photos were stunning, and Seokjin felt like he was being whisked away and carried into an autumnal masterpiece which transformed seamlessly into a winter wonderland as he followed the series, culminating in the one that he had started at.

He was about to read the name of the photographer when he heard someone walking behind him.

“You must be Kim Seokjin,” the voice called out cheerfully. “I recognize your face from a few of the plays I’ve attended. I’m Kim Taehyung. What do you think of the photos?”

Seokjin looked around again and then finally found his voice.

“They’re magnificent, captivating,” he exhaled in one breath. “They almost seem unreal.”

“Yes, the photographer is quite talented. Have you seen the holiday photos they took at the ice rink?” Taehyung asked turning on his heel and guiding Seokjin to back of the room.

They reached the photographs Taehyung was talking about and Seokjin was transported back to December and could almost feel the Christmas spirit again.

“Whoa, how did they do that? It looks like the skaters are in motion, but yet frozen!” he mused out loud and continued to make incoherent sounds. He felt a little silly, but he was so moved by all of the photographs.

Finally, he turned to Taehyung who was offering him a grin full of unspoken secrets ready to be spilled.

“Who is the photographer? This is the photographer I want!” Seokjin blurted out. “Look at this couple here and they way he captured the budding romance between them, the twinkle in their eyes. This is the photographer I need. I know you have a friend who you say is talented, but to be honest, I don’t think he has the maturity in his work like this photographer has.”

Seokjin stepped closer to the label next to the photograph closest to him to read the photographer’s name. He read out loud: __ Engaged Couple at Ice Skating Photographer: Jeon Jungkook, freshman

Seokjin was stunned, simply shook.

He turned around slowly, looking at each photograph around him. He walked to each label and read the same name over and over again. He was taking the room at a jogging pace and he could not believe what he was seeing.

Finally, he halted in front of the winter storm photograph. ___ Winter Tempest Photographer: Jeon Jungkook, freshman

This was captured by the boy.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. He straightened out his spine and swiveled around to confront Taehyung, who was looking at him with a cocky knowing smirk.

“The photographer you spoke about is a freshman, is he this freshman” Seokjin asks incredulously.

“The very same,” Taehyung said with a double lift of his eyebrows. “Talented, isn’t he?”

“Book him,” Seokjin demanded gruffly as if he was ordering a meal. “I want to do a complete photo shoot as soon as possible. Not just headshots. A full photo shoot with props, wardrobe changes, action shots, everything. The works!”

Taehyung tried to maintain his cool composure as he looked at Seokjin up and down, but he couldn’t help but wonder “what the hell did I get Jungkook-ah into?”

“The job of a lifetime.” Seokjin exclaimed emphatically with a twinkle in his eye. “With this guy’s expertise and my face, we’ll be unstoppable!”

Taehyung was still recovering from the utterance of what he had perceived as inner monologue. He leaned back against the wall and pondered over Yoongi-hyung’s earlier description of Seokjin and wondered whether he’d just forgotten to mention anything about him being insane or a danger to others.

Maybe the guy just really loves himself...like more than one person should?

Either way, Taehyung was proud of himself in this moment. His clever maneuvers not only landed Jungkook a full exhibit in the art gallery, but it also attracted a customer willing to pay for a high end photography session.

Or maybe ten sessions from the way he keeps talking…

Taehyung sauntered over to Seokjin, who was still planted in front of the winter storm piece with a glossy expression on his face.

“So, I guess I’ll just have Jungkook-ah text you for more information?” Taehyung asked him. “I’ll be seeing him later on tonight.”

“Please do that,” Seokjin murmured while still entranced by the frozen fractals peppering the landscape. “He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to him and his career.”

———————————

“Kim Taehyung!” Hoseok screeched. “What did you do?”

“I just lined up a really good job for Jungkookie. That’s all!” Taehyung stated defensively, attempting to hide his smirk. “What’s the big deal? Jungkook-ah can totally handle this.”

“Tae, this might be too much for him!” Hoseok whined, trying to get Taehyung to understand that this is a very bad idea. “You are talking about THE Kim Seokjin, the man is such a pain in the ass. Have you met his crazy fans? Have you seen the ridiculous way he throws kisses and flowers to them? He’s going to rip poor Jungkookie into pieces!”

“It’s just a photoshoot, Hobi-ah.” Tae argued. “You should have seen him go on about Jungkookie’s work. He was so impressed, he was speechless!”

“Kim Seokjin? Speechless?” Hoseok asks in disbelief. “There is no way!”

“I’m just gonna set up the meeting, that’s it.” Taehyung assured them. “Jungkookie can choose to do the job or not. Plus, Seokjin-hyung will pay him handsomely.”

Taehyung picked up his cell phone and called Jungkook while Hoseok merely shook his head in disapproval.

“Hey Jungkookie, you busy? I have news! You’re gonna be rich!” Taehyung announced while trying to ignore the stares from Hoseok. “I just got you a job!”

While Taehyung continued to spill the details about the job, Jimin arrived home from his rehearsals. Jimin lazily waved and Hoseok noticed the slow movements Jimin made as he stumbled through the tiny dorm and into his room. He was working so hard for his sophomore recital and Hoseok wondered if the poor boy had remembered to eat today.

Jimin dumped his things in his room and gazed longingly at his bed. He was absolutely exhausted, and his rehearsals were going great, but he was not sleeping well and his classes were completely stressing him out. Jimin had also lost his dance notebook that held all of his notes, and he needed those for his classes. Now that Jimin finally had some time, he pulled out the man’s notebook he had taken by mistake and opened it to see if there was a name so he could go looking for him and trade him back for his own.

As Jimin searched through the pages, he realized it was actually a writing journal. The man had written out a series of poems and short stories. It was almost filled to the last page, each page contained beautiful words about a variety of topics. Jimin felt weird reading them, but he was captivated by the man’s words. It was a shame there was no name or identifying information anywhere on it. How would he ever get this journal back to its rightful owner? How would he ever see that beautiful man again?

Jimin sighed and threw himself on the bed. He wanted to go to sleep or just keep reading the amazing work in the notebook, but he was hungry. He also had not seen Hoseok all day, and he had made a promise to get him through this difficult week. Luckily, Taehyung and Jungkook were helping a lot with that. They had taken Hoseok out for lunch earlier, they all had dinner together every night, and Hoseok was sleeping over this week so he wouldn’t have to be alone at night. It did seem to be working, and Hoseok was doing much better now and he hadn’t brought up his ex once.

Jimin suddenly heard Hoseok yelling at Taehyung. From what he could tell, it had something to do with Taehyung having booked a huge photo shoot for Jungkook to do with some troublesome senior everyone seemed to know about, but the problem was that Taehyung hadn’t run the idea past Jungkook until after he’d agreed to the shoot. Jimin huffed out a small giggle. His best friend was forever getting his friends into difficult situations without their prior knowledge. The boy was an epidemic.

Jimin sighed heavily and took one last look at the notebook on his warm and inviting bed before he stood up and walked out of his room to find Hoseok hitting Taehyung repeatedly with a pillow. The sight should have left him in stitches, but Jimin only had enough energy to smile weakly and flop onto the couch to enjoy the show.

___________________________

“Taehyung-ah,” Jungkook whined in exasperation. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve never done a full photo shoot with a model before, let alone an actor who needs to use my photography to get work for himself. This man’s career is hinging on my artistic skills, and that’s way too much pressure for me!”

Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were all eating dinner at the dorm. Taehyung had just giving Jungkook the details about the job he had secured for the poor boy. Hoseok and Jimin were exchanging nervous and concerned looks throughout the entire discussion.

“You’ll be fine, Jungkookie,” Hoseok assured him, trying to soothe the poor boy’s nerves. “We’ll all be there to assist you.”

“Yeah! We’ll be the photographer’s team!” Jimin added. “We’ll hold the lighting thingies and get you coffee!”

Jungkook’s face broke into a smirk at the word “thingies” and then gave them all the cutest bunny smile ever. Sure, he was in the middle of a mild crisis, but his friends’ enthusiasm was certainly reassuring, even if they had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

“Ok, if you all will be there helping me, I think I can probably do it.” Jungkook stated more confidently. “Hopefully, this Kim Seokjin guy will be satisfied with my work and maybe I can start doing this part-time? That would be a great job for me while I’m in school!”

“Yeah! And you know, switch majors too!” Taehyung said with a smirk. They all shot Tae a “not now” look, and he looked away as if he had seen nothing.

“You guys are right” Jungkook breathed out. “I’ll be fine, more than fine! I’ll make that Kim Seokjin the most handsome actor ever! Just wait and see.”

They all laughed at Jungkook’s bold declaration and continued eating their dinner.

____________________________ [Jeon Jungkook, Thursday, 8:47 pm] Hello, Kim Seokjin-ssi. I am available this weekend and next if you would like to meet and discuss bookings for your photo shoot. Taehyung mentioned that you wanted outdoor and indoor photos, as well as several wardrobe changes. The weather should be nice this weekend to do some outdoor shots. Let me know what your schedule is like and we can make arrangements.

[Kim Seokjin, Thursday, 8:55 pm] Hello, Jungkook-ssi! Yes, that should work fine with me. How about Saturday, 11:00 am? I can meet you at the art gallery and we can load your things in my car. I have the perfect place for a photo shoot! We can discuss details and aesthetics on the way. I look forward to having you work for me.

[Jeon Jungkook, Thursday, 9:02 pm] That works for me, hyung. I hope you don’t mind, but I will have my friends with me to assist. It’ll be Taehyung-ssi, and my other friends, Jung Hoseok, and Park Jimin, if that’s alright?

[Kim Seokjin, Thursday, 9:04 pm] Oh! You have a team! Wonderful! Yes, that’s fine. I drive a Range Rover. I can fit all of them and your equipment. See you then!

[Jeon Jungkook, Thursday, 9:05pm] Sounds good, hyung. See you then!

____________________________

Namjoon was nervous. He was on the verge of sweating and he was aware that he was blushing profusely. He left his apartment an hour early so that he wouldn’t miss the boy going to his class. Namjoon wasn’t sure if the boy would be walking from the dormitory side of campus or the parking lot side of campus, so he waited for what seemed like ages. He watched so many students pass him by and was beginning to wonder if the boy’s class had also been cancelled or if he was just running late again like he had on Wednesday.

Namjoon was about to lose hope when it was ten minutes until 9 am and classes were about to start, but then he suddenly glanced towards the dorms and he saw him. He was walking fast towards the Humanities building with the thermos he had dropped on Wednesday in one hand and a small book in the other. Namjoon stood up so quickly that the boy immediately noticed him. Namjoon tentatively walked towards him, aware that he probably looked weird waiting for him since they didn’t really know each other. However, the boy smiled at Namjoon brightly and started walking towards him.

“Hi,” the boy said to Namjoon in the sweetest voice he had ever heard. It was like the tinkling of fairy bells in the wind, and it brought a rush of heat to Namjoon’s dimpled cheeks.

“Hi,” Namjoon blurted back nervously, aware that his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, hello...um, I accidentally picked up your notebook instead of mine… when um…”

“When you saved me from cracking my face open?” Jimin prompted with a cute grin that only flustered Namjoon even more. “Yes, I noticed that I had the wrong book when I was trying to take notes in my dance class.”

The smile on the boy’s face was incandescent and it made Namjoon feel like the butterflies in his stomach were doing some weird kind of gymnastics.

“I am so sorry,” Namjoon continued while blushing from head to toe as he spoke way too quickly.. “I didn’t realize I took the wrong one until I wanted to write and I opened it, but I swear I only looked through it to look for your name or any info so that I could find you to trade it.”

“It’s ok, since I looked through yours too for the same thing,” the boy responded while laughing a little, and Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I guess we both should start putting our contact info in our notebooks, huh?”

He gave Namjoon his thermos to hold while he reached into his backpack to pull Namjoon’s notebook from inside. They traded books and stood there smiling at each other.

“You’re pretty smart to have come here to wait for me,” he stated while taking his thermos back. “I guess you figured I had class again today?”

“Yeah, I figured I could catch you before or after class,” Namjoon admitted sheepishly. “Lucky for me, I caught you before.”

“You were going to wait for me for an hour?” the boy commented with a smile that reached his half-moon eyes. “You didn’t have to do that. That’s so sweet of you.”

“I’ve kind of been waiting an hour already,” Namjoon admitted blushing some more. “I really wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you.”

“Oh, wow. Well thank you,” he said with the sweetest smile and touching Namjoon’s arm lightly. “You didn’t have to go through so much trouble for me, really.”

Namjoon felt the warm small and delicate hand on his forearm and returned the gesture touching the boy’s forearm with his other hand.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” he said with a huge smile that showed his deep dimples. “I’m glad I ran into you today.”

“I’m Park Jimin,” Jimin replied softly while rubbing Namjoon’s arm with his thumb and feeling his knees weaken as he saw those dimples again. “It's really nice to meet you. Thank you for bringing my book back.”

Seconds passed by and they continued to hold each others arms and smile until they laughed sweetly at the serendipity of it all. The whole thing felt like something out of a romantic comedy: people running into each other, unknowingly trading possessions, finding each other again, and this one perfect moment where they finally figured out the other person’s name. They both leaned into the moment and didn’t want to let go.

Namjoon snapped out of his reverie and patted Jimin’s arm gently. He knew he was probably keeping him from class, and he’d probably already taken up too much of his time. Jimin could feel Namjoon pulling away from him, and he fought off the urge to latch onto his arm and pull him back in.

“I guess you have to go to class now, huh?” Namjoon reminded him. “I don’t want to make you late...again.”

“It’s ok,” Jimin assured him. “Maybe I should get your number so I can thank you properly? Maybe like a cup of coffee or something? My treat?”

“Ummm, ok,” Namjoon muttered shakily. “Yeah, sure, coffee, that’s a good idea. I drink coffee.”

“As do I,” Jimin chirped while pulling out a pen. “Here, write your number here and I’ll write mine in your notebook. We can meet up later, yeah?”

They exchanged numbers and took another look at their notebooks to make sure they had the right ones this time. After a shared awkward laugh, Jimin ran his fingers through his hair and shot a cute look at Namjoon. He had to do something to match the dimpled Adonis in front of him. Namjoon’s face erupted into a radiant blush and he rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to look everywhere but directly at Jimin.

“So I guess we’ll see each other later then?” Jimin asked, tilting his head at Namjoon and smiling.

“Yeah,” breathed out Namjoon. “Definitely.”

With a well coordinated spin, Jimin happily bounced off to class still reveling in the wondrous turn of events, and a dumbfounded Namjoon was left behind to shamelessly stare at his glorious denim clad ass bouncing away from him as it disappeared through the doors of the Humanities building.

—————— Chapter 2 Coming Soon —————

MASTERLIST

#bts #bts series #bts scenarios #bts fanfction #bts fluff #ships in the night #minjoon #sope #jinkook #taehyung #bts angst #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #namjoon scenarios #park jimin #jimin #writing collab

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flightsoffandom · 5 years

Text

A Stark Introduction

Pairs: Gender-Neutral Reader. Left Vague, Interpret the writing however you’d like. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark are featured alongside the Reader.

Words: 1761

Summary: Your regular routine of walking through the woods is interrupted when you stumble upon a half-naked man lost in the forest.

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral. I did already use this prompt for an IZombie One-Shot, but I am wanting to challenge myself by using the same prompt with different fandoms and try to make it as unique as possible. One-Shot based on @witterprompts

“We found you wandering around in the forest. Are you sure you’re not lost?”

The dense, medium-sized forest near your house was known for its natural beauty. This is why you loved walking through as often as you could. Traveling through the woods was a great way to relax. The trail through the woods was covered in dead leaves with patches of grass poking out now and then. The trees didn't crowd around the walking path. It was almost like a second home to you and you loved it there. These walks kept you sane. Normally though, it was a pretty boring place. The most interesting thing happening was a small critter coming out into the open. You knew this forest like the back of your hand, so when something was off about it you knew. Which is why this walk was so different from normal.

When you walked through the trees everything went along like usual. You walked for a while, admiring the plant life around you. After walking for a while you started to notice some broken trees. This didn’t immediately seem odd but you didn’t remember any storms recently. Inspecting the broken branches didn’t reveal anything and you didn’t think much of it. That was until the damage appeared to be getting worse the further you walked. Branches were snapped and thrown about. Whole trees looked like they were forced out of the ground. Now you were starting to freak out. The amount of damage wasn’t something an animal could have done and it was too messy to be man-made. You stumbled upon a bigger section of broken trees that lead off the path. You began debating if you wanted to investigate further. Against your better judgment, you walked off the trail and headed into a deeper part of the forest.

As you got deeper into the forest the damage grew, until you stumbled into a clearing. It was beautiful. A cozy open area surrounded by trees. Nice and secluded with wildflowers growing everywhere. You wish you would have had more time to admire it but a noise startled you. Turning to face the source you were meet with a curly dark-haired man. He was half-naked and clinching onto an oversized part of shorts to keep them up at his waist. When the man saw you his eyes went wide. He was pretty rough looking, covered in dirt. He didn't seem to know what to do. You were wondering if he was homeless or lost. You spoke up first, “Are you lost?” The man studied you before blurting out, “No.” He said it way to fast for him to have been telling the truth and his tone was beyond shakey. You sigh worried but not sure what to make of the situation, “I found you wandering around in the forest. Are you sure you’re not lost?” He looks around, thinking it over. “I… Maybe I am…” He pauses and frowns, “Where am I?” You offer him a smile, “About three or four hours from the nearest big city.” He looks down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck, “Shit.”

The man in front of you started to pace. He was holding up his shorts with one hand while his other hand covered his face. You weren’t sure what was going on but you felt like he needed help. You walked closer to him as you spoke, “Do you need help?” The man froze and looked at you like he was calculating something. He then nodded, “Could I make a call with your phone?” You dig into your pocket and pull out your cellphone before handing it to him. He quickly dials a number and places it to his ear. When someone picked up on the other end you only caught half of the conversation. The man was relieved, “Tony? Thank god.” You looked around, not wanting to move too far away when a stranger had your phone. You also didn’t want to seem like you were trying to butt into his conversation. There was a long pause as the man listened. He became annoyed and starts pacing again, “I don’t know, Tony.” He took a few deep breathes before continuing, “We can figure it out once I get back but can you please come to get me?” There was a pause again. The man sighed, “Someone let me borrow there phone.” The man was interrupted by Tony, who was at the other end of the call. When the man spoke again, he was blushing. “I… I don’t think that’s an important question.” He tries not to look suspicious but he keeps glancing at you, even lowering his voice. “Yeah… I would say they are attractive… but I don’t really think that’s something that matters.” When the man notices you looking at him, he quickly looks away. You bite your cheeks to keep yourself from laughing, he was extremely cute. He nervously clears his throat. After a few more seconds the man responds to something Tony said, “Thank you.” The man hangs up the phone and gingerly hands it back to you. He avoids making eye contact with you, “Sorry about that... Tony only seems to ever have one thing on his mind...” The man pauses, awkwardly holding out his hand, “I...I’m Bruce.”

You exchanged a handshake with him after giving Bruce your name. Then you look around, "You can wait for your friend at my house." Bruce gave you a slight nod, “Thank you.” Smiling you reply, “Of course.” Bruce follows closely as you lead him out of the forest, worried about getting lost again. It didn’t take you long to navigate your way out of the trees. You lead him to your house, letting him in. Bruce nervously stands around, unsure of what to do. He seems very conscious of the fact he is dirty and didn't want to touch anything. You go to search for some towels. Once you find a few you go back to Bruce and hand the towels to him. You smile, “Here. So you can shower and get more comfortable.” Bruces goes to grab them, forgetting himself and almost dropping his shorts. Luckily he catches them in time, Bruce fake coughs to cover up the awkwardness. You chuckle, “I’ll find some clothes for you as well.” He nods his thanks as you point him to the bathroom. While he is showering you find some clothes and leave them right outside the bathroom door for Bruce.

Having finished his shower, Bruce joined you in the living room. You both exchanged in small talk for a bit. Bruce was very nice and polite if not a bit awkward at times. You learned that Bruce was a scientist and so was his friend Tony. Besides being good looking Bruce was nice to talk to. As time passed Bruce seems to be getting increasingly antsy. You halt the conversation to inquire, “Everything okay?” Bruce sighs and chuckles, “I think Tony is purposefully taking longer then he needs to.” You laugh standing up to head to the kitchen, “Why would he do that?” Bruce scoffs, “To be fashionably late.” Bruce talks lower, "And to get us to spend more time together." Bruce had tried to say it so you couldn't hear him but you did. You chuckle, grabbing water for you both and some snacks. You smile at Bruce, “Well I’m happy to have you. You’re good company.” Bruce blushes, smiling back. “So are you.” You set the water down for him and sit back down. You both resume what you were talking about before.

After another hour or so there is a series of multiple honks. Once it finishes your pretty sure someone just played part of AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ with their car horn. Bruce looks incredibly annoyed, “God.” Bruce gets up and goes to the front door, he stops suddenly right as he is about to open the door. Bruce turns around and faces you, “I’m sorry for that.” He pauses and sighs, “And for whatever else he ends up doing.” You laugh, “I’ll be fine.” Bruce shakes his head before he braces himself. Bruce opens the door and walks out. As soon as you step onto the porch you see a very nice convertible parked in front of your house. The driver was getting impatient. He started honking the first few notes to another song. However, upon seeing Bruce he stops. Tony tilts his head down, looking over a pair of sunglasses right at you. Both you and Bruce walk to the car. Once getting close you realize Tony is in fact, Tony Stark. Tony smirks as you before glancing at Bruce as he pushes his sunglasses up. Tony looks back to you, “Bruce, You undersold the nice person who found you. Attractive doesn’t cut it.” You cross your arms laughing, “Thanks. Both of you don’t look half bad either.” Bruce is shaking his head and shooting death glares at Tony. Bruce silently willing Tony to stop. This only encourages Tony to continue, “Now I hope you two found something… fun… to do while you waited.” Tony chuckles and Bruce gets into the car, “Tony!” Tony just grins, “What? Can’t your friend worry about you and your new ‘friend’ being bored.” You can’t help but laugh. Tony Stark was everywhere but meeting him in person was something else. Bruce puts his face in his hands, trying to ignore Tony. Bruce addresses you, “I’m sorry.” You grin at Tony, “Nothing to be sorry about. Clearly, he is just jealous you spent time alone with me.” Tony feigns offense, “Ow…” Tony places his hand over his heart before he starts laughing. Tony gives both you and Bruce another look, “Maybe they’re right.” Tony grins and gets ready to drive away.

Suddenly you remember that you never figured out what happened to the forest. You ask Bruce, “Hey, before you go… What happened to all those trees?” Bruce gives a meek glance downwards, “It was me.” You laugh, brushing it off as a joke “Seriously though.” Tony chuckles from the driver’s seat, “He is telling the truth.” Tony grins at you, “And he would be happy to explain it over dinner tomorrow night when we both come back over.” Tony didn’t leave much room for argument, not that you were against them both coming back. Bruce looks at Tony, “You can’t-” Tony interrupts him, “-I can and I did.” Tony takes the car out of park. You hear one last thing from Tony as he drives away, “If I'm not your wingman then who will, Banner?”

#MCU #gender netural reader #bruce banner #tony stark #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #gender neutral #reader insert #one-shot #short one shot

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bxcketbarnes · 6 years

Text

Surprise Trip

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Reader

Words: 1864

Author's Note: I saw these gifs and I wanted to write something cute, obviously. So, my lovely best friend, @h0tsos, gave me an incredible idea! I hope y'all enjoy ❤

The obnoxious sound of my alarm going off woke me from my pleasant slumber. I squint my eyes after slowly opening my eyes, the sun shining through the blinds. Petunia let out a short and I smile softly, petting her head. I rub the tiredness from my eyes, picking up my phone to turn off the alarm.

happy two year anniversary, lu. I love you so much and I can't wait for you to come home from tour. ❤ xoxo

I smile at the text I sent, closing out of the app to see the picture of Luke and me at my cousin’s wedding six months ago. I set my phone back on the nightstand while I get up and get ready for work.

After my quick shower, I step into the bedroom in the nude, squeezing the dampness of my hair into the fuzzy white towel. I look towards my phone, not seeing any notification and I frown a bit. He should be awake by now… maybe he's busy or something.

I slip on my work clothes, a pencil skirt and a blush colored blouse along with a pair of black heels, before making my way towards the kitchen after grabbing my phone. I ate my breakfast at the island, sipping on my hot coffee as I scroll through the various types of social media.

The time on my phone read 7:15 and I sigh, still not receiving anything from Luke. I let Petunia outside after I set my dishes in the sink, letting her do her thing before I go to work. I let her back in after ten minutes, giving Petunia kisses on her nose before walking towards the front door.

I grab my purse and keys, saying goodbye to Piggy. I walk out of the house, locking the door behind me before heading to my car. I check my phone one last time after I buckled up, pursing my lips together before taking a deep breath.

He’ll text back… he'll text back…

The day has gotten progressively worse if that was even possible. I had to work late because my computer crashed and lost all the documents for the report I was writing, I almost got hit by a car while walking to the parking lot after I rewrote everything, and Luke still hasn't fucking texted or called once today.

I'm beyond furious. I had Steff stop by the house earlier to feed Petunia and let her outside since I didn't finish work until almost seven at night. I unlock the front door of Luke’s place, letting out a tired breathe as I heard Petunia's nails clattering against the hardwood.

A small smile came to my lips as she walks towards me, wagging her small nub of a tail. “Hi, baby. Were you good for Steff?” I ask whole crouching to her level after setting my stuff onto the table beside the door.

Petunia pants while I scratch her neck, pressing tender kisses to the spot between her eyes. I need a long bubble bath with wine. I slip my heels off, leaving them by the door before making my way upstairs towards the bedroom. I take my hair out of the bun it was in, combing my fingers through it as I step into the room while Petunia followed.

I came to a stop when I saw my suitcase sitting on the bed. I furrow my brows, slowly heading towards the luggage to see it filled with clothes. What the…? A note sat on top of it and I gingerly picked up the piece of paper.

My love,

I know I haven't replied to your message this morning but I have been running around all day like a chicken with their head cut off. So much press stuff, so little time. Anyway, happy two year anniversary. You're probably wondering why or how stuff is packed, but I had a little help since I'm not home.

I called work and managed to get you a few weeks off. Steff packed some of your clothes and in the envelope that sat under the note lies a plane ticket. Your flight leaves at nine o'clock. I can't wait to see you, darling. I've got a surprise for you.

I love you so much,

Luke x

Tears came to my eyes as I notice it was Steff’s handwriting. Luke must've sent her what to write for her to leave here. I call my best friend, listening to the ringing noise as I sift through the clothes in the suitcase, making sure she packed everything I needed, which she did.

“Hey, girl! Did you get the note?” She asks as soon as she answered.

I zip up the suitcase, setting it on the floor. “I did. I can't believe he did this. Uhm, I have to leave like immediately and I was wondering if you could either stay here with Petunia or bring her to your place?” I ask, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I carry my suitcase down the stairs.

“Yeah of course. I'll head over soon Have fun and give me details!” Steff mentions and I laugh, telling her I will before hanging up.

“Okay, baby. Mommy’s going away to see daddy, but I'll be back before you know it. Be good for Steff,” I tell Petunia, kissing her head before grabbing my keys and purse once again, leaving the house to head to the airport.

I step out of the cab, looking up at the gorgeous hotel and I look around for any sight of the boys. I pry my suitcase out of the trunk, rolling it into the hotel as I walk up to the receptionist.

“Hello. Can I help you?” He asks and I nod my head, tapping my fingers against the surface of the counter.

“Ah, yes. I don't know if Luke told you I was coming,” I mutter awkwardly and he furrowed his eyebrows a bit.

“Y/N! You're here!” I heard Calum call out and I turn towards him, seeing the brunette walk up to me with a large smile on his face.

I gave the receptionist an apologetic smile before walking towards Calum. “It's so good to see you, Cal!” I grin, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to hug him tightly. “Where are the other boys?”

He points towards the ceiling. “There upstairs. Luckily I came down when I did. Why didn't you text any of us?” He asks and I shrug, the thought not even coming to mind as we head into the elevator.

We got to the fifteenth floor, following behind Calum as we come to a stop in front of 1545. I watch as he shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a key card before handing it to me. “Isn't Luke in there?” I ask, confused as to why I haven't actually seen or heard from him yet.

Calum just shrugs, retreating to his room and hearing Ashton’s laugh once the door opens. I chew on my bottom lip, placing the card into the door before it unlocks. I head inside, my eyes widening at how gorgeous the room looks.

“Luke? Baby?” I call out, going deeper into the room to see it completely empty. I huff out a breath, noticing a dress and a pair of heels sat on the bed with a note on top of it.

A small smile comes to my lips as I run my fingers over the light lavender bodycon dress. I shed the clothes I'm wearing, noticing it's an off the shoulder type dress.

I set my suitcase on the bed, sifting through the clothes to see if Steff packed a strapless bra. I let out an aha, grinning as I found the only strapless bra I own. I quickly change into it before slipping the dress on.

My hands run over my sides, stepping towards the mirror to make sure I look alright. A knock on the door snaps me from my thoughts and I walk over to it, opening it to see the boys on the other side.

“Hey guys,” I smile, letting them in as Ash lets out a whistle.

“Wow, Y/N! You look fantastic. Who knew Cal had such style,” he laughs, patting Calum on the shoulder. My eyes widen, looking towards the tall bassist.

“You picked out the dress?” I ask and he nods his head.

“Well, Mali helped a little bit,” he informs me and I nod while letting out a small chuckle.

I grab the nude heels that laid on the bed, slipping them on my feet while picking up the note.

Love of my life,

Hi, baby! I'm pretty sure, well hoping, you've made it. Put this dress on and meet me in front of the Eiffel Tower.

I love you almost as much as Petunia ;)

Luke x

I laugh at his note, folding it before setting it in my suitcase. “Does Luke know what the dress looks like?” I ask Calum and he shakes his head, smirking a bit.

“Nope. He's going to be blown away,” he smiles.

The hotel wasn't that far from the Eiffel Tower so I decided to walk. I crossed my arms over my chest, biting the inside of my cheek as I saw the light up the fixture. Wow. It's more beautiful in person.

I saw my tall, broad-shouldered boyfriend standing about twenty feet from me. A rose was twirling between his fingers while he combs his curls back.

“Luke!” I yell, grinning ear to ear as his head snaps towards you. A large smile comes to his lips and I quickly walk towards him. I can already feel the tears coming to my eyes as I ran up to him, throwing my arms around his neck.

Luke's hands wrap around my waist, letting out a small breath of relief. “I'm so sorry I didn't message you back. I had no time,” he mumbles into my ear.

I lean back from him, shaking my head before gripping the front of his leather jacket, closing the gap between us. One of Luke's hands moves to my face, cupping my cheek while our lips move against one another.

He pulls away after about a minute, stroking my cheek with his thumb while keeping his blue eyes on mine. “Happy Anniversary baby,” Luke whispers, handing me the single rose he's been holding.

“Happy Anniversary, Lu,” I smile, taking the rose from him before leaning on my tippy toes to press a short kiss to his lips.

The cool wind brushes my skin and I shiver slightly. Luke notices immediately and takes his leather jacket off, draping it over my shoulders. I lift my head up, butterflies filling my stomach as he provides me with a small smile.

“I love you,” I tell him after slipping my arms through the sleeves. The curly haired blonde drapes his arm over my shoulders as mine wraps around his waist.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you, Y/N,” Luke returns and I rest my head against his chest.

Best Anniversary ever…

Taglist: @gotta-try-something-new @twilightparker @h0tsos @ashs-cheergirl @kinglyhood @babylon-lrh @dashlilymark @morningfears @thebookamongmen @maddz-world @lukeskisses @thatcheekychic @therainydays4 @crownedbyluke @shower-me-with-roses

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bannerswife · 6 years

Text

Mornings - Bruce x Natasha

Title: Mornings

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: none, except fluff. but if there is let me know!

Word Count: 2707

Summary: just a series of short stories of Bruce and Natasha’s mornings together.

Authors Note: okay kinda happy with this tbh ALSO there is a part where Russian is spoken and idk if its correct cause I don't know Russian at all oops. so I'm so sorry if its incorrect I only had google as my resource. but anyway, enjoyyy :))

Morning one:

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” Natasha heard the faint whisper of her significant other from behind.

She then felt his strong arms wrapping around her stomach, pulling her closer into him. The warmth spreading between each other, as he closed the gap between them.

“Mm,” She mumbled, hugging Bruce’s hands that were at her abdomen, pulling him as close in as possible. Knowing she was safe in his arms no matter what happened.

Bruce smiled softly, feeling her pull him in tighter as well as hearing her tired voice. Gosh she had such a beautiful morning voice, actually no- she had an amazing voice no matter what. He will never be able to get over the woman he currently had enveloped in his arms. It all was so surreal. He didn’t deserve a woman like her. He didn't deserve anyone. And yet here she was, currently head over heels in love with him.

Natasha rolled over to face Bruce, the faint morning light seeping through the blinds touching his face. Brightening his beautiful chocolate eyes and long curly brown hair. She noticed the soft smile playing upon her boyfriends lips and couldn't help but smile back.

“What?” She asked, her smile not leaving her face.

“Just thinking how I ended up with such a beautiful woman,” He replied, bringing his hand up to her face.

She couldn't help but lean into his touch, not wanting to be any further away from him then now. If only they could spend forever like this.

Bruce gingerly leaned in giving her a soft kiss on the lips, tasting the chapstick that she applied nightly on her lips.

“Come on, we should get up before Tony comes bursting in here blasting AC/DC,” Bruce chuckled at the thought, Natasha grimacing.

“If he tries i'll shoot him in the kneecaps,” She said, making the two lovers laugh at the idea.

“I would love to see that,” He stated, running his hands through her short red silky hair.

Bruce finally pushed himself up, hanging his legs over the side of the bed before letting out a massive yawn.

“Just lie with me for a little while longer, please?”

Bruce looked back into Nat’s needy eyes, feeling his heart melt at the sight.

“Don’t make me do it,” She threatened, pulling her hands up before twinkling them at him.

“You wouldn’t,” he dared, his eyes widening as a smile grew.

Before he knew it natasha lunged at him with incredible speed tickling at his sides. Bruce kicked and thrashed trying his best to evade the deathly tickles that Natasha was currently giving.

“O-kay, o-ookay, stoooop!” bruce couldn’t stop giggling as Natasha attacked every part of his body with playful tickles.

“I yield- i yield! We can have five more minutes,” He huffed, trying to compose himself after the fit of laughter.

Natasha smirked as Bruce layed back down next to her, feeling a rise of victory. She placed her head over his bare chest listening to his fastened heart rate slowing down, and couldn't help but humm in bliss as she then wrapped her arms his body. Him too humming back in response, as he hugged her back.

Those five minutes turned out to be half an hour.

Morning two:

Bruce awoke to the sound of the shower going in the room next to him, tiredly he looked over to the glowing clock on the bedside only for it to read 3:00am. He sighed, squinting at the direction of the shower, the door that was slightly ajar leaked a bit of light into the room that only just reached his eyes.

“‘Tasha?” He groggirly asked, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up.

He didn't get a response back and couldn’t help but get nervous. Was she okay? Did something happen? Did she always do this without him realising? Was something wrong? Was she planning on leaving without letting Bruce know? Before he knew it the door suddenly opened revealing Natasha in a oversized tee (that had actually belonged to Bruce but she loved it that much she stole it).

“Oh, i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wake you,” Natasha asked and bruce could immediately tell something was wrong simply by her voice as well as the red puffy eyes she now had.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, slowly getting himself up out of bed.

Nat shook her head, quickly wiping tears that fell from her eyes. God she felt pathetic. She hoped she didn't wake him up to deal with the humiliation.

“It’s nothing, don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep,” she softly smiled, turning the light off in the bathroom and hopped into bed.

“I love you,” Bruce said, breaking the silence that had filled the air after tucking himself back into bed.

Though Bruce couldn't see it in the darkness of the room, Natasha smiled.

“I love you too, big guy,”

And Bruce smiled back as well.

“Can you- can you hold me, Bruce?” Bruce couldn't help but break upon hearing her voice, she sounded so fragile.

“Of course, come here,”

Bruce held his arms out for Natasha to crawl in and held her close to him, making her feel protected like she always did every night.

And the two of them fell back into a beautiful abiss of deep sleep in each others loving arms.

Morning three:

“Natasha, honey?” Natasha awoke to the beautiful voice of her boyfriend as he currently stood above her, clearly dressed and fully awake.

“I’ve made breakfast for you,” He said, smiling upon her tired form as she wrapped her arms around her pillow.

Natasha smiled, opening her eyes to look up at Bruce’s soft features. She pulled herself slowly up, and raised her arms high over her head reaching out to Bruce like a toddler wanting their mother to carry them.

“You want me to carry you?” Bruce laughed, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head to the side.

“‘m tired, pleaseee,” Natasha muttered, giving Bruce her best puppy dog eyes.

It obviously worked because Bruce couldn’t help but cave in to picking her up. So, with strong arms he slipped his hands up from underneath her and pulled her into a bridal style position. With much ease (as she was extremely light) he carefully carried her out of the darkly lit room into the kitchen, Nat couldn’t help but moan in pleasure upon smelling the delicious meal.

“My god, what have you been cooking?” she asked, Bruce smiling with proudness at his work.

“Just a little something, for a special someone,” he replied, kissing her upon the forehead before settling down on a stool at the marble island bench.

Natasha smirked and looked at the beautifully prepared dish in front of her, the smell of it completely putting her in a happy state of mind.

What currently laid in front of the spy was an amazingly prepared stack of red velvet pancakes, shaped into hearts, it honestly was beautiful.

Natasha basically scoffed all five of the pancakes that her loving boyfriend had placed on her plate, not able to stop. Just as she was about to grab another she was carefully grabbed around her waist and pulled up only to be held by Bruce.

“я люблю тебя” He whispered into her ears as he held her close, nibbling softly on her earlobes.

Natasha couldn't help but giggle softly, looking up into his brown chocolate eyes.

“I never knew you could speak russian, doc.” She acknowledged, impressed that her boyfriend could speak her native language.

“There are alot of things you don't know about me Miss Romanoff,” he smirked, kissing her forehead once again.

“Happy valentines day, sweetheart,”

“С Днем святого Валентина, девушка,” Bruce’s eyes slightly widened in panic a small awkward smile playing upon his lips and Natasha couldn't help but laugh.

“And here i was thinking you actually knew russian, you just google translated that didnt you?”

“Uh yeah- i was hoping that was good enough,” He grinned awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It was perfect,” She replied, giving him a peck on the cheek before stuffing the rest of the pancakes in her face.

Morning four:

Natasha couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh as she combed her beautiful silky red hair, barely even able to keep her eyes open any longer. yesterday the team had been on an extremely long mission and natasha couldn’t help but feel worn out and drained. She couldn't even imagine what was Bruce was going though, she knew how tired he was after being the Other Guy and normally needed a couple of days to find himself again.

Bruce stiffly walked behind Natasha and wrapped his strong arms around her abdomen, before resting his head in the crook of neck.

“Morning,” she announced, tugging at a few knots.

Bruce let out a deep ‘mm’ before nestling his head deeper into the crook. natasha smiled softly before taking bruce’s head and holding his head in her hands, looking into his tired eyes.

“You should be in bed, getting some rest.” Nat said, squishing his face together so Bruce looked like a fish. it made her giggle.

“Not without you,” he said through his squished cheeks.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” She replied before letting go of Bruce and smacking his behind as he groggily walked off, Bruce couldn't help but huff a laugh.

Morning five:

“Wakey, wakey, big guy you promised me you’d train with me this morning,” Bruce awoke to the hushed sounds of Natashas voice, waking him from his shallow sleeping state.

“C’mon, I'm not letting you off that easy. Your promised me, babe,” She continued softly shaking bruce trying not to scare him awake.

Bruce hummed in response, rubbing his tired eyes to try and awaken himself to conscious.

“I’ll meet you down there, give me 5,” He grumbled pulling himself up from bed, hanging his legs over the side.

“Alright but if you’re not there in 6-”

“You’ll kick my ass, i know dont worry,” Bruce stood slowly up and kissed Natasha on the cheek before hauling himself into a quick hot shower.

Natasha smirked happily to finally have won Bruce over to get him training with her. She was aware it was nerve racking for the doctor to do something that even remoted in using physical violence, but she knew he needed to do something other then locking himself up in his lab all day and night. And maybe with her help it could improve his control of the Other Guy.

Thankfully the training centre had been designed (courtesy of Tony) to be able to withdraw the strength of the Hulk, but still Bruce was still unsure.

In exactly 5 minutes Bruce anxiously walked into where Natasha was currently warming up, his hands nervously fidgeting with whatever he could to help ease the stress. He never liked doing things that may result in him changing but he knew the spy only wanted to help.

“Just on time,” Natasha called out, before standing up straight from lunging.

“I wouldn't risk getting my ass kicked by the Black Widow, i'm sure you’d even scare the other guy too,” He replied a small smile settling on his face as he looked his girlfriend up and down.

Seeing her in those gym clothes that accentuated her curves and hugged her figure beautifully made training not seem that bad after all.

Natasha chuckled, walking towards her tense boyfriend, her hips swaying with each passing footstep.

“Relax, you’ll be fine,” she told him, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” He eyed the spy, trying to catch any piece of emotion that could remotely suggest that she was afraid or scared of what he was. but he saw nothing, just a soft loving smile that never failed to leave her damn beautiful face.

“Don’t worry about me Bruce, we’ll just do a quick warm up, come over here,” Natasha walked Bruce over to a boxing bag that hung from the roof.

“Punch it,” She told him, and so bruce struck the bag with such little force it hardly even moved in impact.

“You’re gonna have to punch harder than that big guy,” she chuckled, reaching bruce the correct stance and technique to properly punch it.

Bruce of course listened intently and followed his new training teacher.

As he began to punch the bag with the correct amount of force, he could feel the Other Guy swirl in interest around in his head.

he could feel the negative emotions he was currently pouring into the bag and the walls that he always kept up in his mind come crumbling down. he wasn’t focused and bruce couldn’t help for once feel free of not having to hold in such emotion.

The punch’s got heavier and heavier, bruce breathing quickening, turning into throaty grunts. natasha could see the glint of green glistening in his eyes.

“Okayyy, i think that’s enough of that.” Softly but quickly Natasha walked him away from the bag, rubbing her hands up and down his back. She didn't want him losing control just yet, she’d keep that for the part she gets to kick his ass.

Bruce’s quick shallow breaths slowly but surely calmed down after a few minutes of composing himself. He gave a serious look at Natasha, one that she easily read as the ‘i nearly changed and killed you’ look. She got that a lot.

When Natasha had asked Bruce to hit her, Bruce’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He could barely even form a straight sentences without stuttering.

“You want me to-,”

“Hit me, yes,” Bruce shook his head and put his hands up in defence.

“I am not going to hit you-” Before Bruce knew it he was striked in the nose with brutal force, caught completely off guard.

The Other guy roared to life once again but this time way more vital. Before it was easy to maintain him, he wasn't in any kind of distress or bad mood, but now. The hulk sensed a spike of hurt and panic wash over Banner and knew he had to take the wheel.

Bruce put his hands on his knees sucking in deep breaths trying to lock the beast back in the back of his mind, he knew Nat was only trying to help but he couldn't help but feel angry at her for putting herself at so much risk.

“Y-you need to get out of he-here,” Bruce struggled to say, he grunted and twitched and felt his body trying- begging to change.

“No, you can fight this Bruce, you need to learn to control it. Stop letting it control you,”

Stop letting it control you.

Bruce would have scoffed at that if he could. It had been controlling him is whole life, it wasn't ever going to stop doing that.

“Hey, look at me,” Bruce felt the soft hand of his girlfriend touch his back and instantly flinched. He looked into her soft but strong eyes as sweat begun to bead at his forehead at the amount of effort he used to control the beast that was just seconds away from exploding from him.

Natasha looked deeply into Bruce’s bright worried green eyes, she felt horrible for punching him but she knew she had to help bruce control the Other Guy. And she knew even if he did change, that the Hulk would never hurt her.

“The sun’s getting real low, big guy, there's no trouble today,” Natasha crooned, looking beyond Bruce’s eyes to the Hulk.

In a very Hulk like way, that he’d do every single transformation back into Banner, Bruce flinched his head back and closed his eyes. Thankfully his rugged breathing soon turned normal and Bruce was back to his normal tense self.

“Nat- that was... way too close,” He huffed, stretching back up to face her.

“But it was progress, you did great,” she softly smiled.

“Now,” Natasha stood firmly and held her fists up.

“I want you to hit me,”

Thankfully that morning didn't end with Bruce changing into the Hulk.

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drsilverfish · 6 years

Text

Castiel’s Adventures in Forbidden Fruit, or, what a truck-load of Djinn venom does to an angel (13x16 fan-fiction gap)

The road was hot and dusty and many of the dwellings along the way were crumbled and broken. Castiel, once a soldier of Heaven, knew he was entering a place suffering the ravages of war. There were molecules of blood on the wind and, if he spread his consciousness high above the plains, he could see the bombed hospitals, the dogs with their ribs sticking out. He shoved his hands in his trench-coat pockets and sighed. Why did Chuck, that bastard, create a universe so full of torment?

The town lay in what was once a part of Mesopotamia, and is now in modern Syria, in the Tigris and Euphrates river basin. A place within the so-called fertile crescent, the lands seasonally well-flooded enough to keep the desert at bay and to bear date-palms. This was the ancient settlement of Thelasar, and here, still cloaked by the Word of God, was Edinuu, the Garden of Eden.

There was no angel guarding the entrance. After Michael’s war in Heaven, Castiel’s own disastrous turn as Godstiel and the great fall precipitated by Metatron, angel numbers were severely depleted. His brethren had either scattered in disarray or retreated sullenly to Heaven with their wings still broken. Cas breathed a sigh of relief, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with some righteous stick-up-their-ass seraph.

He spoke the words of entrance in Enochian...

crouched against a toppled brick wall as the noonday heat approached, and pressed a little of his grace into the invisible wards. The air gave way, perhaps surprised to see an angel after all this time, and Cas stepped through into the Garden,

He was instantly assailed by a myriad glorious scents. The air was heavy with sensuous hyacinth, cardamom and passion fruit. A clear stream trickled through the foliage. He knelt and splashed his face with water. He could feel the green shoots singing at his fingertips and sense the wind of the void in the canopy above. How beautiful this earth is, he thought again, with a strange ache in his ribs. After all the centuries he’d lived, God’s creation had never felt more alive to him than it had these last few years. He stood up and headed east.

The Djinn Queen smelled him a mile away. “Angel alert!” she hissed to her nest. “Do any of you remember how much venom is needed to take down an angel?” They sharpened their teeth, and the blue tattoo-lines on their skulls glowed in anticipation. It had been a long while since they’d fed on angelic life-force. Truly, a feast was in store.

Cas wasn’t expecting Djinn in the Garden. He didn’t have a silver blade, or the blood of a lamb to hand. The whole hungry crew pounced in a horde, just when he was in sight of the Tree of Life and full of anticipation at the culmination of his mission. Bitten all over, and thus venom-injected simultaneously by at least sixty of them, he staggered and almost went down. Of course, he was an Angel of the Lord, powerful and full of grace, and he exploded several with the touch of his hand. But, in the end, the sheer intense quantities of the poison took him down.

When he woke up, he was back at the bunker and it was the middle of the night. He found himself descending the cold stone steps to Dean’s new “Bat-cave”.

“Dean, are you there?” he called out, cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m here buddy. So, you’re back, then? How’d it go?”

“Well, I think,” Cas said cautiously, setting his hessian sack of dark ripe purple fruit on the side, in the low yellow lighting.

“Great, excellent work, Cas, wanna join me for a beer?” Dean said jovially, reaching for the mini-fridge. Cas nodded and Dean offered him one of the reclining chairs and settled himself into the other one, a cold beer for each of them in hand.

Cas noticed that Dean was wearing a white shirt, and that enough of the buttons were undone so that he could almost see down to Dean’s navel. He tried not to look, and instead, squinted awkwardly at the jukebox.

“Why don’t you... play me some music?” he suggested.

Dean was more happy to oblige. “I know just the one,” he said, “nothing like a little REO Speedwagon, huh?”

Cas sipped his Kingdom beer and leaned back in his chair to let the music Dean loved wash over him.

“I’m going to keep on loving youuuu, cuz it’s the only thing I wanna do.ooo..”

The male voice sounded very sincere, with the clashing of cymbals and the grandstanding of the keyboard in the background. Cas thought how perfect the song was, how it expressed his own sentiments in relation to his companion very well.

He dared to turn his blue eyes to Dean, and found himself blurting out, “That’s how I feel... about you...”

He had a terrifying moment of vertigo, when he expected Dean to shut him down, to guffaw and brush it off, but Dean got up from his chair, and said, “Oh yeah?” Then he came over to Cas and sat down on the angel’s lap, facing him. His legs straddled Cas on either side, so that Dean’s wide open white shirt was inches from Cas’ face.

Without thinking, Cas took hold of Dean’s waist firmly with one hand and began to undo the remaining buttons on the shirt with the other. Dean smiled down at him. Cas could feel himself trembling at the thought of touching the bare skin of Dean’s stomach, and when he did so, it felt so good it was like a bolt of electricity running all the way up his spine. He gave a little gasp. All the molecules of Dean’s being danced at his fingertips.

Dean gave a low laugh in return, as the music continued to croon, and he pulled his shirt all the way off. Then, he leaned down with a twinkle in his eye, and put his mouth on Cas’.

Cas had thought about this, in a deep, dark recess of his mind, about what it would be like to kiss Dean, and he had tried, most of the time, to lock that thought firmly away. It was a mortal sin, according to angelic lore and custom. Moreover, Dean was clearly only interested in kissing women, wasn’t he?

Apparently not... Cas was nervous and inexperienced, but Dean opened his mouth, just a little, into their kiss, and Cas felt their tongues skim. He let his own mouth open a little more, following Dean’s lead. Dean pressed against him, torso to torso, groin to groin, deepening the kiss. Cas couldn’t help another small sound of pleasure escaping from the back of his throat. Dean’s light-body, the lattice of his soul, thrummed against Castiel’s vessel, making his true-form sing.

Dean said, “C’mon, let’s get that trench coat and fricking tie off you!” Dean was smiling and his deft fingers were at Cas’ throat, unknotting the blue tie from its usual moorings.

Cas was beginning to feel warm and loose in his groin and belly in a way he’d never experienced before. He looked up at Dean and he was so happy to find Dean meeting his gaze without reservation. “I love you,” the words spilled out of him, simply because he couldn’t keep them in his chest any longer.

He reached up and put his fingers firmly in Dean’s hair, ready to pull him close again for another kiss. He was rewarded with a flash of excitement in Dean’s own amber-flecked eyes. Cas had the sudden realisation that his angelic strength, applied judiciously and consensually, might be a bit of a turn-on. He was, after all, as big as the Chrysler building. Then they were kissing again, and this time, both of them were naked from the waist up. The feel of chest pressed on chest, stomach rolling on stomach, was incredible, and Cas felt his trueform reach into Dean and softly touch the ventricles of his heart. His eyes fluttered into the back of his head with the sensation of it.

When he woke up, it was dusk in the Garden, and all around him lay Djinn, either dead or sleeping and satiated.

Cas groaned, and sat up gingerly. He had a banging and very un-angelic headache. Djinn venom, he thought, fuzzily. Through the fading light, he could see a figure, sitting regally at the foot of the Tree of Life. She had long blue nails and dark almond eyes. Silver anklets at her feet tinkled in the evening breeze.

“Well, what a tasty treat that was, Castiel,” she purred. “My name is Asherah, Queen of the Djinn in these parts. I was once a goddess in this land, long ago, before your God came and insisted there was only one.”

“Asherah of the Canaanites?” he asked her, astonished.

“The very she,” she replied in a sultry purr.

“What have you done to me?” Cas said angrily, attempting to stand, and falling back, with a decided lack of dignity, on his ass.

“Don’t be afraid, little angel. We may have feasted, and feasted well, but you are otherwise unharmed. The effect of the venom will wear off.... eventually.”

“You made me do... unspeakable things!” Cas was flushed with shame and embarrassment. He looked down at himself, but saw with relief that he was still fully clothed in his trench-coat, shirt and tie.

“Only in your mind, my dear, only in your mind. None of my Djinn touched you, other than with their fangs. Nor, I assure you, did we put anything in your head that wasn’t already there. We feed on desire, Castiel, not illusion.”

“I should smite you all,” Cas growled.

“You smote a few,” she said, honey dripping in the timbre of her voice. “But come now, smiting me won’t undo what’s in your heart, will it, oh winged one.”

Cas licked his parched lips anxiously, echoes of REO Speedwagon still resounding in his skull.

“I confess I’m intrigued,” she said softly. “An angel in love with a human? I haven’t seen that since the archangel Gabriel confessed to Mary. He is exceptionally pretty, your human, I grant you that. But perhaps it’s you who should be worried about a smiting? Don’t your people frown on such unions? What fools the angels are!”

Cas ignored her questions. “Since you have so rudely ambushed me,” he said, trying to re-gain a modicum of control over the situation, “perhaps you will allow me to gather some of the fruit hanging above you? I have need of it, for a quest.”

“Pomegranates from the Tree of Life?” she said silkily, standing up and reaching to pluck one from the branches.

“And what will you give me in return?”

“I won’t kill you,” Cas said, through gritted teeth.

“Come now, angel, you are still venom-weakened, and I was a goddess once, don’t forget. I am not so easily dispatched. How about we strike a bargain instead, you and I?”

“What bargain?” Cas enquired sulkily, trying his level best to remain focussed on the present, rather than getting lost in mortifying flashbacks of naked fantasy Dean.

“If you promise to wed me for a year and a day, I will give you all the sacred fruit you require.” She put a wicked finger to her lips, “I will also swear that I, and my subjects, will keep your secret. We will not breathe a word of your love for Dean Winchester, either to Heaven or to Hell.”

“I’m not at liberty to marry a Djinn,” Cas said stiffly. Asherah burst out laughing.

“Come now, the marriage does not require carnal knowledge of any kind, I promise. I can quite see you belong, body and soul, to another. You must simply promise me, during the year and a day of our marriage, that if I call on you, either to feed or for aid, you will come. I will not abuse the privilege, I swear it.”

Castiel admitted defeat. This Djinn queen had him at her mercy. He needed the fruit and he was too weak to fight back. He nodded, abruptly. “I give you my word. But, a year and a day and no more.”

“Done! Come then, husband,” she purred, holding out her hand to help him to his feet, “let us gather this forbidden fruit together!”

By the time Cas returned to the bunker, clutching the sack of juicy scented pomegranates from Eden, the Djinn venom had mostly left his system. He descended the steps to Dean’s Bat-cave gingerly, with his heart pounding like gunshot in his chest. What if his face somehow betrayed him? What if Dean could tell instantly that Cas had fantasised about undressing him in this very room? Cas steeled himself with all the soldierly training he could muster from his days in the garrison and called out gruffly, “Hello, Dean?”

But Dean wasn’t sitting in one of the reclining chairs, listening to REO Speedwagon. Instead, to Castiel’s consternation, he was in the television with Sam, in cartoon form, drag racing Baby against some kind of hippy vehicle.

The pomegranates fell from Castiel’s hands in slow motion, as he leapt forward into the screen to save them.

And that, is how Castiel, angel of the Lord, found himself blurting out the words, “A killer stuffed dinosaur in love,” to a talking dog and his friends.

He prayed that his cartoon cheeks were only turning the deep, ripe, red of forbidden fruit in his imagination.

#Supernatural #Fan fic #SPN coda fic #13x16 #Scoobynatural #CW: dubcon #Destiel #The Djinn fan-fiction gap

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ahumanintraining · 6 years

Text

handoff (ch. 4 of “follow up”) a shallura modern era hospital au ft. dr. allura and patient shiro [link to ao3]

notes: I do this weird thing where I can’t write third person omniscient so I change perspectives every now and then but I’m pretty terrible at it, lol sorry in advance. honestly i'm not even sure this chapter makes sense lol.

as always, thank you all so much for your support for this fic. again, multichaps are definitely out my comfort range for me, so seeing all this encouragement has been incredibly amazing.

chapter four: handoff

“Wait... what do you mean?” she asks.

And her voice sounds so disappointed that it makes him realize that “I’ve had a bit of change in plans” can also mean “I’m canceling our dinner.”

Wait! Fuck, he didn’t mean that. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“No, no! I mean, sorry, I mean we’re still on for tonight,” he corrects immediately. “I just.. well, I won’t be able to drive you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh, okay,” she replies slowly. “Do you… want me to meet you somewhere then?”

“No. I mean, I’ll still meet you at your place,” he explains, desperate for words, but he’s tensing up and the words are spilling out of his mouth without abandon. “I just…” and unable to figure out what else to say, he apologizes again. “I’m sorry. When I told you I’d drive to your place, I forgot I was still going to have a splint.” He paces back and forth. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to risk driving you when I only have one functional arm.”

Ugh, he totally fucked up.

“Oh, I see.” She laughs. “Why’d you make it sound so serious?”

He opens and closes his mouth many times as he hears her laughter die down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that we’re not on for tonight,” he blabbers. “I spoke wrong, and I’m sorry about that.” He pauses. “I really want to see you soon.”

“Me too,” she says.

And hearing her say that might have just given him an extra ten years of life. He smiles uncontrollably, pressing his phone hard against his ear.

Then he suddenly remembers he probably should tell her that he’s right outside her apartment door.

“Um, actually,” he then awkwardly adds. “I’m already outside your building, I think.”

Her heart jumps out of her chest.

Outside her building?! Already?!

Composing herself, she calmly replies, “Oh! Okay, I’ll meet you downstairs. Give me a few minutes.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry for not giving you a heads up.”

“No, no, no, you’re fine,” she assures him, her left hand grabbing eyeliner and some lip gloss. She leans over her counter, resting her phone on her shoulder and popping open the eyeliner.

“Okay, then,” he says. She hears him smile. And even in the midst of her rush, something about his silence on the other side of the line is calming. She momentarily stops her rummaging to experience the quiet. “I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles, and she can see in her reflection in the mirror that her smile reaches the corners of her eyes. “See you,” she replies.

She waits for him to end the call, hanging on for a second, but he doesn’t. Gingerly, she bites her lip, watching the timer for their call still ticking before she presses the end call button.

What a rollercoaster of emotions, she thinks to herself as she draws over her eyelids with the eyeliner. In the last five minutes, she went from thinking he was canceling their date to realizing he’s been right outside of her door the entire time.

He would be the death of her before the night was over, she was sure.

“Takashi Shirogane,” she says softly to herself. She holds up her chin, unscrewing the gloss and brushing the clear pink wash over her lips. She squeezes her lips together and smile at herself, replacing the makeup into her bag and stands up straight, looking at herself once more in the mirror.

Experience from past first dates warns her to not get her hopes up too high, but she can’t help this gut feeling bubbling within her that tells her she’s going to have a good time today.

And maybe she hopes that by the end of the night, he thinks the same.

She grabs her clutch purse from its hook on her wall, dropping her phone and wallet into it, slipping on white flats as she walks out of her apartment. With every step closer to the elevator, then closer to the entrance of her building, she feels her pulse growing stronger.

She recognizes him right away, even in the dim yellow streetlight. He’s wearing a dark sweater, leaning over the short fence surrounding the small flower garden in front of her apartment, body half-turned toward her building, face turned to the street, left hand tucked into the front pocket of his black jeans, and right arm casually rested against his waist. From this angle, she can still see the unmistakable white streak of hair at the front of his head.

She takes a deep breath and walks out.

He meets her eyes right away, and he straightens, taking a step toward her.

All of sudden, she doesn’t know what to do, but she waves to him as she approaches, taking in more and more of his details — the crinkles around his eyes, the silvery scar line over his nose — as he comes closer. A white shirt peeks out from the collar of his sweater, in a crooked way that makes her want to adore him even more.

“Hi, Takashi Shirogane,” she greets, and then realizes she blurted out his last name by accident because she’s been repeating his full name to herself for the past few hours.

He doesn’t seem to notice. “Hey,” he replies, stepping forward.

This makes her stop in place. She was not planning on coming this close to him, but now he’s within hug reach and she’s wondering if she should hug him? Hugging is not something she does naturally but now she’s standing too close to him for no reason.

But at this distance, she suddenly remembers the smell of his skin, and damn it, she really does want to hug him because she craves it, but she represses the desire immediately because — well, that would be weird of her to do.

“Hey,” she says instead.

They stand there for a moment. He looks like he’s taking her in from top to bottom, and she admits she doesn’t mind this at all. His eyes meet hers and he offers her a small smile.

“So, I was looking around your area and there’s actually a few places to eat around here we can walk to,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “But I was thinking you might have been to them already, and if that’s the case, we can go someplace else and I can call us a ride there.”

She thinks quickly. “Oh, no, not at all,” she replies. “For how long I’ve lived here, I haven’t explored every much around here. I know there’s an Italian place, an Ethiopian place, some kind of Middle Eastern place, and maybe a Korean barbeque place too.”

“Yeah, I saw that on my way here. What are you feeling?”

She wants to say Korean barbeque, but she’s been told by colleagues that Korean barbeque was never a good place to take first date.

Does she really care? Not really.

“How are you on KBBQ?”

“Love it.”

“Yes! Perfect,” she says, clapping her hands together.

He looks at her with a soft gaze and an uneven boyish grin. “Alright, ready?”

She looks at him once more, half-dazed by his smile. She secures her clutch over her shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“So how long have you lived here?” he asks.

He’s really only making small talk because otherwise he’d find himself distracted just watching her walk beside him. She’s walking next to him. This beautiful doctor is next to him and he’s taking her to dinner and honestly his brain can’t fully process that yet.

“Hm…” she replies, musing a moment.

He likes the way she tilts her head up and slightly purses her lips when she’s thinking. He likes how the ends of her hair bob as she steps forward, ever so gracefully. He likes everything about her, really. She’s even more beautiful than he remembers — her white dress and matching shoes and tied-up hair — he doesn’t even have the vocabulary to describe what she’s wearing or how she’s wearing it but whatever she’s doing, he really likes it.

“In this specific building? About two years,” she continues. “I first moved to this city to work in Olkarion General about three years ago but for the first year, I was crashing between sublets trying to find a proper place to stay.”

“Yeah, it can be hard to find a lease around here.”

“But then I found this apartment and if everything works out, the plan is to stay here for the rest of my life — or at least as long as Olkarion General will keep me.”

He laughs. “I’m sure they’ll keep you around.”

He likes the sound of her staying here.

“What about you? Where do you live?”

“Oh, not too far from here. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Beta Traz District, but I’m right around there.”

“Heard of it,” she says. “Haven’t ever been.” She turns and gives him a joking frown. “Doctors don’t get out much. That’s why I haven’t even been to this place that’s literally down my street.”

He shrugs, chuckling. “That’s fine. I don’t get out much either.”

He still doesn’t know where to put his hands. He can’t help this excited teenaged feeling of wanting to reach forward to hold out her hand, and suddenly he realizes he’s been looking for too long down at her hands. He looks up to her face in case she’s noticed, but she doesn’t seem to know at all, having the most calm and peaceful expression on her face, but then he realizes that now he’s just staring at her face – so he keeps his eyes to the sidewalk and his left hand deep in his pocket…

…only to later find his eyes veering to the gentle swish of her dress as she walks and how the light folds of her dress fall over her legs as she steps forward.

“I’m glad you suggested walking somewhere nearby,” she starts, looking over at him.

He meets her eyes briefly, but then realizes that her blue eyes are way too pretty for him to look at without blushing. He focuses on continuing her conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I mean, thank you for being open about doing this,” he says. “I, um, wish I had a more impressive reason to walk instead but I have a lame excuse of a broken arm.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “No, it’s good. Walking is great for the cardiovascular system,” she says, but then quickly adds, “And for your mood.” She pauses. “Well, for a lot of things, really. I mean, it’s great for the environment, too. Well — compared to us driving. I mean, you driving me.”

Seeing her trip over her words, he looks over at her and he sees her bite her bottom lip.

He hides a quiet laugh. She’s adorable, and he loves it.

“It’s a great temperature outside,” she says quickly, looking over at him.

“Yes,” he agrees, not letting her catch his gaze.

“Speaking of which, how is your arm anyway?”

“Oh, well, I was able to talk with my doctor today,” Shiro quickly recalls. “He just got me in to see an orthopedist for tomorrow but he didn’t mention anything bad about my arm. Just told me to try not to use it until tomorrow.”

“You look like you’re doing fine,” she says.

“I’d gladly take your second opinion,” he jokes, but then he realizes that might come off weird. “I mean, I don’t need you to check or anything. I don’t want to be that person asking you about random things just because you’re a doctor.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” she assures him. “Everyone does it anyway. And I’d rather that then people self-diagnosing based on internet articles.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he laughs.

They fall back into silence.

Damn. He didn’t mean to make this awkward. Why did he even say anything about his arm in the first place? She’s not at work right now and she probably wants a break from treating people — and he’s not even her patient anymore!

…or is he? Technically? It doesn’t feel like she’s treating him like a patient, but at the same time, maybe she’s just getting dinner with him because she was being nice after he, as a patient, offered.

He looks over at her and she is completely expressionless. He breathes in and continues walking, looking down briefly at his phone to check how far they have still to walk. He glances at her once more, and she still carrying the same neutral expression.

She’s not interested in him, he’s pretty sure. If she actually is interested in him, she’d definitely be more… flirty? … with him, right?

Besides, who is he kidding? Doctors must get this all the time. People wanting to thank them and such. This dinner must be pretty much all the same. And besides, this doctor-patient relationship thing is all his own wild fantasy, isn’t it? Isn’t it all just an overused romantic trope in those Korean dramas his mother watches?

Did she even wink at him in the first place? He’s not even sure if she had even winked at him when he was in the emergency room. He thinks she winked at him, but… well, even if she did, did that mean she was actually inviting him to call her? Some people just wink because they’re being friendly.

But she did accept dinner with him… right?

Stop it, Shiro, he thinks to himself. Now you’re just extending the silence and making this even more awkward…

Or maybe he should just ask her to be clear, his brain suggests. Just ask her what exactly this dinner is for.

He shakes his head.

No, don’t be stupid, Shiro. Don’t kid yourself, she’s just being nice.

He turns to her. “Hey,” he says, without thinking. “Um…”

Damn it, Shiro.

Allura cannot believe she started talking about medicine.

Why is she like this? Why is every other sentence she says has something to do with being a doctor or about some organ system? She hates it.

Doctors don’t get out much. Walking is great for the cardiovascular system? How is your arm?

Don’t say anything medical-related, she reprimands herself. At least through this dinner.

But then in these past seven seconds of awkward silence, she’s been unable to say anything not medical related. She’s been thinking of conversation topics but all her funny stories are about medical school, her medical colleagues, or random fun facts that she discovered in recent literature on PubMed.

Grimly, she reminds herself this is probably why she hasn’t had any successful dates with anyone since undergraduate.

Not to mention she had actually gone ahead and briefly looked over at his arm — which, although covered by the long sleeve of his sweater, looked visibly less swollen and a lot better even just a few days later — and told him her assessment, as if this dinner was a follow up visit. He even had to tell her that she didn’t have to check up on him.

Ugh, she is not doing well on the dating front right now.

She sneaks a furtive glance at him. He doesn’t look at all concerned or anything — honestly, she can’t tell what he’s feeling right now.

Probably awkward. And she doesn’t blame him. She made this entire conversation about medicine so far, and he’s probably not interested at all in what she’s talking about.

What kind of doctor goes to dinner with their patient anyway? He must be thinking about how awkward this all is because he probably didn’t expect her to say yes when he offered dinner. She’s had plenty of patients offering her things, but she’s never actually accepted anything — after all, it wasn’t quite right to accept the gifts and kind gestures. But she said yes, and now, he was probably going through all of this just because he was nice enough to follow through with it all.

Suddenly he looks over at her.

“Hey, um…”

She looks back at him. “Yes, Takashi?”

He hesitates. She sees him lick his lips. “Just to be clear… I’m not taking you to dinner as my doctor or anything,” he says. “In case I wasn’t clear.”

“Oh, well, no, no,” she replies quickly. “I’m not doing this as your doctor or anything. I thought we would just go out for dinner as… like, you know, friends or something.”

Wait.

“Oh, okay,” he says, nodding. “Right.”

Wait. Did she just…

She just friend-zoned him.

Damn it, Allura.

Friends or something.

Right. Friends or something.

That’s fine. That’s okay, right? Friends can date, right? And friends can become something more, right? That trope is in his mother’s Korean dramas, too, right?

Shiro really likes her. He really really likes her, and he wants so bad for her to like him too — and it’s crazy. He likes her so much even though he doesn’t know a single thing about her. But she has such a magnetic personality… is it wrong for him to want to spend as much time with her as he can?

This is fine, he convinces himself. At least they are having dinner.

Maybe if tonight goes well, he can toe the friend line.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he composes himself as the KBBQ restaurant comes into sight, stepping forward to open the door for her as they approach.

Despite what seemed like a very busy night, they’re immediately seated by the server, who grabs a couple of menus for them. They’re placed off to the side in booth seats and Shiro quickly takes a seat, watching Allura take her place across from him.

“This was a great idea,” she says, a little excitedly, pointing at the grill at the center of the table. She looks around at the atmosphere of the restaurant. “I haven’t had KBBQ in months, and I’ve actually been kind of craving it.”

He laughs. “Yeah, me too.”

She pours water from the pitcher in front of them into the two empty glasses, sliding one over to his side and taking one for herself.

“So, Takashi, tell me a bit more about you,” she says, folding her hands over each other and leaning over the table.

He tries not to notice how her cleavage grows as she does this. That would be terribly inappropriate of him, but —

He clears his throat, keeping his eyes on hers, even though his peripheral vision is offering him temptations. “Well, I grew up in Kerberos. I went to Puig for university and have moved around a little bit after that, but a year ago, I came here to Olkarion and yeah, I’m here now.”

He’s purposefully avoiding talking about what he’s doing now — frankly, because he isn’t doing anything now. And fortunately, she doesn’t focus on that last detail.

“Really?” Her eyes pop open. “I went to Puig University — did you…?”

“Oh, yeah, same. Class of ’07?”

She shakes her head. “’08,” she replies. “I’m fairly surprised I never met you while we were there.”

He shrugs. “It was a big school, and I chose to live off-campus.”

She nods. “Hm… and I was a hardcore premed, so unless by chance you happened to be doing anything biology-related or volunteered for the student clinic, I’m pretty sure I had no chance of meeting you.”

“Not at all. History major,” he says.

She smiles, her eyes dropping to the table. “I wish I met you back then, Takashi.”

Never mind what she just said, about wanting to meet him back then — this is maybe the third time she’s said his actual name.

Strangely, hearing her say his first name makes the whole conversation sound incredibly intimate. After all, no one calls him Takashi, and he doesn’t even remember hearing it in his past relationships. And when she says it so gently in her soothing voice…

“Shiro,” he suddenly blurts, then clarifies. “You can just call me Shiro. No need to be formal or anything.”

“Shiro?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Maybe he’s being super Japanese about it. Like the whole you-called-me-kun-and-not-san thing. Whatever it is, he’s being weird about it.

“It’s short for my last name,” he explains. “Shirogane. People usually call me that.”

She arches her eyebrow. “Well, what if I choose not to, Takashi?” she asks, mischievously.

He almost gets a boner.

“I— I mean, you call me whatever you want to,” he says, choosing not to elaborate that he may have just discovered he has a weird first-name-basis kink. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, reaching for his glass of water.

“I’m kidding,” she says, also holding her water out in front of her and taking a sip from the straw.

“Hi, good evening, sorry to interrupt you two,” a server says, coming up to their table, laying out some side dishes out in front of them and turning on the grill in the center of their table. “I was going to take any orders you had?”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, completely forgetting about it all. He looks to Allura, but she has the same oh-crap-we-forgot-we-were-ordering expression. “Um,” he says, flipping over the menu. “Maybe we can start with bulgolgi and the saeng galbi?"

Allura nods, looking over the options. “And maybe pork belly and uh… if we could get an order of japchae?”

He’s about to compliment good choice in food, but then he feels a familiar vibration in his pants pocket of someone calling him. He reaches over and grabs his phone out of his pocket, seeing the kanji.

Oh, his mom.

He slowly stands to his feet.

“Anything else? You can get up to three things at a time.”

“Oh, maybe just add beef brisket on both of ours,” Allura answers for the two of them, noticing the phone in his hand and him getting up.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he mouths, making his way out of the restaurant.

Oh, of all the times for his mother to call.

Allura likes him.

She really does. She knew she thought he was cute, but somehow just in the last hour, she thinks she wants to get to know him much more.

It’s all too bad she more or less friend-zoned him earlier.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did she do that? Maybe she should clarify and tell him she wanted to date him —

But wait, when she recounts back to when she friend-zoned him, he didn’t seem upset or surprised at all… so maybe he’s already on the friend-zone page… except the only problem is that she’s not on that page…

This is fine, she convinces herself.

In fact, this might turn out for the better. Maybe by the end of the night, she’d realize she actually doesn’t like him at all. And then that would make things easier.

Somehow though, she doesn’t think she won’t fall for him — because she already has, and she can’t stop it.

She watches him now as he returns through the restaurant, laughing with one of the restaurant employees that stops him on the way back to the table. He has some kind of charm disarms anyone, and she is just as susceptible.

As he approaches, she pretends she hasn’t been staring the entire time. She takes a piece of kimchi and chews it, pretending her eyes have been on all the side dishes and waits until he comes back to the table for her to lift her eyes up to him.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes.

She shakes her head. “No, don’t be sorry about that. You needed to take that call.”

Sitting himself back down, he shrugs. “It really wasn’t that important. My mom just called because she wanted to see another picture of my arm.”

She laughs. “I don’t blame her. If my son broke his arm, I would probably be the exact same way.” She lets her laugh fall quiet. “You’re close to your mom?”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s something I’m embarrassed to admit.”

“Hm,” she says, nodding quietly.

“Are you?”

His question strikes her out of the blue. “Am I…?”

“Close to your parents?”

“Yeah…” she replies, looking up from her hands and smiling at him. “Yeah, I was.”

He looks back at her, concerned. “Oh, I’m sorry… did something happen?”

She shakes her head. “My mom passed when I was younger but I was always close with my dad. He passed a few years ago.” She sips on her straw and flits her eyes up to gauge him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for asking. You didn’t know.”

His mouth twists. “Well, yeah, but… I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to get that deep that fast.”

She laughs. “Well, I asked about your mom first,” she reminds him. “And I didn’t know anything about you so I think I risked just as much going into that question.”

He gives her a careful smile. She really wants him to be comfortable and not intimidated. She really hopes he doesn’t just see her as ‘the chick whose parents died.’

In almost perfect timing with their silence, their server stops at their table, delivering their orders. She watches the dishes get placed onto the table, the clink of the dishware the only sound between the two of them.

She thanks the server then quickly takes the prongs. “So, what keeps you busy these days?” she asks Shiro, dropping some meat onto the grill. “Work or hobbies or anything?”

“Well… I’m actually on the search for a job,” he explains slowly. He follows her lead and drops his own meat, onto the grill, immediate sizzles emerging from underneath.

“What were…” Quite honestly, she doesn’t expect him to be unemployed and she tries her best not to sound judgmental or like she expected him to be doing anything. “What were you doing before?” She corrects. “Well, if you were doing anything before?”

He doesn’t seem to take offense. “Air Force,” he replies simply. “I quit though.”

She doesn’t expect this either. “Oh, uh,” she struggles, trying to see if her past interactions with veterans from her VA rotation in medical school would help her. “Was there a reason you quit?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t mind the first few years, but then the last two years, I hated with a passion and I wanted out. I felt like there wasn’t much freedom, and there was a lot of bullshit.”

She nods. “I see.”

There’s not much more there that she knows how to get into or even wants to get into. Suddenly she’s not completely confident about making good conversation with him, and it’s a feeling she’s not used to. She stirs the straw in her glass for a little bit.

“Sorry for asking, and maybe I don’t know,” she starts on another subject. “But are you Japanese? I’m just assuming because Shirogane seems Japanese.”

“No, you’re right,” he says, and this question seems to break through. “That’s better than most people assume.” He nods his chin in her direction. “And you? How do you identify, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugs. “Black,” she says. “Or African-American. Nothing special.” She tilts her head. “Do you speak Japanese at home, then?”

“I’m Japanese. I have to speak Japanese,” he groans. “My mother would never let me go without it. Japanese at home. Japanese school on Saturdays.” He looks at her. “What about you? Do you speak any other languages?”

She wrinkles her nose, smiling. “No, not really. And I don’t count the Spanish I took in high school. I’m quite language-less aside from English.” She recounts a little back. “Although, one of my high school friends and I made this elaborate language we used to communicate to each other while passing notes in class.”

She sees him almost spit out his drink, laughing. “This must be before texting became a thing.”

She smiles wide. “Yeah. I’m sure you remember back then.”

“Oh absolutely,” he says. “I mean so few of us in high school had phones that could actually text, and the texts were so much money per character that we didn’t even try to transition from paper.”

“And then there were the cool kids that had the Blackberrys.”

“Don’t even remind me about how snobby they were.”

She laughs. “I was only cool enough to get a Blackberry when I was in college,” she says. “But I’m glad I hung on until then because the smart phone revolution started and by then my family hadn’t invested in all the ‘new’ tech was ultimately surpassed.”

“Yeah. I’m still waiting for holograms to come out.”

“I’m sure a more intelligent alien species out there has already invented some form of that,” she says, taking a bite of the acorn jelly on the side dish. “It’s only a matter of time for us.”

“You believe in aliens?” He looks at her, amused.

“There’s infinite possibilities out there in the universe,” she replies easily. “How can you not?”

“Whatever the doctor says,” he teases.

She rolls her eyes. “What about you?” she asks.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a hardcore believer,” he replies. “One of my roommates in undergrad really sold me on it though. He was studying astrophysics or something and he used to tell me all the time about alternate universes. He had a ton of formulas and equations that proved all of it.” He thinks to himself for a moment. “Honestly, he was kind of weird. He’d always be calculating a ton of probabilities of things and probably had some form of agoraphobia. He never left the room.”

Allura considers. “Not leaving the room,” she says, nodding. “That sounds a lot like it.”

“Yeah,” he says, before changing the subject. “So. You still need to tell me about this elaborate made-up language you used to write notes to your friend in class.” He leans back into his chair. “Aside from majoring in history, I low-key studied a lot of linguistics in my undergraduate, so I’m not letting you off the hook for that detail.”

“Oh no, you won’t find it interesting,” she replies. “It was literally just English with character substitutions. We just didn’t want anyone reading our messages.” She softly confesses. “I actually still remember it from A to Z.”

He shrugs. “Memory works in the strangest ways.” He watches her for a few seconds, with a thoughtful look. She tries to focus on cutting her broccoli, pretending she doesn’t notice at all. “Was there a name for this language that you had?”

She clears her throat, smiling to herself, thinking back. “Altean,” she says, looking up at him. He’s listening intently, and she takes a deep breath and carefully explains, “Well, it was called Altean because it was my last name.” She pauses and clarifies. “It was just a code that two of us shared. This is a little embarrassing, but we thought we would get married and that my last name was the better one to take on, so that’s why the language is my last name… because we thought we’d share that.”

He softly smiles. “Romantic,” he says. “No wonder it had to be secret.”

“Yeah,” she says. She looks at him, and he’s still looking at her intently. “We didn’t eventually get married,” she adds with an embarrassed smile. “It was just a high school romance. She —” She quickly corrects herself in a split second. “We broke up freshman year of college.” She continues to add more substance. “You know, long distance is hard and all.”

She holds her breath and watches him. She had been so comfortable talking to him that she completely slipped.

“It happens,” he says, and if he had heard that, he was good at acting like he didn’t care.

Or maybe he didn’t actually care that she’s dated girls.

She struggles to find something else to say. “Ah yeah,” she eventually agrees.

She watches him flip around a strip of meat on the grill for a little bit before he makes a weird scooping motion with the chopsticks and plops the meat on his plate.

“Damn,” he mutters. She hears it.

“Struggling a little bit there?” she teases. “Chopsticks not your thing?”

He looks at her like she’s shitting him. “My left hand is getting there.”

“Do I need to teach you?”

It’s just a joke, but he actually arches his eyebrow at her. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he challenges.

She doesn’t, sticking her tongue out instead. “For some reason, I feel like this should be the opposite of how it should be going. You know, you being actually Asian and all.”

He smiles, waving off his left hand. “Honestly, I’m about to just fuck it and use my right arm.”

“No, no, no!” she reprimands him, laughing. “You need to keep that arm as still as possible until you get your cast tomorrow!”

“Whatever the doctor says,” he teases again. He tries for a piece of pork belly this time, instead getting the ends of his chopsticks stuck between the slits of the grill. He tries a couple more times.

“Here,” she says, automatically, reaching over the table and grabbing the piece in her own chopsticks and raising it up to mouth level.

Her eyes meet his eyes and then suddenly, she realizes she’s feeding him.

He seems to realize it, too. His eyes don’t leave hers.

Her heart shivers. “Um…” she hesitates, looking away from him and back at the pork between her chopsticks. “Careful, it might be a little hot,” she finally says. She tries her best not to look at his eyes and waits, staring at the bite of meat.

His head ducks down and his lips come into view just behind her chopsticks. He slightly angles his mouth to better accommodate the morsel and opens his mouth. She cautiously places the meat forward between his lips and waits until he withdraws before she releases the pork from her chopsticks.

She exhales her held breath, immediately going back to the grill to pick up some remaining pieces of meat, placing a couple on her plate. Feeling a light flush on her cheeks, she keeps her face down to the table, trying to pass all of this as normal as possible.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles, doing the exact same.

Suddenly, his left hand is much more capable with the chopsticks.

A few silent minutes between them pass.

“S-Sorry if that was weird,” she can’t help but say.

He looks up at her and smiles, shaking his head. “I did need the help,” he replies. “Otherwise we would have been here all night.”

“Oh, yeah, that was definitely something I was trying to avoid.”

“What?” he teases. “You’re not enjoying my company at all?”

She narrows her eyes, a playful smile on her lips. “Nope. Not in the very least bit,” she declares.

But that is very much a lie, and Allura is sure he knows it — even if he was that dense and immune to sarcasm to not know otherwise, he would definitely know with how many more hours she passes with him for the rest of the night.

Shiro’s cheeks hurt from laughing. They’ve been hurting.

He thought dinner might not have been going the right way after his mother interrupted and after he accidentally uncovered both her parents passed away, but the conversation very quickly led other ways and he discovered much more they had in common than not.

And she’s hilarious. Blunt and straightforward, and not afraid to just tell it how it is. He loves that.

As he laughs off this last remark she made, he checks his phone and is surprised to find just how late it is — half past midnight.

She seems to note the time as well, and they both agree to get going, calling over their server to split the bill so they can be on their way.

“I’ll walk you back, yeah?” he suggests as they’re walking out of the restaurant. He’s trying his best to hold onto as many minutes with her as possible. It’s been a while since he’s felt this desperate to spend time with anyone.

“Sure,” she replies, taking her purse and following up behind him. She reaches out to him, and for a moment, he thinks — with widened eyes and held breath — that she’s going to take his hand, but her hand reaches past his body and pulls open the restaurant door handle in front of them.

He quickly tucks away all the thoughts he has about her fingers intertwined with his.

She opens it wide and a light spray of mist falls over his face.

“Ah,” she announces, almost nonchalantly. “It’s raining.”

He sees a few clusters of people huddled within the restaurant’s overhanging roof to avoid the rain, hearing some chatter about calling an Uber or how far away their parked car is.

He turns to her, taking out his phone. “I can call an Uber or something.”

Allura looks at the rain. “Nonsense, it’s not that bad.”

She looks back at him with a bite of her lip, and then she suddenly reaches and takes his left hand. Before he can even process it, she’s locked her fingers between his.

“Come on,” she says, walking off at a quick pace.

There’s many things that Shiro’s done without thinking — and this, running into a storm with a woman he’s very much enamored with, isn’t very much different — but like all things that he’s done without thinking, he very quickly realizes doing so was a very bad idea.

In fact, it only takes two steps into the rain to register this.

“Oh my god!” she screams, probably realize the same. She starts laughing, her pace slowly as she almost falls over giggling, clutching her stomach.

“This is definitely really bad rain,” he sputters, unable to keep himself from laughing with her. He pulls her forward, keeping her moving forward as she tries to catch her breath. He squints some rain out of his eyes and sees an open convenience store a hundred steps up ahead. “We can probably get an umbrella in there.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, with another laugh.

He’s sure his shirt is almost completely soaked through, but for once in a very long time, he doesn’t care at all. His heart is light and unburdened. She picks up the pace after another short episode of laughter and he lets her guide him until they reach the convenience store, rushing inside with the frazzled excitement of teenagers at prom. The door rings as they enter, both tracking drops of rain in.

He hasn’t felt this carefree in ages.

“Sorry,” Allura apologizes loudly to the cashier as they walk, dripping, through the narrow store. “You don’t happen to be selling umbrellas, are you?”

When the cashier nods and points behind them, she pulls her hand out from his and reaches behind her, placing a large umbrella on the counter and reaching into her purse for the wallet.

“Oh,” Shiro realizes, reaching his hand back to his wallet. His mind is still foggy and his hand is still warm from her touch.

“No, no, I insist,” she says, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I was the one that decided to run out into the rain like a crazy person, after all.”

“Okay,” he agrees, returning a smile. He watches a small drop of water fall off a stray strand of her hair and fall onto her shoulder.

No, he’s pretty sure he’s the crazy one to be still running after her.

“Here, come,” she commands him, walking out of the convenience store as she opens the umbrella wide. She waits for him to stand next to her before she starts walking again. “This should keep us much drier,” she says. “Much better idea than my other idea.”

He laughs softly, reaching his left hand up to comb over his bangs, feeling some drops of water falling over the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I hope your clothes are okay.”

“It’s just water,” she says, looking up at him. “Come closer so you don’t get wet,” she tells him.

He’s already very close to her, and he can’t imagine closing any more distance — but she shifts her umbrella more to his side and presses her arm right up against him, her right shoulder bumping into his left side.

“I’m fine,” he insists, his hand almost automatically reaching up for the umbrella handle. He takes it to relieve her, but she doesn’t let go, and his hand overlaps hers as he takes the umbrella — and he swears he feels a spark between their fingers.

His eyes shoot over to look at her, but she just smiles up at him, continuing their walk like everything is normal and like they do this every day.

And for once, under the same umbrella and in the same space, he feels at ease. The downpour all around them and all the traffic rushing by on the street fades away, and all that is left is her arm brushing against him and her occasional sigh, the smell of her hair and rain, the warmth of her hand against his.

It feels like a small separate world made of just him and her — and he wants this peace to last forever.

All too soon, she slows to a stop and Shiro quickly realizes, much to his sadness, that their walk is coming to an end. She leads them to the front of her apartment’s main door, steering with the umbrella.

“So…” she asks as they come under the overhang of her apartment building. She collapses the umbrella and hands it off to him. “How did you get here?”

“Oh, um,” he says, retrieving the umbrella. The start of the evening feels so long ago he’s almost completely forgot. “I walked.”

“Hm,” she nods, looking off to some empty space as she fishes out her keys from her purse without looking, in that same way she did whenever she was thinking about something.

Adorable.

“How about I drive you back to your place?” she suggests.

He wants to say no, but she doesn’t let him refuse her offer, tapping him from behind and pushing him forward as she turns the key to her apartment lobby.

“Wait inside here,” she tells him. “I’ll go upstairs and get my car really quickly. I have to drive it down from parking. I’ll meet you on the street here.” She points in front of her building, leading him to a bench inside.

He sits himself down and finds her looking down thoughtfully at him.

“Actually, you’re soaking wet,” she says. “Just come up with me. I’ll get you a towel to dry off.”

“Uh,” he hesitates, but his body stands back up under her command.

“Come on,” she calls to him, slapping the up button to the elevator. The elevator dings and she slips inside, keeping her hand between the doors to keep it open.

And of course, like any lovesick person, he follows right along.

As the elevator doors shut, he finds himself again alone with her. He looks over at her, catching her gaze, and she smiles at him. He returns the smile.

Half-soaked and her hair wind-and-rain swept, she still looks like the most beautiful thing he’s seen in ages. The tops of her shoulders and sleeves are drenched in rain, and some parts of the hem of her dress have rain spots over them — but her bright smile reaches her twinkling eyes and she looks like she’s never been happier.

He has the strongest urge to just rush over to the other side of the elevator and kiss her, but he knows better. He knows he shouldn’t read into the fact that she spent hours with him over dinner, even helping him with his chopsticks at some point. He knows he shouldn’t read into the fact that she held his hand before running out into the rain or that she’s inviting her up to her place.

God, he likes her so much that he’s not thinking clear. All of this — everything from her okay to dinner to her driving him to his apartment — she isn’t doing any of this because she likes him, he’s thoroughly convinced. She’s just doing all of this out of the goodness of her heart. She’s a doctor, after all! She chose a career dedicating her entire life to helping people.

She’s the prime example of an incredibly friendly, undoubtedly selfless, and utterly perfect person — none of everything tonight could really mean anything and he really shouldn’t kiss her, as much as he wants to.

Besides, they’re just friends, right?

He breathes in slowly, watching the numbers climb up to the eighth floor.

The elevator dings again, and he follows behind her as she walks down the hallway, stopping in front of an apartment. Her keys jangle as she turns her keys, and he hears a faint mewl coming from the other side of the door.

“You have a cat?” he asks her, as she leans against her door to swing it open.

“Yes,” she says, immediately crouching down to pick up the cat that comes up to her as she enters. She turns to him and rocks the cat up and down in her arms. “Her name is Blue.”

“Blue,” he repeats, finding himself with nothing else to say.

“You like cats?” she asks him, slipping behind him to close the door behind him.

“Yeah…” he says.

Allura smiles and then carefully drops Blue back to the ground, who approaches him curiously. He puts down the umbrella, putting out his hand to the cat’s nose. Blue sniffs him cautiously, before rubbing her face over his fingers. Allura watches their interactions for a moment.

“She likes you,” she observes.

Shiro looks up at Allura, continuing to pet her cat. He smiles up at her. “I like her, too.”

Allura smiles.

“I’ll get you a towel,” she says, slipping away to her bathroom.

Shiro lifts her head to look around. He doesn’t know what to think of it — it’s about as normal of an apartment as he would expect any apartment to be. There’s a few extra-large textbooks scattered over her couch, a leftover mug on her coffee table, and a small scattering of plants on the window.

“Here,” she says, coming back to him with a white hand towel.

He stands, taking it with his left hand and one-handedly dries his head. “Thanks,” he says, when finished.

She snorts when seeing his messed-up hair. She takes the towel, reaching up to smooth out his hair, then rubs the towel over his shoulder, carefully around his neck.

He realizes he’s holding his breath, watching her so close to him. When she takes the towel back, she looks up at him.

He could kiss her.

She smiles. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

He swallows, nodding. “Yeah,” he agrees, watching her walk off to drop the towel in the bathroom.

This is the second time he’s thought to kiss her tonight.

He has to stop thinking this. That, or get home right away before he risks doing anything stupid.

“I’m surprised you walked this far,” she says, pulling up to his apartment building.

She looks at the time. It’s late. Incredibly late.

“It must have taken you a quite a while if it took us fifteen minutes to get here,” she continues.

He shrugs. “Some doctor I know told me walking is great for the cardiovascular system.”

She smirks. “A good doctor?”

“Oh, the best one I know,” he replies.

He watches her eyes lighten as she takes the top of the steering wheel with both hands, leaning over and tilting her head onto her hands, giving him a tired but content smile.

He needs to go. It’s been a long night.

He looks at the umbrella at his feet. “Here,” he says. “I’m leaving the umbrella with you. Thanks so much for everything. You really didn’t need to do all this.”

“Take the umbrella so you can at least stay dry getting to your door,” she insists.

“Alright,” he says, placing it between his knees. He starts to turn his body to open the door with his left hand, but he pauses, looking up back to her.

She looks back at him, quietly, still leaned against her steering wheel.

A beat.

“Um, thank you,” he says.

She smiles. “Of course.”

He nods, and then turns back to the car door, opening it and slipping himself out of the car, snapping open the umbrella and holding the stem between his shoulder and neck as he waves goodbye to her and shuts the car door again.

Should he have kissed her?

He should have kissed her. He should have fucking kissed her.

Damn it, Shiro. You missed your chance.

No, it’s okay, he reminds himself. This would have been the third time he thought to kiss her tonight, and he’s not supposed to be even thinking about kissing her.

“Hey, Shiro?” she calls out to him, rolling down her car window.

His heart stops.

“Yeah?” He turns to her, unable to resist. He holds the umbrella out between them, ducking down slightly to meet her level.

She smiles. “I had a really good time with you today,” she says.

“Yeah,” he agrees, returning the smile. “Me too.”

“And keep the umbrella,” she insists.

Before he can protest, she adds, with a wink, “You might need it the next time you take me out.”

notes: they are literally just awkward nerds but at least allura’s pulling through at the end, hah. also I’ve definitely put in a bunch of random tropes in there so forgive me.

#shallura #shiro x allura #shallura positivity #shiro #allura #voltron #—shallura #—voltron #—follow up

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cryoreal · 7 years

Text

A quick little ficlet for @jonxsansafanfiction All Hallow’s Week Day 7 - free day.

“You didn’t dress up.”

Sansa didn’t bother looking up from her laptop screen, perched on the edge of her seat at her desk. She thought she’d dressed up fine. She wore a gorgeous cold shoulder dress, a pair of leggings underneath for warmth and black flats with a bow on them, her hair braided back neatly. “Am I supposed to look nicer than this? It’s just a staff party, for Gods’ sake.”

“But it’s Halloween.”

She finally glanced up from where she was inputting grades to see Jon in a dark suit, complete with eyeliner smudged around his lids and blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Oh, my gods.”

“I thought we were gonna go together. You mentioned a vampire and his victim and…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, and she couldn’t help but toss her head back and laugh.

“I was joking, but wow. Wow. I wish I had worn a costume now, because you look incredible.”

“I still have the eyeliner and blood, if you wanted to.”

Sansa grinned, pushing herself back from her desk. “Deal.”

She emerged from the faculty bathroom fifteen minutes later, her hair rearranged so that it fell to one side, displaying red bite marks on her neck and blood running into the collar of her dress. “How do I look?”

“Good enough to eat,” he leered at her, showing his teeth, and she fell into step next to him eagerly.

These parties were normally boring and idle, but the school really went all out for Halloween, the break room decorated in fake spiderwebs and pumpkins. Jon fit right in with the rest of the costume-clad teachers, and Sansa less so, but she had a good time regardless.

She was considering spiking her cup of punch with the tiny shot bottles she kept in her purse when Jon grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the room into the hallway adjoining it, forcing her to slam the bottles back in her purse before he outed her to the other teachers.

He pressed a finger to her lips, his body pushing hers into the wall, and she stared up at him, bright-eyed and confused.

“Ygritte’s here,” he breathed.

“What? Why?”

“I knew she was dating one of the office staff here, but I didn’t think she’d show up. Help me, Sansa, please.”

She placed one hand on his chest, hoping to calm his rapid breathing. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Pretend to be my girlfriend, of course.”

Sansa rolled her eyes then. “Jon, everyone here knows we’re just friends.”

“I know, but go with it? Please? Maybe no one will tell her.”

And so they slipped back into the room, hand in hand, immediately met with the stares of every single person in the room.

It was a long, long moment before they all turned back and restarted their conversations, but Margaery made her way over to them, dressed as a very scantily clad cat, a wicked grin on her face.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what, Marg?” Sansa asked, exasperation plain in her tone.

“I knew you guys had been fucking this whole time.”

“Margaery!”

“You’re too obvious. I’m glad you’re finally getting around to telling the rest of the world, though.”

“We’re not fucking,” Jon finally choked out, his face beet red. “We’re just… just dating.”

“Uh huh, sure. ‘Just dating’ doesn’t look that embarrassed.” When he began to sputter at her, Margaery held her finger up with a tut. “Don’t fret, lovelies. We’re all very happy for you, just don’t start making out in front of us all.”

“We would never!” Sansa protested, her hand sweaty in Jon’s, and the brunette cackled happily before winding her way back to the other side of the room.

“Do they all think we’ve been… doing it this whole time?” Jon muttered in her ear, his back pressed against a wall, and Sansa laughed weakly.

“I guess it’s better for today if they do.”

She turned then, his face still red as a tomato, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, right on top of the blood. “So that we convince Ygritte, of course.”

“Right, right. Ygritte.” He shook his head a little, and Sansa glanced back over at the other redhead, dressed in a tight black bodysuit with a gun strapped to her hip, who was shooting daggers in her direction. “I think she saw us.”

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“It was,” he mumbled, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

They held hands and exchanged hugs awkwardly for the rest of the night, and right before Sansa was about to claim an excuse of needing to finish grading papers, Ygritte wound her way over to the two of them, a strange smile on her face.

“So, this is Jon’s new toy. I’m Ygritte.” She extended a hand to Sansa, who shook it gingerly.

“Ygritte, this is Sansa. We’ve been dating for about a month now.” Jon offered, deftly sliding his arm around her waist.

Sansa leaned in and looked up at him adoringly. “Has it only been a month? It feels like so much longer.” She tilted her head so that her cheek was pressed against his neck, looking at Ygritte from below his chin. “I’m sorry, Jon’s never mentioned you before.”

Ygritte visibly stiffened. “We dated for three years.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to be so rude! I’m sure you were such a big part of his past. I don’t know why he wouldn’t have mentioned you before.” Sansa beamed at her, watching her jaw tick with anger, and then reached up to pat Jon on the chest. “Dear, we need to get going. Remember, I told Jeyne I would pick her daughter up from ballet.”

“Right! Of course. I’ll see you around, Ygritte.” Jon waved halfheartedly as Sansa dragged him out of the room, barely containing her laughter until they had turned two corners and the door to the parking lot was in sight.

“Did you… did you see… her face?” Sansa wheezed out, still dragging him along.

“She looked so pissed!” Jon crowed, stumbling slightly as she reached her car. “Thank you again, for doing that for me.”

“Anytime,” she whispered, reaching up to wipe away a smeared black line from his cheek.

“Do you mean that?” he whispered, his hands coming forward to cage her against the side of her car, and Sansa shuddered.

“I do.”

Jon leaned down and pressed his lips to her neck, gently scraping his teeth over the bite marks she had penciled onto her skin. “I’m going to hold you to it.”

She was panting slightly, her head tilted back to give him better access, when he pressed the gentlest of kisses to her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch.”

He backed away slowly, a bashful grin on his face, and Sansa could do nothing but run her fingers over her cheek where he had kissed her, her eyes never leaving his.

He was almost all the way to his car when she finally broke out of her trance and chased after him, catching up right as he started to open his door and slamming it shut.

“Jon-” she barely got out before he spun next to her and pressed his lips to hers, a quick, bruising kiss that left her breathless and wanting, her lips and cheeks sticky with the fake blood.

“What are you doing tonight?”

A slow grin spread over her face. “Need help getting that blood off?”

#jonxsansaff #all hallows week #day 7 #Jon x Sansa #actuallyjonsa #friends to lovers

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dovechim · 7 years

Text

tongue tied

19 “can I hold your hand?” and 37 “can I kiss you? + namjoon + harry potter au

part of a request from anon for the 100 ways to say ily drabble game!

➾ Summary: Namjoon is down with a very unique curse, but it turns out to be a blessing in disguise.

➾ word count: 2.6k, fluff

“_____, it’s Namjoon, again.” Jimin’s frantic voice lights up your fireplace, and you stop in the middle of your essay, quill poised in the air. You really, really have to finish this last sentence before getting distracted, but the growing heat of the flames emanating from the fireplace draws your attention insistently.

“I swear, what is it this time?” You turn to face the brief outline of Jimin’s face in the flames, and even though it’s blurry due to each and every leap of the embers, concern is etched deeply into the Hufflepuff’s features.

“There’s no time, we’re in Potions now! Hurry, please!!!” The flames die down before you have a chance to protest, to ask if this is really a life or death issue. Instead you heave a sigh and gather your blue robe around your shoulders, already having an inkling of the disaster that lay ahead. Namjoon and Potions is not a good combination, you’d learned over the past 4 years. He may be the brightest wizard of his age, excelling in topics like Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but throw him an intensive hands on subject like Potions and Kim Namjoon is equivalent to a troll in a china shop.

In fact, he’s so bad at Potions that he got held back a year, so he’s the only fifth year student taking Potions at fourth year level. As you start to near the dungeons where the Potions classrooms are, you hear a boisterous voice vehemently protest against a chorus of accusations, and you already know even before entering that Jeon Jeongguk has a part to play in this mess. Bracing yourself for the ordeal ahead, you fling open the heavy wooden doors and immediately duck for cover.

Instead, four confused pairs of eyes land on you, and you open your eyes cautiously from your position on the floor.

“Are you gonna help us or what?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow in disapproval at your cowering form. Stupid Gryffindors and their leap first, think later mentality.

“Last time you called me, I got attacked by a projectile of green slime, courtesy of Jeon Jeongguk over here,” you send him a brief glare.

“That was one time noona!” Jeongguk pipes up in protest, his dark brows furrowing in indignance as he shrugs his emerald robes onto his broad shoulders.

“Wait, I think we’re forgetting what’s at stake here,” Jimin places a hand on Jeongguk’s chest. “Namjoon-“

Oh right. Something happened to Namjoon, which is why you’re here. You whip your head around to survey the tall, blonde who has remained silent so far, only to see him sitting calmly on his bench, his dark blue robes pulled close around him. Other than his slightly ruffled blonde hair, and glasses askew on his face, there seems to be nothing wrong with him. His expression is slightly dazed, and he’s staring straight ahead at the blackboard with the intensity he reserves for books and notes, except there’s nothing written on the blackboard in front of him. You reach for him cautiously, adjusting his horn rimmed glasses on his nose bridge, brushing his bangs from his eyes and casting a brief glance over him. “Joon, you okay?”

“He’s alright,” Jeongguk snickers from the side. “Or should I say, he’s fine.”

“What? I don’t get it, why isn’t he saying anything? Merlin’s beard, you didn’t accidentally mute him did you??” You turn round to face Jeongguk with a vengeance, grasping his collar. “I swear if you did something irreversible to him I’ll hex your balls off…”

“No I didn’t I swear!” Jeongguk’s eyes grow wide and all traces of laughter on his face immediately disappear in the face of your anger. Which is a joke really, since he’s almost a head and a half taller than you and built on pure muscle, and while even the sixth years are scared to death by him, a single glare from you is enough to send Jeongguk slithering back into his slimy hole. “I just left him alone stirring the pot for a second while I was practicing the incantation, and then…”

“And then?”

“Then… here he is.”

“Merlin, how could you even leave Namjoon alone for a second in Potions? I thought you were supposed to be the one overlooking everything, is that not why you were moved up a year?” You relinquish your grip on him, and instead run a hand through your hair in frustration. These incidents, though not uncommon, have never been as puzzling as it is now. In the past it was relatively easy to identify what went wrong and the relevant counter spell, but now there seems to be nothing wrong with Namjoon. At least, not as far as you can see.

“Um, the thing is,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, finally breaking his staring contest with the blackboard. He fiddles with the buttons on his robe awkwardly.

“What is it Joon?” You’ve never seen him this embarrassed before, and you automatically feel the need to comfort him. He’s not the most charming person, and he can be kind of awkward and shy at times, but his fumbling ways are adorable and an utter contrast to how incredibly intelligent he is. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, putting pressure where you know he often gets sore because of how much he studies.

“He can only talk in monosyllables,” Jimin finally blurts out, and you see the blush reignite on Namjoon’s cheeks.

“Wait, pardon?” You blink in confusion.

“Wait, yes, pardon, no,” Jeongguk clarifies helpfully. “So instead of pardon, he would have to say ‘what?’ instead. Y’know, like normal people.”

“I know what monosyllables means you idiot,” you huff in his direction. “What I meant is, how did this happen? What kind of potion was that? I’ve never even heard about it before.”

“Um, it wasn’t really in the textbook...”

“Jeon Jeongguk!!!”

“Noona, calm down,” Jimin has to physically restrain you to keep you from lunging at the raven haired boy. “The important thing now is to figure out how to help Namjoon-hyung.”

And he’s right. Namjoon has never been very confident or outspoken before, but now it seems like it’s even worse as he won’t even look you in the eye anymore. You swallow back a lump in your throat as you watch him avoid eye contact with the four of you.

“Come on Joon, let’s get back to the dormitories, you should get some rest,” you place an arm around his shoulders, encouraging him to stand. As he slowly gets back onto his feet, your arms slide down around his waist, and you urge him toward the exits of the classroom. “It’s okay Joonie, I’ll figure it out somehow. Leave it to me.”

He gives you a strained smile, but the feeling of your arm around his waist like this makes his heart skip a beat, and he has even more trouble articulating his words, never mind the stupid curse Jeongguk’s struck him with. “Thanks, I appre-“

Fuck. He’s just choked on his words like an absolute moron, and he wants to run off and bury his head into the sand like those ostriches do whenever they’re in trouble. But you only grace him with your angelic smile, as you mumble the password (fuck, he’s gonna have trouble getting in and out of the dormitories too isn’t he?) to the portrait guarding the Ravenclaw quarters. You walk him all the way to the base of the stairs leading up into the boys’ dorms, and tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.

He’s never been so glad to be tongue-tied before.

“So, can anyone solve this problem for me?” Your Ancient Runes teacher gives a half-hearted glance towards the rows and rows of sleepy students, a name already on the tip of her tongue. But when her wizened gaze falls upon the first row and fails to see Kim Namjoon’s hand waving in the air, she does a double take at the class.

Beside you, Namjoon is literally trying not to die in his seat. You watch as he has the problem all worked out on the piece of parchment paper in front of him, and as he struggles to tame the instinct to shoot his hand straight in the air. The rest of the class seems a little perturbed that an answer hasn’t been volunteered by now, and some of the students turn to survey Namjoon with a look of surprise. Namjoon bites his lip in an effort to remain calm.

You okay? You mouth to him, but he’s obviously not.

A tense moment passes before the professor shrugs and writes down the answer on the board, and Namjoon visibly relaxes in his seat. This won’t do, he decides. He needs to do something to physically restrain himself, or he’ll end up making a fool out of himself in front of the whole class, especially you. With a deep breath, he taps you gingerly on the arm to get your attention.

“Hey I know this is weird but… caniholdyourhand?” His words come out in a rush of anxiety and mortification, fully expecting you to scoff at him and change tables. Namjoon realises that he didn’t make himself clear, that it sounds like he’s trying to hit on you, which to be honest, he is, but he doesn’t want to come off as a creep. You look a little confused, and he prays to Merlin that it’s because of the utter strangeness of the sudden request, and not because the thought of holding hands with him physically puts you off.

“So that I won’t raise my hand. When she asks…” His voice trails off, struggling to make his explanation logical given the damn curse. Understanding dawns on your face and you reach to grab his hand, and only then does he realise how small your hands are as compared to his. How is it that he’s been friends with you for almost his whole life and has never noticed this? Maybe from now on he should stop studying books and study you instead.

Your touch alone is enough to make him forget about the anxiety of being called on in class, and when you start absently rubbing circles into his palm, his heartrate speeds up as if he’s a seeker who’s just spotted the snitch in the last 10 minutes of a game. Not that he’s the sporty type, but that’s how he imagines how it would feel like.

Maybe this curse isn’t so bad after all.

“Where are you going? I thought you didn’t have patrols on Wednesdays,” your roommate Nayeon says absently as she reclines on her bunk, twirling her wand in one hand and a strand of hair in the other.

“Oh, I switched last minute with one of the other Prefects,” you shrug on your robe nonchalantly, thankful for the excuse. “Don’t wait up, I’ll be back late!”

The corridors are deserted, with the occasional stir of the portraits that line it as the light from the tip of your wand illuminates the way. Hastily muttering an apology, you extinguish the light at the sight of the Library, relying solely on memory to guide you the rest of the way. The doors are locked, of course, since it’s after hours now, but that doesn’t stop you as you unlock it with a swish and flick of your wand, and soon you’re making your way to the Restricted Section.

The bookshelves tower over you, and accompanied with the darkness and silence of the Library, it’s enough to instil a sense of urgency in you as you light up your wand again and start searching the section about verbal curses. Just as you pull out the appropriate book and leaf through its dusty pages, struggling with the numerous vines that are entangled over the book’s cover and spine, there’s a faint sound of footsteps from a few rows down.

Your heart is in your throat as you frantically try to flip the pages as quietly as possible until you chance upon the counter-spell that you need, and even more as you try to memorise the complicated incantation even as the footsteps grow nearer and nearer. A vision of getting caught by Filch and his cat spurs you on, and you close the book gently to slide it back into its place on the shelf, but-

“Hey.” It’s an awkward, monosyllabled whisper that can only come from one person.

“For the love of Merlin, Namjoon,” you breathe out, exhaling panic as you bring your lighted wand in between the two of you to make sure that it’s really him. You realise that he can’t even light his wand because of the curse. “How did you get all the way here?”

His face illuminated by the gentle light of your wand, he shakes his head in answer. Noticing the book in your arms, he gestures towards it. “I was here to… find a cure too. Is this it?”

Up close like this you can see every single feature of his, from the warm caramel of his eyes to the dimples in his cheeks that become more prominent every time he smiles, and even when he speaks. In the narrow aisle of the Restricted Section with him almost pressed up against you, you suddenly become hyperaware of how tall he is, and the way you come up to his chest makes him exude a sense of security you’ve never felt before.

“Yeah, want to do it now? I memorised the incantation already,” you tell him, trying your best not to be distracted by his messy hair that looks as if he just rolled out of bed, and the warmth of his body that chases away the chill of the library. He nods in answer, and you end the illumination spell on your wand, placing a hand on his chest and closing your eyes to help you concentrate.

“Loquela restituet.” There’s a brief, evergreen glow that lights up the tip of your wand for a few seconds, and then it’s gone. You open your eyes to find Namjoon staring at you intensely, his eyes fixed onto yours and you can’t find the strength to look away.

“Did it work?” You whisper breathlessly as his gaze travels down to your lips, and he’s never looked at you like this before.

“Can I kiss you?” Your heart sinks at his monosyllable answer- it must not have worked, maybe you pronounced something wrongly, maybe it was the wrong spell- but then he moves in closer, and you just want to feel his lips against your own, so you nod.

Namjoon’s lips are soft, and he may seem shy and awkward, but damn does he know how to kiss. He cradles the back of your neck gently with a large hand, and his lips glide over yours in a way that makes your knees weak. There’s a faint taste of pumpkin juice that lingers upon his lips, but it’s the taste of Namjoon himself, that lures you in further and further until you have to pull apart for a gasp of air.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” Namjoon bites his lip as he studies your expression, his hands around your waist holding you close to him. Your eyes widen in shock at his admission, before realising that it worked.

“Namjoon, me too, but wait the spell worked!” You grasp the front of his robes to pull him in closer. “Say something else.”

“Something else,” a smirk plays upon his lips, lips that you just kissed, and you smack him on the chest. Trust Namjoon to be a dork at a moment like this, but a sense of relief pervades you and you relax in his arms.

“You’re a dork.”

“Dork? I prefer idiot, stupid, or bumbling fool,” he whispers into your ear. “Or even better, boyfriend.”

#btswriters #kwritersnet #bangtanbookclub #kim namjoon #bts #rap monster #namjoon fluff #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts drabbles

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neokollection · 7 years

Text

Too Much - Jaehyun [2]

Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5

A/N: I ended up writing four more parts... Sorry that they literally move way too fast, it’s fiction okay YES, I know this is super cliche, let me live - Admin Finn

Word Count: 1,248

“I called to have it cleaned up,” Jaehyun murmured, sifting through a drawer.

He glanced over his broad shoulder, his dark gaze meeting your own.

“Tomorrow,” he assured, “It’ll be safe for you to return tomorrow.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your dry lips, your fingers fidgeting with themselves, the leather sofa doing little to comfort you.

“Would you like a drink?”

You watched as he disarmed himself, sealing the malice in the drawer before him.

“I-I don’t drink,” you informed, your gaze settling upon the many bottles of liquor neatly arranged upon the counter.

“Not even water?”

He grinned, his gaze softening as his smooth cheeks rose. You cast your gaze to the rug, nodding solemnly.

“Thank you,” you muttered.

Silently, he poured you a glass of water, the ice clinking against the glass. He placed it upon the coffee table before you, awkwardly shifting his weight.

“You can stay in my room-”

You gave him an incredulous glance. You scoffed to yourself, upset by his sleazy remark.

“I’ll stay out here,” he finished, glancing at the sofa.

Your tensed expression softened. You uttered your gratitude briefly, avoiding his gaze. Jaehyun felt incredibly awkward. Never had a woman, let alone a stranger, spent the night with him; it was far too dangerous. Yet, he assessed you were harmless, glancing at your petite figure as you tentatively sipped on the glass of water.

The horrid images of the evening rewound in your mind, your frantic thoughts clawing to get out as they shrieked in horror. You stood from the bed, closing the curtains, admitting it was lights from the streets that prohibited your slumber. You turned the clock upon the nightstand from the bed, the blaring neon numbers distracting you from your solace. Clumsily, you clambered onto the mattress, tossing the sheets over yourself once more in an attempt to quell your mind. However, you were unable to silence your mind, too many questions pressing. You stood, unsteady steps tentatively shuffling through the dark. Hesitantly, you opened the door, glancing around the dimly lit room in search of the sofa by the window. Jaehyun peaked over the arm of the leather sofa, standing quickly as he went to you.

“What is it?”

Honestly, you were astounded he was also awake, the clock upon a nearby wall reading 2:41.

“I-” you stumbled over your words, “I can’t sleep,” you admitted.

Your vision grew hot and bleary and you felt the well of tears behind your glassy gaze would spill over. You sniffled in an attempt to clear your conscious, the soft sniffle sounding more broken than you intended. A soft exhale escaped Jaehyun, his hand hovering over your shoulder, unsure if he should initiate contact.

“Come on,” he coaxed, guiding you back to the bedroom, his hand settling upon your shoulder gently.

“Would you like other clothes?”

His voice was soft, barely a whisper as he guided you to the edge of the bed, glancing at the clothes you still wore. He felt awful for you, your soft innocence corrupted as you witnessed a gruesome murder. He ran a hand through his soft hair as he let out a gentle sigh.

“Would you please stay with me?”

Your voice cracked, your dry lips trembling. Jaehyun felt his throat constrict, swallowing thickly as he gave an awkward nod.

“If it would help you.”

A muffled sob sounded through the room, your hair falling to cover your features as you tried to control the sobs that racked through your figure. Exasperated by your sudden outburst, Jaehyun knelt before you, collecting your hands in his own.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, his warm hands smoothing over your own tenderly.

He stood, tugging you from the sheets and into a gentle embrace.

“I’m here.”

His hands smoothed over your tresses, his heart’s pace suddenly quickening. He marveled at your delicate frame, your lithe fingers clenching his shirt; his heart raced in anticipation with each broken cry, his heart aching at the pitiful sound. An urge surged within him to embrace you, to protect you from all evil, even himself.

Your shallow and unsteady breaths halted as he collected you in his arms, swiftly kneeling upon the plush mattress. Gingerly, he placed you upon the sheets, his figure settling aside your own. His soft lips murmured against your hair, his broad chest pressing to your trembling figure. His arm draped itself over your waist, his hands fumbling to find your own. You quieted at his comforting presence, letting your cheek press to the damp pillow at ease as he continued to murmur gentle assurances.

“Everything will be normal tomorrow,” he assured, “Your water had Lytle in it, you’ll forget everything-”

You shot up at his words, distancing yourself from him.

“You drugged me?!”

“It’s not-” he tried, unsure how to convey himself, “It’s only to wipe your memory,” he assured, “You saw too much and it was my fault-”

“Bastard!”

Your voice rose as irritation broiled inside you.

“You’ll forget ever seeing anything and your shop will be cleaned up,” he promised, “I’ll take you there in the morning-”

“That was your plan?!”

His plan was to tell you when you awoke in a stranger’s bed, that you agreed to go home with him after meeting at a bar, but passed out after one too many drinks.

You slumped to the sheets as he remained silent.

“I don’t want to forget-” you muttered.

Astounded, he glanced at you, bewildered by your sudden confession.

“I don’t want to forget you,” you corrected.

“You don’t even know me-” he remarked, his gaze softening.

“I want to,” you barked, interrupting him.

Jaehyun felt his heart seize, his gaze momentarily meeting your own. You stumbled past him, to the bathroom. His steps weren’t far behind yours, yanking you up as you knelt before the toilet.

“Don’t,” he commanded, his voice dangerous.

He tugged you from the bedroom, dragging you to the small kitchen nestled between two vast windows. He released you, searching through the cupboards in a frenzy. He withdrew an unmarked bottle from the cupboard, unscrewing the cap. He tugged you before him, his hand gripping your jaw as he brought the bottle to your lips.

“What is that?!” you managed, struggling in his hold.

“Drink it,” he ordered, pressing the vial to your lips.

You refused, pursing your lips as you squirmed in his grip. Exasperated, he brought the vial to his own lips, you lips parting in astonishment, your brows knitting together in bewilderment.

“What are you-”

He silenced you, interrupting your inquiry. His lips pressed to your own, his bruising hold of your jaw commanding your obedience. The saline syrup transferred to your tongue, a muffled shout escaping you as you repeatedly hit him. Your fist pounded against his shoulder, your hand colliding with his cheek momentarily. He broke away from you, his unsteady breaths echoing.

“It’s the antidote,” he confessed, wiping the remnants of the serum from his lips before caressing his cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“There wasn’t much time until it would have proven ineffective,” he muttered.

You blushed at his sudden confession, touching the sticky remnants of the substance upon your lips.

“M-My first kiss,” you marveled, aghast.

His gaze avoided your own, for it was his own too.

“I won’t forget?”

“You won’t,” he assured, dropping his hand.

Tentatively, you reached toward him.

“I’m sorry; I went too far.”

“I am too,” he uttered, brushing past you.

Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5

#idk wut that was...i just wanted them to kiss ok #im the most impatient person in the world #nct series #jaehyun series #jaehyun #nct #nct u #nct 127 #jaehyun imagine #nct imagine #nct scenario #jaehyun scenario #nct au #jaehyun au

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velcr0kitty · 7 years

Text

What If? (Pt.3)

Title: What If? (Pt.3) Summary: You indulge yourself in a harmless passion, following a train of thought, but when Mikey catches a glimpse it may not be so harmless after all. Author: Velcr0Kitty Characters: Mikey x Reader Word Count: 1750 Warnings: Angst, fluff, body image… issues? I guess? Fighting Author’s Notes: IT kEePS GRoWING D: welcome to the final chapter. Take a fucking sip babes and strap in.

Part 1

Part 2

Mikey’s hands won’t stop trembling. Every ounce of curiosity and joy in his body had crystallized to a dull, chilling throb caught in his throat. At first Mikey thought the man might have been a friend of yours from before they took you in. He wondered when you had gone to see him, and be gone long enough to draw him. Then, slowly, the similarities trickled through him like ice water. Nothing big, just the pose and the smile. The clear love of 90’s fashion. This drawing in particular had confused him until he saw the title.

What if? - Mikey

It winded him. He was fully and truly confused. He couldn’t concentrate. All the focus he had was on the man on the page. His head grew cloudy and his heart jumped into his throat.

---------------------------------

Raph’s thunderous steps fade as you enter the room more and more. You cautiously approach the moody turtle. Mikey’s back has been fully turned to you as he leans on the wall. He crosses his arms and lets out a small childish huff, looking over his shoulder a little.

“Well?” he quietly spits. He waits a moment in the empty silence. The stool groans as he whips around to face you, his hurt and anger rising again. “Well?” The venom in his voice makes you flinch.

---------------------------------

A single long green finger ran over the man and Mikey felt himself reach that unmistakable lightheadedness that comes right before you cry. His chest twitched inwards as the first small sob escaped involuntarily. Ever since he was a kid he had been incredibly insecure about being a sentient freaking turtle and it was a soft spot for him and his brothers. All of them wish they were human every now and again, but Mikey had finally convinced himself that someone else- and most importantly he- could learn to love him as he is. After he and Y/N spoke for hours in deep and emotional conversation he found himself not being so hard on himself. When he sat down and had to either sit on the edge of the seat or almost lay down because of his bulky shell, instead of mentally cursing himself out for being so large he started cheering himself on cause that size is what took down Donnie the other day in training. When he sees himself in reflections he’s stopped quickly turning away, and instead studying it, testing expressions. He had hope. Every drop of self-doubt leaked back into his pores while he locked eyes with the man he wishes he was.

---------------------------------

At your flinch, Mikeys bravado cracks, just a little. As he looks at your small face and your quivering lip he realizes that you were legitimately frightened of him, even if only for a second. He was a monster. A frustrated growl escapes him. He runs his hands over his face then locks his fingers behind his head, turning away from you. You attempt to compose yourself. Mend the damage, lessen the blow.

“Mikey,” you start, unsure how to continue. “Mikey, I’m sorry.” He whips towards you, jaw set. Fire swirls in his eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it, but I know it hurt you.” Guilt tangles with the fire. You start pacing and your hands twitch and move with your words. “Especially after what you told me, I never should've even thought that shit. I convinced myself it was a natural thought to have but that’s not fair to you.” Guilt wins. “I really really care about you and I’d never want to hurt you. Ever.” You start tearing up and your words flow faster and faster. “Mikey, you’re my best friend and I hate that I hurt you but I hope you can forgive me.” Faster still. “Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou, please don’t hate me, M.”

You stop pacing and continue to ramble apologies, while beginning to cry. Any resentment Mikey harboured melted away. He thought you didn’t care about him, that you wanted him to change before you could care, but now that he rationally thought about it he knew that was ridiculous.

By this point you are actually blubbering. You hate hurting people and fucking up and confrontation and this is all three. Somewhere in your messy jumble of words you said you would leave him alone so you started to hobble away, aiming for the ice cream in the fridge. A large hand clamps onto your shoulder and spins you around. Mikey hugs you with everything he has while you slowly raise your arms to hug him back. He doesn’t hate me? Both of your minds are reeling. You sob into his chest, gripping him as hard as you can. One hand below your shoulder blades, the other on the back of your head, he shoves you deeper into his chest and rests his face on the top of your head. Mikey breathes you in deeply, his head swimming. Relief laced with shampoo and vanilla overwhelm him until he too is crying. You stay like this for a while.

Once you both stopped crying you awkwardly left saying you’d give him space. He didn’t want you to go, but he pulled himself together and watched you leave. He had crawled into bed and laid awake until Raph returned, climbing in above him. You skulked off to your room bumping into Donnie on the way, who gave you a quick sympathetic hug and went on his way. A hollow feeling crept over you. You put away the art supplies you had on your bed and rolled to the center pulling a blanket over yourself. A minute or two pass and there’s a knock on your door.

“Um, Y/N?” Donnie’s quiet voice carries through the room. You barely peek your head over the blanket to shoot him a look to see him juggling two tubs of ice cream, a bunch of pillows and a laptop. “I figured you could use some company.” He cautiously pads into the room. Quietly, you sit up. Donnie drops everything on the end of your bed and starts setting everything up, eventually settling in beside you. You both sat stiffly next to each other until you moved to cuddle into him. He wraps a comforting arm around you and gently kisses the top of your head and presses play on the movie. You were fine for a few minutes until the stress of the day hot you like a ton of bricks and you started to cry again. Crying sucks. I’ve never fucking cried so much. Donnie rubs your shoulder as you cry yourself to sleep.

It took a few days, but eventually everything between you and Mikey were back to normal. You two were on the couch surrounded by snacks, playing Mario kart and teasing each other. “No, no no nO NO! YOU BITCH” You side check Mikey while a string of curses fall out. A hearty laugh rolls out of him and you join him in giggling. Mikey kept a solid eye on you in his peripheral while you laugh. It makes him melt. You shine in the tv light and Mikey loses all regard for the game, instead watching you. Your eyes flick back and forth between the game and Mikey after noticing his character had gotten severely worse. “Dude, DUDE, you’re losing! MIKEY!”

The race results roll across the screen and you turn to look at him like he punched himself in the face. Concerned, confused, and a little giggly. “What the fuck was that?” He chuffed with a smirk and turned his gaze to his lap.

“Hey, Y/N?” His voice was small, making you pause.

“What up? Are you ok?” He chuckles and laughingly shakes his head.

“Yeah Angelcakes, I’m good.” His body stiffens and tenses as he mentally rehearses. “But uh… ok, Dollface, I gotta just do something real quick, ok?” Your eyebrows crease and your concern only grows.

“Uh, of course? Do what you gotta, man.” You study him for a few moments, waiting. He looks up at you, steels his nerve, and grabs your hand turning to face you. Your clueless self sits in confusion waiting. He looks like he’s in pain. Geez if he wanted some contact he only had to ask. You smile warmly, thinking you’ve figured it out and go to hug him. With miscommunication thicker than dense jungle, Mikey’s nerves slip away thinking you’ve taken initiative. You both close your eyes.

Oh. You think.

OH.

Warm. Your face flushes, feeling the heat of the fireworks in your mind. Mikey’s hand snakes to your side and gingerly rests on your waist shooting familiar electricity up his arm as he softly kisses you. You don’t move for a moment, stunned. Mikey’s mind raced thinking he had done something wrong until you slowly brought your free hand to cup his jaw. Your thumb rubs down his cheek and a finger traces patterns where his neck meets his head. Because of this, a small tremor runs through him and rest in his lap, leaving him warm and fuzzy. The large hand on yours tenderly tightens and you turn it upwards, lacing your fingers as best you can. An enchanting fire takes hold of both of you as the kiss deepens.and deepens until you both stop to breathe. Your mind catches up to your body and, after a second and some staggering breaths, your eyes pop open. Mikey’s eyes had opened immediately but his brain won’t catch him for weeks. Your gazes finally meet. His face splits into the most dazzling, soft, dopey, sweet smile you had ever seen that warms you deeply.

“Haaaaoooohk” Mikey mutters under his breath, his wide eyes looking stunned.

“Oh,” you sigh. A sweet moment in the silence then you both break into a laughing fit. In between giggles he slowly lifts your hand, only barely breaking eye contact, and presses it to his lips with a cheeky grin. You both quiet and continue holding hands for a minute.

“That’s gonna happen like waay more often right? Cause I want that to happen way more often.” You crack up again, just a bit.

“Um, duh.”

“Heh, ok. Good.” he states, with a trace of arrogance in his voice. “... Hey Y/N?”

“Mmm?”

“I’ve never seen someone draw before, could I-” he trails off for a moment, “-maybe watch you do it sometime?” He tries (and fails) to hide his excitement and anticipation. This is the cutest fucking thing.

“Of course.”

Tags: @another-tmnt-writer @girl-next-door-writes @sarazzprime @jam-jar2 @i-know-i-am-weird-thank-you @theclonewarss @gummiwormsandonedirection @chubbygoddess22 @jumpybox @ikindafuckedup-maybe

@pyromantic-technin @IIturner7 @bae-kage @savvy-mutant-turtle-banger your guys tags don’t seem to be working but don’t say I didn’t try

#tmnt mikey #tmnt 2014 #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt raph #mikey x reader #what if pt 3

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backseat-negan · 8 years

Text

|Long-Awaited Savior: Part Six|

Holy tension, batman. This chapter is full of it.

Check out previous chapters and the Masterlist

Characters: Negan (JDM) x female reader

Words: 2,656

Heads up: typical Negan swearing, medical wound description, a teeeeeny bit of smutty talk at the very end.

Chapter Summary: Upon returning to the Sanctuary after your injury, tensions begin to rise with Negan.

Part Six: Defiance & Hierarchy

You glared at Negan as he sat across the room from you with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his fists. His expression was neutral as his eyes followed the movements of Dr. Carson’s hands. The debridement & cleaning had hurt like hell, but now you barely felt the tugging pain of the suture as the doctor brought the edges of your skin together.

Your sloppy acrobatics had cost you your favorite pair of jeans, and the loaner sweatpants they had provided were currently pulled down to your knees due to the doctor demanding full access to the wound in your thigh. Your cheeks burned as you watched Negan’s eyes stray from the motion of Dr. Carson’s hands to the rest of your exposed legs. You cleared your throat loud enough to make him aware you were watching him, but he continued to greedily take in the view he was privy to.

Horny bastard.

Negan had told the rest of the convoy to finish the supply run and brought you back to the Sanctuary with Simon. You held your tongue during the drive back and hadn’t needed to speak when you arrived at the medical building due to Negan taking over the explanation of the incident, but at this point the shock and fear had worn off and you were downright pissed off.

“We didn’t need to come back, and you know it. We could’ve finished the fucking run.”

Negan’s gaze immediately flicked upwards to your eyes and upon seeing the fire behind them, you once again realized you had gone too far by disrespecting him in front of another member of the Sanctuary. He stood from his chair and took quick and heavy steps towards you, his feet coming to a halt mere inches from your own. You dared to raise your chin and look him in the eyes, holding his gaze despite the growing tightness in your chest. His nostrils flared as a dangerously quiet growl escaped his lips.

“You really want to fucking question my judgment right now? I’m sorry, but did you fucking forget who owns this fucking place? What gave you the goddamn ridiculous notion that you’re the one calling the fucking shots?”

You remained silent as you continued to defiantly lock eyes with him, and in retaliation, he shook his head as he sneered at you.

“Don’t forget where you would still fucking be if I hadn’t been such a stand-up guy. Or have you had it so good these last few months that you’ve already forgotten how fucked up shit was before we met? Don’t fucking take this Sanctuary for granted or I’ll see to it that you never see the inside of these walls again. And trust me, doll… you wouldn’t like what’s outside right now.”

I’m not too fucking fond of what’s inside right now either.

A wave of pain spread through your mouth as you bit down on your tongue, forcing your own silence. You couldn’t keep your hands from balling into fists or your jaw from repeatedly clenching though, and you watched Negan’s eyes evaluate your every nonverbal reaction. He chuckled darkly and once again shook his head as he turned to Dr. Carson and said, “Make sure a Savior escorts her back to her room, and if she doesn’t follow up with you like she’s supposed to, you come straight the fuck to me. She’s apparently having some difficulty following fucking directions.”

Don’t talk like I’m a child, you prick.

With a final sideways warning glare, Negan snatched up Lucille from where she had been leaning against the wall and marched to the front door, shoving it open with more force than necessary. You listened to the slowly diminishing sound of his boots thudding against the earth for a few seconds before sighing deeply in frustration as Dr. Carson continued to tug at the raw edges of your flesh in silence.

With the distraction of Negan now gone, you became uncomfortably aware of every new stitch and squirmed slightly in your chair. The doctor glanced up and gently reminded you to be as still as possible, so you resigned yourself to once again clenching your jaw and fists. You took several deep breaths to divert your focus from the pain before attempting an explanation.

“He acts like I made some royal fucking mistake, but I only ended up with this stupid cut because I was taking care of myself and keeping myself alive, like he asked us all to do.”

Dr. Carson sighed and paused his suturing process to look up at you painfully and warn, “Look, you have to know that I’m required to pass on anything you say to me to… him. Please don’t make me have to say anything. However, I’ll inform you right now that this is far more than a ‘cut.’ You sliced almost completely through the adipose layer, I had to do a full line of subcutaneous suture as well as this approximation of the skin. You’re incredibly lucky you didn’t reach the muscle, or this would be a much more difficult and lengthy recovery, not to mention the results if you had hit a major blood vessel. What I’m trying to say is… this potentially could’ve been disabling or fatal, so his anger is, realistically, fairly justified. It’s rare evidence that he gives a damn. You didn’t hear that from me though.”

Negan has a heart? That’s blatant bullshit.

The doctor dropped his head and once again busied himself with the sutures. You stared irritably at the top of his head for a moment before rolling your eyes and settling back into the clinic chair. It wasn’t long before you heard him say, “Well, that’s as pretty as I can make it, but function comes before aesthetic.” You brought your gaze down to your thigh where a line of sutures held together the six or seven inch laceration. Reluctantly you admitted to yourself that it was an impressive gash, and you didn’t completely hold Negan’s anger against him anymore.

Dr. Carson firmly taped the dressing in place and instructed you to return to the clinic in two days to have the wound reevaluated, or sooner if the pain got worse. You slid forward in the chair, gingerly testing out your leg. It felt much better than before and you were very much ready to get out of the clinic, so you mumbled a quick “thank you” to Dr. Carson and stood up, awkwardly yanking the sweatpants back to their proper place around your waist.

You limped to the front door and pushed it open, feeling the cool afternoon air hit your face. The peace only lasted for a moment before a hand latched onto your arm and tugged you to your left. Instinct kicked in and launched your right fist into a powerful hook that connected with the cheek of the offender before you even realized what you were doing. As they released their grasp on you and stumbled backwards, you gasped and slapped your hand over your mouth as you discovered who you had just assaulted.

Oh shit.

“Jesus christ, what the hell was that for?” Simon demanded as he rubbed his cheek tenderly, opening and closing his jaw to assess the injury. You were frozen in place, eyes still wide as dinner plates and hand still covering your mouth. He chuckled in disbelief and flicked an irritated look your way before continuing, “That wasn’t a fucking rhetorical question, sweetheart. You better give me a damn good reason to lie to Negan about where I got this bruise.” You stuttered, trying to find an excuse for what had happened, but you came up empty. Simon straightened himself and walked toward you, eyes filled with both annoyance and growing frustration as the corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly.

“I… I didn’t mean… it just... I… you grabbed me and my head thought you were Wesley.”

As soon as the words tumbled from your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut and winced, waiting for Simon to either laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement or shout a reprimand. When you heard nothing in response, you cautiously looked up at him to find that his features had softened and he now appeared almost… sad?

“Sweetheart, I didn’t realize… I’m sorry. That was stupid. I fucking know better than that. That’s on me… not you,” he murmured with genuine sorrow in his eyes. Brow initially furrowed in surprised confusion, you eventually relaxed and shrugged your shoulders, tossing Simon a sheepish look. “I probably shouldn’t go around punching people either,” you muttered. The great belly laugh that erupted from him startled you at first, and then you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. And so you both stood there, laughing like idiots at the fact that you had just accidentally punched Negan’s right hand man in the face.

Once the laughter died down to semi-controlled chuckles, Simon grinned and nudged you, saying, “Alright, I think it’s about time you got back to your room, young lady. Y’know… boss’s orders and all that. C’mon, I’ll help you.” As he offered an arm in support, you limped away as fast as you could in humorous defiance. He shook his head playfully and jogged along in mock pursuit while you glanced over your shoulder to throw him a cheesy grin and called out, “I’m a strong and independent woman who don’t need no- OOF!”

The unexpected impact of your body with another caused you to stumble backwards, and you frantically attempted to catch your footing as your injured leg began to give out. Simon rushed behind you and caught you under your arms a split second before you were set to slam into the packed dirt. He gently lowered you the rest of the way to the ground to avoid putting any weight on your leg until he had time to evaluate you.

You had lost your breath during the collision, but as you regained full lung function, you gasped, “Who… who don’t need no man. Get - stop it - get off of me.” You slapped his hands away as you tried to sit up, but when you made eye contact, you noticed the twinkle in Simon’s eyes had disappeared completely and they instead screamed a warning at you. You tilted your head back to look up at the body you had collided with and instantly felt your stomach drop.

“Hello there, doll.”

Fuck.

You sighed in frustration and stopped fighting against Simon as he inspected your pants to ensure there was no blood evidence that your wound had split open. Satisfied with his findings, he grasped your hand and pulled you to your feet to face a smirking Negan.

“Sure is taking you a hell of a long time to get back to your goddamn room,” he growled in amusement. “I’ll take it from here.” Simon dipped his head and began to leave, but not before catching your eye. You gave him a quick half-hearted smile before you tossed Negan an irritated look and headed for your building, your limp slightly more noticeable than before. Admittedly, your leg was throbbing, and you could tell it had become swollen from the way the stitches felt like they were pulling at your skin. You could hear Negan’s boots lazily thudding along behind you, but you refused to acknowledge him.

As you approached the staircase leading to your floor, you weren’t entirely thrilled about the task of climbing three flights of stairs with an impaired leg. At this point you were certain that your combination of ego and stubbornness would end up killing you one day, but today it simply made this particular task much more difficult. In spite of the obvious necessity of Negan’s help, you gripped the railing and began the ascent, turning your focus to your breathing in an attempt to ignore the searing ache of pain in your leg.

“You’re as stubborn as you are beautiful… I can’t decide if that’s hot as fuck or annoying as shit.”

Ignoring his comment, you continued to limp up the stairs, taking each step slowly and deliberately as he whistled a bright tune behind you. You clung to the railing and, for once, you were grateful for all the days you had spent carrying different tools and machinery around the compound. The added strength in your arms was a welcome surprise at the moment.

“Actually, take as long as you so fucking desire. The view from back here is fan-fucking-tastic.”

A quick glance back at Negan revealed him openly adjusting himself while grinning at you with his tongue between his teeth. The sight of him caused your mind to dive back into the memories of your night with him, and a chill ran up your spine as you remembered the way he made you feel. With a groan of frustration, you gripped the railing and pulled yourself up another step.

Just one more floor, just one more goddamn floor.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally reached the landing on the third level and began to hobble down the hallway to your room, listening to Negan chuckling quietly as he followed. When you reached your door, you turned around to say goodbye to Negan, only to find him mere inches from your face. He planted his hands on the doorframe on either side of your head and leaned in, his nose nearly grazing yours. The look on his face was mischievous and there was a blatant hunger in his eyes.

“Are you really going to turn a guest away without inviting them inside?” he growled suggestively. You swallowed hard as you attempted to maintain a calm breathing pattern, but your body was betraying you. Your heart was thudding away at record pace and a spark of heat was beginning to form in your core.

Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it.

As if sensing your internal conflict, he dipped his head and began to kiss your neck softly, nipping at your skin playfully as he breathed heavily into your ear. The quiet moan that escaped your lips was unintentional, and you fought desperately against your own body to convince yourself this was a bad idea. It was at that moment that Negan’s words from earlier at the clinic echoed through your mind.

“Don’t forget where you would still fucking be if I hadn’t been such a stand-up guy… don’t fucking take this Sanctuary for granted or I’ll see to it that you never see the inside of these walls again.”

You don’t get to threaten me like that and then get in my pants.

With a surge of willpower, you planted your hands on his chest and shoved him hard, causing him to stumble backwards. He looked at you with surprise for a moment before running his tongue over his bottom lip and dragging lust-filled eyes up and down your body.

“So you want to play rough today? Oh, that can be arranged, doll,” Negan murmured gleefully, a wicked grin dancing on his face. He stepped forward and grasped your hips tightly with his hands, pulling you against him and consequently pressing his hardening member into you. You tried to pull away, but your shoulders were stopped by the door behind you, and it only made him grip you even tighter.

NO.

Before you realized what you were doing, your hand flew up and slapped Negan across the face with stinging force. He immediately let go of you and turned his head slightly, running his tongue over his lips and staring down the hallway as he forced himself to remain calm. Hand aching from the blow, you fought to still your trembling body as you drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out before you whispered firmly.

“Get away from me.”

Next Chapter (Part Seven) - Previous Chapter (Part Five)

Just a touch of tension, eh? :D This was a weird chapter for me - I usually sit down and write a chapter in one or two sittings, but this one has taken well over a week to write. I wasn’t sure where you & Negan’s relationship was going to go, but I think I have an idea of it now :)

You are all amazing and your support means the world. The following people are tagged either because they requested to be, OR they have inspired me to write. If you would like to be added to or removed from this list, PLEASE message me or comment!

@negans-network @negans-dirty-girl @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @ladylorelitany @wickednerdery @vizhi0n @death2thevirgin @autumnjade22 @womderland-fandom @thedeadwalks @monicapernas @my-achilles--heel @ericuhlorain @marvelmaximoff @hellainternet @totallysupernaturaloneshots @alisajo5576 @isayweallgetdrunk @babystarwitch @jasoncrouse @wadeyourebarelyalive @negan-is-god @small-town-wayward-daughter @malmaldude @haleyea @ohmyneganimagination-twd @ilovemistahj @badsongwinchester @kerij77 @xomissi

#negan x reader #negan fic #negan's thirst squad #negan's network #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #twd fanfiction #noob writer #long-awaited savior #long awaited savior

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