#i did this instead of working on my college portfolio i think i should be thrown to the horrors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baekhansol · 3 years

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beauty (k.ys)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : college au (kinda?), slice of life?, comfort

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mature

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : boudoir photographer! yeosang x plus size/curvy f!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3260 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : body insecurities, plus size/curvy reader, nudity in a non-sexual way

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 : yeosang helps show you your own beauty

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : despite the images, y/n’s skin color is not mentioned. I used these images mostly for the poses as a visual for you all! this was beta read by the lovely @sugasbabiie and part of @yutasgalaxy's Flashing Lights collab.

When your best friend suggested you do a boudoir photoshoot with your acquaintance Yeosang as the photographer, your initial answer was no. After a week of you feeling really down about your body image, she brought it up again, and eventually gave in. Yeosang told you he likes to meet his clients and get to know them before photographing them, so you met him for coffee.

You knew it wasn’t a date, but you couldn’t help feeling giddy about it. You had a crush on him for a while, but never had an excuse to get close to him. He’s so handsome, and you were about to let him see you in lingerie? The thought made you nervous. But before you could back out, Yeosang sits across from you with a warm smile, a coffee in hand.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, noticing how you were staring into your cup of coffee. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know. It’s about making you comfortable,” Yeosang softly reassures you. “I know this was your friend’s idea,” he adds gently.

“I’m just… nervous, is all. I know you’re good at what you do… I’ve talked to some of your clients before… but I just… they’re always skinnier than me and prettier,” you admit, tightening your grip on your mug.

Yeosang lets out a soft laugh and pulls a folder out of his bag. “I’ve worked with men and women of all body shapes, Y/N,” he begins, opening the folder and sliding it across the table to you. “I brought my portfolio for you to look at, and everyone in there gave me consent to share these photos, of course.”

You begin looking through the photos, thankful you were in a reclusive corner of the cafe as you do so. They weren’t erotic, but sensual. You knew the images captured the beauty of each individual. They were breathtaking, and you wanted to be one of them.

“Yeosang, you’re really good at this,” you admit, continuing to flip through the photographs.

“Thank you, I try to be,” he says, smiling.

You set the date for your photoshoot, and the day came within a blink of an eye. You had met with Yeosang a few other times after the initial meeting, as he wanted you to be more comfortable with being around him. He gave you plenty of time to go over the client agreement, and you respected how thorough the document was.

Yeosang had instructed you very clearly on what to take out to wear and how to do your makeup. So, you set out your favorite pieces of lingerie, a matching set and a bodysuit, the oversized button-down he chose, and a simple mini dress. You put on foundation and did your eyebrows, but nothing else, as Yeosang requested.

When you hear a knock on the door, you pull your bathrobe around you tighter and peer through the peephole before letting Yeosang in. It was unfair how good he looked, and you tried to force the thought into the back of your mind. He had a few boxes of what you presume to be his equipment with him, and you hope he didn’t have to struggle too much to get to your apartment. You quickly open the door, letting him inside and getting out of his way.

“Hey! Are you excited?” He asks, smiling brightly as he brings his things inside.

“I’m still nervous,” you admit, shaking your head.

“Well, don’t be. I’m here, and it’ll be fun! I promise,” he says, taking in your appearance. “I’m glad you did as I asked; that will make things easier! Now, where is your bathroom?”

You quickly show him around, and he makes himself at home. He plugs in a curling iron and goes through your makeup, glancing at the lingerie you chose and the colors he should use.

“Sit on the countertop and close your eyes,” he requests.

“Okay?” you reply, sounding more hesitant than you meant.

“I’m going to do your makeup. Do you trust me?” he asks, looking into your eyes. You merely nod, trusting him and his craft.

Yeosang’s touch on your face is gentle and calming. You feel him sweeping on eyeshadow, and he soon turns on soothing lofi music as he works. You know he is blending the eyeshadow as he takes his time, and you do your best to keep your eyes close.

“Open your eyes and look up for me,” he softly requests.

You open them, meeting his intense gaze. His lips purse in concentration, and you quickly look up at the ceiling. He sweeps eyeshadow under your eyes, blending it gently.

“Do you normally heat your eyelash curler?” Yeosang asks, causing you to look back down at him.

“It depends on the day,” you admit, watching him plug in your hair dryer and heat the curler. “And how much time I have to get ready,” you add with a slight giggle.

He tests the warmth on his hand, and you close your eyes before he could ask. Yeosang curls your eyelashes, gently setting the tool down on the sink before he applies your eyeliner. You feel the pads of his fingers brushing your eyelids before he has you open his eyes for him to put on your mascara.

He smiles at you, the masterpiece he was accentuating. “Have you ever seen a video where they clean an old piece of artwork?” Yeosang softly asks, beginning to contour your face.

“Yes, I have,” you say, doing your best to stay still.

“Well, that’s what I’m doing with you,” Yeosang explains, putting blush on your cheeks and dusting your nose with it. “You already are a beautiful piece of art, and sometimes you need a new view to see its beauty,” He tells you, picking out what happened to be your favorite shade of lipstick.

You feel yourself blushing, and you glance away, unable to meet his eyes. “You think so?” you ask him quietly, your heart thumping.

“I know so,” he answers, carefully applying your lipstick. You smack your lips together, and he smiles brightly.

“I just have to curl your hair, so you can get off now and take a peek,” he says, stepping out of your way as you jump off the countertop.

You turn to see yourself in the mirror, and are awestruck. You were expecting something less modest, but Yeosang almost perfectly captured how you normally did your makeup. He did it simply but beautifully, and you couldn’t help but gape at yourself.

As you stare, you feel him taking your brush and brushing out your hair.

“Yeosang,” you murmur, meeting his eyes.

“Hmm?” he hums, raising an eyebrow as he begins to curl your hair/

“Can you do my makeup more often?” you giggle playfully.

He laughs, and you love the sound.

“Maybe,” he says mischievously, careful not to burn your hair.

You allow him to do your hair, watching him work his magic.

“There,” he cheers, adjusting your hair before giving it a light coat of hairspray. “Done,” he proudly concludes.

“Yeosang, are you sure you’re not a makeup artist instead of a photographer?” you tease.

“I’m pretty positive, Y/N,” he laughs, turning off and unplugging the curling iron.

“So I was thinking of a few different poses, and I brought some ideas with me,” He tells you, pulling out the photos. “I figured we could do a few nude ones with you under your comforter or sheets, so I won't see anything first?” he suggests, showing you the guides.

“So I basically just hold the comforter up like this?” you inquire, getting on your bed and pulling at your comforter, facing the wall as if you didn’t have your robe on.

“Yes, and then you’ll sit up more to curve your back, like,” he pauses, finding the photograph he wants before showing it to you, “this.”

You feel insecure despite his calm demeanor, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to do any nude,” you say, your voice soft.

“That’s okay then. Instead, why don’t you change into your lingerie and put the button down over it?” He suggests instead, going to grab his equipment.

You nod, your hands shaking slightly as you pick up the lingerie and button down from its place on the bed. You head into the bathroom, shutting the door as you slip into it. Your insecurities try to get you to stop and cancel the photoshoot, but you knew at the same time you would be disappointed with yourself. Instead, you button the shirt completely before coming back out of the bathroom.

Yeosang glances over at you and smiles as he finishes adjusting the lights. He turns them off and guides you towards your window, which he had thrown sheer white shades over.

“I want you to stand in front of the window like you are stretching with your arms up. Lean forward and slightly to the side,” Yeosang instructs you.

You nod and stand in front of it, letting yourself actually stretch out your spine. You lean to one side, letting your body curve more.

“Perfect, you’re a natural,” Yeosang says, and you feel your cheeks heating up again as you hear the fluttering of the camera.

“Now I’m going to have you pose on your desk chair, if that’s okay to bring it over here?” he asks.

When you agree, he easily picks it up and sets it in front of the window, his biceps flexing.

“Just sit on it as you normally would, okay?” He says, and you sit up straight. “Is it okay if I unbutton and adjust the shirt a little?” Yeosang inquires.

“Sure,” you reply, glancing up at him shyly.

He unbuttons the shirt down to below your bra, exposing the floral lace. You feel your cheeks heat up, but he adjusts the shirt to pull down onto your arms, exposing your shoulders and offering a delightful view of your cleavage and bra straps. You look down at yourself, and feel sexy from the simplicity of the new neckline.

He steps away and snaps a few photos, and you start to feel more confident in yourself.

“Now, turn sideways when you sit on the chair. I’m going to have you pose, but will you be comfortable with taking off your shirt?” Yeosang asks, stepping back towards you.

You figure that it would be a sideways view, so you nod and unbutton it, tossing it across the room to be out of the way.

“Carefully lay on your back. Can you balance on it okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” you laugh, carefully adjusting yourself.

“Slowly lift your legs up as you lean backwards, so your head will be lowered.”

You slowly do as he says, feeling your abdominal muscles tightening to keep you balanced on the chair.

“Curve your legs with one straighter than the other,” he directs you, gently tugging your hair out from under you. “Now hold your hair slightly to show more of your torso.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Don’t move.”

The command in his voice stirred something inside you, but you do your best to ignore it. You were Yeosang’s client, and in the agreement, there were no sexual relations with him. You hear the snapping of the camera again, and see Yeosang moving to different positions to get multiple angles.

“I have a few more poses I would like you to try, okay, Y/N?” he says, and you merely nod. “You can stand up, since this one is also in the chair,” he tells you.

You carefully roll out of the chair as he explains, “I want you to climb onto the chair and be sexy about it, okay? Leaving a leg straight out with one in as you face me?”

You nod as he turns the chair sideways before carefully doing as he asks. You reposition your legs and body, and he opts to take pictures of each change.

“Are they coming out okay?” you timidly ask as he puts his camera down.

“I think so. Do you want to see?” he asks, showing you his camera and flicking through a few of what he has taken.

You look sexy, and it surprises you. “Whoa,” you murmur in shock. .

“Of course it is,” he giggles, smiling brightly. “Now, how about you change into that bodysuit?” he suggests, pointing to it.

“Sure!” you say, picking it up and going into the bathroom.

You do your best to change quickly, and you hear him moving around in your bedroom, presumably setting things up.

When you take off your underwear, you're embarrassed to find a small wet spot. You hadn’t thought your crush on Yeosang would do this to you now of all times. You groan slightly and make sure to throw them in the hamper as you slide into your bodysuit.

You come out shyly, and see a soft sheet on the floor with the lights around it.

“I think you’ve seen this pose a few times before. It’s where you lay on your back with your legs up on the wall?” Yeosang says, tilting his head.

“Yes, I have! I really like that one,” you admit, carefully sitting on the floor and resting your legs up against the wall.

Yeosang nods and continues, “Do you want to wear heels? I know some people do, but it isn’t always comfortable for everyone.”

You look up at him through your lashes and shake your head.

“That’s fine then,” he says with a smile, bending down and adjusting your hair around you.

He moves one of the lights ever so slightly before snapping more photographs. “You’re doing really well,” he praises you.

You sit back up as he goes to get something out of his bag and ask, “Yeosang, do you ever get aroused while taking these photos?”

You can’t see him freeze, but he does. “Do I what now?” he questions, pulling out some fabric and looking at you.

“Do you ever get aroused when taking photos…?” you repeat.

Yeosang sits on your bed, holding the fabric in his lap. “Normally, I don’t,” he admits. “Every now and then, yes.”

You nod, playing with the sheet underneath you.

Yeosang quickly changes the topic back to what you were doing, and you don’t notice him snap a few more pictures. “I know how you said you didn’t really like showing your arms, so I brought you this sweater,” he tells you, showing you the soft ivory sweater. “It was oversized on me, so it should be about the same for you,” Yeosang adds, gently setting it on the bed as he helps you stand back up.

You sit on the bed and carefully put it on with his help, avoiding smudging your makeup. It was cozy and soft, not too itchy. You pull your hair out of the neck of the sweater, and you hear Yeosang snap a few photos.

“The final prop I have are these,” he says, reaching into his bag and pulling out fairy lights.

“Oh?” you ask, tilting your head as he plugs them in.

“I’ve never done it before, and I’ve always wanted to play with the lighting on them,” Yeosang admits. “And if they don’t turn out well, well, at least we can say we tried,” he says with a laugh.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” you ask, smiling brightly. You were excited that he wanted to try something new with you.

“Just kind of… wrap them around you and play with them,” he suggests, picking his camera back up.

You nod and do as he says, laying down in one of the positions you had seen in his portfolio. You lay on your back with your legs bent, and you look up at Yeosang as your head bends off the end of the bed.

“Ohh, very nice,” he says, clicking away. “Now, try on your stomach with your legs up and ankles crossed,” Yeosang suggests.

As you move into position, Yeosang gently moves the lights around you so you wouldn’t be too restricted.

“Rest your head on your arms, but keep one out and face me,” he instructs, and you do just that. Yeosang gently fixes your hair, his fingers combing through it.

“Perfect, just like that,” he says, snapping more photos of you.

He set his camera back down, a bright smile on his face. “Okay, I think I’m done!” he says. “I should be able to get them back to you in two to three weeks.”

You nod and begin untangling yourself from the lights, and Yeosang quickly helps.

“You did really well, you know,” he assures you, smiling.

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say, hesitating before hugging him.

Yeosang took longer packing up, but you didn’t mind. You begin to take off his sweater, but he stops you. “Y/N, please, keep it,” he begins.

“Yeosang, I can’t-”

“Please. It suits you,” he insists, his pleading look making you give in.

You purse your lips and instead slide on a pair of shorts before cleaning up your bathroom.

After he left, you laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. You really did just do a boudoir photoshoot with a male photographer.

Two weeks went by, then three. After the fourth week, you were beginning to worry that the photos didn’t turn out well.

When the fifth week came and went, Yeosang finally messaged you.

Yeosang: Do you think you can come over sometime this week?

You: yeah, when works for you? I’m free most of tomorrow

Yeosang: Can you come tomorrow around 8?

You: sounds good

Yeosang: see you then!

After running into traffic, you managed to navigate Yeosang’s apartment complex and find his apartment number. You adjust yourself before knocking on the door.

“It’s Y/N,” you call.

Yeosang answers it with a worried look. “Hey, are you okay? You were late,” he mentions, knowing it wasn’t like you to be this late.

“Yeah, sorry… I ran into traffic,” you explain, not meeting his eyes as he lets you in.

Yeosang nods, leading you into his studio. He ushers you to your computer, but you’re awed by the photographs adorning the walls. You recognize some as the samples, but some almost looked like yours.

“I’ve been doing my best, but I can’t seem to get them to my liking. Some of it is a matter of filters, and I can’t choose which looks best. You really are a natural,” he tells you, pulling up your file.

You were shocked by the results. You could barely believe that they were supposed to be images of you.

“Yeosang, I-” you gasp, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Yours are by far the best I’ve done so far,” he murmurs, clicking through the countless photos, some of which you didn’t know he captured.

“Yeosang, I have to ask…” you shyly murmur, your cheeks heating up. “Why did it take so long?”

This time his cheeks and ears slowly turned red. “You looked better than I thought in my sweater,” he murmurs. Noticing your furrowed brows, he continues softly, “I really liked you, even before doing these for you. It was a nice excuse to get to know you better. I know it's bad to ask former clients on dates, but…”

The question lingers for a moment, and his expression slowly turns into one of disappointment from rejection.

“Yeosang, I’d love to,” you breathlessly admit.

#ultkpopnetwork #kpopscape #kpopficsnetwork #ateez fluff #ateez comfort #yeosang fluff #yeosang comfort #yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang comfort #yeosang x reader #ateez fanfic

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 4 years

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One Photo → Mark Lee [1]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Word count: 4,863

↳ Chapters: Prelude | You Are Here! | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

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MONDAY - 1

Your heart was pounding a million miles a minute as you stepped into your photoshoot studio on campus two weeks later, ready to see a bunch of other students preparing for interviews for the same position. Surprisingly, you were the only one present besides your teacher. She smiled and approached. “Hey,” she greeted you with a short handshake. “I see you’re nervous?” “A little,” you admit, returning her friendly grin. “I’m surprised nobody else is here.” She hummed. “Well, there was a lot to choose from. Come on. This one, I believe, is a little special compared to the others.” “How so?” Your voice was laced with curiosity as she led you further in, past the background sheets that separate the room into two halves. Behind it were people you had only dreamed of seeing in person.

The three of them stood as soon as they lay eyes on you. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun. You were completely frozen, staring at them and nearly forgetting to breathe. The thought of the members interviewing you themselves had never even entered your brain.

Your teacher placed a hand on your shoulder, startling you. Without a word, she smiled at you, nodded at them and left the room. Once the door shut with a soft click, Mark approached you. “Hi, I’m Mark Lee,” he held out his hand. “You probably knew that, considering your expression.” He laughed sweetly. You barely held out your hand with a shy nod, “I’m (Y/N).” Instead of going through with the handshake, Mark immediately moves in to engulf you in a friendly hug. “It’s nice to meet you,” you mumbled into the hug, barely processing that you were actually hugging Mark Lee and were in the same five-foot radius as three members of NCT. Johnny and Jaehyun also hugged you tightly, insisting that you join them at the table your teacher had set up for them.

“I thought I would be more prepared,” you admitted softly, digging into your backpack and pulling out your portfolio of projects and random photos you’ve taken. Mark takes it first to open and look through. “I’ve been a fan since your debut.”

Johnny smiled. “Then you’re just the person we’re looking for,” he said. He glances over at your portfolio, then back to you. “The truth is, we aren’t looking for a professional like a lot of others in this program. We bring our own from our company.” Your knit your eyebrows together in confusion. “Then why sign up? If, um, you don’t mind me asking.”

Jaehyun looked up from browsing your portfolio with Mark. “We were looking to take one photo.” He held up his index finger. “We wanted to have a friend that’s from around here to help us find the perfect spot, and photographers always know the best places.” Your eyes widened. A friend? Did he really just say that? “Just one photo?” You decided to ask, the whole prospect of clarifying what Jaehyun meant by ‘friend’ was a little too overwhelming.

The three of them nodded. “We want just one photo for our dorm. This stop is important to us, and we want this to stay away from social media. It’s just going to be for us. And for you, for your project, of course,” Mark explained. “We don’t want someone that is too professional and we don’t want a fansite to take it. It seemed to us that a friend would be the best choice.” He smiled gently at you. “We’ll provide you with a ticket and backstage pass, as well as paying you based on the program’s price for the photo to be touched up and framed.”

You tripped over your words. “Well, I… I don’t think I’m in a position to turn you down, but…” Johnny cocked his head to the side. “But..?”

You gulped and sheepishly avoided eye contact. “I can’t speak Korean,” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers. Mark smiled sweetly at you. “That’s okay. We’ll translate for you. So, what do you think? Would you like to spend a day with us before our show?”

You smiled, deciding to be a bit more daring. They did say, friend. “You’re asking that like there’s even a shred of a chance I’d say no.”

All three of them grin. “Thank you, I was hoping you would say yes,” Mark says. “Your portfolio is stunning.”

Your face goes red and you're barely conscious enough to stand with them as they prepare to leave. Johnny and Jaehyun hug you again, praising your work before taking their leave, but Mark doesn't join them.

“Our manager has your teacher's contact information, but I want to involve the company as little as possible… if it's not too sudden, could I please have your number?” Mark smiles sheepishly, offering his unlocked phone to you, open to a new contact page. It's as if he has no idea of the impact he has on his fans. Sometimes you forget that NCT is made up of normal humans, and the one standing in front of you is a year younger than you are.

“Of course,” you take it gently and add your contact info, taking a quick selfie to add as your little profile picture, all while Mark watches you searchingly. “Here you are,” you hand his phone back, hesitating on saying what you were thinking, “since you want to be friends, feel free to text me.”

Mark takes his phone back with a smile, sending you a quick smiley face to make sure the number was correct. The room is silent for a moment, your face feels as if it's on fire and Mark returns the stare you gave him when you walked in.

“Come on, Mark!” you hear Johnny’s voice from outside the classroom and you both turn toward it. You smile sheepishly.

“I shouldn't keep you, should I?” you ask, voice soft and a little embarrassed.

“No, but I wish I had more time. I'll text you, I promise,” he says, hugging you once more before leaving you alone and speechless.

You wondered if all fan interactions were like the one you just experienced. You were aware the members of NCT were known to be humble and kind, but they were much calmer and affectionate than you expected. The idea that you just saw Mark's smile in person made your own cheesy grin spread across your face as you packed up your portfolio.

After class, you headed back to your dorm, a skip in your step. Once you opened the door and stepped inside, you felt like you could collapse. Fatigue washed over you like a tidal wave, and you knew it was time for an afternoon nap. Rhiannon was still in her lab, so you could grab at least 20 minutes of shut-eye before she would come back and beg for you to make dinner. You set your bag down by the door with your shoes and set a course for your bed. As soon as you were able to slide underneath the covers and nearly drift to sleep, your phone vibrated.

You reach into your pocket, confused. Rhiannon was the only friend that had your number, and if she even thought about her phone in a lab, she would be kicked out. Once you unlock your phone, you finally remembered who else you gave your number to.

Mark: Hey!

You licked your lips as your chest twinged and filled with butterflies. You screamed internally for a few seconds, the moment hitting you a little harder than before. Mark Lee had your cell phone number and he was texting you first.

You: Hello, what’s up?

Mark replied almost immediately, which startled you a little bit. You turned over in your bed to get a little more comfortable.

Mark: We were just finishing up settling into our hotel rooms. I wanted to know how you're doing, are you in class? I hope I'm not interrupting anything

You: No, I got home a little while ago. I was gonna take a nap tbh

Mark: Oh! Sorry, I don't mean to take away sleep from a college student

You smiled a little bit. He was too sweet. As if your nap wasn't going to ruin your sleep schedule.

You: Its fine, if I had a nap I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anyway

Mark: So you're free then?

Your eyebrows furrowed as you typed your response.

You: Uh yeah, why? Did you all want that picture now?

You put your phone down, a little overwhelmed. If they wanted it now, you wouldn't see them again until the concert, which wasn't until Friday. Perhaps you should have expected they wanted to do this as fast as possible, their Canadian and Chicago stops were planned with vacations in mind considering Johnny and Mark's heritage. When your phone buzzed again, you almost jumped to grab it.

Mark: Well no not yet. I was just wondering if you wanted to get coffee or something. Or tea if you prefer that

Your eyes widened.

You: Really?

Mark: Yeah. I dunno, I want to take the friend thing more serious than the guys. They just wanted to use that word so it was like an unspoken contract that you wouldn't post this everywhere y'know?

Your heart sank a little bit, but you could see how important privacy was. If you were in the same position, you would have done the same.

You: I understand… I'm still kind of a stranger though, are you sure?

Mark: That's why I'm asking. I don't want you to be. So, will you meet me?

You: There's a Tim Hortons on the first floor of M building near where you met me on campus, I can be there in 40 minutes

Mark: See you in 40 minutes then :)

As soon as you read that text, you tossed your comforter to the side and raced into the bathroom. You fix your hair and could barely decide whether to change your outfit or not. He did see you earlier today, would he think you were trying too hard if you changed?

“Keep it together, (Y/N),” you told yourself, patting your cheeks with your hands as you eyed your complexion in the mirror. “He just wants tea and coffee, nothing major.”

Just then, the front door opened. “Are you talking to yourself again?” Rhiannon called from the foyer.

“No,” you called back, clearly lying as you took one more scan of yourself in the mirror before leaving to greet your friend. “You’re back early. How was the lab?”

“Tiring,” she answered. “My bitch lab partner came in even earlier than usual to make sure I didn't have the chance to set up our station again.” She rolled her eyes and dropped her backpack next to yours.

“Yikes,” you reply, watching her wander into the kitchen. “Are you gonna tell your professor that she is trying to sabotage your grade?”

Rhiannon sighed. “I don't know if the following shitstorm would be worth it,” she says, plugging in the electric kettle. “I'm gonna make some tea, you want any?”

You shook your head, even though she probably couldn't see you from the wall separating the kitchen and foyer. “No thanks, I'm going out to Tim's in M building.”

Rhiannon took less than a second to appear in the archway to stare at you. “Why?” She questioned, squinting at you.

“Mark asked me to meet him for coffee.”

“Mark,” she repeated, crossing her arms. “I thought you hated Mark Davids.”

“Not that asshole,” you shot back. “Mark Lee.” You began to look for a pair of cuter shoes as Rhiannon’s eyes widened.

“You got the job?!” She exclaimed, her voice nearly reaching a squeal. "YOU MET MARK LEE? WITHOUT ME?!"

“Yeah,” you smile sheepishly, taken aback by her shouting. you picked out your favourite pair of shoes, red converse high tops. “He just seems like he wants to hang out right now though.”

“Oh my God,” her voice nearly lowered to a whisper. “Mark Lee just asked you out.”

You rolled your eyes. “He didn't ask me out, he just wants to talk,” you explain, pulling on your shoes to tie them.

“I dunno, he could be it,” she says, waltzing back into the kitchen. “You never know!”

You sigh. “See you later!”

“Tell him to get Haechan's number!”

After a 15-minute subway ride and a lot of hurried walking, you hauled open the pristine doors of M building, the newest addition to your college campus. Right before you was a little Tim Hortons with a tiny student’s lounge to accompany it. There was a little bit of a line to the micro cafe since night classes were starting up around now, but the student’s lounge was close to empty.

You took in a deep breath, fully stepping inside and beginning your search for Mark. It doesn’t take long to spot him, he’s sporting yellow hair and a white face mask, accompanied by two red Tim Hortons cups at a table in the corner of the lounge. It takes you a moment to fathom your position - about to meet someone you’ve been crushing on for months through a computer screen for coffee in a lounge at your college. On top of that- he’s already bought you something.

“Hi,” you meekly greet him, approaching the table. Mark looks up from his phone and his eyes immediately crease into the crescents of his beautiful smile.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” He pulls his mask off, “sit down, I, uh, got you some tea. You kind of struck me as that kind of person, so I hope I got it right.”

“Thank you, Mark. You really didn’t have to buy me anything…” You smile nervously, your face feeling hot and your heart beating a mile a minute. Mark seemed a little nervous, just like you. It was a sobering moment, taking the cup he pushed toward you and opening it to take a sip. Your eyes widened. Your tea was exactly the way you always order it, nearly to the grain of sugar.

Mark watches your expression, happy that you seemed to like your tea, “I wanted to treat you. I know how weird this must all seem for you, but for some reason, I feel like I know you.” He runs his hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

You look away from him as well. There's a moment of silence between you, the bustle of students slowly diminishing as the sun sets behind you.

“I, uh, can't really relate to you in that way,” you whisper after you worked up the courage to break the silence. “A lot of your life is on display.”

“You're right,” Mark agreed. “There are a few things I keep to myself, though,” he smiled cheerfully. “But what I mean is hard to explain.”

Curious, you nod toward him, “try me.”

“When I was standing in line, I was trying to figure out what to get you. I wanted to treat you since I asked you to come, and I kind of expected for you to say no since your professor said you had class today and-”

“Mark, it’s fine, stay focused.” you smile faintly at him and wait for him to continue, sipping your tea again.

He blushes and nods sheepishly. “When it was my turn, I got what I wanted and the second I thought about you, I recited medium steeped orange pekoe tea with two cream and one and a half sugar like I had been getting it for you for years.” He stops for a moment, presumably watching your stunned reaction.

Your breathing was feeling a little crooked, and you couldn't quite place what you were feeling. You tried to take in a deep breath, shaking your head when Mark began to look concerned.

“Sorry,” you apologize quickly. “I, uh, kind of know what you're talking about. This is all just a little; I don't know…”

“Overwhelming?” Mark finished, nodding his head. “I can't stop thinking about it.”

You tried to smile. “I guess you gave the bug to me,” you joke. “Want to get some air?”

“I'd like that.”

The two of you walked down a path that led off-campus, talking. It was as if the two of you had forgotten your positions in life; Mark a celebrity with his life on a pedestal and you just a fan that forgot how much you really knew about him.

You were rediscovering his cheerful nature, his loud and hearty laughter that was a whole-body endeavour, learning that he plays the guitar, his love of ice cream and sweet things. His favourite colour was blue, and he loved Christmas so much he already had a growing list of things to buy for his friends as gifts.

The sun was nearly hidden behind the hills of the park you wandered into, admiring the newly blossomed cherry trees. You were showing him a small bed of flowers decorated to look like a Canadian flag when Mark asked the dreaded personal question you had been hoping you would never have to answer again.

“How did your parents find out?” His tone was soft, curious. He didn't sound as invasive as others have been in the past, but the question still made you bite your lip to keep from frowning.

“A gang fight,” you answer, bitterly. “My dad punched my mom in the face so hard that day, she needed to go to the ER. It actually took three months for her to figure out why the print of my dad's fist hadn't faded from her cheek.”

Mark didn't speak for a moment. “Was that too much to ask?”

You looked up at him from the flower bed, smiling faintly. He looked good in the final evening glow. “I don't mind that much, but...”

“I'm sorry,” he said, tentatively placing a hand on the small of your back.

“It's okay,” you start, his sympathy nearly made you melt. The two of you begin walking again, Mark absently running his fingers over cherry petals as you both passed the trees. “I got out of it all pretty quickly. They fought when they were high, and that was almost all the time. Sometimes, I feel scared just thinking about how my life might end up. If any of it is all as real as everyone says it is.”

Mark stares at you, and there is sympathy radiating off of him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet.

You hold back a frown and decide to break the silence. “Anyway, how about your parents?”

“A hug,” he answered, nodding, a smile returning to his face. “it's not the most common first touch in the world, but I hope I find mine the same way.”

“That does sound nice,” you agree softly.

“I've heard it's all up to fate and magic,” Mark says, charm in his voice. “I've always wanted to believe in that.”

“I'd like to believe in that. Makes life seem a little more bearable. I’ve just always been so cynical through my childhood, so much so that all of my hope for a fairytale ending faded a long time ago. I never really thought that anything good would come out of it. If the universe really wants me to find someone, I guess I can’t really do anything about it.”

Mark smiles, although you can tell he is hiding a smidge of disappointment. “I suppose that's one way to think about it,” he replies. “I just want to know someone so well that I don't have to think twice about it. Like knowing the exact way to cheer them up when they're sad. Like the perfect cup of tea or their favourite stuffed animal. I guess that takes a little bit of magic.”

You stop in your tracks, thinking about the perfect tea he had given you earlier.

“What's wrong?” Mark stops and turns around when he notices you're not keeping pace.

“Nothing,” you lie with a smile, watching Mark's scepticism through the darkness of night.

“Okay,” he says softly, looking up at the sky. “I guess it's late, huh?”

You join him in looking up. If the city wasn't always so lit up, this spot would be perfect for a shot of the starry night sky between the small canopy of cherry trees. “I guess it is.”

“How far away is your dorm? I can walk you,” he suggests, taking your hand. You're frozen, too stunned by the gesture to pull away.

“You don't have to,”

“But I want to,” Mark grins. “It's the one way I can make sure you get back safely.”

“You're too kind…” you pause for a moment. Mark is staring you down, waiting for you to say yes. “I'm not allowed to say no, am I?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nope. Come on, let's go.”

Scoffing lightly, you concede and begin walking again. “You can take me to my subway stop and I can tell you which train to take to go back,” you offer, assuming he would need to be back at his hotel before it got too late at night.

“No,” he said quickly. Your eyes widened at his tone and once he noticed your reaction, he lowered his voice. “I just… have these gut feelings. I'd like to escort you right to your dorm,” he clears his throat, “um, if I'm not crossing any lines.”

You feel sympathy for him. Just looking at Mark, you can tell he's worried about you, but you can't quite see the reason. “Okay,” you agree softly.

It's silent for a while as you both walk through the well-lit city. It's not until you pass a food truck on the way to the subway station that either of you says something again.

“You know, you and I walked around that park for hours and we didn't even know how late it was until the last minute,” Mark comments, still holding your hand and pulling back gently to keep you from walking past him.

“Yeah, you're right,” you blush, you had to admit to yourself that you hadn't lost yourself in conversation or such comfortable silence like that even on a date. "We forgot to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Mark admits with a laugh, “and these hot dogs smell good.”

You look up at him. “I'll buy.” You wriggle your hand out of his grasp and run toward the cart before Mark can catch you, readying your wallet.

“Two hot dogs please, one with relish and one plain, please. Also, burn the plain one a little bit, thanks.”

“You're slippery,” Mark says, watching you pay for the food.

“You bought me tea, it's only fair,” you stick your tongue out at him. He sighs and nods at you, only breaking his gaze when the man at the cart hands down the hot dogs a few moments later. “The one with relish is yours. You hate ketchup, right?”

Mark takes his hot dog, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah,” he pauses. “I just haven't really told anyone outside the guys and my family.”

You're halfway through a bite of your ‘dog and you nearly choke on it.

“Hey, hey!” Mark reaches out for your shoulder, hoping that you wouldn't pass out. “Chew and swallow! Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out.”

You swallow and cough, shaking your head. “Don't worry, I'm fine,” you say. “This is just a weird feeling.”

He nods. “Yeah. But I don't really mind it. Come on, let's walk some more.”

It was totally surreal to you, walking and eating with Mark. He was right, there was this strange feeling washing over you every time you looked at him, different than watching him on a Vlive broadcast or music video. Like you knew something about him that nobody else did, and it made you feel both good and scared out of your mind. It felt invasive.

One subway stop and a little bit of a walk later, you both arrive at your dorm building. “Here we are,” you announce. “My roommate is probably going to kill me for coming back so late.”

“Should I go in with you? To protect you?” Mark is smiling, but you can tell there is a hint of seriousness.

“If you want. She will probably ask for something from you, though.” You open the main doors and enter in your code, leading Mark in with you.

“Like what?” Mark furrows his eyebrows. “She's not weird, right?”

You nearly laugh out loud. “She's weird all right, just not the kind you're thinking of. She wanted me to get Haechan's number from you, but I got so absorbed in talking with you that I forgot to ask.”

“Oh,” Mark is following you close behind, letting out a tiny sigh of relief. “That doesn't sound too bad, but his reaction should be interesting.”

You shrugged. “You don't have to do it. Anyway-” You're cut off as the door to your apartment opens, Rhiannon stepping out and pressing her hands to her hips.

“Look who's finally back,” she states, and you can immediately tell she is angry. “It's almost 1 AM!”

“Shh! I'm sorry, okay? I lost track of time! I was with-”

“Mark,” she says, her voice less harsh when she notices Mark is standing behind you, sheepishly smiling and waving at her. “At least you had the initiative to walk her home.”

You squint at your best friend. It's clear she is trying not to freak out in front of him. “Are you gonna let me inside?”

“Not yet,” she states. “Mark, I love you,” she says quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you to her. You're smiling awkwardly at him, shrugging and mouthing ‘sorry’.

Mark smiles awkwardly and nods at you. “Uh, thanks,”

“Thank you for bringing (Y/N) back. Has she asked you about Haechan?”

“Yeah. I'll text you guys his number when I get back- which I probably should…”

You step forward. “Do you know how to get back?”

Mark shakes his head. “I think it's on Yorkville, I might have to use my GPS.”

You shake your head. “It's easy to get there. Head to the station you and I were just on, take the southbound for 5 stops. Once you get above ground, you should be on that street.”

Mark smiled at you. “Thank you.” He approached you to give you a hug, which felt warmer than the other two from earlier in the day. When he turned to leave, a pang hit your chest.

“Mark,” you called. Instantly he turned around, his expression curious. “Let me know when you get back safely.”

He nodded, smiling warmly. “I will, I promise.”

You watch him leave, a little shocked that spending the entire night with him didn't feel like it at all. You're only broken out of your thoughts when Rhiannon drags you inside your apartment and shuts the door.

“You scared me half to death, you bitch! At least text me when you're gonna stay out this late! I thought you were just having tea! I was this close to calling the cops!” She presses her index finger to her thumb and shoves her hand towards your face as you stand before her, a little humiliated.

“Your fingers are touching,” you say quietly, screwing your eyes shut.

“Exactly!” she exclaims. “I was one button away from speaking to 911! You're goddamn lucky I heard you and Mark coming down the hall!” You open your eyes when she gently touches your arm. “Don't scare me like that.”

“I'm sorry. I promise I'll keep in touch next time.” You smile awkwardly at her. “I was just so caught up in talking and trying to make sure it wasn't a dream.”

Rhiannon nodded and returned your smile. “I know. You should go to bed, you have class in the morning.”

“Yeah. Thanks for worrying about me.”

Once you were in fresh pyjamas, you had some music on in the bathroom while you dry your hair with a towel. A quick shower before bed always was relaxing enough for you to fall asleep quickly. Snuggling up in bed after that long day was especially nice, gathering up your teddy bear to hug close. You're just about to drift off when your phone buzzes.

Mark: Hey, I'm back safe. Thank you for the directions

You: You're welcome

I had a really nice time tonight

Mark: Me too

You have class tomorrow right

You: Yeah, it's a short day though, just a small photoshop lab

Mark: Do you want to hang out again when you're done? By the way, the number I promised - __________

You: I'd like that. Thanks, I'll forward it to her

Haechan was cool with it right

Mark: Me too :) yeah he was cool with it, he owed me a favour anyway

Sleep well ok?

You: I will, you too?

Mark: Yeah I promise

Goodnight (Y/N)

You: Goodnight :)

After putting your phone down on your nightstand, you peacefully drifted off with a smile on your face.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #nctu #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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hypocrisyofandrewdobson · 3 years

Note

I feel like my brain can't fathom how Dobson's art got so fugly over the years. It used to be so good. What the happened? How did it deteriorate like that? How do you go from cute anime-esque faces to wrinkly stretchy faces? Part of me is in denial and thinks maybe he's just doing it on purpose as a weird self-sabotaging attempt at spite. It's like...I can't imagine anyone would look at his recent art and think, "Yes! Perfect! Exactly how I wanted it to turn out! I shall charge money for this!"

There were actually a number of contributing factors.

First of all, he started hating anime. His original style was simple but charming, as it was heavily influenced if not almost entirely copied from Rumiko Takahashi’s manga. Pre college, I’m sure this made Dobson feel more unique and special, as anime was still a niche interest. However, college showed him that not only did a lot more people know about anime, it was also becoming much more well known and didn’t let him stand out as much. Dobson contributes a lot to his somewhat infamous hatred of anime, but at the end of the day it’s fairly apparent the only reason he hates it is because it became “mainstream” and he couldn’t feel superior or special for liking it. Hell, he said so himself on his CattyN website.

Secondly, he changed his art style right after leaving college, but in the laziest way possible. See, Dobson like to claim that his college taught him nothing and that it’s their fault he couldn’t get a job after graduating, like in this lost SYAC comic.

Note: he deleted it because now he likes to claim he retain he himself after college.

Now ignoring that plenty of people from MCAD were successful(including Dobson’s own roommate), ignoring that his college DID in fact teach him about portfolios and Dobson just decided he was “too talented and famous” to need to know how to make one, the real problem that contributed to Dobson’s art decline was that instead of relearning to draw in a more western style from the ground-up, he just stuck to his original style but added “detail lines” and suck to make his pictures look more realistic and detailed, even though the characters he was drawing weren’t supposed to be. Contributing to this was that his college degree was in animation, not cartooning. Drawing a comic or illustration is much different than drawing an animation still frame or something similar, something @plebcomics pointed out about his art back when she was doing corrections of his Inktober stuff. He seems to be trying to emulate a specific joke in his art that can work in animation but not reall as an art style.

Finally, and probably the biggest contributing factor in Dobson’s decline in his art, is that Dobson does not believe in trying to improve his art. More specifically, he claims that improvement happens naturally over time, so it’s not something he should strive for. He’s typically been much more vague about it, saying “improvement is not a straight line, so you shouldn’t stress yourself out trying to do so”, even going so far as to claim that people who critique his art are just trying to keep him down and have power over him, but when it comes down to it, it’s really just Dobson not wanting to work on his art yet not be criticized for it.

He claims his own goal as an artist is “to make people happy”, but like I’ve ranted about before, if you want to people happy, shouldn’t you be trying your hardest in order to do so then?

In the end, Dobson’s stagnation as an artist is wanting to put in as little effort as possible for his art but still demanding the maximum amount of praise and glory, because he CAN put in effort and draw well, so that should be enough. Not that he DOES, but that he CAN.

#andrew dobson #tom preston #art improvement #lazy #art critique #college #anime #stagnation #adobsonartworks #adobsonart #ask #anonymous

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fixing-bad-comic-art · 3 years

Note

Lol I just got a person who draws furry fetish (balloon?) art say similar things about my edits on @kitties-pryde Side blog maybe they’re the same person?

They were saying similar things and it looks like they found me through here and went through my blog. They told me that “maybe (I) should go to college and build (my) portfolio instead of ruining other’s art.” Which is funny because that’s literally what I’m going to school for! You know, ruining others art. And that “women (drawings) are allowed to show cleavage…” and “if it were so bad that women who work (there) would say something” says the man unprompted to a strange woman on the internet.

I just straight up blocked them but I like your clap backs so maybe you have something witty to scream to the air :)

djsjs a. how did i never realize that was your side blog, b. i think i got that guy like as an OG sjnsnsj, i think ive had him blocked for months now bc he was commenting on every single post and like theres a point when it stops being funny and starts being annoying.

im sorry he found you but at least we can both rest in the unshakable truth of bidoofs law and the block button

#ya girl kitty #djnsnsj #and yeah its better to just block them #feeding the trolls is never a good idea #but like #when have i ever once had a good idea?#also good luck with college!!!!! its tough but i know ya can do it!

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friendandphoe · 4 years

Text

okay the formatting on this is gonna be a lil weird bUT!! have this figuring it out/something to last revamp that’s been sitting in my brain for the last few weeks @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There’s no way in hell she’s ever looking Professor Keelson in the eye again. “I’m sorry,” she croaks for the thousandth time, and finds a tissue being pressed into her hand.

“Quite alright, my dear,” Professor Keelson says soothingly, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his round belly. “Wipe your face, now, there you go. I’m — well.” And he rubs the bridge of his nose, just under his round wire glasses. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this, unfortunately.”

She nods numbly, ice trickling down her spine.

You ruined everything.

“I’m sorry,” she tries again, because it’s all she can think to say, but the professor waves her off with a weathered hand and pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he makes his way to the mini fridge he keeps under the bookshelves.

“Now, now,” he says, almost scolding, and pulls out a clementine, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of water. “Don’t you start that with me, Ms. Ochoa. This is not the first time I’ve had students crying in my office, I daresay it won’t be the last.” And he sits heavily back down in his chair, setting the snacks in front of her. “Eat, drink. Now, I won’t press on what’s been troubling you, but you know, these tired old eyes of mine do still catch a few things here and there, and I have seen you — well. I don’t like to use the word struggling, but you know, perhaps it is a bit more apt than anything else I could think of.” And she knows he’s looking at her, knows those beady black eyes well, but just focuses on unwrapping the chocolate bar as quietly as she can.

What makes you think we want you around?

“You’ve had a rough time of it, this year.”

It’s not a question, but she still finds herself nodding confirmation. “I don’t know what happened.” She says hoarsely, and reaches for the water bottle.

Leave us alone.

“I’ve been wanting this for years, I worked so hard to get into this program, I just—” and she has to press her mouth shut to keep the lump in her throat from escaping.

Leave us alone!

“Some… stuff. Uh, came up, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a minute, then softly: “The human mind is a wonderful, confusing little thing.” Professor Keelson says. She dares a glance up at him, finds him — thank god — staring out his office window. “It tends to block out anything unpleasant we might not want to hear, and often that negativity will build and build and build until, one day, the weight becomes too much to bear.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his short white beard, messing the hairs out of their orderly style. “And then we must face the unfortunate truth that sometimes what we thought we wanted is, in actuality, not at all the path we should be taking."

She drops her gaze back down to her bouncing knee. “Is it stupid?” She blurts out, watching her leg blur under her rising tears. “I just — this is a good school, a good program, and I’ll have so many job opportunities when I graduate—”

A weathered hand stretches out across the desk, just reaching to where her pinky would've been. “And yet,” Professor Keelson murmurs. “It won’t make you happy.” He sits back in his chair, looking every inch the benevolent Santa Claus his students know him to be. “And given how miserable you’ve been this year, Ms. Ochoa, I daresay your ultimate happiness is worth far more than any graduating job offers.” His smile drops for a half-second. “Though I can’t say I won’t be sorry to see you go. You’re already one of my best students, you know.”

You're an embarrassment to my name and reputation.

A wet little giggle chokes out of her throat, and she wipes down her face one more time. “Don’t tempt me, I’m half-considering staying,” she admits. “Even with all of this.”

“Ah, but if you do, what sort of state will you be in once you graduate?” Professor Keelson says, raising a bushy brow. “All you young folk are the same. You’re young, you have that wonderful, limitless energy, but you must learn to take care of yourselves now, while you have the space to do so. Won’t do you any good to drive yourselves into the ground every night when you’re my age, you know!” He looks at her appraisingly, then smiles wide. “And you know, my dear, there’s great strength in being able to admit you were wrong. I’ve always admired people who are strong enough to chase their dreams instead of following the easy path. Do you have an idea where you’re going, yet?”

Don’t ever come back here, you little—

“There’s a performing and visual arts conservatory,” she says hesitantly. “River Park, downstate. They’ve got really good photography and filmmaking programs, and, um.” She pauses, unsure how to explain how right it had all felt when she’d been reading about it online. “Well, I have an interview on Wednesday, so.”

Professor Keelson’s smile widens. “River Park! My partner studied illustration there, years ago when we were both young. You’ll do wonderfully.”

She can’t help but feel like his faith is ever-so-slightly misplaced —

I didn't want you.

— maybe it’s just the existential crisis talking, who knows —

Do you understand me?

— but she can’t quite bring herself to argue against the sparkling excitement in the professor’s eyes. She lets him press another chocolate bar and tissue combo into her hand as he shuffles her out of his office, with strict, cheerful instructions to come see him before she leaves for her interview.

You were a mistake.

Tuesday night comes in the blink of an eye; she’d barely dumped her meager wardrobe back into the suitcase she’d kept under her bed and her sticky notes are still haphazardly slapped to the wall above her desk. She’s not exactly sure where the time went — it’s not like she went to any classes. Or ate much. Or was sleeping, really. Granted she did try, but the third time in the same night she woke up sobbing because her blankets had twisted around her leg, trapping her in an all-too-familiar heat vortex—

window won't break it's too hot it hurts to breathe window won't break it's so fucking hot she can't think window won't break but it'll slide get out of this goddamn heat get out get out crunch fuck ow hurts hurts ow fuck hurts her toes shouldn't be ow fuck fuck fuck pointing that way hurts hurts fucking hurts can't feel her knee fuck fuck where's papá—

— she kind of gave up. She doesn't even bother pulling out her shitty, half-broken headphones to try and watch something on Netflix to try and pass the time, she just lays in bed and listens to Rebecca softly snoring five feet away. The ceiling is infinitely more interesting than anything else she could’ve been focusing on, anyway.

Except maybe her portfolio. Which. She hasn’t really. Looked at.

She’s so fucked.

Still, she drags herself out of bed nice and early at 7 am Wednesday morning, beating her alarm by the customary 4 minutes, and actually manages to gather the energy to sift through her remaining clothes to dig out something — well. She doesn’t really have anything “nice,” per say, but she does have an oversized sweater that’ll pass as a dress once she puts on some makeup and a belt and ties her hair up, and that’ll have to be good enough.

You show up to my door looking like that?

River Park is going to laugh her right out the door.

Everything she might need is already shoved unceremoniously into her backpack — wallet, keys, wrist brace, student ID, laptop, flash drive (in its place of honor in the tiny pocket), knee brace, fruit snacks, water bottle — but her eye catches on her DLSR just as she’s finished tying the laces on her most comfortable boot, and she hesitates. She hasn’t really looked at her portfolio much recently — she knows she’s got some old pictures from Manhattan, and maybe some from various campus events that might be good, but it’s been a little hard to go out and take nice shots when she’s been drowning in depression soup for the past four months. Four years. Whatever. Either way, she doesn’t have much to show for herself, and inspiration hasn’t really hit lately.

But River Park is — well, she has no idea, really, she hasn’t seen it in person yet, but the photos online are gorgeous, all glass-and-brick buildings framed by forests and gardens. Very much a college town, from what she can tell, the campus map isn’t really a map so much as a general directory pointing out which buildings were associated with the conservatory, but there was something that felt weirdly homey about seeing those pictures. Maybe it was the layout of the buildings, maybe it was the way they described their classes and professors, maybe it was just the simple fact that everyone in those pictures was genuinely smiling, but she’d gotten this weird, longing ache just below her collarbone that had made her close down all her other college-related tabs and email River Park’s photography and filmmaking department.

Something feels good about that campus. And maybe, if she gets there a little early, she can—

You don't get to come into my life and — and ruin everything I have here.

It’s only seven forty-two. Her interview’s not until one, and the train ride downstate should only take an hour. She’s got time.

Which is how she finds herself knocking on Professor Keelson’s office door, DLSR hanging around her neck, about two hours earlier than she’d been intending to be there, praying to who and whatever might be listening that he’s actually in and she didn’t just horribly fuck this up like she’s been fucking up, oh, who’s to say, just about everything she touches these past few months.

You’re not a part of this family. You never will be.

“Come in, come in!” She hears just beyond the door, and she cautiously peeks in to find the wizened old professor crouching over his printer, staring at it suspiciously as it slowly spits out some document. “Hello, dear. Wasn’t expecting you this early!”

I think you should leave.

“Sorry,” she manages, hovering in the doorway. “I just — change of plans.”

Professor Keelson nods, collects his papers, and creaks over to his desk. “Yes, very good.” he agrees, shuffling the papers into two piles. “Take a seat, I promise I won’t keep you very long. You look nice, by the way.”

She sits, already relaxing in the warm familiarity of Professor Keelson’s overstuffed office. Maybe this is why he’d wanted her to visit before she went, just to make sure she wouldn’t vomit on the interviewers. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Now,” he says, stuffing one pile of papers into a folder. “These are all your important documents: transcripts, transferable credits, disability accommodations, et cetera. Pardon my overstepping, but you did seem a little, ah, frazzled, shall we say? Last you came to speak with me and I was almost positive that you wouldn’t have thought of pulling the paperwork together.”

Which is absolutely true, she hadn’t, and she can’t even bring herself to feel insulted that he’d assumed she wouldn’t. “Thank you very much,” she says, trying desperately to seem calm and cool and collected and not crush her very expensive, very precious camera in her white-knuckle grip.

A mess. You're a mess.

Professor Keelson’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re very welcome. You’ll be happy to know that, since you’ve already completed all your core classes and general requirements, all of those credits will easily transfer between the schools. There may be a class or two you’ll have to make up, but you should be able to jump right in with your major-specific classes. Now, this,” he says, folding the other papers into an envelope. “Is your letter of recommendation. I’ll put it in the folder with everything else, but I wanted you to know that you had it.”

Oh, fuck, she might start crying again. “Professor—” she starts, but he’s already slid the folder across the desk to her.

“Ms. Ochoa, if I may.” Her mouth snaps shut, and he continues: “Our time together has been short, yes, but you have been one of my favorite students to ever come through these doors. Barring your obvious intelligence, passion, and work ethic, you’re also relentlessly kind, despite everything you’ve gone through.” His gaze fixes on her cheek for the briefest of moments, tracing over the lumps and bumps of her scars, but his eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. “I don’t presume to know your history, but I know bits of your present, and the person I’ve seen would make a valuable asset to any school she goes to. If you approach your new classes and projects with as much determination as you did mine, I’ve no doubt your new instructors will be as proud of you as I am. I let them know as much.”

...

She numbly takes the folder, desperately blinking back tears. “Th-thank you, sir.” She manages, thick in the back of her throat. “I-I’ll do my best.”

Professor Keelson takes up his customary position, hands laced neatly over his belly. “You will.” He agrees, smiling. “Now, you should be heading out soon. I’d hate to make you miss your train, especially if you want to get there early.”

“Yes — yes.” And she gets up on autopilot, sliding the folder into her backpack as carefully as she can manage. “Thank you. Thank you so much, professor, I can’t — I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She’s halfway out the door when she hears him call: “Ms. Ochoa, one more thing?”

She turns.

The professor smiles benevolently at her from his chair. “Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started.”

And with that, she’s on her way.

Get out.

So, update: maybe deciding to take her portfolio pictures on her way to her college interview was a stupid idea, but to be fair, a lot of her stupid ideas have worked out pretty decently before, so. It’s fine.

Probably.

She definitely doesn’t almost miss the train by snapping shots of the mostly-empty station, but in her defense, the morning fog hadn't quite dissipated yet, and the spooky air of possibility that the tracks had been extending and disappearing into was just begging to be captured. And she absolutely doesn’t continually hop seats throughout the hour-long ride to get different angles of the seats, the blurry towns and roads whizzing past, or even a couple of self-portraits here and there. It’s not like there are people around for her to bother, anyway, so it’s fine. (Probably.) It’s a little hard getting a satisfyingly dramatic shot of her staring out the window, but she thinks the one where they’re passing through a tunnel and she’s locked eyes with her shadowy reflection might be a winner. She won’t really know until she opens them up on her computer, which will probably end up being just before the interview, with her luck, so. Who knows, she might just be wasting her time and battery life.

It’s the most fun she’s had in a while, though.

And. Fuck, maybe it makes no sense, but she's still got that feeling in her chest. It's creeping up to her ponytail, at this point, tugging on the ends of her curls, ordering her to pay attention.

Capture this.

It's important.

Last time she felt like that, she won an award, so. Y'know. Fuck her if she's going to ignore it.

She cuts herself off when there’s ten minutes left in the journey, just to be sure she’s not scrambling to put herself together as she’s pulling up to the station, but ten minutes, it turns out, is both much longer and much shorter than she thought it’d be. Just enough time to run down the list of all the possible ways this could (and would) go wrong, but not enough to steady her racing heart before the train’s slowing down.

You're delusional. This isn't one of your little fairy tales. This is — it's not going to happen.

Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started, she remembers, taking one last breath to steel herself, and swings herself up onto her feet and out the doors.

The station is nice enough, but not terribly different from the one she’d started in besides being a little cleaner, so she shoulders her backpack and makes her way down the stairs and into the town proper.

Which.

Wow.

Maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, maybe not, but all the buildings she can see are draped with hanging lights, and even the curving street lights have extra strands hanging over the sidewalks. She almost wishes she’d scheduled her interview later in the day, just to be able to get a shot of those lights against the dark sky, but contents herself with snapping pictures of the incredibly aesthetic sidewalk and shops. She spots an art supply store with a cheerful blue door sandwiched between a movie theater and an apartment complex that frames up nicely, and there’s a coffee shop with swirling, festive winter-y designs painted on the window with pots of poinsettias framing the corners that’s a — no pun intended — picture-perfect paragon of coziness. She stops maybe a little too long to zoom in on the red leaves and flawless paint, making sure to keep the actual inside of the shop out of focus, because as cute as the beanbags and mismatched armchairs are, she doesn’t really feel like going in to ask if it’s alright for her to take pictures of the small handful of people both in front of and behind the counter.

One last shot of the poinsettias and she moves on, turning her lens to the last few, dying flowers in their garden beds, then to the display window of a bookstore that proudly announces its support of the LGBT community with various painted flags, then to the churning river that cuts through the town and the elegant bridge that arcs proudly above it.

There’s not a lot of people walking around right now, but she can definitely see kids around her age up the street, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their breath puffs out in front of them. A cute dog bounces over to say hello before its owner tugs it away with a sheepish smile, and even without their leaves, the trees interspersed along the sidewalk stand tall, proud, and lovely.

She’s got that weird ache in her chest again — stronger this time — that indiscernible pull that draws her to stay, and she puts her camera down, puffing out a shaky breath.

What made you think we want you here?

“It doesn’t matter.” She tells herself sternly, leaning up on the sides of the bridge. “It doesn’t matter unless you get in.”

Speaking of. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, fully intending to double check the email she’d been sent with instructions on where to go, but her eye catches on the time.

Twelve forty-six.

So. Maybe not the best idea to go gallivanting around a campus she doesn’t know, especially when she has an extremely important interview to get to, but even as she’s scolding herself, she knows the pink flush in her cheeks isn’t just from the cold, and she’s got more energy now than she’s had in months, so.

Worth it.

Thank god E.A. Archer Hall is straightforward enough to find; Google Maps tells her it’s a seven minute walk in a mostly straight line from where she is on the bridge now, which she just about manages even though it’s cold and her stump is starting to ache. The building is emblazoned with the name right on the side, so it’s impossible to miss, but she needs a keycard to get in, and somehow she thinks her current school ID isn’t exactly going to fly here.

But someone, somewhere, is smiling on her, because she’s only just gotten to oh, shit before a tall woman with vitiligo and long box braids strides towards the door, pushing it open.

“Alejandra Ochoa?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says as smoothly as she can behind her chattering teeth, and the woman smiles.

“You're right on time. Come on in, let's get started."

#I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT FIO/STL WOULD GO NOW SO IM REWRITING IT #i dont wanna spoil things bc i am in fact working on the next bits but here are some minor thoughts:#1: alexa starts out as an architecture major then switches schools to go into photography/filmmaking spring semester 2nd year #((not to toot my own horn but the way her major reflects her emotional arc is actually very clever of me if i do say so myself))#2: alexa and jaimey are half siblings through their dad and there will in fact be more Jaimey/Juno development than ive ever done before #((i have a lot of thoughts about their relationship and how it would grow and develop over time so. lowkey Jaimey redemption arc))#3: alexa obviously nails this interview and she hangs out on campus for a lil while afterwards to take pictures #((3.5: she does end up going into the coffee shop and there is in fact a Very Cute Barista and she gets Nervous))#4: the little interjections are things that have been said to Alexa somewhat recently but not all by the same person #thats about it i think anything else would be spoiler-y #n e way i cant wait to loredump all my new thoughts on yall im so sorry in advance for all the notifications you're about to get #im workin on some AU stuff too but lately ive been wanting to write about Normal Kids doing Normal Kid Things so here we are #i hope you enjoyed #movie house #alejandra ochoa #alexa darmond #my writing #shut up phoenix

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out-of-jams · 4 years

Text

One Chance || myg

(Amazing, incredibly badass banner made by @kimtaehyunq )

↠ One Chance ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project.

And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

A/n: Hey all you cool cats and kittens. Hope you’re all staying safe out there! I wasn’t intending to write this, but I had no other choice.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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Min Yoongi.

The name stared up at you in size twelve font, black letters printed onto the white sheeted paper. Every other word on the page blurred around the edges as you tried to place a face to the name. You weren’t good with names, never had been. So with a sigh, you leaned to the side and mumbled to the girl sitting next to you in class.

“Hey, who’s Min Yoongi?”

She--Mira? Mina? something like that--glanced up from her portfolio opened up on the desk and shot you a disbelieving look. You couldn’t blame her, not really. It was nearing the end of the semester and your vocal class had worked with the music production class multiple times throughout the course of the year. Neither class was very big, so you probably should have known the names of all twenty students. Total. Ten in each class.

But hey, in your defense you’d had a lot on your plate, seeing as how you were about to graduate from university and all. Which was a pretty big deal, so memorizing the names of people you only saw a few times ever-so-often wasn’t high up on your list of priorities.

But Min Yoongi.

You recognized him the moment you saw the soft outline of his profile through the glass window of the studio door a day later. He had his attention trained on whatever was on his laptop screen, pale hand sliding across the mousepad. His dark brows were pinched in concentration and you could see the tip of his tongue digging into the side of his cheek.

Even though the overly-bright lights in the room were on, the guy still somehow managed to blend in with the slate grey walls. Hell, his icy blond hair was the only color to stand out amongst all the black clothing. The oversized hoodie and black joggers he wore looked comfortable, and had you glancing down at your own outfit self-consciously. Had the sweater, skirt and high heeled boots combo been too much? Should you have dressed down a little?

Whatever. It was too late now.

Watching him through the door made you feel like some kind of stalking creep, but you couldn’t help it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times and recognized him from whenever your classes joined together and was a little disappointed at yourself for not recognizing his name. Even though you'd never spoken a word to him before, you were a little apprehensive about being partnered together. Min Yoongi had a reputation, and not a very good one. Sure, he was talented at what he did, producing music, to the point where a lot of people in the music department called him a genius. But he was known for being standoffish. Rude. And could cut someone down with a few words from his naturally pouty lips.

You didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, or by the rumors that circulated about them. However, that did nothing for the intimidating aura that bled from the man like cologne the second you stepped foot into the room.

He didn’t even pause in whatever he was doing to spare you a glance. Just announced in a dry, rumbling voice, “You’re late.”

“Uh.” You hesitated halfway into the room, the door swinging shut behind you automatically. Two seconds in and he already hated you. Great. “Sorry. I got lost.”

That made him look up and watch as you pulled the only other rolling chair back from the desk and plopped down. God, his eyes were just as daunting as the rest of him: onyx in color and cat-like in shape, they were bottomless as he blinked at you lazily. And he slowly raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got lost.” Yoongi repeated slowly. So sarcastically that you didn’t even hear a question mark at the end of it. “Aren’t you about to graduate? How are you still getting lost on campus?”

Your mouth opened and closed, embarrassed heat blossoming across your cheeks. You were blushing hard and you knew it, but that sure as hell didn’t mean that you had to acknowledge it. So you just sniffed and dug through your backpack for an excuse to break eye contact. “I haven’t been in here before.”

It was true. In a way. The hall of studios that you were in now were for the senior music production students. There was a completely different area for each year, but each student had their own assigned as theirs for the semester. So you weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t been to his exact studio before.

Which he seemed to catch on to, if the way Yoongi’s second eyebrow raised to join the first told you anything. But he let it go and turned back to shut his laptop, which you could now see was opened to a music production app. You weren’t very schooled on how to operate it, but even you could tell that he seemed to be very far into whatever it was he was making.

Though you didn’t get a good enough look at it before he closed it.

“Even though we have a month to do this, we should figure out what kind of song we’re making now instead of later.” Yoongi stated in that gruff voice of his and clicked a few things on his laptop. “Since you’re the one singing, you’ll be setting the tone--”

“Wait.” You interrupted.

Yoongi stopped whatever it was he was about to say to give you a blank look, the corners of his lips turned down. “What?”

Clearing your throat, you continued on despite the way his expression tried to cow you into shutting up. “How’re we splitting this up?”

A valid question. Not every person who created music worked in the same way. Some liked to do things a completely different way than somebody else might’ve. Last time you’d worked with one of the students from the music production class, the two of you had butted heads the whole way. He hadn’t wanted to hear your input at all, and you weren’t about to be shoved off to the side like some kind of un-opinionated mouthpiece again.

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a hum. “I normally make the track and leave the lyrics up to the singer unless they need help.”

He looked at you from out of the corner of his eye as he clicked a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him to bring the giant monitor above the control panel to life. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“Good. You’ll take care of that then.” Yoongi slid a blank yellow notepad into the empty space on the control panel between you. “Though we’ll need to do the melody before that.”

The next time the two of you met was almost a week later. It’d been sometime late in the afternoon when you both finally had time in your schedules. Because for some stupid reason, even though both of your classes were combined to work on the project, it had to be done outside of class.

Ugh.

As if you didn’t already have enough things to stress over. Like say, securing a job for after graduation.

During the first meeting between the two of you, you’d already decided on what kind of song you wanted to make. Something upbeat, but not over the top, though not boring either. You weren’t a huge fan of sounding like every other music artist out there and apparently Yoongi had felt the same. So it’d been easy to come up with.

He’d texted over a few ideas for the concept and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how serious he took it. At how complex and layered the ideas he’d come up with were. They were a lot better than anything you could have ever dreamed up and you were beyond astonished.

Especially when he met you outside of his studio door, blond hair was secured back off his forehead by a white headband, and greeted you with, “I finished the track.”

“Already?” Shock was clear in your voice and you watched open mouthed as he unlocked the door and held it open for you to follow him inside. The lights flickered on overhead, but you were too busy staring at his back to notice. “That was quick, holy shit.”

Yoongi shrugged off your awe and wiggled the mouse to bring his computer to life. “It was no big deal. And now we can work on the melody.”

Still gaping at the blond, you shuffled forward to drop your bag next to your chair. “Okay. Um. Where should we start?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat down and lazily dragged the mouse over to open up his production software. “Listen to it first and let me know if you want to make any changes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You plopped down into your own chair and watched as he pressed play.

The music that poured from the expensive speakers started off slowly until it tapered off into what you assumed would be the first chorus. And you found yourself unconsciously tapping your fingers against your thigh when the bridge finally hit, you had to bite your lip to contain an excited smile. The moment it ended, you twisted in your chair to see that he was already looking at you. Though he kept his face blank, you could literally see question lingering behind those cat-like eyes of his.

“Mm.” You hummed, nodding your head and trying your damnedest to keep the grin from your face.

When you failed to say anything more, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Mm.” You finally let the smile touch your lips. “I really liked it. It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He reached out to stop the track from replaying on a loop. “Any changes?”

“Nah. I like it just the way it is.”

“Alright.” Was what he responded with, but you could tell that he was pleased beneath that hard exterior of his. “The melody then.”

“The melody.” You agreed.

Min Yoongi was extremely anal when it came to anything he attached his name to.

That was probably why he had so many music companies vying for his attention. Not only did he produce nothing short of perfect tracks, but he’d even made some cash on the side selling some of them. Or so you’d heard through the grapevine.

Which was exactly why you were left staring at the blank notebook settled across your crossed legs. The pen in your hand had yet to put ink to the blank pages hours after you’d gotten home. All because some guy intimidated the hell out of you.

Most of the songs you wrote were fine. But that was the problem.

Min Yoongi didn’t do fine. And you had no doubt in your mind that he’d tear your work to absolute shreds should you present him something lackluster. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to jump the gun and tell him you’d be fine writing by yourself.

It was way too late now.

“How long are you going to stare like that?”

Snapping out of your self-degrading thoughts, you turned to look over your shoulder. Jennie, your ever present roommate, was standing behind the couch shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. By the lack of makeup on her face and the messy bun her long black hair was thrown up into, she was more than likely about to go to bed.

“Stare like what?” You asked with a poorly concealed pout, pulling out your earbuds that’d been playing the track on a constant loop.

“Like you’re constipated or something.” Jennie waved her spoon at you before dipping it back into the bowl to scoop up more soggy cereal. “Project really giving you that much trouble?”

She didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on with you, not exactly. Sure, she knew that you were partners with Yoongi and had been spending a lot of time with the man for the project. But she didn’t know just how much pressure you were under. Self-inflicted or not.

“These lyrics are kicking my ass.” Groaning, you leaned to the side until you were sprawled out on the couch.

“Why?” Jennie rested her arms against the back of it, bowl of milk and cereal hovering over you dangerously. “They don’t normally.”

She had a point. It wasn’t usually so difficult to write a damn song, but you also didn’t usually have a perfectionist genius as a partner. Instead of saying that though, you just threw your arms over your face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this, ‘ya know? I should drop out while I still can.”

“O-kay.” You could hear her exasperated eye roll. “Don’t stress so much about it. You know, whenever you’re done being overdramatic.”

Jennie successfully dodged the couch pillow you chucked after fleeing footsteps. A buzz from your phone had you reaching for it blindly and the text on the screen had you burying your face into the cushions.

Min Yoongi: you free tomorrow?

Y/n: yeah. Same time?

His response came in not even five seconds later.

Min Yoongi: works for me

“So, see you tomorrow?” The question left your lips as you packed your stuff back into your bag. You still hadn’t been able to come up with any lyrics. At least none good enough to show your partner. So while you’d both been in the studio, you’d busied yourself trying to write and Yoongi had been doing whatever it was that he did.

He’d just powered down the computer he’d been working on and shook his head without looking at you. “I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

“Oh, really?” That came as a surprise. The fact that there was something or someone out there that could force the Min Yoongi to ditch working on a song. “What kind of plans?”

Ever since you’d showed up with food two weeks ago, he’d been a little more amicable towards you. Not as closed off. Which, of course, only led to you bringing some with you every day. Maybe food being the way to a man’s heart really applied to every man. Nonetheless, with the way the two of you would banter back and forth without heat made you hope that it wasn’t just you who considered him a friend.

Yoongi paused, only for a moment, but he paused all the same in throwing his bag over his shoulder before he answered. “I...have a show.”

“A show?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stood up. That was the last thing you would have expected to leave his mouth. “What kind of show?”

“It’s not the type of show you’d want to watch.” He headed for the door and you scrambled to follow after him.

Leaning against the wall while he locked up the door, you folded your arms across your chest. “Why? You a stripper or something?”

Yoongi didn’t even spare you a look, just pocketed his keys and started down the hallway, apparently assuming that you’d follow. “You saying I wouldn’t be a good stripper?”

He’d assumed correctly. Your legs raced to catch up. “I never said that. You insinuated that all by yourself.”

An amused scoff passed his lips, but that was all you got in response. You weren’t about to letter the matter drop though. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.”

A pause. And then Yoongi met your sparkling gaze and shook his head with a huffing laugh. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

“Well, if your show isn’t anything rated NC-18, then can I go?”

“Why would you want to go?”

His question had you sending him a hesitant look. “Because we’re friends, aren't we?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If I say no, will you stop asking?”

You pretended to think for a minute before clicking your tongue. “Nope.”

He looked over at you, feline eyes squinting in contemplation. As much as Min Yoongi liked to act like he came across as aloof, he was a lot easier to read than he probably thought. And he must have found whatever it was he was looking for, because his thoughtful pout turned into a careless shrug.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Sweet.” You grinned up at him and finally let him go on his merry way.

It was difficult to find a parking spot. You’d had to loop around the block at least ten times before you were finally able to squeeze your car into a space between two giant SUVs. The spot wasn’t exactly close to where you were supposed to meet Yoongi, but it was the best you could do.

When he’d texted you the address, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little apprehensive at first. It was located on the outskirts of downtown where you’d never been before. Because the further out you went from the center of the city, the more dangerous it got.

Y/n: I’m here.

You sent the text off to Yoongi and cut the car engine. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dash, you silently thanked yourself for leaving a bit early in order to get there in time. The sun had long gone down and the moon had taken its place, so the streets were dark. Only lit up by the street lamps and lights that bled from apartment windows. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, the corner store half a block down was the only one still open.

You had about six blocks to walk and was just about to get out of your car when your phone started vibrating in your hand.

“Hello?” You answered the call, voice pitched with barely concealed amusement.

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice was even deeper over the phone, if that were possible. And you could hear the sounds of cars driving past him in the background.

You rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I told you that I’m here.”

He sighed into the phone and you just knew that he was making a face. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Like, parked a few blocks away.” You popped your car door open, turning back to the passenger seat to grab your bag. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Stay where you are.” Yoongi demanded and you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to.” You huffed a laugh. “I have two legs, ‘ya know.”

“Really? Never noticed.” In the background, voices blended in with the sound of cars. “This neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. So just tell me where you are so I can make sure you don’t get stabbed or something.”

“‘Stabbed or something?’” It was difficult to hide your amusement now, but you obeyed and got back inside your car anyway, letting him know what street you were on. “My knight in shining armor, you say the most romantic things.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. You knew he did. “Nevermind. Maybe I’ll just let you get stabbed while I make my escape.”

The bark of laughter that left you was impossible to contain. “I could run faster than you and you know it. So try me.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah okay. You wouldn't--”

A click told you that yes, he would. And you were left staring down at your phone with open mouthed disbelief. How dare he? You were just about to call him back and tell him as much, when a knock on your car window had you jumping with a small shriek.

Yoongi stood right outside your door with his fist still raised and a gummy grin on his pouty lips. You just stuck your tongue out at him childishly and grabbed your bag before slipping out of your car. “You’re a bully.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark colored jeans and shrugged. “Would a bully walk all the way over here to make sure you don’t get robbed?”

Now it was your turn to shrug, taking him in and pretending not to see his onyx eyes slide down your body. Yoongi was dressed casually like usual. With a plain white t-shirt and a black zip up jacket thrown over it, he pulled it off like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. How in the hell he always managed to do that was a mystery to you. And you knew you didn’t compare to him, even with your high-waisted white joggers and grey crop top.

Whatever. It wasn’t like it was bright enough outside to matter anyway.

“That sounds exactly like something a robber would say.” You flicked your hair over your shoulder and took off down the cracked sidewalk, making sure to lock your car behind you.

“Not like there’d be much to steal.” Yoongi’s voice caught up to you right as he did, walking side by side with the occasional brushing of his shoulder against yours.

You responded to his playful jab by lightly smacking his arm. “Careful there. Keep saying such poetic words and you’ll make me fall in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He went quiet, but you could feel him looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze was a weight that burned through you, a light shining through the night.

The rest of the walk passed by pretty quickly, especially when nobody jumped out of an alleyway to rob you at knifepoint. Whether or not that was because of the man walking at your side, or something else, it didn’t matter. Not when the building you were headed to for the night popped up in the distance.

It looked like any other building on the street, with rough brick siding and a glowing red and green sign advertising the bar. Situated on the corner, you were just about to head inside when Yoongi’s hand caught your arm.

“It’s this way.” He answered your confused look by tugging you gently down the alleyway right next to the bar.

“But I thought it was inside.” You glanced back behind you before looking back towards the dead ended alley.

Yoongi dropped his hand from your arm. “It is.”

“Ah, makes sense.” You nodded sarcastically, successfully drawing a smile from your escort.

“Be patient and you’ll see.”

True to his word, you saw what he meant when he came to a stop outside of a side door. There weren’t any signs or anything indicated what it led to, but you could take a guess as Yoongi pulled it open and gestured for you to enter first.

It was dark inside and you had to squint in the dim lighting in order to see anything. You were in what appeared to be some kind of entrance that reminded you of one of the speakeasies downtown. Though there wasn’t a soul in sight, just a staircase at the end of the short hall. Unless you counted the loud base of music pounding through your feet and straight to your bones. The door slammed shut behind Yoongi and then he was taking the lead towards the stairs.

The further down you went, the louder the music got until it was all you could hear. And once you got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room, you found out why. Bodies were packed wall-to-wall, some moving to the music pouring from the speakers and others nodding their heads with drinks in their hands. Red and purple lights made the room seem bigger than it actually was, made it easier to lose yourself in the crowd.

Yoongi had taken you to an underground club. Which just made you all the more curious about just what kind of show he was going to be performing in.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi’s voice, even though spoken directly in your ear, was barely distinguishable from the lyrics bleeding through the room.

You simply nodded, taking care not to bash your head into his nose from where he was leaning over for you to hear him. He said something you couldn’t hear, words lost to the crowd. But you assumed he wanted you to follow him when he started to merge himself into the throngs of people. Just when you thought that you’d have to try and fight your way through to keep up with him, he was reaching back to grab your hand.

Wrapped his slender fingers around yours without sparing you a second look.

He was just trying to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Yeah, that was it. There was no other reason for it, so therefore your heart had no reason to speed up. To thump in time with the bass as you followed behind him. Especially when the warmth from his palm slid into yours.

“What do you want?” Yoongi turned back to speak in your ear. Shit, you hadn’t even realized that you’d already reached the packed bar. So you forced yourself to focus on the two bartenders running around behind it, rather than the hand still in yours.

“Tequila.” You answered. Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning back to the bar. With his eyes no longer on you, it made breathing a whole lot easier. And you turned your attention away from Yoongi’s slim back and towards the stage.

It was all the way on the other side of the room and you watched as a guy walked across it with a mic in his hands. The music was lowered and his voice cracked to life through the speakers. Whatever announcement he was making went in one ear and out the other because Yoongi turned back around with a plastic cup extended out towards you. His other hand was empty and you sent him a questioning look.

Whether or not he knew what you were silently asking, or was just making a general announcement, he answered your question. “I have to perform soon.”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth and accepted the drink with a smile in thanks. “You still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be doing.”

You had to stand on your tippy-toes in order for Yoongi to hear you, which didn’t go unnoticed by him if the amused gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. “You’ll see.”

Which was exactly how you found yourself with another drink in your hands and your back leaning against the bar. If you were being completely honest, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. A lot of different things had popped into your mind about what kind of shows your partner liked to put on. Some ranging from completely ridiculous, to weird, to funny.

But none of them had been this.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A talented producer, a deep thinker, a musical genius.

Never would you have thought to add “rapper” to the list. You should have known, was a little surprised at yourself for not being able to guess. Like all other things Min Yoongi, he was incredibly good at it. Took to the stage like a natural. And you were completely awestruck, unable to look away the whole time he was up on that stage, letting words flow from his lips like some kind of poetic river.

Calm, yet bubbling over with the effortless way he captured the attention of everyone in the room. The track he rapped over was fast paced, but he had no trouble keeping up and keeping the crowd engaged at the same time. He performed three songs, but it wasn’t enough. And judging by the one last look at the crowd Yoongi took before exiting the stage, it wasn’t enough for him either.

Whoever took his place didn’t have one ounce of your attention. And maybe that was rude or whatever, but you didn’t care. Not when you caught sight of his blond head making its way towards you. He got stopped multiple times along the way by people congratulating him with pats on the back or short conversations.

By the time Yoongi finally made his way back to your side, your second drink was extended out to him with a grin on your face. You’d barely even taken a sip from it, so it was completely full and beginning to sweat water. “That was amazing!”

The performer on stage was loud, but you could tell that Yoongi heard you by the smile he tried and failed to hide behind the rim of the plastic cup. But you weren’t going to leave it at that, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and squeezing to make sure you got your point across. “Like, incredibly amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could rap like that?”

“You never asked.” He shrugged. Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to feed off of compliments, you knew that. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them. The way his onyx colored eyes glittered told as much. And when he tilted the plastic cup back and drained the contents, the confidence that flowed beneath his skin gave it away too. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, young padawan.”

A snort of amusement from the passenger side of your car had you throwing Yoongi a wink. He completely ignored you in favor of thumbing through the playlist on your phone. It was hooked up to the radio via bluetooth and ever since you’d left the underground club, he’d been focused on silently judging you for your music choices.

When Yoongi had suggested bailing on the club, he hadn’t really had a particular place in mind. Which you’d soon figured out the moment you stepped out the door. He’d taken the subway to the place, so you’d all but shoved him into your car before he had a chance to say no.

“You really have Ariana Grande on here?” He wiggled your phone in your peripheral and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy merging off the freeway.

“What’s wrong with Ari?” You huffed in mock offense.

“Nothing.”

“I can literally hear the judgement in your voice.”

“Maybe you should focus on the road then.”

Now you really did roll your eyes. Though the bark of laughter that accompanied it showed your lack of annoyance. “I would if we weren’t already here.”

Yoongi looked up from your phone just as you were putting the car into park. His eyes squinted into the dark with a furrow of his eyebrows. “We’re at the beach?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and turned off your car, quickly hopping out before you could fall victim to his flatline stare.

The scent of sea salt lingered in the semi-humid air and you paused for a moment to inhale deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of the ocean, and when the passenger side door opened and closed, you rounded the car to wave Yoongi along. He caught up to you right as your shoe hit the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You’d had to park way back in one of the lots far away from the beach for whatever godforsaken reason.

Shopfronts, closed and shuttered by metal grates due to the late hour, greeted you as you walked down the path. And Yoongi’s presence at your side was calming. Hell, everything about that man was. Never would you have thought that about him, not at first. Not with the rocky way your friendship had started.

Neither would you have expected the warmth that bloomed in your chest everytime he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. Or flashed you one of his patented gummy smiles. He’d somehow wormed a place into your heart with that sarcastic wit of his. No, the last thing you would have expected from your final project was this.

But you didn’t mind. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, only looked at you like a friend, you didn’t mind. Because you’d take anything he offered you. And if a friendship was all he was willing to give, that was okay too.

“Where are we going exactly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you glanced up at him to see that he was already looking at you.

“Do we need to have a destination?” You shot back with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “It’s all in the journey.”

He rolled his eyes skyward as if silently asking why me, but let a smile touch his lips anyway “And this journey leads to the beach I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” You dragged out the syllables, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“That’s exactly what I’m--whoa.” Your feet came to a halt right as you stepped out from between two shops, where the boardwalk met the beach. Yoongi stopped at your side, but you didn’t even notice.

Because you were too busy staring at the apparent concert that was being held further down the beach. Apparently the loud music you’d heard from the parking lot wasn’t from one of the many speakers placed throughout the boardwalk. Well, that would explain the lack of parking at least.

Even from where the two of you stood, you could tell that the crowd was huge. They took up a big chunk of the beach, bodies nothing but a dark mass in the distance as they danced to the music from the stage. You couldn’t tell who it was, not that far away. But the multicolored lights flashed into the sky like a beacon.

“I wonder who’s performing.” Yoongi’s mumble had you bending down to unlace your shoes. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna know who’s performing?” Slipping off your socks, you threw both those and your shoes into your bag. Once it was closed up, you sent Yoongi a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s go find out.”

He didn’t move, just gave you a look before realization dawned on his face. “You want to sneak in.”

It was a statement, not a question, but you nodded your head anyway. “Come on, when will you ever have the chance to do something like this again. Don’t tell me you’re scared we’ll get caught.”

Yoongi scoffed, but leaned down to slip off his shoes in an uncharacteristic move. You knew he wasn’t much of a partier and didn’t do things like this very often. So the fact that he was caving to your suggestion had your mind whirling. “I��m just surprised, is all.”

“At what?”

A smirk was thrown your way as he stood back up, but that was all the answer you got. After all the time you’ve spent with the man, you’d like to consider yourself a Yoongi Whisperer. So that smirk probably meant something along the lines of: I’m surprised that you’re a super awesome badass.

Or something.

“Just come on.” You grabbed his hand without thinking, dragging him behind you onto the sand. When he failed to complain, you took that as a greenlight to continue doing so.

When his fingers linked themselves with yours, it took all you had to not falter in your steps. To pretend like you weren’t affected by such a thoughtless action. To calm the rapid beating of your heart.

The closer you got to the concert, the louder the music got, until you could hear the roar of the crowd over the artist on stage. It was EDM, or at least sounded like it. Of course, as soon as you got closer, you spotted your first hurdle. One you’d been unable to see from far away.

A chain link fence stood between the two of you and a night of fun. It had your shoulders deflating before you even realized it, and you turned to the blond at your side. “Should we climb it or something?”

Biting your lip, you eyed just how far up it was. Even if the two of you managed to climb it, there was no way that you wouldn’t be spotted by security. And being arrested was the last thing on your to-do list.

“Or.” Yoongi crossed over to the fence and wrapped his hands along the bottom of it. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, he lifted it up and back, bending it backwards with just enough space left at the bottom for someone to squeeze underneath.

There was no way that he would have been strong enough on his own to lift it, and a closer look had you snorting a laugh. Apparently the two of you weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea to sneak in.

“You going?” He questioned and you started forward before a smartass remark could leave his mouth.

The sand was cool beneath your body as you shimmied underneath the space between the fence and the ground. And once you were on the other side, you crouched down and grabbed the fence from Yoongi to pull back towards your side. “I’m surprised that you’re going along with this, to be honest. Don’t you hate music like this?”

He grunted as he crawled across the sand towards you. “You wanted to.”

“So?” Your voice was soft, but he was still able to hear you over the pounding bass. The fence dropped from your fingers once he was on your side, but you didn’t move, just stared up at him as he stood.

“So.” Yoongi started, extending a hand down to help you up. “Are you coming?”

His answer had warmth blossoming in your chest and a tiny smile blooming on your face. Had you reaching out to let him help you up off the sand. He didn’t let go while you brushed yourself off, but he did guide the both of you towards the writhing crowd, if only to avoid being spotted by security.

It was a good thing that Yoongi was a slim man, because it made slipping through the numerous dancing bodies closer towards the stage a whole lot easier. You’d made it to about the middle when he stopped and tugged you closer to join him in a pocket of space between two different groups of people. The scent of marijuana mixed in with sea salt from the ocean in a cocktail that usually accompanied things like that.

“Dance with me.” You spoke into Yoongi’s ear, ignoring the excited flush you felt at being so close to him.

“I can’t dance.” He stated, despite the hand he slipped around your waist and pressed into your back. Whether or not to move you out of the range of the group of girls dancing wildly behind you, or something else, you didn’t know.

Chest to chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. “Mm. I don’t believe you. Everyone can dance.”

“That’s a lie.” Yoongi’s lips were titled up at the corners and his gaze on you was soft. Gentle.

The flashing lights on the stage flickered through his dark colored eyes. Turned those once pools of onyx into a glittering galaxy that you couldn’t look away from. That hypnotized you like the beat that pulsed beneath your skin and drowned your ears.

“That’s not true.” Your mumble was lost to the crowd. Buried somewhere underneath the music as he moved closer. And the butterflies nestled deep in your gut fluttered their wings when his other hand cupped the side of your face.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours and his breath fanned across your cheek. That was the only warning you got before his mouth was on yours. His lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he liked to wear. And the kiss, like everything Min Yoongi, was slow. Not in a lazy way. More like he was taking the time to savor it. To remember what your hair felt like as he slid his hand into it.

Or the way you involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip. How your fingers found their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck when you pulled him closer. How he’d had to hold back a laugh at the way you were standing on your tippy-toes in order to reach him.

You probably wouldn’t have pulled away and neither would he, if it weren’t for the rain that suddenly tore from the sky like an opened dam. Drenching anything and everything around it faster than you could blink. It had you forcing yourself away from the magnetizing pull of Yoongi’s lips to give him an eye crinkling smile.

“What was that for?” You didn’t care if you were getting wet.

Neither did he apparently, because he ran a thumb over the lips he’d just kissed, sending shivers down your spine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Break it down for me.”

He met your imploring gaze almost bashfully, eyes squinting from the rain. “I’ve liked you since practically the beginning of the semester.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know how.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you, Min Yoongi.”

He opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder. Both of you glanced up at the dark sky at the same time.

Everyone around you was either ignoring the torrential downpour or shrieking and attempting to use anything to shield themselves from getting wet. Once the sound of thunder echoed a streak of lightning, you knew what was about to happen next and turned to meet Yoongi’s eyes. He, like everyone else, was drenched and his blond hair stuck to the damp skin of his face. It had you grinning at the pout on his mouth and you leaned forward to press your lips to his one final time before pulling away.

“We should get out of here before everyone else decides to do the same.” You had to shout to be heard over both the rain and the noise from everything else. It was only a matter of time before the concert got either canceled or postponed due to the thunderstorm and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Yoongi wiped water from his eyes and grabbed your hand to start navigating the hell out of there.

And as your eyes trained themselves to his slim back and your fingers interlocked themselves with his, you smiled. The lyrics that you’d been struggling so hard to write came to life beneath the fire in your chest. You had no one but the man in front of you to thank for the inspiration.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a poet, a light in a sea of darkness.

Min Yoongi was nothing if not beautiful.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #yoongi #yoongi fic #r yoongi

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starmieknight · 3 years

Text

Plus One, Two, Three (part 1)

Pairing: (poly) Jeongguk x Jimin x Taehyung x Original Character, [background OT7 implied

Summary: Hari attends a wedding with her boyfriends - a magical wedding. She’s excited, but still feels a bit out of place as she gets an idea of what her future with the boys might look like.

Contents: magic!au, college/university!au, a look at the more flirty side of this au, hari and jimin are doms, tae and kook are subs, hari has fun with that, worldbuilding, was supposed to be sweet and a look into magical culture but they’re all THIRSTY, part 2 coming soon (hopefully)

Related Work(s): Gray Morning, Golden Home

Hari and Jimin peered unhappily out of the window at the sight of the light snowfall that had just started.

“I’m going to bust my ass in these heels.” Hari said mournfully, shuffling her feet as if to steady herself already.

“And we’ll both freeze to death.” Jimin concluded, regretting his choice to forego his usual sweater for the sheer, charcoal dress shirt he wore under his blazer. It looked so good with that particular blazer though, the shirt a teasing shimmer beneath the matte black and gold accents.

He had chosen the combination specifically to match Hari’s dress. She wore an inky black, sleeveless turtleneck dress with matching heels that had shiny golden buckles. Hari and Jimin had both traded in their usual silver jewelry to match their gold theme. Hari had gone with more simple choices, thin rings and stud earrings, while Jimin wore thick, jewel encrusted rings and dangling hoop earrings.

They complemented each other while still being unique.

Their coven rings rested proudly on their right index fingers, the ever color changing metal matching their choices of the evening.

Taehyung snorted from behind them, dropping a pair of coats on their couch .

“You two knew this was going to be a winter wedding.” he reprimanded with a smirk. “You should have found some boots and a sweater instead.”

He was smartly dressed in a sharp black blazer and matching turtleneck. Taehyung matched Hari as well, but offset the effect by wearing pearl earrings instead.

He was dressed the most simply, but his natural good looks were shining through strongly.

Jimin and Hari ran their eyes over him appreciatively.

“Your hair looks so good,” Hari sighed appreciatively at the new color and cut. She left the window to steal a kiss. She couldn’t help herself when he looked that good. “And it may be winter, but it’s indoors. I’d burn up in my boots.”

“Not my little bird.” Taehyung denied, taking the chance to drape her coat over her shoulders. He tapped his earring. “I’d give you a warming charm. But I do like these heels. Sexy.”

Hari grinned, quirking a brow at the idea.

Jimin wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning over her shoulder to kiss Taehyung as well.

“Are we actually going to this wedding or was this just an excuse to get pretty and make out?” Jeongguk teased as he came down the stairs.

The older trio wolf-whistled at the sight of him.

He preened at the attention, ruffling his hair and striking a pose to urge them on. They didn’t disappoint, turning their wolf-whistling into raucous applause and shouted compliments at his sharp figure.

“Helloooo, Nurse!” Hari grinned, letting her tongue poke out of her mouth a bit in an impression of the old styled cartoons.

Jeongguk wore a white button up under a black leather jacket and topped it off with a black, silk tie around his throat.

His older lovers beckoned him over and he came willingly into their arms. Taehyung pressed a kiss to their maknae’s jaw while Jimin reached up to kiss his mouth.

Hari eyed that tie appreciatively, running a slow hand over his chest. The fabric was almost see-through and she could see the outline of his chiseled stomach, see the way his dark nipples peeked through the thin cloth, the way the crisp collar was just a teasing border to what was waiting beneath for her.

Jeongguk pulled away from Taehyung and Jimin, looking flustered and his mouth red.

All three of the boys fixed their eyes on Hari’s wandering hand as she made her way up his chest to grab that teasing silk.

She tugged lightly, pulling Jeongguk down to her level so she could kiss him.

He tasted like mint and Jimin’s chapstick and Hari loved the taste. The only way it could be better was if there was a hint of Taehyung there too.

“Let’s make a deal.” she suggested, trailing her lips over Jeongguk’s jaw to where Taehyung had kissed him. The maknae was left dazed and wanting by the loss of her lips on his. “When we get back from the wedding, you keep this tie on and I’ll keep the heels and we’ll have our own after party. I’m really liking the fit on you…”

“I vote we skip the wedding altogether.” Taehyung suggested hoarsely. His pupils were blown wide and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

Jimin made a displeased noise. “As much as I wish that we could now,” he gave Hari a pointedly annoyed look. “Soyul-noona would curse us with blue balls for a week if we tried.”

“Hari-noona is a Curse Breaker.” Jeongguk protested, attempting to kiss her again. “It wouldn’t last.”

“I don’t know.” Hari grinned, ducking away to tease him. “I think I like the idea. It’d be fun to see what ya’ll’d get like if you couldn’t get off for a week.”

The boys’ hands froze wherever they rested on her body.

“You-” Jeongguk swallowed thickly, looking wrecked already. “You’d make us beg, noona?”

Taehyung looked similarly affected by her teasing words and Jimin looked intrigued, but more for the effect it had on the younger boys instead of himself.

In their bedroom, Jimin and Hari were a pair of doms to be reckoned with. They fed off of each other’s energy and often left Taehyung and Jeongguk limp and dazed by their effect.

He couldn’t wait to see what their dynamic could be like when their coven was whole again.

He thought Hari might be more shy with the older boys, much like she had been with him at first before she found her confidence. And he knew she could play a slightly more submissive role, even if she liked being in charge. Or she just liked to let Taehyung act like he was in charge from time to time. She and Jimin knew exactly where they stood with each other, no playing the power game like they did with Taehyung and Jeongguk.

They liked to hold the power in their hands, unable to let go as freely as Taehyung and Jeongguk could.

Jimin tsked disapprovingly at Hari. “You shouldn’t tease them like that. They’ll be unbearable during the wedding now.”

Hari laughed at him. “My bad. In that case, we’d better hurry and get this over with.”

“Right.” Taehyung murmured, blinking slowly as if coming out of a deep sleep. “Are we ready?”

“We were just waiting on you two.” Jimin confirmed. He considered them for a moment. “Who has the wedding gift?”

“I went ahead and put it in the car.” Jeongguk sighed, disappointed at the turn of events. “We’re all good.”

“Then let's get going.” Hari hummed, heading for the garage like nothing was wrong.

The boys grumbled as they followed after her.

_____

The boys’ mood lightened as they got closer to the wedding venue. They traded their frustration for light-hearted jokes and inevitable flirting, which turned to fondness as they watched Hari’s face go slack with awe at the magically decorated space.

Taehyung understood her best in that respect, having joined the magical community as a teenager instead of being born into it like Jimin and Jeongguk had. Even after nearly ten years of exposure to magic, he still felt giddy by its effect.

While Jimin went to park the car, Taehyung and Jeongguk helped Hari down the snowy path, watching her carefully in case she slipped.

She looked nervous about both potentially hurting or embarrassing herself if she fell.

However, the moment her legs wobbled even once, Jeongguk swept her off her feet and carried her the rest of the way inside.

Taehyung laughed as he followed, using his magic to float off the path a bit and just fly inside. He nearly bumped into the bride’s sister. He beamed at her.

“Soeun-ah!” Taehyung’s hair poofed around his face as he landed and hurried to take the girl’s hands into his own. “You look so pretty!”

“You charmer.” Soeun grinned, flushing a bit. “You look good, too. All of you.” She looked at Hari and Jeongguk appreciatively as the pair joined them.

“Hello,” Hari said shyly. She was tucked into Jeongguk’s side, almost hiding as she offered the other girl a tentative smile.

Soeun wasn’t having any of that and pulled Hari into a hug, “You must be Hajoon! It’s so nice to meet you - your boys talk about you so much, I feel like I already know you!”

Hari blushed, but looked pleased. “I think they just like to brag about their friends. Jeongguk went on for an hour about your photography portfolio the other day. I’m a little starstruck.”

Soeun laughed brightly and moved to hug Jeongguk too, her apparent fan suddenly as shy as Hari. “He’s too kind. I have a couple of stories about them I could tell you. Here, I’ll show you to your seat. I need a break and this is a good chance to make a new friend, too.”

Taehyung and Jeongguk were left in a stupor as Soeun swept Hari away, the girls’ arms linked like they’d known each other forever.

Hari shot them a sheepish grin over her shoulder.

“Well,” Taehyung blinked. “Jimin’ll be glad she’s making friends instead of hiding.”

“Yeah, but the ‘Hari Protection Squad’ is going to blame you if Soeun starts stealing her away from them.” Jeongguk pointed out amusedly.

Taehyung blanched at the reminder of Hari’s jealous best friends and their apparent vendetta against him.

They rarely went after Jimin or Jeongguk. Taehyung was their unfortunate victim since he was the first to openly date Hari and had a reputation as a ‘playboy’ when they first met him. Even if it had just been an exaggerated rumor.

Nothing he did ever seemed to get him on their good side.

Taehyung pouted.

Once Hari was in Soeun’s care, there was no separating the pair of women from each other.

Jimin rejoined his coven and was at a loss with the new friendship that had formed in his absence.

The trio of boys watched their girlfriend flutter around with their old friend, getting introduced to Soyul and Soeun’s family and coven before they disappeared into the back to meet Soyul herself. The boys were banned from the dressing room and resigned to greeting Soyul at the reception.

All three of them were pouting as they found their seats, jackets piled on Hari’s empty chair between Jimin and Taehyung. They didn’t trust her and Jeongguk to behave if they sat next to each other. They were both too mischievous.

Hari had been so reserved and polite when they first met her. She really had been corrupted by the boys.

By the time Soeun returned Hari to her coven, the boys were practically melting into their seats due to neglect and Taehyung’s hair had even begun to frizz as his magic grew restless. Jimin had begun oozing a mild slime on his fingertips that he kept wiping off on the bottom of his chair while Jeongguk began picking at his nails which were slowly turning into claws.

Hari snorted at the sight of them.

They were all so dramatic.

It was no wonder that the trio had gotten themselves reputations on campus if they behaved that way while the older members of their coven were gone.

Hari flicked Jimin on the forehead as she sat down beside him, smoothing down Taehyung’s hair as she went. Jeongguk reached for her, his claws receding as she held his hand over Jimin’s lap.

“Really,” Hari laughed lightly. “You can’t survive without me for ten minutes?”

Taehyung pouted. “Not when you get kidnapped like that.”

“We wanted to be the ones to introduce you to everyone.” Jeongguk whined, leaning over to rub their joined hands against his cheek.

Hari’s heart warmed at the gesture.

“Anyways,” Hari murmured, tucking herself closer to her boys. “I’m glad we’re together again. I’m feeling a little out of my element. There’s so much magic and I feel out of place…”

Taehyung rubbed a soothing hand over the back of her neck. “It’s not all magic - at least, the people here aren’t. Look, the groom’s family are mundane. They probably feel just as overwhelmed by it all.”

He nodded at the groom’s side of the venue, where most of the people gathered there were dressed more conservatively and looked like they were both in awe and nervous of the magical decorations and guests.

The children looked ecstatic at least.

Hari wondered how her own family would react to a magical wedding.

She flushed at the idea, then snorted.

Her family would probably be more concerned with her amount of lovers than the idea of magic.

It was fun to watch the groom’s family - Jiyong’s family, Jimin informed her helpfully - watch the ceremony with wonder. Hari tried her best to stay focused on Soyul and Jiyong as they made their vows, but constantly found her attention straying to the mundane humans present, her mind wandering to her own family, or the many fluttering baubles that flitted about overhead, like little shiny birds.

Hari was reminded of the golden Snitch from the Harry Potter universe and wondered if there was any correlation between the real and fictional worlds.

She caught Taehyung watching her with an amused smile and she guiltily tried to watch the bride and groom again.

“It’s okay to get distracted by them.” Taehyung breathed against her ear, lighting her skin up with goosebumps. Hari’s skin felt hot whenever his lips brushed against her. “They’re there to ward off evil. The idea is that anything that would wish the couple harm would be too distracted by the changshik to go after the actual people. They’re usually made of gold and jewels.”

“Oh, like the bridesmaids tradition.” Hari muttered, then frowned at the unfamiliar word. “Changshik?”

“Uh,” Taehyung frowned, making a small gesture around the venue. “All the stuff they set up? Like the flowers and ribbons? Gguk, what’s the English word for changshik?”

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember. “Declaration? No… decoration! It’s decoration.”

“Oh!” Hari thought it might have been a formal name for the baubles. She repeated the word quietly to herself, memorizing it.

Jimin shushed them, but rested a hand on Hari’s thigh, rubbing circles against the fabric of her dress absentmindedly.

It was as soothing as it was maddening.

She liked the subtle show of affection, but every touch from the boys burned pleasantly against her skin and made her feel aflame inside.

By the time Soyul and Jiyong finally sealed their vows with a kiss, Hari was ready to explode. Once everyone began to rise from their seats, Hari practically flew out of her seat. Her ears were red and the ends of her hair were beginning to merge together into feathers. She combed through the unruly auburn locks to keep the boys from seeing how flustered she was.

“Time to see Soyul-ssi!” she announced, dragging Jimin out of his seat.

He looked surprised for a moment by her suddenness until he saw her red ears and realized that he’d managed to rile her up without even trying. Jimin grinned cheekily with pride.

Taehyung and Jeongguk shared a bewildered look, not having caught on yet, and hurried after them.

“Payback time,” Jimin whispered against Hari’s ear as they headed to greet Soyul and Jiyong. “Remember, what goes around, comes around, Little Miss Tease.”

Hari let out a quiet moan of dismay as her grip on Jimin turned into him pinning her to his side, not letting her escape as the boys happily greeted their newly married friend.

Jiyong gave her a sympathetic look, understanding her exasperation with her lovers, even if he didn’t know the reasoning behind it.

“Magical people,” Hari sighed as she rested her head against Jimin’s arm. She shrugged in a what-can-you-do type way.

“It gets easier,” Jiyong promised with a laugh. He bent down to kiss Soyul on her temple, the bride radiating happiness at the simple affection. “The being in love part helps a lot.”

It was a cheesy line, but all four members of the BTS Coven swooned at the words right alongside Soyul.

“Please enjoy yourselves!” Soyul urged them as she ushered them towards the reception room. “And work up an appetite! We’ve got lots of food, so go dance your asses off!”

Taehyung laughed heartily at that and tugged Jeongguk along, trusting Hari and Jimin to follow. “What else can we do when you put it like that, noona?”

Jeongguk reached out and wrapped his free arm around Hari, caging her in between him and Jimin. “I can think of a few other things.” he whispered, his sudden boldness and reminder of their earlier flirtations making the older coven members’ blood run hot with promise.

All four of them wondered how long they had to spend at the reception before they could excuse themselves to their own after party.

#bts x oc #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #poly bts #bts magic au #bts x original character #jungkook #jimin #taehyung #bangtan #my writing #light in a nocturnal world

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luffles424 · 5 years

Text

Zombie Bites

☼ Pairing: Yoongi x reader

☼ Genre: college!au, f2l, light angst, fluff, smut

☼ Count: 13.2K

☼ Warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, teasing, biting, marking, messy sex (look you fuck him in zombie makeup, of course its gonna be a little messy), blood? (its fake but like, it’s still there and described)

☼ Summary: Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie?

☼ a/n: Adkjsdfgdf this was supposed to be for Yoongi’s birthday and I’m clearly a little late! But, it’s here! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

You kick the door, hands too full to even attempt shifting things so you could properly knock and if your hands were free enough to knock, then you’d just open the door yourself. You hope at least one of them is home, you really don’t want to have to carry all of this back home. Although you know Taehyung should be home and he lives nearby so you can always go there if this falls through. You know Yoongi should be home though, he doesn’t have classes today, but you can never account for his personal schedule for the studio. Primarily because it doesn’t exist and Yoongi goes when Yoongi feels like. You’re fairly certain Jin has a rehearsal today, but you can’t quite remember. You’re hoping to catch Yoongi anyway. You enjoy practicing on Jin, or any of your friends, their willingness to always let you do whatever to their faces makes you so grateful to have met them.

Yoongi and Jin were the first ones you met. You and Yoongi met in your stagecraft class freshman year. You both were hopelessly lost. Although you suspect Yoongi was more so, given that he is more involved in sound. Jin once told you later how late Yoongi would stay up researching so that he could help you in class and when you would meet to study together. As for you and Jin, you shared a beginner film class, being forced to pair up for a project but finding that you worked remarkably well together, each of your passions melding well.

You discovered they knew each other already when you went to Yoongi’s dorm one night to study and Jin answered the door. From there, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook all slowly joined through shared classes and mutual friends. Now you’re in your senior year with a tight knit group of friends who you’d do anything for and who would do anything for you in return. Like right now, when you desperately need a model to practice on.

And while you love your friends, Yoongi is your favorite to practice on. And that’s only partially because you may or may not be also crushing on your best friend a little bit. But it’s hard not to fall for Yoongi. For all that he acts like a tough guy in all black and leather jackets, he’s the sweetest. He’s brought you food and coffee when you’re spending long hours in the art studio working and you do the same for him. Even his teasing towards you is sweet, it’s only sometimes upsetting because it’s exactly how a guy might tease his younger sister.

But beyond that, Yoongi’s the most patient. Taking the hours they sometimes have to spend in the chair in stride and not shifting in the slightest. Hoseok’s the worst at it, he enjoys talking too much and is animated when he does so. You keep shorter projects for him. Hoseok’s face suits subtle makeup more anyway. You’re really not sure why you want to make Yoongi look beat up. Well you do know why, but you’re choosing not to think about that reason.

It takes a few moments after your knock for the door to be opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Yoongi, which means you’ve woken him up from a nap. He’s going to be a little harder to convince if you just woke him up. It looks like he’s been at the studio all night again. His eyes narrow at you like he knew it was you, before his gaze trails down to the bag of food in one hand and your makeup case in the other.

He groans, but steps back anyway to allow you to enter. You count it as a win that he doesn’t slam the door in your face. Not that it’d do much, all of you have keys to each other’s places. Namjoon just lamented the other week, when he’d once again lost his set of keys, meaning everyone had to get new copies for him, why all of you don’t just live together. Jin suggested the better option was just to not give Namjoon keys.

“I brought lamb skewers.” You pipe up before he has a chance to say anything. He eyes you suspiciously for a moment as you set everything down on the table. You turn to him with a hopeful smile. “Where’s Jin?”

Yoongi ignores you in favor of digging a skewer out to munch on before deeming you worthy of an answer. “Apparently smart enough to not be here when you come by looking for a guinea pig.” He says around a mouthful.

You pout, wringing your hands for extra effect. “Do you guys really find it a bother?” You look down, you know Yoongi doesn’t like seeing you sad. “I can just post some fliers around if you don’t want to do it.”

You hear Yoongi huff then his arm is wrapping around you. It gives you the perfect way to hide your victorious grin. He’s a little too predictable.

“What are we doing today? Please no glitter. Jimin is still shedding it from last week.”

You giggle, moving to open your case and sort through the makeup you brought with you today. “Jimin was the prettiest fairy, thank you very much. And he wanted the glitter for the video. Have you not seen it? It’s… stunning.” You wave the thought off. “But no, no glitter for you. You get this instead.” You turn and hold up a bottle of fake blood. “I need to practice my horror and gore type stuff. We have a short film project in a few weeks and I have never done a full zombie before. Plus it’ll help me round out my portfolio.” You grin conspiratorially with him. “Plus, I figured we could prank the others.”

He lets out a put upon sigh, but you can see the grin he’s trying to hide. You know he’s always down to fuck with the others, the perks of such an artsy school giving you the ability to do so frequently in creative ways. “Okay, fine. What do you need me to do?”

You tug the white shirt you’d bought and hold it out to him. “Put this on first.”

He looks like he has something to say but just shrugs and does as you ask. He tugs his current shirt off and you try your best not to stare. Jimin was shirtless in front of you last week for hours for his fairy makeup and you were completely unphased by it, something you know that many people on campus would boggle at the fact that you had that in front of you and did nothing. Yet Yoongi is just changing his shirt, something you’ve seen plenty of times over the course of your friendship. All of your friends have seen everyone else in the midst of dressing for one thing or another, you’re all comfortable with each other. And with many of your degrees being what they are, you have to be comfortable with people in varying states of dress. But with Yoongi, this time, it’s a little hard to remind yourself that you’re friends and this is for practice. Something about the end of senior year drawing so near makes every moment with Yoongi feel slightly different. A little more charged than before.

Once he’s got the new shirt on, you grab a pair of scissors and the front of his shirt with your other hand so that you can pull it away from his skin.

Yoongi jerks backwards at the sight of the sharp object so close to his chest. “Woah! I thought this was supposed to be fake!”

You roll your eyes, tugging him back towards you. He goes with no resistance, despite his vocal protests. “I’m cutting the shirt, dumby. Not you.”

He pouts at the name. “Well how should I know that?”

You give him a flat look, does he really think you’d use scissors on him? “You think if I wanted to hurt you that I would lug all of my makeup over here to do it?” You glance at the open container of food, grinning evilly. “Besides, if I really wanted to hurt you, I’d go for your precious skewers.”

Yoongi gasps with horror and you really hope it’s fake horror. With him and Jungkook though, there’s a very real possibility that they would react this way and be completely serious. No one should be that theatrical over some lamb on a stick. “How dare you.”

You pluck a skewer from his protective hold and bite into it. “I said if. You think I’m gonna just get rid of my best model?”

“You’re just saying that so I don’t kick you out.” He grumbles, reluctantly setting the container back down like he’s scared that you’ll do something to it, but not before eating one more.

You murmur a quiet ‘uh huh’, finally making a few cuts to the shirt and ripping them a little more with your hands to make it look more natural. You scrutinize it for a moment, maybe also taking the opportunity to admire the way Yoongi’s chest stretches the fabric and the glimpses of skin you get through the rips. Maybe you should’ve had Yoongi doing more full body stuff for you. You nod your approval to the shirt and pull out a brush and small jar filled with a dark brown powder. Yoongi watches you curiously as you open it and start to add streaks of it to his shirt to dirty it.

“Is this supposed to be dirt?” He questions in disbelief. You nod distractedly as you continue to focus and you miss the face Yoongi makes. “Did you buy that? You know there’s dirt outside right?”

You finish, giving Yoongi an unimpressed look. If he really thought he was about to question how you do your job then maybe you should’ve used the scissors on him. “Do you want to go roll around in the dirt?” Your half tempted to make him go do it if he’s going to be a stickler for realism. You hold back a laugh when he shakes his head quickly, eyes wide cause he knows that you’ll follow through. “Then don’t question my fake dirt, brat.” You tap his nose with the brush, leaving a small splotch behind. You gesture to the stool nearby, the one that’s become the de facto makeup chair here. “Sit please.”

Yoongi does so as you gather up the few things you decide to use for this practice run. You don’t want to go too crazy for practice, especially if this is to be believable. Plus, you don’t have to do just zombie work, you’ve got to do the human too. So this is the perfect time to try that. You begin to work, falling into a companionable silence. Yoongi always stays quiet, eyes tracing your face as you work. Namjoon always questions what you’re using and doing, always wants to learn, even if he’s not particularly good at it. They all question, even Yoongi, but they usually wait until after you’ve finished to ask about something.

You step back, head tilted as you trace over Yoongi’s features, now dirtier, faint bruises adorning his cheek and jaw, along with a scraped cheek and temple and a split lip.

Yoongi speaks up while you inspect your work. “I thought you said zombie?” He looks adorably confused, so at odds with the beaten look he’s currently sporting.

You nod absently, picking the bruise wheel and sponge back up and adding more detailing around his eyes. Yoongi obediently closes his eyes without being told. You could kiss him, he’s the only one you never have to remind to do this, reading you and your movements more than well enough to anticipate what you need him to do. It’s definitely part of why he’s your favorite model. “I did. But I’m doing both the zombies and the human so I need to practice this too. And we have plans tonight and zombie makeup will take too long. I’d practice on Jin but I’m gonna have to do this on him enough for shooting.”

Yoongi peeks an eye open to look at you. “Jin’s working on this too?”

You switch your wheel and sponge out for a brush and the bottle of fake blood, thick enough to make small cuts and drips without spreading out past where you want it. “Yeah. I got the project first.” You pause and roll your eyes, memories of Jin begging you to do his makeup for his audition. There may have been a promise of all the alcohol you could drink, one that you definitely took him up on. “And I’m pretty sure he would’ve gotten the part regardless. But he wanted makeup like this done for his audition. Said he wanted to go in in character already and he wanted them to be able to see how he’d look in the role. That’s why I know I need to practice this. It was good enough for just a simple audition, but it’ll need to be perfect for the shoot.”

You add a few drips of blood to the shirt and step away again. “I’m actually surprised that you don’t know about this already. It’s a big collaboration between a bunch of the departments. I’m pretty sure Tae and Kook are doin camera stuff. And music definitely seems like an important part to include.”

Yoongi shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders so he doesn’t move too much for you. “We usually don’t hear about projects until later. We’re not as needed for earlier parts. If it’s starting soon, we’ll probably be told soon then.”

You close the cap on the blood, admiring your work with a pleased grin. You knew he’d look good a little roughed up. He looks every bit the bad boy he pretends to be, you just need to convince him to wear his leather jacket too. That’ll complete the look. “It’d be cool to work on a project together within our disciplines. I don’t think we’ve done that yet.” You laugh. “Imagine it, our names on the big screen together.” You sigh a little wistfully, it might be the only way your names are up somewhere together.

You miss the curious look Yoongi gives you at your sigh. “Yeah, too bad Jin’s name will be first. And bigger. We’ll just be tucked down at the end where everyone stops paying attention or leaves.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully. “I pay attention.”

He smiles softly at you as you begin to clean up. “I know you do.”

You finish cleaning quickly, you didn’t use that much to begin with and tug your phone out and grin. “Your favorite part. Picture time.”

Yoongi groans, foot kicking out in a show of protest. “Do I at least get to see what you’ve done to me first?”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but flip the front facing camera on and hand your phone to him. His eyes widen briefly when he finally sees himself. He turns his face, looking at it from different angles, a low ‘wow’ escaping him as he gingerly prods a bruise like it will actually hurt if he touches it. He grins as he hands the phone back.

“Excellent work as always.”

You feel yourself grow warm, hiding your pleased smile behind your phone as you direct Yoongi’s poses so you can get shots to work from for final ideas for the film. You tuck your phone away once you're done.

“Great let’s go. I think everyone else should be at Tae, Jimin and Jungkook’s by now.”

You grab Yoongi’s hand before he can enter the apartment, you can hear the others already inside. He turns to you with a questioning look but you ignore it as you make a few last second adjustments, fixing his hat and brushing the shoulders of his leather jacket before giving a satisfied nod. He ruffles your hair and you swat at his hand as you dart around him to enter.

Your appearance is met with gasps and Jimin is quickly hurrying over, completely ignoring you in favor of Yoongi, hands hovering like he’s scared to hurt him more. “Are you okay?! Oh my god, you shouldn’t be walking, come sit down.”

You bite your lip as Jimin ushers Yoongi to the couch, watching as the others flock to him as well, all throwing questions at him at once. You notice Jin in the kitchen doorway and he smirks at you, clearly knowing exactly what’s going on, but he seems more than willing to keep quiet in favor of whatever your plan is. You don’t know how long to let this go on, but it’s too funny to watch. Yoongi actually looks a little flustered and it makes the scene all the more adorable to watch.

“Who did this!” Jungkook pushes Jimin aside and squishes Yoongi’s cheeks, looking imploringly into his eyes. “Please tell me you remember, I’ll beat them up for you.”

Taehyung swats at his arm. “You’re gonna hurt him more idiot, let go.”

He does so instantly, wide eyes glued to the tacky blood that’s transferred to his hand.

Yoongi chuckles. “If you’re gonna beat them up, my money’s on her winning.” He grins and something about it makes him look cocky and cocky is an oddly good look on him right now and you almost missed what he says completely.

They all look at him, varying degrees of confusion on their faces. “Her?” Namjoon presses.

Yoongi nods and gestures towards you, smirk still in place. “Yeah, she’s the one who did this to me.”

The three youngest look at you warily, Jungkook looks a little like he wants to take back what he said about beating up whoever did that to Yoongi. Namjoon’s eyes narrow, he’s too smart sometimes. “It’s makeup, isn’t it?”

You grin, giving a small shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

Hoseok appears at your side, puppy eyes in full effect. “That’s so mean to do to us. We were worried about him. You know he can’t fight.”

Yoongi protests with a weak hey, batting Jungkook’s hands away as he prods at the makeup with glee now that he knows it’s safe to touch. You feel like they misjudge Yoongi a little. Yoongi could definitely hold his own in a fight if he needed to. You remember very well watching him work with sets during your stagecraft class. You maybe almost ruined a few things by getting distracted watching him work. It’s definitely where your crush began, you’ve always been a sucker for watching a guy work up a sweat.

You smile and pull Hoseok into a hug. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I needed practice and it seemed like a waste that no one else got to see it.”

Hoseok’s arm wraps around your neck as he quickly turns your hug into a headlock, rubbing your head as you squirm. “Hobi, stop!” you giggle, prying ineffectually at his arm. “I give! I give! I’m sorry!”

Hoseok gives one last rub before releasing you, smug smile in place as you pout at him and attempt to fix the mess he’s created of your hair, not that it matters. The boys have seen you after all nighters and hungover, mussed hair is nothing in comparison.

Jin finally pushes himself off the doorway with a clap to grab everyone’s attention. “Right, now that that’s over with, are we ready to celebrate this project?”

Your days quickly grow busy, full of planning meetings and brainstorming sessions. You have little time to practice between classes, the meetings, and research. Although some of the research devolves into group binges of various zombie movies, all of you claiming it’s in the name of preparing for your various upcoming roles. But you know part of it is because you're all getting too busy to hang out as a group and if you can at least claim to be researching for the shoot as well. Hoseok hates the binges the most, he’s never been great with horror but the others have fun with it, picking the movie apart by the different aspects that they’re interested in. You get too wrapped up in inspecting the makeup that you don’t even really realize what most of the plots are or what the others do.

Yoongi offers to watch them all again with you, all in the name of research of course. He does it a couple of times, sacrificing sleep and time to work on other projects to stay up late watching zombie movies on your’s or his couch. He even points out ideas for you and pauses the movie when you start talking about a technique on screen, watching you with a fond smile.

Now you finally have some free time and you’ve been thinking about what you want to practice all week, all the ideas and plans you’ve created after your film viewings. You’ve just got the difficult task of finding out which boy is free and you luck out and find Jin and Hoseok together. Jin groans the second you enter the apartment and he catches sight of your case.

“I’m too pretty to be a zombie,” he whines.

You roll your eyes. You’d normally fight him on it, but with Hoseok here too, you decide to let it slide this once. “That’s fine. I can practice your makeup for the film and see how it will look with a zombie.” You turn to Hoseok with pleading eyes. “As long as I have a zombie.”

Hoseok looks like he wants to protest, glancing at the books in front of him, but he gives in with a sigh rather quickly. “Yeah, I suppose I could use a break.”

You give a small cheer. “Thank you! Dinner’s on me then.” You look over the two of them before deciding to give them the choice. “Who wants to go first?”

Jin jumps up. “Me, if I read anything else about camera techniques I think my brain might melt.”

He quickly settles into the chair, letting you get to work. His makeup is simple, you do much of what you practiced on Yoongi with a few modifications you’d decided on while doing research during the week. Jin and Hoseok chatter with each other while you work, you occasionally add things to the conversation when you happen to catch what’s being talked about, but much of your focus is on your work.

Once finished, you look him over before nodding happily. You pull your phone out to get a few solo shots, something he takes great joy in making difficult for you by posing in over exaggerated ways. You finally shoo him away and Hoseok replaces him and you purse your lips, tugging at his shirt.

“Lose this. I need your neck.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow, tugging his shirt off. “If you wanted me naked so badly, Y/n, you could’ve just asked. I’m sure we can ask Jin to give us some time alone.” He winks.

You snort, about to respond that you just don’t want to hear him complain about his shirt being ruined but before you can say anything Jin’s answering. “She doesn’t care about you being shirtless. There’s only one of us she would care to have shirtless in front of her.”

Your cheeks heat and you glare at Jin. You never should’ve gone drinking with him and you should’ve known he was doing it just to pry information out of you. Wanted his makeup to look authentic for the audition, my ass. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

Hoseok perks up, looking at Jin. “She likes someone? One of us? Who?”

“No one.” You cut in, tugging his chin back so he’s facing you and quickly starting your work on his face. It’s incredibly hard to work around the shiteating grin on Hoseok’s face. You maybe blend some spots a little harder than necessary if the way Hoseok occasionally winces is anything to go by.

“Oh, she does. She told me herself. Rambled on about how nice he smells and how he takes care of her. Waxed poetic about how she wishes she got to see him shirtless more often because she just knows that he looks good shirtless.” He waggles his eyebrows.

You point the brush in your hand menacingly at Jin, you wonder if anyone would believe it was justified. “If you don’t shut up, you won’t have to wear makeup for the shoot.”

Jin looks at the brush, completely nonplussed. “You wouldn’t dare when I live in such close proximity to a certain someone.” He singsongs. “And gosh, I just say such crazy things when I’m studying and sleep deprived, ya know?”

Your eyes widen, heart in your throat. Hoseok looks confused for a moment before you see the lightbulb go off and he grins too. “You like Yoo-”

You slap your hand over his mouth. This is so not happening right now, this is just a bad dream. Fueled by far too many zombie movies this week. You’ll wake up and be in your own bed and Jin and Hoseok won’t be teasing you about liking Yoongi. “Shut up, I don’t like anyone.” You hiss.

You feel his grin so you squeeze his cheeks, shaking him just slightly. “Say it. Say, ‘you don’t like anyone’.”

He’s about to respond and you can just tell by the glint in his eye that he’s not going to repeat what you told him to say, but the sound of the door opening takes everyone’s attention and you look up, blinking owlishly when you see Yoongi enter. He quirks an eyebrow when he sees you squeezing Hoseok’s cheeks and you quickly jerk your hand away. You’d really like to disappear now. It would’ve been bad enough to be here with Jin when Yoongi got home and now he’s got backup with Hoseok. You’re going to die of embarrassment by the end of the night, you just know it.

You quickly busy yourself with getting back to work on Hoseok, absolutely ignoring the delight in his eyes at Yoongi’s sudden appearance.

“Hey Yoongi, what’re you doing home already?” He calls and you wonder if anyone would believe you if you said the brush just slipped and poked him in the eye. It’s happened before.

Yoongi wonders over to the three of you, inspecting your work on Hoseok so far. “Apparently studying at the coffee shop was code for date? And I didn’t know that?” He says offhandedly.

You feel your heart stop. “You went on a date?” You blurt out before you can think better. That was supposed to just be a thought, you didn’t mean to say it out loud. You wish you could take the words back, especially when you see the way Jin’s eyes light up at your slip.

Yoongi nods, turning to look over Jin’s makeup next. He still looks like this conversation isn’t that important to him. “Yeah, Seulgi asked if I wanted to study for our class together at the coffee shop. Apparently I missed the memo that said it was actually a date.”

You swallow, studiously staying focused on Hoseok, tilting his head slightly so you can begin to create a bite mark on his neck. You don’t want to hear anymore of this conversation, you’re already really close to crying. Yoongi says something about needing to shower and meanders away. Hoseok must notice the glassiness of your eyes because he reaches out to give your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You give him a pained smile and continue to work.

Jin’s about to say something but you shake your head. “Don’t. Please.”

He remains quiet, letting you finish Hoseok’s makeup in silence. You’re incredibly grateful. For all that Jin can be a little shit, he still does care about his friends. You finish quickly, getting some solo shots and then getting some reference photos of the two of them together. They take great joy in being over the top once you get the base photos you need, posing and acting out silly scenes in full makeup. You snap pictures the whole time, you don’t need them for reference but they do manage to bring a smile back to your face and make you momentarily forget about Yoongi and his date.

You scroll through the photos, checking them out when you gesture towards the bathroom. “You guys can go wash up and we can go grab something to eat.”

You don’t see the devious grin Jin sends Hoseok. “Hmm, I don’t feel like going out. Let’s just order something. I’ll see if Yoongi wants anything.” You can only watch in horror as Jin calls for Yoongi down the hall. Yoongi reenters, hair still wet and looking cozy in sweats and a tshirt. “Y/n’s buying dinner. You hungry?”

Yoongi glances at you and you busy yourself with cleaning up. “Sure, I’ll always eat if it’s free.” He grins.

“Freeloader.” You grumble, turning to him with your hands on your hips. “You didn’t even do anything.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow challengingly. He looks from Jin to Hoseok and grins, then he tugs his shirt off and nudges Hoseok out of the seat to sit himself in front of you. His grin turns smug. “There, you can do some more practice.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, but you’re at a complete loss for words. Your gaze flits over his bare chest before quickly darting away, Jin’s words from earlier coming back to haunt you, only this time with Yoongi’s actual bare chest. You’ve still got nothing to say and you can hear Hoseok and Jin snickering over your dilemma. It’s not like you can tell him no, he’d only get suspicious. Yoongi knows you never turn down a chance to practice, especially if you have something as big as a film shoot coming up.

You take a deep breath, you can do this. You can totally be professional. You’ve worked on a bunch of shirtless people. You’ve worked on Jimin and Jungkook. This is nothing. It’s just Yoongi. You straighten and roll your eyes at him. “Any other time I want to practice and you’re too busy.”

He beams at you, clearly thrilled that he’s won. “Yeah, but you’re buying dinner so...” He shrugs nonchalantly.

You stick your tongue out him and turn back to your makeup case, pulling your tools back out. You start your work, gently tilting Yoongi’s head so you can create a bite mark on his shoulder. His skin is soft and the smell of his body wash is overwhelming this close.

Just as you’re applying the base outline in latex, Jin speaks up. ��How’d the date go, Yoongs?”

You jerk to glare at Jin, inadvertently dripping latex down Yoongi’s chest. You blink as it begins to slowly make its way down his chest, glancing up to see Yoongi giving you a worried look. You ignore him, turning back to the mess you made, forcing yourself into work mode and thinking about how you’re going to fix this mess because all you can do is try to fix it to make it seem like you did it on purpose. The only thing you can think to make this work without ripping all the latex off is to turn the bite into a bite that ripped skin off too. With a loose plan in mind, you begin adding more latex to his chest, creating a rough outline for the torn flesh, different scenes from zombie movies flitting through your mind as you use their looks as guidance.

Yoongi surprises you by actually responding to Jin once he decides you’re okay and have begun working again. “It was awkward as fuck because I didn’t know it was a date. I mean, who asks someone on a date under the guise of studying?” he snorts though he’s clearly not amused by the situation.

“A lot of people, Yoongi. A lot,” Jin laughs. “That’s like, the primary way people ask others out if they share a class. It’s all, hey let’s go study and then no studying happens.”

You can see the way Yoongi wants to move in response, the muscles under your fingers twitching and you appreciate that he is at least still restrained physically even if his mouth continues to run. “That’s dumb. I just wanted to study.”

Jin makes a noise of surprise. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi shifts and you sneak a peek at his face, noting the way his cheeks are beginning to turn red. “I just… Well I mean- Look, she’s just not someone I’m interested in that way.” He eventually stutters out, his eyes shifting to you before quickly jerking away to stare at the wall behind you.

You can hear the smugness in Hoseok’s voice when he speaks. “Oh?” he asks, full of faux curiosity. “And just who are you interested in? Do we know her?”

Yoongi splutters. “I- What? I- I’m not interested in anyone right now.” No one seems to believe him, even as much as you don’t want it to be true, that’s the weakest denial you’ve ever heard from him. You are a little curious to who caught his interest. He’s had girlfriends in the time you’ve known him, but you’ve never been able to pin down what they had in common to catch his interest. “Look I’m too busy anyway. I’ve got my classes and now the soundtrack for this to work on. I don’t have time for that.”

You stand up, effectively blocking his view of the others. “You got the soundtrack job?” you ask incredulously. Why hadn’t he told you?

Yoongi smiles sheepishly at you, clearly knowing this was coming. “I found out yesterday. I was actually going to probably come by your place and tell you tonight, but you ended up being here anyway. Surprise?”

You pinch his cheek, you knew he’d be asked to work on the soundtrack.. “That’s so awesome! I knew you’d get it!” You beam, you resist the urge to hug him and ruin the work you’ve done so far. You make sure to get him extra to celebrate later and lean back down to get back to work, adding offhandedly. “You know, if you’d just said that beforehand, I would’ve offered to get you dinner without the need to let me practice on you.”

Yoongi whines. “Not fair.”

You finish the rest of Yoongi’s makeup in relative peace. Jin spends half the time trying to pester Yoongi into spilling who he’s interested in and the other part looking through take out places, loudly sharing his opinion on what sounds best, his obvious attempt to get you to order from where he wants. Yoongi resolutely ignores Jin, keeping quiet and still while you work. Hoseok moved back to work on some of his homework, patiently waiting for you to finish so you could get new pictures of them all together, though you do sneak a picture of him while he’s working but the image of a zombie doing homework shirtless is too funny to pass up.

You put a few last details on and look him over. Frowning, you poke at his unmarred pec. “Have you been working out?” His pec looks fuller than it used to, it would also explain why his shirts have been so stretched across his chest lately.

Yoongi flushes, hands coming up to cover his chest in a bid for modesty, as if you hadn’t just spent 45 minutes staring rather intently at it. “So what if I have? What’s wrong with that? Jungkook works out and I don’t hear you giving him a hard time.”

You blink at the outburst for a moment before doubling over with laughter. That certainly wasn’t the response you were expecting, you were mostly just expecting a yes or no. “Oh my god. Do you even listen? We all lovingly tease Jungkook about his muscles.” You wipe away a tear as you straighten back up. “I literally call him my muscle bunny. No one should be that buff and adorable at the same time.”

“Been working out for someone special Yoongs?” Jin teases and you very much don’t like where this is going. “Someone who has perhaps mentioned that they like guys with some firm pecs?”

You both glare at Jin. You know he’s teasing you for what you said while drunk. You assume he’s also still trying to get Yoongi to spill who he likes. You wonder if she also works out at the gym Yoongi goes to and that’s the reason for his newfound interest in working out. You tug your phone back out swiftly, needing the distraction from that train of thought. “Right so pictures.”

You’re incredibly pleased with how Yoongi’s makeup turned out despite the slightly rocky start and almost disaster. There’s definitely still some parts that you need to practice a little more and places to improve, but for essentially having to wing it, it looks really good.

You get new pictures, where they once again pose for goofy ones, forcing a very reluctant Yoongi to participate though once he sees your delighted smile in response to the silliness, he quickly acquiesced to silly pictures. You wait for Jin and Hoseok to go wash their makeup off, tugging on Yoongi’s arm to keep him from following. He looks at you questioningly.

You give his arm a squeeze, momentarily distracted by the way his muscle flexes at your touch. You shake your head slightly and smile at him. “I’m really proud of you for getting the soundtrack.”

Yoongi smiles back, face soft. “Thanks. I really was gonna tell you today.”

You nod. “I know. I’m always the first to know.” You nudge him towards the bathroom. “Go clean up, I’m ordering for your favorite place.”

Yoongi’s face lights up and giving your hand a squeeze, he hurries off down the hall to clean the makeup off.

You practice as much as you can over the next week, using the pictures you take as reference and taking them to meetings to decide what’s good and what needs changed. Jungkook takes particular joy in having you do gore pieces on him now so that he can go scare the others, primarily Jimin because Jimin never fails to get scared. He tried only one time with Yoongi and Yoongi almost punched him in the face out of instinct so he steers clear of him if he happens to be in makeup.

You open the door to Yoongi and Jin’s apartment, calling out an absent minded ‘hi’ like this is your own apartment and you set your makeup case down before collapsing on the couch. Yoongi appears a moment later from his room, eyebrow raised when he sees you sprawled out.

“Last time I checked, you don’t live here.”

You wave him off dismissively, you’re too tired to do more. “Your’s was closer. Be nice to me.” You pout.

Yoongi eyes you over, noticing your case nearby. “More practice?” He pushes your legs out of the way so he can sit.

You shake your head and stretch, throwing your legs across his lap, a pleased grin forming when he lets you. “No, I was helping Joy with a project. Was bigger than planned. Like I said, you were closer.” You shift to stretch again, muscles aching.

Yoongi grabs your ankle to stop your wiggling. “You’re a menace.”

You look him over thoughtfully. “Hm, you don’t seem to particularly care that I’m here. So clearly you don’t really think that. Besides, if any of us are the menace, it’s Jungkook. He’s been a terror this week. I’ve created a monster.” You gasp and sit up, hand against your forehead dramatically. “I’m Frankenstein. How shall I live knowing what I’ve done? Oh the angst, the guilt. Will Jimin survive my creation?”

Yoongi snorts, shoving you back down and you dissolve into giggles. “You should’ve been an actor. I’m pretty sure you could give Jin a run for his money.”

“I’ll take that as a complement. But really, if Jungkook wasn’t doing camera work for the film, he should’ve tried out for one of the zombie roles. He would’ve done great.”

Yoongi nods in agreement. “He would’ve. But I think he would’ve had too much fun climbing all over Jin for the sake of ‘being in character’.”

You hum, closing your eyes. You’re hungry, not having had time to eat while working. You wonder if Yoongi’s eaten yet. If he was in his room then he most likely was working so he probably hasn’t and you wonder how you can get him to buy you dinner. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult, you’re pretty sure you bought last time it was just the two of you.

He gives your ankle a squeeze to get your attention and you peek an eye open to look at him. “You eaten yet?”

“No?” You squint at him, suspicious, but you delight in the fact that he could practically read your mind. Or maybe he just heard your stomach.

He nods, ignoring your suspicious gaze. “Cool, I’ll order us something.” He tugs his phone out to presumably order food without even waiting for a response.

You nudge him with your foot. “You never offer to buy food. I have to pester you usually.”

Yoongi shrugs and sets his phone down, grinning at you. “If you’d like I can just eat all of the food in front of you instead.”

You sit up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, cheek squished against his shoulder. “Noo, I’m sorry, don’t do that. Thank you for feeding me Yoongi.”

He chuckles, patting your arm where it's nearly strangling him. “Down girl, it’s just dinner.”

You wink at him. “I usually have to dress up and try a lot harder to get someone to buy me dinner.”

Yoongi flushes, slipping out from under your legs to quickly go to the kitchen. “Do you wanna drink? I think I need a drink.”

You tilt your head as you watch him go. Not that it’s particularly odd for you both to drink when you hang out, but his reaction seemed a little out of place. Maybe the score is giving him trouble, he usually will get a drink if music is being difficult. You hope it’s not from the girl he likes. Ever since Jin brought up her existence, it’s been on your mind, wondering what Yoongi’s type was. Briefly wondering what made you not his type. You’re very glad you’ve been so busy that you haven’t had a lot of time to obsess over those thoughts this week. “What do you have?”

Yoongi looks through the cabinets and fridge. “We have a bottle of cheap wine leftover from I think our last wine night. A bottle of nice wine, that I think is Jin’s and he’d probably kill us if we drink it. Aaand some spiced rum.”

“No Jin would kill you if you drink it. He likes me too much to kill me.” Yoongi gives you a look and you just grin back. He knows you’re right, though it’s not that Jin likes you more, you just have dirt on him. The one downside to his plan to get you drunk and ply you for information was that it also left him vulnerable to you getting your own information. “Rum is fine.”

Yoongi busies himself making you both drinks, coming back and handing you yours. You take a sip, coughing at the surprising burn of alcohol.

You raise an eyebrow as you look at him. “Tryin to get me drunk, Yoongs?” you tease.

He flushes, avoiding your eyes and taking a long sip of his drink. “Just made drinks, everyone’s gotta be a critic.” He grumbles.

You reply is interrupted by a knock on the door and Yoongi shoots to his feet to go answer. You take another drink, much more careful now that you know how strong it is, waiting for Yoongi to return with the food. He lays everything out on the table and it takes you a second to register he ordered from your favorite restaurant. You feel giddy, you haven’t gotten to eat here in a while because most of the others don’t care to go there, you usually have to order it on nights when you’re alone.

“You hate this place!” You look at him with wide eyes.

“No I don’t. It’s a good place.” You frown. There’s more to that you can tell, but Yoongi looks like he’s about to run away so you just let it go. You don’t know what’s caused the sudden shift. Although you suppose Yoongi has never explicitly stated that he hated the place, he’s just never spoken up in favor of it when your friends are gathered together and trying to find a place to eat.

You nudge him until he looks at you and you give him a shy smile. “You’re the best. Thank you.” You really don’t know what you’d do without Yoongi in your life.

Yoongi puts something on TV for you both to watch and you eat in relative silence, only making occasional comments on the show. This is what you love most about spending time with Yoongi. It’s easy, the silence between you doesn’t need to be filled. The two of you content to just enjoy each other’s presence.

Yoongi refills your drinks when they run out and you feel the pleasant buzz spreading through you. Yoongi sprawls out on the floor after he finishes his second glass, a good sign of his tipsiness. You stretch out on the couch on your belly, chin propped on the edge to look down at Yoongi. You poke his stomach and he squirms, batting at your hands when it turns from a poke to tickling.

He rolls over, away from you and catches sight of your case. Leaning up on his elbows, he drags it closer and opens it. He looks through it, pulling different things out to inspect before putting them back. He glances at you.

“You should do my makeup.” He decides.

You snort. “No I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t look good.”

Yoongi turns onto his side, head propped up on his hand as he looks you over thoughtfully. “Nothing you do could ever look bad.” He muses and it seems almost like it’s more to himself rather than to you. His eyes alight with mischief and he rests his free hand on his pec. “Ah, I get it. You are just scared to get so close to such perfect pecs again? You’re just intimidated by them. I mean, I understand, how can you work with perfection?”

You blink at him and burst into giggles, you love drunk Yoongi. “Oh, yeah. You caught me. I’m just trying to protect myself from that. I would never survive, I may just faint.”

Yoongi nods, looking like he isn’t fully catching your sarcasm. Although it isn’t completely sarcastic because you don’t think it would be wise to be near his pecs when you’ve been drinking. “It’s okay, I understand.” He tugs his shirt off, flopping back onto his back once again. “Come on, do it. I bet you can’t do something amazing.” He challenges.

And against your better judgement, you rise to his bait. Him lying pliant and shirtless on floor and taunting you is too strong for you to resist. You climb off the couch, settling next to him and pull your makeup closer. You don’t even know what kind of makeup to do. Your case is a mixed mess right now because you had to clean some of your zombie supplies out for things for Joy’s shoot. You think you have enough supplies to do some minor wounds and decide that you can just take the opportunity to practice and maybe use the opportunity to work mostly on his chest and stomach. You just hope you don’t get too distracted while working, you know he’d be insufferably smug about it.

Plan in mind, you begin working, but you don’t get very far in your work before Yoongi starts squirming. You huff, you should’ve known this was a bad idea, Yoongi always grows restless when he’s been drinking unless he’s cuddled up to someone.

You poke him. “Stop moving.”

Yoongi makes a face at you, he looks like a disgruntled toddler. “I’m not.”

You roll your eyes, but get back to work, chalking it up to him just needing to get comfortable. A few minutes later though and he’s shifting again. You give him a warning look and when he moves again you huff in frustration and throw your leg over his waist so you’re now straddling him, effectively holding him still. He blinks up at you with wide eyes for a moment before they darken.

You grin victoriously as he attempts to buck you off. You lose your balance slightly, hand shooting out to rest on his chest to maintain your balance and you giggle when he tries to buck you off again but your grip keeps you upright. He pouts beneath you and you’re about to taunt him further but you’re stopped by the sound of the front door opening. You sit up straight, craning your neck to try and see who’s entered. A moment later, your question is answered when Jin appears, looking just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

Yoongi chooses that moment to try to buck you off again and your hand tightens as you try to maintain your balance. Jin’s brows furrow in confusion and he makes his way around the couch. The second he sees Yoongi beneath you, he’s turning his back on you both with a noise of disgust.

“Yoongi, what the fuck! I thought we agreed a long time ago that there would be no fucking in the living room!” he yells, arms flailing as he speaks.

Your cheeks heat and you quickly look down, realizing what a compromising position you’re in and how it must’ve looked to Jin. You violently shove yourself off Yoongi’s lap, back hitting the edge of the coffee table and causing you to wince.

“We weren’t doing anything,” you protest.

You know Jin is rolling his eyes, not believing you one bit. “Oh please. I know what I saw.”

“I was just practicing some makeup! Yoongi wouldn’t stop squirming. I was just trying to get him to sit still so I could work.” Your defense sounds weak even to your own ears.

Jin pauses and seems to debate something before hesitantly turning to look at you over his shoulder. His gaze goes from you to Yoongi and the half finished work on his chest to your makeup case and then he throws his head back with a groan. He stomps off to his room, muttering something about not being able to deal with both of your oblivious asses.

You frown, watching him go, perplexed by his words. What were you being oblivious about?

Yoongi taps you to get your attention and you turn back to see his smug grin. He glances pointedly to his chest where when you look, you see that you’ve accidentally smeared purple across his pec when you’d pushed yourself off of him.

“That’s not fair! That doesn’t count because that has extenuating circumstances.” You pout.

Yoongi just shakes his head, clearly deciding that this means he has won his little challenge. Not wanting to go down easy, you turn to your case, looking for one of the glitter creams you’d put in there for Joy’s shoot and before Yoongi can react, you smear it across his other pec.

You laugh in glee as Yoongi belatedly tries to move away and fails. You manage to dart your hand out, smearing more glitter across his cheek. He glares at you before tackling you and wrestling the bottle from your hand. He grins down at you in victory from his perch atop your thighs and he quickly dips a finger into the bottle, swiping it across your cheek. You try to fight him off, but it only succeeds in smearing more glitter on both of you.

You’re both breathless from laughter and the room slowly settles around you as you grin at each other. The glitter on Yoongi’s cheek matches the way his eyes shine and you stare at each other, the moment charged, tension thick. You wonder what he’s thinking and almost in answer, his gaze drops to your lips. Then there’s a bang from somewhere else in the apartment and Yoongi twitches, breaking the trance you both were in. He blinks a few times then slowly slides off of you, replacing the cap on the bottle.

“It’s late,” he murmurs.

You nod but remain on the floor. “Bring me my pillow please?” You jut your bottom lip out, hoping to convince him. You don’t want to move but you also don’t want to be uncomfortable.

He rolls his eyes. “Just come sleep in the bed, stupid. It’s not the first time.”

You chew your lip for a moment, you don’t know how to say that this time feels like it’ll be different. So you don’t say anything, letting yourself be pulled to your feet and following Yoongi to his room. He digs some of your sleep clothes out of a drawer and sets them on the bed beside where you’re sat. He leaves and comes back a moment later with some makeup wipes and a damp cloth, gently wiping you clean of makeup.

You’re stunned into silence, watching him as he works to clean you and you idly wonder if this is what it’s like when you’re doing his makeup. It feels scarily intimate and you don’t know if it’s just this moment or if this is how he always feels, that scares you more. You’re always so focused on your work, you’ve never noticed. He’s close enough that it wouldn’t take much to lean up to kiss.

Your heart is in your throat, you could do it. If it went bad, you could always blame the alcohol, but you're positive that he was about to earlier too. You’re snapped out of it by Yoongi straightening back up, giving you a soft smile.

“I’m going to clean up. I’ll be back.”

You feel startlingly sober after he leaves, changing your clothes mechanically. Once changed you slip into his bed, on your side, and try to think about how you’ve done this enough times that you actually have a side on his bed. But you and the guys all share beds often. This is not any different from those times. Except, it does feel different. You feign sleep when Yoongi re-enters and he moves around quietly to not wake you. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face and presses a kiss to your forehead before turning to go to sleep.

You try to keep from being awkward around Yoongi, the memory of his lips against your skin haunts you, but given the circumstances, you think you mostly manage to be mostly normal. At least normal enough that when you beg him to come to your studio to test the bite prosthetic that you’ve been trying to perfect, he agrees to it easily.

But that seems to be the easiest part. Now, with Yoongi in your campus studio alone, no chance of interruptions, the tension is thick in the air. You know you probably need to talk about the other night, there’s no way Yoongi didn’t feel the shift, doesn’t still feel it as your hands move across his chest, neck, his waist. But you both remain silent. You’re reminded of when Yoongi was washing the makeup off of you and how that closeness felt to you and you wonder if he feels that now. You sneak a glance at his face, but it gives nothing away, face relaxed and eyes closed as you work, if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he’d fallen asleep.

You shake yourself out of it, if his eyes are closed, clearly it’s not the same as it was for you. You ignore the sting you feel in your chest at the thought and continue working.

Your hands lightly trace Yoongi’s side as you draw away, scrutinizing his torso. Looking for any last details to tweak or improve. The wound between his ribs and the bite marks, actually more of a chunk ripped out of his side and a bite mark on his neck, look good. Coloring right, depth good, his face looks sunken in the right places, he’s paler than usual, it’s all just missing one thing. You walk to the work bench while he remains in the middle of the studio, eyes now open again with the absence of your hands on him. Looking through the various bottles of red lining the wall, you finally select one, a little runny but the right shade to look like it’s been dried to his skin for a while.

You pause when you get back to him, eyes flicking to his pants then back up to him. “Um, do you care about those pants?”

He glances down, seeming to not have known what jeans he was even wearing. He frowns. “Uh yes actually. These are my favorite.” You try to hide your disappointment, but Yoongi must catch it anyway, because he continues. “But I can just take them off so you can do the blood. Can’t properly test the makeup without all the makeup, right?” He winks and your heart swells that he’s so willing to do so much for you.

You chuckle and step back as he tries to carefully shed his jeans without ruining the makeup covering his chest and stomach. He doesn’t get very far, unable to bend over to push them down very far and too tight to have any hope to just kick off. You bite back a laugh and step forward.

“I can help?” You offer hesitantly. It’s suddenly hitting you that Yoongi is about to be in front of you in just his boxers.

He swallows, clears his throat, before giving a curt nod and looking away, his makeup hiding the ways his cheeks blaze with his thoughts. You kneel, setting the bottle of blood aside and reach up to grab his pants. You hesitate for a moment with your hands in front before moving to the much safer location at his sides, taking hold and gently pulling them down. You do your best to focus on the task and ignore the way his crotch is basically in your face and the fact that you're on your knees in front of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have knelt down to do this, giving the compromising position it’s put you in. You really should’ve thought this whole thing through before telling him to take his pants off.

You instead focus on the ground as you work his pants off. Once off and tossed safely to the side you look back up to him, which turns out to be a mistake. Because on the way up, you don’t miss the unmistakable twitch of his dick in his boxers, but you do miss the way his dark eyes follow your movements, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Your eyes widen and you quickly busy yourself with grabbing the bottle and getting back to your feet all while studiously ignoring Yoongi and the way your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

He clears his throat. “Sorry.”

You want the ground to swallow you up. It’s worse that he’s acknowledging it, you both could’ve just pretended that his dick isn’t half hard and that you most definitely saw the outline of it. You shake your head. “It’s fine, really.”

You open the bottle of blood. You hope if you get to work that Yoongi will stop talking, won’t make this more awkward, give more tension to this situation. Yoongi goes silent as soon as the bottle is open, straightening his back and assuming his usual position and you’re grateful.

You use a dropper to get blood into the wounds, watching the paths the blood tracks down Yoongi’s skin once it overflows, following unti the drops hit his boxers and seep into the fabric. You continue, adding extra splatters and drips, blooding up his face as well. Your eyes trace the tracks left across his body, it’s missing something but you can’t place your finger on what. You step back, tilt your head to the side as you study him. You look from the bottle back to him, hoping it will hit you, but nothing comes.

After a few minutes, Yoongi moves, scratching lightly at the corner of his mouth and accidently smearing some of the blood there. He looks worried when he sees the red painting his finger tip.

“I’m so sorry, it just tickled, I thought I was avoiding it.”

You’re not listening though because the smear on his mouth is the answer you’ve been searching for. The blood you’ve put on is too neat, it looks unnatural. No zombie is going to just stand there and no human being attacked would be so still. They’d fight and squirm and blood would smear. You shake your head quickly when he goes to apologize again and step forward, reaching out and smearing the blood around his mouth a little more, fingers lightly tracing his lips. You only give yourself a small moment to appreciate the feel of them. You work down his body, smearing areas that need it and adding more blood when it seems like somewhere isn’t bloody enough.

Your fingers brush the hem of his boxers and you jerk your hand away, avoiding his eyes and trying to ignore the fact that he’s only gotten harder since you took his pants off. You step back quickly looking over your work again, not letting your gaze drop below his waist. It’s still missing something. You look at the bottle and your bloodied hand and look back at him, trying to piece out what you think is missing. You look at your hand again and get an idea. You pour a little more blood onto it, setting the bottle aside and stepping back to Yoongi. You look him over slowly, trying to figure out the best place for it and your eyes stop on the bite on his neck.

You study the other side of his neck, looking starkly bare next to the gore of the bite and your place your hand gently on his neck, thumb brushing his chin. You can imagine the jerking movement that your placement would have actually been had you been going for his throat and your caress seems all the more strange, so gentle compared to the violence that your makeup appears, to the bloody print you’re leaving behind.

You meet Yoongi’s gaze and are frozen by the heat in his eyes. Your fingers twitch against his skin but you can’t find it in yourself to pull away. You feel like you’ve been staring at Yoongi for an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a handful of moments, before there’s movement, you can’t really tell if it’s you or him who moves first. But then Yoongi’s lips are pressed to your own and you can now fully appreciate their softness.

You can feel the blood smear around your own mouth, taste the bitterness on your lips when you grow bold enough to let your tongue dance along the seam of his lips until he opens up to you and the bitterness of the blood is quickly lost to a taste that is wholly Min Yoongi.

Yoongi groans and pulls you flush against him and you can feel the blood seep into your clothes but you can’t really find it in you to care when he abandons your mouth in favor of trailing his lips across your jaw and down your throat to nip and suck at the skin there, marking you with set of bite marks. .

You moan at the sharp sting, squirming against Yoongi’s hold. He growls, arm wrapping tighter around you as he quickly maneuvers you to the floor, situating himself between your legs to keep you pinned with his hips. You gasp when you feel his hard cock press against you. He makes a noise against your throat and grinds against you a few times. You tangle your hands in his hair, staining the blond strands pink and red and give him a gentle tug. He lifts his head at your urging, looking down at you with hazy, hungry eyes, eyes that are at odds with the makeup surrounding them. You heart stutters in your chest, for a moment it’s easy to forget that Yoongi is human, the makeup and hunger in his eyes make him look ready to absolutely devour you.

Which he does when you pull him in for another kiss, muttering a ‘Yoongi please’ against his lips. He licks into your mouth and you feel wholly consumed by him. He gives you a squeeze before one hand is slipping between the two of you. His hips shift, cock pressing against your thigh so that his fingers can press at your clit through your panties and leggings.

Yoongi groans and bites your bottom lip. “Fuck… You’re already so wet and we haven’t done anything.” He leans back, a teasing smirk in place. “Zombies and blood get you that hot?”

You glare at him, reaching down and into his boxers to wrap your hand around his dick. His mouth drops open and you grin in victory.

“Like you have room to talk.” You begin to pump him slowly.

Yoongi grumbles and kisses you again to keep anymore smart remarks from coming out. He continues to rub you through your legging and you can feel your slick slowly soaking the fabric the more he presses against it. You whine, squirming against his fingers.

He shushes you. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you what you want.”

You huff, squeezing him tighter until he gasps. You smirk. “Then give it to me.”

He chuckles, giving you one last peck before he’s pulling away. “I should’ve known you’d be just as mouthy like this as you are any other time.” He sits back on his heels and grabs your leggings and tugs them and your panties off in one go, leaving your bottom half bare aside from the smears of blood.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’ve thought about how I’d be like this?” You tease.

He pauses and you’re about to question him when he’s diving back down to silence you with a kiss. Had he thought about you like this? His reluctance to give a straight answer makes it seem likely and that sends a thrill through you.

He shoves his underwear down enough to get to his cock, brushing it along your folds. You gasp into the kiss, hands coming up to grab at his sides, one hand meeting the latex of the mark on his side.

He presses in slowly and when he bottoms out he jerks himself away from the kiss to stare down in wonder at where you’re joined, like he can’t believe this is happening. You’re not entirely sure this isn’t just a very weird wet dream. After a moment too long of his inactivity, you whine and squirm again. His eyes snap up to you and the lust in his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat. Yoongi’s features are much sharper with the makeup, more intense. You never thought blood would be a thing, but Yoongi covered in it while towering over you is apparently a thing you are very into.

His lips curl up devilishly and with the combination of makeup, he looks potently lethal right now, like he’s about to absolutely ruin you. You’d let him too. He draws out slowly, smirk still in place, until just the tip remains inside. Then he snaps his hips forward and you cry out. He starts a quick pace and your hands slide around to his back to dig your nails in. You vaguely think that you ripped some of the bite mark up, but Yoongi makes no indication that he felt anything. And you couldn’t care about ruining all your work when you’re doing your best just to hang onto your sanity as Yoongi’s cock drags against your walls in all the best ways.

Yoongi buries his face in your neck, hand slipping between you both once again to rub at your clit. “Come on baby, cum for me. Fuck, cum on my cock, love.”

He punctuates his command with a nip to your neck and you shudder, orgasm swiftly rising. A few more circles of your clit has your back bowing as you cum, pussy convulsing around Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi’s pace stutters slightly from the sudden constriction but as soon as your orgasm begins to subside, he’s grabbing your hips and thrusting harshly into you to chase his own release.

Tears gather in your eyes at the onslaught of overstimulation. “Yoongi… Fuck, please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. “Yoongi…”

He groans and kisses you messily as he gets a handful more thrusts before he’s cuming, flooding your pussy. Your gasp, shuddering at the warmth and his hips twitch at the sound. After a few moments of catching his breath, he carefully pulls out, flopping beside you and gathering you to his chest.

You both lay there in silence. Your mind is blissfully quiet for a while, until Yoongi presses a kiss to the top of your head and suddenly everything feels like too much, ming in overdrive because what was this supposed to mean? You’d been so careful to keep your feelings hidden and you feel too exposed. You need to leave, you need space, you need to think. You jerk up, quickly looking for your leggings. Yoongi sits up slowly, he looks confused and in your rush to find your clothes, you miss the flash of hurt on his face as he watches you.

“Sorry, I forgot we had a meeting for the film tonight. Everyone’s so busy this was the only time we could do it.” You babble out. You know you don’t sound particularly coherent, you can’t even properly stand.

You can’t find your underwear so you give up on them, you need to get out of here or you’re going to cry. You tug your leggings on, ignoring the cool tackiness of the crotch or the way they instantly get soaked further with your and Yoongi’s mixed releases.

Yoongi looks like he wants to say something but remains silent as you gather your things. You pause at the door and chew your lip. You turn and give him a little wave, the best smile you can muster in place as you do. You know it’s not very good, but it’s the best you’ve got.

“I’ll text you after. I’m so sorry I’ve gotta go.” You murmur as you slip out.

Yoongi sits on the floor for a few moments after you leave, cement floor cold against his bare ass. Eventually, he pushes himself up and moves over to the sink to begin cleaning himself up. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and pauses to observe just how much of your work was ruined. The bite mark on his side has been almost completely torn off, only hanging on in a few spots. The makeup and blood has been smeared into one big mess and he’s pretty sure most of it just rubbed off onto you.

Yoongi sighs. You hadn’t even gotten a picture of all this work before it’d gotten ruined and there’s no hope of him getting any picture worth while. He continues his trip to the sink and cleans himself up, completely used to the sting of removing latex from his skin. The methodical cleaning lets his mind wander and he regrets that he let hormones get the best of him in this situation. He’d wanted to ask you out first, maybe a couple of dates before anything physical like this. He’s liked you for so long and this was his chance. He tries not to think of your rushing out as meaning anything other than what you said about your meeting. He’s had his share of strange meeting times.

He finishes and dresses himself, taking it upon himself to clean up the supplies you’d left out in your haste to leave, a fond smile finding its way to his lips as he recounts the many times you’ve lamented your messy studio mates who leave supplies out. Once finished, he shuts the lights off and decides to head home.

He expects his house to be empty when he returns, it’s past midnight at this point and you had said there was a meeting for the film and if you had to go that meant that the actors would be there as well. But to his surprise, Jin is lounging on the couch, watching some drama on Netflix when he enters.

He frowns. “Is the meeting over already?”

Jin gives him a questioning look. “Meeting?” Jin looks him over, takes in the pink skin from where the latex had sat. “Where were you?”

“I was helping Y/n with some final tweaks to the zombie makeup. That didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know what meeting you’re talking about, Yoongi. There was no meeting tonight.” Jin catches the way Yoongi’s face crumples and sits up, gaze intent on Yoongi. “Why? Who said there was?”

Yoongi ignores him for a moment, goes to the sink to get a drink of water and Jin follows, waiting patiently for Yoongi’s response.

“Y/n said there was. She remembered after we-” He cuts himself off abruptly, cheeks turning crimson.

Jin picks up on it, perking up. “After you...?” he presses. When Yoongi doesn’t immediately speak up, he continues. “Did you finally ask her out like we’ve been telling you to?!” Jin’s about to excitedly continue when Yoongi cuts him off with a soft ‘no’. His face falls. “What happened then?”

“We- “ Yoongi rubs his hands on his face then sighs. “We fucked. In her studio. It just… It’s been building up for so long. But I had such a good plan laid out to ask her out. But... “ He trails off and doesn’t finish.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Jin murmurs, pulling the other into a tight hug. “I promise you this will work out. She likes you too and I’m sure she’s just a little scared about what this means.” Yoongi sniffles and Jin hugs him tighter. “It’ll be okay, Yoongi. Promise.”

You’re incredibly grateful that shooting started the day after your night with Yoongi in your studio. Your thoughts have been a mess. That night seemed like the culmination of something, but when you tried to think of just what it meant, you found yourself terrified of what the answer may be. So you did the safest thing and ran.

Jin tried to talk to you a little bit while filming, but he was still fairly easy to avoid with excuses of needing to touch up the zombies' makeup. You could see the sadness in his eyes and after the first two days he stopped trying to corner you and so you tentatively sought him out during break one day, talking about topics that stayed safely away from Yoongi. You assume Yoongi had told him at least something about that night, but you’re too terrified to ask what he knows.

But now here you were, almost two weeks later and you’ve only seen Yoongi in group settings. It’s the longest you’ve gone without hanging out with just him in almost the whole time you’ve been friends. He looked tired, but when anyone else brought it up to him, he’d wave it off that he was just busy with the film soundtrack. His eyes linger on you and you know he wants to talk to you, but you don’t know if you can handle that just yet. But you resolve that after the film is over and you’ve had time to process, you’ll seek him out. You at least owe him that much.

The premiere is tonight, it’s relatively small, mostly people who worked on it and their friends, plus some other students from the campus who get first chance to see films that will get screened to the public later. Your friends all gathered with you in a row and you can see Yoongi at the other end of them. The film turns out as good as you knew it would and as the credits begin to roll, people begin to filter out. Jin tells you that they’ll meet you in the lobby, they know how much you love to sit through the credits and appreciate everyone who worked so hard to put out a film.

You watch the names as they go by, overwhelming pride when you see your friends' names up there. Then it gets to the soundtrack and you bite your lip. Yoongi did most of the soundtrack, these are his babies and you read through each one and feel so much pride you might burst.

The grin on your face falters a little when you see the last three titles and you jerk to your feet, hands gripping the seat in front of you tightly. They can’t be. But there in black and white, “midnight meeting”, “old friends”, and “so much more to give” scroll by you. They could just be titles, maybe Yoongi didn’t even name them. But you know Yoongi would never send a track out unnamed and he names everything with purpose. Everything he creates has meaning. And there’s only one thing those three together could mean.

As the realization hits you, you gasp, hand covering your mouth and tears welling up in your eyes. This is his way of confessing because you’ve been avoiding him. He knows how you always stay behind to watch the credits.

A chuckle sounds behind you and you startle, turning to see Yoongi still sitting in his seat down the row from you. “I’m glad I chose this way so that no one sees you cry at the end of a zombie movie. They might get the wrong idea,” he teases.

“Yoongi…” you breathe.

He nods towards the screen. “Good idea, huh? Can’t say many people get confessed to through movie credits during the soundtrack part.”

He pushes himself to his feet, moving closer to where you remain frozen, mind still not fully caught up. He looks nervous when he stops in front of you and you haven’t said anything yet.

“I hope I didn’t read everything wrong?” He looks scared.

That snaps you out of your inaction, reaching forward to grab his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. “Fuck, I love you, Yoongi.”

He grins into the kiss, arms wrapping around you. “I love you too,” he murmurs.

Zombie movies might be your new favorite genre.

#bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #ksmutclub #kwritersworldnet #magicshopnet #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts au #yoongi au

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rq-s · 4 years

Text

Title: Perfect

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo / F!Reader

Genre: Fluff & American College/University AU

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: None.

Summary: You’re nearing your college graduation, your photography degree is practically in your hands already. But every time you look through your portfolio, something is missing. And you knew exactly what it was.

My Masterlist

I couldn’t help but stare. A boy with eyes that piercing and teeth that shiny was hard to come by, and he was just who I needed.

I eyed him for my entire lunch break, watching him as he sat in the grass with his back against one of the few birth trees on campus. I watched as he shoved vending machine popcorn in his mouth while reading a textbook like it was a bestseller. It was surprisingly interesting. From what I heard around campus, he was as stoic as they come, but I wondered if that was just rumor when he sucked on his slightly fingertips to get the butter off them instead of using a napkin.

“Your boyfriend knows Wonwoo, right?” I asked after getting my friend’s attention. She was directly in front of me, making it easy to look over her shoulder to the man in question without seeming too obvious.

“They’re both in music theory I think, why?” She answered just as absentmindedly as I’d asked. I shrugged and took my phone out to search my contacts for her boyfriends’ name.

“I’m gonna ask him for Wonwoo’s number.” I said, bracing for the reaction I knew I’d get.

“Oh I see~ You finally over that dry spell?” Our group of friends joked and cooed at me, teasing the fact that maybe their “frigid friend” was warming up. I resigned to let them think whatever they wanted, knowing they wouldn’t take my real reason to get close to Wonwoo seriously. He’s just the type of handsome that I needed for my portfolio.

The sun was falling, signaling that evening classes were going to start soon. For me though, the rest of the day was mine. I fell back into my bed with a thump, fingers laced over my forehead as I fought between wanting to get work done or just lazing in bed for the rest of the day.

My phone rang before I could decide.

“Hey, what did you need?” A heavy but hurried voice spoke as soon as I answered. There was no caller ID, but it could only be one man. I was taken aback at his directness; I’d just sent a text saying my name and that I wanted his help with a project. He must be an opportunist to call a stranger after so little information.

In my slow register of the situation, I heard him speed walking somewhere, mumbling “excuse me” as he went.

“If you have time, I’d like to take some pictures of you.”

“For photography? Sure, I’ll text you when I’m free, alright?” He rushed, hanging up before I could finish saying okay. How did he know it was for photography? Sure, I carried my camera with me everywhere I went, but how could he know?

“Back to back classes that are across campus from each other are the worst.” He texted me an apology a few minutes later. I assured him that it’s fine, and added a gentle pester for him to focus during class. Something about him seemed to conflict: his naturally intimidating aura clashed with his lack of formality.

I was only becoming more certain that he was who I needed.

Nearly 3 hours later he texted me that he should be free for the rest of the evening. Knowing the rules against having a guy come into the girls’ dorms, especially after sunset, I invited him to a small diner near the middle of the campus where we could talk about specifics. Luckily, he agreed.

When I arrived, he was already there with a half empty glass of soda and 2 menus laid on the worn-out table. It seemed like he’d been here a while, scrolling his phone mindlessly while he waited for me. I checked my phone just to be sure for the 5th time tonight that I wasn’t late but seeing him there alone made me feel guilty anyway.

I weaved though tables of happy couples, study groups, and families to meet him at the burgundy leather booth. He smiled once he noticed me, adjusting his beige cardigan that hung on his broad shoulders and pulling the cuffs down to cover his thin wrists - it was as if he was surprised to see me here.

“I hope you haven’t been here for too long.” I said concernedly, sitting across from him and setting my bag beside me.

“I… have. I figured it would be easier than going all the way back to my dorm for a whole 2 minutes before I had to head back down here.” He grabbed his glass with one hand but didn’t pick it up, instead he tapped his fingernails against it, making the ice hit the sides in a surprisingly rhythmic way.

“That’s smart, actually. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.” This was a place I went often for dinner, so I didn’t need to look through the menu. This meant looking at each other awkwardly while we waited for the waiter to come by.

I tried to be discrete as I looked him over. Seeing him up close was so much different than watching him from across the park or the hallways. He was thin, but still appeared strong, that was clear even with the slightly oversized clothes he was wearing. His skin seemed silky smooth but also like it could start smoking like dry ice at any moment.

He was looking at me too, his deep brown eyes wandering my face and torso casually. The shape of his nose, his eyes, his jaw… everything was perfect. Even they way his bangs fell over his brow and how his glasses left red marks on the bridge of his nose was perfect.

“Why did you say I have ‘the look’?” He asked blatantly, but from his tone I could tell he wasn’t bothered by it.

“Oh, that… Basically, your face shape, features, stature, body type, all of that stuff is pretty much exactly what I’ve been looking to add to my portfolio.” I could already feel that awkward warmth creeping up my neck and towards my cheeks.

“You think I’m perfect?” The smirk was audible in his voice, it wasn’t the cocky smile I was used to seeing from college boys, but instead was one of delight.

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate, and for a moment, I wish I had. His smirk fell instantly, and after his eyes darted over my face in search of something, he turned his head completely to look out the window, his slender fingers covering his mouth.

28… 29… 30… 31-

“Thanks.” He had sat still in that position before he spoke, shifting in his seat. At the same time, the waiter finally approached us. Wonwoo ordered first, and it looked as if his skin was paler than before, like his circulation suddenly dropped. I ordered my regular and the waiter left as swiftly as they’d came. He sighed as they walked away, as if he’d been holding his breath.

“So, what would I need to do?” Wonwoo asked with a hint of meekness.

“I just need you to do simple poses and let me take pictures of you. We can work together for what to have you wear and where would be best, I have some ideas already though.”

He put his arms on the table and held his hands together and fidgeted. I was truly at as loss for words with him, I know it’s impolite to stare, but it’s as if his aura was drawing me in like a magnet. He bit his cheek in thought, then took a deep breath before speaking.

“I'm not sure, I’m really busy with essays for the next few weeks.” He was hinting at something, and I picked up on it instantly.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be doing it for free, by the way. I’m not sure how long it would take so I can pay you by the hour,” His face lit up again, and his eyes caught mine. How could someone with such a chilly reputation seem so warmhearted? “Does 15 dollars an hour sound okay?”

“If you can take at least 5 hours, sure.”

After that, talking became easier and we even laughed at silly jokes as we ate, taking the time to get to know each other. It was easy to let my guard down with him, and I hoped it was the same for him. Everything I overheard people whisper about him behind his back was wrong, I knew that for sure.

“I really don’t know though, I feel like if you go to a fancy masquerade wearing a wolf mask, going around asking strange question about peoples agendas, you have to accept that everyone is going to think you’re the murderer!” Our plates had been taken back to the kitchen, we’ve gotten 3 drink refills, and we’re now both picking at a shared slice of no-bake chocolate cake while figuring own what mask each of our professors would wear to a Clue-esk masquerade.

“Maybe that was the point? Maybe someone else used that expectation against him and would frame him! Do you know how scary crows can be when they’re upset? I think it would be her.” Wonwoo seemed in his element when in a debate, even one as silly as this. I shook my head and chuckled, taking a bite of the cake with a happy hum as he finished off this ice water. We’d spend the entire evening chapping about things we both liked, and we bonded over Shakespeare. Truthfully though, I could only talk about what I had to read in high-school English.

“Excuse me? It’s getting late. We have to close soon.” A waitress I didn’t recognize came up and got our attention. We both seemed surprised, looking outside to find the sky was completely dark, the orange glow of the streetlights lining the winding sidewalks of the campus.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the time,” Wonwoo stood up just enough to grab his wallet from his back pocket, “I’ll take the check, now.” The waiter nodded and handed it to him, clearly tired from her shift. The diner was empty save for the few members of staff and the two of u. It kind of scared me how easily I’d gotten lost in conversation.

“Let me pay for half, okay?” I fumbled with my bag trying to find my wallet.

“No, I’ve got it, if you can cover the tip though, that’d be great.” He was already standing and making his way to the front where he’d pay. He paused for a moment though, sliding the check towards me with a kind smile before he left. His appearance paired with the amazing diner we’d shared made my mind go blank. Butterflies to spawned in my tummy and they dared to fly up my throat, making it tighten as if I could cry.

I took a deep breath and stood, placing a little more cash than was necessary on the table and went to catch up with Wonwoo. I stood to the side as he paid, thanking the waitress when they were finished.

“Thank you for spending time with me tonight.” I said shyly, hugging my arms close to myself to stave off the cold.

“You’re welcome. I’ll text you the date and time that I’ll be free. I trust your judgement, so just text me with what I should try to wear and were I should be.” It took me way too long to realize what he was talking about.

“Ahh right! Of course.” I hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“My dorm is this way, so I’ll see you later, okay?” He stopped abruptly at a crossroads, pointing into the opposite direction where my dorm was. I nodded and thanked him again before he began to jog off.

I stood there under the lights for a few moments, watching as his slender legs and clean dress shoes took him away and into the night.

My breath hitched in sudden realization.

“I just went on a date with Jeon Wonwoo.” I whispered to no one.

“Right there! Don’t move a muscle.” It was a week later that I got to see him again. It was the weekend, and I’d decided on going to a park nearby. We stood at a small bridge that crossed a small stream that would eventually reach the river where families were fishing and having a barbecue. The weather was perfect, with bright fluffy clouds, warm sunshine, and a soft breeze.

Somehow Wonwoo wore almost exactly what I’d envisioned: a lightweight shirt over a white t-shirt, light wash jeans and sneakers. A perfect day and a perfect boy made for a perfect picture.

“Can you look up a little bit more? Think something wistful.” He was great at following instructions, and whatever wistful thing he was thinking made the sweetest smile spread over his cheeks. I knelt at the end of the bridge and took a few pictures of his profile as he gazed at the sky.

“Now look at me.” It was as if he looked through the camera lens and directly into my soul. It nearly took my breath away how naturally be could put on the boyfriend act. Luckily, my camera was my shield, and I was able to get the shot without fumbling like a starstruck schoolgirl. Mostly.

“Alright, I think that’s good.” We’d been at it for hours, wandering around the park looking for the best places. We’d been at the river where the trees gave enough shade to emphasize his features. We’d been to the swing set where he played up the careful style that I didn’t know he had. We’ve been to the rock garden where I learned he knew a surprising amount about geology.

“You think this’ll be enough?” He came around to look at the pictures with me, putting his arm around my shoulders, the sudden contact made me jump, nearing dropping my camera. I turned to look at him only to find me wasn’t looking at the pictures at all.

“Uh... Yeah I think so.”

“I’ve always admired you, you know?” My mouth hung open in shock. Surely, I’d have remembered if we shared classes together or knew each other before this. fear bloomed in my chest. Had we known each other before??!?

“Sometimes during lunch, you’ll take pictures of the flowers or of birds, and you have a sense of focus that I don’t usually see in girls our age.” He clarified, waving off my worried thoughts with his free hand. Yet again he surprises me.

“And I always notice when you stare.” He added as one final blow to my heart, a killing whisper. My breath caught in my lungs and I looked away from him, only to feel his throaty laugh against my ear and neck.

“I- thank you? and also I’m sorry?” I didn’t know what to say or how to react. He let go of my shoulders and took a step away, moving in front of me.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m flattered.” His smile was otherworldly. When I didn’t respond further, however, that beautiful smile began to fall.

“I’m sorry, was that unwarranted?” He asked, gesturing to my shoulder. I still couldn’t say anything, as much as I wanted to. I could still feel pressure where his fingers pressed onto my skin, and how his breath against my neck gave me shivers.

“I just thought that after our date that you were interested and so I-”

“What?” I blurted out, surprising even myself. His eyes went wide, and he stumbled back as if my words had hit him physically.

“Was that wrong? I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed!” He bowed his head slightly in what I assumed was an apology. Before I could correct him, he began to leave.

“I’ll text you with my PayPal info, okay? See you around.” He really was the flight in fight or flight when it came to social situations.

I sent a length voice memo after I got home, explaining that I wasn’t upset and that I thought I had begun to have feelings for him, or at least that I liked him and his company. He never replied. In fact, I barely ever saw him again. It was only a little over a month until graduation, so I assumed he was busy. At least I hoped so, that way I didn’t depress myself with the idea that he was purposefully ignoring me, despite the signs.

Perhaps it was because his image was the shining star of my portfolio, but I never could forget about Jeon Wonwoo.

“Alright, thank you for introducing yourself, you can go ahead and have a seat at your desk.” My supervisor says kindly, gesturing to the only un-decorated desk in the room. The older woman next to me smiled and shook my hand, and the meeting went on in what I assumed was business as usual.

Everything was clean and new and mine. My own desk in an actual company building for an actual newspaper. I tried to focus on what was being said, but I was too giddy to even sit still.

“Excuse me, are you busy?” A heavy voice spoke up from behind me after the supervisor left the room. My throat tightened as if I could cry.

“No, can I help you with something?” I said as I pretended I was fine.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. Jeon Wonwoo, I’m a columnist.” He smiled at me smugly, extending his hand for me to shake. I did so and he winked at me. Instantly, the entire world fell apart until it was just us.

I couldn’t help but stare. A boy with eyes that piercing and teeth that shiny was hard to come by, and he was just who I wanted.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen #svt #svt wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo au #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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