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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years

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Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes.

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven.

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something.

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating.

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated.

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?”

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances.

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals.

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.”

He huffs a little.

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead.

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge.

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates.

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well.

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human.

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!"

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes.

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head.

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.”

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now.

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open.

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut.

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.”

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #werewolf!jungkook #bts werewolf au #jungkook imagine #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

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heliads · 3 years

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Forever Separated

Based on this request: “Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and is at the gig at the Orpheum and hit by a drunk driver and dies instantly. She and the boys come back as ghosts 25 years later. She’s there for everything that goes down with Julie, Willie, and Caleb.”

masterlist

Your fingers tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you careen through the streets. It’s late now, the beacons of headlights guiding you down the asphalt. There’s a grin on your face that won’t seem to go away- your boys are playing at the Orpheum tonight. The Orpheum. That’s been their dream for what feels like forever. It doesn’t even seem true.

By your boys, you mean Sunset Curve, of course. The motley collection of four teenage boys with dreams bigger than the world and the need for a chance to prove themselves. You stumbled across them at a small jazz club, at what had been one of their first performances. It hadn’t been long after that when you had become a friend of the bandmates, and an even shorter time before you fell in love with Luke. When you started dating, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

You had always known that they would make it, even when they seemed to doubt it themselves. You knew they had gathered regrets over the years- Reggie with the fracturing of his family, Alex with his parents’ lack of acceptance of him, and Luke with the way he’d run out on his mother. You had seen it in their faces- if their band never got off of the ground, they would continue to doubt themselves for the rest of their lives. There had been times when you thought that it might be over for good, that they’d be done for before they even got the chance to get started. Yet here you are now, driving towards their gig at the Orpheum.

You’re only a couple of streets away. You’re practically shivering with anticipation at the thought of it- all of their dreams and hopes, finally come to fruition. You, however, are running a little late despite your best interests, and so your foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. You’re not speeding, always careful to follow traffic laws, just making sure you’re not going to be as late as you fear.

It only seems fitting that something would go wrong on this night of nights. Thinking back, you’re almost glad it happened to you and not someone else. You had this awful feeling that something was going to happen to ruin this gig, and maybe if it happened to you it would protect the boys and let their show run on uninterrupted. When you pass through the intersection, this thought may have protected you.

When you see the truck out of the corner of your eye, you continue driving. You know it will stop, it has to. Maybe it’s the way you’re eager to see your boys again, or the fact that the light has been green for a long time now and there’s no way the driver could miss the glaring red in front of him. Maybe it’s just because you feel sheltered by this bubble of hope that comes with seeing the boy you love play at the Orpheum. Regardless, there is nothing you can do to avoid the truck, and you keep expecting that it will stop until it is inches away from you. Then you finally realize that there’s no getting out of this, and it is only then that it is too late to act.

You’ve seen car crashes in the movies. They’re always a blazing whirl of headlights and screeching tires, a hailstorm of broken glass that reflects the light in the most beautiful arc around you. It will be slow, like time itself crawls to a stop, just in time for your head to fly back in a graceful motion. Then it will speed up again, and just like that it will be over.

This is nothing like that. It is over an instant, no beautifully devastating moments. You’re not a marionette to be hung delicately in the air, your strings are cut within seconds. You do not have time to see the poetry in your last moments, they’re already over. All you manage to see is a quick glimpse of a bottle resting in the driver’s hands, a tremendous impact like the very shaking of the earth, and then there is nothing at all. No orchestras reach a momentum, no lens flares pierce the night. There is everything, and then there is nothing. It is painfully ordinary.

There is one feeling that seems to surround it all. A pain, numb at first and then growing to a fever pitch. You don’t know when you wake up, only that it is much later. There’s someone dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing over you, the piercing din of an ambulance somewhere behind you. You want to form words together and ask who it’s for, but the answer comes to you the second you realize you can’t move a muscle. It is for you. You are the one in need of saving.

The paramedic is standing over you, shouting something about a drunk driver and two casualties, the driver and the girl right here. You want to stand up, to shout to the world that you’re alive and fine. But for some reason, you can’t move at all. You can’t say anything except feel the last of your pulse die from your veins. Distantly, you feel a raw anguish creeping up in your throat. Luke and the others are still waiting for you at the Orpheum. Who will tell them that you’re gone?

It should have been over then. You died, certainly. You bled out on the streets and ceased to draw breath. Indeed, you had the classic fading of color and acceptance of the darkness just like everyone else. It appears that you will only have access to the clichés of the stories in death. It’s oddly fitting. Regardless of the beauty of it, you died. End of story.

Or at least, it should have been the end. Yet, you find yourself standing again, waiting at the back of a crowded room. You stare at your hands, at your body, which appears unharmed. Your eyes travel from yourself to the people in front of you. Your parents sit in chairs, their backs to you. They’re looking over a photo album, crying softly. “She was so young. She could have done so much more. I miss her, even though it’s been so long.”

You step forward, but the ground makes no sound underneath your feet. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to be sad. She would want you to remember her with happiness, not with tears, right?” Your mother nods sadly. “I can’t seem to help it, though.” An icy chill runs through your veins as you realize what’s happened. All you can think about is that you need to get away from here, somewhere where you won’t be surrounded by people mourning your death.

And then you’re gone. One minute you’re in your home, the next minute you’re standing on the sidewalk outside. Although you look around frantically, no one notices your sudden appearance. No one, that is, except one boy. He’s riding a skateboard, long dark hair tucked underneath a helmet. He stops suddenly, staring at you. “Hey, you just poofed here out of nowhere. You’re a ghost?”

You stare at him. “You can see me?” He nods. “You must be new to this ghost business if you’ve got questions. I’m Willie, by the way.” You smile weakly at him. “Y/N. I guess I would have to be a ghost if I died in the accident.” Willie winces. “Ooh, accidents. Those hurt. I died around the early 80s, a couple of decades ago, so I know what you mean.” You stare at him. “The 80s weren’t a couple of decades ago. They were recent.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You must have only been brought back as a ghost recently. It’s the 2020s right now.” You shake your head slowly. “That means it’s been 30 years since I died. How is that possible?” Willie places a hand on your shoulder, and for some reason the gesture is surprisingly comforting. “Hey, not a whole lot about the ghost stuff makes sense. If you want to talk about it, though, I’m here.” You smile at him. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Willie ends up becoming a fast friend. He explains everything there is to know about ghosts, and the two of you have fun messing around with your ghost abilities, whatever those are. It’s nice to have someone who understands about the ghost business, and you find that in leaps and bounds with Willie.

One day, you’re lying on a grassy hill admiring the clouds when Willie poofs into existence next to you. For some reason, he looks almost flushed with excitement, cheeks pink with thrill. “You won’t believe who I met. The cutest guy. He’s a new ghost, too.” You grin over at him. “Already making moves? You’re unreal.” Willie rolls his eyes. “I played it safe. We had a nice chat. He seems very cool, in a band or something. I think he plays the drums. Alex, was in a band called Sunset Curve. I think that’s a good name for a band, and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones.”

You sit up suddenly, all thoughts of the bright afternoon sun quickly abandoned. “What did you say? About Sunset Curve?” Willie frowns. “That’s the guy’s band. Or, it was until he died. He’s about our age, played in a band called Sunset Curve.” You shake your head slowly. “That makes no sense. They should have grown up a long time ago.” Willie still seems confused, so you clarify. “I know Alex, and I know the rest of his bandmates. I was friends with them until I died.” You fix him with a sudden purposeful look. “I need you to bring me to meet these guys.”

Willie has to ask around, but eventually he finds Alex and discovers that they’re staying in their old studio, now inhabited by the Molina family. You thank him, setting off as soon as you can. As you stand outside the doors to the studio, you find yourself suddenly nervous. Will they want to see you? Will they understand what happened?

The faint sounds of music drifting out from the doors is what convinces you. It sounds just like them, like this is another afternoon from the 90s when you’re meeting up with Luke and the others. You gather your courage and knock twice on the doors, then push them open. You stand for a moment in the doorway, staring. The boys stare back at you. It’s funny- everyone looks the exact same, even though everything has changed.

Then there’s a voice from the back of the room. It’s quiet, as if he’s afraid to say anything lest the moment be fractured away into nothingness. “Y/N?” Luke steps forward, disbelief warring with hope in his eyes. You nod slowly. “Luke?” Luke stands still for a moment longer, then runs forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close. You tuck your head into the space between his head and his shoulder, letting yourself relax once more.

After what could be ten seconds or ten minutes, Luke reluctantly pulls away. He cups your face in his hand, just staring with awe. “How are you here? We died- you weren’t at the Orpheum-” You laugh bitterly. “I died too. There was a drunk driver on the road, he hit me when I was just a couple of blocks away. I was so close, that was the worst part.” Luke nods slowly. “I remember hearing sirens. I didn’t know it was you.”

Something like guilt passes over his face, and you hurriedly shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I guess you died some time after that?” Luke nods. “Just before the show. We never got to play.” A sad sigh rips from his chest, and you pull him close again. It isn’t fair, not at all. He shouldn’t have died, you shouldn’t have died. He should not have been robbed of this chance to live the dream he always wanted.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from across the room. “You know, we’re here too. Not just Luke.” You look up, laughing. “Sorry, Reggie, Alex. Love you guys too. I’m glad we can all be dead together.” Alex flashes you a thumbs up from across the room. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.” Luke laughs now, albeit reluctantly. You squeeze his hand one more time, then step into the room, greeting the other boys.

Your gaze falls upon a figure you don’t recognize- a girl, about your age if not a year younger. She has dark, curly hair and a fascinated smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” The girl startles. “Julie. Julie Molina. It’s nice to meet you- you must be the girl Luke keeps talking about.” You toss a grin Luke’s way. “You’ve been talking about me?” Luke moves to deny this, but Reggie speaks up loudly. “So often. You have no idea. He’s been very sad.”

Luke glares at his friend, but you just grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted.” Luke beams at you, still thrilled that you’re here again. “Trust me, you are. I can’t believe you get to stay with me.”

Neither can you, actually. Somehow, despite the fact that you died and came back again, Luke did the same, and you can be with him again. You’ve lost everything- your family, your future, your life, but you still have him. It feels impossible, but it’s true.

This isn’t to say that life is smooth sailing from here. It turns out Luke, Alex, and Reggie have gotten themselves tangled in the mess that is Caleb’s club, and they’ve got the stamps to prove it. You find yourself holding Luke close while he spasms from jolt after jolt, forcing smiles to pretend like it doesn’t kill you every time he’s in pain. You also have to defend Willie to the rest, as he’s been your friend for a while and would never knowingly betray them. You have a feeling that Alex is pretty happy to hear this.

At last, you find the way to save Luke and save the boys- another performance at the Orpheum, this time as their unfinished business. Standing outside the building, staring up at the blinking neon signs, you can’t help but feel some strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. This feels like a sick twist of deja vu. This is how you died- waiting for the boys’ performance at the Orpheum. Staying here now, in the same position but after you’ve died, feels somehow wrong.

You try to shake the thoughts from your head, slipping inside the building to go find Luke, Julie, and the others. This isn’t like that night, you can’t die twice. Everything is going to be fine. Yet when you walk in the dressing room and catch sight of a panicked Flynn trying to calm a visibly shaken Julie, you have a feeling that things aren’t exactly smooth sailing.

Julie looks up when she sees you appear in the room. “Y/N, it’s good to see you. Have you seen Luke and the boys?” You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows. “No, not since I left the studio to let you say your goodbyes. Have they not shown up?” Julie sinks back down in a chair, hands pressed to her temples. “Not at all.” You slump against a wall. This feels like history repeating itself again- you dead, the boys not showing up to their performance at the Orpheum. No matter how many times you tell a story, it tends to end the same way.

Distraught, you wander back through the building to attempt to find the boys, but your search is to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found. You stumble through the auditorium just to see Julie taking the stage. You have a brief, wild hope that she’s managed to find them, but then you see the red rims of her teary eyes and hear the goodbye she issues to the crowd. If they haven’t shown up, then that means-

You try to distract yourself by listening to Julie sing. It brings a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Julie is a bright firecracker of a girl, and it’s been wonderful to get to know her. At least you know you have her at the end of this. Yet when the beat drops, Alex appears in a flash of sparks. You stand up, pressing forward through the crowd as if your proximity will do anything more to bring them back. Yes- there goes Reggie, and there’s Luke struggling to flicker back into existence. You send out a silent plea: bring him back, please. You can’t do this without him.

Then he’s back again, and you feel like your heart might burst. He flashes you a grin, as if to promise that nothing could separate you again. You smile back at him, finally letting yourself relax. He’s here, it’s okay. It’s all okay. When the song ends, you watch through joyful eyes as the boys stand next to Julie, clasping hands before taking a bow. There’s something wrong, though, something wrong when they disappear. Usually, you can loosely sense them when they poof away, but this time there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like they’ve been erased away from the song of their lives.

There’s something pounding in the back of your heart, and you poof away to Julie’s rooms backstage. She appears there seconds later, as if she’s been expecting you. She runs over to you, stopping a few feet away as she remembers she can’t touch you or hug you as a ghost. “Tell me they’re still here. They didn’t just cross over.” You shake your head slowly. “I can’t feel them. They’re not in the building anymore. Julie, I think they’re gone.”

She nods slowly, fighting a losing battle to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. You just found Luke again, and now he’s gone.” You force a smile. “It’s alright. We’re just ghosts, remember? We’ve been running on borrowed time all along. I’ll meet you at the studio, alright? We can say our goodbyes.” Julie nods. “I’ll see you then.” You give her one last wave, then poof out.

You reappear outside the doors of the studio. You can’t quite bring yourself to go in, to face the empty stillness of the studio and know that the boy you love isn’t there. What are you supposed to do now? You have no idea what your unfinished business could possibly be. Most likely, you’re going to live out your endless days as a ghost, not noticed by anyone except Julie and Willie and whatever other ghosts you manage to find, forever haunted by the knowledge that the one person you’re looking for the most will never appear around the corner, never be waiting for you again. It’s like you’re back to that car crash, knowing you’ll be separated by death once more.

You hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and straighten up. Seconds later, Julie appears down the path, and you nod at her slowly. “Are you ready to do this?” She sighs. “It seems fitting to say goodbye, even if they aren’t here.” She pushes open the doors, letting the darkness wash over the two of you. She looks over at you. “I don’t know what to do.” You smile gently. “There’s no script. I have a feeling they’ll be able to hear you. Just say what you wish you got to say before they left.”

Julie nods. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys, and grateful to you for everything. You got me back into music, and I’ll never be able to let go of it again. I thought I’d never play after my mom, but you convinced me that I could. Thank you.” There’s a muffled voice from the back of the room, one that’s quickly shushed by two annoyed boys. “You’re welcome.” You stare. “Reggie?” You’d know him anywhere- you’ve heard that voice in band practices for the last couple of decades, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Julie runs over to turn on the light, and your hand flies to your mouth as you see the boys crumpled in a heap on the floor, in obvious pain. “Did it not work? Did you not cross over?” Luke shakes his head, gently extricating himself from the heap of band members on the ground to stumble over to you. You catch him before he falls, holding him upright. “We won’t play with Caleb, that’s a promise. It’s not worth it like that.” You cup his face in your hands. “I don’t want to let you go. Not yet.”

Luke laughs quietly. “I’m not sure we had a choice. I love you, Y/N, no matter what. You know that, right?” You nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “I know.” You feel one last jolt rack his body, and somehow you know that this will be the last. This is it, the moment when he truly dies. You fling your arms around him, holding him close one last time. If you can’t have the future with him you had always planned, you can at least have this moment.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he disappears from you forever. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes carefully, then stare at him. “Luke, you’re- I think you’re glowing.” Sure enough, he’s surrounded by this golden haze of light. He smiles at you, chuckling slightly in awe. “I feel good. Strong, like I haven’t felt in a while.” Alex stands up too, as does Reggie. “Actually, I feel better too. I think you saved us. Both of you.”

You laugh incredulously. “Really? You’re not going away?” Luke presses a kiss to your cheek. “Never again. I’m not leaving you ever again.” You beam at him. “Good. I don’t intend to be with anyone else.” He laughs at that, pulling you in for a kiss. For once, you know that he’s here to stay.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms luke

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essaysbyciara · 4 years

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It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane.

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up.

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light.

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.”

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word. She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer.

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!”

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like.

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit, social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.”

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could.

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…”

“Man, he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you.

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed.

“Aight, fave. I will. Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.”

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake.

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel.

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it.

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name.

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same.

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder.

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible.

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena.

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again.

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena.

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy…

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass.

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell.

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it.

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi.

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him?

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh.

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really-- and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days, weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request.

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot.

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram.

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection.

End of Part I

#trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #nebraska williams

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years

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The Arrangement Ch 17

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Part one of the photoshoot

Previous Chapter here

The work week proceeded as normal. Well, what had become normal. Delivering coffee and reminding Yoongi to eat, answering emails, trying to figure out which meetings Yoongi actually needed to go to and which ones were a waste of time. Of course you always went to the meetings, and holy shit you couldn’t believe the topics couldn’t have been discussed via email. You were looking forward to this particular day because you got to go visit Hoseok in the style department and Jimin had decided he was tagging along “for funsies.”

Yoongi was supposed to go and get measured and try on clothes for his photoshoot. When you reminded him that morning he laughed at you, “Uh no. Hoseok knows what size I wear. He can figure it out. Go look at the clothes and I might try some of them on tonight.”

You and Jimin met up for lunch and then headed up to the styling department.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a photoshoot before.” You said bouncing up and down in the elevator.

“Yeah, they’re pretty boring actually. Like if it’s with some of the hotter models it’s a little fun for the eye candy, but then you feel bad for them because they have to sit for so long making awkward faces. They are constantly getting their make-up and hair touched up. Touch base with craft services to make sure there’s plenty of water. The lights are bright.”

You took out your phone, “Oh thanks. I wouldn’t have even thought about that. Any other tips?”

“It’s Yoongi. It won’t take as long as it does with the other people. He’ll show up, do it, and leave. JK and Tae, especially Tae, want to chat with everyone on set and if they are together it takes foreeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrr.”

“Huh, ok. Thanks.” The two of you arrived at JHOPE Fashion and walked through the rainbow vomit doors.

Hoseok was wearing glasses with yellow lenses today, which made his dramatic facial expressions stand out even more. He immediately rolled his eyes. He pointed to you. “You are not Yoongi.” He pointed to Jimin. “And you are not Yoongi.” He put his hands on his hips. “So why are the two of you here?”

“I’m sure you can guess why.” You responded dryly.

“Ugh. That ungrateful man. I had lovingly hand stitched these pieces. For him. These patches...” Hoseok pressed his fingers together as though he was praying. “Fine. Fine. You. Y/N. Come. You. Jimin. Wait right there.”

Jimin’s eyes went wide. “Me? Why do I have to wait here?”

Hoseok turned from where he had started to walk towards the back. “You will thank me in a minute. A certain someone is coming to get his fitting in a few minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and then turned around, his heels clacking against the red tile floor.

Jimin started to blush profusely and before you could ask, Hobi interrupted, “Come new girl. We have work to do especially if that boss of yours refuses to come here and experience these magnificent beauties for himself.”

You followed him through the large door, which led to lime green hallways and then to a quiet, more muted workspace. The walls were lined with fabric bolsters, the middle tables with ribbon, thread, patches, paint. Paint?

Hoseok sat down. “From what I understand, this album will have an acoustic feel to it versus his previous albums. For that reason I have chosen these natural materials such as cotton, linen, and denim.” He spread out several pieces onto the large table. “I have also opted for a more neutral pallet, as much as it hurts my soul. I have chosen colors found in nature. I have chosen brightly colored accessories such as these silks to stand in contrast with the stiff fabric and more neutral colors he will be wearing. Additionally, I avoided black. We’ll see if he notices.”

You watched as he draped the red and purple silks over the top of the clothes. For whatever reason, you found it mesmerizing watching the fabric juxtapositioned in such a way. “It’s so cool to hear you tell a story just using clothes.” You said, somewhat enchanted.

Hoseok flicked his eyes up to you, “Thank you. That is what I try to do with my collections. Everyone’s outfit tells a story, even if they don’t mean for it to. May I?” He asked, stepping back and gesturing at you.

“Oh man. You know I don’t dresses fancy--”

“Shhhh you don’t tell me.” He looked at your outfit. You had opted for an Aline skirt and blouse with a casual blazer. “You had meetings this morning, that’s obvious by the jacket. You usually dress cuter. Which means you are either sick or not feeling great. You look fine. So I’m guessing...you are on your period. Sorry, this just comes out, I can’t stop it,” he paused for a moment as your jaw dropped open slightly. He stepped closer, inspecting the shoulders of your jacket. “The blazer is at least ten years old but you shouldn’t have had a blazer ten years ago unless it was for your school uniform and that isn’t a school jacket. Which means it probably belonged to an older sister or aunt. You are very responsible and well organized otherwise you wouldn't be Yoongi’s assistant. Therefore you are most likely the oldest or only child so that is your aunt’s jacket. Your blouse is nice. You actually like it, you’ve worn it twice in the week you’ve been working here. You bought it at a thrift store. You don’t spend a lot of money on yourself, but you are very confident. Therefore, it’s not that you don’t think you deserve nice things, it’s just that you can’t afford them so you likely grew up poor and it has continued into your adulthood.”

“Holy shit. You should be a detective.” You said to him.

“The shoes, I gave you last week. They don’t have a story yet, other than a very good -looking man in a suit helped you out because Jimin said you were a nice girl. You wear zero accessories which shows a lack of both funds and sentimentality. Most people have at least one piece of jewelry that means something to them, but if you have one, you don’t wear it.” He smiled at you, his white teeth gleaming. “ Now, how much am I right about?” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

You clapped your hands as though you were in an audience. “All of it. Although I am still weirded out that you know I’m on my period. Next time I’m going to wear something skin tight to throw you off.” You joked.

“Well,” he started, “At least now that you work here you don’t have to worry as much right?”

Given the shitshow you went through this weekend you weren’t sure about that, but you shrugged, “It definitely pays better. And money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure helps make some things less hard.” You gestured to the pile of fabric on the table, “So...what do I do? Take these clothes with me for Yoongi to try on or will they be at the photoshoot tomorrow? Do I need to bring them to the photoshoot?”

Hoseok sighed dramatically, “I could dress Yoongi drunk, in my sleep. He can just show up tomorrow and I will dress him then. My staff will make sure the clothes and accessories are at the photoshoot. Here,” He walked over to one of the garment racks. “More clothes for you. I know you have a big closet. And if you run out of space, just take Yoongi’s, he only wears like three things despite my best efforts.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re not kidding. Ok thanks,” You took the clothing. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. Feel free to see yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and please make sure the catering has strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Got it.” You were learning so much today.

You exited the backroom and saw Jimin over near one of the pedestals. He was chatting with JK who was getting fitted with a corset. What an itty bitty waist, you admired. The two of them seemed to be having a good time and you had a new list of things to do so you waved at Jimin and headed to 1802 to drop off your new clothes. You had forgotten Hoseok knew you lived with Yoongi. The week had flown by.

You sent a text message to Jiwoo asking if you could stop by her desk and ask her a few questions to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow and then stopped by the apartment.

You conferred with her and learned how to navigate catering requests via the company website; apparently it wasn’t available on the app, good to know. you felt much better about the shoot tomorrow but still nervous and excited.

You knocked on the door to Genius Lab. No answer. Never any answer. You typed the code in and saw Yoongi wearing his headphones, lost in his own world. He had told you to just wait on the sofa when this was the case and that he would eventually notice you. Normally the smell of coffee was what alerted him to your presence, but you had come empty handed today. You sat down on the couch and took out your phone.

YN: I don’t mean to alarm you. But there’s something behind you.

You saw his phone light up. He ignored it for a minute, presumably to finish listening to a song, and then picked it up. You heard him laugh and take off his headphones. “You are the worst.” He spun around.

“So mean. Hey. Tomorrow is my first photoshoot. I checked on the outfits for you. By the way, Hoseok is like Sherlock Holmes with clothing. I learned I��m supposed to contact catering, I have hair and make-up requests in. Do I need to do anything else?”

Yoongi thought for a minute. He never really participated in that side of the photoshoot, now that he reflected on it. He walked his way through a day on set. “No. The changing rooms and photography are handled by other departments. Check with Jiwoo or Jimin, they’ve both set up a shoot before.”

“I did. I’m getting ready to send in the last food request. Any requests?”

“Mandarins. I don’t like to eat a lot on set because I don’t want stuff getting stuck in my teeth.”

“That makes sense. Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then.” You got up and stretched.

“Tomorrow will go fine. If you forgot anything, it will be somewhere in this building.” He reassured you.

“That makes me feel a lot better.” You said honestly. “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

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The next day arrived with Yoongi heading off to the hair and make-up department and you heading to the 11th floor to see what the photo set up looked like. You exited the elevator. Man your hands were sweaty, you followed the sounds of voices and made your way to the shooting location. The lighting crew was checking their overheads, a stand-in was posing on the various props they had set out. It looked as though there were three separate “areas” for shooting photos. One area had a large white couch, complete with coffee table, rubber plant, magazines. The whole set up designed to look like a living room. A second space was a blue sheet with a white background. The third space was a kitchen, complete with an island, stovetop, and refrigerator. Holy moly this space was huge. You marveled at it.

“Hello, can I help you?” An older man walked over.

“Oh hi, I’m YLN. Yoongi’s assistant. I was stopping by to check the set up. It looks incredible.”

“Thank you. Yes. Here, let me walk you through it.”

You received a tour of the set and also an overview of the order of shooting. You also found out that next week, weather permitting, there would be a second shooting at the park across the street. You got catering checked in, or at least pointed to the table and felt like you did a thing. The same happened when the clothing team showed up. You pointed to dressing rooms and the vanity where the accessories trunk should go. You were thankful no one had asked you any questions so far. This was a steep learning curve. You had hoped someone you knew might be here today to help ease your nerves, but so far, it was all new faces.

Finally, you saw one familiar face. Alice walked in, carrying a small case with her. You waved.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you again.” She said. “I had no idea you were Yoongi’s assistant until today.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that. I was so overwhelmed that first day,” you smiled.

“No worries. He was just telling me and Bongcha that he had an assistant now. He’s almost done. His make-up is setting. I’m on hair today which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s not like he’s needing a fancy up-do or anything and it’s good for me to practice.”

“Ok great. This is my first time at a photoshoot, so if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m not, can you let me know?” You confided in her.

“Absolutely. It looks like most of the stuff is set up how it usually is. Just remember,” she got closer to you and spoke quieter, “You are Yoongi’s assistant. Some of these people, especially these older guys will try to get you to do stuff like get their coffee, grab them snacks. That is not your job. It’s not by job. If they have an assistant, it’s their job.”

“I knew I liked you when we first met,” you smiled at her. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime Unnie.”

She walked over and took out her hair tools and placed them on the table reserved for hair and make-up. A few minutes later you saw Yoongi walk in wearing a black shirt and grey sweats. His face looked even more beautiful than normal. Next to him was a petite girl with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, dragging a make-up train behind her. Yoongi looked around for a second, and then locked eyes with you. You saw the tiniest smile threaten to come out as he walked over.

“Hey. Everything here looks good.” He gestured to the room.

“Thanks. I didn’t do most of it, I just pointed and people seemed to know what to do already. Your face looks good.”

Yoongi chuckled, “You can thank Bongcha for that. Bongcha, this is YN.”

Bongcha stuck out her hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. You do good work. I give his face a 10/10. Highly recommend.”

“Well, it’s easy when you have such a great model to start with,” She smiled while looking up at Yoongi.

Yoongi had started to blush between the pair of compliments. “Is Hoseok here yet?”

“No not yet.” You took out your phone to see if you had any messages from Hoseok. Nope. You looked back up, “Bongcha, I’m sure you already know, but the make-up table is over there. Alice is setting up right now.”

“Great, thanks!” She headed over, her shiny hair swishing behind her.

Speak of the devil in blue himself, Hoseok strutted in at that exact moment wearing an electric blue suit. His crisp white shirt underneath popped beneath the jacket, and his pocket square had little sunshines on it.

“Wow. You look like the sky.” You said before you could help it.

“Thank you. Indeed. It was my inspiration today. It’s a crime to be indoors beneath these artificial lights on such a beautiful day. Oh well. It can’t be helped.” He laid eyes on Yoongi, like a predator gazing on its prey, “Yoongi. Baby. Come.”

Yoongi scrunched his face. “Don’t call me baby. If you miss the sunlight so much, leave. I know how to dress myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don't know which pieces go together.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and started leading him over to the clothing section, leaving you to laugh at the pair of them. You went over to the table you had set up for yourself between make-up and the food. You had printed off several lists that morning to help you stay focused. You checked off several action items. Satisfied, you sat your clipboard down and looked around. It was a well-oiled machine for sure. You walked over to the hair and make-up table. “Hey ladies.”

“Hey! Have you two met yet?” Alice asked, referring to Bongcha.

“Yep, we just did.” Bongcha confirmed, putting on her make-up apron and filling it with various powders and brushes.

“Ooooo we should do a make-up party sometime.” Alice squealed. “We try to do it with all the new girls. And since Yoongi is” she hushed her voice again “One of our favorites. We have to take care of his assistant.”

You smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice. Excuse me.” You decided to go see how the clothes were going.

“Yes. Yoongi’s assistant. So glad you’re here.” Hoseok turned to you.

“She has a name, it’s YN.” You heard Yoongi say from behind the curtain.

“Yes yes. I know. We talked yesterday, remember? At that meeting I scheduled for me and you that you did not come to. Anyways, here. The outfits are now coordinated. They have tags on them corresponding to their accessory in the accessory trunk. Some pieces have more than one option that the Director of Photography and Yoongi will decide on. Got it?”

You looked over the set up. It seemed simple enough since Hoseok had organized it so well .”Yep. You going out to enjoy the sunshine?”

“Honey, I am the sunshine. I’m off to get laid after having to deal with this cloudy baby.” He gestured to the changing room.

“Don’t call me baby.” Yoongi shouted from behind the curtain. You just laughed as Hoseok turned around and left. You waited for a few minutes.

“You ok in there? Need me to come help you put your pants on?” You teased.

“Not necessary.” Yoongi slid open the curtain. Why was everyone teasing him today? He pouted without thinking about it.

You walked over, straightening the collar of his shirt “Hey now, you can’t go around pouting like a baby and not expect people to call you one. Here,” you handed him a mandarin. He scowled at you as he took it. “Such a pretty face” You laughed.

“Yeah whatever. I can eat this while they set up the white meter. You should be fine to just hang around at this point.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” The two of you walked over to the main part of the set where the Director gave Yoongi instructions about where to sit as they practiced the blocking and softbox placement.

“Oh my god he looks so good eating that tangerine.” You overheard. Your eyes bugged out slightly and you turned around. A group of women from the photography team were looking at the images to check the saturation and focus, as well as apparently the model. Damn. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657

#BTS suga #bts writing #bts fic #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you

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tpwkxxangel · 4 years

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Side A: Track 1

//this is a continuation of a fanfiction that i am writing. if you haven’t read the prologue before this, please check it out or else this might not make sense. if you have any comments, let me know! here is the masterlist //

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

June 2018

"Thank you Dallas!" Harry calls to the stadium full of fans. The cheers are loud and fill Harry's heart with love. It always amazes him how people sing his lyrics back to him. If someone told him 10 years ago that he would be playing a sold out arena, by himself, while touring his first debut album, he would think they were insane.

Every night, it takes a toll on him though. The energy in every venue and the laughs shared between him and his audience is so difficult to end. The endings are the worst part aren't they? This one is bittersweet.

Harry gives one last wave of his hand before walking off backstage. His breathing is a little labored due to him giving 110%.

"Another great show, Hersh! We should do something to celebrate!" his manager, Jeff, pats his back while handing him a towel. Harry gives a small appreciative smile before wiping off the sweat from his face. Jeff sighs knowing that this night won't be any different than the last month and a half. "Can you at least go out for one drink? You haven't been out in so long. We all miss you..."

Heartbreak can change you, and that's exactly what it did for Harry. He met Camille when he was in One Direction. She's a few years older than him, but no one could resist the Styles charm. After a few conversations at parties they both found themselves at, they started dating. Nothing was public of course, but the relationship was real none the less. Over the eight month relationship, Harry feel in love with the model. Towards the end, they both got really busy and couldn't devote as much time to the relationship as needed. There were other factors that made things difficult, so they decided to brake things off. Harry has never felt a pain like that in his life.

So he shut down.

He has always had big emotions that invade all of his senses, so when his love was taken away from him, he couldn't stand the brokenness he felt. He began to numb his pain with various methods, but nothing worked. He still feels all the pain he felt when he watched her drive away from his flat in London.

"I don't know man...I'm not feeling--"

"Up to it. Yeah, I know, but H. You are bottling up all of these feelings and that isn't healthy. I think a night out will be good for you. Have you called your therapist lately?"

His therapist lives in London, so when he is traveling, he usually calls in. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Think of it like paying for someone to spill your emotions to and they can't say anything about it.

Maybe Jeff is on to something. This bottling things up is tiring, so a night out may be fun.

"Fine. I'll go out as long as I'm back by two. We have to be on the road at nine and I'd like to get some rest before we leave."

"Deal!"

~~~

The air was stuffy in the heated club. They were all in the VIP booth on the second level of one of the hottest clubs in Dallas. Harry was sipping on his drink trying to pass the time. Only 3 hours before he can leave. God, did he want to leave. The concert was tiring and the never ending heartache was causing his head and heart to throb.

He was about to excuse himself to go find the restroom when a golden dress caught his eye. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again only to spot the girl again. She looked different than the last time he saw her. Her skin was tanner than before, sunkissed just right. Her blonde hair is curled to perfection and lips still red, but she now looks old enough to be in a club like this. Her green eyes are bright with laughter at one of the other girls she is with.

Why is she here? How is she here?

He first saw her in New York. Was she just visiting there? All the memories flood back to him, taking him back to the time where everything was more simple, a lighter time. The way her voice sent a shiver down his spine, the eye contact she made while dancing, the way she touched herself, luring him in. The mere thought of her still drives him crazy.

"Excuse me guys," he turns to his bandmates and manager, "I'm going to find the loo."

Harry makes his way over to the bar where he sees his mystery girl. He flags down the bartender and tells him to give her the order she got two years prior.

He should probably feel embarrassed that he remembers everything about that night regarding the mystery girl, but for the first time in a while, he feels like this is exactly where he is meant to be.

When she received the drink, her brows draw together in confusion before looking to where Harry was sitting. The smirk that made him curious all those years ago made an appearance on her red stained lips. She says something to her friends before downing the drink and making her way over to the brit.

He admired the way her hips moved as she walked. The dress she was wearing complimented her is so many ways. She wasn't a model, but she sure could be.

"Well if it isn't Harry. Long time no see," her voice coming out just as velvety and sweet as before. He's absolutely ecstatic that she remembers his name. That means she thought of him after their encounter like he did.

"Hello, love. Nice to see you again," he smirks back. This is the first time since his break up that he sort of feels like himself.

"You cut your hair," she says while reaching for his drink. Instead of throwing this one back, she just takes a sip, leaving a perfect lip print on the glass.

He nods in a daze, watching the way her tongue darts out, running across her bottom lip. "I was in a movie. Needed it cut," he swallows dryly.

Her eyebrow rose slightly but wasn't surprised. He gave off superstar energy. "Would I have seen it?"

"Depends," he takes his drink back, trying to recover from the dirty thoughts running through his mind, "Do you watch war movies?"

"I've seen a few," she giggles softly, not being able to picture the Brit as a fighter.

"I was in Dunkirk," Harry shrugs.

"I'll have to give it a watch," Harry nods slightly taking a sip of his drink, "especially if the cast is as handsome as you."

Harry chocks slightly not expecting her to be so forward. He chuckles nervously. "Well, I don't want to be the only reason you watch the movie. I'm only a small part of it."

She cocks her eye brow slightly at his tone. Is he being shy? That's different than last time.

Her smirk quickly turns into a more genuine smile as her hand makes it's way on his shoulder. "I actually enjoy action movies, so I have a feeling you being in it would just be a perk."

Harry feels his cheeks flood with color. He distracts himself from the beautiful girl that's starting to make him nervous by sipping his drink again. How was he so confident the last time he saw her? Probably because his heart wasn't broken and there was more alcohol in his system.

He might not be able to fix the first one, but he can fix the second one. He gets the bartenders attention before turning back to his company.

"So, what brings you to the city? The last time I saw you, you were in New York," he asks, not trying to sound invasive, but the question has been brewing in his mind since he saw her.

Her smile dropped slightly before recovering quickly. "I actually grew up here. I'm...visiting some family while I'm in town," she shrugs.

"Do you live in New York now?"

"Part time. I'm a graduate student at Columbia," she says the words as if they aren't impressive.

Harry's mouth falls open slightly. Her prick of a boyfriend was right. She is very smart. Speaking of him...

"What happened to your boyfriend?" he finds himself asking before he can stop himself. Thankfully, the bartender sets another drink next to his empty glass so Harry could hide the blush on his face. This isn't going as well as he wanted it to.

"Who?" her brows furrow in confusion before they smooth out in realization, "I don't even remember his name. You could say that I was just helping him out with an...issue he was having."

"That's very mysterious..." he trails off, remembering he still doesn't know her name.

She laughs at him. She wasn't telling him her name on purpose. One thing that anyone knows about her is that she LOVES games. They make life so much more fun, but for some reason she wanted to hear Harry say her name over and over again in his cute accent. Maybe she'll tell him by the end of the night.

"You can call me J. Everyone does."

He looks at her, and really observes her features. The way her strong cheekbones and jaw are a stark contrast to the softness of her eyes and plush lips. She is truly a beautiful creature, so he finds himself standing up from his stool by the bar and holding out a hand to her to ask something he should have two years ago.

"Would you like to dance with me, J?" he asks.

J smiles brightly in return and Harry's knees go weak. They make their way out to the dance floor as a rock song wraps up. As luck would have it, a very familiar song plays next. The irony was not lost on Harry. That fact that he wrote this song about the girl that is currently swaying her mesmerizing hips against his is so funny that he almost laughs. He gets too distracted by her subtle touches to notice the eyes on him.

From across the bar, Jeff watches his friend loosen up for the first time in two months and feels a pressure release off his chest. He was worried about Harry when him and Camille split. He knows how sensitive his friend can be. Harry leads with his emotions and goes all in. When everything went down, Jeff was the first one Harry called. His broken voice shattered Jeff's heart. It sucked since they were in the middle of the tour and Harry had little to no break in between. Harry is tough, but even his fans noticed him crying during one of his performances in Scotland.

Jeff looks back at the couple on the dance floor to find them laughing. This is a good thing. He will have one night with this girl, and then go back to touring.

Little did Jeff know, Harry wasn't planning to let this girl walk out of his life again. It had to be a sight. He was miserable and had no hope when she randomly showed up in his life again. There are such things a coincidences, but this felt like more than that.

Harry's hands find their way to the girls waist. She looks ups through her lashes at him. "You know, this is my song." He's starting to feel the alcohol in his system, so his words are slightly slurred.

Her laugh makes it's way to his ears and sends a goose bumps all over his body. "No, shit. Really?"

Harry just nods before taking a deep breath and belting out the lyrics. "She goes home to a cactus, in a black dress, she's such an actress, she's driving me crazy!" He's met with her beautiful laugh again. Maybe one day he'll have the courage to tell her who the song is about. They continue to dance for a few more songs before both of them need another drink.

"So, you are not only an actor, but a musician as well?" she hums into her whiskey.

Harry gets nervous again. "I wouldn't say an actor. It's just that one movie."

"One more than me," she giggles. Her lightly glossed over eyes let Harry know the alcohol is taking effect.

As he opens his mouth to speak again, one of J's friends from before comes up to her. She turns her head to hear what her friend says but never takes her eyes off Harry. With one nod of her head, her friend leaves.

"Do you need to leave?" Harry asks. He doesn't want her to leave again. He finally can breathe after two months of suffocating. He's finally out of his head. Maybe it's time to open himself up to new things and not be afraid of hearts getting broken. Camille moved on, so why can't he?

She shakes her head and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I'd rather stay here and talk to you. But they are leaving."

"I'll be sure to get you home," he smiles softly at her. There's the familiar flutter in his heart. It's crazy, honestly. He met this girl once two years ago, yet he is so infatuated with her. She makes his broken heart feel less lonely. He checks the watch on his wrist for the time. It's getting close to two in the morning. He wants to get out of here, but not be done with the night. He doesn't want to go back to his hotel and be lonely. He won't admit that to her though. "Would you like to get out of here?"

His eyes widen at what that sounds like. It's not like he doesn't want to be with her in that way. He was going to take her home two years ago. But, he's different than he was then. He just wants to talk to her in a place that doesn't drown out her gorgeous voice. He starts to correct himself, but she just laughs at him.

"I know what you meant, Harry. I actually have a car waiting for me outside. I know a place we can go if you'd like to come with me."

He nods quickly. "I just have to tell my friends. I'll be right back."

"I'll wait outside. Don't take too long," she smirks before kissing his cheek. She left a bit of lipstick, so she wipes it off before turning around towards the door.

Harry makes his way back to the VIP section with the biggest grin only to see Jeff quickly duck down. He was spying on him, but harry can't even find it in himself to care. He felt like he was floating in the sky towards this sunshine he so desperately needed. When he gets to the spot everyone is sitting at, all the conversations go quiet.

"I'm leaving. I know I have to be back at the hotel at nine to go to Houston. I have my phone on me. Please don't need me until then." Before he can turn around and follow his golden girl, Jeff speaks up.

"Are you sure about this Hersh?"

Harry smiles softly at his concern. "She's an old friend. I finally feel like I can breathe," he whispers the last part as everyone goes back to their conversations.

This is such a relief to his manager. Originally, he just wanted Harry to loosen up and have some fun again. He wasn't going to let him leave with anyone. That's not how you get over a relationship. For some odd reason, this girl seemed to help him more than any of his other friends have in two months.

"Okay. Be safe and text me if you need anything."

Harry nods and heads towards the door. When he walks out, he sees J leaning on a sleek black car talking to an older guy. When she sees him, her eyes light up. She seems so bright compared to how he has been feeling the past few weeks. It's a breath of fresh air, and he couldn't be more relieved to finally take a breath in.

J touches the mans arm before he walks to the drivers side and gets in. "I thought you might have changed your mind?"

"On you? Never," he chuckles while opening the door for her. They both get into the car and Harry starts to wonder why she has a driver? It didn't register in his mind until now. Before he has time to ask, she speaks.

"Stanley, to my hideout please," she speaks softly to the man. There is genuine affection in her voice and Harry can already tell this man is not just a driver to her. He nods and pulls out onto the streets. There are cars on the road, but not as many as a bigger city like New York.

"So, where are you taking me?" Harry breaks the comfortable silence of the car.

"It's a place I like to go when I'm in town," she answers honestly. She's not used to opening up to people, but with Harry it seems almost natural for her. "I travel a lot. When I come back home, things can get a bit crazy for me. I come from a family that expect a lot out of me, so it's nice to have a place to get away from everything."

"I understand the feeling of wanting to get away. In my line of work, there is a lot of pressure to act or be a certain way," he thinks back to his time in One Direction. He never wanted to be the cause of the band breaking up so he held himself to higher standards than the others. It wasn't all bad, but it hurt when his name was thrown around in the press.

"That's right. You're a Popstar," she giggles.

"Rockstar more like," he playfully scoffs.

She rolls her eyes at him with a smile adorning her cherry red lips. "I'll be the judge of that mister."

"Would you like to come to one of my concerts to see for yourself?" he asks partially joking.

She looks at him with her eyebrow raised. "Would you like me to come to one of your concerts?" In all honesty, she wasn't expecting to see him after tonight. Her life can be hectic so her friends are very limited. Harry seems like a nice guy that she wouldn't mind in her life for longer than tonight.

"Yes," he replies with no hesitation. Now that he thinks about it, he wants to see her in the audience singing along to his songs.

She smiles at him and he's back in her trance. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go. "Then I would love to see you perform. When were you thinking?"

"I'm on tour right now, so name a city," he says, "I have the Houston show in two days and then I head to Florida. After that, I believe I'll be in Georgia, Tennessee, and Pennsylvania."

"Wow, that's a lot of shows. I feel like I should have known you would be successful," she laughs, "I'm actually busy for the next week, and after that I'll be flying back to New York."

Harry thinks over his schedule. "Are you free on the 21st?"

She thinks for a moment. "Yes. I don't believe I have anything planned until the end of June."

"I have a show in New York that day if you'd like to come. I believe I'll be there the following day if that works better?."

"That sounds perfect!" she exclaims.

"Ma'am," Stanley interupts politely. "We are here."

"Thank you, Stanley." She turns to Harry with an intoxicating smile. "Let's go!"

J gets out quickly and makes her way to the back of the car. She pulls two blankets out of the trunk and a small bag. Harry gets out and looks around. They are at a small park. This isn't exactly where he thought she would 'hideout' when things got tough.

"A park?" he asks. He's not complaining. He'd could be at a landfill and be happy as long as he's with her.

"It's just a stop on the way. We have to do the rest by foot." He looks into her beautiful green eyes. That familiar warmth is spreading through him. He's scared of becoming more attached to this girl he barely knows, but where's the fun in being cautious?

"Lead the way, love," he gestures forward as she blushes at the pet name.

They both move to the trail that is lit up by lamps. There's a peaceful silence that falls on them. The sounds of crickets and the wind blowing is a stark difference between the roaring stadium a few hours ago. It's nice to feel this silence with her. He feels a hand slip into his. He looks down at their hands connected in shock. He doesn't know how he feels about it at first, but as her hand holds onto his, he loves this feeling. It's insane and strange but he's said it before, she drives him crazy. So, maybe him letting her take control is what is meant to happen. Loving her may be his antidote...

But, that's for another time.

She clears her throat, breaking him out of his thought. "So, where are you from?"

"I'm from a small town in England called Cheshire," he replies.

"Like the cat?" she asks curiously.

He booms out a laugh. "Yes, like the cat."

"What's it like there?" she asks. There's something in her tone that he can't quite decipher.

"It's very beautiful. I love England. Have you ever been?" he asks.

"Yes. I traveled with my parents when I was little. I haven't been in a while though. After I graduate, I plan on seeing more of the world," she says thinking of all the places she wished her parents took her to see. "What's the coolest place you've been to?"

"I love Brazil. It's lovely there. When I played in Rio, my band and I went sightseeing." he says. As a musician, you might get to travel the world, but you have a hard time actually seeing the cities you are in. When Harry was with One Direction, they would have to organize their sightseeing weeks in advance to prepare for the potential mobs.

"That sounds amazing!" she says. "Rio is on my bucket list." Before he can reply, she looks at the path and pulls on his hand to stop him. "We have to go off path from here."

He laughs nervously. "Are you taking me out into the woods at night to kill me?" Even though it's night time here, there are lamp post that light up the way.

"How did you know?" she replies seriously. He gulps before she bursts into laughter. "No, there is a place about 10 yards from here where I like to watch the sunrise. If you feel uncomfortable, we can just head back. I won't be offended." she says honestly.

He thinks about going back, but oddly enough, in the trees with her, he feels completely comfortable. He shakes his head. She smiles that sunshine smile before she leads him into the trees.

The wind starts to whistle, gliding through the trees in the night air.

"What is that?" Harry asks when her starts to see the trees clear.

"That's where I'm taking you," she smiles. They walk through the small gap in the cluster of bushes. Once they get through, she stops them both.

"This is..." Harry seems to be at a loss of words. They stand in silence for what feels like ten minutes. The clearing that they are in is relatively small. No bigger than a baseball diamond, but it is full of flowers. There are solar lanterns on the surrounding trees to light up the beautiful scenery. The reason they stand quietly is because that's the only way to hear the music in the wind. The trees surrounding the clearing are close together causing the wind to pick up speed and whistle a beautiful melody.

J slowly walks towards the middle of the field and lays the blanket she was holding down in an open spot of flowers. She pulls out two wine glasses and a book from the bag on her shoulder before sitting down. She looks at the Brit that hasn't moved since getting into the clearing.

Harry stands smiling down at his mystery girl without saying a word.

"What do you think?" she asks softly, not wanting to interrupt the breeze.

He slowly walks over to her and sits down. "I love it," he simply states.

A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes and before he can move it away himself, J's warm hand tucks it back in place. Her palm rests on his cheek and he leans into it. He feels so comfortable as her thumb caresses his cheek. He feels that familiar heat as her thumb travels down to his lips. A small gasp leaves him as her fingertips rub against his bottom lip.

She leans forward slightly, searching his gaze for any hesitation. He can't move. He closes his eyes, breathing in and breathing out. When he opens his eyes she is the only thing he can see.

When their lips touch, it's even better than he thought it would be. The world around him disappeared. The floating feeling is back. It's like she's waiting for him in the sky, pulling him towards her warmth. He parts his lips slightly and she leans against him more. She matches his feverish movements by moving her hand to his chest. He has no doubt that she can feel how fast his heart is beating. His hands move to her hips, pulling her on top of him slightly. He is still conscientious to the fact that she is still in her dress. He pulls the bottom of it down, to make sure everything is covered.

Always the gentleman.

They stay like that for a while before pulling back. Opening the wine, and diving into conversation. She pulls out a disposable camera while he's telling the story about the time he met his good friend when they punched Harry in the face instead of the person who deserved it. As he laughs, she takes the picture. The stars shine on his face and the lanterns light up his features. When he hears the click, he looks over at her curiously.

"Um," she looks down blushing, "I love taking pictures with disposable cameras. My life can be a little crazy, so taking one shot pictures helps me remember all the important things. I don't want to forget this night."

His heart stutters and picks up double time. "You are such an amazing person. I don't want to forget this night either." He pulls out his phone and tells her to smile. She grins so brightly that he officially doesn't believe she is real. She's an angel on this Earth.

They talk for hours before she reads him the book she brought while he lays back enjoying to musical wind and her voice. When she stops suddenly, he opens his eyes.

"The sun is coming up," she smiles at him. He looks at his watch again and realizes it's five-thirty in the morning. The time has flown by. As the sun starts to rise, she finally tells him her name.

"Janis Rogers," she whispers, "My name is Janis Rogers."

He looks over at her and smiles while he stretches out his hand, "Harry Styles." She matches his smile before taking his hand. He takes this opportunity to pull her onto his lap.

She giggles, but leans back into him. He feels her sigh into him. He puts his arms around her and feels a warmth fill his chest. He could get used to this feeling.

They sit and watch the sunrise above the trees, but he can't take his eyes off her. He takes this time to reflect on the last eight hours he has spent with the girl he thought he'd never see again. The sunlight hits her face and she closes her eyes. There's only one thing running through his mind...

She's so golden.

#harry fanfic #harry fan fiction #harry smut #Harry Styles #harry edward styles #sunshine temptress #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut

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yuzukult · 4 years

Text

city lights || chanyeol & reader

title: city lights pairing: chanyeol x reader (ft. x junmyeon) genre: soulmate!au words: 8.2k prompt: i’ve waited for years to find my soulmate, but when i finally meet him, he’s completely different from what i expected him to be, and he doesn’t want to be with me. warnings: there’s no smut, but there may be some mature topics & cursing. note: i know that city lights is baekhyun’s album title, but i thought this title it fit this story well :).... also this is my first fic in a while so... hopefully this isn’t too bad... 5/9/20: i’ve reviewed for typos....... lets hope 5th time is the charm....

I’m twenty-two when I meet my soulmate.

Once you turn the ripe age of twenty-one, a unique tattoo appears on your body that replicates the one your soulmate has.

Everyone dreams about meeting their soulmate, falling in love, getting married, having kids and growing old together—but those aspirations are only attainable for the population that get to even meet “the one”. There are people who defy the odds and develop relationships with those who aren’t bounded as their mate, some successful and some not, but if you knew you had someone who was made for you out there, wouldn’t you want to find them as well?

This guy was attractive and he knew it. He would stride his tall frame into every room with confidence radiating from his body with a beaming smile plastered on his face. His laugh was the remedy to a bad day, and if his happiness were an infectious disease, it would be considered contagious. Just being in his proximity gifted you a fragment of his elation but it was enough to feel the major aftereffects. It didn’t feel fair that he was a whole package. Bubblegum pink wavy curls brushing his forehead, doe-like eyes and ears that his friends would make fun of for being big— but was a cute addition to his looks. There had to have been a switch on and off button on him somewhere, because he knew when to suddenly flip from a sweet, charming guy into this sexy man. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, but his mentality was to ‘fuck around’ as much as he could. He had the traits to swoon any girl, easily fishing them into his lap before stringing them along and dropping them in mere moments. It was easy anyway, these girls knew that he wasn’t their soulmate, but he was the closest they could get to one. Maybe he’d be the one they could change and make him fall in love with them, they’d all say.

But he was mine.

Well, at least, he’s supposed to be.

I met him through a mutual friend – well, more of a co-worker really. I lived in Busan for majority of my life, so moving to Seoul for work meant that I lost contact with a lot of my friends back home. Plus, the hours at the office were draining…

So when Minseok approached me at my desk on a Friday morning with a suspicious smile spread across his face, I leaned back on my swivel chair as he invites himself to sit on the pile of paperwork that lay across my workspace. He is always welcomed here, after all, he’s one out of the few friends I have here in the city.

“Yes? You want something from me?”

“Why do you say it like that?” His mischievous grin was now formed into a pout. “I don’t only come here when I need something from you. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Minseok was the opposite of what a stereotypical 29-year-old would look like – he’s cute, but baby cute. He’s got great features, with his bushy brows and well-sculpted face, but it was more of an “I want to squish his cheeks” kind of reaction he emitted from me. Either way, it didn’t stop the girls in my office from gushing over his looks, constantly trying to get his number.

I hum while twiddling with the pen between my fingers, pursing my lips in suit with his. “Maybe. But you’re definitely here because you need something from me. Cut to the chase—what’s up?”

“Okay, okay,” Minseok is admitting defeat now, slouching in his position as guilt washes over his face. “I noticed the music note on your arm. Is that your soulmate marking?”

“Oh,” I pull my sweater sleeve up just barely on my left arm, pushing my watch down just enough to see the tattoo. “Yeah, it’s a 16th note. I learned how to play the saxophone when I was younger, so I knew what it was when I saw it.”

“About that…” What’s wrong with him? Why does he keep pausing? “I think I know who your soulmate is.”

Minseok is the reason I find myself out-of-place at a club, seated at a bright red booth tucked in a corner that he claims is his friends’, and that I should hang around until I get a glimpse of this guy who he thinks is my soulmate. I’m pulling my blue jeans up that doesn’t quite fit right and opting for a black bodysuit with lace 3/4 sleeves. My hair is let loose with soft curls, one side tucked behind my ear. Honestly, I’m not here to look sexy at a club, but I wanted to look decent enough to meet someone who potentially was ‘the one’.

But this isn’t exactly where I found myself wanting to meet him.

I’m sitting next to a guy named Kyungsoo, or so he introduces himself as, and I hope that I get his name right because the volume of the speakers are so loud, I can barely hear myself think. It has me wondering if all of Minseok’s friends are just as attractive as he is, because Kyungsoo reeked of beauty. Dressed in all black – including the rims of his glasses were black – he was effortlessly gorgeous. He seemed equally as awkward as I am here, but it’s confirmed that he’s not my soulmate, and that he’s only here because it’s a friend of both his and Minseok’s birthday – another guy named Jongin… who also is not my soulmate.

“How old are you?” Kyungsoo is leaning over behind my ear, hoping that I can hear him. The veins on his neck are bulging from his attempt.

“Twenty-two,” I holler back.

“Oh wow, you’re very young.” He’s pushing his frames up from slipping on his nose before continuing. “Chanyeol is twenty-eight. I’m twenty-seven.”

“Chanyeol?”

“Minseok didn’t tell you his name?” Kyungsoo seems like a well-reserved guy, but his smile at the moment illuminates with impish. “If he’s right, your soulmate is Chanyeol. Tall guy, you won’t miss him.”

“Could you tell me more about him?” He shakes his head in response before using his chin to point over behind me toward a figure walking in the direction of the table.

That’s the first time I meet Chanyeol.

I remember my heart skipping a beat once my eyes laid on him, because almost immediately, I felt the sparks that the stories said there would be. There were always these posts on forums about how people met their soulmate – how everything around them seemed to change. The way they perceived color and taste were different because now it was enhanced and that they were on a high that couldn’t be described in any other way. Words didn’t do the emotions justice. It was just pure elation.

Even well renounced authors couldn’t even put to words what it felt like. Bliss, maybe? No, it was better than that.

Plus—it was troublesome to compare my experience with theirs when I’m inside a club where it’s dark and the lights are flashing and flickering.

His hair looked fluffy. I wanted to run my fingers through those luscious locks, and the shade of pink in his hair made him look more adorable than sexy, despite his outfit. Black leather jacket, with matching black jeans, and a white t-shirt were his get-up, and as he was approaching the table, his hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his pants before he changes his route and strides toward Jongin who stands by the booth. Jongin’s cheeks were already flushed on his bronzed skin when I first meet him entering in the club, but he’s more than happy to have a stranger join in on his party shenanigans. However, the change of emotions on his face expressed the evident adoration he had for the taller male, because moments later, he has his arms wrapped around him with laughter that could be heard throughout the club.

“Chanyeol!” Jongin exclaims, and my claimed-to-be soulmate ruffles the birthday boy’s hair with a smile on his face. My heart clenched at that moment and I swore for a second I had a heart attack. “Happy Birthday, Jongin. Party the night away, bro.”

He slides into the booth across from Kyungsoo and I, exchanging handshakes with the other male before offering one to me. He’s using his right hand to greet me, so I don’t get a glimpse of his supposedly tattooed wrist.

“I’m Chanyeol,” He says, and I take his hand with a firm grip, and I feel that spark between the two of us again. He must have felt the something too, because he abruptly escapes from the grasp with a soft chuckle. “Sorry, I might have shocked you. I rub my socks on carpets in my free time.” He jokes.

Kyungsoo introduces me as Minseok’s friend, and it’s like a light bulb goes off on top of Chanyeol’s head. “Ah, the soulmate. He’s really trying to get me to settle down, isn’t he?” His face looks like he’s going to play along, quickly locking eyes with Minseok in the crowd before gesturing the older male over.

“Hey, I see you’ve met my friend, your soulmate.” Minseok is grinning from ear to ear, and I can’t tell if it’s him playing around with his friend that’s bringing him the overwhelming excitement or the alcohol in his system.

“She has a name, hyung, and it’s not ‘your soulmate.’ I’m about to ask her if I can see her marking to compare, and since you’re so damn adamant about us meeting, I figured you should witness it yourself.”

“Okay, well shoot. Do it.” Minseok is looking at me as I slip off the watch on my wrist, dropping it on the table while Chanyeol tugs down the sleeve of his jacket before resting his arm beside my watch. I place my own next to his, and Minseok is already clapping in awe.

It’s a match.

“Fuck, what—fuck. What?” He’s grabbing my wrist now, moving out of his side of the booth before slipping in next to me, pushing me into Kyungsoo. Chanyeol’s in disbelief, and I can hear the snickering coming from the other side of me. “But I’m only twenty-eight!”

“Dude, you shouldn’t be at a bar on a Tuesday night trying to pick up girls at your age. This is a good thing.” Minseok is in Chanyeol’s previous seat now, and his face is glimmering with excitement. “You can finally chill out and stop acting like a college student.”

“This is a joke right?” He’s scoffing, dropping my hand in the process and I wince at the abrupt action because I hit my hand on the edge of the table. “This is a temporary tattoo or something, because there’s no way.”

“You’re twenty-eight, Chanyeol, did you think you were never going to meet your soulmate?” Kyungsoo chimes in, swirling the beer in the cup in his hand. “Jongin is already married, and he’s one of the babies in the group.” Jongin has a wife? He didn’t seem like it… but I guess don’t judge a book by its cover, right?

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol’s standing now, looking down at me and I feel small. “I thought I would be lucky enough to not meet my soulmate. There are so many people who haven’t. Yeah, I’m not doing this. Sorry, you’re going to have to find someone else.” Before I could even let a word out of my mouth, he’s already lost in the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” Minseok looks like a sad kitten when he’s talking to me, pity spewing with each word that he says. “I honestly thought he was going to drop the act and actually try getting to know you.”

I want to say that it’s fine, but I’m not. Chanyeol only knew my name and that I was his soulmate, and in the matter of seconds, he concluded that he didn’t want this. My face is frozen, and I’m completely dumbfounded.

My soulmate doesn’t fucking want me. My soulmate, the person who was supposed to love me. The person I was supposed to love. I have waited twenty-two years to meet a man who ends up crafted as everything that I wasn’t, but was the person who was supposed to fit into me like a missing puzzle piece.

“Hey, are you okay?” Another guy – great, another one—comes to the table and he looks perturbed. “I’m sorry about Chanyeol, I was watching from the side because I thought I could witness him meeting his soulmate but it didn’t seem to turn out the way I assumed…” He’s distorted with worry, the same expression that’s drawn on both Minseok and Kyungsoo’s faces. “I can get you an Uber or something if you want to go home. I don’t think you’d want to stay here after that, right? Ah, I’m Junmyeon, by the way. Part of the group.”

“He’s the mom of the group if that makes you feel any better. He’s always the sober one, you’ll be safe with him.” Contrition clouds Minseok’s expression.

Junmyeon doesn’t look like a mom; in fact, he looks far from a mom. I don’t know where Minseok finds his friends because Junmyeon looks like a piece of artwork that belongs at a museum. He’s wearing two loose dress shirts layered that aren’t buttoned-up all the way, exposing a bit of his bare chest. It’s a questionable choice of fashion, I admit, but he makes it work.

I can’t even bring myself to speak, so I just nod. I type in my address into Junmyeon’s phone before he takes it away, tracking the driver. My soulmate doesn’t want me. That’s all I could think about.

“Don’t feel bad,” Kyungsoo interrupts my thoughts as he slides an unopened beer bottle toward my direction, implying that I should drink just a bit to forget my issues as Junmyeon is tracking the whereabouts of the driver. “Chanyeol… he likes to live his life differently. We only come to these places during special occasions—like Jongin’s birthday, or Minseok’s bachelor party. But Chanyeol… this is like a ritual for him to come every weekend.”

I take up on Kyungsoo’s offer and open myself the beer, taking a couple gulps before letting out a sigh. “It’s… It’s not fine, but I guess I will be fine. I want to try to convince him, so maybe I can meet him in a different place another time?” I suggest, and it seems that both Kyungsoo and Minseok like that idea because their faces brighten a bit.

I finish the beer coincidentally at the same time that Junmyeon tells me the Uber is here and that he’ll walk me out. We exchange numbers because he wants to make sure that I get home safe, and I comply – he’s attractive, the mom of the group, so I figured I could trust him.

But then we’re outside of the club, and I’m cold without a jacket, and I’m doubtful that I’m just exaggerating, but I feel like my heart was being pulled out of my chest, thrown onto the floor, and stomped on.

I didn’t mean to stare, and I probably have been standing here watching this whole thing unfold for about 5 minutes now. Chanyeol’s in the alleyway with some girl he probably just met, her back against the red brick wall where the streetlight barely brushes them but it’s like my senses were heighted to see the actions clearly. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and although his head was tilted in my direction, attempting to hide the explicit actions between the two, any idiot would know what they were doing.

It hurt. My chest was in so much pain, twisting and turning like someone’s grasp was on it, but before it could get any worse, Junmyeon steps in front of me, pulling me into his arms. “Why are you watching? Don’t you know it physically hurts when you see your soulmate do… things like that with someone else?” I’m muttering ‘no’ in his shirt, and I feel the fabric hanging on him was damp – oh. It was because of me. I was crying. I didn’t know who Chanyeol was until today yet he has me bursting with tears in the arms of a stranger.

Chanyeol doesn’t even know me, and he’s already dismissed me from his life. He doesn’t know what my favorite color is, what I enjoy in my pastime, what my most watched show is, and what foods I enjoy. He doesn’t know my personality, what makes me as a person, my biggest fears, my dreams and aspirations but just one look, he knew he didn’t want me anymore.

He pulls away from the woman when he hears footsteps descending in the background, and sees that it’s me with Junmyeon walking away from the scene. What I later learned was that in that brief moment, he felt a stinging pain in his chest too.

After texting Junmyeon that night that I got home safely and reassuring that I was going to be okay (eventually, at least), we exchanged texts daily. I learned a lot about him, like how he enjoyed composing music in his spare time, which I found out later that Chanyeol does the same thing, except as a profession. I don’t tell him that I had known this about Chanyeol because of a previous dream. He works in a stereotypical office setting, something about trade management, but he claims that it’s just a job that pays the bills, and his passions are elsewhere.

We don’t meet, but we text frequently. I also see Minseok everyday at work, and he treats me as he did before, which I appreciate because it’s distasteful to talk about the circumstances of Jongin’s birthday party.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Minseok again is inviting himself to the little office space I have that is bombarded with rolls of architectural drawings and stacks of paperwork that needed reviewing. He skims through the documents that splatter, but he has absolutely no clue what he’s looking at for someone being in the financial department.

“Uh, probably catching up on work,” That question always strung along with a proposal to hang out, and I had prepared an excuse why I didn’t want – I mean, couldn’t go.

“My friends and I are going to the beach. We have a whole beach house that we rented out for the entire weekend, and seeing that you’re clicking well with Junmyeon, I think you should come along. Plus, you get to meet my soulmate!”

“Hayoung, right?”

“Yes, Hayoung. I think you’d like her; she has the same tolerance for spicy food like you do. And... It’s been months since you’ve actually hung out with me on a weekend.” He’s talking about the incident and I feel something churning in the pit of my stomach. But, he’s right. I don’t have any friends here, and I would have Junmyeon to hang out with when Minseok is occupied.

“Mm, alright fine, but just this once. No more funny business like last time right?”

His face falls into a frown, and he’s still remorseful about the fated night, but I’ve told him multiple times that he’s all forgiven, and it wasn’t his fault for what occurred.

It’s been almost 6 months since I last saw Chanyeol. I note this because the seasons have changed, and the harsh, brisk wind that slaps my face in the days aren’t present, but replaced with the blistering heat of the sun that June brings.

I chose to drive myself to the location that Minseok sends me instead of carpooling… just in case I needed to quickly escape any distressing social situations.

The house is seemly huge—there looks like there could be 10 rooms (eventually I find out that there isn’t even enough for all of us), and it’s by the water with multiple cars parked out in the front of it, which I can only assume, belong to Minseok’s friends. The roof shingles are blue with accents throughout the home that match the sea, seashells and decor splattered across the surfaces. I park my old, beat up Lexus sedan that belonged to my grandfather previously behind one of vehicles, and I’m surprised that I even make it here in one piece.

The salty ocean aroma fills the air and it mixes in with the charcoal burning from the backyard as I enter into the threshold of the home. I drag my duffle bag beside me, dropping it by the other suitcases and backpacks that sit in the living room of the home before making my way back to where everyone was grouped outside.

There are a couple new people that I haven’t seen before (who supposedly were at the club) since the last encounter with Minseok’s friends when I get to the back porch – Jongdae, Baekhyun, Sehun, and Yixing are their names. Hayoung is helping Minseok carry in additional groceries from the car, but she still says her greetings as she’s carrying one side of a cooler. A woman is standing beside Jongdae, who I believe is his wife, gifts him a peck on his cheek before briskly walking by me with a baby resting on her shoulder, whispering a quick ‘hello!’ to me before going into the house to set the little one down. Kyungsoo is manning the grill before I even arrive, and he’s gesturing me to come over with his cooking tongs to help him out. Junmyeon is standing beside him with a knife in his hand, and he looks lost after Kyungsoo gives him direction.

“Come help, hyung is useless,” He hisses, glaring at the older male through his glasses.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon is pouting playfully before he places down the knife. “I’m trying!”

“Sure, sure,” I find myself mimicking the tender smile Junmyeon has on his face when he locks his eyes with mine. “I’ll replace Junmyeon here.”

There are bell peppers, onions, and pre-cut cubed of beef lying by the grill beside the naked skewers sticks. I chop the vegetables before guiding Junmyeon to replicate my actions, sliding the pieces onto the stick before Kyungsoo cooks it.

“Do you know how to cook?” Junmyeon asks, but his eyes don’t leave his hands because he’s too preoccupied with his work.

“A bit, I live alone, so I kind of have to.”

“Ah, I live with Kyungsoo and Chanyeol so… Kyungsoo pretty much cooks every night.” I see from my peripheral vision that Kyungsoo has a proud grin on his face as he’s flipping the skewers on the grill. “So much for being their hyung and taking care of them, right? Chanyeol and I can’t even cook rice, we just get the instant ones when Soo isn’t around.”

“That’s nice though,” I stuff a piece of cubed beef to complete his skewer stick before trading it with my empty one. “You never have to cook. I always have to find new recipes because I get bored of the food I make.”

“Maybe you can teach me sometime. Learn new recipes and teach a beginner.” He’s gleaming with happiness, which can only be from the fact that the people surround him are the ones he loves the most. We’ve become friends over time, in spite of the fact that we haven’t met in person since Jongin’s birthday.

“Sure, I’d be more than happy to.”

“In exchange, I’ll bring the groceries. That’s my payment to you for being my teacher,” He winks, and my cheeks grow pink. There’s a slight possibility that Junmyeon is growing on me, and I might have a crush on him.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I heard a voice from behind me, and I know it belongs to Chanyeol because I get chills down my spine. I’m filling up my cup from the tap with water while leaning against the kitchen sink.

“Minseok suggested that I come.”

“These places aren’t really your thing though, you’d rather be at home working.” Chanyeol is opening the fridge, grabbing himself a beer can. He opens it and brings the cold beverage to his lips, my eyes wandering to his neck as his adam’s apple bobs as he drinks, but I pause and refrain myself from letting my imagination run wild. Either way, I’m left questioning how he would know what my preferences are.

“How would you know? We don’t even talk.”

“I’m your soulmate, I know everything about you.” He wipes his upper lip with his sleeve, and there’s something erotic about it. I quickly shake my head again from these inappropriate thoughts and furrow my brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t gotten the dreams yet?” He pushes the can toward my direction, gesturing that I take a sip and I decline.

“No… what dreams are you talking about?” I’m not playing dumb, I really didn’t know what he was talking about, but his expression conveyed otherwise.

“All my dreams are of you, and you’re never doing anything interesting in it. I saw you visit your family a couple times, maybe had some dinners or lunches with friends back in Busan, but nothing else. Do you have any hobbies?”

No, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Well, if you’re fucking around all the time, it’s not going to show up in her dreams, you idiot.” Another voice enters in the conversation and room. It’s Hayoung coming in with Jongdae’s wife, who I still haven’t learned the name of, but I’m a bit embarrassed to ask her.

“Dreams?” I’m still perplexed by the situation, because if I’m being honest, I don’t quite understand this whole ‘soulmate’ thing other than you’re meant to be with them. I’ve never met anyone in the same situation as me, so I never learned the side effects of the rejection.

“You get dreams about your soulmate if you meet and choose to not be together. It’s a punishment, but it’s not brutal, so it’s not going to show you a scene of him hooking up with someone else. It’ll just make you regret.” Jongdae’s wife is talking now, shoving Chanyeol away from the fridge to grab the carton of milk to fill up the small bottles she has lined up on the counter.

Chanyeol chuckles at the comment, taking another sip of his beer. “So, I should regret not sitting by her while she’s working on some project? What are you even building by the way? Pipes?”

“It’s a mechanical system of a building,” I utter, and I’m dissatisfied immediately at my own response. Why would I even tell him that? Why would he even care? It makes me sound even more boring than I already am.

“Ah, there it goes. Another reason why I’m not feeling that regret you’re talking about.”

Hayoung is shaking her head in disapproval, arms crossed against her chest as she watches Jongdae’s wife finishing up the bottles of milk for the baby. “Maybe not right now, but it’ll build up. Before you know it, you’re going to be the one wishing that’s it’s you holding up the light instead of a lamp above her work just so you could do something to be next to her.”

When Chanyeol is with his friends, the best qualities of him come out when they’re around. He might be avoiding the real version of himself when he’s with me, but I get a glimpse into his world when I’m at these outings that Minseok and Junmyeon insist that I attend.

Chanyeol is playing the “attendance” game with the guys, and his competitiveness brings out a different side of him, but he’s determined to win, even if the prize is just being able to slap the loser on the back.

Baekhyun loses—again, and they’re all crowded around, not even taking turns, but in unison smacking his back as he grimaces in pain.

And when we’re out at the beach, sinking our toes into the sand and absorbing in the warmth of the sun, he makes a game out of out nowhere to play with his friends, laughter filling the air. He’s not laughing with me, but I still find myself feeling whole at the sound.

I’ve come to realize how easy it is for someone to fall in love with Chanyeol. He cared for no one more than his friends and family, and I start to see this when he’s talking fondly about his older sister and her kids when he sees Jongdae’s baby. His expression resembled child-like wonder when he’s playing with the girl, and it makes me ponder what he’d be like as a father—ah fuck, scratch that. He said doesn’t want to be with me.

There are moments where I’m convinced that I’ve gone insane, because when I’m eating a burger at the dinner table, he reaches out with a napkin in his hand to wipe the smear of ketchup off my cheek. Or the time when they ran out of water bottles at the beach and it was scorching hot, and he drinks a bit from his bottle before giving me the rest because I didn’t have one. Not quite sure what brings him to be so affectionate, so it feels odd.

The weekend sooner or later reaches to an end, and I had to resume back to work.

I’m attacked from behind at the office with more tasks than ever. It feels like there are at least 5 more folders that are added to the stack daily, and the mountains of paperwork overwhelm me. Minseok visits from time to time, dropping off snacks majority of the time because I don’t take up on his offers to have lunch together simply due to the fact that I didn’t have any time.

Despite all of that, Junmyeon still makes the effort to see me. He comes by several times a week, and just as promised, he’s providing the groceries and I’m teaching him how to cook. He entertains and keeps me company in my quiet apartment, but continues to be a wonderful distraction to the stress that I receive from work.

We’re cooking kimchi jjigae, and albeit that we both have aprons on, I still manage to get some on my t-shirt. I grumble in repulsion of how I could be so unladylike in front of a guy I’m trying to impress.

“It’s okay,” He comforts, and that signature smile makes an appearance yet again tonight. “It’s cute, it’s the style now.”

“What? Kimchi splatter?” I’m stirring the beef at the bottom of the pot, motioning him to monitor my actions. “You should let the meat cook, occasionally moving it around so it doesn’t burn. Cut the onions and mushrooms in the meantime.”

He abides by instruction, making his way to the cutting board and begins to chop the vegetables ardently. “You look good in anything, even kimchi splatter.” I let out a laugh of disbelief in return, but his expression proved that his compliment was authentic.

Everything about Junmyeon is art. His laugh is like the melody to your favorite song, and his smile shone brighter than the sunlight that peeks through the curtains of a Sunday morning. Listening to him speak about his aspirations, his interests in artwork, and his times with his friends remind me of a character in the novel that only spewed out perfections without a single flaw in their body. Junmyeon was selfless, elegant, and intelligent. A whole package, as someone would say, but a completely different package from Chanyeol.

So when Junmyeon confesses that he might have some feelings for me, I don’t hesitate in telling him that I might feel something for him in return.

“Listen,” He begins, tapping his fingers against the lid of his iced Americano anxiously. We’re sitting in a coffee shop on a Thursday, after having lunch together at a ramen place he suggests. “This is a bit different from how I would normally date. You actually met your soulmate, you know who he is.”

“But he doesn’t want me,” I interject, and I don’t want him to continue with more reasons as to why we shouldn’t be together. “He doesn’t want me so it makes the decision not to be with him easier. I’m ready to move on, Junmyeon. At least let me try to do that with you.”

The expression on his face suggests how uneasy he’s feeling, and he’s hesitating before speaking again. “I… we can try, but I really don’t want to put a label on this yet. Let’s date, hangout, and see how it goes, okay? I don’t want to get hurt.”

I agree to his terms. I understand why he’s feeling that way; it’s even harder when my soulmate is one of his best friends.

He takes me out on dates, mostly to museums to show me his favorite artworks and his personal interpretation of the pieces. Junmyeon is passionate about things like this, and hearing his thoughts and views had become my favorite pastime. He asks me what my interests are, and I’m a bit flustered because my work is my passion. I wasn’t sure how else to show him, so I take him to the Gangnam District one night, and he’s confused.

“Why did you pick here specifically?” It’s a cold night, and he’s wearing a black turtleneck with khakis, and a light brown trench coat with matching dark backpack that’s slung over his shoulder.

“You know what Minseok does for a living, right?” He hums in thought at my question for a moment before responding.

“He said he works in the financial department of an architecture firm. Am I right?”

“Correct, but do you have any idea of what I do?” Junmyeon pauses for a moment, and he raises a brow.

“Honestly, now that I think of it, I kind of always assumed you did the same thing. But I don’t quite think numbers were your passion,” He chuckles.

“Nope,” I click my tongue, jokingly disappointed as we’re walking down the streets, the lights illuminating from the buildings surrounding us but we don’t see stars in the sky in a city like this. “I’m an architect. I design buildings. I haven’t gotten the chance to design a building myself, just systems within it, but one day, I’d like to change the Seoul skyline. Create something of my own, build something bigger than me. I know you specifically like the works of artists that focuses more on the nature of things, but… something about the city is beautiful to me.”

Junmyeon is watching me as I spill my thoughts, and I physically feel the love radiating from him. Maybe I can learn to love him too.

At this same moment, I later find out that Chanyeol is dreaming of my date with Junmyeon, and his heart aches. He suddenly wishes that he were the one listening to my passions, and holding my hand while he shares his own.

I’ve been meeting Junmyeon weekly now, so frequently that he even has the passcode to my apartment. In addition, he’s been great at occupying my thoughts from these dreams I’ve been having. Almost every night, these scenarios of a typical relationship with Chanyeol would appear—doing laundry, cooking, movie dates… there was even a sex dream. It made me a little uncomfortable waking up from that nap, because my head was rested on Junmyeon’s shoulder on the couch. I must have fallen asleep in the midst of the movie.

“Finally awake? If I knew documentaries weren’t your thing, I wouldn’t have forced you to watch it.” He has a Cheshire’s grin that spreads from ear to ear and a chuckle the escapes from his lips. “Sorry, work has just been exhausting lately. I haven’t been getting much sleep.” I concede, and a bit guilty for sleeping through the movie but also dreaming about another man right next to him. Regardless, he’s interlocking our fingers together at this point, giving me a forgiving gaze.

“Don’t worry, I like having you next to me.” His words melt my heart, and I hate that I’m comparing him to Chanyeol because it’s not the same way that Chanyeol makes me feel.

Work had been exhausting, but not exhausting enough to find myself standing outside of a flower shop, beside Chanyeol who is equally as bewildered as I am. I couldn’t remember how I got there, uncertain how Chanyeol did either, and how long we’ve been standing here.

“I—did we agree to meet here or something?” He questions. Chanyeol looks different. His hair isn’t pink anymore, but it’s a dirty blonde. It didn’t matter what shade his hair was, what outfit he wore, he just pulled off any look he wanted effortlessly. He’s dressed casually, probably coming from the recording studio.

“I… I’m not sure.” I’m scratching my head, looking at the reflection of myself in the shop’s window before I realize how I look. My hair is greasy, tied up in a messy bun, and I’m wearing a t-shirt that’s stained with kimchi that splattered on me from my cooking lessons with Junmyeon whilst in the baggiest sweatpants. I was working from home that week because my new project didn’t have an office space set up for me yet, so I took advantage of the opportunity to dress like a bum in the comfort of my home. But… I’m not home; I’m very much out in public with Chanyeol.

He shrugs off the bizareness of the situation before facing me completely. “Anyway, since I have you here, can you stop having those moments with hyung?”

“What?”

“I keep seeing your dates with him every time I sleep. I see when you hold hands, when you sleep together—I see everything. I thought that these dreams weren’t supposed to be brutal.”

“How am I supposed to control that?” I feel my neck getting hot, and I’m furious with his words, but I don’t want him to have that leverage over me.

“I don’t know, just stop or something.” He dismisses me before walking away toward the opposite direction.

This happens a couple more times, and there’s no real explanation for it. I can’t manipulate my dreams and it becomes difficult to distinguish what’s a dream and reality anymore.

There’s a knock on my door but I’m too tired to get up.

It’s been 3 days since Junmyeon left on his business trip, and with my luck, I got sick the day after he departed. It’s probably due to the rainstorm that hit the other day, and I forget my umbrella at the office so I’m drenched by the time I’m home. I’m now alone in my small apartment, trying to convince myself I’m okay by occasionally heating up the leftover delivery of Soondubu I ordered a couple days prior. However, I’m currently prioritizing slumber.

The knock gets louder. The person is adamant about getting my attention; if it was a telemarketer, they would’ve left already. I grab my phone that lies right beside my face to see if there’s any new missed phone call notifications—none. If it were one of my friends, they’d call after the first attempt right?

Then I hear the beeping from the keypad on the door. Someone’s pressing in the passcode into my apartment. The lock dings in confirmation and clicks—whomever it is… they’ve successfully gotten into my apartment. Is this when I die?

“Dude, where are you?” The door shuts behind the footsteps, and it’s a familiar deep baritone voice that calls out for me, but I’m glued to the mattress, wrapped in my blankets like a burrito. He’s just going to have to kill me like this. I’m probably the easiest victim this killer is ever going to encounter.

There’s a tall figure that reaches to my bed, and despite my horrible eyesight, I squint enough to make out the features of his face. He has a facemask on, but it’s tucked below his chin, and he has a beanie on that matches his hoodie’s shade of grey. It’s Chanyeol. Am I dreaming? Is this another one of those hallucinations?

He kneels down beside me, utilizing the back of his hand to test the temperature of my forehead, then wipes the sweat off it with his fingers which feel like ice against my skin. I could almost hear myself sizzle from the impact. “Where’s Junmyeon? He called me saying that you haven’t responded to any of his texts. He can’t call for some reason. He’s worried.”

“Oh, away. I saw he texted earlier. I must have drift off midway through typing.”

Chanyeol sighs, clicking his tongue before getting up from the bed and snatching my phone from my side. “Password? It’s not going to recognize your face when you’re looking like that.” Ouch. “1616,” I respond before shuffling back into hiding position within my blankets. Maybe my cheeks are flushed from the fact that my passcode is 1616, like the 16th note on our wrists—but I’m going to blame it on the fever. I’m hot yet cold at the same time, and I can’t even gather the energy to argue with him about my appearance right now.

“Hey,” He’s talking to someone on the other line as he paces around the room with a hand on his hip and brows furrowed in slight frustration. “She’s home, she’s been sick. Not sure how long, but she’s looking like a wreck.” Chanyeol lets out a sigh, tapping his feet against the hardwood floors of my room, and it occurs to me that he’s never been in my house before. It’s also been a while since I’ve cleaned.

He’s tightening his lips into a straight line as he listens to who I assume is Junmyeon on the other line. “It’s fine hyung, you don’t need to come back. Just finish your work there; I’ll get Minseok to come check in every once in a while. I’ll give you another call before I leave.”

After hanging up, he diverts his attention back to me before letting out another exasperated sigh. “Did you eat anything yet? Take any medicine?”

“No,” I mutter under my breath. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and his attitude wasn’t convincing me to try to uphold the conversation either. “It’s not time for me to get up yet.”

“It’s already 1pm, what do you mean you’re not ready to get up yet?” He’s in the process of taking off his facemask and beanie now, throwing it on the chair by my desk before rolling up his sleeves and making his way out the room. He’s gone for what feels like eternity because my eyelids are slowly drooping shut when I hear his loud steps coming from the hall with a bucket in one hand, and a towel in another.

“I’m going to clean you up,” He announces, placing the bucket on the nightstand by my bed. “I bet you haven’t showered in days, and I can already tell you reek.”

“You can tell or smell?” That’s all the comebacks I can get out of me, because Chanyeol is already inviting himself to pull the covers off my weak frame tugging on the hem of my hoodie, gesturing me to take it off. “Let me wipe you down.”

“I’m not stripping in front of you, Chanyeol.” I may be on the last portion of my human battery level, but I’m not stupid. “I’m naked under this. I don’t have a bra on.”

“Okay, but I’m your soulmate. I’ve seen you naked countless of times in my dreams. So please, take it off so I can clean you up.” So… he has seen me naked too? Does he have those sex dreams too? Should I be working to get abs if he’s dreaming about how I look under this too? Because in comparison to him—

My thoughts are interrupted when he helps himself by pulling the hoodie off my body instead of waiting for my response. I don’t even have the chance to feel insecure when he begins wiping my arms and underneath with the wet rag. I know the water is warm, but my body temperature is too hot to be able to tell the difference. It’s silent when he does this, and when he’s done with the upper half of my body, he dresses me before tugging on my pants gently. “I’m going to do your lower half now.”

I must have fallen asleep briefly from his delicate touches because once my eyes flutter open, he’s already done and my sweats are on. I couldn’t even remember being embarrassed of him seeing my bare body, because he’s already tucking me back under the covers, checking my body heat once again with the back of his hand before throwing the rag back into the bucket.

He’s leaving the room and I still can’t translate the expression on his face. I thought that meeting your soulmate was supposed to make things easier, not harder.

I think I doze off yet again, because this time when I’m stirring awake and Chanyeol is sitting in a chair beside my bed with a tray full of things. There’s a mug, medicine, and a bowl in front of him, and this is where I get to finally see his features a lot more clearly.

His hair is brown now—I’m unsure when he dyed it, but makes him look tamed compared to how he actually is. The black circles under his eyes were like a trophy to his exhaustion, probably from the endless cycles of staying up all night, working on his composition pieces at the recording studio. I haven’t talked to him much, but my dreams update me with what he was up to, more than he would ever tell me.

“Here,” He’s holding a couple of pills in his palm with a cup of water in the other hand. “Take this, and eat some of the soup I made you. You need to actually have something in your system to feel better.” I feel like a 7-year-old child being lectured by her father, but to be fair… I’m acting like one. For once, I decide not to start a fight and comply, taking the pills into my mouth and drinking from the glass he’s holding before handing it back. The size of it makes it tough to swallow, and I can feel it sitting in my throat.

“Open.” His face is making it hard to read any of his emotions, but he has the spoonful of what I assume is chicken soup near my face, I stare at him for a moment before opening my mouth questioningly as he feeds me. If he’s poisoning me right now, I think I’d be okay with it because the soup surprisingly tastes delicious.

Honestly… after meeting Chanyeol, I never thought I could possibly even imagine this scenario. He’s actually… feeding me. He’s taking care of me while I’m sick. His face is distorted from the worry he has for me, but there’s hints of anger because I obviously couldn’t manage myself. I let him look after me while my thoughts run in circles, thinking what if Junmyeon had been here. I would’ve never been able to see Chanyeol in this light.

How many times have I fallen asleep with him here?

I feel something heavy on my midriff, and a warm body pressed from behind that has me turning around curiously to face the suspect, only to bump noses with the one and only—Chanyeol. Nose scrunched up from the impact, he has his one arm wrapped around me, my head resting on the other, and his body spooning my own. He looks peaceful like this, quiet – not a word coming from his mouth that strings along insults toward me, and his brows aren’t wrinkled in frustration like it always is when he’s looking at me. His mouth is slightly agape, and I can’t help but stare at his plump lips. My heart is fluttering just at the sight of him, stomach boiling from anxiety that it reminds me of my encounters with my first crush in middle school. He spent the whole day taking care of me, and he’s probably exhausted, knocking out right next to me, potentially infected with this fever I have.

I despise myself being in this position. I should tell him to move – I’m trying to convince Junmyeon that I didn’t have feelings for Chanyeol, and Chanyeol didn’t feel anything for me either, despite being soulmates, but right now… I like the feeling of being in his arms, I like that I can feel his chest moving against my back with his soft patterned breathing, and I like that he’s snuggling in just to feel closer to me.

Chanyeol is stirred awake, shuffling in his position as he rubs his face with the arm that once draped over me. I quickly turn myself back to face away from him and pretended to sleep before I feel his nose nuzzling into the crook of my neck as he hums quietly, and I’m not sure if he recognizes I’m awake or not with this action.

He’s muttering against my skin, and I’m unable to tell the difference between the warmth of his breath as he speaks, or if it’s my fever acting up again. “Is it too late to tell you that I want you to be mine? Am I the first person to lose their soulmate by making the mistake of telling her I didn’t want to be with her?” Chanyeol pauses for a moment, before he takes in a deep breath. “I care about hyung, and I know he’s developing feelings for you… but I really want to steal you away. I think I’m in love with you.”

Okay—I’m steaming hot. I can feel my face and ears flushing crimson, and I can’t say anything because I’m supposed to be sleeping, and I wouldn’t even know how to respond anyway.

I felt his lips pressed against my neck, and chills go down my spine before he releases me from his hold, getting up from the bed before making his way out of the room and possibly into the kitchen. I’m kicking off the sheets from my body, sitting against the bed frame, and my heart is beating so fast and hard that I can’t keep up.

This is everything I asked for. Just to be with my soulmate – but then Junmyeon is running laps through my mind every time I get closer to Chanyeol, and vice versa. Before today, I was okay with knowing that Junmyeon might be it, he might be my end game and although we weren’t bounded together, his feelings for me were genuine… plus not everyone ends up with their soulmate, right?

“I’m the stars, and you’re the city. You can’t see the stars in the city because of all the lights surrounding it, and I’ve already come to terms that Chanyeol is that light for you. I know that you’re going to try to convince me otherwise, but it’s a natural instinct for you to go to him, and it’s okay.” Poetic, even when he’s breaking my heart.

Junmyeon is leaning on the railing that perimeters the Han River, hair tucked in his black beanie that contrasts with his primary multi-color Northface jacket that compliments him so well. His cheeks are tinted pink from the crisp winter air and it reminds me that another year has passed since I’ve met him.

“I’m happy that I got to be with you, even if it was just for a moment. But I knew that I didn’t have you completely; there was still a part of you that resided with Chanyeol.”

“Please don’t do this,” I blurted. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this if you’re happy with me.”

He turns to face me, and his lips tug into an apologetic smile. His hands are rested on my shoulders in reassurance, knowing that this isn’t something he wants to do, but Junmyeon is altruistic. This is something Chanyeol needs, and he’d do anything to make his friend happy. It’s who Junmyeon is, and I can’t help but admire him for it.

“He’ll be here for you this time. He learned from his mistakes, and he’s willing to try. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“He didn’t give me a chance when we met.” Tears are brimming in my eyes because the one person I thought wasn’t going to go is leaving me. “I thought you said you were going to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb is pressed against my cheek, swiping away the stream coming from my eyes. “But Chanyeol is made for you. You’re never going to be able to love me like him. Your dreams are eventually going to take over, and whenever you see him with someone else, and when he sees me with you, it’s going to hurt the both of you physically.”

“We don’t have to see him—“

“You know I can’t do that. He’s like a brother to me.” He bites his bottom lip for a brief moment in thought before what it feels like forever, he speaks again. “When I left that week, I felt uneasy asking him to come check in on you. I knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back. He told me that after spending some time with you, despite the fact he’s met up with all these girls that only made him feel empty inside, he finally felt whole seeing you. He didn’t want to be with you because he wanted to option to choose you, he didn’t want someone, or something like fate to decide for him.”

I’m left without words, and I turn my head because it’s proven difficult to gather the courage to look at his face.

“I need you to be strong, and let me go. You won’t be as happy with me as you are with him. It’s how the universe works, love.”

I’ve been crying for days, and Junmyeon still hasn’t responded to any of my texts or calls. Eyes swollen that my face has become indistinguishable, my phone’s facial recognition just tells me to punch in the code now. I couldn’t even bring myself to leave my apartment anymore, so I’ve taken personal days off from work – I usually never did this since my emotions never truly got to the best of me, but it might have been the heartbreak and the constant overworking that finally broke me down.

I’m wrapped in my blanket once again, this time I’m not sick with a fever, but diagnosed with a broken heart. Bob’s Burgers is playing on the television screen in front of me; the show that once easily brought me light laughter from the stupidity of the jokes, suddenly doesn’t. I feel numb.

There’s a knock at the door, and there’s nothing in me that wants to get up to see the unwelcomed visitor, but my legs beat my thoughts to it because I’m already opening the door.

“Sorry, I know I’m probably the last person you want to see.” Bags of groceries occupy his hands, and he lifts an arm up to show. Chanyeol is wearing a baseball cap, a black t-shirt that hangs loose from his body and blue jeans. How’s he still so handsome like this? Wait. No, I’m pissed at him. “Let me at least take care of you while you’re grieving.”

“I’m grieving because of you,” I spat. “If you just agreed to be with me in the first place, I wouldn’t have been with Junmyeon, and we could have been fine. If you just continued to fuck around, Junmyeon would’ve just stayed. You had to tell him that you wanted this?”

“You know he wouldn’t have stayed if he knew you felt something for me.” And for the first time, I agreed with him. I have been shoving my emotions down my throat, refraining myself from being completely honest with Junmyeon because the dreams had been eating me up inside. I was running out of energy, day by day, because I was denying the possibility of there being a Chanyeol and I, and I was being punished for it.

I remained quiet before stepping aside, letting him into my apartment.

He makes his way into the kitchen from being familiar with the layout the last time he’s been here. Sitting back in the living room to resume my show, I peek over occasionally to watch. He had ingredients to make pasta, and his face is scrunched in diligence. We didn’t exchange words, we didn’t argue but continued to enjoyed the company of each other after that.

The silence ultimately shatters when Nam Joohyuk is standing naked in a scene of ‘the Bride of Habaek’ because Chanyeol bursts into laughter. From that moment on, my apartment felt livelier with him in it.

These nights eventually became recurrent. His clothes residing in a designated drawer in my dresser and space is made in my closet that has his name invisibly written over it.

Slowly, I’ve noticed that I’m not as tired as I was before. I felt refreshed, and skeptical that it’s because of Chanyeol’s evident presence that’s more frequent. After a while, I’m starting to believe that the debilitation between the two of us was due to the lack of each other’s company.

We schedule a dinner date at my place at 7, but he calls then tells me that he’s going to be leaving the studio late, and the instant a dubious sensation agitates my stomach, he’s at my house at 11 with soft pink tulips in his hand that reminds me back to when his hair was bubblegum.

“I’m late,” He states the obvious, but he’s bouncing on the tips of his toes anxiously as he observes the look on my face. “But I made Baekhyun run out to grab these for you while I was stuck. Forgive me?”

I think that moment was when I began to forgive Chanyeol for letting me go in the beginning.

Months later, I’m coming back from another rough day at work, tapping my fingertips on the keypad into my apartment before the door flings open just a moment before I’ve finished typing. “Oh?”

There he is, standing before me with a smile that’s brighter than the sun and warms me like not just any Sunday morning, but every morning. The chuckle that escapes from his lips at my startled expression isn’t like the melody to my favorite song, but becomes my favorite song. His voice when he says my name is as smooth and sweet as honey, deep enough to bring goosebumps to my skin.

“Happy birthday,” Chanyeol sings, pulling me into his embrace, my face is deep into his chest from the height difference. I’ve never felt more home than in his arms.

Between now and when I finally agreed to be with him, Chanyeol had completely turned around. We live together now, but other of that, we were taking the relationship slow. He was proving himself worthy, taking place of what used to be Junmyeon’s shoes and attempting his best to fill them, bringing us out on weekly dates, attentively listening to my opinion on shows, cooking with me at night, and even sharing his prized works with me. He says that his music used to reflect on the “me-shaped” hole in his heart, but he felt whole now, and I was the muse to the happiness in his pieces. A bit cringey, I admit—but it was his way of showing his love, and I liked that. He wasn’t usually like this.

“Everyone is already inside, hurry in.” His hands wrap around my wrist, where my marking appeared to glow these days, tugging me into the living room where his friends are seated and gathered around the coffee table with a lit birthday cake in the middle. His friends had become my own, and grew to be a family of choice that shared and celebrated milestones together.

I see Junmyeon squished between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, bickering at each other before he shoves them out the way, getting up and lifting the cake up to me with the saccharine grin on his face. “Happy birthday, love. Make a wish.”

I didn’t have any wishes for myself this time around. What I learned from Junmyeon was to be a little more selfless—and I wished for him to meet someone who loved him as much as I did when I was with him. I wanted him to be as happy as I am now, sacrificing his own happiness so that both of his best friends could be happy too.

fin.

continued ending, though from junmyeon’s standpoint.

#chanyeol fanfics #chanyeol fics #chanyeol x reader #junmyeon x reader #suho x reader #suho fanfics #suho fanfiction #kfanfic #kfanfiction #chanyeol #suho #junmyeon #gyukultfics

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mysingularitybts · 4 years

Text

Glances a Jung Hoseok One-Shot

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x famous!reader

Genre: romance

Warnings: smut

Part 1

Part 2

As soon as I got home I let out a deep sigh. What had just happened? How can a person affect me this way? I have dated in the past and none have ever made me feel this flustered and out of control.

I decided to go to bed since it was late and tomorrow I had to go to the studio, yet when I closed my eyes instead of darkness greeting me it was his sharp eyes staring deeply at me. It was the smirk he threw me all night and it was the heat I felt when we came into contact.

I couldn't keep this to myself or I would drive myself crazy. So, I did the only reasonable thing... I called Nari, my best friend. The phone rang many times and just as I was about to give up hope Nari's groggy voice greeted me.

"What Y/n?" she grumbled into the phone.

"Something happened and I don't know what to do about it," I answered desperately

"Are you okay? Where are you?" she worriedly asked.

"Yes, I'm okay. Well, kinda. I'm home" I huffed into the phone.

"Y/n, you are worrying me," she told me. I felt her bedsheets ruffle as she got up.

"I met BTS," I let out as if it was the most tragic thing ever.

"Really?! That's great!" she exclaimed, ignoring my tone.

"I'm not finished,"

"What... don't tell me you hooked up with one of them?! Who was it?" she then again yelled into the phone.

"None of that," I answered, rubbing my tired eyes out of frustration.

"Damn it y/n just tell me already!" Nari fumed.

That's how I spent almost an hour recalling what happened in the past 12 hours. As I told the story Nari would release oh's and ah's. I think she thought for a second my life was a drama.

"So, what do you think?" I asked hoping to get some advice out of my best friend.

"Holy shit that was intense," she exclaimed. I just hummed at her reaction.

"I can't get him out of my head," I whined, throwing myself face down on the bed.

"Sadly I can't help you that much. The only thing you can do is wait for him to ask you on that date which I guess should be soon," she tried reasoning with me.

"How do you know?"

"He will want to go out with you before he leaves LA, duh," she explained simply.

"You're right, you are so smart," I said as she let out a noise agreeing, "I'll try to sleep now, goodnight!"

"Night!"

I tried to sleep once more, but this time I was so exhausted physically and emotionally that I fell asleep in a few moments not allowing the rapper's actions to haunt me.

The next day I felt a lot better and had a better grip on my emotions. I went to the studio and had some recording done. I also got some writing done having found some inspiration on the dark-haired man.

At around noon I went out for lunch with Carly. Stepping into the studio a huge flower arrangement greeted me. It was very colorful making me suspect who it was from. Carly just looked at me with a raised eyebrow waiting for an explanation.

I ignored her as I searched for a card to confirm my suspicion. I found it between the many flowers I quickly took and read through it a smile forming on my face.

'Sweetheart,

Would you do me the honors of having dinner with me at 8?'

-Hoseok

Xxx-xxx-xxxx'

Not wasting a single minute I searched for my phone and typed a simple message

'Yes ❤️ - y/n'

He answered very rapidly with a message of his own.

'I'm so happy to hear that sweetheart. I'll pick you up."

I made sure to send him my address when a chuckle behind me startled me.

"Huh?" I dumbly said.

"Who's got you blushing?" Carly asked accusatorily at me.

"Nooo oneeee," I said innocently.

"Is it one of BTS?" she asked knowingly.

"How did you know?" I asked, baffled at her guess.

"Nobody else caught your attention yesterday, honey," she explained.

"Yeah, it's J-hope," I answered, playing with my fingers hoping she wouldn't scold me.

"Okay, just be careful, okay?" She said with a supporting smile, "I'm not saying they're bad, but they are very busy guys and you also have your career to be worried about."

"...I know I'm just hoping for the best,"

"Let me know where you'll be so I can give a fake lead to the paparazzi. I don't want them bothering you today and spreading fake rumors,"

"THANK YOU SO MUCH CARLY I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH," I squealed in her ear as I gave her a huge hug.

This is why I loved Carly. She always gave me the freedom to explore. Even if it came with a hundred warnings. I knew it was because she cared about me.

Going back to work I tried to rush through it so I could go home earlier. Seeing my rush Carly just told me to leave and go enjoy my date. I didn't question as I picked up my stuff and almost ran out the door.

Once home I had a bath and made sure to exfoliate my skin so it was silky smooth. Having some extra time I put on a face mask so my skin was also on point. I was going the extra mile to impress Hoseok.

At around 5 I began doing my hair and makeup. I opted for straightening my hair making it look shiny and long, I took the two front strands and tucked them behind my ears. For the makeup, I did a soft, neutral, glam look with a red lip. Then the hard part came...choosing what to wear.

I remembered he mentioned we were going to a restaurant so I began searching for a dress.

I picked a black silky dress. It reached my mid-thigh, had an open back, and only showed a bit of cleavage in front. Looking at myself in the mirror I looked hot!

At exactly 8 PM my doorbell rang. I went down and opened the door to see a very handsome looking Hoseok in a black suit and a white button-up. The first few buttons of it undone.

"Hey," Hoseok greeted me as I opened the door.

"Hi," I shyly said, noticing how his eyes took in what I was wearing.

"You look stunning," he complimented not missing to shoot me a grin. l

"Thank you," I said, not knowing how to proceed my nerves taking the best of me.

"Ready to go?" He asked, offering me his ringed hand.

"Definitely," I answered, placing my palm in his embracing the warmth he emitted.

The first minute of the car ride was a bit awkward, but it quickly dissipated as we began talking about our day. Once we got to the restaurant we had a full conversation going.

He brought me to a very notorious restaurant in LA. It was known in the industry as the restaurant to go if you wanted a bit of privacy since it had many entrances and even though it had lots of windows you could see inside without actually being inside.

Tonight there were no paparazzi outside, thanks to Carly I believe, so we used the main entrance. Once inside the waiter quickly led us to a table and gave us the menu. After taking our order our conversation resumed.

"Nari and I used to get into so much trouble and we didn't even do anything horrible. We would always just prank her brother," I laughed remembering the old days, "He used to be a cry baby and that's what got us in trouble."

"Poor boy with two crazy girls torturing him," Hoseok teased chuckling at my memory.

"We didn't torture him! It was like a competition we had to see who could make him cry first," I tried defending myself but realized Nari and I were a bit cruel to six-year-old Youngjin.

"I remember when we were still trainees we did something similar with Jungkook," Hoseok said trying to recall the memory, "Sometimes he'd be upset and we'd simply say 'You're going to cry?' and it was like a trigger."

"You see it's fun!" I exclaimed giggling.

Somehow as the night went on his hand found mine at the table. He held it delicately, his hands were soft and warm, his rings in contrast were freezing.

"How is your album going?" He curiously asked, changing the subject.

"It's getting there... There are still a few songs missing and I'm working with some other ones to make them better. Hopefully, by next year it will be released," I uncertainly said, "This album is a bit more complicated since I'm trying to explore a new sound," I explained.

He just nodded his head letting me talk. I loved that he would just listen to what I had to say now and then adding to it or giving me his advice. We had a good conversation and I got to know him on a more personal level. He was a bright guy always looking for the positives whose smile made you smile. He was so supportive too and whenever he talked about his work you could sense the passion going out of his pores.

The night went in a blur and dessert soon came. He took me by surprise as he fed me some of it and then cleaned my bottom lip with his thumb as some chocolate was left behind. It was both sexy and sweet.

When we finished eating we went up to a little terrace in the building where you could see the view of LA and all of its twinkling lights. We stood there looking out at the view, it was peaceful.

I heard him clear his throat and call my name, "Y/n?"

"Yes?" I asked turning to look at him.

He looked nervous standing there playing with the rings on his finger. He looked hesitant so I extended my hand to hold his and reassure him.

"I am so glad you agreed to the date," he began saying his eyes on the floor, "When I met you I didn't expect to feel such a great connection to you."

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one that felt it," I told him softly.

Feeling more confident he raised his eyes to mine, "Even though we haven't known each other for a long time I find myself caring about you a lot and I can't seem to get you outta my head. I would really like to keep seeing you and I know it might not be so easy with me being on tour and you with your work, but I would really like to try..."

I stood there shocked. I hadn't expected him to reveal his feelings so rapidly, but I also understood why he did it. If he didn't do it now then when? Our lives are so hectic you don't know when the next time you'll see a person will be, so, you need to hold tight to them.

"If you don't want to, I'll respect that, but please think about it," he finished saying at my lack of response.

He gave me a defeated look as I didn't respond immediately or even after a few seconds. I was trying to organize my thoughts, if there was one thing I was sure of it was that I didn't want to let him go.

"I don't have to think about it," I said, squeezing his hand, "I would love to keep seeing you. After all, you've made me feel things I never thought I could feel."

At my confession, Hoseok's eyes regain that spark that was unique to him.

With his confidence returning he asked, "Does that mean you would like to give this a try and be my girlfriend?"

"I would love too," I excitedly giggled.

Facing him, I briefly looked down at our hands. His thumb lightly brushed against my skin and I smiled as he pulled me closer to him. My eyes met his but not for long as I glanced at his lips once I saw him do the same. He let go of my hands and gently moved them to my waist as I placed mine on his arms. He got closer to me until his lips met mine in the sweetest of kisses. I could tell how nervous he was and I was too, yet I also felt overwhelming joy at the same time. His lips were warm and inviting with a hint of chocolate from our previous dessert. We fit together, not just emotionally, but physically as if we were two puzzle pieces that lost each other long ago and finally found each other. I felt his grasp on my waist tighten slightly as my hands moved to his chest. His heartbeat was erratic and I smiled into the kiss knowing I had the same effect on his as he did on me.

We pulled apart, I opened my eyes to see him gazing at me. An unidentifiable feeling filled my heart as we went back in for another kiss not having quite enough. While the first kiss was sweet and tender this one was full of fiery passion. Our lips moved more feverishly desperate to feel each other, he pulled me even closer having me flush against him. The heat rose as I felt his tongue ask for entrance and without hesitation, I parted my lips. My hands then traveled to the back of his neck where they tangled themselves in his hair. We stood there for what felt like a small eternity, but eventually, we had to pull away as our lungs started burning, begging for air.

With smiles on our faces, we turned back to the LA scenery. Hoseok wrapped his arm around me and I leaned my head on his shoulder. After a few moments of peaceful silence, I asked, "What now? What else do you have planned?"

He looked at me with wide eyes, "I don't have anything else planned," he laughed, "I was too worried thinking you might reject me to plan something else."

"As if! I would never," I said in a defensive tone.

After thinking for a second I gave an idea, " We can go to my place... I have a bottle of wine waiting for us," I told him as I looked up at him, "That is if you want."

He looked down at me and with a kiss to my forehead he said, "Let's go."

He intertwined our hands and led me back to the car and as the gentleman, he is he opened the door for me. As Hoseok drove I couldn't help but observe him, there was something about how he gripped the steering wheel and how his eyes focused on the road that made him look so attractive.

Being so deep in thought he took me by surprise as he said, "You know it's rude to stare," he briefly glanced at my blushing face and finished by saying, "But since it's you I'll let it pass."

---------------------------------------------------------------STOP----------------------------------------------------

He placed his hand on my thigh warming it up with just a touch and as I grew accustomed to its presence he started to caress my thigh. Up and down. Up and down. Never touching where I wanted him to be making my core throb. It made the car ride unbearable and filled with tension. He knew what he was doing since when I turned to look at him he had a smirk on his lips.

I placed my hand on top of his to stop the teasing and gave him a knowing look.

He shamelessly laughed and said, "Sorry Sweetheart couldn't resist."

"All in due time Hobi be patient," I simply told him, squeezing his hand.

Once we got to my house I opened a bottle of wine and sat on the sofa beside him. It was as if he was a magnet and I was metal. We instantly attracted each other and came into contact not being able to be apart.

We had a nice conversation going about BTS's upcoming tour.

"So, wait, you just finished this tour and you have one scheduled for next year?" I asked surprised.

"It's for the new album that's dropping. Hopefully, we'll go to more places than this year," he responded excitedly while taking a drink of his wine glass.

"I don't know how you do it, I wouldn't be able to bear being away from home for so long," I admitted while watching the wine as it swirled in the glass.

"Remember I have the guys who are practically my family," he explained with a fond smile, "Besides we've worked so hard to get to where we are now we're scared it will all go away if we take a break."

To some extent, I understood his worry. In this industry one day, you could be on top and the next on the bottom. There was always a search for the next new talent, but there were also people who would do anything to be on top even if it meant playing dirty.

"I doubt it though you have the best fanbase in the world," I reassured him.

It was the truth ARMY was always consistent. They always tried to support BTS to the fullest even if they made mistakes.

"Is that so?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Of course I've been a proud ARMY since practically the beginning," I reminded him.

"So tell me who is your bias?" he asked, getting even closer cornering me in between the sofa and him.

"Hmm? I'm not sure..." I teased with a grin.

"Is that so? There must be somebody," at this point his nose was brushing against mine.

"W-w- well there is Namjoon but my heart's not set on it yet...there is time for it to change," I told him trying to gauge his reaction.

"Then let me convince you," With every syllable, he said he pulled me closer till the gap between us was no more and our lips touched in a searing kiss.

Our lips moved in unison as if we had practiced it a million times before. We separated for a split second placing the half-drunk glasses on the table, yet our lips crashed once again not wasting a single moment.

My hands found themselves around his neck playing with his dark tendrils. I pulled on them and the most beautiful sound came from his mouth, a deep and sinful moan. Wanting to hear it again I pulled again and my ears were blessed with the wicked sound.

His hands pulled me into his lap making me straddle him, as they then roamed my body leaving a fiery trail behind causing goosebumps to arise.

He started trailing kisses around my neck finding my sweet spot and sucking on it, making me moan and grind my hips over his groin which in turn led him to buck up against me.

My hands moved across his chest feeling his hard lean muscles contract. I couldn't get enough of it. I needed more of his burning skin. I had to feel the heat he emitted and the rapid beating of his heart.

I untucked his crisp white shirt while he marked my neck with purple flowers that I would surely regret tomorrow. He nipped my neck which made me leave scratch marks down his flawless chest.

He started kissing my lips again and dragged his hands to my back as he toyed with the zipper of my dress.

He pulled back and with dark and dilated eyes asked "Can I?"

Breathless I replied, "Yes."

We held eye contact as he torturously pulled the zipper down causing my dress to drop down to my waist leaving my chest exposed. My nipples hard due to arousal and the sudden temperature change. They weren't cold for long as Hoseok quickly took one into his mouth and covered the other with his palm.

All I could do was moan and whimper as he alternated between sucking the bud and rolling it with his tongue. He rolled the other between his fingers and occasionally pulled it making me whimper and say his name.

"H-Hoseok, ahh," I stuttered with pleasure while gripping his back.

"What was that sweetheart?" he asked while momentarily pulling back. His other hand lowering down to my butt and giving it a hard smack.

"Hoseok!" I screamed as pain and pleasure flooded my senses at the same time.

"Just like that," he darkly chuckled.

It was amazing to see how a person can change from a bright, sweet, and seemingly innocent to this sexy lust-filled man. Both beautiful and dangerous simultaneously.

Hoseok picked me up as I locked my legs around his waist trying not to fall and made me direct him to my room. Once in the room, that was thankfully clean, he dropped me on the edge of the bed and finished pulling off my dress. I was almost bare with only the thin layer of lace covering my nether regions.

I sat up to finish unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off in a swift motion. His chest was an amazing sight to behold. It reflected the hours of training and practice he endured daily. I kissed down his chest and stomach, making sure to leave some marks of my own, but stopped at the hem of his pants.

I looked up at him to see him staring at me with hooded eyes and slightly parted lips. Staring into his eyes I took off his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and lowered the zipper slowly to torture him just as he did to me moments earlier.

Once his pants were off I began to palm him through his underwear not missing how his hips slightly thrust at the contact and he let out a sigh. Having tortured him enough I lowered his boxers letting his member spring up. It stood proudly with a vein going up its length. His head leaking pre-cum.

I began pumping him while swiping my thumb over the tip. Hoseok groaned as he tipped his head back. He then looked at me with a mixture of confusion and desperation as I stopped my movements, but understood as I brought him to my mouth. I started bobbing my head as I worked my way deeper until I had most of him in my mouth.

Hoseok's hands grazed my shoulders not being sure what to do with them. So, I took them and placed them on my head letting him take the lead. Taking that as permission he grabbed my hair and started guiding my movements. At some point I had him completely in my mouth, I felt as my nose touched his pelvis but before I could choke he pulled me back with a string of saliva connecting me to him.

Hoseok pulled me up and started kissing me his tongue tangling with mine. He placed me by the pillows on the bed kissing down to my neck, to my sternum, down to my stomach until I felt his breath in between my thighs. He did all this while I looked at him pleadingly. He made me suffer as he kissed around my thighs making me wince now and then as he bit down.

By this point, I was dripping and he knew it. He touched me through my underwear and felt how soaked I was. With a smirk, he rubbed up and down my slit not giving me what I wanted most.

I let out a huff of frustration and he took it as a queue to begin his work. He lowered my underwear and I felt as it got stuck to me due to my arousal. He gazed at me intently while he very slowly and gently pulled them down.

I whined, dropping my head back onto the mattress which made me not notice when he brought his fingers to my heat. I gave a mix of a squeal and a moan as he rubbed my clit in circular motions. I tried clamping my legs shut due to the sensation, but he placed himself between them not allowing me.

He wasn't doing much and I was already a moaning mess. He stuck a finger into me and he cussed at how tight I felt with only a finger in. I started gripping the bed sheets around me trying to hold onto something.

"Hoseok... p-p-lease more," I begged the feeling of his finger inside me not being enough.

"Whatever you want sweetheart," he complied by inserting another of his long fingers the tightness increasing as he kept going.

The rings on his fingers added to the pleasure as they brushed against me and soon enough I started to cum, my thighs started to tremble and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My mouth open but not letting a sound out.

He brought me down off my high slowly, not stopping immediately. As I came back to my senses I could still feel the twitch of my thighs. I hadn't noticed that at some point my hands exchanged the sheets for Hoseok hair as I released my grip on it.

"That was beautiful," he praised.

I couldn't stop the blush that covered my face.

"Don't get shy now baby," he hummed in a low voice.

Hoseok crawled back up to me and looked at me in the eye, lots of emotions swirling in them. He brushed my hair off my face and at the sweet gesture I couldn't help but bring my hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to my lips. His mouth still tasted like me but I didn't mind. I pulled back slowly as I bit his lip and dragged it out till I released it. His eyes turned darker than before at the action.

"Don't play like that sweetheart," Hoseok growled in my ear.

I acted innocently saying "What do you mean?"

"You know what," he said as his thumb went over my lips.

"I need you Hoseok," I whispered. For a second I thought he didn't hear me until he spoke.

"Whatever you want you get sweetheart."

After what felt like an eternity I felt him sink into me and we both let out a moan in unison.

"Fuck you're so tight," he groaned shutting his eyes tightly.

"Just for you," I reassured, and as I said those words I saw a fire ignite in him as he started thrusting slowly and deeply.

"Faster baby," I whined.

He complied and started going faster, his hands laced through mine. He went deep inside me making me feel full and hitting all the right spots. The sight of him on top of me was otherworldly, the way he'd let out silent groans and how his eyes focused on every little reaction I gave.

Just as I was reaching my peak he stopped his movements. Pleadingly I looked at him. He took my hand pulling me up as he sat against the headboard and in his low voice said, "Ride me."

I could only say one thing, "With pleasure."

I straddled him and slowly sunk into him. He held my hips as I bounced on him, his hands occasionally roaming to my chest. He was truly a sight to behold as the sweat dropped from his neck and chest giving his skin a gleam. Plus, the way he'd try to hide his moans and groans. The moans caused by me.

"I'm not gonna last long sweetheart," he revealed with a grimace.

"Me either baby," I agreed as I felt the knot forming in my stomach.

He then started rubbing my clit with one hand while he pulled me to his lips with the other. Just like that the uncontrollable heat between us amplified to extreme measures as we reached our climax together. He muffled my moans as he kissed me. The long kisses slowly turned into pecks until we pulled away with our breaths heavy and our foreheads touching. The heat was there but it was faint having been satisfied for now. I got off of him suddenly feeling very empty.

We laid on my observing each other and recuperating from the past activity. Hoseok caressed my arm with his fingertips relaxing me even more. After getting my breathing under control I noticed he had an infectious smile on his lips which in turn made me smile back. Sunshine Hoseok was back.

"Was everything okay?" He asked slowly, making sure I was alright.

"It was perfect," I whispered, not wanting to break the serenity of the room.

"You were perfect," he responded, pulling me closer so I laid on his chest, the one I had marked in many ways.

"Oh, stop it," I said, the smile never leaving my lips. I hoped he wouldn't notice the blush appearing on my face.

"Know what?" his voice turned serious.

"What?" I was curious to see what he would say.

"The moment you walked up to us in the awards and gave me that sweet glance... I knew I felt something for you." He confessed sweetly as we laid there basking in each other's presence.

I didn't need to say anything since he knew I felt the same.

Cuddling more into his side he kissed my head. I thought about how the time to come would be hard because of our careers, but I paid it no mind. As long as I have Hoseok by my side I would go to hell and back.

A/N: *cough cough* well that happened. It's my first time writing smut so bear with me. If you liked it let me know! If you didn't don't worry it won't happen too often. The way I wrote the first part really didn't leave much of a choice this was what was supposed to happen.

So, if you guys enjoyed it please let me know and make sure to like and reblog to show your support.

I'm still shook. Honestly.

PS. I'm sorry for grammatical mistakes but I really wanted to publish it. I'll probably go back later and fix them.

See you guys later ;) 💜 x

-Nikki Marie

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smooshjames · 4 years

Text

forget you not (epilogue)

‘cause we’ve come, we’ve come so far, oh, baby (or: a second chance)

word count: 4k

a/n: i finally got my butt in gear and wrote the epilogue of forget you not! i still don’t think i’m 100% happy with how it came out, but if i edit / re-write it any more my head will explode. a reminder that i didn’t write any of the songs mentioned in this story (they all belong to little mix). and here are the links to this chapter’s songs: x, x, x. while we’re on the topic of links, here’s one to my ko-fi in case you want to buy me a coffee. no pressure if you can’t (or just don’t want to), i’m just glad you guys take the time to read my work. i hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the overwhelming support, it means the world to me <3

warnings: blink-and-you’ll-miss-it angst (i couldn’t help myself), i think that’s it ?? this is just a lot of fluff and the happy ending we deserve

previous parts: one, two, three, four, five

You called exactly one week later.

It was around six o’clock (nine o’clock for you, Shayne noted). He had just gotten home from work and was contemplating what to have for dinner when his phone started buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket disinterestedly, figuring it was probably Damien or his mom. When he saw your name on his phone screen, however, his heart nearly stopped beating.

He took a deep breath and answered the call.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded mildly out of breath and hoped desperately that you wouldn’t notice. “What’s up?”

“I said I’d call,” you said. Your voice was shaky, your tone unsure. You were putting emphasis on all the wrong syllables. Shayne could picture you in his head; you on your couch in your nice New York apartment, dressed in something comfortable, a vision of natural beauty.

Shayne didn’t reply, just silently willed you to continue. He sat down on the couch.

“Um… it was fun. The sex, I mean.” There was a long pause. Shayne held his breath. “I would… next time one of us is in town, I think it would be good to hang out again. Maybe we can get to know each other again.” Another long pause. “Get to know each other like hanging out and talking, I mean, not like… not like wink-wink getting to know each other, not that I don’t want to have sex with you again, I just…” You stopped again, and he could practically see the grimace on your face. “Jesus, okay. I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Shayne grinned so wide he thought his face might get stuck that way.

“Okay,” he said. “I’d like that.”

Another pause, one which could have lasted three seconds or three years.

“I’m really glad we got to see each other again,” he said. He was careful to keep his tone light, decidedly avoiding any words that might send the I still love you vibe. He didn’t want to push the boat out on another chance with you too soon, but absence absolutely makes the heart grow fonder. There was a part of him that already had the color scheme for your wedding planned, a part of him that felt sure you’d give him a second chance. After all, you’d spent the night together, and now you were calling him back. That had to mean something, right?

But he knew, rationally, that you were still smarting from what had happened all those years ago, and he knew that you had every right to be. He figured you would want to take things slow.

And then, before his brain could really think about it, his mouth said: “I want… I really want to try again, if you… if you want to. I think we could do things right this time.”

So much for taking things slow.

There was another long silence. Shayne was almost certain his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

“I want to try again, too,” you said. Shayne felt his shoulder sag in relief. “I’ve missed you a lot. But, um, it’s late here and I worked all day. I should get ready for bed. I’ll have Michelle look at my schedule tomorrow and we can figure out a good time for me to fly back out there, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Shayne.”

The line went dead. Shayne sat back on his couch and stared up at his ceiling in wonder. A second chance. He couldn’t fucking believe it.

All he had to do now was get it right this time.

***

A month passed, and then two, and then six. You and Shayne flew from New York to LA and back more times than you could count. You squeezed texting, calling, and facetiming into every spare second. Shayne made himself endlessly available to you, and you did the same for him. You were constantly in trouble with Michelle for getting distracted during interviews and meetings and recording sessions. Rumors circulated that there was a man in your life, which, for a while, you didn’t confirm or deny.

You knew that you’d have to go public eventually, something you discussed with Shayne early on in your second attempt. You were both far more in the public eye now than you’d been five years ago, which meant people would put pieces together sooner than you wanted them to. Finally, after two months, the two of you decided it was time to call it official. Instagram posts went up, fans lost their minds, the comments of your Smosh video were dominated almost exclusively with references to you and Shayne.

At the four-month mark, you discussed moving out to LA permanently. You’d still be spending a lot of time apart while the band toured, but you would at least be able to go home to him full-time in between the months on the road.

Carly asked if it felt a little soon, and you told her it didn’t. If your first attempt at a relationship with Shayne had been more-or-less a strong one (save for the end), this attempt was iron-clad. Shayne had matured more than you ever could’ve hoped for. The years apart made him wiser, more willing to confront his feelings and his issues. And in your five years of being single, you had found something infinitely more valuable than a shiny new relationship: self-worth. You knew what you deserved, and a happy, loving relationship was one of those things. You no longer lived in fear of Shayne running off at the first sign of someone better than you. You were far more willing to fight for yourself and for your relationship.

You spent a couple of months deliberating whether you’d move to LA. The time it took you to think was in part caused by some hesitation, but more than anything caused by the fact that the band was recording a new album. You couldn’t think about much of anything besides choruses and hooks and beats.

Your hang-ups about the move were more practical than anything; it wasn’t that you didn’t want to move, it was that cross-country moves were infamously stressful and problem-filled. Not to mention, the rest of the band still lived in New York, which might cause professional complications (and would most certainly cause personal heartache; you weren’t necessarily ecstatic about living almost 3,000 miles from your best friends).

You finally made the decision during a late-night, insomnia-induced facetime call. You called Shayne at four in the morning one night after tossing and turning for hours. He picked up on the third ring, and you could tell immediately that he had been asleep; his surroundings were completely blacked out, his face only visible from the light of his phone screen. He was squinting at the screen, face scrunched up in a way that made your heart swell with the urge to kiss him, as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. And when he spoke, his voice was gruff with disuse.

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t seem the slightest bit upset at being woken up, but there was definite concern on his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I’m sorry to wake you. I can’t sleep. I wanted to see you.”

If you lived in LA, whispered the ever-present voice in the back of your mind, you wouldn’t have to call him to see him. If you lived in LA, you’d be fast asleep in his arms right now.

Shayne hummed sympathetically and you heard the blankets rustling as he rolled over on his back. The angle was about as unflattering as it could have possibly been, but you didn’t care. In fact, you loved him all the more for it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said. His words were just slightly slurred, like his tongue was still heavy from sleep. “What’s keeping you awake?”

You sighed and scrubbed a hand over your eyes. “I don’t really know,” you replied. “A lot of things, I guess. It’s been a couple of weeks since we saw each other last, so I’ve been trying to find a good time to fly out there, but I’m completely booked for the next few months. The new album has been kicking our asses and we’re nowhere near where we need to be if we’re gonna make the deadline, so we’ve been working all hours, which means everyone’s sleep schedules are completely fucked. I’m pretty sure Alexis and Piper are still at the studio right now.”

He hummed low in his throat again, nodding slowly. There was a moment where he seemed to be debating which part of your speech to address first. “Well, don’t worry too much about flying out. You know I love seeing you in person, but I don’t want making time for me to be too stressful for you. I’m perfectly content with long-distance if that’s what you need to do.”

You smiled despite yourself. Shayne had established this rule early-on; you never needed to worry about going to see him if going to see him would jeopardize your work or your personal wellbeing. If you couldn’t handle the stress of a flight across the country, he would either come to you or you’d just make texting and calling work until one of you could get on a plane.

But in this instance (and in every other instance), you didn’t want to see him in person just so that he would be satisfied. You wanted to see him in person because seeing him in person was infinitely better than seeing him through the phone. You wanted to be there when he got home from work, to kiss him goodnight and good morning, to fall asleep next to him.

“I’m gonna move out there,” you said, surprising even yourself with the conviction in your tone.

“What?” he asked. The camera shook for a moment and you imagined he was sitting up in bed. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “Seriously. I’ll talk to everyone tomorrow and then I’ll call you and we can figure out the logistics. I need to be with you, Shayne. I think now’s as good a time as there’ll ever be.”

***

It took a month of you living together for Shayne to track down the old ring. He’d kept it all these years, though he could never quite put a finger on why. At least, until now.

As he rifled through his closet searching for the little blue box, he knew exactly why he’d kept it. For five years, he’d hoped against hope that you would come back to him. He’d hoped that despite it all, you could still be soulmates, just like he’d known you were before he went and fucked it up.

He found the box. It was a little dusty, but the ring inside was preserved perfectly. He moved it from the bottom of his closet to the back corner of his sock drawer, which felt like a more appropriate hiding place for a ring that was no longer going unused (hopefully).

You were currently back in New York to finish recording the new album, and then you would begin tour rehearsals in LA. The reasons for that were threefold; first, there was a choreographer based in LA that you desperately wanted to work with; second, the tour would kick off in LA, so it made sense to do the rehearsals in the place you would start; and third, you had convinced the rest of the band to do it in LA so that you could be close to Shayne. They, being your best friends and considering the other two reasons, had agreed happily. The proximity was good for Shayne, not only because it meant he got to spend time with you, but because it meant he could consult Carly. He figured that if anyone would know if you were ready to marry him, it would be her.

A week or so into tour rehearsals, the two of you hosted a dinner party at your apartment. You invited the Smosh Squad, the band, and a few other mutual friends. It was a challenge fitting everyone into the small space, but you made it work.

Shayne managed to find Carly after dinner was over and everyone had broken up to mingle. You were occupied with Olivia, Courtney, and Piper, and Carly was only talking to Damien, so Shayne figured it was his golden opportunity.

He sidled up to Carly and Damien and shot Damien a Hey man, you know what I’m about to do look (Damien was well aware of his plans, of course; Shayne had texted him the very second marriage popped into his head). Damien nodded.

“Hey, Carly,” Shayne said. She gave him a barely-civil look and took a sip of her drink. She still didn’t entirely trust him, which Shayne couldn’t blame her for; the way he understood it, she had been the one to pick up the pieces of the mess he made. He knew she was only playing nice with him for your sake. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“Sure,” she replied. She narrowed her eyes at him, obviously suspicious, even as she gestured for him to begin walking. “Lead the way.”

Shayne beckoned her into the bedroom, which was the only place not occupied by dinner guests, and rifled around in his sock drawer until he found the ring. He turned and presented it to Carly.

She choked on her drink.

“You’re going to propose?” she asked, volume just lower than a shout, obviously incredulous. Shayne shushed her frantically and glanced over to the open archway into the living room, thoroughly regretting not closing the door and praying to God that no one had heard. “Sorry, I just… Jesus, okay.” And then, in a much more reasonable tone of voice: “You’re going to propose?”

“I’m thinking about proposing,” Shayne corrected her. He set the ring back in his sock drawer. “I haven’t made my mind up yet. I don’t want to ask and freak her out. I figured you might know her thoughts on it.”

Carly narrowed her eyes at him, appraising. Shayne got the disturbing feeling that she could see straight into his soul; it was like she was looking through him, not at him. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Y/N is my best friend,” Carly said after a few seconds. Shayne nodded his understanding but didn’t dare speak. “After you destroyed her -- and you did destroy her, and it was your fault, even as much as she’s tried time and time again to convince me otherwise -- I was there for her. I have seen her at her lowest, most desperate points, and I have seen her at her most joyful. She is my best friend. She is my sister.

“All this to say, Shayne, that if you hurt her again, I can and will -- in fact, I am obligated to -- make your death look like an accident.”

Shayne nodded again, struck speechless. He was reminded of a conversation he’d had with you some time ago: he’d mentioned that he thought Carly didn’t like him, and you had conceded that she didn’t. But, you’d said, don’t worry too much. She’s all bark and no bite, and she just cares. She’ll come around to you.

As she stood in front of him now, fire in her eyes, tension in her shoulders, chin held high, Shayne was absolutely convinced that this woman was 100% bite. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak. He was somehow more intimidated by Carly than he had been by your family.

“I love her, too,” he said. “That’s one thing we have in common. I know that I hurt her, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret it. I should’ve done things so much differently five years ago, I know that, and I’m sorry I didn’t. But by some miracle, she’s given me a second chance, and I’m not gonna fuck it up this time. I want to marry her with everything I have, Carly. I need to know that she’ll say yes.”

There was another silent moment as Carly appraised him. She glanced over at the sock drawer, where the ring was safely tucked away, and then back to him. “Okay,” she said. Shayne’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

***

You rehearsed for two months before the first concert of the new tour. In the week leading up to it, you were riddled with nerves; you were exhausted from long rehearsals and yet you couldn’t sleep, you had to force yourself to eat, you had dreams of getting on stage and forgetting all your choreography, or, worse, the lyrics to your own songs.

Shayne did his best to help you. He stayed up with you when you were having insomnia, even if his work suffered for it the following day, and he brought you food sometimes when rehearsals ran past your allotted lunch or dinner break. He was a godsend.

Finally, the big day arrived; it was the opening night of your tour. The new album had been out for a couple of weeks and it was doing well so far. The concert hall was slightly bigger than the one you’d performed at last time you were in LA. But sitting in your dressing room with shaking hands, about to attend the pre-show meet and greet, the nervous churning in your gut felt eerily similar to the way it felt eight months prior.

And, like eight months prior, Carly came to collect you. You walked with her down the hallway and to the meet and greet room, which had an almost identical setup; white backdrop and four stools on one side, camera equipment and a friendly man named Rob on the other.

You and the rest of the band gave Michelle the all-clear to let guests in, and the meet and greet began.

It was around the halfway mark when the door opened and you heard familiar voices walking in. Your face split into a wide grin as Noah, Keith, Olivia, Courtney, Damien, Ian, and Shayne rounded the backdrop. All of you had grown pretty close over the last few months, between you living with Shayne and occasionally visiting him at work. You had actually been in talks with Ian to appear on a SmoshCast once the tour was over.

Hugs were exchanged between the band and all your friends. You greeted Shayne with a kiss on the cheek, and Courtney with the complicated secret handshake you two had been working on.

The entire massive group took a photo together, and then your adoring fans left to find their seats. Your heart felt lighter for having seen them, and knowing that they would be in the audience worked wonders to calm your nerves. It was the exact opposite effect of your last meet and greet experience with Shayne.

The meet and greet ended, mic check passed, and the beginning of the concert approached. You took a deep breath. You did your pre-show ritual. You got into places. The concert began.

The first half of the show went off without a hitch. The fans were obviously loving it, and you (miraculously) remembered everything you were supposed to do. You were constantly glancing back at Shayne and your friends, both for comfort and to make sure they were enjoying themselves. Occasionally, you’d make eye contact with one of them and they’d flash you enthusiastic thumbs-ups. Every time you looked at Shayne, without fail, he was looking back at you, which made your heart beat just that much faster.

As you were introducing Your Love, though, you glanced over and saw that Shayne was no longer sitting with the group. You frowned but figured he had gone to the bathroom. Damien flashed you a grin and a thumbs-up from his seat next to Shayne’s.

The song began and you didn’t have time to think about anything else as you started to sing: “Luxurious lovin’ like Egyptian cotton, if I ain’t got nothing, least I got you.”

This particular song hadn’t been written with Shayne in mind, but it was hard to think of anything else as you sang the lovey-dovey lyrics. Every time you glanced over at his seat, though, he was still gone. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you knew, but you were somewhat saddened by the fact that you couldn’t serenade him (or at least make eye contact with him) while you sang.

Alexis had the second verse. You were swaying to the beat and moving across the stage to your mark when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You almost ignored it and kept moving; you were in show mode, so you chalked it up at first to a backup dancer brushing against you or something of the sort. But then you took in your surroundings and stopped in your tracks.

Alexis was still singing, but she and the rest of the band had turned their eyes to you. In fact, everyone on stage was looking at you. The audience was screaming, and you thought you heard your name a few times, but it was impossible to make anything out, and a screaming audience at a concert wasn’t exactly unusual. Your heart still plummeted, though, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong. You made eye contact with Piper, standing off to your right, and she nodded encouragingly and motioned toward you as if to say turn around.

You did, and what you saw almost made you drop your mic. Your jaw practically hit the floor.

There, on one knee in front of you, was Shayne. He was holding a little blue box, and inside the box was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. He was smiling up at you, hope and adoration in his eyes. As your band-mates launched into the second chorus of the song, you nodded enthusiastically and allowed Shayne to put the ring on your finger. The audience was going insane. He pulled you into a tight hug.

“I promise I’m gonna get it right this time. I love you so much,” he said. You nodded against him. When he pulled back, he laughed softly and reached up to wipe his thumb over your cheek; you realized with a start that you were crying. “Happy tears?” he asked, just loudly enough that you could make it out over the noise.

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him. You weren’t normally big on PDA, and you were pretty sure kissing in front of a concert hall full of people definitely counted as PDA, but you figured you could make an exception just this once. When you pulled away and brought the mic back up to your mouth to sing, you kept one arm around his shoulders and hardly took your eyes off him. You could feel yourself missing your choreography, but you didn’t care. Your world had narrowed to just the two of you. Shayne, the love of your life, your fiancé, standing next to you with the biggest smile you’d ever seen, looking at you like you were his everything.

You finished the song and kissed Shayne again before he had to get offstage. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’ll see you after the show. Knock ‘em dead, beautiful.”

And then he went backstage. A minute later, you saw him return to his seat in the audience, where he was almost immediately engulfed in a patented Damien Bear Hug. You smiled at your friends and then turned back to the audience. They had only marginally quieted down since the end of the song. You brought the mic to your mouth. “I’m engaged, ya’ll!”

A fresh round of cheering erupted and your band-mates rushed over to wrap you in a group hug. You felt another few tears spill over and wiped them away. You’d only felt joy like this a handful of times, and it more than made up for all the sadness Shayne had caused you.

You knew, as you launched into Nothing Else Matters, that this was the beginning of a long, happy future. Your life with Shayne would, of course, have its ups and downs, but after everything, you knew this for sure: with him by your side, you could weather any storm that came your way. And he was more than worth it.

#shayne topp x reader #shayne topp #eliza.txt #forget you not

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charliejrogers · 4 years

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Soul (2020) - Review & Analysis

See? 2020 wasn’t so bad. We got TWO Taylor Swift albums AND two Pixar movies! I joke. 2020 still sucked. Still, it is pretty notable to be getting two Pixar films in the same year. Last time that happened was in 2015 when we got Inside Out (what I thought was a masterpiece) and The Good Dinosaur (and I will die on the hill that more than a visual stunner it was a good movie too!) This year we’ve already had what I consider the functional equivalent of The Good Dinosaur in Onward, a very good, but ultimately light adventure tale of brotherhood. That means my expectations for this film Soul, from Inside Out’s director Pete Docter (also the director of Monsters Inc. and Up) were unfairly high. This was to be the year’s Pixar masterpiece.

It certainly tries to be. It’ a heavier film than Onward, deciding to tackle more existential questions like... “is there a point to life?” and “how do we avoid living a meaningless life?” You know… the stuff you usually see in kids’ movies. And while I am a big proponent of Pixar and recognize it is unfair to call their movies “kids’ movies,” the magic of their films usually derives from their ability to appeal to adults and kids alike. Though I love Inside Out dearly, I know it wasn’t a huge hit with kids, so it will never remembered as fondly as say Wall-E, Finding Nemo, or the seminal Toy Story . I say this because… I’m not even sure who this film is meant for? I really cannot imagine a child enjoying this film, but I’m also not a child so I won’t hold that against the film.

As an adult, however, I only moderately enjoyed the film. What it definitely has going for it is the beauty of the animation. I think The Good Dinosaur was probably still prettier, but that’s only because nature is prettier than city streets. This movie is drop dead gorgeous with environments sometimes indistinguishable from photographs.

Furthermore, the world of this movie is really, really interesting and creative in a way only Pixar could make. Well… sort of. A lot of the film is just our world, New York City to be precise. The movie tells the story of struggling, middle-aged jazz pianist Joe Gardner (Jamie Foxx) whose day job as a junior high band teacher pays the bills but doesn’t feed his soul. He’s only there at the behest of his mother (Phylicia Rashad). If not for her, Joe would be out there every day auditioning for gigs, trying to make it big and (likely) starving from want of work (though certainly not for want of talent). She’s more elated when Joe gets news he’s being made a full-time faculty member than when he gets a chance at a once-in-a-lifetime gig

But as fate would have it, that gig was what he’d been waiting for his whole life, his chance at the big time, the chance to play alongside a modern day legend, jazz sax player Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett). He’s so excited when he gets the gig he can’t keep his eyes on traffic and inadvertently keeps getting himself into danger. Eventually, in his distraction, he actually falls down an open manhole. And he dies.

Yes. You read that correctly. Joe dies like 10 minutes into the movie. It’s really rather jarring tonally, and I feel like his death isn’t made dramatic at all. Something more impactful would make his inevitable resurrection all the more special. This is a studio that made me cry three times in 10 minutes when I first watched Up… they could have done something more here. Instead, the death just happens and we clip along to the next scene. This slightly rushed pacing continues throughout the film and is ultimately my biggest complaint with the movie. For something that tackles very big and heavy themes, it never really gives them time to breathe.

Anyway, the film then starts part 2 of 4. With Joe dead, we now see his soul alone in a vast black nothingness, standing on a bridge towards a bright light (what is referred to as the great beyond). Joe isn’t ready to die – he was just about to have his big break! So he manages to escape from the bridge to the Great Beyond into the world of the Great Before. It’s here that Pixar’s creativity gets to shine the most. The Great Before is the land in which personalities are born. Big Picasso-esque extradimensional figures (all inexplicably named Jerry and all with New Zealand accents) serve as guardians of the little, uniformly blue souls as they go through the “You Seminar” where they engage in various activities in order to become who they will eventually become. The Jerries usher the souls into various pavilions (including selflessness and insecurity as well as self-absorption!) in order to create all of our unique personalities. Apparently, the film sides hard on the nature side of the nature vs. nurture debate.

But the most important part of the seminar is pairing these newly developing souls with a recently deceased soul as a mentor. Together the two are supposed to work together until they find the developing soul’s “spark.” Once a soul gets their spark, they are ready to head to Earth and start life. Some people get their spark, i.e. their inspiration to live, from hearing about their mentor’s great life achievements in “the Hall of You” (mentors runs the gamut from Archimedes to Mother Teresa). Other souls get their spark from time spent in “the Hall of Everything,” where souls can try out various Earth hobbies and find what they will eventually love most in life (whether that’s painting, acting, or in Joe’s case jazz piano).

It’s a clever conceit, and I very much enjoyed my time spent in the colorful world of the Great Before. The movie gains its primary plot here when Joe (who isn’t supposed to be a mentor and should just be on his way to the Great Beyond) gets confused with a recently-deceased, world-renowned child psychologist and accordingly is assigned to be the mentor for a particularly difficult-to-inspire soul, referred to only by the number 22 (Tina Fey). Mentors have tried and failed to give 22 their spark for thousands of year. Ultimately, 22 just doesn’t get the hoopla about Earth and rather just enjoys the routine of their “non-life” in the Great Before. However, they and Joe make a deal. Since whenever a soul gets their spark, they get an Earth pass, if 22 gets their spark, they agree to give their pass to Joe, allowing him to return to his life and allowing themself to stay in the Great Before forever.

That plan doesn’t work. Instead the pair find some “shamans” in a desert within the Great Before who try to perform a resurrection ritual for Joe. This was probably the most creative aspect of this film’s plot. Shamans, mystics, or just serious meditators on Earth can actually have their souls transcend into the spiritual realm, allowing them to interacts with the other spirits who are permanently in the spiritual realm, like Joe and 22. I make special notice to include “serious meditators” because the main mystic/shaman is Moonwind (Graham Norton) who finds zen and therefore access to the spiritual realm by being a sign twirler on a street corner in NYC. But what I love about this aspect of the movie is its explanation that not just serious meditators can transcend to this realm, but actually any human can. Any time anyone gets “in the zone,” like when they get lost in playing music or basketball (or in my case doing physics problems), their soul can transcend up to the spiritual realm. The shamans are only in that they are aware of and can interact with that new reality; the rest of us are not.

However, in a fun, if a little too on-the-nose aside, the main job of the shamans is to return lost souls to Earth. Lost souls aren’t dead, they just belong to people who have become so addicted to something (e.g. greed) that they become soulless while living. The lone example the movie gives is of a hedge fund manager whose soul they manage to return and who subsequently quits his job. I’m sure there are nice hedge fund managers out there… so this joke fell flat for me even if I found the concept intriguing.

So the shamans perform their resurrection ritual. It goes predictably poorly as we’re only maybe 35 minutes into the movie and it can’t end yet. So we enter part 3 of the film where, because of the botched ritual, Joe’s soul inadvertently gets put into a cat and 22’s soul into Joe’s body. The rest of part 3 sees Joe and 22 try to put things back together. All the while, 22 by being in Joe’s body gets to finally experience real life on Earth (including their first experience of the human senses including tasting pizza). They find that they like Earth a whole heck of a lot, finding greatest pleasure in the smallest of things: a leaf falling from a tree, conversation among friends, a child’s hand being held. Plus, by being a naïve soul trapped in an old soul’s body, 22’s interactions with Joe’s family and friends (while Joe looks on in cat form) grants Joe an almost It’s A Wonderful Life type experience. 22 says and does things with Joe’s voice and body that he might never dream of saying, but the result of 22′s fresh take on life is the creation of new and genuine connections with those around him in ways he never had previously.

Of course, it’s not a kid’s movie without some sort of villain. While on Earth, Joe and 22 are being hunted by Terry, another extradimensional figure who serves as the Great Beyond’s accountant. Terry’s not so much a villain as he is a semi-comical plot device. While I appreciate that this movie eschews a true “villain,” I feel like Terry did little to add to this movie’s already very lacking sense of dramatic tension. I would have been perfectly content if they just added more horror and dread to Joe’s sense of loss of life.

Eventually, Terry manages to track down the pair and bring them back to the Great Before where, to everyone’s surprise, 22 somewhere along the way found her spark and now has a genuine Earth pass! She’s ready to live... and for once she’s excited to. That is, until Joe insists that 22 doesn’t deserve the Earth pass (i.e. to live) since they only gained a spark by being him and being in his body. In other words, 22 just got to copy Joe’s spark. So he takes 22′s Earth pass and rejoins life. He even realizes his dream and plays an absolutely outstanding show with Dorothea Williams!

And then feels empty. Earlier in the film, back in the Great Before, Joe got to see his “Hall of You,” that exhibit of his life, and he looking at his life so far decided that if he really stopped living that his life would be meaningless. He worked so hard for one thing for so long (to become a career pianist) and he never got it. Well, flash forward to the end of the movie, having now finally reached his dream, and Joe realizes it didn’t give him the payoff he thought it would. His life still feels empty. I appreciated the film’s quoting David Foster Wallace’s famous “This is water” speech even if it felt a bit hackneyed, and ultimately it serves as the movie’s message. Life isn’t about the big moments; it’s about what’s all around us. “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” John Lennon once sange. Life is the stuff that made 22 so happy… the stuff that gave 22 her spark. She didn’t find a purpose or meaning when she was down on Earth that gave her a spark, she found a joy in falling leaves and conversations.

So with that realization, Joe returns to the Great Before, finds 22 and gives them their Earth pass back. Joe had in effect robbed 22 of the ability to live, and in the end undoes his harmful. But with only one Earth pass between the two of them, if 22 is to live, Joe must prepare for the Great Beyond. Now if you’re expecting to cry somewhere in this last part of the film… think again. As I said earlier, the film kinda clips along through these various story beats, not giving them time to be fully explored to the satisfaction of an adult thinker. And I don’t know about anyone else, but I didn’t feel much of a connection to either Joe or 22. so despite big moments of sacrifice and love, no tears came to my eyes. It’s not that either is unlikeable, but neither is particularly charming.

Some of it, I think, lies with some less than stellar voice acting on the part of Jamie Foxx. I don’t know. Some of his parts just felt phoned in? Tina Fey is adequate as 22, but not a stand-out. And I’m willing to concede too that the movie, the first in Pixar’s canon to focus on a Black character, may not have been made with me a white guy in his 20s as the target audience. Still, I’m not sure that race is particularly relevant to my dissatisfaction. I more think the film’s philosophy is a little jumbled, or maybe I just disagree with it. It seems to tells us that there’s no meaning to life and that the important part of life is enjoying the small things… but that’s a little naïve to say the least. Yes, trees are beautiful and music sounds good, but the movie shies away from the fact that life sucks for so many people. Like so many people. I’m sure poor and beaten down people will not feel comforted if you tell them that living is worth it because falling leaves are pretty.

But at the same time, I don’t want the movie to have argued that every person is “meant” to do something. In fact I think that idea is bullshit, and I like that the film denies this degree of determinism. If you can’t tell, I’m more on the nurture side of nature vs. nurture. But still by creating this world where souls are fully formed individuals prior to incarnation and to deprive them of a purpose feels… well soulless. Though, potentially bleaker, it feels more honest to just say we’re born as a blank slate, in a world devoid of meaning than to say that we are born fully formed into a world devoid of meaning. I would argue the later (and what the film argues) to reflect a darker, crueller world. Especially after watching a show like The Good Place which managed to so creatively and adeptly develop an entire moral philosophy that was relatively easy to understand and was largely agreeable... this feels lacking.

So yeah… I just couldn’t connect philosophically with this world, the film tackles bigger themes than its kid-friendly world seems fully capable of tackling, and despite beautiful visuals, it lags in the sound department, making it hard to really relate to these characters. I know it will find an audience because it’s a superbly made film set in a creative world with a unique premise, but that audience just isn’t me.

**3/4 (Two and three fourths out of four)

#soul #soul (2020)#jamie foxx #tina fey #pixar #disney+#pete docter

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spartanguard · 5 years

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all the memories that we make will never change (CSJJ 2020)

Summary: Oh don't you wonder when the light begins to fade? / And the clock just makes the colors turn to grey / Forever younger growing older just the same / All the memories that we make will never change (Henry and Lucy find some polaroids of a long-lost night, of a couple in the throes of young love. / Emma and Killian meet in a nightclub, and their lives will never be the same.)

rated M | 5.3k words | AO3

A/N: Here’s my contribution to @csjanuaryjoy 2020! Thanks to the organizer for putting on this event again; it’s my third time participating and it’s always fun! This was inspired by the song “Golden Days” by Panic! At The Disco; it’s told in present-day and flashbacks (and it will all make sense at the end). (it was also slightly inspired by my parents, even if they didn’t meet until a few years later.) enjoy!

2020

“Hey, Dad? What are these?”

Henry looked up from the bin of records he was sorting through in the musty basement, over at where his daughter was doing the same. Or had been; Lucy’s attention was less on the old albums in front of her and instead focused on what she’d apparently found within them.

“Seriously? You don’t know what a Polaroid looks like?” he teased as he set down Aladdin Sane and stepped over. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

She huffed. “No duh, I know what they are. You only played ‘Hey Ya’ a million times when I was little.” Okay, maybe he was the one failing if that was her only frame of reference on instant photos. “But look!”

She shoved the stack of pictures into his hands, and once he got a look at the one on top, it was like being jolted into the past.

Frozen in time was a couple clearly in the throes of young love; it was obvious from the way they only had eyes for each other, though the background suggested they were at a club (a disco, maybe?). The date on the corner said August 1979, but the woman’s Farrah Fawcett curls and strapless jumpsuit, paired with the man’s wide-open, chest-baring top and perfectly coiffed hair, did a good job of telling him the era on their own.

He glanced over the next few pictures behind it: all similar, and a good number with part of an arm in the shot; a vintage selfie. He suspected a number of couples nowadays had similar sets of photos on their phones. (He knew he and Ella did.)

But as curious as he was to continue skimming, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding—there was something intimate about these images that modern digital photography couldn’t match.

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1979

Killian nursed his rum probably a bit more clinically than he needed to. While it had been his favored vice not too long ago, he was trying to put those days behind him. But his friends insisted he still needed to get out and “have fun,” whatever that meant anymore. At least they were—he could see Jasmine and Al twirling their way across the illuminated dance floor from his seat at the bar.

The deejay played decent music, he’d give it that. But drinking and dancing were in his past, he was sure.

Until he spotted an angel on the other side of the club, and wondered if maybe he’d been too hasty in writing off this outing.

Her likeness to a celestial being had minimal to do with the style of her hair, even if it was clearly modeled after one made popular on a certain ridiculous television program. No, it was the way she moved freely and joyfully in her red, fitted jumpsuit; the joy as she threw her head back in laughter at something one of her companions said; and her easy smile as she danced, full of a youthful exuberance that Killian was pretty sure he’d never had; he’d done a lot of living in his 25 years.

He didn’t typically even go for blondes, but before he knew it, he’d downed the rest of his drink, hopped off the bar stool, and started to pick his way across the dance floor. He checked himself over as he maneuvered around moving bodies, briefly debating if he needed to do up another button on his paisley shirt or rather undo another, and then realized: he had no idea what to say.

He froze feet away from her. Just what was he doing?

Then someone bumped into him, making him stumble forward—almost into her arms. Which might have been better than the sharp way his chest collided with her shoulder, sending her reeling into the brunette next to her.

“Hey, man—watch out!” the other woman shouted as she set her friend to rights.

“Apologies; I meant no...harm…” he tried to explain, trailing off when he saw Jasmine from the corner of his eye, giving him a sheepish grin as they danced away. He should have seen that coming, really.

“It’s fine,” the blonde sighed, annoyed, and Killian felt his chance slipping away faster than the overall sobriety level in the club.

But then she turned to him, and there was concern in her big green eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I think so, yeah,” he said, then quickly added, “but I’d be better if you danced with me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and gave him a wry look. “Oh yeah? Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“That’s because you haven’t met me yet.” He had no idea where this swagger was coming from, but he didn’t want to think too hard about it, lest it disappear. “Name’s Killian.”

“Hi, Killian,” she said, offering a hand. “I’m Emma.”

He took her dainty hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back while holding her gaze—which, if he was being honest, seemed as much confused as it did flattered.

“What do you say, love? Care to take a turn about the floor?”

She bit her glossed lip and looked back to her friend, who was giving her a wolfish grin in return and promptly shooed her away. “Okay,” she shrugged with a smile when she turned back to him.

He grinned back, partly in relief but mostly that he hadn’t been shot down. It was a boost to his confidence he didn’t realize he’d needed—and it just might have broken his freshly healed heart if she’d said no.

He led her a step or two away from her friend, so they could have a bit of space, and placed his blunted wrist on her hip. She glanced down at it and he froze; he was finally starting to get comfortable with his lack of appendage there, but most people still acted squeamish about it.

To his surprise, though, she didn’t seem to take much note of it and found his eyes again. If anything, she moved closer, and they wordlessly started to sway to the pounding rhythm—or, at least, their hips began to shift in time with the music and each other, and really, that was all that was needed.

Their feet eventually got the message, picked up the beat, and began to carry them around the floor. Killian found himself falling into some ancient habits he wasn’t aware were still in his muscle’s memory, and his heart skipped a bit as he watched an amused smile take over Emma’s face.

“You sure are a swell dancer,” she told him. “How’d you learn to dance like this?”

“It’s simple, really; there’s only one rule,” he replied, then leaned in closer. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She grinned and looked down, but if she was trying to avoid letting him know her thoughts on the matter, she failed—even in the orange light, he could see the blush on her cheeks.

For a moment, he worried he might have come on too strong and she’d push away, but quite the opposite happened: she moved even impossibly closer, sliding her hand down to his waist to pull herself to him. The pinpricks of light from the disco ball danced over them like stars, illuminating the glitter on her collarbones and cheeks; goodness, were they in a dance hall or a fairy tale?

The bodies and music around them began to fade away as his focus narrowed on Emma: on the soft pout of her lips, the easy smile that played at them, the feel of her body against his…

And then the rest of the club came back into startling clarity as the music abruptly changed, loud horns signifying the beginning of an overplayed and overhyped Village People tune.

“Oh god, I hate this song,” Emma cursed, equally jarred by the change, it seemed. But she hadn’t made a move away from him.

“Agreed,” he replied; but if she didn’t want to dance, he needed another way to stay close to her. “Can, uh...can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure!”

He wasn’t expecting her enthusiasm, and the wide-eyed look she gave him after suggested she wasn’t expecting it either. He chuckled, but squeezed her hand and led her back to the bar.

They found an open spot near the end and the bartender was quick; Emma ordered red wine, and Killian said “Make it two.” The bartender glanced between them, then grabbed a couple glasses and set a bottle down in front of them, with the direction to have fun.

“Well, he was awfully presumptuous,” Killian said, again not wanting to come on too strong.

Emma just shrugged, though, and popped the cork. “He didn’t say what kind of fun.” Her tone was laced with innuendo, though, as she poured their glasses. “For example, we can have fun with this,” she continued, offering her glass up for a toast; he took his and clinked it with hers before taking a sip (not the best he’d had, but not the worst). “Orrrr, with this!” she exclaimed, reaching around him for something on the bar.

She produced a Polaroid camera, looking proud as punch with her prize. “Is that yours?” he asked.

“Nope,” she answered, popping the ‘p’. “It was just sitting here.”

It was a good thing he was staring at her in dazed admiration, because the next thing he saw was the bright light of the flash temporarily blinding him. “Bloody hell,” he cursed, blinking. “Warn a man next time!”

“Oh, but candid shots are always best,” she teased, pulling out the picture and shaking it. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“Oh really?” He wasted no time in setting down his drink and taking the camera from her, relying on speed for shock, and quickly snapped a pic, too. “That should be a good one, then.”

“Asshole,” she tried to complain, but her smirk gave her away. “That’s gonna be terrible.”

“Impossible,” he countered, “when the subject is so lovely.”

She was leaning on the bar, rolling her eyes, so he stepped closer and mirrored her pose. “You’re full of it,” she laughed.

“I’m actually quite shy and reserved.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he conceded, and snapped another picture with his outstretched arm.

“Oh my god, you—!” Whatever she was about to say was lost in the struggle of her wrestling the camera back from him; he let her take it, especially when her chest brushed against his in the friendly scuffle. She yanked out the photo and put it on the bar with the others, shaking her head. “You’re wasting film, you know.”

“I highly doubt that.” She hadn’t made any effort to leave his personal space yet again.

“Besides, there are so many better things to take pictures of.”

“Also not true.”

“I’m just saying—why would you bother with pictures like that, when you could take ones like this?” she said, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Like what?”

She answered by grabbing the lapel of his vest and hauling his lips to hers. She pressed herself against his entire upper body as her mouth claimed his, and he was quick to surrender to her passionate kiss. He heard the flash bulb go off as she likely took another snap, but he was too lost in her to care much. He wrapped his left arm around her to hold her close while the other found her waist and anchored himself to her.

They eventually broke apart for a breather, but he continued to pepper kisses down her chin and neck, and he could feel her fingers toying with his chest hair. Another flash bulb.

“You don’t work for Playgirl or something, do you?” he breathed.

“No,” she giggled. “Just liking what I see; and I don’t want to forget it.”

“Nor do I.”

They resumed kissing for a moment, Emma going so far as to wrap a leg around him and bring her core to where he was obviously wanting her—which only seemed to egg her on, and he had no reservations in palming her pert rear end through her jumpsuit.

“Do you live nearby?” she asked on their next breath.

“Aye,” he nodded; he could hardly remember where, he was so intoxicated by her, but at least knew that much.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Only if you do.”

“I definitely do.”

“Alright then.”

She gave him another kiss on the cheek, then asked him to sit tight as she let her friends know. He quickly downed the rest of his glass, threw some cash down to pay the tab (probably not the right amount but he hardly cared), then gathered up the pictures they’d taken from where they landed scattered across the bar.

He didn’t know what lay ahead, but something told me he’d want something to help him remember this night.

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2020

“What are they wearing?” Lucy giggled. “That shirt is so ugly!”

Henry chuckled. “That was just the style back then; he actually would have been considered pretty debonair and suave at the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

They continued to flip through the photos. “Say what you will, but she seems pretty into it,” he lectured; not like he had much room to talk—he had no idea how he’d managed to catch Ella’s eye with the kind of stuff they wore in the late 90s. (There was definitely a bonfire fueled by a pair of JNCO jeans and ratty plaid shirts in his past.)

The background of the photos changed as the pair moved out of the club and onto the street—one he immediately recognized. It changed again to a dock, with ships bobbing behind the pair.

“Is that…?” Lucy asked when the couple apparently boarded one of them.

“Yeah, looks like it is,” Henry had to agree; he knew exactly where they were.

And the next couple of pictures told him exactly what they were doing. (He made a point to keep those away from Lucy’s view.)

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1979

Emma still couldn’t believe she’d proposed this. She had a kid; what was she doing out on the town, following a guy she’d just met back to his place?

(Ruby, that’s what—she could never say no to her best friend, especially when said friend’s granny was providing free babysitting and said friend had also told her to “do him before I do”.) She pulled up the top of her strapless (borrowed) jumpsuit, amazed that it had stayed on this long, and took in a deep breath of the refreshing air outside the club.

“That’s much better,” Killian said, and then Emma registered the pop of the flashbulb behind her closed eyes.

“You’re gonna make me regret picking that thing up,” she teased. “And I wasn’t gonna steal it!”

“Too late,” he shrugged. Even in the yellow light of the street lamps, she could see the mischief sparkling in his blue eyes and hiding in the dimples that cut into his scruffy beard. He didn’t seem like he was too much older than her, but he’d clearly been through a lot. Which was good, since she had, too.

“Are you just gonna be the paparazzi or are we going to go somewhere more fun?” she asked, pressing herself into his space—partly because she liked the kind of shocked look he got on his face when she did, and partly because she just wanted to be close to him and his impressive display of chest hair.

“I’d be more than happy to escort the lady to a more comfortable location,” he said, making her swoon; god, she never did that. She almost lost focus in stealing the camera back, but managed to before he could fight it.

“Lead the way,” she whispered.

He just swallowed and nodded, then took her hand and led her down the sidewalk.

The air cooled as they went and she could smell the salt of the harbor as they got closer to the docks; not a long walk, but not too short that they couldn’t get to know each other a bit. His last name was Jones; he was 25; he’d enlisted in the Army right out of high school and served a few years in Vietnam, until he lost his hand. “I didn’t want to fight, but I didn’t really have any other options. My brother died over there, so I guess I thought I’d avenge him, or something,” he admitted. “Not my best idea.”

She knew all about that. After all, she was 21 years old and already a mother to a 3-year-old; she clearly had no room to judge. He took it in stride, though, and was quick to ask about her kid; it was actually refreshing not to have someone do the math in their head and start scowling. “It’s been hard, but he’s probably the best thing that ever happened to me,” she told him, establishing some boundaries.

“Well, you strike me as a tough lass, Swan,” he replied; she was beginning to love the sound of her last name on his tongue. “It sounds like you two are doing just fine.”

She hid her blush by taking a picture of his encouraging smile, which quickly turned into a sputter.

He stole back the camera—and her breath—with a kiss after that.

She returned the favor, pressing him against a fence at the marina—but not too forcefully; she didn’t feel like swimming tonight.

“Hopefully you’re alright with sailing, though,” he murmured, guiding her down one of the docks.

“You live on a boat?”

“Please—it’s a ship.”

Whatever it was, it was gorgeous—all hardwood and classic-looking. The sails were tucked away but she had to imagine it looked impressive out at sea, and the idea of Killian at the helm, sun tanning his skin as the wind whipped them along...damn, what an image.

(Okay, maybe Ruby had been right earlier when she said Emma needed to get laid.)

He casually stepped onto the ship, unphased by the way the deck shifted under him, and extended a hand to her to help her down. Her platform sandals were absolutely not the right shoes for this, so she nearly stumbled as she stepped aboard—right into his (strong, sturdy) arms.

“It’s about bloody time,” he purred.

“Like I haven’t been over you all night,” she countered (and made sure not to bring up the body glitter that had found its way into his chest hair).

“No, but it’s nice to finally be alone.”

“It is.” Without another word, they picked up where they’d left off in the club: hands wandering, lips tasting, bodies not able to get close enough—but she didn’t have enough balance on the rolling deck to try to hitch her leg around him again.

“You got a bed on this thing?” she panted.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A minute later, they were below deck, in a cozy cabin. Two minutes later, he’d undone the zipper on her jumpsuit, letting it fall around her ankles. Three, and she’d opened his way-too-many buttons to reveal his frankly stunning array of chest hair and was quickly discovering how far south it went. (Answer: all the way.)

The bed wasn’t exactly large, or solid, but anything would do once he got her worked up, his fingers dancing over her breasts, overheated skin, and aching sex.

He hovered over her after he got the condom on, clearly nervous even though they were both stark naked and had been dry humping for who-knew-how-long.

She drew her bare heel up over his firm thigh and pert ass, then pressed against it, bringing his hard length almost to where she wanted—no, needed it. “Please,” she panted, not sure what else to say.

“As you wish.”

That took her by surprise—she wanted to ask if he’d read her favorite book, The Princess Bride—but then he was pressing into her and anything she could say came out as a gasp. Holy shit, did he feel good.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said in a strained voice; fuck, she’d said that out loud.

“You should,” she answered. “And if you want another—move.” She punctuated the command by pressing her other heel into him.

As eager as she was, she wasn’t ready for the feel of him dragging along her inner walls, then pressing back forward; it really had been too long since she’d done anything like this with another person. But she got the impression Killian was in a similar boat (pun not intended).

That didn’t stop him from being “fucking amazing,” she sighed.

“You...too…” he grunted as he pressed. She did all she could to keep up and match him thrust for thrust, but all too soon, she was gripping his broad shoulders for dear life.

It was like riding a roller coaster: she was climbing, climbing, climbing, and then she was free falling with a shout as her orgasm peaked and carried her away with it. He wasn’t far behind, coming with a shout of her name and eventually collapsing beside her. It made the whole bed shake but honestly, it was no worse than what they’d just put it through.

Once they both caught their breath, he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and then got up to clean things, but was back faster than she expected he’d be, flopping down next to her.

“Bloody hell, love; that…”

For someone as seemingly verbose as he was, having him speechless was definitely a boost to her ego. “Incredible? Fantastic? Far out? Groovy?”

“I’d never dream of putting something like that so colloquially,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “But perhaps we need to give it another go so I can properly describe it.”

“Mm, I think I’d be down with that,” she said, smiling. Normally, she’d be headed for the door already—but there was just something about Killian that made her want to stay, and it wasn’t just the mindblowing sex.

“Good.” He pounced on her lips again, and round two was just as fabulous as the first. (So was the third.)

And a few hours later, she woke in his arms to the obnoxious sound of an alarm clock blaring. But he just gripped her tighter from behind and buried his head in her neck, tickling her with his beard.

“You gonna get that?” she asked, both annoyed and still sleepy.

“Ugh, I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I need to get ready for work and you’ll have to go.”

She turned in his arms and placed her hands on his hair-covered pecs. “What if I came back sometime?”

He gave her a sleepy smile. “I’d like that very much.”

“Me too.”

He finally shut off the clock and stretched; she had to avert her eyes, or staring at the way his trim muscles moved under his skin would make him even later. And the sooner she got home to her kid, the better.

Somehow, she managed to get dressed again, pointedly ignoring the heat of his fingers on her back as he zipped her outfit. (It was less easy for him to hide his arousal when she buttoned up his work shirt.)

The morning was chilly when they got back up on the deck and the sun was just starting to rise over the horizon; she shivered immediately. “Oh, bloody hell,” he cursed, then ran back below deck, returning with a blanket. “Here, love; I’d be a shameful host if I let you catch a cold. Do you need me to call you a cab?” he asked as he wrapped it around her shawl-like.

“No; I’m only a few blocks away,” she answered, pulling the blanket tight. It was soft and smelled like him. Hopefully, he didn’t want it back.

“Can I walk you home, then?”

“Won’t you be late?”

His reply was a shrug.

“Alright then.”

She started to head to the edge of the ship to disembark, but then he said, “Wait.” She turned to see what the holdup was and only saw the light of the flashbulb again.

“Seriously?” she laughed.

“Yes, completely,” he answered through his own chuckle.

“You’re such a nerd,” she tossed back, but god, was he adorable. If she wasn’t careful, she was probably going to fall in love with him.

But honestly, would that really be so bad?

------------------------

2020

The last photo was of the blonde woman in early morning light, wrapped in a blanket with a lazy smile on her face. It was obvious what they’d been up to, but that was a different kind of happy expression—more than just physical bliss.

“God, she was so beautiful,” Lucy breathed.

She always had been. “And she still is,” Henry added; Lucy hummed in agreement.

Reaching the end of the stack, they set the photos aside and kept browsing the records, pulling some out here and there as they caught their eyes. A bit later, armed with Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Damn the Torpedoes, and A Night at the Opera, they headed upstairs with their prizes—Henry making sure to grab the stack of Polaroids.

“You’re done already?” Henry’s mom called out from the kitchen, where she and his dad (well, stepdad, but he’d raised him) were busying themselves.

“Yeah! We found some great stuff, Grandma!” Lucy shouted, running down the hall and promptly gushing over her new treasures.

His mom had been reading at the table, but she put down her magazine when Lucy barged in. Henry hung back for a moment, though.

The smile on her face was the same one in the photos, even if Emma’s hair was more gray than blonde now and she needed glasses. It was a little jarring, to be honest; growing up, he didn’t notice it as much, but looking at her as she was when he was a kid and comparing it to now made him realize just how much she’d changed in the last 40 years. But the grin she sent his way as Lucy babbled hadn’t at all.

“What have you got there, darling?” his dad interjected, stepping away from the stove to inspect the collection of albums. Killian, too, was all silver now, but for a man in his sixties, was in damn fine shape; Henry only hoped he’d look that good when he hit that age. The crows feet around Killian’s eyes had deepened with time (and laughter, and smiles), but they were still the same bright blue behind his bifocals and he still wore the same scruffy smirk.

Emma threw a concerned look Henry’s way, which told him he’d spent far too long staring. “Everything okay, kid?” she asked when he joined them.

“Yeah, yeah; it’s great. But uh, we found something else, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

He pulled the photos out of his jeans pocket and set them down on the table in front of his mom; Killian peered over her shoulder to inspect. They both hitched their breath at the same moment.

“Oh my god, I forgot about these!” Emma exclaimed as she picked them up.

“Same,” Killian said, almost breathlessly. “But I haven’t forgotten that night,” he quickly added, pressing a kiss to Emma’s temple.

“I’d be worried if you had,” she said. “This was our first date,” she explained to Henry and Lucy, “and someone here thought it’d be a good idea to steal a camera from the club we met at.”

“Pardon me, but you started it, love.”

Emma snorted and smacked his prosthetic hook where it rested on her shoulder, but a nostalgic kind of look came over both of them as they looked them over.

“Good find, Lucy,” Killian said, pulling his granddaughter close and kissing her cheek.

Emma set the photos aside and Killian went back to cooking dinner (which was delicious, as always). The flashback the photos had given him made Henry want to stay later and reminisce—on their wedding, on weekend trips on the Jolly Roger, on that one time he and his sisters tried (and failed) to throw a kegger in the backyard—but it was a school night and Lucy had homework.

He kept coming back to one thing, though, especially as they said their goodbyes and headed home: the way his dad looked at his mom in 1979 was the same way he did in 2020. Henry had always been happy that, despite their rough starts, his parents had managed to find each other; he couldn’t think of anyone more deserving of the kind of true love they had. And they made sure that their children knew and saw that same kind of love every day; if only everyone could be that lucky.

(Thankfully, Henry was; when he greeted Ella at home that night, he knew he still looked at her the way he first had in 1998, and she still smiled at him the same way she did that night from across that party. Henry had known then what true love looked like, and what it looked like now, and what it would look like in 20 years. And he couldn't wait.)

------------------------

After Henry and Lucy left and dinner was cleaned up, Emma got out the pictures they’d found again; hazy memories were coming back into sharp clarity in her mind (though some had never really dulled).

“You’ve got that look in your eyes, Swan. What are you thinking?” Killian said, taking a seat next to her on the sofa.

“Swan? Pretty sure I’ve been Jones for almost 40 years,” she teased, scooting into his side.

“Aye, but you’ll forever be my gorgeous Swan,” he answered, like he always did, his eyes also on the old photos. It was kind of amazing they were still in decent shape.

“Well then, I’m thinking that we looked damn hot,” Emma finally said.

“Indeed we did. Though you still do,” he added, kissing her cheek.

“So do you, silver fox. You still got that shirt?”

“That ugly thing? Heavens no.” He sounded genuinely offended—although he never quite learned how to fully button his shirt, and she cast a glance at the silvery chest hair exposed by his v-necked shirt today. “But I might be able to come up with something similar...if you still have that jumpsuit,” he said, leering seductively.

Emma just laughed. “It’s cute that you think I’d still fit into that after two more kids and a few decades. And that was Ruby’s anyways.” Some parts of her had never quite recovered from having Hope and then Alice in fairly quick succession, but it didn’t matter to Killian so she’d never minded much.

“Well, then I guess you’ll have to wear nothing,” he purred. “I seem to remember that being part of that night, too.”

“Only if you wear the same.”

“As you wish.”

(He had indeed read The Princess Bride, it turned out, and they had excitedly taken Henry to the movie when it was first released; their VHS copy was later worn down by the girls, once they were old enough.)

Some days, it was hard to believe they’d been together for over 40 years—time flies while having fun, and all that. There’d been great ones and hard ones and plenty of just average ones in there. They weren’t the same people they were when they met; hell, they weren’t even the same as when Alice moved out ten years ago.

But some things had never changed, and never would; for one, how easily and amazingly they were able to satisfy each other physically, and how well they fit together, especially when they were cuddled close, sated.

The most important, though, was their love.

------------------------

thanks for reading, friends!! tagging some peeps who might like this: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @laschatzi @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes

#cs ff #cs january joy 2020 #csjj 2020 #cs smut #my ff

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mf-despair-queen · 5 years

Text

Sun & Moon - Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader

Word Count: 20,850

Summary: Never did you think that your pen pal could be the love of your life. You saw the sun when he saw the moon. How could you be together when you were so far apart? It was easier than you thought - you just had to realize it.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Protected Sex, Oral, Shower Stuff, kinda dirty Taeyong but I still love him.

Notes: I was supposed to write for Mitch. But. It’s Taeyong’s birthday (though I’m late by an hour). Happy belated Taeyong Day and I hope he had a wonderful day catching tiny froggies. The boys better have spoiled him with chocolate cake.

Greetings Taeyong,

Was that too formal? I hope not.

I’m sorry if my Korean isn’t the best. I’m still learning and I’m hoping to improve more because of this. That’s why I agreed to this pen pal arrangement. Learning from someone who speaks the language is ideal and I want to learn more about you, your culture. Just anything, I guess.

I never did introduce myself. And my stupid self-decided to write in my new green pen on this puppy stationary. So, let me start again I suppose. My name is Y/N. I am finishing high school here in Boston. For my last years of school, I wanted to experience something new, something challenging, and something interesting. So, I decided to take our newly offered Korean course with the hopes that one day, I can go to Korea and not look like a doofus.

I don’t know what else to say right now, but I guess I can say I look forward to writing to you over the next couple of months. I can’t wait to learn more about my new pen pal! That sounded creepy, so please ignore that I just wrote that.

Again, sorry for my horrible writing! I promise, I will get better!

Sincerely yours,

Y/N

Dear Y/N,

It’s a pleasure to meet you - I guess?

I’m glad that I was chosen to be your pen pal. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to communicate with someone far away. Now I can experience that with you! These coming months will be fun. I look forward to writing to you all the time, sharing the things I do and hearing about you.

Let me start with a quick introduction. My name is Lee Taeyong. I go to the School of Performing Arts here in Seoul. I once dreamt of being a fireman, but I guess my love for music steered me in a different direction. I was recently recruited by a company here called SM Entertainment to become a kpop idol. I begin training soon and I’m nervous. Can you tell by my writing?

My sister is yelling at me to go to bed now, so I should wrap this up. Thank you for the thoughtful message before, and the equally adorable stationary! I love dogs. I have one - her name is Ruby. But, that’s a topic for another time, I suppose.

I will leave you with this for your next letter to me tell me about yourself. You are so far away, but I want to get to know you. I don’t want to be just a pen pal. I want to be your friend. So, tell me everything there is to know about Y/N. What’s your favorite color? Favorite food? Do you like to take long walks on the beach? Tell me everything, Y/N.

Till next time,

Taeyongie

PS your Korean isn’t that bad, but I will help you improve, just like you want. I will help you as much as I can and before long, you will be an expert! Thank you for joining class TY!

You glanced up at the setting sun as you walked home from your work, chuckling when you heard your phone ding with the familiar tone from Kakao Talk. Six pm for you, but seven AM for him. It never ceased to fail. Morning here, night there, and vice versa, every day like clockwork. But it made you smile to know that you had something to look forward to once you got back to your pitiful, lonely apartment, a bag of cheap Chinese takeout in your hand. Your feet ached from the long day on the job, and you wanted nothing more than to change into the fluffy pajamas you owned and kick your feet up to watch Netflix all night.

The constant ring of your phone kept chiming, making your headache slightly. A groan of relief left your lips when your apartment came into view, praying the notifications would cease soon. Pushing past the door, you kicked off your shoes, yanking the infernal device from your purse on the way to your room. The Chinese was left on your coffee table while you changed, dropping your phone on the bed to scan the onslaught of messages that kept popping up.

Taeyong was blowing up your phone with short, one-word messages, some consisting of tiny sentences. You laughed at his persistence to get you to answer, shaking your head. Just as you pulled on a baggy hoodie, the phone rang again, this time two words, all caps, catching your eye.

CALL ME!!!

Your brow rose, pausing before you could dial his number. He sent one more message:

Video call, please.

With a roll of the eyes, you hit FaceTime, waiting for him to pick up on the other end.

“Helloooooooooo!~” he greeted cheerfully for someone who was awake at seven in the morning. His hand ruffled his newly dyed locks, his once black strands now a bright blonde that still suited his baby face. The same face with the dark brown eyes and the sharp jawline, the button nose and the plump pink lips that always got cherry red when he ate sweets. You couldn’t see much around him, or of him, but you could see he was wearing a loose tank top, one strap beginning to fall off his broad shoulders from being stretched out. A row of mirrors was behind him, indicating the location he was in: the SM dance studio.

His lips curled into a bright smile when he saw your face, your sleeve covered hand hiding your face. “Don’t look at me like that! I just got off work!”

“I know,” he hummed, combing his fingers through his strands as he talked. “That’s why I wanted to talk! Give you a nice way to start your evening!”

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” you teased, trudging towards the living room. “Aren’t you at practice right now? I could have sworn you mentioned before you went to bed last night that you had early practice today because of your upcoming comeback.”

“Yeah. We’re all here. We were just taking a short break before we get back to the dance. We’ve been in the studio practicing for about an hour already,” he informed you. You nodded at his answer, flopping back on the couch.

“Wait? Is Taeyong talking to noona?” you heard in the background.

Taeyong let out a yelp when he was tackled from the side, his phone yanked away. The group of boys tried to stuff their faces in the phone screen at once, all screaming their greetings in unison. Your face scrunched up, using your free hand to plug your ears.

“One at a time, boys!”

Mark grabbed the phone was from Haechan, the boy who successful tackled his leader and stole his phone in the first place. Mark grinned, giving a victory sign. “Morning, Y/N!” he greeted, ignoring the arguments that ensued around him.

“Evening, Mark,” you laughed. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Dance practice, recording new songs for the upcoming album, wondering when you are finally going to come visit us in Seoul.”

Your face fell at his final words, pouting. “You guys know I want to. I’ve always wanted to.”

“We know. Taeyong told us that you’ve always wanted to since they day you guys started writing to each other.”

You sighed, reaching blindly for the egg rolls in your bag. “I just can’t afford the trip yet. It’s hard enough sometimes to pay my rent, let alone saving for a plane ticket and hotel there.”

“We could help!” Jaehyun cut in, pushing Mark aside, the younger male groaning and complaining. “We’ve all agreed to help pay for your flight here if it means we get to finally meet Taeyong’s best friend.”

Your cheeks visibly reddened at the title, shaking your head. “I can’t let you guys do that though. I’d feel horrible for asking you to help me pay for a plane ticket out there. It just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Even if we want to?” Doyoung asked, peering around Jaehyun’s arm.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “If I’m going to come visit, it’s because I earned it. It’ll make the reward in the end even sweeter.”

The guys laughed, Jungwoo taking the phone. “Well, we hope you can come visit soon, noona! Especially Taeyong. He talks about you all the time, so we can’t wait for you to actually be here.”

You giggled when you hear a screech from behind, Taeyong flailing his way through the throng of boys to get his phone. “Alright, alright! Break’s over!” he called, earning a chorus of groans and whines. “No whining. Say bye.”

“Fine,” they all huffed in unison. From behind their leader, they all waved their arms wildly, giving bright smiles and victory signs. “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye guys!”

Taeyong slipped from the room quickly, letting out a sigh. “Those guys,” he sighed, ruffling his hair. “Sorry about them. You know how much of a handful they are.”

“I know,” you laughed. “But I love getting to talk to them. Thank you for introducing me to your members forever ago.”

Taeyong laughed, tugging his lip between his teeth when he was done. “Well, I do have to get back to practice unfortunately. I’m sorry to cut this short. But I wanted to talk to you as soon as I got the chance. It makes the day much easier.”

“You know, you have always said that,” you chuckled. “You always said how receiving my letters while we were in school still always brightened your day and nothing could ever bring you down.”

Taeyong flushed, scratching his cheek. “I did, didn’t I?” he mused. He paused, passing his tongue over his lips briefly. “Would you… would you mind if I called you tonight when I get back from practice? I want to talk to you some more.”

You smiled shyly, nodding your head. “Of course, Yong. You can always call me, no matter what time it is.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me that. I might end up waking you up at some odd hours without realizing it.”

“I’d still wake up for you,” you uttered lowly, knowing your face was red. Taeyong mirrored your color, shying away from your gaze. “Get to practice, Yong. Work hard and never give up. Fighting!”

The idol rolled his eyes, pushing back into the practice room. “I should have never introduced you to the guys. They’re rubbing off on you.”

“No. It was my Korean teacher. Also known as Lee Taeyong. Also known as you.”

“I take no credit in this.”

“Whatever. Have a nice practice, Yongie.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Talk to you later.” Taeyong ended the call with a quick wink, the screen going black. In the dark screen, you saw your red-faced reflection. You heart beat wildly in your chest.

Sliding to the floor, you unpacked your food, mind wandering as you nibbled on the lukewarm chicken and vegetables. You recalled everything that had happened over the last seven years, leading up to where you were now.

Being pen pals with Taeyong could never have turned out better. Throughout your course, you exchanged letters with Taeyong what felt like every day. You were neck deep in adorable stationary that was used to increasingly long letters that would be folded neatly and sealed, shipped overseas. He began to return the gesture with cute drawings in the corners of his papers, decorating his replies to the point your heart leaped when the envelope appeared in your mailbox, wondering what he had done for you at that time.

You had quickly become close friends despite the distance. Never having met, he always felt like he was by your side, helping you when you needed it. The amount of things you had in common, from hobbies to foods, to the style of music you jammed to, was unprecedented. He helped you immensely with your Korean, teaching you things that were well beyond the class. In return, you taught him bits of English, sometimes finding short sentences crafted in your native tongue from the man. It was a match made in heaven.

So, when the program was ending, you both openly expressed your sadness.

Not wanting the friendship that you had built, you had agreed to keep in contact, even if it wasn’t for a grade now. Letters turned to emails, which eventually turned to phone numbers exchanged and text messages flowing daily. The first time you FaceTimed was such a vivid memory, seeing his face on the other side of the screen for the first time was unbelievable. Sure, you had seen photos he had sent you, but seeing him - hearing him talk in his deep, smooth and velvety voice - was something you could never forget. It didn’t stop the occasional, handwritten letter on newly bought stationary meant solely for each other from being sent overseas.

From there, you watched the man grow as an idol, meeting his group members along the way. You grew close to the boys you had never met personally, though the relationship wasn’t nearly the same as with Taeyong. He was definitely one of your best friends, if not the closest friend you had. Sometimes, it was mind boggling to think that your closest friend was someone thousands of miles away, more than twelve hours different, you left staring at the sun when he saw the moon.

It was obvious to you why you had developed a crush on the man.

Sighing, you pushed the empty tray away from you, glancing at your phone. Taeyong had sent you photos while they were practicing, making you laugh through a yawn. Leaving the used food dish be, you flicked the light off, headed for your room. Curling into the blankets, you fell asleep while staring at the many smiles of the NCT boys, mostly staring at the man you befriended through paper and pen years ago.

Your heart skipped beats the entire night.

You woke up to the ring of your phone, alerting you to FaceTime call you were getting. With a groan, you answered, rubbing your eyes sleepily. A smooth chuckle met your eyes, your eyes blinking open, the blurred image of Taeyong on the other side clearing up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he let out, voice deep and husky. His blonde locks were in disarray, his broad shoulders and long arms now covered in an orange hoodie. He was seated outside, his face only lit by his phone.

“Good evening, starlight,” you yawned.

“Did I wake you?” he inquired, adjusting himself in his chair.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, sitting up in the bed. Taeyong cooed softly at the giant yawn you let out, your hands instantly covering your face. “Shut up. I’m hideous.”

“Impossible,” he laughed.

Ignoring the blush you had, you rolled out of the bed, grabbing a Starbucks mocha iced coffee bottle from the fridge. You unlocked the patio door, listening to Taeyong hum to himself on the other end of the call. You shut the screen behind you, headed out onto the patio to watch the sun rising over the water in the distance.

“Did you have a nice practice?” you asked the man, sitting in a cheap plastic chair you kept outside for times like this. The answer you got was a hum, making you giggle. “Some conversation here, Tae.”

“Sorry,” he laughed lowly. “It’s late and everyone headed to sleep because of the intense practice. I don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“You didn’t have to call, you know.”

“But I wanted to,” he confessed. “I always want to hear your voice. And I wanted to talk. The best part of my day when hearing from you.”

You blushed, smiling widely. “Aren’t you sweet?” Taeyong hummed again, pushing his hair back with his hand. “Is the moon out tonight?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, turning his phone to show the brightly lit moon in the starry sky over Seoul.

You smiled at the sight. “Beautiful,” you uttered. “The nights in Seoul must be beautiful all the time. I love seeing them, even if it’s just through this tiny screen.”

“Sometimes it’s weird to think we live under the same sky when we see different things all the time,” he said, turning the camera back to him. “I hate that you are so far away sometimes.”

“I know,” you sighed, sinking in your chair. “But I’m glad you are in my life. I didn’t think that being pen pals with someone because of a class in school could lead to something like this. When I agreed to do that pen pal program, I didn’t know I would meet my best friend in life.”

“Seven years now,” he chuckled. His lips pursed, rubbing together. “You know, you really have improved in your Korean since we first started talking. Both writing and speaking. You are so proficient now. It’s like you are a native here and have been speaking the language your entire life. I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Yongie. That means a lot coming from you,” you told him. Hugging a knee to your chest, your chin propped up on it. “So, what did you want to talk about? It’s late and you look tired. You should be sleeping, not talking to me.”

Taeyong hummed quietly, playing with the strings of his hoodie. “I just wanted to talk. That’s all. Is it a crime to talk to my favorite girl after a long day?”

You frowned at him, straightening in your seat to look at him better. His eyes avoided yours, staring at his lap. “Yong, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he retorted quickly.

“Lee Taeyong, we have been friends for seven years. Even if we’ve never met, I know when you are upset. I can feel it from here.”

Taeyong let out a sarcastic chuckle, biting at the nail on his thumb. “You know, sometimes I feel like you know me better than I know myself.”

“Same goes for you, bub,” you told him. “Now, spill. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” he whispered. A heavy breath left his mouth, making his chest rise and fall, and his nose flare. His brow was knit together, wrinkling his forehead cutely. His lips pouted, jutted out in his deep thought. “It’s just, lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. But only one thing goes through my mind. And I don’t get why it’s happening now.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I just… I guess?” he sourly chuckled. His face turned red, mostly on the tips of his ears. “I can’t get this girl out of my mind.”

You heart stopped at his words, a sad smile rising to your cheeks. “T-that’s great, Tae.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” he chuckled weakly.

“No, no! I am! You know I want nothing more than for you to be happy, right?” you asked, watching him nod. “So, tell me more. You’re crushing on a girl, eh”

“Crush? That doesn’t even begin to explain it,” he stated, sinking in his seat. “This girl, she’s just too amazing to describe. Smart, beautiful, funny. She completes me, honestly.”

You stayed silent, keeping a straight face as you listened.

“You could say I’ve liked her for a long, long time now. And I’ve kept it secret for so long. I don’t understand why she’s all I can think about these days. Day in, day out, she’s always on my mind.”

“Maybe your mind is trying to tell you that you should tell her,” you offered, burying your broken heart. “I know it’s hard to think about a relationship when you are so busy with NCT, but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. You want to finally tell this girl how you feel.”

“You think?” he mumbled.

Through the screen, your eyes met - his dark eyes stared into yours, filled with a mixture of emotions. Slowly, you nodded, answering, “yeah, that’s what I think. You should tell her how you feel, Yong.”

“Alright,” he breathed, biting his lip. His gaze dropped for a second before returning to yours. “Then, is it crazy to say that I like my pen pal from seven years ago?”

You froze, jaw dropping.

“Is it crazy to say that I like the girl I talk to everyday? The girl with the cute stationary? The girl that makes me laugh and feel whole?” he paused, combing his fingers through his hair. “That I like the girl on the other side of my screen right now?”

You bit at your lip, feeling him stare you down. You didn’t know what to say. Your heart had restarted, hammering against your chest. You picked at your nails unconsciously, unable to find the words you wanted to release.

“You can always say I’m crazy, Y/N. I know how weird it sounds. I have liked you for so long, but I've never had the courage to say anything. And just lately, my sister was talking about finding that right someone and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And now that I say it aloud, to you, it sounds ridiculous. Like, why would you like me back? We’re just friends-”

“But I do,” you said quickly. Taeyong stopped talking, a weighted silence forming between you. You bit at the inside of your cheek before continuing. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Yong. But I never said anything because it seemed…”

You dropped off, searching for the right word.”

“Unrealistic?” he finished. The nod of your head gave him confirmation. “Yeah. That’s why I never brought it up. I have been fighting these feelings for so long because I couldn’t justify it. How could I possibly be with the girl I like when she is thousands of miles away?”

Taeyong was close to tears at this point, using the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes. You weren’t much better, sniffling quietly. Your face buried in your knees, Taeyong frowning at your action.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No, no. Don’t be,” you choked. “I get what you mean. Long distance is hard. And given or situation - we’ve never met, we live worlds apart. It’s day for me when it’s night for you. It doesn’t seem logical to pursue a relationship when everything is against you.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I guess part of me just wanted you to know exactly how I felt before I never got a chance. I know it’s not possible, at least right now, but I wanted you to tell you.”

“I appreciate it, Tae,” you whispered.

“I guess, for now, we just... go on with life,” he sadly said. “There isn’t anything we can do. I can’t tell you how mixed I am about this all. To hear you like me back is such relief, but it only broke my heart more because I know I can’t be with you right now.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. You blinked back tears, glancing at him. “We’ll still be friends, right? This isn’t going to change anything between us?”

Taeyong chuckled, shaking his head “Of course not. You are still my best friend and I’m not planning to let that change any time soon.”

“Good,” you laughed. Taeyong yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. That made you laugh more. “Go to sleep, bub. You need to rest. I don’t want you getting sick because you are exhausted.”

“Alright. I will,” he uttered. He smiled softly, the grin slightly lopsided, playing with the ends of his hair. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Sounds good to me. Sleep well, Yong.”

“Have a wonderful day, sunshine.”

The call ended, your phone dropped in your lap. A stray tear slid down your cheek, a staggered sigh released. Your heart cracked at the realization that your feelings, although reciprocated, were impossible. Your eyes stared at the light blue sky that was filled with wisps of white clouds, the sun rising above your head.

Across the world, in Seoul, Korea, sat the young man, tears leaking down his own cheeks. His eyes were glued to the starlit sky, the moon shining down on him, making his wet face glisten. He silently cried, wishing that it was possible. But, you were too far apart.

Even if you were both under the same sky, you were looking at two different things.

“Hello~” Taeyong sang as soon as he answered your call. You were snuggled on your couch, sucking on a cherry popsicle that made had turned your lips red. Taeyong began to couch, dropping his phone to his bed and disappearing from view while you licked the red, icy treat, pushing it in and out between your lips. “Oh my god!”

“You alright, Tae?” you asked, concerned.

“Fine, fine,” he choked, patting his chest to regain air. He grabbed at his phone, running his fingers through his hair. “Just didn’t expect to see that when I answered.”

“See what?” you inquired, cocking your head innocently. You weren’t sure what he was talking about. “I’m confused.”

“God, you’re adorable when you’re this innocent,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing,’ he pushed, laying back on his bed. “Are you really eating ice cream this late? That’s not good for you, sunshine.”

“Neither is lying in bed when it’s almost noon,” you taunted. “You are an idol! Why are you in bed right now?”

“I want to be lazy,” he whined, rolling in his bed until he was completely wrapped in his blanket.

“Don’t blanket burrito right now!” you laughed. “Shouldn’t you be at practice? You have a comeback soon. You should be working hard, Yong!”

“We came back to the dorms to take a lunch break,” he hummed, curling further into his blankets. “We took some extra time though because Mark was going to record in the studio for some Station song. I don’t know much about it, but he sounds excited because he wrote the rap for it.”

“Aw, little Markie is growing up,” you laughed. “I’m sure he will do wonderful though. He is great at writing rap whenever you guys compose something together.”

Taeyong hummed in response, watching you eat your popsicle silently. His face, half covered by the blankets and hidden from your view, was bright red. His voice, when he decided to speak up, was somewhat muffled by his blanket, but still soft and velvety. “So, what brings about this lovely call from my dear best friend and former pen pal?”

“Former?“ you tsked. “I’m offended.”

“Don’t be! You graduated from pen pal to best friend! It’s a compliment!” he cried.

“I was teasing, Yong,” you giggled. You hugged your knees close to you, turning to place the stick aside with the popsicle gone. “I just… I needed advice.”

“Advice?” he asked, sitting up in his bed. His face turned serious, but you couldn’t help but to snicker. His blonde strands stuck upright, pointing in various directions. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine. Just…” You paused, using your finger to trace shapes on your knee, deep in thought. “I met a guy recently. At the cafe I stop at every morning when I head to work.”

“Oh,” Taeyong murmured, face falling. “Is that so?”

“Yeah…”

You frowned at the halfhearted smile he gave you. “That’s great though! Tell me more about him.”

“His name is Jackson-”

“Wait. Like Jackson Wang? From Got7?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No way. Even if I met Jackson Wang, there’s no way I’d be with him.” You stopped before you let out the words because he isn’t as good as you.

“Right, right. So, Jackson,” Taeyong asked, trying to remain focused as much as possible. The fake tone of his voice made you cringe, despite his best efforts to seem interested. “What’s he like?”

“He’s sweet,” you confessed. “We’ve been talking every morning. He’s working at the cafe while he finished up university. We just kind of hit it off, you know. And today, when I went in for coffee, he asked if I’d be interested in going on a date.”

Taeyong looked away for a second, biting at his nails. “That’s great, sunshine.”

“Are you ok?” you asked, biting your lip. “I can always say no, Taeyong.”

“No!” he nearly yelled, shaking his head and lowering his voice immediately. “No, please don’t do that, Y/N.”

“But, Taeyong-”

“Look, I won’t lie,” he said, almost bitterly. “I know it’s been a few weeks since I told you how I felt, and that hasn’t changed. I still like you, so much. But we agreed not to do anything because of this situation. We’re too far apart to justify being more than this.

“I’m not you boyfriend, so I can’t stop you from going out with someone. And as your friend, I’m going to encourage you to go for it. If you like him, go on the date. If you like him, date him. I’m not going to stop you because I care about you. I want you to be happy. And if your happiness isn’t with me, that’s fine.”

His voice crackled slightly, but he smiled.

“I want to see my sunshine happy because that’s what makes me happy. That’s all I want, Y/N.”

“Taeyong…”

“Please, don’t worry about me,” he urged. “I want you to try if you want to. I want to see you happy. And over time, I’m sure this crush will go away. No worries.”

“Are you sure, Taeyong?” you asked again. “I just…”

You froze. I like you still too.

“I don’t want to lose you, Taeyong. You’re my best friend and I don’t want some potential boy to ruin what we have.”

“He won’t,” Taeyong told you, biting his lip. “I’ll always be here for you. There’s no way you can get rid of me. We’ve been through too much for me to want to leave now.”

“You’ve put up with me for seven years,” you laughed.

“Sometimes, I wonder how I lived,” he teased. “I guess you won over my heart with that cute stationary and treats you’d send for my birthday. Those candies you’d pick up from that one place. Those were the best.”

“The way to Taeyong’s heart: chocolate and cute animals.”

“Not going to lie. It’s true,” he chuckled, burying his pain. “I should probably get going. I need to round up the kids before heading back to the dance studio. We are supposed to meet Mark back there soon.”

“Oh, alright,” you frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he apologized. “I wish we could talk more. I miss talking to you all the time. This comeback practice is killing me.”

“It’s fine,” you told him. “I understand. You’re busy and that’s ok.”

“I really do miss you,” he confessed, giving a weak smile that you returned.

“I miss you too, Taeyong,” you sighed. “I think… I will try with Jackson. It can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Right,” he croaked. “I’m proud of you. Keep me updated, alright?”

“I will. Bye, Yong.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

You ended the call, headed straight for bed after a quick message to the man from the cafe, accepting his proposition from that morning. Your heart ached sending the message, but you shook it off, telling yourself it would be alright in the end.

For Taeyong, he wasn’t as smooth. His phone slipped from his hand, tears leaking down his cheeks as soon as the pain struck. The boys heard his wails - they weren’t subtle. Rushing to their leader’s aid, the seven boys crowded onto the bed, hugging their distraught friend as he cried. They knew he was hurting, listening to him utter his problems lowly. They were sad to hear what had happened, not moving from the bed the rest of the day.

Mark returned from recording to find his friends sitting quietly around their leader who had fallen asleep finally, red faced, eyes puffed and tears staining his delicate features. Mark frowned, dropping his stuff and instantly crawling into the crowded bed to support his friend, sighing to himself.

Why can’t they just realize they are meant for each other already? The Canadian wondered.

You frowned at your phone, finding the unanswered texts once more.

Weeks had passed, and you should have been happy. The date with Jackson had been a success, leading to more outings until he had popped the question, asking you to be his girlfriend. You were excited, accepting without much debate.

But something didn’t sit right with you.

You liked Jackson, but your mind always seemed to wander when you were with him. Something was holding you back, no matter how much effort you put in the relationship you were now in.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t contact the man you wanted to. You craved hearing his phone, seeing his words or just seeing his face. You wanted to hear about his day, listening to him tell you stories about practice with the boys or things that happened along the streets of Seoul. You wanted to share laughs, talking while the sun rose and the moon set.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to get a hold of the idol. Texts remained on ‘delivered’, occasionally changing to be ‘seen’. Every FaceTime call would ring and ring, a blank screen displayed on your phone, your pitiful image in the corner frowning at the small screen. The other boys answered your texts without issue, so you couldn’t fathom the reason Taeyong wasn’t getting back to you.

The idol you had known for near a decade plagued your every thought when really, he shouldn’t. You had a boyfriend, but Taeyong always had a way to slip into your thoughts. At night, you’d dream of him, unable to reach him when you tried. You’d think of him whenever you had the chance. It seemed odd that he was more on your mind now than ever before given your current circumstances.

You were a wreck because of it. Every unanswered call and unreturned text broke a piece of you further. You could feel your heart sinking into your stomach, agony in the form of stomach acid at the bottom for the broken pieces to settle in.

You placed your phone aside, beginning to pick at your nail polish as you waited. You were awaiting Jackson’s arrival for a movie date. A soft pink dress hugged your body to ready yourself for the warming weather, summer quickly approaching. Black flats were on your feet. A heart necklace hug around your neck, the reminder that your friendship with Taeyong existed at one point. He had sent the necklace to you from Seoul for your birthday three years into your friendship, and you hadn’t taken it off since. You had done your hair in cute curls that waved along your features, framing your face. Minimal make up covered your face but accentuated your natural beauty.

A knock on the door made you jump. You stuffed your phone, unanswered text and all, into your purse. Checking yourself in the mirror, you attempted to remove the disappointment you could see in your eyes, not wanting your boyfriend to worry. When you felt you were acceptable, you rushed to the door, opening it wide.

“Hey you! Are you ready?” Jackson greeted with a large smile. But the smile disappeared before you could even respond. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, too quick for your liking. “I’m fine. Let’s get going, shall we?”

“Something is definitely wrong,” the young man sighed. “Can we go inside for a second and talk about this?”

“I’m fine, Jackson. I promise. Can we just go?” you pleaded.

Jackson denied, forcing you inside to the couch. He sat beside you, taking your hand in his. The feeling of his hand in yours felt foreign. It didn’t feel right against yours - your fingers didn’t mesh together perfectly, no sparks making your skin tingle. You wanted to squeeze his hand back, but you couldn’t will yourself too, especially with the thoughts of your phone in your bag and the messages you kept sending going unread.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded, studying the side of your face.

“I told you I’m fine, J,” you mumbled.

“Like hell you are,” he huffed. “I can tell that there is something on your mind. I’m your boyfriend, Y/N. I should be able to tell when you are unhappy. And I’d hope that you can trust me enough to tell me.”

You frowned, digging into your purse. You clicked on your phone, knowing his brow furrowed at the picture from your lock screen. It was a photo of Taeyong he had sent you from his dorm, using a silly snapchat filter to give him puppy ears. He was hugging Ruby to his cheek, giving a wink with his tongue out. When he had sent it, he said the him and Ruby matched, and it was too cute not to save.

“Who’s he?” Jackson asked.

“My best friend,” you admitted.

“Is he the issue?” Jackson asked, watching you nod. “What happened?”

“He hasn’t been answering my calls for weeks now. And I’m just starting to worry about it. I don’t know why he suddenly isn’t answering my calls or texts. We used to talk every day and now I can’t get him to answer a simple greeting.”

“Have you gone to see him?”

You bitterly laughed, shaking your head. “I wish it were that easy.” Jackson stared at you longer, waiting for more. “I’ve never actually met him in person. I met him through this pen pal program while I was in school and we quickly became great friends to the point that we kept in contact. He lives in Seoul.”

Jackson rubbed his lips together, his hand disconnecting from yours. Your hands sat in your lap while his linked together, his head leaning on them. An uncomfortable silence formed between you, the tension palpable. You couldn’t look at the quiet man beside you, not knowing what he would say.

Hearing him let out a heavy breath, you felt your heart drop, your blood running cold. You felt sick to your stomach, already knowing that whatever he was about to say was not going to be good. You were dreading the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He sighed, leaning back on the couch, eyes to the ceiling. “Since we got together, I’ve felt like something has been holding you back. Like there was a wall between us that I couldn’t get through. And, now I think I understand.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“Will you be straight with me on this?” he asked. You eyed him, mumbling a small ‘yes’ to him. “Do you like him? As in the childish like like. You have romantic feelings for that guy on your phone?”

You remained silent, making Jackson sadly chuckle.

“I didn’t want to believe there was someone else, but I had a feeling there was a reason I couldn’t ever get more out of you. I like you a lot, and I know you like me too. But you like him more. I don’t understand why you are with me when you like him. I’m sure he likes you too, right?”

“Yeah,” you squeaked, clearing your throat to ease the lump in it. “But there’s no way we can be together. He’s just so far away. He’s too good for me. There’s no way I would be enough to be with him. But he’s in Seoul, I’m here. How are we supposed to be together if we’ve never met? If we’re worlds apart?”

“If you want it to work, it will,” he said with a kindhearted smile. “Nothing can stop two people if they want to be together. If their desire is strong enough, if their feelings are strong enough, things will work out. We are all under the same sky after all. It shouldn’t matter how far away you are because if you are meant to be, it’ll happen. I know that long distance relationships are hard to fathom, and they get a bad rap, but you can’t just give up because of it. And honestly, if you ask me, if you guys have been this close just through phone calls, texts, whatever, then it would work. You guys are connected more than you think, or maybe want to admit. No matter what, he will be there for you if you accept it. If he didn’t, he’s an idiot, no offense.”

“How are you so smart about this?” you asked with a short laugh, wiping at the tears that threatened to spill.

“My parents lived long distance before having me. My mom lived in the UK while my dad was in LA. It’s not quite the same as you and your friend because they had been together before, but they were able to make it work because they were meant to be. They wanted to be together.”

“That’s pretty deep,” you laughed. Jackson joined you, wrapping a loose arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t want to say this, and I’ve been dreading the thought for a while because of this wall. But,” he stopped, sighing. “I think it’s best if we break up.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the perfect girl for you.”

“You can’t help it if your heart belongs to someone else. Just don’t let him slip away from you. You need to decide if you want to try. Is he worth it?”

“More than you know,” you laughed, a wide grin growing at the thought of the man.

“Then don’t be afraid. I promise it’ll work out.”

“Thanks, J,” you said, turning in your seat to give him a powerful hug. His arms wrapped around your waist, crushing you to his chest. “You really are an amazing guy and I hope that you find the right girl someday.”

“I’m sure I will,” he chuckled, releasing you from his grasp. You walked him to your door, leaning on the frame after he stepped out. “Don’t be a stranger in the cafe though! I will always serve you that special iced coffee.”

“You better,” you laughed. “I’m sorry again, Jackson.”

“Don’t be. I’m sad, but I will move on. And I hope for the best for you and…”

“Taeyong. Lee Taeyong.”

“For you and Taeyong.”

Jackson winked, waving one last goodbye. The thunk of your door shutting was similar to the way your heart felt plummeting. Loneliness was present, lingering over you in the barren apartment. You suddenly felt cold, realizing that you were single once more and still without your best friend. Your heart felt heavy in your chest, frozen and unbeating, weighing down your body. A staggered breath left your lips, a few stray tears escaping down your cheeks that were promptly wiped away. Limbs felt like lead, holding you in the empty doorway for longer than you wanted, staring at the sealed door, knowing it wouldn’t open again.

Kicking off your flats, you rushed to your room, trying to escape the quiet space of your own home. Nothing was able to comfort the sadness dwelling in your chest, your body numbly laying on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. They traced the glowing star stickers that decorated the white top, the sight alone making you think of the man you desired. He loved the night sky just as much as you did, and every time you saw the stars and moon, he was first to plague your thoughts. Your eyes turned to the clock beside you bed, mentally calculating how late it was for him.

After midnight.

The longer you laid in silence, you more your heart ached. You needed to talk to someone, dialing the first number you could think of.

“Hello?” their voice rang, deep and husky, laced with hints of sleep. You felt bad instantly, gnawing on your lip before responding.

“Mark?” you asked quietly. Your low, cracking voice must have made him jump up. You could hear the shuffling of sheets and the squeak of the bed, a door opening and closing.

“Hold on,” he whispered.

Sitting up and curling into a ball while leaning against the headboard, you awaited, listening to the faint thud of footsteps on the other end. You hugged your knees to your chest, struggling to keep your emotions under control. You could hear a door slide open and shut, followed by a low curse in Korean before the phone line went dead. Your brow furrowed, pulling the phone away from your ear to check the battery.

Full.

You jumped when the phone suddenly went off again, falling to the blankets. The screen showed the face time with the boy you called, his silly face on display from the contact image. Swiftly, you fumbled to grab the phone, swiping to answer.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said in English, voice low. Mark had a hoodie pulled over his head, his surroundings dark. He was sitting outside, like how Taeyong normal did. You could feel your heart sink at the thought, an inaudible sigh leaving your mouth. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whispered. “I just… needed to talk to someone.”

“Alright,” Mark hummed, unconvinced. “Why do you look all dressed up? Did you have a date with… what was his name again?”

“Jackson,” you told him, feeling your hand curl into itself. “And yeah. I was supposed to have a date.”

“Supposed to?” Mark asked, messing with the front of his curly hair. “Did he cancel on you?”

“We broke up,” you said flatly. Mark frowned, mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally croaked. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I guess,” you admitted. “It hurts a bit, but that’s not what’s bothering me. That’s not why I’m calling. I’m just lonely is all.”

“Is that all?” Mark hummed.

“Yeah,” you let out, letting silence commence. You couldn’t think of anything more to say, Mark not prying at first.

“You’re not very convincing,” he chuckled. “What’s going through your mind, Y/N? You wouldn’t call this late for nothing. Lonely? Yeah, I believe that, especially after a break up. But there is something more that you aren’t telling me. You are still all dressed up, you’re ready to cry. So please, don’t keep doing this to yourself. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…” you started, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. “How is he doing, Mark?”

Mark stayed silent.

“I just…” you sniffled, more tears flowing. “He won’t answer my calls. He won’t read my texts. I can’t get a hold of him. I’m so worried about him. I can’t help it. I just want to know that he’s alright.”

Mark stayed silent, his gaze bypassing the phone to the city of Seoul and the night sky overhead. His head turned back to the dorm where his friends remained asleep, his frown deepening. You watched him ponder, your stomach churning uncomfortably.

“He’s,” Mark started, sighing under his breath. “He’s not well. He’s in pretty bad shape honestly.”

“Mark, no,” you cried, shaking your head. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Would you rather I lie?” he asked firmly. You shook your head, hearing the young Canadian boy huff out a sigh. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. He has not been himself since you got with that Jackson guy. He’s always unhappy, he’s not eating well, he’s not performing well in practice. We are all worried about him, Y/N.”

“I-”

“We are worried about you too,” Mark confessed sadly. You cringed at his words, steering your sight away. “We know that you guys liked each other. Taeyong told us everything. He told us because he was heartbroken that he couldn’t be enough for you. He always said how you were too good for him. And the whole distance issue, he didn’t want to keep you from having something special with someone you love because he couldn’t be there for you.”

“But he was always there for me,” you murmured.

“I know,” Mark stated. “He kept himself from having you, but he hurt himself by loving you. He’s in so much pain because he loves you with all his heart and knowing he couldn’t be the one to love you and make you happy broke him even more. He wants you happy, and it breaks his heart because he can’t be to one to make you happy in his mind.”

“But he does make me happy!” you scream, more tears streaming down your cheeks, makeup starting to run. “I’ve liked him for so long, Mark. I still like him. So much that it hurts. No matter what I do, all I do is think about him. When I sleep, I dream about him. When I walk down the street, I see things that remind me of him. I feel like he is always there, even if he is thousands of miles away. I can hear his voice, I can see his face, but none of it is real.

“I just don’t know what to do, Mark. I want to be with him so bad. I want us to be together because no one makes me happier than Taeyong has. He has always been there for me when I needed it. He makes me smile, he makes me laugh, he makes me cry. But I don’t know how to make that work. How can I be with him when he is out of my reach? I’m not too good for him - it’s the other way around. He’s too good for me. How could I possibly wish to be with him?”

“You both need to realize one thing,” Mark huffed, voice strict. “The distance - it doesn’t matter! You guys have been friends for how long? Seven plus years? Yeah, isn’t that enough to prove that you are connected? Every night when we leave work, Taeyong will smile up at the sky, looking at the moon, and say how the sun is rising for you. He always smiles brightest when he says that.

“Just because you don’t see the same thing doesn’t mean you are too far apart to make things work. It’ll be hard, but we are all in the same world, at the same time, under the same sky. Your hearts are connected, and you just have to figure out a way to make that work.”

“But how?” you asked, using the back of your hand to wipe at your tears. “He’ll never forgive me, Mark. He won’t answer my calls at all!”

“He’s hurt, Y/N. Not mad,” Mark chuckled. Using a hand to cover his mouth, he let out a stifled yawn, eyes fluttering to stay awake. “Here’s my suggestion. Think about what you really want, what the truth is to you. If you want to be with Taeyong, then figure out how to make it work. And when you’re ready, give us a call. We will gladly help you out because we want to see you both happy. And honestly, you are happiest with each other.”

“Figure out what my truth is?” you asked, Mark nodding. “You know, you’re still a child, Mark. You’re fresh out of Dream. How are you this wise?”

“I hang around with old men too much,” he chuckled.

“That’s a lie. You are all children,” you laughed. “Get some sleep, Markie. Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s fine. You know we are always here for you, no matter what. If I was mad, I wouldn’t have answered. And the same goes for the others. You are family, Y/N. Please know that. It doesn’t matter to us if you are ten minutes away, or ten hours. Because we care about you.”

“Right,” you sighed. “Sleep well, Mark. And… please keep an eye on Taeyong for me.”

“Will do. Talk soon, babe.”

“Love you, bro,” you laughed slightly. Mark gave a quick wave before ending the call.

Dropping the phone aside, you laid flat to the bed once more, not bothering to change to clean yourself of the makeup. Rolling onto your side. You stared at the blank phone, resting a hand over it. You wished it would vibrate under your palm, chiming with a new message or call. But it remained still, cold under your touch. Your wish wasn’t going to come true anytime soon.

“Figure out what my truth is?” you mumbled to yourself. “What is it that I want? Do I want to be with Taeyong? He makes me so happy, but… how can we? He is so far away. Is it possible? Can we reasonably be together?”

Thoughts of him ran through your mind, every moment you shared together over the years flashing by my dreamlike memories. A smile curled up on your face, making your cheeks hurt. When your hand pulled away from your phone, you saw the familiar picture of the idol set as your wallpaper. The sight alone made your heart tremble, skipping a beat.

The tears began coming, unable to stop. The droplets clouded your vision, dripping to your pillow. Short hiccups left your mouth as you sobbed, clutching at your phone. “I want him so bad. He’s the only man to make me feel like this. Maybe Jackson and Mark were right and we are connected more than we know. Maybe we were being stupid because we believed we couldn’t be together. Maybe we can be happy together and stop fighting these feelings.

“How could I be so stupid to let this all happen? It was so obvious, and I let things fall through because of something as stupid as distance.

“How can I fix this?”

You fell asleep, pained with puffy eyes and red, wet cheeks, clutching to the phone like it was a lifeline that would ring to pull you back. The entire time, you dreamt of ways to fix this, to get back to the man you loved - the man that told you he loved you back and you let go. You weren’t going to be stupid a second time. You were going to get the man you desired, that made you happy and complete, not caring about anything that stood between you.

When you awake, sore bodied and numb inside, the first thing you did was compile a message, simple in structure and straight to the point. The recipients: eight boys that grinned eagerly at the message that made all their phones buzz, their ninth member unsuspecting.

I need to fix this.

You took a deep breath, stepping off the plane. Your footsteps were hurried, pushing passed people with mumbled apologies as you hurried to gather your luggage. You sent a quick text before leaving the airport, staring up at the bright sky overhead. You couldn’t help but smile. Something about the sky felt different than home, the fresh air that was breathed into your lungs setting something alight inside. You were light on your feet as you skipped forward, elation forming a bubble around you that couldn’t be burst.

You were bouncing as you traveled through the foreign city, eager to arrive at the destination. Your eyes twinkled at you watched the tall buildings pass by, snapping some pictures for yourself as you went. Your heart was pumping faster the closer you got, beginning to burst out of your chest when you felt the taxi stop in front of your destination.

The driver kindly helped you with your luggage before taking the payment you extended towards him, offering a multitude of thank you’s as gratitude for his service. You watched the car disappear down the road before letting out a ragged breath, turning to stare at the building. With luggage in tow, you made your way inside, the wheels of your suitcase thumping as you stepped through the building to find the place you needed to be.

Dry swallowing at the sight of security outside, you let out a shaky breath, unsure if you were able to do this. There was still a small line that you stopped at the end of, sending a quick message with shaky fingers. The slow-moving line prolonged your inherent agony, anxiety beginning to build up. Your stomach clenched with tight knots, wiping your sweaty palms to your jeans.

The security stopped you, asking for your pass to get in. “I-I don’t have one,” you admitted timidly, biting at your lip.

“Unfortunately, I can’t let you in, miss,” the man told you.

“You don’t understand. I’m friends with them-”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

You opened your mouth to explain further, but thankfully, your rescue had come. “She’s alright, guys. She’s my friend,” Mark said, slipping from his spot at the table, apologizing to the fans as he did. “Go ahead and let her in.”

The security guard nodded, letting you by. You smiled gratefully at the boy, not saying anything more so he could return to his seat, apologizing once more and resuming the conversation he was having with the girl in question.

You stared down the line while you had time, seeing all nine boys of NCT sitting in different spots. Mark, Yuta, Johnny, Jungwoo, Taeil, Haechan, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and last, but surely not least, the man you were truly here to see: Taeyong. Even from the distance, you could see how pale he looked, giving somewhat fake smiles to people. He looked partially exhausted and drained, the normal glow he radiated diminished to near nothingness. You pouted at the sight, disliking the scene at the end of the row of tables.

When the girl was gone, Mark gestured you forward. Before you could make it to the front of the table, he rounded it, giving you a tight hug. You were glad the others were distracted by their conversations and signings to see the quick gesture, Mark releasing you shortly after.

“You’re really here,” he said lowly, not wanting to alert anyone.

“I’m here. I told you I was,” you laughed.

“I know,” he chuckled. “But like… you’re here. In the flesh. I’m finally meeting you!”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Markie,” you giggled. “How has it all been?”

“Rough,” he claimed, ruffling his hair. “But it’ll get better now that you are here.”

“I hope.”

Mark grinned, leaning on the table. “Man, I can’t believe it. You’re actually here. I get to meet my sister finally! We’re going to have so much fun while you are here.”

“I’m only here for a week.”

“So, we will have fun!” Mark chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, pulling out the latest cd you purchased and pushing it his way. “Now, to make this official and to actually follow the rules, I’d like this signed please.”

“I think I can do that,” he chuckled, doing as you said, though making a joke out of the signature in the end so you could have a laugh later. Mark gave you one last hug before you left his table, whispering, “I will see you after the signing, babe. Glad you could make it.”

Leaving your suitcase with Mark, you followed down the line, receiving a similarly warm welcome from each boy. Each boy gave you a hug across the table, expressing their delight that you were finally in Korea, standing in person before them. No longer was there a silly screen separating you and them. They were in the flesh, warm bodies clinging to you before you got them to sign the shiny album in your hands. You were glad you managed to come, meeting the group of boys you cared about so deeply.

Lastly, it was his turn.

Taeyong waved goodbye to the girl in front of you, combing through his hair briefly. You saw him exhale, his chest rising and falling with the deep breath and his nose flaring slightly. He leaned backwards in his seat to crack his back, having been sat for quite a while. You took a second to admire his beauty, in awe of his flawless physique in person. He was always handsome through the phone, even when he wasn’t trying, but before your eyes now - he was downright gorgeous.

He wore a simple red and black striped shirt with black jeans, holes in the legs and knees. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows to relieve some of the summer heat, a couple distinct arm veins running along his clear skin to his hands, running along the tops to his slender digits. His blonde hair was fluffy against his head, the ends of some strands curling upwards adorably. His dark eyes had yet to glance your way, long lashes shut against his cheeks as he relaxed for a single moment.

With one last sigh, you saw his eyes flutter open, asking who was next. His voice was just as smooth and velvety as you recalled, deep and clear with every word he said. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for him to see who was standing before him.

It was in slow motion. His head turned towards you, finding you waiting for him. His jaw dropped, and his eyes enlarged. He slowly stood from his seat, tear beginning to form in his eyes. You remained still in your spot, watching him round the table, standing feet before you. His mouth opened and closed, unable to make out words with his suddenly dry throat. When he managed to get them out, they came out as croaks of words.

“Y/N?” he got out at last. “I-Is that really you?”

“Hi Tae,” you murmured, giving him a small smile.

Taeyong let out a choked sob, covering his mouth to muffle it. His feet moved forward before you could react yourself, his long arms wrapping themselves around your smaller frame. Your bag slipped off your shoulder, and your newly signed album hit the floor between you, but that was the last of your worries. Tears sprung to your eyes as you wound your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. Taeyong burrowed into your hair, his body wracked with happy sobs.

“You’re here,” he whispered into your locks repeatedly, wetting them with his tears. “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here,” you repeated, giving him a tighter squeeze for the hug you shared. “I’m here, Taeyong. I’m here, bub.”

He backed away, keeping you within arm’s reach. His hands slid up your face, gently cupping your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs smoothed across your skin, wiping at the wet trails that stained them. His lips curled into a bright smile, teeth bared and all. His eyes continued to water, your image blurred but beautiful in his brown orbs.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, biting at his lip. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be home with your boyfriend?”

You shook your head in response, placing your hands over his. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Yong,” you admitted to him. “We broke up a couple weeks ago.”

He gaped at you, short, incomplete thoughts reaching your ears. “But… you’re... what… why…?”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking lately,” you said, feeling more tears coming. “And I realized that I was stupid for not realizing sooner just how much I love you.”

He choked back a sob.

“I was stupid for letting you go and for agreeing to not pursue anything. Because, Taeyong, you complete me. You make me happier than anyone ever has. I was stupid to think that something as silly as the places we live could keep us apart. I realized that it doesn’t matter because the world can’t keep us from each other. It doesn’t matter where we are, or how far apart we are. What matters is that our hearts-” your hand was placed on his chest, feeling the rapid storm of heartbeats hammering to his ribcage, “-are connected. That even when I see the sun and you see the moon, as long as we are under the same sky, nothing can keep us apart. What matters is that I want to be with you, Taeyong.

“And, I hope you want to be with me still too.”

The idol choked on his sob again, pulling you closer to him. Your foreheads met, the man slightly hunched over to meet yours, but you made it work. Your noses bumped against each other, his minty breath fanning over your lips. They were near each other, closing in with each second that passed. The idol leader darted his tongue forward to wet his lips before answering, voice cracking slightly, though remaining angelic.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he whispered. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

“I’m sure I can guess, because it was just as long for me,” you laughed. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“I’m to blame too,” he replied, chuckling lowly. “I let you go when I should have stopped you.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that anymore. I made my choice,” you confessed, biting at your lip. “And I choose you, Tae. It’s always been you. There’s no turning back and honestly, I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“Good,” he said.

With that, his lips were on yours in a sweet kiss - something you had been dying for without realizing it. You sunk into him, pushing closer to him until your chests were pressed against one another. Your arms clung to his waist, his saying firm to your cheeks. His lips were soft, moving perfectly against yours in the blissful connection. His head tilted just enough to ensure your lips could mesh together perfectly. The second his lips touched yours, you felt a shock run through your spine, every red light in your mind working to releasing the fireworks.

When he pulled away, your lips were left tingling, craving more. His lips rubbed together, twitching into a shy, but excited grin. Your faces nuzzled together, refusing to move from the warm hug you were sharing.

“Tae?” you uttered softly, hearing him hum. “Happy birthday.”

He chuckled, shaking his head against yours. “You remembered?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “That’s partially why I worked to get here today of all days, especially knowing you had this fan signing.”

“Well, I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift.”

His arms closed around you once more, nuzzling into the side of your head, inhaling your sweet scent. You hummed in delight, burrowing back into his chest, your joyous tears soaking into his tears. Your body was riveting with excitement, heart pounding, the sound in your ears, and stomach flipping with rampaging butterflies. For the first time in weeks, you were content, feeling an ease that hadn’t been present since the day your feelings were first confessed. To be in his arms was something you had dreamt of, and now to be here, you were reluctant to let go.

The ethereal moment was broken, unfortunately, but a group of rowdy boys behind you cheering at the top of their lungs. The eight boys didn’t hesitate to rush forward, wrapping their arms around you in tight hugs. You couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that escaping, hearing Taeyong doing the same. His angelic laughter rang in your ears, the sweet melody better in person. Taeyong’s arms stayed firm around you, clutching you to his person, while the rest of the idols gathered around you, enveloping you in unexplainable heat.

“Finally!” Johnny yelled loudly, the others protesting slightly at the sound.

“Too loud, Johnny,” Doyoung attacked, grimacing at the sound that was aimed directly in his ear.

“But seriously, guys. We are so happy for you. You are finally together! It’s about time you could be together without things to worry about,” Jaehyun chimed.

“Did you guys know about this?” Taeyong asked as the hug dispersed, his arms never leaving you. Even though you turned in his arms to look at the boys, all eight with pleased grins, the leader’s arms stayed tight around your waist, his chin on your shoulder.

“We may have had something to do with this,” Jungwoo sneakily hummed.

“She said she wanted to come visit and fix the things between you,” Taeil confessed. Your face lit up, feeling Taeyong’s stare into the side of your face.

“We just wanted to help!” Haechan continued. “We needed to see the ship sail!”

“You guys were always so happy together and when everything happened, you both got so down,” Yuta frowned. “We wanted to help make things better because you are best together.”

“I think what they’re all saying,” Mark cut in, “is that we are happy that you can finally stop fighting your feelings. You guys are so happy together and we only want to see that continue. You deserve to be happy and you deserve each other. Were glad you have stopped fighting your feelings and realized that it doesn’t matter as long as you are together.”

You knew Taeyong looked confused, so you turned to him. “Mark is oddly smart for his age.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true! You gave me some very good advice!” you exclaimed. “You are younger than me, Markie. Stop being so wise.”

“But, I’m still confused,” Taeyong admitted, his arms dropping from around you. You turned to look at him, noting his knit brows, wrinkled forehead and confusion laced irises. The other boys fell silent, waiting for their leader to continue. “Don’t misunderstand please. I’m thrilled you are here. I have wanted to meet you and hold you and… god, just you being here is my dream come true. But, I don’t get why. And how. Everyone is saying that we can be together, but you will have to go home eventually. I just… I don’t get it.”

You bit at your lip sharing a glance at the eight boys before facing Taeyong completely. “I wasn’t going to mention it until later because I wanted it to be a surprise. But as much as this trip is to meet you and tell you that I want to be with you, there is another reason I came.’

“What?” Taeyong asked, blinking.

“The office I work for,” you started, smiling growing unknowingly. “There is one here, in Seoul. It’s still fairly new, so they are still building. I expressed my interest to my boss, and he managed to set me up with some time to discuss with the manager here for me to transfer.”

“Wait. So, you might…”

Taeyong was at a loss for words.

“Yes,” you confirmed, giving him a bright smile. “If accepted, I will be moving to Seoul to work permanently. And as it stands, since I’ve talked to the manager already in phone conferences, it’s looking highly likely that I will be moving. The fact that I speak English and Korean, thanks to a certain idol, is a major draw for them. So, I will know more in a few days when I meet with them. They will tell me for sure what the plan is.”

Taeyong’s eyes filled with tears again, fling himself forward, encasing you in his grasp. He let out a cheerful laugh that brought to light your own stifled giggles, curling your arms around him, pushing into his hold. Rocking you back and forth, he lifted you off your feet, spinning you in circles.

“You’re staying,” he breathed, choking on his own laughs. “You’re really staying. You’re here and you’re staying.”

“Tentative,” you laughed, barely managing to speak. “But I’m confident in saying yes, I am here to stay.” once your feet touched the ground, you grasped his face, cupping his cheeks and smoothing your thumbs under his eyes. He had considerably brightened since you first saw him, color already returning to his paled face. He looked more like himself, even with the tear marks that streaked his cheeks. “I’m here to be with you, Tae. Because I’m tired of denying us. I want to be with you.”

“God, I’ve wanted to hear that forever,” he cooed, leaning forward. His lips hovered over yours, the smile contagious with the close proximity. “I want nothing more than to be with you. I’m sorry I was stupid before I let you go.”

“Don’t be,” you whispered. “Because we are here now. And nothing can keep us apart.”

Taeyong grinned, placing a second kiss to your lips - it was just as explosive as the first. Your eyes closed at the sweet connection, his lips harder to yours than before but just as careful. The tingling sensation returned, traveling throughout your body. Your fingertips itched, curling into his cheeks more. Your body pressed closer to him, one foot nudged between his, toes curling in your shoes. His lips dragged against yours, separating with a subtle smack before dipping in again for more, sharing multiple, short connections.

Your mind was blank, enjoying the sweet, supple taste of his lips. He tasted like honey, his lips luscious and plump against yours. They were a drug you never thought you’d want or have, the sugary taste he offered addicting.

“Alright well, I hate to break up this little romantic session you guys are having,” Jaehyun cut in, causing you and Taeyong to separate, panting slightly for lost air. “We should get going. We have things to do.”

“Yeah. If we wait, we’re going to miss all of the food!” Haechan cried, gathering his stuff.

Taeyong’s brow rose, slipping his hand into yours. “Don’t we have more things this afternoon? I thought we had a radio interview after this.”

“It was moved until later this week,” Johnny mused with a smirk. Taeyong blinked.

“But I thought-”

“It took a lot of convincing,” Doyoung cut in, placing his bag on his shoulder. “It took all eight of us to convince our manager to shuffle some stuff around so we could celebrate today.”

“It’s your birthday, hyung! Did you really think we were going to be busy all day?” Jungwoo joked.

Taeyong scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, yeah actually. We’ve had concerts on peoples’ birthdays. What would make today so different?”

“Y/N,” all eight said, making you laugh.

“With Y/N coming, we wanted to be able to have a nice afternoon where we could celebrate,” Taeil told the center.

“So, with a lot of begging and pleading, they finally agreed,” Yuta laughed with a bright, sunshine-like smile.

“What are we waiting for?” Haechan whined, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s go! I’m hungry!”

“What are we doing?” Taeyong asked, leading you away by the hand so he could gather his stuff.

“Heading back to the dorm to have your birthday dinner,” Jaehyun told him.

“We’re grilling meat!” Jungwoo cheered.

“Taeyong-hyung, make us pork belly!” Haechan whined.

“Haechannie, be nice!” you scolded. “It’s Yong’s birthday.”

“But-”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong laughed. “I’ll grill.”

“Yay!” the youngest screamed, hopping off the ground in his joy.

“Well, let’s go already,” Mark chuckled, dragging your suitcase with him on his way out.

Taeyong took your hand, placing a kiss to your cheek before leading you after the rest of the boys, headed for the two vans that were parked, waiting to take you back to the NCT dorms. Taeyong kept your hand in his, fingers laced, until you reached the doors of the building. Not wanting fans to catch sight of your interlocked hands, he broke off from you, helping to place a black mask over your face and putting your sunglasses over your eyes. You giggled at his delicate nature, one last kiss left to your lips before rushing out to the awaiting cars, piling into them before people could really catch sight of the moving idols.

Upon arriving at the dorms, you were all ushered out back where the grill was already heating. Two tables were set up for eating, a white table cloth draped over the tops. Taeyong left your side regrettably to start cooking, Mark rushing inside to fetch the meats. You left him with a tender kiss, heading into the dorms to help prepare side dishes the leader enjoyed as a celebration of his big day.

Doyoung, Mark and Jungwoo gave you a quick tour of the dorms, having you leave your suitcase in Taeyong’s room for the time being. You admired their cozy living quarters, elated that you were there in person. The smell of Febreze still lingered in the halls from Taeyong’s early morning rounds, making his home smell of his favorite scent. Little trash was scattered from their late nights. Beds were messily made, but you didn’t expect much from them - they were boys and had a rigorous schedule to adhere to. They had rushed out early from what you were told, unable to properly clean before your arrival, not that you minded.

Aiding Doyoung in the kitchen, you helped to prepare plates of various sides - kimchi, cucumber kimchi, pickled radish, tteokbokki, japchae. All things to help feed the nine hungry boys you were with. To go with everything was kalguksu, one of Taeyong’s favorite foods. Jungwoo helped to prepare some small sides of rice, rice paper included with the meal. To finish off dinner was the dessert you had stopped to grab on your way to the signing that Mark, fortunately, kept hidden from Taeyong’s eye until later. A chocolate cake with strawberries, decorate with strawberry macarons, to satisfy the leader’s insatiable sweet tooth.

You figured if he knew it was in the dorm, he’d skip to the cake rather than eat a meal with everyone else. He always loved his sweets more than anything and wasn’t afraid to indulge in the rich chocolate over the delectable pork belly he was grilling.

You shared many laughs with the boys that helped to plate the dishes, carrying it outside to the table. Drinks had been brought out and poured. Smoke filled the darkening sky from the grill, the sun beginning to set in the distance. Lights were strung up around the small yard you were in, lighting the space. Music played from Taeyong’s phone, amplified by a speaker that was nearby. The delicious scent of grilled pork filled your nose, your mouth beginning to salivate.

Placing the pot of kalguksu on the table with the rest of the dishes, making your way towards the grill where Taeyong stood. Small flames licked the grates as he flipped the meats, letting them cook on the other side. Gloves covered his hands, a hat pulled over his head to keep his hair back as he cooked. He held the long tongs in his hand, scissors placed aside so he could cut the meat when it was done.

Your arms wrapped around him from behind, hands running along his chest. Your face buried into his neck, smelling the smoke from the grill that was pressed into the fabric. Taeyong chuckled, a large smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just leave me be for a second,” you whispered to him, hugging him tighter. “I’ve wanted to hug you for so long, Yong. To feel you for so long. Just… let me do this for just a second.”

Taeyong blushed, biting his lip. The tongs were placed aside while the meat cooked, the man rotating in your hold to wrap his arms around you, hands left hovering in the hair so he wouldn’t have to change his gloves after. His face nestled into your hair, leaving tender kisses in the strands. A content sigh left you both, relishing in the peaceful moment under the soon-to-be night sky, the moon rising overhead to place a shimmering glow upon you.

Remaining by his side, you watched him pull the meat from the fire, cutting the strips into bite sides chucks. Carefully he lifted a piece of the cooked meat towards you, letting a quick, “say ah!” as he extended the food your direction. It was hot on your tongue when you opened your mouth, the meat placed between your cheeks. Despite the heat, you let out a squeal, the pork tender, melting onto your taste buds. You happily chewed the pork you were given, savoring the tangy selection.

Taeyong grinned, returning to the rest of the pork. “Good?”

“Oh, no. It’s not good,” you breathed out, swaying back and forth happily. “It’s amazing.”

“Is it?” he chuckled, watching you closely.

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “God, where have you been all my life? Why have I been missing out on this until now?”

“Well, I guess,” he mused, leaning closer towards you, a knowing smirk on his face. “I just gave you more incentive to stay here.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck, pushing yourself closer to him. “You’re making a rather compelling argument.”

“I can give you more reason, if you’d like.”

“Oh?” you cooed, your lips nearly on his. “Please, then. Give me more reason to stay here.”

“Because I’m here,” he cheekily replied. “And, I want you to be my girl finally.”

“Eh?” was your response, backing away slightly.

“I want you to be mine. Like, for real. I pushed you away enough, so no more. I want you to be my girlfriend forever and always.”

You blinked at him before placing your lips carefully to his, the kiss short and passionate. He let out a short whine when you pulled away, wanting more. But you smiled, weaving your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. “Of course, I will be yours, Taeyong.”

He grinned, kissing you once more, both of your sets of eyes closing. The passionate connection was growing more heated, needier, the longer your lips were pressed together. However, it didn’t last as long as you wanted when you heard a familiar boy’s scream.

“Hey! Stop lip locking and watch the food! If you burn the pork belly, I’m suing!” Johnny hollered, causing you both to break part. Taeyong was less than amused at the comments, the tall smirking man left running as tools went flying in his direction, clattering to the ground feet away. The leader huffed in annoyance, relaxing into your grasp when you resumed hugging him from behind, his focus returning to the food he had to finish.

The dinner was amusing, to say the least. Once everyone was seated and food began to get passed around, the jokes began flying, and laughter was a common sound heard amongst the group. The group of idols told you various stories you had never heard before, telling you about things that you missed in your absence. Guilt raided your body when you heard the different things that had gone on while you were busy trying to ignore the truth, trying to fight the feelings you had that never once diminished. You believed for so long that the distance would keep you from keeping happy, but the real heartache was from the denial that Taeyong was your true bliss.

Now, the euphoria of being committed to this man left you speechless, regretting the time you missed with them.

While you ate, your hand slide over to Taeyong’s lap, a hand resting on his thigh. No one could see it from where you were sitting, the plastic table covering hitting your laps. Five people sat on each side of the tables, you at the end of your side with Taeyong to your right. The sudden touch of your hand on his thigh made him choke slightly on his meat, glancing in your direction. You just sent him a sweet smile, giving his leg a firm squeeze.

Slowly, his hand laced with yours, but he didn’t just hold it. He pulled it further up his leg, resting on a certain, distinguishable bulge at the top. You blinked in confusion, seeing the faint blush that spread over his cheeks and an apologetic expression on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispered low enough for only you to hear. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it right now. I’m just…”

“It’s fine, Yong,” you told him, giving him a soft kiss. His breathing stopped mid kiss when your hand gave him a squeeze, caressing him through his dark jeans. The kiss broke with a low smack of the lips, Taeyong smiling widely. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Good,” he chuckled, moving his hand to your own thigh, ended dangerously high up. You fidgeted slightly, anxious to have his hands on you at all, but you didn’t say anything, cherishing his warm touch. You wanted nothing more than to feel him near you, so you weren’t about to let your nerves get the best of you. You smiled at him, giggling when he picked up another piece of pork belly, wrapped in a piece of kimchi, holding it towards you. “Now, say ah!”

You did as he obliged, letting out a content mewl of satisfaction at the taste. The ethereal taste made you dance in your seat, squeezing a bit more than intended. Taeyong had to let out a choked gasp for you to realize what had happened but covered it quickly with a chuckle.

“Man, you guys are so cute, it’s sickening,” Doyoung huffed across from you, sitting his water.

You cracked a smile at him, hiding it slightly behind your own cup. “Don’t even deny that you love it.”

Doyoung made a scrunched-up face that was supposed to resemble disgust, but the grin told you otherwise. And before he could spit a savage retort, Jungwoo cut in. “I love it.”

“At least Jungwoo is on our side!” you scowled playfully at Doyoung. Taeyong just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Calm down, children.”

“Hey! I am your girlfriend good sir! Don’t call me a child!” you huffed, bumping his shoulder. The idol laughed loudly, bumping you back.

“You’re my baby now,” he cooed, placing a kiss to your cheek that made you red.

The other guys laughed, fake gagging at the coupley actions they were forced to witness. The rest of dinner went just like that, laughter, jokes and plenty of teasing passed around the table, sharing good food and making memories you would never forget. And your hand never moved from him, a light blush on both yours and Taeyong’s faces from the intimacy that was going on under the table, unbeknownst to the rest of the boys.

The eight group members agreed to clean up while you spent time with Taeyong, wandering the courtyard you had reserved for the afternoon. Your hands were linked together, fingers intertwined and grasped tightly. His large hand covered yours perfectly, your hands matching like two pieces of the same puzzle. Your head rested on his shoulder as you walked, stopping at a bench away from the others.

Together you sat, staring up at the dark sky that twinkled with stars and the golden moon that seemed to smile down at you. Taeyong placed tender kisses to your forehead and temple, tracing his luscious, pink lips along your hairline. You could feel his smile, making your heart race.

“This is the first time,” he uttered lowly, resting his head on yours. “The first time we are seeing the same part of the sky together. The first time we can stare at the moon together. The first time you aren’t seeing something different than I am.”

“You’re right,” you hummed. “But, it doesn’t change anything. Nothing can keep us apart now.”

Taeyong chuckled, pulling you closer to his side. “You’re right. Whether it’s the sun or the moon, the world is ours, baby. And nothing will keep me from you ever again. I let you slip away once because of something stupid. Not again. I have you here, in my arms, and I’m never letting go.”

“Taeyong,” you whispered, waiting for him to respond. When you heard his low hm, you took his hand into you lap, staring at it. Your voices were clear, and your voice was strong, at the words you let out. “I love you.”

“I know,” he mumbled. He glanced at you, his dark brown eyes sparkling, glinting with emotion. “I love you too, Y/N. So much. I have for as long as I can remember. And I’m glad that you were my pen pal all those years ago. Because I was able to meet the most amazing woman on this planet. I feel in love with my best friend. It didn’t matter where she was because she held my heart from the day I got her first letter.”

Your heart skip a beat at the conviction in his voice, staring deeply at him. Slowly he closed in, his hand moving up to your cheek to draw you into him. His eyes fluttered closed, yours mirroring his. Your lips touched in a careful embrace, tentative at first. His lips dragged against yours, smacking when they pulled apart. Instantly, he was delving back in for another, confidence striking him like a chord. His lips pressed harder this time, tilting his head so sash them harder to yours. The kiss was firm and stronger than before, lips moving quickly against one another.

Your lips parted when his tongue slid along your sealed entrance, letting him bypass your lips to gain access between your cheeks. Your tongues playfully swirled around one another, Taeyong hesitant at first until your tongue poked out to find the intruder. Multiple hot, open-mouthed kisses were shared between you, your bodies inching closer together. His hands rested on your waist while yours were tangled in his fluffy blonde strands, tugging at them incessantly. Your moans were lost to the multitude of kisses, his groans trapped in his throat. Any that escaped were muffled, swallowed before they could fill the air.

The faint call of your names made you separate, lips swollen and faces red. Chests heaved with heavy pants, attempting to reclaim precious air that was lost. Your tingling lips rubbed together, savoring the taste of the man that lingered on them, letting your arms fall from him. A disappointed and annoyed grunt left his mouth, his hand tousling his hair before standing up, reaching for your hand.

“We should head back,” he claimed, obviously disappointed for being interrupted. You giggled at him, taking his hand. Your steps were slow heading back, not wanting to rush.

“I probably should actually head out,” you told him.

Taeyong halted, jaw ajar. “What? No. You can’t leave already. You said-”

“To my hotel, Tae,” you teased. His jaw snapped shut, staring at you blankly.

“Oh,” he let out slowly, exhaling in relief. Suddenly, his face lit up, turning to you. “Why not just stay here?”

“What?” You asked. “Tae, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Um, he might actually be right,” Mark cut in. His phone was in his hand and he had a sheepish grin on his cheeks. “Your hotel called and said they were full. Guess you can’t go.”

You glared at the young male, knowing exactly what he was pulling. Taeyong seemed oblivious to Mark’s true deeds as he bounced in his spot, looking like a kid in a candy store. “So, you can stay with us?”

“I guess I have no choice considering I have no other place to sleep tonight,” you sneered, glaring at Mark. You seethed at him through gritted teeth. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Just delivering the message,” Mark claimed with a sly wink.

Taeyong bounced more, placing a quick kiss to your cheek. “I will go check with Johnny to see if he is willing to give up his bed while you are here. He can take the couch or crash in Yuta’s room. I will meet you upstairs, babe!”

Taeyong took on running, leaving you with the young rapper. Once Taeyong was out of sight, your fist made contact with the Canadian boy’s ribs, whom groaned in pain at your hit. “I hate you.”

“Thank me later. I hope Taeyong likes the gift Johnny got him later.”

Mark ran off before you could strike again, your eyes wide. “Mark Lee! Get back here!”

You sat on Taeyong’s bed, waiting for him to finish cleaning the dorm to his liking. When you returned inside, the outside spotless from your night, you finished Taeyong’s birthday with a bang, eating the cake you got. The man drooled at the sight when it was placed in front of him, ready to devour the entire thing in one sitting. Thankfully, he agreed to share - though he seemed reluctant at that and divided the cake into ten equal pieces.

After the cake were presents, things ranging from gag items such as a pack of Febreze to practical items like a new camera and fabric markers for his fashion design hobby. One small box had contents unknown. All you knew was whatever was inside left his cheeks ablaze and the box tucked away into his room as soon as he opened it. He had bolted, stumbling over limbs and discarded gift boxes on his rush to his room.

Your fingers ran through your hair, grimacing at the oily feeling. After the long travel time and the heat of the day, you felt disgusting. But you didn’t want to do anything without permission. You waited until Taeyong walked back into his room, shutting the door behind him. Before the door shut, you noticed the lights were out, indicating that everyone had gone off to their respective rooms for the night.

Johnny had happily given up his bed for the days you were there, gathering clothes, pillow and blankets from his bed before carting them off to Yuta’s room down the way. You were thankful for his generosity, partially because you weren’t sure how comfortable it would be to sleep with your boyfriend for the first time in the same bed with someone else in the room, and partially because you were alone with Taeyong. That was nerve wracking enough.

Taeyong flopped onto his bed, wrapping his arms around your waist. His head settled into your lap, near purring when your fingers automatically combed through his hair, relaxing him. “You’re here,” he whispered happily, hearing you giggle softly. “You’re going to sleep with me tonight, right?”

You blushed, choking on your own saliva. “I-I mean…”

Taeyong corrected himself before you could finish. ‘I-I meant like… in the same bed! You won’t be sleeping in Johnny’s bed, right? You’ll sleep beside me, in the same bed, under my covers, while I snuggle you?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “But can I perhaps shower before bed? I feel gross after the flight and being out all day.”

Taeyong smiled up at you, taking your hand and kissing the center of your palm. The gesture made your lips twitch upwards, biting back a smile yourself. “Of course, babe.”

He led you to the bathroom attached to his room, shared by him and Johnny, and whoever stood on the other side of the opposite door, digging under the sink for a towel. The bathroom was rather large, glass shower, marble countertops, large mirror, sparkling clean toilet, probably due to Taeyong’s OCD. He had a box of cleaning supplies nearby to wipe everything down as needed. The fluffy green towel he pulled out was placed to the counter, pointing towards the shower.

“If you didn’t bring your own stuff, mine is the left, top shelf.”

“With the bottles neatly arranged, perfectly aligned, from shampoo to soap?” you teased. Taeyong chuckled nodding.

“You know me so well,” he breathed. A hot blush rose to his face, the idol clearing his throat. “If you need anything just holler.”

“I will,” you murmured. Your eyes followed Taeyong as he went to lock the door on the other side so someone wouldn’t accidentally walk in on you. He gave you a lopsided smile before headed towards his room. “Actually, Tae, wait.”

He paused, glancing back at you. You were fidgeting in your spot, nervous energy leaking from you. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“I just…” you started, glancing at the shower. “I’ve never used a shower in Korea. Can you show me?”

Taeyong chuckled, nodding his head. Leading you towards the shower, he stepped inside, clothes and all. “You just turn it like this and it’ll start right up. Best to warn you it does take a moment to heat up though. If you want to adjust the heat, turn this one here.”

“I see,” you uttered. You pressed against his back, Taeyong’s breath hitching in his throat. Your arms hesitantly wrapped around his waist, hugging him close. “Would you, perhaps, stay with me while I shower?”

Taeyong dry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Oh?” was all he could muster. You nodded against his back, clutching his shirt tightly. Your face was hot, your stomach felt tight, and you were afraid of his answer. You had dared to ask him something so bold, and you weren’t sure how he would respond so soon into your relationship. Part of you thought you were rushing, but the other part said it was just right.

You wanted this.

“I-I was just thinking,” you began. “I’m new here and I’m kind of afraid to be alone. I was thinking someone could stay and… keep me company.”

Taeyong turned in your grasp, cupping your face. His thumbs brushed along your cheeks, smiling once before pulling you into a kiss. It was intense from the start, heating up until your lips were dragging along each other fiercely. He showed no signs of backing away, leaving you alone to shower. He pushed you for another kiss, sliding his tongue between your cheeks, tracing the inner linings.

Your hand flailed behind him, his feet stepping back from your weight pushing against him. Without looking, you found the knob for the shower, twisting it blindly until water was pouring over your forms, clothes and all. You both broke away with a gasp, the icy cold water hitting you. It was heating up, but the shock startled you, causing you to jerk back in surprise. Your eyes met Taeyong’s, and after a second of staring, you both burst out laughing.

Water dripped down your forms, clothes clinging to your limbs. Taeyong pushed his hand through his hair, the locks pushed back against his head. With the water droplets sliding down his face, dripping from his hair, and running along his hands, he looked gorgeous, your gaze unable to tear away from him. Water ran along his sharp jawline, dripping from his chin. His striped shirt was hugging his chest and arms, his dark jeans hugging his thigh and slim legs even tighter.

Taeyong grinned at you before peeling the wet shirt off his chest, over his head. He tossed the wet cotton into the corner of the shower with a wet, squishing thump, his torso left bare before you. He wasn’t the most muscular man around - Jaehyun had proven that more than once by walking around shirtless in the dorm while you were on a call with Taeyong. But you couldn’t stop admiring the lean build he did have. Muscles along his arms, abs that accentuated his lean physique, a small scar on the lower right side of his abdomen - your hands reached out to trace along his fine form, memorizing every inch of him.

He watched you silently before dipping his head down for a heated kiss. His lips ravished yours for a minute, placing multiple lip-smacking kisses to your lips. His hands ran along your sides until he found the hem of your shirt, giving it a small tug. His lips broke away from yours with a low smooch, biting his lip.

“It’s only fair,” he teased. Wordlessly, you rose your arms, giving him the answer he desired. The man pulled your shirt away from your body, tossing it with his in the corner of the shower. You shivered at the exposure, biting your lip. His prying eye made you self-conscious, left only in your bra that did nothing to hide your erect nipples from the shower you were in. He held your wrists before you could try to shield yourself, leaning forward to please loving kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. “Beautiful.”

With the shower raining over you, cascading down your topless bodies, Taeyong’s nimble fingers unhooking your bra with ease. With it discarded with the rest of the clothes, his breath hitched, swallowing thickly. His eyes asked for silent permission before proceeding, your nod allowing him to touch you.

His fingers brushed along the side of your breast before cupping it completely. The pad of his thumb swiped over your nipple, hearing you mewl at the pleasure it caused. He smiled at the angelic noise, wetting his lips with his tongue before delving in. His hand fondled the right breast while his mouth attacked the left, lips wrapped around the pert bud. Your hands wove through his wet strands, moaning louder than before.

His lips broke from your chest with a pop, gazing up through his lashes at you. “Quiet, babe. Don’t want to wake the guys.”

You nodded, tugging your lip between your teeth to stay silent. The idol leader resumed his assault, red suckling kisses littered across your chest. The man placed kiss after kiss to your taut bud, flicking it with his tongue and swirling it between his cheeks. Swapping after a bit, when one nipple was swollen and overly sensitive, he repeated his attack.

He pulled from your chest with a pop, moving up to your lips. Your bottom lip was indented from your teeth, soothed from the kiss he placed upon it. Amidst the kiss, he tugged at your belt loops. The kiss broke, Taeyong’s lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“It’s kind of hard to shower with jeans on,” he joked. You laughed at him, unbuttoning your jeans before reaching out to undo his. His dark brow rose, watching you quietly.

“You’re right, Yong,” you hummed. “So, let’s fix that.”

You tugged his pants down, gulping at the bulge in his black Armani underwear. You helped him peel the black denim from his legs, struggling from how much they stuck to his slender legs. Once they are off his ankles, you pushed them aside. Taeyong did the same to you, though he took longer to remove your pants. His lips laid kisses down your wet legs, letting out a staggered breath before dipping his face between your legs. A kiss was placed to your covered heat, a gasp leaving your lips.

“Tae,” you stammered, gripping his shoulders. He hummed below you, fingers wrapped around the sides of your panties. “Please.”

Your low plea told him to do it. He tugged them down, tossing them away unforgivingly. Now bare to him completely, your nervousness spiked, self-conscious before him. But he continuously uttered compliments under his breath, praising you without worry. Every word he uttered, you could hear his sincerity, elation rushing to your heart.

His lips met your moist core, your fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentures in his skin. Breathing became difficult in the heat of the shower, steam rising around you. His tongue flicked through your folds, kitten licking you a few times before sticking his tongue deep inside you. Despite his earlier warning, you moaned his name, slumping forward at the pleasure you felt.

His tongue swirled around your core, tracing your walls with the tip. His hands gripped at the backs of your thighs, holding you against him as he attacked your center, slurping up whatever you already released from the arousal that was building since the shower began. His tongue didn’t stay long inside you, exchanged for a single finger.

He was cautious at first, testing the waters of what worked for you, not wanting to do something you didn’t like. He uttered that he didn’t want to pressure you into anything, or make you uncomfortable, and that couldn’t be more admirable to you. The fact that he cared meant everything to you and solidified your conviction - you wanted this more than anything with him.

The single turned into a double after a few slick thrusts, your moans becoming uncontrollable. He gave you a glinted stare but didn’t slow his thrusts. They sped up instead, the tips curling and nails scratching pleasurably at your inner walls. Your legs felt weak, beginning to shake in his grasp. Your walls were spasming around him, hugging his two digits tightly. The thrusts made a squelching noise as he moved, filling and spreading you with the two slender phalanges.

When his lips met your clit, you broke. A loud moan of his names, and a hug of his fingers inside you, and you were releasing around him. You slumped forward even more, glad Taeyong was holding you up and you could use his shoulders for support. Otherwise, you could have been face first on the shower floor, the water pooling around your body instead of your feet.

Taeyong’s thrusts eased until you stopped shaking against him, pulling his fingers from you. His lips pressed to your pussy one last time, tenderly kissing it before standing. He placed a soft kiss to your lips, hugging you to his chest.

He grabbed his shampoo, rubbing it into your hair as you relaxed against him. He tilted our head back into the water, combing through your strands to get all the suds out. He repeated the process with the conditioner, sighing when he felt your lips press to his chest while scrubbing the conditioner into your hair. You did the same to him once your body could stand straight, listening to him laugh when you struggled to wash his hair. You had to stand on your toes to reach, falling into him a few times.

He ran his soap along your body, your giggles sounding when he passed over spots that tickled. The bubbles passed over to his limbs whenever your rubbed against each other, your hand reaching to take the soap from him. Your hands were slow to move over him, rubbing the soap to his body, admiring his perfect physique.

A groan left your lips when you realized he still had his underwear on, Taeyong chuckling under his breath. His fingers played with the band, hands covered in soapy bubbles, pushing he black fabric away from his body. His shaft was erect, making you blush hotly. You hand with the soap trembled, swallowing when you reach down to touch it. It twitched under the lightest graze, making you jump.

Taeyong chuckled, taking your hand, wrapping it around himself. “Like this,” he taught you, showing you how to stroke him. He pulsated in your grip, a throaty groan leaving his lips the more you stroked him, rubbing suds along his length.

“Sorry,” you told him when you pulled away, putting his soap back. “It’s just… been a while I guess.”

“That one drunken one-night stand doesn’t help much when you’re in a relationship,” he chuckled, making you sneer. “Hey! I know you told me that in confidence and I never told the guys! But you know I’m in the same boat!”

“Because you’re such a lightweight,” you giggled.

“Yeah. Never let me drink,” he chuckled.

“But I think I’d love to see that one day.”

“Soon, baby,” he hummed.

Rinsing off the soap and the remainder of the conditioner, Taeyong turned off the water, the last of the water that pooled around your feet disappearing down the drain. He rushed to grab the towel for you, wrapping it around your body for you before grabbing his own from under the sink.

He brushed through your hair for you before yelling you to head back to his room while he cleaned up. You laughed at his OCD, kissing his softly on the lips and doing as he requested. Taeyong went to work, diligently hanging the wet clothes to dry, while you sat on his bed, not bothering to seek out your pajamas. You sat in just the towel, hugging it to your chest, contemplating what to do next.

You were jetlagged from the flight, but you were tired enough to fall asleep immediately. You were still wide awake, and the only thing that could be causing that was the ache between your legs. Even after the shower activities, you were anxious and aroused, wanting to do more than you already had. Your heart was pounding in your chest, pumping blood to your lower region. Your body was heated, craving his delicate but sensual touch. You weren't ready to call it a night - not when Taeyong was still awake, dressed in a single blue towel.

Your head shot up when you heard the bathroom door shut, giving you privacy. Taeyong leaned against it, eyeing you like you were some sort of prey first. His hands were behind his back, one knee bent as he leaned backwards against the sealed doorway.

You gestured him forward with the curl of a finger, the man gladly striding over to you. His long legs carried him forward quickly, making short work on his advance, his footfalls brisk and nimble. His lips met yours before he even hit the bed, crawling over you instantly. Your back fell to the bed, returning the kiss he ignited. His body rolled against yours, hips grinding into you. The towel around his waist creating a wall between skin. Your own towel rode up from his movement, loosening the tie on the front.

Your tongues battled for a minute, open mouth kisses creating smacks that bounced off the walls, resonating in the confines of the bedroom. The man pulled away, dragging his lips down slowly, hauntingly sucking at your bottom lip before separating completely.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice deep, a velvety husk surprising you. His eyes cracked open to look down at you, a dark glint present in his orbs. "I don't want to do anything if you don't want it."

"I want you," you confidently told him, not bothering to hesitate.

"You're sure?" He asked.

"One hundred percent," you confided. "I have never been more sure than I am right now that I want you, Taeyong. I love you and I want nothing more than to show that to you."

"I mean, we don't have to do this to show that you love me, " he laughed. You scowled, slapping his chest. "But, the thought of making love to my beautiful girlfriend is something I surely want to make a reality. Because then, she knows I love her too. And I have no intention of loving anyone else."

Your hands laced with his, his lips pressing to yours.

"I'm giving you all of me, Taeyong. My heart - please take care of it."

"And I'm giving you all of me, Y/N. Though, you had me from the start, baby. So, it’s time to claim what is rightfully yours."

Your lips connected in a passionate kiss, your bodies rolling against his sheets. Your hips rolled together, grinding against each other without the physical contact of skin on skin. His cock was hardening under the towel - you could tell. Through the fluffy towel, you could feel it poking up at you. The towel that covered your body was pushed up more, riding up to your lower stomach, exposing your legs are aching core.

Taeyong ended up on top of you, gripping the tie of your towel. It had already begun loosening, so it didn’t take him long to rid you of your only cover. Your body wiggled against the bed so he could pull the towel away, dropping it to the floor to collect later. Gradually, his lips trailed down your body, repeating the things he did in the shower. His fingers toyed with your center, prodding at your core, while his mouth focused on your chest, placing suckling, lip-smacking kisses to your nipples.

The pleasure you felt made your eyes close, gasping for air. Mewls of happiness left your lips. You back arched off the bed, pushing further into him, earning a grunt that vibrated your chest. Your legs attempted to close, but his hand kept that from happening, fingers thrusting in teasingly. Your hands found the blonde tresses atop his head, weaving your fingers through them. Raking your fingers along his scalp, the man purred, a low pop sounding when he pulled away. The idol moaned at your touch, nuzzling into your chest, directly between your breasts, letting you pet his hair, focusing on his fingers between your legs.

“I love the way this feels,” he murmured. “I love the way you run your hands through my hair.”

“You do?” you uttered lowly, struggling to make words.

“Yeah. Now I know why you always said you liked the feeling.” His lips curled against your chest plate, sucking a loving kiss to it. His fingers sped up, drawing out a loud moan. “What about this? Do you like the feeling of my fingers inside you?”

You choked on your words, nodding hastily. Your lack of words made Taeyong chuckle, his fingers stilling and disappearing from inside you. The loss made you whimper at him, Taeyong chuckling. His body rolled to yours, his face directly before yours.

“You’re mean,” you whined. Taeyong grinned, kissing you softly. “Also, who knew you were so dirty. I’ve never heard you dirty talk before.”

Taeyong’s face visibly brightened, his eyes widening. “I-I…” he stammered, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Did you like it?”

“I did, actually,” you admitted, heating up. “I like seeing this confident side of you. You’re so sweet and soft and it makes me love you but… you’re a badass on stage. Confident, sexy, dominating. That’s what I’m seeing now, and I love it.”

“Well,” he mused, licking his lips. The corners curled up with a smirk. “How about I show you a good time now? This is our stage, baby. Let’s put on a good show.”

“For no one?” you teased.

The man pouted, crawling off you. “Way to ruin my smooth moment, babe. I was trying to be sexy and reference this on-stage persona you say I have.”

You giggled, crossing your arms over your chest, watching hi rummaging through his neatly organized closet, pushing his shirts, arranged by color, aside to find what he wanted. “You can’t deny that you act different on stage, Tae! You are the sweetest person, but your confidence during a performance is beyond me.”

“I don’t act different though!”

“You’re such a liar,” you laughed. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Finding something,” he told you, cheering when he found the box. You recognized the blue gift box - it was the gift Johnny gave him. He sat beside you, opening the box. “I thought it was a joke. Didn’t think I’d use it.”

You leaned on your elbow, keep a hand over your chest, hugging your breasts together. Inside the box was a handful of boxes of condoms, your face flushing. Taeyong pulled out a small note, showing you the message scribbled to the paper.

Better safe than sorry this year. Have fun, TY, but not too much fun. - Youngho

You laughed, dropping the note back into the box. “That Johnny, man,” you sneered, Taeyong nodding in agreement.

Placing the box on the ground, he held one box in his hand, taking a deep breath before pulling it open to retrieve the square packet. His flipped the sealed pack between his fingers, staring at it then you. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

“Good,” he grinned.

Your breath stilled when he tore the packet open with his teeth, grimacing slightly afterwards. You giggled at his instant regret but kept quiet. Taeyong stood from the bed, dropping his towel with yours, rolling the condom to his length. He pushed you onto your back, hearing you squeal in excitement, crawling between your legs.

“Well, hello,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hello, beautiful,” he grinned, kissing your lips multiple times, each kiss making a sloppy smack. His lips trailed down your jaw, your head tilting away as he neared your neck. “If at any point, you want to stop, you just need to say so.”

“I will,” you whispered.

Taeyong pushed up on all fours, using one hand to align himself at your core. Pushing forward, a sharp breath filled your lungs. Your walls were stretched, each inch of him sliding into you until he was fully seated. Stilling, he let out a sigh, burying his face in your shoulder, shaky breaths hitting your skin. He was pulsating within you, tightening the knot in your gut. You eased into his size, Taeyong growing accustomed to the warmth and moisture that seeped around him. He was sensitive, even though the rubber.

Carefully, he began pulling out, pushing back in swiftly before the head of his cock could escape. You moaned at the feeling, your body jerking, a jolt running up your spine. Steadily, his thrusts picked up, bucking his hips into yours. Skin slapping together filled the stale air of the room, hips rolling into each other.

Taeyong hovered over you, resting on his hands, staring down at you with dark eyes. His lip was tugged between his teeth, watching you contort in ecstasy, listening to you mewl at the feeling. The tip of his cock pushed deep into you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. Each thrust grew harder, pushing further into you, feverishly slamming into you. Sweat covered his forehead, making his face glisten.

“Do you like this?” he asked, panting heavily. Your nodded, wrapping your arms around him, dragging your nails down his back. He bucked deep into you, eliciting a loud moan from you. The noise made the idol grin, picking up his pace. His grin grew, reveling in the way your pussy held him tight, squeezing him as he pushed relentlessly into you. His length slide along your tight center, making your stomach tighten even more. The feeling of your nails clawing his back, leaving long, red scratches to his skin, was euphoric, his skin tingling, craving more from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he sassed, kissing along your face. His teeth nipped at your ear, never missing a beat with his thrusts. “I love hearing you moan, baby. I love knowing my girl is happy and enjoying how I make her feel.”

“Taeyong,” you whimpered, clinging to him.

“You like this, baby?” he asked again, feeling you nod. “Good. I’m never going to stop loving you. I’m never going to stop making you feel good. I’m going to make you feel like this for the rest of your life.”

“Oh god,” was all you could say.

Taeyong rolled you over, surprising you, your body situated over his. Your hands rested on his firm chest, his shaft still nestled deep inside you. His hands rested on your hips, circling himself under you. The smirk on his face made you hot, stomach clenching and core clenching.

“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Show me your moves.”

“Tae.”

“Please?” he asked, biting his lip. “Give a guy a birthday treat and ride him.”

You choked slightly, shaking your head. “You and your sexy, on stage mode.”

“Are you arguing?” he mused.

Leaning forward, your chest pressed to his, you placed a tender kiss to his lips, smiling against them. Taeyong inhaled sharply at the kiss, following after you when you pulled away. “Of course not. I love it,” you told him. “I could get used to this.”

“Same,” he hummed.

Pushing up on his chest again, you rolled your hips into his, hearing his moans rumble low at first. They grew louder the faster your rolled against him, feeling him sliding in and out of your core. The new angle with you on top of him felt new, your own mewls mixing with his groans. You were tighter around him, and he was able to reach deeper into you. His tip pushed into new spots, hitting something different every time he slid into you.

Taeyong loved watching you bounce on him, exhilarated when he felt you fall forward, elbows on either side of him. You continued to push down onto him, splitting your focus between your hips and your lips. Kisses were placed along his sharp jawline, the idol leader doing as you did before - tilting his head to the side to you could pepper his slim neck with wet kisses.

Taeyong pushed his hips up, thrusting up into you. Your moans were pressed into his skin, feeling yourself nearing your high. Taeyong hugged you close, panting into your ear. He was desperately chasing his high, thrusts sloppy and erratic. The slapping of skin, the smack of hips colliding, amplified, ringing in your ears. But his silvery voice was louder, whispering sweet nothings into your ear that made your body hot.

“Cum for me,” he rasped, voice choppy yet smooth. “Cum with me.”

Your body went weak, collapsing completely against him. Your walls hugged him closely, the knot burning away in a fire within. Your juices spilled out around his rubber covered shaft, warming him. His heart beat unevenly, His lips pressing to the side of your head before the tight warmth and moisture became overwhelming. Strings of white shot from his tip, filling the gap at the end of the condom. His seed spilled out in bursts, the sticky fluid seeping out of the slit. Your walls milked every drop out, dribbles escaping as he came down from his high.

You shared a loving kiss, lips sensually pressed together. Smiles made their ways to both of your faces, sharing open-mouth kisses that smacked together loudly, lips dragging along each other. Your noses bumped, and your foreheads stuck together. Your bodies were sticky with sweat, regrettably peeling from each other so Taeyong could pull out before growing soft.

Waddling to the bathroom, the idol discarded the rubber in a tissue, grabbing a wet towel to wipe himself and you. Cleaning himself of the sweat and arousal that coated his shaft, mostly on the tip, he returned to help you clean up, kissing along your body to ease your aching limbs. While you finished up, he took a moment to pick up the discarded towels, straightening up his room.

You giggled, placing the towel aside, watching him freshen the room with a bottle of Febreze, original scented, spritz of the air fresher covering the heavy stench of sex that lingered. Taeyong placed the Febreze aside, grabbing fresh underwear and athletic shorts to sleep in. Upon your direction, he retrieved underwear for you, along with your sleep shorts and a baggy band shirt. He helped you get dressed, the two of you sharing laughs when your arms got caught and he slipped off the bed after you kicked him for tickling your feet.

The idol crawled into the bed with you, pulling the covers over your bodies. Your head laid on his chest, his strong arm curling around you. His nose burrowed in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Did you ever think that when you first sent me that letter, we’d be here now?”

“Honestly?” you hummed, tracing a finger along his bare chest. “I knew I’d come to Korea eventually. I always wanted to visit. But I didn’t think I’d be in the bed of my best friend, my boyfriend, the love of my life. I didn’t think I’d fall for this amazing guy far away from me. I thought that was impossible.”

“But, nothing is impossible,” he said, running his fingers through your hair. “I was stupid to even propose what I did. I didn’t want to hold you back because I was here, you were there. And it hurt me so much to try to let you go.”

“I was just as stupid, Yongie. I let it happen. But no more,” you laughed. “We won’t let that get in the way again.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, hugging you tighter. “You’re here now and I’m not letting you go ever again.”

“You better not,” you laughed, trying to escape his grasp. “Now stop smothering me!”

“Never!” he screamed. Laughter broke out when you heard the other boys in the dorm screaming at you to quiet down, curling into each other again. The small window of his dorm room had a perfect view of the moon setting, the sun ready to rise in a few hours.

You fell asleep in his arms that night, under the same sky, the glow of the moon smiling down at you. You’d finally see both sides of the sky together, the sun and the moon no longer apart in your eyes. You had your pen pal, your friend, your love, and nothing could keep you away from that.

Together, you were one.

NCTzens Tag: @brien-odylan, @poppyshawn, @belleknows

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