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buckystarlight · 3 years

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A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence.

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table.

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you.

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back.

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky.

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said.

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual.

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #marvel mcu

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vidavalor · 3 years

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Sam's introversion and Tony's funeral SamBucky headcanon

I think there might be enough in the canon to go with the idea that Sam is an introvert. For people reading this who might think that being an introvert means being shy and therefore Sam can't be one, a super-short clarification: Introverts aren't all shy and they don't all dislike people. Many are actually very highly sensitive, empathetic people (like Sam) who care very deeply about others and the world. The difference between an introvert and an extrovert is related to from where they derive energy. Extroverts thrive on social interaction-- being with other people gives them extra energy. Introverts are the opposite of that. They like being with people but can't do it forever as it takes a lot of their energy, leaving them tired. They need more time alone to recharge after social interactions. Halfway between this are the ambiverts, who are a bit of both. (I'd classify Bucky as an ambivert.)

Sam leaves a party at like 9:30 in Age of Ultron and is seen needing to take a break alone as the cookout wrapped up in TFATWS. That and his general sense of having fewer but deeper friendships and being a quieter, private person really lend themselves to the idea that he's introverted. (Another reason why becoming Captain America with that elevated profile is a very stressful decision for him.) Introverts, by and large, do best in social settings where they either pretty much know everybody and so there's less stress (why Sam was more comfortable at the cookout than, say, the Avengers party) or where they're in smaller groups or one-on-one, where social interactions become less draining. Where I'm going with this is that Tony Stark's funeral would have been kind of a nightmare scenario for Sam if Bucky wasn't there.

The two people in the group that Sam knows the best and is the most comfortable with would have been Steve and Rhodey but both of them were very close to Tony and would have been spending more time in the family group with Pepper and things during the funeral than with Sam. Wanda has a tendency to drift between Sam and Clint and is closer to Clint. Sam has met basically everyone at the funeral and can make small talk and all that but he probably realized ahead of time that he was going to wind up feeling on his own there while the other little Avenger mini-families all kind of did their own thing. This, after just returning from being dead for five years and after losing another friend in Natasha, whose absence he'd really feel in this setting. I think Sam looked at this upcoming social interaction like all introverts do and he felt he definitely needed to go to be supportive of Steve and respectful to Tony's memory but he was dreading it and nervous.

This is how Bucky ended up going to the funeral.

I think that, originally, Bucky had no plans to go and literally everyone was fine with that. While everyone is nice enough to him and doesn't exactly blame him for killing Tony's parents and everyone would have said it was fine for him to go to the funeral, I'm sure that if he hadn't, no one would have been exactly heartbroken. It also probably wasn't going to be the easiest thing for Steve. So, how did Bucky end up at this thing?

The funeral took place a few days after the battle and, if Bucky had been planning on going, I think he would have figured out a suit, as he'd be looking to ruffle the fewest feathers possible and it's the more respectful option but, like others have pointed out a lot since Endgame, it seems like he was a last minute addition to the funeral. What changed his mind? Sam.

Bucky had thought Sam would be fine because he knows the people there. Bucky knows Sam and Rhodey are friends and Steve was going and while he's very aware of Sam's introversion, he didn't foresee a problem at the funeral over it. When Sam was seeming nervous the morning of, though? Bucky, who hadn't really interacted with this group as a whole that much and so hadn't realized the dynamics meant that Sam was feeling like he was going to feel alone at this thing, saw Sam nervous and offered to go with him.

Sam tried to say no, Bucky didn't have to put himself through that for him but Bucky went anyway because he could tell Sam was uncomfortable and he'd do anything for Sam, even spend the afternoon looking at the doe-eyed moppet whose grandparents she'll never know because he murdered them, if it gives Sam someone to hit the sandwich buffet with.

They hang with Wanda a bit. Bucky barely knows her but they have a soft spot for one another. Bucky owes her a life debt from Civil War and Wanda sees Bucky as like her-- someone whose actions kind of fucked everything up so badly that entire movies were made around how bad they were lol. Wanda's closer to Clint, though, and mostly Sam and Bucky were on their own that afternoon and if Sam didn't love Bucky before that (he did), he sure as hell fell all over again at the man willing to drop everything and go through something difficult and painful for him to keep Sam from being alone.

#sambucky #sambucky headcanons #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam wilson is an introvert #tfatws

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tacticaldiary · 3 years

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Hiii ! I see your requests for akayona are open ~ can I request a yoon x fem reader where reader tries to kabedon him to the wall or smth and he just becomes a flustered mess ? I just love this small genius boy sm <33

love your writings btw !! I really enjoyed reading through all your works ♡

Fluster

Pairing: Reader x Yoon

Genre: Fluff

He’s fun to fluster, especially when he deserves it

Masterlist

She doesn't really know what spurred her on to get the idea. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be busy that day. She had barely gotten a 'good morning' before he was up and wandering around taking care of the usual stuff. Maybe it was the way she had barely seen him that day.

Nonetheless, the idea was already planted firmly in her mind and she's determined to execute it.

"You would think they'd be more careful with the fabric-" The two of the are currently walking through one of the villages near the border, having brought extra cloaks for everyone. It had been Y/N's idea, since winter would soon fall to the kingdom, marking the green land with layers of snow. Their breath would start to show in the air and they would need to sit closer to the fires. They could even possibly need to stay in any nearby inn's on the really cold days.

Cloaks were a good, practical idea. That was one of the reasons Yoon loved her. She was good at practical, rational thinking and was able to lend him a hand in his usual activities. She didn't seem to mind either.

If he was being honest, he was a little tired. Although she was walking right next to him, part of him wants to drop the cloaks and ask for a hug. Maybe even take a nap with her. He loved the times they could stay quiet and sit in silence together, or make small talk about the most ridiculous things.

She finally finds a good time to execute her plan when they turn a corner, the street in front of them completely empty.

As Yoon is rambling on, Y/N turns towards him, crowding him backwards until his back hits the wall.

He rests his other hand in her hair and takes a few breathsms, onto the ground as he stills, red creeping up his face and she places an arm next to his hea d. He feels his heart speeding up because this was completely out of nowhere-

"You've barely glanced my way all day." She states, unable to stop the small smile that his flustered reaction elicits. "What? The handsome genius left tongue tied?" She raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer.

"W-Well, when you do that out of-of nowhere, yeah!" He exclaims, now fully red in the face, a hand automatically reaching up to hold her waist.

"What's the fun in knowing?" He splutters out something unintelligent and Y/N laughs, leaning down to rest her forehead on his shoulder. "You should see your face! You're so red!" She chuckles.

He rests his other hand in her hair and takes a few breaths. "You're the worst, you know." He grumbles, pulling her close to hug her.

"The absolute worst." She agrees with a smile.

Requests Are Open!

(19/10/2021)

#yona of the dawn fanfic #yona of the dawn fanfiction #akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #yona #yona of the red dawn #yoon #yoon x reader #yoon x y/n #yoon fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #yoon fanfic #akatsuki no yona fanfic #akatsuki no yona yoon

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rainguk · 3 years

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perfect pitch | ksj

⁕ summary; your stand partner this year is, to put it simply, insufferable. with a rare sense of perfect pitch and a stunning face to boot, this boy's ego is absolutely off the charts... but you'd be lying if you said you didn't care about him anyway.

⁕ pairing; seokjin x reader

⁕ rating; pg-13

⁕ words; 3.9k

⁕ genre; crack, fluff - stand partners idiots to lovers (with a lil bit of enemies in there), high school au, orchestra au

⁕ warnings; swearing, threats but like nothing violent happens LOL, seokjin's sense of humor: there's like one mildly inappropriate joke (i'm sorry bach), super cliche rain scene i apologize

⁕ notes; this is based off of infuriatingly true events in my life because people with perfect pitch just LOVE flexing it like i'll drop my fork on the table and my friend's just like "oh wow that was a B flat" aaaaggghjsdjsdf anyways... i had a lot of fun writing this and i'm nearing the end of another longer fic i'm writing so please look forward to that :D hope you enjoy!!! + if you ever want me to tag you in my fics just let me know and i will <3 plus this is unedited and disgustingly cringy as it nears the end so read at your own risk

⁕ tags; @imdamconfused @sunghoonight-x @iminchaosnow

⁕ song; butter (bts)

masterlist

You’re teetering dangerously on the edge, a mere few seconds away from stabbing your stand partner in the eye with whatever you can use as a weapon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokjin cuts into your murderous thoughts, alarmed. “You look… truth be told, Y/N, you look like you want to kill someone.”

“If you don’t shut up about how flat my A is, that someone might just end up being you.”

“How romantic.”

Your bow slides off your violin with a cadence of squeaky notes. “Can you at least stop flirting with me while I’m trying to tune this thing?!”

He smiles, a bright, brilliant thing that shows off all his perfect teeth. You swallow, heart suddenly racing a thousand times faster; it’s no secret that Kim Seokjin is probably the biggest pain in the neck you’ve ever met, but it’s also true that he is insanely good-looking. And you’re not about to deny it.

“You like it, though.”

Well, shit.

“Not everyone’s head over heels in love with you,” you retort, trying desperately to throw him off your trail. You know what happens with popular kids like him; once it’s known that you have a soft spot for them, everyone pounces on you, bombarding you with questions and snide remarks and rumors.

Of course, it’s complicated — because how on earth could you want to rip off someone’s head and kiss them at the same time?

But you tell yourself that it’s only because he looks like that; not because he easily gets you to laugh like it’s nobody’s business, and certainly not because he looks out for you in the littlest ways; leaving his rosin out on the stand for you to use and lending you a pencil when you need one.

Kim Seokjin is an insufferable little shit, yes. But he’s a friendly insufferable little shit. And you would honestly be so down to hang out with him and get to know him better, save for one little thing that’s been getting in your way.

His perfect fucking pitch.

Being stand partners with someone naturally gifted with such a sense is both a blessing and a curse. Countless times, Seokjin has saved your ass from being questioned by Mrs. Choi by letting you know silently that you’re a little too sharp, or playing in the wrong key entirely. (That last one has happened before.) Sometimes you can’t hear Namjoon, the principal violinist, too well from where you’re seated, so you’ve relied on Seokjin on many occasions to tune your strings correctly.

However, it irks you equally as much when he uses it against you, stopping you mid-piece to let you know that your C# sounds more like a D to him. No one’s perfect, and certainly not you — but you try, and to be shot down every single time by someone who thinks it’s absolutely funny to watch you repeatedly attempt to fix your pitch issues is purely exhausting.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“What?” you demand, sighing as you turn to him.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“No—”

“Why did Bach have twenty children?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god—”

He continues anyway, ignoring your plea with that mischievous grin, “Because he had no organ stops!”

Seokjin is trying his best not to laugh at his own joke, shoulders shaking at the punch line. You can’t help it yourself, a giggle bursting out of your own chest as you cover your mouth.

“That was horrendous,” you tell him once you catch your breath again. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Oh, worry not,” he proclaims, smiling widely, “I can do far better.”

“Wait, no—”

“What tone does a piano falling down a mineshaft make?”

You furrow your brows, thinking. “I don’t know,” you shake your head after a few seconds. “What is it?”

“A flat minor.”

Your jaw drops open as you process it, and Seokjin just watches you in amusement. “You should be banned from making these kinds of jokes,” you tell him. “Seriously.”

“Admit it, I’m hilarious,” he counters. “I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

He did, you’ve got to acknowledge. He always does, in some way, now that you think about it. Whenever you end up coming to rehearsal in a bad mood, it’s always because of Seokjin that you leave the auditorium with a smile on your face.

The realization startles you like nothing else — you hadn’t known before that he played such a role in your daily life.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he starts again, “We have a concert tonight.”

“Yeah…” You turn to him, eyebrow raised. “You forgot about the biggest performance of the year?”

Seokjin nods, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. My bad. You’re coming, right?”

“Duh,” you reply, fishing a block of rosin out of your case. “It’s almost half of my grade; no way I can skip. Besides, I like performing.”

“You do?”

“What are you so surprised for?” you ask him playfully. “I do enjoy it. I might not be good — not as good as you — but I like it. I like playing together with everyone, being able to hear every other part fit in with mine perfectly.” You frown. “Now if you asked me to play solo, I wouldn’t do it for anything in the world. Ensemble performances are far better.”

“You’re good,” Seokjin says quietly, looking at you — it’s like he’s taking you in, letting his eyes linger on you for a little while longer. “Don’t think that you’re not. You sound nice, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze for several breathless seconds before scoffing, turning away. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t need empty compliments fr—”

Your bickering is cut short by Mrs. Choi walking onstage, a stack of sheet music in her hand which is promptly handed to Namjoon for him to distribute to the entire orchestra. You don’t offer your usual smile when he gives you two, and it’s with an impassive expression that you hand the extra to your stand partner.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maybe you’ve made it more awkward between you two — but what else could have happened? Had you been hoping he’d magically fall in love with you and kiss you and you would have gone on dates?

No, of course not. This is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about; and besides, no matter how much you manage to soften up to him one moment, he’ll immediately make you want to murder him the next.

“Hey, Y/N… um — your D is just, you know, a little bit sharp—”

“Kim Seokjin, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You, my dear, are just overcomplicating this for yourself,” Taehyung declares after listening to you rant about your problematic stand partner over lunch. “What’s the issue? You like him — don’t you shake your head at me, Y/N, you’re as obvious as an open book — and he clearly likes you. Why don’t you just date him?”

“It’s not that simple,” you grumble, brutally stabbing another piece of chicken. “I can’t just walk up to him and ask him out, Tae. Plus, he doesn’t like me, he just likes flirting with everyone he lays his eyes on.”

“From what you’re telling me, it sure does sound like it.”

“Taehyung…”

“Come on, you can’t possibly be that clueless, Y/N.”

“No,” you insist. “He’s a pain in the ass, and he enjoys getting a rise out of me, and he flexes that dumb pitch power of his whenever he can.”

“But you like him...”

“You’re not helping!”

This is where Jimin decides to intervene, tired of your back and forth arguing. “She has a point, Tae. But,” he says to you. “He’s also right. You need to take some kind of action.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Taehyung claps his hands, a telltale sign of a new idea. “Flirt back!”

“Okay, absolutely not—”

Jimin grabs you suddenly, shaking your shoulders. “Wait, think about it!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “It can work! That way you can see if he actually does like you, and you won’t publicly embarrass yourself by confessing to him, either!”

“On second thought, I’d have preferred to see the public embarrassment—”

“Shut up, Tae, you’re just making her feel worse!”

That makes you laugh; contrary to Jimin’s statement, your best friends certainly have succeeded in making you feel just a little bit better.

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” you tease. “Maybe I owe him a dose, actually, because I’ve seen firsthand a particularly painful confession back in n—”

“Y/N! Don’t you dare bring that up!”

Amidst the chaos of Taehyung screeching while trying to attack you with a spoon and Jimin holding him back, someone taps on your shoulder lightly; a momentary distraction from this madness, if you will.

“Oh. You,” you respond when greeted with the gently smiling face of Kim Seokjin. “Did you need anything?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, instead showing you his closed fist. “Wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s another one of my strings that you’ve borrowed and also broken, then you can keep it, thanks.”

Seokjin shakes his head, chuckling. “Not that, Y/N. I always throw out the strings I break; don’t worry. I just thought you should have this.”

With that, he places a small wooden box on your lunch bag — at a closer look, you realize it’s a block of rosin. Brand new, too, by the looks of it — when you take off the bright blue lid, there are no scratches on the surface, no sign of wear and tear.

“For me?” You look at him, surprised to be met with a rather fond gaze you’re not used to. “Why?”

“Noticed the one you had was basically falling apart,” he says nonchalantly, attempting to mask the slight tremble in his voice and the blush on his cheeks. “I mean, come on — how are you gonna keep your bow in good shape with those tiny chunks of this stuff?”

“Oh,” is all you can reply, staring at the gleaming black cube in your hand. “I — thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” He’s back to his bright, grinning self again, all self-confidence and smug smiles. “See you tomorrow,” he tells you, before waving to your friends. “Have a nice lunch, guys.”

It takes Jimin and Taehyung precisely fourteen seconds after Seokjin leaves for his own table to lose their shit.

“Was he looking out for you?”

“Did he actually just give you a new block of rosin?!”

“And you still don’t wanna date this guy?”

“You guys are violinists! Gifting each other supplies is basically your love language!”

You fidget with the rosin, smoothing your thumb over the lid. “No, that’s just how he is,” you defend. “He always lends me rosin when I need it.”

“And you always lend him extra strings,” Taehyung says, a teasing smile on his face. They’re kind of right, you realize when you think about it. Never has Seokjin actually given you a block to keep, and though you might be overestimating the significance of the gesture, it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

“Okay, anyways,” Jimin changes the topic, “How are we feeling about tonight’s concert?”

“I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “We’ve got everything under control — Mrs. Choi was afraid the cellos would screw up their solo section, but they managed to pull it together today and they sounded great.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Taehyung sighs. “Not when the tenors keep screwing up their long note—”

“That wasn’t me! That was Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yeah, sure—”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Come on, we are not arguing about this right now. I’m sure you guys will sound fine, you always do. Plus, Jeon has a really sweet voice.”

“I guess so,” Taehyung shrugs. “But I think the highlight of tonight is going to be Y/N getting to see her guy all dressed up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No!” You exclaim a little too quickly, cheeks red. “Why would you say something like that?!”

“Because you’re whipped for him—”

“I am most certainly not—”

Jimin laughs out loud, almost toppling off of his chair. “You know, Y/N, we might have believed you if you weren’t redder than a fucking tomato right now—”

“PARK JIMIN! NOT YOU TOO!”

As luck would have it, you’re a solid ten minutes late.

Call time was at six o’clock, and here you are; slamming the car door shut as you wave a hasty goodbye to your father and run to the main entrance, all the while trying not to get drenched in the rain.

(Your folder and the music inside it are probably already soaked, but that’s an issue for another time.)

You hurry down the stairs, pushing the double doors open with a quick apology to Mrs. Choi, who gives you a stern look but says nothing else. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you slide into your seat, already unlatching your case.

“You’re late.”

You twist your neck to give your stand partner a blank stare. “I’m aware.”

“You look really nice,” he blurts out next, blinking faster than usual.

“Thanks?” You try and laugh it off, fastening your shoulder rest to the back of your violin. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just a flowy black dress with your hair tied back, but his remark renders you speechless for a split second “So do you.”

You manage to compliment him nonchalantly, but your heart is beating twice as fast, eyes admiring his parted, fluffy hair, the white dress shirt impeccable on his figure. And his lips…

Shit. You really are down bad, but you don’t have time to dwell on it — Mrs. Choi is starting the last piece already, and you’re scrambling to have your instrument ready by the time the first violins start with their little intro.

Seokjin laughs at you quietly, but inhales sharply when you start to rosin your bow hair. “You kept it,” he says softly, nodding at the block in your hands.

“Yeah,” you swallow, suddenly self-conscious. “I did.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I’m not that ungrateful,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “Of course I kept it, Seokjin.”

“Jin.”

“Huh?”

“Jin,” he repeats, flicking a strand of chestnut hair away from his eyes. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“Since when am I your friend?”

“Would you rather not be?”

“Would you rather be?”

Seokjin — Jin, rather — frowns down at you. “Stop asking questions to my questions!”

“You did it first!” you exclaim, laughing. “Hypocrite! Answer mine, then!”

He looks at you for a long moment, like he’s taking his sweet time choosing the right words to say to you. “Since now,” he decides finally, firmly. “You are now. I want you to be mine. My friend,” he clarifies, turning deep red as he says it.

“I thought you hated me,” you muse. “And I was pretty sure you thought I was the lamest kid ever because I couldn’t play a single thing right.”

“Of course not,” Jin shakes his head vehemently. “You’re cool, Y/N. A little tone deaf, but cool.”

“Take that back!”

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth,” he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You send him your best glare, but contrary to your facial expression, it’s nice to laugh with him like this. You’ve been so caught up with telling yourself that you shouldn’t be feeling anything but annoyance when you’re around him that you ignored your blossoming feelings, and now they’ve fully bloomed, leaving no room for that initial irritation you so often experienced.

Friends. It’s not what you most want, but it’s something. You could get used to that.

The concert goes smoothly, and the choir performances were absolutely delightful to watch — but your father is late, again, which means you’re stuck waiting for him out in the rain that hasn’t let up for hours.

You’re about to call him for the fifth time in ten minutes when you hear a set of heavy footsteps behind you, running up the stairway. “Y/N!”

“Jin?” you ask, surprised by the boy making his way toward you, brown hair completely soaked. “What are you doing out here?”

“I lied,” he says breathlessly, like he’s in a rush, and if he doesn’t tell you now, he might never be able to. “I’m sorry, I — I lied, Y/N. I don’t want you to be my friend — God, I don’t think I could live with that. I want you to be more.”

“Jin—”

“I just,” he exhales forcefully, “I want to be able to take you out and hold your hand and hug you and kiss you—”

When your mind finally clears up, you don’t let him finish his sentence, instead grabbing his collar and yanking him down so you can press your lips to his in one swift motion. A quiet gasp leaves his mouth, but he quickly adjusts to the situation, hands dropping his violin so he can gently cradle your face, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. It’s all happening so fast that you barely even have time to think, to properly take it all in.

His lips are cold due to the nasty weather, and you’re both sopping wet — and this is most definitely the worst setting for this to have happened, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“That,” Jin breathes when you finally let him go, pupils dilated, “that was—”

“My first,” you finish. Your prior courage all gone, you’re a bit nervous now, too embarrassed by your bold move to even meet his eyes. What were you thinking? “I-I’m sorry...”

“Sorry?” Jin asks, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“You know, because… of that.” You can barely speak up, cheeks burning. “I-I don’t know why I did that. Is this — is this a prank or something? Did you plan this? Was I just supposed to laugh it off and threaten to take your eye out with my bow instead?”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, laughing. “Can’t you tell, Y/N?” He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper. “I like you, you idiot. Ever since you waltzed into the auditorium sophomore year and nearly broke your violin falling down the stairs, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You… you like me?” you ask incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. “Like, for real? You’re not just pulling my leg like you usually love to do?”

“I meant what I said, Y/N,” he tells you softly, fingers intertwined with yours. His voice is genuine, soothing. “I want to do all those things with you, if you’ll let me.”

It takes you a while to reply, but when you do, your heart is pounding so loudly in your chest that you can barely hear yourself. “A-And if I said yes?”

A wide grin breaks out onto Jin’s face as he pulls you into a hug, both your instruments forgotten on the pavement and your head resting on his chest as he holds you close. A few days ago, you would have thought yourself a fool for even thinking that a day like this would ever come; yet here you are, all those daydreams come true.

It’s all so new to you, and you’ll most likely screw up along the way — multiple times. But hand in hand with Jin and his vexing ability to pick out a B from a B flat, things aren’t looking so bad.

You’ll work it out.

Hanging out with your friends is always a chaotic (but fun) occurrence — but when you add your boyfriend’s buddies into the mix, it all goes down to shit.

Actually, it’s all his fault, if you really think about it. Why on earth did he think challenging Taehyung to a baking competition was even remotely close to being a good idea?

“That’s so not fucking fair!” the aforementioned best friend cries, angrily shaking a spatula at a playfully grinning Jung Hoseok. “You can’t just hide the bag of flour! I fucking forgot to put it in!”

“Nothing we can do about it now, Tae,” Jimin sighs, massaging his forehead as the three of you stare at the burnt, soupy mass your team has created. “We fucking lost, that’s it.”

“So,” Jin smirks mischievously, nudging your elbow. “I guess Hoseok and I win this one, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you shove him back, though you’re grinning; a plate with a slice of his impeccably made cake in your hands and a fork lifted to your lips. “You’re good at this and you know it. I knew from the start that you were just trying to fuck around with Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Your evil, demonic, deceptive, satanic boyfriend—”

“Nice vocabulary,” Hoseok comments without looking up, and you’re sure he’s on your best friend’s hit list at this point.

“Well — anyways, he’s out to get me,” Taehyung continues, frowning. “I feel attacked.”

“Yeah, okay, keep saying that several years from now when you’re sitting in a church and Y/N’s walking down the aisle,” Jimin says nonchalantly, causing you to choke on your cake in complete shock.

“What the heck — we’re literally eighteen! You can’t — you can’t just say things like that!” you exclaim indignantly, fork clattering against your empty plate. Jin grins widely all of a sudden, tapping your shoulder all of a sudden.

“Jagi.”

“Hmm?” You turn to him, momentarily forgetting how flustered Jimin’s comment made you feel.

“That was a really nice C# just now…”

Your mouth drops open as you gape at your boyfriend; part of you wants to cry and part of you wants to laugh. You knew when you agreed to make it official that somewhere along the line, you’d have to deal with these kinds of things, but now that it’s actually happening…

You turn to Jimin, patience already running thin from Jin’s antics (actually, you secretly love it, though you’ll never admit it to his face.)

“And you have the audacity to suggest that I’ll actually get married to this man?”

“Y/N? Honey, wake up. I… I just realized something.”

“Oh — Jin? What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. You know, I was thinking about it, and I realized that...” Your husband bites down on his lip hesitantly, glancing down at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“Yeah?” you press, curious.

“When Aera cries — you know, when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs,” he smiles fondly. “It’s always — she always cries in either F# or C#. It’s,” he looks like he’s nearing tears, “the D major key. Y/N, she literally cries in D major. I’m—”

You sigh, smiling amusedly to yourself as you snuggle up to him for extra warmth, holding your baby close. Leave it to none other than Kim Seokjin to analyze his daughter’s pitch — isn’t that part of the reason why you fell in love with him, anyway?

Life with Jin is many things — a chaotic mess that includes the constantly screaming light of your lives, three pandemoniac best friends, and far too many notes for you to keep track of. And though sometimes you want to chuck a blue-lidded block of rosin at his head to shut him up, you’re more than ready for it all.

— feedback/questions/just wanna chat?

thank you for reading perfect pitch! ♡

#applejinie #seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin one shot #jin x reader #jin fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts one shot #rainguk #jin high school au #bts high school au #bts orchestra au #violinist!jin

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part V/VII)

"the perfect excuse"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley19 @dianarte

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, drinking, makeout getting spicy

A/N: idk what happened here, this was not planned I'm just horny ig??? Anyway have this part that was definitely not meant to unfold like this but hey, I'm not mad, so enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before heading to the kitchen. There was no actual need of dressing up nicely, since we both would be spending New Year's Eve at the flat, but since Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione were coming, we decided to clean up for our guests.

"Hmm, smells good." I leaned on the doorframe, observing George finishing cooking.

"These past five months' messes paid off." He joked, grabbing a kitchen rag to clean his hands. "Can you keep an eye on it while I go get read..." He trailed off automatically when his gaze landed on me. "Woah— okay." He cleared his throat, eyes slightly widened at my outfit, and I couldn't help but enjoy a bit too much his attention. "You look really good— is that the new blouse?"

"Yup." I replied, a coy smile dancing on my lips as I stepped to him and picked the kitchen rag myself. "C'mon, go clean up nice for our guests."

It only took him a couple of minutes, since he might have had his suit ready.

"Mind lending a hand with the tie, love?" He requested, stepping into the kitchen with his attention on the shirt's cuffs which he was buttoning up.

Damn, he looked so good; it wasn't even fair.

"Y/n?" He chuckled, finally looking up.

"Uh— yeah! Sure." I threw the rag over the counter and led my hands to the tie, taking my time to make the knot; maybe I wanted an excuse to have my hands on him.

We stayed in silence until I was finished; it wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't comfortable either— it was, in fact, stifling.

"There you go." I more like whispered instead of talking, sliding my hands down his chest briefly. His eyebrows were knitted, trying to decipher my demeanor; his hands caught one of mines before they fell limply on my sides, and for a second, I thought he was about to do something really stupid —something I had wanted to do for the last three months—, but then the bell rang and we stepped away from each other, going to receive Ron and Hermione as if that moment hadn't happened at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GINNY'S P. O. V.

I took a sip of my brandy as we laughed at Ron's joke, my eyes drifting to Hermione and then to Y/n's lap, where Teddy rested, giggling and blabbering nonsense at George's hand movements and funny faces.

George had confided me quite ashamed that he fancied Y/n about two years ago, but I knew the looks he gave her were of something more than a little crush, if you may.

Had I not known Y/n, I would be worried she was projecting Fred onto the younger twin, but the girl knew better than that, so when we got to experience how their domestic life unfolded during New Year's Eve, I felt nothing but happiness at the way Y/n laughed at my brother's jokes, or how she stared at him in pure adoration as he played with Tonks's and Lupin's baby.

"You're getting him waaay too exited, mate." Harry chuckled, extending his arms for Y/n to hand him the toddler. "He needs to go to sleep."

Teddy, who we had put to sleep in Y/n's room shortly after dinner, had woken up right before the New Year came to us, and, since he refused to go back to sleep, Y/n took on the task of entertaining him. George joined as soon as he witnessed Teddy's hair going rainbow-like at Y/n's actions.

"Actually, I think we all need to go to sleep." I said, leaving the glass on the table.

"Boo, you're supposed to be the youngest!" Y/n whined, earning a laughter from the rest.

"Ginny's right, though." Ron stood up and all of us followed his lead. "It's really late and I don't want mum to see us drunk when she wakes up."

"Not a good impression to make on your future mother-in-law, oi, Granger?" George's tease made Hermione's cheeks flush, murmuring an 'idiot' before giving him a hug. "Take care, all of you." He added after he and Y/n had hugged everyone goodbye.

The five of us exited the flat and apparated in the Burrow's yard in silence until Harry asked, "are they together now?"

"We don't know." I confessed with a grimace.

"Well, together or not, they're definitely fucking."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

"I just said what everyone else's thinking." He defended himself, and none of us could deny it.

READER'S P. O. V.

We began to pick up the dirty plates, glasses and cutlery in order to take them to the sink and leave them there to wash them tomorrow.

"Oi, look what I found." George wiggled a firewhiskey bottle at me from the living room.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed the half empty ice cream tub I had just left over the counter, a couple of clean glasses, and I made my way to George.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"—and that was only in our... Third- no- fourth! year?" He finished the story, joining me in the giggling; I didn't doubt the story was funny, but I was sure it seemed ten times funnier because of the alcohol. "Wait- where were you back then?" He knitted his brows in confusion.

"A year below you." I laughed.

He snorted. "Below me," he took a look at his empty glass before reaching for the bottle with a laugh "hell, I wish."

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Sure you do." I wouldn't have laughed if I were sober, but then again I highly doubted he would have said that if he were sober. "Y'know- you can have me below you anytime you want, Georgie." I replied between lazy giggles, leaning on him so he would pour more firewhiskey into my glass too.

A loud snort left George, triggering one of my own. "Sure, darling." He loosened his tie and tossed it to the floor. "Why's it so hot in here?"

"Mmm... Must be 'cause of you." I threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Or... maybe's just the alcohol." I groaned at the feeling of my head spinning, and sat upright again to chunk the now full glass in one go. "I'm hot too."

"Oh darling... You can't even imagine how much— I mean... Every day— but tonight you look partic... particular...ly? Dashing." George was leaning back against the armchair's feet, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and an amused smile dancing on his lips. "Why must you be so bloody perfect?" I found myself staring a bit too much at the ginger. "There's still a conscious part of my brain that knows I shouldn't be saying this shit." An idle chuckle left his chest and one of his eyes peeked open. "I'm gonna blame the alcohol, aight?"

Right, the alcohol —The perfect excuse.

I laid my glass on the floor and got up, stumbling towards him. "Oi, careful— you don't wanna trip and fall." He laughed, steadying me with his hands as I plopped down on my knees besides him. "We won't make it to St. Mungo—" With one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek, I went for it, cutting him mid-sentece in the process.

It was one hell of a sloppy kiss, and I was so concentrated on doing it right that I didn't even hear the moan I sent into his mouth.

What the hell are you doing?, My mind screamed.

I attempted to pull away, but I felt George's hands on my sides, clutching my clothes in his fists to tug me flush against him. I took the cue and did my best to climb onto his lap and straddle his legs without losing balance.

What we were doing felt terribly wrong, and, the morning after, we would regret this little slip so much, but in that exact moment I could only think that his lips tasted like fire whiskey, strawberry and chocolate, and that the quiet moans slipping through them between the kisses were loud enough to quiet down everything in my head.

I stopped to take a breath, resting my forehead against his; our eyes locked, pupils blown out.

Heavy pants left our lungs, as if we had just run a marathon. It felt like the kiss had made a bomb go off, one that we had unconsciously been building up those past months.

It took an instant of looking at each other to know we thought the same; we wouldn't get this opportunity ever again, so at that point, we might as well carry on and pray for it not to be too bad in the morning.

This time it was George who smashed his lips against mines, teeth clashing and tongues going in each other's mouths. The situation was escalating quick; a tad too quick, I daresay.

He cursed and mumbled something about too many clothes, proceeding to pull his shirt over his head with my help, given that he could only do so much with that amount of alcohol in his sistem.

I could do even less, though. It was proven when I first attempted to get rid of my blouse.

I struggled to unbutton it, an awkward, dizzy silence falling among us before his hands travelled to mines "Wait... Lemme..." He frowned, finding that simple task as frustratingly difficult as I did. "Bloody..." A browned off grunt left his swollen lips.

"Tear it." I mumbled, letting my hands roam over his chest.

"You sure?"

I hummed, somehow impatient. "We'll fix it tomorrow." I captured his lips once more.

We'd fix it tomorrow.

I felt his hands fisting my shirt by the cleavage before giving it a firm tug, making my gasp; I wasn't expecting all the buttons to come off in one go, given his drunken state.

I didn't even have time to discard the piece of clothing before his lips attacked my neck, shutting my brain off instantly due to the sensation.

"You want this?" He whispered in my ear, his hands going up from my thighs to my back until they reached the clasp of my bra.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded vigorously, making the world shake around me so hard that I had to shut my eyes.

I felt a feather kiss on my shoulder and his fingers unfastening the bra; he was doing his best to be smooth, which wasn't a lot, but I could tell he was trying hard.

"You're so sweet." I blurted out as his fingertips ghosted over my skin while he removed the top from my body.

He tried to reply something, but articulating kept getting harder and harder as we went deeper into it, so he gave up on words and so did I; at least until his fingers slid between my legs and started to tease me through the fabric of my remaining clothes.

"Bed." I whimpered, unconsciously rocking my hips against George's hand whilst my own travelled to his crotch, feeling his erection and consequently earning a moan from him.

"D'you think we'll make it?" He inquired, already retreating his hand briefly so we could stand up.

Soon enough we were stumbling to my room, hands all over each other, bumping against the furniture and walls due to not being able to stand upright.

When we fell on the bed and tossed the rest of our clothes to the floor, it began to dawn on me how bad this was going to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My head was pounding violently in my skull; that's most likely the reason why I woke up. It took a moment for the blurry memories of the previous night to flash into my mind.

"You feel... so good..."

"Fuck- George— faster, please..."

"Y/n— I'm-"

"No." I shoot up, not acknowledging that Y/n was still asleep by my side. "Fuck no. Nononono." I ignored the terrible headache caused by the hungover and, grabbing my clothes, I exited the room. "No fucking way." I kept mumbling to myself, stalking to my dorm to throw on some fresh clothes.

I sat on my bed, my hands running through my locks, bringing back the memories of Y/n's tugs on them in the process.

"What the fuck did I do." I almost choked on the sentence.

169 notes · View notes

antiherocorner · 3 years

Text

Niki Lauda - The White Wolf

A Werewolf! Niki Lauda x Reader fic (18+)

Headcanons:

So... This is my first AU ever... And also this is my first smut... Kind of... Thing... Ever... Sex scene, let's go with that... I was debating to post it in smaller parts, or a bigger one. I decided the second one might be better.

This is a mess, and a random idea... This could be a psychedelic trip, while you're watching fucking Twilight... Yes, I am familiar with the Twilight Saga... No, I wasn't Team Jacob... No, I didn't intend to base this on that... But it might has some similar stuff (no vampires)... Small stuff... All of them were unintentional, really.... Well... 1 or 2 things weren't, but most of them.

English is still not my native language, apologies for the grammatical mistakes, I tried.

Taglist: @rumblelibrary (you are my first tag in a fic written by me aaaaaaa🥺❤️🔥)

Summary: Your car broke down while you're on a road trip, on your own. You need someone to fix it. There's a small town. What could possibly happen?...

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do it kids), swearing, possibly smoking, drinking, mention of scar (nothing big or serious), google translated German, bad dog jokes, puns, and no, i didn't make a "real" wolf fuck the Reader, i'm not that kinky, i imagined the Reader to be female, but can be gender neutral, no name, or age mentioned, no use of y/n either... That's it?... Idunno, still new to this

(collage made by me, i don't own the pictures, i just used them, it's also very amateur, I haven't done a collage in ages)

🐺🤍❤️

You were in your car ‘till your waist. The damn thing broke down half way into your road trip. You have had enough of your monotonous everyday life, so you decided to pack up the essential stuff of yours, get your car together, and head out into the unknown. You have already seen beautiful mountains from a distance, gone through deep, mysterious forests, taken many pictures. You have tried to live in your car, but occasionally you have stayed in some cheap, low budget motels for 1 or 2 nights. You always had trust in your car, yet there you were. It didn’t run out of gas, it just suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, just outside of a small town. It looked rather friendly, and not busy at all. There wasn’t any other car passing by, so you did what you thought was the best decision: packed your bag, locked the car, and started walking into the town, praying to find someone, anyone really, who can maybe lend a helping hand.

The people you saw were really kind, it seemed they didn’t really get too many outsiders in their small town, and they seemed happy for you. They told you that there was one car mechanic in the town, a little group of guys. They also told you about a motel, which was always open for travellers, and due to the lack of them, it was basically empty. You decided to go to the motel first. The receptionist was a friendly old lady, who, again, got very excited to finally have someone at her place. You got your room, for a very small price, went in and unpacked some of your stuff. You really wanted to know what was up with your car, or if it could be fixed at all, so you didn’t waste much time in your new temporary place. After a few minutes you headed out to the streets, to the direction where you were told before to find the mechanics.

It was one of those warm days, so you were glad you found what you were looking for. You heard music coming out of an open garage. Above the doors you read “The Rat's Den”.

- Hello?... - you popped your head in the garage.

- Can I help you with something? - a tall, blonde haired man, with broad shoulders approached you. He had a cheeky smile on his face, sweat under his long locks. Oh, and shirtless.

- I uhm.. My car broke down just down the main road - you gestured with your hand where your car was - And I was just wondering if you could help me with it… I don’t know what could be the problem, I have been traveling with it for the past few days, weeks, everything was fine up until now. I just can’t get it to work.

- Sure, we can take a look at that thing - you turned your head to the direction from where another voice caught your attention. Another man just slipped out from under a car. He had curly hair, slimmer body than the blonde one, but still tall. You looked him in the eye as he came over. His eyes were like a river of caramel pudding, and they were glowing like a forest fire in the middle of the night. Your mouth watered.

- Thank.. You… - you said shyly. What’s happening? You normally aren't this shy… - When can you do that?

- Are you staying in that old motel? - asked the curly one.

- Yes.

- Alright. Is that good, if I go there around 7 am tomorrow, so I can take a look at it before I open the garage?

- Y-yeah… sure.

- It’s a date then. I’m Niki Lauda, by the way, that’s James Hunt. - he gestured towards the blonde one, James. You didn’t even notice him leaving you two. You told him your name.

- It was nice meeting you. I’ll be there at 7.

- Okay. See you then. And thank you.

- It’s no problem.

And with that you headed out of the garage. You turned back before you completely went outside. You saw a tattoo on James' right shoulder. You didn’t see every detail, but you felt a strange feeling. Unconsciously your eyes wandered to Niki. He was wearing a white shirt, but you could still see a glimpse of something similar, at least as you guessed, just under his neck. Strange.

You went back to the motel. You couldn’t go to sleep during the night so easily. You had a weird feeling about The Rat’s Den. Some kind of an aura was around it. It looked like any other garages where they repair cars and that’s it, but not there. There was something. You couldn’t really describe what you were feeling, or grasp what you should even be looking for. Something was up, you were sure about that.

🐺🤍❤️

After a few hours of sleep, you woke up. Niki could be here any minute now. You freshened up a little bit, you felt like shit due to the lack of sleep. Suddenly, you heard a loud car noise. You were the only one there at the motel, you guessed that was Niki. Honk. Yes, most definitely. You opened the door for an old, shiney Ferrari, with Niki sitting at the front.

- You’re coming or no, Schatzi?

You blushed by the petname, but quickly composed yourself, locked your room’s door, and jumped into the passenger seat. The man asked you about where you left your car. You answered and he drove to the correct directions. The short journey was mostly silent, with small talks. You stared out of the window, so you missed the spectating eyes of his.

- You’re good? You look exhausted…

- I’m okay, I just haven’t slept much. - you turned to him.

- Well, that makes the two of us.

You looked at him with curious eyes, but he remained silent, eyes focused on the road. You couldn’t read him, but tried to observe his features. He was pale, especially his knuckles as he was basically suffocating that poor wheel. He was taking deep and slow breaths. He looked like he was having a hard time in his own car.

- Is that your car? - Niki snapped you out of your thoughts.

- Yes, yes, that’s it.

Niki stopped his car in front of yours. You got out, and walked to it. He asked for your keys, so he could open the hood of the car. You took them out of your packet, then placed them in his open palm. Fingers briefly touched. He was warm. Surprisingly warm. For a moment you thought you heard him sharply inhale, but he quickly busied himself with your car. He has a nice butt. You immediately scolded yourself and turned your back to him, leaning on the side of the car, while he was working. After a few minutes, awkward silence, and some rattling, he straightened himself and turned to you.

- The engine gave up. Although it’s nothing serious or expensive, it will take some day to fix it properly, so it won’t die again. - so I stuck here yey - How long will you stay?

- As long as I don’t have a car I guess… - you massaged your nose, the lack of sleep started to catch up - I took it to a mechanic before I left… That’s just great…

- Well, that asshole did a shit job… It’s obvious what’s wrong, and it didn’t happen overnight. - he shrugged and closed the hood - I can’t take it back to the garage now, but during the afternoon I will come back for it with a more usable car.

- Sounds like a plan - you nodded and extended your arm to take your keys back.

Your fingers brushed against his, again, but this time the contact shot electricity up in your arm, which caused you to drop the keys. You instantly crouched after it, but what you grabbed weren’t your keys. It was a hand. Niki’s hand. How does he have these quick reflexes? You looked up, still holding his hand, and just realized that your faces were just a few centimeters away from each other. Both of you froze. Niki even seemed like he wasn’t breathing. His eyes were on yours, before he looked down to your lips. You licked them unconsciously. He purred. What?

- We should get back to the town.

He jumped up, leaving your keys on the ground. You tried to get yourself together, picked up your keys and sat back into his car. The way back to the garage was in complete silence. He didn’t purr, did he? He just breathed weirdly… I am imagining stuff… Right? You were confused.

🐺🤍❤️

Not much happened during the rest of the day. You tried to look around the little place, bought some food and just relaxed in your room. When the sun started to settle down you realized that you didn’t give your car keys back to Niki. You left each other in such a hurry, after he took you back to his garage, none of you had it in mind. You couldn’t call him, you didn’t have his number, and you didn’t really want to walk there. Throughout the whole day you had a strange feeling. Something was definitely up. You just felt it in your guts. Niki was like any other man and yet, he had an aura that just gave off some vibes which you just couldn’t grasp, no matter how hard you tried. You were pacing in your room when you looked out of your window. A red Ferrari just stopped in front of the motel. What, is he a mind reader too? You opened your door, spinning your keys in the air with your right hand.

- Catch! - you shouted, throwing them at his back, but before it could hit him, he turned around and caught them in his left hand with incredible accuracy.

You weren't expecting that. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and winked at you, as you locked eyes. You blushed deeply, and he disappeared just as quickly as he came by.

🐺🤍❤️

During the evening, you couldn’t rest. Again. This time you decided to go for a little walk. You weren’t really paying attention to where you were going. You just wandered around the quiet, calm town. It seemed like everyone was fast asleep. Not a single person, not a single soul was up. You arrived at a little dirt road which was leading you to a forest, next to your temporary home. You didn’t know why, you followed it. You got to a little field which was shielded with huge trees from the outside world. Some rays of sunshine were still peeking through the bushes, giving it an angelic look. Little red flowers covered your newly found small area. It felt like you were in a fairytale. But you weren’t. You heard a branch break behind you. You turned on your heels, just in time to see a huge, black wolf coming out from the bushes. It looked unusual, there was something in its face, in its eyes that was off. Human? It had a human kind of amused face expression. In the middle of your observation you just realized it was coming close. You panicked. Just when you thought it was going to rip you apart, another one jumped between the two of you, from behind you. This one was white, and slightly bigger. It growled at its own kind, like it was telling him to fuck off. The black wolf looked at you one last time and took off into the trees. The remaining animal calmed down, before it turned to you. It looked majestic. There was something royal in its posture. Around its neck and on his chest it had little patches of curly fur, like a mane. It had a cut on its lip, probably just had a fight, maybe with its prey. It looked deep into your eyes, like it was staring into your soul. There was something familiar in those eyes. The eyes were glowing, and like a river of caramel. Wait. You took a step forward and it instantly disappeared into the shadows. You really did needed to sleep.

🐺🤍❤️

You jolted up in your bed. You were covered in sweat, hair was messy. You massaged your face while you were trying to catch your breath, even your breathing. You looked at the clock. 1:30am. You managed to sleep for about an hour, before the nightmare woke you up. You saw the wolves again. They were circling you. The black one jumped forward and tackled you to the ground. Your sight got blurry, but you could still make out the silhouette of the white one. It changed into a man. It had curly hair. You felt like someone or something was watching you. You walked to the window, and pushed the curtain aside. You saw a wolf, watching you from the otherside of the road. A white wolf. That wolf. You immediately turned around, hands were burying in your hair. What the hell is going on? Am I going crazy? What is this place? A knock on the door caused you to jump. With shake legs and hands, you went to the door and opened it. Niki was leaning on the door jamb, with his left hand.

- What an earth are you… - you started with a confused look but it quickly changed into a shock, your eyes got wide when you looked at his lips. He had a fresh scar there. - There’s no way…

- I can’t do this anymore. You drive me crazy. - he looked at you with a beast-like expression on his face.

- What do y- - you couldn’t finish your question.

Niki technically broke into your room, then kicked the door closed. He didn’t mean to scare you, but he was on the edge of completely losing control over himself. He took a step towards you. You didn’t step back. You couldn’t. That animal look on him made your legs weak, your mouth dry. The lust in his eye made you want him. You licked your lips. That was the last straw for him. The next thing you knew you were thrown against the wall. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a hungry wolf. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he didn’t plan to go easy and kind on you either. He hooked his hands under your knees, picked you up and you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass and thighs.

- Your smell is intoxicating to me. I still don’t know how did I manage to not to rip your clothes off and fuck you on the hood of your car, when there were just the two of us, alone. - he confessed into your ear, and that made you feel all kinds of incoherent thoughts.

You wanted to answer, but when he sucked on your collarbone, the only thing that came out of your mouth was a moan, which could have been heard in Hell as well. He growled in response, grabbed your shirt on the back, and tore it in half with such ease, letting it fall to the carpet. He took you away from the wall, then placed your back on your bed. He sit up, just to took of his shirt. He placed himself between your legs, arms next to your head to keep himself from crushing you. He looked you deep in the eye. The warm that radiated from him was unbearable. It made your stomach turn in itself. He leaned in to capture your lips, but he stopped just millimeters away from you. There was a silent question in the air. He got his answer when you closed your eyes. When your lips met, you felt like you jumped to another dimension. He tasted like a mixture of cigarette and beer. Your hands found their ways into his curls. His breath stuttered for a second, before letting out a purring sound into your lips and mouth. He liked that. No. He loved that. His left hand wandered down between the two of you, to pull your pants down. You let him. Then it was your turn to free him from his pants. He let you. He was bigger than you would have imagined, and thick. And also hard like a rock. You gently grabbed him to pump him a little bit, but he didn’t let you have your fun for too long. He needed you badly. He wanted to bury himself in you. He pulled your hand away from him, and just as you were to pull your legs up for him to get a better angle, he tightened his grip on your arm a little bit, and turned you around like he just picked up a feather. You got confused for a second but when you felt him at your entrance you put the puzzle together. Oh. He is half wolf after all. And without a second word he trusted his hips toward and filled you up. You pressed your face into your blanket to suppress some of your cry.

- I’m sorry, but you really bring the animal out of me... Meine schöne Beute...- was all he whispered, but waited for a little bit for you, to get used to him, before he started moving.

From slow and sensual trusts, you quickly arrived to needy and shameless fucking. His occasional growles got mixed with your load moans. Niki kept biting your neck and shoulders, and you couldn’t do anything, rather just take it. Not that you had any coherent thoughts about doing anything in that position. As both of you were coming closer to reaching your desires, Niki’s hands found their ways to the back of your own ones, interlocked your fingers, and raised both his and your arms above your heads on the bed. You saw the finish line, but before you could register the checkered flag, your pleasure hit you like a racecar. The man behind you finished the race as a close second. He stayed inside you until he got soft, then collapsed on the bed beside you. After you stopped seeing stars, you looked at him. He was already looking at you with his big caramel eyes. You felt this urge to cuddle him, you were already missing his warmth, although he wasn’t that far from you. He looked like he sensed your thoughts, because he opened one of his arms, invitingly. You quickly snuggled to his side, head on his chest. He was drawing circles on your back with the hand that was behind you. You reached up to the back of his neck, and started to slowly massaging the hair on it. He instantly started purring.

- I love this sound… - you slightly chuckled.

- I can get used to this… - he smiled.

- So am I... - the broken car was long forgotten.

Both of you drifted off to sleep like this, in the arms of each other. The last thing you heard was Niki’s heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Honk.

You shot your eyes open. You were in your car. In a parking lot. You sit up, confused, trying to solve your thoughts. You were tired, so you stopped to sleep a little bit in your car, before you reached your next destination. Was this all a dream? You climbed over to the driver’s seat. Started the car. Looked in the mirror on your right, on your left, then on the middle one. You saw a little purple spot under your shirt, around your neck. You pulled the shirt aside. A hickey on your collarbone.

🐺🤍❤️

The End?...

#daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #niki lauda #niki lauda x reader #werewolf au #car mechanic au #werewolf!au

62 notes · View notes

sorryimananti-romantic · 3 years

Text

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 4

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 6.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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Seohyun was waiting for Jiwoo for quite a while now, sitting on the desk in her room, doodling in her notebook. She sighed as she shut it, a bit frustrated. It was not like Jiwoo to leave her hanging.

Seohyun considered going out; it was highly likely that Jiwoo was at their usual spot- the park near the school, her home, or the accident site. It was about 10 pm. Wasn't that late, was it? She got up, but stopped.

Maybe Jiwoo needed space.

It was probably this, but Seohyun couldn't help fearing that she had just moved on. If she'd gotten her memories back, that could mean that she was a whole different person now. She might not be the Jiwoo she knew anymore.

Seohyun fell on her bed, staring at the wall, and suddenly felt goosebumps.

"Took you long enough," Seohyun said, not bothering to look at Jiwoo, who had just entered the room.

"Don't tell me you were waiting for me," Jiwoo smirked.

"Oh, why would I?" Seohyun smirked back, and made space for Jiwoo, who sat on the bed with her. "So?"

"So, my dear friend," Jiwoo began, clearly excited to tell her her life story.

And she did. She was Ahn Jiwoo, daughter to two loving parents and a sister to a 16 year old brother. She'd had a pretty normal life; her father was a finance manager and her mother a housewife, and she had a lot of friends during her school years too. The rumours about her father being some sort of criminal were wrong; she had to face those rumours in her life too. They had her confused with another Jiwoo in her class.

"So we were a group of four friends; 2 boys and 2 girls. I was kind of a rebel in my last few months of life, because I just found life boring. I wanted an adventure. Something new. I wanted to travel too. So I was suggesting to my friends that we should do something. They were all busy in their own ways, and I didn't understand. I kept bugging them. So when we were in that restaurant, we had an argument. I knew it was my fault. I stormed off, and I was just about to go back when I got hit by a car."

"Oh... so then you went to the hospital, and they found out you lost your memories?"

"Right," she said, "But I was already in a critical condition. Brain damage led me to death."

"Ah..." Seohyun stared at her. Jiwoo's eyes were sad as she told her this, but she looked content. "So the reason you stayed..."

"The reason I stayed was not one, but two. I wanted to make sure my friends didn't blame themselves and my parents had moved on. And I spent the whole day making sure that was the case."

"And the other reason?"

"I want an adventure," she said and smiled brightly.

"Ugh, you ghosts! You stay for the most stupid reasons!" Seohyun mocked and dramatically threw her head in her hands, which made Jiwoo hit her with a pillow until she was laughing.

"That's my last wish, Seohyun. You think you could do that for me? Go on an adventure with me?"

"Haven't you had enough of adventure though? I mean, living with me is an adventure in itself-"

"I already talked to San," Jiwoo said, catching her attention. "He actually thought it was a nice idea. So we're going on an adventure this week. He said he'll make it a surprise for me."

"Hey, hey, that's not fair? You didn't even ask me!"

"I didn't have to," Jiwoo flipped her red hair.

------------

"I don't know why I ever agreed to this," Seohyun sighed, handing her bag to Wooyoung who put it with the other few bags.

"Stop being a boomer and get in," Wooyoung said, and Seohyun did, muttering how she should have never suggested this.

"Should've thought before you planned all of it," Jongho snickered and Seohyun shot a glare.

"Everybody's in?" Hongjoong asked and they looked at each other, shouting a yes. Hongjoong gave a thumbs up and took the front seat of the van after shutting the door.

Everyone, including Jiwoo, who couldn't stop smiling, were seated. Seohyun had asked her mom to lend her a van that could fit 10 people, and though her mom had raised her brows in question, she had agreed when Seohyun said it was a trip with friends. She had just been surprised she had friends that were not ghosts, so without further questions (quite conveniently) she agreed, on the condition that the driver would be someone from the company.

She did raise a question when she found out that she was the only girl in the whole group, and there were only 9 people. Seohyun finally told her she was doing a favour for a ghost who had saved her life, and her mother made her promise she'd tell her the story someday.

They were going to Muchangpo Beach. They decided they'd see the sunset there. It was close to Seoul and the only place they could afford to travel and have an 'adventure'. They'd have a fun time, the boys promised, saying everything was fun when they were together.

Jiwoo was sitting between San and Wooyoung, and the three of them were chatting. Seohyun smiled when she saw that San was her voice; he'd say whatever she had to say.

She herself was in the middle row with Seonghwa and Yeosang by her sides. The two of them were also half bent backwards, listening to whatever the three of them were talking about. Seohyun had plugged her earphones in but she wasn't playing any music yet. She just listened to them talk.

"Tell us something about Seohyun," Wooyoung asked, giggling. Seohyun smiled inwardly.

"Well, Seohyun," Jiwoo thought, "she's quite rude, isn't she?"

"She's quite rude, isn't she?" San did his job, and the five of them laughed.

"She's not that rude,~" Seonghwa casted a glance at her, sighing in relief when he thought she couldn't hear him. Seohyun bit her cheek from the inside to stop smiling.

"She's scared of crows, of all thing," Jiwoo revealed, and the boys laughed a little. "She'll never show it, but when more than three crows are around, she runs for her life."

"Ah, I haven't ever noticed," Yeosang said, rubbing his chin, "she can hide it really well."

"Tell us some ghost story," Wooyoung asked. He was clearly enjoying this.

"I have a good one!" Jiwoo exclaimed and everyone seemed to scoot closer. "There was once a boy about her age who had the most stupid reason to not move on."

San almost stopped as he narrowed his eyes at Jiwoo and she assured him it was not Joon Hyuk. So San told the boys, and asked them to guess.

"He wanted an adventure too?" Yeosang laughed.

Jiwoo pouted, but said it could fall in that category, but it was a different sort of adventure. She told them to let their imagination run wild.

As San told the boys, Seohyun decided this was her cue to interrupt. "We are NOT going to talk about that!"

Wooyoung screamed a little in surprise. "Weren't you listening to music?!"

Jiwoo was just laughing and Seohyun bared her teeth at her, making everyone laugh and wonder just what sort of adventure did the boy want. After a hundred pleads from the boys, Seohyun finally told them that it didn't actually happen; she just threatened the ghost in unimaginable ways, making him move on without his desire.

"I think I have an idea of what happened," Yeosang thought, amusement in his eyes, "But I am too afraid to voice it out."

"I think you got it then," Seohyun nodded in approval and Yeosang gaped at her.

"You got it tough, friend," he said, patting her shoulder to comfort her. San and Wooyoung were pouting very loudly, and Seonghwa just stared at Yeosang and Seohyun as understanding passed between them.

"You both are so weird," Seonghwa finally said.

"If I tell you, Seonghwa, you'll drown in shame. Better protect your ears and your pure mind," Seohyun grinned.

San and Wooyoung exchanged glances, frowning, but they shook their head. It couldn't be that bad. Could it?

Seohyun plugged her earphones again, deciding she'd take a nap and actually played music this time.

-----------

"We're here!"

Seonghwa shook her awake, and Seohyun slowly opened her eyes, her hand going in front of her eyes as she blocked the sunlight. She took off her earphones and the sound of waves hit her, making her smile. She adjusted her green dress that reached below her knees, and put her hat on.

She saw that Jiwoo was already out, running along the beach, and San was watching her with a smile on his face. He turned back, meeting eyes with Seohyun, who suddenly felt out of breath.

San was handsome- painfully handsome. And the plain white shirt he wore didn't help. His hair was flying due to the breeze and he ran a hand through them, cocking his head to the side as he watched her.

The sun making his skin glow didn't help either.

Seohyun cleared her throat and joined him, and they both watched Jiwoo, in her jeans and green T shirt that she had died in- her permanent outfit, running as freely as she could, her red hair flowing behind her, her laugh ringing in the air.

"I didn't know she'd be that happy to see the beach. Hasn't she been here before?" Seohyun asked.

"I think she has. She knew the way. And I'm almost suspicious she's doing this just to annoy you," San answered.

As if on cue, Jiwoo stopped, doing a weird dance, then started twerking-

"And that's our cue to look away," Seohyun grabbed San, now laughing, by his arm and went to join the others. "They didn't have to come. They can't see her."

"We figured out a way to enjoy with her even if we can't see her," San smirked.

And that was how, a few moments later, they all were assembled in a circle playing cards.

"Why do I think San and Seohyun are cheating on us with Jiwoo?" Yunho looked at them suspiciously.

"How do you think the cards are in the air?" Seohyun asked, and Yunho grinned. She had a point. To anyone who could not see Jiwoo, it would look like a bunch of cards were in the air.

"I WON!" Jiwoo smacked the final card and jumped in the air. Seohyun gaped at her.

"You cheated!" She shouted.

"I was sitting with you the whole time, don't give me that shit," Jiwoo smirked.

San told them that she had, indeed, won without cheating and everybody groaned. Mingi dragged the food basket and him and Jongho started spreading the food.

"Can she really not eat?" Jongho asked.

"I'm afraid not," Seohyun answered.

"Isn't it rude to eat in front of a ghost?" Jiwoo put her hands on her hip and Seohyun popped a cherry in her mouth, saying, "It is."

San scoffed. Jiwoo kicked Seohyun's leg lightly and said she was going to walk. The rest of them started to eat.

"I heard the sunset here is very pretty," Seonghwa said.

"I've been here before," Mingi took a bite of his sandwich, "It really is the prettiest."

After eating a little, Seohyun looked in the distance where Jiwoo was standing near the shore, the waves flowing near her. Jiwoo looked back and started walking towards them, then stopped halfway and gestured at them to come.

"She's calling us," San said, and they all got up, joining Jiwoo.

"I want to play in the water," Jiwoo said.

"What's stopping you?" Seohyun asked.

"With you all, you dumbass," Jiwoo laughed and took her hand, leading her to the shore.

"Hey, hey, easy there," Seohyun laughed and let out a little yelp as the waves hit her bare feet. "The water is so cold!"

Jiwoo bent down and sprayed the water on Seohyun, smirking.

"Oh no, you did not!" Seohyun bent down and sprayed back before she could run. And so started a battle of getting each other wet. They all forgot all their worries for a while, running around in the waves, laughing as loudly as they could, laughing even louder when one of them got Jiwoo. By the time it got darker, they were all quite wet.

Yunho and Yeosang ran back to get towels for everyone, throwing them one each, and wondering if Jiwoo should have a towel. Seohyun said there was no need, but Jiwoo snatched hers once she was done.

"The sunset's here, guys," Yeosang said.

They all stood silently, side by side, watching the sky change to brilliant shades of candy, the sun reflecting on the sea. It was breathtakingly beautiful. At some point, Jiwoo crossed her hand with Seohyun's, and she turned to look at her face. Her red hair shone brightly and her eyes were wet.

"I want it to be the last thing that I see before I go," Jiwoo almost whispered. Seohyun's heart sank in her knees. It was really happening.

Jiwoo looked at San and smiled widely, San smiled back and waved at her. Jiwoo asked him to tell everyone that she was thanking them for doing so much for her. They all assured her it was nothing, and said they were gonna miss her.

San looked at Seohyun, nodding and urged the others to come with him. Only Jiwoo and Seohyun remained now, facing the sunset.

"It's really happening," Jiwoo finally said. A cry of pain escaped Seohyun's mouth. She couldn't take it anymore. Jiwoo rubbed her hand comfortingly, making her face herself. "You've given me an adventure. The time I spent with you, that was enough. Today was for you, Seohyun."

"Are you serious?" Seohyun asked.

Jiwoo nodded. "I told everyone it was for me, but no. It was for you. A gift for helping me out so much. For being a friend. A little sister that I always wanted."

Seohyun smiled sadly, "I'm gonna miss you so, so much. I got used to you, I shouldn't have."

"I know," Jiwoo smiled, kissing her forehead and wrapping her in a hug. Seohyun closed her eyes and inhaled. "Don't cry on me right now, Seohyun."

Seohyun laughed a little. "I'm trying not to, you're making it harder by reminding me!" She opened her eyes and saw the boys, watching them from a distance.

"I hope you'll open your heart more, Seohyun. That's my last wish. You had a tough life, but you have so many people, dead and alive, who love you. I hope you remember that, always."

"Unnie..." A tear escaped Seohyun.

Jiwoo watched the sunset, Seohyun in her arms, and it was perfect.

She closed her eyes.

----------------

Seohyun felt it, felt her presence fade away. She was no longer hugging Jiwoo. She stood for a few seconds before finally collapsing on the sand and she shuddered as tears began to flow. She put her face in her hands and cried her heart out.

The boys approached her, sitting around her, rubbing her back, telling her that it was okay. She just cried and cried, and she knew she was letting go of Joon Hyuk along with Jiwoo too. The proper goodbye that she had so badly wanted, she finally got it.

San put her arms around her and brought her closer, caressing her hair. After a few minutes, she was out of tears. She let her hair cover her face as she rested her head on San's shoulder, trying to normalize her breath.

Jongho handed her a water bottle. She managed a smile and took a few sips, rubbing her eyes. The boys looked at each other. They weren't sure what they should do next.

"God damn me if I ever befriend a ghost again," Seohyun said and finally laughed, making everyone else laugh along.

"Are you okay?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yes, I am, actually," she said, wiping her eyes again. "I'm done crying for a while now." Her eyes went to San, who understood and smiled.

"Alright, let's get some dinner."

-----------

The driver had dropped Seohyun home now, and was on the way to drop the rest of them. As Seohyun entered her home, it felt strange. She felt utterly alone now that she knew Jiwoo wasn't gonna be back ever.

She tried to recall the time, only a few months ago, when she hadn't met Jiwoo yet. What did she even do in her spare time? She could not remember.

Seohyun went in her room and changed into her PJs first. After she combed her hair and scrolled a bit, she got up to turn off the light and saw something lying on her desk.

It was a painting. Of Jiwoo and her, cheek to cheek, smiling, the black cat in their arms. Seohyun gasped a little and examined it. It was really well drawn. Who made it?

She turned the page and saw something written on the back of it:

Seohyun,

I remember now that I loved painting. Since we don't have any photos, I captured us in this painting. Now you have a photo!

Love always, Jiwoo unnie ^^

Seohyun laughed a little as she read how she had addressed herself. "I guess you really liked being called unnie," she thought out loud.

She set the painting on her bookshelf. After being content with its position, she turned off the light, and slept surprisingly peacefully throughout the night.

------------

"I swear to god if you don't make fun of me when I do something stupid, I'm never gonna talk to you all again."

"Well, that's new," Yeosang commented, "You're begging for it now."

"Better that then you all being like this!" Seohyun let out a frustrated sigh.

The boys were being ridiculously sensitive with Seohyun, and she was feeling absolutely uncomfortable. She hadn't noticed it the first two days, but then she noticed in the little things; how they'd always offer her food before eating themselves, how they'd always accompany her, etc. She had enough of the special treatment.

"You're acting like someone died," Seohyun said.

"Back at it with the dead jokes are you?" San shook his head.

"Technically, Jiwoo was dead," Jongho remarked.

"So did she die twice then?" Mingi wondered.

"Oh please," Seohyun sighed again, "I just want you all to act like we used to. No more special treatment. Please, this makes it worse. I'm already at terms with Jiwoo going. It was bound to happen."

"Alright, alright," Seonghwa said and shushed her. "We didn't know what else we could do. Back to normal, okay?"

"Thank you," Seohyun truly meant it. "Also, I think I'm ready to share my drums." The boys hooted except one.

"Are you angry?" Mingi asked. Seohyun immediately turned to San, who was suddenly interested in Wooyoung's fingernails.

"Now I am," Seohyun muttered, and San smiled without meeting her eyes. The teacher came and interrupted their session, so they went back to studying.

After school was over, the boys decided to go to their warehouse, while Seohyun asked if anyone would help her bring the drums. San volunteered and they walked to her home, the black cat in San's hand.

As they walked, talking about how it looked like the cat missed Jiwoo, San stopped in his tracks. "I think you have a guest."

Seohyun looked ahead and saw a middle aged man dressed like a doctor. He was a ghost. Seohyun shared a look with San and went ahead.

"How can I help you?" Seohyun asked. The ghost got startled when he saw that San could see him too.

Jiwoo had once explained that to ghosts, Seohyun shined a little brighter than the rest of the humans, which was how they knew. Seohyun had just thought she was crazy but now she realized, now that she was with San, that it must be true.

Or maybe Jiwoo hadn't been joking that one time when she said there was a banner on top of her head and every ghost could see it, only Seohyun couldn't.

"I was told you'd help me," the doctor said. Seohyun nodded and he continued. "I made a mistake. I operated on a patient and it went wrong. It was my fault. The patient lost his vision. They were going to sue me, but when I tried to settle it, we had an argument. They gave up on suing me, saying I wasn't even worth the trouble.

"It was a few days later. I went into a slump and started drinking a lot. I was on the roof of the hospital and it wasn't my intention, but I slipped. That's how I died."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Seohyun said, "How can I help you move on then?"

"I want to let the patient know that I truly am sorry, and I want to let my family, just my family know that it wasn't a suicide. I wouldn't leave them behind on purpose."

"But... isn't it easier for your family this way? Than knowing that you are now a ghost? That it wasn't an accident?"

"I think," San began, "that he's right. It's more easier for them if they know he didn't commit suicide. They'd feel really bad if they think he left them on purpose. No one wants that from the people they love."

The doctor smiled thankfully at San. "I'll take you to the patient first," he said and asked if he should teleport the two of them.

"Do you want to come? You don't have to," Seohyun said.

San stroked the cat's head. "I want to."

"I don't know if it's safe for San to teleport. So we'll take the mundane route. Lead the way, sir."

"It's quite a distance. I hope you have money for taxi," the doctor said.

On the way to the patient's house, they had a nice chat with the doctor. He told them about his life, back when he was famous for being a good surgeon. He had never made a mistake and he had always held pride in that. But with this particular patient, he took a risk he knew he shouldn't have.

He told them he had a 10 year old daughter and he wanted her to become a doctor too. He wanted her to know that it was good to save people, and she shouldn't be afraid to take risks but also be careful at the same time and know her limits.

Seohyun was actually touched by the whole thing. It was good to have ghosts like these once in a while; nice, well-mannered ghosts.

They reached the patient's house. It was in a posh area; the patient himself must be rich. The house looked more like a mansion from the outside. Upon ringing the doorbell, a woman appeared, who the doctor told them was his wife. She seemed to be past 50s.

"We're relatives of Dr. Lee, the one who operated on your husband. We're here to discuss things about the case."

The woman passed them a skeptical look, "The doctor passed away, didn't he? We gave up on the case altogether. What do you want now?"

"We just want to talk to Mr. Cho. It's important. Please."

The woman let them in, guided them to the chairs in the garden and said she'd bring her husband. San and her sat down, admiring the lush gardens. The doctor paced worriedly.

"It will be alright. I have a way with words," Seohyun assured the doctor.

The husband and wife arrived; San and Seohyun got up and greeted them respectfully. "I am Seohyun, Dr. Lee's distant relative. This is San, my cousin."

"Have a seat," he said and they all settled down, including the wife. Seohyun sighed and decided she'd get to the point.

"Dr. Lee made a mistake. You must know that," Seohyun said. The wife looked at her husband worriedly.

"So he says," Mr. Cho said, staring in the distance.

"He wants to apologize, sincerely. I'll get to the point. He's here right now. I can see ghosts, the dead who have not moved on. He had unfinished business here, because he wanted to sincerely apologize. He won't be able to move on until he hears your forgiveness."

"Is this a prank?" Mrs. Cho asked, but Mr. Cho shushed her.

"I hope you can prove he's here," Mr. Cho said.

"Dr. Lee told you about some ginseng plant right before you went under anesthesia. No one was there when he told you, right?"

"That's true," Mr. Cho smiled. His wife began to complain but he raised a hand. "That's interesting. My father had a friend. He could see ghosts too. Are you the Mediator?"

San and Seohyun looked at each other in surprise. "That's what they call me, yes."

Mr. Cho laughed a little. "I used to not believe my father and that friend of his for the longest time, until I saw something and couldn't believe my eyes. That's why I believe you too, girl. You're doing a good job."

"Thank you," Seohyun said.

"So Dr. Lee is here? I can speak directly to him?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright. Dr. Lee, it was your fault, I know. But I truly forgive you. There are things we cannot avoid. We call it fate or destiny. What's bound to happen, fortune or misfortune, happens and you cannot avoid it. That's what I believe. I want you to move on, without the burden of my accident holding you back. You didn't do it on purpose, and that is enough for me."

Tears escaped Mrs. Cho's eyes and she wiped them. Seohyun muttered to San, 'wise man', and they watched Dr. Lee's eyes shine with tears to as he said his apology and thanks. Seohyun conveyed the message.

They were offered tea, but Seohyun told them they had to get home. The man offered to help Seohyun out if she ever had trouble with this Mediator job. She accepted, saying she would pay a visit someday.

The three of them left the house, standing in the street and reflecting on what had happened.

"That went rather smoothly," Seohyun commented.

"I know!" San widened his eyes at her.

"Thank you, Seohyun. It really does feel like a burden off my shoulder."

"No problem, we should move now. What's the next job?"

"I don't think I can see them like this," the doctor said. "I love my daughter and my wife very much. Seeing them would want me to stay. Do you think I can write a letter to my wife? You can give it to her tomorrow."

"Will your wife believe that it was really written by you?"

"We had a secret code between us; we created it. If I mention it in the letter, she'll have to believe it. And she'll recognize my handwriting too."

San and Seohyun decided that was convenient, and Seohyun handed the doctor a pen and paper. He wrote a short one, muttering something about how the less he wrote the better it would be. Then he folded it and handed it to Seohyun.

"I trust you. You'll give the letter tomorrow, right? I wrote the address on the other page."

"I will deliver it personally."

"Thank you," the doctor smiled. "Do you think I'll be able to watch over my daughter?"

"Maybe you will," Seohyun said.

"Guardian angel," San added, making the doctor smile as he disappeared. He had moved on.

"Well," Seohyun said, "That was quick. I love it when ghosts are wise enough to actually know how to handle their mess."

San scoffed. "Let's go."

-------------

Grabbing some coffee from a café they passed by, they took a taxi to Seohyun's home. Seohyun insisted that they should eat before they packed the drums and go to the warehouse. San helped her set the table. She had made pasta last night, which she reheated, and had some chocolates for dessert.

"Does your mom ever come home?" San asked as he nibbled on the chocolate.

Seohyun yawned. San reflected. They both were tired and sleepy now. "She has an apartment near her office so she only comes once a week here."

San yawned again and Seohyun laughed. "Should I let you nap?"

San smiled lazily. "Let's just pack the drums while you're still angry. I don't want you to change your mind."

Seohyun threw the wrapper at him and he caught it before it hit his face, throwing it right back. She dodged it. "Come on, let's dismantle it."

It took them ten minutes to dismantle and pack the drums. But it was already night time, and the boys had locked the warehouse and gone home when San asked them.

"Well, I'll call them here tomorrow. They should take it if they want it so much."

"Good idea." San said, yawning again.

"I think if I let you go home now, you're gonna fall asleep in the middle of the road. Take a power nap, San."

"Oh no, I shouldn't. I'll just go," he said and walked past her, only to be grabbed by the arms and led to a room despite him insisting he was not THAT sleepy.

San entered the room and immediately knew it was Seohyun's. The potted plants, the books, the mess. And the painting.

"So that's the painting, eh," he said, walking towards it and looking at the detail, absolutely wowed by it.

"How do you know? I don't think I mentioned," Seohyun narrowed her eyes.

"Jiwoo told me she left a gift for you," he smiled. Seohyun went to stand with him, looking at the painting with him.

"She's really good," she said.

San looked down at her. She felt so small; he was about a head taller than her. He turned towards her, his hand going to play with her hair. "You're really okay, right?"

"I am, San," Seohyun assured him. "I do feel lonely when I'm home, but you guys make up for it everyday."

San nodded. He was still playing with her hair. Seohyun suddenly flushed; they were standing quite close to each other. San noticed her looking at him, her light brown eyes shining.

He seemed to be searching her eyes for something. And Seohyun wasn't sure what it was, but she felt her heart pumping louder every second. She was, oh god, she was so attracted to him. He made her feel so many things just by looking at her.

"What are you looking at?" Seohyun asked- almost whispered.

"You," San said, bringing his hand to cup her face, surprised when she leaned in to his touch and closed her eyes. It made him melt. He brought her in for a hug and she gladly wrapped her arms around his waist, his small waist. She could hear his heart beat just as loudly. San rested his face on her head, rocking them back and forth. He didn't want to let go, he wanted to stay like this as long as he could.

Seohyun sighed. All she could think about was how he felt. Her mind was truly blank.

San finally broke apart a little, Seohyun's arms still around his waist. He was staring at her, his hands cupping her face, putting stray hair behind her ears. Seohyun wanted to do the same to him, but at the same time she didn't want to let go of him.

"Seohyun, Seohyun," he whispered, loving the sound of her name on his lips. She bit her lip. It seemed like they just stared at each other for the longest time, afraid to say anything, until Seohyun smiled at the situation.

San kissed her forehead first, a light peck. When she didn't move away, he tilted her face a bit upwards to kiss her cheekbone, then her cheek, leaving butterfly kisses, making her tremble all over. She clenched his shirt tighter, out of breath already. Their noses brushed and she loved the feeling of it, his breath warm on her. And when their lips brushed, San finally kissed her properly.

And Seohyun's mind went blank.

San's hand went behind her neck and Seohyun finally left his waist, only to cup his face herself as she guided him along. They tasted chocolate on each other. Seohyun was deepening the kiss, she just couldn't get enough. San mirrored her movements, following along, making her bend backwards until her back hit the desk and her hand went to rest on it for support.

San broke apart to catch his breath. His eyes were glazed, and so were Seohyun's. He put his hand on Seohyun's, the one that was on the desk, and with a sultry look and half a smile, he kissed her again, so passionately that it made Seohyun curve back and back until San was half on top of her.

When they broke apart, finally short of breath, Seohyun smirked. "I thought you were sleepy."

"I still am," he said, resting her forehead against her and smiling, eyes shut.

Seohyun lead him to her bed, making him sit. She bit her lip and smirked as she positioned herself on San's lap. San held her by her waist and let her kiss him; on his cheeks, like he had done, a peck on his nose which made him laugh, and finally a kiss to the lips.

"God, the way you make me feel, Choi San!" She sighed dramatically.

"And how do I make you feel?" He questioned. Seohyun shook her head. "I'll tell you later. Now we sleep."

San set his alarm for a power nap and with Seohyun in her arms, they both slept peacefully. When the alarm did go off, Seohyun didn't budge. With a kiss on her forehead, he left the house.

----------

"There's something wrong with Seohyun," Yeosang announced and everyone turned to look at him.

"There's more?" Wooyoung asked sarcastically and Seohyun glared at him, turning to look at Yeosang, asking him what he meant by that.

"I don't know," Yeosang threw his hands in the air, clearly frustrated, "She keeps smiling to herself. It's creepy."

Seohyun and San shared a look and San, despite his struggle not to, burst out laughing. Seohyun pursed her lips, trying not to smile but failed.

"See?" Yeosang pointed at her, "Has she ever smiled like this?"

Wooyoung was looking at San and Seohyun. "You both.... Is there a secret I don't know about!?"

"I don't have secrets anymore..." Seohyun lied shamelessly, shrugging. San put his hands in the air and said, "I only laughed because of what Yeosang said."

"No, you're looking at each other with the most disgusting look in your eyes," Yeosang observed, "Don't tell me you two..."

"Ah, no, that cannot have happened!" Hongjoong waved him off as Seonghwa gasped.

"How could you even suggest such a thing?" Seonghwa shook his head, clearly disappointed in Yeosang.

"No, I didn't even say anything yet..." Yeosang looked at Seohyun to apologize but she smirked at him, making his eyes go wide.

"I am RIGHT! Something happened between these two, she smirked at me!"

Seohyun immediately put her poker face and looked at Mingi and Jongho, who were right in front of her, with the most innocent look in her eyes. "Did you see me smirk?"

Mingi and Jongho shook their heads. Yeosang shot Seohyun a glare. "I know I'm right. If this turns out to be true..."

"Stop being so dramatic," San said, shushing Yeosang, and got up to drink water.

They were all in the warehouse, having just left school, and were currently relaxing and drinking juice, chatting with each other. Yeosang had noticed Seohyun smiling more than usual, which made him think something happened. It didn't help that San and Seohyun couldn't stop exchanging glances.

Seohyun had brought the drum set with Yunho before coming to the warehouse. Seohyun motioned to Mingi and they got up, leaving the rest behind.

"Have you ever played drums before? Like, actual drums?"

"Yeah," Mingi answered, "A friend of mine had them."

"Alright, you should learn how to arrange them."

So Seohyun taught Mingi all about the components of a drum set, their various uses and how to dismantle them and put them back. Mingi listened carefully, and Seohyun smiled inwardly at how happy he looked. It made her feel guilty that she delayed it so much.

When they were done, they stood back to have a look.

"A much needed upgrade," Mingi smiled, ruffling Seohyun's hair, "Thanks."

"This drum set is my baby, okay? Use it well."

"Yes ma'am," Mingi saluted and Seohyun pointed at the drums. "Have a go."

Mingi sat on the stool, testing the weight of the drum sticks in his hand. He tested the sounds then, and played a little, freestyling, laughing as he did. The others had come to watch him, cheering and hyping him up.

"Not bad," Seohyun said when he finished, "Just go with your heart. Don't think."

"Your turn," Mingi handed her the drum sticks and she almost panicked.

"I think I'm good," she hesitated but someone pushed her forward. It was Yunho.

"I didn't go through all that trouble of coming to your house and carrying the drums to not see you play," he shook his head.

"Alright. Just a second," Seohyun said, tying her hair in a ponytail. "There you go."

Everyone hooted, clearly excited. This was the first time she was going to actually play in front of them, save for the time she had played the violin for San. San smiled at her as if he was thinking the same thing. Seohyun inhaled, testing the drums, and began.

She realized she really did enjoy playing the drums; there was just something about drums where you could express freely, and loudly, as if you wanted everyone to hear it. And it made her smile like crazy, put her brain on pause for a while and play with her heart.

She played like crazy, and when she was done, everyone was in awe.

"You're actually very good!" Hongjoong said, finally clapping. Seohyun bowed her head and got up. "I didn't expect this."

"It's like she was a different person," Jongho was looking at her with wonder.

"Teacher! you're my teacher from today," Mingi declared, and Seohyun scoffed at him.

"You don't need a teacher, teach yourself. I know you can."

"Nooo~" he wailed, "I would love you as a teacher!"

Seohyun just waved him off, going to San and smiling embarrassingly at him. He pinched her cheeks and she pouted, the two of them forgetting for a moment that everyone was still watching her.

"You two... there is something different!" Jongho laughed in disbelief. San and Seohyun started laughing. Yeosang just shook hands with Jongho, thanking him for finally noticing.

"They're not even bothering to deny it, guys," Yunho grinned.

"San is mine!" Wooyoung shouted dramatically, coming to hug San, sticking his tongue out at Seohyun. Seohyun glared at him, baring her teeth at him, and snatched San from him. Wooyoung gasped, and suddenly the two of them were in a battle, both pulling at San by his arms, who was laughing painfully, shouting for help.

"He's not even choosing!" Seohyun laughed, and winked at Wooyoung as she said, "Let's ditch him."

Wooyoung pushed San away, rather forcefully, who fell in Yeosang's arms. He put his arm in Seohyun and she flipped her hair as they walked away from him.

"No one loves me," San buried his nose in Yeosang's neck, pouting. Yeosang sighed, patting his head.

"You're right," Yeosang said, "Absolutely right."

"Hey..." San moaned like a little kid.

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enchantedblackrose · 3 years

Text

All the Pieces Pt 3

Gif not mine. Full credit to the owner. Taken from Google Images

All the Pieces

Sirius Black/Fem Reader

Warnings: unedited, mild language, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of underage drinking, small mention of bullying. Lengthy author's notes at the end. Also this was a huge PIA to write so hopefully it doesn't read too disconnected

Part 1|| Part 2|| Part 4|| Part 5

Part 3 of ?

When you touch me gently I remember how you know And the sun shines rings around your smile And I'm here laughing like a child -Pieces, Dan Powell

If it was any other person on your doorstep, you'd probably berate them for inducing that almost heart attack you just experienced. Instead you grab the familiar face by the sleeve of his worn jacket, pulling him into your living room.

"I could deck you, Remus John Lupin. I thought someone came for him. Ugh. Come here." Your arms wrap around him for a tight hug, which he returns. "He's here, Remus. He's safe." You feel Remus let out a deep sigh of relief. Pulling away, you look at him with gentle scrutiny, knowing what a toll last night took on him. "You look awful. Did you walk far? You should've told me you were coming. I could have met you."

Remus shakes his head. "I caught a train and apparated most of the way."

"Stop fussing over him, y/n. Let the poor man get past the door." Sirius's teasing voice calls out from behind you; no doubt his canine ears allowed him to hear the familiar voice even through the closed bedroom door and knew it was safe to come down.

The two men embrace; this encounter being much more relaxed than their last. No Peter, no warranted need for revenge, no threat of execution.

As you all stand in your living room, a haunting thought hits you: you three are it, the last of your true friends. Peter is the traitor. You suppress a shudder, swearing to make the most of this moment.

"You know," you say with a grin, "I happen to have a large bottle of firewhisky. Fancy a drink, boys?" Sirius's grin mirrors your own. Remus has a small tentative smile, but it's all the encouragement you need to send you to the kitchen to fetch the bottle.

The small, quaint kitchen appears even smaller with the disregarded dishes from breakfast still sitting out on your table. The sight causes a small frown to appear on your face. All the rest of the morning and most of your afternoon had been lost to the unplanned nap with Sirius. You fill your sink with soap and hot water. A few flicks of your wand and your dirty dishes are submerged in the water, scrubbed, and rinsed. The process begins again as now clean plates make their way to the drying rack, which is concerning because you dont believe you cast a spell for that. Confused, you turn to see Remus in the kitchen. He winks and wordlessly reaches your top cabinet without so much of a stretch to retrieve the bottle of firewhisky. You follow him back to the livingroom, toting three glasses.

"Cheers to freedom," you say once everyone has a full glass, "and to being reunited with old friends."

"You hear that, Remus? She thinks we're old." You roll your eyes good naturedly. Remus rests a hand on Sirius's shoulder, giving it a brotherly pat. "We are old," he says simply, before all three of you raise your glasses to your lips, sipping at the burning liquid. You each settle comfortably in your living room. Remus sits in the armchair, leaving the overstuffed couch for Sirius and you. You sit at an end, while he opts for the middle seat, but in a respectable distance of your space. The bottle of alcohol sits in arms reached on the coffee table.

"I thought you swore off this stuff y/n." Remus says with a twinkle in his eye as he takes another drink from his glass. "You know, considering your history with it.." You groan and Sirius throws his head back in laughter.

"I almost forgot," Sirius says breathlessly from laughing. "Was that seventh year?"

"Sixth. Just before we got together. I suppose I was trying to impress you," you tell him.

"You matched me drink for drink that night."

"Which was mad seeing how I never had a drink before. I spent all next morning and afternoon in bed, throwing up. It was awful."

"You're forgetting the best part," Remus interjects.

"Dancing on top of that old table in the Shrieking Shack, singing the chorus of "Rock and Roll all Nite" at the top of my lungs was far from the best part. I only wish I could forget it."

"That wasn't singing, love. More like cats dying," Sirius quips while he and Remus laugh. You say nothing, well aware how accurate the description fits. You take a long drink from your glass.

"Yes, well as, uh, entertaining as that moment was, I wasn't referring to it," says Remus. You look at him questioningly. "Have you forgotten sneaking into the Slytherin boys' dorm, stealing all their robes, turning them hot pink, changing the crest to a mountain troll, and then returning them to the dorm?"

"Oh, Merlin. That was the same night wasn't it? James had never been so keen on lending me his invisibility cloak until I concocted that plan!" The two men laugh and you join in.

"You know most of my other friends thought I was strange for being into muggle music." You say as the laughter dies down.

"Lily shouldn't have?" Sirius asks after he swallows his drink.

"No. You're forgetting Lily and I weren't friends first. We didn't really talk or hang out until she and James started dating."

"That's right. I forgot. I remember the two of you constantly together."

"Because we bonded over you two idiots. Prior to that, she never came out and said it, but I think she thought I was daft hanging around you lot most of the time. The other girls were more forgiving, but they had crushes on you all." You give a careless shrug. It was no secret how sought after the boys had been in their schooldays.

"I never quite understood how you became friends with us," Remus says.

"It was easy with you. You were so nice, calm, dependable, and not obnoxious. Peter…" you pause, choosing words carefully, not wanting present feelings to influence memories. "He was quiet and lonely. Pretty much agreeable. Again, easy. James and Sirius? I was determined to never speak to either after that boat ride our first night."

"We saved your life that night!" Sirius interjects.

"You two were the reason it needed saving! Standing up in a fucking boat because you two saw whatever in the lake. James knocking me overboard in the process."

"It was a giant squid and we rescued you."

You roll your eyes. "I was drenched, freezing and completely mortified. And as apologetic as James was, he kept calling me the wrong name." You all laugh.

"It wasn't until second year that I thought they might be okay. We had already become friends," you say looking at Remus. "I missed about a week of classes due to acute bronchitis. You spent time with me afterwards, helping me catch up. When you missed later that month, I was ready to return the favor."

Remus nods, remembering the time fondly. "You were an excellent note taker. Much better than the other three."

"Did you even take notes?" You ask with a playful glance to Sirius.

"In second year? Probably not." He grins ever so cheekily. You shake your head, but are smiling.

"So we became friends and you befriended James and Sirius by default?" Remus muses.

Sirius feigns hurt. "Are you implying we were some sort of consolation prize?"

"Actually," you interject, "They saved me once again. A group of four older boys were harassing me, just dumb taunts and knocking my books out from my hands. They came right over, not caring about being outnumbered. Got the gits to leave me alone. James finally learned my name and I realized Potter and Black weren't so awful after all."

"Those guys were jerks. It didn't sit well with us to see anyone bullied like that."

"Unless of course it was Snape," you counter.

"That was different," Sirius's free hand clenches into a fist as he takes a hard drink.

Remus is quick to change the subject. "Do you still have that remembrall?"

"The one we enchanted to go red only for James? Mhm! It's at my flat in the city."

"Do you mean our flat?" Sirius asks.

Your smile falters. "No. Sirius. I got a different place. After…everything. It was too hard."

A deafening silence falls. Each of you taking long sips from your glasses.

"Oh!" You jump up suddenly, which given your somewhat inebriated state is not the brightest idea. You stumble slightly, but Sirius steadies you, grabbing you by your hips. His fingers linger and your eyes meet. You lose yourself; for a moment you're sixteen again and his touch is more intoxicating than the alcohol. His gaze tells you he feels the same.

Remus clears his throat loudly before taking a drink from his glass.

"Thanks," you mumble, setting your glass on the table.

Sirius releases you from his grasp, though you still feel the ghost of his touch. "'Tis no trouble, darling." You sense his eyes on you as you disappear from the room, heading upstairs. Your head is buzzing, but you blame that on the alcohol…

You return downstairs to the living room, the fetched item tucked securely out of sight under your arm, and find the boys, men talking with easy smiles. It makes you so happy to witness and spend this time together. Your presence has their full attention.

"Follow me, please." You fill your glass with more firewhisky. Sirius mimics the gesture and offers Remus a refill, but he just shakes his head no and silently indicates to the liquid still in his glass. You grab your wand and lead your little group outside to the backyard. The sun sits low in the west, the sky becoming more plum and black than pink and gold. Buckbeak sits on the ground near your shed, one wing tucked over its head.

You hand Sirius your wand and then produce his prisoner robes. He laughs and even Remus looks as if he approves. Sirius waves your wand and the dingy, tattered garment is set ablaze.

After a while, you all make your way back inside. You prepare a light dinner and the eating and drinking continue with more laughs and shared memories. Hours pass. The contents of the bottle nearly drained signal the night coming to an end.

"I'm one drink away from dancing on tabletops and singing, or, screeching some A-ha, or something equally as embarrassing." you laugh. "I'm going to bed. Remus, I offered Sirius your room, but you're welcome to the couch. There are blankets and pillows in the hall closet."

"Thank you, y/n. But I should be going."

"What? No. Stay. I insist. I need to see your bemused face sipping tea when I come downstairs with a bloody hangover and you're just fine."

Remus grins. "I hate depriving you both of such a moment, but I have an appointment tomorrow morning. I've already rented a room." You frown but don't press the issue any more. "Though if you don't mind, I thought I'd travel by floo."

"Of course. Help yourself. Powder is on the mantle." You hug him close and kiss his cheek. You excuse yourself, giving the other two time to say goodbye.

As you head for the bathroom, you pause hearing their low voices.

"I'm so sorry, old friend, for believing you... betrayed them. I should have known better. I-"

"There's nothing to forgive. I doubted you, too. The war made us all fear the worst.."

Mentally, you chastise yourself for eavesdropping and begin washing your face.

Sirius has made his way upstairs. In passing his room, you say goodnight. You're about to close the door to your bedroom when he calls your name and you turn to see him stepping towards you. Without warning his lips crash down on yours. Your fingers intertwine in his dark curls at the nape of his neck as you let the kiss deepen. His hands grip your waist and he hoists you up off your feet with little effort just as he did many times all those years ago. Your legs wrap themselves around his waist as he carries you to your bed. He drops you gently and only breaks the kiss to look at you. Still hovering over you, his gray eyes search your face for the answer to an unasked question. You nod in response, but he continues to gaze at you longing to hear you say it.

"I want you."

A slow breath of relief leaves him and his mouth finds its way back to yours.

The night ends with two former lovers once again completely losing themselves in a perfect moment.

There's an unspoken understanding that the night you and Sirius shared together was more than a drunken hookup after a long night of reminiscing. But you don't repeat the night, though you share your bed with him. Nights are hard for him. Sleep doesn't always come easy and he often wakes in the middle of the night screaming, or panicked with sweat pouring off his body. But your presence brings him a comfort he can't otherwise achieve. And so, you spend your night together in your bed. Sleeping.

As days turn into weeks, a comfortable routine has set. Remus visits about once a week. Surprisingly, Sirius has taken to caring for your garden. You go into town as needed and you and Sirius cook dinner together most nights. Buckbeak, now known as Witherwings per a letter from Hagrid that reached Sirius, roams your yard freely, occasionally taking flight in the safety of the countryside night skies, always returning by daybreak. As precautions for the hippogriff and Sirius you casted Protego totalum over the cottage and yards.

During this time together, Sirius learns how you took over your parents' shop*, how you've taken on a promising young woman who mostly looks after it, leaving you to spend more time here at the cottage, which also belonged to your parents. With tears in your eyes, you told him how they died months apart just over two years ago. He comforted you, remembering them both fondly and told you they'd be proud of you.

The day is still young when you tell him you have to go to the shop to take inventory. Before you leave you call out to him.

"Since it looks like rain, can you please go through some of your things in the attic?"

"Yes, dear," he uses the term mockingly and you playfully glare back at him.

"Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone." With that, you close the door behind you.

It's late afternoon when you return home. Sirius is waiting for you. A midnight blue box in his hand.

"Will you marry me, y/n?"

*a/n: I kept this vague so you can imagine a shop that fits your personality/likes/whatever. I'll only specify this later if needed for storylines. I wanted something where you could be allotted time off easily. Personally I imagine maybe an apothecary? Or maybe an antique shop. What about you?

2: I'm thinking of writing a prequel? More like blurbs, highlighting moments between you and Sirius. But I need to know what you want to read. First engagement? First kiss? When Sirius realizes he's in love? Time at Hogwarts? Post Hogwarts but pre Azkaban?

Taglist <3: @oingo233 @marimorena06 @medalloway-blog

#sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius black x reader #adult sirius #harry potter fanfic #sirius black fanfiction

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kendochick-moor · 3 years

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So this is going to be both about writing and medical stuff, but what is your take on medical-related scenarios in fanfiction? I'm working on an arc in my longfic right now that has some medical drama that's really important to the story, and I want to be authentic to those experiences but I also don't want to cross a line and be a little *too* real to where it's uncomfortable for people to read. I know everyone's opinions on this are going to be different, but I'm just curious!

Hi Anon! I have a few takes on this. To be 100% transparent, I have some significant medical squicks (about very particular things); for the most part I can read through them/skim the scense that contain them, outside of those very particular things. When it comes to gore or visual medical representations (sewing someone up, for example) on a screen/tv/movie, that's a flat no for me. So I may not be the best person to ask about this. BUT! I do beta for someone who is extremely knowledgeable in medical things so I do come across it in their fics from time to time. (And, wonderful individual that she is, she has also refrained from putting in some of my worst squicks so that I don't get squeamish reading her fics. Or she'll tweak a scene a bit after I've reviewed the fic for her.) My recommendation is: First, know your stuff before you write it (this means the medical information/procedure/biology you'll be talking about, but also the point/theme of your scene, and what your goal is with presenting this scene to the reader; how can you up the ante? do you need to up the ante? who gains something from the scene? what is at risk during the scene?). Know it from different angles (the doc's, the nurses', the patient's, etc. POV). If you know it, you'll be able to write it easily. :) Second, read. Read other people's medical writing. Figure out which ones you like and which ones you don't like, and figure out WHY you like or don't like them. Is it the tone? The descriptions? The analogies? The pacing? The abundance/lack of details? Do you get lost in the details because you found the author spent too much time trying to shove too much research into the scene so it felt laborious? Was there so little/it was so superficial it didn't help you connect with the gravity of what was happening? Knowing what you like/don't like will help you find your voice when you write your own scene. Third, after you've written your scene, put it away for 2-3 days, minimum. Come back to it only after you've re-read what comes before it, and what'll come after it. Then go back and read the scene before it and then read your medical scene. Does it flow? Do you like it? What do you like/not like about it? Why do you like it/not like it? What could you add to make it better? What could you REMOVE to make it better (this is very important)? Are you *writing a character performing the scene* [showing] or are you *describing the scene* [telling]? This is important: If a character is performing the scene, it lends it more importance. If you describe the scene, the reader doesn't identify with it as closely/intensely, which gives a bit of 'distance'. Manipulate this as required to get the effect you want. Tweak it a little, but make a copy of your original scene and tuck it away in a separate folder. :) Fourth, ask a beta for their feedback. I suggest finding 2 betas. One who is familiar with your work/voice, and the other who is either less familiar with your work, or very familiar with the type of scene/medical writing you're trying to convey. You can explain to your betas what you're looking to achieve in your scene, and then ask for their honest feedback. Ask for the good and the bad. Ask what stuck with them, and make note of anything they *don't* talk about. Medical scenes, like fight scenes, depend a little bit on the story they form: Is it part of the background (constantly happening/referenced in one way or another), or is each fight or each medical procedure relevant to the plot? Treat/write it according to its importance. :) This is why it's important to know what you want to get out of it *before* you write it. The thing is, you'll always risk turning off your readers if you don't write a scene well. By the same token, you risk losing them if you write something too viscerally (if that person has a squick for it). It's a tough balance, at times. Look at the tone of your fic: If it is a medical-themed story, where medical procedures take place frequently on scene/are described to some degree within each chapter, you're likely not going to

squick anyone out. If you tag it, the readers are responsible for their own experience. Pace and tone become important in this scenario so readers understand that if you suddenly begin a very graphic medical scene, it likely reflects the gravity of its importance to the plot/story. That ups the excitement/drama/impact/importance for that scene, because, within its situation/milieu, it is appropriate. So I recommend not putting in a graphic medical scene unless it is called for within the plot/characterization/meaningful impact. (You don't want to desensitize your reader!) Similarly, if you have a series of medical procedures and each is somewhat/graphically described in each scene, the reader will get a feel for what to expect from your pacing/tone/level of description. If you regularly describe the procedures and what's happening, the reader will become attuned/used to it, and it becomes part of the background of the story (unless and/or wherein each specific procedure has a specific importance to the plot, which you can reveal in different ways). This comes down to you: This is your story. What are you comfortable with? What do you want to *convey* with each scene? Is there an importance to the procedure, to the character performing it, to the manner/gravity in which they perform it, to the timing/plot/position within the story where it occurs?

Write the scene the way it suits you. And then look at what impacts it, and what else it impacts. If the details of the procedure are relevant to something else in the story (perhaps a character's progression in responsibility where they take on the lead role in a surgery instead of a supporting one? where they are to perform a dangerous surgery without a mentor? where they have to perform a procedure on an antagonist and there's a physical reason/ailment/condition that would change their power dynamics/abilities and ergo plot dynamic? what if the doctor is on more drugs than the patient and has started going into withdrawal, how does this affect/impact everything?), YES, include the details. : ) If the medical procedure details aren't necessarily relevant to the story/plot/progression/characterization, etc., then look at how you could *make* them relevant (if you want to keep the descriptions as part of the story to make them authentic). Every word, every gesture, every look, the manner in which someone does something has the power to convey more than we sometimes realize in our writing. Harness that in your writing/voice in each scene by showing what its importance is. And if there is no importance, there's no reason to go into elaborate detail unless it is for consistency with other scenes. Don't make something stand out that isn't noteworthy (unless you're planting a red herring); it risks devaluing/overshadowing the actually important part of the story you were trying to present elsewhere.

In short: Present meaningful, relevant details/make relevant details meaningful. :) Also, feel free to throw all this advice out the window because I avoid writing medical/surgical details. XD @sariasprincy is FAR more knowledgeable about the medical world than I and likely has far more relevant tutelage to share. ;) .... did I answer the question?... I went off on a tangent... Sorry. ^^;;

#writing #writing advice #medical writing

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