#I don’t care if she’s suppose to be big enough to ride at this point in the story
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All I want is to see Moondancer is that too much to ask girl this episode would have been perfect showing Baela and Rhaenys flying to kings landing on their dragons
#hotd#house of the dragon#Moondancer#baela#Rhaenys#I’m begging you HBO#IVE BEEN PATIENT#I need Moondancer now#I don’t care if she’s suppose to be big enough to ride at this point in the story#I say she should be#I want to see her
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𝖇𝖇.
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓: a pretty girl with a fast car, and choso just can’t get enough.
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering, edging?
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 4.2k
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from bb by shygirl.
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! racer choso is back by popular demand, i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!
18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT
I like bad boys, and I know they love me.
When Choso first saw you, you leaned against a GT-R, talking to a guy next to you, another girl in the passenger seat. God, you were sexy. You wore a black patent leather dress and red heels to match. You had your hair up in one of those claw clips and wore a pair of red shades, a gloss covering your lips as you smoked your cigarette. Your legs were on full display, a couple of tattoos here and there, and the chain that adorned your ankle didn’t go unnoticed either. He hadn’t seen you around before, but he was sure he would’ve noticed you out of all the girls who came out and took photos with the cars or stringing with their boyfriends. You were far too relaxed talking to the guy next to you, definitely not the behavior of someone whom you’d just met, so he figured he was your boyfriend. Unfortunately for him, Choso didn’t fucking care.
They say I've got a type; I just think they're lonely.
He walked up to the guy to start a conversation, shaking his hand, intending to use it to talk to you. He had to be respectful before he stole his girl, right?
“Hey, Choso.”
“Yuuji, what’s up.”
“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“You’d be right, came out to support a friend.”
Choso pointed past him to the car; damn, she was a beauty. Looked full bolt-on, sitting on bags with a badass body kit, but the cherry red wrap really drew him in, presumably your suggestion to Yuuji.
“Fuckin’ nice, dude, what’s it running on?”
“E85.”
You walked around the car, interrupting their conversation. You leaned on the hood as you looked at Choso, him taking a surprised look at you and then back at Yuuji, who was currently chuckling.
“Sounds like she knows her stuff, huh.”
“‘Cause it’s hers.”
You smile at him and wave, bringing your cigarette up to take a puff again. Choso was in shock, smirking at the little joke both of you were trying to pull.
“Yeah, no way.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means a pretty girl like you isn’t whippin' a ride like this.”
“Yeah? Why’s that? Give me the least sexist reason you have.”
Choso wiped down his face in disbelief.
“Now, fuck off while I still think you're cute.”
Choso gave a look to Yuuji, who gave one back that said oh well, dude. Choso didn’t have a lot of flaws, but there was one that was pretty damn big- his fuckin’ ego.
It's cold on these streets, or so they tell me.
“So race me, princess.”
“Whatcha drivin’?”
“Twin turbo MK5 Supra.”
You started laughing at him, taking your shades off to get a good look at him.
“At least make it worth my while!”
“Really? Then why not? You sound pretty fuckin’ confident.”
You get up from the hood now, throwing your cigarette on the ground and stepping on it as you give him a straight look. A Supra was nothing to sneer at, especially with twin-turbo, but it had nothing on your GT-R runnin’ 1800 HP.
“Because I know I’d fuckin’ win. I’d hate to beat you in front of everyone, considering I’m new here.”
“If you’re so sure, let me see you do it.”
You brought your lips up to his ear, grabbing his shirt as you raised to his height.
“If you insist, dollface.”
I keep the conversations brief; we ain't friends, but he'll see.
Your friend got out of the car as you told her what was about to happen. She chuckled and walked with you to a big group of people huddling in the middle of the lot, taking bets. She got their attention, and they looked at her with unserious faces.
“This fucker wants to race my friend. Start a pot.”
The guys got a good look at you and Choso, obviously not taking you seriously, which led to a $15K pot, $3K from Yuuji and Mai on you, and the other $12K on Choso. Yuuji drove your car to where you’d start on the line, Choso driving his. You two looked at each other as you let down your hair, passing the clip and jacket to Yuuji.
“Ready?”
“Are you? Might wanna lose the heels, princess.”
“No need.”
You two got into your respective vehicles, Mai standing between them to raise her hand as you revved your engines. Then, you were off.
Different faces but the road stays the same.
He fuckin’ lost.
You got out of your car with a smirk, putting your jacket back on as the group of guys from before praised you, practically kissing your feet, and just like that, you were $5K richer. Choso walked up to you as you headed back to the lot, walking alone as Yuuji and Mai gathered your prize money. He began clapping, causing you to turn around and smirk.
“Good job, you beat me.”
“Told ya so.”
You leaned against the car now, presumably reaching to pull out another cigarette as Choso put his arm up on the door next to you.
“You're pretty fuckin’ cocky, ya know that?”
“Yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it, sweetheart?”
Every man's a drilla till he's in the bed calling my name.
Choso slammed his lips against yours, putting his other arm on the car, caging you in. You returned the kiss, bringing a leg up to his hip, which he accepted, standing between them and massaging the skin there. The feeling of his hand gripping your ass sparked something inside, slipping your tongue in his mouth as his other hand found the back of your neck. Your dress was pretty damn short; anyone walking by would’ve gotten quite the view. He slipped a hand up your chest, groping your tits as you moaned, lips moving to your neck.
You can run and hide; I’m running game.
You brought your hand down his hips, pulling his phone out of the front pocket. With a little push, he stumbles back as you put his phone up to his face, unlocking it. You typed something, handing it to him as you brought your face up to kiss his cheek. With that, you turned and walked, laughing as you left Choso flustered, trying to understand what happened. He looks at his phone, your number staring back at him.
“In case your itchin’ for a rematch.”
Only one winner in this bitch, and I win everything.
Coulda been fucking with a guy; my vibe.
When Choso initially texted you, it was because he did want a rematch. But he also wanted to finish what you guys started the other day. You’d been on his mind as he was working on his car, working out, even when he was, you know. And fuck, you were hot. Constantly posting pics of yourself on cars, often with little clothing, you’d made a career out of modeling. Sometimes Mai was in them with you, you guys being pretty involved with the community. So, why hadn’t he seen you before? It was itching him; the car meets were city-wide, so you had to have come from somewhere else. I guess that answer would come as he got to know you.
“Plans later?”
“Depends, whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“That would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess so. Time?”
“5.”
“See ya then.”
“You got it, princess.”
He hung up the phone, grateful. He’d been nervous that you only saw him as the asshole you beat, but luckily, you liked him enough to let him take you out, and kiss you, and grope your tits. Fuck, he was getting hard.
You picked out your earrings as he pulled up; that backfire could be heard from a mile away. You wore a leather top and skirt today (if you could even call it that) and a pair of knee-high boots. As you walked up to him, you smiled and bit your lip, looking into his eyes as you crossed your legs. He had to clear his throat after gazing at your figure, too focused on the hem of your skirt to think appropriate thoughts.
“Hey, princess.”
“Hey there.”
“You look pretty damn good.”
“When do I not?”
Fuck, you were on your cocky shit again. Choso opened the door for you, helping you into his low seat. As he got into the car, he got an eyeful of you, not even caring if you noticed. Which you did, bringing his chin towards you until your lips nearly touched his.
“Hungry much?”
“I am, actually.”
“So, you’re taking me for dinner?”
“You got it, angel.”
He smiled as he sat back, bringing his hand down to your thigh. Now you were pretty hot, but it wasn’t until you shifted gears for him that he was tempted to fuck you in his back seat; he was continuously arguing with his dick to calm down. You guys pulled up to a hotel, parking in the garage, too scared to let the valet drive his car. He guided you through the lobby and to the elevators and met with an attendant who requested your reservation. With a flash of Choso’s screen, she called the elevator, inputting a code and pressing the “RT” button.
“You two have fun!”
With that, you guys were brought up to the 30th floor. Getting off, Choso spoke something to the hostess standing outside the doors. When you guys pulled up to the hotel, you weren’t expecting to see the open restaurant atop it. Directed to a table on the overlook, the hostess thanked you both and called your waiter. Now, this was fuckin nice. The restaurant had ambient lighting, a fire pit in the middle of the rows of tables, and a view of the city below. You looked over at Choso, who was looking back and forth between you and the overlook.
“Nice rez.”
He perked up at your comment, getting the validation he wanted from you. He hated that you’d made him like this, eating up all the attention you gave him. The loss was enough to humble him, but the comments on your photos were not for the weak. And weak he was, for you, of course.
“Thanks. Whatcha drinkin’?”
“Well, depends. What’re we doing after this?”
Choso looked you up and down, eyes lingering on your legs as he licked his lips.
“Anything you want, angel.”
You blushed a bit, averting your attention to the waiter who had walked up to the table.
“Cosmopolitan, please.”
Picked one who was pretty; you know I like a pretty guy.
After a few drinks and a nice dinner, his gaze fell back to you, looking over the restaurant's railing. You were so fuckin' pretty. Cheeks flustered from the alcohol, your usual stuck-up demeanor a bit more relaxed, just like your lips fixed slightly open, almost in a pout.
“Did you enjoy dinner?”
“It was pretty good, thanks.”
You crossed your legs, smirking as you looked into his eyes.
“So, what’s your endgame here?”
“Whatcha mean?”
“I mean, you’ve taken me out, been textin’ me almost every day for the past two weeks, pretty much-”
“I want you, real bad.”
He’d leaned into the table now, hand caressing your thigh underneath it.
“Is that so?”
His hand began sliding up your leg, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt.
“Want you to be my girl, that is, if you want to.”
His hand began to go beyond your skirt, fondling with the strap of your thong. Suddenly, the waiter returned, handing Choso his card back and thanking him for the visit. When he turned back to you, you were already standing, reaching out for his hand so he could lead you two back to the car.
“I’ll think about it.”
God, I don't give a fuck, but I guess I always do.
As you walked through the lobby, you got a text from Yuuji in the group chat.
"Some dude’s talkin' shit. Says you got lucky the other day with Choso, hadn't raced against a real ride."
"A real ride? What's that fucker driving?"
"He has a few builds. Don't know what he'll pop out with."
Mai opened up the messages, responding to the two of you.
"Okay, if he wants it, he can get it. What time?"
"9."
You checked the time: 8:23. Choso had stopped, seeing the look of irritation on your face.
"What's wrong?"
You showed him the chat, obviously irritated.
"No problem, we can swing back to yours and head over."
"There's not enough time for that. I'll have Yuuji and Mai meet us there with my car."
With that, you both walked to Choso’s car. He’d had a few drinks, so he was feeling pretty good. And by pretty good, he was fingering you on the way to the meet. A thirty-minute drive = 25 minutes to play with your pussy, and he was more than happy to take that option. The only issue was you were concentrating on changing the gears, putting your lives before your pleasure, but you weren’t gonna lie; it was a hard decision. A little tipsy, you were feeling loose, legs wide open to him so he could touch you, alternating between fucking you with his fingers and rubbing your clit. You were loud, too, moaning his name as his pinky held the fabric of your panties to the side so he could fuck you properly. He was in love with you, at least with how you rubbed your hips into his fingers, begging to cum. Unfortunately, that came to an end pretty quickly, getting yourself together as Choso pulled over. He wanted you to get a chance to cool off, kissing you as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down.
As you pulled up, people recognized Choso’s car; that deep purple wrap was his staple. They didn’t expect to see you stepping out of it, recognizing you as the girl who beat him two weeks ago, taking a smoke before shit went down. You looked around the lot; you saw Yuuji and Mai hadn’t quite arrived, reaching down to shoot a text to-
“So, you made it, bitch.”
This asshole walked up to you as you sat on Choso’s hood, his arm unwrapping around your waist as he stood before the guy. Now, while it was admirable that Choso was ready to fight for you, you had to fight your own battles, and if this fucker wanted one, he was gonna get it. You pulled Choso’s arm back, walking up to the guy yourself. This guy was taller than you, not as tall as Choso, but you still had to look up at him as you spoke.
“You said a real ride, huh? What would that be?”
“Porsche 911 Turbo S.”
You smirked at the guy, laughing in his face as he looked at you, pissed off.
“Don’t make me fucking laugh! No, really, you should be a comedian! That damn twin turbo isn’t gonna take you far, sweetheart. That and your horsepower is just as short as your cock.”
The guy got closer to you, grabbing your wrist, making Choso almost fuckin’ pounce on the guy, but you raised your hand to keep him back.
“You talk a lot of shit, girl. Heard you came from the tri-state; whatcha doin’ down here? Tired of losing?”
“The opposite actually, got bored winning against all those dicks back home, so I moved out here for a challenge, which obviously, I’m not gonna get. Now, get your sweaty hand off me before I ash my Marlboro on your arm.”
He retracted his arm, face twisted.
“So, where’s your car bitch?”
“On its way, what, getting hard in anticipation? She is pretty damn sexy.”
“What, did you come here to talk shit?”
“Far from it, slow your brakes, and maybe I’ll let you cum. She’ll be here shortly.”
“Gotta wait to clap your sad excuse of a GT-R. Bet you’re shit with anything else; you pick one of the easiest imports to call your baby.”
Choso had had enough of this shit. He walked up to you and put his car keys in your hands, looking up at the guy with a look that said he was ten seconds away from getting his ass beat.
“Then race her in my car, unless you’re just a yappy bitch.”
If it isn't wrong, then I'm not looking out for you.
You both went to the starting line, Choso driving it up and doing the road test. As two guys from the group prepped your lanes, you looked at Choso in concern as he leaned against the car.
“Ready, princess?”
“What if somethin’ happens, I don’t wanna fuck up your car.”
“Trust me, if somethin’ happens, the last thing I’m thinkin' about is this car.”
“So, be my passenger.”
“That means you really can’t fuck up my car.”
You smiled at him and jabbed his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss. You two walked over to it, hopping in and getting strapped up. He brought a hand over to rest on your thigh, moving it soon after so you could move the gear shift. As a guy walked between the cars to flag, Choso took a good look at you. You looked the most serious he’d ever seen you, eyes forward as you patiently waited for the flag to come up. It was hard for him not to look at your skirt, riding up from how you sat in the seat, panties probably sitting on the-
Choso hadn’t even realized the flagger signaled the takeoff. You reached 100 in 3.5 seconds, pushing him back in the seat as you shifted gears to accommodate the rapid change. From the passenger mirror, he could see the Porsche falling behind, obviously not matching the launch of Choso’s car. As you passed the finish signal, you began to slow down, Porsche catching up. You come to a complete stop now, starting to back up to the starting line. You looked good, hair messy and face flustered, eyes blown from how intense you had to concentrate and the adrenaline pumping through you. Probably the vodka, too.
You hopped out of the car, waiting for the asshole to pull back in, smirking at his loss. He got out of it, even angrier than before, cursing out the flaggers and accusing them of fucking with the signal. Right on time, Mai and Yuuji pulled up in your car, handing you the keys.
“We miss something?”
This time, Mai had replaced Choso as passenger princess, buckling herself in as they warmed the tires. The asshole flipped you off as he returned to his Porsche, obviously holding a grudge. Probably because there was a $40K pot now, and $30K of it was on you. This didn’t take very long at all. The second the flaggers cleared you, you were gone, but this time, his Porsche was neck and neck with yours. As you pulled back, guys were already arguing about the win. Everyone was in outrage; most people were pissed off and claimed loss on a $40K pot. With that, they agreed to review the footage in slo-mo, getting back to everyone as soon as they determined the winner. The cocky asshole smirked, saying things like, ‘We know I won,’ and ‘Tell that bitch she lost.’ You rolled your eyes and lit your cigarette, not like there was anything you could do but wait for the results. Yuuji and Mai said bye as they drove off in Yuuji’s 340i, leaving you and Choso at your car.
“You did good, princess.”
“Yeah?”
He looked you up and down, licking his lips again with half-lidded eyes.
“Let me show you how good you did.”
Only making eyes at a bad boy, one or two of the crew.
“Fuck!”
You practically couldn't get off each other after you and Choso met at your house, even forgetting to lock the front door. He didn't even bother taking you to your room; he had to get your thong off as soon as possible. And now, he was lapping you up on the couch as you pulled on his hair. Shit, he could eat pussy. Your eyes were rolling back, so blissed out you couldn't tell if it was the aftermath of three cosmos or just how good his tongue worked in and out of you. He was going wild, sucking at your clit a little harder every time you said his name, arms wrapped around your legs to pin you down and get you as close to his face as possible. You tasted so fuckin' good; happy to indulge in it now; licking you off his fingers earlier was just a tease. He licked you a little faster as your thighs began to tense on the sides of his head; he could tell you were about to cum. You groaned his name the loudest you had so far and finally let go. He was fuckin' drowning, and he loved every second of it. He was so fuckin' proud of you, not just because you came for him, but also because you beat that asshole earlier.
“That’s my good girl, that’s it, give it to me.”
As you came down, you got up, walking Choso back to your room. You pulled your top overhead and lost your skirt, naked, as you pushed him back to sit on the bed. You work fast to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down, taking his boxers down with them. He helps you out by removing his shirt, not nearly fast enough for how quickly you’d gotten on top of him, straddling his hips as you moved your pussy back and forth over his shaft, begging him to fuck you. Well, how could he say no to that?
If you got an attitude, I'ma take a ride with you.
Choso lifted your hips a little, sinking you onto his dick slowly as you anchored yourself on his chest. You were moaning so fuckin’ loud, throwing your head back as you bounced up and down on his dick, finally finding the relief of his teasing all day. His hands gripped your hips, meeting your hips to thrust into you until, eventually, you started to slow down, getting tired from fucking him so fast. So, he sat up, adjusting you so you were on your knees, straddling his waist as he bounced you up and down on his dick. He groaned your name over and over in your ear, bringing a hand up to hold your back, bringing your tits into his chest before bringing his head down to suck at them, still fucking into you at a dangerous pace. He almost felt selfish for how fast he was fucking you, but you were so high on cumming earlier that you took every thrust he gave you, giving him those pretty whimpers every time he hit that special spot inside of you, but you needed him to keep hitting it, wanting to waste no time.
“Baby, make me cum again.”
“Yeah, baby? Want to cum for me again?”
You tried to say yes, but Choso was already flipping you over; he was on top of you, pushing his dick back into you, hitting that spot immediately. Fuck, he was consistent, ramming his hips into yours right there, reaching your hand up to grip his hair and bite his neck as he drilled into you. You were so fucking close, scratching your nails down his back as he took you exactly where you needed to be. You became undone on him, moaning his name into the room as you gripped his back and the sheets.
“Yeah, baby, cum for me. Fuck you feel so good…”
He fucked you through your orgasm; the spasms of your pussy, as you came, made him feel like nirvana, fucking into you deep as he chased his high. Within seconds he came inside of you, fucking his cum deeper into you as you held him, spent from overstimulation.
You can run and hide; I’m running game.
Choso rolled over, falling next to you on the bed, practically gasping for air after cumming so hard. He’d wanted you for so long, and seeing you in that outfit all night had made him feral. You got up first, putting your hair up in a clip as you walked to your bathroom to clean up, and as much as he didn’t wanna see you go, the brilliant view of your ass as you walked out the bedroom door made him want you to leave. You came back and cleaned his dick off, which he thanked you for with a kiss and a slap to your ass. Getting in bed with him, he wrapped his arms around you as you rested a hand on his chest.
Suddenly, your phone lit up with a text from Mai in the group chat. You opened the message, a slo-mo recap of the race from earlier. You had passed his Porsche ever so slightly, and the organizers declared you the winner of the race. Not like you’d ever think you’d lose.
Only one winner in this bitch and I win everything.
♱ the song used in this story is bb by shygirl. 🖤
♱ masterlist.
♱ all fics playlist.
𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.
#choso x reader#chosoxreader#choso x female reader#chosoxfemalereader#choso x f!reader#chosoxf!reader#choso x fem!reader#chosoxfem!reader#chosoxfemreader#choso x you#chosoxyou#choso smut#chososmut#choso fluff#choso fanfic#choso fic#choso kamo#kamo choso#jjk x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x f! reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk fluff#jjk choso#choso#kamo#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#thelovelyruin
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Behind The Steel
[a/n : h...hi..... i haven't posted in so long. i hope u guys enjoy this lil thing i wrote. i definitely want to do a part two at some point.]
His bike was always his most prized possession, the way he felt when riding it was an incomparable feeling. The first time he rode it was a life changing moment for him- the wind drifting through his hair, the roar of the engine. It was pure animalistic adrenaline that coursed through his veins; wanting to make her roar like he did was extremely exciting. Nothing could amount to how powerful he felt in the cage, feeling weightless and full of control.
His best friend initially helped him build it, making it extremely safe to be in and ride around as crazy as he can get. knowing his biker friends, sometimes it really could get crazy in there.
It became somewhat of a ritual to have cage meets at his house every last friday of the month, where all his friends and acquaintances would come and try out the cage. Sometimes they’d have their girlfriends stand in the middle, building on the anticipation of driving around them. Jake didn’t understand that; wanting someone to stand in a potentially dangerous setting for a couple minutes. Maybe because he saw himself as a lone wolf, him and his bike. How it was supposed to be.
Sure, he’d see someone now and then but it was purely to let out everything that was bottled in, needing some release sometimes.
As he were riding home, he thought about all the preparation for tonight’s meet. Had he ordered the keg? Yes. Did he get enough wood for the bonfire? Yep. He tended to worry for nothing, knowing his organized self; it was truly out of habit to worry over little things.
Jake turned off the bike in his garage, making sure she was nice and safe inside. Naming her the beloved was something dear to him; his friends all giving their bikes something corny or sexy as they said, like “kitty” or “princess”.
But the beloved was not just some sexy bike, she made him feel things, power. And she was much more special to him than just a method of transportation. As he started caressing her with the clean soapy rag, his phone interrupted his music and began ringing.
“Jake?” it was Jeremy, his best friend.
“Yeah?”
“Dude… I’m so sorry but I can’t make it tonight.” Jake groaned, the meets were never the same without Jeremy.
“Why? What’s up?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes for a second- waiting on his dumb excuse.
“My parents want me to go meet this mechanic professor because my name was brought up somehow during my dad’s company dinner. I don’t know.. they really want me to go” He explained. Jake paused for a second before responding.
“That sounds like a great opportunity, Jere. Don’t feel bad, just don’t miss next month’s meet, yeah?” He smiled softly as he waited for his response.
“Of course, dude. I promise.” He replied, saying bye and hanging up.
Jake sighed as his music played once the call was over, washing his bike with intense care. Before he could even notice the time passing, people were already showing up to his house. Thankful to be living on a secluded area with a large piece of land, there were no neighbors to be bothered by.
JAKE
As time flew by, people began showing up to your house, gathering in your back yard. The kegs were set up, the string lights were plugged in, and of course; the cage was set up. There was a row of bikes neatly parked by the side of your house, awaiting for their turn. Though you always went first, no matter what. You passed by your acquaintances and friends, greeting them with a big smile and telling them to help themselves to the keg or drinks inside.
The bonfire was burning bright, illuminating your surroundings with a beautiful golden glow.
You passed by your garage to get the beloved, her cherry red color standing out to you, making your heart race. You took her off her stand and brought her to the door of the garage, someone stopping you in your tracks.
Jeremy’s sister.
She was only a year younger than the both of you and even though it wasn't much of a time difference, Jeremy did not want her at your house especially during cage meets. Though there she was, looking up at you with a smirk as she leaned on the side of the door.
“What are you doing here?” You pushed the bike stand down with your foot, resting your arm on the bike.
“Brother’s out of town. Thought I’d be in the clear for a free show.” She spoke, crossing her arms.
“You know you can’t, Jere wouldn’t want you here.” You state.
“Yeah? Who’s gonna tell him?” she countered. You stood back a little in shock.
“I will. You know how protective he is.” You sigh, looking down at the bike and then back at her.
“Let’s make a bet, Kiszka.” You open your mouth to disagree but she continues talking. “If I can make one round in the cage with you, you can take me home. If I fail, you tell Jeremy and I’ll deal with him.” She says, confidently. You’re taken aback a little, her confidence roaming around the tight space of your garage.
She’s always been around, even when you and Jere were younger. You’d always done your best to ignore her even though she was a hell of a tease, and now that he was away you saw it as your chance.
“You know what? Fine. Let’s see you fail, darlin’.” You smirk, kicking the stand up and walking towards the cage with the beloved, her following you.
As you arrived to the cage, you settled the bike inside, Y/N following you in. She stood on the red X on the floor, the old tape used as a marking for where people would get their partners to stand. She looked at you with a smirk, though you could see a slight shimmer in her eye. You knew she trusted you, but you were up for a challenge.
You watched as she took her jacket off, throwing it outside of the cage, it landed on the ground. You zipped up your leather jacket, tucking your necklace inside your neckline. You gave her one good look before putting your helmet on, pulling down the eye mask.
You could hear the metal gate close, locked shut. The voices cheering on the outside, the music playing faintly in the background. All these distractions but she was the only thing you could focus on. She wore a tight black longsleeve satin dress with some black combat boots, she looked fucking amazing. It just excited you even more.
You could hear her sucking in a breath as you straddled the beloved, your hand on the handles. You turn her on and roar the engine, the adrenaline moving through you. You kick up the stand and begin circling her across the cage, slowly moving higher and higher as you increase the speed, taking your time with it.
Once you feel stable enough, you take your right hand off the handle, and begin dragging it gently across her shoulder, increasing the speed of your bike, revving the engine even louder as you watch her jump a little, but you can tell your touch helps her nerves. You bite your bottom lip to contain your smirk- unsuccessfully. Your hand caresses her shoulders, her stomach, her chest slightly. She closes her eyes and smiles in content, which makes you go even faster. Her eyes open once again and you can feel them on you. Ten seconds left of your time in the cage, your hand drags against her whole body, god she feels amazing.
You hear the loud horn that alarms you the minute is over, and you slow down, to a stop. Your hair is stuck to your forehead by the time you take your helmet off, but all you can focus on is the way she’s smiling at you, how beautiful she looks, how wonderful that dress fits her.
“So? You gonna tell him?” She smirks, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I think I can keep a lil secret..” You sigh, smiling down at her.
-
The two of you walked over to your driveway with the beloved. You had borrowed an extra helmet off a friend since you didn’t own another one. You knew where she lived, and it wasn’t far, but you were more worried about if you’d be able to contain yourself from not kissing her, the way she affected you was something you never felt before.
You straddled the bike once again as she put her helmet on. “I’m going to hold my hand out so it’s easier for you to get on, you’ll need to hold on tightly because I’m going to be going pretty fast.” You said, holding your hand out. She took it and climbed over the bike, settling herself closely behind you.
“Like that?” She asked. You smirked behind your helmet.
“Closer, love. Wouldn’t want you sliding off..” You smiled. She scooted closer and you could feel her chest against your back, it made your heart flutter. Your hands made their way to the handles as you turned on the bike once more, beginning your journey to her house.
As the wind drifted through the hair sticking out your helmet, your hand drifted to her thigh, caressing it a little. You felt her arms tighten around your waist, and her fingers slowly make their way to the hem of your jacket. You sucked in a breath, trying to focus on the road. Her hands slid underneath your jacket, underneath your shirt, until she caressed your chest gently. You wondered if she could feel your heartbeat, she probably could.. It was beating so fast. You let out a shaky breath and told yourself you’d be at her house soon.
Parked. Finally, you kicked down the stand. She removed her hands from your shirt, and hopped off the bike. You also got off and removed your helmet, resting your ass on the seat of the bike as you faced her. She removed her helmet and shook her head a little, to let her hair loose. She nearly took your breath away, the beauty taking over.
“Thanks for the ride.” She smiled, handing the helmet over to you.
“Thanks for the massage.” You smirked.
“Anytime” She said, stepping closer. You looked down at her, a slight shimmer in the reflection of her dark orbs. “I like riding with you,” She paused, leaning in. “It’s so…” She paused once more, her lips so close to yours. “Intimate.. Isn’t it?” She said.
You nodded, your lips parted a little.
“Are you going to kiss me goodnight, Kiszka?” She said, and you didn’t reply. You kissed her gently, her lips soft like satin, you could drown in them. She was so soft, like honey, a warmth you didn’t know you needed until right now. She pulled away so gently, almost as if she was afraid it would hurt you.
“Goodnight.. See you at your next meet..” She smiled, waving a little before going inside her house, leaving you speechless.
{taglist:
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One Week
Masterlist
Summary: To say your girlfriend is possessive is an understatement... especially when it comes to your ex.
Warnings: Smut! Fingering, Choking, Exhibitionism, Daddy Kink, Slight cum control.
A/n: All my favorite things in one. Hope you enjoy.
“Bucky, I need you to go undercover with y/n.” Yelena’s grip on my thigh tightened under the table. My hand rubs hers to try and coax her down, but more so I bring back circulation back to my leg. “I need you to be a couple.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea.” I sat across Yelena’s lap and covered her ears and made her look away. “This might sound crazy but she’s the jealous type.” I sarcastically whispered as brought her face back to me and kissed her.
“You know, I still heard you.”
“That was the point, love.”
“Don’t worry, Yelena. I’ll take good care of your girl.” Bucky said with a smirked. I sighed as I was lifted onto the table and Yelena was gone.
“Hey. Hey! Enough guys.” Tony said trying to break it up but to no avail. More Avengers stepped in as I looked at my nails. “Y/n, do something!”
I sighed again. “A week.” I said in my normal voice and Yelena immediately stopped. I looked at her as she had Bucky in the headlock. “Let go.” She immediately dropped him. “I’ll do it.” I looked at Tony. “But Yelena’s off the mission.”
“What? No, baby.” She pleaded.
“If you say one more word, I will make it two.”
“Consider it done.” Tony said as I nodded.
“Brief me on the ride over.” Tony nodded. “Lena, Buck. A word.” I stepped outside of the meeting room as they quickly followed me. “You,” I pointed at Bucky. “Are not helping the situation. Do not tease her. I will not stop her from killing you next time.”
He scoffed. “Doll,”
“No. Shut it and I told you don’t call me that.” I looked over to Yelena, “And you,” She reached out to cup my face as I slapped her hand away. “You know better. He’s always trying to get to you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. “Go ahead.”
“How am not supposed to get angry? He’s your ex.”
“Yeah and he’s my ex for a reason and you’re my girlfriend for a reason.” I said as I wrapped my arms around her neck as her hands rested on my hips. “Right?” She nodded. “Kiss me.” I smirked at her. She pulled me in. Her head leaned towards me as I pulled away. She whined as she tried again. I hummed against her lips as my ex walk away shortly after.
My lips moved down her neck leaving a mixture of kisses and devilish chuckles vibrating on her neck. “You have 24 hours to show me why I should let you touch me for the next week.” I whispered in her ear. She slammed me into wall as her leg slipped between mine. I let out a breathy moan as she laid kisses on my neck.
“My room, now.” She whispered in a raspier voice.
“No.” She pulled away and looked at me confused. “Show everyone why I’m yours.” She growled as she quickly slipped her hands into my sweatpants and ran her fingers over my damp panties. “You see, I promise you, Bucky’s never made me this wet before.”
Her free hand quickly wrapped around my neck. Her cold rings on my hot neck only added to the experience. “You keep his name out of your mouth.”
“Yes daddy.” She pulled my underwear to the side.
“No, not now. Say my name. I want everyone to know you’re mine.” She quickly slipped two fingers in me. Rings and all.
“Fuck, Yelena.” I was able to squeak out through her fingers. She started curled her fingers inside of me, dragging them harshly along my insides. “Mmm, that feels so good.” I said as the meeting door open. I smirked at them as Yelena’s fingers pounded into me. Their eyes quickly darted away.
Yelena started pumping faster into me and aggressively grabbed my chin. “Pay attention to me.” I nodded as she added a third finger. I bit my lip. “No, no, no.” Her thumb pulled my lip out from between my teeth. “Let those moans out. I wanna hear them. I want everyone to hear them.” I let out a big moan.
Between Yelena’s determination to satisfy me and her raging jealousy, my whorish moans slipped out as she mercilessly fucked me, earning every gasp, moan, and praise from me.
“Fuck, Lena. I’m so close. Can I cum?” She just gave me a devilish smile. “No, baby please. Please. Please. Let me cum. I wanna cum.”
“Keep going.” She egged me on.
“Please, Yelena. I only wanna cum for you. Let me cum for you, baby.” My walls twitched around her as I tried to walk the line holding my high, but not letting it crash over me.
“Tell me, did he ever make you cum like me?”
“No, baby. I don’t have to-” I stopped myself and bit my lip.
She smirked at me. “Tell me, babygirl.”
“I don’t have to fake it. God, you make me so good, Yelena. Please”
“Give to me, princess.” I let go as I screamed her name. My nails dug into her shoulder as I groaned back. “Good girl. How am I doing?”
“Round 2. In your room. Now.” I whispered.
“How about?” She looked at the meeting room as I furiously nodded.
Masterlist
#yelena belova#yelena belova x reader#yelena belova x female reader#yelena belova x you#yelena black widow#florence pugh
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Glimpse of Us | KTH Chapter IV: Everything We Didn't Say
Pairing: Problematic Idol Taehyung x Grad Student Reader
Genre: Idol AU, Ex-Childhood Best Friends into—, Angst (Hello, welcome to my angst central), Fluff (mainly in the flashbacks), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut
Summary: BTS’s V has been living a lavished and successful lifestyle, but underneath all of that, Kim Taehyung is far from the perfect image the media and fans made him out to be. All he wants is to relive the feelings of happiness and purpose in his life, but how can he when he left behind those memories years ago? The same memories, he hopes to see a glimpse of.
Warning: This is a big one lol, heavy ANGST, flashbacks (including fighting you’re about to see how their friendship ended and guess who fucks up, crying, insecurities (self and relationship), mentions of the deceased, minor character death in the past), unhealthy life habits (a/n: pls don’t do this to yourself! Take care of your body/self-care)
Word Count: 17.5k
A/N: I would also like to point out that the story's first half is about understanding their relationship and gradually their individual lives. It goes back and forth between the past and present. Specific timeframes (like Taehyung as a trainee) will be mentioned but not all. As time goes on, things will start to unravel. BTW: when I say football, I mean soccer lol
Chapter IV: Everything We Didn't Say || Series Masterlist
You paced back and forth on the front porch as you played with your fingers to calm yourself. The clouds covered the cerulean sky and bright heating sun on a cooling fall weekend afternoon. Leaves shifted to their rustic tones, hardening to a crisp. Some tried their best to stick onto the trees while others fell elegantly, being done for the season.
As for you, you dressed extra special today and saved up some money for it as well. A brown oversized sweater over a muted green linen maxi dress paired with your old dirty pair of black shoes. You saved enough for the outfit but not the shoes. Your hair was half up, held by a scrunch that was the same color as your dress.
Though in one of your best attires yet, you waited anxiously for your grandparents to be ready. Well, they were already ready to go for the day but what was missing was Taehyung.
You’ve been waiting for almost an hour and called and texted him countless times, but he had yet to answer you. You told him months in advance, weeks, days, and literally hours before, and he still wasn’t here.
“Sweets, we have to go. We’re gonna be late.” Your grandmother informed as she saw your distressed state. Your lips were in between your teeth, not wanting to give up faith in your best friend. You blinked towards your grandmother as she could only smile empathetically.
“We have a long drive, ___.” Your grandfather came out of the house and locked the door.
You checked the time on your phone, an hour over the scheduled time. You sighed as you glanced over at the Kim residence, seeing no one was home. You frowned as you felt the tears attempting to come out. He was supposed to be there with you.
You nodded to your grandparents as you all walked towards the car. You and your grandfather loaded the back with baskets of food, a picnic blanket, flowers, and candles. Once you closed the trunk, you called Taehyung once more to which no avail so you ultimately accepted that he wasn’t coming.
Your family drove off the property and left Geochang for the time being as your destination was the Daegu City Cemetery where you spent almost the entire day there.
By the time you were back home in Geochang, it was already late in the night, ten at night to be exact and that was past your grandparents’ bedtime. All of you were tired from the day trip, more so you. You kept crying the ride too when you were at the cemetery and the ride from. It was a miracle you didn’t cry during dinner, but you showed you were upset.
Your grandparents—blessed their hearts—tried their best to cheer you up but it was rather difficult with a day like today and your best friend not being there with you. So they let you be and comforted you here and there.
As you unloaded the car, you heard footsteps pressing into the gravel and coming your way. You didn’t bother looking since you knew who it was and finally decided to show up.
“Blue!” Taehyung greeted you with a hug and a kiss on your head. Though this behavior was typical, it left a sour taste right now and you didn’t like it. Instead of hugging back, you pushed him away which surprised the boy. You glared at him before heading to your front door with the basket in your hands.
Your grandfather opened the door for you to come inside but Taehyung gripped your armand held you back. You tried tugging your limb, but he wasn’t budging. “Blue, what’s wrong?” He questioned. Confusion grew in his expression, not aware of why you were being like this to him.
“Nothing’s wrong, Taehyung.”
“Okay, something’s definitely wrong.” He disagreed, shaking his head. “You always call me Hyungie. Tae, when you’re annoyed or irritated. Taehyung, when you’re pissed at me.” You loved how much he knew you, but hated how much he knew you.
You huffed as you gripped the basket. Your grandfather came next to you and took what you held in his hands. “I’ll bring these in, ___. Talk to Tae, okay?”
You scrunched your nose in displeasing, seeing how your grandfather had a soft spot for your best friend. He wanted you to talk it out, and you will but you’re just angry with Taehyung.
When your grandfather went inside and closed the door, you crossed your arms and leaned into one leg. “Where were you today?” You snapped, interrogating him right off the bat.
“No need for the attitude, Blue.” He mumbled, hating how you scolded him. “I went to the beach party!”
Your eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what?”
“Yeah, you know the second-year Lee Jungjae, our sunbae?” Your best friend mentioned. You didn’t know who he was, because you couldn’t keep up with Taehyung’s gazillion friends. “Well, he personally invited me to his birthday beach party. I had to sleep over at his house because we had to take the bus all the way to Pohang. It was tiring but so fun, like—”
“So you just went without me? Without me knowing?” You grilled him, your temper slowly thinning the more he spoke.
“I mentioned it to you the other day…” He reasoned, trying to defend himself. “But Jungjae Hyung didn’t say to bring guests because of the trip. I’m sorry—”
“I don’t care about the stupid beach party, Taehyung!” You yelled. Your cheeks burned hot with the frustration that built up and was ready to explode. “I don’t care about your sunbae, or the fucking trip, or how much you had fun!”
“___, why are you so mad? It’s not like you were sitting at home doing nothing. When I came back, Halmeoni said your family was gon—”
“Taehyung, we went to the cemetery in Daegu.” You interjected, your voice softened at the end of your sentence. “It was my parents’ tenth death anniversary.”
Then Taehyung’s confused and offended face morphed into the eye-opening realization that he fucked up. “That was today? Blue, I for—”
“I’m upset with you.” You told him. “You knew how important it was for you to be there.”
Due to the distance, time, and financial obligations, it was difficult to schedule a time to go visit your parents every year. Your grandparents had their shop and farm to manage and you were still in school as well as your grandmother had health concerns from time to time. The only thing you could do was put up a photo frame of your parents on the top of your dresser.
As it was close to their ten years, you begged your grandparents to go to Daegu where they were buried. Reason being that it has been a long time and you would love to see them. Though they grew older and weaker by the second, of course, they did their part in making it happen. While doing so, you asked Taehyung to be there for you.
Since they died when you were so young, you had little memories of them. But with all you could remember, you told the stories to your best friend. You knew your parents would have loved Taehyung and he would love them. That’s why you asked Taehyung to come, not only for you and your support but for him to meet your parents for the first time and talk to them as if they were here.
Taehyung was stoked about the days coming to today, so it disappointed you when he said he has forgotten. But what hurts the most was that he chose his other friends over you.
Over time, this has been an issue between you two that was rather conflicting on your end. Though you knew how sociable Taehyung was from the second you met him, it made you jealous to see him hanging out with others. Of course, he always included you, but you knew at times, that you weren’t as welcomed.
You overheard peers whispering and murmuring why someone like Taehyung hung out with someone like you, quiet, awkward, and nervous. Some girls even tried to be your friend to get closer to Taehyung. That led to you confronting him about it and letting him have fun with his friends by himself. You reassured him that it was okay with you as you had his siblings to hang out with. It was a chance for Taehyung to reach his social butterfly status while you thrived with being a hermit. You certainly didn’t mind, but you envy those around Taehyung who were able to interact so easily.
Recently, he has been spending more time with older students after joining the football team. He has gotten popular when he went into high school. You were still in your last year of middle school as you were the same age as his sister. You loved how well he fitted into the crowd, but it felt like he left you behind and didn’t want to hang out with a recluse like you. You were considered a “kid.” You gradually became insecure about your friendship with him, worrying if you were meant to be his true best friend. You were so sensitive about it, so this stung way more than anticipated. That was something you never told him.
“I’m sorry, ___. I really am, I…” He apologized, but it didn’t work when he saw your eyes swell into tears and your chest bounce once you cried. “Blue, nooo.” He was utterly guilty, he wanted to embrace you and give you comfort but you rejected his touch.
“I-I w-wanted you there!” You wept with your palms covering your face. “I called you, texted you, and you didn’t answer.”
“Blue, please let me make it up.” He pleaded, making the chance to clutch onto your wrists and pull them away to see your teary face. He felt so ashamed that he was the reason you were crying. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” He replicated the tears you produced.
You shook your head as you wiped your face with your sweater. You brought back your wrists to your frame, gesturing that you didn’t want him to touch you. “I don’t want to see you right now. You hurt me today, I can’t.”
“___, no, please. I’m sorry.” He refused, not wanting your demand. You’ve never said that to him. Though he bugged the shit out of you almost every day, you always wanted to see him. He couldn’t live without seeing you or being with you. He didn’t want to leave you hurt by him like this, he never meant to harm you. “Don’t do this, Blue.”
“I just need some time away from you.” You responded briefly.
“But—”
“Don’t make me madder than I already am!” You shouted crudely. “Now back to your fucking friends that you love oh so much and just forget about me!” Word vomit spewed out your mouth without intention. There was so much that angered, saddened, and overall tired you, you couldn’t help it.
Both of your eyes grew at what you said. You merely inhaled sharply while Taehyung shook his head in denial. There was no way he could forget about you.
“Blue, I’ll neve—”
You didn’t let him finish his sentence as you scurried to the entrance and closed and locked the door from behind. You heard Taehyung trying to follow you in, but he was too late to catch you.
He knocked constantly on the door. “Blue, ___, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry! I fucked up, but I’ll never forget you. You’re my best friend, my Blue! Please I’m sorry. I’ll make it up!” He sobbed through behind the doorway. You stayed silent, crying and waiting for him to leave first but he kept pounding and professing his apologies and regrets. But they still weren’t enough for you.
This was the biggest fight yet.
“Tae!” Hoseok snapped his fingers in front of his younger member. Taehyung shook his head and blinked hard before scanning his eyes at his alarmed members.
After being separated for some time, Jimin and Namjoon thought it was a good idea to have a little lunch get-together to catch up with each of us. Hoseok released his solo album in the past month, striking many records. Yoongi has been busy with collaborations with other artists. Namjoon got back from a European trip. Jungkook has been going back and forth to the United States for recordings. Seokjin made appearances on various cooking shows. Finally, Jimin came back from Busan after resting with his family before going back into the studio.
All in all, the guys were doing well with the pause and shift in career focus. Well, not all. Though Taehyung looked forward to the lunch, he knew that his updates were mainly him and his therapy because right off the bat, Yoongi insisted on knowing the progress.
Taehyung was lucky enough that the set-up happened the day after his session, so he bullshited whatever was said that time and nothing more. This week wasn’t any better, unlike the previous ones. The idol refused to speak out as much and stayed in silence with Dr. Im until the time was over. It was unsettling with improvements because Taehyung couldn’t care less right now.
Both his members and his therapist meant no harm in his life, but couldn’t help but feel bothered. They cared enough to help the idol, but was it really enough for him to live by? Almost every question asked patronized him and his actions rather than explaining why or how it is.
Like yesterday, maybe it was all in Taehyung’s head, Dr. Im wondered what has been happening with him in the past two weeks to have a sudden shift in his behavior in therapy. While the idol said nothing, Dr. Im claimed further if someone or something occurred that changed your life. Perhaps it was because the professional knew what was happening even without context, and it ticked the idol off and decided to end the session twenty minutes early. Again, Dr. Im was just doing his job.
However, his members… were a piece of work with him. They wanted every detail and what he did after, then they would comment on it and tell him what he should do. That was how the cycle went and suddenly Taehyung wished he never came to the lunch and never seen them a little longer.
“Are you good, bud?” Hoseok asked once more. “You seem out of it.”
“Something happened?” Yoongi questioned. “If something did and you’re not tel—”
“No, I can’t say if I’m good when I’m going to therapy now, isn’t it?” Taehyung interjected passive-aggressively.
The slight comment shifted the aura of the lunch. Things were still rocky from the last time, being the same members talking—Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon, but the older members thought to live passed that and be grateful to see their younger again. But by the look on the older’s face, Yoongi was about to call him out.
“What Tae means is that…” Jimin intervened to ease the tension before it erupted. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we’ve sat. You barely even ate.”
It was always Jimin coming to the rescue to protect his friend. Couldn’t blame the dude, that was his ride or die. He was the most patient when it came to Taehyung and his actions, was always there for him, gentle towards him, and was an overall caring best friend.
Taehyung was appreciative, but there were times when it was a bit overbearing like he couldn’t take care of or defend himself. It made Taehyung feel useless and pitiful, which irked him.
“Umm,” Taehyung sighed, poking his chopsticks and the cold cooked meat sitting on his plate. “It’s nothing bad, but just in my mind.”
“Something happened between you and Clara?” Seokjin asked, which brought a disturbingly positive shift into the group’s mood apart from Taehyung. “Haven’t heard about her in a while. You two doing good?”
Taehyung deathly wanted to scowl in revulsion at how much the boys loved her. After all, they were the ones who talked him into asking her out on a date in the first place. They endeared her so much that they thought that she was really a pillar in Taehyung’s life and helping him better himself.
Taehyung hummed noncommittally and shrugged, “Same old. She’s just been busy with work and online presence while I’m…not. She understands though, I guess.”
“Tell her we said hi!” Namjoon smiled. “Hope we can see her again soon.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell her.” Taehyung was most likely sure that he wouldn’t send back the thanks. She recently was getting on his nerves for being so quiet these past weeks and not texting right away. The idol reassured her that he was tired and focused on his solo project, but he knew that there was more to it.
“Then what’s the matter, Hyung?” Jungkook cocked an eyebrow as he chewed.
Taehyung had to think about how to approach this. He didn’t necessarily tell anyone what happened between you two, recently that is. Before they debuted, Taehyung was sure that they remembered you or some bits. They also knew what happened that ended your friendship since it happened weeks before their debut and Taehyung was somewhat of a mess. They haven’t met you, but they knew how much you meant to him.
But that was before.
His therapist had speculations but came out empty-handed so far. Seojoon and Wooshik tried to get some information out of the idol on you, but Taehyung was a hard shell to crack. They needed the electric saw or metal-cutting machine to know exactly who you were.
So no one knew you were back, physically, in his mind, thoughts, memories, and emotions.
But then he pondered for a while. He has been sulking and distraught over this alone, yet he had much support around him asking what was going on. It was truly the work of his stubbornness. The reason was unknown, or difficult for his brain to comprehend.
Maybe because he simply wanted to have you back on his own. Maybe his selfishness to know you and no one else does. Maybe his overthinking thoughts of anxiousness about how others would react to finding out who you were and what happened. Maybe all?
At this point, reasonably the best thing to do was tell someone. After what you said to him a couple of weeks ago that led him into his emotional downward spiral, he hated feeling hopeless and scared. He didn’t want you to see him in that light, fearful of the stinging burn that could keep you away forever. The words he spoke to you may have not been the best way to say—you were always scolding him on stuff like that—you knew deep down he meant well.
But you were rather difficult, another trait he remembered when you got mad or upset. You tended to say things you don’t mean while also distancing yourself.
Ypu can say Taehyung needed some help with you?
“Do you remember ___?” Taehyung began, which lead to many confused expressions around the table.
“Who?” Hoseok questioned, nothing popping up in his head as he sipped his drink.
“Uhhh, the name sounds familiar?” Namjoon responded while in his thoughts. “Can you explain more?”
“___ ___, my best friend back home,” Taehyung mentioned, but yet there was no ringing in their minds. “I’m sure you all remember her. I used to call her every single night ever since I came to Seoul.”
Jimin’s face lit up as he snapped his fingers in his realization. “Ahh, ___! It was so hard to remember her name because you always called her Bl—”
“You can’t say that name, only I can.” Taehyung squinted his eyes at his best friend. Though Jimin smirked cheekily, for a second, he questioned Taehyung’s reaction.
“Ohhh, ___! Yeah, I remember now.” Seokjin gasped, and the gears in his brain started moving. “I used to get pissed off at the both of you for keeping me awake.”
“Oh, yeah! With all the calls.” Hoseok nodded, remembering as well. “Your giggling and whining still haunt my sleep.” He joked with a playful glare at Taehyung, making the younger shrug.
“Yeah…name with no face. It’s been a while since we heard her name.” Jungkook stated. “Why’d you bring her up?”
Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table, picturing the first time he saw you again. “I met her again couple weeks back. She’s in Seoul now.”
Seokjin hummed in response, “Really? Interesting. Who knew?”
“Not me,” Taehyung muttered with a light forced chuckle.
“Yeah, didn’t you tell us you had a falling out before? I remembered it pre-debut.” Hoseok heard Taehyung’s comment and spoke up about it. “I assume the reunion wasn’t all on purpose.”
Taehyung licked his lips and nodded, “It was random. She works at a small restaurant in a sketchy part of Seoul, but it’s really good. I went with Seojoon Hyung and Wooshik Hyung. We should go sometimes.” When he said, he hoped they took that suggestion lightly but he knew Jimin and Jungkook would be down. “I found out she’s going to school in the city, she’s in a grad program, she didn’t tell me what though. Actually, these were her responses to my Hyungs. The whole time she didn’t even talk to me, practically never looked my way no matter how much I tried.”
It was at that moment, everyone knew they couldn’t blame you. The rest of the members didn’t know who you were deeply, but they felt for you and you seemed nice, judging by the very few interactions you had with them over the phone. What Taehyung did was hurtful and cruel even from an outsider’s perspective. They all knew it from experience.
“Can’t blame her…” Namjoon said what everyone thought about.
Taehyung’s eye twitched. He didn’t need to say it out loud. “Yeah, I went back again, but alone that time, and she basically told me to go fuck myself.”
“Sorry, Tae.” Jimin frowned, patting his best friend’s back.
“Well, did she even want you there in the first place?” Yoongi inquired, but that made Seokjin glare at his younger for being harsh. “What? I’m being honest after what happ—”
“Please, don’t mention it, Hyung.” His words damaged Taehyung’s emotions, and he scrunched his face as the brutal memory replayed in his mind. Yoongi did not apologize, but he managed to shut up. “It was just nice seeing her again, an old face—a familiar face, a good memory.” You were always the best memory.
“I’m sure it was. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her.” Hoseok acknowledged.
“But then again, you should know the feeling isn’t mutual, Tae.” Namjoon pointed out, trying to get Taehyung to think realistically. “It seems she’s not over it and you know what you did.”
“I know, but…” Taehyung didn’t know how to express his thoughts in words. He was blanking out despite his mind running 200 km per hour. “With how shitty my life’s been going, even if she hates my fucking guts, I actually enjoy her presence. She’s my best friend! I’d want to rekindle what we had.”
The way Taehyung explained it made Jungkook have concerning thoughts. He seemed more expressive with you than his own girlfriend. “You should probably be careful, Hyung.” Taehyung cocked his head to the side to face the youngest. “I—I’m not saying Clara’s the jealous type, but….”
“What does she have to do with ___?” Scoffing at the youngest member, he eyed him out with hostility. Taehyung felt a sudden sense of protection over you.
“Don’t be like that, please?” Jungkook frowned, not wanting to get on his older friend’s bad side. “What I’m saying is that it sounds like you’re over here talking about some other chick and wanting her back when you clearly have a girlfriend.”
“She’s not some girl. She’s been my best friend for literally twenty years! More than all of you!”
“Not really, if you didn’t see each other in years…” Namjoon commented which made Taehyung clench his jaw but say nothing.
Taehyung closed his eyes and controlled his breathing while balling his anger into his fist. “What was your point, Jungkook?”
“Well, does Clara know about ___?” Jungkook asked sincerely. “If ___ meant something to you, then you should have told your girlfriend about her.”
Taehyung bit his lip while processing the question. He then shook his head before drinking his soda. “No, because I met Clara way after my falling out with ___. I didn’t think it mattered.” There was no way in hell, he’d tell Clara about you. There was more to the explanation, but Taehyung was currently unaware of why it was like that.
“It kinda does matter now, especially when you want ___ back in your life.” Jimin reasoned as he stared at his best friend. “We can support you, but just be cautious.”
“It’s just…I—let’s not talk about that right now. I should have never told you guys.” Taehyung regretted his decision in revealing you. He knew that nothing went the way he wanted it to and didn’t like what was said.
Hoseok pouted, reaching out to squeeze Taehyung’s hand. “No, don’t say that. We appreciate you telling us! We’re just worried about you and Clara. If ___ comes back, then you’d obviously have to tell her.”
“Just don’t fuck up with it,” Yoongi concluded bluntly. “You’ve been with Clara for five years and still going strong. If ___ isn’t back, then leave it. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not worth losing your relationship.”
What did Yoongi know about relationships? He was severely single. And what did he know about Taehyung’s relationship? Nothing, that’s what. None of them knew yet pulled shit out of their ass and spoke highly of his girlfriend. However, when it came to you, they treated you like some side character reprising an insignificant role. But you were never like that. You will never be.
“The point I’m telling you is that I met ___,” Taehyung replied, wanting this discussion to be over immediately. “And for the record, I’ve decided something.”
“Which is?” Seokjin asked.
Taehyung looked down at his plate, mindlessly glazing at the untouched noodles. He smirked as a memory came up. “There’s a reason why we were best friends.”
-
“Yes, I understand. I’ll pay the other half at the end of the month, please.” You nodded as you spoke into your phone. “I just need time.”
“___, you know you don’t need to do this all on your own. I’m sure your other relatives can help,” The nurse on the other side replied. “I’ve talked to your cousin and she sa—”
“It’s fine, I promise.” You quickly denied. “This responsibility landed on me and I fully accept it.”
He sighed into the microphone, “So strong as always, ___. It’s okay to rely on others.”
“Maybe.” You said, brushing what was said off. “I need to go now, I’m off my break soon. But don’t tell him, okay?”
“I’m sure he knows—”
“Please, Moobin.” You begged, feeling slightly uneasy. You didn’t want him to be worrying about you, especially with this.
“Okay, fine. I won’t.” Moobin answered, succumbing to your request. “Lucky for you, telling him would only worsen the condition.”
“It’s still not good either way, but thank you.” Appreciating his efforts, you nodded as you looked at the time. “Okay, I have to go but keep me updated.” You said before bidding goodbye to the nurse and hanging up.
You exhaled in distress, but surely, it wasn’t enough for you. You calculated what had to be done and now you needed to work at least ten more hours this cycle. Though the weekends were your day offs to catch up on school work, you might have to work them to get by without any burden. Ugh, your migraine was coming back up.
You swiftly grabbed a can of Coca-Cola and opened it before chugging the liquid down. Hopefully, it would help lessen the pain. So much to do with very little time.
“You know you have to pay for that.” You turned your head to see Kenji coming by to use the cash register. You nodded as you sipped more of the content. As he punched in the order, he glanced over and inspected the drink. “___, you okay? You never have coke unless something happens.”
“The way you know that sure is expected of you.” You huffed, not bothering to care any further. “Just had another chat with the nurse back home.”
“Is he alright?” Your coworker asked.
You hummed as a reply, “For now, but it was about the payments…do you think Halmeoni be okay if I work the weekends too?”
“___, if you need the money, I’ll be happy to lend yo—”
“No.” You interrupted him. “I can’t ask you to do that, I just want to work a little more.”
Kenji frowned as the register door opened before ripping the receipt. “You’re already working more than usual and you drinking coke to reduce your headache means you’re overworking yourself.”
“Ken, I’m fine.” You scoffed. You gulped down all of what was left in the can before recycling it into a bin. “I just needed a boost. But I do wanna work more.”
“___…” He looked at you and you had a face of determination. There was no way in reasoning with you. “Ask her. She won’t be too pleased, but if you tell her about it, maybe she’ll accept…or give you a bon—”
“No, I need to work for it.”
Kenji rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Sometimes just get the free opportunities.”
“Sometimes every opportunity is a blow to your fucking face.” You sighed as you grabbed a tray.
You then spotted Halmeoni coming down the hallway with a box of napkins. Gripping the tray in your fingers, you went towards her and grabbed the box from her. “I’ll get that for you.” You offered. You settled them behind the counter and under the table where all the extra supplies stayed.
“Sweetie, you don’t need to carry it. I’m still strong!” Your boss laughed but appreciated your kindness.
“Just trying to make your day easier.” You said authentically before clearing your throat. “Ummm, Halmeoni?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I—Is it possible if I can work the weekends?”
Halmeoni sulked, “Why is it? Something ha—”
“Uhh, no, no, well…I have some more time on my hands. I don’t have projects coming up, so I’m not really doing much at home.” She knew your situation, but if you told her, she wouldn’t want you to work as much either.
She squinted her eyes with suspicion. “Everything going on back in Geochang?”
You nodded, “Nurse said he’s doing well for now, but I just want to work a little bit.”
She knew you were headstrong, not wanting to say anything. She would have to ask Kenji, but even so, she wouldn’t acknowledge it and play dumb with you. “Sure, okay, sweetie. Just tell me what hours later.”
You sighed in relief and nodded excitedly. “Thank you, I appreciate you and Harabeoji. I guess Kenji too.”
“I heard that!” Kenji whined, making you and your boss chuckle.
“Just…don’t stress too much, okay? We’re here if you need anything.” She meant it with sincerity in her expression. She cared for you like you were her own, and it twisted your heart from the thought. You knew she meant well, but it was all too much to offer for someone like you. You only nodded as she patted your head.
Right after, the tarp entrance flicked open, catching the attention of your boss with widened pupils and a gasp. “Ahh, Taehyung, you’re back! And you brought newcomers.”
You groaned softly, closing your eyes as if it would relax you but it doesn’t. You desperately wanted to dropkick someone and that someone was the very individual who entered the restaurant. You directed your eyes to his stature as you watched him wave and greet your boss, coworker, and then you. Though he greeted you back, you said nothing.
Of course, he didn’t listen. That was why you were best friends in the past. You can’t deny that the both of you had a lot in common yet still different. But one of the biggest commonalities was being stubborn as fuck and not listening to what anyone had to say. With that being said, it was inevitable that Taehyung would not give up even after you shunned him away.
As you scowled, you became aware of the two men. One on each side of the idol. Their eyes wandered around your workplace, somewhat fascinated by how clean it was in contrast to the dirty outside. As you looked at them, you immediately knew who they were—two of his bandmates, specifically Jimin and Jungkook.
Though your friendship with Taehyung was a bust weeks before his debut, you couldn’t help but support or somewhat follow what the group did. You knew the amount of work that had been made and you appreciated it. You pushed your thoughts and feelings away from that certain member and enjoyed the band and its schedule. You guess you can say you were a fan, but not fully. At least there were six other members to distract you from your ex-best friend. Plus, you didn’t need to tell Taehyung that.
“Ahh, Hyung-nim!” Kenji yelled, earning a smile from the idol. Since when did he get close to Taehyung?
“Halmeoni, it’s nice to see you again!” Taehyung spoke out. “These are some of my friends, Jimin and Jungkook.” The two with him waved at your boss.
“My, my. You always bring handsome friends.” Your boss clapped. “Please sit!” She motioned them to take any seat as it was a slow weekday night. As they settled down, she nudged you and said, “Go help them. They’re handsome.”
“No, please. Let Kenji help them.” You suggested.
Kenji gasped and shook his head, “Why do I have to serve them?”
You gloomed at your coworker’s audacity, “What, isn’t it fine since he’s your Hyung-nim?” He saw how serious you were and didn’t want to experience your wrath, so he puffed and walked toward the well-known idols. Kenji eased his way into the men’s conversation, seeing that their laughter echoed throughout the restaurant.
“___, you should date one of them.” Your boss prompted which made you blink at her. “Maybe Taehyung, he seems to have an e—”
“Halmeoni, I’m busy, remember?” You recalled. “I got all these projects, work—”
“I thought you said you had more time now?” She interrogated you as your jaw dropped faintly but closed it back up.
“Yes, I do…but I’m not thinking about dating right now.’ You peeked over to the side and spoke quietly, “No one wants me.”
Your boss hated what you said about yourself. “Don’t say that, sweetie. You’re gorgeous, a true beauty. Anyone could fall for you. If I could, you’d be dating Kenji by now.”
“Ew, don’t say that. That’s setting me up for ultimate failure.” You grimaced, shivers down your spine. She laughed before walking back to the kitchen.
Eventually, Kenji came back to the both of you with a fresh set of orders, but he said, “___, please ring these up.” He handed you the sheet of orders.
You retrieved them to read but you asked, “Why do I have to do your orders?”
“It’s not my orders, it’s yours.” He shrugged casually and you shot your head back to give him your death stare.
“What the fuck, why?” You complained. “Ken, you know—”
“No, I don’t know, and you don’t tell me shit.” He refused before sticking his tongue out to you. “They requested for you to serve them.”
“They can’t re—”
“So what? Just do it.” He shrugged. You scrutinized your coworker, trying to declare why he was being so adamant then you realized.
“That fucker paid you to make me serve them.”
“Well, I can’t deny the allegations being brought upon me,” Kenji admitted wholeheartedly. “See, when there’s a 100,000 won thrown at you, you take the chances.”
Your eyes grew at the sound of the heavy stipend for a small ask. “You little shit sold me of—”
“___, it’s not a big deal.” Your coworker reassured you, but you weren’t having it.
“Kenji, it is!” You told him, frowning at him. “I don’t like Taehyung nor do I want to see him.”
“Kinda harsh for him to be your best friend.”
“He’s not.” You clarified. “We haven’t been for ages, and I refused him weeks ago to be back into my life.”
Kenji looked in the distance as if his peanut brain worked like magic, “You tell me this or that but not explain to me why. So unless you do, I’m feeding you off to them.”
You let out a whining sound, “You’re being irrational…”
“Better hurry up. Your table’s waiting for their drinks.”
You wished to never speak about it again, but you were actually being desperate right now. Kenji always begged to know what happened between you and the idol to cause this one-sided hatred, but you never let him have his way until now. You’d rather tell him than serve Taehyung again.
“Ugh, fine.” You surrendered, letting your shoulders droop. But Kenji looked back at you with success on his stupid face. “I’ll tell you more about it later, but I’ll tell you in a quick summary.” You spoke briefly about your past with Taehyung. When you told him, it saddened your mood a little, remembering the emotions and insecurities you had about it. It was damaging for you to say the least, but you pushed it aside to not let it get to you in the middle of your shift.
Once you finished, Kenji nodded as he processed what you said. “So you don’t want to deal with him?” You nodded. “And you don’t care?” You nodded again. “___, it sounds like you do.”
You were baffled and offended. “Really? After what I said??”
“Hey, if you don’t care, then you would have been indifferent toward him.” He argued nonchalantly. “Look at you being riled up by even the thought of him.”
Your eye twitched. Maybe it was your pride, or how the younger provoked you. Maybe both. But either way, you wanted to prove him wrong. “I am indifferent to him.”
“Prove it.” He threw more gas into the fire.
“Fine, you’re fucking annoying and lazy as fuck anyway. I’ll prove you wrong.” You crumpled the paper before opening it back up and punching in the order. But while you were doing so, you realized what he did. You frowned as you stared at a shit-grinning Kenji before you. “You’re full of shit, you know that.”
“Shit that molded into a mastermind.” He winked before parting ways, knowing you lost while he gained.
-
Eventually, you sucked it up and served them. There was no point when your coworker executed some type of reverse psychology on you. You gave him props for that.
However, he did emphasize something. Were you really indifferent toward Taehyung? What was the meaning behind all of that anger and hatred in you? Of course, the way he spoke to you in the past caused you pain, but shouldn’t it be gone by now? People get over it so you should too. It has been almost a decade. You say you don’t care, but why were there so many emotions in you when you see him? What was there to be said? What does being cruel to him lead to?
You didn’t understand yourself, you couldn’t, especially with all that was going on. Throwing this into your bowl of responsibilities and issues made everything a lot more stressful. There was literally no time for you to be thinking about Taehyung, yet, it was prominent in your mind.
You settled the drinks down, calling out who got what. As you were doing so, Taehyung grinned proudly at you before announcing, “Guys, this is ___, my best friend from Geochang. The one I talked to all the time.”
You so badly wanted to yell that you weren’t his best friend, but you remembered—you needed to be apathetic, so you said nothing. But the heavy scrutiny of gazes from his friends brought agitation and shyness. You couldn’t understand why, but they indeed were handsome in person. You assumed it was because they technically haven’t seen you before. Sure, there were a few greets here and there but that was it. A picture, who knows? You and Taehyung stopped contact before you were able to formally introduce yourself.
Their pupils widened and blinked like goldfish. Jungkook had his mouth slightly apart while Jimin covered his with his fist. You furrowed your eyebrows, questioning if this was a good sign.
Nevertheless, you smiled bashfully. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. Uhh, Jungkook and Jimin.” You pointed at the respective person. “I know you both from BTS so…”
Jungkook gulped and cleared his throat. “A—ah, yes. It’s nice to finally meet yo—you’re ___?” He asked for verification. “You’re Bl—”
“JK, I told you not to say it. Only I can.” Taehyung chided, refusing for anyone to call you that other than him. Also, why were his friends looking at you like that? It was like they’d never seen a person before.
You rolled your eyes at what he said and you mentally scolded yourself, but fortunately, no one caught it. “Yes, I’m ___.”
“The person behind the calls? The late-night calls at two in the morning.” Jimin included. You grew puzzled at these oddly specific memories, but they were valid. You hesitantly nodded while keeping your gaze on the two.
“You’re pretty, like really beautiful.” Jungkook threw it out in the open. You were taken aback, even stepping back to look at them in disbelief.
Even Taehyung snapped his head back towards his members and was about to say something but Jimin butted in. “Tae, you didn’t tell us she was gorgeous.”
Taehyung opened his mouth, “I—I mean, I—”
“That’s fine, Hyung.” Jungkook interrupted before smiling widely at you. “I mean you do have a girlfriend anyway.”
“Jung—”
“Yup, of five years too,” Jimin smirked, showcasing his award-winning slit eyes in your direction.
Okay, you wanted to walk away from this table immediately. These sentences were uncalled for but somewhat curious. First, two jaw-dropping idols that everyone wanted, called you pretty, though you assumed they were just being nice. You weren’t very lucky in the dating world and you somewhat refused to dip your toes, let alone with idols. Mainly due to bad experiences and being too busy.
The second was that Taehyung had a girlfriend and seemed steady too, considering how long they’ve been together. You knew idols hid things regarding their dating life, BTS included despite their weird rumors between each other which were entertaining as is. So evidently, of course, Taehyung would be one with a secret partner. People always thought he was a handsome charmer back in Geochang and did have many confessions and admirers.
You said nothing and nodded, not knowing how to add to the conversation. “Well, thank you for that. Ummm, I’ll get your orders right after this so please excuse me.” With your chance, you escaped quickly and headed back into the kitchen.
It was a weird encounter, but not that bad. Though your body felt defeated and emotionally drained, you pushed meaningless thoughts away from your brain to focus on your work.
Meanwhile, Taehyung glowered at his starstruck members as they watch you walk away. He didn’t like what they said one bit. How dare they mentioned his relationship to you and also why are they shouting to the world how pretty you were?
“Stop staring at her like that, you perverts!” Taehyung scoffed. “Can you both be any more obvious?”
“We’re not touching, we’re respectfully looking.” Jimin reasoned before meeting his best friend’s upset eyes. “She’s pretty! Can’t blame us.”
“You never showed us a picture of her, nothing on her.” Jungkook pouted.
“I did! Years back!” Taehyung refuted as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“It was a baby picture!” Jimin replied. “And it was only because it was your Lock Screen before. This is different.”
“Whatever,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, there she is and because of her status as my best friend, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you two get it with her. I know those looks…” Jungkook and Jimin were definitely not dating as they were in their eras. They’ve dated here and there, but nothing was serious and Taehyung will not let you be “nothing.”
“Taehyung, she’s a grown woman!”
“Does it look like I care? No, you can’t.”
“How can you even say that?” Jungkook frowned incredulously. “No offense, but will your opinion even matter to her?”
Taehyung’s frown then turned neutral as he heard what Jungkook said. It was insulting, to say the least, but he had a point. He came here trying to gain a friendship with you, nothing else. But right now, his friends sparked interest in you and he hated the thought. Why? He didn’t want to explain or else it’ll confuse his head. But he knew you hated him more. It didn’t help that he came back after telling him off weeks ago. So whatever you did, you wouldn’t care about him and what Jungkook said right?
He wanted to change your mind, so maybe he had to be on your good side and reminisce all of your memories together. He shouldn’t think about his members, it was all about you.
You came back with the first set of plates, placing them down on the table. Jungkook assisted you by moving it further back for more space in front of you. You thanked him for his gesture.
Taehyung bit inside his cheek before looking up at you, “Blue, do you think you can get me another bottle of soju?” That showed the affection you had for each other.
Indifference, indifference, indifference, you chanted in your head. But you wanted to punch him in the throat as he rejected your wishes to not call you that nickname. “Sure.”
“Make that two, please.” Jimin raised his finger as a gesture. “I would like grape, doll.”
“Of course, I’ll get that for you.” You grinned before walking away.
As you left, Jimin smiled proudly, getting more of a response from you than Taehyung. Taehyung’s jaw clenched, ticked off at everything.
Needless to say, he wasn’t bringing them again.
-
Over the month, Taehyung has been visiting and eating at the restaurant almost every other day. This past week, he came every day. Sometimes, he was alone, in other instances, he had Seojoon, Wooshik, or both. Once in a while, it was Jungkook and Jimin who flirted with you—yes, you knew and it made you a little less attracted to them but that wasn’t the point. And each time, he tried talking to you while you said very little and kept quiet. He only spoke about your good memories, nothing more. Not once did you hear him speak on what he did, almost like what he did was nonexistent. But it wasn’t, at least for you.
Interestingly enough, when he was alone, he called you Blue. But with his friends, he called your name. You weren’t sure why, but you let it be. However, it was so hard to be.
You didn’t want to talk to him, you didn’t want to serve him, you didn’t want him to call you Blue but look where you were. You did all of that and you let him. You tried to be detached from everything, the past, the present, him, but the rage in you kept fueling up every single time.
Yet you were ashamed that even with refusal, he somehow meshed into your schedule. When he talked to you, he mentioned the past. The good past, the laughter, the adventures, the obliviousness to a now broken bond. You couldn’t decide if they were painful or nothing to you, you refused to say no to either. It was all triggering that it hurt your mind.
You hated that you were distracted by him, you shouldn’t. You weren’t in his life anymore, and neither was he. You had other priorities to think about like your school, your job, and your family back home. None of your priorities should be Taehyung because you knew that you weren’t anything to him anymore, you knew that way before. He got his other friends, his fans, his members, and his girlfriend. You were nothing and that was permanent in your mind.
Still, you grew exhausted by his persistence. Sure, he told you he wasn’t all that well but that wasn’t enough. But looking at the situation you were in, you didn’t know how to approach it without breaking. You thought you could continue like that, but how much longer?
It was five in the morning. The sun slowly rose from the horizon, looking into your tiny one-bedroom apartment. The light cascaded into darkness, gradually revealing the sunny dawn. You enjoyed the view from your broken window you had yet to call the supervisor of the building.
You pulled an all-nighter, trying to finish this education plan as an assignment that was due today. You had no time as you were focused on other projects, so you had to just work tirelessly until the end of this one. After submitting your paper, you had one hour left before you were actually supposed to wake up.
Though with darkened bags under your eyes and a drained body from working last night, you glanced at your three cans of coke, knowing you weren’t going to sleep anytime soon. You tried your best to at least rest your eyes before doing another repeat of yesterday and the days before. At least it was Friday, then after that, the weekend. But you agonizingly realized that you began working weekends as well.
-
“You’re going out again?”
Taehyung stared at his girlfriend through the full-length mirror in their shared bedroom as he viewed his outfit for tonight. Her expression was dumbfounded by the fact that it would be another night without her boyfriend. He never explained any further of his doings, only that they were with his friends which she knew very well.
“Yeah, with Seojoon Hyung.” He confirmed as he threw on a watch.
“Tae, you’ve been going out a lot recently.” Clara pointed out as she sat on the bed.
“And what about it?” The idol shrugged. “I know you’re busy doing your job and stuff, so think of these times as self-care or me time.”
“True, but I also want time with my boyfriend.” She replied as she leaned into her palms resting on the mattress. “But I haven’t gotten that lately.”
Taehyung’s face twisted before biting his lip. He took a glance at his pouting girlfriend. It was true though. Ever since he found you and wanted your friendship, it was all he has been spending his time doing. He was never home, only to sleep, eat breakfast, and feed Yeontan. Half of the time at home, Clara wasn’t even home as she had her schedule. He barely saw her but didn’t mind it at all. But with her being sad in front of his eyes, he felt a sudden guilt that he hated.
He sighed before clicking his tongue, “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy and a lot has been going on.”
“I thought you would have been less busy, especially with the pause on your group schedule?” She reasoned.
“Nothing really to do with the scheduling.” He mumbled.
The socialite peered at her boyfriend, “Are you really hanging out with Seojoon Oppa?”
He met her piercing eyes, knowing the implications she made. “Yes, I am. I’ve been hanging out with them. We go out to eat every time.”
“That’s a lot of downtimes Seojoon Oppa has, especially for a busy actor like him.”
Taehyung pitched the bridge of his nose, getting bothered by her interrogations. “I’m not cheating if that’s what you’re saying.”
“I’m not saying you are.”
“Yes, you are!” He opposed. “You do that fucking thing. “Are you really?” “Are you sure?” I’m sure I’m not.”
“But you’re always out!”
“Because I don’t like being home!” He explained before grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his back pocket. He did not want to deal with this right now.
“Tae, but I want to spend time with you!” Clara ordered as she stood up, trying to find her boyfriend’s eyes. “I thought the pause would have given you more downtime to spend with me. I’ve been clearing my schedule for you, but it seems for nothing if I’m at home alone. Can’t even go out because no one knows…”
There it was, the regret coming back up. Taehyung didn’t like yelling at her, or even fighting, especially something stupid like this. But sometimes, it was inevitable. You would think that after being together for five years would be easier to manage but it was wrong. So, so, so wrong.
“I’m sorry.” He said before turning his body to look at her. She was really stunning, even in low light, her beauty was emphasized by the shadows cast over her face.
“If you’re busy, I get that but it hurts when you don’t make time for me.” Clara approached frankly. “It was really bad when you were touring and always at the studio 24/7. I really thought this time would give us time together.”
“You do realize that the band’s not disbanding, I’m still busy with other things. These times are for me to feel freer.” Taehyung communicated clearly.
“Yes, I know. Spending time with your Hyungs and members, but I would want to be prioritized too.”
Another blow to his chest as the shame consumed him again. “I do—I—I’m sorry.”
“I know you’re sorry, but actions speak louder than words.” She specified. “Spend time with me, I don’t wanna ask again.” He nodded hopelessly as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Are you busy tomorrow?”
He opened his mouth but closed it shut. All he had was going to the studio and then having dinner at your work, which was “busy” to him. But the longer he stared at Clara’s pleading eyes, he didn’t want to let her down again. “No, I’m not. We can go to the park early in the morning and walk Tan?”
“Then have breakfast?” Her eyes lit up.
Taehyung scrunched his nose before ultimately nodding, “Yes, I’ll spend the whole day with you. I promise.” It was a big promise, but he had to do it. He had no choice but to.
-
“I’m sorry I’m late!” You ran into the restaurant restlessly. Your shift started at noon, but now it was close to two in the afternoon. You stopped before Halmeoni looked at you worriedly. “I overslept!”
“How can someone oversleep? It’s 2 PM??” Kenji commented as he grabbed empty cups to fill them with ice.
“Dear, you look paler,” Halmeoni informed, noticing your sunken features. She held your cheeks with her frail callous hands. “You’re even skinnier and I saw you yesterday. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Halmeoni, I’m fine.” You reassured with a tired smile. “I had to finish something last night and the night before, so I slept late, but it’s alright!”
“Sweetie, I think you should go rest for the day. I’ll pay you for the day.” Your sweet boss recommended it, but you denied it as fast as you could.
“No, it’s fine. I also know how busy weekends get for the restaurant and I wanna help.”
She sighed as she squeezed your arms, “If you insist.” You affirmed before getting your apron and tying it over you. While you were distracted, Halmeoni went to Kenji and whispered in his ear. “Keep an eye on her.”
Kenji assured his grandmother before she walked back into the kitchen. As he was about to go to a table, he spotted you grabbing another coke and gulping it down in a hurry. The younger boy pursed his lips, fearing for your health.
-
You didn’t know how, but you worked tirelessly through rush hour without any breaks. After drinking that can, you had a boost of energy that you haven’t had in a while. It felt so good to feel like you were on top of the world, even if it was temporary. Hopefully, this rush can last the whole night since you had to read an important article for a course.
Once you finished with your last table, for now, you stretched your limbs behind the counter, letting out a yawn. As you opened your mouth, a spring roll was shoved into it, leaving you bewildered as you spotted Kenji biting on another one.
“You need to eat something.” He spoke with a full mouth. “I’ve had more breaks today than you ever did this past week.”
You bit into the roll and munched on it. “That’s because I don’t abuse my grandmother’s leniency like you.”
“But she’ll be more pissed if I don’t rest. Something you should do.” He voiced out, but you responded by rolling your eyes as you finished what was left of the roll. “Don’t overwork yourself.”
“I’m not!” You groaned before wiping your mouth with a napkin. “And I can rest at home.”
“You’re doing the most for no reason.”
“There’s always a reason for what I do.” You pushed forth as you passed by him.
The tarp opened and you looked in that direction, not surprised to see a smiling Taehyung with a Seojoon behind. You were unsure how to feel when you saw the idol’s face, but you can’t help but think about how it was when you were younger. No matter what you did, you’d see that ebony-haired boy with that boxy smile plastered on him every single day. It made your day before, but now���
“Hi, ___!” Taehyung smiled as he walked towards you. Though you stared at him, your mind was elsewhere. He observed your face, you looked weaker despite seeing you yesterday. Cheeks were hollow, the color in your eyes dimmed, and lips were chapped. As gentle as possible, he couldn’t help but raise his hand and pat your head. He grew concerned, especially while he was touching you and you didn’t even flinch, not even tense up once. “Blue, are you okay?” He whispered.
Your daydreaming came to an end when a dull ache pierced through your head. You hissed at the pain, resting your head in your palms and bending forward. You didn’t even realize someone was near you until you felt a hand on your back.
“___, are you in pain? How are you feeling?” The voice was sensed right away. You wanted to move away but you couldn’t. He rubbed your back and you hated that it soothed you.
“I’m fine.” You kneed your face before straightening your posture and stepping away from Taehyung. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But I a—”
“I’m not worried about you, so don’t worry about me.” You mumbled. The pain was still there but you tried repressing it. “Now go to your seat and don’t touch me again.”
Taehyung wanted to say something but he stopped and accepted it. He turned to his Hyung who also looked at you empathically before they went to a vacant table. You walked over to the counter to retrieve menus and a notepad. As you did so, you instantly felt lightheaded.
You probably didn’t drink some water, so for a speedy recovery, you filled a glass of water for yourself and downed it in one go. You inhaled then exhaled, pacing your breathing. You felt a little better, but the headache was still there. You thought you’d be fine for now. But as you took a step, your vision got blurry even having three sets of Kenji walking by. You shook your head, trying to clear your head. You were fine, you were fine.
But you had to walk step by step instead of at your usual speed. You felt getting lighter, but at least your sight was still clear. Once you got to Taehyung’s table, you didn’t notice the concerned look on him as you asked them for their drink order. Seojoon talked for them, but for some reason, his voice muffled like he was underwater while a ringing pinched into your eardrums. You squirmed softly, catching Taehyung’s attention once more.
“___, you don’t look so good.” The idol frowned but you were quick to ignore him.
Not even getting their order, you hummed. “I’ll get them right away.” As you turned your back and walked methodically, Taehyung watched at a distance with growing panic.
“She doesn’t look right.” The idol informed and turned his head at his rather calm Hyung.
“Maybe she has an off day.” Seojoon simply said. “It’s concerning though, but I know she’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know her like I do though.” The idol spoke tensely. “I don’t buy anything she’s saying right now.”
“I guess so,” The older man snorted, shaking his head. “By the way, what’s up with you and her? I know you said she was your friend. Don’t tell me you’re trying to get with her.”
“I’m not cheating,” Taehyung emphasized. “___’s my friend, I grew up with her. Just trying to spend time with her.”
“At her working place?” Seojoon questioned, cocking his head to the side in wonder. “Can’t you just ask to hang out outside?”
“Well, the thing is…she doesn’t like me.”
“I can see that. It’s like you’re torturing her with your presence.” The actor brutally replied. “Why are you making so much effort if she doesn’t want you in her life?”
Taehyung sighed as he tapped his fingers on the table. ”It’s hard to explain, but…she was a big part of my life and I hate that we ended things.”
Seojoon nodded, understanding his youngest friend. “So she was only your friend?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? That’s all?”
“Yes? What do you mean ‘that’s all’?”
The older man was intrigued, only because Taehyung was the type to give up on things so easily, like how he did with playing the trumpet, film photography, working out, and the list went on. So for him to do the most, Seojoon wanted to dig deeper into who exactly you were and if there was more to what Taehyung was letting out.
You finally made it to the counter. That was so hard for no reason at all. You feebly gripped the edge of the table, trying to pull yourself together. You lifted your pounding head and blinked rapidly. Your eyes got hazy and felt a whole lot better and you cheered mentally. Maybe you needed more water.
You shifted your body and reached for a cup when unexpectedly, your legs gave out. Your headache stabbed your mind, your vision fogged up your surroundings, and your head leaned back as your eyes rolled back. You crashed onto the cold hard floor, your body curling in immense pain.
The last thing you saw was Taehyung running towards your body, calling your name before blacking out.
-
The second you opened your eyes, you gasped and snapped up. But the dulling pain in your cranium continued its presence, making you fold and hold your head. You winced at how badly it hurt, even feeling the tears forming in your eyes.
“Blue!” You weakly opened your eyes once you felt arms and a whole broad chest around your body. You felt him nosing into your hair while his thumbs rubbed circles on your back. “Thank goodness, you’re awake. You had me worried.”
You frowned and ripped him off of you. He was taken aback by your action, but he continued to stare at you with a worrisome look. You glared with a disturbed pout before scanning through your vicinity. The window showed the twilight of the firmament. Judging by the beeping monitor on the other side, a needle inserted into your skin, the bed, and the white cooling room, you were sent to the hospital.
The last thing you remembered was getting a glass of water for yourself and nothing else. Your stress levels were through the roof. Your vision was blurry, you couldn’t move your body, and your mouth was dry. But as if he knew, on cue, Taehyung handed you a glass of water. You looked at the cup and then back to him. Without saying anything, you raised your hands to grasp it but you were trembling excessively which made the idol notice.
He took the effort to lift the brim of the glass to your lips. You weren’t in a position to complain about the gesture so you accepted it. You went forward as he tilted the cup, helping your drink. He didn’t stop until you finished the whole thing, which you did since you were very much dehydrated.
You respired, sitting properly on the hospital bed. Your irises watched Taehyung put the glass down on the bedside table, then sat down back at the table. Though you said nothing, you wanted answers to everything like why was he here.
Again as if he knew, he began speaking, “It’s currently three in the morning. We rushed you here and you were out for more than seven hours.” He scooted his chair toward you until you were within his reach. You could only gaze at him with tired eyes. He too looked like he didn’t sleep. “The doctor said you fainted from dehydration, starvation, and overworking your body. What led you to do that? We were so scared, Blue. I was worried sick.”
You blinked dizzily, not by your condition but by what he said. He was worried sick? Were you hearing that correctly? How fucking bold of him to tell that to you. What was he doing to you? Why was he being kind and sweet like the Taehyung you once knew? This was the same person who hurt you. Why did he do all of this? Why does he even fucking care for you at all?
Mindlessly, you slapped his shoulder to the best you can since you weren’t in the best shape. The smack made him jolt, gawking at you bug-eyed. But it wasn’t enough for you. Smack! He needed to feel pain. Smack! He needed to be hurt. Smack! He needed to feel what you felt all the years before. Smack! During those years. Smack! Now. Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Owww, Bl—Fuck!” Taehyung whined, trying to force your hands away from him. Your lips quaked as you slapped him again and again. “Blue, that hurts!”
“You asshole! Stop it!” You shouted, your skin heating up and your tear ducts swelling up. “No, stop! Stop calling me Blue! Stop coming to the shop. Stop telling people about our past! Stop begging! Stop, stop, stop! Just stop it already!” You hit him once more, but it came out helplessly when the walls in you broke down and the dam exploded. You let sobs as your stature shook, having no control anymore.
Taehyung saw you, shaking his head. He absolutely hated seeing you cry. He innately hugged your weeping form and nuzzled into your hair again. Only this time you gave up pushing him away and took it. “___, please. I’m sorry, I just really wanted you ba—”
“Why would you even? You hurt me, Taehyung!” You punched tiny fists onto his chest that made no real damage before shoving your dampened face to his front. His touch soothed you so familiarly that it pained you at the same time.
“I’m sorry, Blue. I’m sorry.” His body trembled around you. Your hair felt wet, finally being aware that he too was crying.
“You called me a needy little bitch who had no other friends!” The throbbing memory was so vivid you remembered it like it was yesterday.
It has been over a year since Taehyung left Geochang for Seoul to pursue his dream of becoming an idol. His departure was a bittersweet “see you later.” This was the first time you and he would be physically apart, being kilometers and hours away from him.
If you had the chance to, you’d tag along and stay with him, but you had no money and you weren’t as talented as he was. So a simple choking hug, many farewells, reassurance of how much you’d miss and love one another, and a kiss on your temple would suffice.
Every night he’d called to update you on the process and ask how you were with school, which was tough considering your best friend in the whole world wasn’t there for support but you knew he was there for you in spirit.
You astonishedly made a genuine friend to be your buddy throughout high school and you told him. He got jealous. He told you who his members were, even sending you a picture of who’s who and what were they like. Jimin seemed sweet especially since Taehyung talked about him all the time. You got envious, but the both of you knew no one can replace either of you.
However, recently the contact was stagnant. Of course, while he was busy with training and preparing for your debut, you were busy with school and helping your grandparents out. They were getting older, so you tried your best to help around the house and farm. You would call him every night, but it would go straight to voicemail. You texted him, but he wouldn’t reply until days later and the response would be ‘Sorry, been busy.’
You tried your best to understand he has been working hard on this and you were proud of him, but you worried if he was okay. You wanted to know how he was doing or what was happening in his personal life. You just wanted to know. But now texts were rare and phone calls were miracles yet short and under two minutes.
Maybe you were being too much but quickly remembered what Taehyung told you before. It was after that big fight you had. He told you honestly and with solace. Regardless, you decided to give him a little space to avoid being overbearing.
But that only lasted two days because the unexpected happened.
After finding out, you naturally ran to your safe haven—your room—and cried your heart out. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The guilt consumed you, never even saying goodbye because you were at school and no one told you until after. You held onto your soaked pillow tightly. You felt vulnerable, and cold, and searched for comfort.
Then you remembered Taehyung.
You grabbed your phone and dialed his number. There was a ringing, but it went to voicemail. You dialed again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voi—
“What?!” Taehyung snarled. “Why are you calling me so much?”
“Hyun—Hyungie!” You cried. “I nee—”
“Blue, I’m so tired. I can’t right now.” He groaned and you can imagine him scratching his cranium.
“B—but, it’s import—important.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Hyungie ple—”
“___, call tomorrow!”
“No, you’re not un—”
“Ugh, seriously. Why are you being a needy little bitch?” He spat through the phone. “I know you have no friends and all, but I’m busy!”
This was the first time Taehyung yelled at you, the first time he was mad at you. He never was like that with you. Those words were hurting you, but you pushed them aside to reason. Your lower lips shuddered in denial, “No, no, Hyungie—”
“I swear, can’t you think about my needs for once other than yourself! Fuck.”
“I do and I’m sorry I upset you, but I need you ri—”
“___, I have to go. Namjoon Hyung is calling us to the living room. It’s important.”
“Hyungie, please. I nee—”
The call ended.
You tried calling back again and again, but he wasn’t answering so you left a voicemail. “Please, Hyungie. I’m sorry I made you mad, I’m sorry. I need you right now. I’m scared and lonely and I want my best friend. Please answer back. I love you. I miss you so much.”
Once you finished your message, you sat in the dark contemplating what he told you. Were you smothering him too much? Were you that needy? But Taehyung reassured you. He always has. But why was he saying it now? Did it finally get to him? No, no. Of course, not. He was your best friend of all time.
Every single day for the next week, you called him as much as possible. But there was no avail. You sent texts and phone calls until you found out that he blocked you. You stared at the screen for a good hour with the little pop-up saying a message cannot be sent.
It hurt so much for him to say that, to do that. It really was how he thought of you. You only ever had him, the person with so many friends, and he was gone. You were too needy, too much to handle. You caved into your body and pulled your knees to your chest as you bawled. His words always meant tremendously to you, and you didn’t realize you looked at yourself in that new light he showed you.
You came to a realization that you didn’t have a best friend. You lost him.
You lost your grandmother and him.
“___, I’m so sorry. They were lies, I never meant it!” Taehyung explained, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I never thought of you like that ever!”
Your reddened puffy eyes lifted to meet his equally swollen ones. “Taehyung, my grandma died that day.” You swore his face and heart dropped at the information. “She went into a cardiac arrest while picking crops and dropped dead.” You sobbed as more tears ran down your cheeks. “I found out after school because no one didn’t want to tell me while I was in.”
Taehyung cupped your cheeks with his hands, wiping the streaks away but it was pointless. “I’m so so—”
You grabbed onto his forearms, so he could look directly into your eyes. “When my grandma died, I needed my best friend. I needed you, Taehyung!” You screamed and squeezed him with your might. You observed him as he had his lips between his teeth and looked down in shame and remorse eating him alive. “You ignored my text and calls when I needed you the most. But I didn’t have that anymore. There was no one.” You whispered the last sentence, knowing the loneliness you felt for years.
“Blue, I’m sorry. I didn’t know!” His shaky voice was filled with regret and sorrow, not realizing what you’d gone through until now. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!”
“I tried telling you! But you pushed me away!! You didn’t give me a chance!” You slapped his chest faintly hard but it still wasn’t enough to break him. He lets you do so because he deserved it. He deserved every hit, every scream from you. He was a shitty best friend to you and he didn’t know the severity of it. “I lost you and grandma that day. It hurts, it hurts so much.”
Thinking you’d hit him again, you surprisingly encircled your arms around his torso and pulled him closer. On instinct, he did the same, tightening his hold. “I lost you. I needed you, Hyungie.”
Streaks went down his face at how weak you sounded and it was all because of him. He hated himself for it, he hated the way he acted at you, you never deserved any of that, but he was an asshole. An asshole to his innocent and sweet best friend.
“You didn’t lose me, Blue. I’m here. I won’t leave, I promise. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He promised, then whispered all the apologies in the world to you. A critical promise that he will keep in his heart until the day he died.
-
You don’t know how long you were in this position, but dawn was soon arriving. The tiny peak of the tangerine shined among the skyline. You watched in tranquility with inflamed irises and dried stains on your features. Somewhere along the line, Taehyung climbed himself onto the elevated top bed and had you in his arms.
At this point, you don’t bother because he wasn’t going to listen and you had to admit that the feeling of him alleviated you like how you recollected. You missed it so much and you maneuvered into his chest.
Taehyung wasn’t asleep. He was weary, but couldn’t sleep. In the meantime, he watched you while you stared out the window. He enjoyed it, acknowledging the yearning to have you back near him. He thought about it before but now, he wanted to beat himself up for ever letting you go. Though the crying stopped with a few sniffles here and there, the pounding in his heart didn’t stop. There was so much to be said, so much for him to ask and beg, all he hoped was that you accepted them.
“Blue—”
“Don’t call me that right now.” You muttered without even looking back.
“Sorry. Uhh, ___.” He called and you hummed in response. “I know I fucked up and hurt your feelings and I regret them. I swear, the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” He gulped and exhaled unevenly. “I said the most fucked up things to you and took you for granted. You aren’t needy, you did nothing wrong. You’re innocent. It’s all my fault. I was a dumbass, obnoxious, and selfish. But I want you to know that you never lost me and I’m gonna keep reminding you of that. I promise I’ll never leave you again. I wanna make things right and rekindle our friendship. I wanna ask you for your forgiveness, please?”
Your irises shifted from the view outside to his nervous face. You sighed, then sat up. He followed you and waited patiently yet anxiously for your answer. “I forgave you a long time ago, Taehyung.”
His pupils dilated while his mouth parted, “You did?”
You nodded with pure honesty. “It took me three years, but I did.” You knew he was about to question it, so you quickly added. “I saw that BTS documentary and you talked about the struggles and adversity you all had to face, even with the early termination you avoided and personal life.”
He was shocked to find out that you followed him and the group, which melted his heart, and wanted to know more but now wasn’t the time. So he nodded.
“I forgave, but I won’t forget it.” You stated. “Because, Kim Taehyung, you’ve hurt me so badly that it got me traumatized to opening back up to people.”
It was true. After your friendship broke, you shut down and avoided peers other than group projects. People tried but didn’t get very far. There was no effort due to your lingering fear of disappointment and your insecurity about being clingy. You went to school and then home, sometimes helping your grandfather out. You did have Taehyung’s siblings, but once his family moved, you really had no one.
Other relatives visited you and your grandfather, but that was basically it. It went like this from there until the end of your undergraduate years.
“You took our friendship for granted. Yes, we’ve changed and we’re strangers now…” You spoke like this was nothing but it tore Taehyung on the inside. He never wanted this to happen. “But there’s a scar in me, it’s still here and it’s a reminder.”
“___, you shouldn’t do that. It’s not good for you.” He approached. “The loneliness will continue.”
“But how can I not?” You whimpered with glossy eyes. “I’m afraid, because of you!”
Your words punched him in the gut, wincing at the emotional sting. “S-scars can heal over time, but it takes a while unless you get help.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Let me help you heal your scars.”
You leaned back as you fidget your fingers, hesitantly shaking your head. “N-n—I don’t know if I can.”
“I’ll help you! I’ll help you like I always did when we were together.”
“The past—”
“Please. You said it yourself, even if I hate it, but we’re strangers now. It’ll be different this time. We can start fresh, or back to where we left off before I moved to Seoul, I don’t care as long as I have you and our friendship back in my life. I’ll be eternally grateful.”
“You know it’s really hard to start fresh when I think about how we were years back.” You pronounced, still uneasy about the tempting recommendation.
“Then let’s go back where we left off!”
“Can’t help but also think about what you did.”
Taehyung was desperate and felt defeated by your hard and impenetrable stance. But he didn’t want to give it up when he was so close. “Please, ___. I miss you so much. Back then, you were the only person who understood me. You probably still are and I hope that.”
“Please you have your friends and members, your girlfriend, who know you much more than me.” You retorted at his ridiculousness.
“Never, and I know that deep in me.” He said in no laughing matter. You pursed your lips, remembering how serious he can get.
Your pupils moved away to look back at the rising sun. “It’s been years though…”
“Then there’s a lot of time to be made up.”
You sighed, “Taehyu—“
“Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Ple—”
“Fine, fuck! Jesus Christ, you’re annoying.” You burst out, making him flinch. “We’ll do it.“
The angels answered his prayers. The broken pieces of the bond twitched as they’re attempting to find their way back to each other. The flames were about to ablaze with hazard protection the second you agreed.
“R-really?” He asked dumbfoundedly.
You gave a swift nod, “But I will remind you.” You grasped his tendrils firmly and tugged him to you, causing him to squirm painfully. You glared daggers at him with pupils enlarged. “You fucking broke my trust and heart, and this is something you’ll have to earn back.” Your hold tightened harshly, letting him yelp. “I don’t care how many pouts, expressions, begs and pleas you give me. You earn it. Understood?”
“Ye—yes, ma’am.” He replied without missing a beat.
You released your grip and removed your hand away. He groaned at the blunt ache. He knew you were harsh when you wanted to but damn. He was about to touch it, but you yanked his head towards your chest.
You wrapped your arms around his neck before your fingers gently brushed through his raven locks. He flinched, but only because it stung. However, your digits carded through and lightly scratched his scalp. “Did I hurt you?”
The sides of his lips curved, absorbing the tenderness he knew you had even if it was only a small piece. He rested peacefully into you and shook his head. “You could never hurt me.”
Though he never saw that smile on you at that moment, it was going to be okay. Hopefully, there will be more with the reconnection. It was complicated and conflicting, there may be holes. If people found out, they may question it, but they would never fully understand unless they were in your shoes.
The bond was yet in the dark due to lost time. But the reminder of that gravitational pull between you two was consistently there and progressing to its liking. Maybe little by little or jumping through barrels, who knew? All that mattered was that you were separated for almost a decade—
You’d always find yourselves back to one another.
-
It has been over a week since you and Taehyung had that fight. It really disappointed you that he forgot your parents’ death anniversary, but it bothered you even more that this was your biggest fight yet. You’ve done so much for your best friend and always tried to do what he asked you despite it being uncomfortable sometimes. He knew, he knew you knew. Yet he would still ask.
Asking him this one thing, this one important thing and he forgot it like it was nothing. It wasn’t something you could let off easily with Taehyung’s apologies and his intricate pouts. You had to be a little more stubborn than usual, so here you were—in your room alone on a sunny Saturday morning.
Since then, you haven’t spoken to Taehyung no matter how much he tried. If he did, you’d ignore him like the wind. When he tried hugging you, you pushed him off of you even going as far as throwing him on the grass. It was one of the hardest things to do especially when he lived next door and invited himself over at all times. You hated the distance. You missed him and his presence, but it had to be done for your voice to be heard. An apology wasn’t going to cut it.
He was an insistent pest, calling your name and begging for your forgiveness from every angle you could think of. If only he knew you already forgave him, your heart couldn’t reject your best friend like that.
Today was not like the rest. After your fight—well, even before—Taehyung was your human alarm clock. Right on the dot of six in the morning. But it was the weekend, so it would be nine o’clock. However, there were no sounds or sight of your social butterfly anywhere. It was too quiet for your liking.
It frightened you.
Nonetheless, you went about through your morning. After washing up, you went out on the porch to water the plants. While hosing the pots down, you spotted someone coming out next door in your peripheral vision. You didn’t think anything else of it as it could have been anyone from Taehyung’s family, but then you saw the hue of bold red from his big-ass backpack stuffed as usual.
You shook your head, wondering what he was up to before paying attention back to your foliages and flora. Once you were done, you turned the hose off. You were about to turn away and go back into your house until a certain person came into your vicinity and closed the door when you tried opening it.
“Good morning, my lovely Blue.” He sounded radiant and energized.
For the first time since the fight, you finally acknowledged your best friend by staring at him right in the eyes with your tired and hurt once. The smile on his face grew the second the contact was mutual.
Before either of you could say anything, you pried open your front door. You made it in, but you couldn’t slam it shut as he ducked down and his arms wrapped around your waist then lifting you in the air. You yelped at the sudden action and unfortunately, it came naturally to encircle yours around his nape for support.
You felt him letting go, slipping in his hold which made you grip tighter. But then you noticed him maneuvering his hands under your thighs, putting you in a comfortable position.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you go,” Taehyung reassured as he kicked the door closed. Though you were secured, you realized the position you were in and what he was doing. Suspicious of him, you wiggled to get out of his hold but he only gripped firmer. “Nuh uh, I got you now, so deal with it.”
You blew out of your nose and pulled a face of disgust. You glared at him intently, but he paid no attention as he walked you toward your room. His face remained smiley, but deep down, he was actually deathly afraid. He wanted you back and hated himself for what he did. He needed to truly make it up after he was a shitty best friend to his sweet true best friend in the whole universe.
Once in your room, he propped you down on your bed. You crossed your arms, avoiding his eyes by staring forward at the wall. There was no way he’d get to you this easily. You had to continue your stance.
You heard him sigh before walking towards you and kneeling in front. He laid his hands on your lap before gazing up, “Blue, please talk to me. I miss you.” You stayed silent, ignoring him. “I’m sorry for forgetting your parents’ anniversary. It wasn’t my intention to, but I did for some stupid party for friends who are no way near important compared to you.”
Your heart stung a little—friends. The same friends he’d go to have lunch with. The same ones who were in football with him. The same ones who invited him to parties and hangouts. The same ones he managed to forget your time with him.
You looked away and batted your eyes to keep the tears away. You didn’t want him to see you cry just yet. It was way too early in the morning for that.
“Blue, I know I can’t apologize enough for it. I’m stupid.” You really wanted to say “you are,” but bit your tongue to keep quiet. “So what I’m trying to say is…” He got up and reached out to hold your cheeks in his palms. “Let’s go have an adventure.”
His sentence threw you off to the point where you snorted and spoke for the first time. “I’m not going anywhere with you right now.” You retorted, slapping him away from you. “If you fucking think that a da—”
“Please, there’s a reason for it! But it’s a surprise.” He quickly countered. His eyes rapidly tried to find your agreement, but there was none…yet.
“Do you even deserve my time?” You spat back, making him internally bruise at your cruel words. You felt guilt roaming in you when you saw how hurt he looked, but you repressed it. “You should hang out with your other friends. I’m sure they’d want to hang out with your surprise. I’ll be fine alone.”
“___,” He spoke quietly. “Please, I miss you. I want my best friend back.”
“But do you even want me back?” His expression grew perplexed and had no response back. “Just forget what I said.” You shook your head. “Leav—”
“I’m not leaving you.” He protested. “This adventure is important, the reason is important, you are important, ___. Please.”
Your jaw clenched as you glared fiercely at Taehyung. He looked back with fear in his eyes. You were always the one in your friendship to get annoyed or angry very easily while Taehyung never did anything back. He was patient and usually the idiot to blame for his antics. He never was mad at you…at all.
Though you were still wary of him, you were curious about what exactly this adventure was. When he said these things, he would have reasons behind them and they were usually mindfully good. He knew he fucked up, so he should know not to do anything that would upset you even more.
“So what should I wear for this adventure?” You asked. Though you didn’t explicitly yes, he knew you were on board with this.
He smiled widely, forming his boxy structure at you that you missed so much. He grabbed your hands into his before sliding his nose on the back of them, just wanting to feel your skin. “Just change and be yourself.”
You nodded before kicking him out of your room. Sure, he has seen you bare (kinda) and vice versa but he was still on thin ice with you. By the time you were done, you had a small bag, fresh pair of going-out clothes on, and an unenthusiastic smile written on your face.
When you both went out of the house and down the front porch, he stopped you. You glanced at him, wondering what did he want. “Before we go, I want you to keep these on.” He grabbed something out of his bright backpack and presented it to you.
It was a blindfold.
You furrowed your brows, a bit disturbed and very confused. You opened your mouth to refuse, but closed it up when you reminded yourself that he wasn’t gonna give you a clear answer. With that, you nodded to let him put it on you. You were too nice to him for your own good.
“So am I just gonna walk blindly the entire time?” You asked once he tightened the fabric around your eyes.
“No, I’ll be your eyes,” Taehyung reassured. “As long as you trust me.” You gulped, staying quiet yet your face twisted at his words. That caused him to frown immediately before intertwining his fingers with yours. “Blue, you trust me right?”
“Of course.” There was no hesitation in your voice. “I always did, but…” You looked down despite seeing black in your vision. You knew he stayed right back at you, you could feel his eyes lingering.
“I’ll make it up, I swear.” He promised, squeezing your hand. You could only hum, but it still wasn’t enough to convince you yet. “Just follow me, I’ll protect you.”
Somehow he managed to keep the blindfold on you for almost two and a half hours despite your begging and complaining. He told you to watch out and helped you step exactly where you should walk in and out of places.
Your other senses were heightened, eventually noticing how you went on a subway and then a bus ride through the sounds of the transportation. Yet you still didn’t know where you were exactly going. Halfway through you gave up and slept through the bus ride with the darkness around you, even cuddling to Taehyung’s side to which he accepted and laid his head on yours.
He woke you up to get off the stop. You were still in a daze, but you let him help you walk down the steps. But to your misfortune, there was still a long walk more to go and you were so tired and hungry. Taehyung linked his arm with yours, careful not to get you hurt. The distance felt so much longer with your eyes covered, you were getting annoyed again.
“Taehyung, how much longer?” You whined, basically dragged yourself.
You heard him laugh, “Just this hill. I promise.”
You were about to complain again, but stop when you wafted the aroma of flowers near. Did he go through all this trouble for fucking flowers? Sure, you loved them but you didn’t think they were enough.
The environment was a soothing stillness though. You haven’t heard others around you for quite some time. Even the bus ride here felt empty. Where was he taking you?
It felt like climbing the hill was over because he finally lets go of you. He told you again to keep the fabric on, so you just waited. You heard rumbling and rummaging through his backpack and other things you couldn’t quite specify.
You took a deep sigh, then you felt his presence near you, in front of you. You felt his hands going behind your head to loosen the blindfold off of you. He slowly removed them to help you adjust your eyes back to the light. You blinked rapidly, taking in a slightly blurred Taehyung before rubbing your pupils.
“You okay now, Blue?” He questioned, searching for any troubles. You nodded as you looked back at him, then turned your head to figure out where you were. In an instant, your irises widened with your mouth slightly apart.
You’ve been here before, exactly a week ago but this time, it was with your best friend instead of your grandparents. Right before your eyes rested the tombstones of your parents side by side. There was a green gingham picnic blanket placed down adjacent to the graves with packed meals and fruits laying on top of the fabric. Two glass bottles of flowers sat perfectly on each side of your parents.
You were completely mesmerized by the sight before you. Your tear ducts couldn’t be saved as tears fell down your cheeks and the sniffles started inflating your nose. Your body throbbed, releasing all the emotions you’ve bottled up until this point.
Taehyung wrapped his body around yours, immediately relaxing you and leaning into him. He kissed your hair as he swayed you both. He knew this would happen, feeling your emotions that he too cried with you as he finally was able to see your parents.
After what felt like forever, the two of you finally settled down and ate your lunch and snacks. You spent the entire afternoon with your parents, talking and reminiscing memories on your part. You explained to them who Taehyung was in your life and how much he meant to you. While you blabbered onto the tombstones, Taehyung’s eyes were only on you smiling at your teary smiles and giggles, enjoying every second of it.
“Thank you, Hyungie.” You told him with a loving smile and a warm hug to the side. “Thank you so much.”
He pulled you closer, bringing you to sit on his lap as he encircled his arms around your waist. You rested your hands over his, tilting your head back. “No need to thank me. I’ve been an idiot for letting you go through that.” He rested his chin on your shoulder as he gazed at the graves. “You’re my Blue; I’ll do anything for you.”
You sucked your lips into your mouth, wondering if it was time to tell him the truth. Maybe he’ll understand you much more, and be aware of how much you felt. “Taehyung…”
You never said his name unless you were serious or mad. He closed his eyes and scrunched his face in fear. “Am I in trouble again?”
You lightly chuckled and shook your head, “No.” You paused for a moment and let it out. “A-are-are you—do you even like that I’m your best friend?”
You turned back to face him, faces a few centimeters away but you didn’t care to dig deeper into that. His attention focused on you. You saw his hesitation, but it wasn’t because of what you expected. It wasn’t of regret or denial. It was something else that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You’ve seen it before, but you could never figure it out.
“O—of course, why is that even a question, ___?” He finally replied.
You finally faced away from him and viewed your parents. “You’re a social butterfly, Hyungie. You’ve always been. You’re kind and sociable, and you put your heart into every single one of your friendships.” You began, but your eyes were reddening by the second. “You could have anyone as your best friend, but…you chose me.” The salty water flooded your tear ducts and your chest grew tighter.
Concern wasn’t enough to express how Taehyung felt when he saw you crying again. He never wanted to let go. He turned you around so that way you sat sideways as he made you lean yourself into his chest and neck, rubbing your back and letting you sob again.
“Why?” You wept softly, the whimpering breaking Taehyung’s heart. His face creased in puzzlement, still not understanding you. “Why did you choose me? I’m nothing like you. I’m quiet, it’s so hard for me to start a conversation! You’re so popular and fit into every group, and I feel like I’m so far behind you…and…I don’t deserve you!”
Taehyung lets out a sob, stubbornly shaking his head in denial. He pecked your forehead as he joined another crying session. “Never say that again. You deserve all of me as I do with you.” Words injected with sorrow and disappointment. The only disappointment in him was seeing another skin of you insecure about your ten-year friendship that he knew nothing about. He understood what others thought and did to you, but you never mentioned how you truly felt. “Why didn’t you tell me this is how you felt?”
“I never wanted you to feel bad about something you couldn’t control. You’re outgoing, Hyungie; I’m not. I didn’t want you to pity me just because I only rely on you.”
“I would only want you to rely on me.”
“And I’m also younger than you. It may be only by a year but it does make a difference since I don’t see you throughout the school day. Plus you have your football team.”
“I don’t care about that because right after school and practice, I’m excited to come back to you.”
“I’m a fucking hermit crab who likes to stay in and you love partying and enjoying the outside!”
“I love being with my little crab more than being outside.”
“Hyungie—”
“___, listen.” He hushed you, gently patting your hair as he watched you with teary warmness. Leaning into you, he rested his forehead onto yours. The both of you closed your eyes, breathing yourselves into one another. Muted weeping spilled out of you when you listened to him. “It was never, and I mean never my intention to let you hurt like that. I didn’t know how you felt about it. Other than forgetting, was that also why you were so angry and hurt?”
You pouted and nodded. “I feel like I’m losing you as we get older. We’re getting our own values and interests apart from one another you’d want someone who fits more into you instead of this awkward needy recluse. I worry if I’m even a good best friend for you.”
He pulled back, making you open your puffy eyes. This was the most serious he presented himself to you. He breathed in and out before speaking, “You’re never going to lose me. If I do, which won’t happen, I’ll come back with a sword fight to have you again.” You grinned at how absurd he sounded but it all meant earnestly. “We’re getting older, sure, but I don’t want anyone like me. Have you met me?” You chuckled and moved into his chest. “I never thought about having another besides you. You’re more than a good best friend, ___. You’re my Blue and that will never change.”
Your lips quivered at his soft reassurance to you. You were so fearful and nervous about growing apart from him that all that was said overwhelmed you but in the best way possible.
“I’m sorry for forgetting again. Please forgive me.” Taehyung told you again.
“I will always forgive you.” You nodded before you laced your fingers with his. “Even if I’m mad or upset or hurt at you, I’ll always forgive you.”
He diverted his pupils toward the stones. “I’m sorry, auntie and uncle. I didn’t mean to miss meeting you. You have the most loving and tolerant daughter in the universe for being friends with this annoying bug.”
“You’re not a bug.” You cooed.
“Hey!”
You giggled then faded when you had to let something out, “I’m sorry for being so needy. It must be a lot for you.”
“I love you being needy for me too.” He smiled pridefully. “It just means you want me all to yourself.”
You smacked his shoulder, blushing brightly. “That’s not what it means.”
“Yeah, sure, Blue.” Taehyung rolled his eyes as he wiped your stained features with his thumbs. “You better not be needy for anyone else.”
It was your turn to smile cockily. “Why, doesn’t seem a bit much? Maybe I should do it to someone else to take the load off.”
“It’s never too much for me. Give it to only me.” He pouted, tightening his hold to which you laughed. “Remember Blue, no one can replace you. Whether or not I have millions of friends, you’ll be my best friend, my Blue, the only one I want. No one else, I don’t care what others think. My Blue, okay?”
Your mouth curved shyly, then nodded sincerely. “Then you’re my Hyungie, okay?”
“That shouldn’t be a question. I’m the only Hyungie in your life.” He scoffed, baffled at your ask, letting you feel more at ease. “I love you, Blue.” He kissed your temple numerous times.
“I love you too, Hyungie.”
You continued your time there in each other’s embrace, having so much weight lifted off. Solace and comfort remained, feeling alive once again in each other’s eyes. A promise being held so high and mighty to reassure the other that they were the only one in the world for one another.
A promise that may seem broken years later, yet still kept so eminent that no one could even see. Not even you and him.
Tagged: @manuosorioh @kaal-ee @thvxstf
#taehyung x reader#taehyung fic#taehyung fanfiction#kim taehyung x reader#taehyung smut#taehyung angst#taehyung fluff#kim taehyung fanfic#kim taehyung#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts smut#bts x reader#matcha masterlist
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Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 9
Chapter 9: She Walks Through Her Sunken Dream
Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI
Fandom: Night Hunter
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC
Word count: 3.8K
Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.
Chapter Summary: It’s girls' night with Nina and Sophie and the night does not go as planned.
Chapter warnings: forced drug use, dissociation, abduction, mention of SA
A/N: I have been dreading this chapter. But at this point, I just have to post it before I put this story in my back pocket and ride off into the sunset. This chapter is very personal to me. If you or anyone you know is struggling to cope with the aftermath of SA, you have options to get help. Please don’t hesitate to get help, you deserve to heal. Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me, model for Cover Art credits
Cross-posted on AO3
Spotify Playlist
Series Masterlist
My Masterlist
Walter’s POV
“I swear I’m okay with it.” I wasn’t okay with it. Why would I be fine with my girlfriend going out in that outfit while there was danger lurking around every corner?
“You’re really not okay with it, and that’s not a terrible thing. You’re my boyfriend and you think I look hot and maybe you think I look too hot to be going out without you,” She finishes putting her earrings on and I just watch her, “I’m torn between finding this very flattering and very annoying. And I’m going to remind you again that I will be with Nina and Sophie and they’ve got my back.”
“I know they’ve got your back, I just know what will be going through those men’s heads.” I cross my arms and look down at her, trying to appear less worried.
“Care to share? Or am I supposed to think that’s enough to keep me inside tonight?” She crosses her arms and looks up at me defiantly. She’s cute when she mimics me, but I try to ignore this.
“Men think they’re owed everything. It’s why they buy you drinks. It’s because they think you’re for sale. Men are–”
“Pigs. Yes, I’ve heard. From you. More than once, my love,” She slipped on her shoes at the door and I was fuming by the time she grabbed her keys, “Walter, you are driving me to and from the club. I can’t make this any easier on you. Aside from letting you join us inside.”
“Which I’m not opposed to!”
“Uh huh, you told me. You are not ruining girls' night by bringing your big scary self in there.” She reaches up to my face and pulls me down for a chaste kiss, just enough to shut me up, “Now, drive me to the club. And when I come back, you are gonna hold me down and make me take every inch of you in any way you want for however long you want. Is that clear?”
“So now you make the rules, Princess?”
“When it comes to this specific instance, yes. Because otherwise, you’d keep me locked in a tower for my safety.”
“Stop giving me ideas, love. You know how my mind works.”
“Right, well let’s go before you start pricing towers.” Her tiny hand grabs mine and starts to lead me out of her apartment.
The drive to the club is mostly quiet. A mixture of her excitement and my apprehension creates a strange atmosphere that only affects me it would seem. She’s been tapping out a rhythm on her thigh the entire ride and she seems keen to be going out. Perhaps she needed this more than I originally thought.
As I pull up across the street from the club, she’s taking out her phone and texting the girls. I just watch her and try and school my face into a neutral expression.
“Walter, stop.”
“Stop what?” I genuinely thought I was doing well.
“I can hear your brain doing somersaults,” She looks over to me and dons a pitying smile, “The girls are coming down the street, see? I’m gonna go and you’re gonna leave and not stay here all night. I will text you when the girls and I are leaving. They took an Uber here, so we might Uber back, or by the look on your face, you’ll be picking me up. Now, tell me you love me and you trust me.”
“I love you and I trust you. I just–”
“Nope. That was all I needed. I love you, Walter. I’ll see you in a few hours, ok?” Before she can reach for the door handle, I lean in to brush my lips against hers. If I linger there for a moment, she doesn’t seem the mind.
“Have fun, Princess. I’ll see you soon.”
She exits my truck and walks a few feet to where Nina and Sophie are standing. They hug and make their way across the street to Club Echo. I stay and watch until she walks inside. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I force myself to drive away.
Kamaria’s POV
As we walk into the club, the blare of Megan Thee Stallion playing bumps around us. Heading to the bar first, we all get a couple of jolly rancher shots to get us started. The mixture of amaretto, melon liquor, grenadine, and Sprite goes down easier than I expected.
Ordering an amaretto sour, I turn to look around the bar and survey my surroundings. You don’t date a detective without learning a thing or so. I make sure to remember where the bathrooms are, there is the main entrance and also an emergency exit to the left of where the DJ booth sits.
When I turn back around, my drink is in front of me and I pick it up taking a generous sip. When I see the girls have their drinks, I hold mine up and we toast to the night ahead. We decide to finish our drinks at the bar before moving to the dance floor.
We find the perfect spot close to the DJ as Twerkulator by City Girls starts up. The liquor in my veins paired with my rising body heat from dancing had me feeling blissful. So on cloud nine, I didn’t think twice as I felt two hands on my hips. It wasn’t until I picked up on the unmistakable feeling of a clothed erection against my ass that I came to my senses.
As I tried to move out of the grasp of who was holding me, they just held on tighter and pulled me flush against them. I tried to reach for their hands, but they just held my arms behind my back. I attempted to crane my neck to find the girls when a large paw held my jaw in place.
When a college-aged boy comes to stand in front of me, I notice his pupils are blown wide behind his glasses. A telltale sign of drug use. He’s moving offbeat from the song but no one else seems to notice. Just like no one notices him opening my mouth and putting a small pink tablet between my lips.
Instantly, my brain has to decide. Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? The numbness of fear washes over me as I concede my fate and I freeze. My body stiffens and my conscious mind retreats to the background as I swallow the tablet.
I can’t hear his voice, but I can see the boy’s lips moving. He’s saying ‘Kiss me’, I think. The arms that were around me suddenly let go and move me forward. His lips are so pink. And he’s got such a handsome smile.
The music is really loud.
The lights are moving so fast.
It’s so hot in here.
He’s looking over my shoulder and nodding. I try to see what he is looking at, but he catches my jaw before I can turn. His skin on mine feels like electricity and I move my hand to his face, my thumb caressing his cheek. He looks so pretty. Does he taste pretty too?
Need to taste him.
He’s leaning in. He’s so soft like he’s shy at kissing.
Not Walter. Walter’s not shy at kissing.
“Where…Walter?” Can he hear me? He’s looking over my shoulder again, this time he’s shaking his head.
“Where…Nina? Sophie?” Head hurts. Can’t think.
Blackness.
Walter’s POV
The last thing I said to her was ‘I’ll see you soon.’ Those words keep echoing in my brain. I know I couldn’t have done anything differently. My actions didn’t cause what happened. I didn’t hand her over to her captors.
So, why then does it feel like this wasn’t a random incident?
I’ve traced our steps back as far as I can remember. I’ve interviewed so many people from the club, including the twins who were the last to see her. They’re almost as shell-shocked as I am.
They never saw the guys that took Kam. The cameras in the club barely picked up anything. The footage from the back of the club shows her being carried out and placed into a van before it drives off. Nothing from inside of the club that’s of any help.
I can’t help but think that I’m missing something. Checking my watch, I see it’s about 3:00 pm. It’s been about forty-one hours since I dropped her off outside of the club. I’ve slept maybe a handful of those hours. I can’t get her smile out of my head. I refuse to go home until I have her with me.
Everyone knows the first forty-eight hours are the most important in an abduction case. There are television shows and documentaries about it. I don’t want to think about the fact that the odds of finding her decrease by 50% after the first two days. But how could I not?
I’ve been here before. I’ve spoken to victims’ families. I’ve seen so many people found, but it doesn’t erase the bodies that are uncovered. We’re not going to find her body, we’re going to find her safe and alive.
I’m all she has. She has no one but me. And I refuse to let her down.
Near the forty-fifth hour, everything changes when Commissioner Harper comes into my office. He’s walked on eggshells around me since this whole thing started. I would have done the same, shoe on the other foot.
“I just got a call about a woman who was admitted to Hennepin County Medical Center. She matches Kamaria’s description. Wanna take a drive?” His words are slow and meant to not stir up hope, it would seem.
I’m up out of my seat so fast, the chair falls over behind me. “I’m driving.”
I’m silent on the drive there. So is Harper, thankfully. I pull into one of the spots designated for police and turn off the truck. With my hand on the door handle, I pause and turn to him. “If it’s not her–”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, just follow me. Let’s go.” I’m grateful for his presence in this situation. I don’t want to think about doing this on my own.
We flash our badges at the reception desk and Harper confirms with the nurse that they have a young woman matching Kam’s details upstairs. After we’re given the location and directions, we make our way through various hallways. Rounding a corner, we find another nurse’s station. As Harper talks with the nurse, I look toward the end of the hall feeling impatient.
The nurse gets up and beckons us to follow her down the hallway. Knocking on the door to a room, the nurse then enters and allows us in after her. I look up and lock eyes with the patient in the bed and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Walter?” Her tiny voice is no more than a whisper as she tries to sit up on the gurney.
“Don’t try to get up, dear,” The nurse standing next to me pushes me toward Kam with a smile, “You can go ahead. We’ll be right outside.” She takes Harper back to the hallway and shuts the door.
When I reach her bedside, I don’t know what to do but look at her. I notice the I.V. in her right hand, the blood pressure cuff on her left arm, the oxygen tube running under her nose, and various bandages decorating her face and hands. I’ve never seen her look so…this.
“I never thought I would see you again. I was so…scared,” She reaches out to me at the last word, and I wrap my arms around her as she sobs. She clutches at my jumper and I let loose the tears that I refused to shed the last two days.
Holding her in my arms again feels like the first time. She feels different, altered from her ordeal. The cruel yet realistic worry runs through my mind and I feel nauseous. I’m afraid to ask about it and just like always, she can read my thoughts.
When I lean back from our embrace, she looks up at me with shame in her eyes. I recognize it as a symptom of sexual assault victims and it breaks my heart.
“I let them take my clothes as evidence. I consented to have a medical forensic exam performed. They’re having me tested for STDs. And hopefully, they can find out what I was drugged with at the club,” She is still clinging to my pullover as if I would ever ask her to let go of me, “We’re both victims of this trauma and we need to be there for each other if we want to heal. But I understand if this is too mu–”
“I’m going to stop you right there. I love you, Kam. This is not too much. I will do anything in my power to help you heal, including doing the work to heal myself,” I caress her cheek and wipe away a stray tear, “But there is something I don’t understand. Why would they let you go?”
“They didn’t let me go exactly,” At my confused expression, she elaborates, “If…Justin…hadn’t been there, I–”
“Justin?”
“He’s the reason I got away. I thought he was one of my abductors, but he might be just another victim.”
“Where’s Justin now?”
“Walter, he’s not who did this to me.”
“But he knows who did, Kam. He could help us find who hurt you, so please let him help us. Where is Justin?”
“Promise me no one will hurt him?”
“You know I can’t promise that. As an accomplice to kidnapping, he could end up facing the same charges up to and including prison time.”
“It was worth a shot to ask,” Taking a deep breath, she looks past me where Harper and the nurse stand talking outside of the window, “I told him to wait in the lobby, he should still be there. Glasses, messy chestnut hair, he said he was 21 but he looks all of 16 at best. He’s skittish so take it slow if you can.”
I nod, clearly not excited about having to take it easy on this kid. I can’t see him as a “kid” anyway, whether or not he hurt her, he’s an accomplice to kidnapping at the very least. Taking it easy is about to have to have an asterisk in the definition.
“Walter?” She reaches up to smooth out the frown lines on my face. I nod for her to speak, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, realizing I am unsure of where to plant a kiss. On the lips seems too much post-assault, as did the neck. A kiss on the hand felt like not enough, but my lips need to touch her before I–
“Kiss my forehead, Walter. You know I love a forehead kiss.”
I really need to learn to quiet my thoughts around her. Damn mind reader…
As I exit the hospital room, I pull Harper to the side and explain what Kamaria has told me. They can have the warrant for his arrest as soon as we make it to the station. When we head back down to the lobby, I make sure the exits are covered so he can’t run. Looking around the room, I spot him in the corner and he looks scared already.
Originally, I thought I would have a uniformed cop arrest him. But there’s no way I’m not getting involved in this. And anyone would be dumb to try and stop me.
I sit in the chair to the right of Justin, Harper sitting to the left. His hands are in his lap, one knee bouncing as he opens his mouth.
“Is Kamaria doing okay? I want her to be okay.” He sniffles, bringing a hand up to chew at his thumbnail.
“You actually sound like you care about her,” Harper speaks evenly, appearing to be empathetic.
I guess that makes me Bad Cop™.
“I do care about her, I lo–”
“If you’re about to say you love her, save it for court. Nobody is gonna believe you here, kid. And I honestly doubt a judge will believe you either.” I scoffed. My blood is boiling, this kid has to be fucking with us. I’m about two seconds from throwing him against the nearest wall, setting be damned.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter what you think about me. It matters what she thinks. And she knows that I love her. Just ask her.” Justin pleads, looking between Harper and me.
“Let’s say she knows you love her. Does she love you, Justin?” Harper countered, turning to face the kid.
“She…kissed me.” The kid actually smiles and touches his lips like a fucking teen romance movie character. I can’t take any more of this.
“Mazel Tov! Who gives a shit?” Even Harper is getting agitated, no longer speaking calmly.
“I didn’t have to hurt her to get her to touch me. She would beg me just to–”
“On the list of things that will help you, finishing that sentence is not one of them.” Judging from the height of Harper’s eyebrows and the look of sheer terror on Justin’s face, I got my point across.
“I second that. Look, work with us here. If you can help us find who hurt you, we can work on lowering your sentence,” Harper puts a reassuring hand on Justin’s shoulder, “But that is only if you agree to work with us. Trust me, a kid like you in Gen Pop? They’ll eat ya alive.”
“Can you keep us safe from him?” Us. He said ‘us’.
“When you say ‘us’, you mean…” Harper trails off, letting Justin clear up his answer.
“Keep me and Kamaria safe. If he finds out she’s here and that I brought her? He’ll gut us both. I can’t let her get hurt.”
“She’s not your responsibility. Let us worry about her. You’ve got other things to worry about, like helping us find this nutjob. I don’t suppose you have a name or a location for us?” How dare he think he has some claim to her…
“I only know him as Sir,” He pauses, suddenly looking a bit green in the face, “But I can show you where he kept us. It’s about an hour away, near Twin Lakes Beach. I drove past another hospital to get to this one outside the county. I stole his keys and I just drove. You can’t let him find us.” Justin starts to sob and I feel numb. Had it been under any other circumstances, I would have had some type of feeling. But it’s too close, too personal.
“You can show us on a map where he is, then we’ll get you down to the station and take your statement.” Harper claps a hand on Justin’s knee and nods to a uniformed cop to bring a map over.
“I think it’s better if I don’t go on the search team, for obvious reasons. I’ll be upstairs if I’m needed.” I get up, making it clear I want nothing more to do with this at the present moment.
Walking toward the elevators, I hear Justin ask what the ‘obvious reasons’ were. As the elevator closes around me, Harper replies, “Don’t worry about it.” Yeah, that’s probably the best move right now. If he knows I’m the boyfriend, he may be less likely to speak.
Finding my way back to Kam’s room, I see that she’s sitting up in bed. She notices me walking by and motions for me to come in.
“I assume he was still down there. You’ve got the grumpy face.” She says, reaching out for my hand. I take hold of hers and sit in the chair next to the bed.
“One of these days, I will learn how to train my face. It won’t be this week, though.” Chancing a glance at her, I can’t help but think about what Justin said.
‘I didn’t have to hurt her to get her to touch me…’
“I know you have questions. And I swear I will answer all of them. Just, please not tonight? I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Sizable tears roll down her face and my heart breaks.
I shake my head. Partly out of fear of my voice cracking, and partly because I don’t want any answers. I’ve never been in this situation before, but it feels a lot like guilt. Like it was my fault this happened. I know it isn’t. But why does it hurt so much?
I’m pulled out of my interior monologue by my phone ringing. I clear my throat and answer it. I hear the three words spoken clear as day, but I still ask the officer to repeat herself. I acknowledge and end the call.
Why am I so awestruck by this news? This is good, right?
Oh.
“Walter, what is it? You’re freaking me out a little.” Her voice sounds worried, but also far away. Like, maybe she feels what I feel.
“They found him. He’s been taken into custody. We got him.” I try to hide that I wish they had killed him, so she didn’t have to see her rapist again.
“That’s…good,” She is attempting to convince both of us that this isn’t worse than the alternative, “He can go to prison…and I’ll probably…have to…testify.” Her heart monitor starts to make noise, her chest rising and falling quickly.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was having a panic attack. Two nurses come in to check the monitor, I step back to let them work but Kam’s hand reaches out for mine. When she’s calmed down, the nurses take their leave and we’re alone again.
“We don’t have to think about that tonight. The only thing that matters is that we’re together, we’re safe, we love each other, and neither of us is going anywhere,” I kiss her hand and link our fingers, “Repeat it back to me.”
“We’re together, we’re safe, we love each other, and neither of us is going anywhere.” When her voice breaks, so does my resolve. I need to hold her again. I need to feel that she’s safe.
I wrap my arms around her, her bawling and my silent tears keeping us locked in a state of sadness. Even if we cry, it feels better with her in my arms knowing she is safe.
If I have to cry with her every night for the next fifty years, I’ll do it with no questions asked. That’s a promise.
Chapter 10
A/N: The songs that I listened to nonstop while writing this chapter were All Night by Chance the Rapper and Life on Mars originally by David Bowie. I linked to the version by Trey Songz because I really love that interpretation. Ok, yes, maybe I watched Sebastian Stan’s episode of Law & Order and had a crush on his character and included him in this story. I needed an accomplice and Justin was so adorable and pliable.
**Tag List**
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@enchantedbytomandhenry @astheskycries
@deandoesthingstome @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @foxyjwls007 @rosiesluv7 @livisss @slut4henrycavilll (tried to tag you)
Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁
#walter marshall#walter marshall fanfic#walter marshall x black!plus size female#walter marshall x black!plus size female oc#walter marshall x ofc#walter marshall x black!ofc#ellethespaceunicorn fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill#walter marshall fanfiction#walter marshall fic#night hunter#night hunter fanfic#night hunter fanfiction#bright like the moon#tw sex assault#tw noncon
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Narumayo Week Day 1: Waterfalls/Reunions
Phoenix had bought flowers, which was unusual for him. He tended to actively avoid taking any sort of responsibility for plants, with the one exception of Charley. Even then, it was purely through luck and Maya’s intervention(and now a little extra help from Trucy, thank heaven) that Mia’s favorite piece of greenery wasn’t a brown and shriveled husk at this point. Whatever the opposite of a green thumb was, Phoenix surely had it.
Yet as he’d made his way to the train station this morning his eye had been caught by a stall out front selling a whole rainbow’s worth of beautiful flowers, and something deep inside him compelled him to buy a whole bouquet of purple ones. Some kind of orchids, he thought? Although they could have just as easily been tulips or something. Really he’d just bought them because they were purple and purple was Maya’s favorite color.
Would she even care about getting flowers? In terms of gifts Maya tended to prefer things with more use to her like clothes or games or food. Especially food. Phoenix had brought food, of course, a big hearty order of Eldoon’s famous breakfast ramen that he desperately hoped hadn’t cooled down too much during the two hour train ride. He felt like he needed to give her something else, though, something to show how truly sorry he was for being such a crappy friend and not talking to her for the past two months. Were flowers enough? Was this whole surprise visit a mistake?
But regardless of what kind of spur-of-the-moment decision-making had led him to where he was, Phoenix was there all the same, standing outside the door to the Fey’s family home at nine in the morning with a big bouquet of orchids in one arm and a big brown bag of food in the other. Realizing a little too late his logistical mistake he knocked as firmly as he could with his foot. Within a minute the door slid open and the tiny, surprised face of Pearl Fey poked through.
“Mr. Nick?” the small girl exclaimed with a smile that quickly turned into an angry frown, “You said some real mean things to Mystic Maya.”
She was right, of course. Phoenix had been in a bad place the last time he saw his spirit medium best friend. After hearing the news about his disbarment Maya had rushed into the city as quickly as she could, only to be turned away at his door. You weren’t there for me when I needed you, he’d spat at her, why would I want you here now? Phoenix cringed internally at the cruel verbal beatdown he’d given the person he loved more than anyone else in the world, who had dropped everything just to be there for him in his time of need.
“I know, Pearls, I said a lot of hurtful things that I can’t take back and that’s why I came to see her. To make things up to her and show her how sorry I am. Is she here?”
Immediately the expression on Pearl’s face thawed a little, with the tiniest hint of a smile drawing up the corner of her mouth.
“Mystic Maya told me you didn’t really mean those things. She said you’d say sorry as soon as you could.”
She gave a sudden gasp of delight, putting her hands on her face to hide her blush. “But she didn’t tell me you’d come all the way here to say it! And with flowers! You must have had one of those ‘lovers’ quarrels’!”
Phoenix’s hands were a little too full to hide his own blush. “N-no, Pearls, it’s not like that! Friends give each other flowers too. To show how much they care about each other. Where is Maya, by the way? She’s not asleep, is she?”
“Mystic Maya’s doing her morning meditation in the waterfall in the sacred grove. I don’t think she’s supposed to be interrupted… But for you, Mr. Nick, she won’t mind!”
Phoenix nodded. “Okay, sacred grove, huh? That shouldn’t be too hard to find! Thanks for the help, Pearls!”
They waved each other goodbye, she with her hand and he with his foot, and he set off to find the sacred grove, wherever that was. Hopefully Kurain Village would have some kind of big map to help him find his way around. His mind fully on the task at hand, Phoenix failed to hear Pearl yelling behind him, “Wait, Mr. Nick! I forgot something about Mystic Maya’s meditation!”
***
There was, unfortunately, no tourist-friendly signage to help Phoenix along his way. After a bit of trial and error he found his way to a forest path that seemed fairly grove-y to him, flanked by stone statues that Phoenix judged to look pretty sacred. Before too long he could hear the rushing current of a waterfall and he knew he was on the right track.
It really was a beautiful vista, full of ethereal trees, lush greenery, and a brilliant view of the mountains. At one point he could have sworn he saw a white deer zip out of sight. Even after nearly four years of knowing Maya he couldn’t believe that she got to grow up in this magical fairyland. Although he supposed even the most beautiful view could get boring if you see it every day.
After a little more walking a lovely clearing came into view, full of lush green grass and brightly colored flowers. Phoenix inspected them for a bit to make sure they weren’t the same ones from his bouquet. At the other end of the clearing was a clear pool beneath a waterfall where Maya sat in meditation. She looked totally at home under the water, eyes closed, relaxed…and completely naked.
Phoenix went cherry red as soon as he registered what he was seeing. Suddenly he recalled that Pearl had been yelling at him as he left to find Maya. This must be what she wanted to tell him. Maya was obviously doing some kind of meditation technique that required the user to take off all their clothes. And with her legs folded under her and her arms at her side, Phoenix could see her whole…her…
He tore his eyes away as fast as he could and tried to figure out a way to make his presence known in a way that wouldn’t be insanely awkward. Finding no obvious solution, he decided to just rip the bandaid off and shout “MAYA!”
“Nick?” she yelled back excitedly, followed by a horrified shriek and a scream of, “Don’t look at me!”
“I’m not looking!”
“Hold on, let me get dressed! Don’t you dare sneak a peek! What are you doing here, Nick?”
“I haven’t seen you in months. I thought I’d pay you a visit. And trust me, I’m not trying to look at you naked.”
“Well then, how did you know I was naked if you didn’t look?”
“Okay, I saw you for a second, realized you were naked, and looked away immediately. Happy? Plus I think your reaction would have given you away even if I hadn’t seen.”
“Not necessarily, Nick, I could have been wearing something really embarrassing like a fursuit or something. You can look now, by the way.”
Phoenix turned to see Maya squeezing the water out of her hair. She wasn’t wearing her usual robes, but what looked like a thin white bathrobe. Probably some sort of training uniform. She was still dripping wet and the fabric clung to her body in a way that didn’t lessen his blush at all.
“What’s a fursuit?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the situation that was boiling his blood into tomato soup, “Like a big winter coat or something?”
Maya put a hand on her chest and grinned. “Oh, you sweet summer child. I’ll explain later. Whatcha got for me?”
Her eyes locked onto the big brown bag emblazoned with the Eldoon’s logo and he could see her mouth begin to water immediately.
“A couple orders of the breakfast ramen, hopefully not too cold. Extra maple syrup for you, of course.” He handed the bag her way and she grabbed it greedily.
“Ugh, Nick, you have no idea how much the noodles here suck. It’s basically like eating string. And when I talk about putting syrup on them everyone looks at me like I have two heads.”
“To be fair, syrup on noodles is pretty weird everywhere in the world but Eldoon’s.”
Maya was getting ready to tear into the bag when she spotted what was in Phoenix’s other hand. With a gasp she dropped the food and rushed to wrap him in a crushing hug and plant a kiss on his lips, getting him completely soaked in the process.
“Oh my god, no one’s ever gotten me flowers before!” she exclaimed, on the verge of tears. When she let go of her hold Phoenix handed her the bouquet and she took a big sniff. “They’re gorgeous! How did you know I love lavender?”
“Uh, to be honest I just got them–”
“Because they were purple, right? You big dork.”
She punched him in the arm and then wrapped it in hers. Phoenix had accepted at this point that wet clothes were a fair trade for a happy Maya. She looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite parse.
“You know I’m still mad at you, right?”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Of course you don’t, you were an absolute bastard that night and you know it. I hated you for a good week after that. I tried to put on a brave face for Pearly, but as soon as I was alone in my room I cried my eyes out. Do you know how devastating that is? To have someone you think is your best friend tell you that they don’t ever want to see you anymore? And then just stop talking to you for two whole months?”
She squeezed down so hard on Phoenix’s arm that he had to suppress a yelp.
“Maya, I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are, Phoenix. I know you were sorry as soon as you closed that door in my face. I know you stood there wanting to take it all back but decided not to say anything because you didn’t think I deserved a friend who was capable of saying the things you said. That you spent the next two months telling yourself that us not seeing each other was for the best even though every instinct you had fought against that. And that’s why I couldn’t hate you as much as I tried. Because no matter what words fly out of your mouth when you’re in pain, no matter how many times you tell yourself you aren’t worthy of love, you’re Phoenix Wright, and you’re my best fucking friend in the whole world.”
Maya detached herself from Phoenix and turned to face him, the flowers still firmly in her hands. They said nothing for what seemed like minutes. Then he finally spoke.
“Maya, did…did you rehearse that speech?”
A smile spread on Maya’s face.
“Shut up, dork.”
Phoenix started to break into a grin as well. It was physically impossible not to smile when Maya Fey was smiling. “No, I mean seriously, how much time did you spend in front of the mirror getting every word just right.”
“It’s not funny, you asshole.” Maya snorted.
“Then why are you laughin’, kid?”
“Because I’m too hungry to think straight. Come on, Nick, let’s make with the noodles. And you can tell me about this Trucy that I keep hearing Edgeworth talk about.”
“Oh man, you’re gonna love Trucy…”
And just like that, everything was right with the world. At least for now.
***
“Okay, but I really do need to finish up my meditation for the day.”
Their breakfast long finished, Phoenix and Maya were lying together in the grass, heads next to each other, attempting to decipher the clouds in the sky. Maya had been eager to hear as much about Trucy as she could and insisted on going to her next magic show(and bringing Pearl along, of course). Phoenix had taken as many opportunities as he could to sneak apologies in, with Maya magnanimously batting them all aside as ‘water under the bridge’.
“You sure about that? You just finished drying off.”
“Yup, I’m pretty sure. Some of us have jobs, Nick, and mine is to be as good at spirit channeling as I possibly can be.” She pushed herself up off the ground. “And sometimes that means sitting buck naked under a cold waterfall for an uninterrupted hour.”
Phoenix sat up, hearing his back crack as he did so. “You mean you have to start over again.”
“Uh, yeah, old man, meditation isn’t really something you pause halfway through and pick up later.” She cocked her head at him. “You know, if you want to, you can join me this time. I can teach you how to clear your mind.”
“Will I have to be…uh…”
“Yep, unfortunately. As the day you were born. On the bright side, though,” she said, leaning in with a devilish look on her face, “I will be too.”
“Well, uh,” stammered Phoenix, whose blush had gone as purple as the flowers, “I guess I could try it…”
He hoped beyond hope that Pearl never got wind of this.
#NarumayoWeek2023#narumayo#ace attorney#maya fey#phoenix wright#can't believe I actually finished something#fingers crossed I get the other ones done in time
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amuse me :)
don't ask me how old Cadoc is. ambiguous small child age.
~~
Cadoc skidded across the floor of the throne room. His paws scrabbled at the smooth stone; the house seemed to sense his struggle because it abruptly changed texture until he got the traction he needed. With the house’s help he managed to curl up behind his father’s throne. Smoke curled scentlessly around him. Now that he was beginning to outgrow his kit-fur, tufts of it floated along his path. The house took care of that for him too, whisking it away in a puff of air that sent the fog surging upwards.
Lucifer had been gone for days, but Branwen had said he’d be back soon as she left for her tree again. Cadoc felt his chest puff out in pride that she trusted him to be mature enough to be alone for a few hours. It gave him time to get settled and ready to surprise his father when he got home. His antlers had finally started growing in properly this spring, and they were a full inch taller than when Luci had left!
The throne room door opened. Cadoc crouched even lower, tucking his bushy tail close. There was no pep to his father’s step, however. Luci was always energetic and fun and- and he flopped into his throne with more weight than Cadoc expected. Rather than pounce like he had originally planned, Cadoc crept forward slowly.
Luci was pale today. He stood a full foot shorter than he had when he left, and his thin shoulders curled inwards. One hand dangled over the edge of the chair while the other pressed against Luci’s face. Stringy light brown hair hung longer than usual, half hiding him from view. Cadoc touched the long fingers in front of him with his nose. That was enough Luci jumped and looked down. His smile died before it began, but he did lift Cadoc onto his lap.
“Hey, Cada,” Luci said softly. Cold fingers ran down Cadoc’s spine. His grey eyes were suspiciously bright; he smelled wrong. Like light and burning and regret. “I didn’t expect you to be home. I suppose I am a bit late.”
Cadoc shoved his head under his father’s chin, forgetting for the moment that he had antlers that could jab at the soft skin there. Luci pushed him down with a startled laugh. There. That was more normal. It eased some of the anxiety in Cadoc’s stomach.
“Those are new.” Luci grabbed one and shook it. Cadoc tugged free. “What, I’m gone for three whole days and you try to grow up on me?”
Cadoc shed his fox form so he could sit properly in his father’s lap. “I’m very big now,” he said solemnly. He’d kept the little nubs of antlers, too proud to let them be hidden.
“Oh yeah?” Luci asked as he stood. “Well, don’t grow too big, or else I can’t give you piggy back rides anymore.”
Cadoc gaped at him indignantly. “You’ll just have to grow too,” he informed Luci as he wound his little arms around Luci’s neck. “You can be whatever you want, so you should always be big enough for rides.”
“Oh is that so?” Luci laughed again. A door appeared nearby. Luci took it while he stared seriously down at Cadoc. “I will keep that in mind, little prince. Who am I to deny you anything? The prince of Hell deserves to be spoilt rotten.”
“I am not rotten,” Cadoc insisted.
“Oh, of course not. My apologies, my prince. I think I owe you some adventures before nap time, don’t I?”
Cadoc kicked his feet excitedly. “Can we play in the snow?”
Luci wrinkled his nose. Already color was coming back to his skin; his eyes were now the rich brown of freshly tilled earth and surrounded by laugh lines. “Can we pick a different ‘scape today? I’m not sure I’m up for the cold today.”
Cadoc considered that. Luci had seemed sad. “Alright,” he finally said. “But I want two bedtime stories.” He held up four fingers to prove his point. He wasn’t sure why Luci laughed this time, but he liked it when his dad laughed, so he figured it was a win.
#luci#cadoc#i swear luci is a good dad sometimes#see??#my writing#personal demons#happy birthday cadoc
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ch 2 of my katemary fic
find ch 1 here
for zo @soupremade
She doesn't tell John that she met Kate. She doesn't even let him know that she knows about her. The farther away John stays, with his shit practice and inability to cover his tracks, the safer Kate and her kid will be. Mary can take care of her own two, but Kate doesn't have the same tools. They've met a few times before they're both ready to bring the boys together.
Explaining everything to Dean and Sam is hard, especially without directly condemning their father. Dean, when he's not following her around with his fingers wrapped around her belt loop (which he actually hasn't done in a few years, but she thinks it might just be because John caught him doing it the one time), worships the ground his father walks on. He wants to be a hunter when he grows up, take care of people and fight monsters, and it's exactly the type of life Mary never wanted for him. It's too late to fret about it now. Dean's old enough that he has a mind for what he wants, even if Mary tells him no when he wants to go with his father for a hunt or two. She knows that John always tells him yes when it comes to a gun in her baby's hand.
On the whole, both of them react well. Dean is all about meeting the baby, wants to come along the very next time she visits Kate, if that's okay, Mom, please? Sam is a little more reticent about it, though he always is, and asks if he can come next time, but not this time. Bobby is supposed to show him a book, see, and Sam is just beginning this phase where all he wants to do is read. So Mary takes Dean, and leaves Sam with Bobby and Rufus. Dean is bouncing in his seat the entire hour and a half to Windom, talking her ear off about a baby brother he hasn't even met yet. He jumps out of his seat as soon as they park, near-to glued to her back as soon as Mary herself is standing. She finds their destination quickly.
"Hey!" Kate says as soon as she sees her, Adam's carrier resting against her hip. She brings Adam's car seat into places, just carries him around in it, and Mary's mad she never thought of it. Dean perks up in his seat beside Mary.
"Is that the baby?" he asks, nearly straining out of his seat in an attempt to get a better look at Adam. He's eleven, but sometimes he's still just like when he was small. He's still small, too thin when she looks at him after he comes back from John, and she's gonna kill her husband if he keeps at the pace he's going. It's not like anybody official really knows who she is. She puts her hand on Dean's shoulder, bringing herself back into the moment.
"Yeah, Dean, that's Adam. But you can't scare him, okay? You have to be gentle with babies," she reminds him, and Dean narrows his eyes at her, giving her that same are you stupid? look that Sammy is learning how to do, and Mary knows it's from Bobby or Rufus one. Dean'll keep talking about Bobby and Rufus for weeks after he's been sent to see them.
"Mom, I remember how babies work," he says, the stupid look tinting his tone as well. Mary holds back a snort.
"Alright, then why don't you ask Miss Kate if you can look in at her baby, huh? It's rude to just look in people's baby carriers," she says, but she's mostly teasing at this point. Dean is one of the most well-behaved kids she's ever met. She has no doubt that a big part of that comes from how John treats him when Sam and Dean are staying with him, but they're still technically married. It's his right to see the kids. It hardly occurs to her that she could just hide from him.
It's the idea of living in fear that drives her nuts. The concept of changing Dean and Sam's names, her own, maybe the three of them claiming her maiden name back. Like part of taking John's last name wasn't that last bit of her desire to run from her father, to find something so different even she couldn't be the same.
"You can look at him if you want to, baby, you just have to be gentle and quiet. He's still sleepy from the ride," Kate is saying to Mary's boy when she comes back outta her head, Kate's rational voice cracking right through the fog of her mind. Dean smiles up at Kate and something pangs in Mary's chest. He wasn't really a person before he was a big brother, was he? He crafted himself around that thought, that instinct to protect, to nurture. She does her best for the boys, but she's not exactly the nurturing kind when it comes down to it. She thinks Dean might know that about her. It's just that look in his eyes, isn't it?
"This was a good idea," Kate says to her over Dean's head. His whole attention is focused on Adam, openly delighted to see a baby in that gentle child way, that love that you can feel by looking at it. This was a good idea. Mary smiles. Adam is giggling in his carrier, grabbing at Dean's fingers.
"Yeah. Thanks for agreeing and all that," she says, rubbing at her nose. She's never been all too skilled in those situations when somebody else thinks she's done a good job, too used to her father's steady hand, his iron grip around their family. Always feels like there’s gonna be something coming after it if she's told she's done something right.
"No problem. Dean, there's a baby seat on the swings if you want me to come set Adam in it so you can swing together," Kate offers, moving her attention to the children so fluidly that Mary finds herself admiring her. She never planned to have help, Kate Milligan, never planned on John and doesn't have any parents left to plan on either, and still, she kept that baby. Mary, despite how much she loves her boys and how much she would do for them, doesn't know that she would have been able to do it alone. That she would have been able to stay. She wanted to be a Mama real badly when she was nineteen, when she thought that being a mother was the only way to settle down.
Now she's somebody's Mama and she's still not settled down, and her boys aren't settled down neither. She looks at Kate putting the baby in the swing (and Dean must have agreed at some point when her head was in the clouds), and she wants to be like her. Or maybe she just wants her. She's not really sure anymore.
"Dean's saying he can handle Adam. He says he's taken care of a baby before?" Kate asks, her gaze steady on Mary but the set of her mouth is just this edge of judgment. Mary sets her forehead against her knuckles.
"His Daddy- John- he isn't exactly the most observant father. I reckon Dean was about five when John started leaving him alone with Sam. If I knew how to keep the boys from him, I would. It just seems so unfair to deprive Dean nor Sam of his Daddy," she answers, her lips pursed. Kate's eyebrows come together, then she raises one at Mary in question.
"Deprive him? If John expected that much of him at five, I can't imagine John's gotten better," she says pragmatically. Mary's hand clenches where it sits on top of the picnic table.
"They've always had him, though. I don't think I could bear taking him away," she says, both honest and dishonest, and she doesn't know what would be more honest than that. I'm scared to run from him? I'm scared he'll look for us? I'm scared he won't go away? That might be the part that makes her the most shaken up, the idea that John might fight her for her boys and that he might do it the civie way, take her to court when she's never had a home to go back to, when she doesn't even know how to begin fighting him back. Anybody could look at her and see someone not stable enough to have her kids all the time, always sending them off to be with an aunt or uncle that ain't even related by blood, and she can't bear her boys being given to their Daddy. If John would even get approved to have them. Bet against bet, they'd just end up in the system, and she can't have it.
"Is having him the best thing for them? Or is having you?" Kate asks. The question rings around in Mary's head, words repeating, and how is she supposed to know?
"How do I know that?" she asks aloud, her voice coming out like a croak, and Kate puts her hand atop Mary's.
"Who's the person that loves them most in the world?" Kate asks. Mary answers quicker than she can stop and think.
"Me," she says, and she's sure of it. Those are her babies, the ones she raised, and no one loves them more. Kate smiles at her.
"That's how you know."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I have to be, Mary. I've got nobody else doing this with me. I'm Adam's whole world when he's this little, and your Mama is your whole world while you're still a kid. If I walk around thinking I'm not fit for the job, what does that mean for him? That he has a parent that isn't as sure about him as he is about her?" Kate pauses for a quick second, emphasizing the rhetorical question, before she continues. "I made him, and I kept him, and I love him, and I'll love my son no matter who he becomes. I couldn't have said the same thing about John, or about my parents, god rest them, but I know I love him, tiny as he is. And that boy over there? You love him. I can see it in you. You just have to remind yourself that you're enough. You'll always be enough." The words are a little rushed but so sure, and Mary is enraptured in watching the other woman talk.
She's so sure of herself. So concrete. Mary can't stop herself admiring a woman made of stone.
"You've figured out more about this shit in months than I have in eleven years," she says, not least of all because no other words will come. Kate snorts.
"I've had a lot of help. Half my shift is older ladies with grown kids, so I get a lot of advice whether I ask for it or not," she replies, and she looks pretty enough with a smile that Mary wants to reach out and touch her. More, that is. Their hands are still one over the top of another, like holding hands but not. Mary darts her eyes over to the boys on the swing set, but Dean is still just sitting in the swing beside the baby swing, his hand reaching out to hold one of Adam's little feet. Looks like he's bouncing Adam a little by doing it, soothing a baby as natural to him as anything else he does, and Mary loves her boys. She misses Sammy, even when he's only an hour and change away. She loves them most. She knows it.
"How about we go join them?" she asks, tilting her head over to the boys. The purposeful shift in the mood is obvious, but Kate just grins at her, goes with it.
"Let's do that," she says, and then she's running toward the swing set like a little kid, and Mary has to follow after her.
She has to.
#katemary#mary winchester#kate milligan#contentnatural#sapphicnatural#fuck it we BALL#tag list reblog in a sec#mine
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Afterparty, Chapter 3 by Unusual_Raccoon
Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Karen Jones/Arthur Morgan
Additional Tags: Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook, Explicit Sexual Content, Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Breast Worship, Dry Humping, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Female Ejaculation, Dirty Talk, Banter, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Infidelities, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Gags, Vaginal Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones
Work Count: 3k+
Ao3 Link
Summary: After getting stuck in a storm on their way back to camp, Karen and Arthur are forced to confront some feelings and pass the time the only way they know how.
A/N: won’t lie after the lack of traction on chapter 2 my morale took a bit of a nosedive, but I am pretty happy with how this last chapter turned out. I struggled with the ending, it was supposed to be WAY more of angsty ending, buttttt, I decided against it.
Still don’t own any characters, just ideas. Also don’t mind any errors.
Arthur spotted a tucked away little homestead, clicking his tongue to urge Lead Storm up the beaten path winding up toward the house.
The cabin was secluded beneath some tall pines, a veritable paradise in the thick downpour.
Karen was fast on his heels, bouncing in her saddle on the trek.
“Stay put,” Arthur grunted, saddle pants dense enough to keep him somewhat dry as he slid off of Storm’s back.
His boots sank into the drenched dirt as he plodded up the path, pulling his revolver from the holster on his hip in an effortless motion.
He shouldered the front door open with a firm shove, wood splintered as he forced his way inside, still burly enough to be of use. Oil lamp in one hand, sidearm in the other as he searched the property.
He thumbed back the hammer of his revolver thoughtlessly, it was an instinct that couldn’t be unlearned. Too many years being the gang’s guard dog.
The house wasn’t particularly large and he explored most every inch to ensure the spot was safe enough for he and Karen to ride out the storm; ‘course he’d done it mostly for her, wouldn’t suit him having a lady riding in that rain. Far be it for him to share the information with Karen, she’d start bellyaching about being treated just the same as one a’the men. He weren’t particularly concerned if any of the fellers were cold…he’d care if she was cold.
The wood in the fireplace weren’t beyond saving, a little kindling would coax some heat out of it, at least enough to chase off the chill in their bones; though he certainly had a few ideas for alternative methods.
Stomping back out into the rain, he found Karen toting a plain carbine in one hand, Old Belle’s reins in the other.
“They got a barn, dry enough for the horses.”
Arthur nodded, ushering her inside.
“Go on, get a fire goin’, I’ll get ‘em in the barn.”
She gave him a longing look with those big eyes before heading into the house, taking her rifle with her.
Both mares seemed pleased to be gettin’ out of the rain. He removed the tack from the pair of them, saddle blankets dry enough to warrant keeping them on.
The barn was plush with enough hay to feed them plenty until the rain passed.
Arthur made a point of giving each horse a brief brush down before securing the barn doors and jogging back to the house.
He had his bedroll tucked under one arm, a thick pelt he’d recently gotten off a grizzly and stored behind Lead Storm’s saddle, tucked under the other. He returned to the house to find Karen knelt before the fireplace, blouse sheer and adhering to her buxom body. Blonde curls damp and clinging to wet, flushed freckled cheeks, she looked like a shapely little forest nymph washed down the chimney.
“Horses should be fine,” Arthur said, setting down the supplies he brought in to shake some rain water off.
Wedging a chair beneath the door knob, he set off in the direction of the fledgling fire and the woman sat before it; course Karen snapped her fingers at him after a single step.
“Don’t be trackin’ no mud in.” She warned and Arthur warily held up both large hands in eager surrender, a wide wolfish smile on his face. Felt downright domestic.
“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted, toeing off his boots and wrestling out of his coat before venturing to the fire.
He shook out his bedroll and the pelt by the fire, both could use a little drying.
“You sound like Grimshaw,” he teased, taking off his hat just as an unlit match bounced petulantly off of his chest. He spied Karen’s little frown.
“Don’t compare me to that shrew,” Karen groused, using a bent fire poker to coax some more spark outta the unenthused flames.
“Easy now, didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” He chuckled, pulling a half-drunk bottle of gin from his satchel. ‘Course he always loved to rile folks a bit, get under their skin, see a bit of the devil in their eyes and when he twisted the knife just right.
He swallowed a brief swig, her recompense for his comment was relieving him of the only thing that distracted him from how goddamn beautiful she looked sitting by the fire. Karen shuffled over on her knees, skirts dragging across the floor as she snatched the drink from him. She wobbled a little too close, teetering like she’d topple onto him, and his fingers itched with the urge to brace around her hips. ‘Course she found just enough balance to crawl back to her previous spot.
“Coulda just asked,” Arthur murmured, transfixed by the sight of her polishing off the contents of the bottle with little effort.
“Ain’t in the mood to ask for nothin’ right now, Arthur,” she slurred back, setting the empty bottle down.
She shrugged off her coat, setting it down by the fire to dry. His gaze instantly drew towards the glow of the dim fire catching the sheen of rainwater sitting in the deep crease of her cleavage. His throat felt a little tight, trousers too.
“Y’know,” Arthur drawled, trying and failing to pull his gaze from the glossy sight of her full bosom, rising and falling with every breath, “you still ain’t told me what you’re doing out here.”
“What’re you talking about? I already said-“
“That Hosea sent ya? Yeah, I remember. I ain’t quite sure I believe it though.”
“Believe whatever you want, Arthur,” Karen huffed, staring straight at the fire, prodding at it with the bent poker. Something was bothering her, that much was clear.
“I plan to,” Arthur hummed. He watched and waited, knowing that temper of hers was just boiling. He pulled out the last bit of booze he had in his satchel, an unopened bottle of rum. Cracked the seal open with his thumb and pulled out the cork as Karen turned her fiery gaze toward him.
She let out a sigh, “y’know, you ain’t even said more than two goddamn words to me since…” her fury slowed and her blush darkened, her thighs pressed together a bit, “well, since we did what we did.”
“Lord, is that it?” Arthur guffawed, taking a long pull from the bottle of rum, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Whatchu want from me, Karen, to hold yer hand, follow you around camp like that little Irish terrier does? You needed a hand and I lent you one.
‘Sides I ain’t that kinda animal, sweetheart.”
One look at him and Arthur knew there was no mistaking him for something domesticated, he was long-limbed, sharp in the teeth, and wild in the eyes.
Karen scoffed and shook her head, bitter eyes turned back to the fire.
“If you came all this way for an apology, you’re gonna be disappointed,” Arthur added.
They didn’t say nothing for a long while, the crackling of the fire and the heavy patter of the rain outside rounded out the silence.
“I ain’t lookin’ for no apology,” Karen spat eventually, seeming a little wounded by the insinuation.
“Whatchu lookin’ for then?” He goaded, not allowing that temper of hers to simmer, if she was gonna go off, he wanted her to pop like dynamite.
“You goddamnit!” Karen said finally, exasperated, outta breath.
Rain was comin’ down hard, no signs of slowing, nowhere for them to go. No escape from one another in sight. Maybe he was a lit match and she was a fuse.
Arthur licked his lips, tasted the astringent tang of gin, faded but still warring with the rum on his tongue. She’d rode out after him alone for a reason. He wouldn’t hold her hand in camp or gush after her like Sean did, but he could do this, he could please her like no other feller could…
“Well, here I am, darlin’…”
—
The corner of the grizzly pelt was damp, rum-soaked, the scent curled thick in the back of her throat. The bottle had spilled and neither one of ‘em mourned the loss of the liquor, too drunk on each other to care.
Arthur tore at her blouse, big brutish hands that only knew violence fumbled to free her breasts without leaving the fine linen in shreds.
Thick calluses skirted along her cheek and Karen moaned his name, slurred it out. His tongue dove deep, drinking up the mix of rainwater and faint salt of her skin hidden between the valley of her cleavage.
Weren’t no camp to overhear them, she cried his name higher toward the ceiling of the cabin, fingers tangled in his hair.
He sucked a hungry purpling mark along the pliant flesh of one breast, descending upon the stiff nipple thereafter. Sucking roughly, until her whole body seemed to arch closer into the gravity, the pull of his mouth, a cry dripping from her lips. Thick, scarred knuckles nudged between her tender thighs.
“Arthur, please-“ Karen panted, tugging vainly at his hair.
He was over her in an instant, broad body pinning her to the rum-soaked pelt, firm, unyielding muscle bearing down on her. Savage blue eyes studying her, drinking in her flushed face and open mouth.
“Don’t you rush me, woman,” he growled, large hand groping the wet weight of one breast that knew the ardor of his mouth, “been dreamin’ ‘bout these beauties.”
Something terribly warm curled in her belly, twisting up like a diamondback at the admission that he’d been thinkin’ on her. She bucked her hips fiercely, lord she needed him inside her; needed it worse than she did a week ago.
He dipped his head back down, pleasure spiked hot in her belly as his mouth latched around her untouched breast. Lathing the pale, creamy flesh in long strokes of his tongue.
“Oh, Arthur,” she hiccuped, the soft girlish sounds didn’t belong in Karen’s own mouth, but she cried them out, for him, she would.
Arthur’s head bobbed back into her glossy vision, climbing a bit higher so she could see his face, lips wet and eyes ablaze.
“Now, if you can’t keep quiet, I’ll keep ya quiet, understand?”
Arthur Morgan quieted most folk with a hard punch or a bullet, but Karen still nodded. She clawed at his back and rutted her hips up hard as he kept his attention localized to her chest, to her chafed and aching nipples, until she was swimming in her own mess, slippery between the thighs.
Eventually he sat back on his knees, unknotting his neckerchief from around his neck with a dark sort of glee in his eyes.
“Warned ya, didn’t I?” There was a feigned sympathy in his voice as he forced fabric between her full lips. He cinched it with a little knot around the back of her head, the fabric sat thick and musky between her lips, tasting dizzyingly of his sweat and skin. When he cruelly tweaked a plump, wet nipple between thick fingers, her wet cry was soaked up by the fabric.
“There, cry as much as you want now.” Karen wouldn’t dare admit how soothing it was knowing Arthur had a way of keeping her quiet when she herself couldn’t manage it.
He gave her hip a pat, broad hands following the generous curves leading to her shapely rear, giving the flesh a supple squeeze before settling back down to his fancy.
They managed to lose clothes, scattered to the ground as time passed by the fire. Her first release came shuddering, neglected sex pulsing as he trailed a wet, coarse tongue from an abused, overstimulated nipple up to the hollow of her throat, sucking fiendishly there. The blinding rush of pleasure existed in a bizarre chasm of too much touching, and not enough.
Her body writhed beneath his, one leg draped over his firm lower back, toes curling.
Spots danced behind the flutter of her closed eyes, the feeling left her boneless, shivering beside the fire.
“Did you just-“ Arthur paused as Karen babbled around the neckerchief in her mouth. The syllables of his name were garbled with the fabric, but it seemed he understood her nonetheless. His expression turned full of awe and lust.
A broad palm dipping between her slick, ample thighs, drawing free another squeal as he brushed her soaked sex.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” He chuckled, giving her left nipple, puffy and rosy, a firm tug that made her swollen bud twitch.
“Ain’t you full of surprises, Miss Jones,” He rumbled, eyes dark as he dipped a finger into her heat.
Arthur looked her over, a ravenous gleam in his eyes, his finger worked in a slow, unhurried rhythm.
“Shoulda brought some rope,” He lamented, more to himself than to Karen, his free hand giving her limp wrist a squeeze, like a firm enough touch might materialize bindings there. He could truss her up like a hog if he so desired; she just wanted him. His teeth bared in a dagger-sharp smile as her walls flexed around his finger.
“Dirty girl,” He chuckled, “like that idea, do ya?”
A second finger joined the first, his thumb stroked at her bud, pleasure sheared hot in her belly. Her heel thumped against his lower back, desperately trying to keep him close.
His mouth lowered to a darkening bruise on her neck, pressing on skin that ached just right. Her vision waned beneath the heavy flutter of her lids.
His lips skimmed across her cheek, burning a path close to her mouth but not quite, her lower lip jutted out from the gag he had put in place. He ran his tongue over the supple pink flesh, sucking it between his teeth as he curled his fingers suddenly, quick and hard.
Letting her lower lip free, she squealed into the neckerchief, hips undulating as his fingers grew still, keeping her on the brink of another sloppy release.
“Maybe next time, hmm?” He gave her a condescending pat between the legs with fingers drenched in her mess.
Karen was dizzy as Arthur ushered her into a sitting position, his large figure painted in the faint glow of the fire, broad chest and stern muscle pockmarked with faded scars; she was tempted to kiss each one, supposed his neckerchief in her mouth saved her the embarrassment.
“You ready for the main course, darlin’?” Arthur drawled, voice deep and rolling over her like thunder in a storm.
If it weren’t for the neckerchief in her mouth Karen woulda been liable to scream how goddamn ready she was. Instead she just nodded, a shaking hand settling over the thick jut of his cock straining against his trousers.
Her eyes met his, her cheeks damp and chest heaving, dragging her palm over the imposing weight of his erection.
She was ready alright.
Arthur laid her belly down, hiking her rear up, her cheek pressed to the rum-soaked patch of the grizzly pelt.
The scent stung and sedated in a delightful way. A broad callused hand stroked down her back, over lush curves, catching at her hip as the blunt tip of him rocked against her heat.
Her gag stayed firmly in place, muffling her long moan as the bloated head of his cock eased to her flushed cunt. Her walls hugging him as Arthur steadied himself, a hand pressed between her shoulder blades. Her cheek and chest pressed unforgivingly to the pelt.
Aching nipples scratched against the thick fur of the pelt, stirring more dreaded heat in her belly as Arthur groaned a low, animalistic sound towards the ceiling.
“Christ,” he hissed, delivering a fond slap to her rear, before sinking in deeper. The scent of the rum and taste of his sweat stole off his neckerchief soaked into her palate accompanied the stretch of him filling her up. Her mind entered a hazy reality that she’d only ever known to follow whiskey.
A hand tangled in her blonde curls, tugging until her eyes watered and toes curled while Arthur seated himself inside her fully, stuck down to the hilt.
“There it is,” He panted, voice a low rumble that filled her empty skull. He kept her there awhile, stretched over his cock. No, nothin’ ‘junior’ about it in the slightest.
She howled his name into the security of his neckerchief, clutched at the pelt with one hand, while he wrestled one of her arms behind her back, broad palm locked tight around her wrist. Weren’t no rope, but Karen figured he got the same thrill outta throwin’ his weight around.
He found a rhythm, a steady canter of his hips that built into something brutal, something merciless.
Drool frothed out of the corners of her mouth, escaping past the barrier of her gag.
“That pussy’s squeezin’ me like a noose, darlin’,” Arthur rasped, hips hammering hard, fucking her into a babbling, boneless heap.
Karen felt her body clench tight, full to the point of bursting when flexed taut around him. Her cheek pressed firmly to the pelt, forcing one eye shut at the position. Despite the relative discomfort, otherwise degraded, Karen found herself dissolving into the deliciously detached feeling brewing in her brain. Better’n any booze she’d ever had was the feeling of him inside her.
He angled his hips knowingly, pressin’ on that spot what had her making a mess last time. Heat skittered down her spine, glowing down to the tips of her toes.
A pleasure so vibrant it had her arching back into his every thrust. The wet sound of their skin meeting, every thunderous clap of his hips colliding with her rear filled the cabin.
She was writhing and bucking wildly, but the large hand pinning her arm back kept her from straying too far.
Karen could feel that heat pitched low in her belly, coiling tighter. A wave of dizziness rushed to her head as Arthur drilled into her sopping sex, hips angled upon every stroke made her grunt the ugliest sounds into the gag. Her toes curled and she was clenching down with every slick glide of him.
She clawed at the pelt beneath her with her free hand, groaned Arthur’s name as the building pressure became too much to bear.
Her second orgasm wasn’t so surprising as her first, this one was labored over, earned. Weren’t until he pulled out, reminding her of the big hole he’d left in her middle that she felt liquid gush from her, muscles pulled tight, heat spilling between her thighs. A firm hand, thick callused fingers rubbed at her bud a few quick times, earning moans that sounded equal parts agonized and blissful as a few weaker spurts of her release painted the pelt.
Arthur dug his teeth into the meat of her shoulder, ravenous like some wild animal as he came against her inner thigh, mixing his spend with hers.
A few fingers tugged the gag from between her teeth, the fabric sagged wetly around her throat.
Karen wanted nothing more than to melt down onto the soiled bearskin and sleep beside a dying fire. But Arthur’s hands held her firm, kept her upright. One cupped her jaw, shook her a little to keep her eyes open.
“I hurt you?” He asked, voice thick and labored, but stern and rather serious as well. Weren’t no teasing in his voice, simple, rare concern.
“I look hurt to you?” Karen slurred back, squinting through heavy lids to see the charge light up the blue of his eyes.
“Karen,” He growled, sound pitched low in his chest. Heat danced in her belly.
“No, you didn’t hurt me, old man. Fucked me real good…” a whine stirred in her throat, “too good.”
Arthur let out a chuckle, a heavy weathered palm gave her rear a pat.
“Bed’s in the corner, go on,”
Karen groaned, digging her fingers into whatever parts of him she could reach with dwindling reserves of energy. She caught the meat of a bulging tricep and lean sinew of his hip.
“Can’t get rid a’me that easily,” she slurred voice thick with sleep, spiraling deeper into that pleasant void with big, tender hands in her hair.
Arthur laughed again, terribly fond, fingers tracing the contour of her jaw, “Me? Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Jones.”
Her hand mirrored his touch, skating trembling fingers over the close crop of his facial hair across the hard line of his jaw. Saw her own dreamy expression reflected in his eyes. He weren’t hard to love at all.
They listened to the rain slow at some point in the night , her body tangled up with his. His lips lingered softly over the rough mark he’d bit on her back.
Maybe they’d take their time gettin’ home…
#my writing#my fanfiction#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption fanfiction#arthur morgan#karen jones#arthur morgan x karen jones
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There seems to be a fair amount of promo trying to sell Nadia & Arman. Not expecting Thony & Arman to have an easy time of it early in S2 but it seems like there is a shift suggesting that Arman's biggest concern will be losing Nadia. If so, at some point it starts to undermine the main love story, which was clearly Thony & Arman in S1. It would be a big mistake IMO for the show to drop/back burner Armony for too long. What are you hoping/expecting to see? Thanks.
Hey anon! 😏
Before I lose myself in my thoughts here is a quick sentence that resumes it all: I am not worried one bit about Arman and Thony.
Warning! Honest thoughts incoming, and probably more than you asked for anon, but let me try this anyway. 😅
I made points so feel free to skip some parts if you just want the answer to the question. I lost myself again. Sorry.
ARMONY - SEASON 1
I'd like to start with this: season 1 had me floored with how well they handled Thony and Arman as a ship. Did not expect them to kiss this soon AT ALL. I had seen promos going around and was still like ''meh..they'll stop as soon as their lips touch, don't get too excited girl'' and then HE FREAKING PICKED HER UP. And still, as fast as it all happened between the two, everything felt so right, so easy and so real.
From my point of view and experience based on other tv shows I watched that had me frustrated at times - most showrunners almost seem to be intimidated by their ships. Like really. And it's fine most times, you'll get a nice slow burn, then finally something happens - but what do they do next when they give the audience what they wanted? Turn around in circles with the endless I love you/I hate you? Happily ever after?
With TCL, they got that out of the way right away. They knew the audience craved for Armony and when no one really believed physical contact was going to happen that fast, well here it is. And honestly I love them for that. We don't have to worry about the will they/won't they anymore - it's clear they feel something for each other and it's only a matter of time or circumstances until a kiss (or more) happens again.
And because of that, we can just enjoy the ride, appreciate the little details between the two and watch the emotional connection grow instead of having to desperately wait for them to finally barely touch hands, kiss or have sex. Don't get me wrong - I would love to see them get in bed together but I'm much more interested in watching their relationship grow.
Season 1 had Thony and Arman build a bond that in my eyes is now almost unbreakable at this point. They care about each other, they trust each other blindly, and let me put that out there now - they consider each other as family at the end of the season.
Let me develop that a little. Thony and Arman had both justified their actions in their heated conversation in the 3rd episode the same way: they are ''helping their family''. Thony using Arman's resources to save Luca / Arman using his violence to protect Hayak and the organization.
BUT throughout the season, Thony went out of her way to protect Arman (even with Fiona, who means the world to her, detained in the Icebox) - and that even before she told him she was in contact with the FBI.
She told Garrett she couldn't do it when he asked her to put the necklace on to get Arman to talk in 105. Not because she was scared, but because she cares and as she tells him later, doesn't want to hurt him. Same goes for Arman, this is more than just him keeping the promise he made to her in the pilot.
Each of them will take a bullet for the other. They really are partners, a team, a family.
At this point I don’t see anything strong enough that could tear them apart. And Thony is supposed to guide Arman out of the darkness he’s slipping into in S2. I mean...THOSE TWO WILL GET AMAZING SCENES WITH THIS STORYLINE.
And I don't feel like this is the kind of show that will mess with Armony unless a storyline really justifies it.
NADIA vs ARMONY
Eva has been promoted as a series regular, so she needs her own storyline now, and of course they need to promote it. We only really know Nadia’s character through Arman, and her ex being in the show will bring us a much needed backstory that will develop her character. And to be honest, I’m excited for this, I love Nadia but I had trouble understanding some of her reactions in S1, and this will give us a chance to see where she’s coming from and see her in a new light.
Once again, not worried at all for Armony with this. Of course Arman cares about her, and will get confused and maybe fight for her, but here again, we will learn more about those two characters AND...just look at it from another point of view - what does all of this mean for Thony? How will she react? Will she support him? Retreat to give him some space? Maybe get a little jealous? And then how will Arman react depending on her reaction?
No matter what happens, this storyline affects Armony and this is what's fun too, and it will make them grow as a ship, and somehow, I feel like this storyline will push him even more in Thony’s arms as the episodes go by.
What am I interested to see and maybe a bit worried about is how they will handle so many new storylines and addressing them in every episode 👀 there's not only Nadia's ex, but also Garrett's former case and informant/lover coming in, and how will that play out if he still is on the Barsamian/Arman case and on Thony's back.
THONY - ARMAN IN SEASON 2
I agree completely, things won’t be easy for them. And to be honest I’m more worried about Thony right now, because she is the one that decides how far things are going between her and Arman. And like I said in previous posts, the scariest part is the consequences of Marco stealing Luca.
But, but but Arman and Thony are linked with everything. Business, family, emotions.
I mean just one example: Arman almost cares about Luca like a father, just think about how he will react when he finds out that Marco took Luca (will he feel guilty? if so will Thony reassure him?) or will Thony feel guilty and he will give her space? So much to explore with those storylines.
Another example that just dropped on Twitter ⬇️
With everything we know (and it’s not much so far given the amount of storyline they have pilling up), there is no way and I mean really no way, that we won’t get plenty of direct and indirect Armony scenes! 😏
THE END
Okay I think I'll stop here and go to bed.
Thank you for this Anon! ❤️ Hoping I didn't bore you to death until you finally got a somewhat answer to your question 😏
Also..sorry no bonus this time, I unfortunately don't have anything in store concerning Nadia 😔
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Hideout, Sweet Hideout. (Oneshot Fiction)
Fandom: Road96
Characters: Stan, Mitch, Sonya
Context: After several weeks of work, our two robbers can finally return home, to their hideout, renovated to new. A gain in comfort that can be achieved and a space where they can store and repair their motorcycle ... and plan their next crime safely. And discuss a little between closed doors.
***
It’s difficult for a Petrian to not know his country in every nook and cranny, since during their "vacation" people could not leave the country. Every mountain, every forest, every dark corner, abandoned tunnel is known and noted on the map. Yet there is one place, one and only place that no one knows. A closed road that should have served as an outpost but was abandoned after a landslide. Hidden by a forest road, next to a small river, stood a building, surrounded by trees that gradually rose from their ashes, which was once in ruins. Yes, in the past. Because now this building that was supposed to be the outpost, just like the trees, has also undergone a renaissance. The walls of the building are white, a simple color, sober, but which always gave charm.
It had a ground floor, two floors and at the top, which at the base, was to be an observation point, a kind of terrace. Yes, now this building, potential symbol of Tyrak’s power, has become a simple, but adorable uninhabited house...
“Phew! It feels good, to take a good hot shower”
Well, almost uninhabited. Because it’s in this place, well isolated from everything, where no one will ever be able to find them, according to them, that live a duo ... Not like the others. Yeah, Stan and Mitch live here. How did they find this place? That's a very good question... of which even they don't really have the answer anymore. Mitch will certainly tell you that it was luck, Stan will say that it was his very good sense of direction that guided them to this place. Go find out which of the two is right.
Stan stepped out of the shower, wrapping a long black towel around his waist while stretching his arms to the sky. For his height and age, one could say that his physique was more than correct. Not too fat, not too skinny, and a rather normal musculature. Without his robber's outfit, Stan was really a handsome boy, just like his brother. If only someone could convince him, just one day, to wear something else... the Sanchez brothers would have their little success with women. More they could ever imagine. Mitch tried, more than once, to explain to him that they didn't need to wear their outfits all the time... without success.
Stan used another shorter towel to dry his hair, then he took the opportunity to look at his reflection in the mirror. He had inherited everything from his father, from the body to the temper. Mitch was more like their mother, even if he had a slightly more imposing body than Stan. But when we looked at him, we saw above all a big teddy bear with a tender heart. That's what got him to be called by Stan: "baby brother." Sonya, well, was the mix of both. Over time, she had learned to assert herself. He styled his short black hair properly and then began to dress quietly. If there's one thing the Sanchez brothers don't have to worry about, it's their facial hair. If Mitch sported a weak, even very weak little goatee, Stan also had one with a very weak mustache. As much to say it clearly, they had only a few hairs, well-disposed however, on the chin.
Mitch was in the garage, under the motorcycle with goggles on his eyes. The bike still needed repair, it must be said that it’s no longer very young, it has been 10 years that it rushes on the roads, taking our two brothers to the scene of their robberies. She had lived quite a bit. And not often without a scratch. But each time, Stan and Mitch took care of it, repaired it and pampered it. Over time, it had become a bit their baby.
“Well... Luckily, I saw it, otherwise you would have let us go in the middle of the road. How long will you be able to ride huh?” said Mitch sighing.
“I hope enough until we're too old for all that.” said Stan who just arrived, adjusting his hood. “So? No bad injuries?”
“Not really. But if I hadn't put a few keystrokes, some parts would have dropped, as well as the sidecar. After all, we've owned it for ten years.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe it. In general, a bike like that, it lasts no more than 5 years. And we managed to do twice as much. Like what, stealing a mechanics manual... It wasn't that stupid.” replied Stan, laughing a little. “Well, let’s get down with business.”
Stan walked to the old office they had kept from their lair. It was in good condition then... Why throw it away? He opened the drawer and took out the road map of the country. On it were surrounded thousands of areas, some were crossed, a sign that they had surely passed by. Stan took a marker and took a closer look at the map.
“Good! This shop here is making a pretty good turnover now! I think that after a good little scouting, we can make it our next target! and we'll fill our pockets! And we will have to escape the police too...” say Stan pointing a spot on the map.
“Hm hm. Yeah why not.” responds Mitch a little sad.
“...Something’s wrong?” replied the older brother, seeing the younger one looking a bit the other way. “Mitch. You know I'm here for you, and Sonya. If you have a problem with something, you can tell me what it is.”
“It’s just that... Well...Look, I know that you always said that no amounts could make us quit the game Stan but... How long are we going to live like criminals?”
“What?”
“it’s been...since you know what, that we started robbing to survive and... for Sonya's sake. But she grew up and made her own way. We are lucky to be free or to get by every time, but I don't want someone to go to her house one day to tell her... that she lost her brothers for good. And then sometimes... I feel...”
“You feel ashamed because you know that Mom and Dad see us from up there? Yeah, me too.” said Stan, sitting next to Mitch. “Sometimes, I feel Mom and Dad’s gaze from heaven, and if we had the ability of hearing dead people, I'm sure they would be a little angry. Very angry indeed. But like you said, we did it because we had to survive, and do everything so that Sonya could... have at least the minimum. And you're right, we could have largely stopped all this when Sonya went to GNN. But to do what? We were... Already quite famous at that time, and we were at least once in prison, no one would have wanted us. We could have... create our own business too... But here too, no one would have come.”
There was a long silence between the brothers. a silence that allowed Mitch to analyse in depth the words of his eldest. And he had to admit that Stan was right. When Sonya left to work at GNN, the two Sanchez brothers had made a name for themselves in the criminal underworld. And they went to jail. Even with all the best will in the world, even if with Florres, things were finally getting better in the country, one thing was certain for them: in the eyes of all, their place was in prison. No one would have wanted to hire them, and even if given a chance, in the end, they would have been fired with a bogus excuse. And if they had created their own shop, no matter what services they offered, no one would have come, because of their criminal past.
“...you right. I must believe that somehow, we were destined to end up like this.” said Mitch sadly.
“No. If we hadn't had to run away, if mom and dad were still here, we'd be very different today. Trust me.” responds Stan.
“I wonder what would have become of us. I think we would have made our lives on our own. Each on his own.”
“Heh. Yeah... I can see you at the head of a restaurant. behind your stove.”
“Oh, come on...” replied Mitch laughing.
“Mitch, you have a talent for cooking! I still remember when you treated me with your soups. You spent your days reading all of Grandma's cookbooks, as well as everything related to cooking and medicine. I'm sure you would have been a great chef.”
“Heh. Thanks. Since we have to be frank with each other... I would have seen you either as a talented mechanic, or a racing driver or.... as a model.”
“Model?? Really??”
“Come on Stan, you spend as much time as Sonya in the bathroom. And with the physique you have, I think girls would not be indifferent to you. This was already the case when we were teenagers.”
“First, that not true... not totally true. I just take care of my body and my health. We get older and believe me, time will not give us gifts when we start to have white hair. And two, I can say the same for you. More, you are a real teddy bear, and there were girls at school who thought you were too cute. I still remember the Valentine's Day card in your bag.” Replied Stan with a smirk.
Mitch blushed under his hood and punched Stan in the arm, who was laughing loudly. Oh yes, the Sanchez brothers had little lovers as children. Sonya as well. But they were school loves. Nothing real. This provoked jealousy, especially in the case of the two brothers. Their parents took a little guilty pleasure in talking about it in front of them by the way. If only they realized their current charm...
“At least... There was at least one of the three of us who realized her dreams. Sonya always wanted to be a star. And she has become one.
“And I have two wonderful brothers without whom I would probably not be here.” Said suddenly Sonya behind them leaning on the door with a sweet smile.
The two brothers turned sharply to catch a glimpse of their little sister and in panic Stan stood up to put the card in the drawer. If they could prevent her from knowing about their next robbery location. But seeing her smile followed by the chuckle, she understood. She stepped off the door and approached her two brothers.
“I would act as if I knew nothing. Promised. Then? Your... New hideout. Do you like it? It's nicer to be warm to sleep, eat and wash than to have holes all over the walls, right?” She said smiling.
“That's for sure... Stan spends more time in the bathroom than I do. I think soon it will overtake you.” responds Mitch with a smirk.
“Hey!” replied Stan.
“It doesn't surprise me strangely.” said Sonya.
“Raah forget it. But thanks Sonya. It feels good to have a roof over our head again and not hear animals or thunderstorms. or any sound.”
“And sleep in a REAL bed. I really feel at home.” Mitch pursues.
“Me too...in some way. It feels nice.” said Sonya.
“...Home sweet Home. Do you eat with us?”
Sonya smiled as she nodded. The three of them left the room and headed for the dining room, with Mitch going into the kitchen, the two rooms being separated by a small bar. With the radio on, they could hear the information from GNN concluded.
* Remember, next week is the National Day. For this occasion, all the inhabitants will be invited to the foot of the National Mountain. For those who will not be able to travel, our journalists will be on site to film and broadcast this event. It’s also expected that many tourists will arrive from neighbouring countries. GNN wishes you a great day and will see you soon for new information.
Stay alert. *
***
(Happy New Year to all! Who says new year says new beginning, after quite difficult years. I hope, despite the current situation, that you are all doing well, that you have been able to enjoy it to the fullest, and you have been able to achieve some of your dreams and goals! For my part I was able to take the opportunity to rest, and I admit that resuming writing, when you have spent days without writing, it is difficult! But I'm back! I hope you’ll like it like the other ones! Feel free to tell me what you think about it! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)
#road 96#road 96 game#stan and mitch#stan sanchez#Stan and mitch road96#mitch sanchez#Road96SonyaSanchez#sonya sanchez
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Saving Grace: Chapter Thirty-Two
Another day, another disaster broadcast on the news, leaving Grace wondering if she'll see her boys again.
Tennessee, at least the little town where Harry lived, was charmingly quaint and reminded Grace a lot of the little town in the Midwest she had grown up in. The only difference was the mountains. Despite it being a work trip, there was time to enjoy leisurely activities and since Grace had arrived on a Friday, Harry had insisted on taking her hiking on Saturday.
“So, how long can I expect you to be hunkering down here?” Harry asked as they made their way up a popular trail in the area. Grace had said she wanted to see a waterfall and he knew just the spot. She raised a brow at him. “C’mon, Grace,” he sighed, “I saw on the news that there was some sort of disruption at Stark Tower. The next morning you call and say you’re headed my way so we can finish our proposal together in person.”
“Sorry,” she felt heat in her face, having been caught withholding information. “I mean, I did want to get away from home for a little while after what happened, that’s the truth and I probably should’ve told you, but since I can’t give all the details, I thought it best to avoid entirely.”
Harry shrugged and they kept plodding along on the dirt trail. It was a brisk morning, chilly enough to require a fleece pullover. The leaves were changing and it made Grace homesick for Steve and their motorcycle rides upstate. They went weekly for hikes and to visit local farmstands and secondhand shops. Tony liked to tease them for behaving like an old married couple, throwing in the predictable jabs about Steve’s age, but he always relented when they pulled out whatever gift they had bought him while out, usually some kind of fruit preserves, baked good, or some mechanical trinket they’d found at a thrift store.
“I suppose I should consider it a compliment that you feel safe with me.”
“You did walk me back to my dorm any time we were out past dark for class or study group,” Grace pointed out. “I think you’re the closest I’ve got to a big brother.”
Harry laughed and flung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.
“Be careful what you say,” he cautioned. “Kid sisters get noogies.”
“Don’t you dare!”
The waterfall was delightful and so was the microbrewery that he took her too the next day for lunch and drinks. The next few days she spent shadowing him in his office during the day then the two of them would huddle over their laptops together at his kitchen table to work on the necessary foundational prep for their charity. There weren’t any hotels or motels in the area with any availability, so Harry had insisted she stay in his guest room. He had a little piece of property a few miles out of town and Grace could sit out on the rocking-chair front porch in the morning, listening to the birds and sipping her coffee. The first two days were idyllic and peaceful, but Grace couldn’t help the gnawing worry for the safety of her father and her boyfriend. It didn’t help that cell service was spotty out there in rural Appalachia.
“Give me something,” she wandered around the porch trying to get signal one morning. Harry had already gone into his practice and she was supposed to meet him in an hour. He’d insisted she sleep in that morning, since she hadn’t been able to sleep much, worry consuming her thoughts. “Come on!” She growled, seeing the bars on her phone flicker in and out of existence. “Goddam it.”
She hadn’t gotten any pings in the last few days from her notification system that alerted her whenever the news had a new story about Tony, Iron Man, Steve, Captain America, or the Avengers, so she considered it a sign that they were, at the very least, still alive and working on solving the Ultron problem.
Not that a lot of what they would do would make it into the news anyway. Unless something goes catastrophically wrong and impacts the public, most of their work stays under wraps.
Wandering out into the yard, her bare feet freezing in the chilly morning dew, she continued to search for signal.
“Ah ha!”
Two bars materialized and she froze, holding her phone at an arm’s length above her head, tilting just enough so that she could properly see the screen. There weren’t any news notifications, but there were a few texts from Pepper, encouraging her to come to California after her visit with Harry if things weren’t resolved by the end of her trip.
“Nothing from Steve,” she sighed. She knew he couldn’t exactly take a break in the middle of superhero-ing to text or call, but still part of her hoped. “I just wish I knew he was ok.”
Giving in to the screaming pain signals in her feet, which were turning red from the cold, she hobbled back into the house and got ready for the rest of her day. Seeing patients with Harry took her back to their med school days and they always passed by quickly. As they were preparing to head out for lunch, the news station playing on the television in the waiting room caught Grace’s ear.
“We take you now to a developing situation in Eastern Europe,” the female anchor announced over top of a breaking news alert sound. The image on the screen changed from the anchor to footage that looked to be from someone’s smart phone, recording people running through streets and being waved into a S.H.I.E.L.D. hellicarier by agents, including Hill. She caught sight of Steve, in his suit, getting women and children safely aboard and her chest clenched. “The micronation of Sokovia is under attack by an unidentified source. The motivation behind the attacks is unclear but we are being told that a team of robots has…” she trailed off, and Grace wondered why until she began to speak again, her disbelief evident. “Witnesses state that the entire country has been unearthed and taken airborne. We will bring you more information as this story develops.”
“Oh my god,” Grace felt like she might throw up.
“It is unclear who is behind this or what their intention is, but the Avengers, as you can see, are on the scene. We’ve been informed that all citizens of Sokovia who were trapped on the landmass when it was taken airborne have since been rescued and evacuated.”
“Grace, sit down,” Harry’s voice seemed to come to her from miles away, but he gently took her by the arm and guided her to a chair, getting her to sit. “Angie, can we change the channel, please?”
“No!” Grace went wide eyed and reached out to grab Harry by the arm. “Don’t turn it off. I need to know.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Some of his staff wandered into the waiting room, equally glued to the news report, trying to make sense of what was happening. It didn’t seem to make much sense, why robots would unearth a city and haul it into the sky. But Grace knew. She had heard Ultron’s declaration of intent, his desire to annihilate the human race. It wasn’t that hard to piece together.
“It’s a meteor,” she whispered.
“What?” Harry gaped as he knelt in front of her. Grace locked her eyes on his.
“Mass extinction event,” she said quietly, hoping no one else in the room heard her. “He wants to wipe out humanity.”
“Shit.”
Harry dropped to a seat beside her, the color draining from his face. He tapped the heel of one foot rapidly, his whole leg bouncing, a habit she knew he only displayed when he was afraid. He had done it a lot during particularly difficult exams and practicals. They watched as the news carried on without really revealing anything new. Live footage had begun from European stations, though all they could do was point their cameras at the landmass hovering higher and higher in the sky, and speculate.
Suddenly, a ball of red light, like whirling smoke burst into the air at surface level of the city and the local news crew who had been filming all began talking rapidly in their native language.
“We’re not sure what that explosion was,” the female anchor’s voice came over the feed again. “We’re trying to get answers and will forward them along to you once we have them.”
The speculation played for what felt like an eternity but was really no more than fifteen minutes, if that, before what appeared to be a quintjet departed from the landmass. The news anchor was speculating over who might have been on the quintjet and why, when the entire city nation of Sokovia blew into millions of tiny pieces, and so did the robots that had been holding it aloft, eliciting shouts of panic and confusion from the onlookers below. Before the view cut away back to the female news anchor in her studio, Grace caught a glimpse of her dad, in his armor, flying away after the quintjet.
“It appears that the incident is over,” the anchor stated. “The motivations and perpetrator of the attack are still unclear, but the Avengers appear to once again have saved earth from outside threats. We will bring you more information as we receive it.”
Slowly, Grace felt the muscles in the entirety of her body unclench, starting with her jaw.
Dad’s safe. She felt the familiar burn of tears in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she could feel her bottom lip tremble. When she had gotten into Harry’s office that morning, she’d turned her phone off, standard practice for being in a doctor’s office. Now she fished it out and turned it back on, hoping to see something from her dad soon, letting her know this latest threat was over.
A text from Steve lit up her screen as soon as her phone booted up.
It’s over. We’re safe. Love you.
“Oh, thank god.” She felt like she could breathe again. Wiping her eyes, she typed out a reply.
I’m coming home. Will be there tomorrow. Love you, too.
“Is that the secret boyfriend?”
Grace nearly jumped out of her seat, having momentarily forgotten that anyone else existed in the same time and space as her. She realized in that instant, Harry had seen the picture of Steve that came up alongside every text he sent.
“Sorry,” Harry flashed a semi-apologetic smile, blushing with embarrassment. Grace simply nodded. “Didn’t mean to snoop. I get the secret part now.” He scratched the back of his neck. “And why I never stood a chance. Hell, I’d pick him over literally anyone else too.”
Grace couldn’t help but laugh, nudging him with her shoulder and Harry cracked up too.
“Come on,” he got up with a groan. “The world isn’t ending, I have patients to see, and you have to get home.”
“Are you mad I’m bailing before the week is up? We’re supposed to finish our proposal” She felt guilty, having come all that way only to flake before they could reach the finish line.
“We got some work done,” he shrugged. “And we’ll get more done from a distance. But I know you won’t be able to focus until you know firsthand that your dad and your boyfriend are all right. You head to the house, get your things, and get back to New York. I’ll be up in a few weeks, ok?”
Grace flung her arms around him in a hug, feeling comforted as he gently rubbed her back.
“Thanks, Harry,” she squinted her eyes shut and gave him a squeeze before letting go and stepping back.
“Anytime,” he smiled.
The drive back up to New York felt like it took forever and she didn’t get back to the tower until after one in the morning. Her dad had called her while she was on the road and let her know he was ok, that he loved her very much, and that he was going straight to California to be with Pepper. Since her dad wasn’t there, she rode the elevator straight to Steve’s floor and let herself into the apartment. The living room lights were still on and she found her boyfriend sprawled out on the couch, one hand under his head, mouth slightly ajar and snoring up a storm. It was so normal it made her laugh. She shut the door gently and left her suitcases by the door, tucked against the wall so they were out of the way, before heading over to the couch and sitting down lightly beside him, brushing his hair back. He had a few cuts and scrapes on his face and arms and Grace knew there were bruises she couldn’t see, but he didn’t look too beat up.
“Mmm,” he groaned happily and opened his eyes, still halfway asleep and groggy, a smile brightening his face. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Grace smiled, continuing to brush her fingers through his hair. “Were you trying to wait up for me?” He nodded and yawned. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You can fill me in on everything in the morning.”
“Kay,” he mumbled.
Chapter Thirty-One
Masterlist
Chapter Thirty-Three
#mcu#mcu fanfic#mcu fi#marvel#Marvel fanfic#marvel fic#multichapter fic#multichapter fanfic#Avengers#Avengers fanfic#Avengers fic#Avengers oc#Steve Rogers#Steve Rogers fanfic#Steve Rogers fic#Steve Rogers x oc#Captain America#Captain America fanfic#Captain America fic#Captain America x oc#Captain America fucks#Tony Stark#Tony Stark fanfic#Tony Stark fic#dad Tony Stark#mcu fic
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Why have one when there’s three?
Bat boys x reader
Azriel x Rhys x Cassian x Reader
(mostly them fucking her, but little bit gay)
SMUT
Word count: 3142
I should not be doing this. I should not be doing this, you keep thinking to yourself. Cassian seems so nice, though. He’s funny and sweet and absolutely beautiful. And you do want this. You hardly know him, though. You’ve had sex before, but only with one other male, and you’d known him for years. You’d only just met Cassian this evening, and now he was walking you to his house.
While he holds your hand and directs the two of you back to his house, you think about what he’ll look like naked and imagine him being inside of you. Then you wonder what it would be like to have two males inside you, or three. No. You shut yourself down. You read a book once where the girl was taken by multiple males, and you’ve been curious, but you certainly aren’t ready for that. Right?
Ahead, you can see a little bit of light, but before you get too close, Cassian veers slightly to the left, away from the lights, before stopping near a small stone house. Turning toward you, he smiles and whispers to you, “a few things before we go inside: you have to be quiet until we get upstairs, if you see any other males just ignore them, they’re idiots, and we might be sharing a bed. But it’s a big bed, so don’t worry.”
You’re confused, but before you can ask for him to elaborate, Cassian pulls you by the hand toward the house and motions for you to be quiet. He walks to what appears to be the back door of a house and quietly swings the door open. On the other side of the house is light and some small commotion. Your curious mind peaks, but before you can investigate, Cassian pulls you inside and quietly shuts the door.
You’re about to say something, but he puts a finger to your lips, motioning for you to be quiet, then quick as a bat, he leans in and puts his lips where his finger was a moment ago. Your hands go up to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. He pulls you closer by the hips and opens his mouth slightly, letting his tongue run across the seam of your lips. You open your mouth to let him inside, and his tongue sets you on fire. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and it shocks you enough to let a surprised moan escape.
At the sudden sound from you, one of Cassian's hands on your hips moves to slap your ass, and you let out a surprised squeal. Cassian just chuckles and says, “I told you to stay quiet,” and you realize he’d only said that and kissed you to trick you, but when you try to speak, he painfully slaps your ass again and points to the stairs leading up.
You walk up with him behind you, and when you make it to a short hall, he leads you to a bedroom on the left. The door is still closed, but you think you hear the sounds of another female in pleasure on the other side. When Cassian opens the door, you find that you were right. And he wasn’t joking about sharing a bed. A large bed sits in the middle of the room, and on the far left is a sleeping male, while on the right is a winged male relentlessly fucking into a blonde female.
“You’re on my side of the bed, Az,” Cassian says to the male, who only grumbles and lifts the female in his arms and moves more toward the center of the bed. Turning to you again with a grin on his face, Cassian says, “strip,” and walks back toward the bed. He sits down, back to the headboard, and waits for you to do as instructed.
You hadn’t expected to have an audience, but you suppose none of the others are paying attention, so you start pulling your dress over your shoulders and let it fall to the ground before you. Cassian licks his lips at the sight of you, and his eyes grow darker. Your chest is bare, and you're only wearing panties now. When you go to pull them down, Cassian tells you to turn around. Doing as he said, you stare at the corner of the room before bending over to pull your panties down your legs.
When you’ve finally revealed yourself to him, he groans an approving sound and tells you to turn back around. When you do, you find him completely naked in the same position he had been in before and now stroking his cock. Motioning with a single finger for you to come to him, he continues stroking himself with his other hand.
You walk toward him, preparing to sit on his cock, but he tuts at you, “ah aha ah, y/n. I want your mouth first, sweetheart.” You grumble but kneel on the bed, preparing to suck Cassian’s cock. A low chuckle sounds from behind you at your grumbling, and you turn to find Cassian’s friend ‘Az’ watching you while still pounding into his female. You blush at the attention and turn back to Cassian. He grabs you by your hair and pushes you toward his cock. You stick out your tongue, licking up from base to tip before wrapping your lips around his glorious wet tip. You suck it gently without pushing more into your mouth. Cassian doesn’t like that and forces you further down his cock.
“Can I, Cas?” you hear from behind you, and after Cassian nods, you feel a sharp sting on your ass. Azriel spanked you. And you liked it if the moan that slipped from your mouth was any indication. They both chuckled, and Az said, “I guess it’s not much of a punishment then,” slapping your ass again.
A minute later, after thoroughly taking Cassian's cock down your throat, he pulled you up from his cock and lowered himself further down the bed. “Ride me,” he ordered. You positioned yourself over his cock and moaned when it touched you. Lining him up directly with your hole, you sunk down on his length. He was far bigger than the male you had done this with before, and the feeling of him stretching you apart was excruciating and yet wonderful, too.
You lifted yourself up and back, down onto his thick cock, but the feeling was already becoming too much. You fell forward and caught yourself on Cassian's chest. With your hands gripping his shoulders, you leaned your head onto his chest and moaned loudly, pushing back onto his cock. Cassian moved the hair from your face and wiped the tears that had spilled from your eyes. “Is it too much?” he asked. You shook your head furiously and continued pushing back. Behind you, Azriel’s female was moaning louder, and he was grunting quietly, too. The bed shook more, throwing you off pace, as he thrust into her harder.
Cassian grips your hips and pushes forward, laying you down on your back. You can see Azriel at an upside-down angle now and watch as he finishes with the female. Cassian is slowly pushing inside roughly with his head on your shoulder. You grip his shoulders and look at Azriel. You meet his hazel eyes and stare at one another. The female below him has her eyes closed tightly as she cums, and when Azriel is finally ready, he pulls out and cums into the air with a long, low moan. Cassian, sitting up now, laughs as some of Azriel’s cum lands on your face. He smiles, scooping the cum up with a finger and puts it to your mouth. You suck Azriel’s salty cum from Cassian's finger, closing your eyes. “Does he taste good, y/n?” Cassian asks, still thrusting into your pussy. “I bet he tastes delicious,” And Cassian takes his finger again and collects more of Azriel’s cum from the other female’s stomach. You open your mouth expectantly, but Cassian puts the finger in his own mouth and moans while he sucks Azriel’s cum from it. “I was right,” he says, looking at you, then up to Azriel, “delicious.”
You don’t see Azriel's face, but whatever look he gave Cassian made him thrust faster and blew his eyes darker. Cassian pushed your thighs up to your chest and held them there while he settled into the new angle and pushed harder. You cum and moan loud enough to make the male on the other side of the bed wake and faintly hear Azriel laugh, but you can’t focus on anything as Cassian continues thrusting into you.
You register little from the rest of the time. At some point, you are on your hands and knees while Cassian destroys you from behind, and the other male-Rhysand was his name-jerked himself off while watching. Azriel leaves to return his female to her home after cleaning her up, and by the time he has returned, you’ve cum more times than you were able to count and are lying nearly unconscious on Cassian's chest.
…….
It’s hours later when you wake up between Cassian and Azriel. You’ve been entirely cleaned up and there’s no mess between your legs, but it doesn’t matter because looking at Azriel’s sleeping form is making you wet. His chest is exposed to you and his abs are perfect. You want to lick up his chest, kiss his lips, and feel him inside you while you suck Cassian's glorious cock again.
You sit up in bed suddenly and decide you need to cool off, so you walk to the bathroom. The lights are already on, and when you look up, you find yourself staring at a nearly naked Rhysand with a towel around his waist. And he stares down at you, too. Utterly naked before him. He smirks, “hello.”
“Hi,” you croak out. That makes him grin wider.
He leans forward, “you smell...absolutely wonderful,” he whispers, breathing you in. That’s when you remember how wet you are, and he can, of course, smell it on you. He pushes you lightly against the closed door and you look up into his violet eyes, “want me to take care of it for you?”
“..but Cassian…” you choke out.
“-wouldn’t mind,” Rhys says, “we’ve shared females before. As long as you want me to, there’s no problem,” he’s kissing down your neck now, and you’re breathing heavily. Upon letting out one breathy moan, he asks, “Was that a yes?”
You nod quickly, and Rhys falls to his knees before you. He lifts one leg onto his shoulder before licking up your pussy. You’re moaning loudly above him and trying to cover your mouth to stay quiet. When Rhys has made you cum twice and looks up to see you with your fist in your mouth, moaning as your eyes roll back, he stands and says, “if you wanted something to put in your mouth, you should have said that earlier. I have the perfect thing,” And he pushes you to your knees, dropping the towel around his waist.
His cock springs free and juts out toward you. Rhys wastes no time. He grabs your head and sticks his cock in, roughly pushing down your throat. It burns to take all of him, but he doesn’t care. He watches the tears spill from your eyes as he thrust deeper and deeper into your throat.
When he’s twitching in your mouth, nearly about to cum, he pulls out and lifts you to your feet. Turning you to face the mirrored counter, he lifts your right leg, exposing your pussy in the mirror. “Watch while I fuck you, y/n,” he growled, pushing into you.
His cock was not quite as thick as Cassians but was slightly longer. Your walls clamped around him as he held you to his chest, and you were forced to watch his many inches thrust into your pussy. Your right hand snaked around his neck and held tightly as he relentlessly continued his pace. He pulled it away a moment later, though. Pushing you down, you were bent over the counter and no longer watching yourself. Rhys grabbed your hips and pulled you against him again. Realigning himself with your entrance, he thrust. You quaked around him and came again while he continued pounding deep and hard. You were aching and moaning so loudly you were sure to wake Cassian. That’s what you thought happened when the door opened minutes later, and Rhys was still destroying you, but it wasn’t Cassian. It’s Azriel. Completely naked, Azriel.
You make eye contact with him, still bent over the counter. You don’t think Rhys notices his presence, he doesn’t falter his pace, just pulls your wrist behind your back, holding them to you as he continues. Azriel smirks and watches, gaze occasionally coming back to meet your eyes. He’s hard, you notice, and his cock might even be bigger than Rhys’s, you think. As if hearing this, Rhys growls and thrust harder while Azriel laughs behind him. Moments later, you’ve cum again, and Rhys’ cum is filling you. When he finally pulls out and steps back, you fall to the floor, unable to hold yourself up on your shaking legs.
Azriel walks up to you and lifts you to his waist. He walks out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom. Laying you down on the middle of the bed, he spreads your legs and crawls up to you while Rhys settles on his side. Pressing his lips to yours, Azriel groans deeply, “so perfect,” he murmurs against your lips. You don’t even notice he’s lined himself up with your entrance as he kisses everywhere from your mouth to your breasts. But then he’s slowly pushing into you, and you’re throwing your head back in ecstasy and gripping his shoulders.
Rhys chuckles to your right before scooting closer to draw your tongue into his mouth. Azriel sits up straighter and pulls your legs up to rest on his shoulder while he continues his slow pace. You’re a moaning mess beneath the males, but your moans are muffled by Rhys’ mouth on yours. When he does pull back from you, he climbs from the bed and makes his way behind Azriel. You turn your head to the left to see Cassian sleeping peacefully. Pulling your gaze back to the males in front of you, Azriel has his head thrown back as Rhys kisses down his neck. He’s still sliding slowly but hard enough to push his cock in all the way.
Rhys laughs, noting your concern, “you really needn’t worry about him waking. Unless it’s because you don’t think you can take more than three cocks?”
You shake your head quickly, “maybe I want three,” you say shakily.
That makes both of the males smirk, “On that note, let’s wake Cassian,” Azriel grunts, quickening his pace.
His change makes you moan so loud you’re nearly screaming. His cock is driving into you hard and fast, it’s painful, but that only makes it feel better. Cassian stirs next to you, and when he’s finally sitting up and rubbing his eyes, Azriel pulls out. Rhys pulls you back into his arms, and Azriel lays down where you had just been. You keep your legs spread, finding it painful to close them, and let Rhys hold you.
When Azriel is settled, and Cassian is standing, as if following some instruction given, though you’re almost positive no one has spoken, Rhys places you back on Azriel’s hips and pulls your hands up to rest on his chest. Azriel adjusts his position below you while Rhys walks to kneel by Azriel’s head and Cassian walks behind you.
You can’t see Cassian, but you feel the bed drop behind you, then his hands grip your waist. To your front, Rhys has knelt over Azriel’s face, and Azriel darts out his tongue puckering Rhys’ ass. His head is thrown back while Azriel continues sucking and licking, and his cock hits your face. You open your mouth and flick out your own tongue to lick Rhys’ cock. He moans louder now.
Behind you, Cassian grabs Azriel’s cock and strokes it a few times before lining it up with you. You sink down on Azriel’s cock, and Cassian lines himself up with your other entrance. He rubs himself a few times on your ass, and you feel his cock coated with some cold liquid. His fingers are coated too, you note, as he pokes two at your ass. He pushes a single finger in, stretching you and coating your ass in the lube. The stretch hurts but also feels miraculous. A second finger joins the first, and you’re groaning and choking on Rhys’s cock as they curl inside you. Suddenly Azriel thrust into you hard. Looking down at him, you note anger and desperation in his eyes, and you realize you had stopped moving on his cock.
Slowly riding Azriel and letting Rhys thrust into your mouth, you are at ease. Then Cassian takes out his fingers and slips the head of his cock into your ass. The sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt. He pushes into you slowly, and when he’s finally in, they all seem to decide they should pick up the pace. Rhys, holding you by the hair, thrust into you quickly and sloppily. Azriel, disregarding the slow pace you'd set, thrust brutally up into your pussy. And behind you, Cassian leans forward, grips your shoulders, and starts thrusting quickly into your lubed asshole.
A minute later, Rhys is abandoning his spot, pulling from your mouth and walking behind Cassian. You’re too focused on catching your breath to notice how Cassian leans further forward to make room as Rhys lines himself up with your dripping pussy and starts to push in with Azriel's cock.
They all push in in tandem, and it’s moments before you are cuming again. At this point, you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve had. You register Rhys and Azriel moaning as they brush one another's cocks inside of you and Cassian's groaning as he continues pushing in. Then you see stars as a huge orgasm washes over you, and all you can feel is the three males filling you with their cum simultaneously. The four of you are all moaning loudly as you orgasm together. In the end, you all collapse in a pile and fall asleep, resting peacefully until morning.
When you wake, you are clean, as are the sheets. Rhys and Azriel are gone, but Cassian comes over, carrying your clothes, “You should get dressed. I’m gonna have to sneak you out soon,” a wicked grin paints his face, and he walks to the door, “I’ll get you some breakfast.”
#acotar fic#acotar smut#cassian smut#cassian x reader#cassian x you#rhys smut#rhys x reader#rhys x you#azriel smut#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x rhys x cassian x reader#a court of thorns and roses#azriel x y/n#cassian x y/n#rhys x y/n
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voyeur | m. izuku
➳ tags ;; sub!izuku, dom!reader, watching hentai together?, reader is mean and nice </3, quirkless college au!izuku, corruption kink/religious guilt, unprotected sex/creampies, established relationship, afab reader
➳ wc ;; 2.1k
➳ a /n ;; @/sems-diarie made a post abt this a while ago n my brain wouldn’t let it be so. here we are </3
➳ plot ;; izuku didn’t sneak you into your dorm to watch.. this with you. but he has a habit of letting you do what you like.
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This is embarassing.
He knows this is embarassing - more embarassing than he really cares to admit to. He should really know better by now then to let you do as you please. You’re always stringing him along with your schemes and plans and he loses sight of his morals. His standards.
Then again, he doesn’t have any at this point. The point of him paying for this single dorm was so that he could have space to focus. It wasn’t to sneak you in when his R.A. wasnt looking. Even more then that, it wasn’t to do.. whatever this was.
It’d be one thing if he was having sex. That’s a normal thing to do in college, to sneak your partner in and smash. But you’re you, and all you ever seem to have planned for him are hair-brained schemes. It’s what this feels like - when you sit on his twin size bed and pat the empty space next to you. The distrust in his expression makes you laugh.. He sighs and does what you’ve asked.
“What’re you doing?”
He sounds exasperated. You laugh - too pleasantly for him to be comfortable. You type something into the search bar. Green eyes widen, skin warm and blushing.
“Wh-what’re you doing?”
You laugh as you prop the computer on the bed. You grin at him, tucking yourself under his arm. The website mocks him, all black background and animated women with huge tits covering the screen edge to edge.
“You know something, after you’re done using incognito mode - you’re supposed to switch out to regular search, you know,” you explain. Your hand rests on his thigh. Deku freezes.
The sound of your voice has always been something of a vice. It gets a little raspy like this - sultry in a way that has him squirming. He doesn’t know what to do. He can feel the heat of your body.
“Would you know my surprise when I borrow your phone to look up when the convience store closes,” you inch closer, press further “only to see..”
He knows what you saw before you announce it. His skin feels like it’s on fire, tuning out whatever description you’ve been giving of what he chose to watch.
Maybe it was the way he was raised - but he always had such a specific sort of guilt towards pornography. Always told himself he shouldn’t watch things like that, shouldn’t touch himself. Izuku had always been a good, well-behaved boy. Done the right thing even when it was hard.
Meeting you had changed that, changed him. He found his body craving you when he couldn’t control it and he ended up here - watching porn and jerking off with his shirt in his mouth. It’s all come back to haunt him, really.
“I’m not mad, y’know,” ― and your tone goes soft - it’s assuring enough that Izuku can whimper out an okay, but you’re not done ― “I’m just curious. Can’t we watch it together?,”
“That’s ― !”
You flutter your lashes him.
“That’s?”
He has a million words that he can say. That he should say. Bad, wrong, immoral. Words that belong at the end of the sentence to describe what he’s doing with you and what he’s considering.
None of that comes out.
“That’s.. too much”
You grin at him.
“Do you not want too?”
“..I didn’t say that, it’s just -”
Your hand squeezes his thigh until your stiletto's dig into them. Your mouth trails his jaw with hot, open mouth kisses until your turning his head to face you. A hand splayed on his face, tongue deep in his mouth. French kissing makes him pant - hands twitching eagerly to touch you. He watches, dazed - the spit trail of saliva that stretches between you two.
He’s so easy, it’s cute. You press forward with a chaste kiss.
“Show me what you were watching, Izuku,”
His hand trembles as he leans forward. He remembers the title - doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Within seconds, it shows up and he clicks. You lean forward too, observing the tags with a small smile on your face.
“Milf, NTR, Gangbang,”
“S-stop reading them!”
You giggle.
Without warning - you press play. Izuku finds himself frantic. Worried about the sound, the time, all of it - but you don’t seem to care. The AD comes on and you skip that too. It’s on. A familiar arousal blooms in his chest, the memory of what he’d seen appearing. You settle between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. You bring his hands around your waist.
“Let’s watch ~”
Izuku face twists with displeasure. The plot nothing to ride home about - a lonely housewife goes out to a club and finds someone to take care of her needs. At first it’s just one stranger at the club - then two, then she’s surrounded and its too much.
Izuku assumes you’re gonna find him disgusting, but when he looks at your face - you’re smiling, heart-beating in your chest. His eyes blow wide when you take his hand between your legs. You’re wet and you’re letting him touch you and he’s trying his hardest not to show how much he’s shaking.
A little sigh of pleasure leaves your mouth when Izuku very carefully rubs your clit. It throbs under the pressure of big fingers - you hold his wrist and moan. He can hear the porn in the background but it doesn’t serve to distract him from you.
“You want me to go n’ get fucked by a bunch of strangers, ‘zuku?”
He shakes his head furiously.
“Then you just like watching depraved shit, huh?”
Unable to argue with you or with the the way his cock twitches and jumps in his jeans, he opts to whine. You can feel his it against your lower-back, the little wet-spot that presses to your thin tshirt. He’s too turned onto think properly - watching the way your body jerks and twitches.
The woman on screen is stuffed to the brim with cock - it’s all over exaggerated he knows, but he thinks that’s why he likes it. Maybe he just likes the idea of fucking someone that stuffed fulled of cum, how it leaks and pours onto every surface and the way her cunt just seems to take it. And Izuku is such a good, well behaved boy - it’s never crossed his mind to think about doing it to you.
And no, he doesn’t really want to see you get fucked by so many men but if there were more than one of him he’d be more than inclined to let you. His chest feels tight forgetting to breath.
He thinks maybe you’re some kind of witch because you always seem to know what he wants before he does. The right way to push all of his buttons.
“Oh, I see’ ― and he’s afraid of whatever words come out of your mouth next ― “you wanna fuck me full of your cum, Izuku? Wanna know how it feels raw?”
He moans - loud and shameless and needy against your ear. A breathless laugh leaves your mouth because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to fuck you full of cum, just picturing how good it might feel.
You sit up on your knees and bend over a little - pulling short-shorts beneath the curve of your ass and thickest parts of your thigh. Your panties are drenched, clinging to your folds. He inhales sharply, frozen till as you lean forward - pulling them to one side.
“Take your cock out ‘n fuck me then, baby” ― you challenge, dark and dangerous. Everything about you is so sinful and too tempting for him to ignore. His cock aches ― “Do your best”
His body moves before he has a proper chance to feel shame. Whatever devils been whispering in his ear (read: you) has won whatever leftover dignity he has left. Without a proper word, his cock stands to attention. His hands are fidgety but they mange to settle on your waist. He guides you down on his dick, bottom lipped pulled between his teeth hard enough to draw blood.
“Oh, fuck”
He’s going to cum right away if he doesn’t take a breather. This is the first time he’s feeling you, and it feels so much better than he could understand. The lingering thoughts of the dangerous act silence by how tight and how wet and how willing your pussy is for him. The way your walls twitch - ache shamelessly around his cock. He’s fucking sliding in and out of you - it feels like a special privilege he’s done nothing to earn.
He’s shivering, over and over. When he looks down, he’s not all the way in. He’s not sure if he’s praying to god for the right reason - for forgiveness. All he can think about is how good it feels to be inside and how he absolutely doesn’t want to do anything else.
“How’s it feel, Izuku?”
He groans at the sound of your voice, the way you clench down on him and stretch so tightly around his shaft. He’s too wrapped up in the feeling of your cunt - like heaven and silk.
“F-feels so, so good”
Part of you thinks you should ride him, but another part of you is more interested in seeing how he fucks you. You snap the laptop closed and push it to the other side of the bed, before flipping around and laying on your back. His cock slips out and he snaps into reality - the way you have your legs in the air and your arms out.
“I’ll let you fuck me as many times as you want today,” ― your legs reach and wrap around his waist, easily forcing his cock back inside ― “go on,”
Izuku is a mess, really. His pants are only half-way pulled down and he’s wearing a nerdy graphic t-shirt. He’s borderline in hysterics over how good your pussy feels and can’t do anything other than thank you repeatedly and fuck you with an animalistic need. It’s clumsy like you’d expect, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm.
His cock is long and pretty - hits every spot you need it too. Izuku fucks you with shallow, sloppy thrusts - so needy and chasing his orgasm. Selfish and inexperienced. Every time he pushes forward, you can feel he’s throbbing. Aching to cum inside and unload.
You reach a hand between the two of you to finish on your own time - planning on cumming before him. He doesn’t seem to care.
“Ngh, ohh my god, feel’s’good”
“Yeah? Gonna cum inside me, handsome? Makin’ such a pretty face for me”
His stomach churns at the way you call him pretty. It sounds so sweet and adoring - but he knows that you’re a bully. He knows that about but fucks you with all his strength anyways - overly frustrated and fucked out of his mind by the feeling. Like a drug. He likes you so much he feels stupid over it.
“Yeah, yeah ‘m gonna”
Your own orgasm washes over you in a pleasant wave, squeezing his cock with force. He gasp and goes faster - all the thoughts washed away from his head. He needs to finish more than he needs anything. More than he needs to sleep for his 6am work-out and 8am class. More than he needs to be quiet because the walls of his dorm are paper thin. More than he needs to exercise self-control, he needs to cum so fuckin bad.
“Look at me,”
He follows your command, like always - and you look amused and fucked out just like he is. And Izuku has really never been this into anyone before so seeing you evokes feelings he can’t understand.
“Oh, fuuck“
Briefly he understands that he really just came by looking at you, but nothing really makes sense to him. His eyes are heavy and he’s drooling onto your shoulder, spasming and clinging to your body with the most needy little whimpers. It’s so lewd, how he can feel his cum spurt out and coat your insides and his cock. It’s all so sinful but it feels so good, he can’t bring himself to care.
“So,” ― you smile, full of mischief ― “if you want to be like that, we’ve got a few rounds to go”
Izuku splutters at your comment and you laugh. He knows you’re not joking and he whines. You really are a bad influence on him. But with the way his cock is twitching to life again..
He might not be any better.
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#deku x reader#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#deku x y/n#deku x you#gonna post first w/o tags then add them in#knk ;; [ unprotected ]#sub!bnha#sub!izuku#knk ;; [ corruption ]
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the art of the rom-com | jjk
summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors, but it’s not. it’s actually a sisyphean torture that comes in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love like the hopeless romantic he is. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook decides to take it upon himself to show you what love is really like.
{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}
pairing: film major!jungkook x film major!reader (female)
genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, this is literally a rom-com in fic form
word count: 33k
warnings: college alcohol consumption, discussion board posts, emotionally constipated characters, film major shenanigans, blonde jungkook who’s also in a hip hop dance troupe, miscommunication, if you hate rom-coms do not read this fic
a/n: i am so so so excited to share this monster of a jungkook fic (tho let’s be real, 30k is pretty standard for me now ;-;) with you all! this is basically rom-com trash, but it’s my rom-com trash, and i hope you all enjoy!
on a sadder, less exciting note: after this fic i will be taking an extended writing hiatus until at least the beginning of may. my semester is picking up and i unfortunately just don’t currently have any upcoming fics planned for you guys. i hope you understand!! maybe i’ll do a couple of ask games here and there to see if anything piques my interest, but other than that please do not expect major works of writing for a while. love you all!
500 Days of Summer is a movie you all have probably seen before. That being said, I encourage you to respond to this discussion board from a film perspective as opposed to a viewer’s perspective. How did 500 Days of Summer alter the classic narrative of boy-meets-girl? Do you think it was a smart move, on the parts of Webb, Neustadter, and Weber, to do so? Why or why not?
Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM
I thought that the change in the boy-meets-girl narrative that had been popularized by rom-coms of the 1990s definitely contributed to his popularity and its attractiveness towards viewers in general. The film makes it clear that the story does not have a so-called happy ending, but despite that, it still brings into discussion the idea of love and soulmates and true connection. And that’s important, because despite the film’s not-so-happy ending, it makes it a point to emphasize that those things are real. That love is real. I thought it was an excellent move on the parts of the writers and director, because they both broke standards in terms of happy endings in rom-coms and they stayed true to the message at hand.
Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM
I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?
When you walk into class, Jeon Jungkook is already there.
He sits in the front row, the seat closest to the door in your puny little classroom, much too small for twenty-students to fit comfortably, let alone watch movies on the pull-down projector screen above the chalkboard. You’re convinced he’s chosen that seat just so he can grin at you whenever you walk in the room, always later than him because apparently, he has nothing better to do with his time than show up to class early and smirk at you when you arrive.
As you shuffle past his seat towards your own—second row, middle of the room, centered with the lecturer’s podium—with your usual scowl drawn neatly across your face, Jungkook says, overly bright and cheery, “Good morning, Y/N.”
The sound of his voice alone is enough to make your nose scrunch up in further disgust. “Shut up,” you grumble back, stuffing yourself into your chair and pulling out your laptop. One row in front of you and five seats to the right, you see Jungkook chuckle.
Glowering, you open up your Notes document for the class and try to avoid staring at Jungkook’s side profile, the way he’s slouching lazily in his seat, and what looks to be a lengthy paragraph on his computer screen, a task that proves to be particularly difficult because he happens to sit in the exact spot you have to look in order to see your professor enter the room. What the hell is he even writing, anyway?
He straightens up the moment she does, cheerful as always as she smiles at everyone. “Good morning, everyone.”
The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves.
“I can just feel the enthusiasm radiating throughout the room,” she jokes, clenching her fists together in success. At least that gets a couple of you to laugh. “Which is great, because before we get to anything today, we’re gonna talk about the final project.”
You smile to yourself, immediately pulling up the copy of the syllabus you had downloaded to your desktop, scrolling right down to where she had outlined information about the final project in big, bolded letters. There are a lot of reasons you’ve taken this class, not the least of which is the fact that you have had Professor Pollack three times prior to this and she’s loved you in every class, but the final project was definitely one of the major selling points.
Pollack pulls up a more detailed final project document on the projector as she steps out from behind the podium. “As you guys know, your final project is a thirty-to-forty minute short film involving rom-coms. You guys have a lot of freedom, it can be a rom-com, it could be a documentary about rom-coms, anything. It just needs to involve the topic of rom-coms somehow. I know a lot of you have actor friends who would be more than happy to have a star-crossed lovers fling or whatever. Go wild. Just keep it PG-13, because I can’t in good faith have nude bodies of your fellow college students on my screen.”
You snort to yourself. Makes you wonder how many times Pollack has seen sex scenes of college students on her screen before. Too many, probably.
Unintentionally, your eyes drift over to Jungkook. He seems to be working on that hefty paragraph of his, typing something you assume is completely unrelated to the topic at hand and is further proof that Jungkook just doesn’t give a shit about anything involving this class. Whatever. You turn back to Pollack.
“Good projects not only capture the essence of what a rom-com is, but also put their own twist on the story and bring into question the topics we discuss in class, like truthfulness, realistic portrayals of love, and viewer interpretation,” she continues, and with every word you feel heart beat faster in excitement. “I know you’re all excellent filmmakers. That’s why you’ve taken this class. But what I want you to do is get into the nitty-gritty of the makeup of a rom-com and distill it as much as possible. We’ll be watching them all in class during the last week. Yes, Celia?”
You all turn to look at Celia, who sits in the third row, second seat from the left. “This is a partner project, right?”
Well. That’s the one downside. As much as you know that cooperation is an important life skill, you would much rather prefer to produce the entire movie yourself. But you love Pollack and you already know you’re on track to get a good grade in this class, so whatever. You’ll deal.
As long as you can pick your teammate.
“Yes,” Pollack affirms, “and with that excellent segue, I will now announce your partners.”
Shit.
Pollack pulls out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket, like she had just come up with the arrangements on the morning train ride to campus, and begins reading. Slowly, as she ticks off names one by one, everyone begins to turn around, locking eyes with their partners and exchanging guess-it’s-us-two-huh? smiles. Everyone except—
“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”
You freeze in place. You look up at your professor, eyes wide and shocked, because nobody knows better than her how much the two of you have been butting heads this entire semester. But when you meet her eyes and she smiles knowingly, shrugging her shoulders, you know you’re doomed. Hesitantly, almost like you’re scared to find out what happens when you do, you shift your gaze towards where Jungkook sits in the front right corner of the room. Only he’s not just sitting. He’s turned a full one hundred-and-eighty degrees just so he can smirk at you from across the room, a glint in his eye.
Jungkook laughs at your cold-stone, shellshocked reaction. Like he knows how much you’ll hate this, and you know how much he’ll enjoy it.
From here, you actually have a pretty good view of his laptop screen, brightness turned all the way up because he apparently doesn’t care who reads his screen. Or maybe he just likes showing off how much he writes so he can establish dominance over everyone else. Except you, of course. But when you look a little closer, you notice he’s got the class discussion board for the week up on his Chrome window, two paragraphs typed into the text box.
Right above is your response to his comment.
Is that what he was working on? His reply to your reply? Right now? He has the audacity to draft it right here, in front of you, where he knows you can see? He doesn’t even care that you’re blatantly staring at it. In fact, he actually seems to be relishing in it.
You’re so caught off guard by the contents of his computer screen that when you look back up at him on instinct, you catch a wink in your direction.
Your fists tighten by your side.
Class is rather uneventful after the whole partner fiasco, as Pollack transitions into your usual dose of a short lecture on the film and then a class discussion that goes absolutely nowhere because everyone is too concerned with the final project to care. Whatever you talk about, you will be hard pressed to know, because you spend the entire rest of the period scowling at the blank page of your Notes document as you try to formulate a way to convince Pollack to change your partner. Would she accept a dozen doughnuts as a bribe? A box is only ten dollars from Dunkin’.
When Pollack finally shuts her laptop screen and begins her weekly goodbye spiel, you are the first one out of the room. Hastily, you stuff your laptop into your bag, zip it up as best as you can (which means that the tops of your water bottle and umbrella are sticking out, but who cares), and shuffle out the room right as Pollack is bidding you all farewell, just so you don’t have to look at Jungkook’s stupid, smug little grin on the way out.
Faintly, you remember Pollack saying something about getting your partner’s contact information so you can start working, but fuck that. Jungkook knows your name. He can find you. If you must spend the entire semester communicating through Instagram DMs, then so be it. You’ve communicated with men in worse ways. Like through LinkedIn.
There’s a small seating area half a flight down from where your puny little classroom is, a few tables and a bench that wraps around the wall, posters splayed out on the corkboard to the right, staples littering both the board and the floor it rests above. Nobody ever seems to use this, despite the innumerable posters advertising everything from dance troupe shows to financial literacy talks, which makes it the perfect place for you to brood and gather your thoughts. It’s also in the direct opposite direction of the exit. So that’s good.
Taking your anger out on your personal belongings (as opposed to that bitchass smirk on Jungkook’s face), you begin to shove your umbrella and water bottle into the pocket of your backpack, fighting to nestle them amongst your other worldly possessions, like your pencil case and what looks to be a small nest of receipts at the bottom of the back. No wonder it’s so clogged up down there.
If anything gives you a sense of control, it’s cleaning. One by one, you pluck out the receipts from your bag, nose scrunching up as you try to remember every purchase you’ve made in the past three months. Plus, one of these receipts is from when you bought some dryer sheets from CVS, so that means the five inches of actual information are also accompanied by three feet of coupons that expired two weeks ago. Ugh, what a waste.
“Don’t look so angry, you’ll have to get used to seeing this face a lot.”
You look up from where you’ve been inspecting an old receipt from a midnight McDonald’s trip to find Jungkook standing in front of you, backpack hanging loosely on his bomber jacket-clad shoulder and that same stupid grin written all over his same stupid face.
“Can I help you?” You drawl. Great. Now Jungkook can add “saw all her receipts” to the list of embarrassing things he’s caught you doing.
“Can I help you?” Jungkook fires back with a scoff, blonde hair bouncing as he jerks his head flippantly. “Looks like someone needs to take an Accounting class or something.”
“I’m just doing some spring cleaning,” you sneer. It’s February. “What do you want?”
“What, no ‘Hello, partner’? ‘So excited to be working with you this semester’? I’m hurt,” Jungkook says, placing a hand to his heart as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “I thought we had something good, Y/N. Isn’t that why Pollack paired us up?”
You’re pretty sure she just likes watching the world burn.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide, knowing that Jungkook already must get enough of a kick out of just seeing the annoyed look on your face.
“Please, like I even need to. You think I don’t notice the way you stare at me during class? I know you must like what you see,” Jungkook flirts, just to be extra irritating.
While he’s stroking his own ego, you tear off a piece of that CVS receipt, one of the expired coupons for Three Dollars Off Any Shampoo or Conditioner, and scribble your number on the back. The rest of the receipts you scoop up and dump in the trash can to your right before you zip up your backpack and hike it over your shoulder.
“Here,” you say gruffly, shoving the paper against his chest as you head towards the stairwell.
“How forward of you, Y/N, you know you could have just asked—”
Pausing right before you turn the corner and head out the door, you turn back to look at Jungkook, already exhausted from having to interact with him for five minutes. “And when you’re done jerking yourself off,” you say pointedly, “text me.”
You storm out the door.
[February 13th, 1:24PM]
Unknown Number: guess who ;)
You: Wow I have NO idea
You: Keanu Reeves?
Unknown Number: haha very funny
Unknown Number: it’s jungkook
You: Damn shame
You: You done jerking off yet
Maybe: Jungkook: what makes you think i’m not doing that right now ;)))
You: You don’t have the coordination to text me and masturbate at the same time
You: What do you want
Jungkook: ouch, harsh
Jungkook: can’t i just want to talk to my final project partner? :D
[February 13th, 2:17PM]
Jungkook: alright fine
Jungkook: just wanna see when you wanna meet up
You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I
Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime
You: Is that an option?
Jungkook: how about friday at 3
Jungkook: in one of the greene gsrs
You: You think you can manage to reserve one of those?
Jungkook: watch me
[February 13th, 2:21PM]
Jungkook: [screenshot sent]
Jungkook: done
You: Do you want a gold star for all that hard work you just did? All that manual labor?
You: Fine. See you then.
Jungkook: miss you already <3
Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM
I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?
Jeon Jungkook on February 13th at 7:35PM.
You make a good point, Y/N, but I think you missed the whole point of the movie. It’s not about their breakup or the not-so-happy ending or even Tom’s problems. It’s about the journey they go on and what Tom learns in the process. If you watch the trailer then you’d go into the movie knowing they weren’t gonna last. The results of whatever Tom and Summer do to contribute to their eventual breakup should not come as a surprise to the viewer. The whole point of the movie is that they spent five hundred days together and Tom is now recounting those days to anyone who will watch. And you know who’s watching? People who want to hear a story. About love. And loss. And everything in between. Isn’t that the whole reason we watch romance movies anyway?
Sometimes, you wonder if the garishness of Professor Pollack’s shoebox-sized office is the reason not very many students attend her office hours. The walls are lined with movie posters taken from a theater going out of business, the shelves stuffed to the brim with Disney World trinkets and old film memorabilia. She’s installed these thick red velvet curtains along her single window, making the whole room look like some sort of 1950s movie lair.
In a way, you suppose it kind of is.
You hear the taps of her Converse shoes as they come down the hallway and round the corner into the office.
“You know, Y/N, I was surprised to see you signed up for my office hours when I logged in this morning,” Pollack says as she enters the room, handing you the coffee in her right hand as she takes a sip out of the one from her left. Last year, the film department bought a Breville coffee maker with the leftover funds from a movie showing fundraiser and it is, in your humble opinion, the best investment the department has ever made.
“Why? I see you all the time,” you ask, eyebrows raised. You and Professor Pollack are not lacking in social connection. She’s written you a letter of recommendation and she knows your coffee order.
“The very first time we ever spoke outside of class, you sat down at my Starbucks table while I was eating lunch just so you could introduce yourself and ask me about my opinion on the Mamma Mia remake,” she deadpans. “We don’t exactly speak through official forums.”
Well, she’s got you there.
“I know…” you begin, trailing off awkwardly as you take a sip of your coffee. It’s burning hot and scalds your tongue a little, but it’s nice. It’s been cold recently. “But I just thought we could talk… privately.”
Pollack rolls her eyes as she reclines in her chair, back hitting the padding of the chair with a thud. “Goodness, I wonder what you’re here to talk to me about.”
“Okay, please pardon my French, but what the freak, Professor?” You say, because the words have been sitting hot on your tongue ever since you walked into your office and you didn’t think sending an email that looked like:
To: [email protected]
From: y/[email protected]
Subject: what the freak
Dear Professor Pollack,
What the freak?????????
Cheers,
Y/N
would be very professional on your part.
Pollack lets out this honk of a laugh, loud and sudden, shaking her head fondly. “Come on, Y/N. You must have known I would have partnered the two of you up.”
“I was hoping you’d let us choose?” You emphasize.
“And miss out on what very well may be one of the best final projects of the class, produced by my two best students of the semester? Absolutely not,” she says, smiling knowingly at you.
Even her sudden reveal that you happen to be one her best students this semester isn’t enough to soothe your worries and calm your anger. You’re honored, but you have bigger problems. Problems that start with ‘Jeon’ and end with ‘Jungkook’.
Pollack looks at your beaten-down expression and leans forward, placing her coffee cup on the wooden desk in front of her. “Listen, Y/N. You’re an excellent student and one of the most talented filmmakers I’ve seen in a long time. Your discussion posts are detailed, well-written, and thought-provoking. I know that the two of you will make a great project.”
You scoff. “We can’t agree on a single thing.”
“Sometimes that happens in life, and you just have to deal with it,” Pollack says sagely.
“So I can’t change partners?”
“Not unless you’d like to fail the final,” Pollack comments, shrugging. How rude of her to say such a thing, not taking the option to change partners off the table entirely but making it so that if you do, you’ll pretty much be shooting yourself in the foot. Or worse.
You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s low.”
“That’s life,” she corrects.
“Ugh.” You get up out of your seat, taking angry sips of your coffee as you desperately try to think of another way to get out of it. Are doughnuts still an option?
“I have full faith that the both of you will come up with an excellent project,” Pollack says like it’s some sort of consolation as she walks you to the door to her office. Yeah, right. You and Jungkook spend your free time making snide responses to each other’s discussion posts like it’s nobody’s business. You’re probably the only two people at your entire university that care enough to make replies to each other’s replies. Like Tinder from hell. “You shouldn’t be worried, Y/N.”
“I’m not worried,” you say, completely worried. “I just—I don’t know how Jungkook and I will get along.”
Pollack grins to herself. Does she know something you don’t? Is she up to something? She looks at you as you linger in the doorway, feeling utterly helpless after a meeting that accomplished absolutely nothing, and she smiles.
“You’ll find a way.”
Reserving a group study room in the Greene Library and Collection should not be some gymnastics act that involves a warm-up, practice, a routine, and song and dance. In theory, all you have to do is log onto the library’s homepage, navigate to the reservations tab, enter your name and ID number, pick a date and time, and profit.
Of course, the demand for the study rooms does tend to outweigh the supply. There are over ten thousand students at your university. And only twenty rooms.
And still, you have the unfortunate luck of being stuck in one of them for an hour and a half with none other than Jeon Jungkook.
You see him coming into the library at 3PM sharp through the opposite entrance, a little surprised he didn’t show up ten minutes early like he does in class, just so he would have an excuse to complain about having to wait for you. Feeling a little threatened, you pick up the pace so that you can meet his lengthy stride, keeping an eye on his direction so you know which room he’s aiming for.
You arrive at Greene GSR #18 at the exact same time.
“So nice to see you,” Jungkook says, too cheerful, as you reach out to open the door.
“Mmm,” you mumble in response as you enter the room, flinging your backpack onto the floor by your chair with a thud as you take a seat. The faster you start, the faster you can get this over with.
Jungkook, not at all outwardly discouraged by your clear disdain for him, rallies on happily. “So, what were you thinking for the project?” But he doesn’t even let you open your mouth to answer before he says, “Oh, wait, let me guess: a social commentary on the consumerist ideals that underline every modern movie and encourage the pursuit of an empty dream by abandoning concrete career and personal goals in favor of romantic fulfillment.”
You scowl at him, even though that’s exactly what you were thinking of doing. You’re almost positive Pollack’s had enough of seeing college students try to engineer the craziest fake dating scenarios they can imagine just for a class project. Why not do something outside of the box?
“Well, then what do you want to do?” You challenge, already bristling. Like Jungkook has a better idea.
“Maybe something that doesn’t scream ‘killjoy’ as much as you do,” Jungkook retorts easily. He opens his mouth to spit out something else but then rolls his eyes and shrugs, shaking his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even asked.”
“Don’t pin this on me,” you immediately rebuke, pointing at him. “You’re the one who wants to make some sort of generic rom-com for our final project. Besides, I’m pretty sure every idea you even think of will have been done already.”
“Just because something is cliche doesn’t make it bad,” Jungkook says. “I swear, I don’t think you understand what the word cliche even means. A cliche thing, by default, is something that lots of people like. Therefore, it is largely well-received by the general public.”
“Oh, then that must mean that all rom-coms are deserving of a People’s Choice Award then, right?”
Jungkook frowns, getting exasperated. You aren’t much farther off. “I don’t know why you’re being so—so resistant! You know that romantic comedies are supposed to be fun, right?”
“They’re not that fun to me,” you comment snidely.
“That’s because you’re a stick in the mud who takes everything way too seriously,” Jungkook replies like it’s some sort of known fact. “Have you ever even been in a relationship?”
“That’s none of your business,” you tell him firmly. Who does he think he is, going around asking that sort of thing? Especially to you! Like you could care any less about what Jungkook thinks of your love life. Intrusive, much? “Besides, you asking that is exactly my point. Not everything has to be about finding love and searching for your soulmate or whatever bullshit like that. Some people don’t really care that much.”
“You act like wanting to find love and wanting to be successful are mutually exclusive,” Jungkook points out. “You don’t have to abandon all of your life goals just to find love, you know. It doesn’t have to be the most important thing in your life for you to even care about it a little. It’s natural for people to want love.”
“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”
“You sure are acting like one,” Jungkook comments easily. “What, are you about to ask me to pick out all of the pictures with traffic lights?”
“I’m allowed to have my own views on love, just like you,” you say. Isn’t that the whole point of your discussion boards? A forum where you can discuss these sorts of things through an academic lens? A barrier that keeps the two of you from going at each other’s throats when you’re engaging in the class material? It doesn’t take a genius, or even half of one, to know that you and Jungkook can’t seem to agree on anything in your FILM395 class.
Jungkook scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘your own views on love’? As far as I’m aware, your view on love is that you don’t have one! What do you even think love really is?”
You frown at him. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Jungkook says like it’s obvious. “This project is about filming a short romantic comedy, about people falling in love with each other. How do you expect me to do that if we don’t reach a mutual agreement on what love is?”
You scoff. “There is no way in hell I am going to agree with you on anything concerning love.” Jeon Jungkook still thinks love is all rainbows and sunshine. Cries at the end of Love, Actually even though he’s seen it five times already. Believes in soulmates. Believes there are people out there that were built for each other. He flutters from one person to the next like a butterfly, even though he’s more like a moth drawn to any open flame within a five-mile radius. He’s convinced he’ll find his true love here, in college, just like his parents found each other.
Yeah, right.
“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” He says with an eyebrow raised. “We have a month to make a movie that’s fifty percent of our grade.”
“The social commentary is still on the table,” you point out. Sure, it’s not at all a romantic comedy, but it’s about them, which Pollack said was totally fine. Besides, she has been teaching you the entire semester, hasn’t she? She should know by now not to expect some cushy lovey-dovey story about two people who were destined to be with each other and can overcome all obstacles with their love.
Deep down, a part of you wonders if that’s why she paired you up with Jungkook. If she’s had enough of the sappy love stories that Jungkook probably wanted to do, didn’t want to see another cynical commentary on capitalism in Hollywood.
“Wow, what a thrilling idea,” Jungkook deadpans. “Please, tell me more.” His voice is lifeless.
“Oh, shut up. It’s not like your idea would be any better. Who would we even get to star in a rom-com we filmed? It’s not like the two of us could do it.”
You regret the words the instant they come out of your mouth. In horror, you watch as they sink into Jungkook’s brain, etching themselves into his mind as a lightbulb turns on, a bright idea popping into his thoughts.
He opens his mouth, but you get there first. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not. I am not starring in a rom-com with you.”
That is something you can say with one-hundred percent confidence. Something that you know will never change.
“Just hear me out,” Jungkook pleads, looking a little desperate as he wrings his hands together, aching to spill the bubbling plan that’s been stewing in his head.
You narrow your eyes in suspicion but lean back into your chair, a silent signal for him to continue. It’s not as if you have any better idea.s
“Okay. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary,” he says, something that (and you can’t believe you’re saying this) actually piques your interest. Moreso than anything else he’s ever said to you. “You think love is totally manufactured, right? That Hollywood creates the illusion of it to sell to people paying twenty dollars for a movie ticket?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s do that. Let’s prove it’s manufactured.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” It’s not like you can walk into a factory and ask them to make the “love” emotion for you.
“We’ll be the stars.”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s your best idea by a long shot, the home run of all home runs, your golden ticket to an A.
You scrunch up your nose, hesitant. “Wait, I don’t know—”
“It’s perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “Think about it. It’ll be a mockumentary of a stereotypical rom-com. Except it won’t be this big Hollywood production, it’ll be real life. And it won’t be between two paid actors with years of experience under their belt, it’ll be us.” His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, big brown eyes glinting with excitement.
“So what are we gonna do? Act out our own rom-com in an attempt to see if either one of us will fall in love with the other?” You say, an eyebrow raised.
Jungkook shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a mockumentary, right? So it’s grounded in real life even if it is based upon the stereotypical boy-meets-girl rom-com. It won’t be super scripted or anything. Think of it more like… a chronicle.”
You scoff. “Of what?”
“Of us,” Jungkook says easily. “Of the time we have to spend together to film this damn project anyway. I say that rom-coms are emblematic of the natural human desire for love, and that deep down love is the thing that makes us happy. You say that rom-coms are consumerist propaganda, or whatever it is you think they are—”
“They are, and you can’t change my mind about that,” you interrupt, just for clarity. Can’t have Jungkook thinking he’s going to somehow convince you otherwise.
“—so, with this project, let’s see which one of us is right. If the time we have to spend together, making this mockumentary rom-com, will really change how we feel about each other, or if it won’t.”
How you feel about each other? You almost laugh when Jungkook says it out loud. There’s no room for questioning in your mind when it comes to how you two feel about each other. Two desperate-to-please students with opposite views on the entire structure of a class and three years of experience arguing your points in essays under your belts.
Jungkook believes in destiny, right? Then he must know that the two of you are destined to never get along.
“You should be a car salesman,” you joke. Jungkook’s certainly excellent at pitches.
“So, you in?”
You narrow your eyes, still a little wary of whatever it is Jungkook’s putting down. But it’s not like you have any better ideas. And the sooner you agree on something, the sooner you can get this goddamn project over with and never have to sit in class with Jeon Jungkook ever again.
“Only because this’ll finally prove to you that not everything can be solved by finding love,” you say. It’s about as good of a ‘yes’ as he’s going to get out of you.
Jungkook grins, mischievous as always. There’s certainly something else he’s plotting, you just aren’t sure what. Maybe he’s in cahoots with Pollack. “Or,” he begins, lips curling upwards, “you’ll just fall in love with me.”
You scoff. “Yeah, right.”
“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He holds out his hand, palm facing up as he waits for your response, that devilish glint that you hate twinkling in his eyes.
As if you’re going to fall in love with Jungkook. For this stupid project? No way. Just because it’s a filmmaking project doesn’t make it any more bearable than your other assignments. It’s a partner project. They are, by their very nature, excruciating. You’ll be surprised if you end this project and you aren’t even more irritated with Jungkook. Does he really think you’ll actually develop some sort of affection for him?
You take his hand on your own, palm pressed against his, and you eye him carefully. Just because Jungkook’s got something up his sleeve doesn’t mean you don’t. Finally, finally, Jungkook will see why love is stupid and manufactured and fake. Why it doesn’t bring people together but instead tears them apart.
Maybe then he’ll leave you and your discussion posts in peace.
You smile up at him.
“I guess we will.”
When Ruby Rhodes is not six feet deep in The Princeton Review’s MCAT test prep book, she can usually be found at the small bakery five blocks west and two blocks north of your little campus, a family-owned place passed down through three generations. It’s her favorite place, and yours, too, because the coffee is delicious and the pastries are even better.
Plus, hardly anyone from your school ever comes here, which means the wifi speed is eons better than the Starbucks inside the main food court.
She’s halfway through a tiramisu and a rerun of The Bachelor from two seasons ago when you sit down across from her.
“Any good?” You ask, pulling out your laptop and squeezing it onto the tiny marble table in between the two of you.
“The food or the show?” Ruby asks over a mouthful of cake.
“Either.”
Ruby swallows down the piece sitting on her tongue before responding. “The tiramisu is delicious, and The Bachelor is eh. I’ve seen this episode three times already.”
“Then why are you watching it again?” You ask, laughing. Does Ruby think something different is going to happen?
“Because we’re in between weeks right now and honestly, The Bachelor is kind of dry this season,” Ruby says with a frown.
“You’ve got some tiramisu on your cheek,” you tell her, pointing to the left side of her face where the bright mascarpone cream sticks out like a sore thumb against her dark skin.
“It’s just so yummy, I can’t help but stick my whole face in it,” Ruby jokes as she wipes her face with the napkin on her lap. The Bachelor rerun plays on in the background, and you can hear the gasps of the women through Ruby’s discarded headphones.
You roll your eyes. “Why do you even watch that show still? You know it’s all crap.”
“Just because you think it’s crap doesn’t mean I do,” Ruby insists, playing out an argument the two of you have had plenty of times over the course of your friendship. “Watching it makes me happy. So I do it.”
“But it’s all fake,” you say, frowning in disapproval. “The couples don’t even stay together in the end anyway.”
“It’s a totally pre-constructed show, but it’s not fake in the moment. And I don’t expect the final couple to stay together.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough Bachelor seasons to know those odds. I just like watching the ride. It’s cute.”
“You say that about everything.”
“That’s because everything is cute,” Ruby says pointedly. “I like seeing the good in people.”
Ruby’s always been the exact opposite of you in terms of worldviews. The embodiment of a real-life fairy. She puts butterfly clips in her hair and buys herself bouquets of daisies and lilies. She sits in cafes with her headphones in and sketches the people she sees outside the window. She’s studying to be a doctor so she can spend the rest of her life helping others.
And you?
Well, the Oscars have always been a bit of a long shot.
The curiosity eating at you, you pose a question to her. “Hypothetically, if there were to exist a mockumentary on rom-coms and love, would you watch it?”
Ruby pauses for a second as she furrows her brows. Then she shrugs and says, “Only if the two leads fell in love at the end. Why?”
“No reason,” you say, looking away.
There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes.
“What is it?” She asks, a grin playing at her lips as she looks at you. “Come on, you don’t just ask me shit like that without a reason.”
“It’s for a final project,” you explain succinctly. No need to go into details.
“You’re making a rom-com for a final project?” Ruby sounds about as skeptical as you did when you spoke to Jungkook.
“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”
“But… it’s a rom-com, right? Like, you’re going to be making a rom-com? Where people fall in love?”
Hopefully not.
“Sort of?”
Ruby squints her eyes, trying to process all the information. You’re not surprised that she has to take a moment to think—you are certainly the last person on earth to ever admit to filming a rom-com. But, as you’ve stated, it’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary about them. That distinction is vital.
“Wait, is this for that class with Pollack?” Ruby asks. “I remember you telling me you were taking it. You said this was a partner project, though, right? So who are you working with?”
Curse Ruby and her knack for remembering things. She’ll make a great doctor, that’s for sure, but right now you wish she would just forget things like everybody else.
You sigh. “Jungkook.”
Ruby doesn’t need to think twice about who that is. “Wait, seriously? You’re working with him? Isn’t he the guy that responds to all your discussion posts?”
“Yes,” you say, rubbing your temples with your fingertips. You don’t even like thinking about him, let alone saying his name. The fact that he has to occupy any part of your brain at all gives you a headache.
“Damn, that sucks,” Ruby says, not feeling very sorry for you at all. “So you’re filming a rom-com with him?”
“It’s a mockumentary,” you specify, feeling yourself getting irritated. “It is fake.”
“Just like my shows, huh?” Ruby muses to herself, too analytical for her own good.
“Listen, you don’t need to fall in love to make a mockumentary about it,” you say, refusing to consider any sort of alternative.
“Don’t you?”
You sneer. “Just shut up and eat your tiramisu.”
Ruby lets out a laugh at that, this wonderful mix between a wheeze and a honk that makes you smile every time you hear it, even if it’s at your own expense. Ruby decides she’s had enough of mentally torturing you with the thought of feeling anything but extreme distaste towards Jungkook and goes back to her show, letting you brood in peace.
You don’t need to fall in love to make a film about it. Just like you don’t need to be a masterchef to film Gordon Ramsey screaming at someone who undercooked chicken. You’re a filmmaker. You can make a film out of anything. Including love. Even if it is with someone like Jungkook.
Can’t you?
Jeon Jungkook may be a disillusioned college student in love with the idea of love itself, but at least he’s not too shabby of a filmmaker.
Funnily enough, it actually sort of surprises you that you’ve never encountered each other before. Especially considering you’re in the same major program at your school, a program that only accepts about fifty students per year at most. You suppose that in whatever general program classes you had to take in freshman and sophomore year you just never crossed paths. Plus, he’s a filmmaking concentration and you’re doing screenwriting, so it’s very possible that you would have just never spoken had the two of you not registered for the same semester of FILM395.
Huh. Imagine that. A life without him.
Sort of makes you wish you had put this class off for one more semester.
As the two of you kickstart your project, you both immediately agree that you need a third person’s help. You and Jungkook can do plenty, but you are only two people. And there’s nothing in the final project guidelines that says you can’t enlist other people to partake in the production. But you don’t need help with the filming and editing. You need help with the interviews.
“Is this bedsheet good enough?” Kim Taehyung, a senior in the film program, asks as he’s Command-stripping a queen-sized black bedsheet to an empty wall in the living room of his tiny one-bedroom apartment.
“As long as it fits into the frame,” Jungkook responds from where he’s standing behind the camera, set up on a tripod to capture a specific angle. “You’re not going to be in the shot anyway. You’ll just be asking the questions.”
“Good, because I look really ugly right now,” Taehyung says with a grin. You roll your eyes. Taehyung must know he always looks good. Even you can’t deny him of that.
“This is ridiculous,” you say, seated on the singular couch in his apartment. You’re leaning on your elbow as you watch Taehyung fiddle with the bedsheet and Jungkook futz with the camera, the two of them repositioning themselves over and over again until everything’s perfect. “What are you even gonna ask us?”
“I came up with some… preliminary questions,” Taehyung says suggestively. “But I haven’t told either of you what they are so that your reactions can be more genuine.”
“Great,” you deadpan.
“Wow, someone’s excited,” Jungkook comments snidely.
“I know we agreed on periodic interviews for the sake of the mockumentary but I don’t know why we have to be so… so serious about them,” you say with a frown.
“We have to promise to be honest with what we say, alright? Like, actually honest. This sets a guideline for the rest of our relationship,” Jungkook says like it’s no big deal. Like the foundation of your relationship isn’t the fact that the two of you have been engaged in discussion-board war ever since the semester began.
“Our ‘relationship’?” You say with a scoff.
“Do you promise?” Jungkook says.
You roll your eyes. “Yes, I promise.” Whatever. “What do you even think is going to happen between us in the next few weeks?”
Jungkook smirks. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
You don’t like the sound of that.
Over the next ten minutes, Taehyung gets the sheet attached to his wall and pulls over two stools from his kitchen counters, old-timey wooden ones he got from a thrift store for five dollars a pop, one for him and one for the poor soul who has to be interviewed. You’ve agreed to do them separately but Taehyung’s apartment is only so big and you are only three people, which means that whoever isn’t being interviewed still has to be behind the camera, listening to the other person.
Makes you sort of nervous about whatever’s stewing up inside Jungkook’s mind. Wonder what the hell it is he’s plotting up there.
Once everything is settled, Taehyung looks at the two of you as he asks who’s going first.
You turn to Jungkook, who’s already grinning. “Ladies first.”
For someone who has spent their whole life watching and making movies, being in front of the camera feels weirdly uncomfortable to you. You’re so used to being behind it instead, directing others as they move around the frame, telling them how to feel and how to act and what to say, that having the spotlight shone on you is like picking through your thoughts with a fine-toothed comb.
You adjust awkwardly in the bar stool seat as Jungkook stands behind the camera, twisting the lens until he gives you the thumbs-up. Quite frankly, it doesn’t make you feel any better.
“You ready?” Taehyung asks as he takes a seat opposite you, just out of frame.
“Well, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”
“That’s the spirit. Alright, Jungkook, start whenever you’re good.”
“Okay,” Jungkook chirps up. “Three, two, one—” He points to the both of you.
“So, Y/N,” Taehyung begins, his voice suddenly much clearer. He sounds sort of like a news anchor. It’s oddly fitting. “Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You muse.
“That didn’t answer my question,” Taehyung points out. Good thing the camera can’t see the way his eyebrows raise.
“I suppose that there are worse things I could be doing,” you reason, which is about as good of an answer as Taehyung’s going to get. What was he expecting you to say? That you were thrilled to be filming this not-a-rom-com with your class nemesis? That you couldn’t wait to see what would happen?
“Loving the enthusiasm,” Taehyung jokes. You wonder what your classmates will think when they watch this back, hearing this unidentified deep male voice ask you and Jungkook questions about your relationship. “Let me ask you this: what’s your current relationship with Jungkook?”
“Uh…” you begin, nervous. Behind the camera, Jungkook has that same stupid, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. You sneer. “It’s… it’s professional.”
“Can you explain what you mean by that?”
“I mean we’re classmates. That’s the relationship.”
“That’s it?” You can hear the skepticism in Taehyung’s voice, almost like he’s egging you on to say something more.
“We’ve had some personal disagreements on topics discussed in class. But yes, we’re just classmates,” you elaborate slightly. It’s not as if anyone needs reminding of that, anyway. They all see your discussion board posts.
“And how do you expect that relationship to change over the course of this project?”
“I don’t think it’ll change at all.” It’s the easiest answer so far. Requires no energy nor brain power for you to think about it.
Taehyung nods his head in intrigue. “And why’s that?”
“Because this is a project for a class, not a life lesson.”
“Who says it can’t be both?”
You frown. “Whose side are you on?”
Five feet away, Jungkook laughs.
Taehyung chuckles. “Alright, moving on. What do you expect from Jungkook over the next few weeks as you start working on building your relationship?”
“I hope he becomes less unbearable,” you say, though you suppose that’s more of a general life goal than one that’s project-specific. But it would be nice if he became a little more… palatable. Just so you don’t have to feel the urge to sock him in the face every time you speak to each other.
“‘Less unbearable’, excellent,” Taehyung repeats. “Anything else?”
“Well,” you say with a shrug, not sure what else to say. What do you want from Jungkook? Obviously the two of you are about to embark on your own rom-com adventure, no doubt most of it his doing, but it’s hard to imagine that he himself (or you, for that matter) will change. If anything, the rom-com setting will just exacerbate the worst parts of both your personalities. Like some sort of curse. “I guess I just hope that the project goes smoothly.”
“I hope that it does, too,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Okay, last question.” Thank God. This interview couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it feels like an eternity to you. “Do you think you and Jungkook will fall in love at the end of this?”
“No.” You don’t leave any room for hesitation. “I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“We’re very different people with very different interests,” you explain succinctly. You’re sure Taehyung will grasp that once Jungkook has his turn and answers all the same questions. “He can try his hardest, but some things are just meant to stay the way they are.”
“Okay, thank you, Y/N, that’s all. I hope you found our conversation illuminating,” Taehyung says, his cue for the camera to stop rolling. You and Taehyung both turn to Jungkook, waiting for his signal, letting out a sigh when Jungkook gives you a thumbs-up.
“Thank fuck,” you say, hopping off of the barstool happily. You head towards the camera, ready to kick Jungkook off of it, because it’s your turn to stand behind it with an annoying look on your face as you react to every stupid thing Jungkook says. You find that you’re actually sort of looking forward to it. Being behind the camera is where you feel most at home. Making faces at Jungkook is just a bonus.
Jungkook’s still grinning that same goddamn grin when you approach him, making you narrow your eyes.
“‘He can try his hardest’?” Jungkook teases, voice all high-pitched to mimic yours. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“Ah yes, my mission in life,” you retort easily. Maybe goading him on isn’t the best course of action, but you’re so confident that you won’t change your mind you find yourself actually anticipating his efforts. “Think you have what it takes?”
“Believe me, I do,” Jungkook says with a devilish glint in his eyes.
You roll your eyes and kick him off the camera with a shove, pushing him towards Taehyung as he waits diligently on that chair of his.
“So, Jungkook, same questions,” Taehyung says as Jungkook gets ready in his seat, fixing the blonde strands of hair that curl around the side of his face, framing his cheeks.
“What? That’s no fair, he got to think about all his answers,” you exclaim, positively indignant.
“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice sickly smooth, honey falling off his lips. “I’ve actually been thinking about the two of us for a long time.”
You pretend to throw up on Taehyung’s hardwood floor.
As Taehyung promised, he asks Jungkook the same questions. And, as predicted, his answers about as far away from yours as the sun is from Pluto:
“Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”
Jungkook grins. “Yes, definitely. I actually took this class after hearing from a friend that the final project was a lot of fun.”
Taehyung beams. That friend was him. No wonder he was so happy to sign onto helping the two of you.
“And how would you describe your current relationship with Y/N?”
“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.”
“How forward of you.”
“Isn’t that my job?”
You have to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter behind the camera and ruining the interview. At least he’s not hiding anything. You’ll give him that.
“So I suppose you expect the two of you to fall in love over the course of the project?”
“Yes, that’s going to happen.”
“And you seem pretty confident when you say that.”
Jungkook smirks as he turns to the camera. Or, more accurately, you. “Confidence is attractive.”
You shake your head back at him.
The rest of the interview falls pretty much into the same vein as the first few questions. Jungkook is so brazenly determined and hopeful and optimistic it actually pains you in a way, watching him make all of these promises both to you and himself that this project is going to turn out the way he hopes it does. His answers remind you of his discussion board posts, always looking on the bright side of every movie you watch, always finding the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel. A movie could be total Hollywood crap, filled with cheating scandals and misunderstandings and betrayals, and Jungkook could still find beauty in it.
It’s strange.
For the sake of you not actually throwing up in Taehyung’s lovely apartment, you tune out the majority of the middle of the conversation, having zero desire to listen to Jungkook wax poetic about your non-existent relationship like he’s saying his wedding vows. Only when Taehyung finally remarks that they’re on the last question do you finally come to again, ready to turn the camera off as soon as Jungkook finishes his answer.
“Jungkook, do you think you and Y/N will fall in love at the end of this?”
“I do.” Wow, what a shocker. “I do, because I hope that by the end of this Y/N will have opened her eyes to the beauty of love, and will find joy in the feeling as something that makes her feel happy and warm. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the things we do together are meaningful. And even if we don’t last, I hope that her memories of us together will be ones she can look back upon fondly and be grateful for.”
You purse your lips together. If only it were that easy.
“Alright, cut,” you say, voice distant as Jungkook thanks Taehyung for his time and hops off the bar stool. “Thanks, Tae.”
“Anytime, you guys,” Taehyung says with a grin.
Jungkook comes over to where you’re standing, possibly to grab his camera and tripod but most definitely to rub his obnoxious personality all up in your face.
“You really think you’re gonna get me to fall in love with you, huh?” You muse, an eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Just so you can prove a point?”
“Believe it or not, Y/N, but I actually think that all people deserve the chance to experience love and that happens to include you, as well,” Jungkook responds easily.
The words put a sour taste in your mouth. “You think I deserve it, huh?”
Jungkook nods, face solemn as he looks at you, gazing into your eyes with those big brown ones of his own. It makes you feel something unfamiliar. Like he’s reading right through your chest, into your heart. You don’t like it. “Everyone deserves love.”
“You guys are coming back, right? So I can leave the sheet up?” Taehyung interrupts after he’s moved both of his bar stools back to his kitchen counter.
“Yeah, we’ll be back,” Jungkook answers quickly. “Thanks for setting everything up, by the way.”
“Of course. Plus, this is a good background for my nudes,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s mentioning what he’s having for dinner. “Looking forward to seeing you guys again.”
“Us, too,” Jungkook says. “Ready to go?”
“Only because it means I don’t have to see you anymore,” you retort pointedly, grabbing your backpack from where it sits on his couch as you head towards the door.
“Just you wait, Y/N,” Jungkook says as you leave Taehyung’s building, one of those old-timey Victorian houses that was converted into a whole bunch of apartments. “You’re gonna see that I’m right.”
“Really? About what?”
“About us,” Jungkook says. You come to the stoplight, where Jungkook keeps going straight and you turn right.
“Us?”
Jungkook grins as you turn in the direction of your own apartment. And, just as the light turns green, he says, “Just you wait. We’re gonna fall in love, you and me.”
If he says so.
“Hey! Y/N!”
You whip your head around at the sound of your name just as you’re opening the door to your local Starbucks, wondering who the hell is calling out to you at nine-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday.
As it turns out, you don’t have to wonder too much, because the moment your eyes adjust to the blinding sunlight coming from the east side of campus you see Jungkook hurtling towards you, heavy black boots stomping down on the pavement as he rushes to catch up with you.
“Can I help you?” You ask, thoroughly unimpressed, as you pull open the door, looking at Jungkook heaving beside you as he holds the door open for himself.
“Just glad I caught you,” Jungkook gasps out between breaths. “Figured this might make a good scene for the movie.”
“It’s a mockumentary,” you remind him easily, getting in the line.
“Whatever,” Jungkook says. “What do you normally get here? I don’t really go to Starbucks often.”
“Whatever will give me the most caffeine for the least amount of money,” you retort.
“How efficient,” Jungkook comments.
“You know that’s how I like to be,” you tell him with a pointed look.
Jungkook mumbles his acknowledgement as he fumbles around in his backpack, fishing through the large pocket until he whips out his Canon, holding it out in front of him like he’s a dad about to film an embarrassing shot of his child. You look down at the camera just as he pans up to you, a confused frown written across your features. Jungkook laughs.
“Do you really need to do that here?”
“I’m not even filming,” Jungkook says with a smile, like he just pulled his camera out so he could look at your unimpressed face through a different lens. “Look, you’re up.”
You turn around to find that the woman ahead of you in line has just moved towards the pick-up side of the counter, so you shimmy over towards the barista, ready to get this over with so you can dart out of the Starbucks as soon as possible.
“Just a grande Americano, please,” you request simply, fingers grasping for the wallet inside your coat pocket.
“Me too,” Jungkook chirps up from behind you. The closeness of his voice makes you jump, and suddenly you become keenly cognizant of how he’s practically pressed up next to you as he leans over towards the counter. You catch a glimpse of the debit card in his hand. “Here.”
“You don’t have to pay for me, it’s fine,” you quickly say, holding out your own card to the barista.
“No, it’s okay, I want to. Here.” Jungkook pushes your hand away as he tries to stuff his card into the reader.
“No, I won’t let you. I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own coffee,” you rebuke, feeling yourself growing oddly defensive.
Jungkook sighs from behind you. “Oh, come on, you can’t let me do one nice thing for you?”
“Will one of you please pay, you’re holding up the line,” the barista asks in a desperate tone, clearly too overworked and too underpaid to be dealing with two bratty college students like yourselves.
Jungkook manages to shove his card into the reader before you get the chance to do it yourself, pushing you to the side as he verifies all of his information and takes his receipt. Next to him, you seethe to yourself, feeling a personal loss even though you just got your coffee paid for. It’s not about the money. It’s about your pride. Never in your life have you wanted to so badly pay for an overpriced Starbucks coffee.
You and Jungkook mosey over to the other side of the counter, waiting for your identical drinks to be made as you try and calculate how much longer you have to stand in the same room and breathe the same air as Jungkook. Seeing him in class, on your discussion board posts, and for your arranged final project meetings apparently isn’t enough, so now he has to invade your personal life, too.
“What are you doing?” You huff out angrily, turning to Jungkook even as he holds his camera out in front of him, filming the Starbucks.
“Recording our first meeting, obviously,” Jungkook says like it’s some kind of no-brainer. Like you were in on that from the moment he called your name out on the street.
“What do you mean, ‘our first meeting’?” You scrunch up your nose in confusion. “We’ve known each other since the semester started.”
“I know, but…” Jungkook trails off unhelpfully, but you pick up what he’s putting down regardless. Right. This is supposed to be a mockumentary rom-com. And rom-coms always start with an introduction.
The barista behind the counter calls out Jungkook’s name as he places two same-sized cups down at the pick-up station. The cup is burning hot, even with the little cardboard holder wrapped around it like a leg warmer, so you immediately move over to the station up against the wall with all of the sugar packets and napkins and little green splash sticks. Jungkook joins you without question, whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t come here very often or because he just wants to keep invading your space, you couldn’t say. Grabbing one of the wooden sticks, you tug the plastic lid off of the cup and give the coffee a swirl. Watching you, Jungkook takes the lid off of his as well.
“Are you just going to copy everything I do?” You deadpan.
“Not everything…” Jungkook trails off suspiciously, looking down into his coffee like the two of them are conspiring something.
“What are you talki—”
Without warning, Jungkook slams half of his body into you, and without a lid or one of those little green sticks, the coffee sploshes over the side of his cup and drenches the front of your exposed hoodie, hot liquid burning through the fabric of the hoodie and the t-shirt you have on underneath. You watch in horror as Jungkook plays it off like an accident, feet fumbling around on the hardwood floor like he had just tripped. But he didn’t just trip. He dumped half of his Americano onto the both of your fronts.
“Jungkook!” You say instantly, resisting the urge to scream because you’re in a public place but feeling your skin go as hot as the coffee against your torso as you look up at him, fuming.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz,” Jungkook says, somehow able to regain his balance, hold his coffee cup, and film the whole adventure all at the same time. “That was totally my fault, let me help you with that.”
The camera is from his perspective, which you suppose is about as real as it gets for something grounded in reality like a mockumentary, but in this position he’s able to make conversation with his eyes, big brown ones wide as he tries to signify what exactly he means when he purposely spills coffee all over the two of you.
You get it. You’ve seen enough rom-coms to know why he just did what he did, but you still find your mouth agape as you stare up at him, smoldering and angry and a little shocked he would dare be so bold, especially in the middle of a Starbucks coffee shop.
“For God’s sake,” you say with an exhausted sigh despite it not even being ten in the morning yet. Unable to form any other comprehensible words, you settle for just pulling out napkins from the dispenser and dabbing the front of your hoodie as Jungkook looks at you apologetically. You can’t even tell if he’s truly sorry or just putting on another one of his shows.
“I feel so bad,” Jungkook says, and you calm yourself down enough to nod. At least he isn’t blatantly laughing. “Can I pay for dry cleaning?”
“You’re really gonna offer to pay for my dry cleaning?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.
“It was my fault,” Jungkook admits. Now that you can agree on.
You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s just an old hoodie, it’s no big deal.”
“I’m still sorry,” Jungkook insists, and the more he says it the more you actually find yourself starting to believe him. Even if he did just spill coffee all over you. “Here, let me give you my jacket—”
“That’s not necessary,” you say as he shrugs off his backpack and begins to remove the bulky denim jacket he’s wearing, fabric worn and soft from years of use. “Seriously, it’s okay, it’s just a hoodie.”
“Yeah, but now you have coffee all over your clothes and you probably have class soon, right?” He says, an apologetic smile lacing his lips. He tugs off his jacket and holds it out towards you.
“Jungkook, I’m fine, alright? I appreciate your concern, though,” you assure him. You throw away the last of the coffee-stained napkins in your hands and reach down for your backpack, which you had taken off your shoulders somewhere in the chaos.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, almost as if he was expecting resistance, and leans over you anyway. His arms extend outwards as he wraps his enormous denim jacket over your shoulders, the fabric draping loosely over your body. The damn thing was big on him, so on you it practically eats you up. You stand there, silent, as Jungkook adjusts the jacket on your torso, pulling underneath the hood of your sweatshirt as he makes sure it’s snug across your figure.
“There,” Jungkook says.
“Thanks,” you say, a half grin playing on your lips. The gesture makes you wonder if Jungkook really was planning on giving up his jacket this early in the morning for the sake of your movie. “That’s nice of you.”
“I hope it makes up for the fact that you smell like coffee now,” Jungkook says, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck.
“I appreciate it,” you say.
“I have class, too, so I have to go,” Jungkook says, hoisting his backpack on his shoulders as he tucks his camera away. “I’m sorry again! See you around?”
Like you even have a choice.
“Yeah, see you around,” you say as Jungkook darts off just as quickly as he arrived, rushing out the door before you have the chance to change your mind and give him his jacket back.
When he leaves you, you find yourself at a loss for words. You stand there, lips pursed, coffee cold, as the weight of his jacket rests heavy on your shoulders.
It smells like him.
You should have known he would do something like this. Spill coffee all over the two of you, offer you his jacket, dash off like Cinderella at midnight. Like the opening of the world’s worst rom-com. The start of what is no doubt going to be the most unbearable final project you have ever done.
Plus, the other thing it’s ensured is a second meeting. How else is he going to get his jacket back?
And you know what the worst part is?
This is only the beginning.
This time after FILM395 ends lecture for the day, it’s your turn to catch Jungkook lounging around after class.
He’s lingering around the outside of the building, scrolling through his phone, a heavy leather jacket resting over a flannel that goes down to his knees and a baseball cap sitting firmly on his tuft of blonde hair. He’s obviously not paying attention to any of his surroundings whatsoever, because he doesn’t even notice you exiting out of the door he’s standing by until you say his name.
“Jungkook,” you say, arriving in front of him.
“Wha—oh, hi,” Jungkook says, jumping at the suddenness of it all.
“Here,” you say, holding out his oversized denim jacket in between the two of you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to give it back so soon,” Jungkook says, looking a little surprised and… is he touched?
“I was going to give it to you a couple days ago but I thought I should give it a wash first,” you admit to him.
Instinctively, Jungkook brings the jacket up to his nose to sniff it. “Smells like lavender.”
“Yeah, it’s my detergent. Hope you don’t mind. It’s a little wrinkled—I let it air dry since I was worried it might shrink in the dryer.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook says, a genuine smile lacing itself across his features. It’s not one you see too often, and definitely not the kind of smile he usually flashes in your direction. Those are all so obnoxious, so full of himself. This one’s different. It’s appreciative. Kinder. Softer. In a lot of ways. “I was thinking, if you don’t have class now, do you wanna grab some coffee?”
You narrow your eyes. “Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time.”
Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. “Okay, I got it. I won’t spill it on you.”
“Promise?” You prompt.
“Promise.”
The walk to Starbucks this time is in relative silence, but neither of you seems to mind it very much. You aren’t dashing to catch up with each other and heaving snarky comments as you catch your breath. Jungkook even notices you shiver in the cool March breeze and wraps his jacket around you again anyway, although this time you make a mental note to make sure he doesn’t leave without it. Even though a lavender scent wafts off of the denim, it still smells a little bit like him. That boyish sort of aroma. You don’t think any detergent would ever be able to get rid of that.
You and Jungkook both get americanos again because you’re predictable and creatures of habit, and Jungkook actually seems to quite like them. He pays and you don’t spend two minutes standing in front of the barista fighting over it. Jungkook seems so determined to pay the extra four dollars for your drink that you aren’t sure if it’s really worth arguing over it for the sake of pride anymore. What you and Jungkook put into making this project a success is what you’re going to get out of it.
He picks one of the longer tables in the back of the study space, empty because it’s just after the lunchtime rush and most people have classes now, sets up the camera at one end, and you sit down at the other.
“So,” you begin, not sure where to start because your coffee is too hot to take a sip from it.
“So,” Jungkook echoes.
Silence.
You purse your lips in that awkward, I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way. “What do you want to do?”
Jungkook grins. “This is the part where we get to know each other.”
“We already know each other.” You frown.
“Do we?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah, I guess we aren’t strangers, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a film major in a rom-com class who hates rom-coms.”
“I don’t hate rom-coms,” you object. “I just think it’s important to look at them from a critical lens.”
“Okay, whatever,” Jungkook says, shrugging you off. “The point is that we don’t know anything else about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color, for example?”
“Purple.” It’s an easy answer. You wore purple princess dresses when you were five, painted your bedroom lilac when you were ten, and still make sure to keep a purple highlighter in your pencil case now. “What’s yours?”
“Red,” Jungkook responds.
“Cool,” you say, effectively ending the rest of the conversation.
Jungkook, sensing that same awkward silence, suggests something. “How about you ask me something now? We can go back and forth.”
You shrug. It’s not like you have anything better to do. “Alright.” You think for a moment, but then you have the perfect question. “Why film?”
Jungkook was clearly not expecting something so loaded, because his brows furrow, knitting themselves together as he begins to figure out a good enough answer. “Hmm,” he says, lost deep in thought. “I suppose the standard answer would be that I’ve always been interested in it, but I think I chose film because I want to be able to have the gift to tell other people’s stories. Being a filmmaker doesn’t just mean you stand behind a camera. It means you immerse yourself in the lives of other people to create something new. And… I don’t know. I guess I really like doing that.”
You nod.
For once, you understand him. Understand why he chose to major in film, why he chose to be in this tiny little program. Because there is so much out there, so much that you will never know, people you will never meet and things you will never see. And it’s a filmmaker’s job to make them turn into things you will see, people you will meet. Who knows the world better than the people who study it? The people who have devoted their lives to learning all its secrets?
“What about you?”
“Same as you,” you tell him. “Film is an art but it’s more than that to me. It’s a new way to look at the world. It’s several new ways to look at the world, depending on what kind of film you want to create and what kind of story you want to tell. I think it’s important to show people that all of the things they see in the media every day are not always reality. And that real people deserve to have their stories told, too. I don’t know. That’s what I think.”
Jungkook grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “Real people like us?”
“This project is different,” you insist.
“I don’t think it is,” Jungkook says. “You said it yourself, we’re making this because it’s important to show people that the Hollywood entertainment they consume is not reality. This is. This is reality.”
You frown, kicking yourself in the shin because what was supposed to be a harmless conversation has now turned into an opportunity for Jungkook to try and convince you that you will, in fact, fall in love with him. You’ve dug your own grave and Jungkook was the one who handed you the shovel.
“You’re not giving up, are you?” You say, shaking your head, flabbergasted. “Reality is the fact that this project is not going to make me fall in love with you. Nothing is.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jungkook warns. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“You mean like spilling burning hot coffee all over me?” You ask, an eyebrow raised, a grudge still held.
“We had to start somewhere,” Jungkook defends. “And you seemed to understand what I was doing pretty quickly.”
“It’s not the worst thing someone’s done to me,” you concede, only slightly. “Besides, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but throwing hot coffee all over me is not really a good way to start off your plan to get me to fall in love with you.”
Jungkook smiles. “All in due time, Y/N. All in due time.”
“I can’t believe Pollack actually paired us up together,” you say with a sigh. “You know she did it on purpose.”
“Of course she did.” It’s not really a surprise to either of you.
“I met with her right after she announced our partners,” you tell him, “she said it was because she wanted to see what kind of project we would come up with. How we would address our… differing views on love.” That’s one way of putting it. A rather nice way, if you do say so yourself.
“Speaking of which,” Jungkook says, something suddenly flashing through his mind, “what do you really think about love? You know, other than it’s unrealistic and ruins people’s lives.”
“You make me sound like Ebeneezer Scrooge.” You frown at him.
“I’m serious,” insists Jungkook. “Why are you so pessimistic about it? Have you ever been in love? Have you had bad experiences? You couldn’t have just developed this worldview over time.”
You scowl, feeling yourself getting defensive. “Well, maybe I did. Maybe that’s just what I think. Why do you care?”
“Because people don’t just hate love for no reason,” Jungkook exclaims. “Come on, there must be something.”
Your body stiffens. Who is he to be asking you this sort of shit? Why does he care so much? It’s not like it will have any effect on the outcome of your project. Not like you explaining yourself will change the way either of you look at the world.
“What’s it to you?” You challenge. “Why do you love love so much? Have you ever fallen in love? Do you think it’s suddenly going to solve all of your problems?”
“I love it because I think it brings people real joy,” Jungkook answers simply. “It makes people happy and it’s beautiful. I love love and I’m not ashamed to say that out loud. I believe in it. I believe in love, and in destiny, and in soulmates. I want that. I think everyone deserves it.”
You scoff to yourself. “You believe in soulmates?”
“I think we all have our people out there.” Jungkook nods. “Don’t you?”
You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. This conversation has gone nowhere, and Jungkook looks as equally dissatisfied as you do.
“I think love can make us do stupid things,” you tell him succinctly, if a little jaded. No need to say anything else. Your explanation is right there. “We’re just different, I guess. You and I.”
Jungkook blinks at you, eyes wide and a little desperate. Your conversation has remained stagnant and there’s almost nothing left to say.
Almost.
“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?” He asks, like it’s a last-ditch effort to get you to believe.
You freeze. Let the words sink in for a moment. Before you push them out the door and toss them into the garbage. Just thinking about it gives you a headache. Puts a sour taste in your mouth.
Quickly, you push yourself out of your chair and stand up, grabbing your coffee with one hand and your backpack with the other. “I have to go, sorry. I just remembered I’m meeting up with a friend to help her with a photography shoot,” you fumble out quickly, the legs of the chair screeching as you scoot them across the hardwood floor. “Oh, here’s your jacket, too. Thanks for giving it to me again. I’ll see you in class.”
You whip around and head towards the exit, and only when you’re outside of the Starbucks and passing by the window do you dare look back. Do you dare let your gaze drift back to Jungkook, who is sitting there like he still doesn’t understand you. Still can’t.
You and Jungkook are final project partners and maybe, if you’re pushing it, acquaintances-slash-friends. But there are just some things better kept to yourself.
We’re reaching the halfway point in this semester and, as you all know, I don’t do midterms. That said, I still want you to reflect on what you’ve learned, discovered, and thought about thus far in this class. What portrayal of love did you find the most realistic? The least? How have they changed the way you think about love, both from a personal and a film perspective?
Y/N Y/N on March 3rd at 6:08PM
Purely from a film perspective, I really did enjoy watching Juno. It was funny and raunchy and just the right amount of vulnerable. It certainly felt the most real. So far, no film in this class has topped it for me. 500 Days of Summer, on the other hand, was in my opinion extremely unsatisfying and left no positive impression. The ending was a bore and Tom had absolutely no spine. It was a shame, because the direction and production was actually quite good.
I guess I’m starting to realize how real love is not pretty. It can make people just as sad as it can make them happy. Why don’t we show the sad sides of love, too? The sides where your room is covered with a pile of clothes because you can’t bring yourself to do the laundry? Where you cannot cook a meal because it reminds you of a breakup? Rom-coms are, obviously, not the most realistic. But why are there not more films that do cover what’s real? How can we love love if all we know is a lie?
Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM
Of course, I thought The Big Sick did an excellent job of their portrayal of love, adult life, and the problems that plague us all in the twenty-first century. It was also just as emotional and touched on concepts of race, illness, and being in your twenties and having no idea what direction your life is going in. The Princess Bride, on the other hand, as much as I love it, I do think created a more circumstantial kind of love. Westley and Buttercup mostly fall in love because of their situations. But it remains a classic nonetheless.
I’m satisfied with the way the film industry has produced rom-coms and handles love. The beauty of it is that love is different for every person who goes through it. It can bring the greatest joy and the most painful sorrow. We do not just figure out what love is by what we see on film. We see it in our real lives, in our parents, in our friends, in couples in coffee shops and cars and on sidewalks. We can love love because we want that joy for ourselves. Because we know that true love will be worth any heartbreak we endure. Is it not impossible for the portrayals of love in these rom-coms to not be real? The way everyone experiences it is different. The only way you can know what real love is, and what it is not, is if you fall in love yourself.
Early on in your project development, you and Jungkook exchanged class schedules to optimize your productivity and skip over that stupid, terrible part of partner projects where you’re just going back and forth trying to pick a time that works for the both of you until you eventually settle on something ridiculous like eleven o’clock at night outside of the McDonald’s two blocks off of campus.
It’s been working very well. Neither of you have adventurous-enough friends to invite you out on spontaneous picnics and restaurant dates that fuck with your pre-scheduled meeting times, and Jungkook already seems to have mastered the art of screaming your name when he catches you on the sidewalk so that you can film something.
In fact, you’re actually beginning to wonder why you haven’t done this with all of your long-term partner projects. Send each other your schedules so that you can settle on a time in advance. No muss, no fuss.
You and Jungkook are supposed to meet up again tonight, after the two of you are finished with all of your classes, to discuss what scenes you should be filming next. Edited down, you’ve already got about ten minutes worth of footage, but it’s mid-March and the project is due at the end of April. So you need to get this show on the road.
The door slams shut behind you as you exit the business building, your film industry class having just ended a minute ago. You’ve got an hour to kill before your next class, just enough time to dash to the food court in the center of campus and grab something from the Japanese place in the back corner. You might even have time to browse the shelves in the bookstore if you’re fast enough.
You round the corner to the main pathway through campus when a voice stops you in your tracks.
“You’re just too good to be true…”
“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”
It’s not Jungkook. Instead, in the middle of the walkway are the Eighth Notes, one of the fifteen-thousand (you don’t know for sure, but if you had to estimate) acapella groups on campus. They’ve got mic stands and a table set up and everything. Maybe they’re promoting an upcoming show…?
You almost breeze right by when one of them, the one in the middle of the group, points right at you, a lopsided grin lacing his features. You aren’t one to normally stop in the middle of a crowded footpath, but when, one after another, all six of the boys start pointing at you, you have no choice.
“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”
“I wanna hold you so much…”
“At long last, love has arrived…”
“And I thank God I’m alive…”
“You’re just too good to be true…”
“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”
Their voices are smooth like honey, warm and deep, romancing you through their mics as each one of them suddenly manifests a rose from behind them. Around you, people are starting to stare, gawking at you as they walk by. There’s even a small crowd starting to gather, and you swear you can see some people filming on their phones. The fact that this is happening in the busiest ten minutes of the day, as half the student body is walking from one class to another, isn’t helping. At all.
The rest of them singing in the background, each one steps out from behind the set of microphones to hand you the rose, smiling their classic, old-timey smiles like those old jazz singers from the 1960s, until you’ve got half a dozen in your hands as they continue to sing.
“But if you feel like I feel…”
“Please let me know that it’s real…”
“You’re just too good to be true…”
“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”
And then, suddenly, all of them are shutting their traps and turning to the left, looking down the pathway as the song begins again, but from one-hundred feet away.
“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”
Your mouth drops. At the other end of the walkway is Jungkook, one of those wireless microphones in his hand, grinning as he saunters down the path like a prince at a ball, voice sweet and thick as the words dance off of his lips.
“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”
Your eyes lock from opposite ends of the path, Jungkook stepping closer with every beat the Eighth Notes gives him. It sort of feels like your impending doom and a wedding proposal, all at once. By now a rather substantial audience has gathered, lining the walkway with their phones out, filming Jungkook as he waltzes past them, occasionally turning to capture your gobsmacked expression.
Every step that Jungkook takes makes your heart race something fierce, cheeks warming in embarrassment, trapped in your least favorite thing in the entire world: a public serenade. You can’t really do anything except look at him in shock, feeling his steady gaze resting firmly on your figure, looking right at you. Into you.
“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”
Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”
Jungkook, on the other hand, is clearly relishing in this. In the spotlight. In the music. Or maybe just in the fact that you’re on the receiving end of his over-the-top advances. His grin is wide as he takes those last few steps, microphone gripped neatly in his hand, the lyrics warm and weighty as they tumble from his lips.
“And let me love you, baby…”
One final step and he’s right in front of you, staring into your eyes, letting himself bask in the look on your face. He produces a rose himself—cherry red, like his favorite color—and holds it out in between the two of you. In the background, the Eighth Notes go quiet, leaving Jungkook on his own for the final line.
“Let me love you…”
The words drift above your heads, disappearing into the sky as he lingers on them, on that last note, beaming down at you. He looks at you, so hopeful, so happy, so endeared, and what else can you do? What else, besides taking the rose from his hand and smiling back up at him? Who are you to deny him of that?
The crowd around you cheers when you do, applauding both Jungkook and the Eighth Notes, with whom he is apparently in cahoots, before they all decide that they ought to get on with their day and head to class. No doubt you’ll be on several dozen Instagram stories by nightfall.
Only after everyone has dispersed do you notice Taehyung, who must have been here since the beginning, because he’s just turning off the camera dangling from his neck. Of course Jungkook got him to film. Other than your project, what else would this be for?
“Is that the best you can do, Jungkook?” You smirk up at him, only saying this because you can’t have him knowing that you actually kind of enjoyed it.
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jungkook responds easily. “Thought I would do something spontaneous.”
“And now you’ve taken up ten minutes of my lunch,” you say, shaking your head to yourself. “How spontaneous, indeed.”
“How was that, Jungkook?”
Behind the two of you, the Eighth Notes are packing up, clearly more than happy to have aided Jungkook on his quest for so-called love and getting to promote their group in the process.
“Great, thank you so much, Jimin,” Jungkook says to the one in the middle, the very first one to sing when you walked out of the door.
“Anytime, dude. Glad we could help,” Jimin responds. He waves hi to Taehyung, too, as they store their microphones and go on their way.
Jungkook bids them goodbye as they head down the path, smiling at all of them before he turns back to you, notices the distant, faraway look in your eyes as you twirl the rose between your fingers, press it to your nose to pick up its scent.
“You gotta admit, I’m a pretty good singer, eh?” Jungkook says with a nudge to your shoulder.
“You’re alright.”
Jungkook laughs to himself. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get a big head,” you warn.
“Think I’ll have to sing for you more, now, hmm? Since you liked it so much?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling.
You roll your eyes. “Only if you can get Jimin and the Eighth Notes to back you up, again. Then maybe I’ll allow it.”
Jungkook grins. He’s far past the point of being deterred by your deadpan comments. If anything, they only encourage him more. But you, for obvious reasons, cannot give in. At least, not yet, anyway.
“Okay, go eat your lunch,” he says, nodding as you begin to part ways. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
You smile. “Okay. See you.”
“See you, too.”
The moment you get back to your apartment you put all seven roses in an old vase filled with water. They brighten up your bedroom instantly, soft scent freshening up the air. And when you go to bed that night, it is to Jungkook’s sweet, delicate voice, like walking on clouds, like satin and silk, that you fall asleep.
“Good morning, Y/N,” Jungkook greets like always, smiling at you as you walk in the door for FILM395.
“Good morning, Jungkook,” you say in response.
Then, you take a seat right next to him.
It’s an act that clearly catches everyone off guard, if the bewildered looks of your fellow classmates and Jungkook’s confused expression are anything to go by. Even Pollack, when she walks through the door, gets a bit of a shock, eyes widening when she sees the two of you seated next to each other.
You suppose all the fuss is understandable. After all, you both sort of hate each other.
Other than the sudden change in seating arrangement, however, the rest of the class goes off without much issue. Pollack lectures for an hour before you move into discussion, at which point it becomes a class participation free-for-all, with you and Jungkook almost definitely in the lead. Just because you’re now sitting next to each other doesn’t mean either of you are suddenly going to stop raising your hands to rebuke each other’s points. Some things never change.
Sitting next to Jungkook is not as bad as you thought it would be. For one, he is, for the most part, a rather diligent student. Other than his occasional flicks to his email, an essay he’s working on, or your discussion board, he mostly sits and takes notes and doesn’t do anything else. That, you can at least give him credit for. And even though your elbows almost always nearly crash into each other’s when you’re raising your hands to respond to a point Pollack’s made, discussion isn’t so bad either.
One of the perks of sitting directly beside each other is that whenever he says something stupid, or saccharine, or just overly unrealistic, you don’t have to just roll your eyes from the back of the classroom while you wait to be called on. You also get to kick his foot with your own, nudge your elbow into his side. And he does the same to you. You and Jungkook are like those neighbors in sitcoms that spend all their free time shouting at each other from opposite windows. Just because your seats have gotten closer doesn’t mean your viewpoints have.
A notification pops up on your laptop.
[March 17th, 11:05AM]
Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?
You look over at Jungkook with a frown.
You: Why are you texting me? We’re sitting right next to each other
Jungkook: because we’re in class obvs
Jungkook: dont wanna be disruptive
You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?
Jungkook: haha very funny
Jungkook: tables sound good?
You: Only since you asked so nicely :)
Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see
After class, you and Jungkook both hang around, waiting for each other to pack up your belongings so you can walk to the tables together. Everyone else seems to sense this weird, uncomfortable tension in the room, because they all book it out of the door much faster than either of you do. You’re almost convinced Jungkook purposely takes extra time to zip his backpack, just because.
The tables are, as per usual, empty. But you don’t have a pile of receipts to spread out, this time. You and Jungkook take a seat at one of them as you pull out your laptops, ready to outline the rest of the project.
“We should probably meet with Taehyung a couple more times, too,” you suggest as you begin to brainstorm.
“Sounds good,” Jungkook agrees. “But we can’t meet at night on weekdays anymore. My dance group’s show is coming up and we have practice then.”
You stop typing and turn to him. “I didn’t know you were in a dance group.”
Jungkook shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I don’t really talk about it that much.”
“You should.”
He looks up at you at that, eyes wide as he faces you.
“I don’t know, it seems like something you should be passionate about,” you say. In the same way that you promote the Film Club to every freshman you know, force all your friends to mark that they’re Interested in your event pages on Facebook. Jungkook should want to tell everyone about his dance group. Doesn’t he love it? Isn’t he proud to be in it?
Jungkook doesn’t look like he knows what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything at all.
“We can meet on weekends too,” you say, adjusting to his new change of schedule easily. “This project isn’t as all-consuming as I thought it would be.”
“You mean I’m not as all-consuming as you thought I would be,” Jungkook corrects.
You shake your head. “No, you are.” He laughs. “But yeah, on weekends is fine. You know my schedule. What else should we do, besides talk to Taehyung?”
It’s like a lightbulb goes off above Jungkook’s head. “Let’s go on a date.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”
“What do you mean, “no”? It’s the natural progression of our relationship! It’s the next step in the rom-com! We have to,” Jungkook insists.
“First of all, it’s a mockumentary, not a rom-com,” you say with a sigh, finding yourself having to correct him rather frequently. “Secondly, we are not in a relationship. I am not dating you and you are not dating me.”
“Okay, but at this point in rom-coms the two leads would definitely go on a date,” Jungkook says, punctuating every word for emphasis. “What’s the harm? It’s not like you’re committing yourself to a future with me.”
“Thank God,” you mutter.
“Oh, shut up. You probably haven’t been on a date in years, anyway. Why not spend a night out?”
You frown at that. “Who cares if I have or have not been on a date?” Why does Jungkook care so much about the history of your love life? He’s always saying stuff like this, always telling you things as if you’ve never been in a relationship at all, don’t know left from right, black from white. Who is he to be making those assumptions?
“Please, Y/N,” Jungkook begs, looking desperate. “Just one evening. And then if it really goes terribly and you end up hating me again, then we don’t have to do another one.”
You sigh, shoulders slumping. Well, what else are you going to do? You don’t have any other ideas. And you’ve already spent so much time with Jungkook this semester, what’s another evening? Just something else to cross off of your list of things to film. Maybe you can get him to take a cute photo of you to post on social media.
“Fine,” you concede. “One date. And I still hate you, by the way.”
Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”
“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good.
Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”
“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide.
“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”
You scoff. “You wish.”
“Well, are you?”
Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all.
Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.
Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating.
You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth.
But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?
You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”
Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time.
“Is black too, you know, sexy?”
Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”
“No.”
“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”
“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince.
“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”
“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”
Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”
“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”
“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well.
“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”
“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening.
“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely.
“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”
“Ruby—”
“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”
She hangs up.
You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob.
On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook.
“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”
“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins.
You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume.
“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you.
He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”
The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental.
From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him.
It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers.
Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him.
And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out.
It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time.
“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque.
“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google.
“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”
“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful.
“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised.
You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”
“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical.
“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”
“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”
You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one.
“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”
Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”
You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”
“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you.
“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him.
“Well, how do you think about it?”
You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project.
“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly.
“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook.
The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.
“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye.
“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling.
“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”
Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too.
“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes.
Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here.
You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.
“Smile,” you say, pressing film.
Jungkook grins your way.
Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.
“How about we hold hands, too?”
“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised.
“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”
You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”
“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards.
It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him.
“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”
“Excellent.”
Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook.
The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean.
It’s new.
It’s strange.
You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck.
Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his.
You wonder what that means.
The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind.
Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried.
You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”
“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says.
“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know.
Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this:
“Magical.”
It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach.
Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do.
“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this.
“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”
“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious.
“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right.
“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”
“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?
“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins.
You sigh. “Confused.”
“And why is that?”
“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to.
“And is this because of Jungkook?”
“Yes.” Another easy answer.
“How are you feeling about him?”
“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”
“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview.
“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”
“In a good or bad way?”
Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore.
“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”
“Do you think he’s changed?”
“Something has.”
“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”
You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end.
“No,” you say, nose scrunched up.
“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”
“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it.
“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”
You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”
Taehyung sighs.
You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due.
Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to.
[March 28th, 1:05PM]
You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?
Jungkook: i don’t think i can
Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend
You: Really?
You: You didn’t tell me
Jungkook: been too busy
You: What time is your show tonight?
Jungkook: 7pm
You: Sounds good, I’ll be there
Jungkook: oh
Jungkook: you don’t have to
You: I want to
You: I’ll see you there!
That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard.
You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust.
Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances.
Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?
You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin.
[March 28th, 6:58PM]
Jungkook: hey are you here?
You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?
Jungkook: always such a tease
You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim.
The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp.
The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out.
Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world.
The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to.
When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight.
Isn’t that why you’re here, too?
Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout,
“Jungkook!”
Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you.
“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”
“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always.
You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems.
“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”
“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”
“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless.
You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”
He grins.
“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other.
Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”
“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition.
Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers.
“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”
You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either.
The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up.
It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder.
As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy.
Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part.
“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”
“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking.
Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”
“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you.
“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship.
“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”
“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”
“What, please don’t—”
“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”
Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”
The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done.
Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way.
Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter.
In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day.
Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party.
He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name.
“Jungkook!”
He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way.
Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back.
“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.
He’s never been able to resist you.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile.
“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”
You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps.
“Thanks,” you manage to cough out.
“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”
“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide.
“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place.
You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”
Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”
“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”
“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment.
“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less.
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”
“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”
“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”
“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”
“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with.
You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”
“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will.
Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all.
You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”
But the curiosity is eating at him.
“Forget what?”
Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t.
Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you.
“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”
“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies.
“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”
The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self.
“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless.
Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning.
What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other.
“You can say something,” you tell him.
“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says.
“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”
“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself.
“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”
Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”
“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so.
“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now.
Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance.
“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.”
You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly.
“How do I know you mean that?” You ask.
He almost does it.
Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.
“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”
It’s good enough for him.
He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with.
Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too.
Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name.
“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy.
“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed.
You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say.
Jungkook grins.
The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you.
Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her.
“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring.
“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time.
Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon.
“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation.
“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on.
“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”
You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway.
“Jungkook walked me home?”
“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”
“No,” you say dumbly.
“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”
“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”
“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”
“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”
“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”
“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”
“Anything else, Mom?”
You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”
She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon.
Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing.
“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him.
“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”
“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison.
“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”
“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”
Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”
You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”
Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better.
“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed.
Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night.
Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”
“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”
“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing.
And that means a lot to you.
“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”
“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests.
You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”
He grins.
This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers.
When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good.
“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.
“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”
“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”
“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”
“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”
“You should know what I like by now,” you remark.
“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door.
The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to.
“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats.
“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes.
“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”
“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”
“How generous of you.”
“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”
“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”
“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply.
You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”
Jungkook likes the sound of that.
Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together.
Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.
“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours.
“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables.
“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out.
“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”
“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”
He smiles.
Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other.
He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it.
You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while.
The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand.
It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination.
“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register.
“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”
“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home.
You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air.
The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.
Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point.
“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”
“What, the project?”
Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”
You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”
“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”
“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes.
Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”
The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.
“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”
“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations.
“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says.
You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”
“This.”
Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends.
But he need not worry about that.
When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain.
“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other.
“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you.
“You scored,” you remind him.
“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”
“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his.
“Never.” He smiles wickedly.
It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce.
“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever.
Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice.
“Anytime.”
“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side.
“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it.
“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”
“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.
Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall.
“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss.
You send him one back without even needing to think.
Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting.
Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand.
“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start.
“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly.
You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”
“Excellent. Shall we begin?”
You and Jungkook nod.
“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”
“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned.
“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”
“Always,” you say.
Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”
You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you.
“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”
“How gentlemanly.”
Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”
Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.
“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”
“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”
Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”
You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”
“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”
You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”
“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”
“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”
“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”
“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”
“You both seem very happy.”
“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”
“Jungkook?”
“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.
“Are you glad you did this project?”
Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”
“You seem really certain about that.”
“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”
“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”
“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”
“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”
“The ends of your hair look like hay—”
“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”
“Who, me?”
“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”
“Are you gonna say it?”
“And so… they lived happily ever after.”
You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night.
Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you.
“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation.
“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”
“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”
“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”
Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?
You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out.
“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got.
“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door.
“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”
“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”
“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”
“Pollack!”
She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her.
“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”
“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”
Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”
Your mouth drops open.
She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”
“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”
She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”
Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up.
“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can.
“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised.
“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly.
“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway.
“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”
“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production.
“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”
“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”
“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously.
“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”
You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?
“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen.
“How long have you known?”
He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”
You did?
Shit.
“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”
“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”
“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”
“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”
“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”
“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”
“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”
“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out.
“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”
“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand.
You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”
“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”
“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”
“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”
“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”
“Wait, Y/N—”
“Bye, Jungkook.”
The door slams shut behind you.
“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”
Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix.
“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”
“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”
“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”
You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit.
“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”
“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”
“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”
You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night.
“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”
“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons.
“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”
You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?
“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”
Ruby cheers.
You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play.
It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself.
You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.
The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right.
He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him.
The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice.
You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you.
Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real.
You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place.
Scoffing, you shake your head. You either.
The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over.
You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat.
The truth is, you were always a goner for him.
And look how well that played out.
By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight.
The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table.
“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop.
“Did you like it?”
“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”
Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur.
Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”
“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good.
“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”
You frown. “It did?”
“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”
“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.
“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”
Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy.
Hope.
Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve.
Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much.
Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you.
It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end.
You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside.
“You’re just too good to be true…”
“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”
You freeze.
The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side.
“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”
“I wanna hold you so much…”
“At long last, love has arrived…”
“And I thank God I’m alive…”
Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it?
It’s yours, too.
You pull open the door.
“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”
But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him.
“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”
“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”
He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.
“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”
Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”
“And let me love you, baby…”
From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you.
“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you.
You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?
“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful.
“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”
“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”
“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”
“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”
Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”
“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.
He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”
You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”
Jungkook obliges without a second thought.
There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby.
No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.
He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now.
A brand new frame.
When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.
“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now.
“Well, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”
You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie.
Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back.
“Yes,” you declare proudly.
And so, they lived happily ever after.
↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!
#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenario#jungkook scenario#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#bts au#jungkook au#jungkook college au#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#w: the art of the rom com#dudes this fic is so long my keyboard is lagging HAHAHA
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