#i may or may not use these exact words in an upcoming fic
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not to be me, but did anyone else notice the colors of their shirts here?
akk is in orange; he is the sun. he is bright, and stunning, and ever so lonely. the world looks to him in admiration, but he remains unreachable, inexplicable.
ayan is in black; he is the moon. he is diligent, and unseen, oh-so-secretive. he carries the burden of the earth on his shoulders, and he is the only person who can understand the loneliness of the sun.
and here, they are together. they are huddled, clinging onto one another as if they have no one else. because who would understand the sun and the moon apart from themselves?
they are together, and they are the eclipse.
#errorkey.exe#the eclipse#the eclipse the series#akkayan#akk x ayan#i really do have too many thoughts about them#were the shirt colors entirely intentional? maybe not#will i still proceed to read into them far too much? definitely#this is part 1 of 83782 in-depth analysis pieces i have for this scene#i may or may not use these exact words in an upcoming fic#so if you see them: look away <3
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Oops?
➥ In which the child!reader suspects Billy and Stu as the new Woodsboro killers and starts snooping. Fortunately, what she finds instead is much much better than murder! {ft. mentions of serial killers, child!reader, fem!reader, Big Brother Stu™}
Requested ~ yes / no [prompt - Can you do a platonic fic with no Ghostface where Stu has an adopted sibling who’s 12-13 years old and she watches a news report about murderers traveling around their city/town/state (that’s not ghostface) and a physical description is given that sounds an awful lot like Stu and Billy so reader starts freaking out and overhearing suspicious conversations between stu and billy, and walking in on suspicious moments, but it turns out they were planning for reader’s upcoming birthday and the suspicious conversations were taken completely out of context, and there’s a happy ending and stuff. This was originally sent in an ask, but I accidentally deleted it 😭] || Word Count ~ 916 words
Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @itzlovelyautumn
Before anyone else in your household was awake, you were already downstairs with a bag of cereal in one hand and the TV remote in the other. This was the only time you were able to watch your shows before your big brother and his friend swooped down like hawks and wrestled for the remote.
You were originally only planning to watch your cartoons, but as you were switching through the channels, you noticed a news report that caught your eye.
You recognized Gale Weathers from the show your brother always watched. “We’re getting reports of increased activity from the Woodsboro killer. Late last night, a family of four were found dead in their home. No suspects have been publicly listed, but we have acquired a description of the killer.”
You scooted forward in the seat, attention now fully on the television. Your bag of cereal lay forgotten on the couch beside you. In the weeks that this new killer had been active, you’d only heard Billy and Stu’s whispered conversations behind closed doors. This was the most you’d learned about the Woodsboro psychopath since he killed the first family.
“The killer is around 6 feet tall and has short, blond hair. He may act eccentric at times and we believe he may have a much smarter companion.”
You froze, your stomach dropping to your toes. That was nearly an exact description of your big brother. You heard him and Billy moving around upstairs and quickly switched the channel, heart still pounding.
“Good morning!” Stu sang, seemingly oblivious to your panicked state. “How’d you sleep?”
Just as you’d predicted, he plucked the remote out of your hands, surprised that he was met with none of your usual resistance. He cocked his head at you, but you just shrugged and stood up, moving to the kitchen so eavesdrop.
Satisfied that you were gone and couldn’t hear him and Billy, who’d sat down across from him wordlessly, Stu began talking. “And you’re sure she’ll be gone for when we do it? We can’t have her accidentally walking in on us and ruining the whole thing.”
You could hear Billy answer, voice infused with exasperation. “Yes, Stu. She’s gonna be gone. We’d already arranged it, remember?”
“Yeah, okay. And you’ll have a knife?”
There was a moment of silence and so you assumed Billy had nodded. You covered your mouth with your hand, slowly sneaking away to the upstairs. It was them. Your big brother and his best friend were the Woodsboro killers.
You curled in the corner of your room, contemplating what to do next. Do you call the police? Do you tell your friends? All too soon, Stu came upstairs to tell you that it was time for your playdate with your friends.
You begrudgingly stood and followed him out the door, hesitating to hug him back when he dropped you off. “What’s wrong?”
Stu had caught on to your recent distrust of him, and you shook your head and shrugged, ignoring his question and running into your friend’s house.
Stu shrugged, driving to the store and picking up a few things. Your gift, some wrapping paper, tape, and a card for your upcoming birthday. He checked the time, cursing under his breath and hurriedly wrapping your gift and signing your card from both him and Billy. Maybe he shouldn’t have spent half an hour flirting with the cashier.
He came and picked you up, wondering at the strange silence that enveloped the car ride home. Usually you were bubbly and talkative, telling exaggerated stories from the games you and your friends played that day. He thought nothing of it, however, and pulled up to your guys’ house. Before he unlocked the car doors, however, he handed you your present to unwrap.
You looked confused, taking it and asking him what it was for. You hesitantly began to unwrap it.
“It’s for your birthday, silly!” Stu laughed. “Don’t tell me you forgot!”
You laughed with him, forgetting about your suspicions for a moment. “I forgot,” you admitted.
You opened the gift to see the new car set that you’d been wanted for a while. You gasped and yelled, thanking your brother profusely. You both got out of the car, you clutching onto your new toy and babbling excitedly about your day. Any suspicions you had about him were gone. At least for now.
You entered your home, grinning from ear to ear when you saw Billy, your parents, and your best friends waiting with more gifts. You laughed, hugging Billy first, then your parents, then Stu again. You ran off with your friends, laughing and playing.
Soon, it was time for cake and presents, and when you ran cheerfully into the kitchen, you saw Billy brandishing a knife for the cake, and the suspicious conversation you’d overheard earlier suddenly made a lot more sense.
You laughed to yourself and how quickly your imagination had gotten the better of you. Stu came over to you, a slice of cake in his hands for you. “What are you laughing about?”
“Well, this morning, I saw the news that said what the Woodsboro killers looked like and it was an almost exact description of you and Billy, and then I heard you guys talking about a knife.”
“Oh my God,” Stu said after a moment of silence. “What the hell?”
You smiled up at him, glad to see that he wasn’t really made and just joking with you. “Oops?”
#billy loomis scream#scream#scream 1996#billy loomis#fluff#stu matcher imagine#stu matcher fluff#stu matcher#stu matcher scream
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Hi! First off, I want to say how awesome and well-organized this page is. I know how much work it must be to put it together. I do think that the word retired has an air of finality to it, like it's implied that the authors who appear on the retired authors list are done writing THG fics. But they might just have stuff going on in their lives or writers block and that's why they haven't updated in awhile. I feel like there might be some authors who won't enjoy finding themselves on that list. Anyway, thanks for hearing me out. I've enjoyed seeing all your posts.
Hello!
Thank you so much for your perspective! I can understand where this is coming from and did debate on what term to use for categorizing the authors, which is why I do put that note on the top of each masterlist noting the differences in categorization. I, in no way, meant to imply that these authors are never coming back into the writing game! I've seen writers take years off and come back into the writing game stronger than ever. I'm truly sorry if it came off that way.
I looked into a few other fandom blogs similar to this and noticed "retired" being a main word used for authors who haven't updated fics in a while but are active in the fandom or writing but from other fandoms. I've also seen the word "Hiatus" used and debated on that for a while. I'm always open to suggestions and comments like these, especially from authors as you are the individuals most directly affected by my word choices. I never intended to make authors feel upset and tried my best to use more inclusive terms. I chose not to do "inactive authors" series for this exact reason because I did not want someone to stumble upon the list and be hurt by it in some way.
Please continue to share your thoughts on how I can make this blog more inclusive of everyone in the fandom and how I can use my language in a better way for this specific series which is "a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year". Or let me know if the series should be terminated if the idea isn't a good one. I truly thought that by highlighting these authors it may help more people find them and perhaps inspire them to write again or at the very least have a nice few comments to discover one day. BUT if this series seems in poor taste please let me know!
As followers of the blog, or THG writers, I'd like your input on what that series should be called. I'll make the appropriate changes/edits to upcoming releases and past releases in accordance with the results of the poll.
I put the a week timer on the poll and will hold the remaining posts in that series until this poll closes and we decide on a new term as a community.
Again, I am so sorry if I offended or hurt anyone in the community. I strive to create an inclusive and friendly safe for everyone!
-Admin:e
#thg fanfiction#thg#admin:e#ask#i am truly sorry if I made anyone on that list feel bad about being on that list#I didn't intend for that and was simply thinking it'd be a good way to boost those authors up since they were still active#I thought by creating a series highlighting those authors it may shine light on their works and help them get inspired again#or at least have more nice comments to read about their works#again I am so sorry if i offended those on the list or any writer in general with my choice of words
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Lip Gallagher Imagine-You give him a pass for Valentine's for his sake, which he doesn't take.
Gif Credit-marlosrph
Those waiting for requests. I'm working on them, and I am still taking them. Hope you enjoy this short Lip fic. It's a mix of the usual fluff and angst can't help myself 🤭. To everyone, Happy Valentines, spread that love!
If ya'll wouldn't mind, my new chapter to my Pietro story so check it out, or you can start from the beginning. Thanks. Chapter 7- Flourishing
You and Lip are dating. It hasn’t been that long, but it just took time to get together. You love to see all these cute things that have been done for valentines to your friends and random people. However, you haven’t made a big deal about it. You aren't expecting Lip to do anything. Lip was too smart not to notice your behavior however Therefore, he’d bring it up to you.
You were at your apartment about to eat, but you were just waiting for the oven, and you decided to wash the dirty dishes. You felt Lip’s eyes on you, and you turned to him and asked, “What is it?”
“What are we doing next week?”
“Next week?” You look away from him, and he insists, “Next week.”
“I don’t know. I barely know what we're eating for dinner tonight.”
“You know what next week is…”
“Do I?” He couldn’t help an agitation rise in him, so he inevitably asked, “Why haven’t you been nagging me?”
“Nagging you?”
“Yeah. Why haven’t you said anything about the upcoming holiday?”
“You mean Valentines?” You say trying to act uninterested and focused on the nothing that was on your hands. He walks up and holds your hands. You looked up at him as he softly said, “Yeah…”
“Lip, we don’t have to think about that or worry about it.” You brushed it off, and you moved away from him to do dishes. He followed you, and he countered, “Why is that?”
“Too much pressure…” You shrugged.
“On us?”
“Well, yes, but more-”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’ll crumple if I have to get you something?”
“I wouldn’t put it in those exact words, but…yeah... It’s taken us a long time to get where we are, and I don't want it to be ruined. Especially not over something that is supposed to be a loving day. It’s just too much.” He shook his head at you and asked, “Have you been thinking about that a while now?”
“Yeah. It’s hard for me not to think about…Look, we don't have to make it a big deal.” You wrap your arms around his waist and give him a sweet peck as you continue, “We can just be us because it's all we need.” He removes your arms from him and puts distance between you before saying, “Fine. We won’t do anything…In fact, let’s not even see each other. That’s too much pressure!” He huffs and strides off and out of your place.
You called out, “Lip!…”
Lip huffed and puffed as he aggressively got into the house, got a beer, and landed roughly on the couch. Ian walked over while still chewing on chips and asked, “What’s up?”
“Stupid holidays!” Ian rolled his eyes and asked, “What happened?” Lip takes a big swig before sitting up straight and whining, “Y/N basically called me a child. They were saying I can’t handle a simple Valentines. How stupid is that? As if that would put pressure on us…”
“Y/N may have had a point by the way you're acting now. You do look and sound like a child.”
“Shut up.”
“Dude, you act like Y/N tries to upset you. Anyway, do you know your own history?”
“Yeah. I was dating and fucking left and right. Y/N knows that. They don’t judge that.”
“Another good point for Y/N. Lip, you're an idiot. I mean sure it could be a little offensive…”
“A little?”
“Maybe a lot but come on…It’s Y/N we’re talking about. They were doing this for you I assume. I mean you're the idiot that kept them from being with you for so long. They are still thinking of you in their Y/N ways.”
“Y/N ways are so confusing.”
“They wouldn’t be Y/N if not for their sweet logic.” Lip sighs and questions, “How did you just make all of this make sense?”
“I’d like to say I’ve grown a bit. Now, let’s get back to the annoying smart Lip, huh?” Lip stands and says, “You little-”, before he starts playfully chasing Ian.
You were at your apartment when you heard the door knock. You opened it reluctantly. There stood Lip in a suit with flowers, chocolates, and a giant basket full of sweet things. You give him a small smile. He gives one back, and he says, “I’m really sorry-” He struggled to hold everything in his hands and bounced the things in his hands to keep them held. As he speaks, he continues to struggle, “I should not have-left-just left like I did yesterday. I’m a dick.” You nod.
“What else to say? Uh-I-” Your face turns serious as you state, “That’s enough.”
“What? Not enough?” You step forward and frame his face before pulling him in by the tie for a kiss. He drops the basket and chocolates and wraps his arms around you with the flowers still in his hand. Against his lips, you joke, “You kinda overdid it.” He laughed against your lips and answered, “You deserve nothing but the best so-Did my best.” You pull away from each other, and you say, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have made that decision for you.”
“I understand why though, so it’s behind us. Now, you just let me take the reins on Valentines.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Valentine's Day is still days away, so I’m gonna plan that. This was just a pre-gesture.”
“There’s more.”
“There is.” Y/N looked at the basket on the ground and noticed a little card. Lip goes red, and it reads, “Get well soon, Lauren.” Lip looks down. You tell him, “Guess we have Lauren and the poor sap that gave this to her to thank too.” You both laugh and Lip gets all the things inside your apartment before picking you up slightly and dragging you inside. You were a bit surprised and asked, “Pulling out a ll the gestures, huh? What’s next bridal style carrying.”
“Don’t know. I just wanted to get you in here to make out. You kissed me once yesterday, and I’m not okay with that, so-” He pulled you in close as you fell onto the couch and made out for a good while as you were happy things could end blissful for once.
Hope your day got better
Lip Gallagher Masterlist
Full Masterlist
#lip gallagher one shot#lip gallagher imagines#lip gallagher x reader#lip gallagher imagine#lip gallagher fanfiction#shameless fluff#shameless imagine#shameless masterlist#shamelessus#shameless#imagines#imagine#x reader#angst#fluff#reader insert#gender neutral imagine#gn reader#lip gallagher x y/n#lip gallagher x you#one shot#lip gallagher preference#lip gallagher#perference#lip gallagher angst#lip gallagher fluff#valentines#valentines day
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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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Cowboy in shining armor
Rick Flag x Reader (University AU)
A/N: May or may not be manifesting my dreams of knowing a hot military guy…🤭 As always, enjoy and like/comment/reblog if you can! (I assumed that Rick’s from Texas hehe)
Genre: PG-13
Warnings: Stalking, creepy assholes (OC). Profanities, cursing. My horrible description of action sequences. Blood. Long ass fic.
(Potentially using the same gifs but hey, can you blame me for this fine looking man?)
***
Rick slumps against the chair, done with the book in front of him. If he had to look at another military strategy or memorize god knows how many tactics for his upcoming exam… he would throw himself out the exam room.
He checks his watch. It was half an hour before midnight. Rick wasn’t even studious. But with a scholarship on the line, he had to give himself a chance to grab it.
Staring around the library, he notices that he was one of the last few. Then, he sees you. He had seen you around often, but could never have a proper conversation. Like him, you were also grinding hard - making sure that you didn’t miss out a single detail on your notes.
However, one of his close friends had a a connection with you. To be exact, he never saw you leaving Cleo Cazo’s side whenever she wasn’t with them. And he didn’t know at that time what a feat it was, considering you had mostly kept to yourself for the past three years.
Who could blame you? You didn’t want to be involved in all the unnecessary drama. Your life was colorful enough. You had a loving family and a tight circle of friends whom you dared to call sisters from another mother. You were happy. Your goal was to graduate peacefully and find work as a social worker.
But for now, your energy was completely maxed out. Rick sees you shove your books and laptop into your bag, making your way out of the library. The campus was a safe place, but he just wanted to make sure. Anyways, it gave him excuse to stop studying for the day.
He didn’t want to be a creep, but today his sixth sense was particularly strong. Telling him to wait. So he does. Less than ten minutes in, he understands what his senses were trying to tell him.
A hooded figure was tailing you. Rick estimates that the stalker was a few inches shorter than him. Squinting his eyes, he sees the university logo splashed on the hoodie, with the words ‘Military Science Department’ printed in bold. Hell no, he thinks. Which bastard was crazy enough to do such a terrifying act in the middle of the night?
Looks like he was about to find out.
Keeping a respectable distance, he prays that you don’t walk into a dark alley. He does not want to intervene - Rick could imagine the barrage of questions if he had to. You live here? You were at the library too?
You were following me?
So he continues to follow.
Rick thanks his lucky stars that your student residence that you were staying at was well lit, with several students lounging at the benches. He sees you wave to a girl, belatedly realizing that it was Cleo who was waiting for you to come back. Another thing, another person to thank for.
He wanted to know you better but Rick had uncovered something dark. Rick wasn’t even an acquaintance of yours, so why did he care?
Rick decides that it is safe to leave you, tailing the stalker who apparently has the same thoughts as him.
He’s going to find out who the crazy motherfucker is. With a little help of course.
***
‘Cleo!’
‘Rick! You’re up early,’ Cleo waves, removing her headphones. Rick does a double take and sees that she’s holding a cage with her dearest pet rat Sebastian and her satchel slung over her shoulder.
‘Let me help you with that,’ he takes the cage gently, careful not to rattle it. ‘You got a minute to spare?’
‘Sure, I only need to me Professor Rawling at the Veterinary Department at ten.’ Cleo beckons him to sit on an empty bench. ‘What’s this about?’
He then tells Cleo about yesterday, from start to finish. Rick observes that her expression changes from curiosity to anger. Cleo breathes out heavily, hesitant to let out whatever’s on her mind.
‘Cleo,’ Rick doesn’t want to pry but he thinks about last night. ‘Is someone following her?’
The girl chews on her bottom lip before nodding. ‘She told me about this a week ago. Said she suspected that someone was following her but didn’t have enough evidence. I told her to tell the school but she wanted to wait it out. Something about getting evidence to nab this guy.’ Cleo pauses.
‘But?’
‘He has been tricky to catch,’ Cleo finishes. ‘Rick, I’m scared for her. I can only do so much by waiting for her outside. But if she gets…’ she trails off, unable to continue. Rick has heard enough. He doesn’t tell her his suspicions that the guy in question may be from his department.
Rick wants to protect you. But the question was how?
An idea pops into his head.
‘Hey Cleo…’
***
‘Sorry I’m late!’ You greeted your best friend before turning to the rest of the group. ‘Sorry, was held up in ethics class. Nice to meet you! Cleo has told me a lot about you guys.’
‘Only good things I hope,’ Robert Dubois gruffly greets you back, taking a swig of his beer.
When you had came back from the school gym, Cleo had somehow managed to convince you to meet her other group of friends that she knew during freshman year.
‘Please?’
‘You know how I feel about meeting new people Cleo.’
‘I promise they’re good people! If they annoy you, you don’t have to meet them anymore.’
Sebastian squeaks from his cage, as if supporting Cleo.
‘Fine!’
Okay. So there was some truth about your hesitance in meeting new people. But this was slightly different. One reason involving an attractive 6’1 blonde whose accent you just can’t seem to get out of your head.
Not that you have had a good conversation with him. Every time he was headed in your direction, you would conveniently excuse yourself much to Cleo’s confusion. This time would be different, Rick tells himself.
‘Hiya! Harleen Quinzel from Psycholgy Department!’ Another girl with a pale complexion reaches her hand out for you to shake. ‘But ya can call me Harley!’ She laughs out loud, heads from the other tables turning to their small group. Cleo gives you a significant look. Not like she didn’t warn you of the rather eccentric but intelligent girl.
You were then introduced to a rather reserved guy who was majoring in Design - Abner Krill and another classmate of Robert’s who couldn’t seem to stop bantering with him - Christopher Smith. Finally, you were introduced to a familiar face.
‘I believe we’ve met before,’ the charming Rick Flag extends a hand, wrapping his large ones around yours. ‘Just didn’t get a chance to talk to you.’
‘Oh yeah… sorry about that. Was a little busy.’
‘No worries,’ he pulls a chair out for you, inviting you to sit down. It was a simple gentlemanly action that should have meant nothing. But maybe the lack of gentlemen in your life was the cause of your heart being annoyingly loud.
Rick decides to start the conversation. ‘So… Cleo told me a bit about you before. You interested in working with correctional services?’
Usually, you hated small talk. Not now. You were thankful that Rick was taking the lead on this conversation and was so damn good at it too. As time passed, you found more things in common with the suave Texan who was trying to grab a scholarship to further his studies and serve his country with honor one day.
‘Well,’ you felt light from the alcohol. ‘I really do hope you get what you want Rick.’ He stares at your pink cheeks with eyes slightly unfocused. God, you were adorable.
However, he had more important things on his mind now. Like that creep who was a few tables away from them. Time to kick the plan into motion.
***
Waving goodbye to your new friends, you stumbled slightly with the help of Cleo.
‘Geez. Just because Rick was there you decided to let loose huh?’ Your friend teased you, causing to turn your red cheeks positively tomato.
‘I did not! I simply just-’ You lost your words, thinking about the past few hours with him. Rick was caring, affectionate and respectful. What’s not to like?
Hah, have you seen him with others? He’s like a god. Do you not see the tons of girls who are eyeing him. How could he possibly like someone ordinary like you? You who barely have friends!
‘Hello? Anyone in there?’ Cleo taps your head jokingly , chuckling as you swatted it away. ‘He’s out of my league Cleo,’ you tell her. ‘He’s Mr Popular and I’m Ms I-like-to-be-alone.’ The last few words had came out in a slur.
Before Cleo could say anything, you both could hear movement from behind. Trying her best not to jerk you around violently, Cleo turns, face to face with the bastard who’s been following you.
‘I should have know,’ a snarl that you never knew was possible came out from your friend. ‘Arthur Bishop. Your in Rick and Robert’s year.’
The figure steps out of the darkness, not acknowledging nor denying her statement. ‘Took you long enough.’ Truth was his bulky frame had intimidated Cleo, but she forced herself to remain calm.
‘Where are the rest?’ Cleo stays silent.
‘Thought golden boy would have taken her back home but guess he’s more stupid than I thought.’ His predatory gaze could burn a hole through your skull, so Cleo steps in between the two of you.
‘Why have you been following my friend?’
Arthur removes his hood, black orbs glittering dangerously. ‘Are you seriously asking me that?’ Cleo returns him a defiant stare.
‘I like - no, I love her. But I’m not stupid. I could see she only had eyes for that fucker,’ Arthur seethes as he thinks of Rick. ‘Simple. He took away the top spot from me so I’ll take her.’
‘What you’re doing is wrong.’ As if reasoning with the asshole would work. ‘Rick didn’t take the spot away from you! He earned it!’ Cleo knew what he was referring to - scores for the previous semesters that would determine which few would claim the prized scholarships.
‘Is it? IS IT!’ Arthur strides over before stumbling back a few feet from your well aimed kick to his insides. You had regained a bit of your balance, allowing you to know what the hell was going on.
‘So it was you. You followed me! You sick fuck!’ The brief moment of being sober was replaced by a spinning image of Arthur recovering from your kick.
‘Bitch! Might as well…’ The look in his eye told Cleo that the man was beyond reasoning. He had went full on insane. Lumbering over the two of you, he raises his hands, ready to strike Cleo first to take you out cold.
A hand easily grabs Arthur’s thick arms out of nowhere. ‘Now there lad! Didn’t your mom tell you it’s not nice to hit a lady?’ Robert appears from the shadows, tightening his grip on him. But Arthur wasn’t an easy individual.
Wrangling out of his grasp, Arthur aims for Robert’s face, only to have his wrist twisted. A piercing scream emitting from the former, he decides that it’s no good to bang his head on a wall he couldn’t break.
He sees you and Cleo at the side of all the action. Picking up an abandoned brick, he charges at your unsuspecting frame.
‘MOTHERFUCKER!’ Rick kicks him in the back, throwing Arthur onto the pavement. Rick was boiling mad. He wanted to smash his smug face onto the granite surface - hell he wanted to kill this guy for the fear that he gave you.
‘If you had something against me, grow some fucking balls and fight me instead,’ Rick is tapping onto his limited self-control not to rip this guy apart. He had to give it to Arthur though who was trying to stretch the limits of his patience. For a good reason.
Any acts of misdemeanor would automatically remove one’s chances from the scholarship.
Rick’s mind was churning with ideas. He wanted to make sure that the blasted asshole in front of him didn’t go anywhere within a meter near you. But this guy didn’t take no for an answer.
THUNK!
Arthur’s body crumpled like a piece of paper onto the floor. Rick sees a bat in mid air, held by none other than Harley.
‘Harley-’
‘That’s for hurting my new friend JACKASS!’ She emphasized as if Arthur’s unconscious form could listen to a word she said.
Robert steps up together with Christopher (where did he come from?), each taking Arthur’s arms. ‘Don’t worry Flag, we got it from here. Make sure he doesn’t hurt her.’
Rick nods, unable to move for a moment as he processes what just happened. Cleo snaps him out of his thoughts, handing you over to him.
‘I’ll follow them Rick, just to make sure that things don’t get to overboard. Help me look after her okay? I’ll see you back in our room in two hours.’ Cleo winks, following Harley who was still coming down from the highs of whacking someone out cold.
‘Relax mate. Go get her.’ Robert leaves with his parting words before dragging the dead weight like a bag of rice.
Then, it was just you and him out in the cold and dark night. Rick looks at the keys that Cleo had passed him.
‘Rick! You’re ok.’ You look at him, hands on his chest as you stated the obvious. He knew it was a well meaning gesture, but his mind betrayed him.
Why did you have to be this cute?
He chuckles, squatting down for you to get a piggyback. ‘Yeah darlin’ I’m alright. Now get up here, I’m taking you back.’ Rick figures that there was no way you could walk on your own with that much alcohol in your system.
‘You supposed to be my knight in shining armor or what?’ You giggle, unaware of his small smile.
‘Something like that I guess.’
***
Rick finds himself waiting outside while you take a warm shower. He can’t help it but his eyes scan the room that you and Cleo shared.
Like Cleo, your area gave a certain warmth and uniqueness that screamed… you.
At the corner of the room, you had an oak shelf that held various books of different genres. Non-fiction to fiction, thriller to romance. He sees figurines standing proudly on the shelf, each one special from the other. And he finally lays his eyes on a huge Patrick Star stuffed toy on your bed.
‘It helps me to sleep better at night.’ He turns around to see you dressed in pajamas. ‘If you were wondering what a twenty something year old woman was doing with a plush toy.’ You waited for a snarky reply that never came.
Rick raises his hands up in defense. ‘I was going to say it was cute actually. May I?’ He refers to Patrick who was staring at him. You nod.
He raises it up, giving a curious glance, before hugging it himself. ‘You’re right, it’s comforting.’
You move to the kitchen, realizing that in the midst of getting yourself to sober up, you have been a horrible host. You pass Rick a mug of water, pouring yourself one too.
‘Thank you Rick. It’s not every day that I have friends willing to stick themselves out for me.’
Friends. Rick’s throat was feeling dry, so he takes another sip of water again. Silence takes over the room again, apart from the kettle that was boiling water.
‘Glad we could help. You know, I’ve seen you a lot at the library lately,’ Rick carefully treaded the lines. To be honest, you saw him as well but decided to play the clueless card. ‘Yeah? You there as well?’
‘Yeah. Gotta study.’ Rick chuckles nervously. Here goes nothing, he thinks. ‘That’s why that prick was involved.’
You place your mug down, knowing where he was going with this. You were drunk earlier, but you weren’t dead to the world.
‘Rick, it’s not your fault.’ You held your breath, wondering if you should tell him. After all, he saved you from that slime ball. What could go wrong? At most, a rejection. Little did you know that Rick had heard the whole conversation before he slugged Arthur good.
Poor guy was just trying to find his words. To tell you how he felt.
‘I have something to tell you!’ You both went at the same time, breaking out into fits of laughter.
‘You first.’
‘No you go ahead.’
The liquid courage had boosted your confidence, eliminating any after thoughts or any ‘what ifs’.
‘I like you Rick. I really like you.’ There, you said it. Closing your eyes, you just hoped that it was a dream. For a good moment, you thought the silence meant the worst. Then, you felt the bed move.
Opening your eyes, you find yourself inches away from him. There were no traces of horror or anything that you thought ruined your chances, just pure joy. His comes closer to you, sending butterflies down to your stomach.
‘It sounds crazy but… I like you too.’
Yeap, you were positive you were dreaming and that there was alcohol still in your system.
‘I’m flattered Rick. But how could you possibly be attracted to someone like me?’
His suspicions are confirmed with your doubts. You probably saw him with the thousands of girls clamoring to get a view or snag a date with him. But what you didn’t know was that they weren’t real. Rick thinks about the time where bloody Christopher had forced him and Robert out on a triple date to the nearby neighborhood that was highly popular with students.
Rick didn’t forget how he had to sound out the girl’s (whose name he couldn’t even remember) obnoxious tone while pretending he was listening to what she had to say. Something about the icky feeling of dogs? Her words, not his.
As he stares out of the Italian restaurant, he sees you. From the looks of it, you had just finished a run and was dropping by the Korean chicken joint to grab dinner. Walking towards the university with the food in hand, he sees you almost being tackled by a large Labrador, laughing as the dog sniffs your bag desperately. Giving a few belly rubs to the lovable dog, you thanked the owner and continued on your way.
How he wished he was out there instead of being stuck here. Although you mostly kept to yourself, he could sense that you had a larger than life personality.
One that he needed.
‘Because you’re real.’ Rick tells you seriously. ‘Ever since I saw you with Cleo, I’ve always wanted to talk to you but for some reason, you seem to run away from me?’
You tried your best to keep a straight face. ‘Right… sorry Rick. I didn’t mean to but, you’re really popular and I don’t do well with crowds and… UGH!’ You went for your hair feeling frustrated only to be stopped by Rick.
‘Hey hey,’ he takes your hands into his. ‘Being popular? That means for shit in the real world. The thing is, I’m dead set on going to the military when I graduate. So I need someone who will be with me and accept me for who I am. They can’t do that.’
You look at his hand that had yet to leave yours. Somehow, it felt right.
‘Rick?’
‘Yeah?’ For the first time in his life, he was scared shitless. He was going to be a gentleman no matter the outcome but he really wanted you.
Leaning forward, you placed your lips on his before staring back into his green eyes, waiting for a reaction. He places his hand at the crook of your neck, bringing you to him again. This time, you sit on his lap, deepening the kiss.
Rick leans back slightly, back almost touching the bed-
‘Bloody hell!’
The two of you break away at the speed of light, seeing Cleo who was giddy with excitement, accompanied by Robert - covered in… blood?
‘Come on Rick! Professor wants to see us.’ Robert turns to you, ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.’
Rick mouths that he would see you tomorrow morning before being ushered out by a disapproving Robert. Before the door had closed, you could hear the two of them arguing.
‘Would you keep it in your pants Flag!’
‘Would you kindly shut up?’
***
The next morning, you hear from Cleo that dodgy Arthur Bishop was severely dealt with by the Military Science board. You didn’t know how they did their punishments but you didn’t care.
Robert and Christopher were surprisingly quiet the next evening when you met the group but Harley was willing to spill a few beans. Something about Robert threatening to castrate his insides so expertly that no one would hear a thing coming from the room he was held captive in. You realize that the well-built duo were nice, but could get ugly if they wanted too.
Making a mental note to never get on their bad side, you lean into Rick with his shoulders around you as he lazily nurses his bottle of beer.
‘You good baby?’
‘Yeah,’ you reassure him. ‘Thank you. This means a lot.’
He decides not to push further. Besides, this was a day to enjoy. He brings you closer to him, taking a swig from his bottle while listening to Robert and Christopher’s banter.
It was mildly hilarious how you were dead set on finishing your degree quietly - instead trouble had a knack for finding you. At first, you thought you could handle it alone and didn’t need anyone. But when things got a little out of control, the most unexpected group of friends came to your aid readily.
It wasn’t how you envisioned making friends but you didn’t mind at all.
And you certainly didn’t mind the fine cowboy that you snagged.
Your cowboy in shining armor.
[END]
***
A/N: This is the longest I ever written for any character so if you read till here, THANK YOU. This just went from butt kicking to rom com? My mind has combusted lol so do excuse me heh.
Tags: @loverhymeswith @torchbearerkyle @lacontroller1991 @weallhaveadestiny
#rick flag x reader fluff#rick flag x reader#rick flag fanfiction#the suicide squad#university au#joel kinnaman#rick flag
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annoyances and nosebleeds
Summary: In which you really hate Tōru Oikawa (or, more accurately, the time you realized that may not be entirely true).
A/N: this is my first haikyuu fic, so pls be very gentle with me! let me know what you think!
If there was one thing you knew with utmost certainty, it was that Tōru Oikawa was the single most annoying person you’d ever met.
Not only did his gaggle of fangirls make you late for class at least once a week, blocking nearly the entire hallway as they giggled and whispered among themselves about who was giving Oikawa a present this time, but the boy himself was arguably more obnoxious— if that was even humanly possible.
He was aggravating and smug, always teasing you about his higher grades and poking and prodding at you for being single. So what if maybe, sometimes— on very rare occasions— you found his smile kinda cute in a “I want to punch him in the face” sort of way? You hated him and no amount of charm was ever going to solve that.
Right?
Your heart raced as your teacher worked through the list of partnerships for an upcoming project, leg bouncing restless as you waited, breath caught in your throat. As you heard your name being called, you prayed to whoever would listen that you wouldn’t end up with him.
Across the room, Oikawa was working through a similar internal monologue. He hated you in equal measure, that much was true. He hated your stick-in-the-mud attitude and the way you rubbed your grades in his face. He hated the way you glared at him and his fangirls in the hallways or the way you made a point of congratulating Iwa-chan on volleyball wins, but refused to do the same for him.
He hated the confident lilt in your voice when you contributed something in class and the bright, almost blinding, light of your smile as you laughed with your friends at lunch. Well, maybe ignore that last part. Oikawa hated you. Plain and simple.
“... you will be working with Oikawa.”
Oikawa heard Iwaizumi and Makki snickering at the news, sending him teasing glances as they joked about his bad luck. Oh, if looks could kill.
Meanwhile, you’d decided that today, and the next two weeks where you’d be subjected to Oikawa’s company, was about to be the lowest point of your life. You couldn’t wait.
The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of an incredibly long day, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Oikawa sauntered over to your desk, teasing smirk already on his face.
This was gonna be good.
“It seems the tides of fate have blessed us both, hmm.” The way he spoke your name, tacking on a sarcastic honorific as he put on a front of sweetness, made your stomach churn.
“Trust me, Oikawa,” you bit back, closing your notebooks as you packed your things, “I don’t like this anymore than you do.”
He pouted, planting his hands on either side of your desk, leaning down to invade your line of vision, “I don’t know. I think you do. You are secretly in love with me, after all.”
He watched in amusement as your face contorted in disgust, “and lest we forget I am smarter than you.”
“Bold words from someone who took a volleyball to the face last week.” You refused to look at him, shoving the rest of your things in your bag in an attempt to make this conversation as short as possible.
Your words only seemed to spur him on though. You could practically hear the way he was smirking, the bastard. “Hey, I thought you said you don’t come to our practices with all of my… hmmm, what did you call them again? Fangirls, was it?”
As you zipped your bag, he leaned over again, this time successfully getting you to look at him, “Are you a fangirl?”
With a huff, you stood from your seat, brushing your shoulder against Oikawa’s as you moved towards the classroom door. “I would rather keel over and die, Oikawa. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He caught up with you quickly, falling into stride with you as he shot a hand up to grip at his chest, “You wound me. I don’t think I can possibly go on.”
“Good,” you spoke resolutely. “Listen, I don’t want to talk to you any longer than I have to, so let’s make this as painless as possible. Just meet me in the library when you get out of practice.”
Without so much as a backward glance, you clicked your locker shut and ventured off, completely ignoring the mocking words Oikawa threw your way, whining about how he could really feel the love from where he was standing. Asshole.
The first meeting went about as well as you’d expected, with Oikawa arriving well after when you knew volleyball ended, seemingly more interested in making you suffer than he was in actually getting work done.
“Will you quit it? I’m not carrying this whole thing because you’re too lazy to do anything.”
He had his head resting in his palm, eyes memorizing the little crease between your brows as you got more angry. He wasn’t really listening to you and you could tell.
Sighing, you pressed two fingers against the inner corners of your eyes. “I hate you. Have I told you that yet today?”
“You might’ve once or twice. Or a hundred times. I’ve started to lose count,” he replied with a playful smile.
The next few meetings carried on much the same. You met with Oikawa after volleyball practice, you would get about an hour of work done before he began picking on you again, doodling on your papers or teasing you about being in love with him, and then you’d go home and complain about him to your friends.
Your life fell into an incredibly mundane cycle— go to school, meet with Oikawa, go home, and do homework— day in and day out. Until one particularly bad day sent you reeling, in more ways than one. You’d woken up late, forgotten an assignment, failed a test, and that was only the beginning of a very long list of grievances. It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d been feeling the academic pressure for weeks; as if you had a storm cloud looming over you, invading your mind and making it harder and harder to work on your homework. You knew what needed to be done, but it never seemed like it was good enough, especially not today.
So, as you sat and waited for Oikawa’s practice to end, you allowed yourself to cry. Dark clouds usually meant rain, didn’t they? Hot, wet tears cascaded down your cheeks, slipping off your chin only to splatter across your papers, smearing the ink as they went. Furiously, you attempted to stop the flow, wiping tear after tear away until you finally resigned yourself to the pathetic mental image of what you must look like— alone, crying in some back corner of the library as you tried to muffle the hiccups that threatened to spill from your mouth.
In your flurry of emotions, you failed to hear the muffled thud of sneakers along the carpet.
“Hey,” a gentle voice called out, “you okay?”
Oikawa.
Bile slipped up the back of your throat at the idea of being caught by him, the sound of his voice nearly reinvigorating your tears as humiliation burned your skin. Barely able to muster the courage to speak, you simply nodded your head, wiping the remaining tears with the soft sleeve of your sweater.
Picking up your pen and completely ignoring the uneven sound of your voice, you began taking notes again. “Let’s just get to work.”
Oikawa was quick to sink into the seat across from you, mind reeling at what he’d just seen. His mouth fell open as he watched you, eyes still glassy, as your pen glided across your notebook.
You had just been crying. You didn’t really expect him to just carry on with the project, to just ignore the distress he’d walked in on, did you?
He gave you a hard time, pushing your buttons and making fun of you, but all along he’d assumed it was little more than hatred— physical and verbal manifestations of how frustrated he was that you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Now, with concern gripping at his chest after having seen you fall apart, he wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore.
“You’re not really about to act like nothing happened, are you?” A mirthless chuckle sounding from his throat, a tentative hand reaching out to stop your pen. “I know you think I’m an idiot, but this is downright insulting.”
“What do you want me to say, Oikawa? Don’t act like you’re some knight in shining armor after all this time.
Ow.
“I’m not heartless. Tell me what’s wrong.”
His words were short, leaving absolutely no room for debate. It was now or never.
“I’ve just felt a lot of academic pressure recently, that’s all.”
Oikawa nodded along and for once in his life, seemed to be genuinely listening to you. His hand hadn’t left yours.
“And?” He urged you to continue, leaning in slightly to take in your words.
“It’s just been a lot. I get good grades, sure, but it never seems good enough.”
Oikawa’s eyes widened, your words sounding all too familiar. He’d had these exact conversations with himself as he sat in front of his TV, watching volleyball footage over and over again. He was good, but there was always someone better. He knew how exhausting that could be, knew— too well — that nagging feeling of worthlessness despite hard work.
Maybe you weren’t so different after all.
“I feel like that sometimes too,” a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it squeeze of your hand, “maybe we can learn together.”
You didn’t respond, you weren’t sure you could. It was as if the entire image of Oikawa you’d crafted was crumbling, fragments of hatred tumbling to the sides to reveal, what you could only assume was the real him. And in this moment, though you’d never admit it, you were grateful.
You nodded, “I think I’d like that.”
Oikawa had to bite back a jest, some ridiculous passing comment about how he knew that you’d been in love with him all along, but he didn’t in favor of savoring the gentle smile you’d graced him with.
The rest of your little meetings were amenable and your encounters in the school hallways even more so. It wasn’t a complete 180, but it was definitely noticeable.
Your friends caught on to the shy smile on your face after Oikawa shot a wave in your direction and practically the entire volleyball team had seen Oikawa blush after he’d seen you at lunch one day. And both groups were going to get to the bottom of it if it killed them.
“You were at each other’s throats literally just last week,” your friend groaned, sending pieces of popcorn across the table and into your hair. “What the hell happened?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” your other friend piped in. “You actually considered going to volleyball practice the other day. You’ve never gone willingly.”
“And, you actually smiled at him in the hallway!”
You brought your voice down to a whisper, not wanting to be overheard talking about something so stupid, “I don’t like Oikawa. He’s annoying and full of himself. You guys are seeing things.”
They were unconvinced.
Oikawa hadn’t been faring much better.
“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi smirked, “you sure changed your tune.”
Oikawa rolled his eyes. “What’re you talking about?”
Iwaizumi pitched his voice up, a poor rendition of his best friend, “I can’t stand them Iwa-can~ How am I ever going to survive?” He dropped the act seconds later, elbowing the other player in the ribs, “Meanwhile you actually seem to enjoy doing this project with them.”
Makki and Mattsun laughed along before Mattsun interjected, “Don’t forget the blush!”
“Oh,” Makki howled, “how could we forget? He looked like a pink highlighter.”
All Oikawa could do was huff. “I don’t like them.”
And boy was he wrong.
With the project coming to an end, Oikawa laid awake, staring at his ceiling as he thought about how exactly he’d spend his time now that you weren’t meeting with him in the library every afternoon. Would you keep hanging out? Would you come to his games? What if you stopped smiling at him in school, returning to the bitter back-and-forths that had been so common before?
Oikawa shot up in bed, chest heaving and eyes wide. He liked you.
Oh no.
Across town, cuddled under the comforter in your own bedroom, you thought about Oikawa— as you had been most nights since you became partners. As your mind wandered, you realized that by now, you’d memorized the color of his eyes and that you could decipher exactly which of his smiles were genuine and which weren’t. You smiled as you thought about the feeling of your hand in his, about how warm his skin had felt against your own.
Your heart was in your throat. You were heading down a point of no return, one in which only humiliation awaited you. You liked Tōru Oikawa.
How cruel.
On your walk to school the following day, you’d decided that avoiding him would be the easiest option from here on out. The project was done and you were saving yourself the embarrassment of falling for someone who clearly would never be interested. You’d convinced yourself that day in the library had been a fluke, a trick of the light. He didn’t like you.
You ducked out of sight when he was about to pass in the halls, you pointedly looked elsewhere during class— whatever you could to suppress whatever feelings you had for him. All the while blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on the setter.
He knew this would happen, knew that the moment the project was submitted you’d begin to act differently, but he hadn’t thought you’d ignore him entirely. He almost missed the biting tone of voice you used whenever you scolded him, at least then you were looking at him, speaking to him.
He’d been so out of focus that during practice he’d taken one of Iwaizumi’s spikes directly to the face, sending blood dribbling down from his nose.
“Go take a walk,” Iwaizumi demanded, waving a hand in the direction of the door. “You’re no good if you’re just gonna stand there like a love-sick puppy.”
Sighing in defeat, Oikawa headed off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he went. His feet carried him along the tile, looping through hallways until he found himself outside of the library. You wouldn’t be in there, right? You didn’t really have any reason to be, not anymore.
Whatever.
Body on autopilot, he followed the familiar path, counting stacks as he walked along the main aisle. Rounding the final corner and expecting to be disappointed, he pinched his nose harder.
You let out a squeak at the sight of Oikawa, supposedly in the midst of volleyball practice, emerging from the stacks like a zombie, nose bloodied, face red and shiny with sweat.
“What are you-”
“I like you. A lot.” He had no idea where the words came from, but he wasn’t about to take them back now.
“Ha ha, very funny. You haven’t used that one before.”
A look crossed Oikawa’s face— one you hadn’t seen since the day he’d caught you crying.
Sincerity.
Your stomach flipped, “You’re not joking.”
He shook his head, using the back of his hand to wipe away the blood that was still steadily trickling from his nose.
Oh.
“I like you too.”
A smirk crossed Oikawa’s face, a joking lilt taking over his serious tone, “I knew it.”
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, bringing a hand up to rub your thumb against his cheekbone. It was sticky with sweat, but it was either that or landing a kiss to his lips and interrupting his nosebleed. Gross.
“Wanna meet me back here after practice?”
“God, yes.”
#oikawa x reader#oikawa imagine#tōru oikawa x reader#tōru oikawa imagine#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq imagine#enemies to lovers !!#idiots in love !!
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Can we get a Ishimondo fic please? Maybe lee!Mondo but its up to you lee!Taka is fine too. May we a tk fic with ishimondo is all I request if its ok friend.
I mcfricking love these two dorks so much-- I had a blast writing this so thank you so much for requesting It friend!
Words: 2746
Characters: Lee!Mondo, Ler!Taka
Pairing: Ishimondo
EDIT: Part two Is here!
Part two: Lesson Learned
Merciless
The library was normally vacant at this hour, as most sane people were In their beds sleeping at three In the morning. Not Kiyotaka Ishimaru though. And by proxy, neither was Mondo Owada, whom Taka had pulled out of bed at this ungodly hour to help study before classes started for the day.
Mondo propped his face up with his hand, His eyes half open as Taka droned on about biology. Was he listening? Well… An attempt was certainly made. But that was It.
The biker hadn’t even had time to fix his hair or throw on real clothes when his boyfriend came barging In- Something he normally didn’t mind but found a bit much today.
He had time to quickly throw on a zip up jacket and throw his hair up into a messy bun, a look he didn’t particularly care to sport. At least his pajama pants sort of matched his jacket…
“Mondo! Are you even listening to me??” Taka stopped his lecture suddenly, whipping around to face his half asleep boyfriend.
“Huh? Yeah, Totally.” Mondo mumbled, sitting upright and rubbing his eyes.
“Repeat back what I just said.” Taka challenged, folding his arms as he sat down across from the other student.
“You were talking about bones and stuff.” He yawned and stretched.
Taka sighed, resting his arms on the table. “Yes but you aren’t taking In anything I’m saying.” He responded in a softer tone.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying It’s just…” Mondo felt his face flush with embarrassment. “It’s too god damn early In the morning!”
He tried to put on his usual annoyed or angry tone, But he failed miserably. This didn’t go unnoticed by the energized student.
“Is something else bothering you? Is It me? Do you not like studying with me?” Taka rambled anxiously. “Because I-If so, I can ask someone else to--”
“No! No, It’s nothing like that.” Mondo interrupted, He reached across the table and grabbed Taka’s hands, holding them in his own slightly trembling one’s. “I-It’s just… I’m sorry.” He sighed, Looking away.
“What Is It? What’s bothering you, Bro?”
Mondo flinched, internally shoving his feelings aside as he refused to look at Ishimaru. “Don’t worry about It.” He replied in a softer tone.
Taka knew Mondo quite well by now, as they had been dating for several months. He knew that something was definitely troubling the Biker gang leader, And that he would sooner convince Leon that baseball was fun than he would get him to discuss what was troubling him.
That’s why he needed some... Encouragement.
“Fine. I guess we should continue then.” He pulled his hands away slowly, he didn’t really want to break the hold but it was required for this to work. “Perhaps I need a more direct teaching method.”
Mondo quizzically studied his face. What could he mean by that?
Taka got up and went over to Mondo’s side. “What are the bones in your spine called?”
“Wha? That’s not In the…”
“Answer my question.”
Mondo narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the raven haired student. What Is he up to? “Vertebrae.”
“Very good. How many are there?” Taka walked around him, Standing behind him now.
“Fuck If I know, That’s not even on this upcoming tes--” Mondo clamped his mouth shut as he felt a finger slowly trailing up his spine. He arched his back away from the strange sensations as he stifled a giggle. “What the fuck are you doing?!” He snapped.
As he tried to turn around In his seat to fix Taka with a glare, He felt Taka place his forearm against the back of his shoulders near his neck, and pushed him down against the table, pinning him there.
“How many Vertebrae make up the spine?” He repeated the question calmly, As If this were totally normal.
“Get the hell off of me!” He complained, struggling. Taka was surprisingly strong, able to hold him in place with relative ease.
He felt fingers begin to lightly scribble around his back, paying special attention to his spine. He tried to suppress his giggles, But found he was unable to due to being so tired. “T-Tahahaka! What the hehehell are you doing?!”
“I’m helping you study.” He answered without missing a beat. “How many Vertebrae are there?”
“Thihihihirty threehehehehe!” He giggled tiredly, Relieved when the tickling stopped momentarily.
“Correct. See? You did know! It Is The Cervical, The Thoracic, The Lumbar, and The Caudal vertebrae that make up the spine.” He informed him. “Where on your spine Is the Cervical?”
“The neck.”
“Good. How many of those thirty three are Cervical Vertebrae?” He asked, Smirking.
“I-I don’t know!” Mondo stammered, feeling butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.
“That’s not an answer, Kyoudai.” Taka teased, fluttering his fingers lightly against his neck.
This action drew an actual squeal from the tough biker as he tried to turn his head to protect his neck. “Tahahahaka! Stahahahap Ihit!”
“As soon as you answer my question!” The Ultimate Moral Compass couldn’t help but chuckle at the not so manly sounds coming from Mondo-- who by the way, was giggling quite adorably at the moment he might add.
“I dohohohon’t knohohow!” He tittered, squirming around to no avail.
“Think about It, how many does it feel like?” Taka hummed. Adjusting his hold on Mondo, he was now able to use his other hand to tickle his neck. He used his other hand to press into each vertebrae in his neck carefully. “Count out loud, How many Is It?”
Mondo decided that Taka was enjoying this waaaay too much, and he was so gonna get it later. “Onehehe, Twohoho… Threehehee, F-Fohohour…”
Taka suddenly leaned forward and smothered the side of Mondo’s neck with raspberries, Causing him to shriek in surprise.
“FihihivEEEEE! HAHAHAHA! T-TAHAHAKAaAaA!”
“Oh, Whoops, Looks like you lost count. Guess I’ll just start over for you.” He smiled, starting over at the top of his neck. “Don’t lose count this time~”
“I swehehear to gohohod, You’re sohohoho dead after thihis!” He giggled, sending his best glare over his shoulder at his evil boyfriend.
“You’re not counting, Kyoudai~” He sang teasingly, speeding up the tickles to his neck.
Mondo began laughing now, complying with his demands and counting aloud once again.
After some very s l o w movements down his neck, most likely to extend the tickles and make him suffer, he finally arrived at the last vertebrae. “Seheheheven! Ihihihit’s seheheven!”
Taka relented, pulling back and releasing Mondo from his hold. “Very good!” He beamed.
While Mondo was leaning back in his seat catching his breath, Taka thought about his next attack. He reached around the chair, pinning Mondo’s arms to his sides as he unzipped Mondo’s jacket.
“The fuck are you doing now?” He panted, too tired to struggle.
Taka leaned down and rested his chin on his shoulder, smiling as he glanced at Mondo’s flushed face. “How many ribs does a person have?”
Mondo’s eyes widened as he nervously thought about it. “T-Twenty four?”
“You don’t sound too sure, Mondo.” Taka continued to smile as he spoke. “Are you absolutely sure?”
Mondo went over his previous biology classes in his head, thinking it over as quickly as he could. “Yeah.” He replied carefully, not liking the smile on Taka’s face one bit.
Taka hummed. “Okay… If that’s your answer.”
“W-Wait! H-How many Is it??”
“I thought you were absolutely sure?”
“I-I am! I just… want confirmation.”
“Well, If you insist.” Without another word he dug into his ribs.
“TAKA! I mehehean’t verbal confirmaaaation! HAhahahahahaha!”
“You weren’t specific, And since you’ve had trouble taking in my verbal teachings thus far, I feel like my hands on approach Is much more effective!” He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Worry not, Kyoudai! I’ll count for you this time!”
“Dohohohon’t you fucking dahahahare!”
Ignoring the empty threats and string of curses Taka began massaging circles against the sensitive bones, starting at the bottom and working his way up. “One, Two, Three…”
“Shuhuhuhut the fuhuhuhuck up!” Mondo barked out through his laughter, his face was hot with embarrassment at the teasing.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say. And you made me lose my place!” Taka frowned, pausing his ticklish attack.
“Y-You deserved It.” Mondo mumbled between small gasps for air.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset, I’m simply trying to help you better your grades!” He said innocently.
“Bull fucking shit.” The Biker retorted. “You’re just having fun tickling the hell out of me, You’re fucking merciless!”
His cruel boyfriend let out an amused laugh, Mondo could be such a drama king sometimes… “Please, Mondo. I--”
“Just you wait until I get my hands on you, Kiyotaka Ishimaru. You’re gonna scream so loud with laughter that you won’t be able to talk for days.”
“Oh? Is that a threat?” Mercy? We don’t know her anymore. Taka has now woken up and chosen violence.
“Well, In that case, I suppose I should take it up a notch… Wouldn’t you agree, Kyoudai?” The red eyed man whispered in his hotheaded boyfriend’s ear.
Mondo Is now as good as dead, Like please sign your last will and testament by the x on the dotted line.
“W-What are yo--”
“How many nerves are In the human body?”
“How am I supposed to know?! No one knows an exact amount!”
“Maybe not an exact number, But there is an approximate. So what Is it?” Taka asked. “How many horribly ticklish nerves do you have?”
It was at this moment he knew, He fucked up. “T-Taka wait I--”
“Hmm. Well, Perhaps I can help you figure It out.” Taka smiled mischievously as he shoved his hands under Mondo’s arms, wiggling his fingers with reckless abandon.
Mondo screeched and threw his head back in hysterics. He thrashed around with newfound energy. “SHIHIHIT! TAHAHAHAHAKA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE!”
“Well? Do you want to wager a guess? How many nerves does it feel like?” Taka’s sweet smile deceived his cruel actions. “I would imagine It has to be quite a few! You wouldn’t be laughing this much If there weren’t a lot of ticklish nerve endings everywhere. Especially In this spot.”
Mondo doubled over as much as he could, laughter wracking his body. He did this in an attempt to break Taka’s bearhug-like hold on him, but he held strong. “I DOHOHOHON’T KNOW!”
“Not even a guess? Okay, I’ll give you a hint then. It’s not a million or a billion!” Taka laughed at the squeal that erupted from his boyfriend when he started tickling faster.
“FAHAHAHACK! A-A TRIHIHIHILLION!?”
“Yes! But how many trillion Mondo??”
There was no end In sight, Nor any escape. He even tried throwing himself out of the chair but the merciless assailant wouldn’t allow him to, since he had his arms locked around the back of the chair as well.
After what felt like forever, The Biker sank back into the chair, his head resting against The hall monitor’s shoulder as he laughed. His body felt like jello at this point from a mixture of laughing, struggling, and just not getting a lot of sleep the night before.
Surprisingly enough, Taka relented and withdrew his hands, though he kept his arms around the still giggling man before him. “The answer Is over seven trillion.”
“Fuhuhuck… That was evil…” He panted.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have threatened me.” the raven haired man hummed in response. “Besides, I learned from you.”
Okay, so maybe we do know who Mercy Is, It seems like things are finally calming down between these two and--
“It wasn’t a threat… It was a damn promise…” Mondo growled.
Taka sighed. “You never learn, Do you?”
He unceremoniously released his hold on Mondo as he had started to struggle again, causing the biker to tip his chair over to the side and hit the floor with a yelp of surprise and an ungraceful thud.
Taka was quick to follow him to the floor, straddling his legs and grabbing both of his wrists in one hand to hold them in place. “Are you ready for your next lesson?” He asked, Energized again.
“For the last time… Get the hell off of me!” Mondo yelled, flailing as much as possible. Though that wasn’t a whole lot.
“Don’t worry, It’s the final question!” Taka responded with a mischievous smile. “Ready?”
Mondo eyed him cautiously but said nothing.
Taka leaned down near Mondo’s face, His smile widening into a grin as he spoke in a calm tone. “How many raspberries can your stomach take?”
Chills shot down his spine, that had to be the most unnerving question he’s gotten In a while. “T-Taka, Don’t you dare. I swear to God! I will kick your ass!” He tried to sound angry, but It came out panicked instead.
“Well? How many? One? Two?” Taka pondered aloud.
“None!”
“None? I’m sure that’s not true, Kyoudai! Don’t be modest, You’re quite tough... I think you can handle at least five!” Taka beamed, giggling.
“FIVE?! Do you want to kill me!? I’ll fucking die!”
“But Mondo! We must find out, For science!” Taka declared, wasting no more time he dipped down and blew a raspberry against Mondo’s quivering belly.
The Ultimate exploded, Laughing rather uproariously as his back arched out of reflex. “NAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! TAHAHAHAKAA!”
“One~” He sang teasingly before blowing another raspberry.
“GAHAHAHAHAD DAHAHAHAMMIT STAHAHAHAHAP!”
“Two~” and another one. “Three~”
“IHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRY FOR THREHEHEHEATENING YOUHUHU!”
“Hmm? What was that?” Taka asked, halting his ‘scientific studies’ for a moment.
“I-I’m sohohorry… for threheheheatening you…” The giggles still poured freely past his lips as he gasped for air. “I wohohn’t… Get revehehenge on you… Just stohohop…”
“What If I don’t believe you?” Taka asked cautiously.
“I promise…” Mondo mumbled. “I won’t seek revenge on you If you let me up right now.”
Hmmmmm…
“I’ll let you up on one more condition.” Kiyotaka said, His face turned serious for the first time since this started. “Tell me what was bothering you earlier.”
Mondo flinched. “L-Listen man… It’s kind of embarrassing…”
“Why? You know I don’t judge you, Kyoudai.” Taka frowned. “You can tell me anything.”
“N-Not this I can’t.” Mondo stuttered, Looking away. “Just trust me, It’s better you don’t-- GAHAHAHAHA! TAAAHAHAHAHAHAKAHAHA!” He shrieked with laughter as Taka blew another raspberry.
“Four. Sorry bro, But those are my demands. If you do not comply then I’ll be forced to--”
“OKAYOKAY JUST STAHAP!”
Taka smiled and moved off of the tough student, sitting next to him on the floor. “What was bothering you?” he asked after giving him a moment to collect himself.
Mondo sat up, his face burning with embarrassment as he spoke. “It’s just…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “When I’m tired, I wanna find somewhere comfortable to rest… And…”
“And?” Taka asked, perplexed.
Mondo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “W-WELL, I KEPT ZONING OUT BECAUSEIWANTEDTOCUDDLEUPTOYOUANDSLEEP-- There! I said It!”
Taka’s face turned pink and his eyes widened a little. He knew Mondo was telling the truth, because he yelled. Which meant he was nervous.
“S-S-See? I told you that you didn’t want to-- ACK!”
Mondo opened his eyes just in time to get tackled back down to the floor by Taka, This time In a hug. “Why didn’t you just say so earlier!? I was worried you didn’t like spending so much time with me or something!” He mumbled into Mondo’s shoulder.
“Wha?? Why the fuck would you think that?! Of course I like spending time with you babe!”
Babe... It has a nice ring to it. “B-Because... Most people get tired of me.”
Mondo frowned and gently pulled back from Taka’s hug to look into his eyes. “Hey, Listen. I will never get tired of you. I love spending time with you!”
“Even today?” Taka looked up at Mondo with a hopeful look on his face.
His cheeks turned red again. “Y-Yeah… Even today… J-Just don’t get used to using that teaching method!” He tried to pick up the shattered pieces of his tough exterior, but alas, they were gone.
Taka giggled with amusement. “Deal. I’ll only use it when you really aren’t paying attention.”
Mondo flinched, Making a mental note to try to always pay attention from now on.
Taka went to pull away from him, but Mondo pulled him back against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going? This Isn’t over.” Mondo smirked.
“B-But Mondo! You promised you wouldn’t--”
“Uh-uh~ I promised no revenge if you were to let me up at that exact moment. Which you did not.” The biker reminded teasingly, positioning his fingers over Taka’s sides. “Any last words, Kyoudai?”
“W-Wait, M-Mondo-- NOHOHOHO!”
Let’s just say, Not a whole lot of studying was done for the remainder of their session. The library filled with laughter once more.
#tickle story#Danganronpa tickle#dr1 tickle#thh#thh tickle#Trigger happy Havoc#Ishimondo#Lee!Mondo#Ler!Taka#ticklish!Mondo#taka scares me#like holy shit#He is an evil tutor
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I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin
“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”
So who wants to join
Me:*raises my hand*
Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.
Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)
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PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."
Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure.
This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work.
That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst.
Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels.
And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).
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Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity.
----
As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.
So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.
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Stealing Moments
Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir
Pairing: Liam x Riley
Summary: The Royal family spends the afternoon taking part in some pre-Easter (or preaster, if you will) activities.
Rating: G - I’m not going to sugar coat it (sugar is the last thing this story needs), this is some majorly fluffy stuff here. Even for me, and I’ve produced some pretty fluffy work.
Word Count: 1,947
A/N: So this story is a triple threat:
I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” Which will appear in bold.
I am also participating in the @choicesaprilchallenge2021, day 3 teal. That prompt will appear in italics.
I am also participating in @trraw, day 2 Liam. That prompt will appear in the form of a handsome and charming King.
A/N 2: This is an idea that I thought of while I was writing my upcoming Uncle Drake fic (you’ll see that one on Sunday), so I decided to write it up as a little prequel to that. Thank you to @jessiembruno for encouraging me to take my crazy throw away ideas and make them into something, and also by contributing this adorable moodboard. You are a Canva master. To think, not too long ago you hated it and cursed it out on the regs!
Tags: You know the drill, they’re down below. I hope you get it! If you want to be added or removed, let me know!
Liam sat in his study, wrapping up some paperwork before his next meeting when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Bastien entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Sir, Lord Neville is demanding an audience with you. Immediately.”
“Of course he is. Tell him I am unavailable, and to make an appointment with my assistant before he leaves.”
“I did. I explained to him that you have an important afternoon meeting that could not be rescheduled. He didn’t appear to care.” Bastien chuckled to himself. This wasn’t the first time Neville had tried to weasel his way into an urgent meeting with the King.
Liam let out a deep breath as he stood, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t. That’s fine, I need to get to my meeting anyway. I will tell him myself.”
Almost immediately upon exiting his study, Neville was in his face. “Your Majesty, I have an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention-”
Liam held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m sure you do, Lord Neville. Unfortunately, I am on my way to a very important meeting, so I am unable to sit with you right now. Please see my assistant on your way out, and she will be happy to book you for my next available appointment.”
“With all due respect Your Majesty, that simply won’t do. It won’t take long, perhaps I could walk with you to your next meeting?”
Liam internally rolled his eyes at the suggestion. He knew just how to stroke his ego to get him to back down. “Lord Neville, as one of our most valued members of court, I couldn’t possibly do you the disservice of giving you anything but my full attention on what I’m sure is a crucial matter. That is all I would be doing if I allowed you to continue at this time. I will make sure that my staff adjust the schedule to provide us enough time to examine the issue thoroughly. Please send me any documentation as soon as possible so that I may review it before our meeting. That way, we can hit the ground running when we do meet.”
Neville stood tall, a smug expression quickly spreading across his face. “Very well, Your Majesty. I appreciate your assistance in the matter. I will leave the documentation with your assistant.” He bowed, and Liam nodded in response before exiting the area and moving on to his next meeting.
“If I may say sir, the way you handled that situation was truly masterful.” Bastien commented as they walked through the palace.
Liam chuckled and patted his security guard on the back. “All in a day's work, my friend. Everything is in place for this afternoon, I trust? I will have no disruptions for the remainder of the day?”
“Yes Your Majesty, the staff has been fully alerted that you will be unavailable. I will be at the door to ensure that you are not bothered.” Bastien replied.
Once they arrived at their destination, Liam crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He was the last to arrive, so the sound of the door caught the attention of those that had already gathered.
“Daddy!” Eleanor jumped out of her chair and ran straight for Liam, leaping into his arms.
“Hello Princess.” He chuckled as he held her close, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready to decorate some Easter eggs?” He carried her through the livingroom area of the royal quarters, returning her to her seat at the kitchen table.
“Yep! I helped mommy mix all the colors together. It was so fun!” She gestured to the cups of coloring spread out across the table.
Liam couldn't help but laugh at his daughter’s enthusiasm as he approached his wife, who was standing at the table making the final preparations for their afternoon project. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Riley’s lips.
“Hey handsome. You made it right on time. I’m impressed.” She teased.
“I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. No matter how hard Neville tried.”
“Neville, yuck!” Eleanor chimed in, causing both of her parents to burst out laughing.
Riley turned her attention back to her husband. “Alright, you go get changed. I don’t want you ruining your fancy king clothes with egg dye.”
Liam kissed his wife and daughter before going into the bedroom to put on some more casual clothes. He returned unnoticed as Riley explained the egg dying process to Eleanor. He stood for a moment and watched them, his girls, his world. He couldn’t help the smile that quickly spread across his face at the sight.
“Daddy, come on, we can’t start without you!” Eleanor called out to him from the other side of the room, breaking him from his thoughts.
He returned to the table and stood between his girls. “Alright, I’m here. Where do we begin?”
Not only was this Eleanor’s first time decorating Easter eggs, but Liam’s too. He was told that as a Prince, there were more productive ways for him to spend his time. It was just one of the many childhood experiences being royalty simply didn’t allow for. He was so happy, not just to have this experience for himself, but to share it with his daughter. Another way to give her the childhood he never had, but always wanted.
Once Riley explained the process, they got to work; since she was the seasoned professional, she let Eleanor and Liam take the lead and do most of the work. She marveled in the similarities in their gestures, the concentration on their faces as they placed their white eggs in the dye, and the excitement when it would come out dyed a bright color. At one point, Riley couldn’t help but laugh when they pulled out their eggs at the same time, and looked up at her with identical expressions of joy, showing off their creations.
They had gotten down to the last egg, Liam turned to Eleanor, “Ok Princess, we’ve got one left. You get to pick the color.”
A thoughtful expression overtook Eleanor’s face as she surveyed the colors that surrounded her before turning to her parents and confidently announcing her decision. “Teal.”
Riley and Liam locked eyes and shared a confused expression. There was no teal, they had only prepared basic colors, blue, green, yellow, pink, and purple. “Baby girl, we don’t have teal. These are the only colors we have.” Riley explained.
Eleanor’s lip started to quiver as her arms went across her chest. “I want teal. Please.” Her parents had been teaching her the importance of manners, so she figured if she said please, they had to give her what she wanted.
They both knew what that lip quiver meant, they were going to need to move quickly to avoid a total meltdown. Liam approached the princess and started rubbing her back to keep her calm. “It’s alright Eleanor. Why don’t you tell me why you want a teal egg so badly?”
“It’s my favorite color.” She looked up at her father, a pleading expression etched in her face. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
There was no question that Eleanor had the King wrapped around her finger, and when she looked at him like that, there was absolutely no way he could deny her. “Alright, let me go talk to mommy and see what we can do for you.” He kissed her on her cheek and returned to his wife. “Riley, there must be something we can do. I can send someone to get teal coloring. We have unlimited resources at our disposal, there must be some way we can make this happen for her.”
Riley shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Man, you really are a sucker when it comes to her. Aren’t you.”
“For both of my girls, actually.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across her knuckles, while giving her a hopeful expression.
She sighed deeply, as much as she tried to fight it, she was also a sucker for her family. “Alright, I guess I can try to mix the blue and green together. Maybe I can get the right ratio to make a teal dye.”
Liam turned to Eleanor and gave her a thumbs up, she clapped her hands and cheered in response. Riley got to work carefully mixing the two dyes into a third cup, occasionally dipping a piece of paper in to test the color. She smiled to herself when the fourth test paper emerged from the cup. Mission accomplished. “Did somebody want to make a teal egg?”
“Me me me!” Eleanor raised her hand and jumped up and down in her seat.
Riley placed the cup in front of Eleanor and handed her the egg. The pair worked together to color the final egg to the princess’s exact specifications.
Liam watched as the two of them completed their family project. His heart was so full at that moment that he felt weak in the knees. He reached behind him and laid his palms against the kitchen island to steady himself. He stood there as his wife, the love of his life, sat with his daughter creating memories in their home. In that moment, he wasn’t a King, he was the luckiest man in the world.
With the help of her mother, Eleanor pulled the egg from the dye, her smile growing exponentially as she proudly looked up at her father to show off her work. “Daddy, we did it! It’s teal!”
Liam chuckled at the sight in front of him. “I think it’s the most beautiful egg I have ever seen, Princess.”
Riley looked up and noticed Liam’s expression before leaning down to Eleanor. “Hey sweets, why don’t you go wash up for dinner while I put all of this away.” Her daughter looked up and nodded before rushing down the hall. Riley approached Liam and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”
“Love, I can honestly tell you I have never been better.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “Do you remember our first date? During the social season?” She nodded. “You asked me what my dream was, and I told you I wanted a real family, one that was close and listened to each other.” He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. “I have that, because of you Riley. You’ve made my dream, my heart’s desire, come true. Going into my social season, I had all but given up on falling in love, and assumed I would simply marry for duty. Then you uprooted your whole life to give me a chance at happiness. I will never be able to tell you how truly grateful I am for all that you have given me.” He placed a lingering kiss on her lips.
“Liam, I did it for me too. That night in New York, I had never felt like that before. I was not that girl, the one that drops everything to fly around the world for a boy I just met, but I knew there was something there that was worth exploring.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Really?”
Riley laughed gently. “I meant every word.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled her close.
They pulled apart just as Eleanor bounded back into the room. She ran straight for her parents and jumped into Liam’s arms. He held her against one side, and pulled Riley into the other. He was sure that life couldn’t get better than that very moment.
Tags:
Permatag- @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn
One Shots- @darley1101
Liam x Riley- @jared2612
@choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @choicesaprilchallenge2021 @trraw
#choices fic writers creations#wacky drabbles#choicesaprilchallenge2021#cac2021#trraw2021#choices stories you play#play choices#choices#pixelberry#choices trr#choices trh#trr fandom#trh fandom#trr fanfic#trh fanfic#the royal romance#the royal heir#choices the royal romance#choices the royal heir#king liam#trr liam#trh liam#liam x mc#riley brooks#liam x riley
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When Stars Ignite - Chapter 10
HPHM Rockstar AU
A/N:
General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.
Specific Warning: None, wow 😂
~~~
Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.
~~~
This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist
Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell
I make my livin' off the evenin' news
Just give me somethin', somethin' I can use
People love it when you lose
They love dirty laundry
~ Don Henley - Dirty Laundry ~
Ethan’s plan to raise Equinox’s standing within the record company was very clear. While their nights were spent performing on stage, Ethan had made sure their days were filled with a tight schedule of PR appointments.
Where they’d had plenty of time to relax, socialise and explore on their previous tours, every day was now jam-packed with meet & greets, photoshoots and interviews. Even when they were off duty, Ethan was constantly reminding them to take pictures and film stories to publish on social media.
“People aren’t following you because they like your music,” he never got tired of saying. “They want to see who’s behind their favourite rockstars. Give them a look at your private life and you’ll be everybody’s darlings in no time once again.”
Some of them were more reluctant to put themselves out there than the others. While Lizzie and Skye didn’t mind the odd goofy backstage clip, Lizzie noticed Merula and especially Orion were increasingly drawing back into themselves.
Lizzie and Orion made a point to avoid talking about band business when they were spending their nights together; not that they were talking much at all. But the concerned crease that she could see more often than not on Orion’s forehead these days wasn’t lost on her either.
The worst part of Ethan’s strategy, however, were without a doubt the countless press appointments. All in the spirit of keeping the enemy close, Lizzie had lost track of how many interviews they had given since their U.K. tour had started. The publications they were working with ranged from reputable magazines and newspapers to the trashiest of tabloids. At least, most of the stories those were coming up with were just too hilarious to be actually believable; Lizzie shuddered to think what dirt they could uncover if they’d ever decide to dig for real.
Like on so many days before, Equinox were scheduled for another interview before one of their rare days off. It was for a feature story with a magazine well respected in the industry, all with an accompanying photo shoot and the whole conundrum. It wouldn’t have sounded so bad, had it not been for the journalist who had been chosen to conduct the interview.
Lizzie had met a number of reporters over the course of her career, but none who ground her nerves as Rita Skeeter did.
Beloved by her readers and dreaded by the subjects of her stories, Rita Skeeter was one of the most sharp-tongued critics British journalism had to offer. She had a singular gift - although some called it a curse - to wiggle even the slightest of juicy information out of her unheeding interview partner. Many a career had taken a dive after an unfortunate encounter with her.
If you wanted utmost attention, Rita Skeeter was the right woman for the job; but you had better get your guard up.
The blonde woman was currently watching Andre preparing them for the interview and the shoot afterwards; usually the magazines brought their own stylists, but Ethan liked to keep as many things under control as he could. Having Andre in charge of their looks guaranteed they would give off just the impression Ethan wanted.
Andre was in the process of applying Lizzie’s make up, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth while he concentrated. She winced as her eyes started tearing up from the wand of the mascara.
“I don’t get why this much makeup is necessary,” she complained, drawing away from Andre to blink her tears away. “I get it with Merula, she’s singing and in focus, but I’m behind the drums, no one’s paying attention to me. Give her the spotlight and leave me in peace,” she added glumly as she saw Andre approach with a curling wand.
Andre tutted as he opened her ponytail and loosened her hair with practised hands. “Stop arguing, you know it’s useless. And besides,” he added with a wink that showed off his glittery eyeliner, “loads of people are paying attention to you; you’re just not looking.”
“I have to agree with Mr. Egwu,” Rita suddenly said. She had been leaning against one of the dressing tables on the set and watched them being dolled up. Andre usually held their wardrobe in dark colours, black and white, so Rita’s bilious green dress stood out like a flare in comparison. She pursed her bright red lips as she looked Lizzie up and down over the rim of her half-glasses.
“You’re a favourite with my readers, Miss Jameson… Lizzie, I may call you Lizzie, right?”
Without waiting for Lizzie’s answer, she continued. “You have a bright personality and some decent looks; you are the little sunshine of this group and everyone likes themselves a good ‘girl next door in the big wide world’ trope.”
She raised her hands at Lizzie’s sceptical look and laughed; it sounded incredibly put on. “I’m not a fan of putting people into drawers either, but it’s what the people want to see.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “It’s how my readers think.”
Skye snorted in the background; she was already done with her styling and sat on one of the tables, legs dangling in the air. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Rita giggled. “Of course the rebel of the group would say that, I expected nothing else; after all, there’s true rockstar blood running through your veins, Skye Parkin.”
Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, Skye fell silent.
When everyone was ready, they moved over to where two comfortable looking sofas and an armchair were set up for them. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she took her place between Skye and Everett. Rita Skeeter was known to make her interview questions up on the spot; Lizzie just hoped they wouldn’t be too off the rails.
Rita leaned back into her armchair facing them and placed a dictating machine onto the small wooden table next to her. It was no secret that the infamous reporter liked to keep her own notes, kept apart from the material belonging to her magazine; she usually kept the dictating device running long after the cameras had turned off.
“So,” she began speaking to an invisible audience with a sickly sweet voice, “I’m honoured to be talking to England’s hottest export when it comes to rock ‘n’ roll - and I mean that in more ways than one.”
She turned her attention towards them. “It’s so good to have you here today, how are you all?”
They all muttered some noncommittal phrases before Rita started with her first question. Like always in the beginning, it was more of a general palaver as both parties were taking the other’s measure.
If the questions weren’t directed at anyone in particular, it was usually Everett answering them. He loved the attention he got from Rita and contrary to the rest of them, he almost seemed to feel comfortable around her. The pictures Lizzie had seen of him and Rita in Skye’s tabloid came to her mind again, and she wondered if that might be the reason for Everett’s talkativeness.
As the interview continued, Rita’s questions were gradually becoming more detailed, focused on several aspects that she deemed sell-worthy. She watched every one of them closely as they answered, and they picked their words carefully.
“One thing I noticed about this last part of your tour is your very increased availability,” Rita said. “I don’t remember seeing you do so much fan service and public appearances before. What’s the reason behind this?”
It was Orion who answered her question. “The most important thing to us is to make sure our fans are having a good time. Without them, we wouldn’t be where we are now; it’s not a lot, but this is our way of thanking them.”
“Is this the reason for your upcoming special show tomorrow? Reserved for the indigent foster care children?”
Her eyes flicked between Merula and Orion. “It’s no secret you two have a history with the system. One orphaned at such a young age, the other the daughter of convicted criminals, bound to be raised in the shadows of her parents’ deeds. Two unlikely siblings, not bound by blood but by trauma - how does it feel to risk a look into your own past?”
“It’s a show like any other,” Merula replied bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She scowled at the blonde reporter. “No need to make a big deal out of this.”
Orion inclined his head in Merula’s direction. “What Merula wants to say is, we make no difference in what good cause we are supporting, as long as we can put a smile on the faces of those who need it, even if only for a little while. We do have our past in the care system, that is common knowledge, but as Merula pointed out already, this is in the past. If you want to continue on your path, it is no good walking with your gaze turned backwards. We live in the here and now, so it’s what’s in front of us that matters.”
The slight twitch around the corners of Rita’s mouth was almost too quick to catch, but Lizzie had seen it nonetheless. Apparently, Orion had given her the exact bridge to her next question she had hoped for.
“If you want to speak about the here and now, I’ll be too happy to fulfill your wish,” she cooed. “Now that we’re speaking on a more personal level anyway, I just have to ask. You guys are living everyone’s wildest dreams, a life all of us mere mortals can only imagine.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “It’s only us here, you can trust me; what about the juicy stories? Any tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll you want to share with the world?”
Lizzie subconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, hoping Rita hadn’t noticed before she got herself under control again; this woman was a bloodhound when it came to scandals. If she ever found out what was going on between Orion and her, Lizzie might just as well bury herself alive.
Luckily, Orion wasn’t fazed by her question. “The only passion we share is the love for our music,” he smiled noncommittally. “As professional musicians we try to keep our public and private lives separated.”
Rita’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “You try to keep them separated?”
Before Lizzie couldn’t help it, her eyes flickered to Orion again.
“We have been friends for years, of course our lives intervene in places. The friendship between us we show to the world is genuine and not for show.”
“Friendship, huh?” Rita’s nostrils flared as her eyes swept the round. “Come on, we’re all adults here. So many gorgeous young people spending their time together all day, everyday? Don’t tell me you’re all staying up drinking apple juice and playing board games.”
Her attention shifted so suddenly that Lizzie was taken by surprise. “What about you, Lizzie? Any stories to tell?” She looked her up and down critically. “If you ask me, you and Jason would make quite the pair. The golden girl and the bad boy? People live for stories like that.”
Everett sighed wistfully. “Just call me Ev, Rita, everyone does. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling her for years now, but so far to no avail. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”
Lizzie was relieved when he immediately started laughing his words off. “I’m joking of course; Orion is right. The band is our job and our management wants us to keep things professional. There’s other ways to live the rockstar lifestyle,” he finished with a wink.
Rita pursed her lips in a knowing smile. “That I believe in a heartbeat. Fill me in guys, between us, how is it with the ladies? The bad guy with an angel’s voice and the soulful songwriter and his magic hands… you must be spoiled for choice.”
Everett grinned and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t complain, is all I’m saying.”
“How about you Orion? Dark eyes, messy hair, all those tattoos - your fans must love this,” she winked with a sly smile, “At least I know where I would try to go after a show if I was a little younger.”
Lizzie tried very much not to roll her eyes.
“Even if they do, I wouldn’t know of it,” Orion answered serenely. “While I love all our fans dearly, my relationship with them ends when our show does.”
“So no stories behind your many tattoos? No tales of long lost love?”
“I didn’t say there are no stories,” Orion replied, “only that they have nothing to do with any fans of ours.”
Trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic, he started explaining the stories behind some of the less meaningful tattoos on his wrists and arms. Lizzie knew each and every one of them by heart, the pictures as familiar to her as Orion’s smile when she ran her fingers over his painted skin.
What he didn’t mention was the biggest of his tattoos and her favourite one; the giant dreamcatcher running along the whole length of his back. Thinking about the intricate lines made a little smile appear on her face.
She didn’t even notice Rita asking her way through the rest of her friends until the reporter’s attention turned to her.
“All of your friends seem to be quite the fans of body art; what about you, Lizzie? Do you have any tattoos as well?”
Lizzie flashed Rita the brilliant but noncommittal smile reserved for the people she just couldn’t stand. “I do have one, yes.”
Rita raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And where might that be?”
Lizzie chuckled in response. “That will stay my little secret.”
Her gaze was fixed on Rita, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Orion fighting hard to suppress a grin. Of course, he knew exactly where it was.
Rita blinked, clearly irritated by her answer, the same empty smile that was on Lizzie’s face never leaving her red lips.
“Very well, keep your secret - for now. I’ll find out eventually.”
Her smile broadened, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes. “All secrets have their way of ending up with me, one way or another.”
Rita stood up from her armchair to get herself something to drink. When she turned her back on them, Lizzie slowly breathed out, relieved to have the blonde’s prying eyes taken off her.
As the others got up to leave the set as well, Orion and Lizzie’s eyes met for a moment. A smile was playing around his lips as they dropped to where her tattoo was hidden from everybody else’s sight.
She felt her lips curve into a smile of her own and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hand resting over the small spot on her ribcage where the words that resonated with her so much were inked into her skin. Seeing what she was doing, Orion couldn’t contain his grin any longer. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, the memory of when he had first seen them was playing just as vividly in his mind as it did in hers.
#hphm#hogwarts mystery#rockstar au#orion amari#lizzie jameson#merula snye#skye parkin#when stars ignite#wsi#besties collaborate
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Little bits of this and that to discuss...let’s get going.
Update: The A03 link should be fixed now. Thanks to trueromantic1 for the heads up!
Ryan at RK Outpost discusses Star Wars continued backlash and embarrassment as part of his livestream earlier today:
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The Western Journal caught up to Kevin Sorbo at CPAC recently, and it seems that the upcoming movie with Ben Shapiro isn’t the only thing Gina’s in talks about working on...
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I want to preface this by stating that I normally stay as far away from Mike Zeroh as possible (as do most of Gina’s fans, he’s well known for being one of if not the most unreliable reactor when it comes to news), I simply wanted to include these as a way to draw attention to him and what he does.
So, earlier today he posted this:
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In this one he claims that his sources have told him that Cara Dune is indeed going to be recast. I don’t buy it....why? Because after an hour of searching, he was the ONLY person I could find who has “sources”, who has made this claim. That alone makes me have serious doubt. Not to mention, the comment section gives you a really really good idea of how fans will react. As bad as I hate Darth Kennedy the Hypocritical, I can’t see her shooting herself in the other foot.
The other big reason? Three hours later, he posted this one:
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He’s been reporting the EXACT SAME INFORMATION about her firing for weeks now. I’m guessing he’s been called out (he was called out in this video, someone pointed out how the leaks have been faked for years between him and Doomcock), which is why he posted the whole thing about Cara Dune being recast.
Simply put....Zeroh is at the bottom of the food chain when it comes to news, and his sources are most likely found in his head. In other words he makes things up for popularity’s sake.
A trio of new works hit A03 today.
@wolfy22bookie‘s latest creation, The Perfect Flower is as fluffy as a dandelion.
@name1name1‘s latest work is a Boska piece titled Just A Beer.
@ladymarinenc steps into the CaraDin fan fic realm with her first ever piece called A New Normal.
I’ve been talking about spotlighting the CaraDin shippers who are writers once a week, and I need your help to pull this off. I just realized that everyone on the ship list may not necessarily write, and this is where you come in. Out of all of us in our little group, how many Tumblr’s are also writers?
For the spotlight, here’s how things will work. I’ll assign each writer a number Each Wednesday I’ll use a generator to choose a number at random, and then contact that writer to fill out the little questionnaire. I’m well aware that everyone’s got a busy life, so said writer will have until 8pm Central Time on Sunday to get their responses back to me, to be featured in the Monday update. Not gonna lie...I did pull a couple of these questions from the latest “ask” list that’s going around.
If you are a writer, and do not wish to take part, please do not hesitate to let me know. While I think shining a spotlight on the amazing talent that exists in our group is a good idea, I do not want to put anyone on the spot.
For this update, I used my own writing to give you guys a feel of what it will look like. If there’s something I don’t ask the writer that you’d love to know and think others would too, let me know.
Pen Name on A03: prettypinkliquid
Link to Works: http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/prettypinkliquid/
Do You Have Work Available Anywhere Outside of A03? Yes, my Gina actor fic can be found on my blog.
Ships: CaraDin, Riletty, Cannic
CaraDin Moment That Made You Say “I Ship It”: The fight in Chapter 4 piqued my interest, but “I Won’t Leave You” is where I jumped onboard.
Favorite CaraDin To Read: Domestic fluff
Favorite CaraDin To Write: Slightly angsty but fluffy domestic pieces
How Long Have You Been A Writer? Since I was nine.
Does Your First Fic Still Exist? No, that poor thing is long gone.
What Fandom Is It From? Days of Our Lives
Research or No Research? Depends on the subject. In some cases I prefer to make things up as I go, particularly if it’s a heavy subject.
What Is The Hardest Part About Writing To You? Actually sitting down to write.
Where Do You Seem To Get Your Best Ideas? Work. It never fails.
Random Quote From a WIP: “In other words I should expect to be a grandfather again by the new year,” --Greef Karga, speaking to Cara.
Not Gina related, but this Mandalorian fan edit by Trinity Studios is worth watching.
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Till next time!
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The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 6
Summary: Henry has some things to think about, especially after his agent Richard calls him
Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)
Wordcount: 4k
Warnings: None
A/N: So it has been quite awhile since I updated this fic. Thank you for bearing with me! This chapter might not be the best, so I’m sorry in advance. But writing has been a pretty hard process for a few weeks. I can write a few important parts in a chapter, but it’s not a coherent story itself. It still needs tons of filler. However, I’m slowly but surely getting back into it! Also, I have reached 350 followers (353 to be exact) and I’m doing a little celebration, you can read about it here!
Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter
Henry really needs to think this through.
He meant every single word that he said yesterday to Adelaide, he truly does. He is falling in love with her and he is falling way too hard, he is aware of that. He doesn’t even care about the stupid part of the show anymore, he just wants to get to know her and be around her. Right now and even after the show, with her is where he wants to be.
However, he also meant the other thing he said to her: she can go home if she feels like that’s for the best. However, deep down he doesn’t want her to go. Not yet at least.
That entire afternoon they had spend kissing, like they were two teenagers afraid of getting caught. By the time they had to go home, it was hard for him to focus and bounce back to their routine they had before their first kiss.
Should or shouldn’t he wrap his arm around her shoulders, push that strand of hair out of her face or use his thumb to wipe away the bits of food of her cheek?
During the night however, those doubts disappeared like snow in the sun. The whole world would see how they slept after the haunted house incident, why stop now? While Adelaide was asleep, he would just stare at her, without her looking away as she would turn into a blushing mess.
He never expected her to be like the pro she is, but then he realizes: while she has never been in a relationship before, this woman is the queen of romantic comedies and the one that she starred in, all portrayed healthy relationships, compared to other movies. She knows what she deserves and while that is more than he can offer, he can always try.
Adelaide Park stole his heart and from the looks of it, she has no intentions on ever giving it back.
Not that he minds at all.
Over the course of the next few days, they do some challenges and somehow they manage to do pretty okay. For the YouTube page of the Celebrity Project, they even did a segment on how to cook some Korean dishes and the comments underneath were all about one thing.
Their chemistry.
He admits, there is a lot of chemistry between them and it may or may not have been multiplied ever since their kiss. During the cooking segment, he kept messing up, causing Adelaide to simply shake her head, before wrapping her fingers around his arm, placing the side of her head on his bicep. She would softy reassure him, something that not only warmed his heart, but also the hearts of the fans.
While they are second place now (the Biebers are behind them and Charlie and Jennifer are way ahead of them), they are the fan favorites and Adelaide continues to impress everyone watching.
Tomorrow they are going on a camping trip, as part of their final challenge. After that, it’ll all be over. No more camera’s, no more stupid challenges (meaning never eating fried tarantulas anymore) and it’s only him and her together, getting to know one another on an even deeper level. He even thought about maybe auditioning for her upcoming romantic comedy. Playing alongside her, that’s all he wants.
It is hard for Henry, not to kiss her every time he gets the chance. He looks at her as she is making breakfast for them, but the ringing of his phone disturbs their little moment. He sees it’s his agent Richard and he places his hand on the small of her back. ‘You need me for something?’ he asks her.
She looks up and shakes her head. ‘No, please, take it,’ she says. ‘I can manage.’ He earns himself a beautiful smile from Adelaide.
After he excused himself, he walks outside, away from the camera’s. ‘Yes, what do you want?’
‘You are not responding to my texts,’ Richard informs him of the obvious.
He sighs. ‘I have been busy.’
‘With Adelaide.’ He tries to formulate as a question, but his agent fails miserably.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Henry asks him annoyed. He really hasn’t got time for this, especially not when he can make breakfast with Adelaide, as part of their morning routine. He loves these little moments and their cottage has become such an important spot for them.
‘You’re losing, Henry. You know what that means, right?’ The asshole answers his own rhetorical question. ‘You’re not getting James Bond.’
He doesn’t care about James Bond anymore. He doesn’t even want to portray James Bond anymore. But he doesn’t want to come across as a simp. ‘We’re not too far behind,’ he says. ‘I’ll get her to man up, so we can win this.’ Like a dagger goes straight through his heart as he says that. He doesn’t want Adelaide to man up. He wants her to stay exactly the way she is.
‘Are you sure?’ Richard asks and he can even hear the cockiness and arrogance in his agent’s voice. The second Henry gets back, he is going to switch from agency. He hates Richard. ‘Because from the looks of it, she is continuing dragging you down.’
That is not the fucking case. ‘We’ll manage,’ Henry hisses through clenched jaws.
‘And I never knew you were such a good actor. I almost believe you actually care about her.’
‘Maybe after this I’ll get even more jobs.’ Henry doesn’t mean it and even saying it out loud, pains him, however, it left his lips before he could even think about it and that’s what worries him. Does he mean it deep down?
He looks over his shoulder, to see Adelaide placing everything on the table outside. He can’t possibly mean it, right? ‘I’ve got to go.’ Without waiting for Richard to answer, he hangs up and marches up to the table.
This idiot is making him furious from the inside, completely ruining his excellent mood. The only thing he wants is to spend his day with Adelaide, without distractions.
While he was fuming of anger a few seconds ago, all his annoyance disappears as he approaches her. ‘Just in time,’ she says with a genuine smile, that makes him regret all the things he said to Richard.
Normally he would sit across from her, but today he sits right next to her, as they watch over the garden. Birds fly from tree to tree, the clouds are slowly dissolving in the sky and a stray cat wanders around their yard. ‘What’s the plan for today?’ Henry asks, as he grabs a cracker from the plate.
‘I think we have… pre… per… pre-pa-ra-tion time for the the final challenge tomorrow.’ She looks a bit annoyed, for her tumbling over her words. ‘Fuck,’ she hisses under her breath.
‘Addy,’ he says in a soft voice, causing her to look up. ‘It’s okay, remember that. You are with me.’ He can’t help but push a strand of hair out of her face and as he is doing that, he knows this is what fans comment about, if this shot makes it into the episode. He doesn’t even care at this point. He actually quite enjoys the fact that they are the fan favorites now.
‘Sorry,’ she whispers, clearly a bit distraught from stumbling like that. She was doing great these past few days.
He decides not to continue this conversation, because he knows that it annoys her and makes her feel insecure. Especially on a beautiful day like this, he shouldn’t bring up something like that. ‘We could go into town, buy some things.’
She nods. ‘Of course. Sounds like fun.’
‘And maybe you and I could go for a swim later this evening.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s fun,’ he chuckles. ‘Maybe you can finally swim by yourself. Just a little bit. You’ve been doing so good these last few days.’
Adelaide simply smiles at him, before taking a bite of her cracker. ‘Maybe.’ She lets out a sigh, placing her head against his bicep. Despite them wanting to keep whatever they have a bit of a secret, he loves this moment and doesn’t care about the camera’s picking this up. He doesn’t care about eventual comments from the fans. The only thing he cares about is that she feels safe enough to let her guard down around him and be vulnerable like this.
He places his hand on her leg. ‘I saw there is a little cafe, maybe we can have something to drink there.’
She nods. ‘Of course.’
They finish up their breakfast and she quickly tells him that she is going to put on some make-up and get dressed. He doesn’t think that she needs that, but he simply stares after her. When she’s out of his sight, he lets out a deep, slightly frustrated sigh that he had been holding in for a while now.
Richard is really annoying the shit out of him. He means, of course he wasn’t too excited about working with Adelaide in the first place, but that was before he got to know her. That was before she looked at him with those eyes of her, that hid so much, but on the other hand told him a lot. That was before he felt her body against his. That was before she sat on his lap and kissed him.
That afternoon, he was falling for her a little more with every kiss that they shared. It just clicked, it matched perfectly. Her petite frame fits right in his arms, like they were made for one another. He loves feeling her soft skin underneath his fingers.
‘Ready?’ Adelaide asks, when she walks back in. She is wearing a blush pink dress, that is pretty tight fitting. He bites his lip as he tries not to gawk at her, however he barely manages and simply nods. She grabs her purse and he holds out his hand. ‘What is it?’ she asks him, her voice as sweet as honey.
‘Give me your purse,’ he says with a smile. ‘Come on.’
Adelaide rolls her eyes and reluctantly hands him her purse. ‘Looks good on you,’ she chuckles. When they closed the door behind them, they decide not to take the car, but to walk instead. He holds out his arm for her to take. Her hand rests on his under arm, her finger nails grazing over his skin.
Henry can see them walking around like this in the future, her as his girlfriend and he wouldn’t be complaining about that at all.
◎ ◎ ◎
They have bought a few items, like some extra clothing and a first aid kit (that was something that Adelaide thought of), and now they are in a pretty fancy store, because Henry saw something in the window, that he really wants Adelaide to try on. He grabs the dress from the rack and a pair of heels that would match. ‘Try this on,’ Henry tells her.
She frowns, crossing her arms in front of her chest. ‘Why?’
‘Just to humor me. Pretty please.’
Adelaide simply rolls her eyes, before he spots a tiny smile on her face. She walks over to the changing room, as he follows her to shut the curtain. He watches as the camera’s start to spread over the store, capturing every moment. He hears her hum softly as she gets changed, forcing a smile on his face.
She is too adorable.
‘You done?’ Henry asks.
‘Almost,’ she says. ‘But you can open the curtain. Maybe you can even help me zip up.’
He would love that. With the upmost discretion, he opens the curtain, making sure the camera’s can’t pick up on them. ‘Give me kiss,’ he mouths, so the mic’s don’t pick up.
‘Why?’ she soundlessly whispers back,
‘Just do it,’ he says without making noise.
She steps into the heels, before leaning in to give him a soft kiss. Her plump and soft lips against his, nearly makes him hum in content. He wishes this moment could last forever, but it’s Adelaide that pulls him back into the real world. ‘Zip me up,’ she tells him, as she turns around.
He zips her up, glancing at her body and with a certain elegance and grace, Adelaide steps out of the changing room, twirling in front of the mirror. Henry has seen a few of her red carpet looks and he has to admit: she absolutely knows how to work the camera, with that an innocent look, but also a certain confidence.
‘You look beautiful,’ he says and quickly closes his mouth, because there is so much he wants to say to her. This tight black dress, shows off all her features that she should flaunt a lot more. The deep neckline, her exposed back and the way it hugs all her curves…
‘You like it?’ Adelaide asks him, looking at him through the mirror.
‘I don’t just like it, I love it, Addy,’ he admits, leaning with his shoulder against the wall.
‘Why did you want me to wear this, mister Cavill?’ she asks him, walking up to him, stopping right in front of him, with her hands resting on her hips.
‘Just because,’ he mumbles.
Adelaide scoffs. ‘That’s not a good enough reasoning for me.’
He wonders what it would be like to have an honest to God relationship with the lovely Adelaide Park. She teases him a lot, she uses him as a personal pillow and seems to enjoy his presence. Henry would love to do this a lot more often: take her out shopping. It doesn’t have to be extravagant like this, even a domestic run through the grocery store would suffice. Besides, just being around her would be all he needs.
Shit, he is really falling for her hard and fast.
Adelaide’s hand grazes over his chest and he places his on hers, engulfing her hand underneath his. ‘I just figured it would look beautiful on you and I was totally right.’
He can see it; she is lost in his eyes for a few seconds. She visibly shakes herself out of her thoughts, before simply rolling her eyes—a defense mechanism, pretending that she doesn’t care about his words, while actually she does. It’s adorable, really—and stepping back into the changing room. ‘Addy, give me the heels and dress.’
‘Why?’ he hears her ask from behind the curtain.
‘Because I’m going to buy them for you.’
‘I thought you were my partner, not my sugar daddy.’ She pulls the curtain aside and she is wearing her own dress again, while she is slipping on her own shoes again. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘I do,’ he tells her. ‘Please, let me buy this for you. Admit it: it looks really good on you.’
She scrunches up her nose. ‘It does,’ she whispers.
‘Then you should have it.’
‘It’s really expensive,’ Adelaide retorts.
‘Doesn’t matter. I have not one, but two cards with me. I think I will be fine.’ He takes the black dress and the heels with him and walks over to the counter, to pay for them.
Henry insists on carrying all the bags for her and when they arrive at the cafe, she slides next to him on the bench, so they can look at the pedestrians walking by. She sits so close to him, that he is afraid that she can hear his raising heartbeat. No matter how comfortable they are with one another right now, she still makes him a bit nervous.
‘You look forward to camping with me?’ she asks.
‘I look forward to do anything with you,’ Henry chuckles, causing her to blush intensely. ‘You’ve ever been camping before?’
That is such a stupid question, he thinks to himself. Probably not, since she told him about her family situation. If people barely have money for food, they don’t go on camping trips. Henry, you stupid fool.
She simply shakes her head and from the looks of it, she’s not bothered by his question. ‘You?’
‘As a kid, yeah. But I mostly just followed my dad.’
‘More experience than me,’ Adelaide chuckles. She takes a sip of her cappuccino and says: ‘Just have to tell you, that I don’t really like night time.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s dark and outside,’ Adelaide tells him. ‘And I might be a little bit afraid in the dark, if you hadn’t noticed that already with the haunted house.’
Henry chuckles. ‘A little bit, but don’t you worry about a thing. I’m going to be right there with you. Besides,’ he says, ‘I don’t care about winning.’
‘Sure you do.’
He shakes his head. ‘No, I don’t and don’t fight me on that,’ he jokes, pinching her chubby cheek. ‘I just look forward to spend more time with you.’
◎ ◎ ◎
‘Henry, could you come in here?’
Adelaide’s voice is coming from the bathroom and he stops in front of the closed door. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, worry running through his veins.
‘There is a spider here and I want you to kill it.’
That’s actually quite the relief and it causes Henry to chuckle. He opens the door, only to discover that she is simply leaning against the wall. Adelaide places her finger on her lips and gestures to close the door. The door clicks shut behind him and she walks over to him. ‘What are you—’ He can’t finish his sentence, because she plants her lips on his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Henry melts against her body, placing his hands on her waist and chuckles. ‘Never knew you could be this sneaky, Addy.’ He lifts her on the counter and gives her another kiss. ‘I missed your lips.’
‘I missed yours too,’ she whispers. ‘I fear that this is because it’s all new and exciting, but I really can’t stop kissing you.’
He never expected her to be this bold, but he also feels like she has been holding back all along. The world is seeing one version of Adelaide Park, the one that she wants them to see, that she has gotten used to be. However, there is an even more complicated one hidden behind a large wall that she has build over the years. Slowly but surely, she lets her guard down every so often, to show him what she is like.
He can’t wait to see more of that.
‘I can’t stop either,’ he confesses, leaning in to kiss her again.
She tilts her head when he lets go of her, her thumbs slowly caressing his cheeks. ‘Henry,’ she whispers, ‘I’m worried for tomorrow.’
‘Why is that, Addy?’
She simply shrugs. ‘I’m just afraid that I’m going to let you down.’
Richards words flash through his mind for a single second, but he quickly shoves them aside. ‘Don’t be. I don’t care about winning anymore, especially because I won the greatest prize already.’ He buries his face in her nape, to press a delicate kiss on her skin. ‘We’ll see how it goes, okay? But remember, you and I are together every single minute. I’m not leaving you alone, because I know that is what you are worried about too.’
Adelaide nods, as she looks a bit caught. ‘Pinky promise?’
He holds out his pink, hooking it behind hers. ‘Pinky promise,’ he whispers, pressing a kiss on her fingers.
‘Now get out, I need to get ready for our swimming session.’ With a wide grin, she pushes him out of the bathroom and he can’t help but laugh. A blush is set on his cheeks and he grabs his own swimming trunks.
Henry sits on the bed, the smile still evident on his face. Shit, he is way too much into her. He waits as he hears Adelaide hum again, before she walks out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body and a huge smile on her face.
After he changed into the blue shorts, he walks out of the cottage, towards the pool. Adelaide is already sitting on the edge, her back as straight as a ruler and he sits next to her. ‘Ready?’ Henry asks her.
She takes a deep breath. ‘I am.’
He gets in the cold water and places his hands in the dips of her waist. Henry enjoys these swimming moments they share together. Her body is always so close to his and the evening sun making her like an ethereal goddess. He knows that it’s hard for her to trust anyone, but he somehow managed to build something with her.
Like usual, she hisses as soon as she hits the water and wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders. Her legs snake around his hips and that is the first time that she does that. While he is not complaining, Henry continues to tell himself that his teen years are over and that this shouldn’t make him this excited.
Adelaide manages to actually sort of swim, but he keeps his hand on her stomach, making sure she keeps floating. ‘Don’t let go of me,’ she tells him.
‘I wouldn’t dare.’
The water hits her in her face, but she starts to laugh.
‘You’re almost there, Addy,’ Henry encourages her and she places her underarms on the edge.
A chuckle of disbelieve leaves her lips. ‘I did it, Henry!’ She wraps her arms around his shoulders.
He pulls her closer to his body. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he tells her. She pulls back and from the looks of it, it seems like she doesn’t care about hiding anymore, not when his hands are placed on her back. Her hot breath makes his lips tingle. ‘Thank you.’
It takes him all of his willpower not to lean in and kiss her, because the temptation is nearly killing him. He kissed her a few times today, however it’s not enough. He can’t stop thinking about her, about kissing her non stop and getting to know her even more. Maybe it’s because it’s all new and exciting.
Adelaide starts to shiver a bit and he presses his forehead against her temple. ‘Let’s get out of the pool. It’s becoming colder.’
He gets out and grabs her towel, holding it out her for her, wrapping her up in her large towel. He doesn’t want to let her go, but he keeps thinking to himself that in a matter of a few days, she is all his and the camera’s are finally out.
Adelaide takes a quick hot shower and walks over to the bed all dressed in her pajamas. He quickly gets himself ready, before he steps in the bed with her. He shuts out the lights, wrapping his arm around her upper body, as he presses his chest against her back. ‘Sleep tight,’ he whispers, burying his face in the back of her neck.
‘Good night,’ she says, holding his hand tightly in hers.
It doesn’t take long before he feels her asleep. He doesn’t know how she does it, but she always falls asleep pretty quickly and he has spend enough nights next to her to hear the change of her breathing. She twists and turns in his arms, like she usually does. Adelaide turns around and wraps her arm and leg around him and her face in the crook of his neck. He simply holds her body closely to his, as he feels her lips against his skin.
Henry’s fingers run through her hair and carefully presses a kiss on top of her head. He doesn’t care about winning anymore.
The one thing he cares about, is Adelaide Park.
#henry cavill#henry cavill x ofc#henry cavill x oc#henry cavill x asian ofc#henry cavill fandom#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill x adelaide park#the alluring charm of henry cavill#asian ofc#adelaide park
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Too Bad I'm not Heather
"There were a few things that Kuroo Tetsuro found that he loved, and when he did, his eyes would brighten up. Some of these things included volleyball, Kenma, stupid chemistry jokes, and now, Heather.
There were a few things that Kuroo Tetsuro loved, and you were not one of them."
Word Count: 3.2K
Genre: angst
A/N: this is based off of the lyrics to the song "Heather" by Conan Gray. I'm trying to work on writing longer fics so here's my first attempt 😬
☆
The December air nipped at your cheeks and at the tip of your nose. Winter was quickly approaching and you mentally prepared yourself for the upcoming weeks when the first snow of the season would finally fall. You regret not having worn a real coat over your uniform blazer as you rubbed your hands up and down your arms, hoping the friction would create enough warmth to suffice for the lack of fabric covering your body.It was only the 3rd day of December but with every day that passed, it became increasingly colder. Just a week ago your winter uniform and a scarf would have been enough to get you through the day but now, you were sure your nose was gonna grow icicles from how cold it was. Nevertheless it was too late to turn back now, you were more than halfway to school at this point so you were just going to have to deal with some shivers for the rest of the day.
The closer that you got to the school, the faster you willed your legs to move, eager to get into a warm classroom as soon as you could. As the gates of the school came into view, so did a flood of students who-like you- likely longed for the warmth of their respective classrooms.
With hands still making weak attempts at keeping your arms and torso warm, you let your eyes scan over the crowd and toward the gym, searching for a familiar head of messy black hair.
Almost as if on cue, the boy you searched for stepped out of the boys gym, following behind the group of his more rowdy friends, jumping around and heading their separate ways to their respective buildings and classes.
“Kuroo!” You call out his name and his head turns to look toward the sound of your voice, with a smile.
He stands in his place and waits for you to come to a halt in front him.
“What on earth-” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he sees you up close. He even has the nerve to laugh a little, a smirk adorning his face. A smirk that sends chills down your spine, that are arguably worse than those from the cold.
“You look like you've been stuck in a freezer for the past hour. If you shiver any harder you might knock yourself out yn.”
“Shut up, Kuroo. Some of us did not have the privilege of being in a warm gym for the greater part of the morning.” you pouted up at him, your hands finally coming to a stop, now just resting on your arms.
“Well where’s your coat? That could have decreased your problem by like at least 40%” He inspected your outfit and gazed up at you pointedly.
“40%?” You remarked with an eyebrow raised, ignoring how you involuntarily swallowed hard at the way that he looked over your form.
“I don’t know.” he laughed. “I’m just tossing up percentages.”
You rolled your eyes at this and he shook his head and spoke before you could start to tease him.
“That’s off topic though. Your coat?”
Tossing your head to the side you opted to blankly watch the other students walk by you than to look at him any longer.”I didn’t think it would be this cold today, and by the time I realized I might need a coat, I was already nearly half way here. I decided that I’d rather be cold than late.”
Kuroo sighed, “I shouldn’t even be surprised. When are you ever prepared for anything.”
The moment the words left his mouth and traveled to your ears, your face scrunched up and you whipped your head around to glare at him. “Hey! That’s not even true Kur-”
A hand being placed on your head stopped your sentence in its tracks.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” he paused for a moment before removing his hand from your head. “Hold this.” he commanded abruptly, practically throwing his bag at you.
You were too busy huffing to even think about why Kuroo was taking off his sweater.
“Here, I’ll trade you.” He took his bag back from you and placed his sweater in your hands in return.
You looked down at the dark blue fabric in your hands. “Hey, wait-”
“Nope! Shhhh. I already know what you’re going to say. ‘Oh thank you Kuroo, my dearest friend, you’re so kind, how would I ever live without you.’ Really, it’s okay, there’s no need to thank me.” He dismissed your protest with a wave of his hand as he began to walk toward the main building where both of your classes were.
As you watched his slowly retreating figure, you pretty much gave up any further protest knowing he was going to insist on you wearing his sweater anyway. Putting your arms through his sweater and adjusting your bag on our shoulder, you ran to catch up to him.
The two of you walked side by side for a few minutes, talking about your class activities and how his volleyball practice went.It didn’t last long however. Not after he saw her walking up about 20 feet ahead of you.
Kuroo’s eyes widened and he hurriedly wrapped up the conversation you'd been having.
“Hey, I see Heather up there, I’m gonna go catch up and head to my class, but I’ll see you later okay?” He didn’t actually give you any time to respond before he was running toward her, matching her strides when he finally caught up beside her.
Heather was a girl in Kuroo’s class. They hadn't been friends for that long but even then, it didn't take very long for them to start hanging out more often. Whether it was in school or out of it, it was like she was just constantly in his thoughts. You thought back bitterly on all of the times that he’d been texting her when he was supposed to be spending time with you.
You knew it was none of your business, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach when you saw the way he looked at her.
There were a few things that Kuroo Tetsuro found joy in, and when he did, his eyes would brighten up and there was something warm that swirled through them.. The gold of his eyes gleamed and you could almost see the joy radiating off of them. Often you’d see this happen when he played volleyball, or when he got kenma to laugh at a particular stupid chemistry joke; there’d even been times when he’d looked at you with those eyes.
You weren’t even sure if he knew he was doing it. If he knew just how mesmerising this look was. You’re sure that if you brought it up, he would deny it, but it’s the same look- the same glimmer in his eyes-when he looks at her.
☆
It’s mid-March now. Winter had come and gone, and as the seasons changed, so did your relationship with Kuroo.
December third was the day when you first noticed the way his eyes brightened whenever he looked at Heather. December third. That one stupid day was the exact moment that it all started to go downhill for you.
You and Kuroo slowly stopped hanging out as much. If he wasn’t with Kenma, he was probably with her. He stopped walking home with you and he stopped waiting for you in between classes. Now, those were things that he did for her.
Given all of these things, it was no surprise to anyone who’d had the opportunity to see them in the halls, or in the courtyard-or literally anywhere- that they started dating not long after winter began.
It was a frustrating thing to watch. To watch her slowly gain everything that was yours while it slipped away from your fingers at a rate that was much too fast for your liking.
You’d spent the majority of your friendship with Kuroo harboring feelings for him. Part of you always hoped that it would work out some day; that one day he’d finally realize just how much you liked him, and that then you’d finally get what you had been hoping for for the past few years.
But that’s not how life works, so you tried to make yourself feel better. You tried telling yourself that you should have known that it would never work out.
Why would it? She was everything you weren’t.
You tried to focus all of your effort into trying to ignore the feelings you had for him. Whenever anyone asked you what was wrong, you’d dismiss them, making up some excuse about being tired or distracted by your classes. Everyone knew what was going on, you missed the pitied glances that they threw your way whenever you saw Kuroo with Heather, or whenever he’d talk about her during practice or when you all were hanging out.
All you wanted was for Kuroo to be happy. If him being happy meant him being with her, instead of you, then you would just have to get over yourself and let him be.
As time passed you got better at it. You’re almost certain that the feelings you held for him never truly went away, but rather you just forced them into hiding.
It was something that you figured you may be able to do until Kuroo decided to finally just stop talking to you all together, but the limits of your willpower were tested every time Heather passed you in the hall-offering you a wave and a smile- while she wore Kuroo’s sweater. That same sweater he’d given to you all those months ago.
But it wasn’t December anymore. It was almost spring now, and whatever you had with Kuroo, he left behind in the cold.
☆
This series had continued for months. The more time that had passed since Kuroo and Heather had started dating, the further he got away from you. You had originally hoped that you two would remain friends after they’d started dating, thinking that nothing would change too drastically, but you were wrong. The more time you spent around them, the more it hurt you. Eventually you started to push yourself away from Kuroo almost entirely- even further than he had unintentionally pushed you. Being around them hurt you too much and you decided it was just better if you kept yourself out of his life as much as possible.
Honestly you would have said you had been doing an alright job at it. You avoided Kuroo as much as possible and tried to stop thinking about him, but when graduation rolled around, coach Nekomata decided to do something nice in honor of the third years. A nice graduation dinner was planned and it was made clear to you by your friends and the coach himself that you were more than welcome to join them.
You denied at first, wanting to spare yourself the inevitable sight of Kuroo and Heather being all mushy together, but you were somehow convinced to go by a few of the boys saying something about it being their last opportunity to hang out with you before you graduated.
It was a cute set up, despite being in the boy’s gym, the decorations and lights that adorned the walls in nekoma’s signature colors did a lot to provide a nice an simple atmosphere, contrary to the loud sounds of squeaking shoes and volleyballs hitting the floor that usually bounced off of these walls.
Staying close to Lev and Yamamoto for most of the night-too scared to be near Yaku or Kenma in fear of attracting Kuroo- you watched the team have a good time and focused your attention on anything that wasn’t Kuroo, with his arm wrapped around Heather’s shoulder.
Much to your surprise, most of the night had passed with little to no interaction with Kuroo despite the close confines of both of you being in the gym for this long.
You let out a small sigh of relief at the thought of not having to go through TOO much torment tonight. Just watching them was enough heartache.
Unfortunately it seemed that your sigh of relief jinxed whatever you had going for you that night, because then Kuroo walked right up to you, a lopsided smile adorning his features
You hated the way that he walked, looking so effortly attractive, having absolutely no idea that each step further that he walked was another piece of your heart being chipped away.
Your chest felt heavy and your throat felt dry when he finally stopped in front of you.
“Hey y/n, how’s it going?” The absolute shamelessness and ignorance of the way his words made you feel began to anger you.
Without saying anything you simply glared at Kuroo with an expression that nearly screamed to be left alone.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He let out a light laugh recalling the way that your face reminded him of the way that Kenma would look at him when he bothered him while playing a new videogame.
“We haven’t really hung out much at all lately, let’s catch up.”
“I would rather not right now.” Your shoulders hunched, attempting to make yourself small under his gaze.
“Why not?” Oblivious. “I’d say now is the perfect time to catch up.Y'know before we graduate and such.” He shrugged, tilting his cup of soda, watching the liquid swirl.
“Whatever,” You huffed. You were starting to get more and more annoyed the more he spoke. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be right now?” Your eyes finally met his, your challenging glare attempting to pierce through the oblivious air that surrounded him. You just wanted him to get the hint and leave you alone.
“No?” Clearly your plan wasn’t working.
“What about your little girlfriend?” you sneered.
“Uh, she's fine? She's talking to Kai right now.” Kuroo was extremely smart-one of the smartest you knew- but his inability to understand you in this moment was infuriating.
You weren’t sure if he really didn’t have any clue what was going on, or if he was just playing dumb, attempting to avoid ever bringing it up or talking about it. The latter seemed much more likely, he was probably just trying to spare your feelings. Although that didn’t explain why he was so intent on speaking with you now despite your fairly clear reluctance to carry the conversation.
Thoughts spiraling in your head, you finally cracked.
“Oh my god Kuroo! Can you just leave me alone!? Please.” The room became quiet at the sound of your exclamation.
Without much thought to your belongings, you hastily rushed out of the gym to avoid the prying eyes that loomed around you.
Once outside, you stood in silence for about 30 seconds, berating yourself for losing your cool now, of all times, after all the time you had spent working to keep yourself together, holding everything in.
Head in your hands, and eyes shut tight, you heard footsteps approach you slowly. When they came to a halt behind you, a voice accompanied them.
“Hey, what happened back there?” Kuroo tossed his head back toward the building, referring to what had just gone down inside.
“If something is going on you know you can talk to me about it right?” He looked at you with eyes that flooded with concern, but you didn’t even have it in you to revel in the attentiveness of his actions.
You whipped around to face him quickly, eyebrows scrunched together, a frown evident on your face, and feelings and thoughts of frustration quickly bubbling up and past your throat before you could even think to stop them.
“Oh come on Kuroo. Don’t do that.” you shook your head at him incredulously. “Don’t act like you have no clue what’s going on.”
Kuroo looked taken aback by the aggressiveness of your voice.
“What do you mean ‘act’?” he retorted. “I have no clue what the hell has been going on with you lately. We never hang out anymore and you never seem like you want to talk to me or be near me anymore, so what’s your deal y/n?”
The way he said it, more like a demand than an actual question, broke the dam you had been desperately trying to keep back even after your little outburst in the gym.
“It’s because I like you stupid! I’m in love with you!” your hands remained close to your sides, fists clenched as you continued to plead with him. “And I know that I shouldn’t be because I know how happy you are with her but it’s just so frustrating.”
The words fell past your lips and you ducked your head down, hoping to hide away from him the frustrated tears that pecked your waterline. “Do you understand how hard it was to just watch you fall totally head over heels with someone who I knew I could never be?” your voice faltered and you felt yourself crumple more when the words from your mouth met your ears.“I can’t even stand to be near you when I know it’s not me that you’re with. God, I don’t even know why I ever thought that I’d even have any sliver of a chance with you. Obviously you'd choose someone like her. She’s popular, she’s nice, she’s in your class so she's obviously way smarter than me too, and to top it all off, she’s definitely prettier than me. I’m not even nearly half as pretty as her. I was stupid to think that I’d ever be anything that you wanted.”
Standing there, defeated, you began to rub the tears away from your eyes.
Kuroo didn’t even say anything. He just stood there.Whether in shock, or pity, or empathy, you didn’t know. You weren’t even really sure you wanted him to say anything. In your perfect world maybe he would have wiped away your tears and told you that he’d loved you all along.
There was no use thinking about it anyway. It wasn’t going to change the reality that he chose her over you. He chose her and not you.
And so you walked away that night outside the gym, brushing past Kuroo without a word, back into the building where you avoided meeting the stares of your friends, grabbing your things and heading toward the door, ignoring the few calls of our name from those who wanted to make sure you were okay.
You walked home alone that night. It hadn’t been the first time, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but the loneliness and the ache in your heart felt different this time. Because now you knew for sure that you were never and that you would never be Kuroo Tetsuro’s first choice.
It’s too bad you’re not Heather.
#kuroo x reader#kuroo x y/n#hq kuroo#kuroo testuro#kuroo tetsuro x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fanfic
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Author Self-Interview
tagged by @delirious-comfort
Name: Dianne full penname ShadowDianne or ShadowSelene, gods know I bothered quite a lot of people with the double pennaming back at A03. Some others use Dia. I will basically answer to any variation of the penname.
Fandoms: Could be a smartass and say all the fandoms I've written for but let's be honest; It was SwanQueen, Princess Rover and I guess some SuperCorp/SuperCat
Where do you post: AO3 and FFN but I’ve stopped posting on FFN now.
Most Popular Multi-Chapter: [Oh boy, let's do this. I'm just gonna remind y'all that I basically never wrote multichaptered -well, few exceptions- and that numbers never worked for me xD Let's do this... AJ here was very thorough and did ffnet as well but since I erased like 70% of the fics I had back at ffnet a few months ago I will simply go to A03 for simplicity's sake]
Oh! I'm doing it by Kudos
Annnd, that would be “I'm not afraid of the dark” Princess Rover-Shannara Chronicles with 237 Kudos. It's a wip so, heh xD
Most Popular One-Shot: That one would be “Cracked it” SuperCorp -I think??- Supergirl with 667 Kudos.
Favorite Story You’ve Written So Far: I always say the same one but that's because I basically went to my sandbox and said yeeet. I would write it differently now -I basically edited out a bunch of things I wanted to write because if it would have been up to me the romance would have been less upfront but since it was a SuperNova I guess I went the route of “giving focus to the ship rather than the worldbuilding which I what I love -lol-. Either way that would be Metallic Ink. Yet, to make it a bit more convoluted because y'all know how much I love writing long-winded answers my favorite piece was anything and everything I wrote that involved Steampunk -and I have a bunch!- or fae-related writing because that's what I like the most.
Fic you’re nervous to post: Quoting AJ: All of them. The fear of posting never left no matter the amount of times I did it. We all are nervous from a performance point of view.
How do you choose your titles: I curse a lot xD Not in the titles per se but while trying to find something to write there. I usually go with one word titles for one shots and, somtimes, short sentences. Sometimes they are taken from lyrics -either translated or not- that I think aids with the aesthetic I'm trying to go for or, other times, most of the times really- they are a rewritten version of a sentence written within the text. I'm horrible at it.
Do you outline: I did, sometimes, for specific things. I think I've written about this at some point prior to this tag but, and considering the biggest amount of my work is comprised of one shots and prompts at that, there were certain themes I had written enough times to know already what sort of tropes or themes I wanted to go with so those very rarely needed an outline. I wrote several versions of them, though. Sometimes because plot bunnies, some other times because I wrote in batches so if I realized there was something that was being repeated across several prompts/stories I could lean into something different in order to not be overly repetetive. If I was going for multichaptered or worldbuilding I did an outline. Some stories that required particular details -words of desire, hundred steps, words in the cloud...- also used outlines so I could keep everything in order before writing them and I knew what topics I had already written and which ones I hadn't yet.
Complete Fics: Hah. As always the exact number is something we will never know xD I've erased a bunch so the number is already not the correct one and I'm not even considering tumblr- Now that I think of it I didn't write down tumblr as a site in where I post things... telling. Anyway, according to a03 I have 535 works. Jump that a couple 100s and that will probably be a more accurate number. From those... 513 apparently. It's probably less. Let's be honest xD
Do you accept prompts: *laughs in tired* I did, I do... I guess I still do because what I've last posted were prompts but I consider myself out of most of the whole prompt writing business if it is not for a very particular list of people. If you give me ideas I may implement them but since I don't feel strong enough for any couple atm and the burn out I ended up having is something that still lingers... let's say I'm more the shadow rather than the dianne portion of my penname these days.
Upcoming Story You’re Excited to Write: Fic wise... I guess nothing? I'm not writing fics atm, I may at some point but I'm currently still trying to unlearn a bunch of things and trying to find something I can give back in the form of a transformative work.
Stories You’re Excited to Read: Back to quoting AJ: Give me angst. And fantasy. And hurt comfort with a heavy dose of the first and very little of the second. Pretty please.
Tagging: @waknatious, @stregaomega I'm not remembering if AJ tagged you @naralanis but considered yourself tagged on my end :P
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if you ever wanna be in love
Chapter I: Coffee Cures All Ills
a/n: Here it is folks! The first part of a Marcus fic heavily inspired by the Netflix rom-com Set It Up.
It’s more structurally and conceptually inspired and not an exact scene-for-scene remake because a) I was interested in the idea of this not even really being an AU. This is extremely canon-compliant and you’ll see more of that as we continue on. 😏And b) because I had lots of ideas that spun off from watching Set It Up that I just liked better for the purpose of this fic. So that’s what you can expect. It’s gonna be cheesy and fun and great.
The first couple of chapters are a lot of, well, set up (which has been infuriating). But we’ll get into the meat of it soon. My outline says so.
As a side note, a lot of the gifs I’m going to be using are from the movie, but these are not my face claims for any of the characters. I’m using them simply for the ~vibe~ of the chapter. Reader is not a small white girl... Or she might be. She is you. Or whatever OC you’d like her to be. Period.
And that’s it. Let’s go, I guess.
pairing: marcus pike x f!reader
word count: 2k (probably one of the shortest chapters we’re gonna see out of the 14-ish lolz)
warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.
Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.
He’d seen what it had done to him in failed relationships including everything up to a failed marriage. Some would argue that it wasn’t love then, that love doesn’t fail, so it couldn’t have been. But he disagreed. He knows it when it hits. It comes on you like lightning, bright and fast. You accept it, letting it run through your veins, and risk suffering a fatal blow to your heart. And it most definitely can fatally fail. It can cause joy and pain in equal measure. He’d already been struck so painfully once, the blow of the electricity going straight to his heart. He was beginning to hope to the high heavens that he wouldn’t be so unlucky as to be struck a second time, just in case it should reach his heart so painfully once more.
Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.
He felt that especially strongly as he watched Adrian go through his recent break-up. He felt for his fellow agent, he really did. Adrian was completely convinced Sam was the one, sold to the point of going ring shopping soon. But one brief mention of an engagement sent Sam running for the hills. He’d been moping around the office for a couple of weeks now and, as much as Marcus understood the pain, he was already really looking forward to Adrian’s rebound or some similar distraction. He was needing his friend’s signature fire back right about now, not to mention his focus. His work had gotten sloppy in this mourning period. He was constantly distracted. Marcus was dreading getting him on this case today, but maybe it was just the push he needed. He hoped. He stepped up to Adrian’s desk, watching the glazed over look in his eye.
“Hey, Adrian, do you mind getting a head start on this? I’d really like you to be our head man on--” he slid the file onto his desk, but was cut short by Adrian’s response. A response that had nothing to do with anything Marcus had just said.
“I’m gonna die alone,” he muttered, hands supporting his chin, elbows on his desk. Marcus let out an exasperated sigh that he didn’t seem to notice.
“You’re not gonna die alone,” he played along once again, rubbing his temple.
“Maybe I’ll go be a monk. They never have to worry about this shit.”
“An honorable profession.”
“Yeah.” Adrian blinked out of his dream-like state. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Marcus nodded rigidly. “Sorry, Pike.” He opened the file, nodding slowly, “Yeah, I’ll get on this.”
“You look exhausted,”
“I am,” he admitted sheepishly.
“I’m making a break room run to get coffee, you want one?”
“Please.” Marcus nodded his understanding and made his way down the hall to the break room. He doubted a case and a coffee could get his friend back on track, but he could hope, right?
***
If you had to listen through one more of Wendy’s mood swings, you might just scream. You love the girl, you really do. She’s your friend and the best boss you could’ve asked for, but Lord Almighty, had she been in rare form. Some days she was perfectly fine, strutting around like she didn’t care that her asshole boyfriend Daniel gave her an ultimatum instead of a ring on their last anniversary. Other days would see her doing a complete 180, shutting herself in her office and weeping into suspect files. Your least favorite days, though, were days where the heartbreak made her angry, where thinking about Daniel saying “It’s me or your job” made her border-line vengeful. But, unfortunately for you and the rest of the team, he wasn’t around to take the beating.
You couldn’t say you entirely understood. The short catalog of even shorter flings that you boasted brought largely apathy rather than heartbreak. You couldn’t say you’d ever been in love like Wendy had been. You’d never felt anything quite that strong-- and thank goodness for that. It wasn’t something you particularly looked forward to, at least, not the way you’d seen it lately. It was an uncontrollable force, dangerous and all-consuming. You liked control, liked being in your right mind. If love was to take up it's unfortunate residence, you could only hope it was for someone worth losing your mind over. You hadn’t seen anyone of the sort so far.
Unfortunately, it was already too late for Wendy Harrod. The already intimidating head of the Jewelry & Gem Theft Program in Texas was in rare form. You watched as an HR intern ran from her office in near tears. Poor Randy. Her sharp “come in” in response to your knock on her door made you wince.
“Harrod, I have the results of that house search you requested if you--”
“No, no! Absolutely not, I cannot handle this right now,” she was absolutely raging, leaving you grasping at straws for a response.
“I-- Uh-- Of course. I’ll just leave it right here whenever--” you placed it gently on the end table by the door before being interrupted again.
“Ughhhhh,” she groaned out before flopping into her desk chair, the red leather creaking as she let sit spin her around once, “I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” There was your Wendy.
“Just a little.”
“Sorry, sorry. Bring that here please.”
“What can I do for you? As your friend, I mean. You--” you weighed your words carefully as you hand her the report, “You haven’t quite been yourself since…” you stopped that thought, “Well, lately.” She sighed, shaking her head.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I need,” she began to skim the report before looking back up with you with a tight lipped smile, “Maybe a coffee? For the more immediate problems anyway.” You laughed.
“Now that I can do. I’m headed there now. Break room coffee ok?”
“That’d be perfect.”
“The usual?”
“The usual.” She yelled after you as you walk down the hall, “You’re an angel!”
She wasn’t gonna be saying that when you came back without coffee.
The sign on the coffee pot reading “out of coffee” was going to seriously ruin your reputation and Wendy’s sensitive mood. You ran through the options: you couldn’t leave to get her a Starbucks; there were some bottled iced coffees in the fridge, but Wendy hated them; you could wait for someone to make a run at lunch and pass on the order, but this was too urgent. Then it hit you. Everyone knew the sixth floor had the better coffee stock anyway. The art freaks loved their fancy stuff. You could always just waltz down a floor and snag two cups from their stash. 5 minutes in and out. No harm done, no questions asked.
Or so you thought.
The sixth floor break room was already occupied when you walked in, finding another agent also brewing a morning cup in a single cup coffee maker.
They really did have everything here: multiple pots, another much fancier looking machine that looked like it might come to life and attack at any moment, recyclable coffee cups, every type of creamer. You name it.
You’d have to sneak over here more often.
You stepped up to the larger coffee pot, rinsing out the carafe before reaching for the container of grounds. Empty.
They had everything here. Except coffee.
Was the whole damn building in a coffee famine? You didn’t have time to check.
“No, no, no, no,” you panicked, frantically searching the cabinet for another container. In your peripheral you could see the other agent look at you like you’d grown two heads. You couldn’t be bothered with his judgement, but you met his eyes to ask, maybe a little too frantically.
“Is that the last of it?” you questioned, eyeing the cup he was brewing.
“Well, yeah, sorry.” It was obvious he meant it, but apologies were not what you were needing right now.
“Shit.”
“Withdrawals?” he laughed a little at your panicked state, but it wasn’t demeaning. He was genuinely amused, and maybe a little concerned, but it made you narrow your eyes at him all the same. You were not in the mood for the mocking, no matter how light-hearted it may be. No matter how much it was softened by the bright smile next to you.
“It’s not for me. It’s for my boss. My very upset boss who needs just one small ounce of joy in her life right now. The kind of joy that can only come from the fueling of her caffeine addiction, so if I could please just have that cup?” You blinked at him innocently, but his dark brown eyes widened as he shook his head
“What? No. I have a friend who needs this. If I don’t bring him this, he won’t be working for the rest of the day.”
“If I don’t bring my boss a cup of coffee in the next two minutes, I will probably not be working again. Ever. I will be dead. Do you want to be complicit in a murder, Agent--” you glanced at his badge, “Pike? Can you really live with that?”
“You’re awfully dramatic aren’t you?”
“I wish it was an exaggeration.” He inspected your badge then too.
“Jewelry and Gem Theft. Floor 7, right? What brings you down here to steal our coffee?” The argument was pointed, but his demeanor was anything but. He was smiling, enjoying this. A little too much, you seethed. You couldn’t stand around arguing all day.
“We’re out too.”
“Try another floor?”
“Time is of the essence here, Art Squad.” There was no room for addressing him politely now, he was riling you up on purpose.
“If you didn’t stand here arguing with me you could’ve tried another floor by now, Jewels.”
He must think he’s so clever.
“Please. This is DEFCON 5.”
“You do know DEFCON 5 is the good one, right?”
“You know what I mean. Please.” He looked at you and then the newly brewed cup, biting the inside of his cheek, thinking through the problem.
“Tell you what. I am willing to split this if you are. Maybe it’s enough to fix both of them.” The crease between his eyebrows was deep as he studied your face, “I know Adrian is too out of it to notice he’s getting jipped, not sure about your boss.” You shrugged.
“Wendy will manage. It’s enough to keep her from throwing something at my head next time I walk in.” He dutifully split the coffee between two of the recyclable travel cups and handed one to you. You took it gratefully.
“I hope this keeps you from… Dying? What’s up with that anyway?” You’re not sure what made this person that was essentially a stranger so interested in your life, but something about it feels nice.
“She had a really bad breakup: anniversary, thought it was going to be a proposal, instead it was him being a piss-baby. She’s a little all over the place right now. They’d been together for years and now there’s just… A hole. She doesn’t know how to deal with it.” Pike’s nod in response is emphatic, giving the cup in his hand a little wave.
“Same with him. Terrible breakup. He didn’t see it coming at all. She broke up with him on a voicemail… Then moved. ‘Course it just put him in this crazy funk, though. Doesn’t wanna work or do much of anything. No violence. Yet. But it’s sad to see.” You winced.
“That’s a rough one. Best of luck with him, Art Squad. Thank you. I owe you one. Seriously.”
“You definitely do, Jewels.” His smile is blindingly bright as he jokes. It makes you smile back.
“See you around.”
series taglist: @whiskeyslasso @ahopelessromanticwritersworld
forever tags: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives
#im not in love with this first chapter but hey!#gotta start somewhere#marcus pike x reader#iyewbil#bri writes
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