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schrijverr · 8 months

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I Found Myself a Cheerleader 25

Chapter 25 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, they go to face Vecna, saying their goodbyes, hoping it won’t be their last. As Steve goes further into the Upside Down, he can’t shake the feeling that Eddie is about to do something stupid, that he will never get to tell him how much he means to him.

On AO3.

Ships: steddie & buckingham

Warnings: general season 4 shenanigans, fighting, injury

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Chapter 25: The Fight

At the Creel house, Steve feels the urge to drive past, to not stop, but keep going until they’re out of Hawkins and on the road to someplace else. Out of reach of Vecna. It’s like it’s his graduation all over again and he just wants to leave, but something keeps him here. Something always seems to keep him here.

This time, it’s that he knows that El could spy on the Russians and so can Vecna. If running to Russia won’t put them out of the danger zone, nothing will. So, he stops the mobile home. Seems like they’re actually going to have to do this shit.

Erica, Lucas, Max and Chrissy all get up, this is their stop. Steve feels his stomach churn as he watches them get out. Quickly he stops Lucas and says: “Keep them safe for me, Sinclair?”

“Course,” Lucas smiles, but it’s tight and doesn’t reach his eyes. Steve knows what it is like to carry the weight of the safety of your friends on your shoulders and he hates putting it on Lucas at an age younger than he was when he first had to. But he also can’t loose any of them. He can’t.

“Also keep yourself safe, yeah,” he adds. “Don’t do anything stupidly heroic.”

“Like make yourself bait for demodogs,” Lucas shoots back pointedly, not letting Steve forget that he has also done stupidly heroic things.

“That was different,” Steve tells him, though he knows it isn’t. The only difference is that it was him that time instead of them.

“Sure it was,” Lucas says unconvinced, before leave the mobile home and starting the track to the Creel house.

Robin has been crushing Chrissy in a hug, repeating over and over that she should keep herself safe and that she’d better survive all this.

Though it looks like it pains her, Chrissy is trying to dislodge her as she promises she’ll try and that it’s going to be okay. Steve hates that they can’t kiss goodbye, can’t cling more openly. But instead of being angry, he makes it a group hug and also makes Chrissy promise to be safe.

“Guys, guys,” she says. “You’re the two who are going back there again, don’t you think I should be promised your return.”

“I’ll get this one back to you,” Steve grins crookedly as he ruffles Robin’s hair through her little barret, earning a squawk from the girl.

Chrissy smiles at them, before leveling Steve with a look and pointedly says: “I also meant you with that, you know. You’d better come back too.”

She has always been able to see through him more than anyone else. Steve feels a lump in his throat and can only give a nod in reply. Robin, luckily breaks the tension by throwing an arm around Steve and smirking: “I’ll get this one back to you.”

They all laugh and with that little high, the three finally manage to say goodbye and part ways. All of them hoping they will get to see each other again.

The drive back to the trailer is done in complete silence. Everyone can feel the oppressive weight of what they’re about to try pressing down on their shoulders. It’s like Dustin said, it feels like more this time around. More important. More at stake. More that can go wrong.

At the trailer the four older teens prepare to go back into the Upside Down. The rope is still there and looking up, Steve can see his nail bat still laying there. It’s comforting to know he’ll have a familiar weapon in hands when going into battle.

Dustin meanwhile sits on the couch, looking mopey. He still doesn’t like that he isn’t allowed to come in and help Eddie. Steve still doesn’t trust him to not do something stupid if anything doesn’t work out and he’s mentally trying to come up with a way to keep him here.

Nancy wants to run through it one more time and Steve lets her. His task is to follow after Nancy and Robin and hit Vecna until he’s never getting up again. Simple.

Before they go, Steve kneels down on one knee in front of Dustin and softly says: “Hey, Henderson, look at me?”

Pouting, Dustin does as told. “What?” he asks.

“I know you’re upset at not getting to come,” Steve tells him, as he looks into Dustin’s eyes, trying to imprint his little curls and the baby fat he still carries in his cheeks.

“No shit,” Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve shoots back goodnaturedly. “All I wanted to say is thank you for accepting it and staying. Please, don’t try anything. I mean it. We can handle this and if anything happens we’ll improvise. You’re still important to the plan. Just keep your post. If anyone comes in, you gotta make sure this portal is still good for us to leave through, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dustin replies, looking more content with his fate than before. “I’ll keep an eye out. You guys be safe okay. You die, I die, remember. If you do anything stupid, I’ll sense it and break your rules.”

“Course you will,” Steve smirks, before ruffling Dustin’s hair for what might be the last time, before he squares his shoulders and starts to climb the rope.

With the wounds cleaned and bandaged properly and not in a panicked state after watching his friend just almost die, the climb is a lot easier. He volunteers to go first, because his bat is a hazard and out of all of them, he’s the least likely to hurt himself.

He does a little flip and lands safely on his feet, giving a little smile to indicate he’s good to those now above him. Then he hurries to get the bat out of the way, leaning it against the wall, before going to grab the mattress for the others to land on.

It occurs to him as he’s tugging the mattress of the bed that this is the first time he’s been in Eddie’s actual room. Despite knowing that he should hurry and feeling a little bit like a creep, he can’t help but take a second to take in the room.

The room is a mess and covered in posters of bands that Steve only recognizes half of and then only vaguely because Eddie mentioned them. There are also clothes strewn about, a guitar on the wall and those figurine thingies littered everywhere. It looked cozy and most of all, very Eddie. Steve feels a pang go through him. The room looks very comfortable and Steve wants to stay there forever, but he can’t. He has to go face Vecna and the other horrors that lurk here.

So, he roughly tugs the mattress along with him and tries to put it out of his mind as he hurries back so the others can get through.

One by one the other three make it through. He politely helps Nancy up, then rolls his eyes as he scrapes lovely clumsy Robin of the mattress, before nearly choking a little as he sees Eddie splayed out over the mattress, not having gotten the chance to appreciate it last time. Before he can do anything too stupid he quickly hauls Eddie up with a short: “You good, man?”

“Good as can be,” Eddie grins back, his dimples on display, making Steve feel more settled in the terrible environment as well as getting his pulse up.

From above Dustin yells: “Good luck, don’t die.”

Eddie smiles back up at him and sends a thumbs up, but Steve suddenly gets an idea. He grabs the spear the Sinclairs made for Eddie, then the rope before jumping to cut it at the middle, leaving it to come falling back down.

Around him everyone starts yelling, exclaiming things like “What the hell, Steve!” “That was our way out, what are you doing?” “Uhm, Stevie, are you okay, are you loosing your mind?” “Dingus, what? Are you getting Vecna’d?”

In hindsight, Steve can admit it was totally heat of the moment, but he doesn’t regret it. Instead he crosses his arms and says: “Eddie here is going to make this trailer a fortress and leave, before we even get back. We have enough rope to make our way back when the danger has passed and Dustin can’t follow us.”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to see the betrayal on Dustin’s face. Instead he looks stubbornly at the other three, daring them to say something.

Eddie and Robin both soften at the mention of Dustin, but Nancy isn’t very happy with it. She frowns: “You’re being ridiculous, Steve. Dustin isn’t just going to follow us here, he knows better, and now you’ve obstructed our exit.”

“I haven’t obscured shit,” Steve replies, deciding not to point out that Nancy obviously has never worked together with Dustin if she thinks that. “Eddie will before us, so nothing should be obstructed. Plus it’s already done now anyway. You’re just slowing us down by arguing.”

Nancy gives him an annoyed look, but luckily decides not to push, instead hoisting one of their bags over her shoulders and walking out of the door. Steve knows what he did is a little bit stupid, but he cares too much about Dustin to mind, so he’s glad he doesn’t have to fight with Nancy about it and defend himself.

Eddie takes the spear back from him, since it’ll be part of his defense, should that turn out to be necessary. The thought makes him a little queasy, since he did just fully cut the rope that will let Eddie escape easily. He can’t bear the thought of never seeing Eddie again.

“Hey, are you okay with the rope?” he suddenly stops and asks. “You can hang it back. Your safety matters more than the what if about Dustin’s word.”

“Yeah, man, don’t worry,” Eddie assures him that lovely grin on his face. “We both know Dustin better than that, did you see his face? Nah, this is just fine. Plus, like you said, I’m making this a fortress to hide in. Won’t even have to run.”

Steve is glad Eddie doesn’t think he’s weird or insane and is willing to go with it, but something tugs at the way he worded it. Still, they have a fight to win, so he can’t really get into it, so he hoists his own bag on his shoulder and also makes his way out of the trailer to set off towards the Creel house, this time in the Upside Down.

Behind Steve, Eddie closes the rear, while Robin and Nancy are in front of them. The two of them are dressed for danger. Danger they’re going to be running towards, but Eddie- Eddie is supposed to run away. He’s going to make himself a target and run. Not stay here.

Fear takes a hold of Steve and the feeling that Eddie might be about to do something incredibly stupid creeps up on him.

Without being fully conscious of making the choice, he has turned back around to face Eddie as he says: “Hey, Eds, listen. If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort, okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep them busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be cute-”

“You think I’m cute?” Eddie asks with a shit eating grin.

Steve feels his own cheeks heat up, knowing he thinks Eddie is adorable, but he’s not telling Eddie that. Though… No! Stubbornly he finishes his sentence: “Or be a hero or something, okay? You’re just-”

“A decoy, I know Stevie,” Eddie looks a little gentler now. “Don’t worry, big boy, you can go save the day. I mean, look at me, I’m not a hero.”

The smile he gives Steve is self deprecating and Steve wants to shake him and scream how brave he is for coming back here, for living through it, for not running away screaming when they told him what has been happening here, for thinking of Steve even when the basketball team was hunting him, for putting himself in danger again.

He wants to tell Eddie he is his hero. That he hates that he has to go through this, but that he is so glad that it’s Eddie, who’ll have his back. That he loves Eddie and to please come back to him.

God, there is so much unspoken between them.

However, he can’t bring himself to say those words. To push. A part of him knows that this moment might haunt him, but the words get stuck in his throat. He doesn’t want it to be like this, desperate and afraid, because they might not have tomorrow. If he ever gets the courage, he wants it to do it right, not like this.

It’s just an excuse, though, because as much as Eddie seems convinced otherwise, Steve is a coward, who cannot bear to hear the no that is sure to come. Nancy telling him she didn’t love him hurt and he wasn’t in love with her, like he is with Eddie. He’d rather have a what if than a no.

So, he says nothing. Instead he looks in Eddie’s eyes, trying to memorize the curls that frame his face, his big Bambi eyes and his strong, lithe figure that Steve adores so much. If he wants to kid himself, he would say Eddie is doing the same, but he’s smarter than that and knows better, so he just manages to tear himself away and turn around.

As he starts to walk away, he tells himself not to look back. Not to turn around to see Eddie standing there all alone to face the Upside Down by himself with nothing but a knife on a stick, a trashcan lid and the thin walls of the trailer to protect him.

However, he breaks his resolution two seconds later when Eddie calls out: “Hey, Steve?”

Eddie hardly ever uses his name, usually choosing to use Stevie, man, dude or if he’s lucky big boy or sweetheart. Or baby boy like in the mobile home. So, Steve’s heart stops in his chest as he hears it and he whirls around before he can think to face him.

It almost seems like Eddie is hyping himself up. He’s biting his lip and looks intense as he stares into Steve’s soul. It’s hot and a little terrifying and Steve is sure that no matter what, he’ll remember that look for the rest of his life.

The silence seems to last for eternity and Steve doesn’t dare to breathe. He has never let himself hope that Eddie would ever feel the same about him, but he can’t help but let an inkling of hope creep into his veins as he watches Eddie nervously gather courage to say something.

Then Eddie seems to deflate and Steve feels like something has passed, which is confirmed when all his hope is helped into the ground by Eddie saying: “Make him pay.”

Unable to form a reaction, Steve gives a tight nod, before turning around and doing what he planned; walking away without looking back, no matter how hard.

Behind them the trailer park slowly disappears into the background and Steve is eternally grateful for Robin’s nervous chattering that keeps him updated on Eddie for a long time. He knows that if he looks back now, he won’t want to leave.

Around them the trailer park morphs into forest. Steve just knows he’ll never sleep the same again in his cabin, which is in the middle of said forest, not to mention broken into before. However, he tries not to think about it too much.

He can sense Robin is nervous too as she starts to ramble about getting lost, but Nancy is confidently walking into a direction and Steve knows they can trust her for this.

Still, that doesn’t make Robin’s anxiety any less real. In an attempt to calm her down, he takes her hand, feeling her squeeze his, before taking a deep breath and calming down slightly.

They keep holding hands until the Creel house rises up in front of them.

Erica is right on the other side in the playground and they make her light sparkle from their side to let her know they made it. In return they hear her say: “Okay, the distraction team have copied. Chrissy is moving into phase two: baiting Vecna.”

“So far, so smooth,” Robin says, but Steve can hear her voice waver at the mention of Chrissy and what she is about to do.

He wants to comfort her, but instead he hears the truth come out: “Yeah, we’re not even at the hard part yet.”

Tensely they all watch the house, Nancy softly praying, or just manifesting, Vecna to take their bait, to grab Chrissy, to be distracted. To be vulnerable.

Steve’s jaw clenches as in the distance metal music can faintly be heard. A part of him thinks he’s imagining it, that he wants to hear it, that he wants to torture himself with the fact that Eddie is out there, also vulnerable. But to assure himself as well that Eddie is still alive.

After what seems like an eternity, the bats fly away and the three rush to the door as fast as they can without stepping on any of the vines.

The house itself is absolutely covered in them and Steve takes the lead. In these situation, his brain is the best to figure out the right route. Stepping in the empty spaces is the same as figuring out how to move on the court without the ball being taken or how to step so he can catch his fellow cheerleader, keeping both an eye on her as well as the others.

Behind him Nancy and Robin follow. The track up the stairs to the attic feels agonizingly slow, each step taking long to figure out, but carefully and steadily they make their way up.

Right when they make it to the top, it all goes to shit.

The house starts to shudder and shake and they all grab onto each other so they won’t fall, won’t step on a vine, won’t be spotted. But it’s all for nothing, around them the vines come alive and Robin is dragged to a wall and pinned there.

“Steve!” she screams, eyes fearful and voice desperate. Steve hasn’t heard her sound anything close to that since the Russians and he knows this sound, along with that one, will haunt his nightmares for years to come.

However, he doesn’t register anything beyond that, already having his bat held up high as he charges towards her to free her.

Nancy is right behind him and the two of them start to annihilate the vines, but they’re though and won’t budge. Steve is cursing up a storm, feeling the urge to go feral, to claw and bite until his best friend, his soulmate is free, but he never gets the chance.

A vine creeps around his neck, yanking him back as it is aided by others that pin him to the wall opposite to Robin, the two of them only able to stare at each other with absolute terror, while Nancy gets taken too. All three of them are helpless, out of commission.

They’re getting choked out, spots are already dancing in front of his eyes and he knows that any moment they can fade to black and it’ll be over. They’re never coming home again. Robin won’t get to go on her date with Chrissy, Nancy won’t get to reach Mike and ask if he’s okay, Steve is won’t get a chance with Eddie.

Tears flow down his face as he claws at the vines, kicking his feet as he gasps. Suddenly there’s a loud bang and the wall next to Robin explodes as the vines drop her.

She heaves a few deep breaths, looking around shocked, before realizing her situation and scrambling to her feet. Steve can only watch as she dives to the bag and gets out a molotov cocktail and lights the vines on fire.

In that moment, Steve doesn’t care much about how he is also nearly set on fire, only caring that he is dropped by the vines. He lays on his back for a second, just gasping.

Meanwhile, Nancy is still being held and Steve realizes she had managed to keep a hold of her shotgun, which had exploded the wall next to Robin. As the fire gets to her, she too is dropped and lies next to Steve as the two catch their breath.

Robin is standing, hands on knees as she pants too, while also managing to keep up a steady stream of curses mixed in with some oh my gods.

Nancy recovers first, rolling up on her knees before getting up. As Steve watches her, face determined, he realized he could have loved her in a different life. She says: “We have to burn the house down. The whole thing needs to go.”

That, Steve can get behind. So, he also quickly gets to his feet.

While doing so, he catches a glimpse of the outside through the window. The feint sound of metal has stopped, which is correct, since Eddie is supposed to be gone already, but the bats are still circling something and it’s close enough to the trailer park that Steve feels his throat constrict, while a hold hand grips his heart.

He later won’t be able to explain why he just knew something is up the second he sees the swarm of bats.

It’s the same feeling he got at graduation when he wanted to leave Hawkins, but couldn’t, like when he was asked to come to Cali, but couldn’t, when he wanted to drive that mobile home out of Hawkins, but found himself driving to the Creel house anyway. Something has always kept him here, made him turn around and right now that something tells him that Eddie is in serious trouble.

Robin must have noticed him freeze, because she squeezes his hand softly as she tentatively asks: “Dingus?”

“Eddie’s in trouble,” Steve replies, looking right back at her.

She frowns and for a second Steve thinks that this is it, this is where their understanding ends. Her soul frequency won’t pick up on this and she’ll think he’s crazy. But he shouldn’t have doubted her, because she just nods and says: “We got it under control here. Go help.”

And while Steve is sure, he hesitates anyway. This is Robin and Chrissy on the line too, along with Nancy. He can’t just leave them here in Vecna’s clutches. But Robin urges again: “Go!”

He takes one step down the stairs as Nancy calls out: “What are you doing? We need to end this. Now!”

“Eddie’s in trouble,” Steve explains again.

“How do you know?” Nancy asks, not understanding.

“I just know,” Steve replies, almost desperate.

“We need you here,” Nancy frowns.

“No, he needs me there,” Steve tells her and a truth he now realizes comes bursting out of him before he can stop it. “Dammit, Nance, I fucking love him and I might never see him again if I don’t go.”

Nancy’s eyes grow wide and Steve realizes that he just kind of came out to her. Luckily, this is not the moment to be homophobic, so if she has any issue with it, Steve isn’t there to find out. It’s like his confession has given him wings as he flies down the stairs and out of the house.

On the way back, Steve doesn’t give a singular fuck about any vines he may be stepping on or how loud he might be. All he can think is of how Eddie might be in trouble and Steve might not get to him in time.

His lungs ache and his legs burn and he feels so so grateful that Chrissy had forced him to keep up his workout regime to be able to practice with her, or this would have been so much worse.

He bursts out of the forest and onto the road that leads to the trailer park. The swarm of bats is now much closer and Steve can see Eddie in the middle of it. He looks beautiful, standing tall as he holds his trashcan lid up as his defense while bats fly around him.

However, it’s one versus a hundred and Eddie was never going to win that fight.

Steve watches in horror as Eddie goes down, the short distance between them seeming like a thousand miles as Steve tries to force his legs faster and faster, while feeling like he’s moving through molasses.

After what feels like forever, he hits the column of bats. Their sharp fangs and mean claws are everywhere, as he whacks blindly with his nail bat, trying to get to the center where Eddie is getting chewed up like he’s their dinner.

Steve was in his position not that long ago and he knows how much it hurts. His own sides ache in sympathy, but maybe also because bats are battering against them to prevent him from getting through.

Still, Steve isn’t easily deterred and makes his way to the center. Eddie looks horrible, three bats are holding him down, one on each hand and one around his neck, while others tear bits of flesh out of his stomach. Never before has Steve loathed being right this much.

His mind runs a thousand miles a minute to figure out how to get Eddie out of it, his body handling almost faster.

He slams his nail bat down on the bat chocking Eddie, which is the most life threatening. As Eddie gasps in his first real breath, Steve hits the ones feeding on Eddie’s stomach, before throwing himself down.

Staying upright is both impossible with the storm of creatures trying to push him down and not the smartest move, since it makes him an easier target.

Without really thinking too much about the position he straddles Eddie’s legs and uses his own body. He’s wearing his jacket, which means it’s harder to chew through and since it is his back that makes it harder to reach their important organs. Their legs are still out, but those can take a beating, which means their heads are the only problem and Eddie’s arms.

Eddie is still being held down like he is on a cross and bend over him like Steve is, he can’t use the nail bat, which is still uselessly clutched in his right hand.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, sounding anguished and out of breath.

“Saving you,” Steve attempts to smile down at him, but he’s sure the effect is ruined by the amount of tears streaming down his face.

“No, no, no, no, you’re supposed to be with Vecna, you’re supposed to be safe,” Eddie says, voice cracking as tears start to leak out of his eyes as well.

“I could sense you doing something stupid,” Steve replies, cupping Eddie’s cheek. They’re pressed close, chest to chest, their noses nearly touching with how small they’re trying to make themselves in the hope they’ll live.

“But you weren’t supposed to be hurt by it,” Eddie tells him. “It was my own stupid thing. The bats got into the trailer, they could’ve gotten Dustin.”

“You don’t have to explain, just stay alive,” Steve snaps, a little harshly. He doesn’t want an explanation, he wants Eddie to stay with him.

The bats give them a small relief as they prepare for a new volley. Steve uses the opportunity to sit back on his knees and heave the nail bat up to smash the two bats still holding Eddie down.

Steve can’t see behind him, but Eddie can. He uses his newly freed hands to yank Steve back down to him, arms around his neck to protect his arteries there with the thick sleeves of his jacket. The move puts them in a little bubble of just them, their eyes inches apart.

Eddie hisses in pain as a bat chews up his leg and Steve has to grit his own teeth as he feels claw scribble at his leather covered back.

Below him, Eddie pants and in a different context, Steve might have had a problem right now. He says: “I got you, Eds. Just hang on. Focus on me.”

Slowly Eddie forces his clenched eyes open and lets out a harsh breath, before he repeats: “Just focus on you? I can do that. I can totally do that, sweetheart.”

“I’m here,” Steve promises, hearing how his own voice breaks as he keeps assuring Eddie, like the other had done for him in the tiny bathroom in the Mayfield trailer. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I got you. Just hang on. I got you. I’m here. You’re okay.”

All throughout Eddie just keeps staring at him, those big beautiful eyes that Steve has always loved so much boring into his own. It’s intense in the best way.

A bat pulls on Steve’s hair and he can feel Eddie hold onto him with all his might so the bats won’t carry him off.

The two of them are interlocked in an embrace that is keeping them alive. Steve is protecting Eddie’s organs from further damage, while Eddie protects Steve’s neck and keeps him tied to the earth, to Eddie, to ensure he keeps covering him.

It occurs to Steve that they might die together now. That instead of coming back here to find Eddie dead, Robin and Nancy might return to find both their corpses, or worse, Dustin will keep waiting at the other side of the portal for four people, who will never return to him.

Even despite it all, Steve is still scared, but he came here to save Eddie and make sure Eddie knows that he loves him, just in case they’ll never see each other again. He can’t let that be unsaid, he can’t loose someone again without telling them how much they meant to him. He’s not doing it again. He refuses.

Before he can, Eddie whimpers: “Fuck, sweetheart, it hurt. How did you do this? Fuck. Holy shit, you walked this off.”

“You saved me then,” Steve says.

“Then you know how much it sucked,” Eddie groans. “I’d never do it again, if I knew it hurt this bad. What on earth drove you to do this?”

“Because I love you too much,” Steve tells him without preamble, no lie in his eyes. He just puts himself on a platter, because it’s the truth and they’re too far in for Steve to lie again.

“What?” Eddie chokes, looking at him with wide and shocked eyes.

Steve doesn’t care that Eddie isn’t saying it back, it’s not even about that right now. Above them the storm rages on and bats chitter everywhere. Loudly Steve repeats: “Because I fucking love you, Eddie.”

It feels cathartic to finally say it after so long and he screams to be heard above the noise: “I love you so fucking much. You’re beautiful and I’ve had a crush on you for forever. I don’t even care if you don’t love me back, I just need you to know that I love you and I’m here for you. You’re not alone and you’re not a coward. You’re a hero, Eddie. You’re a fucking hero. I’m so scared of what loving you means, but you make me feel brave enough to try.”

Eddie is crying and Steve knows that someone crying isn’t a really good sign after confessing your love for them, but there isn’t much for him to do.

Bats are trying to pull him away, wrapping their tails around his arms as they try to drag him off to do god knows what. So, Steve has to bury his head in Eddie’s neck as he hangs on for dear life as Eddie does the same.

“I love you too.” For a second Steve thinks he is imaging the words being spoken into his ear, but then Eddie’s voice gets louder and more sure and he repeats it louder: “I love you too.”

A dam breaks in both of them.

Steve feels like he can finally breathe, yet he is completely breathless too. After more than a year of pining and countless of scared months, Eddie loves him back. Eddie loves him back. Holy shit. He feels invincible, despite their doom flying around their heads.

Eddie’s dam is a verbal dam as he rambles on: “You’re so perfect, holy fuck. I love you so much. You’re good with the kids and strong and kind and caring and you believed me. You believed me. I- I love you so much. You make me want to live. Fuck, I want to live. I want to make it out of here, I want to graduate, I want to take you on a date and introduce you to Uncle Wayne.”

At the end of his confession, Eddie is crying and Steve is too, because he can picture their future clearly and he knows they might not have this. With how the bats are battering them, they’re lucky if they make it out alive.

Still, through his own tears, he replies: “I want to stargaze with you, I want to go on silly movie dates, I want to hold your hand and learn how to braid you hair. I want to sit in on your games and watch you play with the kids.”

“I want to move to the city with you,” Eddie builds off of Steve’s words. “I want wake up next you every morning. I want to know your hair routine and how you take your coffee.”

Steve can feel himself smiling despite the tears and he confesses: “I want to cook you dinner when you come home and trace all your tattoos.”

“I want to know if your moles make constellations,” Eddie says, then softly adds: “I want to know what it’s like to not be a virgin.”

That can be scary to admit, Steve knows, he can still remember how he had sex his first time just so that the teasing would stop. He squeezes Eddie tightly with his own body and says: “I want to make it good for you.”

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers, fingers digging into Steve’s body as he holds him close.

It’s all just fucking fantasy, both of them know. It seems as if their plan is failing and if this goes on for any longer, they won’t be strong enough to hold on. Steve’s own muscles ache under the strain and soon he’ll be ripped away. But for now they just live in their own little fantasy and pretend tomorrow is within reach.

“I love you,” Steve says, because he can now and he’s going to say it as many times as he can, just in case he’s never able to do it again.

“I love you too,” Eddie replies.

He must be thinking the same, because they continue to say the words back and forth. Steve’s face is still buried in Eddie’s neck and he hates that he won’t even get to see Eddie’s face properly, not even one last time.

Then, without warning, it’s quiet. All around them, the bats fall down. Dead. Thunder is no longer booming and the eerie quiet, somehow feels worse than the cacophony from before.

Cautiously, Steve sits up, blushing a little as he realizes how he is straddling Eddie. However, as he looks around, the coast seems to be clear. Softly and a little bit in awe, he says: “It’s over. It stopped. We won.”

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie coughs and Steve’s eyes whip back down. Blood is streaming from his stomach and when he scrambles off, he sees how his legs are completely chewed up too.

Steve has been saved from most of the damage by being a small ball on top of Eddie. Eddie hasn’t been spared like that. With horror Steve whispers: “No, no, no, no,” as he crawls up next to Eddie and tries to stem the bleeding, though he doesn’t have enough hands.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” Eddie tells him with a soft smile, his hand reaches up and caresses Steve’s cheek. “I’m okay. You love me. That’s- fuck, that’s so much more than I thought I could have.”

The words sound too much like a goodbye message for Steve’s taste and he hisses: “No. Fuck you. You’re not allowed to die. Not today. Not on my watch.”

It’s as if Steve has been wound up and is now put down, ready to start moving and not stop until he runs out of steam. Eddie might be a tall guy, but he’s lanky and after months of throwing human beings in the air, Steve is able to hoist him up.

Eddie groans in pain and Steve winces in sympathy, but he’s not stopping now. Rather that Eddie is pain and alive, then out of his misery but dead.

He practically runs to the trailer and the door is flung open by Dustin. He looks shocked to see Steve there, then spots Eddie. He shrieks: “What the hell happened?”

“Bats,” Steve replies. “Now get the fuck out of the way. He needs a hospital.”

At this point, he isn’t even mad that Dustin came here anyway. He kind of guessed that it would happen and the fight is over now anyway. Plus, the fact that Dustin is here means that there is a way through again. God, if they lost time now because he was paranoid about Dustin, he’d never forgive himself.

Indeed, Dustin scrambles out of the way and Steve can see a new rope, fashioned out of clothes this time, hanging through the portal.

He maneuvers Eddie into a fireman carry, before starting the climb. It’s slower with Eddie on his back, but he manages to get up. At the portal itself, it gets a little awkward and he has to throw Eddie through, his heart breaking at the pitiful noise Eddie lets out when he hits the ground.

Quickly he climbs after. Before he can leave, however, Dustin yells: “Wait for me!”

Steve looks back up to see Dustin climb the rope. He knows he would hate it if he was forced to stay behind, but the whole team isn’t back yet and he knows he’ll be fast enough to drive away before Dustin can reach them.

“No, wait for Nancy and Robin,” he instructs. “Tell them we’re at the hospital. I don’t know if they’re okay. They might need help.”

He can see Dustin seethe for all but two seconds, before he realizes it’s necessary no matter how much he hates it. So he nods and urges Steve to go on.

Steve doesn’t think twice about picking Eddie back up and rushing to the mobile home, whose owners luckily haven’t taken it back. Eddie is groaning, which is better than being unconscious, but Steve knows it won’t be long, so he steps on the gas.

The drive to the hospital is grueling as he breaks about every traffic law to get there. Next to him Eddie first moans in pain, before it goes deathly quiet and Steve can’t stop to check if he’s still breathing, still alive.

At the hospital itself, he drives in front of the entrance, letting the motor run as he grabs Eddie again. He’s knocked out, but still breathing, much to Steve’s relief.

He has Eddie in a bridal carry when he enters the hospital. The two of them must make quite the pair in their dirty, bloodied, military style outfits while Steve screams: “Doctor! He needs a doctor! He’s fucking dying over here.”

Doctors and nurses rush over to take Eddie from him, one of them asks him what happens. All Steve says: “He saved my life. Animal attack,” then it all hits him and he passes out.

A/N:

Time in ST itself is weird, but it seems that they were chocked out, which I found unrealistic, so I gave my girls more badass moments, bc they deserve it <3 (and for the steddie :3)

Also ngl I made myself emotional with this chapter omgggg

#rr writing #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #robin buckley #eddie lives au #platonic stobin #buckingham #chrissy cunningham #nancy wheeler #the party stranger things #dustin henderson #cheerleader steve harrington au #st season 4 #tw: injury

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riahlynn101 · 3 months

Text

"Request #1: Custody Arrangements."

Set in the "Of Headaches and Heartaches" universe.

Original Prompt/request from Taru_lee_fly

"....a small wholesome peak into Evan’s arrangement with Venessa and Luis when it comes to Gregory? 🥹 Like does Evan see Greg once a week? Twice a week? Etc etc..."

It was the end of his twelve-hour shift. Evan was bone-weary from head-to-toe. His feet ached from standing on them for hours on end, and his stomach grumbled from a lack of food. He smelled like fry grease and the beer that a customer threw at him in a fit of drunken rage. His coworkers commiserate all the way to their respective cars, but all Evan could think about was the upcoming weekend.

His boss had allowed him to take a weekend off every other week. Which was generous of him, given that their busiest days are Friday-Sunday, but Evan was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He had one stop to make before going home. Evan made sure to clean up the day before, so he should be all good in that department. And he even remembered to go grocery shopping as well.

In spite of his exhaustion, Evan couldn’t help the excitement from taking over. It buzzed through him, keeping him alert. By the time he entered the apartment’s parking lot, he felt like he'd gotten a full night’s rest (not really but he couldn’t tell the difference, bounding towards the building).

He passed Luis’ car on his way in, which made him even more eager. It’d been a while since he’d seen his old mall buddy.

Evan knocked on the door a little harder than necessary. His son was halfway out the door before it opened fully. Gregory giggled.

Evan couldn’t help his eyes misting up, especially because he was seeing his son for the first time in forever (read: two days. He took Gregory to the park a couple days ago). He scooped him up, peppering his chubby face with kisses.

Vanessa laughed, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Did you miss your dad?”

Gregory nodded. “I always do,” he answered.

Evan and her exchange a knowing look. At the end of the weekend, they’d be having this exchange in reverse. With Gregory clinging to Vanessa instead of him, and he’d laugh it off (knowing that his son’s heart was big enough for all of them).

He bounced Gregory, making him squeal. “May I come inside for a moment? I saw that Luis was here, and I-”

Vanessa interrupted him. “Of course.” She stepped aside, letting them in. “Uh. Sorry about the mess.” She followed him to the living room. “ Someone decided to do arts and crafts in the living room.”

Evan frowned. “Gregory,” he started.

“I wish it was Gregory,” Vanessa said. She looked pointedly at Luis who was seated at the coffee table, a bottle of glitter glue in hand.

He looked up at them. “Hey, Evan. Long time, no see.” If he’s aware of his girlfriend’s ire, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“How have you been?” Evan asked, sitting on the couch.

They spent the next hour chatting. He watched the sun set from his place on the couch. Gregory growed heavier, sinking into his hold.

Vanessa left the room and came back with a Freddy-themed backpack. “He picked this out,” she said.

Evan suddenly felt bad. “How much was it?” He tried his best to support his son in every way he can, especially monetary as he knows things can add up. He patted his pockets with his free hand. “I don’t have much on-”

Vanessa waved her hands. “Nothing. It was a spur of the moment type of thing.”

“Are….are you sure?” He asked. “I know that those backpacks can be expensive.”

“It was on sale,” Luis explained. He was scrubbing the coffee table with a rag. The glitter glue he spilled earlier was putting up one hell of a fight.

“Ah.” Evan forced himself to calm down. Even though he knew that Luis and Vanessa wouldn’t hold it against him, he couldn’t help but worry that he wasn’t doing enough. As his father, he should be doing more. Right?

“Is something wrong?” Vanessa asked. She fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves.

Evan thought of suppressing everything, but he knew from experience that it all comes back eventually. Besides, he was half-convinced that Maria would materialize anytime he went through a crisis (small or otherwise).

“I…” he trailed off, unsure of how to start. Vanessa and Luis waited patiently, though the latter of the two kept cleaning the table. “I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

Vanessa was quick to respond. “You’re doing the best you can.”

And that somehow, doesn’t make Evan feel better. But he knew her heart was in the right place, so he just smiled and nodded his head.

She visibly deflated, frowning. “That didn’t make you feel better, did it?”

“No but thank you for trying. I appreciate the effort.” And he did, honestly. That was more effort than his family ever put in while he was growing up. “I think it all comes back to Maria.” The guilt he felt for not being there for her will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Vanessa tensed but remained otherwise relaxed. A better response from last time Maria was brought up.

“I know that my opinion doesn’t matter here, but I think you are a great father. You know, given the circumstances.” Luis shrugged, looking down at the coffee table. “Too many parents give up, but you haven’t. I think that has to count for something, right?”

Evan hadn’t thought about it like that. He’d come across many deadbeat parents, some worse than others, but the one thing that tied them all together was their lack of effort or participation. He smiled at his son who slept soundly, pressed to his father’s chest. “And I guess it doesn’t matter as long as Gregory’s taken care of.”

“Exactly,” Vanessa agreed. “And I promise you that, if I needed money for Gregory, I would either pick up an extra shift or ask you for it. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Evan jerked, causing his son to groan in his sleep. “Wait, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just was worried that I wasn’t paying enough child support. I know children can be expensive and I-”

“Evan,” Vanessa interrupted. He looked at her. “You didn’t make me feel bad. I can only imagine how hard this is for you, and I wouldn’t want to make it any worse. And yes, taking over care for a small child is expensive, but we’re doing just fine. Your support helps plenty.” She jabbed a thumb in Luis’ general direction. “And it’s not like Luis doesn’t spoil Gregory whenever he gets a bonus.” She laughed, and it was such a comforting sound that he found himself relaxing. “I promise you, your son is happy.”

Evan nodded to himself. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I needed to hear that.”

They say their goodbyes, and Evan left with his son and Freddy-themed backpack in tow.

That weekend was spent playing games, baking cookies (for a touch too long. The cookies come out hard as rocks), and spending as much time together as possible.

At bedtime, he tucks Gregory in, and reads to him from the same storybook Maria used to. When that doesn’t tire him out, Evan tells his son stories about their life together as a family before it all fell apart. About how beautiful and kind and wonderful his mom was, and how much she loved Gregory.

When that didn't tire him out, Evan resorted to telling his son how loved he was. Not just by him, but by Vanessa and Luis as well. He weaved their kind deeds into a fairytale.

(Gregory might not be able to understand everything that had happened in the past year, and none of them are keen on telling him until he’s older. But Gregory was old enough to understand kindness and compassion, so that was what he’d focus on for now.)

He told a tale of a queen and king taking in a prince from a faraway land.

His son listened through most of it, but exhaustion finally won out. Evan finished the story. “And they lived happily, ever, after.” Kissing his son’s head, he turned the lamp off. “Goodnight, baby.”

The next day, Sunday, Evan took Gregory back. He took his time, though. Not that he could drop him off before Vanessa was home from work. So, he took Gregory to a park for a little bit, and then to the local ice cream parlor. Which he seemed to already be familiar with, greeting the owner when they ordered.

And then, the time that he dreaded every single time came.

As soon as he spotted her, Gregory raced to Vanessa. “Mama ‘Nessa!” She scooped him up just like he did a couple days earlier, and he threw his arms around her neck. “Missed you,” Evan heard his son murmur.

It should make his heart hurt, but it doesn’t. He smiled, exchanged a few words with Vanessa, and returned to his car.

His son was happy and healthy, and that was more than he could ever ask for.

#cross posted on ao3 #fnaf fanfic #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanessa #fnaf au #fnaf security breach #fnaf

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eisforeidolon · 1 year

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Well, to be fair to them I cannot come up with a better idea to wrap up a series which started with such a odd idea directly contradicting the canon. At least this finale tries to explain the whole thing in an expected way. And introduces multiverse to expand SPN world.🤔 But it was not a prequel at all- it did not stay cohesive to what it had promised... But however... I am happy it did not try to touch what SPN canon established and every discrepancy can be nullified with the excuse of AU now.

However, now if J2 really seriously plans to return with SPN I have something to pitch. What about Sam and Dean riding the magic baby through the multiverse and discover different sam and dean everyday and resolve mystery with them every episode? I always had this crazy wish to see various different versions of sam and dean interacting with our sam and dean but it was too crazy to happen, but it does not seem so now does it?😂😂😂

The thing that gets me is I don't actually feel like it was an inherently unworkable premise. They just made such fucking weird decisions in the execution.

First and most obvious? What, exactly, did they supposedly gain by not telling us it was an AU universe right out of the gate? They kept trying to make it into a ~*mystery*~ how it would match up to canon and all I can see that it got them? Was a lot of people very frustrated at every single individual detail that deviated from the known canon and a lack of need for audience investment in John & Mary and their relationship since we knew they ultimately would hook up and not die. They could have still left the reason why Dean was interfering in this random other AU to be a big mystery and made it clear it was an AU in the show and interviews. So every single comment section about it ever wasn't filled with comments about John not knowing about hunting in the OG. So that people might have actually felt there were legit stakes in whether or not this new John & Mary hooked up and ultimately survived, since it didn't have to dovetail into canon. But they couldn't seem to decide between trying to bank entirely on nostalgia or actually make TW its own thing.

Which is kind of a detour from your actual ask, sorry. But yeah, this was a lot better than just tossing out convenient mindwipes for everybody, which was the other major option.

Your premise is a fun idea! While it would be a lot of work for J2 to do two characters each, they could do a shorter run and/or alternate episodes where they met kid versions that were handled by other actors. I will give them that so pointedly diving into there being a multiverse does open up a lot of possibilities.

#askboxery #anonymous #about the prequel #minor anti prequel sentiment

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skatesamples · 4 months

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Blank shaped skateboard decks

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The wheels of longboards are a lot bigger than the shortboard assortment, as well. Frequently, they are no less than two times as large and have different levels of hardness. In the skating scene, the hardness of wheels is additionally called durometer. By and large, shops offer harder wheels of course, so riders who wish to trade them for milder kinds can attempt to arrange that trade when they make a buy.

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Custom Highlights of Longboards

In the event that you're simply beginning with investigating the thrilling universe of longboarding, it's likely best to get the exhortation of a specialist while making the acquisition of your most memorable board. In any case, as you become more experienced you'll discover that there are explicit elements of the board that can be redone as you would prefer.

For instance, all longboards are very wide. Most are somewhere around 8 to 10 crawls in width. Be that as it may, the ideal state of the board will shift contingent upon how you like to ride. In the event that you believe your board should have the option to turn very pointedly, pick a style that incorporates patterns by the wheels.

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#Blank shaped skateboard decks

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kitmoas · 2 years

Text

All of Ours

Summary: Kate plays with WandaNat's toy without permission

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader x Kate

Genre: Smutty Plot

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Public sex, weapon/magic play, degradation and humiliation, strap on (r!receiving), light blood mentions

*Let me know if I missed any other important ones*

A/N: Annnnnd by very popular request, the Training Grounds universe expands. Here is installation 2! All the main parts are going to be quite long, just a heads up.

***MINORS DNI*** **18+**

You can’t help the smirk that spreads across your lips as you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the floor length sparkling black dress hugs your body tightly with a slit so high it barely leaves anything to the imagination. The deep purple heels make your legs seem super long, and you know they perfectly match the tie that hangs around Kate’s neck. The door behind you swings open and Maya steps into the reflection, a mocking eyebrow raise as she looks at you. Her hands move widely, signing with urgency “We need to get you out there, Kate looks nervous. She’s getting overwhelmed by people questioning her already.”

You quickly sign back in agreement, swiping your belongings into the small clutch and turning around. The two of you share a smile as she escorts you out of the bathroom, directly heading towards your reserved table. By the time you settle most seats are filled, a sigh escapes your lips as you realize your girlfriend isn’t occupying one of the luxurious cherry wood seats. Maya gives you a firm pat on the arm, leaving you with a smile as she goes to find Kate.

“A lovely girl dressed up so beautifully like you shouldn’t be left all alone, may I?” The deep voice startles you, and your head swirls around to look at the tall man addressing you. You vaguely recognize him as a higher up in the company so you put on your polite smile, leaning closer so it seems like you’re interested in what he’s saying.

The arrogant look on his face annoys you, but you can’t ruin this night so you let his hand touch your arm as he looks down at you. “Oh, thank you sir but I’m not alone.” You cross your legs, trying to put more distance between the two of you, as you watch his eyes trail your body. You feel gross, but pointedly clearing your throat doesn’t seem to register in his mind.

His eyes light up as he stares at your excessive cleavage, something that was intended for your girlfriend, as he spins to grab two champagne flutes from the tray of the server walking by. “Let’s cheers, yes? To the company, hopefully the child that somehow got the entire thing won’t destroy it?” His voice is light hearted and seemingly teasing, but you knew better. You could see the jealousy, the anger behind his eyes. You were trained by the best spies, and you barely kept the snicker in as you lifted your own flute before taking a small sip.

He begins asking you questions about yourself, answers that you easily lie through your teeth about. Your eyes are casually scanning the crowd around you, letting it seem natural and polite, but you can’t help the glimmer in your eyes and the wide smile that spreads across your face when you finally catch sight of the guest of honor. The brunette looks stressed out with five different men around her, all asking questions on how she is going to change the company. She finally glances around the room and her eyes land on the man’s hand that is laying on your arm.

The anger on her face is quick and her entire body tenses, she barely excuses herself as she stalks across the large room towards you. You can’t help the arousal that floods your system as you watch her stride towards you, and you can’t help but want to make it worse. A cheeky grin makes its way on to your face as you lean your body towards the man, Jake the head chairman, letting your own hand graze across his. You don’t even have time to open your mouth to say something to him when you feel a hand tangle in your hair, yanking slightly.

“Jake, I see you met my girlfriend.” Her voice is clipped and her fingers are running through your wavy hair, pride runs through your veins knowing you picked the right style for the night. The surprise on his face is comical as he nervously glanced between the tie around Kate’s neck and the matching ring on your index finger.

He stumbles for words for a moment before the speaker asks for everyone to take their spots for hors d’oeuvres and opening speeches. You internally groan when you realize that Jake is also at the table with you and Kate, but she slides her chair closer to you and wraps her arm around your shoulder.

You’re snacking slowly on some puff pastry filled with a gross mushy filling thing, barely listening but trying to seem interested for looks sake. Naïve and ignorant to the battle between the two suits sitting around you, but your body wasn’t able to ignore the slim calloused hand now on your thigh. Her lips brushing your ear startles you, “Open your legs for me baby girl.”

Your legs slip open before your mind can even catch up, a small breeze of air hits your covered center making you shiver. The archer’s hand slips between your thighs and her thumb presses firmly against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips before you can stop it. “Be quiet, we’re putting on a show for your new friend Jake.” Kate’s other hand pulls your leg to rest over hers, opening you up and showing off the dark purple thong you’re wearing. She’s rubbing your clit slowly, teasing you as your slick starts to soak through the flimsy fabric.

Kate’s nails scratch at your thigh, a silent reminder to keep quiet, as her hand slips into your thong forcing your legs wider. Your hips buck when her cold fingers touch your dripping cunt, hissing lightly at the temperature change. The manicured tips of her fingers dip slightly into you, making you clench down. Swallowing the whine that threatens to escape your throat, you turn your head downwards so that no one can see the look on your face. You know your entire face is flushed and you’re biting your lip so hard that it splits.

Kate jerks her knee up hitting the table, causing the silverware to clatter and Jake’s attention to switch over to you. You look up through your lashes at his choking sound, and you can’t help the intense wave of arousal when you realize that Kate has you spread open just perfectly so he can watch. “You like what you see Jakey boy? My little slut soaking wet just for me, isn’t that right princess?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, your body craves to be good, but her fingers finally slide into you and you choke on the moan tumbling out of your mouth. You can tell the angle is horrible so your hips are moving aggressively, trying to take more of her fingers. Nothing but chasing your high is on your mind, your body engulfed in a fiery wave of arousal as the coil in your stomach tightens. Kate stills her hand, letting you fuck yourself on her fingers, while she sits back with an arrogant smirk on her face.

“Is she- uh–” The man’s voice breaks and squeaks as he looks around frantically, trying to see if any other gala guests are noticing the activity at hand. Jake’s eyes snap back when he confirms that no one is paying attention, gaze now glued to how you ride his boss’s fingers. His entire face is bright red and there is a thin layer of sweat shining along his hairline.

Your girlfriend’s face twists in disgust as she watches Jake palm at his own crotch, panic rising in his eyes at the threatening look he receives. “Is she? Is she what buddy?” Kate’s mocking voice pushes you closer to the edge, and you can’t help the whimper that comes out.

The announcer’s voice breaks through your hazy mind and you realize that your archer has to speak soon, and you can’t help but clench down on the fingers inside of you. “Katie…” Your voice comes out softly and broken by another whimper. “I-please make me cum.” Slightly frantic in tone, your hips buck up to chase the now retreating fingers as the archer slips her hand out of your ruined panties.

She shushes you as she makes direct eye contact with Jake, swiping her fingers through the cream on whatever puff pastry appetizer was served last. At the clearing of her throat your mouth immediately opens as she slides her fingers in, letting you moan at the taste of yourself. With no care in the world she fucks your mouth for a moment, chuckling at the groan coming from Jake. “Such a good little slut, princess.”

Her fingers drag your bottom lip down as she slides her fingers out, wiping the little bit of drool on your exposed cleavage. Before you can whine her hand takes its place between your spread thighs, rubbing tight circles on your aching clit. Your eyes roll back into your head, and the moan that falls from your lips is filthy but thankfully quiet.

Your breathing is labored and you can feel your entire body trembling, but you know you need more. When you feel Kate’s other hand wrap tightly around your throat and her lips press against your temple, you’re dragged to the edge where you dangle dangerously. “Cum for me my pathetic princess. Show Jake how good I fuck you. Show him who you belong to.”

The broken rasp in the archer’s voice made your body convulse but it was the gentle declaration of love whispered directly into your ear that snaps the taut coil in your stomach, forcing you over the edge. The hand that’s wrapped around your throat tightens almost too much, cutting off all oxygen and sound, ensuring that no one can hear as your orgasm overtakes your body. Your vision is blurred but you can just make out Jake’s panicked look, but the longer that the archer restricts your oxygen the longer your high lasts.

Suddenly Kate’s whispering softly to you now, rubbing gently at your neck as you slowly catch your breath. She’s babbling nonsense as usual but it calms your entire being, and it only takes a minute for your mind to clear. The gentle kiss on your temple makes you blush deeper than you had the entire time you were being used, but as the brunette moves your body to a more natural position you can’t help but feel loved. Your girlfriend is completely ignoring her co-worker now, holding a glass of water to your lips as you sip slowly. The soft look in the deep ocean blue eyes causes your heart to stutter, and you know you’re falling more in love with her.

You vaguely hear her name being announced, and you watch as she stands. The brunette leans down, giving you a kiss on the cheek and whispers another declaration of her love. She sends a haughty wink towards Jake as she walks away, sliding behind the microphone to give her acceptance speech.

Watching in awe as your girlfriend talks about company policies and how she will be running one of the most luxurious security companies in the world, you completely forget about everyone else in the room once again. You’re smiling widely as she talks, pride is the only thing you can feel as you realize she’s one of the youngest CEOs in the business. The happiness you feel is interrupted by the vibration of your phone, and your stomach immediately rolls as you notice over ten messages from Natasha and a single message Wanda. Your head snaps up as you scan the room, landing on Yelena who’s staring directly at you. The reprimanding look on your best friend’s face makes you realize what mistake you just made, and the panic strikes through you when you realize that it wasn’t just you on the line anymore.

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

The night of the gala was amazing but the texts you received were still looming over your head, especially as you waited for instructions on your next move. You slept at Kate’s penthouse, given when her mother went to prison, and the two of you were staying there until you were called upon. “Babe, have you seen your light purple hoodie? The one from your graduation? I wanna wear it to classes next week, it’s supposed to be cold.”

You hear Kate throwing things around upstairs, rolling your eyes at the messiness of the archer. The fast footsteps down the steps are the only answer you receive as she almost runs directly into you, hands wrapping around you to prevent you from falling. “Uh– no I think I left it over at the apartment. I wore it while I was practicing, sorry princess.” Her face is apologetic but scrunched up in thought. “We can always just head over there, stop by Herman’s new place to pick up dinner, and just spend the night there tonight?”

Your entire attitude lights up at the idea of going to Kate’s old apartment. The tracksuits’ fire caused your girlfriend to have to have the entire building reconstructed, but she definitely made it so much better. The apartment had hints of you everywhere from a large desk for your schooling to an entire area just for you to work on boxing and strength training. Kate had bought you your own bows as well, spending time to teach you; and your martial arts belts are also displayed. The pride you felt when you received your blue belt faster than any other student in your class was immense, and your girlfriend showed you just how proud she was later that night.

The two of you decided to walk to the apartment with Lucky trotting slightly in front of you, “So you never did tell me what the texts said last night.” The archer is a step behind you, head on a swivel as she always does when you guys walk through the city. Your hands are intertwined and every time she sees something that stresses her out her hand tenses.

Slipping your phone out, you sigh as you read the last texts sent by the older woman “Well Wanda’s “good to hear you had fun” was the scariest and happens to be all she said.” Your heart thumps a little harder as you think about the anxiety you have over making Wanda mad, you craved her praise more than anything. You know that it isn’t given easily.

Kate’s breath hitches and you can feel the panic flowing through her system. Lucky seems to sense the issue too as he swings back to stare at you two. The brunette leans against a nearby pole, letting her hand fall to the dog’s head to pet him. “What did Natasha say?” Her voice is hesitant, almost scared, as she looks at you.

Scrolling through your phone, the sigh that leaves your lips does nothing to calm Kate’s nerves. “Well she at least texted multiple times, but then again that doesn’t really make anything better. She mostly just said that we better be ready to pay for everything, and that she loves me even if Mommy is going to destroy us both.” The anxiety coursing through your veins makes you pace, and your girlfriend stands to wrap her arm around you. A soft kiss on the side of your head calms you some as the three of you begin walking again.

The silence is loud but comfortable between the two of you as the city noise around you takes the place of conversation. The lights from Herm’s new sign are bright, and Lucky sprints ahead of you to paw at the door. Kate opens the door for you and Lucky, and you’re immediately greeted by the three older men working. Hugs and casual conversation come easy as they immediately begin making your order. It doesn’t take long and even though they don’t make you pay, you know Kate left them an enormous tip in their jar.

As you leave the pizza shop, trying to catch your energetic dog as the two of you stumble through laughter towards the door around the corner. She chases you up the stairs but Lucky is always on your side in situations like this as Kate somehow trips completely over him, barely catching the food before it falls. Victorious laughter echoes through the staircase as you take advantage of the situation and reach the top of the stairs, opening the door to the apartment. You let Lucky in first and step inside to take off the layers of coats you have on.

What you don’t see are the two figures sitting on the stairs to the bedroom, mostly covered in shadows as they watch you. They watch as the brunette archer stumbles through the door, kicking it closed behind her, and clumsily setting the pizza on the counter. The hidden figures listen as her voice reverberates throughout the apartment to the Bishop AI, who locks the doors and turns on the lights.

You excitedly wait as you watch Kate open the food and get plates out; pizza, cheesy bread, and boneless wings. Lucky is whining next to you, and you’re about to reach over to give him his pizza when a throat clearing causes you to drop the plate. The golden retriever darts away from the broken plate, hiding under the couch, whimpering loudly. You barely blink and Kate has twirled around, throwing a knife directly at the source of the sound without hesitation.

The gasp that falls from your lips is involuntary when crimson mist surrounds the knife before it can even get close to your owners, who are casually perched on the steps not bothered by the proximity of the blade. “Took you two long enough.” You shiver at the deep Sokovian accent dripping from Wanda’s voice, laced with pure rage.

“Mommy I-” The look on Natasha’s face stops you from continuing your sentence, and you feel like you can’t breathe. The two have barely been home and you’ve already made them mad. The crushing weight hurts your heart and it forces a pathetically sad whimper from your throat.

You’re falling to your knees before your clouded mind can catch up, but you never hit the floor as scarlet wraps around you. You hadn’t realized that Wanda stood, nor did you notice her walking towards you, your gaze is lowered but you lean into the hand that cups your cheek. “Shh detka, Mommy still loves you and you’re still my good girl.”

The tears that are rolling down your cheeks surprises you but the magic disappears and you’re wrapped into the warmth of Wanda’s arms, curled up on the floor in her lap. She’s whispering to you in her native language, and it settles you into a calm state. Once your mind clears some you lift your head, looking for Kate and Natasha.

The two of them are across the room now, Kate is on her knees in front of Natasha with the widow’s hand wrapped tightly around her neck. You can’t hear their intense conversation but Wanda’s manipulating your body now, spinning you around to lean back against her chest between her legs. “Your Daddy and I aren’t even mad at you anymore, my toy. We believe it’s time to properly introduce your little stray on how to interact with our property. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her hands are all over your body, scratching at your stomach and ghosting over your breasts.

The sudden burst of arousal clouds your mind making it difficult to think, and you just nod helplessly as your head falls backwards to lean against her shoulder. You can barely see the other two, your eyes struggling to stay open as Wanda plays your body like the instrument you are to her.

Natasha’s voice cuts through the heavy haze in your mind “My sweet little princess, would you like to pick out the collar that Mutt gets to wear tonight?” Your head is being forced up by a slim hand, and your eyes lazily open as Kate is shoved to the floor in front of you guys. The redhead slides around the archer and kneels in front of you, “Hi baby, I need you to answer me. We’re letting the bitch wear a collar during her punishment tonight, and I think you should get to pick out which one.”

You can barely focus but you recall a rich plum collar and you mumble that to Natasha, your answer barely comes out as Wanda’s magic wraps around your neck. The daze you’re in breaks and you somehow are up the stairs, settled on your hands and knees on the large king bed. Kate is sitting across the small room, on her knees, her eyes are wide and you can tell she’s anxious. Wanda is casually leaning against the wall, a steady stream of magic flowing from her waving fingers teasing you gently. The ginger widow mumbles something quietly to the archer, and it seems to calm her enough for her body to stop trembling as the older woman fastens the soft leather around her neck.

The sound of clicking of metal rings through the room and you realize a matching leash is now tying Kate to the banister overlooking the rest of the apartment. Natasha’s movements are slow and calculated, stalking around the younger woman like a predator. When she finally makes a move, hand slapping across the archer’s face, it’s sudden and violent. You can barely blink when the gleam bounces off a small dagger, now held at the brunette’s throat. “Showing off our property without permission, Mutt?” The honed tip of the blade slides across the lip of the collar, threatening to pierce the pale skin it maps out.

The anger on the ginger’s face makes you nervous for Kate, knowing what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that, but Wanda’s voice startles the entire room. “Now Tasha, we can’t expect the Stray to know all the rules even if we expected a little bit of basic respect.” The pointed tone makes Kate lower her head, guilt flooding her system, and a pathetic whimper leaves her mouth. “I suppose we’ll just have to teach the idiot mongrel common decency ourselves.” There’s a bite in her voice that causes a shiver down your spine, and you can feel yourself leaking through your ruined panties.

You stare at the floor in front of the bed as scarlet mist fills the room, and it vibrates against your skin leaving a burning path across your torso. Natasha’s black sneakers step into view and her fingers grip your chin, forcing your eyes to slowly rake up her body that’s covered in a tight black shirt and dark gray leggings that show off a very noticeable bulge. Not sure if it's the way you clench around nothing just by the thought of the strap that’s hiding in her pants or the magic that is teasing your neglected clit, but the guttural moan bubbles past your lips and it makes the older woman snicker.

The ginger’s thumb pushes past your lips, rewarding you with a hum of approval when you immediately start sucking on it. “Wanna get Daddy’s cock ready for your tight little cunt like a good whore?” Her question is mocking as she slowly pulls out her strap, letting it bounce slowly in front of your face. She laughs as your jaw drops, wiping the drool off her thumb on your cheek. The widow is forcing the tip into your mouth before you can even whine.

The pace she sets is brutal causing you to immediately gag and drool around the cock stretching your lips, the one time you ever truly feel used by the widow is when she’s fucking your mouth. “Oh fuck my messy little toy, you sound so pretty gagging on my cock.” She waits until there are tears running down your face before slowing down, letting her dripping cock fall from your mouth.

Wanda slips from behind you, sliding to sit on the desk across from the bed and Kate, and Natasha takes her place behind you. The tip of her cock is running through your folds, spreading the leaking wetness. The whimper that falls from your lips is soft, but the high pitched whine from across the room catches everyone’s attention. “Aww does the pitiful mutt want to be inside my-” a pointed cough makes her backtrack “our toy? Do you want to feel how wet she is, leaking all over my cock? Her needy cunt is basically sucking me in.” The widow is thrusting into you steadily now, and you move your hips just the way you know she likes to meet her thrusts.

You can barely hold yourself up, the force of Natasha’s thrusts almost topple you over with each snap of her hips, but you desperately want to look at your girlfriend. Teasing laughter fills the room as warm scarlet mist wraps around your throat, the ghost of a tight grip forcing your upper body up. “Look at your miserable mongrel.” Kate is already pulling at the leash, trying to get the knot to loosen as she stares hungrily at your body.

Your entire body is trembling and your vision begins to blur at the lack of oxygen. The coil in your stomach is taut and it drives you to push against the magic wrapped around your neck. The sting of Natasha’s nails piercing the thin skin stretched across your hip bones forces a whine to fall from your lips, her hips snap violently into yours driving you towards the edge.

Finally keeping your eyes from rolling into the back of your head, you catch Kate’s desperate gaze and you almost completely lose yourself. Her eyes are wide, filled with lust as she watches you. The sensitive skin on her neck is bright red, irritated by her jerking to try and get closer to the bed.

Suddenly the magic holding you up is gone and your face plummets into the amethyst comforter, the widow behind you takes full advantage of the new position. She’s brutal in her thrusts now, taking what she wants as she scratches down your back. The heat in your stomach is overwhelming and you can feel frustrated tears welling up in your eyes, the ginger is dangling you over the edge refusing to let you fall. The words falling out of your mouth are not comprehensive, but she shushes you with a harsh slap on the ass.

“Mutt, you better stop moving or you’re going to have to watch the slut cum until she passes out, and you can bet you won’t be allowed to touch anyone.” Kate freezes across the room where she was working the knot in the leash loose. Natasha’s voice is raspy, coming out between labored breaths, and it sends a wave of arousal through your body. Her fingers tangle in your hair, dragging your body up to meet her torso.

The pained whimper that fell from your lips was ignored as her slim fingers reached between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your neglected clit. Her strap is rubbing slowly at that soft spot inside you, “Do you want to cum for Daddy, my pretty little toy? Would you like to show the bitch in heat what she’s missing?” The rushed nod and stuttering begs are enough for Natasha as she smirks manically at the archer, a mocking eyebrow raise is sent in her direction. Blood rushing through your head muffles the whispered permission as your entire body tenses up and the coil in your stomach shatters into pieces.

Hushed whispers slowly bring your mind from the fuzzy area and you can hear the quiet moans behind you, but the soft hands rubbing at your back ground you. You just barely open your eyes as your head turns slowly, air rushing into your lungs as you finally pull your face from being shoved into the bed. “Hey there princess, you look so pretty. Such a good little toy.” The gentle kiss to your temple settles a nice fog in your mind, and you don’t want anything but the three women in the room.

The widow stands once she knows you're settled, stalking over to Kate who’s body is trembling as Wanda’s magic teases her. Sneering as the ginger stares down at her, the slap snaps the archer’s head to the left suddenly and Natasha is on her before she can recover. Slim hand wrapping tightly around her neck as she pushes the brunette’s entire body backwards until she’s leaning against the bars of the banister. Crimson mist appears to wrap rope around the young Avenger’s wrists, effectively trapping her snug against the cold metal.

“You look so pretty when you struggle, Mutt.” Stormy earth stares into rippling ocean, reassuring but calculating, the two silently having a conversation. The former stands quickly and strides across the room where Wanda sits, legs spread, on top of the desk. The two melt together flawlessly, a needy but soft kiss shared between them.

Kate's eyes can’t settle on one sight, the older women having the softest moment or you laying on the bed enjoying the show. The decision was quickly made for her when your entire body is wrapped up in intoxicating scarlet mist, and a guttural moan tumbles from your lips. Your entire body is on fire as the ruby ghost of hands map out your body.

The feeling of the magic, combined with the knowledge that Kate’s eyes are glued to your body, makes you clench around nothing as you drip onto the already damp sheets. A soft whimper draws your attention to the other side of the room where Natasha has Wanda bent over the desk, fist in her hair forcing her to look at you, as she slams her hips into hers. An almost glitching stream of magic flows from her fingers as she tries to focus on filling you with her magic, attempting to push you over the edge.

With each thrust from Natasha, the magic wrapping you up gets more intense. You can feel the crimson phantom of fingers sliding into your fluttering opening, but your hips buck and whines fall from your lips at the lack of attention to your aching clit. The mist filling you is bright and it makes you delirious, your mind going blank and all you can focus on is the fast approaching high. You can no longer decipher anyone’s moans as they fill the air, dancing together to a sensual melody.

Even through panting breaths and broken moans, Wanda still commands respect. A wisp of magic sliding into your mouth, muffling your own sounds of pleasure. The auburn ghost that fills your dripping center seems to double in growth, stretching you until you feel a small sting of pain. Your gasp makes an entirely too arrogant smirk stretch across the witch’s face, “You look so pretty all wrapped up and stuffed with my magic, my little whore.” The flush that spreads across your body is embarrassing, but unsurprising as she still has the same effect on you that she did four years ago.

Looking away from the couple you allow your fluttering eyes to drift to your girlfriend on the ground. Her entire torso is flushed a dark cherry red, and her chest is heaving. Her thighs are rubbing together but you can still see the small puddle of wetness below her, glistening in the dim light from the overhead lights. There’s a steady stream of whimpers falling from her mouth as she watches your body get used by the ghostly fog, but none of that gets to you as much as her eyes do.

The ocean blue is completely blown out leaving lust filled pools of obsidian striking to your core when you catch her gaze. She doesn’t need to say anything but with the combination of her eyes and the overwhelming heat of Wanda’s magic vibrating across your body, you are thrown over the edge without warning. Your body trembles violently as the mist engulfing you gets brighter, pulsing around you, prolonging your high. A sharp, blinding scarlet flash fills the room as the moans drown out the thunder outside.

Pathetic whimpering clears your brain, and you can feel a body behind you. “Hi there princess.” The soft smile distracts you from the actions across from you, the knowledge that something was happening kept you in a slight hazey mindset. “My perfect girl, you did so amazing for me.” Your attention starts drifting as the whining gets louder, and you can see the scarlet mist rising in the room. The widow just chuckles lightly as she buries her face into your neck, leaving gentle kisses. She’s pulling you closer and moving your bodies to get more comfortable, but also giving you a better opportunity to look at Wanda and Kate.

Wanda’s eyes are glowing as she stares down at the younger brunette, seemingly leaving cuts along her skin with a wave of her fingers. Your mind is far too muddled, but you can still see the way Kate’s thighs rub together as she tries to hump air and it pulls a whine from your lips. Natasha shushes you, but she isn’t quick enough as the witch whips around to look at you. Her eyes no longer crimson but still sharp, an eyebrow raising at you. “My detka, the mongrel needs to learn her lesson. You can’t play with your stray right now. Playtime is over.”

You watch as her magic gently unties Kate, leaning down to rest her forehead against the archer’s. The Sokovian is whispering something to her, a tender smile across her lips. Your girlfriend’s eyes widen at the question as she reaches up to shield the clasp on the collar, silently begging Wanda to let her keep it on. The older woman leaves a few kisses along her face as she gently starts helping her stretch out, resulting in the archer rolling around letting her limbs flop around. Natasha snorts but you smile dopily, settling into the widow’s arms waiting for the other two.

Wanda loops her fingers into the ring on her collar dragging Kate along, the latter struggling to walk behind her. When your girlfriend stumbles onto the bed, falling into a pile of limbs next to you, you whine lowly at the apparent wetness coating her thighs and the puddle left on the floor. Your hands reach out, wanting to touch her, but Natasha immediately smacks away your hands. She gives you a reprimanding look, “Nuh uh princess, Mommy said playtime is over.” You try giving her your best doe eyes, begging her to let you touch Kate. “No. All good pets need training.” Her voice might be light and teasing, but you know the seriousness behind it so you nod slowly.

Reaching over to rub your thumb along your girlfriend’s neck, bright red irritation seeps out from underneath the leather. “Yes, Daddy.” Natasha slips out of bed, leaving the two of you with a gentle kiss on your shoulders.

Your eyes follow her briefly, seeing her pull Wanda closer and kissing her softly. A warm feeling spreads throughout your body especially when Kate pulls you to her, her lips meeting yours. Her fingers tangle in your hair as she leans up onto her elbow, angling your head better as her tongue slips past your lips. The soft dominance makes your heart flutter and the two of you lazily make out waiting for the older women to come back.

You pull apart when the sheets below you magically change and fairy lights float around you, Wanda slipping into bed with some clothes in her arms. She hesitantly sets a shirt and pair of shorts in front of Kate, seemingly conflicted. “..Here you go, you should wear those.” You instantly recognize the shorts are Wanda’s and the shirt is one of Natasha’s, and you can’t help but feel warmth at their small act of possessiveness towards the archer.

Three taps on your thigh have you getting up as Wanda helps dress you; a button down from Wanda, joggers from Natasha, and surprisingly socks from Kate. The look of confusion on your face is evident to the witch, “You’re all of ours little one, gotta dress you like it too.” She presses her lips to your forehead and settles into the bed, arms open waiting for you to cuddle in. As you do you notice Natasha is back, snacks and water set to the side, and she’s whispering softly to Kate as she helps her get dressed.

As the two settle in next to you and Wanda, the latter lets the snacks float through the air. She brings you closer to her, humming under her breath as she lets her head rest on yours. The widow hands Kate the remote, letting her pick out a movie. The four of you settle in a mostly silent warmth, stretching out so you are all touching somewhere. At some point you and Kate roll over to look at each other, the older women softly massaging sore muscles. “I love you pup.” She just shakes her head at you and drags you into a soft kiss.

Requested Tag List:@simplysimping999 @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpfornatasharomanoff @simpforflorencepugh1 @8bitscarlet

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biaswreckingfics · 2 years

Text

Blurred Lines: Part 1

Pairing: Kim Sunwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Acquaintances to Lovers, Roommate AU, Fuckboy AU

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fuckboy Sunwoo

Next Chapter

The sound of your friend's laughter finally breaks through to your ears, and you pull yourself up straight, clearing your throat in the process. You attempt to drag your gaze away from the sight in front of you, but you're too intrigued to truly do it or annoyed. Maybe disgusted. You can't be entirely sure.

All you know is that watching girls flock all over Sunwoo and Hyunjae is both hilarious and embarrassing, and you couldn't look away.

"Admiring the view?" Your best friend, Sophia, leans over and asks when she catches you staring at the two boys.

You scoff in response. "As if."

"You know, if you want to hook up with one of them, I'm sure they'd be very open to the idea."

Turning around, you glare at Sophia's boyfriend, Eric, who just gives you a cheeky smile in response. Before you can express your disgust, your mutual friend Kevin comes around the table, undoubtedly drawn to the gossip he's sure you're discussing.

"Who's hooking up?"

"No one," you shut him down before a full-blown rumor can spread and turn to Eric, "and I'd rather choke on my own tongue than hook up with one of them."

"Dramatic," Kevin mutters before sinking down into the seat next to you.

Eric snickers at your response, eyes crinkling in delight, while Sophia gives you a soft smile. You turn back around to your original position and ignore them. The absolute last thing you needed was a rumor to spread through their friend group that you liked one of them. You can already imagine the teasing that would come with that, and it was kicking in your fight or flight response.

Your eyes dance around the university quad, watching other students hustle to their classes or leisurely stroll with friends. You tip your head back and enjoy the light warm breeze that travels through the air. The rest of the boys joke around and hang out at the tables surrounding you as you all kill time in between classes, but you don't pay much attention to them.

The only reason you're even over here is because of Sophia and Kevin. They're the ones that are friends with this group of people, and while you're friendly and greet each other whenever you see one another, they're not people you'd spend a lot of your time with. They're all nice, but they're also loud, chaotic, and the constant string of girls they run through bugs you. The older you get, the more you've grown to like your quiet and your space. Being around so many people drains your energy.

"I'm almost positive my math professor has a deal with Satan," Jacob says in greeting as he plops down next to Kevin, who immediately responds.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the whole faculty got together and made a deal with him."

You turn your head and look at Kevin with curiosity. "Are your classes that bad?"

"He didn't tell you about the assignment he tried to turn in late last week?" Jacob asks you, his angelic features showing his amusement.

"Maybe if he didn't have Beyonce playing in his headphones throughout the entirety of class, he'd know when things are due." Sophia chimes in.

You and Eric laugh as Jacob looks at Kevin with disappointment. Kevin pointedly ignores his stare and looks at Sophia with a scrunched face.

"That's irrelevant."

Shaking your head, your eyes rove over the quad once again, and they eventually end up falling on Sunwoo and Hyunjae. Only this time, they're joined by Juyeon and a new group of girls. You know they’re popular, know about their fuckboy reputations, but to witness it first hand is a different thing entirely.

Obviously, they're attractive - you'd have to be dumb to think otherwise - but it confuses you how these girls know about their reputations and still want to be with them. Then again, one look from Sunwoo, and you aren't entirely sure the girls have a choice. The man is stupidly attractive, even if he does sleep with a new girl every few days.

Personally, you don't like the way he moves. You don't respect that type of lifestyle, but he's always been friendly with you since your best friends are dating, so you learned to ignore it. Even though a part of you strongly wanted to knock his arrogance down a few pegs.

You watch in amusement as the three boys extract themselves from their groupies and make their way over to the rest of the group. The disappointed looks on the girl’s faces causes you to shake your head.

"I bet you can't recall a single one of those girls' names," Eric says when they sit down, causing you to turn in your seat and face the table.

"Somin. One of them was named Somin," Hyunjae says with full confidence that slowly falls from his face the more he thinks about it.

"Now, that's just sad," Kevin makes a face at him, making the rest of you laugh.

Sangyeon wanders over from a table next to you and drops down next to Sunwoo. "Have you found a new apartment yet?"

Just the question causes an exhausted look to fall over the younger one's face, and he shakes his head no.

"Where have you been staying the past week?" Jacob asks with concern.

"Couch surfing mainly." Sunwoo shrugs his shoulders before leaning his head toward Hyunjae. "I've been at his dorm the past couple of days."

"Why are you couch surfing?" Sophia asks. "What happened to your apartment?"

His eyes find hers and flash with frustration. "My roommate and I had a… falling out."

"That's what happens when you sleep with his girlfriend!" Haknyeon yells from the other table, causing Sunwoo to immediately turn and face him.

"I didn't sleep with that girl! How many times do I have to tell you people that?"

"Probably until we actually believe it," Jacob tells him with a smile on his face.

Sunwoo sighs in frustration and shakes his head as he turns back to your table. "Whatever. I just need to find a place to crash that has an actual bed. My back is killing me."

Someone mentions something about karma, but you miss it because Sophia turns to you with a thoughtful expression.

"You should let him stay at your apartment for a while!"

The group falls silent as you stare at your best friend with a dumbfounded expression. Why the hell would she suggest that? Out loud? You guys are acquaintances. You barely know each other, and besides, where is he even gonna sleep? The couch?

"Your roommate is gone, isn't she?" She asks when you don't respond.

Her words click something into place, and it finally dawns on you that you do, in fact, have a spare bedroom for a couple of months. It has completely slipped your mind that your roommate went to another country to study abroad for the second half of the school year, considering she just left a couple of days ago.

"That's a great idea!" Eric jumps in. "We can all hang out there without bugging anyone."

Your eyes search the group around you to find everyone staring at you, waiting for you to respond. You definitely feel like you're being put on the spot, and with so many hopeful faces looking at you, you feel like you can't say no.

"Would that be okay with you?" Sunwoo asks with hesitancy in his voice since he can probably sense your reluctance. They all probably can.

You can't let the guy continue to couch surf, though, when you have a perfectly empty bed that'll go unused for months.

"Sure. My roommate is gone for the rest of the year, so you can have her room." You try to keep the reluctance out of your voice, but your mind is already thinking about having to witness his fuckboy tendencies up close and personal.

A grateful smile breaks out on his face as he thanks you and the rest of the guys excitedly talk about the possibility of throwing parties. You immediately make a mental note to set up ground rules before they manage to do something to get you kicked out. It wouldn't be the first time it happened.

"Sunwoo!" A feminine voice breaks through the excited chatter.

A few of you glance over at the voice, and you nearly roll your eyes into the back of your head when you see who's coming toward you.

Minjee, followed by a group of her friends, is making a beeline for your table, or more accurately, for Sunwoo.

You and Sophia share a glance as the short brunette aims her sights on Sunwoo. You've run into Minjee a few times over the school year, and absolutely none of those experiences were pleasant. You've seen her "accidentally" dump her coffee all over a younger student who unfortunately got in her way, and shove a "nerdy" boy to the floor because he had the guts to talk to her. Of course, according to her, he tripped over his own shoe. She's an entitled bitch that thinks the world owes her, and you couldn't dislike her more than you already do.

Of course, her feelings are mutual towards you. She knows you hang out with Sunwoo's group of friends, and since she's trying so desperately to be his girlfriend, she makes sure to be extremely rude to you every chance she gets. The only reason Sophia gets a pass is because she's already dating Eric.

A thought suddenly hits you, and you have to stifle the groan you make, so you don't draw too much attention to yourself. The bitch you hate is trying desperately to get with your new roommate. Just the thought of her being at your apartment irritates you and makes you immediately regret your decision.

________________

Moving day comes sooner than you expect. Sunwoo wastes no time getting his stuff in order and starts moving things in the next day. When he, Sangyeon, and Juyeon show up at your front door at 10am sharp with boxes, you blink at them in surprise. Sunwoo gives you a cheeky smile, and you wordlessly move over to let them in.

The only saving grace from the surprise move is when Sunwoo runs back out to his vehicle and comes back in with coffee. He immediately heads over to you and hands you a warm cup from the tray after he reads all of the orders.

Surprised, but entirely grateful, you take the cup and mumble out a "thanks".

"I didn't know how you take your coffee, or if you even drink it, so I texted Eric and made him ask Sophia," he admits as he nervously looks at you. "I hope it's right."

You blink at him with wide eyes, completely surprised by his thoughtfulness, before taking a quick glance at the order on the cup. A smile grows on your face when you see the correct order. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"No, thank you for letting me stay here. To be honest, I don't know if I could've spent another night at Hyunjae's without smothering him with his pillow."

Your mouth falls slightly open before a small laugh leaves you. "Well, for both your sakes, I'm glad I could help."

"Hey, Sunwoo! Do you expect us to move you in ourselves, or are you going to help?" Juyeon asks, already on his third trip.

Sunwoo sets the other coffees down on the closest table and runs out to help the two older men. You sit down and silently watch as the three of them lug enough things into your apartment that you wonder how big his other apartment was.

Sangyeon gives you a sorry look as he brings more stuff in, and you begin to worry about how much more he has to go. If they bring any more boxes in, your apartment is going to look like a storage locker.

The moment you see Sunwoo, you spring off the couch and follow him to his new room. He drops the box he's carrying on top of another one and jumps when he turns and sees you in the doorway.

"Just out of curiosity, how much more stuff do you have?"

He pauses and gives you an awkward smile, and your eyes widen.

"I promise it's not as much stuff as it looks like when it's put away!" He tries to placate you, throwing out his hands before you can say anything else. "And I swear I'm looking for a place, so I won't be here too long!"

You nod your head to let him know it's okay. You can live with some boxes here and there for a short while. "Is this everything you own?"

"Pretty much. I was too afraid that if I left anything with my old roommate, he'd break it or sell it."

"Was the falling out that bad?"

The grimace on his face tells you everything you need to know. Your hand comes up to your mouth as you try to hide the laugh that wants to come out.

"Was it warranted?" You nonchalantly ask, remembering the guy's accusations.

"I did not sleep with his girlfriend," he immediately says when he reads your expression.

You put your hands up and offer him a small smile. "I didn't say a word."

After that, the boys finish moving Sunwoo in and quickly leave before he can ask them for anything else, which just causes Sunwoo to roll his eyes.

When he turns back to face you, the two of you awkwardly stand there, each trying to figure out what to say to the other. You guys have never really talked to each other one-on-one. It's always been general statements spoken in a group setting. You barely know Sunwoo as a person. You only know him for his reputation, which sparks an idea in your head.

"For this to go as seamless as possible, I think we need to set up some ground rules."

He hums in agreement. "I'm all ears."

"Okay, so…" you trail off as you try to think of some rules before one of the guy's suggestions reignites in your brain. "No parties without discussing it with the other."

"Sounds fair," Sunwoo nods, "and I'll buy my own groceries, so you don't have to worry about me eating all of your stuff."

You agree to that before a very important rule pops into your head. "No sex in public areas!"

He laughs at your loudly exclaimed statement. You have a feeling he already knows what you think about him and his extra activities from your group hangouts.

"I'm serious! No couch sex. No counter sex. Floor. Anywhere that I might accidentally stumble upon it with my own eyes."

He hums and ticks off each word with his finger. "Couch. Counter. Floors… I feel like I'm learning more and more about you by the minute."

You tongue your cheek as he flashes you a shit-eating grin, and then a small amused laugh unwillingly leaves your body.

This will be interesting.

_____________________

The first week goes by in a flash, and it goes even better than expected. Sunwoo spends his days either at home playing video games and watching movies or out and about doing whatever it is that he does. Surprisingly, and thankfully, he hasn't brought any girls over to your place, so you haven't been subjected to any awkward encounters. You assume by his late-night returns that he's just going over to their places instead, which is completely fine with you.

You spend a lot of time in your room, mostly to give him his own space, but also because it's your little sanctuary. You're unsure of how to talk to him, unsure if the two of you have anything in common at all. Suddenly, it's awkward to be in a one-on-one setting with him, or maybe it always has been, and you've never had a chance to notice before.

There's been a couple of times where he's asked if you want to watch a movie or show with him, but you always decline. You assume he's just asking you to be nice or because he's staying in your apartment and using your TV, so he feels like he has to, but you don't want him to worry about that. You just want him to do his own thing - within reason - which is why you're currently creeping out of your bedroom to the kitchen like a moron. Of course, he's gonna notice you. Your apartment isn't that big.

Your mind is focused on the snacks you're going to grab, but your eyes flash over to Sunwoo on the couch almost involuntarily. They widen once you notice he's watching you, and you give him a small, awkward smile. You think you're safe and can continue to the kitchen until you hear the TV get muted and movement from the couch.

Picking up your pace, you find your snacks and grab them before you attempt to make a beeline for your bedroom. You're forced to make a stop, however, when you turn around and find Sunwoo leaning against the wall to the entrance of the kitchen. You slow your steps and stare at him with wide eyes as his trail down to the snacks in your hands.

"Hungry?"

"Huh?" You dumbly say before remembering the items you're carrying. "Oh! Not really. I just wanted something small to snack on."

He hums. "What are you up to tonight?"

You run your plans of laying on your bed and watching YouTube videos until you eventually fall asleep through your mind, but reply, "Not much. Why?"

"I bought the new Marvel movie, and I was wondering if you wanted to watch it with me…"

Excitement courses through you when he mentions the movie that you've been wanting to see, and Sunwoo laughs when your eyes light up at the thought. You immediately want to say yes, but something holds you back… You've always turned down his offers to hang out, and you'd feel bad if you did it again, but just thinking of the two of you quietly sitting on the couch together made you feel weird.

"It's just a movie. It won't bite you," he taunts, "and neither will I unless you ask me nicely."

He winks at you, and you're stunned for a moment until your face falls flat, causing him to laugh.

"Come on." He turns to the living room, not even bothering to see if you follow. He's confident you will, and damn it, he's right.

Rolling your eyes, you follow him out to your couch and plop down on the opposite end. You place your snacks in between you in a silent way of letting him know he can have some and get comfortable.

"You seem like you're really excited to watch this movie."

Nodding, you say, "Yeah. I had hoped to see it in theaters, but Sophia didn't want to go, and Kevin was too busy nearly failing his classes apparently."

He lets out a soft laugh. "He'll pass them. He always does."

"I wonder how he does it…"

"Bribes the teachers," he says with a completely serious look on his face and a shrug of his shoulders.

He sneaks a peek at you to see if you buy it and laughs when he sees your considering face.

"Anyway, yeah, I've been wanting to see this movie."

"Me too."

He reaches in between to rifle through the snacks, and you take a moment to watch him. A part of you is surprised that he's interested in Marvel movies, but you can't point out why. Maybe it's because they're "nerdy" movies, and Sunwoo is anything but.

"I didn't know you liked superhero movies," you nonchalantly say as you grab a small bag of popcorn and open it.

"I could say the same about you," he responds, finally deciding to have some cookies that are already open. "I guess there's a lot we don't know about each other."

The two of you fall silent after that and let the movie play. Both of you cheer and gasp at the proper moments, making small comments to each other when you can no longer hold something in, and before you know it, the movie is over.

That doesn't mean the conversation ends, though. You both carry on about the movie, discussing the plot and characters animatedly. The parts you loved and hated, and you come to find out that you both really like the same actor.

Sunwoo quickly pulls his phone out and searches up the actor's name to see what else he's been in. He scrolls for a moment before asking if you've ever watched a well-known series that was popular a few years ago.

"No," you reply, already preparing for the exclaims of shock that always come when people mention the series. It's like Star Wars or Game of Thrones, mega-popular, and everyone's seen it, but Sunwoo surprises you instead.

"Neither have I." He turns to you. "Do you want to watch it together?"

"Yes," you answer almost before he can even get the question all the way out.

He stares at you with wide surprised eyes before letting out a laugh, and your cheeks start to feel warm out of embarrassment.

"It just sounds interesting. That's all." You begin to pick up the snacks for a distraction. "Plus, he's a good actor."

Immediately standing up from the couch, you head over to the kitchen to put the bags and containers away before you can go hide in your room for the rest of the night.

As you put them away, you note the lack of noise from the living room and decide to sneak a peek at Sunwoo before going into your bedroom. When you see him quietly watching you, you stop in your tracks.

"What?"

"Maybe I wasn't done with those snacks."

Your eyes widen when you realize you put everything away in the middle of the two of you snacking. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

Quickly, you start to turn back to the kitchen to grab his snacks again, but his voice stops you.

"I'm just messing with you!" He loudly says as he jumps up from the couch before you can get too far. "I don't need anymore."

"Are you sure? Because I'm right… " You turn back to ask him but trail off when he comes to a stop directly in front of you.

"I'm also right here… so don't worry about it."

It feels like your voice has escaped you when you realize how close the two of you are to each other. You don't think you've ever been closer than five feet, and now you're nearly sharing breath.

"Okay…" You weakly say before moving past him and into the safety of your bedroom.

The second you pass the threshold, you shut the door behind you and stand there. You don't know what the heck just happened, but you're cursing the weird feeling you're getting in your stomach. There's absolutely no way you're letting fuckboy Sunwoo affect you in any capacity.

Although, a thought does strike you… You had a lot of fun today. It only hits you once you're in your room how the smile he managed to put on your face never really left.

Maybe he's not as bad as you thought.

639 notes · View notes

chaos-burst · 3 years

Text

one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

“So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops

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gukyi · 4 years

Text

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you.

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly.

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly.

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about.

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless.

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together.

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest.

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you.

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click.

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you.

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it.

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in.

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing.

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.

Another voice breaks you from your trance.

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you.

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence.

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met.

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook.

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief.

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it.

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.

You wonder what he sees.

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left.

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet.

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted.

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash.

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him.

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card.

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown.

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back.

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you.

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment.

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there.

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen.

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written.

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page…

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling.

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else.

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you.

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him.

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious.

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

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#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the love project #yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS

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