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rudystopit · 1 month ago
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vii. Bad Company│M.O'Hara
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Summary: Father O’Hara enjoys a rare morning of rest but is troubled by pain and guilt over his violent past. He leaves for a nearby town under the guise of a church meeting, only to indulge his dark urges. Meanwhile, you receive his letter and ponder unsettling thoughts about his whereabouts. Father O’Hara's journey ends in a brutal attack on a campsite, where he prays for forgiveness, tormented by his actions and desire for you.
Pairings: Priest!Vampire!Miguel O'Hara/Nun!reader
warnings: gore.
a/n: hey, so this chapter contains gore. I just want to show how the anger of not having you and the conflict with religion are eating at him and the only way he can take it out is on his victims.
word count: 4,523
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{cross posted on AO3}
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1 ℭ𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔞𝔫𝔰 15:33 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔡: “𝔅𝔞𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯.”
Within the pile of blankets, Father O'Hara is slowly waking up to the rustle of the morning tasks of the other priest. He slowly grew fond of being able to sleep in. The Easter project allowed him to skip the dreadful tasks of a priest. He stayed tucked into his bed for as long as possible. He lay there peacefully not wanting this wonderful moment of slumber. Until, a pain shot through his stomach. A warm liquid filled his mouth as he groaned about what that meant for him. He rolled over and slowly opened his eyes to the morning sun. 
He bore holes into the curtains as he thought about a plan. I know I can't keep killing here. the townspeople will come after someone if I get sloppy and kill someone who meant something to someone. He figured out what he'd do and started to craft parts of his plan. He scribbled down a letter for Abbess Drew. He read it over and sealed it in the envelope. He dug through his trunk to find his old camping gear from when he would go with his father. 
He put the bag by the door and went to Abbes Drew's office. He lightly knocked on the door. She opened it with a scowl. "What?" Her tone was harsh but completely valid. 
"I am called to speak to a church about five towns over. I'm sorry. Please give this to my Sister," He mentally cursed at the choice of words which thankfully went unnoticed by the half-asleep Abbess. 
"Ok, Be safe," She closed the door. He ran around looking for Father Parker. He explained the same lie he had told Abbess Drew and then ran to get his bag. He felt famished as he started on his trip to the neighboring town. 
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You sit at the edge of your bed. Your eyes stare at the crack in the floor. Your mind only replays the events of last night. You feel a whisper of his hand grabbing your chin. The feeling you had that night brews in your stomach. 
"I need to get ready," You whispered to yourself. This doesn't prompt anything, you are still sitting there on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor.
"Hurry up," You hear a voice from the other side of the door. "I want to get the food when it's still hot. I heard it was something pancakey. Hurry up," Lyla yells into the door. 
"Give me a minute. You go ahead without me," You yell back as you force yourself up from the bed. The weight of gravity makes your neck hurt. You grab the pile of clothes in your closet. You slowly put on your wares. Your habit sits uncomfortably today. Rubbing your eyes clean as you open your door. 
Groggily making your way to the dining hall. You managed to keep your eyes closed for as long as possible until Abbess Drew called out your name. You opened them weakly.
"Didn't get much sleep, huh?" She laughs. 
"I was tossing and turning all night." You exhaled and looked at her hands. 
"Something troubling you dear?" you shook your head in response. "Well, this is from Father O'Hara. He will be out of town for the next couple of days. He asked me to give this to you" She hands you the letter and slightly bows before walking back to her office. 
You open the letter to find his "in a rush" handwriting. 
My holy Sister, 
I was called to speak on behalf of this region's churches at a meeting. I will be gone for the better part of three days. I know you will make the best out of the time you have. 
God Bless,
Father O'Hara
You folded up the letter and put it in your pocket. She never told me where I've been placed to... You make a mental note to ask her after chapel, but for right now you're more concerned with the heavenly smell coming from the dining room. You pushed open the doors and made your way through the line to grab breakfast. You looked at all the food options. There was more meat than the usual bacon or sausage. There were more fruits than you could think about. And the star itself, Pancakes. You chuckled at the insider info you had gotten this morning. 
You had grabbed a little of everything and made your way to Lyla. She moved over and you slid in next to her. "I guess this is from a local. Her husband passed and she was impressed with his service as a thanks she gave us this," She explains. Where does she get this information?  You began to dig into the treat of this breakfast. Lyla looks at you weirdly and then reaches for the paper sticking out of your pocket. "What's this?" and your question was finally answered. You glared at her. 
"Father O'Hara was called out of town and that's his letter." You continued to savor your breakfast. 
"That's completely out of nowhere. You'd think there would be chatter about a priest leaving for a couple of days." She sips on her drink. "What do you think it is?" 
"What do you mean?" You asked. 
"She probably doesn't know Sister Lyla," Sister Margo snaps back. 
"I was just asking," Lyla brushes off her comment. 
"He had gotten a good amount of letters the past couple of days. I'm guessing it was buried in that pile till he opened it last night and rushed because it starts tonight," You answered while trying to pile as much fruit onto your fork. Lyla took that as gospel and left the topic alone. 
"Where are you placed then?" Sister Margo asked. 
"Abbess didn't tell me when she handed me this. I was going to ask her after chapel but It's most likely going to be in the library." You answered as you shoved the forkful of fruit into your mouth. 
"Yeah, Probably," Sister Margo said. Lyla and her got up to put their dishes into the bin. They came back and chatted between them, letting you finish eating in peace. You can clean your plate and walk to put it in the bin. Lyla and Sister Margo followed behind you. The three of you walked to the chapel and waited for morning prayers to start. 
"What if it isn't a meeting?" Lyla asks. 
"I'm starting to hate when you start sentences like that," Sister Margo scoffs. 
"I'm just saying. It is a little sudden to be leaving for a meeting. Those take time to prepare," She says fiddling with a hymn book. 
"As I started earlier, He probably only read the letter last night and decided to leave early this morning. Nothing suspicious." You huffed as Abbess Drew stood up. Everyone fell into a hush. She begins the reading of her ancient bible. You listened intently to hopefully not let Lyla's words sneak in to freak you out. She was reading a passage from John. The passage explains the beliefs of Christians. You listened to Abbess Drew's satin voice read out the verses. One stood out to you. 'This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.' 
You continued to listen to Abbess Drew speak. It reminded you of the book you had read—the one about mythical creatures. You had originally found it when you had started at the abbey but you like to read it at least twice a year. You thought the stories were so fantastical. But this passage reminds you of one creature—the Vampire. 
You spent the rest of the morning thinking about how the ancient Christians probably loved the story of the vampire since it proved everything being said in the book of John. How people who do their bidding at night hate the light. The Vampires are just the extreme version of that. 
Lyla had fallen asleep on your shoulder. Her habit moved and started to show a peak of her chestnut hair. You looked down at her sleeping face. You were grateful to have found her. 
Abbess Drew started to pray as you nudged Lyla awake. She looked at you with sleepy eyes and looked around. She realized it was prayer and looked down as Abbess Drew finished the closing prayer. Once Abbess Drew said Amen, Lyla leaned over and asked if you wanted to sit with her in the main chapel while she did her duties. You nodded and the two of you were off to the stained-glass chapel. 
"I hear one of the sisters wants to leave the church." Lyla comments. 
"Leave permanently or move churches?" You asked. "I'd understand wanting to leave here, but it's a whole other story if she's leaving the capital C church." You looked around the garden. 
"They say she fell in love with a townsman. She wants to leave so she can marry him." Her voice was low. "I understand that but I don't think she understands what would happen if she leaves the church," She clenches her fists. 
"I say, we should be supportive. She found someone she truly loves. And I doubt the church would close their doors to her just because she left to get married. Especially if she married a god-fearing man," You swung opening the door for her. Lyla walks in. 
"You're right. As long as she's happy." She whispers. "On another note, Someone was not happy last night," She picks up a broom. "I heard one of the Fathers talking about 'whoever slammed the door last night will get what's coming for them'" She lifted her hands and gestured air quotes. Her mocking of one of the fathers was kind of funny though. 
"Who was it?" You asked as you picked a duster. You brushed off a layer of dust from the shelves. 
"Someone mentioned Father Parker was mad at something," She said, looking at you. "Got any info?" 
"Not that I know of. Father O'Hara dismissed me about an hour after sunset and I walked to my room. I don't know how long he stayed in his office." You shished the duster around the paintings. You had stopped, thinking about last night. 
Lyla looked at you. She pointed the end of the broom at you, "Spill, what do you know?"
"He sent me out alone last night." You whispered. 
"And? You're fine. You are fine, right?" She walks up to you, checking for any injuries.
"I'm fine. I was a little jumpy and when I got back it was weird." 
"In what way?" 
"He asked if I was scared of him," You looked at her and she made a face that could only be described as 'WTF' personified. "But I was still freaked out about going out alone that I couldn't say anything so I shook my head. Then he said it was getting late and that we should end for today," You looked at her for reassurance. 
"That's we-"
"Oh, Sister, that's where you were. Hello, Sister Lyla," Lyla bowed. Abbess Drew's shoes rang out in the chapel. "I forgot to mention you'll be resigning from the library for today. Sorry about that. But I am glad you found work to do without me telling you," She motions to the duster in your hand. You nodded. "Well, that is all. Have a blessed day, you two," You and Lyla bow as Abbess Drew turns to leave the chapel. 
"I guess that was my cue to leave. I'll see you later." You leave Lyla to sweep alone. 
You walked back through the garden, stopping to smell some of the newly bloomed flowers. Each one you smiled at. You stepped away from them to return to the main building. You didn't want to leave but you had a duty to do. 
You open the door and turn left to the stairwell. You hiked up the three flights of stairs to the floor with the library entrance. The door was already opened as you peeked in to see Sister Gwen sitting at the desk. She was flipping through the pages. You gave a small knock on the door. She looked up and gave a faint smile. 
"I didn't know you were returning," She said. 
"Last minute change of events," You had made your way to the center desk. You looked around all the log books and to-do lists. "Anything that needs to be done?" 
"There have been no returned books, Abbess has the list of fathers that need reminders and no one has been in yet today. So it's gonna be an easy day," She looks over her shoulder. 
"Alright, I'll go find something to read. Find me if you need anything," She gave you a thumbs up as you wandered the shelves. You missed this. You missed the smell and the towering shelves. Maybe you will decline the offer to be a full-time assistant. You dragged your hand over the spines of the books. You sighed about how much this place was more your speed. 
I wouldn't need to worry about offending him or worry about being sent out in the night, or late hours, everything is very predictable here. Your hand stopped at a book. Villette. You pick up the book and find a spot in one of the window seats. You opened the older book and began to read about the story of Lucy. You were drawn in by the freedom Lucy had after her family's passing. 
You read about her wonderful opportunity to become an English teacher. You agreed with Lucy about how Ginevra doesn't desire a man like Dr John. You were uncomfortable when Dr John turned his attention to the young Polly. You were pleasantly surprised by the appearance of a ghost. You fall for the sympathy of M. Paul. You think about how kind he was for supporting his late lover's family. 
You didn't realize how heavy your eyes were till you had peacefully fallen asleep in the window. 
You had walked into a room. It was familiar to you but you don't know where it was. You sit down at the desk and see a book. You had smiled, knowing it came from your close friend, Miguel. You open the book to find a pamphlet on catholicism. You scoffed at this gesture. The superstitions of the Catholics were too over the top for you. You roll your eyes and begin reading the books. 
You blink and now you're outside the garden. You look around confused about how you had gotten there. You scan the garden for any familiar faces. You see Miguel digging in the garden. You walk up to him holding the pamphlet. He looks up at you. "it was my penance for being friends with a protestant." His voice trailed off at the end. You sit next to him. He explained why he had given it to you and since you didn't stop his rambling he continued to tell you about the catholic religion. You looked at him, not showing any emotion that you were interested in converting.
Once he stops you tell him why you can't convert to catholicism. "All the rituals and-" You make a motion with your hands "Aghh, it's all too much for me," You look at your hands in your lap. "We're not bad, you know. We just believe that our faith is our responsibility to grow. Like your garden. If you stopped watering it, the flowers would die. It's up to us to cultivate our relationship with the Lord," You put your hand on his. He pulls away. You know he wants you to convert... but why don't you want him to change for you? 
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The sky is dark when Father O'Hara makes it into a town miles away from the abbey. He ditched his tab and undid some buttons a few miles back. He walks down the street looking for a light from a bar. He walks with a slight limp, he doesn’t know where the injury came from. He tries to recall anything from the past days. 
Lust and anger clouded his mind too much to recreate a mental timeline. There was a sharp pain in his temples. He was just mad, shuffling around a small logging community. All the buildings on the main street were painted pastel colors. He wondered if you were the type to love towns like this one. The picturesque little town. The backdrop to most romantic movies. He bets you swoon over little Hallmark towns. 
He looks around at the different shops. There’s a small bakery with little twinkling lights in the window. The display was empty, at least they kept things fresh. He looks across the street to a little bookstore. He made a mental note to check it out. If he couldn’t find something he might be interested in, he could always get something for you. 
A couple, who were out on an evening stroll, looked at him and his hushed tones whispered about Father O’Hara. He doesn’t blame them. He probably does look crazy. At least for European standards. His height alone makes him stand out around here. That’s not even including his broad shoulders and darker skin made him a fascinating sight to most locals. After nine years living in a town like this, he learned to pay them no mind. Most relax once they see the tab and rosary. As if a man of God couldn’t hurt them. He bit the side of his cheek, accidentally biting too deep, causing a small amount of his own blood to seep into his mouth. Tasteless. It's been like that since the accident. He lost the iron taste only a few short minutes after being bitten. 
He continued towards the edge of town. There was a warm light coming out of some old wooden windows. Smoke billowed out of the chimney. The signature wooden sign hung next to the door, reading “ol nick’s.” He pushed open the old oak door. The regulars looked at him in shock. A stout man with rosy cheeks sat with what most would describe as a stereotypical lumberjack, a full bread and a cold stare. A younger woman sat in the dark corner nursing a warm beer, her dark hair tied behind her neck, the dark circles under her eyes telling him that this is a normal occurrence for her. The bartender is a tall blonde wearing a large plaid shirt, his beard full and nicely trimmed. His blue eyes faded with time looked at Father O’Hara with something akin to pity. 
The bartender, who he amuses is “ol nick” or at least a descendant of him, his cleaning some glasses. “Are you lost? Or just looking for a pint?” ol nick asks with more of a joking tone than Father O’Hara would have liked to deal with. 
“A pint, and maybe a room if you have one,” Father O’Hara asks as he throws down his bag. He sits on the stool with a huff. He looks around the bar. Old pictures of patrons hung around the side of the bar while the other walls are filled with hunting trophies. Everything from a raccoon to a pretty nice buck head littered the dark wood paneling. 
“Yeah, I’ve got room. Hunting trip?” Too chatty. His eyes search in Father O’Hara’s as he looks at him. 
“Yes, I heard there was overpopulation here,” ol Nick slid a pint towards Father O’Hara. He takes a hardy sip from it. 
“So big fella, what’s your name?” a patron with big flushed cheeks sits next to him. 
“Manuel” He lies. He doesn’t like giving out his name on trips like these. Well, he doesn’t like giving his name out ever. Since of security in that. 
“Where ya from, Manuel?” The same patron asks, afterwards downing what's left of his glass. 
“The states,” He kept it vague. He just wanted to finish his pint in peace then head up the room. He stared forwards at the whiskey bottles. The amber liquid only hinting at what he must look like. All he sees and large hunched shoulders and wild hair. He must smell like a dog to these people. He leans back and swigs the pint. He hoped he would finish it in that one gulp but he couldn’t fit it all in his mouth. He swallowed hard and looked down at the old wooden bar top. Scapes and nicks from patrons before him. All with their own story. 
He sighed and looked up at the bartender. “Rough travel?” He was leaning against the shelves of alcohol. Large arms crossed over his chest. A small tattoo peeking from under his rolled sleeve. 
“You don’t know the half of it,” He leaned back once again downing the rest. “Thank you, How much for the pint and the room for two nights?” Father O’Hara asked, reaching into his bag. 
Ol Nick Showed him his room and left for his own home a couple doors down. Father O’Hara swung his bag onto the bed, not caring about the things inside. He sits at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. His temples scream bloody murder. He wishes his head would just be silent and he can just use this trip as a relaxing restart instead of what it’s supposed to be… a hunting trip. 
He looked at the scaped up floor. He thought about how far behind he’ll be when he gets back. His head just pounded more. He let his hands drop to his lap. He looked down at them. Calloused, rough and dry beyond belief. I don’t want to touch her with these hands. 
His mouth watered as he thought about what you were doing around this time. He assumes he probably messed up your sleep by keeping you in his office till dark. He hopes you’re just now dipping your toes into the warmth of the bath. Your delicious skin glistening with the warm water. He breathes in imagining your scent. 
His stomach growls. He swallows the spit in his mouth and gets up from the bed. He unpacks a few items and looks out the window. There's a small smoke trail a little ways into the woods. He looks at the size and assumes it's a small group no more than three people. His stomach warns him once again. He sighs and makes his way down the stairs. 
He runs across the street to the makeshift opening in the woods. He follows the beaten path up the mountain. He was never a hiker. He understood why people did it but it was never his thing. He didn’t like the hiking part of hunting. He also didn’t like the waiting part of hunting, but he would gladly hike if it meant he was getting closer to the kill. 
He knew better than to get jumpy over the sounds of the woods. He knew he was the apex predator here. His mouth watered more as the smell of smoke filled the air. He was getting closer. His stomach was turning and his head was splitting. He paid no mind to be quiet, he was hungry. 
He slowed his walking when he saw the flames. A red tent sat to the right of the fire, with what looked like a cooler to the left. Good, they’ll assume bears. He crept to the side of the tent. He heard shuffling and soft moaning. He chuckled to himself. He was just glad that part was taken care of for him. He’s a foot away from the tent when he steps on a branch. 
“What was that?” a soft feminine voice whispered. 
“It’s probably just a deer,” the masculine voice was low and muffled. He was probably close to her skin. 
“Please go check,” She pouted. 
“Babe, it’s a deer,” he sounds annoyed. 
“Pleaseeeeee,” she whines back at him. There’s shuffling and then a groan. He hears the tent unzip. Father O’Hara stands up straight and looks down at the man. 
“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks. Father O’Hara just hardens his gaze. “You better- You better leave! I have a gun!”
“Who’s out there?” Her voice sounded panicked. 
Father O’Hara looks around the man to get a look at her. The man realizes and moves to block her. “She sounds pretty cute. How did you manage that?” He asks, walking closer the man. 
“Back off, man,” He puffs out his chest. “I’m not kidding!” Father O’Hara swiftly grabs his hair and pulls the man’s head to the side. The man in shock just stares out into the blackened woods. Father O’Hara bites down hard. His blood fills his mouth. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of satisfaction as the headache and his stomach finally release their torture on him. Once the man’s body goes limp, he tosses him to the ground. 
She’s sitting at the back of the tent. Curled in a ball, shaking. He tried to recall if he heard her scream or not. Doesn’t matter. He squats in front of her. Her whole body trembled. He reaches out a hand and brushes her hair out of the way. Her lover’s blood on either side of his mouth. 
He smiles, his hand on her cheek. Her fear spikes and she opens her mouth to scream. “It’s okay, Darling,” he looks at her. All he sees is your trembling body. Your eyes welding up with tears. Your hands shaking with fear. “I’m only here because of you,” He grips the side of her face as she screams in his ear. He bites down and drinks her. 
He lets the blood sit in mouth. He pulls away from her. Her hands came to clutch her neck. He spits out her blood. He stands up to loom over her. She looks up at him and starts praying. Which only pisses him off more. 
“That’s not how you’re supposed to taste,” He pushes her down. “You’re not her,” He starts to tear into her stomach. Her screams could curdle blood. She prayed to her god.  The god he’s supposed to also answer to. The same one that keeps him away from you. 
He becomes more violent towards her dead body. Once the initial rage settled, he looked down at her. He turned to leave the tent and started to rip his body apart. He sat on the log next to the dying fire. Covered in blood, he looked at the embers. He doesn’t dare look at the couple. He folded his hands. He shut his eyes slowly. 
“Father,” His voice was shaky. “Forgive me.” a tear slips down his cheek. “For I, have lust in my heart,” a memory of you in the office, smiling at him. He chokes out a sob. “Please, remove these feelings from me so I can continue the work I was called to do,” He pressed his forehead against his folded hands. He squeezes his eyes shut and ends his prayer, “Amen.”
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builtperil · 5 years ago
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look up ‘ ( your muse’s name ) core aesthetic ‘ on pinterest ex: dextercore / dexter core aesthetic
pick 9 images & arrange them into your muse’s moodboard!
tagged by: stole from @salemsaberhxgen ( hi !!!!! ily ) tagging: @fromnobodytonightmare​, @heartxeyed, @dcllysnetwcrk, @cartoon-catastrophe, @sunhive, @wellactualities -- DASHBOARD !!!!
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bangtanpromptsfics · 4 years ago
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acacia.
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dialogue prompt #1: “Is this illegal?”
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: f2l, fluff
word count: 1,590
warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing
summary: jungkook is in love with his best friend who would date anybody but him
a/n: these are meant to be for writing practice. feedback is greatly appreciated. it's really short but I hope you like this!! prompt is inspired from pinterest.
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“Is this illegal?”
Jungkook realises you are dumb, especially with all that alcohol from the party, or more so even without it. 
He takes a sip of his beer and tries to construct a safe sentence which won't come out as rude.
“Bitch”. Well he tried. “You want to rob someone? That too his Balenciaga jacket? ”
You are referring to Namjoon who is busy chatting up girls with his dimples and loads of knowledge, for which he is mostly known. Redefining sexy or something on that line. 
He was hosting this party for reasons you don't remember now anyways, it has something to do with his never ending list of achievements. And he basically invites most of the population of college. I mean free drinks so, whatever. 
“I'm cold Kook, and his jacket looks so warm. He didn't give it when I asked him politely, so let's steal it”, you slur, shifting your body weight around enough to not have your face planted on the floor. 
“You asked him? ”, he squeaks. “You can have mine”, he is removing his denim jacket in the next second, with a look of amuse of course and drapes it over your shoulder, “feeling better?”
“Yes!”, you begin to chime, “It smells like you too!”
Jungkook’s cheeks warm up instinctively. Though sometimes you are a pain in the ass, especially drunk, he had never complained about it. He shoots death glares and unpleasant nose scrunches of course, but nothing more. He'd been your friend for so long, so he should've been used to the random appreciation you give him. He should be immune to your flirty laughs, the way you look absolutely endearing with his hoodie on your small frame and definitely not clench his fist in jealousy when you go out for dates. 
Probably a very cliche best friend in one-sided love story, but he feels so much more complications than that. He was going to confess ages ago, but since you are dumb as I said, would jump around random guys, scare them off with your mouth and wonder why you are single. 
At times he wants to blow a punch to his face, like now, for being so crazy about his best friend, and being limited to only give you some sort of bro love until it's alas the final year of college and he completely misses the chance when you go to Paris for career. 
“Talk something Kookie”, you bump shoulders together to catch the boy's attention who is in deep thought. He was indulgent in walking you to your dorm, and it reaches by ten minutes, and he really just want to fucking kiss you before you go, but he can't. 
He faces you when you rest your face on his shoulder. “What are you thinking about hm?”, you ask. 
“Nothing”. Liar. 
“Well then I have something to say”, you remove your face and gaze on the ground, feeling a little sad already. 
For a second he is hopeful and he doesn't know why. “What about?”
“Yesterday’s date”. Ouch. But as always he is trying his best, “Oh totally forgot about it. How did it go? Any luck? ”
“He stood me up. That asshole didn't even show up. I guess he just wanted sex”, you kick a pebble out of frustration while Jungkook wants to kick his face. It breaks him that he doesn't stand a chance to show you how much you can be loved. That you are more than the body all boys crave and go. 
This time he kicks a pebble, and it jumps fairly up to land on some car’s window. 
“Careful”, you chuckle, “I don't have money for concession”.
“Y/n, why don't you understand when I say someone is playing you? I always warn you, but you choose to do your bullshit anyway”. He is aggressive, but he's just sad; broken. And even though you get it, it sets you off. 
“I am trying to find my soul mate”.
Jungkook couldn't help but laugh out loud, he thinks you are so innocent, so naive to let people run you over because of how soft your heart is. He even bends a little to catch his knees to support himself. 
“What?”, you scoff, crossing your hands across the chest. 
“You want to go on a date?”, he asks. And it takes him off guard too, more than you. But he seemed confident for the first time. Probably because the sober you doesn't remember the drunk you even in the slightest, or perhaps he thinks it'll go right. 
“Date?”, you repeat, “With you?”
“Yeah”
“Like… right now?”
“Yes”, he puts out his hand, waiting for you to join hands. 
What's the worst thing that's going to happen anyways? It's Jungkook, that one person who would give his life to protect you. 
He doesn't say anything for the rest of the walk. It's a bit rushed because he can't simply wait. A whole thunderstorm is rushing inside his veins and he wants to make everything about this just perfect. So perfect that you forget about every date you have ever been too. 
This is surely not the best date he had planned if he ever took you out, but it sounds alright on his mind and wishes it does the same on yours too. 
After a stroll, you're waiting for Jungkook behind some rented building. He returns with a ladder; enough to make it to the first floor. 
He makes sure to stand behind you and assure your safety. The rest of the way up was stairs, several tiring floors and heavy breath. 
He observes your face forms an ‘O’ out of surprise. 
At the rooftop of this building sits the most beautiful view of the city and thankfully starry sky to make things better. 
It's Jungkook’s self-reflection space to be exact. There were things he shared with you of course, you were each other's shoulder to cry on, but ever since he caught feelings for you, he is just afraid he'll end up ranting into a sudden confession and ruin the friendship. 
So he found other ways to cope. You however were convinced that it was some sort of “change” over time. Everyone changes and you believed it was just something of that sorts. 
“It's so beautiful! ”, you grin, “How come you never bring me here you meanie! ”, you smack his arm as you sit down on the ground beside him. 
“I was going too! ”, he fights back,  rubbing his arm. 
“This is a perfect date”, you begin after some moment of silence, “how come you don't go for relationships!? Girls will be so happy to be treated this way! ”
The first part of the sentence makes his chest warm out of pride, but it collapses to where it was before as you end. 
He just knows you'll never know how he feels unless he just says it, without beating around the bush. 
He doesn't say anything and instead gets up to take two cans of beer he had hid somewhere. You are way past your alcohol limit and acting knowingly for once, you reject. 
He opens his and chugs down half of it in one go. 
“Woah… hey Kookie you alright? ”, he flinches when your palm presses against his shoulder. 
“I want to kiss you really bad”.
Bad line of start. 
Your cheeks burn and turn vibrant shades of scarlet, expecting anything but that. But the more you continue to look at him, the more ethereal he looks; attractive, and someone definitely not deserving of petty friend zoning. 
He feels a pair of lips on his cheeks, startling him. He turns around to see your face breathtakingly close. 
He is really slow, studying every clue you give, once he is certain he is doing this with consent, he places both of his palms on your cheek and leans in. 
Jungkook wants to pinch himself because he thinks he is sleeping and it's just another one of his blissful day dreams. But when you nibble on his bottom lip, he thinks maybe not. You are really here, hands on his hair and kissing him. He holds your head more firmly as he begins to dominate the kiss, ambitious to let you know what he had been thinking about you for the past several years. 
His lips are flushed and glossy when you break off of him, but hands still on his body, on his shoulder, taking your time to catch your breath. 
“Y/n...I hope it's clear now. I like you. Like… . I really like you. And it had been killing me for years whenever I see you going behind other guys, sleeping with them just because they agree to take you on a date. Please Y/n, will you give me a…chance”.
Since the author had enough of Y/n’s dumbness as well, the story continues with Y/n accepting him, realising how blind she was. 
You feel already intoxicated by his lips so you give it a peck and hug him, “Yes Koo. And I'm sorry, for all this, and thank you so much for this date, I am looking forward to our second one”, you beam. 
He finds it cute how you think soulmates exist. He doesn't know about all that. He just knows you can make him happy and every heartbreak for you was worth it. So he smiles and nods, nothing conveyed after, until he takes you back to your dorm and kisses you one last time for the day. 
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