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jtrbluv · 4 years ago

Text

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

MASTERLIST

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mae-gi-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss Me Slowly - Kim Taehyung (Short Imagine)

Inspired by the song “Kiss Me Slowly” by Parachute.

Words: around 2K

Genre: FLUUUUUFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

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"I had a lot of fun tonight."

My eyes flicker upwards to Taehyung's face. He's beautiful, ephemerally so and it always amazes me how I hadn't noticed until only recently.

Quickly averting my eyes so that he won't catch me staring, my hands fist around my pouch and I tug at it in a bout of nervousness. The air still lingers with the aftertaste of sweetness from our date; which had been a simple casual dinner picnic by the Han River. We had watched the sunset go down, gazed up as the sky degraded form a pale baby blue to a vibrant scarlet that bathed everything in a golden light, as though I was watching the scene unfold like a romantic fairytale that I'd usually find in little children's books.

I gazed at Taehyung's beautifully sharp side profile, traced his features with my eyes and skimmed over his long lashes casting shadows upon his skin that glowed with a pink tinted hue, his lips that were the colour of peach that seemed to have peaked in its maturity, his chiselled jaw and strong nose and his beautifully framed, dark brown orbs that sparkled with such depth it made me giddy every time our eyes met.

And then when he'd turned to catch me staring, he'd only grinned boyishly when I jolted and quickly averted my eyes in growing humiliation at having been caught red-handed, cheeks ablaze with fire.

"Are you blushing?" he'd asked with a chuckle so deep it rumbled through his chest.

"No," I stuttered out, not wanting to divulge how magically effective his presence was on my sanity.

Our conversations had been more than comfortable, so comfortable that it was easy to forget, at times, that this was even a date. We talked out life, about our friends and about growing up. He recounted stories of his childhood with his grandmother, running through the fields as a young boy and planting rice because they had been too poor to afford anything else. And I listened, listened to his beautifully rich alto that was filled with such love and affection for his only living family member that it made something tug inside my heartstrings.

"Are you happy here?" he asked as we sat a little closer, his jacket draped around our shoulders. I had taken this as an excuse of course, to snuggle up close to his heat.

I allowed my eyes to linger over the multitude of stars dotting the sky, before murmuring, "I wouldn't say I'm happy. I guess I'm content with my life here."

"Do you miss home?" he'd asked gently, while one of his hands reached up to flick a hair away from my face. It lingered there for a little too long to be coincidental, causing another troop of well-trained butterflies to flutter across my chest.

"I do," I let out a wistful sigh, "but god knows when I'll be able to go back."

"How about this summer?"

"The plane ticket's too expensive and I really don't want to make my parents pay. I'd like to try and pay for the ticket myself, at least."

He hummed in response and his shoulder nudged mine, as though trying to give me some semblance of comfort. It worked. With Taehyung, I felt like everything was easy, as though all my troubles seemed to fade away into background noise.

"Are you happy?" I'd asked him when we were gathering up our belongings and trodding over to our bicycles.

He looked at me, surprise flashing through his face for an instant. He lifted his shoulder into a one-armed shrug, "I would say that I am. I don't have a reason not to be."

"I guess that's true," I said quietly.

"That doesn't mean I don't get sad. I do," he leaned against his bicycle while watching me unhook mine from its support, "but I always think, 'what if I didn't have all this? What if all this was taken away?' When I think about these things, I can't help but feel grateful. You know what I mean?"

"I get that," I swung a leg over my bike, testing my balance, "I think about that a lot too. Sometimes, I think it's selfish of me to be sad about anything when there are a lot of people that are in a worse position than I am. It's not fair and I shouldn't be complaining." "That's normal though," his eyes were gentle maroon pools of brown, like wet mother earth on a warm summer's day and softening with understanding, "you're not responsible either, for all the things that happen to people. Shit happens."

"And then we die."

"And then we die," he chuckled and swung onto his bike, "jesus, that's dark."

"You think that's dark? Wait till we get to talk until three in the morning."

"Wow, that's poetic. Really, totally unlike every cliché trope out there on Tumblr." "It's a trope for a reason," I said as I stuck my tongue out at him.

He accompanied me back home and insisted on accompanying me up to my floor, even when I flat out told him that it was unnecessary and completely useless of his part. He'd only thrown me a look that clearly stated this wasn't a subject of discussion, and it wasn't until we reached halfway up the staircase that I felt the back of his hand brush mine. Thinking it was accidental, I made a move to pull away, only for him to grab onto and interlock our fingers.

I thought my heart would've given out at this point. My cheeks were burning as red as a fire extinguisher and I adamantly avoided his gaze at all costs, knowing that what I'd find would be his teasing smile and the glint of smugness across his lips.

So here we are, standing before my door with the moonlight casting shadows over Taehyung's features and highlighting his the height of his nose, the beautiful clarity of his skin reflecting moonlight as though he'd been carved out as intricately as greek statues, and his dark eyes, pools of inky darkness that are presently holding my gaze with such an intensity, smouldering and causing my breath to stutter inside my throat.

He's all too much. He's perfection, and I don't understand what he finds in me to be his equal.

"Can we," he hesitates for a few beats of silence. He licks his lips, eyes flitting back and forth, "can we do this? Again?"

My lips threaten into a smile as I take in his words. Oh god, he's adorable. My heart is practically tumbling all over my ribcage at this point.

"Yes," I say a little too breathlessly for my liking, "I--I'd like that."

He flashes a crooked, rectangular smile and my knees feel like they're about to give out from underneath me.

We shuffle for a few awkward moments of silence, and while I don't want the evening to end, the desire to make my exit as quickly and efficiently as possible is more important. I really don't want to make a fool of myself, especially not on a first date.

In my experience, there are very few guys that I've kissed on first dates. It's usually just a friendly peck on the cheek, nothing more.

"Well," I try to keep my voice light when I turn around, hand already finding its way to my keypad. I push it upwards with a soft click, "text me when you get home, will you?"

"Wait," Taehyung's hand suddenly encloses around my wrist and before I know it, I'm swivelled around and pressed against my front door, his chest mere millimetres from mine and his face dipping down so that our eyes clash. They're darker now, swimming with an intensity that causes something to coil inside my stomach. It's an unsettling feeling, albeit not unpleasant. I can feel the warmth rolling off him in waves, can smell the mint and pinewood scent of his natural odour, the tingles shooting down my spine at how close he is.

It's almost like the world has stumbled to a stop, a movie placed on pause. Our eyes are locked on each other, unmoving. Unflinching.

Our breaths mingle together. I see his lips part softly, and I my throat suddenly turns dry.

I feel his hand, ghosting over my middle before wrapping around my waist. Electricity skittles up my spine as I breathe him in, barely moving for fear that doing so will cause this dream to shatter.

"Tae--" his name dies on my lips when I feel his nose nudging mine softly, gazing at me through heavy-lidded eyes and in a way that causes my insides to curl up in anticipation. I haven't realized that my hands have settled across his chest and are now fisting over his shirt.

The tension is so thick that one can cut it with a knife. A few more moments pass, him watching me, I watching him. He shifts closer, body heat against mine, just barely. Enough for me to produce a silent gasp.

When he speaks next, his voice is rough, laced with desire that makes my toes curl:

"Can I kiss you?"

I don't even have time to nod before he's already dipping down and claiming my lips.

It's a soft pressure of mouth to mouth, it's gentle and hesitant, just like Taehyung. My mind takes a moment to take in the sensation of his lips working against mine, but when I do realize it, my lips move on their own accord and I slowly kiss back, unsure whether he's going to judge my lack of kissing experience. But if he does, he doesn't complain. Instead, his hand reaches up to cup my cheek and brushes over my skin with his thumb, and a warm fire bursts through my chest.

I gasp upon feeling his hard frame press mine against the door, fitting snuggly in-between my curves. He swallows up any sound I make and as the pressure of his kisses intensifies, so does the small fire that seems to be bursting with fireworks behind my eyelids. I feel like I've been submerged in water, drowning in Taehyung's lips and his sweetness that I can't help but crave for. Hands automatically traveling up his broad shoulders and wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, a soft rumble that sounds like a growl echoes through his chest before his lips part and nibble onto mine in a way that causes a moan to stifle at the back of my throat.

I can feel him smiling in victory, even through our kiss, but while I just want to pay him back for being so cocky, I feel his hand skim under the material of my shirt and I gasp softly at the warm trailing heat of desire he leaves in his wake. My hands skim up to grasp his locks and I don't hesitate to pull him down, angle my head more firmly to kiss him deeper, longer, tongue poking out to flick across his mouth. He lets out a slow moan, grip tightening onto my waist as he does so, and it's my turn to smile.

Dim sounds echo at the back of my subconscious as we keep kissing into the night, the moonlight bathing us in its dewy glow and the sound of ongoing traffic blaring underneath, the softest echoes that aren't loud enough to be a distraction.

It feels all too real. it feels magical, and I don't want it to end.

Unfortunately it does. All too soon, the said young man pulls back, flashing a mischievous smile when a breathless whine leaves me at the sudden rush of air between us. Heat explodes through my cheeks in embarrassment. Of course he knows that he's a walking greek god and could have any woman he wanted. But that doesn't mean I want him to know how badly I want him, how badly it physically hurts to pull myself away from devil's temptation standing just two feet away from me.

"Lua."

My eyes flutter upwards to meet his dark mahogany. They are swirling with a tenderness, a soft affection glimmering with specks of silver in the light of the moon. I watch his lips tilt up into the barest hint of a fond smile.

His hand clasps around mine and he entangles our fingers together. Bringing them up to his lips, he kisses my knuckles softly while his eyes never stray from mine, "let's do this again?"

"The date, or the kiss?"

"Haha," he rolls his eyes, "funny, very funny."

I can't help but grin back as I feel my heart squeeze in happiness, "I would love to do this again," I squeeze his hand to further emphasize my point and his grin only widens into that rectangular-boxed smile I'm so used to seeing.

I can get used to this.

----

IDK WHAT I WROTE. BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

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allskynostars · 7 years ago

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Ever Since New York Pt 10

I'm not 100% happy with this chapter but I needed to get it up and out of the way. I feel like it's a bit choppy and all over the show, too short, and I'm sorry about that! I'm going through some family stuff at the moment, so I was a bit distracted, motivation and inspiration was lacking. Hence, the shitty chapter content

Catch up on the rest of the chapters on AO3 :)

****

"So, he's not here then?" Clara asked, not really being able to take her eyes from the blonde since she had invited her in and asked her to sit. Betty asked her to sit? It didn't feel right, Clara had practically lived here and now she was being hosted by another woman? It did not sit right with her at all.

"No, he had some errands to run." Betty offered her a smile, as she sat beside her on the couch. And Clara took the hint that it was not her business to know. "But, it's probably in our favour. Now we can have a chat, girl to girl. Would you like anything? Water, Tea?" She was playing nice, and Clara knew it, but there was no denying that undertone. This was under her terms.

"I'll have a water, if there is any. Usually Jug's fridge runs on empty." She joked, trying to let the familiarity that she had with this trailer and Jughead seep into her words. Betty just gave her another million dollar smile and laughed lightly.

"Well, we're in luck today." She replied as she rose from the couch to walk across the room to the kitchen. "Fully stocked."

Once Betty had sat back down after retrieving them both a bottle of water, there was an uncomfortable silence. Clara played with the lid of her bottle to distract herself. She had finally been able to stop gawking at the infamous Betty Cooper. The very girl that had the heart of the boy Clara wanted. This was the face behind the light in his eyes. And she couldn't lie to herself and say that Betty Cooper wasn't beautiful She was, in a traditional way. But there was something about her that was captivating, not just her looks, but in the way she held herself. Although there was a bruise forming on the side of her face, but Clara figured that was none of her business.

"Congratulations, by the way." She offered a shy smile at Clara.

"Uh, Thanks. " She replied, her voice quiet and eyes trained back on the lid of the bottle.

"How are you feeling? Are you having morning sickness at all? My sister always complained about how it was definitely not just in the morning, but she did have twins so maybe that makes a difference." The way Betty had said all those words struck Clara, she was being genuine and she hadn't been expecting it.

"I, I have my days, you know." She chanced a side glance at Betty now, who's eyes were trained on her face.

"Well, if you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask, okay?" And now Clara didn't know where to look, who was this girl? The man she loved was having a baby with another woman and she was okay with it? Clara knew she was genuine in her demand, and she felt a knot forming in her throat. She was starting to understand the hype.

"Thanks, Betty. I really appreciate it." She returned her smile, hoping the guilt that was bubbling in her chest wouldn't rise to the surface.

"Don't mention it. So, how far along are you exactly?" Betty had a suspicion, and she knew what she was doing. She was a smart girl. Play the friend card first.

"About 7 weeks or so, they think."

"And, you definitely know that you're keeping the baby?" Clara shot Betty a glare then.

"I'm not getting rid of my baby." She snapped. Betty raised her hands palm first, in defense.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I just want to make sure you're okay. You're not alone, Clara. I know, I know Jug didn't react very maturely," Clara scoffed, Betty continued "But he's going to step up, I promise. We both are." Clara was still watching Betty, not knowing how to take her comment. She wanted Jughead, yes, but she didn't realise it was a package deal. This wasn't part of the plan. She looked at the floor before she spoke.

"You had no hand in this, Betty. I would understand if it scared you, if you wanted no part of it. If I were you - "

"Well, you're not." Betty interrupted, making her voice strong, "And this baby is a part of Jughead. Therefore I'm not going anywhere. I can promise you that." Clara looked up at Betty from under her lashes, and in that moment Betty knew. She could see the guilt plastered on her face, the pain of knowing her plan to get Jughead to herself was failing. She was lying, maybe not about being pregnant, but that baby was not Jugheads. Betty always commended herself on how well she could read people, and Clara made it easy pickings. But Betty didn't want her to catch on right away, though. She would play along a little longer, put more emphasis in her words, make her squirm. "I lost Jughead once, I would never make that mistake twice. And I'm sorry that this changes things for you, but I've taken this pregnancy as a blessing."

Just to add fuel to the fire, much to a surprised Clara, she reached out and grabbed her hand in one of her own. She squeezed it tight, catching Clara's wide eyes with her own.

"I'm going to love that baby, don't you worry about that."

"No," Clara averted her eyes from Betty and started to shake her head, lightly at first but more fierce the more she strained in whisper, "No, that's not right. That's not how it's supposed to work."

"Sorry?" Betty asked, but she knew she had cracked her.

"This wasn't the plan. You're supposed to leave. Why won't you ever leave?" Betty just smirked, and squeezed her hand tighter.

"I already told you, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere if that baby is Jug's" Clara turned her face towards Betty but still avoided her eyes. "Clara, is it Jugheads baby?"

All Clara could do was shake her head, and cry.

****

Jughead pulled up outside the White Wyrm, relieved to see it wasn't full. He wanted to chat with the charter president, Viper, without anyone else trying to butt in. He parked his bike next to Vipers, and took a deep breath before heading inside.

He made his way through the bar, to the stairs in the far corner that lead up to the rooms the Serpents used as lodgings to take refuge. The biggest room was used as an office of sorts, sometimes a meeting room. That's where Jughead found Viper, hunched over some paper work for upkeep of the bar. He knocked on the open door. Viper looked up and smiled when he saw who his visitor was.

"Jug, hey buddy. Come in." He waved his hand to gesture the empty chair on the other side of the desk. "Glad to see your back."

"Thanks, Viper," he replied, taking the seat, "Yeah, actually, that is what I came to speak to you about." The older man gave Jughead a knowing smile and nodded at him to continue. He shifted in his seat.

"Me and Betty, we um, we're good. We're better than good, actually. We're going to give us a fair shot" Jughead couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips, reaching his hand to rub his neck in embarrassment. Viper smiled at him again.

"I'm happy for you, son. I truly am." Viper leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "But, have you come just to tell me this?"

"No. Clara's pregnant." There was no point in beating around the bush, Jughead thought. Not here. Vipers eyes went wide, and he started to shake his head.

"But -"

"I know, it's a bit fucked up," he interrupted, "To put it lightly. But, I've got to step up. Even if I'm not with Clara, that doesn't mean I can't be there for my own child. Betty convinced me, she's so great, so supportive. But, Vipe, if I'm going to do it I've got to do it properly. Have a career, a house. Something I can't do without leaving the Serpents." He knew he was rambling but once he started he couldn't stop. Viper was just watching him carefully, waiting to speak.

"Jug, I am so proud of all you just said. But, Clara? Are you sure?" He quirked his brow at Jughead.

"That's what she's told me, and I have had some doubt myself, but I have to come to terms with it." He shrugged. "It's not how I saw it happening, but it's happened." Viper just continued to shake his head.

"I sure as hell hope she's lying, Jughead, because she was in here just last Saturday. She was loaded, completely wasted. Tony had to take her home. Why would she do that if she knew she was pregnant?"

Jughead couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was thinking up excuses in his head. Maybe she didn't know she was pregnant then? Or she was scared? Whatever the reason, he needed to know.

"Jesus, Are you sure? I mean, I.. Fuck. I need to speak to her." He stood up from the chair abruptly, looking towards the older man. "Thanks, Viper. I um, I have to go." He made a start across the room.

"Son?" Jughead turned back to look at him. "Regardless of what I just told you, I want you to know I mean it when I say I am proud of you. You're gonna do good, kid. And about the Serpents, you will always be family, you know that. But I understand your need to step away. Just like i understood when your Dad did the same. You keep that jacket even if you never wear it again, and let it remind you that we are here when you need us." He smiled up at Jughead. "Always."

Jughead could manage an appreciative smile, and a grateful nod of his head in return before walking out the door. He needed to speak to Betty, she was the only one who could make him see sense of what to do.

***

"Clara, you need to tell me. You need to be honest." Betty nearly had her, she was a sobbing mess. She could barely speak between her gasps for air.

"I'm s-sorry.. I don't, don't kn-know why the, why I.." Clara was coming undone. Her power short lived. She she have known, she thought to herself, that she could not carry the lie. Betty moved closer along the couch and raised a hand to rub soothingly over Clara's back.

"Shh, hey." She cooed. "Clara, it's okay. I don't, I don't really understand. But I can try."

"I love him, Betty. I really d-do." She looked up from her hands at Betty, her cheeks wet and eyes red. "But, he doesn't love me. H-he, he doesn't even fucking see me. Do you kn-know how that feels?" She chokes. "It's the worst pain I've ever felt."

Betty wasn't sure how to respond, she thought an apology might just be salt in the wound, so she just continued to try and comfort her.

"I was in constant competition with a girl who wasn't even fucking around, who I was certain didn't love him," she looked at Betty apologetically, "I tried to get him to speak to you when you were here, because I stupidly thought you would break his heart yet again, and then he would come back to me and I would be here. I would love him. God, I'm so stupid." She let out another cry and buried her head in her hands again.

"Clara, you are not stupid."

"I am though, that's the thing. Because here you fucking are, and you do love him and he sure as hell loves you. And now your what? Going to live happily ever after? You are taking him from me, and I panicked." She took in a deep breath. "I hit him where it hurts. A baby? Yeah, then he could never leave."

"I know you were hurting, but that wasn't the right thing to do." Betty's suspicions were right, there wasn't even a baby to begin with.

"Of course not, because you're a saint and not even someone else having Jugheads baby would force you to leave." Her shoulders are racking from her sobs, her voice just above a whisper. "I will n-never, ever have him, will I?"

"I'm sorry." Was all that Betty could manage. She had never meant for others to get hurt, but if that was what had to happen in order for her and Jughead to be together, then so be it. Just as she had this thought, the sound of Jugheads bike approaching echoed through the trailer.

"I can't tell him." Clara strained, sitting upright. She started to shake. "Betty, I can't, how am I-I, oh god." She had started to panic, and Betty was not sure how this was going to go. He needed to know, but the question was how he was going to react. It wasn't that Betty felt sorry for Clara, she just didn't want Jughead to walk in and find out like this. But as he came through the front door, the look on his face said he already knew something. And he didn't hold back.

"Well, just who I wanted to see. What the fuck is this about you being wasted at the Wyrm in the weekend? What the fuck Clara?" Jugheads words were seeped in anger, as was his face. "You better be telling me you had no idea you were pregnant or something, because this is fucked up."

"Jug, please, listen." Betty stood from the couch and walked over to where he stood, she reached her hand out to touch his arm.

"No, Betty," He yanked his arm from her grasp, she flinched at the action but Jughead didn't seem to notice. "I'm sorry but she needs to tell me why the hell she would do that."

"Jug,"

"There is no baby, Jughead. Okay?" Clara interrupted, looking up to Jughead. "There's no fucking baby, and I was getting drunk to drown my sorrows because I love a man who belongs to someone else." She shrugged, tears falling from her eyes. Jughead scoffed and started to pace the length of the living room.

"Oh, please. You don't love me. If you did you would never tell such a filthy, pathetic lie." He spat as Clara rose from the couch, raising her voice.

"I did it because I love you, because I needed to keep you somehow, I was losing you to her," she pointed at Betty, "and I panicked."

"That's so fucked up, Clara." He stopped pacing and stood still, looking right at Clara he crossed his arms and put as much venom behind his words as he could. "You can't lose something you never even had."

"Jughead!" Betty snapped, she was stood in the corner, knowing that it wasn't really her business but she didn't want him to say things he would regret later.

"What? It's the truth! And I told her, so many fucking times!" He huffed, turning to look at Betty.

"Go, go to the bedroom. Please, let me handle this." She begged him, holding his gaze. "Please, Juggie." He looked at her a little longer, before deflating his shoulders. He turned his gaze to Clara as he stalked from the room.

"I never want to see you here, again. You understand?" He was almost yelling, and Clara nodded her head in defeat. He gave her one last hateful look before making his way to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Betty turned to Clara then, she was huddled into herself, arms crossed, fingers grasping at her elbows. She had stopped crying though, and Betty wondered if the guilt had started to set in.

"Clara, you need to leave."

"I'm s-so sorry, fuck. I didn't mean for any of this. Just look after him okay? Just love him." She wiped her face, rubbing her hands on her jeans as she made for the front door hesitantly.

"For the rest of my life, I will. But you really need to leave, before he comes back out here saying more things he doesn't mean." Betty opened the door, trying to usher her out quickly. Clara just looked down at the floor, shaking her head.

"He does mean them, though. He does. But I've given him a right too now, haven't I?" She sounded broken, and a part of Betty wants to feel sorry for her. But then she remember exactly what she did, and is suddenly overcome with anger.

"I know you're hurting and I'm sorry but, he's hurting too. He's my priority."

"Betty, thank you. I'm sorry that I tried to keep him from you. I should have known, it's like the universe conspires for you to be together. I want that, you know? I want what you have." Clara looked at Betty as as she walked out the door, down the few steps. A small smile on her face at the thought.

"I hope you find it." Betty said, not very sincerely.

"Me too." Clara says, reaching into her pocket for her keys.

"Oh, and Clara?" Betty called out from the doorway.

"Mm?" Clara looked up at her.

"I mean it when I say.." A small, not so friendly smile outlined her face, "Jughead is mine, you got that? Always has been. Always will be. I'm sorry that you got caught up in our mess, but what you did was unforgiving. Do not come back here, ever again." And then Betty slammed the door in her face.

***

Jughead was perched on the end of the bed when Betty appeared in the doorway, a sad smile on her face.

"Hey." He looked up at her and pat the space beside him on the bed. "Come here."

Once she was beside him he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into the crook of his neck. He kissed the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry that I was rough with you, I didn't mean to make you flinch. God, I didn't even think. After what Jack did, I'm sorry baby.."

"Hey, hey," Betty cooed as she pulled her head up to look at his face, "You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? It was nothing. In fact, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you. I have no idea how you must be feeling right now." She grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"I didn't mean to deflect my anger at you, Betty. I was just, god, I still am just so angry. How could someone do that?"

"I know, I know." She rubbed her thumb in circles on the back of his hand, attempting to comfort him. "It's fucked up, Jug. But she admitted it, just before you showed up." He sighed.

"I guess that's something. But still." He blew out a heavy breath. "Coming to terms with becoming a Father is one thing, then finding out it was a lie? I don't really know where my head is at."

"And that's okay, Juggie." Betty whispered, kissing his cheek softly. He turned his head to catch another kiss, this one on his mouth. He rest his forehead against her own, closing his eyes.

"Thank you, for being here. I love you, so so much." He kissed her again. She smiled against his mouth.

"I love you too." Another kiss. "But I still need to go and see my Dad, Jug."

"Oh my god, of course. Go, take the truck." She stood up off the bed, and turned to face him. She ran her fingers through his hair, he looked up at her from under his lashes. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, don't be silly. You stay here and figure it out. I can handle my Dad." He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his head into her hip from where he was still sat on the bed.

"God, what about telling your Mother?" Jughead murmured into the material of Betty's top, pretending to shudder at the thought. Betty laughed and tugged at his hair lightly.

"Yeah, that's for another day." She leant down and kissed the top of his head. "I won't be long, Jug. If you need me you tell me, I'll come right back, okay?" She felt him nod his head against her, his embrace tightening before he let her go.

***

As Betty pulled into the driveway of her childhood home, she could see her Dad nosing through the curtain of the front room. She took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and climbed out from the truck. She had quickly put on a bit of makeup before she left the trailer, the bruise had continued to darken and broaden over the day and she didn't want to shock her Dad straight away. She would get there, in her own time. She heard the front door open as she walked up the front steps, and as soon as she caught her Dads questioning gaze, it was like the dam burst. She couldn't stop the over flow of tears as she fell into his arms. He wrapped her up tightly and quickly pulled her inside.

"Oh Betty, hunny, whats happened?" He rubbed her back, trying to calm her sobs.

"Dad, I, it's J-Jack" Betty choked on her words, saying it out loud to her Dad made it all so much more real.

"Come on, come sit with me." He ushered her over into the front room, his arms still wrapped around her. He sat them both on the couch and pulled her into him, running his hand over her hair. "No rush, you tell me when you're ready, sweetie."

They must have sat there like that for 10 minutes before Betty had caught her breath again, the tears running silently now. She then sat up, took her Dads hand, and told him everything. Starting at the door Jughead had showed up behind, and ending at the one she had just slammed in Clara's face. Hal was visibly shocked, and had cried when Betty revealed the bruise on her jaw. She realised as she was saying it all out loud, just how crazy it was. It hadn't even been a week since Jughead had showed up and everything was different. She was different. She knew now that no matter what baggage followed him, no matter the consequence, she loved Jughead with her whole being and would never be without him again. And she needed her Dad to know as much, and that none of this was Jugheads fault.

"I have no regrets in my life except one Dad,and that is leaving him behind all those years ago." She shook her head, trying to stop more tears from escaping. "I'll never do it again, none of this is his fault. Okay? None of it." Hal reached out to wipe the tears that had fallen on his daughters face.

"Hey, you do not need to convince me, Elizabeth. Okay? Whatever makes you happy, whatever you need, I will stand by you. You are my daughter, and I will be here no matter what." He smiled at her. "And besides, it's been what, 6, 7 years since you left Riverdale? And yet here we are again? I know that means you really do love him, hunny." Betty nodded and smiled at her Dad. "And him, you. I know he would never lay a finger on you. And as much as I know you can look after yourself, I can trust him in knowing he will care for you, which is all a Father ever wants for his daughter."

He pulled her into his embrace again, and Betty was overwhelmed with a sense of relief. If she had to do this without support from her Dad she would have, but she felt more at peace knowing he at least had her back.

"Have you spoken to your Mother? Or Polly?" Hal and Alice Cooper had not spoken in 5 years. There was no chance of a reconciliation, and as odd as it may sound Betty was grateful for that. Her parents were much easier to deal with separately. Betty herself did not have much of a relationship with her Mother, she harbored a lot of blame towards her for forcing her away from her home. As soon as she was old enough, she had left for college and has never gone back to Alice. Instead she worked two jobs for a long time to afford her own apartment, her independence. Things were easier once she had finished school and gotten to start her journalism career at The Post. Of course she missed Polly and the twins an awful lot, wishing the visits between them were more frequent. But this was her life, and she could always pride herself on her ability to deal with whatever it threw at her.

"No, but I will Dad. I will." He just nodded at her, knowing she would do it in her own time.

"When do you have to go back to New York?"

"Sunday night, I'm going to book a bus ticket." She replied quietly, not wanting to think about going home again.

"Okay, well don't worry about that bus. I'll drive you." Betty sat back, shaking her head at her Father.

'No, Dad, you don't have to -" Hal raised his hand to interrupt.

"I am not sending my little girl back alone, okay? I will stay with you while this all settles. Until Jughead can follow. You are not staying in that apartment on your own, Elizabeth, and that is final." He smiled at her warmly, which Betty returned.

"Thank you, Dad." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in tightly.

"I guess you're not really my little girl anymore are you?" He felt her laugh against him. "But all I ever want is for you to be happy and safe, that's all I've ever wanted for you Betty." She unwrapped her arms from his neck, kissing his cheek before she pulled away.

'I love you, Dad." He smiled.

"Love you too, hunny."

As Betty drove though the old, familiar streets back to the trailer park, back to Jughead, she felt at peace. For the first time since she was 16, her heart was whole again. It was full. Her thoughts echoed those of Clara's earlier in the day; no matter what the universe threw at them, they would make it through. They had made it this far and she would never let anything stop them.

As soon as she walked through the front door of the trailer, she seeked out Jugeads mouth. She didn't even let him say hello, the words cut short by her tongue wrapped around his. She grasped at his t shirt, using it to force him backwards to the bedroom, onto his back on the bed. She climbed onto him, one leg on each side of his hips. She tugged his shirt over his shoulders. Quickly following suit and pulling her own over her head, unclasping her bra to throw it on the ground. The break in contact allowed Jughead to grab her hands, holding them tightly in his own. He looked up at her, his eyes glistening in lust and love. He didn't have to speak, neither of them did. They held each others gaze for a minute, hearing all the words unsaid, all the unspoken promises. Jughead softly cupped Betty face in his hands, bringing her down gently to kiss her, before flipping her onto her back. He made quick work of removing her jeans and her panties, leaving her exposed to him. She was smiling a shy smile up at him, her eyes wide and inviting.

And in that moment he decided this was his favourite Betty, when she was open and exposed and just completely and utterly his, and he would love her forever.

#riverdale #riverdale au #riverdale fanfiction #bughead #bughead au #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #ever since new york #my work #allskynostars fics

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