#and she immediately wanted to call me by my chosen name and use my preferred pronouns

[clowningcrows]

it’s crazy how much having a safe place to be yourself and express your identity and personality and interests, both online and irl, can change your will to live. honestly.

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober 2024 Day 8/9: His Muse

You can read this over on Ao3 if you’d prefer.

Rating: T

Prompt: Jihyun x MC / Painting || Fate / Lie

WordCount: 8028

Summary: Jihyun needs a muse for his new painting collection. Author's Notes: So, Day 8 got away from me and became both that and day 9. Sorry it's a day late... but not sorry it's over 8000 words.

Hen knocked on the studio door, then stood and fidgeted nervously with the strings of her hoodie. She’d replied to this advertisement on the Art Department’s bulletin board for a model, specifically one who could stand for long periods of time without moving. Honestly, she was pretty sure that most people these days just took reference photos and painted from that, but if some student wanted to pay her an exorbitant-seeming amount of money to stand in one place with her clothes on (the ad had been very specific that while there would be an outfit provided, it was modest), she wasn’t about to complain.

Her friends had been on her case about applying. She’d always wanted to be a model, but she wasn’t model material. She was in that nebulous middle-point, Far too big to be a classic fashion model, but still too small to be an acceptable plus-size model. And she didn’t hate her body by any means. So she let them nag her into it. She’d sent what the flier asked for. Her name (preferred, even, not even her wallet name) and then a headshot and a full body shot. She’d tried to be as confident as she could while her friends took photos for her, but even now, having landed the job, she was nervous.

What if he was a creep? Art students could be anyone really, and…

The door opened to reveal a man in wire-frame glasses with teal hair and eyes and a warm smile. Wait a minute… 

“V?!” Hen had studied his pictures for one of her photography classes, they’d done a unit on current artists, and…

He chuckled looking chagrined. “Call me Jihyun, please.” He led her inside and shut the studio door again before continuing. “V did photos. I’m… well, I’ve moved on from that and I’m pursuing painting, which has been my passion far longer, though I didn’t have the guts to change mediums until recently.”

“Oh.” Hen said, just as awkwardly as she felt. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I…”

“Not rude.” Jihyun interrupted. “I was V. I am still, technically, that same man. I simply am using my given name now.” 

He sighed, and shook himself loose from whatever thought seemed to be plaguing him. “We got off on the wrong foot.” He held out his hand for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Jihyun Kim, the artist who will be painting you for the next few hours.”

She took his hand with a grin and a firm shake. “I’m Hen. And I’m very good at standing still.”

The outfit that he’d chosen for her to wear was very fantasy. Flowing skirts, a corseted belt over a lightweight top. She felt like a peasant girl in a magic world, and she loved it. He’d positioned her standing at a window, and she’d gotten to people-watch campus while he painted her. She’d expected a need to be quiet or mostly still, but he told her to go ahead and fidget if she needed to, and kept her engaged in a number of different light topics as he worked, almost as though he was trying to keep her entertained.

Eventually, as the light was waning, Jihyun stood. “Alright, that’s time. Thank you so much for all of your help today.” He smiled. “Do you need assistance with the belt or anything else getting back out of the costume?”

Hen waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. Give me two shakes and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Once she was back to her normal self, she was sad to see that Jihyun had already closed up his work, so that she couldn’t see it. He immediately spotted her looking, however.

“I’ll show you when it’s done. I was intending to invite you to whatever gallery it shows in, of course, as the model.”

Hen grinned. “It would be my honor!”

Jihyun handed her the envelope containing her payment, all smiles. “Honestly, Miss Hen, you’re an amazing model. May I call on you again for another piece? Same terms, but the next one likely won’t be standing.”

Hen nodded, she’d had a great time, and the pay was definitely worth it. “I’d love to.” She said, honestly. “I enjoyed today!”

Jihyun nodded, and they parted ways. Hen couldn’t help but smile, her friends were going to be so surprised when she told them she might even get a callback.

The second time that Hen stood as a model for Jihyun had her sitting on a bench in an awkward position. It was uncomfortable at first, but she made it work. Eventually, Jihyun admitted to her that the piece involved the woman sitting in a tree, but he couldn’t justify making her sit somewhere ostensibly dangerous for hours on end, so he’d made the bench setup like the branch he had in mind. Once he explained that to her, she found it much easier to settle into a pose that was actually useful for him.

She may have caught him grumbling to himself about wasting less time if he could just trust her more. She didn’t blame him, of course, Artists were often secretive, and she knew it was hard to trust someone you didn’t really know. Goodness knows she’d only met this man twice and definitely didn’t trust him with anything personal, so she didn’t blame him. Not even a little.

When the time was up and Jihyun started cleaning up, Hen realized she was stiff as she changed back out of the costume. 

“Hey, Jihyun, do you mind if I do some stretches on the floor here before I head out? I’m a little bit stiff.”

“Ah. Go right ahead. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Your stiffness is the consequence of my art, after all.

Hen sank to the ground, grateful that she’d worn leggings today instead of jeans. She worked her way through some yoga poses, careful of the fact that she didn’t have a mat of any variety, only realizing she was humming as she finished the last of the stretches because of Jihyun’s quiet chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable in my studio.” He said, chuckling. 

Hen blushed even as she nodded. “You make it easy, Jihyun. This is by far the highlight of my week.”

“Even with the odd held poses?” He was surprised.

“Even so.” Hen nodded. “I’d be honored if you wanted to call me in again.”

Jihyun smiled so brightly at that, Hen couldn’t help but smile in return.

The next sitting was more stereotypical, and Hen couldn’t hold back her giggles as Jihyun helped her pose in a very Ancient Grecian looking gauzy dress while half-laying on a chaise lounge.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… if you told someone they were going to model for a painting, they’d probably imagine something like this.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, I suppose it might be. I hope that the outcome of the painting far exceeds my pedestrian posing layouts.

“I’m certain it will.” Hen had no doubts that the man had an impressive artistic eye - his photographs were stunning enough that she’d written an entire paper on them her freshman semester of college. Sure, her major had nothing to do with art, but one didn’t see one of V’s photos and not know the man was gifted. “If nothing else, Jihyun, it’s fine to have one simpler piece in a collection.”

He chuckled, and Hen settled in to hold her position. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she knew it wasn’t going to be too difficult, especially because he was good about giving her breaks.

For the first time in their sessions, Jihyun was quiet and focused on the painting, which gave Hen time to think about everything going on in her classes, in life, in that book she was reading… eventually she started to feel sleepy. She knew she should say something, get up and take a walk, get some water, anything so that she didn’t cause a problem for Jihyun.

Instead, she found herself drifting off to sleep while watching him paint with the most blissfully calm look on his face that she’d ever seen on another human being.

What felt like a blink and also an eternity later, Hen woke to the soft shake of a shoulder, Jihyun crouched down next to her.

“Hey, Miss Hen.”

She startled, coming to consciousness all at once. “Oh, no, Jihyun! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“It’s alright, you held the pose I needed, and you just looked so happy I couldn’t bear to wake you. Good dreams, I hope?”

Hen shook her head, holding a hand to her chest to will her heart to calm down from its momentary panic. “No dreams. One minute I was watching you paint, and the next you were waking me up. I feel insanely well rested though. Probably going to be up late tonight.” She chuckled.

“Hm, I should have been responsible and woken you.” He sighed, but continued before Hen could argue. “Would you let me take you to dinner as an apology?”

“What time is it?” Hen asked, sitting up properly so she could stretch the sleep out of her bones.

“Just about six.” Jihyun said, backing up to give her space.

“I could do dinner, I don’t have any other plans.” She said, and the smile that bloomed across his face warmed her soul. Yeah, she’d do a lot just to see that smile more.

Dinner was lovely. They went to a little hole-in-the-wall bibimbap restaurant that seemed to know Jihyun well, but wasn’t so expensive as to make Hen feel out of place. It was even on an easy bus route home again, so she wasn’t even particularly going out of her way, either.

They chatted over dinner about this and that, nothing important, the same calm, cheerful kinds of conversations that they usually had while he was painting. That just cemented for Hen that Jihyun was just like that and he wasn’t just chatting to keep her from getting bored. It made her wonder why he wasn’t chatty during their session today, but by the time they got to a break in conversation where she might have asked, she’d already forgotten.

When the bill came, Hen snatched it away before Jihyun could pick it up, and handed the whole bill to their waitress - a granny who she suspected was simply the owner of the place - with a smile. The granny even turned a look on Jihyun like she was surprised he was letting her pay. Jihyun looked stunned. “Hen, you don’t need to buy my dinner.”

“But I want to.” She smiled. “We’re friends, now, right?”

Jihyun smiled in that way that made her feel alight, and she blushed and fidgeted with her hoodie strings. By the time she realized it, the granny had gone and come back… and she was only paying for her half of dinner. Jihyun smirked at her, and Hen wondered if she’d been played. As they packed up to leave, Jihyun’s phone started ringing, and his face took on an ominous look.

“Sorry, you head on home, I have to take this… and it might be awhile.”

Hen nodded and waved, waving again to the granny on her way out.

That had been a fun dinner. She hoped his phone call wasn’t too painful.

It had been a few months since Hen sat for Jihyun, and almost as long since she’d heard from the man. She’d thought it was Fate when they met and hit it off that well, even just professionally, but then he’d disappeared. Hen tried to convince herself that it was fine, but at this point even she would admit she was moping. She really enjoyed his company, and couldn’t help but feel like she’d done something wrong. Had accepting his dinner invitation been too forward? But she’d even paid for her own meal… Hen had been worrying about this, of course, for weeks now, with only her coursework to keep her mind occupied and off of her presumed faux pas, whatever it might be. And unfortunately, winter break had just started so she had an entire month to mope about and worry about a problem with no guarantee of resolution.

At least she had her favorite coffee shop to curl up and read in. She usually got tea, but today she splurged on an extra sugary coffee drink, and the woman behind the counter chuckled. “Am I celebrating with you or commiserating, Hen?”

“Ugh.” Hen grumbled. 

“Commiserating it is!” The woman behind the counter quietly put an extra pump of caramel into the drink - Hen didn’t comment, not sure if it was intentional, but she wasn’t going to turn down more caramel goodness.

An hour or so later, Hen’s reading was interrupted by someone sitting down across from her. She ignored them for a moment, but when they didn’t move she put her bookmark in and looked up, only to let out a surprised squeak as she realized the person sitting there was none other than Jihyun, patiently waiting for her to pause.

Before she could say anything, the woman behind the counter appeared and set a coffee down in front of him. “Don’t scare away my regulars, Jihyun.” She said sternly, then returned behind the counter.

Before Hen could say anything, Jihyun immediately spoke up.

“I’m so glad that I found you.” He winced. “I threw my phone in the ocean in a fit of temper. Did you know that there is such a thing as backing up your contacts? I… did not do this thing. And as such, I had to simply hope to run into you. It took some time.”

He slid a brand new phone across the table to her. “My friend set it up so I can’t do that again, even if I do something as stupid as throwing my phone into the ocean again. May I have your number again?”

Hen sighed, and immediately added herself as a contact. “So you’re saying you didn’t respond to my texts not because you were upset with me, but because you didn’t know who they were from?” She looked over at her phone as the message she sent herself pinged in as an unknown number.

Jihyun had the grace to look embarrassed. “I needed a new number.”

“Did something happen?” Hen added his new number to her contacts, and changed the old one to read “Davy Jones’ Locker”, just in case some fish tried to text her later.

Jihyun sighed. “The unreasonable unbelievable drama that is my life simply continues to happen.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed happily. Jaehee could really make a mean latte.

Hen chuckled. “Everyone’s got some weird rats in their closet, I swear. I’m glad you reappeared, I was worried.”

“You were?” His eyes lit up for a moment, but then dimmed. “I’m sorry, Miss Hen. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Hey, it’s fine, you reappeared before I could mope myself into a corner.”

“Why would you be moping?” Jihyun was clearly confused.

“Well, I mean, I bullied my way into paying for my own dinner and then you disappeared. I was sure I’d said something stupid, or maybe that I shouldn’t have gone to dinner.”

“God, no, Hen. That dinner was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, I just had to leave for a trip the next morning…”

“His not wanting you to pay is just some misplaced chivalry.” The counter lady said, stopping by to leave a to-go cup refill of Hen’s coffee. “This one’s on the house. For celebrating this time, and for putting up with him.” She winked, and Jihyun looked scandalized.

“Jaehee! Are you buying my… are you buying Hen’s loyalty with coffee now?”

The woman - Jaehee apparently - cackled. “Yes.” The look she was wearing told Hen that she had no idea what their relationship was, and was assuming all kinds of things that Hen didn’t want to have to be the one to dissuade her from.

“Listen…” Jihyun took a deep breath. “Between the trip and needing to find you back, I’m way behind on painting work, and the gallery’s already booked. You wouldn’t happen to be… staying in town for winter break? I could book you… a lot… if you had time.” He looked like he expected her to say no, like he was already letting himself down before she could.

“I’m so game.” she said, laughing awkwardly. “I have, well, nothing going on for the next month until classes start up again.”

“No family events, or friend things, or…” Jihyun looked surprised. 

“Nope. Just lil ol me and my TBR.”

“TBR?”

“To Be Read. All the books I haven’t read this past semester because of classwork.”

Jihyun laughed at his own expense. “I should have known what that was. Fair, fair. Um.” He took a deep breath. “So, I can’t use my campus studio during break. Would you be okay coming to my apartment? It’s safe, I promise, and if you don’t feel safe you can leave, I won’t be upset.” Hen nodded, but winked at him before calling out to Jaehee behind the counter. “Hey Jaehee, can I trust this guy?”

Jihyun paled as though he had no idea what Jaehee would say.

“With your life.” Jaehee responded, without a pause. “But if you need an emergency text check-in hit me up before you leave.” Something relaxed in Jihyun, and Hen wondered if he’d let her give him a hug, but the moment was lost when he stood and bussed her empty mug.

Jihyun’s apartment was the 79th floor of an 80-floor high rise building. The entire 79th floor. Well, apparently his apartment was half of it and the other half was studio space, but still. She went directly to the windows and looked out over downtown, her eyes shining when she looked back at him.

“Jihyun, we should have done that first painting here…. this is such a great view!!” The painter smiled. “I’m glad you think that, actually… because I was hoping to do a triptych of that one, and so I’d need you to stand for two more at windows, and, well…”

He looks so nervous! Hen thought, and smiled, shaking her head and then nodding.

“Listen, Jihyun. I will sit for you to paint as often as you need me this month, as long as I don’t starve to death, and get to sleep properly.”

“That’s a low bar. I’m still going to pay you. Same rates. Also, since we’re not on campus I’m covering at least one meal a sitting. No arguments or pulling what you did at Yu’s!”

Hen blushed. “I still think it was only fair.”

Jihyun laughed, and walked over to a closet. “So, this closet has the outfits for the other…” he winced. “Four paintings I have in mind.”

“That’s only like one a week, do you have other obligations? We both already know I don’t.”

Jihyun chuckled. “Well, I can get the part of the work I need you modeling for done in our usual 6-hour blocks, so we could do those, say… every other day? That should give me plenty of time for finishing work on all of them and still be able to get them to the gallery on time.”

“Do you want to start today, since I’m here?”

Jihyun looked at the clock. “Only if you let me buy lunch and take you to dinner after.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kim.” He raised an eyebrow, and she relented. “Yes, okay, okay. I want to see your gallery look good. I don’t know why you’re not the one begging here.”

Jihyun blinked. “I… really should be, shouldn’t I? You’re too good to me, Miss Hen.”

“Just call me Hen. It’s already a nickname.”

“It is? No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

Hen laughed so hard she sat down abruptly on the floor. “Jihyun Kim. You seriously thought my given name was Hen. Like a chicken.”

“Yes. Why would I assume otherwise?”

Hen just made flustered hand motions while she laughed at him.

“It’s Henrietta.” She said, once she could breathe properly. “Henrietta Chatham.”

“I like Hen better.” Jihyun said through a pout.

“Me too! That’s why I introduce myself that way! If you start calling me Miss Henrietta, I’ll quit.”

“Please don’t.” Jihyun said, helping her up off the floor. “Hen.”

She blushed at their proximity, and turned toward the closet so he wouldn’t notice. “So, which outfit first?”

Jihyun pulled out an outfit that was leggings and a leotard and a cropped leather jacket. “Cyberpunk? Or 80s Workout?” She asked, and as usual he gave her a shrug. No insight from the artist. No hints. No spoilers. She would get to see the paintings at the gallery opening with everyone else, and no sooner.

Hen was changing back into her regular clothes when she heard a knock at the door. Grateful that this wasn’t her house and thus she was spared from needing to rush to get clothes on and the inevitable falling over that would come with it, Hen simply continued at her leisurely undressing and redressing pace… which also meant she was able to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Ah, good evening, Jihyun.” A warm baritone that matched V’s friendly tenor practically sang into the apartment.

“Jumin. Good to see you well. What can I help you with?”

“Miss Kang told me you found your muse.”

“I did. At Jaehee’s coffee shop, no less. I owe her.”

Muse? Does he consider me his Muse?? Hen felt her cheeks heat as she considered what that meant, if it meant anything. She hurried a little bit faster to get herself put back together.

“Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have any problems getting five more pieces done in time for the gallery opening, assuming she’s amenable to sitting for more paintings?”

She heard Jihyun laugh as she opened the bathroom door and made her way over to the costume closet without even glancing at the door.

“I’d say she is, we already got one session in today.” His volume changed as he turned and called out to her. “Hen, come over here when you’re done there, would you?”

She turned, surprised to see that Jihyun’s guest was in a three-piece suit, albeit one decorated with white cat fur.

“Hi.” She said, holding out a hand. “I’m Hen.”

He shook her hand, professional to a T. “Jumin Han.” Then, he turned back to Jihyun. “You should tell Luciel you’ve found her so he stops sending photos of random chickens to the chat and asking if they’re her. He’s been at it for approximately two hours now.”

Hen couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “Seriously?! Will you show me? We can pick which chicken looks most like me.”

JIhyun smiled that smile she loved so much. “We can look over dinner.” He turned to Jumin. “Would you like to join us? We’re going out for barbecue.”

Jumin shook his head. “Elizabeth is waiting for me. But thank you. Maybe next time.”

They watched as he turned and went back to the elevator and rode it…up. “He lives above you?” Hen asked, as they waited for the elevator to return for them to take it down instead.

“Yes.” Jihyun said with a smile. “We were childhood friends, Jumin and I.”

“And now?”

“Still friends. Less so children.”

Hen giggled, and tried to keep herself from thinking of this dinner as a date. It was just.. a work dinner.

The rest of the week flew by, and before Hen knew it she was back on her own, her sittings were all done and now she had all the free time in the world to get her reading done, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Jihyun. She hadn’t really been being honest with herself about him, it seemed, but now that she had some time to think clearly, it was plain as day. She was in love with the painter. He made her smile and laugh in a way no one else had. None of her previous partners even held a candle to the way he made her feel.

Sure, she might be his muse, not that he’d said as much to her even after she’d heard Jumin say it, but regardless… that was an art thing, not a personal thing. And now that this collection was done, other than the gallery opening he’d wanted her to come to, she may not ever see him again. Hen sighed, and like clockwork, her phone started ringing. Who called these days? Oh. It was Jihyun!

“Hey Jihyun!”

“Hi… I have… a selfish request.”

“Shoot.”

“I need your help. I’m trying to get all the finishing work done and for the life of me I cannot focus. I thought maybe getting someone to body double for me would help, but all of my friends are normal boring adults with day jobs. Jumin offered his cat, but she’s white and a mischief and I do not think that would be a good idea around all the paint…”

“Jihyun. Slow down. Calm down, it’s okay. What do you actually need from me?”

“Come and sit here and hang out? You can bring your books. I know you were eyeing that oversized chair, I’ll clear it out so you can relax. Maybe… get coffee from Jaehee’s on the way? I’ll pay you back, I swear, I… Hell, I’ll even pay your sitting fee just to chill with me for the day.”

“Jihyun! That’s not how friendship works! You don’t need to pay me to hang out with you. But you can take me to dinner. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Peppermint! Bye!” She hung up to the sound of his laughter, and if she wasn’t about to walk through his door with two coffees and a tote bag full of paperbacks to devour, she’d hate to end the call. Yeah. She had it bad.

Hen knocked on Jihyun’s door in the most inelegant fashion possible: with her forehead. She’d considered kicking it, but that would have sloshed the coffees too much.

Of course, Jihyun opened by her third knock, and instead she stumbled forward a step when her head met air.

“Were you knocking with your head?”

“Shhh.”

“Nooo. Your poor face.”

“I said shhhhh.” She allowed him to take his coffee, and laughed when she spotted the oversized chair in her usual posing space. “I’m modeling my dumb reading faces for you today.”

“I told you I’d pay your sitting fee.” He winked at her when she blustered, and instead she blushed. “What? You’re going to be sitting!”

“You. Are a brat.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“What, your RFA Friends?” She said, thinking back to the chatroom entirely full of chicken photos.

“Only ones I’ve got.”

“You’ve got me!” Hen argued, and Jihyun turned a look on her that she couldn’t decipher, not even paired with the radiant smile.

“You’re different. You’re my Muse, Hen.”

“Well, you’re my… artist… i guess.. there’s not a good word for that. I’m sticking with friend.” She grinned at him, and he laughed. 

“Well, get to reading, Muse, I better get myself actually working so you didn’t come here for no reason.”

Hen settled and then realized the scale of the canvas he was currently working on. 

“Damn, Jihyun, that’s huge. Is it the centerpiece?”

“It is!”

“And you still won’t let me sneak a peek?”

“Of course not! and ruin the effect of the collection as a whole on opening night? Never.”

“I’m still invited to that?”

“Of course. You’re my muse. You’re my plus one.”

Hen saw the chance and had to ask… to save herself heartbreak down the road.

“What, no boyfriend? I was sure you and Jumin had--”

“No.” He cut her off. “I’m single, Hen. Have been since… well. Everything.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that someday, you know? I hate walking into landmines that just hurt your feelings.”

“You’re right. I should. Maybe over dinner?”

They spent the day in quiet companionship. Every now and again Hen would laugh at something that happened in her book, or absolutely have to read part of something to Jihyun because it was just written way too well.

They took a break for lunch, Jihyun had ordered sandwiches while she was still wrapped up in the most recent book.

“Your reading speed is ridiculous.”

“Jihyun. I’m in law school. Of course it’s ridiculous.”

“…I keep forgetting that. You’re so nice.”

“Sometimes lawyers are nice.”

“My lived experience begs to differ.”

“Hm.” Time to change the subject so that he could get back to work and not just spill everything now. “You’re going to tell me about that over dinner you said. Any ideas where you want to take me?”

Jihyun blinked for a moment, and then shrugged. “I was thinking Sushi?”

“I do not know if I am dressed well enough to go out for sushi, but…”

“I was thinking about a local place that has all you can eat sushi. No dress code. Plenty of time to sit and talk about difficult subjects in an informal environment.”

“Oh. Well then. You will be surprised at how much sushi I can eat.”

“With my friends, I don’t get surprised by much anymore.”

“And since then, she’s been in Alaska, at an inpatient rehabilitation center.”

“Jesus. That was… you? We discussed the situation in one of my classes while it was ongoing.” 

“Yes, I’m not surprised, it was a clusterfuck.”

Hen reached her hand out across the table to take Jihyun’s, heedless of how forward she was being. The man needed comfort.

“That’s a lot of stress, Jihyun.”

Jihyun sighed, but didn’t move his hand out from under hers, a choice that Hen chose to take as a positive sign.

“It was, but it’s over. Now I can move on and be better. To myself. To my friends.”

They paused to eat more of the sushi in front of them, when something he said suddenly connected for Hen.

“You said she’s in Alaska… is that when you ‘lost’ your phone?”

Jihyun chuckled. “When I threw it into the ocean. Yeah. We were still engaged when she was sentenced, and I hadn’t woken up at the hospital yet, so they put me down as one of her guardians. She was demanding to see me since I was on her paperwork… I had to go there in person to get my name removed.”

“Oh because that was safe and healthy for your trauma…” Hen muttered grumpily.

Jihyun nodded. “Exactly. Anyway, once I left, she started texting me begging me to come back, and… I just… I needed to be free of her. Of all that. I’d managed to put myself back together in the two years since and I couldn’t go back to that mental place. So I chucked my phone off of the side of the ferry. ‘Oops’. My only regret is losing your contact information in the process. Why did we never email?”

Hen shook her head with a low chuckle. “Hubris. I don’t know. I’m just glad you found me back. I was really worried I’d done something to upset you.”

“Well, I do wish you’d let me buy you dinner. Grandma Yu teases me to this day about ruining that date.”

Date? Hen must have thought about it for a minute too long, because Jihyun was rushing past the statement like he’d never made it.

“You’re not buying dinner tonight. This is my gift in return for you sharing your day with me.”

Hen nodded. “The chat with the chickens - that was those friends?”

“The very same.”

“I hope I get to meet them someday.”

“They’ll be at the gallery. Maybe… don’t wear feathers.”

Hen laughed so hard she aspirated her tea. “Jihyun!! What should I wear?!”

Leaving the restaurant, Hen realized this would be a perfect time to tell Jihyun how she felt. He deserved to know. She deserved to be let down in a nice quiet parking lot, not in front of however many people at the gallery showing. And since that was the last time she was likely to see him, well, she chose now.

“Jihyun, I…”

He reached out and held a finger to her lips, stopping her from talking.

“I know what you’re going to say. Can you wait until after you see the paintings? Please?”

Hen blinked. He wanted her to wait to confess until after the gallery? That was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

What she was thinking must have shown on her face.

“I promise I will hear you out. I will give you privacy if you want it. But I need you to see… what I see… first.”

Hen sighed and nodded, and only then did he move his finger.

As her bus pulled up to the stop, Jihyun smiled at her. “See you at the gallery.”

“Yeah.” she forced a smile onto her face. “See you Saturday.”

The entire ride home, Hen let the tears silently track down her cheeks. He was going to turn her down, she knew it. He’d known she was going to confess. How many people had fallen for him while modeling? How many women had he turned down? Had he known since he came back from Alaska? Had he known before she did?

He’d had probably the worst relationship experience on the planet, there was no way he’d be interested in trying something. It wasn’t even that there was anything wrong with her, just that with everything he’d been through…

Hen sighed. She was thinking in circles. She should have known better than to fall for anyone. It’s not like her dating history was stellar either. She wiped the tears from her face as her bus arrived at her stop and she started walking home. She would be the best possible muse at this gallery opening. The belle of the ball. Maybe they could stay friends, if she didn’t make a complete mess of everything. She’d like that.

Hen had gone all-out for the gallery opening. She’d secretly talked to Jaehee at the cafe about what the dress code would actually be like, so she wouldn’t embarrass anyone, and the woman had actually volunteered to go shopping with her. Hen turned her down, but they exchanged numbers so Hen could send photos if she needed advice. She felt like she needed to do this herself.

Eventually she found what she needed. A navy blue and black jacquard dress, with an off-the shoulder sweetheart neckline and a subtle high low hem, from knees to tea length. The neckline showed a lot of skin, but a shawl would temper it, especially with her hair in loose curls over one shoulder.

Hair and makeup were easy. She knew how to put on a flawless face, it was practically a requirment with law school. Her favorite jewelry - understated sapphire earrings and a matching pendant on silver chain - finished the look. With a pair of short black suede ankle boots, a cashmere shawl, and her wool coat, she was prepared for a gallery opening in mid-January. Hopefully Jaehee hadn’t steered her wrong. She wouldn’t know what to do if she were dressed improperly. Both overdressed and underdressed were a possibility here, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Jihyun, these pieces are magnificent.”

Hen stepped into the gallery, slightly early for the actual opening, but Jihyun had requested her to be early to meet his friends. The entrance to the room was slightly raised, and had an unimpeded view of the collection. She could hear people talking, but she had eyes only for the art on display. She recognized all of the pieces along the edges from her sittings. First the triptych, Three pieces, one looking left out a window toward a historical setting, one looking right out a window in a cyberpunk-esque future setting (she knew that’s what that outfit was!), and the third looking straight out a window into a modern wartorn landscape.

“I see why you wouldn’t show us any of them early.”

The one where she’d been posing on the bench like it was a tree seemed to be robin hood? Or maybe hunger games? Either way, very stealthy, she loved the look of it. Opposite that was the grecian chaise lounge scene… he’d actually painted her asleep?! Jihyun! She internally scolded him. He could have just asked her to pretend to be asleep. Brat.

“Imagine if he hadn’t found his muse back!”

Her favorite so far had been the hardest pose to hold for the time he’d needed - a sword-weilding maiden from chinese folklore. It actually showed her in three distinct poses, as though in motion, and she stared at it for a long time. The last had her crumpled on the floor in front of a grave, hair in her face, soaked by rain. She’d remembered that - he’d asked her if she’d be willing to go stand in the shower in the giant pile of organza. She’d gotten the entire studio wet. It had been a riot.

“You did five of these just this month? You’re a madman, V… I mean Jihyun.”

But it wasn’t until she focused on the centerpiece - the only one she hadn’t posed for - that she realzied that none of the women in the paintings were actually her. She’d posed for them, but they had different hairstyles, different facial features, like she was playing characters instead of being herself.

“Jihyun, this collection is radiant. If it’s this good, then your muse must be exquisite.”

The centerpiece was actually a painting of her, done the last day she’d been in his studio, sitting ridiculously sideways in that oversized chair engrossed in her book, but instead of it being in his studio it was in a vast library. She couldn’t help but laugh when she realized how many hints he’d tried to give her that she was in fact sitting for another painting. He’d clearly wanted her to be herself. God she loved him.

She looked down, then, to where Jihyun was standing surrounded by a small group of people… all of whom were looking up at her. Of them, she recognized Jaehee from the coffee shop and Jumin his upstairs neighbor / childhood friend. There were also two gingers who could be twins, a girl with long brown fringe and even longer hair, a blonde with dark roots, and a … was that Zen?! Huh. He wasn’t kidding about the eclectic group of friends he had.

Jihyun held out a hand to beckon her over, and she made her way down the stairs and over to the group. Jihyun took her around the group; Jaehee, the owner/operator of the coffee shop she frequented. Jumin, his best friend from childhood and Director of C&R International. Saeyoung and Saeran, the computer-savvy twins. MC, the insightful party planner. Yoosung, the newly-minted Veterinarian. Zen, also known as Hyun, the actor.

“And I’m the model.” She shook her head. “I mean law student.” She smirked at Jihyun who laughed. She didn’t miss the surprised looks from his friends at the sound of his laugh. She was right. This man needed to smile and laugh more. If she could give that to him, she would gladly — no, that was a lie - she would accept simply being his friend. “You sell yourself short.” Jihyun said, a soft smile flickering into place. “This is Hen. My muse. My friend. I hope you can all get along well.”

“Don’t worry, Jihyun. We’ll take care of your girl when you inevitably get pulled away by boring rich guys.” One of the twins - Saeyoung, she thought, gold eyes - said with a smirk. 

After the introductions, the RFA scattered around the room as other patrons of the arts started to filter in, the official start time having passed. Jihyun held his arm out for her like a proper gentleman. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Hen.” He said with that smile she loved so much.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks heat and willed herself to calm down. This was his show. “I didn’t want to make you look bad. Not after you made me look so good.” She gestured to the biggest piece of art in the room, and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I should have been up front and asked for your permission, but I wanted to paint you naturally, not posing. I’m sorry I lied to you, Hen.”

Hen shook her head. “You didn’t lie to me, Jihyun. You left so many crumbs, I could have assembled an entire loaf of bread from how much you were afraid to surprise me with this. Hell, you even offered to pay me a sitting fee just to hang out with you. The fact that I was still surprised is more on me than it is on you!”

“I’m still going to pay you for that.”

Hen smirked. They’d had this back and forth so many times, she couldn’t help but kick it up a notch.

“You could pay me back with a kiss.” She said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Jihyun not only sputtered trying to respond to her in any fashion, he even stopped walking.

Hen turned to apologize to him, just in time to see Jihyun school his features and hold his arm out properly again. Great, now you’ve done it, Hen. If he wasn’t going to turn you down before, he definitely is now.

Moments later, a group of men walked up and started talking to Jihyun about his works, and Hen tuned in so that she could respond to any questions asked of her. There weren’t any, of course, she was arm candy and most of them probably hadn’t even noticed that she was the woman pictured in the art.

Eventually, the event was in full swing, and Jihyun went up to the landing to talk about the art a bit. He told a story about a woman who loved to read more than anything, and her trips of imagination through storybooks. He talked about how the collection was about escapism through fiction, and how the modern world has made even fictional war more glamorous than our day-to-day slog through capitalism. 

He introduced her to the assembled patrons as his muse, the beautiful law student who deigned to stand, sit and otherwise pose for long hours just so that he might put some paint on canvas. There was nothing in his description about their friendship, or the bond they’d formed, simply a focus on a beautiful woman who inspired his art. He even kept her name out of it, kept her away from being associated with his art in any way but visually.

Hen was more certain than ever that this would be the last night she would see Jihyun. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him how she felt. Maybe it would be better to pretend that she wasn’t feeling any of this. After his talk, Jihyun passed her off to Saeyoung to walk through the gallery while he was accosted by too many people all at once, just as they’d predicted. 

Hen looked around for the rest of his friends, and couldn’t help but notice MC snuggled up to the other twin. “Those two are cute together.” She said discreetly, and Saeyoung laughed. 

“They are. They’ve been dating for a few years now.”

“Aww, that’s just too sweet.”

“You mean like you and Jihyun?”

Hen laughed bitterly. “I wish.”

“Oh come on, Hen, I’ve only known you for a few hours and—“

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious.” She chuckled ruefully at her own hubris. “He stopped me from confessing, Saeyoung. I don’t stand a chance with someone like him.”

Saeyoung sighed. “I think you’re selling yourself short. You’re good for him, Hen. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in… a very long time.”

Saeyoung’s words stuck with Hen the rest of the night, even as she was bounced between the other members of the RFA. Just as she was thinking she’d hit her limit for socialization for one night, and thought she might try to find Jihyun to say goodbye before heading out, the man found her himself, a hand at her elbow leading her away from the crowd.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get much time together tonight.” He said, turning her to face him, his hands gently circling her, keeping her close enough that their quiet voices wouldn’t carry.

“All those hours with me in your studio, I’m sure you had more than enough of me.”

“Never!” He said with a laugh. “What you were going to say the other night…”

Hen blushed, and bit her lip. Her confidence was gone. Her willingess to have her heart trampled had gone with it. “Jihyun, I…”

“Hen, I’m in love with you.” Jihyun interrupted, and Hen was suddenly very aware of how he was shaking.

“You…”

“I know, it’s inappropriate. I tried to be good, but I couldn’t have you end everything before you at least got to see the gallery and—“

Hen reached out and put her finger against his lips to silence him. “Jihyun. Me too.”

His eyes went wide, but she didn’t move her finger, and he didn’t attempt to say anything.

“I was so sure you were going to turn me down when I tried to confess after sushi.” She moved her hand away then, anxiously twisting her fingers together.

“Wait, you meant—“

She nodded, cursing the tears beading up in her eyes. “And then when you kept me out of your speech except the fact that I was standing there, I..”

“I wanted to keep your bright future from being tainted by my questionable past, is all.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we? ”

He nodded. “Complete idiots, but at least we’re together.”

“We have got to learn to communicate better. No more throwing phones in the ocean.”

They shared a laugh, and Hen knew, then, that everything was finally going to be alright.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Jihyun said, that smile she loved so much lighting his face. “Jumin can handle the cleanup and closing.” He looked over her shoulder and she felt him shake with silent laughter.

Hen followed his line of sight to where Jumin was standing with Saeyoung, the former nodding discreetly while the latter made hand motions as if shooing them away. She giggled. “Okay, Jihyun Kim, I will allow you to drive me home.”

The ride home was silent, but it was a calm introspective kind of silence, rather than an anxious uncomfortable one. Hen, of course, was warring with herself internally about what she wanted to do with her night. She was reminded, as they pulled into her parking area, that she didn’t have to make these choices alone anymore.

“Do you want to come up for tea?” Hen asked quietly, fidgeting with the ends of her shawl in lieu of her usual sweatshirt strings.

“I would love to.” Jihyun said, just as softly.

She led him through the building to her lofty third-floor apartment, where she stepped out of her shoes and set about getting tea started. She set the mugs on the counter and opened the tea cabinet. When she turned to ask Jihyun what kind of tea he wanted, he was right behind her, and she startled. 

“Oh, hello there.” She said with an awkward giggle.

“Hi, Hen.” He said, leaning into her space. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded even as she felt the blush on her cheeks, and moments later his lips were on hers, and her arms were looped around his neck, holding him close. When they broke for air, they both laughed before moving toward each other again.

“What about the tea?” She asked, softly, afraid to break the spell.

“I… don’t need tea.” 

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 6: "Desire" Florrick? you're damn right I do

In-game, Counsellor Florrick is only ever referred to just that way: her title, "Florrick", or both. Nothing and nobody--not even Ulder, whom she sometimes calls by his first name--ever calls her anything else.

But in the game files, she's consistently referred to as "Desire", implying that her behind-the-scenes full name is Desire Florrick.

... which is extra interesting when you consider the possibility that she named herself.

Of course, the immediate first question is: how do you say it?

Being that Larian is a Belgian company, I would assume it was their intent to pronounce it the French way, said like deh-zi-ray rather than like the flat-out English word "desire." Personally, I'm too lazy to hit an accent key twice, so I always style it as Desiré even though Désiré is probably more correct, to convey the pronunciation I think is intended.

side note: I knew several Desirees growing up in the rust belt USA and they were all uhhhh extremely trashy, so discovering my urbane elven beloved had the same name took me out and was actually really hard to adjust to

Moving on: Prior to checking out the game files, I simply assumed that "Florrick" was her only name, which I was willing to accept based on the scant lore I knew. Other nobles and officials have their full names written out in-game, so there's no reason to expect that she was excluded for some reason. I do figure that it's probably just an oversight, and her first name just got lost in the shuffle between writing the files and developing the final product.

But she has a first name, still.

Disregarding real life and its boring explanations as usual, the question is, in-universe, why does nobody and nothing--not herself, not Yeva or Ito, not Jaheira, not Ulder, not Wyll, not official documents--ever use it?

There are several ways to go with this:

The game files don't count. Her first and only name is truly "Florrick", so there's nothing else to call her.

We only see her while she's acting in some official capacity, where she expects to be called by her rank and/or title by inferiors, and her last name by equal-ranks or superiors. The same people may call her Desiré in private gatherings, but she keeps it formal at work.

She just prefers to be called "Florrick" in any setting.

And more, but those are my top 3, each with merits for my purposes. #1, my original assumption, fed into a lot of the headcanons I developed about her, but I think #2 is my default. #3 is just sort of amusing to me.

But beyond the question of why nobody calls her by her first name, the question remains:

Who named her that?

I'm not, never will be, and don't want to be a lore expert, and it's a moving target anyway, but the consensus seems to be that elves choose an adult name when they reach a certain milestone in their life experience, usually around 100 years old, which replaces their given childhood name.

So... is Desiré Florrick her original given name, or her chosen name? Since my headcanon is that Florrick is somewhere in the neighborhood of 120-130 years old, that would lead to assumption that it's her chosen name.

"Desire" as a virtue name is pretty odd from an English-speaking perspective, and I would not be surprised if the sexual connotation of the word led to the devs choosing it for her (since they randomly decided to sexualize her more than most other NPCs), but it fits. She's a woman of passion and ambition, of loyalty and determination. Her desire to serve the public, to give her absolute all for the betterment of the city she loves, is what defines her. It suits my headcanon that her status and esteem is all the result of hard work, and relentless pursuit of what she wanted out of life.

"Florrick", I'm overall just willing to buy as her original surname. It sounds kinds of woodsy, just lyrical enough to sound a bit elfy. It fits.

But it's also compelling to me to imagine that she didn't originally have a surname, but took one on to fit in better among the upper echelon of Baldur's Gate, where inheritance and family names are important. Florrick being a wood elf wizard who lives in and faithfully serves the Big City is quite the mad libs of a character setup, so I like to imagine it matters and informs parts of her life. Assimilating into a new culture is an interesting experience, so it's a big part of my greater Florrick headcanon.

[talisidekick]

u should post more about being trans

Sure. And I have a recent life story so here it goes:

If you've spent any amount of time scrolling down my blog, you know that from my 800+ posts I've dropped quite a bit about myself. Namely that my parents emotionally and physically abused me and manipulated me to act a very specific way to adhere to a "look" that agreed with my birth mothers families expectations. They wanted a daughter and got my sister first try, and only had me to teach her to share. Their treatment of me my entire life and how they admitted to it and talked about me let me know I was just a show-piece for their perfect cult christian/catholic/mormon nuclear family vibe.

As such, I can say that I have never once experienced what parental love actually feels like. What it's like to be loved unconditionally by a parent who cares. That wasn't my life.

At least ... that was true up until yesterday.

If you're unaware of what's been happening up in Canada in the last week (from 18th September 2023 to 22nd September 2023), the transphobes up here held a "1 Million March for Children" protest about public schools being gender inclusive, teaching topics on gender identity and gender expression, and allowing kids to give preferred names and pronouns that teachers abide by without parental involvement. If you're unfamiliar with Canada's laws, Canada has ratified the "rights of the child" set forth by the United Nations and children under the age of 18 up here have civil rights including the right to privacy and safety. These protests attempt to say a parent has the right to know everything going on with their kid, and there is some degree of agreement on that, but a child also has the right to privacy and safety. This group is pushing for policy changes in public schools that would require the schools take actions that can be argued would infringe on the rights of the 2SLGBTQIA+ children regarding their privacy and safety. As such, this transphobic group met opposition that vastly outnumbered their protest numbers in the form of counter protests involving students, teachers, parents, allies, and 2SLGBTQIA+ adults who passed through a less-than-accepting school system in their time.

I unfortunately missed the organized protest in my city yesterday. I was entirely unaware myself that any of this was happening. I'm now working on being more active and informed in my community because now that this bullshit is firmly on my doorstep, I'm not about to let it gain another inch by being oblivious.

When I came out, I was 27. I waited until I was on hormones just because I needed to be 1000% certain I was finally doing this before letting anyone in my workspace know. I was met immediately with transphobia from my team lead/manager. I was honestly stuck with what to do because it wasn't like she (my manager) was being overtly terrible, it was just a bunch of small things that were actively impeding my ability to do my job, and even move departments. It became more apparent as time went on that she was actively preventing me from reaching my normal level of production by throwing harder and harder work my way with much higher expectations than ever before. I reached out to another co-worker who was in a higher position than I at the time and she went to bat for me. She caught a lot of it first hand, agreed I was being treated unfairly, and got me in contact with HR. With her help, I was able to move to the IT department and begin using my software and computer architecture degree for something. She remarked that my parents must be proud I was finally in my chosen field of study and ... I had to let her know that my parents weren't in my life, and that they treated me terribly, and don't approve of me. She took that statement and without missing a beat she said: "well, guess that makes me your mom now", which I just took as a "if they won't love you for who you are and what you achieve, I will" symbolic gesture. She's called me her kid in casual conversation, and I have called her mom, but she has biological children around my age so it felt symbolic. I'm a 29 year old adult now, I was 27 at the time this started and I didn't think much of it because I kind of just accepted I was a person who'll never have parents who care. Like, I'm not a kid anymore, what's the point of having parents? That was my mentality.

Until yesterday. The day of the counter protest I didn't know was happening. My adopted mom showed up in force. Why? Take a look:

Some context for the following messages: when an iPhone user hearts a message, and android receiver gets the "Loved "<First 50 characters of the message reacted to> ..." message.

[Start ID: Screenshots of a text message conversation between @talisidekick and her mother who adopted her at 27. Conversation spans over Sunday and Monday. First photo reads: (8:12 PM Sunday) Mom: ... me about it. It was due to something that happened Wednesday. This was all put together in a matter of days. I have a trans child so I wanted to be there (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: Just confirming, is the "trans child" me or is one of your other kids trans? (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: 'Cause I still call you mom. (7:18 AM Monday) Mom: No it's you (8:10 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for me made me smile so wide... (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for..." (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Because you know I've got your back my luv

Second photo reads:

(8:11 AM Monday) Talisidekick: ... I really wish you were my mom when I was growing up. You're honestly the best. (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "... I really wish you were my mom when I was growi..." (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: I wish I was too! You would have been accepted for who you are the entire time (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: But you got me now! (8:13 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I do, and that matters loads. (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I do, and that matters loads."

/end ID]

I'm in tears because she wasn't being symbolic. She sees me as her kid. She saw a problem, recognized that I'd lived through worse because we've talked how many times I was almost killed by my peers at school or left to die by teacher staff because where I grew up was conservative and we didn't have anything in the books supporting queer children in schools, and showed up to be part of the solution.

For reference from those who don't know: someone made a cruel remark that I was gay via a slur when I was in grade 3 and that was enough to mark me for abuse, and almost kill me for the entirety of grade school. There was more than one active attempt by members of the student body to kill me, at least one in front of a teacher who did nothing because of that damn rumour. And trying to kill me wasn't the worst thing they did. They didn't care I was actually transgender, in fact, them not knowing that probably saved me from them trying harder. I couldn't bring any of this to my parents because they were worse.

No child deserves to live any fraction of what I went through. It was horrible, and these assholes want to force kids to feel just as isolated as I did growing up. I barely survived and almost took my own life several times because of all this.

Mom, if you happen to read this, thank you for showing me I matter. I wish I'd met you sooner.

Trans rights are human rights. Transgender kids deserve safety too because every damn child matters.

[somacruising]

Tales of the Rays: Mirrage Prison

Chapter 6: The Atoning Hero and Remorseful Chosen (Part 10)

(Part 9) | (Final Part)

Kratos and Sync go to the Ocean Temple with Mithos to where Martel is supposedly being held. Let's all hope that they find her and absolutely nothing goes wrong. Note: cutscenes use outfits you have equipped to characters. Sync and Mithos are in something called Spirit Gear outfits cuz I think they're snazzy :)

Part 10 (Ocean Temple)

Sync: …What a nasty place. It’s so damp and humid. ……嫌なところだな。じめじめして。

Mithos: Martel… 姉さまは……。

Tigr: I’ve been awaiting you, Mithos. 待っていたよ、ミトス。

Mithos: Richard… リチャードか……。

Tigr: That is the name of this body’s owner. My name is Tigr, the noble northern tiger. I’d prefer if you used my name. それはこの体の持ち主の名前だ。僕はチーグル。高貴な北方の虎だよ。いい加減名前で呼んで欲しいなぁ。

Tigr: In your original world, you were trying to transfer a soul into an entirely new body, weren’t you? Then, I represent your long-awaited success. きみだって元の世界でこうやって魂を違う体に移そうとしていたんだろう？だったら僕は待望の成功例じゃないか。

Tigr: We should get along. 仲良くしようよ。

Mithos: …Where is my sister? ……姉さまはどこだ。

???: —Can you hear me, Mithos? ——聞こえるか、ミトス。

Kratos: A child’s voice…? 子供の声……？

Mithos: It’s Mercuria. メルクリアだ。

Mercuria: That’s right. Ahaha! You haven’t forgotten my voice, then! Excellent. そうじゃ。あはは！わらわの声忘れたわけではないのだな！よかったぞ。

Mithos: Mercuria! Where are you!? メルクリア！どこにいる！？

Mercuria: I thought you were looking for someone else? 捜しているのはわらわではないだろう？

Mithos: This isn't a joke! ふざけるなっ！

Mercuria: Mithos…you’ve really let me down. You and I are the same. That’s why I exoflected Martel into this world for you. ミトス……。わらわを失望させてくれるな。そなたはわらわと同じじゃ。だからこそマーテルを具現化してやったのではないか。

Mithos: And I told you not to involve my sister in any of your nonsense! お前たちのくだらない計画に姉さまを巻き込むなと言っただろう！

Mercuria: Tigr, explain it to him. チーグル。説明してやれ。

Tigr: Yes, Lady Mercuria. Mithos, the great wish of His Majesty Demitrius is for the goddess to return to this realm. はい、メルクリア様。ミトス、神降ろしはデミトリアス陛下の大願なんだよ。

Tigr: After that, when all is said and done, the goddess will be returned elsewhere. 何、全て終われば、神はまたいずこかへお戻りになる。

Mithos: There’s no difference between your Living Doll project and my possession project. I will never forgive you if you erase Martel’s heart! 神降ろしだろうと何だろうとやることはリビングドールと変わらない。姉さまの心を消すなんて許さない！

Tigr: I haven’t erased it, Mithos. The heart core—I’ve managed to extract it without breaking it. 消さないよ、ミトス。心核——心の物質化に成功したんだ。��さずに取り出す。

Tigr: But, if we go against Lady Mercuria’s will here, she says that she will immediately retrieve Martel’s heart core…and destroy it. でも、もしもここでメルクリア様の意思に背くなら、メルクリア様は今すぐ心核を取り出して壊す……と仰っている。

Mithos: ！！

Sync: …So that’s their angle. ……そういうことか。

Kratos: Mithos… ミトス……。

Tigr: I’ll see it is done. Now, prove to me that you have no intention of rebelling any further. 僕が見届けてあげるよ。反逆の意思がないことを見せてくれ。

Mithos: —Kratos. ——クラトス。

Kratos: If you think you have to, so be it. But, even so, I still want to protect you and your sister this time. お前がそうせねばならぬと言うならそれでもいい。だが、それでも私は今度こそお前たち姉弟を守りたい。

Mithos: …Tch! …………っ！

[ Mithos attacks Kratos, Sync intervenes and runs between them ]

Sync: What are you, brain dead!? You should have at least avoided his attack! アンタ、馬鹿か！？少しは攻撃を避けてよね！

Mithos: …Get out of my way. ……邪魔をするな。

Sync: I’ll get in trouble if this idiot here dies. この馬鹿に死なれるとこっちが困るんだよ。

[ Kratos stands up ]

Sync: Kratos, what do you think Lloyd will do if he finds out you died here? クラトス。アンタがここで死んだらロイドはどうすると思う。

Kratos: Lloyd is a reasonable man. ロイドはものの道理がわかる男だ。

Sync: He might be—if he doesn’t hear a distorted version of your death. I pride myself on that kind of manipulation. 歪んだ情報に触れなきゃそうかもね。ボク、そういう操作は得意なんだけど。

Sync: If you don’t want Lloyd to fight this guy, maybe you should fight him yourself? こいつとロイドを戦わせたくなかったらしっかり戦ってくれない？

Sync: I’m the one who will get yelled at if our annoying houseguest gets hurt. You want to die? Die on your own time. 客分傷つけてうるさく言われるのはボクなんだ。死ぬなら勝手にのたれ死んでよ。

Mithos: …Kratos has a weakness for that boy. Fine. I’ll just make sure I kill you both! ……クラトスはあの女の子供に弱いからね。いいよ。ボクも本気で殺しにいくから！

(Part 9) | (Final Part)

[imaginarycyberpunk2023]

Helloooo :3 from the otp questions, for Vinnie and Macha: 3, 6, 12, 19, 23, 24? :D

Thank you@elvenbeard 🧡 sooo many, and I had to think hard about some of these!

The good thing about me getting back to your ask so late is I can now post a proper pic of them together instead of a collage 🙌🏻. Oh my goodness, the way she looks at him. Yes!

3. What’s their favorite thing to tease each other about?

Control. They are constantly teasing each other about being or not being in control.

He always tells her that she likes to be a controlling bish, and she tells him that he actually likes being told what to do. (They are both right)

In the bedroom? They switch dynamic. Just so you know. 👀

6. Do they have pet names for each other? Do they like them?

I’ll start with Macha first. She calls him “Cubs” because she is older (6 years), and they talked about her being his cougar, which she thinks is hilarious. He likes being her cub and also being called that. She sometimes calls him boo bc she likes the sound of that, and he likes that as well. And if she wants something from him or wants to flatter him, she calls him “my king” and he’s ALL OVER THAT.

He calls her “Kitten” mostly - she reminds him of a kitten bc she is playful and cute and has no idea how sharp her claws are and that they can hurt. She loves being called that. It makes her feel special. He calls most other women “dollface” and that’s what he called her until she got upgraded to his Kitten. He also calls her princess from time to time and she pretends to not like it but then she always has those lyrics in her head from that Alanis Morisette song and she gets all giddy and she doesn’t really object (they go “ you treat me like Im a princess, I’m not used to liking that”)

12. What struggle have they seen each other through?

They haven't figured out one of them yet - moving in together. They both like the idea, but they also value their own space and kind of order (or ordered chaos) they have.

Vinnie is much more minimalistic by the way so his place is more organized.

And Macha values her alone time so much that she can't imagine having him around all the time (which he would prefer).

(I do have a lot of struggles for them in my head but they are all WIP so this will have to do for now)

19. What values do they not share? How do they reconcile those differences?

Family is super important for Vinnie because he didn't have much family time growing up because of losing his parents. He does have a lot of cousins, though. They are pretty tight, and he adored his grandma. He felt very drawn to the Valentinos when they took him in because they immediately felt like a chosen family to him, and he still hangs out with them often.

Macha, on the other hand, is glad she doesn't have a lot of contact with her family anymore because family life was traumatizing for her, constant breaking of boundaries, high expectations, and a lot of constraints. She values her independence now and finally feels emancipated from her parents. She has a big immediate family and patchwork style because her dad remarried twice. Lots of half siblings. She does get along with them, but they don't see each other often.

Vinnie is very curious about meeting her parents, but she doesn't want that. So for now, they hang with his friends and family, and she leaves whenever it gets too much for her. Vinnie respects that she decides when it's time to meet the family.

23. What was their first impression of each other?

Vinnie thought she was pretty and sassy. He liked that she was blunt and to the point. He wondered about her capabilities bc she didn't let him know all the stuff she could do.

Machas first thought was "Damn, he tall. And... cute." And she was kind of flustered that he started flirting right away but couldn't resist flirting back - which isn't her usual mode.

24. How did they fall for each other?

Macha fell for him pretty quickly. There was a moment during their first gig together (basically the day after they met) where he had to protect her physically and he did so quickly and effortlessly and she couldn't help but feel very attracted to that. She had always looked out for herself up until that point, so someone suddenly having her back like this made her feel all kinds of things. She did not act on her feelings quickly, though, because she knew he was a womanizer and she wasn't looking to be his next fling. She wanted something serious. She chose Vinnie for a multitude of reasons, but the important thing is that she chose him very consciously, and she had never done that before in her relationships (she settled for the men).

Vinnie took longer. Granted, he wanted to get into her pants from the beginning but she didn't react to his usual advances which confused him. She was still very friendly and even affectionate with him. So he asked her out on a date because he assumed she needed that to give into him.

But that date and what followed was so different from what he usually experienced with women that his interest and curiosity grew steadily (apart from one incident at The Afterlife 👀 they didn't get intimate until weeks later, which was unheard of for him). He fell for her when he realized she was interested in his true self and did not want to change anything about who he was.

[oatmealdaydreams]

Euphrosyne | Chapter 3: Letter III

Warning: Alcohol, Drinking, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied Traumatic Incident, Implied Psychological Damage, Implied Brain Damage, Grief, Implied Past Neglect, Implied Past Child Neglect, Self-Isolation, Loss

Description: E. has a roommate.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link | Previous | Next

[read under the cut]

Dearest Dear Spero, 

Mother called me yesterday. She… she wants to apologize for what she did. For ignoring me the way she did. She said how it began with the loss of Azenor’s mental capacity, but it just escalated. She wants to make it up to me? I’m not sure I believe her, after all she’s put me through. 

You know what’s funny? She didn’t push away Galen like she did to me. She didn’t treat him like she treated me. He’s the baby, the youngest. He got special treatment. I got thrown aside because I reminded Mother too much of Azie before the accident. That’s not fair. It was never fair! Why does she get to do all that, and then try to apologize? I… I don’t know how to feel about it. I wish I still had your advice. 

I can imagine you saying it’s a good thing, her wanting to apologize. 

…I told my roommate about Mother. I was drunk again, and they lent a willing ear. It was nice, to be honest. It was nice to have someone physically there. You were there through letters; my roommate is here by sitting on the couch with an intoxicated me. It’s different. 

My roommate’s name is Ori, if you ever wonder. They’re technically called Oren, but they prefer Ori. No room to judge. I changed my name to my chosen name, remember? Before I was… well, you know. I used to be Drystan. How wack of a name was that? So yeah, I can’t judge without being hypocritical, now can I? I wouldn’t want to, anyway. Ori was kind enough to deal with me drunk. I was sober enough to remember bits here and there, but they talked to me earlier this morning about the previous night. They said they’d been worried about me for a while. How can they do that? How can you care and worry about someone who just pushes you away? We’re roommates, yes, but I never interacted much with them. I didn’t think there was a point to it. Another person who might hurt me. Another person that I might end up hurting. I hadn’t wanted to risk it.

I still don’t. Not entirely. Becoming closer with Ori is appealing, and it’d be nice to have a friend again… I don’t know. Maybe. 

A murder of eight crows passed by our- my window today.  A lot more than just the pair. It was like a giant herd of friends. I want that. I can’t have it, not now, but I want it. Ori said they liked crows, but their favourite bird is actually a wood thrush. I have no idea which one that is, given I’m not that well-versed in different bird names. Ori seems to be, though. They mentioned how they used to bird-watch before moving to the city. They grew up on a farm, I think. Explains the southern accent, at least. 

I haven’t told them much besides basic things like favourite colors and comfort movies. Also, everything I spilled while I was drunk. Which apparently doesn’t count? To them? Because I was drunk. Under the influence. Upset. They didn’t think it was fair to take advantage of the things I told them while intoxicated. And I… I appreciate that. Maybe I’ll keep them at arm’s length. Maybe it’ll be fine? Maybe. Maybe. 

Maybe.

They asked if I was interested in therapy, and I immediately cringed at their question. They kind of snickered, in good nature (I assume), and basically told me I was ‘predictable”. Rude. I am not ‘predictable’. They’re just nerds. Goddamn psychology majors. 

They recommended a therapist to me. Their therapist. I was surprised when they told me they were in therapy.  Every other week, they said. 

“Really? I didn’t think you’d need it. You seem so… bright. Happy,” I admitted. 

“I can still be happy and need therapy at the same time. Not every day is a good day,” they responded. 

“Yeah, but… how did you become so bright?”

“Ya know how people say ‘time heals’?”

“Yeah?”

“Not that.”

That brought a laugh out of me. They didn’t seem so bad so far. I mean, I already split bits of my family issues to them. They didn’t judge. 

“Okay, then what?” I got curious.

“No matter how cheesy this sounds… love, actually. And frogs.”

They baffle me.

“Love, really? Wait- frogs? What?”

“I know, I know. And yes, frogs. I learned that if you can find one positive, cool thing a day, it helps see the good things more often. I chose to count the frogs I saw in the pond near my house. I’d pass it most days on my way to town, so it was right there. I started with frogs, then patches of daisies, then heart-shaped things, and it all went from there.”

“That sounds weird, though. How does that even work, anyway?”

“I’ll tell ya later.”

The conversation ended there, and we went on with our day. Still don’t understand why frogs. And that doesn’t really explain the cringe-worthy ‘love’ thing they mentioned. People are weird, Spero. 

…now that I’ve had time to think, I might look into Ori’s therapist. They seem to be alright, so maybe their therapist isn’t so bad? I’ll see. 

Miss you, old friend.

I don’t think I’ll send these letters, after all. I won’t burn them, either. 

Maybe… maybe they just belong in my paint drawer. For now.

Yeah. 

Genuinely Confused,

E.

[gukyi]

the art of the rom-com | jjk

summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors, but it’s not. it’s actually a sisyphean torture that comes in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love like the hopeless romantic he is. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook decides to take it upon himself to show you what love is really like.

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: film major!jungkook x film major!reader (female) genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, this is literally a rom-com in fic form word count: 33k warnings: college alcohol consumption, discussion board posts, emotionally constipated characters, film major shenanigans, blonde jungkook who’s also in a hip hop dance troupe, miscommunication, if you hate rom-coms do not read this fic

a/n: i am so so so excited to share this monster of a jungkook fic (tho let’s be real, 30k is pretty standard for me now ;-;) with you all! this is basically rom-com trash, but it’s my rom-com trash, and i hope you all enjoy!

on a sadder, less exciting note: after this fic i will be taking an extended writing hiatus until at least the beginning of may. my semester is picking up and i unfortunately just don’t currently have any upcoming fics planned for you guys. i hope you understand!! maybe i’ll do a couple of ask games here and there to see if anything piques my interest, but other than that please do not expect major works of writing for a while. love you all!

500 Days of Summer is a movie you all have probably seen before. That being said, I encourage you to respond to this discussion board from a film perspective as opposed to a viewer’s perspective. How did 500 Days of Summer alter the classic narrative of boy-meets-girl? Do you think it was a smart move, on the parts of Webb, Neustadter, and Weber, to do so? Why or why not?

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

I thought that the change in the boy-meets-girl narrative that had been popularized by rom-coms of the 1990s definitely contributed to his popularity and its attractiveness towards viewers in general. The film makes it clear that the story does not have a so-called happy ending, but despite that, it still brings into discussion the idea of love and soulmates and true connection. And that’s important, because despite the film’s not-so-happy ending, it makes it a point to emphasize that those things are real. That love is real. I thought it was an excellent move on the parts of the writers and director, because they both broke standards in terms of happy endings in rom-coms and they stayed true to the message at hand. 

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

When you walk into class, Jeon Jungkook is already there. 

He sits in the front row, the seat closest to the door in your puny little classroom, much too small for twenty-students to fit comfortably, let alone watch movies on the pull-down projector screen above the chalkboard. You’re convinced he’s chosen that seat just so he can grin at you whenever you walk in the room, always later than him because apparently, he has nothing better to do with his time than show up to class early and smirk at you when you arrive. 

As you shuffle past his seat towards your own—second row, middle of the room, centered with the lecturer’s podium—with your usual scowl drawn neatly across your face, Jungkook says, overly bright and cheery, “Good morning, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to make your nose scrunch up in further disgust. “Shut up,” you grumble back, stuffing yourself into your chair and pulling out your laptop. One row in front of you and five seats to the right, you see Jungkook chuckle. 

Glowering, you open up your Notes document for the class and try to avoid staring at Jungkook’s side profile, the way he’s slouching lazily in his seat, and what looks to be a lengthy paragraph on his computer screen, a task that proves to be particularly difficult because he happens to sit in the exact spot you have to look in order to see your professor enter the room. What the hell is he even writing, anyway?

He straightens up the moment she does, cheerful as always as she smiles at everyone. “Good morning, everyone.”

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves. 

“I can just feel the enthusiasm radiating throughout the room,” she jokes, clenching her fists together in success. At least that gets a couple of you to laugh. “Which is great, because before we get to anything today, we’re gonna talk about the final project.”

You smile to yourself, immediately pulling up the copy of the syllabus you had downloaded to your desktop, scrolling right down to where she had outlined information about the final project in big, bolded letters. There are a lot of reasons you’ve taken this class, not the least of which is the fact that you have had Professor Pollack three times prior to this and she’s loved you in every class, but the final project was definitely one of the major selling points. 

Pollack pulls up a more detailed final project document on the projector as she steps out from behind the podium. “As you guys know, your final project is a thirty-to-forty minute short film involving rom-coms. You guys have a lot of freedom, it can be a rom-com, it could be a documentary about rom-coms, anything. It just needs to involve the topic of rom-coms somehow. I know a lot of you have actor friends who would be more than happy to have a star-crossed lovers fling or whatever. Go wild. Just keep it PG-13, because I can’t in good faith have nude bodies of your fellow college students on my screen.”

You snort to yourself. Makes you wonder how many times Pollack has seen sex scenes of college students on her screen before. Too many, probably. 

Unintentionally, your eyes drift over to Jungkook. He seems to be working on that hefty paragraph of his, typing something you assume is completely unrelated to the topic at hand and is further proof that Jungkook just doesn’t give a shit about anything involving this class. Whatever. You turn back to Pollack. 

“Good projects not only capture the essence of what a rom-com is, but also put their own twist on the story and bring into question the topics we discuss in class, like truthfulness, realistic portrayals of love, and viewer interpretation,” she continues, and with every word you feel heart beat faster in excitement. “I know you’re all excellent filmmakers. That’s why you’ve taken this class. But what I want you to do is get into the nitty-gritty of the makeup of a rom-com and distill it as much as possible. We’ll be watching them all in class during the last week. Yes, Celia?”

You all turn to look at Celia, who sits in the third row, second seat from the left. “This is a partner project, right?” 

Well. That’s the one downside. As much as you know that cooperation is an important life skill, you would much rather prefer to produce the entire movie yourself. But you love Pollack and you already know you’re on track to get a good grade in this class, so whatever. You’ll deal. 

As long as you can pick your teammate. 

“Yes,” Pollack affirms, “and with that excellent segue, I will now announce your partners.”

Shit. 

Pollack pulls out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket, like she had just come up with the arrangements on the morning train ride to campus, and begins reading. Slowly, as she ticks off names one by one, everyone begins to turn around, locking eyes with their partners and exchanging guess-it’s-us-two-huh? smiles. Everyone except—

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

You freeze in place. You look up at your professor, eyes wide and shocked, because nobody knows better than her how much the two of you have been butting heads this entire semester. But when you meet her eyes and she smiles knowingly, shrugging her shoulders, you know you’re doomed. Hesitantly, almost like you’re scared to find out what happens when you do, you shift your gaze towards where Jungkook sits in the front right corner of the room. Only he’s not just sitting. He’s turned a full one hundred-and-eighty degrees just so he can smirk at you from across the room, a glint in his eye. 

Jungkook laughs at your cold-stone, shellshocked reaction. Like he knows how much you’ll hate this, and you know how much he’ll enjoy it. 

From here, you actually have a pretty good view of his laptop screen, brightness turned all the way up because he apparently doesn’t care who reads his screen. Or maybe he just likes showing off how much he writes so he can establish dominance over everyone else. Except you, of course. But when you look a little closer, you notice he’s got the class discussion board for the week up on his Chrome window, two paragraphs typed into the text box. 

Right above is your response to his comment. 

Is that what he was working on? His reply to your reply? Right now? He has the audacity to draft it right here, in front of you, where he knows you can see? He doesn’t even care that you’re blatantly staring at it. In fact, he actually seems to be relishing in it.

You’re so caught off guard by the contents of his computer screen that when you look back up at him on instinct, you catch a wink in your direction. 

Your fists tighten by your side. 

Class is rather uneventful after the whole partner fiasco, as Pollack transitions into your usual dose of a short lecture on the film and then a class discussion that goes absolutely nowhere because everyone is too concerned with the final project to care. Whatever you talk about, you will be hard pressed to know, because you spend the entire rest of the period scowling at the blank page of your Notes document as you try to formulate a way to convince Pollack to change your partner. Would she accept a dozen doughnuts as a bribe? A box is only ten dollars from Dunkin’.

When Pollack finally shuts her laptop screen and begins her weekly goodbye spiel, you are the first one out of the room. Hastily, you stuff your laptop into your bag, zip it up as best as you can (which means that the tops of your water bottle and umbrella are sticking out, but who cares), and shuffle out the room right as Pollack is bidding you all farewell, just so you don’t have to look at Jungkook’s stupid, smug little grin on the way out. 

Faintly, you remember Pollack saying something about getting your partner’s contact information so you can start working, but fuck that. Jungkook knows your name. He can find you. If you must spend the entire semester communicating through Instagram DMs, then so be it. You’ve communicated with men in worse ways. Like through LinkedIn.

There’s a small seating area half a flight down from where your puny little classroom is, a few tables and a bench that wraps around the wall, posters splayed out on the corkboard to the right, staples littering both the board and the floor it rests above. Nobody ever seems to use this, despite the innumerable posters advertising everything from dance troupe shows to financial literacy talks, which makes it the perfect place for you to brood and gather your thoughts. It’s also in the direct opposite direction of the exit. So that’s good.

Taking your anger out on your personal belongings (as opposed to that bitchass smirk on Jungkook’s face), you begin to shove your umbrella and water bottle into the pocket of your backpack, fighting to nestle them amongst your other worldly possessions, like your pencil case and what looks to be a small nest of receipts at the bottom of the back. No wonder it’s so clogged up down there. 

If anything gives you a sense of control, it’s cleaning. One by one, you pluck out the receipts from your bag, nose scrunching up as you try to remember every purchase you’ve made in the past three months. Plus, one of these receipts is from when you bought some dryer sheets from CVS, so that means the five inches of actual information are also accompanied by three feet of coupons that expired two weeks ago. Ugh, what a waste. 

“Don’t look so angry, you’ll have to get used to seeing this face a lot.”

You look up from where you’ve been inspecting an old receipt from a midnight McDonald’s trip to find Jungkook standing in front of you, backpack hanging loosely on his bomber jacket-clad shoulder and that same stupid grin written all over his same stupid face. 

“Can I help you?” You drawl. Great. Now Jungkook can add “saw all her receipts” to the list of embarrassing things he’s caught you doing. 

“Can I help you?” Jungkook fires back with a scoff, blonde hair bouncing as he jerks his head flippantly. “Looks like someone needs to take an Accounting class or something.”

“I’m just doing some spring cleaning,” you sneer. It’s February. “What do you want?”

“What, no ‘Hello, partner’? ‘So excited to be working with you this semester’? I’m hurt,” Jungkook says, placing a hand to his heart as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “I thought we had something good, Y/N. Isn’t that why Pollack paired us up?”

You’re pretty sure she just likes watching the world burn. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide, knowing that Jungkook already must get enough of a kick out of just seeing the annoyed look on your face. 

“Please, like I even need to. You think I don’t notice the way you stare at me during class? I know you must like what you see,” Jungkook flirts, just to be extra irritating. 

While he’s stroking his own ego, you tear off a piece of that CVS receipt, one of the expired coupons for Three Dollars Off Any Shampoo or Conditioner, and scribble your number on the back. The rest of the receipts you scoop up and dump in the trash can to your right before you zip up your backpack and hike it over your shoulder. 

“Here,” you say gruffly, shoving the paper against his chest as you head towards the stairwell. 

“How forward of you, Y/N, you know you could have just asked—”

Pausing right before you turn the corner and head out the door, you turn back to look at Jungkook, already exhausted from having to interact with him for five minutes. “And when you’re done jerking yourself off,” you say pointedly, “text me.”

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

You: Wow I have NO idea You: Keanu Reeves?

Unknown Number: haha very funny Unknown Number: it’s jungkook

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

Maybe: Jungkook: what makes you think i’m not doing that right now ;)))

You: You don’t have the coordination to text me and masturbate at the same time You: What do you want

Jungkook: ouch, harsh Jungkook: can’t i just want to talk to my final project partner? :D

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

Jungkook: alright fine Jungkook: just wanna see when you wanna meet up

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

Jungkook: how about friday at 3 Jungkook: in one of the greene gsrs

You: You think you can manage to reserve one of those?

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

You: Do you want a gold star for all that hard work you just did? All that manual labor? You: Fine. See you then.

Jungkook: miss you already <3

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

Jeon Jungkook on February 13th at 7:35PM.

You make a good point, Y/N, but I think you missed the whole point of the movie. It’s not about their breakup or the not-so-happy ending or even Tom’s problems. It’s about the journey they go on and what Tom learns in the process. If you watch the trailer then you’d go into the movie knowing they weren’t gonna last. The results of whatever Tom and Summer do to contribute to their eventual breakup should not come as a surprise to the viewer. The whole point of the movie is that they spent five hundred days together and Tom is now recounting those days to anyone who will watch. And you know who’s watching? People who want to hear a story. About love. And loss. And everything in between. Isn’t that the whole reason we watch romance movies anyway?

Sometimes, you wonder if the garishness of Professor Pollack’s shoebox-sized office is the reason not very many students attend her office hours. The walls are lined with movie posters taken from a theater going out of business, the shelves stuffed to the brim with Disney World trinkets and old film memorabilia. She’s installed these thick red velvet curtains along her single window, making the whole room look like some sort of 1950s movie lair. 

In a way, you suppose it kind of is. 

You hear the taps of her Converse shoes as they come down the hallway and round the corner into the office.

“You know, Y/N, I was surprised to see you signed up for my office hours when I logged in this morning,” Pollack says as she enters the room, handing you the coffee in her right hand as she takes a sip out of the one from her left. Last year, the film department bought a Breville coffee maker with the leftover funds from a movie showing fundraiser and it is, in your humble opinion, the best investment the department has ever made.

“Why? I see you all the time,” you ask, eyebrows raised. You and Professor Pollack are not lacking in social connection. She’s written you a letter of recommendation and she knows your coffee order. 

“The very first time we ever spoke outside of class, you sat down at my Starbucks table while I was eating lunch just so you could introduce yourself and ask me about my opinion on the Mamma Mia remake,” she deadpans. “We don’t exactly speak through official forums.”

Well, she’s got you there. 

“I know…” you begin, trailing off awkwardly as you take a sip of your coffee. It’s burning hot and scalds your tongue a little, but it’s nice. It’s been cold recently. “But I just thought we could talk… privately.”

Pollack rolls her eyes as she reclines in her chair, back hitting the padding of the chair with a thud. “Goodness, I wonder what you’re here to talk to me about.”

“Okay, please pardon my French, but what the freak, Professor?” You say, because the words have been sitting hot on your tongue ever since you walked into your office and you didn’t think sending an email that looked like:

To: tpollack@university.edu From: y/n@university.edu Subject: what the freak

Dear Professor Pollack,

What the freak?????????

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part. 

Pollack lets out this honk of a laugh, loud and sudden, shaking her head fondly. “Come on, Y/N. You must have known I would have partnered the two of you up.”

“I was hoping you’d let us choose?” You emphasize. 

“And miss out on what very well may be one of the best final projects of the class, produced by my two best students of the semester? Absolutely not,” she says, smiling knowingly at you. 

Even her sudden reveal that you happen to be one her best students this semester isn’t enough to soothe your worries and calm your anger. You’re honored, but you have bigger problems. Problems that start with ‘Jeon’ and end with ‘Jungkook’. 

Pollack looks at your beaten-down expression and leans forward, placing her coffee cup on the wooden desk in front of her. “Listen, Y/N. You’re an excellent student and one of the most talented filmmakers I’ve seen in a long time. Your discussion posts are detailed, well-written, and thought-provoking. I know that the two of you will make a great project.”

You scoff. “We can’t agree on a single thing.”

“Sometimes that happens in life, and you just have to deal with it,” Pollack says sagely. 

“So I can’t change partners?”

“Not unless you’d like to fail the final,” Pollack comments, shrugging. How rude of her to say such a thing, not taking the option to change partners off the table entirely but making it so that if you do, you’ll pretty much be shooting yourself in the foot. Or worse. 

You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s low.”

“That’s life,” she corrects. 

“Ugh.” You get up out of your seat, taking angry sips of your coffee as you desperately try to think of another way to get out of it. Are doughnuts still an option?

“I have full faith that the both of you will come up with an excellent project,” Pollack says like it’s some sort of consolation as she walks you to the door to her office. Yeah, right. You and Jungkook spend your free time making snide responses to each other’s discussion posts like it’s nobody’s business. You’re probably the only two people at your entire university that care enough to make replies to each other’s replies. Like Tinder from hell. “You shouldn’t be worried, Y/N.”

“I’m not worried,” you say, completely worried. “I just—I don’t know how Jungkook and I will get along.”

Pollack grins to herself. Does she know something you don’t? Is she up to something? She looks at you as you linger in the doorway, feeling utterly helpless after a meeting that accomplished absolutely nothing, and she smiles. 

“You’ll find a way.” 

Reserving a group study room in the Greene Library and Collection should not be some gymnastics act that involves a warm-up, practice, a routine, and song and dance. In theory, all you have to do is log onto the library’s homepage, navigate to the reservations tab, enter your name and ID number, pick a date and time, and profit. 

Of course, the demand for the study rooms does tend to outweigh the supply. There are over ten thousand students at your university. And only twenty rooms. 

And still, you have the unfortunate luck of being stuck in one of them for an hour and a half with none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

You see him coming into the library at 3PM sharp through the opposite entrance, a little surprised he didn’t show up ten minutes early like he does in class, just so he would have an excuse to complain about having to wait for you. Feeling a little threatened, you pick up the pace so that you can meet his lengthy stride, keeping an eye on his direction so you know which room he’s aiming for.

You arrive at Greene GSR #18 at the exact same time.

“So nice to see you,” Jungkook says, too cheerful, as you reach out to open the door. 

“Mmm,” you mumble in response as you enter the room, flinging your backpack onto the floor by your chair with a thud as you take a seat. The faster you start, the faster you can get this over with.

Jungkook, not at all outwardly discouraged by your clear disdain for him, rallies on happily. “So, what were you thinking for the project?” But he doesn’t even let you open your mouth to answer before he says, “Oh, wait, let me guess: a social commentary on the consumerist ideals that underline every modern movie and encourage the pursuit of an empty dream by abandoning concrete career and personal goals in favor of romantic fulfillment.”

You scowl at him, even though that’s exactly what you were thinking of doing. You’re almost positive Pollack’s had enough of seeing college students try to engineer the craziest fake dating scenarios they can imagine just for a class project. Why not do something outside of the box? 

“Well, then what do you want to do?” You challenge, already bristling. Like Jungkook has a better idea. 

“Maybe something that doesn’t scream ‘killjoy’ as much as you do,” Jungkook retorts easily. He opens his mouth to spit out something else but then rolls his eyes and shrugs, shaking his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even asked.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” you immediately rebuke, pointing at him. “You’re the one who wants to make some sort of generic rom-com for our final project. Besides, I’m pretty sure every idea you even think of will have been done already.”

“Just because something is cliche doesn’t make it bad,” Jungkook says. “I swear, I don’t think you understand what the word cliche even means. A cliche thing, by default, is something that lots of people like. Therefore, it is largely well-received by the general public.”

“Oh, then that must mean that all rom-coms are deserving of a People’s Choice Award then, right?”

Jungkook frowns, getting exasperated. You aren’t much farther off. “I don’t know why you’re being so—so resistant! You know that romantic comedies are supposed to be fun, right?” 

“They’re not that fun to me,” you comment snidely. 

“That’s because you’re a stick in the mud who takes everything way too seriously,” Jungkook replies like it’s some sort of known fact. “Have you ever even been in a relationship?”

“That’s none of your business,” you tell him firmly. Who does he think he is, going around asking that sort of thing? Especially to you! Like you could care any less about what Jungkook thinks of your love life. Intrusive, much? “Besides, you asking that is exactly my point. Not everything has to be about finding love and searching for your soulmate or whatever bullshit like that. Some people don’t really care that much.”

“You act like wanting to find love and wanting to be successful are mutually exclusive,” Jungkook points out. “You don’t have to abandon all of your life goals just to find love, you know. It doesn’t have to be the most important thing in your life for you to even care about it a little. It’s natural for people to want love.”

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

“You sure are acting like one,” Jungkook comments easily. “What, are you about to ask me to pick out all of the pictures with traffic lights?”

“I’m allowed to have my own views on love, just like you,” you say. Isn’t that the whole point of your discussion boards? A forum where you can discuss these sorts of things through an academic lens? A barrier that keeps the two of you from going at each other’s throats when you’re engaging in the class material? It doesn’t take a genius, or even half of one, to know that you and Jungkook can’t seem to agree on anything in your FILM395 class. 

Jungkook scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘your own views on love’? As far as I’m aware, your view on love is that you don’t have one! What do you even think love really is?”

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says like it’s obvious. “This project is about filming a short romantic comedy, about people falling in love with each other. How do you expect me to do that if we don’t reach a mutual agreement on what love is?”

You scoff. “There is no way in hell I am going to agree with you on anything concerning love.” Jeon Jungkook still thinks love is all rainbows and sunshine. Cries at the end of Love, Actually even though he’s seen it five times already. Believes in soulmates. Believes there are people out there that were built for each other. He flutters from one person to the next like a butterfly, even though he’s more like a moth drawn to any open flame within a five-mile radius. He’s convinced he’ll find his true love here, in college, just like his parents found each other. 

Yeah, right.

“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” He says with an eyebrow raised. “We have a month to make a movie that’s fifty percent of our grade.”

“The social commentary is still on the table,” you point out. Sure, it’s not at all a romantic comedy, but it’s about them, which Pollack said was totally fine. Besides, she has been teaching you the entire semester, hasn’t she? She should know by now not to expect some cushy lovey-dovey story about two people who were destined to be with each other and can overcome all obstacles with their love. 

Deep down, a part of you wonders if that’s why she paired you up with Jungkook. If she’s had enough of the sappy love stories that Jungkook probably wanted to do, didn’t want to see another cynical commentary on capitalism in Hollywood.

“Wow, what a thrilling idea,” Jungkook deadpans. “Please, tell me more.” His voice is lifeless. 

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like your idea would be any better. Who would we even get to star in a rom-com we filmed? It’s not like the two of us could do it.”

You regret the words the instant they come out of your mouth. In horror, you watch as they sink into Jungkook’s brain, etching themselves into his mind as a lightbulb turns on, a bright idea popping into his thoughts. 

He opens his mouth, but you get there first. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not. I am not starring in a rom-com with you.”

That is something you can say with one-hundred percent confidence. Something that you know will never change. 

“Just hear me out,” Jungkook pleads, looking a little desperate as he wrings his hands together, aching to spill the bubbling plan that’s been stewing in his head. 

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but lean back into your chair, a silent signal for him to continue. It’s not as if you have any better idea.s 

“Okay. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary,” he says, something that (and you can’t believe you’re saying this) actually piques your interest. Moreso than anything else he’s ever said to you. “You think love is totally manufactured, right? That Hollywood creates the illusion of it to sell to people paying twenty dollars for a movie ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that. Let’s prove it’s manufactured.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” It’s not like you can walk into a factory and ask them to make the “love” emotion for you. 

“We’ll be the stars.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s your best idea by a long shot, the home run of all home runs, your golden ticket to an A.

You scrunch up your nose, hesitant. “Wait, I don’t know—”

“It’s perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “Think about it. It’ll be a mockumentary of a stereotypical rom-com. Except it won’t be this big Hollywood production, it’ll be real life. And it won’t be between two paid actors with years of experience under their belt, it’ll be us.” His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, big brown eyes glinting with excitement.

“So what are we gonna do? Act out our own rom-com in an attempt to see if either one of us will fall in love with the other?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a mockumentary, right? So it’s grounded in real life even if it is based upon the stereotypical boy-meets-girl rom-com. It won’t be super scripted or anything. Think of it more like… a chronicle.”

You scoff. “Of what?”

“Of us,” Jungkook says easily. “Of the time we have to spend together to film this damn project anyway. I say that rom-coms are emblematic of the natural human desire for love, and that deep down love is the thing that makes us happy. You say that rom-coms are consumerist propaganda, or whatever it is you think they are—”

“They are, and you can’t change my mind about that,” you interrupt, just for clarity. Can’t have Jungkook thinking he’s going to somehow convince you otherwise.

“—so, with this project, let’s see which one of us is right. If the time we have to spend together, making this mockumentary rom-com, will really change how we feel about each other, or if it won’t.”

How you feel about each other? You almost laugh when Jungkook says it out loud. There’s no room for questioning in your mind when it comes to how you two feel about each other. Two desperate-to-please students with opposite views on the entire structure of a class and three years of experience arguing your points in essays under your belts. 

Jungkook believes in destiny, right? Then he must know that the two of you are destined to never get along.

“You should be a car salesman,” you joke. Jungkook’s certainly excellent at pitches.

“So, you in?”

You narrow your eyes, still a little wary of whatever it is Jungkook’s putting down. But it’s not like you have any better ideas. And the sooner you agree on something, the sooner you can get this goddamn project over with and never have to sit in class with Jeon Jungkook ever again. 

“Only because this’ll finally prove to you that not everything can be solved by finding love,” you say. It’s about as good of a ‘yes’ as he’s going to get out of you. 

Jungkook grins, mischievous as always. There’s certainly something else he’s plotting, you just aren’t sure what. Maybe he’s in cahoots with Pollack. “Or,” he begins, lips curling upwards, “you’ll just fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He holds out his hand, palm facing up as he waits for your response, that devilish glint that you hate twinkling in his eyes. 

As if you’re going to fall in love with Jungkook. For this stupid project? No way. Just because it’s a filmmaking project doesn’t make it any more bearable than your other assignments. It’s a partner project. They are, by their very nature, excruciating. You’ll be surprised if you end this project and you aren’t even more irritated with Jungkook. Does he really think you’ll actually develop some sort of affection for him?

You take his hand on your own, palm pressed against his, and you eye him carefully. Just because Jungkook’s got something up his sleeve doesn’t mean you don’t. Finally, finally, Jungkook will see why love is stupid and manufactured and fake. Why it doesn’t bring people together but instead tears them apart. 

Maybe then he’ll leave you and your discussion posts in peace.

You smile up at him. 

“I guess we will.”

When Ruby Rhodes is not six feet deep in The Princeton Review’s MCAT test prep book, she can usually be found at the small bakery five blocks west and two blocks north of your little campus, a family-owned place passed down through three generations. It’s her favorite place, and yours, too, because the coffee is delicious and the pastries are even better. 

Plus, hardly anyone from your school ever comes here, which means the wifi speed is eons better than the Starbucks inside the main food court. 

She’s halfway through a tiramisu and a rerun of The Bachelor from two seasons ago when you sit down across from her. 

“Any good?” You ask, pulling out your laptop and squeezing it onto the tiny marble table in between the two of you. 

“The food or the show?” Ruby asks over a mouthful of cake. 

“Either.” 

Ruby swallows down the piece sitting on her tongue before responding. “The tiramisu is delicious, and The Bachelor is eh. I’ve seen this episode three times already.”

“Then why are you watching it again?” You ask, laughing. Does Ruby think something different is going to happen?

“Because we’re in between weeks right now and honestly, The Bachelor is kind of dry this season,” Ruby says with a frown. 

“You’ve got some tiramisu on your cheek,” you tell her, pointing to the left side of her face where the bright mascarpone cream sticks out like a sore thumb against her dark skin. 

“It’s just so yummy, I can’t help but stick my whole face in it,” Ruby jokes as she wipes her face with the napkin on her lap. The Bachelor rerun plays on in the background, and you can hear the gasps of the women through Ruby’s discarded headphones. 

You roll your eyes. “Why do you even watch that show still? You know it’s all crap.”

“Just because you think it’s crap doesn’t mean I do,” Ruby insists, playing out an argument the two of you have had plenty of times over the course of your friendship. “Watching it makes me happy. So I do it.”

“But it’s all fake,” you say, frowning in disapproval. “The couples don’t even stay together in the end anyway.”

“It’s a totally pre-constructed show, but it’s not fake in the moment. And I don’t expect the final couple to stay together.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough Bachelor seasons to know those odds. I just like watching the ride. It’s cute.”

“You say that about everything.”

“That’s because everything is cute,” Ruby says pointedly. “I like seeing the good in people.”

Ruby’s always been the exact opposite of you in terms of worldviews. The embodiment of a real-life fairy. She puts butterfly clips in her hair and buys herself bouquets of daisies and lilies. She sits in cafes with her headphones in and sketches the people she sees outside the window. She’s studying to be a doctor so she can spend the rest of her life helping others. 

And you? 

Well, the Oscars have always been a bit of a long shot. 

The curiosity eating at you, you pose a question to her. “Hypothetically, if there were to exist a mockumentary on rom-coms and love, would you watch it?”

Ruby pauses for a second as she furrows her brows. Then she shrugs and says, “Only if the two leads fell in love at the end. Why?”

“No reason,” you say, looking away. 

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes. 

“What is it?” She asks, a grin playing at her lips as she looks at you. “Come on, you don’t just ask me shit like that without a reason.”

“It’s for a final project,” you explain succinctly. No need to go into details. 

“You’re making a rom-com for a final project?” Ruby sounds about as skeptical as you did when you spoke to Jungkook. 

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

“But… it’s a rom-com, right? Like, you’re going to be making a rom-com? Where people fall in love?”

Hopefully not. 

“Sort of?”

Ruby squints her eyes, trying to process all the information. You’re not surprised that she has to take a moment to think—you are certainly the last person on earth to ever admit to filming a rom-com. But, as you’ve stated, it’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary about them. That distinction is vital.

“Wait, is this for that class with Pollack?” Ruby asks. “I remember you telling me you were taking it. You said this was a partner project, though, right? So who are you working with?”

Curse Ruby and her knack for remembering things. She’ll make a great doctor, that’s for sure, but right now you wish she would just forget things like everybody else. 

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

Ruby doesn’t need to think twice about who that is. “Wait, seriously? You’re working with him? Isn’t he the guy that responds to all your discussion posts?”

“Yes,” you say, rubbing your temples with your fingertips. You don’t even like thinking about him, let alone saying his name. The fact that he has to occupy any part of your brain at all gives you a headache.

“Damn, that sucks,” Ruby says, not feeling very sorry for you at all. “So you’re filming a rom-com with him?”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you specify, feeling yourself getting irritated. “It is fake.”

“Just like my shows, huh?” Ruby muses to herself, too analytical for her own good. 

“Listen, you don’t need to fall in love to make a mockumentary about it,” you say, refusing to consider any sort of alternative. 

“Don’t you?”

You sneer. “Just shut up and eat your tiramisu.”

Ruby lets out a laugh at that, this wonderful mix between a wheeze and a honk that makes you smile every time you hear it, even if it’s at your own expense. Ruby decides she’s had enough of mentally torturing you with the thought of feeling anything but extreme distaste towards Jungkook and goes back to her show, letting you brood in peace. 

You don’t need to fall in love to make a film about it. Just like you don’t need to be a masterchef to film Gordon Ramsey screaming at someone who undercooked chicken. You’re a filmmaker. You can make a film out of anything. Including love. Even if it is with someone like Jungkook. 

Can’t you?

Jeon Jungkook may be a disillusioned college student in love with the idea of love itself, but at least he’s not too shabby of a filmmaker. 

Funnily enough, it actually sort of surprises you that you’ve never encountered each other before. Especially considering you’re in the same major program at your school, a program that only accepts about fifty students per year at most. You suppose that in whatever general program classes you had to take in freshman and sophomore year you just never crossed paths. Plus, he’s a filmmaking concentration and you’re doing screenwriting, so it’s very possible that you would have just never spoken had the two of you not registered for the same semester of FILM395.

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him. 

Sort of makes you wish you had put this class off for one more semester. 

As the two of you kickstart your project, you both immediately agree that you need a third person’s help. You and Jungkook can do plenty, but you are only two people. And there’s nothing in the final project guidelines that says you can’t enlist other people to partake in the production. But you don’t need help with the filming and editing. You need help with the interviews. 

“Is this bedsheet good enough?” Kim Taehyung, a senior in the film program, asks as he’s Command-stripping a queen-sized black bedsheet to an empty wall in the living room of his tiny one-bedroom apartment. 

“As long as it fits into the frame,” Jungkook responds from where he’s standing behind the camera, set up on a tripod to capture a specific angle. “You’re not going to be in the shot anyway. You’ll just be asking the questions.”

“Good, because I look really ugly right now,” Taehyung says with a grin. You roll your eyes. Taehyung must know he always looks good. Even you can’t deny him of that. 

“This is ridiculous,” you say, seated on the singular couch in his apartment. You’re leaning on your elbow as you watch Taehyung fiddle with the bedsheet and Jungkook futz with the camera, the two of them repositioning themselves over and over again until everything’s perfect. “What are you even gonna ask us?”

“I came up with some… preliminary questions,” Taehyung says suggestively. “But I haven’t told either of you what they are so that your reactions can be more genuine.”

“Great,” you deadpan. 

“Wow, someone’s excited,” Jungkook comments snidely. 

“I know we agreed on periodic interviews for the sake of the mockumentary but I don’t know why we have to be so… so serious about them,” you say with a frown. 

“We have to promise to be honest with what we say, alright? Like, actually honest. This sets a guideline for the rest of our relationship,” Jungkook says like it’s no big deal. Like the foundation of your relationship isn’t the fact that the two of you have been engaged in discussion-board war ever since the semester began. 

“Our ‘relationship’?” You say with a scoff. 

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says. 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I promise.” Whatever. “What do you even think is going to happen between us in the next few weeks?”

Jungkook smirks. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You don’t like the sound of that. 

Over the next ten minutes, Taehyung gets the sheet attached to his wall and pulls over two stools from his kitchen counters, old-timey wooden ones he got from a thrift store for five dollars a pop, one for him and one for the poor soul who has to be interviewed. You’ve agreed to do them separately but Taehyung’s apartment is only so big and you are only three people, which means that whoever isn’t being interviewed still has to be behind the camera, listening to the other person. 

Makes you sort of nervous about whatever’s stewing up inside Jungkook’s mind. Wonder what the hell it is he’s plotting up there. 

Once everything is settled, Taehyung looks at the two of you as he asks who’s going first. 

You turn to Jungkook, who’s already grinning. “Ladies first.”

For someone who has spent their whole life watching and making movies, being in front of the camera feels weirdly uncomfortable to you. You’re so used to being behind it instead, directing others as they move around the frame, telling them how to feel and how to act and what to say, that having the spotlight shone on you is like picking through your thoughts with a fine-toothed comb. 

You adjust awkwardly in the bar stool seat as Jungkook stands behind the camera, twisting the lens until he gives you the thumbs-up. Quite frankly, it doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“You ready?” Taehyung asks as he takes a seat opposite you, just out of frame. 

“Well, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Alright, Jungkook, start whenever you’re good.”

“Okay,” Jungkook chirps up. “Three, two, one—” He points to the both of you. 

“So, Y/N,” Taehyung begins, his voice suddenly much clearer. He sounds sort of like a news anchor. It’s oddly fitting. “Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You muse. 

“That didn’t answer my question,” Taehyung points out. Good thing the camera can’t see the way his eyebrows raise. 

“I suppose that there are worse things I could be doing,” you reason, which is about as good of an answer as Taehyung’s going to get. What was he expecting you to say? That you were thrilled to be filming this not-a-rom-com with your class nemesis? That you couldn’t wait to see what would happen?

“Loving the enthusiasm,” Taehyung jokes. You wonder what your classmates will think when they watch this back, hearing this unidentified deep male voice ask you and Jungkook questions about your relationship. “Let me ask you this: what’s your current relationship with Jungkook?”

“Uh…” you begin, nervous. Behind the camera, Jungkook has that same stupid, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. You sneer. “It’s… it’s professional.”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” 

“I mean we’re classmates. That’s the relationship.”

“That’s it?” You can hear the skepticism in Taehyung’s voice, almost like he’s egging you on to say something more. 

“We’ve had some personal disagreements on topics discussed in class. But yes, we’re just classmates,” you elaborate slightly. It’s not as if anyone needs reminding of that, anyway. They all see your discussion board posts. 

“And how do you expect that relationship to change over the course of this project?”

“I don’t think it’ll change at all.” It’s the easiest answer so far. Requires no energy nor brain power for you to think about it. 

Taehyung nods his head in intrigue. “And why’s that?”

“Because this is a project for a class, not a life lesson.”

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs. 

Taehyung chuckles. “Alright, moving on. What do you expect from Jungkook over the next few weeks as you start working on building your relationship?”

“I hope he becomes less unbearable,” you say, though you suppose that’s more of a general life goal than one that’s project-specific. But it would be nice if he became a little more… palatable. Just so you don’t have to feel the urge to sock him in the face every time you speak to each other. 

“‘Less unbearable’, excellent,” Taehyung repeats. “Anything else?”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, not sure what else to say. What do you want from Jungkook? Obviously the two of you are about to embark on your own rom-com adventure, no doubt most of it his doing, but it’s hard to imagine that he himself (or you, for that matter) will change. If anything, the rom-com setting will just exacerbate the worst parts of both your personalities. Like some sort of curse. “I guess I just hope that the project goes smoothly.”

“I hope that it does, too,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Okay, last question.” Thank God. This interview couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it feels like an eternity to you. “Do you think you and Jungkook will fall in love at the end of this?”

“No.” You don’t leave any room for hesitation. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“We’re very different people with very different interests,” you explain succinctly. You’re sure Taehyung will grasp that once Jungkook has his turn and answers all the same questions. “He can try his hardest, but some things are just meant to stay the way they are.”

“Okay, thank you, Y/N, that’s all. I hope you found our conversation illuminating,” Taehyung says, his cue for the camera to stop rolling. You and Taehyung both turn to Jungkook, waiting for his signal, letting out a sigh when Jungkook gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Thank fuck,” you say, hopping off of the barstool happily. You head towards the camera, ready to kick Jungkook off of it, because it’s your turn to stand behind it with an annoying look on your face as you react to every stupid thing Jungkook says. You find that you’re actually sort of looking forward to it. Being behind the camera is where you feel most at home. Making faces at Jungkook is just a bonus. 

Jungkook’s still grinning that same goddamn grin when you approach him, making you narrow your eyes. 

“‘He can try his hardest’?” Jungkook teases, voice all high-pitched to mimic yours. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Ah yes, my mission in life,” you retort easily. Maybe goading him on isn’t the best course of action, but you’re so confident that you won’t change your mind you find yourself actually anticipating his efforts. “Think you have what it takes?”

“Believe me, I do,” Jungkook says with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

You roll your eyes and kick him off the camera with a shove, pushing him towards Taehyung as he waits diligently on that chair of his. 

“So, Jungkook, same questions,” Taehyung says as Jungkook gets ready in his seat, fixing the blonde strands of hair that curl around the side of his face, framing his cheeks. 

“What? That’s no fair, he got to think about all his answers,” you exclaim, positively indignant. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice sickly smooth, honey falling off his lips. “I’ve actually been thinking about the two of us for a long time.”

You pretend to throw up on Taehyung’s hardwood floor. 

As Taehyung promised, he asks Jungkook the same questions. And, as predicted, his answers about as far away from yours as the sun is from Pluto:

“Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

Jungkook grins. “Yes, definitely. I actually took this class after hearing from a friend that the final project was a lot of fun.”

Taehyung beams. That friend was him. No wonder he was so happy to sign onto helping the two of you. 

“And how would you describe your current relationship with Y/N?”

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.” 

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

You have to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter behind the camera and ruining the interview. At least he’s not hiding anything. You’ll give him that. 

“So I suppose you expect the two of you to fall in love over the course of the project?”

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

“And you seem pretty confident when you say that.”

Jungkook smirks as he turns to the camera. Or, more accurately, you. “Confidence is attractive.” 

You shake your head back at him. 

The rest of the interview falls pretty much into the same vein as the first few questions. Jungkook is so brazenly determined and hopeful and optimistic it actually pains you in a way, watching him make all of these promises both to you and himself that this project is going to turn out the way he hopes it does. His answers remind you of his discussion board posts, always looking on the bright side of every movie you watch, always finding the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel. A movie could be total Hollywood crap, filled with cheating scandals and misunderstandings and betrayals, and Jungkook could still find beauty in it. 

It’s strange. 

For the sake of you not actually throwing up in Taehyung’s lovely apartment, you tune out the majority of the middle of the conversation, having zero desire to listen to Jungkook wax poetic about your non-existent relationship like he’s saying his wedding vows. Only when Taehyung finally remarks that they’re on the last question do you finally come to again, ready to turn the camera off as soon as Jungkook finishes his answer. 

“Jungkook, do you think you and Y/N will fall in love at the end of this?”

“I do.” Wow, what a shocker. “I do, because I hope that by the end of this Y/N will have opened her eyes to the beauty of love, and will find joy in the feeling as something that makes her feel happy and warm. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the things we do together are meaningful. And even if we don’t last, I hope that her memories of us together will be ones she can look back upon fondly and be grateful for.”

You purse your lips together. If only it were that easy. 

“Alright, cut,” you say, voice distant as Jungkook thanks Taehyung for his time and hops off the bar stool. “Thanks, Tae.”

“Anytime, you guys,” Taehyung says with a grin. 

Jungkook comes over to where you’re standing, possibly to grab his camera and tripod but most definitely to rub his obnoxious personality all up in your face. 

“You really think you’re gonna get me to fall in love with you, huh?” You muse, an eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Just so you can prove a point?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N, but I actually think that all people deserve the chance to experience love and that happens to include you, as well,” Jungkook responds easily. 

The words put a sour taste in your mouth. “You think I deserve it, huh?”

Jungkook nods, face solemn as he looks at you, gazing into your eyes with those big brown ones of his own. It makes you feel something unfamiliar. Like he’s reading right through your chest, into your heart. You don’t like it. “Everyone deserves love.”

“You guys are coming back, right? So I can leave the sheet up?” Taehyung interrupts after he’s moved both of his bar stools back to his kitchen counter. 

“Yeah, we’ll be back,” Jungkook answers quickly. “Thanks for setting everything up, by the way.”

“Of course. Plus, this is a good background for my nudes,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s mentioning what he’s having for dinner. “Looking forward to seeing you guys again.”

“Us, too,” Jungkook says. “Ready to go?”

“Only because it means I don’t have to see you anymore,” you retort pointedly, grabbing your backpack from where it sits on his couch as you head towards the door. 

“Just you wait, Y/N,” Jungkook says as you leave Taehyung’s building, one of those old-timey Victorian houses that was converted into a whole bunch of apartments. “You’re gonna see that I’m right.”

“Really? About what?”

“About us,” Jungkook says. You come to the stoplight, where Jungkook keeps going straight and you turn right. 

“Us?”

Jungkook grins as you turn in the direction of your own apartment. And, just as the light turns green, he says, “Just you wait. We’re gonna fall in love, you and me.”

If he says so. 

“Hey! Y/N!”

You whip your head around at the sound of your name just as you’re opening the door to your local Starbucks, wondering who the hell is calling out to you at nine-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday. 

As it turns out, you don’t have to wonder too much, because the moment your eyes adjust to the blinding sunlight coming from the east side of campus you see Jungkook hurtling towards you, heavy black boots stomping down on the pavement as he rushes to catch up with you. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, thoroughly unimpressed, as you pull open the door, looking at Jungkook heaving beside you as he holds the door open for himself. 

“Just glad I caught you,” Jungkook gasps out between breaths. “Figured this might make a good scene for the movie.”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you remind him easily, getting in the line. 

“Whatever,” Jungkook says. “What do you normally get here? I don’t really go to Starbucks often.”

“Whatever will give me the most caffeine for the least amount of money,” you retort. 

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments. 

“You know that’s how I like to be,” you tell him with a pointed look. 

Jungkook mumbles his acknowledgement as he fumbles around in his backpack, fishing through the large pocket until he whips out his Canon, holding it out in front of him like he’s a dad about to film an embarrassing shot of his child. You look down at the camera just as he pans up to you, a confused frown written across your features. Jungkook laughs. 

“Do you really need to do that here?”

“I’m not even filming,” Jungkook says with a smile, like he just pulled his camera out so he could look at your unimpressed face through a different lens. “Look, you’re up.”

You turn around to find that the woman ahead of you in line has just moved towards the pick-up side of the counter, so you shimmy over towards the barista, ready to get this over with so you can dart out of the Starbucks as soon as possible. 

“Just a grande Americano, please,” you request simply, fingers grasping for the wallet inside your coat pocket. 

“Me too,” Jungkook chirps up from behind you. The closeness of his voice makes you jump, and suddenly you become keenly cognizant of how he’s practically pressed up next to you as he leans over towards the counter. You catch a glimpse of the debit card in his hand. “Here.”

“You don’t have to pay for me, it’s fine,” you quickly say, holding out your own card to the barista. 

“No, it’s okay, I want to. Here.” Jungkook pushes your hand away as he tries to stuff his card into the reader. 

“No, I won’t let you. I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own coffee,” you rebuke, feeling yourself growing oddly defensive. 

Jungkook sighs from behind you. “Oh, come on, you can’t let me do one nice thing for you?”

“Will one of you please pay, you’re holding up the line,” the barista asks in a desperate tone, clearly too overworked and too underpaid to be dealing with two bratty college students like yourselves. 

Jungkook manages to shove his card into the reader before you get the chance to do it yourself, pushing you to the side as he verifies all of his information and takes his receipt. Next to him, you seethe to yourself, feeling a personal loss even though you just got your coffee paid for. It’s not about the money. It’s about your pride. Never in your life have you wanted to so badly pay for an overpriced Starbucks coffee. 

You and Jungkook mosey over to the other side of the counter, waiting for your identical drinks to be made as you try and calculate how much longer you have to stand in the same room and breathe the same air as Jungkook. Seeing him in class, on your discussion board posts, and for your arranged final project meetings apparently isn’t enough, so now he has to invade your personal life, too. 

“What are you doing?” You huff out angrily, turning to Jungkook even as he holds his camera out in front of him, filming the Starbucks. 

“Recording our first meeting, obviously,” Jungkook says like it’s some kind of no-brainer. Like you were in on that from the moment he called your name out on the street. 

“What do you mean, ‘our first meeting’?” You scrunch up your nose in confusion. “We’ve known each other since the semester started.”

“I know, but…” Jungkook trails off unhelpfully, but you pick up what he’s putting down regardless. Right. This is supposed to be a mockumentary rom-com. And rom-coms always start with an introduction. 

The barista behind the counter calls out Jungkook’s name as he places two same-sized cups down at the pick-up station. The cup is burning hot, even with the little cardboard holder wrapped around it like a leg warmer, so you immediately move over to the station up against the wall with all of the sugar packets and napkins and little green splash sticks. Jungkook joins you without question, whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t come here very often or because he just wants to keep invading your space, you couldn’t say. Grabbing one of the wooden sticks, you tug the plastic lid off of the cup and give the coffee a swirl. Watching you, Jungkook takes the lid off of his as well. 

“Are you just going to copy everything I do?” You deadpan. 

“Not everything…” Jungkook trails off suspiciously, looking down into his coffee like the two of them are conspiring something. 

“What are you talki—”

Without warning, Jungkook slams half of his body into you, and without a lid or one of those little green sticks, the coffee sploshes over the side of his cup and drenches the front of your exposed hoodie, hot liquid burning through the fabric of the hoodie and the t-shirt you have on underneath. You watch in horror as Jungkook plays it off like an accident, feet fumbling around on the hardwood floor like he had just tripped. But he didn’t just trip. He dumped half of his Americano onto the both of your fronts. 

“Jungkook!” You say instantly, resisting the urge to scream because you’re in a public place but feeling your skin go as hot as the coffee against your torso as you look up at him, fuming. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz,” Jungkook says, somehow able to regain his balance, hold his coffee cup, and film the whole adventure all at the same time. “That was totally my fault, let me help you with that.” 

The camera is from his perspective, which you suppose is about as real as it gets for something grounded in reality like a mockumentary, but in this position he’s able to make conversation with his eyes, big brown ones wide as he tries to signify what exactly he means when he purposely spills coffee all over the two of you. 

You get it. You’ve seen enough rom-coms to know why he just did what he did, but you still find your mouth agape as you stare up at him, smoldering and angry and a little shocked he would dare be so bold, especially in the middle of a Starbucks coffee shop. 

“For God’s sake,” you say with an exhausted sigh despite it not even being ten in the morning yet. Unable to form any other comprehensible words, you settle for just pulling out napkins from the dispenser and dabbing the front of your hoodie as Jungkook looks at you apologetically. You can’t even tell if he’s truly sorry or just putting on another one of his shows. 

“I feel so bad,” Jungkook says, and you calm yourself down enough to nod. At least he isn’t blatantly laughing. “Can I pay for dry cleaning?”

“You’re really gonna offer to pay for my dry cleaning?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

“It was my fault,” Jungkook admits. Now that you can agree on. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s just an old hoodie, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m still sorry,” Jungkook insists, and the more he says it the more you actually find yourself starting to believe him. Even if he did just spill coffee all over you. “Here, let me give you my jacket—”

“That’s not necessary,” you say as he shrugs off his backpack and begins to remove the bulky denim jacket he’s wearing, fabric worn and soft from years of use. “Seriously, it’s okay, it’s just a hoodie.”

“Yeah, but now you have coffee all over your clothes and you probably have class soon, right?” He says, an apologetic smile lacing his lips. He tugs off his jacket and holds it out towards you. 

“Jungkook, I’m fine, alright? I appreciate your concern, though,” you assure him. You throw away the last of the coffee-stained napkins in your hands and reach down for your backpack, which you had taken off your shoulders somewhere in the chaos. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, almost as if he was expecting resistance, and leans over you anyway. His arms extend outwards as he wraps his enormous denim jacket over your shoulders, the fabric draping loosely over your body. The damn thing was big on him, so on you it practically eats you up. You stand there, silent, as Jungkook adjusts the jacket on your torso, pulling underneath the hood of your sweatshirt as he makes sure it’s snug across your figure. 

“There,” Jungkook says. 

“Thanks,” you say, a half grin playing on your lips. The gesture makes you wonder if Jungkook really was planning on giving up his jacket this early in the morning for the sake of your movie. “That’s nice of you.”

“I hope it makes up for the fact that you smell like coffee now,” Jungkook says, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. 

“I appreciate it,” you say. 

“I have class, too, so I have to go,” Jungkook says, hoisting his backpack on his shoulders as he tucks his camera away. “I’m sorry again! See you around?”

Like you even have a choice. 

“Yeah, see you around,” you say as Jungkook darts off just as quickly as he arrived, rushing out the door before you have the chance to change your mind and give him his jacket back. 

When he leaves you, you find yourself at a loss for words. You stand there, lips pursed, coffee cold, as the weight of his jacket rests heavy on your shoulders. 

It smells like him. 

You should have known he would do something like this. Spill coffee all over the two of you, offer you his jacket, dash off like Cinderella at midnight. Like the opening of the world’s worst rom-com. The start of what is no doubt going to be the most unbearable final project you have ever done.

Plus, the other thing it’s ensured is a second meeting. How else is he going to get his jacket back?

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

This time after FILM395 ends lecture for the day, it’s your turn to catch Jungkook lounging around after class. 

He’s lingering around the outside of the building, scrolling through his phone, a heavy leather jacket resting over a flannel that goes down to his knees and a baseball cap sitting firmly on his tuft of blonde hair. He’s obviously not paying attention to any of his surroundings whatsoever, because he doesn’t even notice you exiting out of the door he’s standing by until you say his name. 

“Jungkook,” you say, arriving in front of him. 

“Wha—oh, hi,” Jungkook says, jumping at the suddenness of it all. 

“Here,” you say, holding out his oversized denim jacket in between the two of you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to give it back so soon,” Jungkook says, looking a little surprised and… is he touched? 

“I was going to give it to you a couple days ago but I thought I should give it a wash first,” you admit to him. 

Instinctively, Jungkook brings the jacket up to his nose to sniff it. “Smells like lavender.”

“Yeah, it’s my detergent. Hope you don’t mind. It’s a little wrinkled—I let it air dry since I was worried it might shrink in the dryer.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, a genuine smile lacing itself across his features. It’s not one you see too often, and definitely not the kind of smile he usually flashes in your direction. Those are all so obnoxious, so full of himself. This one’s different. It’s appreciative. Kinder. Softer. In a lot of ways. “I was thinking, if you don’t have class now, do you wanna grab some coffee?”

You narrow your eyes. “Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. “Okay, I got it. I won’t spill it on you.”

“Promise?” You prompt. 

“Promise.”

The walk to Starbucks this time is in relative silence, but neither of you seems to mind it very much. You aren’t dashing to catch up with each other and heaving snarky comments as you catch your breath. Jungkook even notices you shiver in the cool March breeze and wraps his jacket around you again anyway, although this time you make a mental note to make sure he doesn’t leave without it. Even though a lavender scent wafts off of the denim, it still smells a little bit like him. That boyish sort of aroma. You don’t think any detergent would ever be able to get rid of that. 

You and Jungkook both get americanos again because you’re predictable and creatures of habit, and Jungkook actually seems to quite like them. He pays and you don’t spend two minutes standing in front of the barista fighting over it. Jungkook seems so determined to pay the extra four dollars for your drink that you aren’t sure if it’s really worth arguing over it for the sake of pride anymore. What you and Jungkook put into making this project a success is what you’re going to get out of it. 

He picks one of the longer tables in the back of the study space, empty because it’s just after the lunchtime rush and most people have classes now, sets up the camera at one end, and you sit down at the other. 

“So,” you begin, not sure where to start because your coffee is too hot to take a sip from it. 

“So,” Jungkook echoes. 

Silence. 

You purse your lips in that awkward, I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way. “What do you want to do?”

Jungkook grins. “This is the part where we get to know each other.” 

“We already know each other.” You frown.

“Do we?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah, I guess we aren’t strangers, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a film major in a rom-com class who hates rom-coms.”

“I don’t hate rom-coms,” you object. “I just think it’s important to look at them from a critical lens.”

“Okay, whatever,” Jungkook says, shrugging you off. “The point is that we don’t know anything else about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color, for example?”

“Purple.” It’s an easy answer. You wore purple princess dresses when you were five, painted your bedroom lilac when you were ten, and still make sure to keep a purple highlighter in your pencil case now. “What’s yours?”

“Red,” Jungkook responds. 

“Cool,” you say, effectively ending the rest of the conversation.

Jungkook, sensing that same awkward silence, suggests something. “How about you ask me something now? We can go back and forth.”

You shrug. It’s not like you have anything better to do. “Alright.” You think for a moment, but then you have the perfect question. “Why film?”

Jungkook was clearly not expecting something so loaded, because his brows furrow, knitting themselves together as he begins to figure out a good enough answer. “Hmm,” he says, lost deep in thought. “I suppose the standard answer would be that I’ve always been interested in it, but I think I chose film because I want to be able to have the gift to tell other people’s stories. Being a filmmaker doesn’t just mean you stand behind a camera. It means you immerse yourself in the lives of other people to create something new. And… I don’t know. I guess I really like doing that.” 

You nod. 

For once, you understand him. Understand why he chose to major in film, why he chose to be in this tiny little program. Because there is so much out there, so much that you will never know, people you will never meet and things you will never see. And it’s a filmmaker’s job to make them turn into things you will see, people you will meet. Who knows the world better than the people who study it? The people who have devoted their lives to learning all its secrets?

“What about you?”

“Same as you,” you tell him. “Film is an art but it’s more than that to me. It’s a new way to look at the world. It’s several new ways to look at the world, depending on what kind of film you want to create and what kind of story you want to tell. I think it’s important to show people that all of the things they see in the media every day are not always reality. And that real people deserve to have their stories told, too. I don’t know. That’s what I think.”

Jungkook grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “Real people like us?”

“This project is different,” you insist. 

“I don’t think it is,” Jungkook says. “You said it yourself, we’re making this because it’s important to show people that the Hollywood entertainment they consume is not reality. This is. This is reality.”

You frown, kicking yourself in the shin because what was supposed to be a harmless conversation has now turned into an opportunity for Jungkook to try and convince you that you will, in fact, fall in love with him. You’ve dug your own grave and Jungkook was the one who handed you the shovel. 

“You’re not giving up, are you?” You say, shaking your head, flabbergasted. “Reality is the fact that this project is not going to make me fall in love with you. Nothing is.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jungkook warns. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You mean like spilling burning hot coffee all over me?” You ask, an eyebrow raised, a grudge still held. 

“We had to start somewhere,” Jungkook defends. “And you seemed to understand what I was doing pretty quickly.”

“It’s not the worst thing someone’s done to me,” you concede, only slightly. “Besides, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but throwing hot coffee all over me is not really a good way to start off your plan to get me to fall in love with you.”

Jungkook smiles. “All in due time, Y/N. All in due time.”

“I can’t believe Pollack actually paired us up together,” you say with a sigh. “You know she did it on purpose.”

“Of course she did.” It’s not really a surprise to either of you. 

“I met with her right after she announced our partners,” you tell him, “she said it was because she wanted to see what kind of project we would come up with. How we would address our… differing views on love.” That’s one way of putting it. A rather nice way, if you do say so yourself.

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook says, something suddenly flashing through his mind, “what do you really think about love? You know, other than it’s unrealistic and ruins people’s lives.”

“You make me sound like Ebeneezer Scrooge.” You frown at him. 

“I’m serious,” insists Jungkook. “Why are you so pessimistic about it? Have you ever been in love? Have you had bad experiences? You couldn’t have just developed this worldview over time.”

You scowl, feeling yourself getting defensive. “Well, maybe I did. Maybe that’s just what I think. Why do you care?”

“Because people don’t just hate love for no reason,” Jungkook exclaims. “Come on, there must be something.”

Your body stiffens. Who is he to be asking you this sort of shit? Why does he care so much? It’s not like it will have any effect on the outcome of your project. Not like you explaining yourself will change the way either of you look at the world. 

“What’s it to you?” You challenge. “Why do you love love so much? Have you ever fallen in love? Do you think it’s suddenly going to solve all of your problems?”

“I love it because I think it brings people real joy,” Jungkook answers simply. “It makes people happy and it’s beautiful. I love love and I’m not ashamed to say that out loud. I believe in it. I believe in love, and in destiny, and in soulmates. I want that. I think everyone deserves it.”

 You scoff to yourself. “You believe in soulmates?”

“I think we all have our people out there.” Jungkook nods. “Don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. This conversation has gone nowhere, and Jungkook looks as equally dissatisfied as you do. 

“I think love can make us do stupid things,” you tell him succinctly, if a little jaded. No need to say anything else. Your explanation is right there. “We’re just different, I guess. You and I.”

Jungkook blinks at you, eyes wide and a little desperate. Your conversation has remained stagnant and there’s almost nothing left to say. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?” He asks, like it’s a last-ditch effort to get you to believe. 

You freeze. Let the words sink in for a moment. Before you push them out the door and toss them into the garbage. Just thinking about it gives you a headache. Puts a sour taste in your mouth. 

Quickly, you push yourself out of your chair and stand up, grabbing your coffee with one hand and your backpack with the other. “I have to go, sorry. I just remembered I’m meeting up with a friend to help her with a photography shoot,” you fumble out quickly, the legs of the chair screeching as you scoot them across the hardwood floor. “Oh, here’s your jacket, too. Thanks for giving it to me again. I’ll see you in class.”

You whip around and head towards the exit, and only when you’re outside of the Starbucks and passing by the window do you dare look back. Do you dare let your gaze drift back to Jungkook, who is sitting there like he still doesn’t understand you. Still can’t. 

You and Jungkook are final project partners and maybe, if you’re pushing it, acquaintances-slash-friends. But there are just some things better kept to yourself. 

We’re reaching the halfway point in this semester and, as you all know, I don’t do midterms. That said, I still want you to reflect on what you’ve learned, discovered, and thought about thus far in this class. What portrayal of love did you find the most realistic? The least? How have they changed the way you think about love, both from a personal and a film perspective?

Y/N Y/N on March 3rd at 6:08PM

Purely from a film perspective, I really did enjoy watching Juno. It was funny and raunchy and just the right amount of vulnerable. It certainly felt the most real. So far, no film in this class has topped it for me. 500 Days of Summer, on the other hand, was in my opinion extremely unsatisfying and left no positive impression. The ending was a bore and Tom had absolutely no spine. It was a shame, because the direction and production was actually quite good. 

I guess I’m starting to realize how real love is not pretty. It can make people just as sad as it can make them happy. Why don’t we show the sad sides of love, too? The sides where your room is covered with a pile of clothes because you can’t bring yourself to do the laundry? Where you cannot cook a meal because it reminds you of a breakup? Rom-coms are, obviously, not the most realistic. But why are there not more films that do cover what’s real? How can we love love if all we know is a lie?

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

Of course, I thought The Big Sick did an excellent job of their portrayal of love, adult life, and the problems that plague us all in the twenty-first century. It was also just as emotional and touched on concepts of race, illness, and being in your twenties and having no idea what direction your life is going in. The Princess Bride, on the other hand, as much as I love it, I do think created a more circumstantial kind of love. Westley and Buttercup mostly fall in love because of their situations. But it remains a classic nonetheless. 

I’m satisfied with the way the film industry has produced rom-coms and handles love. The beauty of it is that love is different for every person who goes through it. It can bring the greatest joy and the most painful sorrow. We do not just figure out what love is by what we see on film. We see it in our real lives, in our parents, in our friends, in couples in coffee shops and cars and on sidewalks. We can love love because we want that joy for ourselves. Because we know that true love will be worth any heartbreak we endure. Is it not impossible for the portrayals of love in these rom-coms to not be real? The way everyone experiences it is different. The only way you can know what real love is, and what it is not, is if you fall in love yourself. 

Early on in your project development, you and Jungkook exchanged class schedules to optimize your productivity and skip over that stupid, terrible part of partner projects where you’re just going back and forth trying to pick a time that works for the both of you until you eventually settle on something ridiculous like eleven o’clock at night outside of the McDonald’s two blocks off of campus. 

It’s been working very well. Neither of you have adventurous-enough friends to invite you out on spontaneous picnics and restaurant dates that fuck with your pre-scheduled meeting times, and Jungkook already seems to have mastered the art of screaming your name when he catches you on the sidewalk so that you can film something. 

In fact, you’re actually beginning to wonder why you haven’t done this with all of your long-term partner projects. Send each other your schedules so that you can settle on a time in advance. No muss, no fuss. 

You and Jungkook are supposed to meet up again tonight, after the two of you are finished with all of your classes, to discuss what scenes you should be filming next. Edited down, you’ve already got about ten minutes worth of footage, but it’s mid-March and the project is due at the end of April. So you need to get this show on the road. 

The door slams shut behind you as you exit the business building, your film industry class having just ended a minute ago. You’ve got an hour to kill before your next class, just enough time to dash to the food court in the center of campus and grab something from the Japanese place in the back corner. You might even have time to browse the shelves in the bookstore if you’re fast enough. 

You round the corner to the main pathway through campus when a voice stops you in your tracks. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

It’s not Jungkook. Instead, in the middle of the walkway are the Eighth Notes, one of the fifteen-thousand (you don’t know for sure, but if you had to estimate) acapella groups on campus. They’ve got mic stands and a table set up and everything. Maybe they’re promoting an upcoming show…? 

You almost breeze right by when one of them, the one in the middle of the group, points right at you, a lopsided grin lacing his features. You aren’t one to normally stop in the middle of a crowded footpath, but when, one after another, all six of the boys start pointing at you, you have no choice. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…” 

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

Their voices are smooth like honey, warm and deep, romancing you through their mics as each one of them suddenly manifests a rose from behind them. Around you, people are starting to stare, gawking at you as they walk by. There’s even a small crowd starting to gather, and you swear you can see some people filming on their phones. The fact that this is happening in the busiest ten minutes of the day, as half the student body is walking from one class to another, isn’t helping. At all. 

The rest of them singing in the background, each one steps out from behind the set of microphones to hand you the rose, smiling their classic, old-timey smiles like those old jazz singers from the 1960s, until you’ve got half a dozen in your hands as they continue to sing. 

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

And then, suddenly, all of them are shutting their traps and turning to the left, looking down the pathway as the song begins again, but from one-hundred feet away. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

Your mouth drops. At the other end of the walkway is Jungkook, one of those wireless microphones in his hand, grinning as he saunters down the path like a prince at a ball, voice sweet and thick as the words dance off of his lips. 

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

Your eyes lock from opposite ends of the path, Jungkook stepping closer with every beat the Eighth Notes gives him. It sort of feels like your impending doom and a wedding proposal, all at once. By now a rather substantial audience has gathered, lining the walkway with their phones out, filming Jungkook as he waltzes past them, occasionally turning to capture your gobsmacked expression. 

Every step that Jungkook takes makes your heart race something fierce, cheeks warming in embarrassment, trapped in your least favorite thing in the entire world: a public serenade. You can’t really do anything except look at him in shock, feeling his steady gaze resting firmly on your figure, looking right at you. Into you. 

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

Jungkook, on the other hand, is clearly relishing in this. In the spotlight. In the music. Or maybe just in the fact that you’re on the receiving end of his over-the-top advances. His grin is wide as he takes those last few steps, microphone gripped neatly in his hand, the lyrics warm and weighty as they tumble from his lips. 

“And let me love you, baby…”

One final step and he’s right in front of you, staring into your eyes, letting himself bask in the look on your face. He produces a rose himself—cherry red, like his favorite color—and holds it out in between the two of you. In the background, the Eighth Notes go quiet, leaving Jungkook on his own for the final line. 

“Let me love you…”

The words drift above your heads, disappearing into the sky as he lingers on them, on that last note, beaming down at you. He looks at you, so hopeful, so happy, so endeared, and what else can you do? What else, besides taking the rose from his hand and smiling back up at him? Who are you to deny him of that?

The crowd around you cheers when you do, applauding both Jungkook and the Eighth Notes, with whom he is apparently in cahoots, before they all decide that they ought to get on with their day and head to class. No doubt you’ll be on several dozen Instagram stories by nightfall. 

Only after everyone has dispersed do you notice Taehyung, who must have been here since the beginning, because he’s just turning off the camera dangling from his neck. Of course Jungkook got him to film. Other than your project, what else would this be for?

“Is that the best you can do, Jungkook?” You smirk up at him, only saying this because you can’t have him knowing that you actually kind of enjoyed it. 

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jungkook responds easily. “Thought I would do something spontaneous.”

“And now you’ve taken up ten minutes of my lunch,” you say, shaking your head to yourself. “How spontaneous, indeed.”

“How was that, Jungkook?”

Behind the two of you, the Eighth Notes are packing up, clearly more than happy to have aided Jungkook on his quest for so-called love and getting to promote their group in the process. 

“Great, thank you so much, Jimin,” Jungkook says to the one in the middle, the very first one to sing when you walked out of the door. 

“Anytime, dude. Glad we could help,” Jimin responds. He waves hi to Taehyung, too, as they store their microphones and go on their way. 

Jungkook bids them goodbye as they head down the path, smiling at all of them before he turns back to you, notices the distant, faraway look in your eyes as you twirl the rose between your fingers, press it to your nose to pick up its scent. 

“You gotta admit, I’m a pretty good singer, eh?” Jungkook says with a nudge to your shoulder. 

“You’re alright.”

Jungkook laughs to himself. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn. 

“Think I’ll have to sing for you more, now, hmm? Since you liked it so much?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling. 

You roll your eyes. “Only if you can get Jimin and the Eighth Notes to back you up, again. Then maybe I’ll allow it.”

Jungkook grins. He’s far past the point of being deterred by your deadpan comments. If anything, they only encourage him more. But you, for obvious reasons, cannot give in. At least, not yet, anyway. 

“Okay, go eat your lunch,” he says, nodding as you begin to part ways. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

The moment you get back to your apartment you put all seven roses in an old vase filled with water. They brighten up your bedroom instantly, soft scent freshening up the air. And when you go to bed that night, it is to Jungkook’s sweet, delicate voice, like walking on clouds, like satin and silk, that you fall asleep.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Jungkook greets like always, smiling at you as you walk in the door for FILM395. 

“Good morning, Jungkook,” you say in response. 

Then, you take a seat right next to him. 

It’s an act that clearly catches everyone off guard, if the bewildered looks of your fellow classmates and Jungkook’s confused expression are anything to go by. Even Pollack, when she walks through the door, gets a bit of a shock, eyes widening when she sees the two of you seated next to each other. 

You suppose all the fuss is understandable. After all, you both sort of hate each other. 

Other than the sudden change in seating arrangement, however, the rest of the class goes off without much issue. Pollack lectures for an hour before you move into discussion, at which point it becomes a class participation free-for-all, with you and Jungkook almost definitely in the lead. Just because you’re now sitting next to each other doesn’t mean either of you are suddenly going to stop raising your hands to rebuke each other’s points. Some things never change. 

Sitting next to Jungkook is not as bad as you thought it would be. For one, he is, for the most part, a rather diligent student. Other than his occasional flicks to his email, an essay he’s working on, or your discussion board, he mostly sits and takes notes and doesn’t do anything else. That, you can at least give him credit for. And even though your elbows almost always nearly crash into each other’s when you’re raising your hands to respond to a point Pollack’s made, discussion isn’t so bad either. 

One of the perks of sitting directly beside each other is that whenever he says something stupid, or saccharine, or just overly unrealistic, you don’t have to just roll your eyes from the back of the classroom while you wait to be called on. You also get to kick his foot with your own, nudge your elbow into his side. And he does the same to you. You and Jungkook are like those neighbors in sitcoms that spend all their free time shouting at each other from opposite windows. Just because your seats have gotten closer doesn’t mean your viewpoints have. 

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

You: Why are you texting me? We’re sitting right next to each other

Jungkook: because we’re in class obvs Jungkook: dont wanna be disruptive

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

After class, you and Jungkook both hang around, waiting for each other to pack up your belongings so you can walk to the tables together. Everyone else seems to sense this weird, uncomfortable tension in the room, because they all book it out of the door much faster than either of you do. You’re almost convinced Jungkook purposely takes extra time to zip his backpack, just because. 

The tables are, as per usual, empty. But you don’t have a pile of receipts to spread out, this time. You and Jungkook take a seat at one of them as you pull out your laptops, ready to outline the rest of the project. 

“We should probably meet with Taehyung a couple more times, too,” you suggest as you begin to brainstorm. 

“Sounds good,” Jungkook agrees. “But we can’t meet at night on weekdays anymore. My dance group’s show is coming up and we have practice then.”

You stop typing and turn to him. “I didn’t know you were in a dance group.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I don’t really talk about it that much.”

“You should.”

He looks up at you at that, eyes wide as he faces you. 

“I don’t know, it seems like something you should be passionate about,” you say. In the same way that you promote the Film Club to every freshman you know, force all your friends to mark that they’re Interested in your event pages on Facebook. Jungkook should want to tell everyone about his dance group. Doesn’t he love it? Isn’t he proud to be in it?

Jungkook doesn’t look like he knows what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything at all. 

“We can meet on weekends too,” you say, adjusting to his new change of schedule easily. “This project isn’t as all-consuming as I thought it would be.”

“You mean I’m not as all-consuming as you thought I would be,” Jungkook corrects. 

You shake your head. “No, you are.” He laughs. “But yeah, on weekends is fine. You know my schedule. What else should we do, besides talk to Taehyung?”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off above Jungkook’s head. “Let’s go on a date.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

“What do you mean, “no”? It’s the natural progression of our relationship! It’s the next step in the rom-com! We have to,” Jungkook insists. 

“First of all, it’s a mockumentary, not a rom-com,” you say with a sigh, finding yourself having to correct him rather frequently. “Secondly, we are not in a relationship. I am not dating you and you are not dating me.”

“Okay, but at this point in rom-coms the two leads would definitely go on a date,” Jungkook says, punctuating every word for emphasis. “What’s the harm? It’s not like you’re committing yourself to a future with me.”

“Thank God,” you mutter. 

“Oh, shut up. You probably haven’t been on a date in years, anyway. Why not spend a night out?”

You frown at that. “Who cares if I have or have not been on a date?” Why does Jungkook care so much about the history of your love life? He’s always saying stuff like this, always telling you things as if you’ve never been in a relationship at all, don’t know left from right, black from white. Who is he to be making those assumptions?

“Please, Y/N,” Jungkook begs, looking desperate. “Just one evening. And then if it really goes terribly and you end up hating me again, then we don’t have to do another one.”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. Well, what else are you going to do? You don’t have any other ideas. And you’ve already spent so much time with Jungkook this semester, what’s another evening? Just something else to cross off of your list of things to film. Maybe you can get him to take a cute photo of you to post on social media. 

“Fine,” you concede. “One date. And I still hate you, by the way.”

Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good. 

Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide. 

“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all. 

Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.

Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating. 

You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth. 

But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?

You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time. 

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince. 

“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”

“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”

Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”

“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”

“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well. 

“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening. 

“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely. 

“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up. 

You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob. 

On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins. 

You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you. 

He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”

The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental. 

From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him. 

It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers. 

Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him. 

And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out. 

It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time. 

“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque. 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google. 

“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful. 

“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. 

You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”

“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical. 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”

“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”

You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one. 

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”

You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you. 

“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him. 

“Well, how do you think about it?”

You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project. 

“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly. 

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook. 

The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.

“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye. 

“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling. 

“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”

Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too. 

“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes. 

Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here. 

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film. 

Jungkook grins your way. 

Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.

“How about we hold hands, too?”

“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”

You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”

“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards. 

It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him. 

“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”

“Excellent.”

Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook. 

The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean. 

It’s new. 

It’s strange. 

You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck. 

Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his. 

You wonder what that means. 

The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind. 

Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried. 

You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says. 

“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know. 

Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this: 

“Magical.”

It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach. 

Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do. 

“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this. 

“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”

“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious. 

“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right. 

“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins. 

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to. 

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. 

“How are you feeling about him?”

“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”

“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview. 

“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”

You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end. 

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up. 

“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”

“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it. 

“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”

You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”

Taehyung sighs.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due. 

Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to. 

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?

Jungkook: i don’t think i can Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

You: I want to You: I’ll see you there!

That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard. 

You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust. 

Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances. 

Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?

You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin. 

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

Jungkook: always such a tease

You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim. 

The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp. 

The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out. 

Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world. 

The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to. 

When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight. 

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout, 

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you. 

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always. 

You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems. 

“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless. 

You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”

He grins. 

“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”

“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition. 

Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”

You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either. 

The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up. 

It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder. 

As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy. 

Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part. 

“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”

“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you. 

“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship. 

“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”

“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“What, please don’t—”

“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”

Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”

The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done. 

Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way. 

Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter. 

In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day. 

Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party. 

He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name. 

“Jungkook!”

He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way. 

Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back. 

“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.

He’s never been able to resist you. 

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile. 

“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”

You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps. 

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out. 

“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”

“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide. 

“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place. 

You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”

Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”

“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less. 

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”

“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”

“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with. 

You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”

“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will. 

Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all. 

You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”

But the curiosity is eating at him. 

“Forget what?”

Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t. 

Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you. 

“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies. 

“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self. 

“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless. 

Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning. 

What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other. 

“You can say something,” you tell him.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says. 

“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”

“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself. 

“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”

Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”

“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so. 

“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now. 

Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance. 

“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.” 

You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly. 

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask. 

He almost does it. 

Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught. 

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.

“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”

It’s good enough for him. 

He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with. 

Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too. 

Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name. 

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy. 

“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed. 

You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say. 

Jungkook grins. 

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you. 

Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her. 

“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring. 

“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time. 

Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon. 

“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation. 

“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on. 

“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”

You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway. 

“Jungkook walked me home?”

“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”

“No,” you say dumbly. 

“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”

“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”

“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”

“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”

“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”

She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon. 

Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing. 

“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison. 

“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”

You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”

Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better. 

“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed. 

Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night. 

Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”

“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing. 

And that means a lot to you. 

“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins. 

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers. 

When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good. 

“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.

“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”

“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”

“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”

“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”

“You should know what I like by now,” you remark. 

“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door. 

The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to. 

“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats. 

“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”

“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”

“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”

“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply. 

You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that. 

Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together. 

Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.

“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables. 

“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out. 

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”

He smiles. 

Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other. 

He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it. 

You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while. 

The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand. 

It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination. 

“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register. 

“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”

“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home. 

You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air. 

 The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.

Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point. 

“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”

“What, the project?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”

You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”

“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.

“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations. 

“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says. 

You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”

“This.”

Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends. 

But he need not worry about that. 

When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain. 

“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other. 

“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you. 

“You scored,” you remind him.

“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”

“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his. 

“Never.” He smiles wickedly. 

It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce. 

“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever. 

Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice. 

“Anytime.”

“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side. 

“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it. 

“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”

“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. 

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall. 

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss. 

You send him one back without even needing to think. 

Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand. 

“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start. 

“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly. 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod. 

“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned. 

“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”

“Always,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”

You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you. 

“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”

Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.

“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”

Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”

You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”

“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”

You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”

“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”

“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”

“You both seem very happy.”

“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”

“Jungkook?”

“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.

“Are you glad you did this project?”

Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”

“You seem really certain about that.”

“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”

“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”

“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”

“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”

“Who, me?”

“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night. 

Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you. 

“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation. 

“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”

“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”

“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”

Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?

You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out. 

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got. 

“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door. 

“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”

“Pollack!”

She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her. 

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open. 

She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”

She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”

Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up. 

“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can. 

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised. 

“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly. 

“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway. 

“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production. 

“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously. 

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out. 

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand. 

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you. 

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix. 

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night. 

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons. 

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers. 

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play. 

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself. 

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right. 

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him. 

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice. 

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you. 

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real. 

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place. 

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either. 

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over. 

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat. 

The truth is, you were always a goner for him. 

And look how well that played out. 

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight. 

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table. 

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop. 

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good. 

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy. 

Hope. 

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve. 

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much. 

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end. 

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it? 

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door. 

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you. 

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you. 

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful. 

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought. 

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby. 

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now. 

A brand new frame. 

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now. 

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie. 

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back. 

“Yes,” you declare proudly. 

And so, they lived happily ever after. 

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

[carlisles-girl]

OMG UR CAIUS FIC WAS SO GOOD COULD YOU DO SOMETHING AB ARO PLEASE

a/n: Thank you so much! I’m very excited to write for Aro, he’s one of my favourite characters, more so because of Michael Sheen’s performance. I put a slight reference to something in this, you might catch it if you know other projects Michael Sheen has been in, but you might not, and that’s alright. Hope you enjoy <3

another a/n: I did put one or two feminine terms in this work, such as ‘mia regina’ which is ‘my queen’ in Italian, so do skip over it or replace it with something else if you’d like. I love writing this type of material in the middle of my classes, it adds so much adrenaline to not get caught.

-

Aro Volturi With A Human Mate

-

Instead of being angry and frustrated like Caius, Aro was more excited.

Like as if he was getting ready for a big party.

A human for a mate was inevitable for some vampires, of course, but Aro didn’t expect to be included in the some.

He was excited since it was rare for such high profile vampires to socialize with humans.

Aro often gushed to his brothers, excited to meet you, but also for them to meet you.

He wanted to host a ball for your welcome.

But Marcus noted that it would probably be slightly frightening for you to be in a room full of vampires.

Most of the vampires would look at you as if you were some sort of a snack.

Because it Marcus’ comment, Aro assumed it would be a greater choice to send an invitation to a tour of the castle.

Free of cost, of course.

When you had received the invitation, you were beyond excited.

An invitation to a tour of an ancient castle with endless legends, for free?

Absolutely.

The tour was the next day, so of course you were slightly nervous.

When the tour commenced, a very pretty woman named Heidi lead the tour group.

She began to speak of secrets of the castle, as well as secret corridors and legends.

Some things a normal tour guide would most likely have no idea about.

Heidi then looked in your direction, and smiled brightly at you.

“It’s very lovely here. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Just when she had finished her sentence, she opened the doors where there were three men sitting in thrones, and what seemed to be 4 guards.

The man who sat in the middle, greeted everyone and began speaking greatly of the castle.

He had only stopped when he motioned for your tour guide, Heidi, to come forward.

She did as told, and held her hand out towards him.

You would have thought it was to greet him, but it seemed like he was concentrated, or zoned out.

“Magnifico! I will get Demetri to escort them.” (Translation: “Magnificent! I will get Demetri to escort them.”

A man who you assumed was Demetri, walked in your direction.

“Come with me, all will be alright, rest assured. However, do not look behind you.”

You went with him, doing as he said, but immediately turned around when the rest of the tour began screaming.

“What the hell was that?!”

Demetri just grabbed your wrist and brought you upstairs.

“Just stay in here, I’ve been instructed to keep you under my eye. Aro will explain everything to you.”

“Aro?”

“The man who sat in the middle throne.”

You nodded, and decided to sit on one of the window seats.

You wanted to ask Demetri as many questions as you wanted to, but you didn’t want to bother him, or disrupt him from his job.

When the door had opened and Demetri bid his farewells, you had turned around and saw Aro.

“You must be Y/n, correct?”

“Yeah, and you’re Aro?”

“I am, I assume you have a good amount of questions?”

You nodded, and Aro moved swiftly but smoothly towards the opposite side of the window seat.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

He sat opposite to you, and smiled slightly at you.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, or the others. You’re the most safe you could ever be in the castle. I promise you, I will keep you safe.”

“May I ask why the rest of the tourists were screaming when I left?”

“I sense that that question should be answered later, appropriately.”

You were slightly frightened as to what the final answer would be, it could be anything.

Perhaps there was a reenactment of the past after you had been escorted, one of the tourists got pushed and the rest screamed since one of them fell, or the worst:

They were murdered.

“I feel like I already know what happened.”

“I sense that you do know, too. I will tell you everything in a moment. But for now, would you care to lend me your hand?”

You trusted Aro, though you were positive your ancestors were screaming from above or below not to trust him.

You held your hand out in front of him, and before he held your hand in his own, he asked for permission or something else.

“I want you to think of the happiest memory you have stored in your mind, I will describe it to you. I will not see anything else besides the things you want to show me, unless I have your permission.”

You thought of a memory, and then placed your hand in Aro’s palm.

He covered the back of your hand with the palm of his other hand, then he began telling you small details of your chosen memories you had even forgotten about.

When he was finished, he brought his head up from looking down, and smiled at your face of bewilderment.

“That is so cool! Is that like your superhero power?”

Aro smiled widely at your interest in his gift, and began explaining what his was.

“I have a gift, it’s called tactile telepathy. I can read everyone’s thoughts and memories with a single touch. The others in this coven have multiple different gifts, they help keep us safe.”

“So you’re all like superheroes?”

“Vampires, darling.”

After that, Aro enjoyed seeing your memories whenever you two were apart for some sort of time.

Especially say you were having a difficult time attempting to explain something to him, he would hold your hand and immediately understand what you were trying to say.

“I understand you, cara mia. I always will.”

And he was right, he understands you in every way possible.

Aro memorized your body language on how you react to different things, as well as your facial expressions.

When you’re uncomfortable with something, he will do absolutely everything in his power to make you comfortable.

Aro will burn down the entire world for you.

When it’s time for you to go to sleep, you best believe that Aro set up the most lavish and comfortable room for you.

The best and most comfortable bed, of course.

You lay down on his chest, and he brushes the hair out of your face, admiring your tired eyes looking back at him.

“Would you like for me to read to you, dearest?”

You nodded your head, and Aro would get up from wherever he was seated, swiftly retrieve a book, lay back down next to you, and begin reading.

He loved having you hold his hand while he read, it lets him see what you’re imagining the scene that he’s reading to you.

And when you fell asleep while he was reading, he would be so very content.

You curled up next to him, sound asleep on his chest.

Aro adored seeing what you were dreaming.

He loved how humans brains worked while they were sleeping, keeping your mind entertained with multiple little scenarios.

When you woke up, however, Aro would prefer to have you describe your dreams, if you remembered them.

He loved to learn more about humans, especially in the modern age.

And you loved to learn more about vampires, especially in the ancient times.

Aro would often tell you stories of each coven he encountered, his old family and friends, and his past human life.

As much as he wants you to be changed into a vampire like the rest, he can’t help but smile whenever you got slightly nervous around him, stuttering over your words, and hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

He pays attention to little details about you.

Especially your eyes.

Even the shade of your eyes stops him from changing you. Your eyes wouldn’t be as unique anymore, they’d be the same red as everyone else’s.

“You have the most magnificent shade of colour in your eyes, mia regina. I simply cannot get enough of them.”

Being absolute best friends with Demetri.

But wherever Demetri was, Felix wasn’t too far behind.

You three are like a troublemaker trio, always causing trouble and pulling pranks on different members of the guard.

Never Jane or Alec, though. Unless it was a scheduled board game night or something along the lines.

Which Alec loved to take away different players senses, allowing him to cheat in the games you’d play.

He doesn’t do it all the time, though.

Marcus was a lot more welcoming towards you, perhaps more than anyone else.

Whenever Aro couldn’t, he’d show you different areas of the castle you hadn’t seen yet, and would give you wonderful pieces of advice along the way.

“Remember to stay true to yourself, never let anyone think for you.”

Aro will spoil you insanely.

If you mention a specific piece of clothing even once, you better expect that when you wake up the next morning, Aro has an elegantly wrapped package placed at the foot of your bed with a note written in fine handwriting.

“Mia amato, I have seen you speak of this article of fabric, and I have gone out of my way to make sure you have every little thing you admire. I need you to be the happiest you can possibly be. Please accept my gift, and meet me by the gardens by noon. I’ll see you then. Cordialmente, Aro.”

You two have annual walks throughout the garden, usually during golden hour. The sun still above, but setting at the same time, making it seem like Aro was made of a trillion Tiffany Yellow Diamonds.

He loved finding a flower that suited your mood for the day, and putting it behind your ear.

“My beautiful.”

You two often walked either arm in arm, or hand in hand, but sometimes you would hold him closer with your arm wrapped around his waist, your head leaning on his side or shoulder.

Often times, when the moon is visible, you would slow dance together, looking at each other with smiles on your faces, just appreciating each other’s presence.

Usually, Aro would come back into the castle around 2 in the morning, carrying your sleeping self up to your shared room, after you had fallen asleep on his shoulder while sitting in the garden.

The rest of the kings and guards would be predominantly more happy than from before you had arrived.

You had given Aro something to look forward to after trials and mountains of work, something he didn’t have for hundreds of years.

Though, Caius was still slightly jealous of you.

You had practically stolen one, if the not the most, needed member of the vampire world. Aro was nearly as focused on you than he was on trials and legislature.

He’d warm up to you eventually.

At least, you hoped.

Speaking of trials, you wanted to sit in and watch the trials, to see what it was about, and how it worked.

You knew the most of it, of course, Aro had already told you. But you wanted to see it live.

Aro was quick to say no, he didn’t want you to get hurt, or worse, killed.

He understood what would happen to him if his mate was killed, Marcus was the example. He couldn’t even bear the thought of you not being by his side.

Though, you owning the key to his heart, convinced him to let you watch, letting both Jane and Alec stay on either side of you, protecting you if anything were to go wrong.

You would usually sit on Aro’s lap, and then the throne when he had to see what was truly going on by using his gift.

Jane usually stood on the left of the throne, and Alec on the right.

Mainly since Caius sat on the throne in the left, and Jane loved to torture the criminals.

He loved the front seat view.

Constant look backs of reassurance to make sure that you’re alright.

Nearly always having your hand in his.

Forehead kisses.

Constantly bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

Getting the absolute best care in the world, health wise especially.

When Aro proposed, it was in the bedroom the both of you share, and he was reading some poetry to you.

All was going swell, and then he got to one page.

“I can write no stately poem

As a prelude to my lay;

From a poet to a poem

I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals

One to you seem fair

Love will waft it till it settles

On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden

All the loveless land.

It will whisper of the garden,

You will understand.”

At the end, you were leaned up closer to him, looking at him in awe.

He closed the book, and placed it aside gracefully, before leaning slightly closer to you. Placing his hands overs yours.

“Do you remember who wrote that, cara mia?”

“I do. That’s Oscar Wilde, right?”

“That’s right. There’s so much I want to say to you, especially in this particular moment, but I don’t think there’s enough words to express my love and affection towards you. I’ve known you for a little while, and I can feel the bond between us, and I know you can feel it, too. The universe has guided us together, and I am so very thankful for every second we have spent together, and I’m even more thankful for the rest of eternity we have. However, I am the most thankful of the fact that I have the most gorgeous human as a mate. I love you so much, anima mia. Will you do me the best thing that could ever happen to me in my thousands of years, and marry me?”

You said yes, obviously, who wouldn’t?

You leaned over to press your lips against his, as he held one side of your face with one hand, and the other hand slid a ring on your ring finger.

While Aro wanted an extremely lavish wedding, with all the diamonds in the world, you wanted something more of a homely essence.

So you compromised, and had a bit of both.

Aro invited nearly every vampire to the wedding, wanting to show you off in every way he could.

The Denali’s, Cullens, Irish coven, everyone was invited.

Except for the Romanian coven, Vladimir and Stefan. Not trusting them to be in your presence.

The wedding was held in the garden, the arch where Aro stood had your favourite flowers intertwining around it, with diamonds pressed in the centre of each individual flower.

Demetri walked you down the isle, smiling proudly when he handed you over to Aro.

Proud that his leader had finally found true love, and that one of his best friends is finally where they need to be.

After the official wedding ceremony, the rest of the night and day were spent smiling and showing off each other to the guests.

When the night ended, it was finally time for you to be changed to a vampire.

Aro sat by the bed were sitting on, making sure that you were absolutely ready to be converted to a vampire for the rest of eternity.

“Are you ready, my darling?”

You nodded your head, and Aro took one final look into your coloured eyes, attempting to remember every small detail of them.

Aro then moved your hair away from your neck, before placing his lips over where he would finally bite down and turn you immortal.

“Just say when, and I’ll see you after.”

[venusianelf]

Misunderstandings Between Cats & Dogs

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Autistic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Some angst, Misunderstandings

Summary: After Natasha saves you from the Red Room, you become close friends. Over the months she’s been trying to make it clear to you that she likes you but you don’t quite get it. When will you realize she’s been flirting with you or will she have to spell it out?

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but Natasha calls them pretty (if you consider that a gendered compliment), You and Nat both drink alcohol but no one gets drunk, Reader gets scratched by a cat, Some arguing but it has a happy ending, A couple uses of Y/N, Some swearing

Word Count: ~1,500

Request: if ur taking requests… i saw you dont really do angst so could you do natasha x autistic!reader where natasha is trying to hint to the reader that she likes them, but reader doesn’t get it bc you know social cues r hard to understand sometimes

so maybe nat just blurts it out one day and then fluff ensues

A/N: любимый = darling | This takes place between the end of Black Widow and Infinity War. Ignore the fact that she probably didn’t have an apartment during those times. Anyways I hope you all like this fic! Also, reader is referenced as a dog person so if you’re not, then sorry about that! Gif from pinterest.

You were eternally thankful to Nat for saving you from the Red Room so when she offered you a spot on her quinjet you agreed immediately. It’s been more fun than you thought it could ever be and now you two were headed to pick up her family the Avengers. Which admittedly made you incredibly nervous, but if it was important to Nat, it was important to you. 

“So how long until arrival?” You questioned as she checked on the console. “Three hours or so,” She replied, kicking her boots up. “Gives us plenty of time to get to know each other better,” She smiled as you turned your seat to face her. “Well, what do you want to know?” You asked as you quirked your head. A couple of hours and it was Nat’s turn to ask again. “Hm, if you could be an animal, what would you be?” She responded as she brought her drink up to her lips. “I think I would be a dog, y'know cause they’re so cute and can be protective when needed.” You answered as she nodded her head. “Let me guess, you’d be a black widow spider since that’s your superhero thing,” You laughed as she joined in. “Mm, no actually I’d be a cat. And I’m pretty sure my name was more assigned than chosen.” She retorted as you nodded thoughtfully. “I could see you as a cat person,” You said as you imagined her feeding the strays that wandered around the Avengers Compound. “Well if you’d be a dog then I think I could be converted to a dog person,” She laughed as you smiled, not entirely sure what she meant. “Thank you?” You responded as you laughed nervously. Just then the console lit up to let you know you were close. “Looks like we’ll have to pick up this conversation later,” You said, thankful for the distraction. As you focused on making sure everything was ready you noticed Natasha was watching with a look you couldn’t quite place. Shaking it off you two prepared yourselves for the break out of her friends.

Since that day you and the Avengers on Steve’s side have gotten pretty close, over the months you’ve gained more of a sense of identity after being freed from Dreykov’s mind control. Natasha had been through a similar process before, which led to her being by your side the whole time. She’s been the best support you could’ve asked for. She even started bringing you little gifts that related to your special interests. Tonight you two were going to a local bar to get a drink together. Since you and the others on Steve’s team have decided to stay in a place off the radar, you all have decided it’s safe enough to be in public. After touching up your hair, you headed into the bar of Nat’s choice. A little dingier than you would have preferred but whatever. 

Taking a seat next to her at the bar and ordering a drink you see the redhead turn to you and smile. “You come here often?” She smirks as you laugh. “Thankfully no, only when my best friend wants to get a drink,” you say as you smile playfully at her. Laughing herself she responds, “Well then I should invite you out more often if you’re gonna dress all pretty for me.” “Aw well, I’m glad you like my outfit,” You smile as the bartender places your drink down in front of you. “I like a whole lot more about you than just your outfit,” She winks as you laugh. “I would hope so since we’re so close,” you respond playfully. Laughing she takes a sip of her drink, saying something under her breath afterward. As the night continues you two share many more laughs and smiles. Until eventually you both have to head back to your apartments.

Unfortunately for you, the temperature outside dropped between the first drink and the last. “Jeez, was it this cold when we got here?” You ask, shivering a bit. “I don’t think it was, are you going to be alright walking home in this weather?” Nat asks as she looks at you concerned. “I’m sure I’ll be fine just a bit frozen by the time I get there,” You laugh dryly as you rub your arms to try to warm yourself. “Here take my jacket, my bike is parked nearby so it won’t take me as long to get home,” She responds as she hands you her jacket. “No, it’s okay. I’m just joking, I’ll be alright.” You respond hurriedly, declining her jacket. “C’mon take it. You need it more than I do. Plus you can just give back to me tomorrow.” She says as you contemplate if it’s okay to take her source of warmth. “Okay, fine. But don’t freeze to death on me,” You laugh as you put her jacket on and she smiles. “I won’t, I promise.”

A few days later you end up at her apartment for dinner. As Nat prepares the dinner for both of you, you take the time to cozy up to her new cat. She told you that her name was Liho. As you make clicky noises at Liho, she seems to disregard you and continue cleaning herself. Sighing you move a little closer and try to pet her. Surprised by your actions, Liho reacts by scratching you. “Shit!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from her quickly. “Are you alright?” Natasha asks as she rushes over to you to check for whatever hurt you. “Yeah, I’m okay. I surprised Liho and she scratched me, that's all.” You respond as she takes your hand and looks over the scratch. “Let me take care of this for you. A cat scratch can get infected if you’re not careful.” She comments as she heads to her bathroom to get her first aid kit. Sighing at her overly cautious behavior, you call out to her again that it’s not a big deal. 

“You say that but I’d rather be safe than sorry,” She responds as she brings the kit over to you and sets it up. Taking your hand as you decide not to fight her over it, as she cleans it with an alcohol wipe. Exclaiming at the stinging she apologizes as she finishes it up with Neosporin and a band-aid. “There, all better,” She smiles as you roll your eyes. “I would’ve been fine without it.” You comment as she shakes her head. “Maybe but there’s no harm in a band-aid,” She laughs, trying to lighten the air. “But you’re always like this. You keep being extra careful around me and always sugarcoat things to me. I don’t know if you’re like this because you pity me or what. But I wish you would treat me normally.” You huff out as she widens in her eyes in shock. “I’m not-” “You are! You’re always babying me or treating me differently than the others!” You exclaim fed up. “Y/N, please listen to me.” She says as you turn towards her frustrated. “I’m not trying to baby you. I- Okay, yes, I treat you differently than everyone else. But not because I pity you, I like you Y/N. I have since we first met. Hell, I’ve flirted with you at every opportunity but you never pick up on it I guess.” She explains, frustrated with your perception of her and the months and months of misunderstood flirting. “Oh,” You breathe out as you stare at her in shock. “Fuck. You know what? Nevermind. I’ll just go finish dinner,” She sighs as she stands up. 

“Wait!” You call out to her as she glances back at you. “I like you too. But I always thought you were just being nice and I didn’t want to fuck this up.” You rush out as her demeanor changes and she smiles at you. “Really?” She asks as she walks towards you and stops close to you. “Yeah,” You reply as you look at her in this proximity. “Well then, may I kiss you любимый?” She asks playfully. “Yes, please.” You respond before you feel her hand settle at your waist and she pulls you closer with a hand on your cheek. Pressing her lips to yours, you taste coffee and chocolate on her. As the kiss gets more passionate her hand on your cheeks tangles into your hair as your hands entangle behind her neck and pull her closer. Moving away from your lips she trails kisses down your jaw and onto your neck as she moves her hand in your hair to your back to support you. After leaving a few kisses there she pulls back and smiles at you. “As much fun as this is, I should probably get back to cooking so I don’t burn our food,” She comments as you giggle. “Fair point,” You reply as you two head to the kitchen so Natasha can continue cooking dinner.

[multific]

Trainers

Owen Grady x Reader

Summary: You are the trainer of the Mosasaurus, you have been working with her since she was a tiny little thing. So, you don’t appreciate when another trainer is asked to check on the work you have been doing.

 You understood that Claire wanted results. But they never understood that a creature such as a dinosaur is not as easy to train as a dog. Nevertheless, when the owner of the park specifically asked for you to be the caretaker of the Mosasaurus, you just knew you had to accept. Being a well respected Marine Biologist in your field, you loved the different challenge this would bring. Although you had to do a lot of studying. You would normally focus on a lot of species, so only having to deal with one animal was quite different. 

When you first saw her, you knew, you understood just how special she really was and you fell in love with the tiny being. Well, back then she was the size of an alligator, but then she grew into her normal size. She got huge. Even her tank spoke to itself.

Momo was chosen to do one of trick for the public. To eat a shark from a hook, splashing water onto the crowd. You knew she wasn’t a circus animal. You understood that, but since you two spent so much time together, a bond formed between you two. And you were more than surprised when she listened to you. 

One late night you were sitting by her tank, looking at her as she swam around. This was all she knew, the water, the hook and you. You often went to the Underwater Observatory where you can look into her tank through the glass. You spoke to her days on end as you just sat there after you finished with your work for the day. 

And one day, it happened.

Just like a dolphin show, you were talking and motioning around and when you moved your hand up as an expression, she jumped out of the water. The very first instant this happened, you didn’t pay much mind to it, thinking it was a coincidence. But then she did it again and again. Just as you lifted your hand up each time.

Progress.

Of course, you were to report every incident, but you chose not to tell them about this new revelation. You were afraid they will exploit her for money even more.

So, as you never reported any progress, Claire decided to send another trainer in.

Owen Grady.

He was supposed to look at your work for a month. You hated being supervised like that.

“Mr. Grady, nice to meet you, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Momo’s caretaker.”

“Please just call me Owen. To be honest I’m as happy to be here as you are. I’d rather be with my girls, so please just give me a quick run through, so I can leave.” 

“Okay...But, Owen. Claire said that you are to watch me for a month.”

“A MONTH? She didn’t mention that to me. Or I wasn’t listening. Probably the latter.” he made you laugh a little. Maybe it was better that he was the one who was sent and not some uptight ass. 

“Alright. So, it’s hard to miss her tank, or her. She eats a lot. There are public feedings, every two hour she gets a shark. I have been with her since she was born. Little thing she was. She is very stubborn, but I did hand feed her in her early years. She gave me a lovely scar too. From my wrist to my pinky on my left hand.” you showed him the scar. “Silly mistake. But I learned from it.”

“Do you talk to her?”

“I do. Steve thinks I’m mental, since she is under water, she wouldn’t hear. But I like to think that she somehow feels that I talk to her you know?”

He nodded and looked around, then up. He noticed a long walking platform way up high. 

“What’s that?” you looked up where he was looking.

“That is the new idea. Guests would be able to go up there and watch her from there. But they are not sure if she can jump that high, so it’s still not very safe. Although I told them that she wouldn’t be able to, they want to be safe. We can go up if you want to.”

You hated being up there, your fear of heights didn’t help you either. 

“You okay there?” Owen asked as he watched you taking deep breaths and your hands gripping the railing.

“No. I hate it up here.”

“Then why did you suggest to come up?” he laughed.

“I don’t know. It was silly. Can you see her?”

“Yes. She is...swimming. Shockingly. She is 84 feet long and she weights over 30,000 lbs, when the last time we checked. She is rather calm. Prefers to swim around and eats when she is supposed to. She is not socialized with other dinos, considering that the majority would drown in her enclosure. Can we go down now, please?”

Owen stood there, looking at the huge water monster swimming right below him. Then he looked up at you, and gave you a nod.

***

Owen has been working with you for the last week. He gave many ideas on what to do and how to earn their trust.

You also didn’t fail to notice how muscular and handsome he was. 

Each morning he arrived on his bike, looking sexy as can be. And every day he observed you. He watched as you said hi to her every morning, said how you liked to make sure her food was correctly prepared. It was obvious for him that you cared about the Mosasaurus very much. 

Owen wasn’t sure what else they wanted from the dino himself, He knew they created her as an amusement for viewers as a feeding show and nothing more. So, then why did Claire wanted him to come here and watch over you. As far as he was concerned, this particular dino wasn’t even the need of a caretaker. She just swam around and ate sharks as an attraction. He suspected there was something more behind the story he had been told. 

Owen admittedly loved the Underwater Observatory. It was cool down there, not only the weather, but they you can look into the enclosure and watch the majestic beast.

He also took a liking to it’s trainer. Even if he wasn’t sure what you were training the dino to do.

“How about tomorrow you come over to the raptors? I can show them off for you like you did with Momo.” Owen came up with the idea on his second week during lunch time.

“Oh, sure. I would like to.” Little did he know that you showed the very least to him.

During his two weeks, Owen and you formed some kind of friendship. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like him, even if you knew about the rumors about his dating methods. But he never once hinted on anything with you. Or you just didn’t notice. Which was also a possibility, you were quite oblivious with men.

So, the next day after making sure that Momo was all set and healthy, we headed to the raptors. 

Although I wasn’t that interested in land species, his four girls amazed you. 

“Wow. they listen to you so well.” you said smiling at him as you watched the four inside the paddock. 

Owen looked very proud of himself. 

You spent all day at the velociraptor paddock. Owen told you about the plans that they had. And it was exactly what you feared would happen to your girl.

Exploiting them for military or personal gain. 

The thought disgusted you.

These were amazing creatures. In your opinion you should be learning from them, and not using them for war.

In the evening, everyone has left, you and Owen were still at the raptors’ paddock. You looked down at them running around.

“I don’t want Momo to have the same fate. Military? Really? That’s what we are doing now? These creatures are amazing, beautiful. Even the fact that we keep them on display is rather disgusting let alone using them as weapons.”

“I agree with you. But I can also see how they would be able to save many lives. Men and women.”

“But they will never be able to control them like that. Not by their own free will. It takes time. You have known them since they were little. Momo is... she is basically an attraction to them, nothing more. They wanted me to each her tricks. Like she was a fucking pony. Jumping through loops and whatnot. And when I refused, they threatened to throw me out. So, I had to come up with something. Telling them that she is not able to do such things. Even if it’s a lie.” you eyes widened at what you just said. You just confessed your greatest secret. 

“What do you mean lie? So, she can jump?” you panicked a little but his calm demeanor helped you a little.

“S-She can. Not as high as those railings go but...She can. Oh, Owen, please don’t tell Claire. They will make her into a complete circus animal, more than she already is.” you didn’t even realize but you were so desperate that you grabbed his forearm, pleading with him.

“I won’t. I promise. I decided on my second day over there that I will tell her that you are taking a good care of her and that a Mosasaurus is not a dolphin you can teach tricks to. But I’m clearly wrong. Could you show me?”

You were soon standing by her tank. Owen looked down at the water.

“I never understood. If she can get the shark from there, why doesn’t she jump out to get the guests?”

“Well, one, they are too small, so she is not interested and two, her species main food source comes from the water or from above such as flying dinosaurs. But as you can see her water is lower than the path, they made this safe so she wouldn’t jump out and eat guests.”

“I see. So how does this work? I don’t guess that you whistle to her.” Owen said as he stood next to you.

“No. I just...” it was easier to show him, so you reached your hand out as far as you could before moving it up.

And just as you did, she jumped out of the water and back in, as elegantly as a dino of her size possibly could. 

“Wow.” Owen watched as the water splashed neither of you cared that you were soaked.

“One night. I was talking to her. And as I moved my hand, she started doing things. She can also spin, but that looked better down under the water.”

“She listens to you.”

“I like to think that if I was to fall into the water one day, she won’t eat me immediately, but I might be too naïve.” Owen looked at you and all he could think is how beautiful you looked.

“This really is something else. You must have an amazing bond.” you smiled at Owen who got your now soaked wet hair out of your face. He slowly leaned down and was about to place his lips on yours when another sudden splash of water interrupted him. He groaned and as he looked down at the water noticed Momo slowly descending into the water. 

You only laughed at the annoyed expression on Owen’s face.

“Maybe take me on a date first, Mr. Grady, I think then she will approve.” you said as he finally looked back at you.

His eyes softened.

Maybe you will thank Claire later for sending Owen over. Who could have thought that two trainers would find each other on an island like that? 

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[dudeandduchess]

Love your writing! Can we get a history teacher AU? Maybe with some NSFW 👀 fellow teacher y/n always had the hots for Rengoku-sensei but never had the courage to say anything until one day, on his birthday, she finds him alone grading papers and everything just comes out

Hope you’re doing well!

Hey, bby! I’m doing well. Hope you like this one. ❤️‍🔥

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: After School Hours (Smut, Modern AU, NSFW Scenario)

Warnings: Smut, Semi-Public Sex (Library), Clothed Sex, Birthday Sex, Food Play (Body Icing)

Read part 2 here.

***

(Y/n)’s hands were so shaky as she tried her best to get herself from the faculty room, down to the library on the second floor. To say that she was frazzled and nervous would have been an understatement, as she had chosen that day to finally confess her feelings to the enigmatic History teacher— Rengoku Kyōjurō.

She had always harbored feelings for the blond, ever since she had first started at the academy. And even though the other teachers always kept teasing them about being too close to each other— as well as the other women telling her that he liked her— she still held on to the possibility that they were wrong.

After all, it was better to expect the worst; so that she wouldn’t be that disappointed when she received the truth.

The closer that she got to the library, however, the harder that her heart began to pound in her chest. And the more that she began to think that she shouldn’t be so bold.

She had even thought to turn back immediately, only to be plagued by thoughts of her regrets haunting her once she got home. (Y/n) didn’t want all of the ‘what-ifs’ from this one choice to haunt her forever.

After all, the worst that he could do was to thank her and give her a friendly hug.

At that thought, she quickly shook her head— clearing the worst case scenario from her mind— before pushing her legs to walk faster to the empty library.

She only knew that it was empty after having seen Kyōjurō stay there after class on most days. He would grade papers until the school closed down, instead of taking his work home with him.

And after asking him once why he preferred the library, he told her that it was the perfect place to do work; all because the students who did have tiny crushes on him never thought to check for him all the way at the back of the place.

‘Oh gods, I may just be worse than those students,’ (Y/n) thought in a panic, almost dropping the cupcake in her hands. But she managed to right herself at the last second, taking a deep breath in through her nose and exhaling it from her mouth.

“Okay, calm down, (Y/n).” The young woman tried to soothe herself, even going as far as to close her eyes for a brief moment, before stepping inside the library as quietly as she could.

One foot in front of the other— she kept making her legs move, until she was at the end of the aisle that led to the tables at the back of the library.

And right there, in all his handsome glory, was Kyōjurō— pen being twirled between his fingers, and eyes focused solely on the paper in his left hand.

Gingerly, (Y/n) fished the lighter from her skirt’s pocket and lit the tiny candle that she had stuck in the middle of the cupcake; one she’d baked the night before, and decorated with so many intricate designs— all for him.

“Rengoku-sensei,” She called softly, her voice even cracking at his name. Yet it had the blond looking up at her— eyes widening a fraction of an inch, while his lips curled up at the corners.

Kyōjurō felt absolutely flustered.

Especially when (Y/n) walked forward with the cupcake, eyes solely on him to block out the nerves that were trying to consume her.

Thankfully for her, he met her halfway; standing right in front of her, and turning all of his attention towards the woman who made his heart race— in the best way.

“Happy birthday, I baked it just for you,” (Y/n) managed to breathe out softly, before holding it up a little higher for him.

And her heart almost leapt out of her chest when Kyōjurō reached out with his right hand and gently wrapped it around her wrist— holding her shaky hands steady, as he leaned in and blew the candle out.

“Thank you, (Y/n)-sensei. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me,” Kyōjurō stated with a grin, even as his eyes momentarily flickered down to his co-teacher’s plump lips.

He was naught to admit it, but he had racked up so many nights just fantasizing about those lips on him; on any part of his body.

At first it had started as a simple crush for him, but it had evolved into something else; something much deeper than simple attraction. However, what the other male teachers had told him was that she already had someone she liked, so he had held himself back from confessing his own feelings.

Which was a surprise that she even sought him out on his birthday, when he fully expected her to have gone home with everyone else— as he wanted to finish work before celebrating with his family.

“I wanted to…” (Y/n) answered quietly, before swallowing past the lump in her throat and coming out with it. “Because I like you, Rengoku-sensei. I like you so much that I can’t get you out of my mind- and I- just… I want you!”

Mortified couldn’t even begin to describe just how (Y/n) felt at that botched confession. She could even feel her shame washing over her in waves; making her face and ears red, especially when she looked up and saw nothing but surprise on Kyōjurō’s face.

Instead of pushing her away like she had expected, the blond calmly took the cupcake from her hands and set it down on the table. All before closing the space between them, and staring right at her.

If she were to be honest, she would say that he looked a little… excited.

Gone was his exuberant attitude, and in its place came something much more attractive; a million times sexier than his usual persona.

“That’s great, (Y/n)-s… chan. Because I like you too… and I want you just as bad.” Kyōjurō finally admitted, feeling his own pulse racing as he gently cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to press his lips to hers.

When (Y/n) didn’t try to pull away from him, Kyōjurō decided to be a little more liberal with his touches; pulling her flush against his chest, before awkwardly spinning both of them around, so that he could sit her down on the table.

Thankfully, they had missed the cupcake entirely. Because a lightbulb just went on in his head, as he gently wedged himself between her thighs and began to caress her soft skin.

With every pass of his hands up her thighs, he pushed the hem of her skirt up little by little— making no effort to hide what his intentions were.

“I’ve always liked you, (Y/n).” A gentle kiss to her lips, before dragging his lips down to her neck and sucking on it. “And I’m so happy that you have the same feelings.”

If it was any other woman, Kyōjurō never would have touched them. But it was (Y/n), and he had been holding himself back for two years; that alone was torture for him, so he couldn’t keep himself from indulging in her immediately.

Before either of them could comprehend it, (Y/n) was already on her back on the table, with Kyōjurō kissing down her exposed chest and his fingers circling around her clit.

All the while, (Y/n) was in such bliss that she couldn’t even muster up any coherent thoughts. All she could do was moan and mewl as Kyōjurō kissed her all over.

When he pulled away for a bit, however, she was brought back to reality; keen eyes solely on him, as he reached over and swiped a little bit of the cupcake’s icing on his index finger.

Initially, she thought that it was weird for him to stop for a taste of that, until she realized his plan when he dabbed the icing on both of her nipples.

It was a little bit warm, but it was made all the warmer when Kyōjurō wrapped his lips around her right nipple; licking and sucking on the hard bud, while his index finger circled and teased the other one.

“Rengoku-sensei!” The young woman moaned out, one hand delving into his hair and curling into the soft strands. But Kyōjurō didn’t relent; not until her back was arching and her legs were wrapped around his hips.

It was obvious that she was cumming, and it gave Kyōjurō an all-time high at feeling her come apart beneath him. Especially since he wasn’t even inside her yet.

When she was calm and spent beneath him, the blond pulled away from her right nipple— making quick work of licking her left nipple clean— before pecking her lips.

“Do you want more, (Y/n)?” He asked with a grin, feeling his cock throb in his pants at how beautiful she looked post-orgasm.

He expected her to refuse, but was pleasantly surprised when she shook her head. “Please give me more.”

“Good girl.” The praise had just slipped out and made his lips tingle, but he paid it no mind as he quickly undid his belt and pants to pull his cock out.

Then, as gently as he could, he pulled her ass to the end of the table before pushing her skirt up all the way; groaning aloud at the sight of her panties being so soaked with her cum.

What made it better for him, however, was the fact that she was wearing red lace. As if she had worn it just for him.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it though— cock twitching with need, as he fully pushed the crotch of her panties aside and rubbed the tip of his dick up and down her slit.

“Please, sensei, no more teasing,” (Y/n) whined quietly, which only spurred Kyōjurō to give in to her.

So, slowly, he dragged the head of his cock all the way to her entrance and pushed inside her tight cunt. He almost buckled at how heavenly she felt around him, but held firmly to her hips before bottoming out in her.

His pace was gentle at first, getting her used to how thick he was, before beginning to really pound her against the table. He pushed in hard and fast, milking his own pleasure and adding to it by watching her expressions.

Because, it was guaranteed, that his current reality was better than all of his fantasies combined.

And it was made all the better with how he watched (Y/n) lose control— especially when he lifted her legs up onto his shoulders and held on tight to her ankles.

He just hoped that marks wouldn’t show up later, since he still had plans for both of them; mainly taking her home to meet his family.

***

BONUS:

After everything was said and done, with Kyōjurō’s cum slowly trickling out from (Y/n)’s cunt, he pulled her up to his chest— hugging her tight and pressing butterfly kisses to her neck. “You should get dressed, (Y/n). We have to go home with me.”

“But… why?” The young woman was confused, but she was too boneless after getting thoroughly fucked that her question fell flat.

“So that my family can meet my girlfriend, of course.”

“What? We just- I’m- Rengoku-sensei!” That had pulled (Y/n) out of her stupor immediately. Then, she hissed at him, “I’m still full of your cum! I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“I can lick it clean for you.” Kyōjurō was joking, he really was… at least at first. But he thought that eating her out wouldn’t be so bad. So, they stayed just a little bit longer in the library; much to (Y/n)’s chagrin.

[autumnklare]

thoughts about verity

Hey. Welcome to another session of talking to myself via this application. Do people still use this app? Well, I hope they do because this is the only app that I use where I am free to talk about stuff my friends don't usually care about.

For a second there, I thought I have lost this one because It has been awhile since I opened this app, and the main reason why I remembered that I have one was after I went back to reading.

First of all, I would like to thank the booktok community for always rummaging my tiktok feed and encouraging me to buy books I know I will never read--unless there's a storm and electricity's out and I have nothing else to do but read. But, that is of course a joke because as you all know (you don't), I am a literature major and it is part of my daily life to read (but not my preferred novels anyway!)

NOW, Verity is a book by my favorite author, Ms. Colleen Hoover whom I personally love and adore ever since I started reading her works, she literally was the one who save me from my years of reading slump jeez. The first book that I read from her was All Your Perfects which became my ultimate favorite, no one touch me I'm still crying whenever someone mentions me that book.

However, Verity pulled me from the dead and called me to read her so I did. If you haven't read the book and you're still here reading my random rants please get out because the next parts may contain spoilers!

SPOILERS AHEAD

The book began with Laura (i am not sure anymore?? I am so bad at remembering names) her mother just died from cancer, and she's off to continue her life after nursing her for how many months. Everything feels surreal after her first steps back from the outside world, but, she was offered a job, a proposal, in which she decided to attend to. Upon her way, she met this dashing man who swept her by her feet. (Well, he's handsome and he gave you his shirt) only to find out that the man will be his boss.

She was assigned/ chosen to continue the book of his wife, Verity which is a best-selling author because apparently she mastered the art of story-telling through the lens of the antagonists. Verity was in a car accident in which resulted to becoming her being brain dead, she could no longer finish her book so they had to hire a 'ghost-writer' or co-writer to finish the book. Well, our main character here was convinced upon a few kicks and push as the offer was huge and can help her continue her life.

So, Laura proceeded. She was invited to Verity's house so that she could do her research, read Verity's previous series, and look for footnotes, journals, everything that can help her continue the stories, but upon investigating, a very special manuscript landed her eyes--it was Verity's autobiography.

At first, Low felt that it was too personal to read, but she later on convinced herself that it might help her write, to read what's on Verity's mind, so she did. The manuscript contained everything that she need to completely freak out and question her position in that house. "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH AND WHY DOES SHE THINK LIKE THIS?" that kind of level.

Bitch when I was reading the book, YOU HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT THE NUMBER OF TIMES I YELLED AT HER TO FUCKING QUIT, because If I was her, the moment that Verity stared at me from a far, from her room through the window, I would have packed my bags immediately and run. I swear.

The manuscript contained how Verity met her husband Jeremy, how their relationship revolved around sex, and how they can't get their hands off each other. She was obsessed. Until she got pregnant and how she did everything to kill those kids because she never wanted them in the first place, she was obsessed to the fact that she was too afraid that her husband's attention will focused on their children (which is the obvious thing to do, duh). But like I've said, the bitch was crazy. She never loved anyone else except her husband.

I think the scene that traumatized me the most was when she tried to kill Harper, one of the twins, how she fucking shoved her fingers inside that baby's mouth--that I'm still fucking picturing up to this day because it literally broke my heart, poor Harper and Chastin.

But, I think I have lost my mind when she finally confessed in her manuscript that she purposely planned to kill Harper at the lake. The way she fucking whispered to Crew to hold his breath as she knew the canoe will turn backward. She left Harper there to die.

You guys have no idea how my mind cried when both of her twins died and all she could fucking think was why her husband's not fucking her anymore, like bitch. You need therapy.

Well, eventually, Jeremy finally found out about the truth and killed her for killing Harper. (I'm not going to lie but I was opposed to that idea, but okay..) anyway, moving on because I am already tired from typing this and I'm doing my best to shortcut the story since it is only I that will be reading this anyway and I'm just looking for excuses to rant my thoughts.

A few months after Verity died, Low found out that she was pregnant with Jeremy, but they had to go back to Verity's house first as Jeremy finally decided to sell the property, and now they are just there to gather up a few more of his remaining things to finally start their new life.

Crew have said something to Low that made her look. Low fiugured that there is a hidden cabinet on the floor where Verity used to hide her knife, and it was a letter-- addressed to Jeremy. In that letter she said that the manuscript is not true, and it was just a exercise that was given to her by her publisher so that she could continue writing her stories on the same perspectives. When Low read that, guilt swallowed her completely as she knew that they killed her. But still, she decided to throw that shit up because she knew it will destroy her growing family.

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT HERE IS MY FINAL RANT.

At first, I don't know which side I should take because that motherfucking manuscript was detailed and shocking. The details the she put in was extraordinary, Verity is really good at painting characters in a bad light, which is perfect for her as like I've said, she writes book in the perspective.

I am mindblown with the idea of how obsessed she is to her husband, how she fucking hated being pregnant, how she tried killing her babies when they were still inside her, and how she tried to kill Harper after having a nightmare.

I am so heartbroken for her twins, when she decided to favor only Chastin and ignored Harper all her life, I am devastated of how she only cares about sex, and to please Jeremy when in fact that wasn't even Jeremy wanted-- her husband wanted to build a connection, a life, a communication, a language in which both of them can only understand, but instead, she was just focused on the idea of giving pleasure-- that's all she knows.

Now, that letter. I know for a fact that she only wrote that letter because first of all, she was not brain dead, she did that because she thought her husband can take care of her after finally losing the twins, she did that because she watched how her husband fell in love with a new woman inside her house, how he fucked her knowing she was upstairs-- she did the letter because it was her only way out.

She knew that Low will be the one to find the letter, because she knew how anxious Low was in the first place, how Low discovered Crew holding that knife in her bed, how she fucking searched that knife but it suddenly disappeared. She knew that Low knows that she's alive and okay.

That was her way of revenge, tormenting, manipulating and guilt-tripping Low even if she's already dead. Because how will that fucking letter defend the fact that Crew was so scared to talk bout Verity in front of Low that he fucking bit the knife which caused for his mouth to bleed, because Crew was too afraid that he'll get punished. And don't get me started to the bruise on Chastin's cheek.

In the end, I am no longer neutral, I am proud that I am team manuscript, good night.

[thetravelerwrites]

Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine​​! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[teasty]

kiss yourself (01) | h.js (m)

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader 

● genre: angst, smut, fluff  ||  fwb to lovers au 

● warnings: consumption of alcohol | degradation + praise | reader and jisung are not in a relationship at the beginning! | choking | semi - public sex | suggestive dialogue | profanity | hair pulling |

● words: 6.9k ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ summary: 

It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules. 

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship. 

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately. 

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: first story here :D my dirty mind couldn’t resist smut so here we go

CHAPTER ONE | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

“Oh, fuck, baby… you feel so fucking good.”

It was a stupid way to start of a weird relationship with one of your best friends, Han Jisung. A stupid way to let yourself succumb to his stupid antics and a stupid way to let him be more than a friend, but less than a lover. 

It was a few months ago, and your second year of university was just starting up. Jisung had convinced you to go to some party the week before school would start. But, you were reluctant at first. Unlike Jisung, you were never too much of a party animal. Never too much of a social person to begin with. Jisung was another story entirely. He would always be out late and wouldn’t go back to his house or his dorm room until late, according to his roommate, Jeongin (who thankfully kept tabs on Jisung for you whenever you were suspicious that Jisung wasn’t telling the truth to you and would go out to some party, when he would tell you that he’s just going to meet up with other friends. You didn’t want to overbear him, but you worried for his health at times). 

It was your first party, too. You had never bothered going to one in high school, not wanting to be crowded by drunk teenagers, being thrown up on or spilled on, or watching two people fuck in the corner of the room. It was never your go - to, but Jisung had convinced you to go after he promised that he’d never leave your side, even if he was being dragged away by “some hot chick trying to hop on his dick”. Even if you had wanted to say no, you couldn’t get a “no” past his pleading eyes. So, you had hesitantly agreed to go, and he was beyond excited to take you to your first party. 

He even helped you pick out an outfit, and had taken hours finding the right one for the occasion. You’d never been very fashionable, unlike Jisung, who usually decked out in expensive clothes and accessories (you preferred comfortable, classic clothes like hoodies and leggings instead of skin - tight jeans and overly designed shirts). Jisung had basically tore your closet apart trying to find the “right outfit”. It was tiring, but you will admit that you had fun with trying on new clothes and hearing the praise from Jisung. He had eventually chosen an outfit for you that you felt quite uncomfortable in, but nonetheless beautiful. You had worn a tight pair of black leather pants, a maroon red tank top (that was tucked into the leather pants) and a black jacket. You will admit that it was sexy, and Jisung seemed to like it. 

A lot. 

But, he claimed that guys there would be drooling over you and trying to sleep with you, but he’d be there to keep you safe. Even so, you wondered why he’d make you wear such an outfit to a party if he was only going to keep you away from a one night stand, one you wouldn’t even remember anyways. He did claim that he wanted you to ‘keep your innocence’, which was total bullshit since he knew you weren’t a virgin (you lost it to some jock in high school who had been eyeing you during a football game) and definitely not innocent, as you both liked to constantly make dirty jokes here and there. 

The party was at some rich kid’s house, and their parents were out of town. Their house was gorgeous and big, but filled to the brim with loud university students, some you had even recognised as your classmates. Jisung had kept his hand interlocked with yours as he pulled you through the crowd at the entrance and to the living room, where there was a table full of food and drinks, and even a cliche bowl of spiked punch. You were glad not as many people crowded the table, but Jisung obviously had some friends there, since he hugged one of them before going back to you. 

“Hey, Hyunjin. Felix. Have you guys met (Y/N)?” Was the first thing he had said to them, and you were somewhat flustered by the sudden attention. But you suspected that you should have expected that kind of attention, since Jisung seemed oh - so excited that he’s taking you to a party. 

“I don’t think we have,” said one of the two. You were taken aback by how deep his voice was. It wasn’t forced either, his voice was so relaxed, you almost felt like you’d be pulled into a deep sleep if you were to listen to his voice for hours. He was handsome, too. His bleached hair was a little long, but not as long as the other man’s, with brown roots peaking through the top of his head. “The name’s Lee Felix. I didn’t know Jisung kept such pretty friends away from us.” 

“Oh, don’t be a flirt,” says the other man with long hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. You had concluded that he was Hyunjin, if the other was Felix, “And, no. I think I’ve seen you around though. But not in… those types of clothes.” 

“Yeah, and you call me a flirt?” Felix cocks a brow at Hyunjin, who only glares back. 

“It’s not flirting if it’s just stating a fact. I’ve seen her around… but in oversized hoodies and leggings,” Hyunjin counters. 

“Alright, alright, pipe down,” Jisung interferes, stopping what would have become a petty argument about who’s flirting and who’s not. “Well, since you both can’t make a decent introduction… (Y/N), this is Felix,” he points to the man with the deep voice, “and this is Hwang Hyunjin. I think you guys might be in the same chemistry class last year, am I right?” 

“Oh, yeah…!” Hyunjin claps his hands together, “You’re the one who nearly blew up the whole class! Oh, I remember, now.” Hyunjin and Felix laugh together, and Jisung gives you a weird look. 

“It’s a long story,” you sigh, chuckling along with their contagious laughter, “Let’s just say that I was too tired to function and got mixture A mixed up with mixture B and almost made a really severe chemical reaction. I don’t think it would have blown up the whole school, though.” You fold your arms, and Hyunjin shrugs his shoulder.  

“Who knows,” Hyunjin says, and you squint at him. “I’m not a chemistry genius, but it could have been bad. That’s not the point. I’m glad to meet you, (Y/N). I hope we can be closer.” 

“Ditto,” Felix smiles down at you, and you chuckle awkwardly, flustered, “You seem like an interesting person. How did you and Jisung meet?” 

“We used to be neighbors, like, a decade ago,” Jisung answers for you, leaning against the table filled with drinks and food, “Since we were the same age, we stuck together. Even after I moved again, we still talked like every day over the phone until university hit. Thankfully we got into the same school, and we both are going to live on campus, so… It’s been a lot easier.” 

“Surprised you two were able to stay close even through distance,” Felix comments, and you and Jisung share a brief look and smile, “Not a lot of people are able to hold a strong relationship when the only thing they have is a phone or computer. Take Hyun for example, he couldn’t stay friends with this one chick even if he tried.” 

“Wasn’t my fault she sucked at holding conversations. She always expected me to make up all the interesting shit. Kinda glad she ghosted me, now,” Hyunjin laughs, almost defensively, as if embarrassed by such a situation. 

“It was your fault for trying to cling to her,” Jisung intervenes.  

“Oh shut up, shortstack,” Hyunjin grumbles, and Jisung’s brows raise in challenge. 

“Say that again, pretty boy, I dare you,” Jisung threatens, and you glare over at him, but he didn’t seem to care for your glare. Hyunjin and Jisung did end up getting into a petty argument about it and you had to stop it by asking Jisung to show you around the place. But, not before trading numbers with Felix and Hyunjin, since they insisted that they wanted to get to know you better (Felix still grumbling irritably about how Jisung kept “such a pretty friend” away from them for so long). You wouldn’t deny new friends, even if they were Jisung’s party animal friends and flirtatious, it didn’t really matter to you. You could use some new friends, anyways. 

You had met a few more of Jisung’s friends (who all seemed to be so handsome that your heart would race every time they’d smile down at you or talk to you), three seniors,Seo Changbin, Lee Minho and Christopher Bang, and another, younger man named Seungmin. Out of all of them, Seungmin and Christopher seemed the most genuine. Minho, Felix, Changbin and Hyunjin just seemed pretty flirtatious. You could admit that you were intimidated by them, and by the party in general, but with Jisung next to you the whole way, you had at least some sense of security. 

Your first drink of the night wasn’t until a few hours into the party. You were a little bit more comfortable with the setting. Jisung had sat you down in one of the living rooms, as you learned there were many. Not as many people were in this room other than people talking or flirting. It felt nice to finally sit down on such a comfortable couch, since you had been standing on heels the whole night, and relax. Jisung had already had a few mixed drinks, and you could see his face getting redder and redder due to the alcohol. 

He handed you a plastic red cup filled with something orange that stunk of different kinds of liquor. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too strong,” Jisung reassured, and you huffed softly. A bit nervous to drink it, but you did, anyway. It wasn’t terrible, but you could taste the liquor clearly through the citrusy taste. Jisung watched you as your face grew from confused to scrunched up from the bitter taste. You had alcohol before, but every time you had it, it was like the first time all over again. But, when you got used to the taste, the cup was empty in a flash. 

You didn’t know when it started kicking in, but after you had Jisung fetch more drinks and you tried to stand up, you immediately plopped back onto the couch as an instant wave of fatigue washed over you. Your head started to ache, and it was getting warmer than it should have been. Sure, it was nearly the end of summer, but it was like someone shut off the air conditioning. So, you took off your jacket while waiting for Jisung to come back. It felt like forever until he came back, and you instinctively began to miss him. He’d stayed by your side the whole night, and it was weird without him. It was lonely, too, even if there were other people in the same room. You were too nervous to talk to them, though.  

When he did, and handed the drink to you, the minute he had sat down, you clung to him. 

“Woah, you alright?” Jisung laughs it off as you take the red cup in one hand and the other latching around his strong bicep. You were never usually one for skinship, but now was a different story. Each time you looked at Jisung, you felt like he was going to magically disappear. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol that made you so anxious or just you being lonely, but you weren’t really going to let go anytime soon. At first, Jisung was tense, and it took him a minute to get used to you huddling so close to him. 

Like the first, the cup you had was empty sooner rather than later, even though Jisung advised you to sip on it instead of gulping it down, like you had been. After that drink, you didn’t order him to get another drink, you were too focused on the feeling of his bicep to ask for another. 

“You can’t be drunk after two mixed drinks,” Jisung said after a while. 

“Not drunk… just a bit tipsy, is all,” you responded, more of a low grunting than a talking voice. You liked how you could hear Jisung’s voice loud and clear the closer you were to him. 

“Sure. Your tolerance isn’t very high, you know,” Jisung chuckles, and your body moves along with the bounce of his for each laugh. You only grunted in response, having already known that. “And, by the way, you don’t have to cling onto me like that. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Shut up,” you snapped, but you didn’t really want him to. You just didn’t want him to talk about you letting him go, since you didn’t want to. To prove your point, you squeezed harder onto his arm, “I’m comfy. Lemme have this moment.” Jisung deeply sighs and complies. After that, there’s a comfortable silence. 

You were staring at the way your legs pressed against his as his legs relaxed in a (hot) manspread. His head leaned back, slightly tilted towards yours, which was squished against his shoulder. His hand rested delicately against your thigh, not moving much but sometimes his hand would press against your thigh. It was nice, and you could faintly hear his heartbeat. 

You and Jisung weren’t strangers to cuddling, as you both had a lot of sleepovers before (with a strict talking to from your parents about having sex, and why not to do it), but this was different. Almost intimate. You’re both adults now, so cuddling like you would years ago when you were both barely teenagers wouldn’t be so innocent. Especially with Jisung’s obvious sex drive, things wouldn’t go so well. You both had never done anything like that, either. You both have never even kissed before. Well, there were times when he’d kiss your cheek or hand and vise versa, but nothing more than a peck and nothing more than that. 

You wouldn’t deny your attraction to Jisung. You couldn’t really see yourself in a serious relationship with him, but damn is he attractive. He really matured over the years, too. His beautiful brown hair is in need of a cut, but you liked it a bit long. He might not be the tallest man alive, but his face made up for it. Even if he had the cheeks of a chipmunk, his jawline was as sharp as a knife. You could stare at him for hours, just admiring how he was built. You wondered if he felt the same about you. If he could stare at you for hours just admiring your beauty. Of course, it would probably never even cross his mind, even if Jisung would say how pretty you looked with a specific hairdo or how you looked beautiful in a certain outfit. 

You found yourself staring at him as your thoughts carried on. Your arm unhooked from around his, and you watched how his eyes were closed. He looked like he was sleeping, but you could tell he wasn’t by the way his hand gripped you just above your knee. You were staring at him, and then at his neck. The way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. 

Your mind grew hazy, void of thought as your lips parted slightly, your breath fanning his neck. His hand squeezed harder around your leg and you could faintly see his brows furrow. He doesn’t do anything nor say anything, but you watch as his bottom lip catches in between his teeth. You want more of a reaction. You don’t know why and you can’t form a reason why, but you do. You push yourself a little bit further until your lips connect just underneath his jaw. Your warm tongue pressing against his warm skin. You can feel how his hand trembles and the way his leg twitches underneath your own. Jisung emits a breathy groan, and you can feel it against your tongue. 

“(Y/N)...” Jisung musters out, but you only press wet, slow kisses along the side of his neck, “What the fuck are you doing?” His voice is deeper, raspier and darker. Almost scary. If you weren’t so blank in the mind, you would think he’s mad. But all you can think about is urging him on further. You don’t want to answer him. You don’t have an answer to begin with. 

“Just relax,” You whisper closely to his ear, nipping at the skin below his ear, and he sharply inhales. At this point, you don’t care who’s watching or why you’re doing this. The soft, breathy sounds Jisung emits makes you feel different, and the feeling of his warm skin against your tongue is addicting. “Don’t push me away.” You whisper again, one of your hands creeping up over his defined chest and along his neck. 

“You have no fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into,” Jisung groans out, and you only chuckle against him. Briefly halting your wet kisses to his neck to smile lazily. “I’m being serious, (Y/N).” You know he’s serious just by the tone of his voice. 

“Mmm…” was all you responded with as you pressed your body against the side of his. Your hand gripping his shirt as your leg creeps over his more and more. Edging yourself on top of him. “Sunggie…” you teased him by groaning his nickname into his neck. Sucking gently on his skin, giving it a blue and purple hue. You gave him multiple marks, and his hand caressed your arm gently as you breathily moan his name against his neck, “Sunggie… Jisung - ah.”

And that seemed to break him. His hand snaps up to grip your cheeks, aggressively pulling your head away from him to make you look him in the eyes. And it’s a look you’ve never seen in him before. It wasn’t anger or disgust in his half lidded eyes, but a pure sense of utter lust and desire. His hand grips your chin, his fingers pressing against your cheek as his eyes examine your face. His face is a pretty pink from the alcohol and you guessed from him blushing. Now, you’re on top of him. Straddling his lap, and you can feel his hard - on underneath you. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, (Y/N). I’m giving you one last chance before I take you back to my place and break you,” Jisung says, and you liked this side of him. Sure, you’ve seen him being aggressive, but not like this. No, this is different. You don’t have much courage to speak, so all you can do is let your tongue fall out of your mouth and guide his index finger in between your lips. His mouth parts slightly in shock as he watches your mouth engulf his finger. 

“Fine, you wanna be like that,” Jisung brows furrow, and he stands up quickly, and you let out a yelp as his hand yanks itself from your mouth as both of his hands latch around your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck, “We’re going home.” 

It wasn’t easy, leaving without being spotted by one of Jisung’s friends. Felix had come over to see us when he saw Jisung’s arm wrapped around you as your head stuffed into his neck (teasingly kissing his neck). “Oi, Jisung. Everything good?” 

“Yep,” Jisung gives Felix a convincing smile, and you smile against his neck, “I’m taking (Y/N) home. She got a bit too crazy tonight.” 

“Really? She’s been pretty quiet,” Felix notes. 

“Well, she has her different sides to her,” Jisung laughs, “Uh, yeah, well, I gotta get her home, Felix. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Let Hyunjin and everyone else know that I’m leaving.” 

“Alright, I’ll catch you later, bud. Take care of her for me, alright?” 

“Oh, I will,” Jisung smiles, and you squeezed tighter onto him. 

After that, it was foggy. All you could remember was how Jisung treated you. Calling you dirty things all while praising you. Making sure you were alright while tearing you apart blissfully. 

It was the next morning where everything was decided. 

You were the first to wake up, having the sun shining brightly in your face. You had a blazing headache, and you could feel your head pulsing that morning. You couldn’t even open your eyes after you woke up because it hurt so bad. You hadn’t even considered where you were or why you were completely nude at first. But, when it hit you that there was only a thin, soft blanket covering you, you had the courage to open your eyes and see where you were. 

It was a familiar room, that’s for sure. The bed was much bigger than your own, and you usually had more pillows and blankets than this, so it wasn’t your room. It didn’t really hit you where you were before you looked to your side. You nearly screamed when you saw Han Jisung, your best friend laying next to you. His back turned to you, and completely shirtless. You held the blanket around your chest. You stared at him for a moment, brief memories of last night running through your mind. You wanted to cry as embarrassment and shame powered through you, but a sense of want overpowering it. A part of you didn’t want this to be just a one - time thing. 

“Jisung!” You whispered, nudging his shoulder. He didn’t budge, “Han Jisung! Han Jisung - ah, wake up!” Your voice raised as you shook him, “Jisung!” 

“What, what? Is everything okay?” Jisung bolts up after you yell his name. Sitting up straight, he hisses when the sun makes contact with the sun. His hand rubs his eye, and you try not to note the scratch marks on his back, the hickeys littering his neck and chest or how he was just as naked as you, only being covered by the comfort of the thin blanket. “Fuck, (Y/N), don’t scare me like that.” 

“Why are you acting so calm?” You didn’t raise your voice, as your head ached terribly because of it, “Look at me Jisung.” 

And, so he did. He looks up. He didn’t seem as tired, as he saw the blue and purple hickeys lining your neck and what he could see of your breasts as well as red scratch marks on your shoulders. You both don’t say anything for a while. You’re both an uncomfortable distance away from each other, and you didn’t want to admit that you wanted to cry right there. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung is the first to say something after that tense silence, and your brows furrow, “I… I shouldn’t have… I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll… I’ll.” 

“Why are you sorry?” You asked softly, and Jisung seemed hasty. His hands were trembling as he gripped the blanket, and he didn’t make eye contact with you. 

“I shouldn’t have done anything to you. Everything’s ruined now,” Jisung’s head dips, “I shouldn’t have let the stupid alcohol guide me. Fuck, (Y/N), I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Hey, nothing’s going to change between us,” You crawl towards him, still keeping the blanket firm around you as your free hand cups his cheek and lifts it up towards you. “It was both of our faults…” Jisung stares up at you, “I was the one to make the first move. If anything, it was my fault.” You let go of his face, as he watches as you sit on your feet. You swallow the lump in your throat, and utter out, “And, besides… I don’t regret anything.” Jisung’s mouth falls open, and his brows lift in what you can guess is shock, “I might not remember all of it, but I how you made me feel.” 

There’s another silence, both of you staring at each other. 

“I want to feel it again.” 

Jisung didn’t answer right away, but his bottom lip got entrapped between his teeth subtly. 

“You don’t know that,” Jisung whispers, “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“Of course I do,” your brows furrow, almost angrily. “I know what I’m saying, Jisung. And I’m saying that I don’t want this to be just a once in a lifetime thing and never think of it again.” You look away, resting against Jisung’s headboard. “I know that we don’t share romantic feelings for each other. I know that, Jisung.” You look over to him, “So, I want benefits.” 

“You mean…? Friends with benefits?” Jisung musters out in a low, unsure voice, “I don’t know, (Y/N). I don’t want to ruin this friendship.” 

“But, that’s the whole point of it, Jisung,” you chuckle, “I know that you don’t want our friendship to weaken, and neither do I. But, Jisung, I’ve always been attracted to you. Not exactly like I want to be your girlfriend, but I want you in some way. I just don’t know if you feel the same way, so I’m saying it now. Do you want me, Han Jisung?” 

He doesn’t answer right away, which makes you nervous of his answer. But, his answer satisfies you, thankfully; “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I hate to admit it, but I do. I couldn’t resist last night.” 

“I know. It was my fault for urging you to do that even when you warned me not to,” you chuckle. 

And, from then on, you two concluded that whenever someone needs to let off stress or steam in the form of sex, the other should be open for it. Of course, there’d be rules along with it. You didn’t want this to just be a ‘come by for sex and leave’ kind of thing, or thinking the other is romantically attracted to the other so you wanted to make some ground rules. Jisung agreed, thankfully. 

There were four rules. Number One was that no one is to hear about this relationship. Not only would it cause rumors amongst school and your friends, you both agreed that it should be kept top - secret. Besides, you both didn’t want people to think you’re both in a secret relationship and that it’s more than just a friends with benefits type of relationship. 

Number Two was that the minute one of you gets into a serious relationship with someone, all benefits cease. This one is quite obvious. Neither of you wanted to be defined as a cheater if either of you do end up in a relationship with someone else. No matter how much the other person wants it, if one of you is in a serious relationship, until that relationship ends and both are single, there’s no sexual activity. 

Number Three was that both had to respect each other’s wishes entirely. No matter how bad they want it or how horny they might be, if the other person is uncomfortable with something or doesn’t want to have sex, then the other must respect their wishes. Again, no matter how horny or how much they want a certain thing. This also leads to a safe word between the two of you, which was just basic yellow and red. Yellow being to slow down or to take a short break and red being to stop completely without argument. 

And finally, Number Four was that there’s no falling in love. This one was actually Jisung’s idea. Everything else was yours. You agreed with him, but was still skeptical about it. If you did catch feelings, you’d have to hide it. Jisung seemed pretty serious about it, though, which kind of scared you.

And, those four rules led to the present day, months after this event. You lean against a family bathroom sink with Jisung’s fingers curled around your hair, keeping your head up to watch him in the mirror as he slowly pushed himself into you. Your leggings and panties barely pushed down past your ass as Jisung undid his belt and pushed his pants down. Not even prepping you before he pushes himself into you. His cock, covered by the condom, which he had learned to always carry around, slowly dragging against your wet, oversensitive walls. 

He’d been teasing you all day in the movie theatre he’d taken you to with his friends. While watching the movie alongside Hyunjin, Felix and Christopher, he was slowly playing with your clit, edging you on and on. Finally, the movie ended and after half an hour of pure torture from Jisung’s sinful hands, you dragged him to the family bathroom (which was one bathroom with a lockable door). He didn’t even hesitate before bending you over the sink, making you watch him and yourself as he fucks himself into you painfully slow. 

“Oh, fuck, baby… you feel so fucking good.” 

You delicately whimper at the sound of his words from behind you as he fills you. Jisung liked to call you by pet names during sex, like baby, babygirl or babe (anything with baby in it, really). 

“Oh, fuck… I’m not gonna go slow, baby.” Jisung warns the minute his pelvis presses against your ass. 

“I don’t care,” you groan in response, eyeing him in the reflection in the mirror, “Break me, Jisung. You’ve been teasing me all fucking day - oh my god!” you would have screamed if it wasn’t for Jisung stuffing the end of your hoodie into your mouth before his hands grip your waist before pulling out and ramming himself back into you. Once his hand lets go of your hair, your head dips down in pure bliss. Your teeth grinding against the fabric of your hoodie and your hands gripping the sink. 

“I know you like it, baby,” Jisung grunts out as he starts to thrust into you, “I know how much you like it when I play with your little pussy in front of everybody like the little fucking slut you are. I know you like it, baby.” You let out choked moans at his words. The degrading words only make you wetter as you move your body back to meet with his thrusts. One of your hands reaches back to grip his wrist as Jisung’s hands dig into your hips to move your body with him. The way his cock rammed into your tight cunt burned in a blissfully sinful way. 

Jisung had pulled your tank top and bra underneath your breasts so he could lean over you to play with them harshly. His hands gripping your bare, warm breasts as his chest presses against your back. His head presses against your shoulder as he breathes heavily against your neck. His tongue occasionally jutting out to lick stripes up your sensitive neck. Sucking gently on your skin, trying not to leave too many marks.  

“Fuck, fuck…” Jisung curses breathily, and you try your best not to scream as he ruts into you as if it were the last time he’d ever have the chance to fuck you again. Your saliva coats the part of the hoodie that stayed in your mouth for you to bite onto. Your hands weakly grip the sink to try and hold you up, but your legs can barely hold your waist. “Oh… my god, babygirl.” Jisung sweetly moans into your ear. 

Your mouth opens to let the hoodie fall out of your mouth, and you utter out, “Jisung… Jisung I can’t… oh, fuck… I can’t stand.” Jisung is quick to fix the situation by turning you around so that you’re sitting on the sink, legs thrown over his shoulder and your back and head leaning against the mirror as he fucks himself into you. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to grip onto your neck, but careful not to let off air flow, just pressing his fingers on either side of your neck as he rams himself into you. Your hands creeped up to grip his wrist, which only seemed to make Jisung more and more confident.  

He pressed his hand against your core, slowly down slightly to allow himself to focus on pressing his thumb against your extremely sensitive and extremely erect clit. The minute his thumb makes contact with your sensitive bud, waves of pleasure and chills run through you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as your back arches up, your nails digging into Jisung’s arm. 

“Oh my fucking god, Jisung!” You pitifully cry out, trying your very best to contain your moans so no lingering ears would hear. But, it was getting difficult with Jisung’s hard cock thrusting ever so quickly into you and his thumb pressing firmly against your clit as his hand wraps around your neck. 

“Shh… babygirl, you don’t want anyone to hear, do you?” Jisung chuckles darkly as he looks down at you, no mercy in his eyes as you clench around him. Beyond sensitive to every touch. “I want you to cum on my cock, but be as quiet as you can, baby. Try and be quiet, but I want you to cum.” His hands move from your neck to your mouth, his middle and ring finger slipping between your lips and pressing down against your tongue. 

The moment his hips start to stagger and his thumb pressed harder and harder against your sensitive clit, your hip bucks violently as you feel your climax approaching. Jisung doesn’t slow down when he feels your warm walls clench around him tightly. He speeds up despite how his hips falter and tense as his own orgasm edges up, you let out a series of high pitched moans, muffled by Jisung’s finger, and Jisung lets out a string of low groans against your neck. His thumb softens against your clit, rubbing small circles to ease you out of your climax. 

Your stomach twitches as Jisung pulls out of you, his thumb finally coming off your clit to gently press against your abdomen as he eases out of you. You let out a sigh as let your body relax once Jisung’s no longer in you. His fingers pull out of your mouth to deal with the condom, and you catch your breath. Your hands clutching the sink as your legs stay limp on his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“You made such a fucking mess. How horny were you?” Jisung teases as he eyes the cum and pure wetness still seeping out of you. You glare at him. 

“Very. And it’s your fault.” You snap, and Jisung raises his hands in defense. 

“Hey, guilty as charged,” Jisung chuckles and pulls up his underwear and pants, not bothering to tighten the belt around him before he reaches over to grab paper towels to help clean you up. 

“Still. You were the one teasing me during the movie,” you utter out as Jisung wipes away the cum with the paper towel, “Couldn’t even focus on it. You seemed to enjoy every bit of it, though.” 

“You know it,” Jisung jokingly winks at you, and you playfully hit his head. 

Once he’s finished cleaning you, you get off the sink to pull up your underwear and your pants, sighing deeply at the sore feeling in your core. “Fuck… Jisung, you’re carrying me back to my dorm.” Jisung couldn’t argue with you, since you’d always have the upperhand, especially since Jisung knows he can become an animal when fucking you, and usually blames it on ‘not being able to hold back’. 

“As you wish, princess,” he teasingly calls you, and you glare at him as he buckles his belt before turning his back to you and crouching down for you to get onto his back. 

When you do, he unlocked the door and started heading out, both of you not really caring for the wandering eyes of people who were curious why two adults came walking out of the family bathroom. Luckily, Felix, Hyunjin and Christopher were all gone, since you couldn’t spot them anywhere. The movie theatre was in the center of a mall, so you had suspected they were somewhere, roaming the stores of the mall. 

“I swear, I’m going to have arms bigger than Changbin’s at some point. Having to carry you everywhere,” Jisung complains, and you groan. 

“It’s not my fault all you do is go rough,” you counter, and you can see Jisung roll his eyes, “Maybe if you were a bit more gentle you wouldn’t have to carry me. But, hey, you need the workout.” 

“Do you not like it rough?” Jisung teases.  

“I never said that,” you mutter, and Jisung laughs triumphantly. 

At first, things were a bit awkward between the two of you, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t until Jisung was knocking on your dorm room door at three in the morning and railed you while your roommate was out grabbing groceries (at three in the morning? You didn’t know why, either.) because he had just gotten into a fight with one of his friends and “needed to let off steam”. After that, everything even related to the benefits you both have turned into a normal thing, and you both seemed to get even closer with each other. You both could talk about information that would be considered weird between normal friends, but since you’ve both seen each other completely nude over a dozen times, it wasn’t as weird anymore. 

“But I don’t just like it rough, you know? If it’s intimate and slow, then I don’t care,” you sighed, resting your chin comfortably on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t respond. In fact, he frowns at you. Why? You had no clue. All the more, it was a silent walk back to the dorm buildings. Jisung dropped you off at your dorm, and your roommate, a geeky, yet strange, girl named Jeo Jeongja thanked Jisung for taking you home. 

“And, by the way, (Y/N),” Jisung said before leaving, and you raise a brow as you climb up onto your bed, “I expect you to meet me at the D.R. tomorrow night. Jeongin’s gonna be outta town for the weekend.” Jisung winks at you, and your breath catches in your throat. 

D.R. was your secret word for ‘dorm room’. Since saying directly, especially in front of others, that you’re going over to a boy’s dorm room when they’re roommates going to be out of town is suspicious to say the least, you both decided to come up with that. 

“Are you alright with that?” Jisung asks, his tone lacing with a delicate worry. 

“Definitely,” you shoot him a playful smile. 

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. See ya, Jeongja,” Jisung waves at Jeongja, who gave him a subtle wave back, not really interested or immersed in the short lived conversation you and Jisung were having. And with that, Jisung left, closing the door behind him. 

There’s a subtle silence between you and Jeongja. You both might be roommates, but you could never really consider her a friend. The most you two talk to each other is when you help each other study with whatever topic. Once Jisung leaves, Jeongja sits up on her bed and stares at you with a playful smile. 

“Oh my god, I don’t get how you’re not crushing on him” Jeongja giggles. 

“He’s my best friend,” you sigh, laying down on your pillows to try and soothe the ache in your gut from your last session with Jisung, “I could never picture myself with him, you know. If you want him, have at it. But, be warned, he is a player.” 

“Oh. I know that much,” Jeongja laughs shortly. You should’ve known, since Jeongja seemed to have ears all around the school. Every rumor eventually gets to her, and through your ears, whether you want to hear about it or not, “I heard he’s been fucking with most of the popular girls.” 

“Oh, really now?” your brows raise. For some reason, it sparks an angry flame in you. Sure, you might not be in love with him, but the fact that you both have an intimate relationship makes you jealous when you hear that he’s been with other girls, but you try not to show it as much. 

Jeongja shrugs a shoulder, “Just what’s been going around. I only report what I hear. And, apparently, Jisung knows all of the rumors. He just hasn’t said anything about it.” 

“Well, he hasn’t talked to me about it,” you sigh, taking your phone out of your pocket, debating whether or not to talk to Jisung about what you're hearing. After a few brief moments of staring at your locked phone, you decide against it and let it fall onto your stomach. “Do you mind keeping me updated on this shit?” 

“Why? Is someone jealous?” Jeongja wiggles her shoulders and brows at you, smirking. 

“Hell no,” you groan, your head falling back, and you rub your eyes. Exhaustion crashing over you, “I’m going to bed, Jeongja. Do whatever you want, but don’t turn the lights back on.” You get up briefly to shut the lights off before climbing back under your blankets, slipping off your bra. 

“But, it’s only nine!” 

“I don’t give a shit. I’m tired.” 

But, a part of you wasn’t. A part of you was beyond eager for what Jisung had in mind for tomorrow. Your aching core began to throb at the thoughts.

[attllhak]

Surface Too Soon .2

@tortilla-of-courage and also @emenerd because apparently this story is getting a proper tag list now!

So, here’s chapter 2, featuring Zelda and Fi. I’m actually pretty happy with how I managed to write Fi here. I was worried I’d have trouble with her considering how different of a character she is from any other character I’ve written before.

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Chapter 2: Chasing Fi

There was something familiar about this woman, though Zelda didn’t know what or why.

“You are not Master Link,” the woman said, meeting Zelda’s eyes, voice gentle but robotic.

“Link, he’s alive?” She asked.

The woman ignored her, looking back around the walls. “I do not sense my master here. Proceeding to search elsewhere.”

“Hey, wait!” Zelda shouted, running after the woman as she floated away. “Wait, come back! Why are you looking for Link?”

The woman ignored her, floating out through the door of the academy. Zelda nearly ran into the door, grabbing at the handles and yanking it open, running out into clear, cool night.

She scanned the area, spotting the woman floating off a ways away.

Zelda jumped from the roof, landing in a roll and keeping up her chase.

“Hey! Wait!” She shouted, finding it hard to keep pace. “Why are you looking for Link?!”

The woman disappeared into the bazaar, and Zelda ducked under the heavy fabric to follow, mentally apologizing for breaking the rules about it being closed.

The woman paused, floating in the center of the dark building. Zelda had to squint to see her in the darkness.

“Hey!” She called, and the woman finally turned to look at her.

The woman just floated there, watching her in the darkness.

“Why are you looking for Link?” Zelda asked. “What do you need from him?”

She floated there for longer, and Zelda was about to speak again when the woman finally broke the silence.

“Apologies, Your Grace, but it is not my role to speak with you. My role is to seek out your chosen hero and assist him in his role,” she said, voice devoid of emotion, and confusing Zelda a lot. Her chosen hero? “Your presence confuses me,”

“What?” Zelda asked.

“My master is not here,” the woman said instead. “Proceeding to search elsewhere,”

“Wha- hey!” Zelda gasped, nearly tripping on a stall, and most certainly bruising her hip, trying to follow as the woman started moving again. “What does any of that mean?!”

She ducked under the fabric, desperately trying not to lose this weird blue woman. Your Grace? Chosen hero? What was she talking about?

“Stop running away from me!” Zelda shouted, only able to keep up since the woman stopped to stare at every door they passed for a few moments before moving on. “I’m trying to talk to you!”

The woman never hesitated, nor turned to look despite Zelda’s repeated shouting. It was like she couldn’t even hear her, which Zelda knew for a fact was untrue.

“I know what happened to Link!” She finally tried as the woman passed over the plaza.

The woman stopped at that, finally, turning to look at her and giving her a chance to catch her breath.

“You have information pertaining to the location of my master?” The woman asked.

“Yes,” Zelda gasped, leaning her weight on her knees. This woman was fast! “Yes, I know why you can’t find him,”

“I must ask you to provide me with this information so that I may locate him,” the woman said, staring at Zelda with her expressionless face, even the eyes looking like it was part of a smooth blue mask. “It is essentially that I meet with him as soon as possible,”

“I want some answers first,” Zelda huffed, straightening up and planting her hands on her hips. “And don’t think you can find Link without my help, because you won’t,”

The woman watched her, tilting her head slightly for a long moment.

“My analysis concludes that there is an 87% chance of you being correct about needing your help. Very well, I will answer a few questions in exchange for information on the whereabouts of my master,” the woman said, floating up in front of Zelda, who stumbled back a step. “My records indicate that your culture demands I perform an introduction at this point. My designation is ‘Fi’. You may begin asking questions now.”

“Why are you looking for Link?” Zelda asked immediately. “And what’s this about him being your master? And the whole thing with the ‘chosen hero’ deal. And why were you calling me Grace?”

“I am searching for Link because he is my master, and as destiny has begun to unfold my directives demand that I seek him out,” the woman, Fi, said simply. “He has been chosen as my master since a time long before your people have recorded memory. He has been chosen for a very important role in the future of your people, and those on the Surface. I call you Your Grace because that is your respectful designation, and I do not know your mortal name,”

Zelda frowned. Destiny? The future? Her designation? And, wait…

There was something below the clouds! If Link survived his fall, then he was down there, on the Surface! Oh, she had so many questions for when he got back!

In the meantime however…

“What’s this about destiny?” Zelda asked. “And, there’s land below the clouds? What does Link have to do with any of it?  Oh, and, um, my name is Zelda,”

“Your Grace, Zelda.” Fi said. “Your preferred designation has been noted. I am not permitted to speak on your destiny, as it is not my role to help you fulfil it, nor am I permitted to speak on the nature of my master’s destiny with you. Yes, there exists a land your people call ‘The Surface’ below the cloud barrier. Your Link has been chosen to play an important role, and it is imperative that I find him quickly,”

“That is not very helpful,” Zelda frowned.

“I have answered your questions,” Fi said. “Should you have no more, I would request that you fulfil our agreement and provide me with the information you have on the location of my master,”

“Ah, right, about that,” Zelda bit her lip, looking away. “He’s, not on Skyloft,”

“I am not sure I follow, Your Grace, Zelda,”

“It’s, it’s my fault really, it’s all my fault,” she admitted, feeling about ready to burst into tears all over again, once again exhausted by the weight of her guilt and all the crying she’d already done. “I didn’t listen to him when he said he couldn’t sense his loftwing and I, I pushed him over the edge. I didn’t realize that something was wrong until it was too late and, and he’s gone now, and it’s all my fault!”

She reached up to wipe at her face, feeling somewhat embarrassed for crying in front of this strange woman but unable to stop herself.

Muffled sobs tapered off in confusion as she felt what might have been fabric woven of metal settle around her shoulders. She looked up in confusion to see Fi looking down at her with what might have been concern or sympathy.

“What are you doing?” Zelda asked through tears.

“My records indicate that this motion is used commonly among your people as an act of comfort,” Fi said. “Your distress led me to believe this would be a soothing action to take,”

Zelda nodded, sniffling. “I’m not sure anything you do or say could help, but thank you for trying,”

“My analysis concludes that this information may alter your emotional state,” Fi said, and Zelda looked up in confusion. “My master, your Link, is alive.”

Zelda froze, looking up at Fi in confusion and shock.

“How do you know that?” Zelda asked, voice shaking.

“I am somewhat connected to my master,” Fi informed her. “I also have the ability to sense and locate certain individuals, called dowsing. My dowsing would not work if he was not alive, and it does. Therefore, he is alive.”

Zelda felt like collapsing all over again. There was so much to take in there.

Link was alive. She hadn’t killed him. He was alive and on the Surface.

He must be terrified! Alone down there, no idea where he is or how to get home. He must be so scared. Not to mention hurt! It was such a long fall, even though he survived, who knew how injured he was? He could be curled up on the Surface somewhere, injured and unable to move, vulnerable to all sorts of dangers.

The relief and worry and fear that replaced the guilt was crippling, and she dropped to her knees, clutching at her hair. She didn’t even realize she was struggling to breathe until Fi told her.

“Your Grace, Zelda, your breathing has become irregular, and I can sense you are in emotional distress. I would recommend you attempt to regulate your breathing to ease your distress,” Fi said. “I am willing to provide you with a grounding point to match your breathing to if you must,”

Zelda nodded, and Fi gently began moving one of her ‘arms’ in a gentle motion. Up, in. Down, out.

Eventually she calmed down, moving her hands to fist in her dress, knuckles still white from how hard she was holding the fabric.

“I conclude that you have returned to a stable emotional state,” Fi said simply. “If my master, your Link, is on the surface, this provides a difficult problem in my location of him,”

“Take me with you!” Zelda said abruptly.

Fi paused to look at her. Zelda imagined she would have been blinking if she had eyelids to do so with.

“Take me to the Surface with you,” Zelda explained, a bit of desperation seeping into her voice. “Let me help you find Link. If you can find a way down there safely, then I’ll help you find Link. Please,”

Fi looked at her for a long moment, then floated up. “I do require a wielder to make it to the Surface. Very well, I accept your offer of assistance. Please follow me so that we may open a path to the Surface.”

Zelda had no idea what Fi meant by wielder, but stood to follow the strange woman regardless. If she could help Zelda find Link, then she’d follow her anywhere.

Fi led her to the statue of the goddess, and then into a small room under the statue that Zelda swore wasn’t there before.

Fi, it turns out, was a sword. Which, explained a lot, actually.

It didn’t explain the sense of deja vu she got when she pulled the blade.

Her father arrived as she swung the sword and activated the little thing that lifted the frame for the tablet that Fi produced.

Fi and her father went back and forth a bit about some prophecy, but Zelda was more focused on putting the tablet in the frame, and then putting the sword in a sheath on her hip.

“Your Grace, Zelda,” Fi said as she finally tuned in. “I can confirm that a beam of light has created a small rift in the cloud barrier separating your world from the one below. Using this rift, we will be able to travel to the place you call ‘The Surface’ and begin our search for my master, your Link,”

“What?” Zelda’s father gaped a bit.

“Fi is taking me to the Surface,” Zelda told him firmly. “Link is down there, and we’re going to find him. Don’t try to stop us.”

“Well, you aren’t going now,” he said. She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to pause her angry argument. “Zelda, it is nearly dawn, and I know you have not slept yet. At least take some time to prepare before you go. I know I cannot stop you, but if you at least promise to sleep first, I can find you a better outfit to wear than your current one. It’s not exactly suitable for a trip to the Surface,”

Zelda looked down, still in her outfit for the Wing Ceremony that had been cancelled.

“I’m taking the sailcloth,” she said, and when her father nodded she eventually agreed to sleep before she left.

Fi vanished into the sword, and Zelda followed her father back down to the Academy.

The green light breaking through the clouds called to her. Link was down there. He was down there, alone, and he needed her.

Just a few hours, Link, she thought, setting Fi’s blade down on her desk, eyes still drawn to her window and the light breaking through the clouds. Just a few hours to appease my father, and then I’m coming to get you. I swear it,

She only realized exactly how tired she was when she passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.